#apologies for how long it took me to get to this ask! thank you for being so patient <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[moonselune]

I absolutely love how you write for the bg3 companions!!

Can we get romanced companions reacting to seeing Tav being approached by an abusive ex, who grabs them violently when Tav tries to walk away from the confrontation? They are grabbed violently by the hair, neck, wrist, etc? Thank you!!

omg yessssssssss tw everyone this will contain themes of abuse and domestic violence so if you are uncomfortable with that please click off and I will see you in the next one xox

Karlach:

The tavern was warm and lively, filled with the buzz of laughter, clinking mugs, and the hum of an old bard strumming away in the corner. You sat close to Karlach at a small, dimly lit table, her broad grin as radiant as ever. Her laughter boomed over some silly tale you'd told, her joy contagious as the two of you sipped from your mugs. The night was going perfectly—until they showed up.

You didn’t see your ex at first, but you heard their voice, a cold and unwelcome shard of your past cutting through the tavern’s warmth. “Well, well. Look who it is.”

Your stomach dropped. Turning slowly, you saw them, standing just a few feet away with that same cruel smirk you’d hoped to never see again. They looked the same, too—bitter, angry, and clearly still holding a grudge. Karlach’s laughter faded as she noticed your sudden shift in demeanor. Her eyes flicked between you and the person now looming over your table.

“Not here,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with warning. “Don’t make a scene. Just leave.”

They laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that turned heads. “Oh, I’m making a scene?” they sneered, stepping closer. “You think you can just walk out of my life and act like nothing happened?”

You tried to stand, but before you could, their hand shot out and grabbed your arm, fingers digging into your skin.

“You’re not going anywhere,” they hissed.

The motion was so sudden that the tavern seemed to freeze for a moment. The mug in Karlach’s hand thudded onto the table, her expression darkening in an instant.

“Get your hands off them,” she said, her voice a low, warning growl.

Your ex sneered at her, but before they could say anything more, Karlach shot up from her seat. She shoved them back with one powerful hand, forcing them to release you. The force sent them stumbling, their eyes widening in shock.

“You okay?” Karlach asked, her warm brown eyes filled with concern as she turned to you. Her hand came to your cheek, her thumb brushing gently against your skin.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice wavered slightly. “Let’s just—”

Before you could finish, your ex stormed back, their face twisted in rage. They lunged toward you, but they didn’t get far. Karlach’s fist met their face in a flash of fiery determination, the impact so loud it echoed through the now-silent tavern. Your ex crumpled to the floor in a heap, unconscious before they even hit the ground.

Karlach flexed her fingers, looking down at them with disdain.

“Idiot,” she muttered, then turned back to you. “C’mon, love. Let’s get out of here.”

You nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for your coat. As the two of you walked out into the cool night air, Karlach slipped an arm around your shoulders, her presence grounding you.

“Sorry about that,” you murmured after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think they’d—”

“Stop,” Karlach said gently, her voice firm but kind. “You don’t owe me an apology for their bullshit. What’s their deal, anyway?”

You hesitated but eventually sighed. “We were together a long time ago. It… wasn’t a good relationship. They were controlling, mean. It took everything I had to leave.”

Karlach’s jaw tightened, and you could see the flicker of rage in her eyes as she looked straight ahead.

“Should’ve killed the arsehole,” she muttered under her breath.

You chuckled softly, though it was tinged with nervousness. “You don’t have to solve everything with violence, you know.”

She looked down at you, her expression softening.

“Not everything,” she said with a small grin. “But that? They had it coming.” Her arm tightened around you. “No one gets to treat you like that. Not while I’m here.”

A warm wave of gratitude washed over you as you leaned into her, the safety of her presence more comforting than words could express. “Thank you, Karlach.”

“Always, love,” she replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. As the two of you walked home, you felt lighter, knowing you were no longer alone in facing the ghosts of your past.

Minthara:

The streets of Baldur's Gate were alive with the din of activity: merchants haggling in the marketplace, children darting between the crowd, and the occasional bard strumming a jaunty tune. You walked alongside Minthara, her presence commanding, as always. Her arm curled around your waist with a possessiveness that was both protective and tender. Her silvery hair caught the evening light, and her voice, low and firm, reached your ear.

“We are being followed,” she murmured, her lips brushing your temple. “Someone’s gaze lingers far too long on you.”

Your heart sank, a sinking pit of familiarity clawing at your gut. You subtly glanced over your shoulder under the guise of adjusting your scarf, and that’s when you saw them: your abusive ex. Their figure lingered in the shadows, weaving through the crowd like a snake, their eyes fixed on you with that same unsettling intensity you had tried so hard to forget.

“Dammit,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. The weight of the moment sank in, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

Minthara’s amber eyes narrowed as she studied your expression.

“Who is that?” she asked, her voice icy and sharp.

You hesitated, considering whether to brush it off, but you knew better than to lie to Minthara. “Do you remember the scar just above my hip?” you asked softly, barely above a whisper.

Her grip on your waist tightened as she nodded, her gaze fixed on you, unreadable yet intense.

“They gave it to me,” you admitted, keeping your voice steady. “It happened the day I tried to leave them. We fought, and—” You stopped, the memories creeping too close. “They’ve always had a hard time letting go.”

Minthara’s body went rigid. Her hand, still wrapped around your waist, stilled entirely, her nails pressing into the fabric of your tunic. Her jaw clenched, and before you could stop her, she uncoiled with terrifying precision and sprinted toward your ex.

“Minthara, wait!” you shouted, but it was useless. She was already closing the distance.

Your ex barely had time to react before Minthara tackled them to the ground with the force of a lioness taking down her prey. The crowd scattered, gasps and shouts echoing in the marketplace as she delivered blow after calculated blow. Each strike was vicious but efficient, aimed with the precision of someone trained to dismantle an opponent piece by piece. Her movements were smooth, brutal, and terrifyingly beautiful in their ruthlessness.

“Touch them again,” Minthara snarled, her voice low and venomous as she pressed her forearm against your ex’s throat, “and I will ensure that death would beg for you before I allow it.”

She delivered one final punch, leaving your ex groaning and crumpled in the dirt, their face bloodied and swollen. Satisfied, she stood, brushing her hands off as if she had merely swatted a fly. She strode back toward you, the calm precision of her movements making the crowd part before her like waves.

When she reached you, she lifted her chin, a faint, dangerous smile curling her lips.

“The injuries I’ve given them will take decades to heal,” she promised, her voice still simmering with fury. “And perhaps a century to scar.”

You stared at her, part of you unsure whether to admonish or thank her. Finally, you sighed, shaking your head. “Minthara, you didn’t have to—”

“They hurt you,” she cut in, her voice softening only slightly as her gaze bored into yours. “That is reason enough.”

She reached out, brushing her thumb against your cheek with unexpected tenderness. “You are mine to protect. That wretch deserved every ounce of pain I inflicted.”

Despite the ferocity of her words, the warmth in her touch reminded you why you trusted her so deeply. With a soft sigh, you nodded, leaning into her hand.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, the weight of her actions settling in. Her smile widened, pride glinting in her eyes.

“Of course, my heart. No one who dares harm you will ever go unpunished.” She took your hand and began walking again, her steps measured and sure. As the chaos in the marketplace faded behind you, you couldn’t help but feel safer than you ever had before.

Lae'zel:

The bustling market was alive with noise: merchants shouting out their wares, children weaving between the stalls, and the occasional clang of metal as blacksmiths displayed their crafts. You and Lae’zel moved through the chaos, her sharp eyes scanning for supplies while you trailed beside her, taking in the sights. It was a moment of relative peace amidst your usual adventures.

And then, like a thunderclap on a clear day, you saw them. Your ex.

Before you could react, they were in front of you, their face lighting up with a joy that felt out of place—wrong, even. “There you are!” they exclaimed, pulling you into a hug so suddenly that you didn’t have time to resist. Their arms wrapped around you tightly, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat as panic set in. It wasn’t the embrace of an old friend—it was a claim, a reminder of the control they once held over you.

“I’ve missed you,” they said with a grin, pulling back to look at you. “We have to catch up sometime.”

They left without waiting for your reply, disappearing into the crowd as if they hadn’t just turned your world upside down. You stood there, motionless, your heart pounding and your thoughts racing.

Lae’zel, who had been perusing a nearby stand, turned to you. Her amber eyes immediately narrowed, her expression shifting from mild annoyance at the interruption to something far more dangerous.

“What is this?” she demanded, stepping closer. “You look like you’re about to fight a dragon with a pitchfork. Who were they?”

You couldn’t speak at first. Your throat felt dry, and the words were stuck, lodged somewhere between fear and shame. Finally, you managed to stammer out, “That… That was my ex.”

Lae’zel’s eyes sharpened, her gaze cutting through you like a blade.

“And this is your reaction to a past lover? You are no stranger to affection, but you looked as though the mere touch of them turned your blood to acid.” Her voice lowered, her tone becoming more dangerous. “What did they do to you?”

You tried to explain, but the words faltered. Your lips moved, but the memories caught up with you, dragging you back into a place you didn’t want to revisit. You didn’t need to say it, though—Lae’zel saw the truth in your silence.

She cursed violently in Gith, the harsh, guttural sounds slicing through the air. Her hand tightened around her weapon, and her whole body tensed like a predator ready to strike.

“They hurt you,” she said, her voice barely above a growl. “I will take their head and present it to you as a trophy.”

She turned, already scanning the crowd for their retreating form, but you reached out, grabbing her arm.

“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling. “Just… wait a moment.”

Lae’zel hesitated, her muscles twitching with the need for action, but she stayed. Her eyes never left you as you closed yours and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within. She stayed close, her presence grounding you as you forced yourself to let go of the fear and focus on the present.

After a few moments, you opened your eyes and gave her a weak smile.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I just needed a moment.”

Her gaze softened slightly, but the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. “Because I will not let this stand.”

You nodded, a small gesture, but it was all she needed. With a fierce grin, she turned on her heel and stalked into the crowd, her focus like a blade honed to perfection.

It didn’t take long for her to find them. You followed at a safe distance, your heart racing but unable to stop her now. She caught up to them near a fruit stall, grabbing them by the shoulder and spinning them around. They barely had time to react before Lae’zel shoved them against a wooden post, her face inches from theirs.

“You dare to touch what is mine?” she snarled, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby. “You have left scars on them that I cannot abide. For that, I will use your head as my footrest.”

The ex stammered, their confidence evaporating under her ferocity. Before they could say anything more, Lae’zel delivered a sharp blow to their stomach, doubling them over. She stepped back, letting them fall to their knees, then stood over them like a conqueror surveying her victory.

Satisfied that her message was clear, she turned and walked back to you, her expression fierce but triumphant.

“It is done,” she said simply. “They will not trouble you again.”

You let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over you despite the chaos. “Thank you,” you said, reaching out to take her hand.

Her grip was firm, reassuring. “No one hurts you and walks away unscathed,” she said. “Not while I draw breath.”

With that, she led you away, her protective presence a shield against the world.

Shadowheart:

The party was vibrant, full of chatter, music, and laughter. The hum of lively conversation filled the grand hall as you and Shadowheart wove through the crowd, wine glasses in hand. You hadn’t been entirely thrilled about attending, but Shadowheart’s soft insistence and the promise of shared moments made it worthwhile.

That was until you saw them—your ex.

They were standing near the center of a small group, regaling their audience with some elaborate tale, their gestures animated and their voice dripping with charm. Your stomach turned when they noticed you, their expression lighting up with the kind of false familiarity that set your nerves on edge. They sidled over, slipping seamlessly into your space, and before you could react, they had drawn you into their circle.

Shadowheart, ever watchful, stayed close, her sharp eyes flicking between you and your ex.

“We can leave,” she murmured under her breath, her voice calm but concerned. “Say the word.”

You shook your head, managing a strained smile.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured her, though your grip on your glass tightened slightly. You didn’t want to ruin the evening for her.

As the conversation swirled, your ex began telling a story—one about you. They spoke as if the two of you were still an item, peppering their tale with biting remarks and veiled insults.

“Oh, you should’ve seen them back then,” they sneered, “always so scatterbrained. Couldn’t even get through a simple task without my help.”

The group laughed awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension. Your face burned with a mix of anger and humiliation, but before you could find your voice, Shadowheart stepped forward, her demeanor cool and composed, but her eyes as sharp as daggers.

She interrupted smoothly, her voice cutting through the conversation like a blade.

“That reminds me of a story from my past,” she said, her tone conversational yet chilling. The group turned to her, captivated by the quiet authority in her voice. “There was a time when I dealt with an exceptionally arrogant prisoner. They fancied themselves clever—always talking back, thinking they were in control. So I decided to teach them a lesson.” She paused, taking a sip of her wine as if the next part were merely an afterthought. “I ripped out their tongue and fed it to them.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The group stared at her, their eyes wide, as the weight of her words hung heavy in the air. Your ex, who had been so confident mere moments ago, visibly paled, their mouth opening and closing as if searching for a retort.

Shadowheart tilted her head slightly, a faint, dangerous smile playing on her lips. “It’s remarkable how much quieter some people can be after a simple… correction.”

Your ex stammered something unintelligible before hastily excusing themselves, practically fleeing from the room. The tension broke, and you couldn’t help but laugh—a genuine, bubbling sound of relief and delight. You turned to Shadowheart, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

“Thank you,” you said, grinning. “The look on their face… I’ll treasure that forever.”

Shadowheart leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a tender yet possessive kiss.

“I love you,” she said softly, her words a vow as much as a declaration.

Then she pulled back slightly, her eyes glinting with something dark and resolute.

“Hold my wine,” she said, pressing her glass into your hand. “There’s something—or rather, someone—I need to deal with.”

Before you could protest, she was gone, her dark hair flowing like a shadow cutting through the crowd. You watched her go, a mixture of admiration and mild terror filling you. Whatever she had in mind, you knew one thing for certain: no one would dare cross her—or you—ever again.

Jaheira:

The warm hum of Jaheira's household had always been a comfort to you. The chatter of the children, the occasional laughter, and the scent of a home-cooked meal mingled with the faint floral aroma of the plants she meticulously tended. You were setting the table, ready to sit down for the evening meal with Jaheira and her family, when an insistent knock sounded at the door.

The sound froze you in place. It wasn’t the friendly, casual knock of a neighbor or friend. No, it was sharp and demanding, like someone who felt entitled to be heard. Dread pooled in your stomach, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t that person anymore. You were stronger now, surrounded by people who cared for you.

Still, when you opened the door and saw your ex standing there, their familiar sneer twisting their features, that old fear reared its head.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, keeping your voice firm. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

Your ex scoffed, taking a step closer. “I’ll decide where I should be,” they spat. “We have unfinished business.”

Your heart raced, but you held your ground. “Leave,” you repeated, gripping the doorframe tightly. “Now.”

Their response was to shove you—hard. The force sent you stumbling back, and you hit the ground with a painful thud, the breath knocked out of you. Your ex marched inside, their eyes scanning the room like they owned it.

“Get out!” you shouted, your voice shaking more than you’d like.

The commotion brought Jaheira’s children rushing into the room. Jhessem and Tate were at your side in an instant, their small hands helping you sit up as they looked at you with wide, worried eyes. Fig, ever the fiery little warrior, grabbed her wooden sword and brandished it at your ex, her small frame trembling but determined.

“You leave them alone!” she yelled, her voice high-pitched but fierce.

Your ex laughed, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. But the laughter died when Jord and Rion stepped forward, their presence filling the room with an almost tangible force.

Jord, tall and broad-shouldered, the half-orc planted himself between the children and your ex.

“You’ve got two seconds to get out of this house,” he said, his voice low and rumbling with warning.

Rion, her sharp features twisted into a glare that could cut stone, pointed a finger at your ex.

“You do not belong here,” she said, her tone icy. “Leave before I make you.”

Despite the bravery of Jaheira’s children, you quickly pushed yourself to your feet, positioning yourself between them and your ex.

“This isn’t their fight,” you said firmly, your voice stronger now as you faced your abuser. “Leave them out of this. Leave us alone.”

Your ex sneered, taking a step toward you, but before they could say another word, the sound of measured, deliberate footsteps echoed from the staircase. Everyone turned as Jaheira descended, her eyes sharp as a hawk’s.

She took in the scene at a glance—the children bristling with protective anger, you standing tense and pale, and your ex, whose presence tainted the very air. Her expression darkened like a storm cloud.

“What is this?” she asked, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Your ex, ever the fool, sneered. “Just having a little chat.”

Jaheira’s gaze flicked to you. “Are they threatening you?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Before you could answer, your ex made the mistake of laughing. “This is none of your business, old woman.”

Jaheira didn’t respond with words. Instead, she raised a hand, her fingers curling in a subtle motion. Thorned vines erupted from the floor, twisting and writhing like living snakes. They wrapped around your ex with terrifying speed, pinning their arms to their sides and tightening until they yelped in pain.

“Get them out of here,” Jaheira commanded, her voice like steel.

The vines obeyed, dragging your ex toward the door. They thrashed and cursed, but the thorns only dug in deeper. With a final, satisfying motion, the vines flung them out into the street. The door slammed shut behind them, and the vines retracted as if they had never been.

Jaheira turned to you, her eyes softening. You immediately started to apologize, guilt bubbling up in your chest. “Jaheira, I’m so sorry—I never thought they’d come here. I never wanted to put you or your children in danger—”

“Stop being ridiculous,” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. She stepped closer, her hands cupping your face as she looked you over. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” she said, her hands dropping to your shoulders. “You’ve been through enough tonight. Rest now.”

“I’ll make some tea,” Jord said, already heading toward the kitchen with calm efficiency.

Fig tugged at your sleeve, her wooden sword still clutched in her hand. “We’ll always help you,” she said, her voice small but fierce.

You managed a smile, ruffling her hair. “Thank you, Fig.”

Jaheira wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward the sitting area.

“You’re safe here,” she murmured, her voice steady and soothing. “No one—no one—will ever hurt you again.”

As you sank into the cushions, the tension slowly leaving your body, you felt the warmth of Jaheira’s family around you. They had rallied to protect you without hesitation, and for the first time in a long time, you felt truly safe.

Gale:

The cozy, labyrinthine aisles of Sorcerous Sundries stretched out around you, their shelves laden with ancient tomes and scrolls that hummed with latent magic. The scent of old parchment and ink filled the air, grounding and soothing. You and Gale had been immersed in your own quiet exploration, each lost in the treasure trove of knowledge. Every so often, you’d exchange a snippet of discovery—a passage here, a glyph there—but for the most part, it was a shared silence, warm and comfortable.

As your fingers trailed over the spine of a particularly aged tome, its title caught your eye: The Heart of Aetherial Bonds. Intrigued, you flipped it open and found a passage that immediately reminded you of Gale. The words were poetic, a reflection on the ties between love and magic, the way one could amplify the other. A small smile tugged at your lips. He would love this.

“Gale,” you called softly, tucking the book under your arm as you began to weave through the aisles, searching for him.

Your steps were light as you rounded a corner, spotting a familiar silhouette a few shelves away.

“There you are,” you began, but as the figure turned, the words died in your throat.

It wasn’t Gale.

Your blood ran cold as you recognized them—your ex. The person who had haunted your past, whose shadow you had thought you’d escaped. Their eyes lit up with a twisted glee, and before you could move, they stepped forward and grabbed your arm in an iron grip.

“I can’t believe it,” they said, their voice dripping with possessive satisfaction. “I’ve been searching for you, and here you are.”

“Let go of me,” you said firmly, trying to pull away. Their grip only tightened, the familiar pain radiating up your arm.

“You’re coming home,” they hissed, their tone leaving no room for argument.

Your heart pounded as you pushed against their hold, your voice shaking. “You’re hurting me—let go.”

But just as before, they didn’t listen. Their other hand reached to grip your shoulder, and for a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm you.

Then, the air shifted. A crackling sound filled the room, sharp and electric, like the air before a storm. A chill ran down your spine as the oppressive grip on your arm faltered. Both you and your ex turned toward the source of the energy.

Gale stood at the end of the aisle, his form illuminated by a pulsing, arcane light. His expression was unlike anything you had seen before—fierce, unyielding, his eyes glowing with a raw, dangerous power. Magic swirled around him, forming tendrils of energy that snapped and sparked against the air.

“Release them,” he said, his voice a low, commanding growl.

Your ex hesitated, their bravado wavering as the sheer intensity of Gale’s presence bore down on them.

“This isn’t your business, mage” they spat, but their voice lacked conviction.

“Oh, but it is,” Gale said, his hands lifting as the magic in the air intensified. “You’ve made it so.”

Before another word could be uttered, a blinding flash of energy erupted from Gale’s outstretched palms. The searing light enveloped your ex, their scream cut short as their form disintegrated into ash, leaving nothing behind but a faint, acrid scent and a smudge of dust on the floor. The magic dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the air still and silent.

Gale was at your side in an instant, his hands gently cradling your face as he looked you over.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice soft now, filled with worry.

You shook your head, tears welling up as the adrenaline drained from your body.

“I—I’m okay,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as the weight of what had just happened settled over you. The tension in your body melted as you buried your face in his chest, the faint scent of his robes and the comforting hum of his magic grounding you. Your shoulders shook as quiet sobs escaped, the fear and relief spilling out all at once.

“It’s over,” Gale murmured, his hand gently stroking your back. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You clung to him, the sound of his heartbeat steady and calming against your ear. After a while, your tears slowed, and you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His face was a mixture of concern and quiet anger, his protective instincts still on high alert.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said, your voice trembling but sincere.

He smiled softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Astarion:

The lively hum of the tavern wrapped around you like a familiar cloak, its warmth and noise a welcome respite from the chaos of adventuring. You sat at a corner table with Astarion, his sharp wit and flair for drama turning a mundane evening into something delightfully entertaining. Together, you exchanged hushed gossip about the other patrons—their fashion choices, their whispered secrets—and laughed at his outrageous commentary.

“Oh, look at him,” Astarion murmured, tilting his head toward a burly man near the bar, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I’d wager he’s had one too many pies—and just one too many wives, judging by that tan line on his ring finger.”

You snorted into your drink, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And yet, you adore me,” he said with a playful smirk. He lifted your glass with a flourish. “Speaking of adoration, I’ll be a dear and fetch you a refill. Don’t miss me too much.”

You grinned, watching as Astarion sashayed toward the bar, his charm radiating even in the simplest of tasks. Leaning back, you took a moment to enjoy the bustling atmosphere, but your peace shattered as a shadow fell over your table.

Your stomach churned as you turned to see your ex standing there, their presence as unwelcome as a dagger in the back. Without waiting for an invitation, they slid into Astarion’s vacated seat, their grin sending a chill down your spine.

“Well, well,” they said, leaning closer. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You stiffened, your pulse quickening. “Leave,” you said coldly, standing abruptly. “This isn’t the place, and I have nothing to say to you.”

But as you turned to leave, their hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you back with a cruel force. A sharp yelp escaped your lips as pain flared along your scalp.

“You think you can just walk away from me?” they snarled, their grip tightening. You tried to swing at them, but panic muddled your movements, and they easily avoided your weak attempts to break free. The room seemed to close in, the once-lively chatter of the tavern fading into a distant hum as fear took hold.

And then, just as suddenly, the pressure on your scalp vanished. You staggered forward, catching yourself on the edge of the table, and turned to see your ex frozen in place. A knife glinted at their throat, a thin line of blood already welling against the blade’s edge. Behind them stood Astarion, his expression icy and predatory.

“I’ve been dying for a fresh kill tonight,” Astarion purred, his voice dangerously low. “And it seems you’ve volunteered. How considerate.”

Your ex’s bravado crumbled as they began to stammer, their hands raised in shaky surrender. Astarion’s grip on the knife didn’t waver, his sharp eyes flicking to you.

“Darling,” he said, his tone almost conversational, “this one’s causing you trouble, isn’t he?”

You met his gaze, your scalp still throbbing but your heart swelling with gratitude. Nodding slowly, you gave him permission with a single, deliberate motion of your head.

Astarion’s smile widened, and he dragged your ex out of the tavern with an almost casual ease, ignoring their sputtered protests. The crowd parted instinctively, sensing the danger in his stride. You stayed behind, nursing your scalp and taking deep breaths to steady yourself. The minutes felt like hours, but eventually, Astarion returned, brushing off his hands as though he’d simply taken out the trash.

“All taken care of,” he said, his tone light as he reached for you, cupping your face gently. “Let me see—did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “I—I could have handled it.”

Astarion raised an elegant eyebrow, his hand trailing down to rest on your shoulder.

“Oh, please, my love,” he said with mock exasperation. “You’re many things, but you’re not a liar. Let me have this one.”

You sighed, relenting. “Thank you, Astarion.”

He smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “You’re welcome, darling. But seriously, are you okay? That brute—”

You interrupted him with a nod, placing a hand over his. “I am now. Because I’m with you.”

His expression softened, the predatory edge replaced by something tender.

“Always,” he murmured, his voice a promise. With a protective arm around your waist, he led you out of the tavern, away from the echoes of the past and into the safe haven of his presence.

Wyll:

The ballroom of the Ulder Ravengard's estate was a vision of opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light over marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. Noblemen and women in resplendent attire swayed to the music of a skilled orchestra, their laughter mingling with the hum of conversation. You and Wyll had been thoroughly enjoying yourselves, weaving through the room, gossiping about fashion choices and laughing at poorly-hidden flirtations among the elite.

Wyll, as always, moved with an effortless charm that drew people to him like moths to a flame. He introduced you to old friends, clinking glasses with ease, his laugh rich and genuine. His warmth was contagious, and you found yourself at ease in a social world that might have otherwise intimidated you. But when Wyll excused himself to chat with a group of friends near the wine table, you waved him off with a smile, happy to people-watch for a while.

A light tap on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. A hand reached out, beckoning you to the dance floor. You assumed it was a friend or an acquaintance and allowed yourself to be led. But as you turned, your stomach plummeted. Your blood ran cold.

It was them.

Your abusive ex stood before you, their grin as sharp and cruel as you remembered. It was a grin that promised pain masked under a veneer of charm. You instinctively tried to pull your hand away, but their grip only tightened, their fingers digging into your wrist.

“Don’t look so surprised,” they said smoothly, their voice low and venomous. “You didn’t think you could escape me forever, did you?”

“This isn’t the time or place,” you hissed, keeping your voice quiet to avoid drawing attention. “Let me go.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” they replied, their grip tightening further as they began to lead you into a slow, swaying dance. Their tone was soft, deceptively sweet, but their eyes glinted with malice. “You owe me this much, at least. Don’t make a scene. Wouldn’t want to embarrass your fancy boyfriend or his oh-so-important father, would you?”

Your heart raced as they leaned in closer, their breath hot against your ear.

“You think you’ve moved on, don’t you? That you can just walk away from what we had? You’re mine, and you always will be.” You tried to twist out of their grip, panic rising in your chest.

“Let go of me,” you spat, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.

Their smile only widened. “Oh I don’t think so,” they said, their voice dropping an octave. “You’re going to regret leaving me.”

You braced yourself, half-expecting them to lash out. Your eyes squeezed shut as you prepared for a blow that never came. Instead, a loud, sickening crack echoed through the ballroom, followed by gasps from nearby guests.

Opening your eyes, you saw your ex sprawled on the polished floor, clutching their face. Blood gushed from their nose, staining their pristine clothing. Standing over them, his posture rigid with fury, was Wyll. His usual easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by a simmering rage that made the air around him feel electric.

“Touch them again,” Wyll growled, his voice low and deadly, “and a broken nose will be the least of your worries.”

Your ex scrambled backward on the floor, their bravado shattered as they stared up at Wyll in terror. Before they could say anything, a pair of Flaming Fist guards appeared, having been alerted by the commotion. Wyll waved them over, his eyes never leaving your ex.

“Take them,” Wyll ordered, his voice firm. “They’re disturbing the peace.”

The guards didn’t hesitate. They grabbed your ex by the arms and hauled them to their feet, ignoring their sputtering protests and threats. As they dragged your ex away, Wyll finally turned to you, his expression softening in an instant.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked gently, stepping closer to cup your face in his hands. His warm brown eyes scanned you for any sign of injury.

“I’m fine,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky. “Wyll, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to cause a scene—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologize. This isn’t on you.”

The weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, brought tears to your eyes. He pulled you into a tight embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head as he whispered soothing words into your ear. The rest of the ballroom seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting warmth of his presence.

When you finally pulled back, he brushed a stray tear from your cheek and gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded, your breath evening out as the panic subsided. “Thank you, Wyll.”

He kissed your forehead tenderly before taking your hand in his.

“Come, my love,” he said, his voice returning to its usual warmth. “Let’s get you a fresh drink. We’ve both earned it tonight.”

And with that, he led you away from the gawking crowd, his protective arm wrapped securely around you, a silent promise that no harm would come to you as long as he was by your side.

Halsin:

The forest was tranquil, the golden light of the afternoon filtering through the dense canopy of leaves. You moved between patches of wildflowers, humming a tune as you gathered handfuls of blooms for the orphans back at the grove. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers and moss, and for a time, you felt entirely at peace.

Your basket was nearly full when a faint rustling behind you caught your attention. You paused, glancing over your shoulder, but the forest appeared empty. Shrugging it off as a rabbit or some other harmless creature, you bent down to pluck a cluster of bright yellow flowers. You didn’t notice the shaggy, wiry wolf stalking closer, its pale eyes fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

Suddenly, the wolf sprang from the underbrush, a blur of fur and teeth. You gasped as it collided with you, the force of the pounce knocking you to the ground. Its heavy paws pinned you to the forest floor, the breath driven from your lungs as you struggled beneath its weight.

Before you could scream, the wolf began to shift. Fur melted into skin, limbs elongated, and in moments, you were staring into the face of your abusive ex. The recognition hit you like a blow to the chest, your blood running cold.

“You,” you breathed, horrified, and immediately began to struggle.

They leaned closer, their wild eyes gleaming with an unnerving fervor.

“Did you miss me, darling?” they crooned, their voice dripping with mock affection. “I’ve missed you so much. I couldn’t let you go, not like that.”

“Get off me!” you snapped, shoving at their chest with all your strength. Your heart pounded as you tried to call for help, but their hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you.

“Shh,” they whispered, their grin twisting into something darker. “Don’t make this difficult. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

Panic surged through you, and you did the only thing you could think of—you bit down hard on the palm of their hand. They hissed in pain but didn’t flinch away, instead smirking as if they found your resistance amusing.

“Still feisty,” they murmured, their tone infuriatingly condescending. “I’ve always loved that about—”

Their words were cut off by a deafening roar, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the forest. A massive brown bear charged out of the trees, barreling into your ex with bone-crushing force. The impact sent them flying, their body slamming into the trunk of a tree with a sickening thud.

The bear was relentless. Your ex shifted back into their wolf form, snarling as they tried to defend themselves, but they were no match for the sheer ferocity of Halsin. His claws tore through fur and flesh with savage precision, his roar echoing through the woods as he drove your ex deeper into retreat. When the wolf finally lay broken and bloodied, it whimpered and slunk away, disappearing into the underbrush.

Halsin remained in bear form for a moment longer, his massive chest heaving as he watched the wolf flee. Only when he was certain the threat was gone did he shift back, his towering frame immediately rushing to your side.

“You’re hurt,” he said urgently, dropping to his knees and cradling your face in his large hands. His amber eyes scanned you for injuries, his expression a mixture of worry and fury. “What did they do to you?”

“I’m okay,” you said, your voice trembling as the adrenaline began to fade. “I’m just… shaken up.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His embrace was almost crushing, but you didn’t mind—you needed the grounding warmth of his presence as much as he needed the reassurance that you were safe. You buried your face against his chest, clinging to him as your body trembled.

“I should have been here sooner,” Halsin murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your forehead. “I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again.”

You rested your head against his chest, letting his warmth and steady presence soothe your frayed nerves. “You were here when I needed you,” you reassured him. “That’s all that matters.”

Halsin pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. He didn’t let go, and you didn’t ask him to. In that moment, being in his arms was the safest place in the world.

[If you or anyone that you know of has experienced behaviors like this please do not hesitate to contact your local authority]

oof that was a bit of a heavy one but i hope you guys enjoyed it - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[forgetmaenott]

NUTCRACKER - TADC Showtime Christmas Special

A/N: This might be my longest one, hence why it took a while. Also I didn’t know shit about the Nutcracker until this month. This is also my last post for a while, since I’m going to residential therapy today. :,) …as for the other prompts I received, they will not be forgotten! Life got in the way and with the timing, I decided to write and release the Christmas themed one first.

@definitely-mothman thank you for the idea!

cw: alcohol, cartoon violence, suggestive comment from jax, jax in general

“Are you really sure you want to work overtime tonight?”

Pomni sighed and rubbed her head. “No. But corporate is being an asshole, and you all have things to get to.”

Ragatha bit her lip, looking at Pomni like she wanted to jump back in her seat and finish all the work for her. “Oh, Pomni, I can’t just leave you here on Christmas Eve! Here, why don’t you come with us to my cousin Andy’s. Jax and I are—”

“Yeesh, lay off it dollface. If short stack wants to work Christmas Eve, let her waste her holiday,” Jax interrupted with a roll of his eyes.

“Wha—Jax! Be nice to her. She’s offering to work really hard for us," Ragatha scolded, hands on her hips.

“Tsk. Yeah, yeah. I'll bet anything she just wants an excuse to stay behind and jump Caine's bones or something."

Pomni clenched her fists, blushing immediately at the implication. "That's not true!" she argued through gritted teeth, almost offended at the idea.

Ragatha's face was just as flushed as Pomni's, and she tugged at her hair in frustration. "Jax! You can't just say things like that!"

Jax grinned widely at the frustration he incited. "What? You don't think it's a little odd that Caine obviously favors her and she decides to stay behind with him on Christmas?"

"Nothing is going on," Pomni grumbled, trying to calm herself, "he's my boss, a-and I'm not even interested." She crossed her arms, looking away from his infuriating grin.

Ragatha brought a hand to her face, sighing. "Don't listen to him. We appreciate this, you know."

Zooble walked by, grabbing for Gangle's red scarf from the hanger. "You really want to stay here all night?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Pomni groaned. Any more comments from the others would probably make her decide to shove all her work aside and head right out the door. "Yes, I'm sure. It won't be that long."

Just then, Caine emerged from his office, chipper as ever. "Dooooon't worry, my shining stars!" he walked behind Pomni, gripping her shoulders as though showing off his most valuable possession, "Pomni here has graciously decided to sacrifice her holiday for all you jolly gingersnaps!"

Pomni tensed at his touch, averting the others' gazes--especially Jax, who was smirking at the way Caine held her so proudly.

"Well, that's very generous of you, Pomni!" Kinger piped up.

"This seems really immoral," Gangle whimpered, wrapping the scarf Zooble handed her around her neck.

"She'll be fiiiiine. Caine's going to take great care of her, right, Caine?" Jax grinned mischievously at the two.

"Anything for my starlet!" Caine replied cheerfully, oblivious to his suggestiveness.

Pomni laughed uncomfortably, staring down at the floor. "W-well, now that that's settled...I'm gonna go back to work," she excused herself, quickly retreating to her desk to avoid the uncomfortable conversation.

"Merry Christmas!" Ragatha called after her retreating form, before being ushered out the door by an impatient Jax. The others gradually filed out, leaving the office silent apart from the occasional rustle of paper or buzz of the computer.

"I have to say, my dear, it's very admirable of you to give up your holiday," Caine's voice came from behind her, startling her.

"A-ah! Caine, how many times do I have to tell you to knock--"

"O-oh, of course. My apologies," Caine looked surprisingly sheepish, turning back to look at his office but not quite walking away. It was obvious he didn't want to leave, like he had something else on his mind to tell her, but for once in his life he was speechless. Pomni followed his gaze.

Caine’s office was filled with nonsensical, colorful knick-knacks. He collected things he was drawn to, he had said. But those knick-knacks ranged from rubber ducks, to rubix cubes, to plastic figurines. She would have found it strange, if it weren’t for how oddly endearing he was about it all.

Pomni sighed. She wanted to be alone, but she felt a pang of sympathy for him. “...I had nowhere to be anyways. Jax and Ragatha had a party to go to, Zooble…well..they didn’t say what they’re doing, Gangle is hosting some hangout at her apartment, and Kinger and his wife are having a night in. But me…”

Caine watched as she trailed off, then his charismatic smile returned. “Why, Pomni, what better way to spend your holiday than with your boss?!" He put an arm around her, causing her to tense in discomfort. She glanced over at him, almost wondering if he was joking, but his eyes shining with a genuine enthusiasm.

Pomni sighed, bringing a hand to her head. “Just…at least let me have a drink or two tonight.”

Caine removed his arm from her shoulder and crossed his arms, looking at her sternly. “Now now, you know how the rules about workplace etiquette!”

“Right…has to be family friendly?” Pomni recited bitterly.

“Correct! It can be enjoyed by all ages…”

She raised an eyebrow. “A…workplace?”

“Ah—well…” Caine hesitated, eyes roamning on the woman in front of him. “I…suppose I’ll see what I can do."

She sighed. “Thanks,” she said half-heartedly before returning to work.

Hours of mundane work passed, most of it spent with Pomni inwardly cursing out upper management. Then again, she had nothing much else to do on Christmas Eve. A part of her couldn’t help but wish she had taken up Ragatha on her offer—but, realistically, that would have likely been more uncomfortable. Unwanted social interactions—here, the only person she had to work with was.

Caine had graciously granted her a bottle of alcohol—she had asked for vodka out of flat-out desperation, but he gave her wine instead and insisted on watering it down each time she wanted a glass.

“Can’t have my star employee inebriated!” he had told her before stashing the bottle away.

Pomni grumbled, but she knew he was right deep down. Though she’d never admit it, the alcohol was making her feel slightly tired. Or maybe it was the fact that she had been unable to sleep all night. Probably that.

All she knew is she was struggling to keep her eyes open, the buzz of the computer almost comforting. The gentle glow from the office's Christmas tree made her feel encompassed in warmth. She gave into her tiredness, but just for a few minutes, she'd told herself.

She planted her head down on her arms, resting on the desk. The hum of the office and the gentle ticking of the clock lulled her into sleep...

——

The first thing that stirred her back to reality was the feel of a pillow, uncomfortably positioned by her side.

For a moment, she swatted her side, feeling for her cat. It wasn't unusual for her cat to wake her up, either shifting in position or scratching at something. She groaned, when in a cold shock she realized she wasn’t at home in her bed. Upon opening her eyes, panic settled deep in her stomach, accompanied by a sick feeling of dread. She wasn’t even in her office, or any place remotely ordianry—rather, she was in a red-and-blue themed bedroom.

Pomni rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, only to realize her hands were concealed by cartoonish, white gloves. On second thought, she wasn’t even in her work attire—she was in a red and blue leotard. She jumped out of her chair in surprise, suddenly taking in just how bizarre this situation was. She felt at her face, at her hair, at the jester hat she wore…

Panic settled in her stomach, followed by a sudden sensation that she was being watched. Something was off about this, and it certainly wasn’t sitting well with her.

"POMNI!"

"AgH--!"

Cutting through the silence was a boisterous voice, followed shortly by the sight of an uncanny, cartoonish figure above her bed, gazing at her with heterochromic eyes between...teeth for a head?

He swept down to her side, gripping firmly at her hand. "What were you dreaming about, dear? Could it have been--the excitement of adventure?" he leaned in close, voice so loud it could give her a migraine.

"...No..." Pomni mustered, discomfort etched across all her cartoonish features. Something about that voice, ever-enthusiastic, was awfully familiar, in spite of his uncanny appearance.

"Great!" he cut off her train of thought, enthusiasm a stark contrast to her exhaustion, "then there's no time to waste! Your funny buddies are already waiting!" He grabbed for her hand before she could protest and, with a sickening twist of her internal organs, she found herself rapidly transported out of the bedroom and into a nauseatingly colorful room.

Her vision spun around, the teeth man flying away from her side with a cartoonish "whoosh" and towards a group of colorful cartoon characters. Once her stomach settled and her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she got a better look at the group--a purple rabbit with an arrogant grin, a rag doll scolding him, a girl made of ribbons with a happy mask, an abstract figure seemingly pieced together by various parts, and a chess piece peeking out of a pillow fort. Everything so...uncanny.

And worse...familiar. Really familiar.

She warily stepped closer to the group, mostly because she didn't want the teeth man to return and shout excitedly in her face about "adventure", and overheard the conversations of the others.

The stern expression on the rag doll's face melted away the moment she saw Pomni, replaced by a soft smile. "Oh, hi, Pomni! How'd you sleep?"

Pomni blinked in surprise, looking between her and the rabbit. "...I...slept fine," she replied half-heartedly. Her gaze trailed to the others, all watching her with curious expressions.

"You look even more paranoid than usual," the rabbit said judgmentally, eyes flicking up and down at her tense form.

Pomni didn't take any notice at first until he smacked at her face, as though snapping her out of a trance. "..Huh...what?"

"Yeesh. At this rate you're a bigger nutcase than Kinger," the rabbit snickered, earning a glare from the ragdoll.

Kinger.

The name repeated, again and again in her mind. Then…that would mean….

Pomni's eyes followed the rabbit's thumb, pointing at the chess piece peeking out of the pillow fort, stomach dropping in realization. She glanced around at the other cast of characters. It felt like she had woken up within a dream, everything suddenly lucid. And she didn't like it one bit.

Kinger, Jax, Ragatha, Zooble, Gangle, and...

The teeth man flew above them once more. "Now, now, my little polygonal pinecones! Today's adventure is filled with wonder, excitement, festivities!" his eyes fell on Pomni, bottom jaw curving up in what she read as a smile, "and it's all thanks to our little jester friend..."

Pomni's breath was stolen from her.

Caine.

Jax rolled his eyes. "Yuck."

Caine flew down to Pomni's side, placing an arm around her in the same manner that he had at her desk a few hours ago. "That's right! Pomni recently informed me during one of our lessons that you humans deeply treasure your traditions, your festivities!" his grip on her tightened, "and so, today's adventure is in honor of Christmas!"

With a snap of his fingers, the circus around them transformed slightly. The stage was framed by a garland, a wreath formed at the top. Colorful lights were strung around, and a large tree with large ornaments stood proudly in the center of the room.

"...I'm never drinking again," Pomni mused, rubbing at her head.

"Now, now, my silly little shortbread. You know the importance of hydrating!" Caine corrected her.

"That's not what I--"

"THAT'S RIGHT! I declare today a digital Christmas!" Caine spread his limbs out enthusiastically, tinsel sprinkling down onto the circus members.

Zooble looked unimpressed, flicking some of the tinsel off of their head. "Isn’t it, like….June?”

Ragatha clasped her hands in front of her dress. "Ooh, Christmas? That's a great idea, Pomni. We could really use some holiday spirit around here," she praised with an enthusiastic swing of her arms.

“Yeah, yeah, holiday spirit. Gross. Where’s the bloodshed and violence?” Jax tapped his foot impatiently, crossing his arms.

Gangle smiled, lifting some tinsel from her ribbons. “Actually…this sounds like a lot of fun,” she piped up.

Caine twirled around in the air, his cane spinning behind him. “I knew it! Ha-ha! Oh, Pomni, we need to collaborate more often!” he praised, before snapping his fingers once more. “Now that that’s settled, today’s adventure issss…the Battle of the Gloink Kingdom!”

Silence filled the air. Then, their reactions came in one.

“…Well, I’m heading out,” Zooble huffed.

“Battle? Now we’re talking,” Jax said with a satisfied grin.

“Gloinks?” Kinger tilted his head, a finger pressed to his chin, “Gloinks make me crazy…” he began to trail off.

Pomni sighed. “Remind me how this has to do with Christmas?”

“Maybe it’s like the Nutcracker?” Ragatha piped up hopefully, clearly trying to salvage the idea.

“Wh—n-no, of course not! It’s a complete Digital Circus original,” Caine huffed defensively with a cross of his arms, teeth clamping shut to conceal his eyes.

“I’m good,” Zooble repeated, turning to walk away.

“Um…I think I’ll sit this one out, too,” Gangle said meekly, twiddling her ribbons together as she glanced at Zooble’s retreating form.

“Wha—but this adventure is filled with so much excitement! So much festivity! Where’s your holiday spirit?” Caine called after them.

“In the void,” Zooble quipped before disappearing with Gangle down the hall.

“W-well, that’s fine! We’ll have the best Christmas adventure without you,” Caine crossed his arms, turning his back to them and glancing down at the others, “well, that leaves all of you!”

He glanced down at the remaining circus members—Pomni, Ragatha, and Jax. Kinger had long since retreated to his pillow fort, having talked about a rubber room and gloinks. Pomni was tense, Ragatha visibly uncomfortable but trying to force a smile, and Jax grinning.

“So, Caine,” Jax started, “just how much violence and bloodshed will there be?”

“Ah! About that, my rambunctious rabbitoid friend! Pomni here suggested that too much ‘violence and bloodshed’ could stress everyone out. So this adventure will be very family-friendly—” Caine reached to boop Jax’s non-existent nose.

Jax grimaced, pushing his hand away. He glowered down at Pomni. “Nice going, Pomni. You’ve ruined Christmas,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “if there’s no violence in a ‘battle’, I’m out.”

Good riddance, Pomni thought. The more her mind was adjusting to the circus world, the more familiar everything felt. And the more familiar everything felt, the more she realized how much she despised that damn rabbit.

Caine looked visibly disappointed, but tried to maintain his showman demeanor. “Well, that leaves the two of you, then! Whaddya say?“ he asked, but his eyes were only on Pomni.

Pomni felt her stomach flip at the attention he was giving her. She tried to shake the thoughts away, but the way he had praised her for telling him about Christmas, the way he was so excited to show her—God, she’d feel bad if she rejected him after everyone else did. But she really didn’t like the idea of another gloink adventure, whatever that meant.

Ragatha’s eyes went between Caine and Pomni, sensing the tension. She smiled to herself, well-aware of the blossoming relationship between the two—likely more aware of it than they were themselves. She was usually quick to accept an adventure, even the unpleasant ones, out of her people-pleasing nature. But she also wasn’t keen on potentially interrupting the two. “W-well, I actually had plans with Gangle and Zooble today. Drawing and whatnot,” she lied, earning a disappointed look from Caine and a nervous one from Pomni.

“A-ah, I see…” Caine trailed off before shaking his head cartoonishly, his smile returning. “Very well! Pomni, I’ll join you on today’s holiday escapade!” With a snap of his fingers, the world around them shifted. The two of them shrunk down, the Christmas tree towering over them.

“Wh—CAINE?! What the [#%?!] is going on??”

“Language, my dear. And to answer your question, we’re gloink-sized!” Caine announced proudly.

“Gloink-sized?? Wha—WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH CHRISTMAS??” Pomni seethed.

Caine ignored her complaints. “Ah, there they are now!”

“There’s what—” Pomni began to ask, but her question was cut short by the sudden stampeding of an army of gingerbread men, followed by the familiar bouncing of the gloinks.

The two sides met in the middle, battling rather pathetically. The gingerbread men continuously broke into pieces, cookie crumbs scattering across the floor. The gloinks, on the other hand, would bounce on the gingerbread men’s’ bodies and knock them down, often clipping through the body.

Pomni stood there frozen, face contorting into one of complete puzzlement. “…what kind of adventure is this…?” she asked slowly.

“A Christmas one, Pomni! Look!”

Pomni followed the direction of his pointed finger and saw the Gloink Queen emerging from seemingly nothing, cheering her children on from afar as she slithered over to the battleground.

“So like…we just watch?”

“Ah, of course not! It’s your job to defeat the Gloink Queen!” Caine explained.

Pomni frowned. “Wasn’t that already an adventure? Besides, can’t you just do it?”

“Hmm…I suppose I could help, but only a little bit. It wouldn’t exactly be fair if I did it all for you, now would it?”

“Caine—!” Pomni began to scold, but was quickly interrupted by the Gloink Queen scooping up a group of the gingerbread men and swallowing them whole.

“It’s all part of the show!”

Pomni gaped at the Gloink Queen, who was swallowing down pieces of gingerbread army men.

“You foolish ginger soldiers are no match for my precious children! How can you not see by now, everything will be gloinks! You will be gloinks, she will be gloinks, God will be gloinks!” The Gloink Queen growled between violent chomps of the screaming gingerbread army.

Without thinking, Pomni grabbed a crescent-shaped gloink and threw it at the Gloink Queen.

“My precious spawn!” the Gloink Queen cried out, watching her two-hundred-and-third child be thrown past the nearby Christmas tree.

“Caine, please just get rid of her already!” Pomni practically begged. This alleged Christmas adventure was already a disaster, and as much as she didn’t want to disappoint him, she also didn’t want to watch more NPCs die in morbid ways.

Caine sighed, seeing that Pomni wasn’t satisfied. “If you insist, Pomni,” and with a snap of his fingers, a black hole summoned beneath the Gloink Queen and swallowed her whole. All the gloinks quickly jumped in after her, following their mother into the unknown. The hole closed behind them, leaving the two alone with the gingerbread NPCs.

For a moment, all was quiet, except the men’s cookie weapons clattering to the ground. Then, they turned to Pomni and Caine, and started cheering out.

“She saved God!” one of the men cried out, shaking Pomni by the shoulders.

“Wait, wait, wait, I did HUH?” Pomni shook her head in disbelief.

Caine laughed heartily. “Oh, Pomni, they’re celebrating you! For saving my life,” he explained, placing a hand where his heart would be.

“…but you can’t even die!”

“We have to take her to the princess!” one of the gingerbread men with a broken arm exclaimed, shaking Pomni around violently.

Caine clasped his hands together. “Why, Pomni! How exciting! They want us to meet the Princess.”

“Caine, I really just want to—”

“Splendid!” Caine interrupted, and with a snap of his fingers they were teleported into the Candy Canyon Kingdom before a crowd of NPCs.

“AGH—CAINE WHA—where are we??”

“We’re with the princess, of course!”

Pomni’s head was spinning. It was evident that he was desperate to please her, or perhaps even, make their time together last. She couldn’t deny, she really, really wanted to go back to her room and stare into the abyss for a while. When Caine had said “Christmas adventure”, she had foolishly assumed he meant something traditional—a gift exchange, decorating gingerbread houses, something normal.

But looking at the man beside her, she knew it was best never to assume he was anything “normal”.

Princess Loolilalu approached the two from within the castle, earning screams of excitement from the crowd. One she had approached the two, she curtsied to them. “Ah, you must be the brave girl who saved God,” she said, gesturing to Caine, whose eyes were pointing in entirely different directions.

Pomni sighed. “Yep…that’s me,” she replied weakly, quite honestly wanting this whole adventure to be over.

“Well, we’ve prepared quite the celebration in your honor. And, if you don’t mind…” Princess Loolilalu gestured for a mannequin NPC to scurry over, carrying a candy crown on a red pillow, “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, um…that’s okay, I really don’t need—”

“Nonsense! I coded the crown to fit you perfectly,” Caine interjected. With a snap of his fingers, her jester hat disappeared, leaving her with her short, dark brown hair fully exposed.

“Well, you can’t argue with God,” the NPC commented before lifting the crown to the Princess with more urgency.

Princess Loolilalu smiled gently before plucking the crown from the pillow, stepping closer to Pomni and placing it onto her head. “A crown in your honor. The Candy Canyon Kingdom is forever grateful for your noble escapade,” she curtsied, and the crowd of NPCs erupted into cheers.

Pomni smiled uncomfortably, not sure what to do with all the eyes on her. She brought her gloved hands to her jester shorts, curtsying awkwardly.

Caine leaned over to her. “A crown suits you quite nicely, my dear,” he complimented in a hushed voice, so close to her that it made her tense up and flush.

“Let the celebrations, begin!” Princess Loolilalu announced, earning another round of applause and excited cheers.

——

After what felt like hours of vibrant “cultural”celebrations (as in, various NPCs presenting her with glitched-out dances or candies they prepared themselves, prompting her to wonder, is this cannibalism?)—the two were finally given the chance to exit the kingdom’s gates.

“Wow, Pomni! What an educational journey about candy culture!” Caine placed his gloved hands on his hips, eyes crossed in different directions.

“Can we go back to the circus?” Pomni asked in exhaustion. She never expected she’d be asking to return to that colorful purgatory, but all the NPCs’ attention had drained for.

Caine lowered onto the ground beside her, watching her carefully. “Well, actually…”

Pomni tensed, anxiety immediately settling in her stomach. “Oh God, don’t tell me we can’t go back.”

“Nonsense! Don’t be silly, I can take us home with a snap of my fingers! But ah, if you would humor me, my dear…”

Pomni raised an eyebrow as he stood eye level to her. There was something…different about his demeanor. A crack in his usual showman persona, a flicker of vulnerability. Something that felt less like an AI and more like a real person.

Caine took off his hat, fiddling with it in his hands. His eyes looked up to meet hers, slightly concealed by his top jaw. He almost looked shy. Caine, the loud and goofy AI ringmaster, looking shy. “Would you care to dance?”

Pomni blinked in surprise, unexpected butterflies settling in her stomach. She thought nothing of it, just her usual anxieties. “O-oh, I’m not really good at dancing,” she brushed off, smiling a bit uncomfortably.

“Oh, nonsense! You’re a one-of-a-kind performer,” Caine replied, placing his hat back on his top jaw, “Besides…if I may confess, there is something else I’d like to share with you.”

Pomni tilted her head curiously. “Oh…okay, um…yeah. Show me,” she said, though she knew that could be quite a risk given Caine’s history.

His face—or lack thereof—seemed to light up at her willingness. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed, hands grabbing for her waist and pulling her flush against him.

She yelped at the sudden touch, the closeness immediately bringing heat to her face. But Caine, ever the oblivious AI, merely snapped his fingers and teleported them across the map—much to the dismay of Pomni’s internal organs—inciting a cry from her.

“Ah, here we are!”

Pomni was suddenly aware of how tense she was when she had been released from his touch. Her shoulders were tensed, eyes squeezed shut, preparing for the worst. But when she opened her eyes…

Huh.

The world around her had become a forest with light streaming in, and the trees and ground coated in a sheet of snow. Everything was quiet, and snowflakes fell to the ground lazily, landing on her candy crown and Caine’s hat.

She lifted up her hand, letting the snowflakes fall on her glove. They were delicate and detailed, each one perfectly crafted. They melted slowly in her hand, and it was…

Beautiful.

“I…I love it,” Pomni breathed out in awe.

“I knew you would!” Caine said, expressions lighting up once more, “I’ve spent the past week designing this, and all just for you!” he approached her, carefully taking her hand in his.

“For me?” Pomni repeated. He had always given her special attention, she remembered that much. But this was something else. Something that made butterflies dance in her stomach.

“Of course! I wouldn’t have done this for just anyone, you know!” he gave her a playful wink, “besides, I couldn’t help but think about that conversation we had about Christmas and snow. And how much you’ve missed it.”

Pomni felt like her heart was melting as much as the snow on her hand. God, he was actually learning. And the result was beautiful. Perhaps it was that rush of affection that motivated her to prompt, “What was that you said about dancing?”

Caine’s smile widened immediately at her invitation. “Ah, of course.”

Pomni couldn’t deny how much her heart thumped in her chest—perhaps from nerves, but deep down, she knew it was something else. He held her hand in his with more confidence, his other hand slipping to cup her waist. His touch had once made her tense and shy away, but for some reason now, it took her breath away.

He guided her, slowly at first. Taking one step, then the next, back and forth in a gentle rhythm. She watched her feet, making sure she was doing it correctly, but was quickly interrupted by Caine letting go of her hand and bringing a finger to tilt her chin up.

“It’s best to keep your eyes on me, my dear,” he whispered tenderly.

Pomni nearly shivered from how gentle his voice sounded. His gaze was so oddly tender, so loving that it made butterflies flutter around in her stomach. His hand returned to hers but this time, Pomni felt bold enough to interlace her fingers with his. She could see a flicker of surprise in Caine’s eyes, but just for a brief moment.

The dance gained more confidence, snow falling delicately on the two as they moved. It coated the top of his coat and her leotard. And yet, despite their surroundings, she felt incredibly warm.

Caine lifted their hands and spun her around, causing Pomni to clumsily follow in surprise. “Careful, dear. Just like that…see?” he guided her movements, but her eyes were still too focused on his. One eye was blue and the other was green. This was the first time she had really thought about how much she liked that.

Their rhythm sped up slightly, the two gaining more confidence and fluidity in their dance. They spun in circles around the snow-covered clearing, eyes only focused on the others’. Her chest was pressed flush against his, and she could feel the way his code thrummed against her beating heart.

Her mind spun, and it wasn’t from them spinning in circles that was doing it to her.

His hands slipped down to her waist, fingers brushing over the small of her back in a way that made her breath catch. He gripped her tightly before boldly lifting her up. Pomni gasped as she was lifted into the air and spun around briefly. Normally, she would have been frightened, but for some reason, it only made her gain more confidence when she was returned to the ground. She smiled at him, gripping his hand tightly and continuing to dance with him. His eyes glistened in joy at the sight of her smile—genuine smile—and she could feel his system temperature only rising.

At one point, she spun around so her back was against his chest. His hands held hers, guiding her in a delicate dance. Pomni swore she stopped breathing when his hands traveled down to her waist, snaking around her and holding her from behind. She was certain he could feel the way her heart was beating in her chest, and it only made her more flustered.

Finally, Caine moved to dip her. Pomni audibly laughed at the dramatic gesture, the sound only making Caine’s body burn against hers. He was certainly overheating, the snow beneath him melting, and she couldn’t deny that she liked being the one that made him feel this way.

His hands were wrapped around her, one holding her back and the other cupping her waist again. Pomni’s laughter faded when she realized that the two weren’t moving. For a moment, she thought he had frozen, but…no. He was watching her, his gaze making her blush.

Caine brought the hand on her waist up to her face, brushing aside her hair and cupping the round of her face. He let his thumb trail along her lips, along the blush beneath her eyes, eyes taking in every detail like he wanted to burn this moment into his memory. But it was the way he was looking at her that made her swoon. His eyes were glistening, watching every inch of her.

He was looking at her like she was his favorite adventure, like she was his most prized possession. He looked at her like, just maybe, he wanted her. It made her hold her breath, and Pomni was acutely aware that she wanted him to kiss her.

“Caine,” Pomni breathed out, eyes blown wide at the sight of him so…genuine.

He didn’t break eye contact. It was oddly thrilling. Like a million Christmas days rolled into one moment—him holding her like this, looking at her with real emotion. Not programmed reactions, not an illusion of a feeling, but real emotion.

It made her incredibly nervous, face flushed the more she became aware.

“I believe you need rest, my clumsy little Clara,” he said so softly she almost didn’t believe it was him. He lifted his hand as though he were about to snap his fingers. “May I?”

Pomni hummed in response, shoving her pride aside in favor of the sudden warmth overwhelming her senses. She rested her head against his shoulder, hearing the soothing buzz of his code, thrumming with more intensity the closer she pressed against him.

He pressed a gentle kiss—or the closest thing to a kiss he could initiate—to her cheek, making her feel warmer than ever. With a snap of his fingers, she felt a familiar discomfort in her gut as she was transported across the map. Only this time, the discomfort was blanketed by Caine’s comfort.

“Mm…I never knew you could be so…” Pomni mumbled incoherently as she drifted closer to sleep.

“So…?” Caine prompted, code thrumming louder against her ear.

There were so many words she could choose from. Cozy? Soothing? Attractive? “…warm…” she settled on.

“I think you’ll find I can be many things, my dear.”

He settled her into her bed, tucking her in and letting his gloved hand linger against a front strand of hair. Maybe she was just incredibly tired, or maybe she was actually starting to see him differently.

“You’ve had quite the adventure today, Pomni,” he soothed, “get some rest."

There was something about the way he said her name so gently that made her feel safe. For the first time in this terrifying place, she really felt safe. Maybe even…

Loved.

She wanted to say more. She wanted to hold him close and never let go. But sleep overtook all her senses, along with an indescribable warmth.

Loved, was the word repeating in her mind as she drifted off.

——

Pomni woke to the feeling of Caine shaking her gently. It was oddly calm considering his usually energetic demeanor, like for once, he was willing to let her sleep.

A blanket was wrapped around her shoulders…no…not a blanket. It was a red jacket.

Caine’s.

She came back to reality, visions of the dream melting away in place of the dimly-lit office. The clock ticked rhythmically, the computer on her desk buzzed, the lights of the Christmas tree lazily flickering in the corner. The fever-dreamlike world of the circus had faded away, replaced by the dull familiarity of reality.

The more she woke up, the more she adjusted to the scene around her. And that’s when she became aware of Caine, who had visibly just given her his coat as a blanket. He froze when she stirred awake, eyes falling on him.

There was a sudden flutter of butterflies in Pomni’s stomach at his gaze, her head feeling light and certainly not from the alcohol.

“Caine,” she whispered, suddenly feeling incredibly flustered as the memories of her romantic dream returned to her.

“Pomni,” he replied, clearly just as unsure of what to say as her.

“Caine.”

“…”

“…”

“…merry Christmas, dear.”

Her eyes flicked to the clock, reading 12:57 AM. “Merry Christmas, Caine.”

“…”

“Pomni, I…”

“You…?”

“Well, I was just wondering if you’d ah…like to…join me today.”

Pomni blinked. “You want to celebrate Christmas with me?”

Caine blushed. “Well…doesn’t that sound like such a festive thing to do? Such a human thing to do? Spending a day that is almost unanimously agreed on to be special with someone that you, perhaps, see as special?”

Pomni blushed at his jumble of words and the way he avoided her gaze. Caine, the enthusiastic and shameless boss of this place, shy. In the back of her mind was that dream. It almost seemed…

Like a memory.

Or maybe it was just the alcohol. And the exhaustion.

Probably that.

All she knew is she was blushing and speechless, her heart jumping in her chest at the sight of him. She didn’t know why her mind had made him look so…absurd. But somehow, the dream version of him had swept her off her feet.

And she felt it now, too. Like she shouldn’t find him endearing, but she did anyway.

But she wasn’t ready to admit that to herself.

“I’d…like that,” she said without thinking.

He could have burst in excitement there and then. “Oh, my dear, you would? You—really?”

She stood up, smoothing her skirt out. “Yes,” she decided, then followed up with a sentence that surprised herself, “work can wait.”

Caine froze in place, finding it difficult to move for a moment. He nearly forgot he had control over his movements until Pomni snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. “Caine…? You okay? You sort of froze up there for a moment.”

“Aha, yes! Pomni, I can’t begin to describe how long I’ve wanted to experience this with you.”

She paused for a moment, tilting her head curiously at him. Everything he was saying lined up well enough with her dreams and…maybe, just maybe, those dreams really were….

She interrupted that train of thought. No, that was entirely absurd. She was just incredibly exhausted and just a little bit drunk.

Even so, she remembered the way they had danced together in her dream, the way he was so incredibly oblivious but still endearing. The way he paid her special attention, the way he held her like he wanted her. And the way he was looking at her now…

His eyes…one was blue and one was green. She had never noticed that until now. Just like her dream…never really noticed it, not like this.

One blue, one green. Both, filled with equal adoration for her.

It could have been that thought that motivated her to boldly take his hand in his, making him tense up.

“I have, too, Caine.”

A/N: and with that, I’m off to residential for a couple months. hopefully it wasn’t too rushed, i’m quite literally heading into the office right as i post this so did not have time to edit as much as i hoped. Thank you all for being amazing. Merry Christmas <3

[burst-of-iridescent]

so i just went through your entire anti-lok tag and everything you said in it was SO WELL WRITTEN. i wanted to ask if you might have any analyses or anything (or just good old rants! we love being bryke haters) - about something that i noticed, which is this sort of... ATLA/TLOK dichotomy between how all aang's villains seem to be focused on gaining power/dominating the world or whatever, but the villains in TLOK seem to revolve around very pointed targeting of korra and specifically stripping her of her agency/bodily autonomy, but i don't know how to expand on that point.

(idk just. TLOK has a whole list of scenes that make me VIOLENTLY uncomfortable in a way even the worst of ATLA doesn't? and i thought you might have some input to share about it, if you don't mind me asking)

thank you sm!! i'm glad you enjoy my lok and bryke salt <33

i know what you mean, because it's something that struck me when i was watching lok as well. korra's villains are far more personal to her (particularly in what they do to her, or want from her) than azula or ozai or even zhao ever were to aang, and while that isn't necessarily a bad thing (in fact it can often be good to have a personal relationship between your hero and villain; just look at how much more impactful and meaningful zuko and azula's arc was compared to aang and ozai's), there is a way to do it right and that was... not what bryke did.

we didn't need to see korra brutally bloodbent and stripped of her bending, or brutally attacked by unalaq, or brutally tortured by the red lotus or - you got it - brutally beaten up by kuvira (over and over again, might i add). i'm not saying that violence never has its place in storytelling, but it needs to have an actual purpose that's not just shock value. atla, for instance, knew when and how to utilise violence: the sight of gyatso's skeleton in the southern air temple, aang's murder by azula, even katara bloodbending... the violence in all of those scenes was necessary either to communicate vital information to the audience, or drive home the emotive and narrative significance of the moment, or both.

in lok though, bryke hardly, if ever, achieved either of these objectives - especially because it was mainly only ever korra who got the brunt of the violence. no other character is repeatedly targeted and assaulted and violated even half as much as korra is, even when they're facing the same antagonists. tenzin's fight against the red lotus in book 3 gets a tasteful pan to black (one of the few times i think bryke did use violence purposefully; knowing what not to show is just as important as knowing what to show, and leaving the audience with the dread of tenzin's fate was actually sadder and more terrifying than letting us see what happened to him) but korra's agonizing torture at the hands of the red lotus is so long and drawn-out that it begins to veer into torture porn.

imo, this can probably be attributed to two things: 1) bry.ke thinking trauma = character development because they don't know how else to write a good character arc (and they still somehow fucked it up - i will never forgive them for making korra thank zaheer, of all people, for helping her overcome her trauma, like what the absolute fuck bry.ke), and 2) they wanted lok to be "more mature" than atla, which shows both that they fundamentally didn't understand atla, or what constitutes good storytelling, and also that someone desperately needs to tell them that simply upping the violence and hamfistedly handling "complex" topics does not maturity make.

(given the way bryke has written women, i also have to side-eye the fact that the strong-willed, independent, brown female protagonist is beaten and battered and torn down far more than the peaceful, affable light-skinned male protagonist ever is, even during an actual war.)

and of course, contrary to what our dear bryke probably expected, simply brutalizing korra season after season in the name of shock value and development did not, to anyone else's surprise, make lok the better show in the end.

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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[noisilyscreechingsong]

Dp x Dc short idea

Jason is Danny’s dad

Warning: Language

Jason had just returned to the family publicly about two weeks ago. It hadn’t even been that long for him to settle before something happened. The press weren’t even off his ass and he has Alfred requesting he return home for an urgent matter immediately, which is butler speak for get your ass here right now!

The family was happy but adjusting to everything. They had mandatory family dinners at least twice a month and voluntarily got together more frequently, mostly just the siblings, but every once in a while Bruce would sneak in for a movie in the family room.

Alfred was pleased with the progress the family has made over the course of many years. It finally felt like everything was coming together and maybe settling down. He knew he thought that too soon when he answered the buzzer at the front gate. They weren’t expecting any visitors and looking at the video feed it was a young woman with hands on her hips glaring back at the camera. There were two large bags with her and surprisingly enough a young child playing in the grass just a short distance behind her.

“Wayne Residence, Alfred Pennyworth speaking, how may I assist you, ma’am?”

“Lettin’ me in for starters,” she says back with venom on her tongue.

“My apologies, but you do not have an appointment.”

She snorts, “Nah, but ya see, I saw that bastard on the news and thought I’d drop off what he gave me.”

To get her point across, she turns and looks back at the little boy not paying her any attention.

“Danny!” She snaps and he jerks his head to look at, who Alfred is assuming is, his mother. “Come here.”

He hops up at his own pace and dusts off the grass on his knees before trotting over. She leans down to angle the young boy away from the camera and pushing back his hair.

He couldn’t see it well before by the way the boy was positioned before, but Alfred could clearly see a prominent patch of white hair on the left lower section by his neck. Just like the white batch on Jason.

“You gonna let us in now?” She asks rudely.

Alfred has already determined he did not like this woman. He still buzzes them in. He contacts Jason immediately followed closely with Bruce.

Alfred then helps the two carry in the bags, while subtly checking for any weapons or explosives. Instead he finds things meant for a child.

He really didn’t like this woman.

Bruce is the first one to arrive down the stairs, pausing towards the bottom. He glances at Alfred and can see the displeasure in the butler’s eyes.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Bruce Wayne, nice to meet you.”

“Fuckin’ everyone knows who you are, Brucie Wayne,” she huffs with a roll of her eyes.

Bruce glances down at the very young child who is hearing the foul language. He couldn’t be more than five, and completely oblivious as the little boy runs a hand along the wall and looks around at everything. He particularly keeps going back to the shiny chandelier above their heads.

“Who might you be?” He asks the woman, coming back to her as she almost touches the vase on the entry table. She draws her hand back to fold her arms across her chest.

“Grace.”

The name seems ironic compared to her behavior.

“And how can I help you, Miss Grace?”

“Your thought-to-be-dead son left something of his. I’m here to return it.”

It took no detective to determine she was talking about the boy currently using the door frame to the sitting room as leverage to rock back and forth, holding on with his tiny hands. Bruce could see the splash of white among the dark hair from this angle.

Bruce hums.

“Is that so?”

“I’ve already contacted Master Jason. He should be arriving soon. Shall I prepare some refreshments in the drawing room?” Alfred informs.

“Thank you, Alfred. Right this way,” he says to Grace, directing her toward the left while pulling out his phone to ask Tim to prepare the proper equipment downstairs.

“Danny!” The woman calls with impatience. She glares at the little boy who calmly turns to look at her, then skips behind them.

Grace huffs but doesn’t say anything else as they enter the room. She sits herself in the middle of the love seat and Bruce takes one of the chairs across from her. The boy, Danny, explores the room thoroughly, walking around without pattern and investigating every nook and cabinet to keep himself entertained. Very curious little child.

Bruce tries to engage her in conversation to dig up more information, but she firmly wanted to wait for Jason before divulging anything. He did however find out that Danny is four and needs to be enrolled in kindergarten next turn. Grace works night shift but wouldn’t say where.

Alfred came with three waters, one in a smaller plastic cup for Danny, and a plate of crackers and cut up fruit.

Grace eyes the butler with a raised brow. However, the first words Danny has spoken in their presence is a cute, “Thank you, mister,” before munching on a cracker and sipping from his cup. His curious eyes flick over the fruit and wanders over to his mother who picks at a rip in her jeans. He taps her knee and she sighs.

“What is it?”

“What’s that?”

Danny points to the fruit.

“What’s what?”

He creeps forward to point directly at the blackberries mixed in with the blueberries and strawberries.

“Blackberry,” she answers shortly.

“What’s it taste like?”

“Why don’t you try it and find out?”

He must have approved of that suggestion and reaches in to clumsily wrap a tiny hand around one of the dark berries. He flips it over in his hand for a minute, observing it at all angles, feeling the texture of the little bumps, before shoving it in his mouth. Danny leans his body over the coffee table to drag the bowl closer and rummage through it for more goodies.

Really looking at him, Bruce could see Jason’s freckles and the few other similarities like his square jaw and lip shape. He hasn’t seen it yet but Bruce bets Danny has the same crooked grin as his son.

He has the woman’s pale complexion and nose shape. His hair was straight like hers instead of Jason’s curls, but Danny took his dark coloring compared to her light brunette.

The boy was an adorable mix of both his son and this woman. He almost felt the test was unnecessary, but he didn’t stop Alfred from replacing the plastic cup and take it back to the kitchen where he knew it would be handed off to Tim.

Thankfully it was a day where there weren’t any meetings for either of them to attend.

Surprisingly, it isn’t Jason that enters the room first, it’s Damian coming home from school. The fourteen year old, almost fifteen, holds a leash in one hand with Titus standing patiently next to him, ready for his after school walk.

“Father, I heard we have guests.”

The teen stops in the doorway and Danny turns with interest until he spots the animal, then his eyes bug with excitement.

“Mommy, doggie,” he whisper shouts.

She just hums in affirmative, looking the new arrival up and down.

Danny grabs a blackberry from the bowl and trots over to Damian. He holds out the piece of fruit.

“This is a blackberry,” he states proudly.

Damian blinks down at the small child. Titus tilts his head, his nose working hard.

“I’m aware.”

“You can have it, if you let me pet your doggie,” he negotiates like he needed to give something in order to receive permission.

Damian looks up to his father for answers.

“Jason will be here soon,” is what he gets instead, his father’s lips twitch.

Damian looks back down in sudden realization when he sees the similarities between the man and this boy. He sighs tiredly.

“Pennyworth. A wet washcloth if you please.”

“Right away, Master Damian.”

“Next time, you only need to ask to pet Titus, you do not need to give me anything in return,” he tells the child.

Danny looks down at the berry sitting in his stained hands.

“So you don’t want it?”

“…Maybe later.”

“Okay!”

Danny skips back to carefully set the berry off the side on the tray, as if to save it for Damian for later like he said. He jogs the short distance back to them.

“Can I pet your doggie now, please?”

Damian takes the washcloth Alfred hands him with a nod and crouches down to get level with the boy.

“We must wipe our hands first. We don’t want anything sticky in his fur,” he explains as he holds out the washcloth for Danny’s hands.

The four year old looks down at the stains to see what he means and then places his hands on the washcloth for Damian to get the juices off.

The teen then calmly explains how to properly approach a dog he does not know by letting Titus smell the back of his hand first and then to always stay calm and confident.

Titus, the gentle giant that he is, had no problems letting the tiny child pat him and run small fingers through his short fur. It was endearing to hear the giggles when Titus used his big nose to sniff at the child’s face and neck. Sitting down, Titus was taller than the child standing up, which would have been scary to some kids, but Danny seemed to love Titus instantly. The little boy easily telling the dog what a good boy he is even with the dog sitting there doing nothing.

“Titus needs his afternoon walk now,” Damian informs.

Titus stands at the word walk, clearly ready to go.

“Oh, okay.” Danny turns to the big dog to reach up and pat his head twice. “Bye-bye, Titus. Have a good walk.”

The two leave and Danny skips back over to hang over the arm of the love seat his mother sits in, typing on her phone.

“Mommy, did you see the doggie? His name is Titus. He’s a good dog.”

“Uh-huh,” she comments without really listening.

“Do you like dogs, Danny?” Bruce asks with a smile.

Danny looks at him like he forgot the man was there, tilts his head as he studies him for a moment. Bruce waits patiently until Danny deems him okay and perks back up with bright eyes.

“Uh-huh! I love dogs! Mommy says we can’t get one ‘cuz our ‘partment is too small and they’re dirty. You’s guys are lucky,” the boy rambles as he wanders around the coffee table to get closer to Bruce and away from his distracted mother.

“How do you feel about cats? Damian has a black and white one around here somewhere.”

Danny shrugs and they continue to have a rather pleasant conversation about different animals and foods and each of their houses. It takes up the amount of time for Jason to walk through the door, seemingly already informed of the situation from Alfred.

Jason was… flabbergasted. Bewildered. Caught unprepared. He was a lot of words. Mostly he was scared.

Did he really have a child? A son? If that was true then he missed so much. He missed all of his firsts. First words, first steps, first laugh, first everything.

Would the boy even like him? What if he saw all his scars and was scared of him? What if he didn’t want anything to do with Jason after not being in his life this whole time?

But the boy might not be his. There’s that. That could be… Jason didn’t like the disappointment that thought brought.

Grace was the first one he noticed. Her ripped jeans and low cut top being out of place among the antique furniture and Persian rug. She scowls at him, putting her phone down.

“Finally decided to show up?”

He bites back a comment. He broke several traffic laws to get here, it wasn’t his fault he was fourty minutes away at the time he got the call.

He glances over at Bruce and instead his eyes zero in on the child standing by the armchair Bruce was sitting in.

Just one look and he knew the boy was his.

He looks to Bruce anyway for confirmation, since he has no doubt he sent off a sample to Tim hiding like the troll he is in the basement. The man nods. Jason sucks in a deep breath and suddenly needs to sit down.

He sinks heavily in the matching armchair next to Bruce’s, separated only by a round end table. Jason can’t stop staring at those big, blue eyes that are filled with such curiosity and innocence he almost breaks down right then. But he can’t. He has to be strong. He can’t just walk away to get a handle on his emotions. He’s a dad now.

“You’re a hard man to find,” Grace folds her arms over her chest.

“I’ve been busy,” he answers lamely.

She humphs and looks away with a shake of her head.

The boy, Danny Alfred said his name was, creeps around Bruce’s legs to get closer, obviously seeing something in Jason enough to investigate. The room is quiet as they wait to see how Danny will react.

Coming to a stop right before his knees, Danny stares up at the large man with lots of scars and muscles from what he can see. He wasn’t scared. There was just something familiar that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He looks… he looks like… and he also feels almost like…

Furrowing his brows in a pout, he knows his Mommy doesn’t like it when he does it, but he still makes his eyes burn with green.

The man gasps and his eyes also swirl into an angry green.

“Daddy?” Danny asks with hope and joy.

Daddy swallows and then nods.

“Yea, buddy, I’m your dad.”

“Daddy!” The boy cheers, jumping in place with a wide smile. “Daddy! Mommy, look! It’s Daddy!”

Danny wastes no time climbing into the man’s lap and wrapping his arms around him as far as they’ll go (not very far) to press his ear to Jason’s chest over his heart. He’s practically vibrating with excitement and Jason makes sure to set a large hand on his back to hold him close.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Grace hisses, her eyes wide at the display earlier. Both of their eyes had returned to their calmer blue and teal color, but everyone in the room saw it. “I knew he got it from you.”

His eyes narrow in warning, pulling the boy closer to his chest. He sets a hand over Danny’s exposed ear to protect him from the harsh words he’s probably already heard before.

“Do you have any idea how creepy it is to deal with a tantrum when your kid has fucking glowing green eyes?”

“Did you hit him?” Jason growls, the vibrations seeming to settle Danny even more.

“Please, I’m not my mother,” she dismisses with a sneer.

Could have fooled him.

“Everything was fine until he started doing freaky shit. I don’t know how to raise a meta kid, alright?”

“What are you talking about?”

Now he was just confused. What stuff was Danny doing that Grace thought he was a meta?

“Don’t try to pretend you don’t have powers too,” she points viciously.

“I’m not pretending. I don’t have powers. I don’t have the meta gene. What can he do?” He demands while being transparently clear.

She just glares back at him, obviously not believing him. That didn’t exactly matter at the moment.

“What can he do?” He repeats with emphasis.

She puckers her lips like she’s tasted something sour and then lifts her chin.

“Why doesn’t he just show you, huh? Danny- Would you stop babying him? Danny, show him the things you can do.”

After Jason takes the hand off the boy’s head, Danny turns to his mother warily.

“But you don’t like it,” he reminds, like she forgot.

“He wants to see it, so show him,” she waves a hand at Jason like he just asked for something he would regret.

Danny leans back to look up at his dad.

“You won’t get mad? Or scared?”

He sounds so unsure and scared. As if Jason could ever hate him. Jason really wants to punch something. Preferably something with her face on it.

“I promise I won’t.”

Another parent might have something more profound to say to reassure their child, but Jason was just starting out and honestly, it was more than Bruce would ever say.

Danny thinks for a second before wiggling to get down. He looks back once more at his mother who gives him a ‘get on with it’ motion.

The boy fidgets a little before covering his face with two hands like he’s playing hide and seek, then- disappears. Jason jerks at watching his son blink out of sight like a Martian.

“Boo!” Danny pops back into view, exactly where he was standing before with his hands out like any child on Halloween.

Jason blinks and then starts laughing. This was karma. Danny could literally become invisible, something the Bats train to do for years.

“That was good, buddy,” Jason chuckles, ruffling the kid’s hair.

Danny hesitantly smiles back, a bit of hope and pride in those eyes.

“There’s more,” Grace interrupts, seemingly uneasy with how well Jason reacted.

“Yea?” Jason directs to Danny, his focus on his son.

Danny gives a shaky nod, glancing over worriedly at Bruce who is just silently watching. Jason could see the tension in his shoulders but also the intrigue.

The boy places a hand on the coffee table and focuses on his hand. It took a few minutes of concentration before Danny’s hand went through the table like he was just dunking his hand in a pool instead of through a solid object.

He pulls his hand out and they could see it be slightly translucent.

“That one’s harder to do when I want to,” Danny mumbles.

“You mean it mostly happens on accident?”

Danny nods.

“I drop a lot. And get stuck sometimes.”

Yea, Jason can see how that could be a problem. He can’t imagine how terrified Danny was the first time a body part got stuck in an immovable object. He really wishes he could have been there for him in his panic.

“The last thing is hard too. But I’ve been practicing. Watch!”

Danny jumps once, twice, and on the third time he lingers in the air, coming down slowly like someone in water or astronauts on the moon. Danny pushes off the ground a fourth time, this time floating steadily higher like gravity meant nothing to him.

Despite the kid obviously have done this before and enjoying it with his giggles, Jason stands under him in case he falls. And falls he does. Suddenly, like the strings being cut and gravity taking hold of him again, Danny plummets into Jason waiting arms. The boy grunts on impact and then smiled sheepishly up at his dad.

“Sorry, Daddy. I promise I’m doing better.”

“That’s okay, squirt. I’m glad I was here to catch you.”

Jason plops back into the chair with his child in his lap.

“Anything else up that sleeve of yours?” He teases but is equally as serious.

Danny shakes his head enough to make his hair fluff. Jason looks to Grace for confirmation and sees she is still recovering from Danny’s fall out of the air. How many times has she had to catch him? Or wasn’t able to catch him?

She clears her throat.

“I don’t know if it’s part of it, but he never gets sick. Never even had a cough.”

Children always get sick, that’s how they build immune systems. For Danny to have never gotten even a cold, Jason doesn’t know if it’s worrying or a good thing.

“Any allergies?” Is the first thing on his mind, thinking of what Alfred will need to know.

She shakes her head with a negative hum.

“In one of the bags is a folder with all of his documents. Birth certificate, immunizations, doctor visits. I also made a list of some favorite things and things he hates. It has foods on there too.”

That was… honestly more than he was expecting from her. But it also cements the fact that she intended to drop him off with him and then never see them again. She raised him for four years and she doesn’t even want visitation? Does she not understand there are legal documents she needs to sign to transfer custody properly?

“There are some things you need to sign, but it will take some time to get it sorted,” Bruce chimes in all business.

Long nails swipe through the air like signing her rights away was trivial.

“My phone number and address are on one of the documents. Just tell me when and where.”

She stands to leave and Jason can feel Danny tense up.

“Are we leaving?” He asks worriedly, climbing down from his seat on his dad’s lap. He didn’t want to go.

“You’re staying here. With your dad,” Grace says shortly, not once looking at the boy.

“Are you going home to get the rest of our stuff?”

“No. I’m going home. You’re staying here. End of story.”

Danny visibly thinks on that for a second then scampers after his mother as she leaves the room.

“Is it like Robbie where his mom lives in one ‘partment and his dad lives in a different one?”

Grace sighs and runs a hand through her hair. She’s clearly flustered and is showing it as irritation, but Jason can’t help but trail behind in case she says something that she shouldn’t.

“No, Danny, it’s not like Robbie. I- I am leaving you here and I’m not coming back, okay?”

Jason takes a step forward to draw her attention and send her a look that says ‘choose your words carefully, this is a conversation he will remember for a long time’.

“But- but why? Is it ‘cuz of my things? I’m sorry I scared you, Mommy. I didn’t mean to. I won’t do them again, promise.”

Jason grits his teeth at how desperate his son sounds, trying to keep his mother with him. Even making a promise he can’t keep.

Grace finally looks at her baby. Sees the turmoil and tears in his baby blue eyes. She gets down on her knees to get level and places her hands on his tiny shoulders.

“You will do them again and that’s not a bad thing. Your things are part of you. That’s okay. You’re not in any trouble. I just- I’m in over my head here, Danny. I can’t take care of you the way you should be taken care of, okay? But your dad can, I hope. So I’m leaving you here. With him.”

Danny’s lip wobbles and she has to restrain herself from not hugging him like she always does when he’s upset.

“Then- then you’ll visit, right? Like Chase’s grandma visits him?”

Why is this so hard?

“I don’t think so, baby. I don’t think you’re gonna see me again. I’m sorry.”

Danny is silent for a while. He wipes his eyes and sniffs.

“Are you goin’ ‘way like Jamal’s dad?”

The ten year old in the same building as them lost his dad in a wrong place wrong time type situation. Jamal had told Danny his dad went away forever so he couldn’t see him again. Grace had told him that when people go away forever, they get put among the stars he loves so much to be remembered.

Grace wears such a pained expression Jason half thought she was about to burst into tears.

“Kinda,” she nods. “So give me a big hug, okay?”

Danny was in her arms before she finished speaking. Jason didn’t exactly know why she wanted to stop all contact, but he had a theory that if Danny really was a meta (and with his powers he was leaning toward believing it) then Grace would want to distance herself as much as possible to protect them both. He met her in Crime Alley, he knew they didn’t live in a good spot. If any one of those crooks saw Danny use any of his powers, they could steal him easily from his single mother. She didn’t want to give those kind of people leverage to get Danny and sell him off. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, she was just trying to do what was best for her kid, even if that meant cutting her out of his life.

He had a strange new respect for her he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Grace takes a heavy breath and pulls away showing Danny’s tear stained cheeks. She wipes them like it would do anything.

“I gotta go now, Danny.”

“No,” he cries and Jason’s heart breaks a little more.

“We gotta say goodbye now. Please.”

Grace is just barely hanging on. Jason knows as soon as she walks out that door she’ll break down.

“I don’t want to. Don’t want you to leave,” Danny whines, trying to keep a strong grip on his mother.

She holds his hands in hers and gives him a serious look.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re gonna be just fine with your dad.” She leans in and whispers, “You’re not alone, Danny. You are never alone. Just look up. Look at the stars, baby, and you’ll be okay.”

Danny pouts, but thinks about those words.

“I like the stars,” he mumbles.

She smiles, probably the first one in a while.

“I know you do.”

She kisses his forehead one last time and stands. Danny whines. She steps away.

“Bye-bye, Danny. I- I love you.”

“Mommy,” he cries, tears and snot coming full force now.

Jason can’t take anymore and picks up his son to hold on his hip.

“It’s okay, buddy. I got you,” he assures. He turns to Grace who is having the internal battle of her life in the foyer. “I got him.”

It’s an assurance to her too, that he will take care of Danny, that he would be there for him. It was a promise.

Grace sees it for what it is and leaves out the front door without another word.

Danny screams and cries and struggles, but Jason holds on tight, scared he’ll fall or use his powers to get away and disappear. The man walks back to the drawing room so his son wasn’t staring at the door longingly.

As soon as Jason sits down, Danny struggles harder since they stopped moving. So Jason stands again, adjusting the boy in his arms and starts pacing a path around the room.

Bruce has already disappeared, not knowing what to do with a heartbroken child crying his eyes out. Alfred has cleared away the tray of snacks, leaving two waters on the table, one in a small, plastic cup. Jason spies Damian poke his head in for a second to see what the matter was, and upon seeing no immediate threat went off wherever. Other than that, father and son were alone to figure themselves out.

Danny was going through a lot for a toddler and Jason didn’t exactly know how to handle what happened either. He tried his best with speaking reassurances into the boy’s hair, but he didn’t know if Danny even heard him over his own crying.

It was a rough first meeting to be frank, but after a while (what felt like ages) Danny cried himself to sleep and Jason felt it safe to finally sprawl out on the loveseat with the boy laying on his chest. Compared to a grueling patrol, that was definitely worse. He never wanted to have to go through that again, but knew as a dad it was part of the job description.

[minhosimthings]

Heaven and Back || SJY, PSH || 18+

In which you buy leashes for your favourite pup and kitten.

Pairings: kittyHybrid!Sunghoon × puppyHybrid!Jake × sugarmommy!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, hoon and Jake are hybrids, not much hybrid stuff just tails and ears, dom!reader, sub!JakeHoon, threesome, anal sex, p in v, double penetration, oral (f and m), leashes (on JakeHoon), degradation, praise, swearing, choking, breath play, masturbating (m), reader is Jakehoon's sugar mommy, unprotected sex (not for you), edging, cumming inside, use of 'mommy', includes Yunjin of Lessreafim, reader is LOADED

A/N this is most probably the longest smut I've ever written and the subbiest smut I've written too lol. Shout out to my irl bestie for very nicely instructing me about leashes (he nearly killed me). This is specially dedicated to my beloved unhinged murder kitten child @jaeyunluvr. So I hope she likes this! And I hope you all love this too! Ciao my babies💖

Song Rec: Heaven and Back by Chase Atlantic

Word count: 8K (my apologies in advance)

“Whose great idea was it to visit this place again?” Yunjin tilted her head back at you, “Because I am never leaving.” 

“Freak.” You chuckled, running your hand through some soft foam objects of whose purpose you had no idea, “And it was my great idea, thank you very much.” Yunjin turned to you holding up a million scrunchies in her hands.

“Buy these for me.” She said with a dead-pan face making you burst into laughter, “Oh come on, you’re rich enough,” She looked greedily down at the velvety hair-ties, “Please, mommy?” 

“Huh Yunjin, never call me that ever again.” You said in between snorts of laughter, “Plus, I’m here for some more expensive stuff.” 

“Babe, we’re in a literal sex store.” Yunjin said, eyeing some very pink vibrators hanging in the corner, “Everything here is expensive.”

“Fuck capitalism dude.” You sighed, walking deeper into the large store. Everything In there transported you into a retro-american Lana Del Rey music video, with nostalgic pinks, reds and blues covering every inch of it. You wondered mindlessly what on earth scrunchies were doing at a place like this, when you heard Yunjin gasp.

“Y/N look!” She said excitedly like a child in a candy shop, “Look at these beauties.” You followed your eyes up to where she was pointing, and softly chuckled, sleeping your hands into the pockets of your pants.

Leashes.

Gloriously long, magnificently coloured, leashes.

“Are you alright hun?” You said, raising your hand up to pull one of the black coloured ones down from its hanger, “It's not like you to suggest leashes.” Your fingers toyed with the metal chain of the scandalous thing in your hand. You tugged at the price tag to see how much the gorgeous thing was worth.

After all, you only wanted the best for your boys.

“Well isn't this cheap?” You handed the leash to Yunjin who widened her eyes and looked at you as if you had gone positively insane.

“Cheap?” She whispered dramatically, “150 dollars is cheap to you?” She scoffed before she put the leash back on its hanger, “Damn mommy, you are rich.” 

“Careful Jinnie, you’re still my assistant.” You chuckled, as you pulled your hands out of your pockets and placed one each on your hip, “Well, I think I’m gonna take two of these.”

“For the boys?” Yunjin asked, putting a thoughtful finger to her chin, “Hmm..I think the blue one and the white one will be nice!”

“Good eye.” You complimented her, letting her pull those ones off. You took the white one in your hand, which had a little bow attached to it, thinking about how cute Jake would look in it. The blue would certainly suit Sunghoon, what with his porcelain skin suiting almost any and every colour.

“Should I go and ring them up then?” Yunjin asked to which you nodded.

“Oh and Jinnie.” You called just as she was about to leave, “Get as many scrunchies as you want.”

Yunjin smiled at you brightly and skipped off to find scrunchies in her favourite colour, leaving you alone to explore more of the shop. From the exterior of the shop, you would never have guessed that it was such a large one, with the endless rows of goodies never coming to a stop. You ought to have brought Jake and Sunghoon here one day; you knew they’d certainly enjoy it. 

From the day you’d met both of them, you’ve practically been inseparable. Being a hot-shot business woman in an industry dominated by old men and young fools took a toll on your mental health. If only you had someone to help you take all that stress out. It was Yunjin who had convinced you to follow the ridiculous idea of having a sugar baby–or perhaps even two.

And that was how a puppy-hybrid Jake and kitten-hybrid Sunghoon came into your life, eagerly helping you relieve your stress after a long day signing paperwork and calculating the misogyny. But they had grown into more than just average sex toys. They were also the careful and safe arms that you could slip into whenever you needed to, the gentle hands that would run through your hair on a peaceful night, and the peculiar minds who could convince you to take a break everytime you were on the verge of bleeding through your nose.

So you obviously had to get them a present for your two-year anniversary right?

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Sunghoon’s hand trembled as he carefully set the last edible flower onto the thick buttercream. The cake had to be perfect, so he had started decorating it as soon as it cooled down. He knew you loved violas the most, so he tried to make the flowers look as much as violas as possible. He wondered if Jake was done with whatever he was doing, when the younger man walked into the room.

“The bedroom’s done!” Jake announced proudly, his fluffy golden ears in excitement as he  dropped into a chair by the kitchen island, “She’s gonna love it.”

“I hope so.” Sunghoon sighed, taking his apron off, “I had to beg Yunjin to tell me what cake she likes best.”

“To think that it’s been two years and she still doesn't tell us her favourite foods.” Jake scoffed, eyeing the cake with hunger behind his eyes, “But that’s Y/N for you.” 

“Jake, those puppy eyes aren't gonna get you a bite of this.” Sunghoon picked the cake up and walked over to the main dining table, where he carefully set it down, “This is for my beloved and my beloved only.”

“Our beloved.” Jake corrected, “Man, she’s done so much for us in the past few years, I hope we can repay the favour.” Sunghoon laughed at the sight of Jake’s golden yellow tail wagging jovially, as it often did whenever Jake thought about you, Sunghoon’s own sleek, thin, black tail lay resting, swishing about every now and then. His black ears sat atop his head patiently, waiting for the sound of the door opening. 

“When do you think she’ll be home?” Sunghoon said with an impatient tone to his voice, “The cake will–” Before he could finish his sentence however, his observant ears swooped up, pointing out the kitchen door. The sound of the door creaking open alerted Jake as well, who was out of the room faster than Sunghoon could say a word. 

Jake’s feet led him straight out into the hallway, where you stood, taking off your coat and hanging it up, you had a shopping bag in your hand and a mischievous smile on your face as you turned to him and opened your arms for a hug, which Jake ran straight into. 

“I missed you.” Jake whined as you wrapped your arms around him tighter, with one of your hands even going up to scratch behind his ears.

“She’s only been gone half a day Jake.” You looked up to see Sunghoon leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, “You’ve handled worse than that havent you?”

‘Don’t be so rough on him, Hoon.” You chuckled, walking up to him, “You’re not better either.” Sunghoon’s mouth closed as soon as it was open, when your fingers ran through the fur of his ears, slowly scratching it. You smirked when his eyes closed for a second, letting himself melt into the warmth of your gentle touch. Which he knew could turn rough at any moment.

“Why does the entire house smell like chamomile?” You said, to which Jake meekly smiled and Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

“That would be his amazing decoration skills.” Sunghoon grunted, his tail swishing around lazily, “Are you hungry?” He quickly diverted the topic, which brought your attention back to your grumbling stomach. You nodded, to which Sunghoon smiled and led you into the dining room, with Jake following behind. 

“Ta-da!” Jake exclaimed as soon as you lay your eyes on the cake set on the dining table, “Hoon made it all by himself.” His tail wagged speedily, compared to Sunghoon. Though you had to admit that Sunghoon’s ears, which were dropped to hide his flushed face, were far more adorable.

“A slice, my queen?” Sunghoon said, his eyes instantly cringing in shame at his words. 

“Wow......” You chuckled, sitting down on the chair that Jake had pulled out for you, “You made this for me?”

Sunghoon shyly nodded, though his tail betrayed him by rising up in pride. It certainly did have a mind of its own. In order to hide his blushing cheeks, Sunghoon quickly slipped into the kitchen to retrieve a knife to cut the cake. He was greeted with the sight of Jake excitedly rambling about his day to you when he came back. 

You giggled, nodding dramatically as he cut out a large slice of the cream-coloured cake and placed it on the plate, nudging it towards you. Jake’s eyes followed you with rapt attention as you brought a piece upto your mouth, eating it slowly so as to fully understand the flavour. Sunghoon had done well, in your opinion; it tasted heavenly. 

“Well?” Sunghoon looked at you with hesitation, twiddling his thumbs.

“You’re making this everyday from now on.” You laughed, setting your fork down. The two men laughed along, keeping their eyes set on you to track your every move.

Smirking to yourself, you casually dipped your finger into the thick frosting of your slice of cake, making sure your finger was evenly coated in it, before licking it, very slowly, with your slender tongue. You were quite sure that you heard Jake whimper beside you.

“Want some, Jakey?” You raised a brow at him.

 Dipping your finger once more, you raised it up to Jake’s salivating mouth, which he generously took. Leaning forward, the dog-eared man took the entirety of your finger into his mouth, gently sucking on it. You felt your skin prickle by the way his tongue swirled around.

“That’s enough, baby.” You said gently, though to Jake, it sounded more like a command, “We’ve gotta let Hoon have a turn too, hm?” Jake silently obeyed, looking at you with the same wide eyes, with his fluffy ears positively dying to be scratched. But you wouldn't give him that satisfaction just yes.

Turning your back to him, you came face to face with a droopy eared Sunghoon, who was evidently jealous of the attention his fellow hybrid was getting. Instead of dipping your finger into the frosting, this time, you led your hand up to his ears, scratching behind them again. But this time, your fingers lingered to his hair, eventually reaching to the back of his head, where you kept massaging it. Hard as he tried, Sunghoon failed to not fall into a trance, absolutely sinking into the comfort of your hands. You moved closer to him.

“My sweet boys.” You chuckled, pulling at his hair gently, which made him purr softly, “You’ve been so good for mommy all day, haven’t you?” 

“Y-yes mommy.” Sunghoon whispered, as you pulled his hair rougher this time. You chuckled again, releasing his hair so suddenly that he didn't open his eyes, until after a minute or so. When he did, he looked flabbergasted that you had deprived him of his pleasure. 

Both the men sat silently as you reached over to grab the shopping bag you’d brought with you; in the excitement to show you the cake, they had completely forgotten to ask you what was in it. They decided to ignore that question though, when you pulled out the most unexpected items out from the bag.

Jake and Sunghoon sat dumb-struck as they stared at the things you had set in front of them. It appeared to be…..leashes?

“You know what they are, my darlings?” You asked them to which they nodded, “Then you’ll know what to do with them I suppose?” Another round of nodding; you smiled, “Good.” You stood up from your seat and started for the kitchen door, but not before placing a sweet kiss to each of their foreheads. 

“I’ll have a shower and I’ll get to bed.” You said before exiting the room, “Get dolled up for me.” You winked, before racing up to the master bedroom, leaving Jake and Sunghoon alone with their new toys.

They looked at each other hesitantly before grabbing one each and hurrying off to the bedroom.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

You let out a sigh of relief as the hot water hit your skin, instantly providing relaxation to your tight muscles. Talking about numbers and inflation rates all day stressed you out, so a hot shower was your go to as soon as you reached home. Usually one of the boys joined you, most often Jake since Sunghoon fell asleep quite easily, betraying his feline qualities. You always loved Jake in the shower though; he was always so full of energy for you and the way his fluffy golden tail and floppy ears tickled you pink during a wet session made you extra sleepy, so much so that you were as dead as a log the minute your skin touched the sheets. 

You laughed to yourself at the distant memory of Jake accidentally making you sneeze in the shower when some of his fur got into your nose. Picking up your shampoo bottle, you squeezed some onto your hand, spreading it into your scalp with deep, massaging movements that made you relax even more. But then again you couldn't wait to get out and see how the boys looked in their new clothes.

Meanwhile, outside the bathroom—

“How the fuck is this supposed to work.” Jake stared down at whatever the thing was in his hands, “I thought she was getting us some necklaces or something.”

“Technically these are necklaces.” Sunghoon spoke slowly, looking down at his blue leash with the same confused expression, his naked chest rising and falling slowly, “Have you figured out how it opens yet?”

“Do I look like a scientist to you?” Jake said, frowning when Sunghoon jokingly ruffled his head, “Hey, don’t mess it up! I combed it specifically for Y/N.” 

“Hmm…don’t care.” Sunghoon chuckled, his tail reaching up to tickle Jake’s shins, “How about we put these on each other? Maybe that’ll help us figure it out?”

Though Jake didn't understand the plan to understand the leashes, he nodded, getting onto his knees on the bed, so as to reach Sunghoon’s height. He grabbed the blue object out of Sunghoon’s hands and studied it for a moment, before raising it up and trying to force it down onto his friend’s cat ears. Sunghoon groaned.

“You really are dumb.” He said, rubbing the place Jake was putting so much pressure on, “Try pulling that strap there, maybe it’ll open up.” Jake obeyed promptly, taking the baby-blue strap and tugging on it as gently as he could, to his surprise, the collar widened.

“It worked!” Jake exclaimed, as Sunghoon looked on with a smug smile, “ Stay still, I’ll put it on you!” 

Sunghoon bent forward in order to allow Jake to slip the leather piece on comfortably. He pulled at the strap again and coughed loudly when the collar suddenly tightened up, almost choking Sunghoon.

“What the fuck?!” Sunghoon exclaimed, freeing himself by pulling the strap yet again, “Did she get these things to kill us or something?” He shook his head, in order to keep his ears from zooming all over the place, “Fucking hell, I am not wearing that for her!”

“What are you not wearing for me, Hoonie?”

Sunghoon was always a sensitive man, with his feline features contributing to ninety percent of his sensitivity. He could always sense a thunderstorm or a shift in the atmosphere merely with his tail. That was how he was able to grasp the change in the air as you entered the room, wearing a velvety, pink robe that slipped off of your right shoulder. His eyes gravitated to your chest, where the flimsy material of the robe did nothing to hide your perked up nipples. Jake gulped loudly next to him.

“Now don’t you look adorable?” You laughed, walking towards them slowly, like a predator towards its prey. Yunjin was right in choosing the colours. Jake looked positively gorgeous in the white, whilst Sunghoon’s skin seemed to enjoy the light blue.

Your hand gravitated naturally to Jake’s ears as you reached the foot of the bed, where the both of them sat, with Jake on his knees. He let out an audible whine as you scratched behind his eyes, his tail wagging up and down rapidly and hitting the bed with soft thumps. You smiled at him.

“So needy..” You teased climbing onto the bed, prompting Jake to go back further, until he reached the bed frame. Sunghoon remained in his position. You looked back at him, stopping in your crawling position.

“Aren’t you gonna join us, Hoonie?” Your low, sultry voice combined with your hooded, almost droopy eyes made Sunghoon’s heart jump. He knew you could probably see his erection from his boxers by now, but he didnt care. Swiftly pulling his legs up, he crawled over next to you, immediately going for your lips. You shifted back as he kissed you, one of your hands on the bed, while the other located the leash’s strap. Smirking into the wet kiss, you allowed Sunghoon to enjoy the tantalising feeling, before pulling harshly on the strap.

“Naughty baby.” You cooed, as Sunghoon shut his eyes at the occluding sensation of the collar around his beautiful neck, “You didn't even ask for permission to kiss mommy.” 

“..m sorry, m-mommyy..” He drawled out, his voice restricted by the leash around his neck.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of Sunghoon’s neck veins becoming more visible by the minute. You loosened your grasp around the strap for a moment letting him breathe. His chest heaved up and down, taking a deep breath, before you leaned in, your robe now completely off of your upper body as your lips attacked his. 

“Hmm…you taste like sugar.” You chuckled, at the sight of his big black ears drooping down as you pulled away, his eyes round and wide as he begged you to relieve him of the throbbing pain in his pants. He swore he heard the threads of his boxers rip.

You glanced to your side at Jake, grinning when you saw his big puppy eyes, and wagging tail trying to distract you from Sunghoon. You let go of Sunghoon’s hair much to his disappointment and crawled over closer to Jake, getting on top of him, before leaning in and kissing behind his ear.

“You missed me today didn't you, pup?” You cooed at him as if he was an actual baby. Jake nodded, his tail bouncing off again at the scent of your perfume. He wanted nothing more than to make you feel good at the moment. But he knew well enough that he had to wait obediently for your permission.

You were about to lean in again for a kiss, when you felt the sensation of soft lips sucking on your bare shoulder. Jake’s attention, which was earlier on your naked breasts, went straight to the purring cat behind you, who was sucking on your shoulder with his teeth. Sunghoon’s chest pressed against your back, and you could practically feel how desperate he was getting, what with his boner rubbing on your ass through his boxers.

“Sunghoon…” You mumbled, turning your head back to look at him. There he was again, with his big eyes begging you for salvation, but you wouldn't let him have it. Not so soon.

“You’re a good boy for me, yeah?” You smiled at him, grabbing his chin with your fingers and tilting it towards you, “How about you go lay down next to Jake hmm?”

Sunghoon didn’t need another word from your tongue to obey, quickly pouncing onto the bed and laying his head down next to Jake on the pillow. His muscles relaxed into the soft material of the sheets, and he could feel Jake’s body heat next to him. The rapid thumping of the heart of the pup was heard as well, his sharp ears picking up almost everything.

“Now…” You smiled warmly, catching the both of them off guard, “you’ll be alright with keeping these on right?” Jake felt the collar round his neck constrict; he realised soon enough that you were tugging on it with straps you held in your hands.

“Anything for you.” Jake heard Sunghoon purr, his own leash restricting his vocal cords. Jake shivered as your hand, still clutching the strap of his leash reached up to brush against his thigh. 

You shifted closer to the golden-furred man, forcing him to spread his legs as you accommodated yourself between them, on your knees. Sunghoon watched on silently, muffling his moans every time your hand tugged on his leash. He hated how much he loved the feeling of his breath being obstructed by you.

Hooking your fingers into each side of Jake’s boxers, you pulled them off in one swift go to reveal his throbbing cock; it was already drenched in pre-cum with the angry red tip beckoning you to calm it down. You looked up at Jake, whose face was contorted in pain at the feeling of the collar round his neck. You were enjoying this a bit too much, seeing Jake writhe in a cocktail of pain as well as pleasure everytime you ‘accidentally’ tugged a little too hard. 

“Shh, be a good boy now.” You cooed at him, watching him yelp when you tugged harshly at his leash, his head sprang up from the pillow, being pulled by the force of your tight grip round the strap, “Hoonie baby…” You looked over at the purring Sunghoon, whose ears were sprang up in rapt attention, “You wouldn't mind touching yourself while I taste Jakey hm?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon gulped, moving to take his boxers off, when he suddenly felt blood rush to his ears and oxygen flow to his brain. Before he knew it, he was mere inches from your face, having been pulled up by you from his leash–you were definitely stronger than you thought you were–and Sunghoon was loving every minute of it.

“Yes what?” You whispered, your hot breath fanning on Sunghoon’s face.

“Yes........mommy.” Sunghoon rasped out, his eyes practically begging you to tug his leash harder. But you merely let it go, making him fall back onto the bed. He didn't say anything after that, letting you get your attention back to Jake, as he removed his boxers. You glanced at his cock, leaky, red, throbbing, and huge; his once light pink tip was a flashy lighter red and his balls were hardened—waiting to be touched by your masterful hands. But Sunghoon knew he had to wait as obediently and as patiently as he could. Only then would you give him his reward.

Meanwhile, your scrutiny was back on Jake. He felt his skin erupt into goose-pimples at your fiery gaze, your robe was already off now, and at the glimpse of your belly button and labia, Jake’s cock hardened even more. You sank down to your stomach in front of him, your sultry eyes visible to him above his tummy.

“Mmm, so big and hard for me,” You purred, giving his cock a slow stroke, your eyes locked on his as you savoured the feeling of him in your hand. A whimper leapt out of Jake’s mouth, his tail wagging profusely at the pleasurable feeling. God he could have died right there and then.

“M-Mommy please…” He begged, thought it came out more as a long whine. You chuckled, massaging his cock with your hand, while your other hand stayed on Sunghoon’s leash. 

“Please what, baby?” 

Jake’s heart raced as you prepared, wanting to savour every moment. But he hadn’t said his magic words yet. 

“Need you to–oh!”  With a groan, Jake leaned into your tightening hold on his length, pulsing and achingly hard for you, “Need you to suck my dick.” He whined in an unusually high pitched voice, “Please mommy?” He added as if it was an afterthought, with huge puppy eyes and ears that bounced off of his head.

“Good boy.” You smirked, stroking up and down his shaft, causing him to slowly exhale as your hand rubbed up and down his length. He whined as you licked the thick and prominent veins on his dick and practically made out with his pink and leaky tip. You didn't forget to tug on Sunghoon’s leash either, his lazy tail catching your eye.

The both of them let out a moan simultaneously, their voices blending together to create the perfect harmony.

You took Jake into your mouth, the warmth enveloping him as you hollowed your cheeks and sank down as far as you could go. The feeling of him stretching your lips made you moan, sending vibrations that only spurred him on further.

As Jake’s body shuddered, he groaned deeply, his cock pulsing in your mouth. “Fuuuck!” he shouted, the sound reverberating through the room. A strained groan left his throat again and his head fell back in pleasure. You pushed some of him into your throat to gag, earning more spit to pump the rest of his length with.

Meanwhile, now with an already strained arm, a shiver runs down Sunghoon’s spine- all the way to his throbbing erection held so tightly in his right hand. He purrs softly as his thumb touches the little spot on his balls that drives him practically insane. He keeps rubbing on that one point, imagining that it was you, who was giving him so much pleasure.

The material of the leash’s collar loosens around him—evidently you forgot to tug on it. He presses himself harder against it, moaning loud enough for you to glance up at him. For a split second, Sunghoon’s eyes land on yours and you smirk, tugging the leash gently.

“H-Harder.” He whines, rubbing his thumb across the divot on his tip, “Harder mommy pleeease..” 

Caught up in sucking Jake off, you obliged, and pulled harshly, your hands becoming red and calloused by how tight of a grip you had on the leash as Sunghoon’s wet fingers glided up and down his length. 

With a desperate thrust, Jake filled your mouth completely, bringing your attention back to his shivering figure, and you felt the warmth of his cum coating your tongue. 

The moment stretched on, electric and intoxicating, as you relished the feeling of being so utterly consumed by his need.

Jake’s cock brushed the back of your throat, and you felt him pulse in your mouth, a telltale sign of his impending release.

With that, you took him in your mouth once more, eager to please him, to give him what he craved. You felt a rush of power coursing through you as you worked him, your fingers tracing along the base as your mouth worked diligently.

“Fuckkkk,” he hissed, his voice strained, each word dripping with desire. “I’m so close mommy…”

Your pace quickened and his breathing got faster. His cock slammed into the back of your throat causing you to gag on it. Your free hand wandered to his lower back as support. As he fucked your throat harder and harder your choking became louder and louder which only made him hornier.

Then his hand came grasping your head as hard as possible before he pushed your head up and down his length at a medium tempo, causing him to groan even louder and grip even harder. His thick cock  shoved into your throat at once made you choke and breathe heavily. Your spit trickled down your chin and onto the sheets.

You increase your speed, bobbing up and down while keeping your teeth away from his tender flesh. Your jaw is gradually growing tired, but you're committed to this. You try swirling your tongue around him as you move, and it looks like you've made the right choice by the way his noises become more and more desperate.

Now, Sunghoon was fucking his cock like he had a point to prove, snapping his wrist as he brought his free hand off of his thigh, swiping the digits across his dick while he soaked the others to the knuckle. A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves his lips, the loud sounds of his pleasure echoing as he fisted his cock the best he could.

Maybe it was the view of you giving Jake all he wanted, or maybe it was because of how pent up he was, but it didn’t take another stroke before Sunghoon could feel his heavy balls tighten, throbbing in his own tight grasp. He had to make himself cum, needed to before Jake blew his load too soon. Your hand pulls the leash urgently, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist haphazardly.

With a few more eager motions, Sunghoon’s breathing quickened, his body tensing as he teetered on the brink. 

Hot ropes of cum surged forth, flooding the sheets and his fingers. He kept pumping greedily, unwilling to let go of his high. Savouring every drop, his eyes locked onto your figure, as you pulled the leash even harder, wanting to milk every last bit from him. He couldn't breathe at this point but he felt that he didn't even need to, the breathlessness only adding to the impact of his drasticorgasm.

“Oh fucking hell…” Sunghoon panted, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Fuckk—thank you—mommy….” He whispered the last words, though he knew you probably couldn't hear them, as you were focused on making Jake cum.

“Fuck! ” Jake cried, his voice a mixture of pleasure and raw need. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside, his hips jerking as he released a torrent of hot cum down your throat.

Waves of warmth filled your mouth, and you struggled to swallow it all as he groaned, his body shuddering with each intense wave of pleasure.

“God, yes! Just like that!” he whined, a few tears escaping from his eyes as he closed them shut, lost in the ecstasy of the moment. 

You felt a thrill rush through you as you swallowed, savouring the taste of him, the salty flavour satisfying you just enough to give an extra tug to Sunghoon’s leash. You looked up to see two pairs of shaggy ears standing up straight with soft fur shivering as both the boys worked through their respective orgasms.

Slowly but surely, you pulled away from Jake, your mouth feeling a bit sorer than before. You heard a distinct, shuddering sigh escaping from Jake’s throat. You couldn't tell if it was one of tiredness or one of disappointment–that you had stopped working on his pleasure.

“Tired, pup?” You cocked your head to the side, wiping your mouth with your hands. Jake’s eyes fluttered open, his long eyelashes looking up at you with firm determination. He was ready to do anything to make sure your cunt was nice and warm by the time you went to bed. But to his dismay, your gaze wavered over to Sunghoon.

“Kittyy..” You said in a sing-song voice, “Mommy hasn't been giving you much this evening has she?” You chuckled at the sight of his pout, his brows furrowed and his eyes droopy. Evidently he longed to have a taste of your touch, having been so deprived of it since you had only paid attention to the pup next to him all evening.

“Want you so bad, mommy.” He said, or rather whined, “Please…I’ll do anything.” You smirked at his wide eyes, so full of stars and hope. You didn't want to disappoint him this time.

Crawling up to him, you twisted the strap of his leash around your fingers, pulling it to make him sit up to your level. You climbed onto his lap with ease, ignoring his throbbing dick which was dying to get inside of your pussy. 

“You’ll do anything huh?” You smiled, leaning in to peck him on his rosy cheeks, “How about…lending mommy some of your tongue?”

Sunghoon’s smile faded a little as he realised he wasn't about to get his erection dumbed down. Nevertheless, he nodded eagerly, pecking you on the cheek as well, to which you giggled.

“Oh you naughty kitty!” You laughed, reaching up to caress his hair and fur, “Touching me without permission.” You ran your fingers through his lush hair, scratching his scalp every now and then. You could hear him purr softly, the heat from him warming you up and his tail swooped around to touch your back. You smiled at the tickling sensation. 

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you managed to manoeuvre him into letting you slide into bed, while he got on top of you. You glanced sideways to see Jake still panting from his high, his eyes tirelessly fighting sleep. From your sleeping position, you reached out a hand to stroke his cheek, feeling his warm skin deliquesce into your touch.

“I’ll get back to you, pup.” You cooed, now seeing that his breathing was more normal and his ears were twitching to the sound of your voice.

Your eyes snapped back to Sunghoon, when you felt the brush of his feather-soft lips on your neck. It soon turned into a harsher one, wet and dirty, with his saliva dripping down the curve of your neck. You clicked your tongue.

“Dirty, dirty boy, Sunghoon.” You said, trying to hide the amusement in your voice, “Shouldn't you save that for my pussy?”

“Sorry mommy..” Sunghoon mumbled, still attaching your neck with his lips, “can’t resist it.”

 Before you could open your mouth to say anything, Sunghoon gripped your waist with his hands, momentarily forgetting who was incharge. His mouth kissed all the way down your body, vacationing for a while at the valley of your breasts. You knew he was fighting his demons not to suck your hardened nipples; he had enough self control within him to ask for your permission to do that.

But Sunghoon seemed to forget all about your tits as soon as he saw your cunt, all wet and dripping with juices just for him to lap up. His ears twitched when he heard you chuckle at his stunned expression. You reached your hand down to pat him on the head, gripping his hair tightly for only a second before letting go. He would have loads of that later on.

“You wanna make mommy feel good, kitty?” Sunghoon nodded at your statement; he locked eyes with you as you smirked, collapsing onto the pillow soon after, “Then suck mommy dry.”

You tense as soon as you say the sentence. Your hips immediately grind down against his face. You always loved Sunghoon’s tongue better than Jake’s, the long ever-energetic flesh fitting inside your pussy like a key in a lock.

And the feeling of his warm, wet tongue on your soaked pussy drove you insane. You moaned much louder than you meant to, but you couldn't help it. He apparently knew exactly what he was doing, because this felt magical.

“G-Good boy—oh fuck!” Your words struggled to escape out from your mouth. Your hand tried to grip the sheets, but it was obstructed by something.

The leash.

In your moment of sudden intoxication, you had forgotten all about it. You gave it an experimental tug and immediately felt Sunghoon moan in the most obscene way possible, his hot breath fanning your sensitive pussy. He kept groaning as his throat tightened up, struggling to get air inside. And yet his erection only grew larger.

With every grind and suckle on your clit you were getting closer and closer to cumming. It was a wet and filthy experience, your arousal dripping down Sunghoon’s chin and soaking his face. You could feel it down your thighs, his chin scratching against your delicate skin with every jaw movement, every grind.

You didn't know what to do with your free hand, so they latched onto his hair, pulling tightly. So tightly, in fact, that he groaned. And his voice against your body felt like it was vibrating. 

“Oh fuck—Sunghoon!” You cried, accidentally pulling the leash, “Keep—keep doing that…that’s a g-good kitty.” Sunghoon moaned into your cunt again, making you grunt with satisfaction. You could feel your orgasm approaching.

You let out a string of gasps; low, breathy sounds that made Sunghoon’s heart flutter while he stroked your walls, still frantically trying to find friction against the bed to quell the ache in his own core.

“‘Taste so gooood,” Sunghoon moans in a way that's almost pornographic, tongue dipping down to gather up your slick. “‘taste so sweet mommy, shiiiitttt.”

He licked a stripe up your vulva, his tongue flat and getting every inch of your pussy till he reached your clit where he wrapped his lips around it and gently sucked. Sunghoon felt a sense of pride rushing through him. He revelled in the fact that he knew how to make your body feel good, how to make you feel good. Your pussy clenched around nothing as he started flicking his tongue against you. Your faintly opened eyes could see Sunghoon’s tail high up in the air, swishing around proudly.

"Oh god, I think I'm gonna–" 

You're cut off by an enormous tidal wave of bliss crashing into you. The way his lips sucked on your clit always had you almost passing out when you came.

 Your breath catches in your throat, before releasing in an obscenely loud moan. Your legs begin to shake, and you feel your insides clench against Sunghoon’s notorious tongue. Stars fill your vision. This has to be the best thing you've ever experienced in your life, there's nothing else like it on earth.

Your hands worked hard to pull Sunghoon’s hair, wrenching him closer to you, so that his tongue could be buried fully inside your throbbing cunt. Sunghoon moans again—it's a vulgar scene—with his nose bumping against your labia. You tasted so amazing, like a delicacy which he wanted to devour as if he were a man starved of love.

Sunghoon laps up your juices that drip down like a waterfall from the crevices of your pussy. Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, encourage him, lazily scratching his fur. You could see the goosebumps that erupt on his skin as you did so.

“Come ‘ere.” You mumbled, tapping your thigh. Sunghoon obeyed promptly, getting to your thigh faster than you could say anything else.

“Mommy I—”

You lean in hastily, connecting his lips with yours to effectively shut him up. His body barrels into yours, pushing you further into the bed. The leash is abandoned as you stroke your fingertips along the tender skin of his neck, sighing into his mouth through the deep kiss.

“Hoonie..” You said in a saccharine tone, “You made mommy feel so good, you know?” You felt his body tense up from the praise, as he continued to kiss down your neck; you smirked, “But I think I want more.” Your tone was sultry, beckoning to Sunghoon’s ear as you whispered your words to him. His dick was more than ready to be corrupted by your amazing pussy, but he waited on for your permission.

“You wanna give mommy your cock hm?” You questioned, tracing your hand up to the back of his ears and scratching it. Sunghoon’s eyes closed above you, there was not a single thought in his mind. It was you, and only you.

And before you knew it you were throwing your head back, a soft moan slipping past your lips as you grasped his broad shoulders, trying to steady yourself while your body moved on instinct—grinding and bouncing in a messy, desperate rhythm that sent shivers up your spine. 

"Oh, fuck—so biggg," you muttered breathlessly, your voice shaky, pleasure washing over every inch of you.

“You’re—fuck–so tight mommy.” Sunghoon groaned, feeling your pussy immediately mould to the shape of his cock. The stretch was incredible, waves of arousal shooting up your spine with every inch he sunk them in, your cunt fluttering around the swell.

“Ah-ahh–fucking hell!” Sunghoon whined, forcing his cock down your hole.

You cry out, the feeling of him pushing into you driving you mad. There’s a sliver of pain as he bottoms out inside of your dripping cunt. Waves of pleasure accompany the sting of the stretch, and your eyes flutter as he rocks slowly into you. He’s watching the way his cock splits you open, low grunts coming from deep within his chest.

In an attempt to grab the sheets, your hand accidentally brushed against warm skin. You glanced to your side and there you spotted him, with his eyes snapped shut.

Jake.

You smirked.

“Jake—Jakeyy..” You chuckled, through the stretch Sunghoon was providing you, effectively jolting Jake awake. His hair was all messy and his ears were laid on one another; he blinked up at you slowly and then he widened his eyes at the vulgar sight in front of him.

“Won't you join us, pup?” You said, muffling a moan. God damn did Sunghoon’s dick drive you bonkers. 

Jake shifted in his positions; sleep was still heavy on his eyelids and to be completely honest, he didnt really want to fuck you. Rather shameful for him, really.

“‘m tired mommy…” He groaned, begging you to let him go for the night. Sunghoon would have been more than enough for you. But from the look on your face and the fact that Sunghoon had stopped moving and was now looking at him, Jake knew he wasn't going to get any shut-eye.

Your fingers fiddled around the sheets, with your gaze fixed on Jake’s, until you felt it in your hands.

Jake’s leash.

Thinking back to it, you realised that you hadn't really had any fun this evening with Jake and his pretty white leash with a bow. The bow looked so adorable on him, so enchanting, so submissive.

Clasping the strap in your hand, you pulled roughly, surprised that you still had energy in you. Jake let out a gasp and slid closer to you, by God did you enjoy this. Thick veins appeared on the curve of his neck and his tail started wagging uncontrollably fast, like it had a mind of its own. 

“Tch Tch.” You clicked your tongue, Sunghoon let out a cold laugh, “Already so tired? Come on now pup, mommy’s trained you better than that.”

“But–”

“Then again, you don’t want to make mommy feel good do you?” You sighed, you were getting more fun out of this than Sunghoon’s dick buried deep in your gaping hole, “You’re being such a bad boy, pup.” 

“No!” Jake defended himself, looking at you with pleasing eyes, “No mommy......I want to make you feel good!” He whimpered when you tugged him closer to you, the fresh scent of his body lotion filing your nostrils, “Give me another chance, please?”

You grinned at him and let out a laugh, forcing your gaze back to Sunghoon. He understood what you wanted immediately and carefully manoeuvred your body to get on your side, with his hands grabbing your waist. You looked back at Jake and winked.

Before you could give an order, or rather attempt one, you found Jake's mouth on your neck, those sharp teeth digging into the top layer of your flesh. 

At the same moment you attempted to speak his name, Jake pushed himself in, your walls not ready for such a protrusion, but the pup didn't care, not at the moment. Right now, he stared Sunghoon down over your shoulder, glazed eyes meeting his cold black ones. 

With Jake’s chest pressed firmly against your back, Sunghoon’s hands dancing on your waist, and two thick cocks filling up both your holes you finally allowed yourself to let out an explicitly loud moan. It was music to Jake and Sunghoon’s ears—-confirmation that they had made you feel good. It also served as permission for them to move.

“Shit—squeezin me so–so good mommy,” Sunghoon grunts, brows pulled together as he snaps his hips into yours with particular force. He’s eyeing your swollen cunt, his thumb massaging a steady pattern into your skin. You clench around him involuntarily, your insides so swollen and tender that you imagine you can feel the ridges of his veins pulsing against your walls.

Jake’s pleading tone returned, his breath hot against your ear. “Feels so nice…..d-do you feel that mommy?” he whimpered.

“Yes–oh fucking hell!” You gasp, moaning so loudly that you felt sorry for your neighbours, “Making me feel so—ahhh–ah!” Your sentence wasn't to be finished, as two sets of teeth started sucking on the skin of your collarbone and your back. That primal instinct rose within Jake and Sunghoon–the instinct to tear flesh. But you didn't mind of course. You only felt your cunt get wetter.

“G-good boys–doing so good for me…” you murmured, your voice softening just enough to send a rush of heat straight to their cores, igniting their tails, “Doing so good for mommy.”

Their possessiveness only heightened the sensation, making them cling to you tighter as your body quivered with need.  Every thrust pushed you closer to the brink, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge, waiting for that final push.

You ended up moving your hands to Sunghoon’s shoulder to hold on to him better as both the men  thrusted more erratically.  Before you could notice, they ended up digging into his shoulder muscle deeply. An animalistic moan ripped from his chest as he felt your nails draw blood. His hips moved on their own, in and out, into your warmth and out for a split second before plunging back into you faster and deeper than before. It was like his hips were moving faster than his mind could keep up, and the only thing he could think about was you. 

“Don’t hold back…that's it,” You groan as you feel Jake’s cock immediately pick up speed. 

Jake’s eyes close in pleasure and he starts to kiss your neck again, driving his cock further into your ass, before his movements change. His thrusts become quick and brutal, desperation colouring his movements. The sound of skin slapping against skin mingles with lustful noises. Your  mind goes blank, every movement seems to make you get so close to your orgasm and see stars. Everything is a haze of pleasure, two cocks reaching the deepest part of you; one hugging your clit close, whilst the other abused your cervix.

Both of them fucked you mercilessly, filthily–just as you trained them. Sunghoon  drove his dick in and out of you in quick succession, drilling your experienced pussy. And he knew you were loving every single second of it. Your soft words of praise and little moans only spurred Jake on as well and when your moist pussy clenched around his drumming cock announcing your orgasm, he couldn’t restrain himself for much longer. And neither could Sunghoon.

A harmony of climaxing moans erupt through the cold air, cum rapidly spurting, coating the sheets. 

With a strangled moan that's partially muffled by your own will, you come undone. Your head spins and your heart pounds in your chest, you feel yourself gush and clamp down around Jake and Sunghoon’s lengths.. You feel Jake's hips stutter behind you and his cock throb against your wet walls. The feeling only prologues, when Sunghoon whines and intensifies your orgasm, your body going slack and eyes rolling back into your head. 

And with one final shove of their hips, you were floating. You let out a strangled moan, something that came from low in your abdomen and exited your lips in a whiny, breathless cry. Jake relished it, pressing his face into your neck as he slowed down his ministrations, letting the sounds and signs of your pleasure coat him, body and mind. Sunghoon’s groans catch your attention as you come down from your high, still reeling from the aftershocks when you feel his cock twitch inside you and paint your walls with his hot spend.

You shiver drastically when they pull out. Your body is absolute jelly. You can't help but whine. feeling cum (you had no idea whose) starting to leak out. You’re a sopping wet mess between your thighs, between your own slick and the boys’ cum. But, you love this feeling. 

 And you love the softness in the way Sunghoon lets your back slump against the mattress gently, in the way Jake melts into your buddy, his fur providing you with enough warmth for the night.

“Y/N?” Sunghoon carefully whispers, aware of the fact that you were probably tired, “Should we run a bath or—”

“No–just..” You sigh, pulling him closer by his arm, “..stay like this for some time.” 

Jake and Sunghoon smiled to themselves as they cuddled close to you, but now before they wretched the leashes off of their knock, giving each other a look for confirmation. Their necks were heavily bruised and their voices were more strained than before.

But they didn't really care. 

After all, what more could they ask for, when they had their heaven between their arms?

fin.

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Taglist: @starfallia @katarinamae @lyxnneee

[eufezco]

THE MUSE

Benedict needs to practice female form. Naked female form. And who better to help him than his lifelong friend?

Benedict x fem!reader (smut with plot, friends to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

Benedict didn't know how to ask you.

You had been friends for a long time, your families were practically one. Always so united, your mamas took walks every afternoon, gossiping about the ton and your fathers had been friends since childhood. You and Benedict were bound to meet.

You and he grew up together. You were friends with his siblings, you had held sleepovers with his sisters and won cricket matches against his brothers. Lady Violet Bridgerton loved you like a daughter and your mother loved Benedict like a son.

But your friendship with him had always been special.

When you were twelve, you ran away together to camp on the riverbank, just because Benedict wanted to draw the moon reflecting in the water at night. The following year, despite the scolding you received for your river adventure, you and Benedict sneaked onto private land just to pluck a few petals from the summer sunflowers to get him the perfect shade of yellow.

You and Benedict were very close. Of course, there had always been rumors about what kind of relationship you two had and that Lady Whistledown had only added more fuel to the fire writing about you two in her pamphlets. You and him never cared about that, and neither your families but it was true that you two have had to face some uncomfortable conversations with them about it.

That's why Benedict didn't know how to ask you. You had a lot of trust in each other, you had always supported his artistic vocation but perhaps this was too much.

—Oh, thank God you've come. I am in need of a model —. It was the first thing Benedict said to you when you entered his studio. The maid closed the door behind you, leaving you alone with him. Thank goodness the Bridgertons' service was very discreet, if anyone found out that you and him were alone in a room it would cause quite a scandal.

—Good evening to you too, Benedict.

—My apologies. Good evening —. He leaned to kiss your cheek.— I need a model —. He let you know one more time.

—How have you been? Very stressed from what I can tell —. You tried to have a normal conversation with him before you paid attention to what he required.

—Indeed.

You sighed. —Well, what is it? I thought we were going for a walk.

He nodded. —We can go outside later. But I need to get this done by tomorrow and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

—And...?

—I need practice female form.

You slowly nodded. You were aware that Benedict had been recently attending this art academy, you were happy that he was finally able to pursue his passion and you couldn't deny that within the characteristic desperation of the artists, he looked very attractive. Benedict's hair was a mess, his white shirt was half-open, his sleeves were rolled up. He would never have allowed himself be seen in society like that and you were grateful because otherwise he would have all the girls after him.

—And you want me to...?

—Pose for me.

You weren't quite sure how to do it but it seemed easy and fun. All the times he had drawn you, he had done it when you were distracted, reading, having tea with his sisters... The pencil moved effortlessly across the paper when he saw you laughing with Daphne or playing with the cards that Colin had brought back from his trip to Spain. He was already too embarrassed to admit each time he drew you and Anthony teased him by saying that if he didn't propose to you, he would show you his drawings, and Benedict's heart skipped a beat because he knew that his older brother was not known for being a joker.

Benedict still didn't know how he was going to ask you, maybe it was better to just let it out.

—And what shall I do? Just stand here? Like this? —You laughed and made a dramatic pose like the ones you saw in the paintings in the gallery you visited together.

—I need you to ...

Benedict swallowed nervously. He looked down at your dress and then directly into your eyes. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. You also looked at your dress to see if there was something wrong with it.

—Benedict I don't think I understand what you are trying to say—

—I need to practice naked female form.

Benedict immediately noticed your horrified face. He wanted to go back seconds ago when he hadn't even asked but if it wasn't you, who would it be? —I will not draw your face. No one will know it is you. It will be purely professional, I just need a few minutes.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and decided to trust him when he said that it would be for professional purposes only. The unfinished nude sketches that made your cheeks burn when you saw them as you entered his studio showed you that Benedict found no inspiration in the bodies of the academy models. After a nervous swallowing, you nodded and Benedict's face lit up. He hugged you but you didn't have time to hug him back because he quickly went to prepare the canvas.

—Is the door locked? —You asked him as you shed the little jacket that covered your shoulders along with your gloves. Benedict rushed off to lock it and before he returned to his position behind the canvas. You called his name and gulped, your hands failing in their attempts to unzip your own dress. —May I please get some help?

—Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.

Benedict stood behind you, his fingers brushing the skin on your back as he began to slowly unzip it until the dress slid down your body and fell at your feet. Benedict felt like he had to look away, as if in a few seconds you would not be completely exposed to his eyes. He offered you his hand to help you get up on a small pedestal that he had in his studio. Once you got rid of your underwear, you felt vulnerable but not as vulnerable as when Benedict ran his eyes over your body from his position and with the paintbrush already in his hand.

He let out all the air he had in his lungs, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Benedict could not deny that he had imagined it on many occasions, but reality far surpassed his imagination.

—What... What should I do, Benedict? —You hugged yourself.

—Put your arms down and stand like that. You look perfect, darling.

Your cheeks burned after that. You did as he said. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration as his eyes went from the canvas to you and back to the canvas. Benedict asked you to turn around and he squeezed his eyes tightly after seeing your bare ass. Purely professional, this was purely professional, he had to remind himself.

Benedict grabbed a wooden chair and walked over to you. Your heart skipped a beat once he was so close to your naked body and he felt the exact same. He placed the chair next to you and invited you to sit on it. He nodded slowly when you did, focusing on the new position of your body. Benedict went back behind the canvas and made a few sketches.

He cleared his throat. —Would it be possible if you... Could you spread your legs?

Your cheeks grew hot and you squeezed your thighs together.

The knot you had in your stomach got tighter and you felt your chest rise and fall slowly thanks to your deep breathing. You straightened your back in the chair and you did as Benedict asked. You felt the air of the room caressing you in that warm and wet area and he held his breath, his chest puffing out as your legs slowly opened for him.

—You are beautiful, darling. Do not be ashamed —. Every new inch he discovered of your body made you look more perfect in his eyes. It was as nice to see you as it was to paint you.

Your cheeks grew even hotter but this time it wasn't just your cheeks, your whole body was in flames starting with the area between your legs that was so exposed to his eyes.

—Could we try another position?

You nodded, relieved, you were sure it was painfully obvious the way you had gotten wet and you just hoped he was busy enough to not notice.

He dropped the paintbrush and got up from the stool on which he was sitting. Benedict felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter with each step he took closer to your naked body. You moved in the chair out of nervousness. Benedict leaned slightly over you. —May I? —He asked before touching your leg. His voice made you shiver, he was so close, you felt his hand brush against the skin of your thigh. You nodded and looked up at him while he repositioned your leg. Benedict's eyes meet yours, so helpless, his lifelong friend, was that innocence in your eyes, or was that...?

Lust.

Your hand grabbed the back of Benedict's head and pressed his lips against yours. His eyes widened in surprise but immediately after, his hands went to cup your cheeks as he fell to his knees in front of you. You opened your legs so he could place himself between them and be closer to you. The shameless hands of your friend traveled down your neck until they reached your breasts. You moaned against his mouth once he gave them a gentle squeeze, the soft palm of his hand brushing against your nipples.

Benedict left a trail of soft kisses from your cheeks to your collarbones and your breasts. He took one in his mouth as his hand played with the other, his tongue moving in circles around your nipple and sucking on it at the same time. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted to let out soft moans when Benedict's teeth brushed your sensitive nipple.

He let go with a pop sound and watched you gasp for air. Benedict placed his hands on the inside of your thighs and caressed your skin there before he slowly pushed them to open even further. His hands prepared you for him, his eyes asked for your permission. You nodded and Benedict flashed you a smile, that was all he needed. He peppered your thighs with kisses, taking small bites and kissing your sore skin afterwards. Your breathing deepened as his mouth got closer to where you needed him the most. He was so close he could smell you and oh Lord, his dick got hard as a rock at that moment.

You took a sharp breath when he licked from your entrance to your clit and savored your juices in his mouth. The image was completely sinful, his blue eyes were locked on you while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves, his hands forced your legs to stay open for him. Your head was thrown back, your mouth was open in a perfect "O" form, your fingers digging into his scalp. Once he noticed the desperation in the way your hips rolled against his mouth, two of his fingers entered you easily. You stifled a loud moan, throwing a hand over your mouth.

Benedict hummed, sending vibrations to your clit.

—Talk to me. How does this feel? —He required.

—So good. It feels... —You bit down your lower lip, his fingers sank deeper. —It feels like heaven.

He was satisfied with your answer.

Benedict fucked you with his fingers until you had to grab his wrist to get him to stop, it was too much. Your legs closed around his head but his lips were still attached to your clit and he didn't stop until he heard how your moans turned into whines and cries, not until he noticed how your back arched off the chair and your chest rose and fell uncontrolled thanks to your panting. Benedict didn't stop, not until he felt how your pussy was clenching so hard that almost pushed his fingers out of you and he heard you moan his name one last time as your grip on his hair tightened.

He gave you all the time you needed to catch your breath, kissing your legs and intertwining his fingers with yours while you came down from your high. Benedict's blue eyes were locked on you making every effort to later recall every single part of you.

—How are you feeling, darling? —Benedict stood on his feet and held your hands so that you would stand up as well. Before you could answer his question, you both realized how your legs were shaking and laughed. At the same time, you felt Benedict's grip on your hands grow stronger to keep you from falling.

Benedict leaned in and kissed your lips in the sweetest possible way. The tickling sensation in your body that you felt when you were naked in front of him had turned into a different kind of tickling, now focused on your stomach. It was so familiar, you had felt it so many times when you looked at him but now, with his lips on yours and his hands treating you with so much affection and care, it was different.

You could confirm that it was not only lust but also love.

You hummed against his lips. —Wait, did you finish your drawing?

Benedict shook his head. —But, please, do not worry about that. I will help you get dressed —. You frowned confused and he gave a quick kiss to your lips so, as he had told you, you would not worry. —I can finish later. There's no way I'm forgetting your body, my dear.

[sleepyjuice]

dying in the heat rn, so how do you think jj would react if you moved to sleep somewhere else in the middle of the night because you were too hot with his body heat?

Oh JJ would not stand for that! After hours of tossing and turning throughout the night, you finally gave up on trying to sleep with JJ’s body heat pressed against you.

You didn’t know how he was sleeping so soundly considering he was quite literally a human furnace, but his soft snores got quieter and quieter as you pulled yourself out of the bed and padded out to the pullout couch in the living room of the chateau.

You got yourself comfortable, sighing as you felt yourself begin to cool off, eyes becoming heavy as sleep finally took over.

It didn’t last long, however, because just as you were about to enter a deep sleep, you felt yourself being lifted into the air, immediately making you gasp loudly, your eyes shooting open only to realize JJ was fucking carrying you back to bed.

“JJ! What the fuck?” You smacked his arm lightly, your heart rate slowing down once you realized it was just him. In your sleepy daze, you thought you were being kidnapped or something.

“Shh, ‘s alright, just me,” he laid you down in the bed before plopping down beside you. “What were you doin’ out there?” He asked you, his voice thick with sleep. He had clearly left the bedroom to find you only seconds after he had woken up.

You sighed, feeling annoyed with how you were heating up once again but also a bit guilty.

“It’s so fucking hot in here and — as much as I love sleeping with you, you are a human furnace. I can’t sleep when it’s so hot.” You explained, gentle with your tone. It wasn’t his fault he was so warm. When it was colder out, that was something you really loved about him, just not during this heatwave from hell.

He hummed at your words, not saying anything for a moment as if he were taking a second to process what you had said. Like he was mentally trying to come up with a solution.

“Be right back.” Was all he said in response, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and exiting the bedroom. Lord knew what he was doing, but he didn’t seem offended, so that was good.

You fanned yourself with your hand as you lay there waiting for his return, turning your head towards the door once you heard him approaching.

“Alright, we can go get an extra box fan or somethin’ tomorrow, but maybe this’ll help for tonight.” He shut the bedroom door behind him before stepping over to your side of the bed, an ice pack and a washcloth in his hands.

“What is this—“

“Sit up for me, baby.”

You did as he said, sitting up just a little as he wrapped the cool washcloth around the ice pack and placed it on your pillow, right where the back of your neck would go. He gently lowered you back down and you could have moaned at the cool feeling that tickled your neck and slowly started to cool you off completely.

“Oh that… that feels nice.” You giggled softly, earning a satisfied grin from your boyfriend as he crawled back into bed beside you, lovingly kissing your slightly sweaty forehead.

“Mm, salty.” He licked his lips once he pulled away, which got him a middle finger in response, but you quickly dropped it, reaching out to him to pull him closer to you.

“Thank you for this, ‘m sorry I just left. I didn’t think I would wake you up.” You told him, his head resting against the side of your boobs, one of his favorite places to be.

“Can’t sleep without you, baby. Hopefully this helps.” He said simply, brushing off your apology. To him, it wasn’t necessary.

Your eyes grew heavy, the soft murmur of JJ’s voice mixed with the cool sensation below your neck was relaxing you finally. Plus, JJ was nuzzled against you, still warm but the coolness from the ice pack mellowed it out quite a bit.

Maybe you would wake up sweaty and overheated again, but you would manage. This was your favorite place to be, whether or not you were on the verge of a heat stroke.

[punkshort]

First Impressions

Thanks anon for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot

Summary: When your heater breaks in the dead of winter, you get more than you bargained for when Joel Miller arrives to fix it.

Warnings: language, some fluff, the stress and fear that comes with living in the wilderness during a zombie apocalypse, competency kink (a little), smut (18+ MDNI), dirty talk

WC: 4.2K

Adjusting to life in Jackson was tough. You had been on your own for so long, you found it nearly impossible to ever fully relax. You were grateful Tommy and Maria took you in after one of their patrols stumbled across you freezing in the thick Wyoming wilderness, but to be yanked from the brink of death and dropped into some thriving community that seemingly even managed to still celebrate the holidays was too jarring.

So, you kept to yourself for a while. You pitched in around the stables. It was where you felt most comfortable: less people, more animals. You didn't go to the dining hall to eat and you didn't visit the bar for a drink. You had a clear cut path from your house to the stables and back, and you rarely ever strayed.

Unfortunately, while Jackson had a lot to offer and did incredibly well at reviving civilization, things still did break. Like your space heater.

You piled on extra blankets for a week, and then you moved to the living room to sleep on the tiny sofa in front of the fireplace, but eventually your back was screaming at you for it and the cold weather wouldn't let up for at least another two months, so you had no choice but to ask for help.

Tommy was shocked you hadn't said something sooner and apologized for making you feel like you couldn't ask for help, even though it wasn't at all his fault or anyone else's except your own, and promised to have his brother stop by that afternoon to take a look at it.

While you kept to yourself and hardly socialized at all, that didn't stop you from overhearing things at the stables. You knew of Tommy's brother. How people whispered rumors behind his back and fell silent whenever he stepped foot inside the building.

Did you know he slit a raider's throat and made the guy's girlfriend watch?

He beat the shit out of Seth the other night just for looking at him wrong.

Back in Boston, I heard he knocked some guy's teeth down his throat for taking the last of the beef jerky.

Someone told me he only sleeps two hours a night.

He fixed Greg's shower and told him not to fuck it up again or else he'll be taking baths in the kitchen sink.

Were you intimidated? Maybe a little. But you had been on your own for so long, fighting and scratching and clawing to stay alive. Some asshole wasn't going to shake you up.

Then you saw him.

Well, you'd seen him before, sure. But just glimpses in the barn or passing by him on the street. Never up close.

When you opened your front door later that afternoon, you were a little taken aback. He was so much more handsome than you had thought. He was built like a refrigerator; broad and strong. His cheeks and chin were dusted in a patchy, greying beard, growing right below a hooked nose and deep, velvety brown eyes. There were a few scars littering his bronzed skin but what drew your attention more was his hair. His fucking hair. Loose, mostly grey curls that fell past his ear and down the back of his neck. Not long enough to pull into a ponytail, like Tommy, but give it a few more months and he might. He had them pushed back from his face, making the silken locks look like a cascading river so enticing, you had to hold yourself back from touching them.

He said your name and readjusted the toolbox in his hand and you blinked yourself back to life before stepping aside to let him in. When he passed you, you were hit with the strong scent of wood shavings and coffee, an intoxicating combination that had your brain buffering once again.

"Tommy said you needed your heater looked at?"

You nodded and pointed up the stairs. "It's in my bedroom. Can I, uh, get you something to drink? Coffee?"

He perked up at that once he slid off his jacket and shoes. "You got coffee?"

You nodded and walked toward the kitchen, rummaging through your meager belongings until you found the precious tin can. "That's the one thing I always made sure I grabbed if I ever saw it out there. If we have to live like this, at least I'm still having my coffee."

Joel grinned and set the toolbox down on your counter, watching as you filled up a kettle with water. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest. He couldn't believe how lucky he was that your stupid heater broke, giving him the perfect excuse to finally meet you so he could stop pining from afar. "You don't like it much here, then?"

You startled at that, giving him a look of surprise before lighting your stove.

"No, I didn't mean here, I just meant... you know... the world in general."

"I know, I'm just teasin' you," he said a little awkwardly with a soft chuckle. You turned around, leaning against your counter and crossing your arms over your chest. You had just spoken a few words but so far, nothing about this man screamed scary. In fact, he seemed rather... sweet.

"How long have you been here?" you asked while you waited for the water to boil.

"'Bout five years," he said thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "You're new, though."

You nodded, your fingers fidgeting underneath your bicep. "Yeah. I think it's been almost a month. I'm not really sure, never bothered keeping track of the days out there."

Joel studied you up for a moment, picking up on your eyes shifting over your surroundings, your foot tapping anxiously on the floor, and the way you kept your back protected when you spoke to him.

"I remember when we first got here," Joel said. Your fidgeting paused and you looked at him again. "It was tough. Acclimatin' to this kind of life. Hard to sleep. Hard to trust anyone. It took time but eventually, you start sleepin' soundly again and that guard comes down. You'll see."

A slow smile spread across your face and you looked down shyly at your feet. "Am I that obvious?"

Joel laughed and strolled over to the two mugs and can of instant coffee you had sitting out. "Wouldn't say it's obvious but I haven't seen you at the dining hall one time. In fact, pretty sure this is the first time I've heard your voice." Your cheeks warmed up behind his back and you bit your lower lip. So he's noticed you enough to realize you never went to the dining hall.

"It's a pretty one," he said over his shoulder, focusing on scooping the correct amount of coffee into each mug. "Your voice, I mean. Shame you been keepin' it hidden all this time."

"O-oh," you stuttered, completely flustered by his compliments. This was not at all the man everyone made him out to be. "Thank you."

Joel carefully poured the boiling water into each mug before giving them each a stir, then handed you one. "You're welcome, darlin'. Now why don't you show me to your bedroom?"

Your eyes must have bugged out of your head because at first, he frowned, then after he realized what he said, turned a shade of pink you didn't know he was capable of.

"I mean, for the heater."

"Yeah, oh Christ, I know," you said, waving him off and heading for the stairs, your mug clutched so tightly in one hand you thought it might break. You lead Joel to the first door on the left and stepped back so he had room to swing his toolbox through the narrow door with him.

"I don't know what happened," you said, trailing in after him while he began to set out some tools on the ground. When he knelt down, he groaned at the creak in his knees and you quickly grabbed a spare pillow. "Here, kneel on this," you offered. He looked up at the pillow, then at you, and shook his head.

"I ain't kneelin' on your pillow."

"It's a spare. I only use the one. And honestly, even that seems too much sometimes."

He sighed and hesitated for only a moment longer before taking the pillow from your hand. "Thank you," he said softly. You smiled and sat down on the edge of your bed after putting your coffee on the end table with his.

"Anyway. As I was saying, I don't know what happened. It was working fine and then one day it just wouldn't turn on. I tried other outlets and I didn't see any issues with the cord, so I just gave up."

Joel began to unscrew the back of the heater while he listened. "So you gave up and slept in the cold for two weeks?"

"Nothing I wasn't used to."

He couldn't argue with that.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence while he worked until he began to hum some old country song under his breath, making you smile again. You couldn't remember the last time you smiled so much.

"What're you smilin' for?" he asked with a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

"You aren't at all the way people say you are," you said boldly.

He quirked an eyebrow and turned his attention back to his work. "And what have you heard?"

You shrugged and leaned back on your hands. "Threatened a man after breaking his shower. Knocked out some guy named Seth. That you only sleep two hours a night," you chuckled at the last one when you heard how silly it sounded.

"Well," Joel said with a heavy sigh. "I didn't threaten anyone about their shower. Just reminded him he's gotta take care of the pipes or else the whole place'll rot."

You grinned to yourself as he continued to explain the rumors.

"I did punch Seth but he said somethin' real nasty 'bout my girl and, well, that just don't sit right with me."

Your grin slid right off your face. "Your girl?"

He stopped what he was doing and swiveled around to face you. "My - Ellie. Her name's Ellie. She's, uh, well... she ain't my daughter, but..."

Relief flooded your veins. "Oh. I thought you meant -"

"No, no," Joel said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "No, not like that." He twirled a wrench around in between his fingers as he nervously bit the inside of his cheek before adding, "Don't got anyone like that."

Your mouth formed a silent oh. Message received.

Joel cleared his throat again and turned back to the heater. "And the sleep thing, well, they got me there," he chuckled with a shake of his head. "Although some nights are better than others."

"I know what you mean," you said with a nod. After a moment of silence, Joel smiled to himself.

"Imagine y'do if you ain't got any heat at night."

You giggled and he smiled again, this time his chest swelling when he heard you laugh.

Joel continued to work on the heater while you studied him quietly. He took you by complete surprise. The last thing you expected was to make a friend out of the fearsome Joel Miller. It didn't hurt that he was so easy on the eyes, either. How old was he? Your gaze roamed over his greying hair and the crinkles next to his eyes. Older than you, definitely, but it was hard to tell by how much.

You couldn't even remember the last time you were interested in anyone. It must have been when you were in the Atlanta QZ, and that was years ago.

"Alright, let's give her a run," Joel suddenly said. When you refocused on him, you saw he had put the heater back together and was fixing it upright. He plugged it into the wall and hovered his finger over the power button before glancing back at you. "Ready?"

You nodded and swung your legs back and forth over the edge of your bed, then he winked at you, sending warmth all over your body. Jesus, if Joel kept giving you little looks like that, you wouldn't have much need for a heater anymore.

He pressed the button and sure enough, the coils inside the heater began to glow orange and heat started to fill the room.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, jumping off the bed in excitement. "Thank you!" you added, kneeling on the floor as well so you could warm your hands in front of the heater.

"Anytime," Joel murmured, and it wasn't until you heard the deep timber of his voice next to you that you realized he was so close. You tilted your face, smiling shyly at him next to you. Up close, you could see the fine lines in his face in much more detail, each one calling out to you to trace with your fingertip. When you met his gaze, you found he had been examining you, as well. Quickly, you looked away and stood up.

"Is there anythin' else?" Joel asked as he began to pack up his toolbox. You shook your head.

"No, I think that'll do it."

"You sure? Thought I saw that faucet drippin' in the kitchen."

You frowned. "No, I didn't notice that," you said slowly.

"What 'bout those windows?" he asked, standing up with a grunt and gesturing to the two bedroom windows on the other side of the room. "Need help hangin' curtains?"

You looked where he was pointing. "No, never really bothered me. Besides, it faces the backyard. No one can see in."

He laughed softly and rubbed his chin before shooting you a sheepish look. "I'm tryin' to find a reason to stay, sweetheart."

Your eyes widened and once again, you felt your cheeks heat up.

"Oh," you said, shyly dropping your gaze to the floor to hide your smile. "I would like that."

"Yeah?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah. You're, um," you shifted your weight nervously, "you're sweet. And nice."

Joel huffed and set his toolbox back down. "I ain't nice all the time," he warned. "But you ain't gotta worry 'bout that."

"No?" you questioned, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he began to close the distance between you.

He sighed and cupped your face with both hands. Your body instantly melted at his touch, your knees practically giving out when he dragged his thumb across your lip, saving it from your teeth. "Am I readin' this wrong?" he asked, his eyes darting all over your face. You quickly shook your head and stepped even closer.

"Thank Christ," he breathed before capturing your lips in a deep kiss. It had been several years and you were a little rusty, but you quickly found it was like riding a bike.

Joel's kiss lit a fire in you, one that had gone dormant for so long. Your fingers curled around the lapels of his flannel, the material warm and soft, just like him, and with the confidence boost that came from his hands dropping to grab excitedly at your hips, you walked him backwards until he bumped against the edge of your mattress.

He sat down on your bed with an oomph and you crawled into his lap, not once breaking the kiss.

"Wish I got to know you sooner," he whispered, tipping his head back when your lips traveled down his neck. Fuck, even his neck was sexy. "Always so skittish and shy," he continued, his palms gliding up and down your back.

You laughed softly against his skin and leaned back. "You still don't really know me."

He grinned and shrugged. "I'd like to, if you're willin'," he said, his vulnerability making your chest ache. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip again and nodded.

"Good," he said, his hands roaming further past your waist to cup your ass. "'Cause I like what I know so far."

"You're full of surprises," you told him, giggling when he gave your ass a firm squeeze. "You're so much more... you're more gentle and sweet than I expected."

Joel smirked and tugged you closer so you felt his erection trapped within his jeans. "I can be gentle," he told you, nipping at your jaw. "Or I can be rough. Whatever you like."

You swallowed when you caught the mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhmm," he said, and before you could blink he had spun you around so your back was pressed into the mattress while he hovered above you. You had to admit, he was adorable. He had to be pushing sixty but he was talking like a man half his age. After you heard the way his knees creaked when he was fixing your heater, you figured he was all talk, or maybe he just needed the ego boost to hype himself up.

But the speed in which he removed your clothes should have been the first sign that your impression of him was wrong. When he buried himself inside you, his surprisingly thick length stretching you open and nudging the furthest depths of you, you got the message.

When you gasped and tipped your head back, his big hand immediately rose to cup the side of your face and tilt it back down so he could watch your face as you unraveled beneath him. Each little noise and moan seemed to egg him on, like he fed off your sounds and the way your face twisted in pleasure when his coarse hair rubbed against your clit with each roll of his hips.

"Wanna see you," he explained, eyes scanning all over your face. "Wanna watch you take it. You'll keep your eyes on me, won't you? Hm? You'll be good for me, yeah?"

You nodded, your mind a muddled mess. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the slow and deliberate drag of his heavy cock in and out of you. Joel pressed your knees back against your chest as far as you could handle and pushed inside you further with a rough grunt. He managed to get so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach and the sensation left you breathless.

"So fuckin' pretty, y'know that?" he groaned, gazing down at you without breaking rhythm. His long locks loosened and hung past his eyes, tempting you to smooth them back. "Wanted to get to know you f'so long but I couldn't ever catch your eye," he admitted with a little smirk. You moaned when his hips began to swirl, switching the angle ever so slightly and setting your nerves alight.

"I-I... oh, god," you whined, already struggling to keep your eyes on him like he asked. "I didn't know."

He lunged forward and crashed his mouth against yours hungrily, his exhale fanning over your cheek. Then just as suddenly as he kissed you, he leaned back and pulled out.

"Turn over," he instructed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he dragged in air. You did as you were told and shakily held yourself up on your hands and knees.

"Fuck," he muttered behind you. Your face went hot and you tucked your chin into your shoulder as you waited for him to enter you again, but he chose to take an extra minute to glide his hand over the curves of your hips and ass. If you had been able to see him, you would have seen a look of awe and appreciation on his face.

"Always wondered what you had hidden under all those clothes," he said as he lined himself up at your entrance. You cried out his name when he finally slid back inside, the angle already too intense and he hadn't even begun to move. "Goddamn, wanna run my tongue over every fuckin' inch of you, baby," he growled, fingers gripping your sides as he tried to ground himself.

He gave you a few gentle thrusts to get used to it before he couldn't hold back any longer. He pounded into you, his eyes fixed on your ass and the way it bounced with every snap of his hips. One hand slowly reached down to trace your spine, marveling at the way your body welcomed him. Then you arched your back and you both moaned at the slight change and he could feel his stomach begin to tense in anticipation of his release.

"So fuckin' tight," he said through clenched teeth. You could hear him breathing heavily as his thrusts grew sloppy and you began to panic, sensing he was about to come before you were ready. But then as if he read your mind, one of his hands snaked around your front to draw fast circles over your clit.

"C'mon, give it t'me," he said with a grunt. "Wanna feel this perfect pussy squeeze me, want you to be feelin' me for fuckin' days, sweetheart."

"Oh, shit," you gasped, mouth hanging open in a mixture of ecstasy and surprise. You wondered how on earth everyone in town had so much to say about Joel's reputation but somehow managed to leave out how mind-blowing he happened to be in bed.

"Christ, honey. Ain't gonna last much longer," he groaned, his fingers working even faster between your legs. He pounded into you harder, punching the air from your lungs and pushing you closer and closer to your peak. Your breaths were coming in shallow pants and you could feel the swell building deep inside you, threatening to unleash at any second. You reached behind you frantically, searching for some part of him to hold onto when you found his hand pressed firmly onto your hip. Your fingers clasped over his as you felt the pressure build up quickly and you knew in that moment this one encounter was going to single-handedly ruin you.

The moment you fell apart while practically screaming his name, your cunt pulsing around him and your body shaking, he almost made a huge mistake. Finally getting to witness what you looked like when you came was more than enough, but hearing his name over and over while your body shook with pleasure? It was too much and he was only just a man who was holding on by his goddamn fingernails as it was. But fortunately, he managed to pull out just in time to paint your lower back with his cum. He knew he was making some ungodly sounds as relief flooded his veins, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He had been daydreaming about taking you apart like that for weeks and now that he finally had you, there was no turning back.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped, lifting his chin towards the ceiling while dragging in deep lungfuls of air. You collapsed flat onto your stomach with a grunt and he tilted his face back down to grin as how spent you looked.

Still got it.

"I'll be right back, darlin'," he told you. You mumbled something tiredly in response before he slipped out of your room to get a washcloth from your bathroom and returned quickly to clean you up.

"Thank you," you said, turning your face so you could watch him gently wipe up his mess. His eyes flickered to yours and he smirked.

"You thankin' me for fixin' the heater, for fuckin' you, or for cleanin' you up?"

You giggled, your voice a little hoarse when you replied, "All of the above."

You flipped over onto your back and his eyes immediately drifted down your naked body, his breath catching in the back of his throat at how perfect you were. Even better than he ever imagined.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, letting the rag fall to the floor so he could glide his hand up your thigh, over your hips and stomach to one of your breasts which, he realized far too late, had gone neglected. Next time.

"So are you," you whispered back, bringing a hand up to play with the long curls resting on the back of his neck. He shook his head shyly and looked away.

"I need a haircut."

"I like it just the way it is," you told him, twisting a lock of hair around one finger and watching as it loosely bounced back when you let it go. "Gives me something to grab onto," you joked. A wide smile stretched across his face and his eyes looked like he was staring at the tree on Christmas morning.

"So, uh," Joel began when the silence stretched on for too long. "I meant it earlier. 'Bout gettin' to know you better." He couldn't remember the last time he felt so nervous. He could feel his face heating up and he prayed you didn't notice. "I know you don't like goin' to the dining hall but I'd really like to have dinner with you. I can't make much but I can make stew, if y'wanna-"

"I would go to the dining hall with you," you said, cutting him off. His eyes snapped back up to yours and he shot you a nervous smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said with a little shrug before sitting up and draping your arms around his shoulders. "As long as you're there, I'll go."

He grinned and leaned forward to kiss you, still in complete disbelief his wildest fantasy actually came true.

"How 'bout tomorrow, then?" he asked a little breathlessly when he broke the kiss.

Your eyes lit up and you nodded. "It's a date."

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[gghostwriter]

Hey, how you doing? So I was wondering if you could write a one-shot where Y/N visits Spencer in prison and just like how when JJ visited him, Spencer doesn’t like the way the inmates are looking at Y/N, and when he gets back to his cell or when he is in the prison yard, he hears inmates talking about Y/N and gets protective. Saying stuff like “don’t talk about her like that, you don’t get to talk about her” or something similar.

I am unsure if there is a fanfic like this so just in case, I am asking ☺️

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Protective!Spencer Word Count: 0.8k A/N: apologies that this took a while. I was feeling very hyper-critical and unsatisfied with anything I wrote so this collected dust in my drafts a bit—still do feel it if I’m being honest but I felt the motivation to revisit my rough draft and make some changes before posting. I hope you like it! Main masterlist

His. // Spencer Reid

Spencer hasn’t felt himself ever since his capture. If he was being honest, his descend to rock bottom started even before then but that wasn’t the point. No, the point was the accumulation of his lack of sleep in his single cell—only an hour at most, the constant alertness from keeping his identity as a fed hidden—his fashioned shiv always an inch away from reach, and the group shared meals—never knowing what other contaminants it has, all made him feel one step away from snapping. He was teetering on the edge of lashing out and like the unsubs that he used to profile in black and white typing, he only needed one stressor before all hell broke loose.

And that stressor was you. 

Visitation hours were always bittersweet. It soothed his soul to see your expressive eyes and beautiful face but dread always came after, knowing the minutes were counting down before you and him had to separate. He had always hated the idea of separation, hated not seeing you wholly and safe.

During the past cases, the bodies of each victim somehow always reminded him of you and here, locked in the confines with other criminals, made his hyper-vigilance of protecting you increase by a hundred. 

“Love, you don’t have to come visit me,” he suggested as the jeers from the other inmates about your looks echoed on the walls. Each whistle and vulgar mention of how your looks get their gears revving was a chip in his knightly armor and although he could see you trying to pay it no attention, it soothe no pain that he was the reason why you were exposed to all this sexualization.

“It’s fine, Spence. I can handle it as long as I get to see you,” you defended. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” the corners of his mouth lifting to a small smile. Four simple words that didn’t fully express the ache echoing in his chest. He could read in several languages but none of them could fully explain the loss that reverberates in him when it’s time to part ways.

You picked on the loose threading of his cardigan adorning your body. “I’ve been visiting your mom. She asks about you a lot. How you’re doing, how you’re being treated and uh—” your lips quivered from emotion “—she misses you too.” 

“Thank you for seeing her. Can you tell her I’m doing fine? I don’t want her to worry too much about me,” he uttered a lie. He wasn’t doing great and you could see that but having been together for so long, you understood the reasoning behind the fib without needing any explanation.

I’d like to get a piece of that, huh. Another crude sentence about you reached his ears causing him to snap his neck to the side and clench his jaw. With all of his vast intellect, Spencer never did understand the psychology behind men catcalling as a form of flirtation and expecting the recipient to react positively. But then again, men who perpetuate this behavior were more of animals in his eyes. Plebeian in thought and unappealing in form.

Maybe there was something in the stale air of prison that made him his hackles rise or maybe it was just his biological imperative to protect what was his. Either reason, he felt himself snap the next day during yard hour when a duo of inmates sat beside him to slobber about your beauty and body.

“Hey Twig, was that your girl the other day? That pretty young thing?” The one with the neck tattoo taunted. “Tell me, does she taste as sweet as she looks?” 

His bald headed partner sneered. “Man, I don’t think he can get her off, probably doesn’t even know how she sounds like in bed. With how skinny he is, bet he’s also pencil—”

“Have some respect. You don’t get to talk about her like that.” Spencer snarled out. He felt like an animal about to escape from his cage—gone was the logical ex-FBI agent and all that remained was a convicted, highly intelligent felon no longer afraid of committing a crime. Additional blood coating his shackled hands was nothing if done in your name.

They both snickered. “And what you going to do about it, huh?” 

He ground his teeth, saying nothing. Spencer knew the statistics of him winning in a fight specially 2 vs 1 was slim to none so he catalogued their faces and numbers in his vast mind and bid his time like a snake lying in the wait for his prey to settle in faux comfort.

“Thought so. C’mon man,” the one with the neck tattoo patted his back and started to stand with his partner. “I’lll see your girl in my fantasies tonight, Twig.” 

But before they were out of earshot, he turned and called back a warning—his last mercy before the execution. “You’re going to regret it.” 

They both hooted in laughter, unaware that Spencer makes good on his promises—threats really, anything to protect his girl.

And when he poisoned a group of inmates who were smuggling drugs inside the jail, he made sure that all those men who jeered sexual innuendos at you, counting in the two who confronted him in the yard, were included. His methods cold, detached, and impersonal—something he learned from the killers he had spent half of his life profiling.

There were whispers, of course, who caused the contamination. He wasn’t deaf. He knew it was what labelled him as a danger and almost untouchable in prison. An emerging alpha in this testosterone filled animal kingdom. The same status that extend to you, his chosen queen.

And so during your next visit when no cat calls reached your ears, you innocently asked about it and he just shrugged like it was no big deal. He didn’t want to taint your mirage of him any more than his stint in prison had done. You were his to protect, his to care for, and his to love.

To put it simply, you were his.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[suosgirl]

Helloooo! I was wondering if you are taking requests for Wind Breaker?

If yes, can I ask for a story or headcanons about Suo meeting and getting curious (and eventually falling for) a f.reader who is like a princess for Shishitoren?

In my head it would be funny to see Suo challenging and interacting with Choji and Togame (who are already threatening Suo to stay away from the reader). I mean, he can be kind of mean when he wants, and still wear a smile.😆

Thanks for hearing me out!

And let me say, I realllyyyy love the way you write!🩷

Shishitoren's Princess (& Her Guard Dog) | Hayato Suo x Reader

Word Count: 7471

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Shishitoren (literally most of them), Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama, Mitsuki Kiryu, Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nire

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers, ooc (definitely ooc sorry ah), angst, harassment, swearing, kissing, miscommunication – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: oh my goodness – I'm actually so sorry for how this took me (and how long this is ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა). I loved loved loved this idea so much, and thank you for the sweetest words! I really hope this is somewhere in the ballpark of what you were requesting! Thank you again for the amazing idea! I love you!

You hadn’t meant to cross over to their territory – truly. It’s just that Togame had mentioned that his favorite Ramune flavor had been out since last night, and Tomiyama had been going on and on about this new snack that just wasn’t available at the usual corner store that you guys frequented, so you found yourself with a mission on your mind and your wallet in your hand.

Pretty, perfect, caring adorable you. With a smile that could heal any scratch and a heart that seemed to never run empty. You were the pride and joy of Shishitoren – their mascot in every sense. 

You knew everyone by name. If someone asked, you could name at least 5 things about each person from the top of your head. You could name their allergies, their likes and dislikes, and even their interests – all because you listened to them.

You were attentive and warm – quick to lend an ear if someone was having a bad day or offer advice if they asked.

And it was scary how well you could tell if they were in the dumps – it becomes a running joke that you have some kind of emotional superpower when it comes to them. It takes just one look, one look before you’re bringing them to a secluded corner and asking them if they’ve got something weighing on their minds.

You knew their personalities, knew their stories, knew their hearts. 

The only time anyone avoided you was when they knew they did something wrong – because they knew you’d be pulling them by the ear and scolding them. And, as much as some of them wanted to get mad, they just couldn’t bring themselves to – because having someone care for them so fiercely was a feeling that not many of them had ever experienced, and from the bottom of your heart you truly cared.

After every fight, they knew you’d be the one to patch them up. Bofurin had the townspeople, sure, but Shishitoren had you. You, who would set up tables in the Ori with every inch of space taken up by ointments, antiseptic spray, gauze – the works. Whatever injury they had, as long as not severe, was taken care of by you. 

If it was serious and required hospital attention, you were the one bringing them there – eyes sharp and tongue at the ready to yell at anyone who dared to treat them differently or deny services.

And these boys … they had the utmost respect for you. You, who had nothing but love to give, never expected a single thing back. You cared for them, genuinely, and saw them as your own brothers to fuss over and worry about and love. 

You were family – and honestly, Togame and Tomiyama were just glad to have met you after their fight with Bofurin. 

You’d moved to this side of town just a little after the whole thing, and when you’d gotten lost in the dark alleys with your phone on 1% and tears in your eyes, it was Tomiyama who walked you home. He’d talked your ear off the whole way, of course, but he was surprised at how you were able to keep up with him. You were actively responding to him, asking questions, keeping the conversation going – and Tomiyama liked that. 

And when you’re delivered safely to your front door, you ask if you can exchange contact info. His eyes light up, and he’s quickly saying yes and that he’d love to hang out with you again.

He doesn’t expect you to reach out to him the next day though, asking if you can give him a thank-you present for going out of his way the day before. 

And when you show up to the Ori, with a bag of assorted goodies in your hands, you’re met with more men than you could count, all with eyes staring wide at you.

They expect you to run away, honestly, because they know what they look like. They know that you’re probably a sweet girl, sure, but they were a gang – plain and simple. A gang working on reform, sure, but a gang nonetheless. So, if you were to drop your little goodie bag in fear and run for your life, well, it would probably be the most appropriate response.

Instead, what you do is gasp, point an accusatory finger at Tomiyama, and exclaim, “WHY didn’t you tell me that there would be more people here?”

You quickly hand him the bag, muttering out an “I’ll be back”, and in less than 30 minutes you’ve got your hands full with 5 more bags, packed to the brim with even more snacks.

With Togame, it takes just a little bit longer for him to warm up to you. Not that he doesn’t already like you – it’s just that he’s, well, a bit more reserved and a bit more quiet and observing (a lot more quiet if we’re comparing him to Tomiyama). 

It’s when, during a fleeting conversation, he mentions that he plays Go with the elderly men at the public bath – and he watches you perk up at his words. Immediately, you’re asking if it would be alright to play with him sometime, and while he’s hesitant, he ultimately says yes at the sight of your bright eyes and wide smile.

He admits that he thinks you’re just bluffing, until you actually plan a day to play, and now you’ve got him thinking that maybe you’re good? Maybe, you’re a secret Go prodigy or something? Maybe you’ve got a secret or two up your sleeve and –

He wipes the floor with you. Absolutely demolishes you. But you’re happy about it, laughing at the result, and he’s confused because you didn’t win? Did you … did you know how board games work?

You’re quick to tell him that you enjoyed it because you got to spend time with him, got to know who he is as a person because of how he played. 

You leave him standing on the street, a bottle of Ramune long forgotten in his hand (his prize for winning) and his mouth open in surprise.

And when you notice he’s not next to you anymore, you turn around with a smile on your face as you ask, “Don’t you feel that you know me a little bit better too?”

Yeah, they were glad that you got to see them as they were now, with hopes and dreams and emotions. They don’t dwell on the idea of you meeting them before then – they don’t want to. Because if they thought about it too long, they’d have their answer.

You deserved to be happy and healthy and protected. You, who filled a hole in Shishitoren that they didn’t even know existed. 

And now you were an irreplaceable part of their lives, so precious and so important that they began to understand Bofurin. They had you – someone that they would do anything in their power to protect – to keep safe from harm.

You were Shishitoren’s Princess.

After that, Tomiyama and Togame were stuck to you like glue. Always thinking about you, always concerned, always wondering where you were. 

You’re running late and they haven’t got a text letting them know why? They’re out on the streets, danger flashing in their eyes and prepared for the worst. However, when they see that you’ve been distracted by a stray cat on the road, all they do is let out a laugh and join your side. 

They hear you sniffling and see that your eyes are shining with tears? They’re immediately on you, asking who did this to you, with a promise to make them pay for it tenfold. “You can’t really beat up allergies,” you laugh, before sneezing into a tissue. Immediately, the Shishitoren boys are rounded up, their eyes focused and determined – to get you allergy medicine.

You were everything good in the world, bottled up into someone who could make even the rainiest days seem a bit more brighter and the hardest challenges a bit more bearable – and they didn’t want anyone infringing on their happiness.

So when Hayato Suo, from Bofurin, comes across you one fateful day – they’re absolutely livid. 

You hadn’t meant to cross over to their territory – truly. It’s just that Togame had mentioned that his favorite Ramune flavor had been out since last night, and Tomiyama had been going on and on about this new snack that just wasn’t available at the usual corner store that you guys frequented, so you found yourself with a mission on your mind and your wallet in your hand.

And honestly, you loved them, you did, but the way that they treated you like a delicate little flower sometimes felt a bit too stuffy.

What? Did they think you just patched people up for fun? That you knew how to medically treat someone just short of a nurse because it was your hobby?

You’re too absorbed in your thoughts to realize where the directions on your phone are taking you until you’ve already passed the train crossing border that connects Bofurin’s and Shishitoren’s territory. You’re spit out onto a street that you’ve never seen before, but you shrug it off.

When you find the corner store, you make quick work of your shopping list, even grabbing some items for yourself, before you’re out the door.

It’s when you’ve barely taken a few steps down the street that you feel it – the staring on the back of your head.

While you were in the store, you’d felt their eyes on you, but you’d ignored it, hoping that it was just a fleeting moment of curiosity. Now, you see that it was the eyes of a predator stalking their prey.

You pause, before quickly taking out your phone and sending a quick text to Togame and Tomiyama – they just need one small clue and they can fill in the rest – so you send your location. 

And when you finally turn to face your stalker, you snap a photo of their face. For insurance, you assure yourself. Just in case. 

He’s taller than you, with a smirk on his face and his hands in his pockets. You feel uneasy at his presence, and you look up and down the street to see that no one’s around.

Damnit damnit damnit. 

“You’re really pretty, totally my type. Could I get your contact information?” he’s asking, but the tone that he’s saying it in doesn’t leave any room for objection.

“No,” you reply, simple and straight to the point. Then, you stay standing there, and you wait. 

“Never turn your back on an enemy.”

Togame had said this briefly, once, while the both of you were watching everyone spar.

When the man takes a step forward, you take one back, maintaining the distance between you and him.

“Oh come on – it’s just your number. Don’t make this such a big deal.”

He’s holding himself back and you can see it. You can see the way his hands are twitching by his sides now and the way his breathing is starting to speed up.

“Always keep an eye on your opponent~! You wouldn’t wanna miss anything!”

Tomiyama’s words run through your mind next, and you will yourself to maintain your facade.

You’re starting to get just the slightest bit worried now, though. It really shouldn’t be too much longer, you think. Any minute now. 

But a minute passes by, Togame and Choji aren’t here, and the guy’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist so tightly that it’s starting to throb.

“Please – leave me alone!” you yell out, but it’s going through one ear and out the other. He’s smiling down, dark and sinister, and it’s then that you remember something so crucial that you can’t believe you forgot it.

“Kick them, um, down there. It’ll hurt, a lot. But that’s a last resort type of move, alright princess?”

Those self-defense lessons are paying off, Togame. 

You make a mental note to thank him when he gets here.

You kick the man, hard, and when he releases your arm you step back as fast as you can, but – 

The plastic bag you had once held in your hand, now filled with the sloshing liquid and the broken glass of Togame’s Ramune bottle, causes you to slip.

Your hands shoot out and you close your eyes in anticipation of the fall that never comes because strong, warm arms are holding you up.

You let out a sigh of relief – finally. You’re brought to stand, but before those hands can leave your body, you’re swiftly grabbing them to wrap around your waist and leaning your head on their chest.

“Geez, took you guys long enough –”

The sight of a black jacket cuts you off. Black, with green embroidery.

You quickly push yourself off, eyes wide and cheeks red because you had just initiated a very intimate hug with someone who was a complete stranger.

“I-I’m so sorry! Oh my gosh – I thought you were someone else!” you blurt out, hands covering your mouth – and he looks as caught off guard as you are.

His eye is wide, mouth open just the tiniest bit, and – he’s cute.

“Wow, I don’t get thanked like that too often,” he smiles, and you’re mortified at his playful reaction.

“I –,” You open your mouth to apologize again, but he’s got a hand on your shoulder, quickly cutting you off.

You look up at him, and the smile’s still there, but it’s different now – it’s frightening.

“Would you mind stepping to the side for me? It seems some people just don’t know when to quit.”

You hear shuffling behind you, and you’re quickly brought back to the situation at hand. Nodding, you get out of his way, and it’s as soon as you step past him that you hear a sickening thud and a groan of pain.

When you turn, you’re relieved to see that the man who’d been harassing you is on the ground, and if you were to guess, probably out cold.

“Wow… You made quick work of him,” you don’t try to hide the awe in your voice and Suo finds it both endearing and concerning that you’re praising him.

Concerning mainly because, well, you don’t seem to be the type to leisurely enjoy street fights. 

And now you’re right in front of him, inspecting his face and body to make sure there aren’t any cuts that need to be treated or any injuries that need tending.

It’s second nature at this point — ingrained in your body and soul.

Cute, he thinks, very cute that she thinks he touched me.

“Do you see anything wrong, love?” he jests, enjoying the way you’re so diligently scanning him from head to toe.

“No, I don’t think—”

You are, once again, mortified by his teasing. No one at Shishitoren spoke to you like this, and sure they called you Princess, but to you, it held the same value as sister or friend.

“S-sorry, force of habit… ah, thank you for saving me! I sent my friends a message but —”

You’re cut off by the sounds of two distinct voices yelling "Princess", and Suo’s quick to prepare himself for another fight.

However, when he sees Togame and Tomiyama run around the corner with panic in their eyes and desperation in their voices, he’s just confused.

And when they spot the two of you, with an unconscious body on the ground, it gets even more confusing. Because why are they walking over here and why do they have scowls on their face and —

“Princess, what were you thinking?”

Tomiyama and Togame are all over you, Togame’s hand gently grasping your chin to move your face from side to side, and Tomiyama’s got his hand on your wrist, softly thumbing at the bruised skin.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Suo’s observing all of this, and he’s trying to rack his brain for any information about you. God, he really wished Nirei was here right now.

He’s never heard that name before or seen your face, so this must be a recent development. But with the way they’re fretting over you, you’d think that you’d all been childhood friends or something because the way that they’re worrying over you is definitely not normal.

You try to push their hands away from you, embarrassed that you have an audience, but they don’t let up so all you’re able to do is grumble and huff as they inspect you from head to toe.

“... He hurt you,” Tomiyama whispers, and you grab his wrist before he starts stalking toward the body on the floor.

“It’s okay um – oh, I don’t know your name, but he helped me out! Everything’s fine – really! Please, let’s calm down,” you plead, and all it takes is one look at your anxious face for the both of them to ease up.

Now, Suo really wants to understand.

“Suo … thanks for protecting her. This idiot didn’t tell us she was crossing over into your territory. It’s our fault, sorry,” Togame explains, one hand scratching the back of his neck and the other draped over your shoulders.

Suo takes a moment to respond. Who would he be, after all, if not an instigator?

Because — who were you? You – who could turn the Shishitoren leader and his second in command into mere puppies with your sweet voice. You — who had them running like their lives depended on it. 

“Ah, I’d save a sweet girl like her any day,” Suo says, testing the waters, and he gets the exact reaction he was hoping for.

Togame and Tomiyama stiffen up beside you, as you gasp in surprise at his words. 

And suddenly, there’s a shift in the air – and it’s deadly.

You sense it, of course, because who wouldn’t be able to feel the heightened electricity and the low hum of buzzing coming from Togame’s and Tomiyama’s chests?

And you, ever the de-escalating expert, quickly blurt out, “Ah, wait! I need to go back to the store! Give me like 5 minutes!”

Before they can get a “no” out, you’re already out of their grasp and beelining it for the convenience store.

It’s silent for a moment, with just Suo, Tomiyama, and Togame looking at one another.

Finally, Togame breaks the silence.

“Look, Sakura’s a friend –”

“And Ume-chan too!” Tomiyama chimes in.

 “ – and I hope we’re not stepping on your toes here but don’t get any ideas.”

Suo knows he should stop. He should probably apologize, and let them know it’s not what they think. That they’ve got it all wrong. But … he really can’t help it – not with the way that they’re hissing at him like cats. It’s adorable – and you’re adorable.

He was never really good with holding back his tongue, anyway.

“I think she can make her own decisions, don’t you?”

Togame and Tomiyama do not take kindly to his words, and so it begins – a passive-aggressive verbal war.

“Ha, right. It’s been fun, eye-patch-kun, but we really oughta take her back home. You know, so that we can patch her up,” Togame says, and though there's a smile on his face, Suo understands the underlying message behind his words.

She got hurt in your territory, under your patrol.

Suo smiles back at him.

“Ah, sorry! I wasn’t quick enough to save her, but I’m glad I was able to sort this out before things got out of hand,” Suo replies.

All you guys do is blow things up out of proportion – with violence.

“If we’d been here, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place.”

“Hm. But you probably would’ve gone overboard.”

“Watch it –”

“Ah, sorry!”

It’s when Tomiyama finally opens his mouth that Suo realizes he’s been uncharacteristically quiet, and when they make eye contact, Suo’s smile deepens – because Tomiyama looked like he was ready to maul Suo into pieces, like a true Lion.

“Ume-chan and Furin are our friends,” he says, eyes darkening with every word, “but she’s our family – I think it’s best if you stand down.”

It’s at that moment that you come racing back towards them, your hands full of goodies and a grin on your face as you exclaim, “I got it! I got it!”

You hand Togame his Ramune, Tomiyama his snack, and … you hand Suo bottled tea.

“Sorry, um, I wasn’t too sure what you liked – but this is my favorite drink! Ah, um, if you don’t like it … Suo … I won’t be hurt. But you strike me as a tea lover so –”

You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands wringing behind your back as you ramble and Suo can’t help the sweet smile and the small laugh that escapes his lips before thanking you.

And as soon as he’s done, you’re being whisked away back to your territory – back to your home.

As you walk through the passing, with Tomiyama’s arm intertwined with yours and Togame’s arm draped over your shoulders, you briefly turn around, just to catch one more glance of Suo.

He’s standing there, smiling as he raises his hand to wave at you. You smile back at him with a glossy look in your eyes before Togame softly flicks your forehead.

Your attention is on Togame now, pouty and dejected, before turning your head indignantly as you begin to lecture him about how you’re supposed to thank someone when they help you, and that it’s the nice thing to do.

In the heat of your lecture, you miss the way that Tomiyama and Togame also turn back to look at Suo.

In the darkness of the tunnel, Suo swears he can see their eyes glinting, and his smile only deepens. 

Their eyes, daring and territorial, only say one thing.

Ours. Ours. Ours. 

He had to admit, he wasn’t expecting this turn of events but he was intrigued now. 

And, it’s only after the three of you disappear that he realizes he never learned your name – your real name.

So, when he volunteers to take over the patrol where the Furin territory ends and the Shishitoren territory starts, who can blame him?

What Suo doesn’t know, though, is that after this little incident, you’re permanently banned from walking alone ever again.

(Of course, you’re not actually banned. But, you are given a scolding afterward – which, in your eyes, is rich coming from Togame and Tomiyama, but sure, whatever.)

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

The next time Suo sees you, it’s when he least expects it. 

You’re in Bofurin territory, with a small first-aid kit on your lap as you tend to the child in front of you. You’re smiling at the sniffling little boy as you wrap some gauze around his ankle, your fingers adept and swift, as if you’d done this countless times before.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? You’re so strong!”

You ask him how it feels, and the little boy beams up at you, the tears in his eyes long gone and instead replaced with immense gratitude.

You smile down at him, playfully scolding him to be more careful as you pat his head softly.

And then Suo sees you hand him a lollipop — a lollipop — and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

So, really, can you blame him for sneaking up behind you and whispering into your ear?

“What brings you to Bofurin territory, princess?”

You yelp in surprise, before turning around so fast that Suo worries if you gave yourself whiplash.

Once your blush has gone down and the surprise of seeing him wears off, you explain that you’re here to get some bread for Tomiyama from the Cactus bakery.

He’d been saying that he wanted fresh bread, but there weren’t any in Shishitoren that you knew of. And as soon as he mentioned the Cactus’s Anpan over on Bofurin's side of the tunnel, well, who could blame you for taking that opportunity to not only do something for him but also for yourself?

Which, of course, was to hopefully run into Suo.

“He sent you all the way over here to pick up bread for him?”

“Hm? No, of course not. This is a surprise for him!”

“I see – I was wondering why you didn’t have your guard dogs around…”

“My guard dogs?”

“Oh!” you laugh and Suo thinks it’s the most pleasant sound he’s heard in his life.

“You mean Tomiyama and Togame? No, they don’t know I’m here. It wouldn’t really be a surprise if they knew, right?”

Suo’s starting to see it now – why they care for you so much. But he wants to know more, so he asks about the kid you were tending to.

“Ah — I saw him playing with some kids and he took a nasty fall. I didn’t think it was right to let him go home without care, so I patched him up. I hope that’s okay?”

Suo finds that he really likes talking to you. He likes how expressive you are, how kind you are, and how thoughtful you are. And he finally learns your name. He likes that about you too – it’s cute.

So, naturally, he offers to escort you to Cactus – purely just to keep an eye on you, he convinces himself.

And when he escorts you back to the border, all your goodies in one hand and his arm in the other, well – 

He doesn’t care enough to find justification for his actions. He just really liked you – plain and simple.

When you let go of his arm, he’s already grieving the feeling of your body pressed to his side. 

You were warm, soft, and he’s sure that if he ever got the chance to taste your lips, sweet.

“Let’s exchange contact information! That way, you can be my guard dog when I’m here,” you say as you pull out your phone, and Suo’s so so glad that he ran into you today.

When he adds your contact to his phone, he puts you down as Princess.

When you add his contact to yours, you put him down as Guard Dog. 

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

After that, you and Suo try to meet up. But… well…

You don’t see the point in trying to hide it. You were, after all, your own person. You could think for yourself, make decisions for yourself, and speak up for yourself. You were so open to loving and the Shishitoren boys knew this – so why should you hide it?

And when you had something on your mind, you were determined to make it happen. So, you don’t see why it would be any different with Suo. You had met him twice now, and you wanted to keep seeing him. To keep talking to him. To maybe even date him.

But to Shishitoren, this was equivalent to losing you – and they could never let that happen.

So Shishitoren never lets you see him – and it’s not like they’re barricading you inside the Ori or blocking the entrance to the border (though, they’ll admit that the thoughts crossed their mind in one way or the other).

No. They do it in a way that they know will make you stay with them – by acting like big babies.

The first to fall was Arima – 

You’re about to leave to meet up with Suo when Arima runs into the Ori, cries of pain leaving his lips as he whines at how much it hurts. You drop your bag immediately, texting Suo a panicked text about how something came up and that you’re sorry but you’ve gotta cancel today. 

You have Arima sit down, all your supplies laid out next to you as you ask him what happened and – 

It’s a paper cut.

But he’s babbling about how deep it is and how much it stings and it takes forever to just disinfect it and wrap a bandage around it before you realize that half the day’s just flew by for a minor injury.

Second was Kanuma – when he got a bad haircut.

Third was Sako – when he suddenly, out of nowhere, began asking you for advice about how you would approach someone who you used to look up to but lost respect for, who you vowed to fight and win against, only to lose against them and have them apologize to you (you, obviously, struggled with what advice you could even give him).

Fourth was Tomiyama – when he lost his favorite pair of sneakers.

Fifth was Togame – when he lost an eating challenge for the first time.

“It’s for the good of Shishitoren,” they say as they prepare the next victim.

Eventually, you find yourself tending to almost all of Shishitoren’s wounds, whether physical or emotional, and you just can’t believe that they’re fighting against you and Suo so hard.

But, in between all of that, you and Suo still manage to sneak in hushed phone calls and sweet texts.

Always asking about how the other’s doing, always talking about how your day went. He looks forward to it, he realizes, laying in bed as he hears you start to slur the ends of your words, drifting off into sleep.

And you send him photos all the time – it could be of a cat you came across while on the way to the Ori, or a drink that you tried that you liked – and with each text, with each phone call, Suo finds himself becoming smitten with you. 

You, who would remind him to drink water and to at least eat something small to get through the day. You, who had perfect memory and would follow up with the things that he’d talked about days ago, just because you were interested and curious (he’d mentioned that there was a tea spot that he frequented in Makochi, and it only took a day or two later for you to bring it up again, this time with all sorts of questions and comments like “I looked at what they serve! Which one’s your favorite?” and “I’d love to go there with you sometime, Suo – if I ever get the chance”. He’d only said the name of this tea shop once, but you remembered). 

And sweet, kind, loving you – who seemed to know whenever he had a particularly tough day. You were so attentive to him, which was surprising because all your interactions were never in person, but it seemed that you could understand his mood just based on the extra second it took for him to answer the phone or the way he responded to your text. And the thing was that Suo was great at masking his emotions – an expert, even. But you, who could just sense these things about other people, were giving him the chance to open up if he so chose to. You never pressed, never battered him for an answer. Just a simple – “I feel like there’s something on your mind, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay! Just know that if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I’ll be there for you Suo.”

And, above all, you never stop trying. You never stop trying to escape the clutches of Shishitoren to see him – though you apologize every time your plans get thwarted as if you both weren’t expecting the same outcome.

But Suo doesn’t see you again, for months – not until a huge fight breaks out, and you’re honestly the last one he expects to see rushing onto the aftermath of the battlefield with a backpack filled to the brim with medical supplies and a determined look on your face.

They didn’t know Shishitoren was going to get involved and fight alongside them, didn’t know that the aftermath was going to be this bad. But if Suo had known that you’d be running to meet everyone afterwards, well – 

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

He sees you a mile away, and he’s so relieved that you’re not hurt. That you’re up and moving. That you’re here. But he’s also surprised and caught off guard because – why were you here?

It’s then that he sees your bag, sees the way that you’ve got your hair up and out of your face, and the way that you’re scanning everyone up and down so fast that your eyes never stop moving. 

My little nurse, Suo thinks, rushing to the injured like the sweet princess she is.

Little did you know that as he was fighting, there were only 3 things revolving through his mind – Bofurin, Makochi, and you. He fought to protect those 3 things that were so very dear to his heart, and to be greeted with the sight of you after winning? Well, it couldn’t be anything less but a sign of his hard work. A reward, if you will.

He sees you run up to Umemiya, serious and purposeful, as you open your mouth and wait for a response. Umemiya, though very confused, gives you an answer that you seem satisfied with because you nod, then thank him, and now you’re running towards Suo, and you make eye contact, and he can’t wait for you to dote after him and take care of him and – 

You smile at him, scan his body, nod –  and walk right past him. You never stopped for him, actually. You just kept moving. Just kept walking.

And Suo just watches – he watches as you make your way over to where Shishitoren is laid out, watches as they all let out a sigh of relief when they see you safe and unharmed, watches as they start talking animatedly to you as you start setting up for aid.

And you’re standing there with a pained look in your eyes as you nod at their words halfheartedly, more focused on the injuries that they’re sporting on their bodies than the words coming out of their mouths. You’re going from person to person as fast as you can, and although Suo can’t hear you, he can read your lips as you tell every single person – “I’m here now. It’s okay. Thank you for fighting. I’ll take care of you.”

He watches as you get to Tomiyama and Togame, and sees the way your eyes start to water as they pat your head and tell you that they’re fine – even though you have eyes, you can see how hard they’ve fought. Instead, they’re fondly thanking you for coming all this way just to take care of them.

And suddenly, everything got a bit too real for Suo. A bit too scary.

Because he didn’t realize how hard he’d fallen for you, in between those two fateful meetings, the constant late-night phone calls, and the never-ending texts.

It hits Suo like a train. He wanted to be the one that you search for in the crowd. He wanted to be the one that you’re fussing over. He wanted you to patch him up. He wanted you.

He was in love with you.

And he shuts down – completely.

He goes silent, uncharacteristically so, to the point that Sakura and Nirei are starting to get worried.

“What’s wrong, Suo-san?”

“Suo, what’s the matter with you?”

It goes through one ear and out the other – no response, no indication that he’s even present at the moment.

It’s when you’re patching up the last member of Shishitoren that you feel the heat of an eye on you – and your body reacts before your mind can.

Suo’s name is the only thing running through your mind as you finish up as fast as you can – and you’re off.

You’re making your way to where all of Bofurin is sitting, just barely slipping out of the grasps of the Shishitoren boys.

It’s Togame, with his long limbs, who reaches out and puts a hand on your shoulder and it’s Tomiyama, with his fast reflexes, who has your hand in his.

“Princess, no–”

“Let me find Suo.”

“But you don’t even –”

“Choji, Jo – let me go.”

They hesitate. You’d never spoken to them like this before. Never used their first names before. Never been so cold before.

But they weren’t fools. Even if you tried to hide it, they’d seen the way you sneaked off to talk to him or the way you thought you were hiding your phone when you were responding to him. Anytime they’d bring something up that had even an inkling to do with Suo, you were excitedly adding in your input – all while stumbling over your words as you tried to be mysterious. 

(They’d done a test, actually. All they did was bring up the word tea and you were fighting for your life as you kept accidentally saying Suo’s name when talking about your friend. 

“Ah, Su– AH, I mean, my friend really likes this type of tea.”

“Oh! That’s S– my friend's favorite place in Makochi!”

They didn’t have the heart to tell you because, well – you really sucked at lying.)

And they realize, with heavy hearts, that you were never theirs to lock up in the Ori. You were so kind, so lovable, so sweet, because that’s just who you are as a person. 

You were protected, sure, and healthy, sure, but you weren’t happy.

You, who were the embodiment of everything that Shishitoren was working to protect, had made a choice and they weren’t respecting it the way that you respected them – and they were being, well, selfish.

And when they finally let you go, you sigh in relief. Making your way over to where Suo’s sitting, you yell out over your shoulder, with so much spite, so much anger, and so much love – 

“You act like I’m never coming back – stop whining like puppies!”

Togame’s and Tomiyama’s eyes widen in shock before they both laugh lightly at your words in disbelief.

You really knew how to scold them.

“... she’s talking about you.”

“... nah, she’s definitely talking about you.”

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

When you made your way over to Suo, you were met with guarded and curious stares from all of Bofurin. Too focused and too determined, you brush it off. You knew about the fight that they had with Shishitoren, sure, but you thought that they had patched everything up? And Shishitoren had fought with them for this big battle, so why the curiosity?

If only you knew the real reason everyone was staring at you.

Instead, you find yourself running past all of them with Suo’s name falling from your lips, and when you see him, he doesn’t respond.

You pause, dejected, before repeating his name.

No response. 

Now you’re worried – and scared.

You recognize Sakura and Nirei, based on how Suo had described them briefly, and you immediately begin asking them what happened.

“Sakura, Nirei – is Suo okay? Did he get hurt? Does he need first aid?”

You’re met with silence – and shock.

“H-huh? Do we know you?”

“U-umm – sorry, have we met before?”

You pause at their response, looking at them confused.

You blink once, then twice, then three times – before glancing at Suo.

Unresponsive and unperturbed.

You introduce yourself slowly, giving Sakura and Nirei the chance to remember you – because they must’ve heard your name at least once, right?

They hadn’t.

And now you’re standing there with hundreds of eyes on you, as you come to terms with the fact that maybe … maybe you’d been wrong this whole time.

You clear your throat before timidly asking a question that you fear you already know the answer to.

“Did he um… did he not tell you about me? Uh… about us?”

And suddenly – everything goes to shit.

Shishitoren rises up in arms, walking over to where you are because why did you look so confused and why was Suo ignoring their beloved princess – 

All of Bofurin is staring at you with their mouths wide open, processing the words you’ve just said –

Sakura’s spluttering, desperately trying to form words as he continues to just point back and forth from you to Suo with shaky hands – 

Nirei’s got his notebook in his hand, flipping through it like a madman because how could he miss something like this, and had Suo ever talked about you? – 

Suo’s unresponsive, still – 

And then, to top it all off, Kiryu gasps because he’s finally solved it. He’d seen a text on Suo’s phone, so brief and so quick, but he was sure that the person Suo was texting was – 

“Oh! You’re the one he’s been texting! You’re Princess!”

At Kiryu’s words, you snap. 

And no one, not even Togame and Tomiyama, had ever seen you this angry, this upset, this livid.

You weren’t expecting him to go around screaming your name all over Makochi, but what you did expect was at the very least maybe his friends to know. Was that so absurd? You never tried to hide your feelings for Suo from Shishitoren (They tried so hard to stop it) so why wasn’t it reciprocated? Did he not feel the same way? Had you looked too deep into his actions and created a fantasy in your mind? Did you not really know him as well as you thought? 

Or worse – had he been toying with you? 

Oh, you were pissed – and poor Suo didn’t have a clue.

You go to stand in front of him, eerily calm and sickeningly sweet as you call his name one more time.

“Hayato Suo.”

Now that – that brings him back to his senses. You watch him blink in succession as he grounds himself, before his eye darts to you, to Furin, to Shishitoren – and he quickly puts the pieces together before letting out a stiff laugh.

“Ah – I was hoping to introduce you properly to everyon–”

“Am I a joke to you, Hayato?”

Suo freezes at your words. 

How could you, who had unknowingly wormed your way into his heavily guarded heart, be a joke?

But he realizes now – and he feels, for one of the few times in his life, stupid.

Because you love with your heart on your sleeve, and Suo loves with his heart tucked away.

And really, Suo should’ve known, because you’re you — you who gave Shishitoren something to protect and to hold close to their hearts, safe from danger and harm’s way.

You press on, fighting through the anger and the embarrassment and the fear you feel rising inside of you.

“Tell me Hayato, answer me. Was I? Hm? Did you have fun?”

“No, I –”

“Every call, every text – did that mean nothing to you? Was I just being delusional?”

“Wait I –”

You’re so close to him now, softly jabbing your finger into his chest as your words begin to get more and more shaky.

“Do you feel powerful, Hayato? Making a Shishitoren girl fall in love with you–”

You stop yourself, teary-eyed and vulnerable, and you feel so stupid. Because what hurts more than anything is giving someone all your love, all your time, all your energy – all for it to have been for nothing. You thought he felt the same, truly. But now? All you wanted was to walk away from all of this, walk away from Bofurin, and never ever look back.

He grabs your hand, desperately, as your words sink in. He wants to – no, needs to make sure that he’s not just hearing things. That he’s not just imagining it.

“You … love me?”

You pause, taking the chance to actually look at him. You see hope on his face, and you furrow your eyebrows in response.

“... is this another joke? Of course, I love you, you idiot. You would’ve been the first one I ran to but your leader said you guys were all patched up already so I –”

Everyone’s eyes turn to Umemiya, who shrivels under the attention and wordlessly mouths an “I didn’t know!”

But your eyes are only on Suo’s, and Suo’s is only on yours.

And Suo lets you see him, truly see him, for who he is. He doesn’t shy away from your stare, doesn't put on a mask, doesn’t push his feelings into the box that’s been his safe haven for so many years. 

Your eyes flicker with uncertainty and fear, but you convince yourself to try one more time. Just one last time. 

“Hayato Suo, I really do love you,” you whisper, so slowly, so hesitantly, so scared.

Then, with everyone’s eyes on the both of you, Suo slides one hand to the small of your back, and the other to cradle your face.

He wanted to learn how to love with his heart on his sleeve – just like you.

“… again.”

“… I lov—”

His lips cut you off, and honestly, you’re not even mad. Not when he’s pulling you flush to his body, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, and your fingers grasping at the collar of his jacket.

Black, with green embroidery.

“I love you, too – but I’m afraid there’s too many eyes here for me to show you how deeply I feel for you, Princess – I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Dazed, all you can manage is a soft nod and a flutter of your eyelashes before pulling his lips back to yours.

Suo smiles into the kiss. He was right, you were as sweet as he thought you’d be.

[i2sunric]

gynecologist sunghoon who checks up on you and makes you think that the way he touches you is part of his job and that he needs to what the problem is with you down there with touching you like that. reader is naive and nonstop apologizes for moaning and for it making her feel good. eventually she realizes because she can’t be that dumb lmao and they both just enjoy in the end

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐓 (p.sh)

a/n: let me just make this a drabble cause i don’t have the inspiration to make it long. hope you like it tho <3

“Just relax.” Sunghoon’s voice soothed when you confessed that it was your first time at the gynaecologist “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

You slowly nodded, feeling ever so small and exposed, sitting on the chair “Okay, doc.”

He gave you a sheepish smile and tugged the waistband of your panties “Let me take this off for you, mh?”

You helped him by raising your hips as he slid them off your legs and gently folded onto the table beside you “Now, put your legs here.” He told you as he pointed at the small stands on the chair.

You complied “Good girl.” He murmured and with a knob, he parted your legs until he could rest comfortably between them “Is it okay?”

You took a deep breath and nodded , “Tell me.” Sunghoon’s deep voice made you shiver “It’s okay. You can continue.”

Sunghoon nodded and started the visit, his gaze fell on your pussy and fuck— if it wasn’t the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen.

Seriously, you were so perfect, from the way you squirmed as the cold air of the room hit your sensitive skin to how you seemed so oblivious of it clenching whenever his fingers brushed against it.

“You’re healthy.” He reassured you, watching as your shoulders finally ease, tension slipping out of your body.

“Thank you—“ You were about to say but he cut you in “I need to make some more investigations, is it okay for you?”

You nodded and as you met his dark gaze, you remember you had to tell him “It’s okay.”

“Great.” Sunghoon murmured and slowly brushed his finger against your clit, making your hips jerk at the contact.

“Sorry!” You exclaimed, taken aback by the foreign feeling your body reacted “S’okay.” Sunghoon smirked.

His finger kept brushing against it and he watched as your eyes grew half lidded at the feeling. He slowly gathered your juices “I need to check if it gets wet alright.” He said a shitty excuse and brushed his finger against your sensitive bud once more.

You let out a soft hum, though you weren’t sure if it was for the strange feeling or as a reply.

“Does it feel good?” He questioned, quickening his pace just a little “I need to know.”

He also knew that if someone ever found out what he was doing, he would be fired and maybe sent to court, but how could he resist when you were literally so innocent and oblivious to his nasty acts?

You nodded, your grip on the armchair growing ever so strong when you for the itch to reach for his hair and pull his head close to your pussy “Good.”

“Bet it does.” He tsked and looked up at your beautiful face, the way your eyes struggled to keep open and your mouth fell agape. Cheeks already flushed.

“And this?” Sunghoon asked and slipped one finger inside you, cursing under his breath at how tight you were.

You let out a moan and widened your eyes. You weren’t sure why but you didn’t think that was an appropriate act from Sunghoon.

“D-doc?” You said and moaned out loud when his single digit brushed against a certain spot that had you seeing stars. “Found it.” Sunghoon murmured.

“Doc!” You exclaimed, frustrated with yourself for feeling such strong pleasure “I— I don’t think you should be doing this.”

Of course, you were naive but not stupid.

“No, I shouldn’t.” His finger brushed against your g-spot again “Do you want me to stop.”

You let out a shaky breath, debating your answers. His skilled finger moved inside of you in such a perfect way that you couldn’t even think straight, your mind clouding blissfully.

Nobody had ever touched you that way, and you had only faintly heard about how good sex was. But that was your prepping and if it felt like heaven already, you could only imagine what the afterwards felt like.

“No.” You answered, arching your back in the chair “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck.” Sunghoon cursed at the eagerness in your voice and added a second digit, struggling to even make it fit.

“You’re so tight.” He commented, having to spit on your pussy to make it wetter, so that it wouldn’t hurt to thrust his digits inside of you.

You moaned, head falling back. You felt so full, so good.

“D-doc.” You murmured “Call me Sunghoon.” He demanded and you complied “Sunghoon!”

He felt you clenching around him “Fuck, you’re almost pushing me out at how tight you are.” He bit his bottom lip, feeling his pants growing restrained by the minutes ticking.

“Mh.” You hummed in pleasure, your back arching from the chair “Sunghoon..”

“Yes, Y/N?” He asked and the way his name rolled out of his tongue, so sinful, it made you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Feels funny.” You frowned and Sunghoon chuckled, knowing very well what you meant “Does it, now?”

His fingers rubbed against your spongy walls and thrusted in and out, trying to bring you closer to the edge.

You cried out as you felt a knot tighten in your stomach “Don’t stop.” You panted as pleasure started overtaking your senses.

“I won’t stop.” He reassured “Just let it go, baby.” Your eyes rolled back at his pace quickening, the squelching sounds of your wet pussy filling the whole room.

Fortunately, you were the last patient of the day and no one was most likely to be in the waiting room.

“Cum for me.” At his words your whole body squirmed in the sit, moaning out. Your orgasm washed you in a such a delicious way, little trembles rocked through you.

Sunghoon rode you out of your orgasm, his fingers still slowly moving inside of you until you calmed down and he slipped them out, making you moan at the loss.

He looked at his cum-coated digits and almost came on spot himself. He put them in his mouth and sucked them clean, humming at your sweet feeling.

“You even taste so good, don’t you?” He chuckled and got up, handing you back your panties.

“I told you it wouldn’t hurt.” You nodded, a little sweaty from the act.

Thank you, doc.” You blushed “For everything.”

Sunghoon just smirked at you “I’m looking forward our next meeting, Y/N.”

[verstappen-cult]

# USING YOUR SAFEWORD

INTRODUCING THE BOYS. lando norris. charles leclerc. oscar piastri. max verstappen. alex albon. daniel ricciardo. mick schumacher.

GWEN’S MESSAGE. hi besties! this is based on this request: ‘a headcanon type blurb thing with the drivers reacting to you using your safeword?’ sorry it took me so long!

★ — LANDO NORRIS

Lando’s sitting at the foot of the bed, watching you as you try to regulate your rapid breathing. He wants nothing more than to hold you and let you know that everything is okay, but when he tried to touch you, after you whispered your safeword in between sobs, you pushed him away. Lando knows you need a little space to feel safe again, so he stands up very carefully to grab one of his shirts to give to you. His heart breaks when you avoid making eye contact, just whispering a simple ‘thank you’.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but he hears your voice. “I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing that leaves your mouth, followed by: “I just – I was too in my head and I couldn’t keep going. I’m so–” Lando climbs on the bed but doesn’t move closer to you, he waits until you’re the one reaching for his hand. He spends most of the night reassuring you that he’s not mad and everything is okay.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC

Charles stops immediately, reaching for the glass of water waiting on the nightstand. Your face is flushed and there are tears in the corner of your eyes, one falls down your cheek when you make eye contact with him; when you open your mouth to speak, Charles stops you with a hand on your shoulder and a shy smile. “What have we talked about. You don’t need to apologize for anything.” It doesn’t matter how many times he says those words, you have a hard time believing them.

He knows you need to feel him closer, that’s why he lies down next to you, letting you rest your head on his chest so you can feel his heartbeat to relax. You stop crying and shaking eventually, thanks to your boyfriend taking such good care of you. Charles makes sure you feel comfortable.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI

Oscar is a bit shocked when he hears the words, not knowing exactly what to do more than stop and pull away. You’re the one reassuring him that things are okay, even if you feel a little too lost in your head. It’s only when he sees you trying to cover your body with the sheets that Oscar snaps out of it. He asks if you need anything and makes sure you feel comfortable and safe with him around. It’s cute how he doesn’t know what to do but tries to do anything just for you.

You reassure him that it has nothing to do with him, so he doesn’t need to worry or overthink anything. Oscar listens attentively to what you have to say and makes sure you know that he doesn’t care about anything more than you and your safety. You two fall asleep hugging each other.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max makes sure you’re cuddled and warm in the bed, feeling safe before sprinting out of the room to get you a cup of tea. He comes back with a frown which makes you want to cry even more, but he’s immediately climbing on the bed and wrapping his arms around your body. Feeling his warmth and affection is exactly what you need, Max also knows you need to hear him say that, “I’m here with you, okay? Nothing is going to happen.”

You really don’t know what you did to deserve such a gentle and caring person, but you’re so thankful for Max. He knows you better than you know yourself, and never judges you. Not even when you’re in the middle of it, and you blurt your safeword. No matter how many times it happens.

★ — ALEX ALBON

Alex apologises like his life depends on it, panicking to the brink of crying because, “I didn’t want to hurt you, love. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” And you need to stop for a second and reassure him that it’s okay, that he didn’t actually hurt you. But Alex just keeps rambling and waving his hands and you find it somewhat funny.

He peppers your face with gentle kisses, making you both laugh. Alex ends up helping you to change into some of his clothes and you order something greasy to eat in bed. He doesn’t leave your side the whole night, still whispering little sorrys.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO

Daniel holds you close against his chest as you try to get out of your head, his voice soothing, enough to calm you down. When you open your mouth to apologise, he beats you to it. “Do not apologise. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” You hum weakly and just let him hold you for as long as you need.

But he also thanks you for being honest which makes you feel a little better after ruining the night. You don’t say that out loud because you know what he is going to say, and you really don’t want things to get awkward. Daniel massages your arms and back, with some kisses in between, helping you relax and release the tension.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER

Mick holds your face and wipes your tears, a frown adorning his handsome features because you don’t stop apologising and, “It’s all good, sweetheart. You did so good, I’m proud of you.” You stop rambling and crying eventually, and it’s then that Mick leaves you on the bed to go prepare you a hot bath.

He picks you up very carefully and helps you get in the bathtub filled with your favorite bathbomb and perfumes. Mick doesn’t pressure you at any moment and just stays there, helping you bathe.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[rosie-read-that]

one more afternoon / jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary: your brother's best friend pays a visit to his texas hometown, and in spite of your resolution to get over your (slightly embarrassing) childhood unrequited crush, you can't help but admit that you're still down bad for jake seresin.

content warnings: f!reader, alcohol use, oblivious reader can't take a hint

word count: 14k (you told me not to apologize for long fics, so here it is, i present it without apology!)

author’s note: hello, all! i wanted to have this out by thanksgiving, but i got hit with a stomach flu and then with a regular flu, so it took me this long to finish it. i hope the wait was worth it 🫶 the title is taken from a song by maggie rogers. as promised, the next one will be a short (i mean it this time!) and spicy holiday-themed one for all the tyler owens lovers 💓 thank you so much for voting in the poll that got this baby written.

“Did you hear the big news?” Your dad bustled into the shop with his arms full of greenery, grunting as he set the bundles wrapped in newspaper into a bucket. At the counter, your mom paused her accounting and fixed your dad an eager stare. She loved news. “Jake’s coming home for the wedding!” he announced. He brushed his hands off while yours fumbled over the order forms. A few slipped out of sequence and fluttered down to the floor. You bent to pick them up, hearing your mom’s sigh of delight.

“Oh, that's wonderful news! Dinah will be so pleased, and Amanda, too. She was worried Jake wouldn't manage to get leave. You know how much she adores him.”

“Well, she's not the only one. Mike’s ready to throw a whole goshdarn parade in his honor.” The forms retrieved, you busied yourself with putting them back in order. Your dad laughed. “I haven’t seen the kid that excited since the day Gilly was born.”

“Ow!” You stuck your finger in your mouth, the taste of blood making you wince.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” your mom asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just… paper cut.”

She came to your end of the counter. Taking your finger in her hands, she moved it this way and that, squinting at it through her glasses before she dropped a kiss on your head. “Mm, I think you’ll live.”

“Thanks for the diagnosis.”

“Don’t sass me!” she joked. “I’ll call Mike. Maybe we can all throw Jake a nice big barbecue, spend some time together like the old days.”

“He’ll probably be busy with wedding stuff,” you pointed out, mumbling around your finger.

She shot you a look that said spoilsport. “I know Jake, he’ll make the time. Besides, he’ll be walking with you at the wedding, won’t he?” Mom must have taken the shock of surprise for disappointment, because she smacked a hand against her forehead and said, “Oh, sorry! Me and my big mouth!”

It took you a moment to realize she wasn't talking about Jake.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, making a half-hearted attempt to sort through the forms again. Your parents looked at you skeptically. “I’m fine! Josh and I are practically ancient history.”

Dad, bless him, took your word for it, or at least pretended to. He picked up the bucket of sage bundles and took it into the back, but your mom hovered, stroking your shoulder, cloyingly sympathetic. It was clear she wanted to say something but was afraid of how you’d react. Knowing her, she’d give you that hangdog expression all day until you gave her permission to spill the beans, so you gave a deep sigh and turned to her with a look that said, “Alright, let’s have it.”

“I heard he’s bringing Mia to the wedding,” she blurted out. “Amanda was livid. She said she would disinvite him if you wanted—”

“Mom, I hope you told her that wouldn't be necessary.”

“Of course I did! But she said it was a standing offer.”

Oh, bother… Amanda was a sweetheart, if not a little overeager. As much as you appreciated everyone’s tact, it was also part of the reason why you still felt some awkwardness when you thought about Josh. Any time your friends or family brought up your ex, they looked at you like they were expecting you to fall to pieces, especially after word started going around that he had moved on to someone else. No matter how many times you insisted that they could refer to him normally and not as “him” or “you-know-who,” they thought you were being a brave martyr about it, pretending to take it better than you were for the sake of maturity.

“It’s not like that,” you explained for the thousandth time. “Josh and I are fine. And Mia…” Okay, so part of you did want to bash her over the head with a waffle iron. Still… “Nothing untoward happened. We were already broken up when they got together.”

“Well yeah, but after only a month,” your mom scoffed. “That’s hardly enough time to get over a six-year relationship.”

You shrugged. “Maybe some things are meant to be, and some… aren’t.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She hugged you from behind. You grimaced as she squeezed you tight and made cooing sounds. “You don’t have to be so civil about it. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I know, Mom, thanks.” You patted her hand.

“Anytime.” You thought that would be the end of embarrassing conversations you didn't want to have, until she clapped her hands and said, “Look on the bright side - it’ll be good to see Jake again! For him to meet the baby - and won’t the wedding pictures be just darling? He’s so handsome! I know you’ll look just fabulous together…”

-

It was as much cliché as it was ancient history. Jake Seresin - tall, tan, broad-shouldered, with a thousand-watt grin and a starring place on the high school football team - had been your crush since the moment you realized boys were more than just smelly, disgusting nuisances. Hell, you'd liked him even before the letterman jacket, around the time of his first growth spurt, when he’d come back from a summer visiting his aunt and uncle in California. From the porch steps, you'd seen him running into the yard to throw ball with your older brother, Mike, and your stomach had flopped and then flipped, and then flopped again. Looking back, Jake - a mere mortal - had an awkward phase just like everyone else, but you didn't see it at the time. To you, he was the dreamiest guy since you wore out your family’s Titanic VHS trying to feed your preteen fantasies of being Rose romanced by DiCaprio (before the ship went down).

Anyway, Jake’s awkward phase didn't last long. By the time he was a sophomore, he was playing on the junior varsity team along with Mike. Your sports-mad, overly enthusiastic dad gave them his blessing to turn the barn into their own personal gym, and while you complained about the unfairness of the world and the preferential treatment given to male athletes, you did find excuses to “run errands” and “pass through” so you could see Jake, shirtless, glistening with sweat. It didn't take long for Mike to notice. As a preteen, you weren’t exactly known for your finesse. While, in your opinion, you were doing nothing more than offering the boys a little lemonade - like Mom asked you to do - Mike would go back to the house for dinner and declare for all and sundry that he’d “appreciate it if you didn't salivate all over Jake like a peeping tom.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, you do!”

“Mom, I swear it's not true! He’s making it up. You’re making it up, you buttface! You just don't want me hanging around—”

“Why would I want you hanging around? We’re training! You’re a kid, you're a safety risk!”

“Mooooom!” you wailed.

“Honestly, Mike, don't call your sister a safety risk. You're hardly grown yourself.”

“She called me a buttface!”

“That’s true. Sweetie, don't call your brother a buttface at the table, it's not polite.”

“Fine. I’ll call him a buttface later, like he deserves.”

No further comment was made about your crush on Jake on that occasion, but over the years it became your brother’s weapon of choice when he wanted to knock you down a peg, and “I’ll tell Jake you have a big fat crush on him” was a surefire way to get you to do whatever he wanted.

Once, you went down for a glass of water after you were supposed to be in bed and came upon Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.

“—it’s a harmless little crush,” you heard her say. “We all had them at that age.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Of course you don't. She’s your daughter and you're finally working out that she's not going to be a little girl forever.” There was a pause. “You don't have to worry, Stan, I’ve given her The Talk.”

Ew, gross, ew! You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Yes, you remembered The Talk and you didn't want to have it ever again!

Your face heated as you knelt on the stairs. Hearing about The Talk in relation to you and Jake made you think about the stuff you’d seen at your friend Tessa’s house on the TV one night during a sleepover. You had stared at the screen, titillated and kind of horrified at what the actors were doing, the way their bodies moved and the sounds they made. Once the scene was over, you turned to each other and burst into nervous giggles, knowing your parents would blow a gasket if they knew what you’d seen. Not that you understood it. You knew how babies were made, but you didn’t understand what sex was supposed to be.

And your dad was worried about you having it? With Jake?

“He’s a good kid,” your mom gentled. “He knows she's too young for him - I’m not even sure he's aware that she likes him. Even if he is, he treats her like Mike’s kid sister. She’ll grow out of it.”

“If you say so, hon. But God as my witness—”

“She’s gonna have a boyfriend at some point.”

“When she’s eighteen,” your dad declared, “and not a moment sooner!”

You padded back to your room. It wasn’t news, but hearing that Jake thought of you as a kid dealt a heavy blow to your self-esteem. From then on, you resolved to play your cards closer to the chest - you might not be able to help the way he made you feel like your insides had turned to melted goo, but no one else had to talk about it behind your back like you had some sort of disease.

Unfortunately, playing it cool was one of the hardest things you had to do during high school. As it turned out, Jake and Mike were actually pretty good at the whole football thing. Around the time they made varsity, you zeroed in on the fact that girls found their athletic prowess to be sexually irresistible; they were crazy about them - and crazy about Jake in particular.

You watched as he winked and blew kisses at a train of girlfriends while he was out on the field. He leaned against their lockers, turning the charm up to eleven and brushing strands away from their cheeks, saying things like, “Pick you up at six?”

When he got his first truck - a beat-up old Chevy that he bought off Don Amberley by working shifts at the hardware store - you’d peer around your curtains at the sound of his horn. Sometimes Mike would take a while to leave the house, and Jake would turn his head to kiss the pretty girls in his front seat as a way to pass the time. The shy ones laughed, warding him off with a light push against his chest, while the bold ones closed their nails around his shirt and pulled him even closer, all but straddling his lap. You watched with bated breath as he put his hands on them, green with envy, wondering what it would be like to have his attention, not as his best friend’s little sister but as an actual girl.

Your suffering lasted a whole calendar year, after which Jake went off to college, then joined the Navy, and while time made you realize that you needed to move on with your life and stop making up scenarios about a white picket fence and two-point-five children, you never forgot about Jake, who in your mind - and despite your best efforts - remained the measure to which you compared every other guy.

It wasn't just his ridiculously handsome good looks, though having the body of a Greek god and a smile that made your toes curl didn't hurt. He had helped you when you’d scraped your knee roller-blading, letting you lean on his shoulder and fetching the bandages from the downstairs powder room; he joined your mom in the kitchen to do the washing-up when he stayed over for dinner, saying, “ma’am, I insist,” which earned him funny looks from Mike, but it never swayed him into doing things differently. You liked that he’d earned his first truck, got good grades, was a loyal friend. To you, Jake Seresin was the full package and then some - what more could anyone want? And while you had long accepted that he would make another woman very happy someday, the way in which your family teased you about your “little childhood crush” never failed to put your stomach all in knots. There was nothing little about it. In fact, it had now lasted well into adulthood and you had a feeling it would never fully go away.

-

Dad was right. Michael insisted on being part of the airport welcome wagon, cringey sign and all. He even stuck Gilly in an adorable pilot’s costume. Your sister-in-law sent you looks the entire way and, like a saint, restrained herself by only once making a comment about “your brother’s true wife.”

You sat in the backseat, trying to will yourself into being less nervous. Maybe it was your guilty conscience; for some reason, you kept thinking about all the times you’d imagined him in bed, or in the place of one of your boyfriends when you were doing couple-things. Be cool, be cool, you kept telling yourself.

By the time you parked at the airport, you thought your poker face was pretty flawless. After helping Julie wrestle the baby things into the stroller, you made your way through the chaotic mass of people coming and going through the Barbara Jordan terminal. The weather was good. Jake had texted your brother to say that he’d landed safely and was waiting to deplane, and Mike, vibrating with excitement, was trying to stake out a place in the Arrivals hall that would show his dorky Welcome Home, Hangman! sign in optimal light. Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing to be seen with him. You kept apologizing to the people he elbowed out of the way, as if to say, “Move aside, I was here first, bud!” But it did strengthen your resolve to be chill because at least one of you had to be.

Finally, you spotted a familiar face in the line of passengers spilling into the hall. Like something out of a romcom, Jake Seresin spotted Mike standing in the crowd, dropped his duffle bag, and came bounding into his arms. They talked over each other between laughter and bro-y exchanges, while Julie snorted through her nose and even Gilly sputtered and snuffled. You could take the boy out of Texas, it seemed… but back home he was still sixteen around friends.

Jake turned to you and smiled. “Hey, Cabbage.”

“Please, don’t,” you said, feeling awkward about the old nickname.

“Come here, bring it in.” He held out his arms, grinning, and there was no conceivable reason why you’d say no, so you steadied your nerves and stepped into them. He wrapped his arms around you. He smelled just as good as you remembered him - better, even, because a memory could never be as good as the real thing.

“You’re so stiff!” Jake pointed out, squeezing you tighter.

“No, I’m not.”

“What am I, your creepy uncle?” He looked down at you, then over your shoulder and spotted the baby in Julie’s arms.

His smile lit up his whole face and you felt your heart twist against your ribcage. You let out a breath when he let you go, trying not to fixate on the way his hand brushed against your shoulder as he did so, a slide that seemed to linger.

Fondness - that was all it was, you told yourself. He’d known you all your life and he was fond of you.

He turned his attention now to your little niece.With something like awe, he said, “Michael, you old bastard…” Then, “Sorry, little lady - you must be Gilly! Hi! Hi there, it’s your Uncle Jake! Your not-at-all-creepy Uncle Jake…”

“Nice one,” you threw back.

He grinned wider, saying, “Julie, how are you?”

“About as well as can be expected with a teething baby.”

“Well, you look great.”

“Liar,” Julie replied, but his comment made her stand a little straighter.

He let Gilly grip his finger in an attempt at a handshake. Being a sucker for attention, she wiggled her body in her mother’s grasp and held her arms out to the smiley stranger, wanting to be carried. Jake was thrilled. He bounced her in his arms the entire way to the car, asking about the wedding, his parents, how Amanda was doing, which of their friends he could expect to see on Saturday afternoon. Mike stuck to him like glue, carrying Jake’s bag for him and answering his questions. You were certain he’d send Julie to the back so Jake could ride shotgun, but instead, he loaded Gilly into her baby seat and Jake touched you on the elbow, saying, “I can take the middle seat.”

“You don't want the window?” you asked, your arm tingling. He had slipped on a pair of sunglasses once he left the terminal and he looked like a movie star, all golden skin, slicked-back hair, and a hint of stubble on his jaw. You had no idea how you were supposed to survive a 90-minute car ride when just the sight of him made you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“I want to sit next to my goddaughter. You get her all the time,” he pointed out and ducked into the car.

Helpless, you climbed in after him and pulled the door closed. In the back of the SUV, there was no way for your bodies not to touch. By necessity, your arms and thighs pressed together, his body solid and warm. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself by squirming away even though your heart was beating double-time and you were at a loss as to what to do with your hands.

Thankfully, the car started moving, and by the time you made it onto the highway you had almost gotten used to the feeling of his muscled forearms and the smell of his cologne. You were focusing on the passing landscape as he made small talk with Mike and Julie, so it caught you unawares when he turned to you and said, “So - it seems we’re paired up for the wedding. I’m sorry about you and Whatshisface, by the way.”

Here we go… “I know that you name his name, Jake.”

“Do I? Persona non grata. I must have erased him from my memory chip.” He was grinning like the cat who caught the canary, and there was something about the twinkle in his eye that made you glare daggers at your brother, who was looking suspiciously blank-faced sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my God, Mike, what did you tell him?”

“Nothing! I just said you two broke up and that he’s with Mia now.”

“That cow,” Julie put in.

“Okay, time out!” you called, doing the motion with your hands. “As much as I appreciate this show of familial solidarity, it’s really not necessary. Josh and I are cool.”

“Well, we’re not!” Mike said.

“Then be cool, Mike! And you!” You wagged your finger in front of Jake. He stared at it like it was the most amusing thing in the world. “You just got here. Do you really want to spend the rest of the week picking fights that have nothing to do with you?”

Evidently, the answer was yes, but he raised his hands in a facetious show of surrender. “Hey, I never liked the guy.”

“Dude, neither did I!” Mike crowed.

“What? You never said anything!”

“I’ve always said that - haven’t I, babe?”

“Mike, you say a lot of things,” Julie drawled.

“…including the fact that I never liked the guy! Him and his beady little eyes—”

“He gets hay fever!” you defended. “That’s not his fault!”

“—and the fact that he stayed in the apartment—”

“I wanted to move out! Julie, a little help here?”

“Hey, I don't like the guy either.”

“What?” You were flabbergasted. You thought that everyone liking Josh was the whole reason why they felt communally betrayed by the breakup. Now they were acting like the spearheads of an anti-Josh conspiracy? “Are you seriously telling me this six years after the fact? You went to games with him!”

“Wait, you went to games with Josh Spritzer?” Jake balked, his voice going up an octave while Mike went red in the face.

“I was in a dark place, man. Julie was pregnant and you weren't around… It was a case of the pre-baby blues!”

“I feel like you just admitted to cheating on me. Josh Spritzer?”

“Hey!” you warned.

“I mean, I guess it’s all a matter of taste, sweetheart…”

“Seresin, what the hell!”

“…although God knows I never knew what you saw in him—”

“Oh, didn't you?”

“Hey, I love you all sooo much,” Julie piped up from the passenger seat, “Jake, I’m happy you’re here, but will you all shut up so Gilly can sleep?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Though Jake sobered up, the provoking glint remained in his eyes. Once more you were aware of his closeness and the heat of his skin.

“Unbelievable…” you said underneath your breath, crossing your arms, your reward being another one of Jake’s dazzling smiles.

-

When you arrived, the reunion was as rowdy as you expected. About two dozen Seresins and their closest friends and family had convened at Jake’s childhood home. Amanda cried when she saw her favorite cousin coming towards her, and she excitedly introduced him to her husband-to-be, a bookish engineer named Christian who came from a small family and seemed as flattered as he was overwhelmed by all the attention.

Dinner was served outdoors, buffet style. The backyard was strung up with twinkling lights and music played from a pair of speakers stationed at the back porch. The air was festive and full of hope; it was easy to get caught up in the pre-wedding bliss when you were well-fed, your glass never empty, the company some of your most loved people in the world.

Josh - thank God - was not in attendance. He was supposed to walk down the aisle with you. Your save-the-date and wedding invitation had arrived labeled with his name along with yours, the assumption being that of course your long-term, live-in boyfriend would be your date. After you’d broken up, Amanda had to reshuffle her arrangements to keep you as one of her bridesmaids, the only upside being that Jake’s uncertain attendance made him your perfect partner.

Well, perfect for Amanda, if not for you.

At some point in the night, after speeches had been made and dessert served, Jake took the seat next to you to chat with his great-aunt Sandy and her boyfriend, Clyde. The apple pie came courtesy of Mrs. Seresin, who had the best recipe in the county and probably the entire state of Texas, in your limited and yet eager opinion. You demolished it with aplomb and once you finished, Jake pushed his plate towards you, the crust untouched. “Have at it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“I know it’s your favorite part.”

The fact that he remembered made you feel sixteen again, watching him come home from university, crushed at knowing that he had a whole life you didn't know about, people he knew who were probably far more interesting, sophisticated and self-assured. He joined the Navy, and then moved out west while you stayed behind in your hometown, stationary while he took to the skies.

He had always been nice to you, for all that he enjoyed teasing you and even making fun of you on occasion. But that didn't mean you would ever be anything more to him than his best friend’s sister, someone he indulged in the same way as Amanda.

You excused yourself from the table, picking up plates as a pretense to head inside and get a few moments to yourself. This was exactly the reason why you hadn't wanted Jake to come home. Selfishly, in your heart of hearts, you had prized your own comfort above Amanda’s happiness, which made you feel like a Grade-A jerk, but you weren't ready to confront the way he made you feel after all this time. How could you explain to yourself, let alone anyone else, that you were holding out for a fantasy you’d had since you were young?

Suddenly, the presence of everyone you’d known and loved all your life felt oppressive rather than a source of delight. You poured yourself a glass of wine from one of the open bottles on the counter and went out to the Seresins’ front porch. From there, the sounds of the party seemed far away and you let out a sigh of relief. You sat on the ledge with your back to one of the vertical beams, watching the night breeze move the branches on the trees and the clouds which obscured the waning moon. Gradually, your mind slowed its pace and you were able to enjoy the song of the night critters mingled with the distant music of someone - probably Clyde - strumming his guitar.

Your repose was broken by the screen door opening and then clattering shut behind you, making you turn your head to see Jake coming outside, just a touch sheepish but for the most part his usual Jake-self, out of his jacket and carrying a bottle of beer.

He lowered himself beside you, and after a moment’s silence, said, “So, how’ve you been? Aside from Whatshisface.”

You shot him a warning look. If he was bringing up Josh, it was only to tease you like he’d done in the car and you weren’t in the mood right now to be the butt of a joke - not when you felt so vulnerable about what he was to you. (Dammit… and of course this has to be a wedding.)

“What,” he said, gently cajoling, “I can’t ask?”

“About my personal life? You never used to care.”

“In high school, I don’t think I was supposed to care. And afterwards—”

“Afterwards, Hangman got a little too full of himself,” you quipped.

“Hey… that's… actually pretty accurate, I’m not gonna lie.” He took a swig of beer, laughing as he said it. The porch light threw his features into sharp relief and you gave yourself permission to look at him - really look at him - for the first time since he returned.

Setting aside that he was gorgeous as ever, he seemed less carefree than you remembered, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He appeared, well, like a grown-up, for lack of a better word. You wondered whether you were being unfair in making assumptions when you had both changed so much in the last decade, as people tended to do. He wasn’t just the dream guy in your head; he was so many things in his own right, and he was here with you, wanting to talk - and maybe trying to get to know you on an even field.

If only that wasn't another reason to love him.

“You seem different,” you said, hoping your voice wasn’t giving you away.

He looked at you for a few breaths, the corner of his mouth tipped up but the rest of his face serious. Then he shrugged in mock humility with a “What can I say, greatness suits me.”

“Idiot…” You shook your head and let out a snort, though on the inside you felt full of champagne - fizzy and bright because he was with you.

“How's the shop going?” he asked after a beat.

“Pretty well. We’re doing the flowers for Amanda’s wedding.”

“And you're bridesmaiding?”

“It’s hardly flying F-18s.”

“I think Amanda would disagree.”

“Well, it is her wedding,” you pointed out, “she’s—”

“Out of her mind,” Jake enounced.

“She’s excited,” you corrected even as a montage ran through your head of all the times Amanda had texted the wedding party’s WhatsApp group to say that “a catastrophe” had occurred or that today was the worst day of her life because “the linen photos do NOT reflect the true shade. I wanted SAGE green - doesn’t this look laurel to you?”

“She’s my cousin,” Jake went on. “In fact, she’s my favorite cousin - which is how I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she’s the biggest bridezilla this side of the Mississippi. To being wedding buddies,” he said and held his beer out towards you, “’cause God knows we’re gonna need it.”

“Wedding buddies,” you said, and clinked your glass. You waited until he had a mouthful of beer to say, “So, how’s your love life these days?”

“O-ho!” He nearly choked. “We are not doing that.”

“That hardly seems fair!”

“Age before beauty, Cabbage: I still get to make a few of the rules.” Watching your face work into a grimace, he laughed. “You really do hate when I call you that, don't you? Look at you! It's like a full-body cringe!”

“Stop it!” you complained.

The unfortunate nickname started back when you were a kid and had a penchant for a particular Cabbage Patch doll, which, in hindsight, seemed like an emotional support object, thank you very much. You carried it around until you were forcibly parted during Kindergarten - hence, Cabbage Patch, which in time shortened itself to “Cabbage.” It was cute when your mom said it, but Jake?

“You don't seem to mind when Mike calls you that,” he replied.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’ve seen Mike in all sorts of undignified situations. It evens the playing field.”

“I’d say we've known each other almost as long.”

“It is not the same.”

“How come?”

“It’s just… not.”

“I’m getting nothing else out of you by way of an explanation, aren't I? Fine…” he dramatically sighed. “I guess I’ll stop calling you Cabbage.”

“You don't have to…”

“Nope, it's done, it's retired!”

“Thank you,” you said, a little embarrassed.

From the backyard came a round of applause as Clyde finished his song. Jake smiled at you, then leaned close with a devilish glint in his eye. “Are you sure you're okay with the whole Josh thing? We can always make it our mission to make him insanely jealous.”

You scoffed. “Please, he would never buy that. You and me? He’d see right through it.”

“I want you to know that your lack of faith in my abilities is deeply, deeply hurtful. I’m just saying! You haven't seen me in action!”

“Oh, I’ve seen you in action, alright…”

“There she is!” he cackled.

You hoped the laughter meant he’d missed the note of jealousy in your voice. “Besides, I don't care about making him jealous,” you said with a shrug. “He and Mia are good together.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah… Okay, look,” you sighed, “the only reason I’m telling you this is because you're not them, so I’d better not hear a word from Mike about anything I’m about to tell you. Deal?”

He nodded, and mimed zipping his lips closed for dramatic effect.

“There’s just… no sob story about it,” you began. “By the time it was over, it was almost a relief. And honestly? If it hadn't been for our families, we would've broken up ages ago.”

“What was wrong with him?”

By the look on his face, it was like he expected you to say he had a funny snore or that he chewed too loudly or had an extra head. If only the truth were that tangible. He wasn't mean to you, didn't cheat. But he wasn't Jake. He didn't make you excited to wake up in the morningz

“By the end, we were more like roommates than boyfriend and girlfriend,” you explained. “I mean, when it happened, did I want to claw Mia’s face off, knowing she’d been angling for an opening for years? Of course I did. But that was more about my pride than anything. I wasn't heartbroken. I’m not,” you insisted. “But telling them that would feel like ruining Christmas. They're having fun slinging mud on my behalf.”

“And maybe just a tiny part of you enjoys it?” Jake asked.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

He laughed. “Do you really think I’m above a bit of harmless spite? Hell, I practically wrote the playbook. But what you said - about your pride being hurt? That goes for him too, you know. He doesn't have to buy the whole thing, he just has to see you moving on. Trust me, it’ll hurt.”

“Maybe I don't care enough to hurt him.”

Jake studied you, his eyes shining in the warm glow. “You really have grown up,” he said at last. “I, on the other hand—”

“Oh, come on. Jake, you’re all talk, always have been.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The summer before your junior year,” you pointed out, “you spent nearly all of it replacing Will Delonge’s wooden fence and you told no one about it. The only reason I know is because Mom found out—”

“Your mom finds out about everything,” Jake lamented.

That she did. “You helped Arn McCallister with his math grade,” you added. “You asked Gina to dance at the Winter Ball when her friends made that bet—”

“Some friends,” he interjected. “I swear, Fiona Brussaurd still scares the shit out of me. What, were you keeping tabs on me all through high school?”

“Everyone was keeping tabs on you all through high school,” you confessed. “You were Jake Seresin, Hometown Hero. You still are. You could probably get away with murder.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. If you weren't mistaken, there was a tinge of pink in his cheeks, but it might have been the beer he finished, or a play of the light. “Actually, I can’t. Semper Fortis, remember? You can't fly planes in prison. Besides, I am way too pretty for that uniform.”

“And you always do that,” you replied. “Try to throw people off the scent of you being an actually decent guy. But I know the truth,” you pointed out. “You have a tell.”

“Really, what's that?”

Over the course of the conversation Jake had angled towards you without your notice; now, your knees were touching and his upturned mouth was close enough to kiss. Your heart was racing in your chest, and yet his gaze was like a challenge - don’t back down, he seemed to say, and that was all Jake. He was exhilarating, just by being himself.

You dared to draw even closer, as if whispering a secret. “Mothers love you.”

“Maybe I’m just really good at pretending.”

“Take the hit, Seresin. No one is that good.”

Smiling, he nudged your knee and leaned back on his hands, sitting with you until the first early-nighters began to leave.

-

Amanda Seresin was two years older than Jake. Her dad, Jake’s uncle, passed away when Amanda was fourteen, and ever since, Jake and his parents had taken her and Dinah under their wings. Jake was the closest thing she had to a brother, and though he was younger, you knew Jake was incredibly protective of her and his aunt, so you were determined not to ruin his wedding experience by being a lovestruck weirdo.

After your time together on the porch, that might prove difficult for you. But this was about Amanda. She assigned you to be his date, and you were going to be a professional about it.

Literally. You were handling the flowers, after all.

“These are a little tall, aren’t they?” your mom asked, fretting over the tulips at the center of one of the guest tables. “I asked for measurements, but now that they’re here…”

You glanced at your watch. “We have time to fix them.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, mom, all of them. Let’s take them into the kitchen, then we can rush up and change before the cocktails start.” You knew she wouldn’t have a speck of peace if she didn’t get them trimmed. She would fret and fuss, and probably commit floral kidnapping crimes when it all got too much. She liked everything to be perfect, especially for the people she loved, so you ignored the time crunch and your watch yelling at you that it was 4:35, twenty-five minutes before guests were due to arrive for drinks and canapés, and, signaling for your dad to help gather up the centerpieces, you rushed into the venue’s kitchen and started trimming down with the nearest pair of garden shears.

Your mom breathed a sigh of relief when the task was done and a few of the earliest guests offered to help carry the vases back to the tables, giving you enough time to head upstairs and put on the blue dress you’d brought in a garment bag.

So you were fussing about your looks… That didn’t mean you were not chill, it just meant you wanted to look nice… for Amanda. For the photos. It had nothing to do with Jake Seresin at all.

By the time you made it down - finally, and a little late since you spent more on it than usual perfecting your makeup - there were about sixty people on the lawn, nibbling on pulled pork sliders and mac-and-cheese bites, mini tacos and bacon-wrapped dates. You spotted your dad grabbing one of everything and your mom pulling on his sleeve, probably to hiss, “Pace yourself, hon.” She had a glass of champagne in one hand, more as a prop, since half of her attention was spent surveying her work as if anticipating one of the centerpieces to go up in flames.

Knowing her, she might have packed a tiny fire extinguisher in that glittery, silver clutch.

You stifled a laugh, grabbing a plate and a few of the canapés from a passing waiter. The rehearsal dinner was a much bigger affair than the barbecue Jake’s parents had thrown for close friends and family the night before. You knew Josh would be in attendance (probably with Mia) and so would a lot of your high school crowd. Letting out a sigh, you threw your shoulders back and tried to look relaxed, exchanging greetings as you mingled with the growing number of guests. It was a beautiful night. God must love Amanda, as He should, because the weather was balmy in a pleasant way, warm enough that the ladies could throw off their wraps and show off their dresses, the men leave their jackets draped over chairs.

The venue was a little bed and breakfast with a sprawling back patio and hedges that grew around the property, gracefully unkempt, with magnolia trees in bloom. You said hello to your old History teacher, a small, soft-spoken woman with a gray bob and tortoiseshell glasses dangling on a chain. In turn, she had taken personal interest in Amanda, Jake, and then you - she was the whole reason Amanda went into teaching, and you heard Jake mention once that he wouldn’t have joined the Navy if not for her. Sometimes, you felt a little self-conscious about not having more to show for your education, but Ms. Beauchene never made you feel like your life choices were a disappointment. She popped into the flower shop on occasion, pleased with her paper-wrapped bouquets, and no matter what, without fail, you’d ring her up and she’d say with full honesty, “These are going to make my week,” before she walked out humming.

You were glad Amanda included her in the rehearsal, especially when you spotted Josh walking in with his arm around Mia’s waist. Excusing yourself, you made for the bar and ordered one of the signature cocktails, Amanda’s favorite blackberry bourbon smash, and downed half of it before turning back and making small talk as if your life depended on it. Strangely enough, it wasn’t the sight of Josh that had you feeling like the inside of your brain was crawling with ants. It was Mia. You hated the thought of her seeing any kind of weakness in you - that she might take in your appearance and think that your hairdo was messy or that your eyes looked a little dark, and assume from it that she’d left you a human wreck after her little victory.

Without a doubt, Mia had attended the Fiona Brussaurd School of Mean Girls, and the last thing you wanted to do was appear like the lesser creature. So when your family began to fuss under the pretense of “casually” making conversation, you swatted them away, feeling grateful when dinner was announced and everyone could retreat to their neutral corners.

You chose to sit at a table with a few old school friends, one of whom was also in the wedding party, and to avoid the meaningful looks Julie had been sending you all evening, you sat with your back to the rest of the guests, enjoying the hour of relative peace and reminiscing, the view of an ornamental fountain set with warm lights, and your plate of pan-seared sea bass and cheesy potatoes. Gradually, the music shifted from sit-down easy listening to dancing tunes, and the people at your table began seeking out partners or joining those already on the lawn who were spinning and jiving in every available space.

Soon, you were alone at the table. You leaned back in your chair, enjoying the breeze against your face. If you closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of music and laughter, you could almost forget all the drama with your ex…

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw Jake and his movie-star grin. The butterflies started banging around your stomach again. Forget the tulips, you were the one with your nerves all in a tangle tonight.

“Hey, stranger - ’nother drink?” he asked, offering you another of the bourbon cocktails. He had a rocks glass in his other hand, and without waiting for an invitation he took the chair next to you, throwing his arm across the back of yours.

You replied, “Yes, please,” trying not to melt into his touch. Nuzzling against him like a cat would not be chill, you reminded yourself, even if he did look incredible with his open dress shirt collar and the little peek of his chest made you feel like a Victorian with the vapors.

He lounged in that casual way of his, attractive without trying. “These things really go on forever, don't they?”

“And it’s just the rehearsal dinner.”

“What happened to getting married on a Tuesday while everyone’s at work?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you just quote Runaway Bride?”

His face went still. “What, no.”

“Yes, you did!” you exclaimed, setting down your drink and straightening in your seat. Jake looked mildly panicked and was doing his best to look innocent, which you found absolutely hilarious. “Oh my God, are you a closet romcom man?”

“It must've been subconscious.”

“Subconscious, my ass,” you shot back.

“She looks happy.” Jake tipped his head towards Amanda despite the fact that she was behind you both, out of sight, and clearly being used as a way to change the subject. “You know the guy?”

“You met him yesterday,” you said. And I know what you're doing implicit was in your tone.

Jake shrugged, an expert at deflection. “Yeah, but it's hard to tell what a guy’s made of from a single meeting.”

Deciding that the accusation of Romcomitis would go unanswered on this particular occasion, you tested the limits of his cool under pressure, pretending to deliberate before you played along with the conversational shift.

“D’you want to hear the absolute worst thing I can think to say about him?”

Jake went battle-ready, poised to hate the guy. You watched his shoulders and the set of his jaw change, and it made you want to touch the side of his face and kiss the frown away, laughing as you did.

Just messing with you, you would say.

It would be so easy. Maybe the fantasy was clouding your judgment - along with your third cocktail of the night - but you could feel in your body that being with Jake would be as natural as breathing.

You looked over your shoulder, watching Christian lean into Amanda to whisper something into her ear.

He had his hand on her arm and looked a little spooked, probably because one of the Seresins’ honorary aunts, Jackie, who was known for her tell-it-like-it-is comments, no matter how indiscreet, was walking away. Poor guy. Amanda giggled at whatever he said and stroked his hand, whispering back words of reassurance. Their demeanor together was easy, full of shorthand. And Amanda did look happy - so happy that it made you a little jealous, pleased as you were that she had found her person.

Jake followed your gaze, watching them alongside you.

“He's a little dull,” you explained. “But in a good way. He mellows her out.”

“Amanda? That sounds like an impossible task. But I can see it…” He cocked his head. “I think.”

You turned your eyes back to your own table. Jake was fiddling with his glass, watching the amber liquid swirling around the oversized iced cube. He looked pensive, a furrow appearing between his brows that, in another life, you would have stroked away.

He shook his head and raised the glass to his lips. “You don't realize how much you've missed…”

Before you could think about it, you had your hand on his arm. “Hey, no one's keeping score.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Then don't,” you insisted. “You do what you've gotta do - we all know that. Your parents know it, Amanda knows it. She’s just happy you're here.”

You could tell that, as much as he appreciated your words, they weren't enough to sweep away all the moments he hadn't been around to see. It didn't matter that Jake loved flying planes, that he was proud to be one of the best naval aviators in the service, and wouldn't change his career for the world. He was still in a position where he had to ask you what Amanda’s future husband was like. He had missed his goddaughter’s christening, had to rush out of Mike and Julie’s wedding five years ago… He’d made an oath, and for as long as he wore the uniform, his first commitment was to something other than his family. Other than himself.

He spoke his next words quietly, almost to himself, just for you.

“You know, the thing about flying is that when you're up there, nothing else matters. It can’t. All of your focus, all of your faculties, your energy… they're in the air. Meanwhile, all of this real life… the thing we’re meant to be safeguarding for everyone else, it doesn't stop, and when you land right back in the middle of it—”

He stopped.

“Yeah?” You were hanging on for the rest of it, eager for these little pieces of Jake that you stored up even after he was gone.

“I mean, it feels like yesterday since I left for college, signed up. Now Amanda’s getting married, Mike’s having kids, you are having just the worst luck of the year…”

“Hey!” you laughed.

“I’m kidding, kidding!”

“You’re sounding like an old man, Jake. You're thirty-two - pull yourself together. Jeez! Who knew Top Gun would make you so existential? Is that why you're self-medicating with classic romantic comedies?”

“If you ever tell Mike, I swear to God—” He pointed his finger at you, and you pinched it in two of yours, earning a chuckle and a childish attempt at a thumb-war game that was interrupted when the bride herself came up behind you and threw her arms around you both with a “Hey, you two!”

“Mands!” Jake exclaimed, craning his neck to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Having fun?”

“Absolutely. So, so much—”

“You big fibber,” Amanda threw back. “Why are you here? Go dance!”

“Can’t. I’m keeping my date company, and a gentleman never abandons his date. It’s in the rules.”

“Good thing I know you're not a gentleman. You're in my wedding party!” she said. “It’s up to you two to set a good example for the other guests.”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall we?” He offered you his hand, throwing Amanda a look that said, See? I’m following orders.

She smiled back, giving you room to rise from your chairs and circle round. With her arms crossed, she watched as you found an open space, making sure you’d followed through before seeking out her next victims.

As bad luck would have it, the song switched from something uptempo to an Ashley Monroe ballad, romantic strings and all. “Has anybody ever told you/ that when you walk into a dark room/ the light of a thousand moons surround you?/ Yeah, there's just something about you./ Has anybody ever told you?”

It was stupid, but the words felt so real with Jake’s hands on you that you were worried he’d be able to read your mind or see on your face that you meant every sentence. You tried looking anywhere else, at the other couples, the catering staff picking up empty glasses, at your mom fluffing a perfectly decent bouquet, anywhere but at Jake.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” you asked, eyes darting nervously at being caught red-handed.

“Tense up like I’ve got the plague,” Jake said. “You’re making this weird.”

“I’m making what weird?”

“We’re dancing!” He pressed one hand against your hip, the other into your lower back. “Just dance!”

“By which I’m sure you mean, ‘just follow my lead’?”

You didn't mean to sound so prickly, you were just panicking and trying to throw Jake off the scent. This does not constitute playing it cool, you scolded yourself. But instead of taking it badly, Jake laughed as he stared down at you.

“If you like. Or I can follow yours if it makes you feel any better. Here, you can put your hand on my waist - but leave room for Jesus.”

“Dork.”

“There we go,” he cajoled, swaying with you in time to the beat. “Letting you insult me seems to really get your engines going. We should analyze that.”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

“I don’t know, do I?” He cackled out loud at the dark look you sent his way, stroking your back in a way that meant absolutely nothing, but which you felt all the way down to your toes. “You make it too easy,” he added.

Jake’s sense of humor made it hard to stay self-conscious. Eventually, you eased into the dance and you were almost sorry when the song switched to something a little more upbeat that didn't require him to stand so close to you. Still, he twirled you in a circle and brought you back into the solid curve of his body, showing off.

Then, out of nowhere, his face worked into a scowl as he spotted something a few yards to your right. You turned your head to see what it was, so lost in the moment that it took a few seconds for you to register that Josh was dancing with Mia, quite well, actually, to the Texas Tornados.

“Look at that schmuck.”

“Jake…” you warned.

“What? It’s just an observation, I’m not saying it for your benefit.”

“She looks incredible,” you sighed. On anyone else, the dress she had on would make them look like a costume disco ball, but on Mia it looked modern and chic, showing off her body and matching well with a slicked back bun and dangly earrings.

Jake’s shoulder rose and fell beneath your hand. “If you say so. She’s not really my type.”

Are you serious?  “Jake, just about every woman is your type.”

“I’m sorry, are you slut-shaming me right now? In this political climate? I could have you canceled for that.”

“Ha-ha,” you said in response. “I mean, look at her, she is objectively a 10 - don’t say you wouldn’t. Hell, I would if I were inclined that way… Don’t!” You pinned Jake with a warning stare, cutting off the joke that was on the tip of his tongue and dying to come out.

“Well, I wouldn’t now,” he said instead.

“Gee, thanks.”

“For the sake of our friendship.”

The word made you tense up again - not on purpose, it was an automatic reaction you wanted to take back as soon as you went stiff all over again. And it didn't escape Jake’s notice.

“What?” he questioned, cupping your shoulders and shaking you a little as a gag. “Oh my God, have you ever thought about taking up yoga? Meditation?”

“Flying lessons?” you shot back.

“Hey, don’t knock it. Compared to you, I am a very chilled-out person.” You rolled your eyes, not wanting to admit that he was right. No matter what was going on inside Jake, he knew how to keep a calm exterior. You’d always admired that about him. With the exception of your dad, your family wasn't known for its cool under pressure. Even Mike could be a bit of a basket case. That’s why he and Julie worked so well together.

You sighed again, wondering if you’d ever find your own version of Christian or Julie, someone who fit with all of your wonky parts and made you feel, regardless of circumstance, that everything would turn out okay.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” You looked at Jake, startled by the remark and the heat rushing into your face. He was dead serious. The levity you saw in his eyes had nothing to do with his tone, which was kind but not pitying. And you knew Jake would never say something like that if he didn’t mean it. “Not that it’s a competition,” he tacked on, “I’m just saying… don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure he’s eating his heart out right now.”

“And how would you know a thing like that?”

“Because he hasn’t stopped looking at us for the last sixty seconds.”

Your gaze drifted off to the side before Jake took your chin in his hand, his touch gentle and yet firm.

“Don’t look!” he chided. “Jesus… That’s recon 101 - I’ve got your six, you keep dancing and pretend we’re not talking about him, you amateur!”

“Sorry! You’re so bossy!” you grumbled, fighting off another blush.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

The word zinged through your body along with the killer Jake Seresin dimpled grin, and to make matters worse, he twirled you again, laughing when he brought you to rest your back against his chest. Josh froze when he saw you, spotting Jake’s hands on your waist. But you couldn’t care less - you were breathless, with Jake’s mouth close enough to kiss, reminding you of his knee nudge on the porch and his arm beneath your hand.

For a moment, you could almost believe that he was flirting with you for real. If you turned your head, would he accept the press of your mouth against his? Would he push you away or pull you in closer, regardless of your families watching and Josh staring, almost open-mouthed, like he couldn’t believe Jake fucking Seresin would give you the time of day?

Before you could make a choice, the song ended and Jake released you from his grip, keeping a hand on your back as he herded you away from the dance floor and to the bar, where he ordered a beer and asked if you wanted something. If you answered, you weren’t aware. You felt not in control, your stomach all in knots and the memory of Jake’s touch seared into your skin. A part of you still wanted desperately to kiss him and the other wanted to rush into the B&B and burst into tears from sheer confusion. Meanwhile, Jake seemed perfectly fine, chatting with the bartender on duty and leaning against the counter as he dropped a few bills into the tip jar.

“What are you doing?” you asked when you felt him touching you on the shoulder.

“Pretending you have lint on your dress.”

“Hey! On the dance floor was one thing, but I am not aiming to make this entire weekend about making my ex jealous. Any high school dude-vendetta you have against Josh should be addressed on your own time, you psycho. Besides, he’s never going to actually buy it.”

“Alright.” Jake threw up his hands, lowering the charm down a few watts. Your drinks were set down on a pair of square cocktail napkins and you took up yours, a fizzy gin thing with lemon that made you wonder whether you shouldn’t have stuck with bourbon to avoid going around with a hangover on Amanda’s wedding day.

Jake went on. “But I’m really not liking all this negative self-talk, you know. Mia might be a 10, but at most he’s, like, a 6…”

“Oh, be quiet!”

“You’re an 8.”

“What?” The alcohol either rushed up to your head or evaporated completely. How the hell did Jake manage to say things that left you completely dumbfounded and without a single intelligent thought in your head? And he did it with a smile! This one was purposefully subdued as he waved around with the beer in his hand as if making a profound point.

“You’re way out of his league. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed?”

“Okay, well…”

“You’re blushing!” he remarked. “That’s adorable.”

“You’re not funny, Seresin.”

“Hey, I joke about a lot of things, but I don’t go around handing 8s to just anyone.”

“Oh, look, they’re bringing out coffee.” The needle was tipping firmly towards the need to escape, though it wasn’t that serious - you knew it wasn’t; Jake had a tendency to be a flirt and he usually didn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes, it could even be amusing to play along, to get swept up in his wit and the light of his attention. But you didn’t want to play. And you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for his company because you weren’t. You loved every precious second you got to spend with him, knowing he’d be off to California soon and that the next time you might see him could be months or even a year from now.

Getting your hopes up would be a mistake, and you were dangerously close to doing it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He touched your elbow gently. You wished he couldn’t read you so well. Or that he could read you better, and see what you had been trying to say to him for years but were too scared to utter.

You did your best to smile. “Nothing’s wrong. You don’t have to hover all night. Go, take a load off, have fun.”

“I am having fun,” he said, frowning. “Aren’t you?”

“I was. I am,” you corrected, frustrated with yourself for not taking it better. For not being cool and together and the sort of girl who took charge and damned the outcome. She would’ve kissed Jake when she had the chance. She would have shown up to California. Hell, she would’ve made her move ages ago instead of pining, pathetically, and letting twenty years go by.

That’s what Mia had done. And that’s why she had her dream guy - your former guy - while you were exactly in the same position, too tongue-tied to take a shot.

“Just… can you give me some space?” you blurted out, your frustration bleeding through.

The hurt in Jake’s expression was there and gone in a lightning flash, but you’d seen it and you felt terrible about it. Before you could say anything to make it better, he’d replaced it with a devil-may-care smile.

“Got it,” he said, his voice a little tight around the edges. “Well… I’ll make myself scarce. Holler if you need me.”

With that, he took his beer and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to weave your way through oblivious partygoers to find the nearest ladies’ room, where you locked yourself in a stall and tried not to ruin your makeup with the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

-

Hindsight was a bitch. The next morning you were sure you’d overreacted, made a fool of yourself and created a potentially awkward situation now that the wedding day was upon you and you had to take his arm, in - you glanced at the digital clock on your nightstand - five-and-a-half hours, and walk with him down the aisle wearing a smile for the sake of the photographers.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands and calling yourself every name in the book.

Jake had promised to be your wedding buddy and then sweetly kept his word, and what did you do in response? Completely freak out, you scatterbrained nincompoop.

As penance, you threw yourself into the arrangement of the reception flowers, channeling your mother while you directed the staff this way and that, trying not to think about Jake and the mortifying apology that awaited you. It was the right thing to do - not only to clear the air but because he hadn't deserved being chewed out in a momentary panic, and you knew you wouldn't feel right with yourself if you didn't take the blame and say your mea culpa.

But boy were you dreading it.

“You should head out now, Cabbage,” your mom advised around eleven o'clock. “Dad and I can handle the rest and you should be with Amanda, spend some time with the girls before the big event.”

“Are you sure you don't need help with the aisle arrangements?” A cowardly attempt, but you did it anyway.

“We’ve got it,” Mom repeated, turning you around and all but shepherding you into the parking lot. She waved you off with a “have fun,” and you couldn't help your brain’s internal response of “fat chance.”

All the way to the B&B you kept rehearsing what you might say to Jake when you saw him, but by the time you pulled up and found a free parking space, you were sweating, physically and metaphorically, and thinking that, maybe, if you listened to TED Talks rather than Dateline, you might have an enlightened response to your current dilemma.

You fetched your bagged bridesmaid's dress from the trunk of the car, along with your makeup bag and hair tools. You’d have to use the shower before you started getting ready, but you were looking forward to get-ready champagne and a throwback playlist. Anything to feel more like your normal self and less like a silly teenager who couldn’t talk to boys.

You went up three flights of stairs to reach the bridal suite. From both sides, you could hear music spilling out into the hall, an ABBA classic clashing with Brett Young. Automatically, you placed your hand on the doorknob leading towards bouncy 80s pop only for it to turn and spring open, revealing Jake with an undone bow tie hanging around his neck.

It could be that your mouth sprung open, not expecting to see him that abruptly and without giving yourself your planned thirty-second pep talk.

Your mind went blank. All you could do was stare at him like an idiot as he pointed across the hall and said, “Bridal suite’s that way.”

“Yeah, it was…”

“The Super Trouper? Groom’s choice.”

“Are you sure it wasn't yours?” The joke spilled out of your mouth, landing awkwardly to your own ears. But Jake smiled anyway, glancing down as he let the door close behind him. 

He rubbed the side of his freshly shaved cheek. “I’m headed down to the front desk, by the way. I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You deserved that. So instead of cringing down into the floor - which was what you really wanted to do - you took the hit and said, “I didn’t think you were.”

“About last night…”

“I’m sorry for flying off the handle. I’m just… a little stressed,” you cut him off. It was an understatement, and not totally honest, but it was the best you could do without getting into the embarrassing particulars.

From the groomsmen’s side, Britney Spears followed ABBA, singing, “Oops, I did it again,” which seemed perversely apropos and just another reminder that you were a puppet of fate. Presently, you had to be paying for God knows what sin - probably calling Mike a buttface all those years before.

“Hey, I get it. I wasn’t trying to be clingy,” Jake went on.

“You’re not! You’re a good friend… Thank you.”

It pained you to say it, but you figured now was as good a time as any to face facts: you only had a few more days together, and you didn't want to spend them all wasting what you had, wishing it would turn into something else. Friendship with Jake was good enough. He was kind and loyal and honest; hell, anyone would be lucky to have him in their corner.

Maybe what you needed was a little gratitude. It was a wedding day, after all. Your friends and family would all be gathering in a few hours to celebrate Christian and Amanda and they had chosen you to be a special part of their most important day. How cool was that?

“Can we just not talk about Mia and Josh today?” you asked, hefting the garment back up your shoulder. “I want to focus on Amanda and make sure she has a nice time at her wedding - get drunk but not sloppily so, take a few pictures, dance a bit, not feel like everyone’s waiting for the Jerry Springer shoe to drop?”

“We can do that,” Jake replied.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“See you on the other side?”

“You bet.”

He went down the hall, turning right and bounding the carpeted stairs. You watched him go with a sigh, deciding that it was hard to be a grown-up and lovelorn at the same time. The two things were so incompatible - liking someone, loving them even, felt utterly undignified.

Nonetheless, you could breathe a lot easier after clearing the air. With the apology out of the way, you threw yourself into full bridesmaid mode, squeezing into the cramped bathroom with five other women in customized robes who were curling, straightening, powdering, talking, fighting for counter space, gasping at gossip, and being an overall flurry of chaos while the bride reigned over all, putting in comments through the haze of hair- and setting spray.

The air in the room was joyous, with a smattering of nervous energy mostly provided by Amanda.

Once dressed in your different styles of champagne satin, the bridesmaids focused on making sure Amanda was ready for her starring role. You took turns doing up the buttons on the back of her wedding gown, and when Dinah popped in to give her a pair of diamond earrings she wore to her own wedding, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. “Do not let my mascara run!” Amanda urged, prompting Carrie, the maid of honor, to jokingly rush forward with a folded-up Kleenex and dab at her eyes.

The groomsmen left for the wedding venue first, piling into a shuttle after yelling well-wishes through the door. Fifteen minutes later you followed suit, with Ali O’Rourke pouring canned cocktails into plastic cups and filming the journey at the same time as her phone blasted Taylor Swift (“But none of the breakup songs!”). In twenty minutes you were at the botanical garden, arranging the first look through a comical series of shouts and mimes partially obscured by a tall bush and caught on camera by the couple’s videographer. Once Christian had gotten the memo to stand there, at the edge of an ornamental pond but with his back to the azaleas, you pushed Amanda in his direction and waved her on, giving whistles and catcalls when he dipped her into a kiss that was very un-Christian-like and all the more romantic for that reason.

Once the wedding party photos were done, it was time to head inside and wait for the guests to arrive. You found that, like Amanda, you were feeling a little jittery now that patience was all that was required. From the double doors to the altar, it was a fairly long walk and you were worried that your heels would sink into the grass or that you would fall flat on your face. Luckily, you weren’t the only one with that fear. Amanda’s coworker, Lucy, who had never been a bridesmaid before, had a minor freakout, and talking her down helped you allay your own fears, as did the liquid courage courtesy of Ali’s dress having pockets.

(Amanda: “I don’t remember reading that on the website.”

Ali: “That’s because you didn’t. I had it tailored.”)

At last, the wedding coordinator called for everyone to take their places and Jake came towards you, looking smart in his tux. At the rehearsal dinner you’d heard Mike asking, “So, where’s the dress uniform?”, to which Jake replied, “And upstage you?” Well, uniform or not, you were sure he could upstage anyone. To you, he was the handsomest person in the room, and you were in danger of saying so until Jake beat you to the punch.

“Look at you, you clean up well!” he remarked.

“And you look terrible.”

“Now I know that’s a bald-faced lie.”

You laughed. Humble as always. You were glad to see that all the awkwardness between you had gone, in no small part because of the excitement over the ceremony. A sudden hush came over everyone as Harriet signaled for the doors to be opened. Jake held out his arm. “Shall we?” he said, echoing his words when he asked you to dance.

This time you were ready for it. No matter what, in this particular moment, you and Jake were allies - wedding buddies, he said - and instead of overthinking things or making a mountain out of a molehill, you were resolved to enjoy it.

You took his arm and faced forward. The first strains of music began. Showtime, Harriet mouthed, while at the altar Christian turned to meet his bride.

-

The ceremony was over in the blink of an eye, followed by a drinks reception and a sit-down dinner punctuated by toasts that ranged from the humorous to the downright sentimental. Now that Amanda had clipped up her train, she seemed more relaxed than she had been in the morning, and it made you feel like you could let down your hair, so to speak, and enjoy the party underneath the light-strewn tent.

The guests were eager to dance. Without letup they moved through classic wedding standards and modern dance hits to country reels and the obligatory playing of “Mr. Brightside,” a moment which Sandy and Clyde stole with their enthusiastic head-bops. You couldn't remember the last time you danced, or laughed, half as much, and even the appearance of Josh and Mia couldn’t steal your good mood. As long as they kept to their side of the tent, you could pretend they weren't there and if Mom or Julie sidled up with a comment in defense of your honor, it was easy to point a finger to your ear as if to say, “What? I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!”

Jake kept close for the most of the night, leaning in close and making funny comments about the hidden goings-on - who was putting the moves on who, who was sneaking mini cupcakes into their purse, who got carted off to the indoor area after over-imbibing and nearly causing a minor dancefloor traffic incident.

Maybe it was all his Navy training, but for a guy’s guy Jake had an uncanny eye for gossip, and you said so, winning a laugh and another request for your oath of secrecy.

“I hate to tap out before Great-Aunt Sandy,” he said halfway through the Jailhouse Rock, “but do you want to take a breather? I feel like I’m getting a stitch in my side.”

“You? Sheesh, Hangman, you're really letting yourself go,” you chaffed. “What'll the higher-ups think when you get back to San Diego?”

“Well, if they really want to replace me, I’ll send them Aunt Sandy’s way.” He led you outside, where you promptly balanced one foot at a time trying to unclasp your heeled sandals while Jake watched, snorting before he took pity on you and let you lean on his arm.

His very muscled arm…

Inwardly, you sighed like one of the Bimbettes from Beauty and the Beast, but hey, you’d behaved yourself all day; you were allowed to have the occasional impure thought.

With a little sound of triumph, you managed to remove your shoes and held them by the straps, walking on the grass in your bare feet. You had a pair of flats in your purse, but that was somewhere inside and, anyway, the ground felt good against your tired arches. You’d been dancing for over two hours and needed the break.

“How do you even stand in those death traps?” Jake eyed your shoes as if they were hand grenades, which amused you to no end seeing as they’d cost you a small fortune precisely because they claimed to be comfortable.

“They’re not so bad,” you replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t need them if you weren’t so tall.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You shrugged, keeping your face deliberately blank. “It’s a free country.”

“Wow…” Jake huffed through a laugh, “you are incapable of just being nice to me.”

“What, I am nice!”

“In a backhanded-compliment sort of way, sure.”

“What do you want me to say? ‘Jake, you’re the biggest 10 at the wedding’?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but we’re getting warmer,” he said with a toothy grin, entering a path bordered by low hedges leading to the pond where the first look had taken place.

The lights from the wedding reception lit the way, along with the small solar-powered fixtures planted in the ground, but for the most part the darkness was a respite from the sights and sounds of the packed tent. In a way, it made it easier to talk to Jake, ignoring your history, feeling like a girl who’d been asked on a walk by someone who wanted to spend more time with her.

You laughed, leaning into the role of interested flatterer. You were walking backwards, even daring to place your hand on the front of Jake’s shirt, trusting him to lead the way and keep you from tripping into a bush. “You’re an incredible dancer,” you put in, going full Bimbette. You might have batted your eyelashes, and your voice took on the dreamy girlishness of Marilyn Monroe, which only gave Jake the giggles as he tried to maintain his yes, I am all the things composure. “You look as good in a tux as you do in your Navy uniform.”

“Both true.”

“You’re funny and smart, and soooo interesting.”

“Don’t I know it.”

You gasped, stopping in your tracks to place your hands on his cheeks. Jake was smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep his lips pressed together. “You’ve got a face like an Old Hollywood dreamboat.”

He nodded solemnly, the slight clearing of his throat the only indicator that he was on the verge of breaking character. “You’re not the first person to say that, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm, does that surprise you? Do you disagree?”

“Of course not, this is the Jake Seresin Appreciation Hour.” You draped your arms around his neck. Maybe it was the cocktails or the distant wedding music making you bold, but Jake didn't pull away and you were only pretending - at least, that was your justification when you felt the weight of his hands on your hips.

“Go on, then.”

“Your eyes are green.”

“Now you’re just stating facts.”

“Fine, but you’re being a very picky subject!”

“I’ll have you know,” he scoffed, “Jake Seresin Hour was not my idea. You don’t get to institute it and then complain when I point out your lazy reporting.”

Lazy reporting? You were ready to duke it out over that and he knew it, his eyes alight with the challenge, head cocked to see what you’d come up with next. Your back hit the trunk of a live oak and you felt the adrenaline in your veins mixing with the alcohol and a sheer attraction that wouldn't be kept at bay. You wondered briefly whether this was what flying was like - a full-bodied, present physicality, all instinct, every move stretched taut and your nerves like live wires.

Jake glanced at your mouth and it left you breathless. Little wonder, then, that the next words out of your mouth were half confession, half part of the game.

“There’s not a single person at this party who isn’t head-over-heels in love with you.”

“Not a single one?” Jake argued. “Not even the groom?”

“Not even the groom.”

“Well, obviously, we’re not including my relatives in that.”

“But everyone else…” you trailed off.

“Everyone else. Including you?”

“Especially me.”

It’s just a game, it’s just a game. The thought kept clashing in your head with the urge to say “kiss me” and he was standing so close, with his body half pressed against yours, solid and warm, realer than any lust-fueled fantasy you could’ve come up with in the dead of night, the party forgotten with him as your only view, and you kept thinking, Maybe he wants me to. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe I should do it - what would be the harm?

The answer to this final point was obvious, and yet he was hard to resist. His fingers brushed against your waist, the touch feather-light enough that it might have been in your imagination except for his forehead pressed down to yours, his heart beating steadily beneath your nervous hand.

Without debating it further you pulled him into a kiss, shutting your eyes against any possible consequences as you memorized the taste of his mouth, the weight of his hands sliding down your back, the heat of his breath. You pulled away, mortified by your lapse in judgment and the obvious proof of feelings which you now couldn't take back.

There was no undoing this, but still you tried.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I’m… I’m drunk… I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I’m… I’m gonna go.” You slid past him, holding your breath, willing him not to follow after you or try to stop you from fleeing. Your body felt like it was short-circuiting, blazing with need and then doused in icy-cold regret and horror at your own actions.

So he had flirted with you. That didn't mean he wanted to kiss you; it certainly didn't signal any romantic interest that merited you throwing yourself at him and telling him, of all things, that you loved him!

You went back to the party, picking your purse up from behind your chair and forcing a smile when people stopped you to chat, making excuses and saying you had to go to the bathroom. Inside, you moved past the lobby and straight out to the drive, where the hired shuttle service was taking guests in no state to drive to and from a few local hotels.

The driver asked if you were ready to leave and you said yes, feeling mildly guilty for staging an Irish goodbye, but there was no way you could go on pretending for the rest of the night, let alone face Jake. You prayed that everyone would be too busy having fun to notice your absence, and if not you would apologize profusely tomorrow at brunch, claiming a headache or exhaustion or anything else that might obscure your bad decision-making and propensity to lose your shit around Jake.

You were let onto the bus, the sole passenger as the driver turned on the engine and radioed his boss to say he was en route to the B&B. Just as you were relaxing into your seat, Jake came bounding up the steps, giving the driver a cursory nod just before the doors closed behind him and the vehicle began to move.

“Can we talk?” he asked, sliding next to you and dropping his jacket in his lap.

“There are, like, fifty open seats.”

“But you’re sitting in this one,” he said with the ghost of a grin. You would've rolled your eyes if you weren’t busy wishing you could teleport to literally anywhere else.

You faced forward to the other cars on the road, watching their taillights shine as you moved into nighttime traffic. “Can you do me a favor? I know you’ve done a lot of them over the past couple of days, but can you just forget that ever happened?”

“No.”

Aghast, you turned your head to see Jake looking maddeningly smug, not to mention relaxed, while he was invading your personal space and driving you to the brink of mental collapse.

“Why not?” you demanded.

“Why not? Because I don’t want to.”

“And is what I want—”

“Completely irrelevant,” he finished for you. “Besides, you kissed me, remember?”

“I don’t. I’ve wiped it from my memory chip.”

With a smile, Jake leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips that was almost chaste, except for the brush of his tongue against your lip and his fingers cupping your chin in a hold that was teasing and gentle, and undeniably thought-out.

“How about that one?” he asked, pulling away just enough to view your reaction.

“How about what?”

He grinned. “Cabbage.”

“Ew! Why would you call me that right now?” you exclaimed, scooching back into the window.

“Because you’re adorable. Beautiful.”

“Like a leafy green?”

“Yeah, like a whole salad.”

You laughed. “That makes no sense.”

“It really doesn’t.” But it did. Like so many other inside jokes, you knew exactly what he meant to say. It made you feel all warm inside, especially because there was no trace of subterfuge in his handsome face, and you knew he’d never be cruel enough to lead you on. He followed you, he thought you were beautiful, and he was here trying to convince you not to take the kiss back.

To be bold. To follow through.

“If you want to keep being friends…” he began.

“You and Mike are just friends, Jake. I’m the kid sister with a massively pathetic crush on you.”

“Maybe I have a crush on you too,” he said, looking you straight in the eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little… A lot, actually.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

In front of Pleasant View the driver pulled on the brakes, and Jake laced his fingers through yours as he dismounted and put a twenty in the tip jar, stopping in front of the entrance to face you with a question hanging, unspoken, in the air. If you let this opportunity pass you by, he would let you do it without a word, taking the gentleman’s way out and stopping his pursuit under the assumption that you had no interest in being with him, or in seeing where this new thing between you might go. But if you said yes…

The possibilities flashed through your mind, as frightening as they were wonderful. Everything might change. Everything would, there was no doubt about that. But change wasn’t always a bad thing, and if you had someone holding your hand along the way?

Wasn’t that what love was all about?

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Jake pointed out.

“Is that an issue?”

“Why, is it an issue for you?”

You shook your head, trying to contain the nervous joy in your chest. “Maybe you should take me flying sometime, teach me the ways of classic Hangman chill.”

“Just name the time and place,” he promised. “I’m ready when you are.”

Instead of second guessing, you took him at his word.

You reached up and kissed him fully on the mouth, sighing when he pressed you flush against his chest and carressed the nape of your neck. There was no predicting the future; that part would always be like navigating blind. But Jake was worth the risk. If nothing else, he was the sort of man who made you want to try, who took chances, and made you laugh through the terror of uncertainty.

In that moment, being lifted off the ground, physically swept off your feet by the man you’d loved since you’d first contemplated what love could be, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. And the best part? From the look on Jake’s face, you knew the exact thought running through his head:

Babe, the luck is all mine.

Man, you loved weddings.

[wonderjanga]

Billy the Therapist

Heroes find Marvel a very easy person to talk to, even if his advice and or solutions to their problems are outrageous sometimes.

A great example of this was when Marvel and Flash were in one of the Watchtower’s rec rooms. They were on the floor, laying on their stomachs, kicking their feet in the air like a couple of teenage girls while trying to complete a puzzle.

Flash: *talking about a fight he had with Iris* “She threatened to kick me out for Christ’s sake!”

Marvel: “You know, problems like these shouldn’t matter in the long run.” *places down a puzzle piece*

Flash: “Easy for you to say, you don’t have a wife.” *places down another piece*

Marvel: “You’re right, I don’t, but I knew somebody who got divorced from their wife and they kinda spiraled.” *is talking about a crackhead that lives a couple doors down from him, in fact, it’s this crackhead*

Flash: “What happened to him?”

Marvel: “He became a crackhead.”

Flash: “WHAT?? Dude, this is just us arguing about dishes!”

Marvel: “I know I know, but what I’m saying is the fact that you guys blew this out of proportion over dishes, isn’t really healthy for your relationship. You guys need to work on deescalating conflicts.”

Flash: “I-” *pauses* “That’s actually pretty good advice. You’re right. I’ll apologize to her later.”

Marvel: “Cool so now you won’t become a crackhead.” *puts another piece down*

Flash: “Cap, I don’t think that was ever on the table.”

Though, every now and then, he can give solid advice without sounding a little absurd. Like when Clark was talking about how he wanted nothing to do with Connor and how it was unfair that all this responsibility was put on him.

Supes: *venting*

Marvel: *face blank (He’s just thinking) as he’s chewing a granola bar*

Supes: *sees his blank face* “Please don’t tell me you’re disappointed in me too.”

Marvel: “I’m not.” *finishes his granola bar before crumpling the wrapper up and basketball shooting it into a trash can* “Clark, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to feel the way you do.”

Supes: “You do?” *a little relieved and also surprised because he can’t recall Marvel ever calling him by his first name before*

Marvel: “I do. I mean, think about it. One of your worst enemies, without your consent, took your DNA and his and then proceeded to make a child with it. Then, he tried to make that child into a weapon to take you down. And when that didn’t work and the child was left to us, you were just expected to raise it? So no, I’m not disappointed in the slightest. Granola bar?” *gets two more granola bars*

Supes: *takes one and starts eating it*

Marvel: “But on the other hand, Connor’s a really nice kid. He looks up to you and asks about you a lot. I… don’t think you have to be a father to him. I think you should just focus on being an acquaintance, and maybe in the distant future-” *noms on his own new granola bar* “-you guys can be friends. In all honesty, just treat him like a human being with feelings Clark. He’s still a kid after all.”

Supes: *is quiet for a bit* “I will. Thanks.” *munches more on his granola bar* “These are really good. Where’d you get these?”

Marvel: “Flash’s stash.”

Supes: *nearly chokes* “Flash’s stash?! Isn’t he like super protective of his food??”

Marvel: *shrugs* “He’s never caught me with it so i dunno.”

[ilovewomenfr]

just take your shit and go

click before reading

ex!abby, bottom!reader

men dni!!!! NSFW

cw: pretty vanilla, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), praise kink, make up sex, idk what else

a/n: yall i thought i would be done this on tuesday. ive been so busy this week w work and life ive barely had time to write. this one’s a bit short but i had to get this idea down. i might improve it some time in the future. not proofreading and i kind of dont like it but thats ok. also requests are open as always. AND THANK YOU FOR SM SUPPORT ON YOU ARE SUCH A NERD! I GENUINELY WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT. xx.

you and your ex broke up two weeks ago, a huge fight blew up between the two of you which is why abby is at the door of your apartment, backpack slung over her shoulder, to collect the rest of her things. when you answer the door, you see abby’s gaze rake over your body.

“seriously abs?” you scoff at her, looking down at your abby’s baggy t-shirt, “do i get my shirt back?” she asks as she rolls her eyes at you, gesturing to the band tee. “oh. uh. yeah. i guess” you respond in a quiet tone.

“do you want a drink or something?” you offer and abby shakes her head, her blonde braid moving along with. the braid she would only take out at home when she was with you. the braid you used to tug on when she was drunk off your pussy to see her half-lidded blue eyes. you lick your bottom lip at the thought before shaking it away.

“are you gonna let me come in?” abby asks in a slightly annoyed tone. you get out of the doorway and allow her to come into the apartment. “most of your stuff is on the couch,” you mumble as you point over to the piles of things you threw onto the couch in a blind rage the night she left.

“aw how sweet of you to put everything on the couch for me.” abby says sarcastically, resulting in an eye roll from you. “just take your shit and go.” you grab a couple boxes and put them on the coffee table. you watch as she starts packing away her clothes into the boxes, standing awkwardly. “so this is it then?” you ask,

“what do you mean?”

“all it took was a fight.”

abby walks over to you, crossing her arms and resting her weight on her hip, “you were the one who told me to get out and never talk to you again, if i remember correctly.”

“because i was mad. i didnt actually expect you to go.” you look up to her eyes, trying to find any trace of resentment, but you find none. instead you still find love, “why are you looking at me like that?” she puts her hands on your waist, instinctively your own arms wrap around her neck. “im not looking at you like anything.”

“you are.” you play with her braid, “you’re looking at me like you still care.” she leans in and kisses you, catching you by surprise. the kiss is full of longing and desire. the way she holds you makes you feel as though a fire is stirring within you. she pulls away and sighs, walking back to the couch and sitting down.

“youre so confusing. i mean you tell me to go then dont want me to go? then you dont even text me for two weeks and when you finally do its because you want my stuff out of the apartment.” you nod, knowing you’re in the wrong here. “but i still care about you y/n.” abby leans back on the couch, practically beckoning you to come and sit on her lap.

you make your way over to the couch, sitting in silence as the both of you look at each other, tension growing in the air. “im sorry. i shouldn’t have told you to go.” you apologize, breaking the silence. “i shouldn’t have left.” her voice is softer than before, her hand find its way to your knee and her thumb brushes soothingly along your skin. the apology hangs over the two of you, and once again your eyes meet. abby’s eyes have a look of desire in them, one you know all too well. that’s all it takes for you to climb over and straddle her.

her hands find your hips immediately, “i’ve missed you, ya know.” you say gently, “prove it.” your hands hold her face and you kiss her again, sensually and slowly. abby’s hands run up your back to your hair trying to deepen the kiss. you part you lips and your tongue meets hers. you almost moan at the familiar taste, but you pull away instead, “does that prove it?” she lowers you onto the couch so you’re below her, “haven’t proved it quite yet.” she murmurs as she captures your lips once more. her hands slide up under your shirt as your tongues dance together, palming and squeezing your breasts, the simple action resulting in arousal shooting down to your core. she captures your moans with her mouth, before planting kisses down your neck, suckling the sweet skin.

moments later both your clothes are on the floor as abby kisses your inner thighs, “abs please” you beg, “i need you.” she looks up at you, “mm look at you begging for me, so needy, huh?” she goes back to sucking and kissing your thighs and you push her head towards your soaked pussy, “abbyyyy please.” you beg, “hm? what do you need pretty girl? need me to eat your pussy?” she nudges your clit with her nose eliciting a needy whine from you. “fuck, just eat me out already! please!” your begs are desperate now, your aching cunt waiting for attention. she pulls your legs over her shoulders and laps your slick, the sensation drawing a shiver from you. your hands clutch her hair as she begins sucking your clit, “fuck abby yeah” the moan is involuntary and in response you feel the vibration of her own.

youre a complete mess under her by the time the knot in your stomach snaps, your release dripping out of you pussy and onto your thighs. abby just keeps going, lewd sounds leaving you and echoing around your living room. she slips her fingers into you and curls them, your back arches as she repeatedly hits your g-spot, “so fuckin pretty when you’re falling apart baby” she murmurs softly. she uses her thumb on your clit and it’s like you’re on top of the world, your cries are becoming pornographic at this point and it’s just egging her on, “yeah, you like my fingers filling you dont you?” she nips your hip, “mmhh yeahhh. fuck baby ‘m gonna cum!” she keeps hitting your g-spot and the pressure building up inside of you reaches its peak, you feel your legs shaking as you cum on her fingers, “youre doing so good for me baby.” she lets you ride out your high on her before sliding her fingers out, “fuck i missed you so much abby” you say, she kisses you, “i missed you too”

tags: @jamiesturniolo