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onlyswan · 1 year ago

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summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

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taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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pboogerswbb · 3 months ago

Text

SO IT GOES - chapter 11

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content (smut), uhh badly proofread Wordcount: 7.7K A/C: hii i know i know i promised this yesterday but i nearly had a panic attack so i couldn't, my bad. i'm good now! please enjoy this before paige's last game at XL :((

Before London

“So as everyone can see, here we have a list of statistics showing the viewership per video and definitely can see an increase from last year, content with Paige seems to do extremely well like we…”

Linda’s voice blends into the background sounds of cutlery and plates and chatter filling the dining hall. For some reason my boss thought an impromptu media team meeting was in order and showed up to College Park Center unannounced. She wanted to catch up on what sort of content attracted most viewership, and to evaluate what worked and what didn’t. I couldn’t have cared less - all I knew is I was doing a good job, fantastic even. I’m not sure why I had to sit through something I already knew just to have Linda reiterate it to me. It wasn’t like me to be resistant to a meeting, or to praise from my superior but I was far too distracted.

My eyes involuntarily keep travelling to the table on the far right where Paige was sitting with her teammates, voice echoing around the walls of the building. A sound I fear I might never get tired of. The blonde is leaning back on her chair, chugging water, biceps more prominent than usual after spending all morning in the weight room. I knew this because she had driven me to work, despite having time off saying she needed to lift. I knew it wasn’t in her schedule as I had, almost accidentally, memorised it. Still there she had been, outside my door with a hazelnut latte, always somehow the perfect temperature whenever she brought me my coffee order. I hated when it was too hot.

As if sensing me, her blue eyes shift from Arike to me, locking with my gaze. Immediately I blush, trying to hide the smirk growing onto my face. But I can’t, so I cover my mouth with my hand to hide it from the team, particularly Linda, Paige’s mouth twisting into a bright smile in response. Yet we don’t break eye contact, keeping our eyes on each other.

Linda had been surprisingly credulous to my claims of a migraine when I missed work just a couple days ago. Since the night the blonde turned my entire world on its head. I hadn’t been able to think of anything ever since except the weight of her lips on my skin, her eager touch and starved eyes. I had been craving her every second since we drove back to Dallas. I needed more. As much as it pained me to admit.

With a grin on her face, Paige grabs her phone and types for a while, my screen lighting up with a notification.

Paige

Did i say how beautiful you look today yet

I blush, tapping underneath the table.

You did. A few times in the car.

Matter of fact she had been repeating it between sentences, and almost crashed the car twice because of how badly she had been staring.

Gotta tell you again

Takin my breath away all the way from over there

Finest girl I swearrrrr

I can’t help but smile.

You look like you’re breathing fine 🙄

I lift my gaze, seeing the blonde rubbing her chest and looking at her phone with a smirk.

Trust me ma

What Linda doin here?

Some sort of unnecessary meeting, I’m not sure why.

What time you getting off work?

I have a couple things to do after this but if you’re done you can go home, I’ll take a cab.

Fuck no i’ll wait

I could do some stretchin

You should join me

I let out a silent chuckle, shaking my head to myself.

Paige!!

What??? Would be good for those tense muscles yk

Could think of sum other stuff to relax you too 😏😏

With a scoff I glance at the blonde who’s already looking with a playful, devilish grin. I look at her scoldingly, watching as she raises her brows and bites her lower lip to kill the smile before pointing at her phone, showing me she wants me to reply.

Why do I have an idea of what that might be?

Yeah?

“So what do you think Izara?” Linda asks, snapping me back to reality.

“Uhh… Of?” I murmur, placing my phone screen down onto the table, thighs burning with the memory of how good the blonde had made me feel just a few days before.

“Do you think we can reach our goal followers-wise or are we being too ambitious?”

I quickly pull myself together, though I’ve barely heard a word. “Certainly if we keep pumping out content every day.” I don’t actually even know what goal we’re talking about.

However, my answer satisfies Linda, her mouth twisting into a smile. “Excellent!”

“Excuse me,” I hum, getting up from the table to grab an extra bottle of water. Paige, who has been watching, does the same, unable to not take advantage of the opportunity to talk to me.

I feel a gentle bump on my arm, eyes immediately snapping to the girl who’s looking smug as I eye the bottles.

“Hey pretty girl,” she whispers, placing a hand on my lower back. I quickly glance back at the media team to make sure no one was looking. To my relief they’re all too busy leaning in to stare at Trey who’s showcasing our latest content on his phone.

“Hey you,” I reply, my voice soft, quiet so no one can hear. Paige stands behind me, eyes skimming the different bottles of drinks as if mulling over her decision on what to get. But I know better. She’s stalling to stay talking to me. We had barely had any time to spend alone, my mind too busy wrapped up with work, Paige spending every waking moment on the court trying to get her shot back.

“What are you doing tonight?” I ask, reaching over for the bottle and holding it in my hand. Paige thinks for a second, grabbing a bottle of gatorade. All I can do is stare at her hands, mesmerised. Perfect hands that made me feel so incredible.

“Uhh nothing, why?”

“I’m coming over.”

Paige’s ears turn red, as she clears her throat, the idea immediately getting the younger girl flustered.

“Y-Yeah okay Iz,” she whispers, voice trembling a little. The effect I have on the girl makes me smile. It pleased me to know I had so much power over her. Little did she know she held just as much power over me, I was just much better at hiding it. However, my cheeks turn a hint of pink thinking about the possibilities of what might happen once we get a moment alone.

“Okay Paige,” I smile, eyes stuck on her flushed face. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

Waiting a couple hours had turned out to be much harder than I had planned, the thought of Paige’s hands on my body enough to have me growing wet in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t bear to wait a moment longer to feel the younger girl on me. Paige had felt the same, which had led us to our current predicament, my back pushed against the door of the storage room, the girl kissing my neck feverishly as my hands roam her body. The door handle digs into my lower back painfully but I barely notice.

“Paige,” I whimper, but she silences me with a heated kiss, tongue slipping past my lips into my mouth. My kisses are needy, desperate, a quiet moan spilling out when Paige’s hand kneads my ass, my short skirt hiking up as she does.

“You’re so sexy ma,” the blonde groans, lips glistening as she pulls back to look at me. “Killing me in a skirt like that.”

“Wore it for you,” I tease. Paige melts, moaning just from my words.

My arms wrap around her shoulders as I pull her back into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss by her hair. The blonde groans, lifting my skirt to squeeze the bare skin underneath, eyes opening to see the purple silk panties I was wearing. I hadn’t been prepared for the first time we slept together the way I liked to be, but after a meeting with my wax lady and a vigorous exfoliation routine last night I was prepared for her, my skin silky and smooth all for her from my head to my toes.

“Look at that,” she whispers, pulling back enough to admire the underwear sitting against my golden skin. “Goddamn.”

“Want you,” I hum, looking at her with round, pleading eyes. Paige takes a deep breath through her nose, groaning as she throws her head back. I know I’m driving her insane.

“We can’t,” she mumbles, rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration. I’m taken back, slightly embarrassed. I never thought she’d reject me.

“Why not?”

Paige notices the surprise in my face, her blue eyes widening. “No, I want to. So fucking bad, you got no idea baby,” she starts, looking me up and down.

“Then what’s the problem?” I ask, getting annoyed which in turn makes my brows furrow.

“Iz I can’t just keep sleeping with you,” she sighs. “You’re more than that. You deserve more.”

I shake my head, pulling Paige back in by her sweaty T-shirt. She kisses me softly, nuzzling her nose into mine.

“I don’t care. I want you,” I repeat, the ache between my thighs nearly unbearable.

“I care,” the girl whispers, resting her forehead on mine. “Need to take you out on a date before we… y’know.”

I’m surprised, my eyes fluttering open.

“Need to do this right Izzie,” she hums, kissing the top of my head. “Need to take you out before I do all the things I’ve been dying to do to you.”

I nearly collapse at her words, grateful for the strength of her grip on my hips.

“Oh,” I say, feeling the blonde pull my skirt back down hesitantly.

“Please, lemme treat you right ma,” she pleads, kissing both my cheeks softly. “Lemme take you out. Been dying to, ever since I saw you. Please.”

Taking a deep breath, I look at my reflection in the mirror once more. White shorts and a white oversized button up, both neatly pressed not a single wrinkle on them. I’ve really gotten tan here. I lean closer to add the signature diamond studs onto my ears, smoothing over the hair slicked back into a low bun. I check my nails one more time, making sure each one is short and filed up to my standards. No, not mine. Up to Izzie’s standards. I look good, I wanted everything to be perfect for her. For my gorgeous, perfect London girl.

I grab the huge bouquet of white lilies and head downstairs, toying with my silver chain as I knock on the door. I don’t remember the last time I had been nervous over a girl before Izzie. So much for my plans to stay celibate this season. Like clockwork, the door opens.

I feel breathless when I see her. She’s wearing a bronze coloured satin dress, the perfect contrast against her skin, with spaghetti straps and a slightly plunging neckline, her breasts on display just enough to make me wanna look for a little too long. The dress isn’t too tight, clinging to her curves in all the right places, the hem ending at her calves. Her skin glows from her arms decorated with gold bracelets, all the way down to her calves and feet, beautifully arched in matching sandals. Izzie looks stunning, glowing with the power of a hundred suns.

I let out a low whistle, unsure what to say. I feel flustered, nervous in front of her. It was as if I was seeing her for the first time all over again, two months ago in this same hallway.

“Whoa,” is all I can say, my palms sweating already.

Izzie giggles and then she does something I’ll never get over. She simply tilts her head, sharp eyes sparkling at me, slender fingers reaching over and fixing the collar of my shirt. And my knees nearly buckle.

“We don’t need to go out,” I mutter, leaning down to kiss the girl. But she tuts softly, pulling back and placing two fingers on my chin to stop me sternly.

“Lipgloss,” she grins, pushing my face back by my jaw playfully. “And yes we do, took me three hours to get ready.”

I can see that, every strand of her black hair carefully set in uniform waves running down her back. All I can do is stare at her, mouth open.

“Paige?” Izzie giggles.

“What?” I ask, cheeks bright red.

“The flowers?”

I glance down at the bouquet in my hand, handing them to the girl. “Oh yeah, these are for you,” I laugh awkwardly, nearly unable to look the girl in the eye.

“I love lilies,” she gleams, inhaling their scent and humming contentedly.

“I know, you told me,” I smile, stepping in as she turns her back on me to put the flowers in a vase. My eyes travel from her hair downwards to the curve of her ass just for a moment, fighting the urge to pull up the hem and dive between her legs. I quickly glance up, trying to keep myself in check. Date first. Be respectful.

“You remembered,” Izzie smiles to herself, setting the flowers onto her dining table. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

The girl turns to me, throwing her hands around my shoulders and kissing me lovingly.

“What about your lipgloss?” I mumble against her lips, one hand on her lower back, the other on her neck pulling her in.

“I’ll reapply,” she sighs. I loved the way she was, meticulous and disciplined. But my God did I adore the way she had loosened up around me, the way she seemed to have a newfound ease about her. How she arrived to work yesterday wearing pants and flats, giggling with her co-workers lightheartedly, the pearls of her laughter echoing around every room she entered.

“Shit,” I pull back from the kiss with a struggle. “I got us a car baby, we should go.”

Iz whines in a way that pulls at my heartstrings, her brows furrowing in desperation, tracing her fingers up and down my arms, squeezing my biceps that had grown exponentially during my time in the league.

“You look so gorgeous,” Izzie hums, smoothing over my collar one last time, leaning close and pressing a kiss onto my collarbone. My eyes flutter shut momentarily.

“C’mon,” I sigh. “If we don’t go now we ain’t ever gon leave.”

“Paige,” I gasp as she opens the car door for me and I realise where we are.

“What? You like?” The blonde grins, offering her hand to help me out and watching my face for approval. I step onto the pavement, wrapping my arm around hers as we walk into the building, the doorman letting us in with a polite smile. We step into the gorgeous, high-end restaurant, Paige smoothly letting the hostess know that we had arrived.

I had mentioned Monarch countless times in conversation, brought up how the customer from Dallas that left an irrevocable mark on me made me swear to dine there at least once in my life. It was on the pricier side, and I’d grown used to a certain lifestyle which my current pay couldn't maintain so I had been burning through my savings - it simply wasn’t in the budget. Except now, with this millionaire girl on my arm I suppose it did. Truthfully, I would’ve been happy with less. But I won’t lie that she really hit the nail on the head with this one. I mean she listened. Remembering my brother’s name, my favourite flower, now this? She really listened to me. I didn’t know it could be like this.

“Paige,” is all I can mutter out with a happy sigh, my mouth twisting to a smile. Paige tugs at her silver chain absentmindedly, her eyes flickering around the room before always landing back on me.

I slide myself into the booth, Paige following behind me, making me laugh.

“Paige, your plate is on that side,” I giggle, pointing to the set cutlery opposite of me.

“I’ll ask em to move it over here,” she mumbles, her arm snaking around my waist and pulling me close so my side presses into hers, the pressure of her thigh on mine.

“Isn’t that gonna look a little silly?” I chuckle, watching as Paige reaches over the table and moves her entire table arrangement next to mine. I blush, looking around hoping no one noticed. This was a nice place. I could tell it wasn’t the blonde’s scene. Something about that made this even more endearing. It was all for me.

“Ion care if it does, it’s too far from you,” she whines, entangling her fingers with mine underneath the table. My eyes land on her blue ones, her face only a few inches from me. Paige licks her lips, her gaze flickering to my lips. I feel a familiar ache between my thighs return just from the sheer proximity of the blonde, and the smell of her cologne.

“Wanna kiss you so bad right now,” she whispers, both our breathing growing heavy. I nod, wanting the same. But we both knew it was better not to. After Luka was traded out of Dallas Paige was one of the biggest athletes in the entire city. A household name easily. We weren’t just sneaking around behind Linda’s back, we had to keep this on the low from the whole world. It’s not like we had to talk about it - we both knew it.

“Gotta wait,” I hum, jumping slightly as the waiter interrupts the moment, looking to take our orders. Paige, in her American manner, orders multiple side dishes and salads for us to share, the table filled with Wagyu Carpaccio and Octopus. But the real star of the night is the lamb, which the customer made me swear to get if I ever ended up at Monarch.

“Oh my Gosh,” I groan quietly, letting the meat melt into my mouth. I smooth the napkin on my lap, the luxurious linen smooth underneath my palm. Taking a sip of my Merlot, I notice Paige beside me, cutting the gorgeous lamb into multiple bite-size pieces before putting the knife down and beginning to eat with the fork. I watch, astonished, amused and embarrassed at the same time.

“You are so American,” I laugh, swallowing the wine and covering my mouth. The younger girl turns to me, confused.

“Whatchu mean?” She giggles but I eye her plate, rolling my eyes.

“Can you not eat with a fork and a knife at the same time?” I ask, raising my brows. Paige huffs, though the small curl a the corner of her mouth tells me she’s basking in my slightly condescending tone, the scolding lilt of my voice.

“Guess you’ll have to teach me your fancy English ways huh?”

“Oh my Gosh,” I sigh amused.

“The fork is in the wrong handddd,” she complains, continuing to eat, fork on the right hand. I make a mental note to teach her table manners before she meets my parents. Then, realising that she never would, decide to stay quiet. This is just a fling, a summer romance at most. A rebound - it’s what I tell myself to ease the slight panic in my chest when I thought more about what the end of the season would bring, me going back home to London, leaving my American girl here. My one summer in Dallas, cruel and much too short. Just a few months is all we’d ever get. Against my nature, I try not to worry about it, hoving the anxiety to some deep, dark corner of my mind, under all the other things I didn’t want to deal with.

The moment I notice my glass is empty, the blonde is already reaching for the jug of water and pouring me some. I watch closely, heart fluttering with affection.

Dinner is amazing, a dream come true. The food, of course, delicious. But even better is the satisfied smile on the dark haired girl’s face. The way her eyes gleamed every time she looked at me. The sound of her sweet laughter whenever I did anything she redeemed “American”. The slightly condescending manner with which she corrected my table manners, praising me every time I did something right. Every cell in me wanted to please her. Hear more of her “good job” and “that’s it”. Feel the hand on my shoulder squeezing, affirming her words. I was ecstatic, even more so knowing that this was just the first of many dates. That I would get to take Izara out for years to come, hear her praises forever if I played my cards right. And I desperately wanted this to be forever. I know I was going way too fast. But I couldn’t help my mind from picturing her in a white dress, playing with our children, waiting for me at home after practice.

“I’m so full,” Izzie sighs, leaning back against the booth and rubbing up and down my arm affectionately. “You did so good with this darling.”

I melt, my eyes nearly rolling back at her praise, never mind the pet name.

“Lemme order you some dessert,” I nearly whine, my plate finished much earlier than Izara’s.

The girl leans over and checks the dessert menu, quickly skimming it over and scrunching her face.

“You too full baby?”

“Could we just go out and get some ice cream from a stand?” The girl asks, her green eyes fluttering at me. How could I ever say no?

“You sure? They got some nice dessert here. Fancy,” I ask, flipping the menu over in my hand. I wanted the girl to have whatever she wanted. I wanted to give her the entire world.

Izzie nods, placing her hand on my thigh. “Don’t want fancy, just want some ice cream.” I’m surprised, thinking the fancier the better. Maybe I was wrong.

The Dallas night is still as hot as the day, but there’s a pleasant breeze in place of the scorching sun from earlier. Izara looks even more beautiful in the glow of the city lights and under the twinkling night sky. I can’t tear my eyes away, nearly running into a pole from staring at her so much.

“Could I taste yours?” Izzie asks, handing me her chocolate ice cream cone. Wordlessly, without hesitation, I give her my strawberry cone, honestly ready to turn around and order five more of them for her.

I watch closely as Izara’s tongue darts out to taste the ice cream, a jolt running down my spine to my core, with dirty thoughts flooding my mind.

“Mmh, this is delicious,” she murmurs.

“Take it,” I say without hesitation. Izzie hums, accepting my offer quickly. Almost as if she expected it. Something about it drove me wild.

We walk around the city, hand in hand, easily blending in with the crowd, not worrying about familiar faces, making sure that with every turn I was walking on the street side, keeping her safe. I felt proud walking side by side with Izara, knowing that people walking by knew she was all mine. That I got a girl like this, far from my league. I wanted everyone to know that she’s mine - having to keep this hidden would turn out to be much harder than I imagined. Still, the idea of this being our little secret felt exciting.

The breeze and the ice cream cause goosebumps to form all over Izzie’s arms, a slight chill running through her. I curse myself in my head for not bringing a sweater, making a mental note to never go anywhere without one for her from now on.

“You ever miss London?” I ask, pulling her closer by her waist out of the way of someone walking by.

“No,” she quickly replies, surprisingly bluntly. I’m taken aback.

“Not at all?”

Izzie shakes her head. “Too many bad things in London.”

I immediately understand what she means. Jasper. At least the desperate phone calls had seemed to stop.

“You really don’t miss anything?”

The dark haired girl thinks for a while. “Well, I miss the chocolate. Nothing here tastes like Cadbury.”

We walk around, eager to finish the chocolate ice cream Iz ordered, but I slow down, trying to match the pace with which she’s eating out of politeness. My blue eyes roam her face, trying to memorise each little detail. Her dark, perfectly arched brows, long lashes darkened with mascara, plump lips with only a hint of the lipstick from earlier, fading from eating the ice cream. Her dark curls stick to her neck, desperate to escape the carefully shaped waves, golden necklace dangling at her collarbone. I reach over, my cold fingers making the girl jump when they adjust the clasp, dragging against her skin from the base of her neck to the back.

We come to a stop, Izara’s green eyes lined with black glimmering, her face turning different colors as ads flash red, blue, green on a screen by the sidewalk. The words spill from between my lips faster than I can think, let alone stop myself.

“I really like you Iz,” I murmur, looking into the girl’s eyes. “I mean, I think I’m fallin’ for you.”

Her breath hitches, eyes softening only for a moment, and then widening. With surprise? With panic? I’m not sure. I wouldn’t blame her. It wasn’t something you said on a first date. I wanted to smack the back of my own head for that. I quickly look up, in a momentary prayer hoping God would let me rewind just 20 seconds. But no one answers my request.

“Shit, I’m sorry if it’s too much. You don’t gotta say anything okay?” I tell Izzie, avoiding her gaze.

“It’s okay love,” she smiles, thumb brushing against my skin comfortingly. However, I see a hint of hesitation on her face. “But Paige I thi-”

“Look, let’s just forget I said that aight?” I ask, my chest aching, begging to God I didn’t just ruin this before it could even start.

“Paige,” Iz sighs, trying to comfort me. But I could tell she felt uneasy about something. “I think we just gotta remember that we need to be really careful about this, yeah?”

I sigh nodding. She’s right. “Yeah.”

“I mean the stakes aren't the same for you and me. If we get caught,” she starts, letting out a heavy breath. “I’ll be back in London in no time. You however would be completely fine.”

I nod, wanting the girl to know I was really hearing her out. “Gon be really careful okay?”

“No slip ups.”

“No ma’am,” I answer reassuringly.

“And you can’t tell anyone. Not a soul. Not Arike, not Lou, no one. They can’t know.”

“I agree,” I tell the girl. “Look, I meant what I said. Whatever you want me to be I’mma be.”

The girl smiles, for a moment I think there’s a hint of sadness there, but it’s gone just as fast as it appeared. “Today’s been… amazing.”

I bite my lower lip, hand coming to her lower back just for a moment. There was nothing in this world that felt as good as hearing her praise. Maybe winning the national championship. Top two things I’ve ever experienced.

“Wanted it to be special for you, Iz,” I hum, blushing a little. Just as she’s about to answer, her phone rings.

“It’s Trey,” she murmurs. Of course it is. I can’t help but roll my eyes, watching as she raises the phone to her ear and answers. That’s how we walk back to the car, the girl next to me talking animatedly on the phone about whatever, my irritation growing with each moment. I knew they were friends. But everytime she giggled or laughed at whatever the man on the phone was saying, my jaw clenched and breathing grew heavier.

“Okay, Trey I really must go. I’ll see you in a couple days,” Izzie, who had been trying to politely end the call, says. I hear Trey’s defiant protests all the way from the driver’s seat, making me want to grab the girl’s phone and hang up for her.

Iz laughs politely at whatever he said. “Treeyy, I’ll talk to you about this at work okay? Alright, bye now.”

Finally, she hangs up.

“I’m so sorry, I thought it might be about work but he was just calling to explain about some sort of couch he was considering getting,” Iz chuckles, finally turning her gaze to me.I feel my annoyance settle down the moment her eyes land on me. Having her attention just had the effect of soothing me. Still, it bothered me that the girl was so oblivious to Trey’s obsession with her. I sigh, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

“What?” Izzie asks, noticing my irritation as we sit in the parked car.

“You know he likes you, right?”

Izara rolls her eyes. “Don’t start with that again.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

I turn to her, raising my brows. “You prolly don’t see it but I do. He’s always calling or texting you, following you around or tryna touch you. All the time. He obsessed, trust.”

Izzie scoffs, turning to me. “I think you’re just reading into it too much.”

I shake my head. “He likes you.”

She looks like she's about to get defensive, but then her face softens. “Well, even if he does, I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” I ask, my voice growing needy.

“No darling,” she hums quietly, reaching over and placing her dainty hand on mine. “I couldn’t care less about Trey.”

My heart flutters, the warmth in my chest spreading all over my body, chills forming underneath her touch. All the frustration and annoyance that had been growing are replaced with affection now that I feel reassured

“Yeah?” I ask carefully, nearly flinching at how whiny it comes out.

Izzie smiles, leaning over the center console and kissing my cheek. I catch a whiff of the pear and lavender notes of her perfume, my head spinning.

“Yeah.”

I lean over too, my lips finally crashing against hers, both hands holding her face gently like a baby bird, doing everything in my power not to disrupt her. Her lips taste like strawberries, and a hint of red wine from dinner. The wine had loosened Izzie up, her body turning into putty in the passenger seat just from one kiss.

Her hands wrap around my neck, scratching at the back of my neck to pull me impossibly closer. I groan, arousal growing quickly between my thighs. A passing car honks, reminding me of our surroundings and the fact that the windows were not tinted. At the sudden realisation, I pull back abruptly, wiping my lips.

Izzie looks breathless, cheeks flushed and lips parted and glossy.

You wanna come to mine, ma?” I ask, or rather plead. The thought of getting to bring her home after had been the only force to give me the strength to keep my hands to myself all night.

“Yes,” she simply exhales. I feel a thrill, pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to head towards our home, my hand never leaving her thigh, mind filled with the thoughts of lifting the skirt and diving into her.

My chest heaves as we climb the stairs, Izara’s heels tapping against the marble and echoing in the corridor. As I open the door, I let the dark-haired girl in, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

“Whoa,” she gasps. Stepping inside after her, I watch her face brighten as a trail of red rose petals on the floor leads all the way to the bedroom, just as I had set them before picking her up.

I step closer, pressing my front against her back, leaning down to kiss her neck as my hands find their position on her waist. I loved that even in heels she was a few inches shorter than me. Her body melts into me quickly, the curve of her ass pressing into my hips. The satin is smooth and cool under my fingertips, and her neck smells like her perfume and the fruity hair products she uses. Guava?

“You did this?” she asks, her voice gasping as my lips glide against her neck, feeling for her pulse under my kisses.

Finally, I find the steady beating on the side of her long neck, my lips wrapping around it and sucking. Izzie exhales softly, her hands finding mine at her waist.

“Mhmm,” I hum, nuzzling my nose into her ear before kissing it feverishly. I needed her so desperately, like I had been travelling the desert for days and finally found an oasis filled with fresh water and sweet fruit and cool shade. I’m surprised I’m even able to stand upright.

“Oh so you knew I’d be coming over? That’s how you see me?” Her voice is stern, sending a jolt through my body. It makes me want to get on my knees and apologize, repent.

“N-No baby, I mean I was hopin’ but I didn’t assume. Iz, I swear I don-”

I’m joking, Paige,” she laughs, craning her neck to look into my face, an amused smile on her lips. My cheeks turn red as I laugh at myself.

I walk the girl forward, following the rose petals into the bedroom. They reach the bed, the white sheets decorated with the flower petals as well. Izara looks around, a smile on her face. I feel the ache between my thighs grow knowing I had made her happy.

Before I can say anything, she flips around to face me, kissing me heatedly. Her mouth is wide open against mine, tongue circling mine and fingers digging into my shoulders.

“Lemme light the candles,” I hiss, furrowing my brows and trying to pull away. But Izzie pulls me in by my collar, kissing me again.

“Fuck the candles,” she murmurs and, to my surprise, walks me backward into the bed.

I crash onto my back, Izzie pushing me down by my chest. “Let me dim the lights,” she says, but I grab her hand.

“Please don’t,” I whisper, my brows furrowing. “Wanna see you baby.”

She hesitates for a moment, but I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing it gently. “Please.”

Izzie pulls her hand back, convinced by the simple gesture, and reaches behind her back to her zipper. She unzips the dress far too slow, driving me insane. I wanted her now. So I whine, furrowing my brows and squirming on the bed, but the girl only shakes her head, slipping one strap off her shoulder. I nearly pass out.

“Patience,” Iz tells me, her voice low and gravelly. I can’t look away, wetting my lips with my tongue as I watch the second strap fall from her shoulder, the dress finally hitting the floor.

“Oh shit,” I murmur to myself, my boxers growing wetter and wetter the moment I realise she wasn’t wearing a bra at all, her body only covered with black lace panties. My gaze is stuck on her chest though, her round breasts covered in goosebumps. Breathing heavy, I sit up, mouth watering to wrap my lips around her hard nipple, to knead the skin.

“Nuh uh,” Izzie snaps, pushing me back down onto my back. I feel a thrill, surprised to find how much this turned me on. I was so used to being the one in charge, I didn’t even know how insanely hot it would be for the dark haired girl to be giving me commands. Though, in hindsight, I probably should have known from the way my core throbbed everytime she demanded something from me.

“Iz,” I groan, watching as her nimble fingers begin to unbutton my shirt, painfully slowly. I feel like I might pass out.

“Remember what I said baby,” she hums, straddling my hips, thighs becoming even thicker on both sides of me as she sits down on them. Izzie leans down, lips hovering over my ear, hot breath tickling it. “Patience,” she whispers, and then ghosts my skin, leaving me writhing.

Finally she pulls my shirt open, revealing the white sports bra underneath. Her long nail drags from my neck downwards, to my chest, and finally to the muscles of my abdomen.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whine, watching the way her eyes darken as she gazes down at me. My hands come to her hips, easily reaching over to knead her ass. To my relief, she lets me, exhaling heavily and throwing her head back as I feel her skin. My hands feel up her sides, to her breast, kneading them in each hand and bucking my hips to look for any relief on my soaked core.

My chest heaves vigorously, right hand dragging downwards, down the skin of her stomach, fingertips dipping into the band. I needed to feel her. Now. I was dying, and I needed to make sure she didn’t feel like I did, desperate and throbbing.

“No,” Iz says, grabbing my wrist. I look at her pleadingly, eyes nearly welling up at the thought of how wet she might be.

“Please,” I whine. “Ride my fingers ma.”

Izzie’s eyes flutter shut at this, but sternly, she shakes her head. leaning down to kiss me. It’s sloppy, our tongues meeting in heated movements, spit covering both our mouths. The girl on top of me continues her open mouthed kisses, finding her way from my neck downwards. It’s then I realise what she’s about to do, the puddle between my legs growing unbearable.

I maneuver upward on the bed, too wet to notice the nervousness in the girl’s eyes when she starts kissing along the band of my shorts, hands coming to pull them down.

“Fuck ma,” I whimper, my entire body shaking with need. I had been dreaming of this moment, spent many hours lying in my bed with my hand between my legs imagining what her green, sharp, catlike eyes would look watching up at me.

She leaves me in my boxers, nails digging into my inner thighs as she spreads my legs apart.

“Please,” I murmur, eyes fluttering shut from how badly my cunt is soaking through the white boxers.

“What’s wrong my love?” Izzie asks, voice so sweet it’s bordering on condescending as she leans down between my legs, kissing my thighs, biting the skin. The wine had made her bolder, more liberated. It drove me insane.

“Need you baby,” I whine, bucking my hips. It’s no use, the dark haired girl’s hands holding my body still.

“What do you need from me darling?” She asks, fingertips playing with the band of my boxers in a way that made me want to flip her over and take her this very moment.

“Shit,” I hiss to myself, wiping the sweat off my forehead. “Baby please. touch me. Gon’ die if you don’t.”

“Yeah? You want my mouth?”

She’s pressing kisses on top of the soaked fabric of my boxers now, brushing lightly against my clit. I need more, so insanely bad. I feel like I might explode.

“Mhm,” I whimper, my voice shakier and needier than I liked - not that I cared much in this very moment.

“Tell me baby,” she smiles, looking up at my scrunched up face, slowly pulling down the last layer of fabric between her and where I needed her most.

“I-” I’m stuttering, overwhelmed, feeling like I might cum just purely from the sight. “Your mouth, mama, please.”

As I say the words, she pulls my boxers down, and begins to kiss around my wet cunt, everywhere but where I need her the most. Still, I’m moaning like crazy, knowing there must be a few concerned neighbours listening by now. I couldn’t care less.

Finally, the dark haired girl touches my clit, starting with small kitten licks.

“That’s it, holy shit,” I gasp, hands coming down to her hair, trying to maintain the urge to yank it wherever I want her.

“Mhmm,” she moans against my core, lips wrapping around my clit and sucking gently.

“Fuck, you’re so- holy shit,” I murmur, unable to think straight, legs already shaking, chest heaving uncontrollably. I can’t tear my eyes away from hers, as she looks up at me. my thighs on each side of her face.

“Taste so good,” she mumbles, a blush on her cheeks from the filthy words. Still, she keeps going, the vibrations of her moans bringing me closer and closer. Embarrassingly, it doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to start spreading in my abdomen, making my pussy throb around nothing as her tongue flicks back and forth in my folds.

“Make me feel so good, fuck baby, look at you,” I praise, my voice high pitched and whiny. “Look so fuckin’ pretty between my le- aw shit.”

I feel it, already growing hotter and hotter, the fire inside me making my muscles tense.

“I- I’m so cl-” I whimper, yanking on the girl’s hair.

“Baby,” Iz moans, wrapping her lips around my clit while her tongue flicks against it, making it impossible to hold back.

“Keep doin’ that, don’t stop. Don’t st-” I cry out, legs trembling and muscles tensing as the girl between my legs keeps pushing me closer and closer. “Shit mama, I’m gon’ cum.”

With that, I tip over the edge, pleasure crashing through my body, writhing and moaning. The orgasm is just as intense as it was fast, making my grip tighten around Izzie’s hair as she keeps up with the movement of her tongue.

As I come back down, the dark haired girl climbs back up, kissing me with authority. I feel embarrassed, from how wet her face is, and most of all from how fast I came. Couldn’t have been more than two minutes. It was something about her that made me yield, completely submit to her, my body too weak to fight it.

“Well that was quick,” Izzie giggles as she pulls away from me. I roll my eyes, flipping the girl on her back.

“Just wanted it to be your turn fast ma,” I mumble, beginning to kiss her neck.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, P- Paige, fuck,” I cry out, tears filling my eyes as Paige presses on my lower back, pinning my hips down against the mattress. Her fingers are buried deep inside me, slipping in and out of me with a rapid pace, making my pussy drip all over the sheets. It was overwhelming, the strength of her fingers something I had never experienced before - what didn’t help was the three times I had already cum after she finished.

“Just one more, I promise. Swear baby. Can feel how much you’re throbbing around my fingers,” Paige coos, pressing sloppy kisses onto my sweaty back before sitting back up and kneading on the skin of my ass to get deeper inside me. Something about her filthy words made me willing to keep going, my orgasm building quickly from how sensitive I had been left after the past couple hours.

“Baby,” I cry out, grabbing the sheets desperately, tears spilling down my cheeks into the cotton blanket underneath me, sticking to my skin.

“So perfect,” the blonde groans, eyes watching closely the way my pussy molded around her fingers, stretched out just for her, gushing around the long digits slipping in and out.

“P- I’m gonna-” I gasp, back arching as the muscles inside me coil tighter and tighter.

“C’mon ma, lemme make you cum,” she moans, leaning back down and kissing my ear, her hot breath sending chills all over as her fingers keep pumping into me. “So fuckin’ gorgeous you know that?”

With a high pitched whine, the coil finally snaps, my core clenching around her fingers as she makes me cum for the fourth time that night. My entire body trembles, hands grabbing the sheets desperately. The blonde brings her free hand to mine, long digits entangling with mine comfortingly.

“That’s it, fuck, look at you,” Paige murmurs into my ear, talking me through it as the waves of pleasure wash over me. I feel sore, tired, but in that moment everything else is forgotten, except the ecstasy taking over my entire existence, and the blonde’s praise in my ear.

“You are so fucking sexy,” the blonde whispers into my ear, slipping her fingers out of me and wrapping a comforting arm around me. In a haze, I nustle myself into her side, still attempting to slow down my rapid breathing.

I chuckle, finally opening my eyes and flipping onto my back. I couldn’t believe how many times she had just gotten me off. Most of all I couldn’t believe I let her do that all to me with all the lights on, and enjoyed it too much to even care.

We both lie in each other’s arms, completely naked. Paige’s blonde hair is falling out of her bun, sweat glistening against her bare arms, covered in veins from the strain. She’s breathing loudly through her nose, watching my face. Surely I looked horrendous, makeup all over my face, hair fully out of place, curls wild and unruly. But the younger girl’s blue eyes continue to stare, soft and adoring. She leans in, pressing a soft kiss onto my forehead, loaded with emotion - feelings I wasn’t ready to face.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige whispers, nuzzling her nose into mine. My heart flutters almost painfully. At that moment I know - I’m in trouble. That leaving Dallas behind after the season is over won’t be as effortless as I had hoped. I decide to worry about that later, wrapping my leg around the blonde and pressing my naked body against hers.

“So are you,” I murmur, letting Paige cocoon me with her big arms.

"One more time ma, please?"

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#so it goes #lilas writing yaps #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x fem oc #wnba x oc

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mermaidchansons · 5 months ago

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Divine Indeed: Part One

Neighbor!Terry Richmond x Divine Wells (black OC)

Story Summary: Divine Wells, an autistic seamstress, deals with waves of change after she picks up her life and moves to San Diego for a new job. She thought she’d finally found peace in her new normal; until Oshun decided to push her path to collide with her fine ass neighbor, Terry Richmond.

Words: 1400+

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: I guess I’m back like John Wick lmfao. I know this is short but there will be more! My taglist is old so if you would like to be removed, lemmie know. Thanks for reading the beginning of this 5 part series <3 - Ashanti

Pt. 1 Pt.2

“Phone, wallet, journal, where the hell did I put that key?” Divine shivered from the cold as she rummaged through her tote, searching for her mail key. She knew she should have added the key to her ‘Heathers’ lanyard when she moved in two weeks ago. But no, the endless streams of thought tossed that out completely. Here she was, tired from her first day at the new job, freezing from the sudden drop in temperature outside; dragging her bandaged fingers through her belongings and wincing at the pain. The sounds of the busy road and the bustling community echoing in her apartment complex were bouncing against her cat ear headphones. Overstimulation had already begun to creep up her shoulders, causing her to search hurriedly.

“It’s fine, just breathe,” she murmured to herself, before squatting and emptying her bag on the floor.

When the fashion house hired her full-time, she hadn’t expected to be welcomed with such a joyful yet overwhelming welcome. The office was fast-paced, everyone wanted to introduce themselves and compliment her work at last season's fashion week. Divine, as grateful as she could be, was exhausted. The fabric archive was extensive, her desk was flooded with natural light, and the office was close to her new favorite coffee chain. All good things, all great things; but the exhaustion of change was eating away at Divine’s joy. Greedily gobbling it up and leaving nothing but crumbs in her hands. It was enough to make her sick.

Divine took out her phone and turned on its flashlight, illuminating the inside of the black tote. The silver mail key glimmered in the light in the left corner of the bag, causing Divine to sigh in relief. Accommodating change with ever lessening spoons was an easy way to ruin what should have been a good day.

Change was a concept that both pushed and plagued her existence in this world. It was a fickle thing, really. A breakup with her freak of the week or a sudden change in plans could dissolve all ability to function; however, so could a new high paying job, a new apartment, a new city. When Divine was 7 years old, her twin sibling Sera found her crying under the ancestor table with her eyes shut tight. She was praying, begging Oshun and Elegba to stop time altogether and keep the waves of change from lapping at the beach of life that she had been thrust upon, unwillingly. Most of her childhood was spent running away from the throws of time. Her parents brought their twins up in love and the teachings of the Orishas, wanting to grant them spiritual guidance that would prepare them for anything they should face. But it didn’t truly matter whether the change was good or bad, Baby Divine would still have to regulate herself, manipulating and reforming her spirit to adapt to a new mold. Every now and again, the freshly 31-year-old would find herself in her tub with her ears below the water, desperately pleading for Oshun to still time. Only for a moment, just enough time to get her bearings. Divine had made her plans, carefully entwining every new task with just enough time to find balance. However, the Orishas did not take these plans into consideration when they made her. Oshun had her own plans.

Divine shoved the spilled contents of her life back into her tote and walked into the mailroom. She leaned down to unlock what she thought to be her mailbox, eager to get her package and scamper off to her apartment before anyone saw her bent over. The key didn’t work in #71, #74, or #75, and she could never remember. She made a mental note to reread her move-in papers so that she wouldn’t be in here for this long again. There was nothing wrong with sharing a mailroom with other folks, but Divine knew she took up space. She was a dark skin woman with thick thighs, an ass that could stop traffic, and a tummy to match. Today’s pants were put on when Divine was hyping herself up this morning, telling herself that ‘an ass this good deserves to be seen’. But 10 hours later with little to no patience, the less she could be perceived by others, the better. She just needed to get her new stuffy, a pig with wings, and get out as soon as she could. The music in her headphones transitioned into a new song and the slow plucking of a bass guitar steadily built up in her ears before King Woman’s voice floated in.

I don’t have to sell my soul

He’s already in me

I don’t need to sell my soul

He’s already in me

Unlocking door #78, Divine sent a silent thank you to the ancestors before pulling two letters out. There was no package. Why was there no package? Divine reached her arm in as far as she could and felt around the empty space, her shield of annoyance stopping her from noticing a person entering the room.

“The front desk usually leaves a key for bigger packages,” the deep voice boomed out. Divine, scared out of her wits, moved a bit too fast, clanging her wrist against the mail to get out. She looked at the person surprisingly, shaking the pain away from her wrist. He was soaked to the bone like he’d just been caught in a rainstorm; the wet fabric of his shirt clung to his thick, muscle-lined frame. Divine had gotten so lost in drinking in the man’s tall frame, that she had forgotten all about her key and the mailbox. Package be damned.

I wanna be adored

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” Divine stood up straight, fixing her clothes, and put one side of the headphones behind her ear. The man was practically a giant, so tall that she was sure he had to duck to walk into the room. Her eyes locked with his and she audibly gulped. His eyes were transportive, a stunning grayish blue with flecks of green folded in. They looked like wells filled to the brim with a storm, desperate to escape and wreak havoc on anyone in its path.

“You’re good,” the giant said, offering small bits of reassurance, “if you have a package, they leave a key to the community package box. May I?”

Divine shifted to the side to allow him enough room to sidestep in front of her and grab the key that had lodged itself into the back corner of her mailbox. She watched him intently as he moved to open the community box, making note of how the muscles in his back moved. Her mouth went dry watching him and it was as if all the water in her body was flooding to her middle. She needed to get out of here, as soon as possible.

The kind man handed her her missing package with the key on top, their hands touching and setting off a string of electricity that shot up her arms and down her spine. An unintentional staring match has begun and Divine tore eyes away, intimidated and aroused.

“Thank you. Bye,” Divine curtly turned on her heels and rushed out of the mail room, and made a beeline straight to the stairs; elevator be damned. Who was that god of a man? Was he watching her walk away? God, she hoped that he was. Divine didn’t want to be perceived but if he was watching she’d make it worth the watch. She relaxed her body and amped up the sway of her hips before checking over her shoulder to see that he was turned away. She dragged her hands down her face, groaning in embarrassment. Her sibling would get a kick out of this.

@babybluepeaches @muse-of-mbaku @melaninmarvel @ashanti-notthesinger @naturallyqueenie @howtoshuckatlife @goldieccentric @archivistofwakanda @alexundefined @minyara-kun @destinio1 @siriuslycollinss @raysunshine78 @madamslayyy @notdsg @ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @greennightspider @bitchacho25 @jordanhelah @puremolasses @ajspencer1892 @monochrome-pineapple @psuedo4 @bubblyqueen @chaneajoyyy @blowmymbackout @tchallasbabymama @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Thanks For Reading!

#terry richmond #terry richmond x black reader #terry Richmond x black oc #terry richmond fanfiction #terry Richmond x black fem #rebel ridge #rebel ridge fanfiction #terry richmond fic #terry richmond fluff #terry Richmond slowburn #slow burn #slow burn fic #neighbors to lovers

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evolnoomym · 2 months ago

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The other Woman🕊️

(?)!Joel Miller x F!OC Moon

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: You are on cloud nine after enduring a lot of pain. All changes because of Joel Miller. But for how much longer will the dream work?

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2.2K

Authors note: This is for Freya’s @almostfoxglove Angst Writing Challenge. The title is based off of a Lana Del Rey song. Check it out: The other woman. Here I present some self indulgent (Mommy issues 😵‍💫) Joel Miller Angst. Freya also provided the lovely moodboard.🙏🏻🤭

Hope you’ll like this!!!

Warnings: no y/n, F!OC, Moon, loss of father, pre-outbreak, grief, alludes to smut, falling in love quickly, discussion of abuse, description of physical and emotional abuse, body shaming, talks about motherhood, Mommyyyyyyy isssues, alludes to unprotected sex, cream pie’s, talks of a potential pregnancy, they’re trying to be careful but who knows 🫣😈, cheating, alcohol consumption, confrontation, angst, threats, Moon hurts him, open ended, post-outbreak, no ages mentioned but in my head there’s a 20 year gap. If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune for the dividers and to @joelmillerisapunk & @always-andromeda for beta reading 🤎

Disclaimer: Okay what I describe here happening to Moon is taken entirely out of my own time growing up. Yes my mom sucks. Anyway English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 🫶🏻

You met Joel 6 months ago, right after moving to Austin. It was a rushed decision Your Dad had passed a few weeks prior and you wanted nothing more than to be as far away as possible. So you packed everything up and left your hometown.

Your neighbor, Dani, invited you to go to a bar nearby. After arriving she gave you the drink orders and sent you on your way to the bar. That’s where you met Joel, ordering his own drink. You quickly got to talking and a few drinks later you made yet another rushed decision by taking him home with you.

He gave you the best night of your life and too many orgasms to count. It was so unlike you, to have a one night stand, but Joel seemed different.

Around the third date he asked you to be his girlfriend and you foolishly accepted instantly. You two clicked and so you didn’t mind how quickly everything moved.

In the last 6 months Joel had made your life so much better. He’s like the sun on a warm beach day. Colors seem brighter, the air fresher, and the bad voices quiet. With him around it’s finally peaceful.

He asks you about your parents one day after you had breakfast with him at your place.

“Ya know, we never talked bout’ your parents. How are they?” Joel can’t possibly know what this simple question unleashes.

“Well my Dad passed away before I moved here. He was a drinker and that cost him everything in the end. And my- my mom she…”

“She…she was not a good one. Always angry, it was like walking on eggshells. Anything would set her off. Her unhappiness is what led to the hitting and screaming.” You sigh. This hurts.

“She insulted me all my life, about how I look and behave, who I am. She ordered diet pills and forbade wheat because it makes you fat. I think she hated me but only because she hates herself so much and I’m an extension of herself.“ You look at Joel. He looks visibly sick at the revelations.

“Princess, I am so sorry, I know I can’t change what happened but ya never have to go back there and ya never have to feel like that.”

“Whenever her voice got louder, or when her steps got quicker I always had a buzzing behind my eyes. Because I knew in a moment it could all go boom.” Opening up about how she abused you is something you never expected to do again, but you trust Joel.

“I think the worst part was when she would chase me, I had to learn how to quickly get to my room, shut the door and lock the door. “Otherwise..” It only happened once but the memory still makes you wince. “She would hurt me.”

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He carefully asks.

“She would usually try to break the door in but if the door was locked it never worked. However, one time I was not fast enough. I was just getting my plate of bolognese from the kitchen when she started blowing up. I stood right behind my door trying to close it when she rammed into it, the door slammed against me and I was knocked over. The red sauce was all over me and my white carpet. I was crying hysterically, in pain and shock, but my mom had nothing better to do than belittle me about what had happened. She made it out to be my fault. Let’s not even get started on how many times she told me I would fail in life, how she couldn’t wait to see it happen.” You whisper the last part.

“She told me I’d regret moving to Austin…that I would fail.”

“Bullshit, ya won’t fail,” he reassured.

“She also told me that will be a horrible mother. She always said that she wishes a child for me that is just as difficult as I was.” Your own mother was always hoping for your downfall.

“Baby, you will be the best damn mom, you are fiercely protective and full of kindness. You wouldn’t repeat what she did.” Joel’s hands grab your face to tilt it up.

“You really think so?”

“I do, you’d be a wonderful mommy.” He reaffirms.

He soothed you until the tears stopped.

A couple week’s later, in bed, after one of many times that he had fucked you for hours before shooting his load deep inside you, you started talked about having babies, that’s how serious you took this relationship.

“Joel?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Have you ever thought about having kids?” You make that important question sound like the easiest thing ever.

“Why you askin’?” He laughs softly.

“I don’t know. I mean we try to be careful but you come inside me all the time. Maybe one of these times we mess up and what then?” You wonder. What would it be like having his baby?

“We would do whatever ya want, baby. I’m there whatever you decide.” He assures while rubbing your shoulder.

“I love you Joel.” You mean it. He’s the love of your life, the perfect man.

“I love you too, Princess.” And you think he means it.

It took some time to voice what you were feeling.

But Joel was always straight forward, taking what he desired. It showed in the way he had you wrapped around his finger in no time, how he wormed his way into your brain. Whatever it was spread through you like a disease, overtaking each and every cell until nothing was left. You’d figured that this unidentified thing was love. Your love for Joel was overwhelming, dizzying, and terrifying. Never before had you felt so loved.

It’s Wednesday evening and you felt like treating yourself to a little drink at your favorite bar, the one where you met Joel.

Though you never made it further than the entrance. What you see through the glass stops you dead in your tracks. The visual shoots through you like electricity. Joel with another woman. Close, she’s snuggled into his side and his arm is around her waist. She’s closer to his age.

As you stare at Joel’s figure and the mystery woman next to him, you can feel the telltale buzzing behind your eyes again. Because you know in a moment it can all go boom.

And it does, he kisses her, right on the lips, no way of mistaking it for a failed cheek kiss. Your heart feels like it’s shutting down; there it is, the final beat.

You remembered all those nights before you met Joel, ones spent crying and screaming at the sky. You told yourself again and again, one more heartbreak and that’s it. You can’t handle hurting that way again and yet here you were staring as your boyfriend kissed someone else. It gets worse. Your eyes trace their hands and surely enough there’s a ring on both their hands.

He’s married. And he lied about everything.

You truly don’t know how you got back home, you must have walked on autopilot. Your hand shakes when you push the key into the lock. You stumble into the kitchen and just stand there and think about all those weird coincidences that start to add up.

He never invited you to his home, you never met any of his family, he mostly came over at odd times that he explained away with his hectic work schedule. On top of that, he only took you on dates to spots that were a little further out. In retrospect, it’s so obvious but you really wanted it to be real.

——————————————————————————

Maybe hours pass, maybe not, you don’t know but you know that what happens now will not end happily. The click of the door knob indicates his arrival, then his cologne envelopes you and you know he’s close.

“Hey, Princess.” His belly connects with your back and his arms slide around your waist, it’s how he touched her.

“How are you, had a good night?” You feel like puking at his sweet tone, even more when he nuzzles himself into your neck, kissing towards your shoulder. Those lips you used to love only hurt now and each press of them send more images of how he probably does the same to his wife in their bed.

You push his hands off and turn around; it’s now or never.

Apparently you look pretty fucked up, judging by how concerned he is.

“Jesus, baby, what happened, did someone hurt ya?” How ironic of him to ask that.

His hands are reaching up to touch your face but you smack them away harshly.

You stare at each other, both of your chests heaving with panic for different reasons. Yours out of anger, his out of fear. Joel has never seen you in such a state and he’s terrified.

“I know,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Everything, I know it all, Joel.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Oh, please,” you get louder, “you are married…I saw you, with-with her.” you wave your hands around and struggle with hiding your disgust.

“You fucking lied to me, after I trusted you, Joel.” You get close and jab your finger in his chest. “After everything I told you, what is wrong with you? You’re able to lie to my face without any remorse. I don’t want to see you right now. Get out.” You start pushing him.

“Moon, listen,” Joel tries to reason with you.

But you cut that short.

“No, shut up and get out.” You urge.

The door slamming shut behind him echoes in your head for hours afterward.

For the next 2 weeks you don’t respond to his constant messages and phone calls. Joel drives by your house almost every other day. He even dares to knock but you don’t open and keep all the curtains drawn.

——————————————————————————

One night after drinking too much vodka you have the glorious idea to visit Joel’s construction company. The wooden bat helps you force your way into his office. You walk to his table, which has a bunch of framed pictures on top. Joel and his wife. Joel and his brother, you assume. When you see the last frame you get the stomach turning feeling of betrayal yet again. There’s Joel and a girl around 13 years old who looks a lot like a mixture of him and his wife. He has a fucking kid all while pretending to be childless and open to having one with you. It makes you angry.

He knew how to hurt you and without missing a beat he did something so detrimental.

You hate him, the love of your love.

His second life laid out right in front of you and you pick up the bat and start swinging. His computer screen, the pictures and some trinkets fall victim to your outburst.

With all the noise from things breaking you don’t hear someone approach and so the shock is evident when someone grabs your shoulder and turns you around. It’s Joel who rips the bat out of your grasp and throws it away.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” He quizzes angrily before pushing you against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing? You break something of mine and I break something of yours. Fair is fair, right?” you spit at him.

Then you double down.

“Although nothing you did was ever fair, you lied to me from the beginning. We talked about having babies. How fucked up for you to pretend all this way to not be a father.”

Before he can respond you jam your knee into his groin. Of course Joel goes down screaming in pain and holding onto his crotch. Serves him right.

You grab the bat and continue trashing his office.

Joel doesn’t even try to get up. He just watches you demolish his office. You break all of the windows, one by one, with that bat of yours. Once you’re done, you turn around and head towards him. Joel is actually convinced you might kill him with how much anger is radiating off of you.

“Baby, please let’s just talk ‘bout it, just give me a chance to explain?” he pleads with you.

You whisper, “Listen, you dumb motherfucker, you will never ever see me again. And if you don’t stay the fuck away I’m gonna ruin your fucking life.” You lean in further and almost yell at him, “You hear me? I’m gonna end you, Joel Miller. sincerely hope your wife and daughter figure out what piece of shit you are. I hope that they both will despise your guts for ruining all our lives with your selfishness and I hope you’ll be miserable until you’re dead.”

Afterwards you get up and walk away, leaving him there on the ground wallowing in self-pity.

A couple weeks later he goes to your house expecting you to be there, but the property is abandoned and surrounded by mesh wire.

He realizes that you really were serious.

——————————————————————————

(10 years later)

Joel wanders past your residence for the first time since the world ended. Since his wife and daughter died back on the night of the outbreak. He stares at your house wondering if you really cursed him and the rest of the population with those last words you spat at him. He wonders if you’re still alive wandering just like him, content with yourself because your wish came true and he lost everything.

©️ evolnoomym 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Npt: @stellamarielu @toxicanonymity @littlemisspascal @lilac-boo @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @inept-the-magnificent @axshadows

#pedro pascal #joel miller #Joel miller hole filler #joel miller x f!oc #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fandom #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #pedro pascal characters #tlou #joel tlou #almostfoxgloveangst2 #My writing #Mina’s writing

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lilspacewolfie · 4 days ago

Text

Remedy || Copia x f!oc

Content: 1.9k words, softness, mostly SFW, slightly suggestive themes and semi-naked cuddling. Note: oc is non-binary & uses she/they.

The weight of a body dipping the mattress by her hip rouses her from her dozing. Then there’s the pleasant heat of breath that smells of wine, and the brushing of soft lips pressing to her temple.

“You haven’t moved since I left this afternoon, amore. Have you been curled up here all day without me?” Copia whispers against her skin, pressing another gentle kiss to her cheek, a hand brace on the plush pillow by her head.

She hums, pained.

“My baby…” he presses another kiss. “What's wrong?”

All she can do is grumble a low, throaty hum full of irritation and pain that is not directed at him. “Headache…” she mumbles. Shifting beneath the grey cotton duvet of his bed, she stretches out lazily, curling into the fetal position again to preserve the precious warmth.

One of Copia’s bare hands fits against the back of her head, cradling the loose crimson waves. He strokes long fingers down her nape, following the slope of her naked shoulder. His hands are large and soft, pleasantly balmy from being tucked into his leather gloves all day. It’s almost enough to put her back into her stasis.

“That’s not good,” Copia tuts a quiet, affectionate noise and says something low in Italian that she doesn’t quite catch, but it makes her feel light and floaty all the same.

Turning her head heavily against the pillow, she pries her eyes open to squint at him. The room is dimly lit, a cool breeze dancing in the curtains pulled across the windows and door to the balcony that keeps out the full glare of the sun. The ruby jewels pinned to his fine black suit gleam in the slivers of light, and he’s still got the paint around his eyes, too, though the line of his upper lip is smudged. She knows exactly where the evidence is stamped. He is distressingly attractive in his suit, and she curses the bane of this day-long migraine for sapping the energy she wishes she desire to meet him with.

Copia strokes up her neck again, cupping her cheek as he runs his thumb around the shell of her ear, seeming to sense her irritation. “Il mio povero bambino,” He pouts, the expression depressing the lines across his handsome face.

Huffing, she slides a hand out from where it’s tucked beneath her chin, reaching up to touch his cheek. Heat ripples through her when he leans in to meet her halfway. Sometimes she forgets how lucky she is, and other times, he reminds her in the simplest ways. She gravitates to him like a magnet, the pull too good to ignore, and when he looks as devilishly handsome as he does now, it’s even more difficult to focus. She is the moon orbiting the sun.

“Il vaso della Morte, distrutto da un mal di testa,” he teases, kissing the sole of her palm, leaving another black stamp.

“Ugh… shut up,” she groans, dropping her hand, cheeks flushing as she buries her face against the pillows that smell like his smoky conditioner. “‘M still human…”

Copia laughs, a low husky sound that vibrates in his chest, and oh, how she loves that sound. He leans down and crowds close to her again, peppering kisses along her bare shoulder and cheek, purposely pressing his weight atop her as he noses at her collarbone. He’s warm, so damn pleasing and pliant and Satanas she’s missed him today. She manages to wriggle her arms out from beneath him, the silk slip of his shirt sliding along naked flesh, and she hums, pulling him close so she can bury in the side of his throat where he smells of mandarin and lavender.

“Has my love eaten today?” Copia asks, kissing the spot beneath her ear.

She shakes her head lazily, cringing when she feels the face he makes against her shoulder. “I haven’t had the energy… bad, I know…”

“Painkillers?”

“Hmm, not since this morning after you left.”

Copia tuts again, playfully, shaking his head. He kisses her one last time before reluctantly sliding from her arms, off the bed, and she watches him exit the room.

The muffled sounds of pots and utensils being used echo down the hall moments later, followed by the smell of something cooking. Nuzzling further into the bed, her heart twirls in her chest, skipping like a baby child. It’s not the first time she’s been in this situation, nor the first time that Copia has cooked for her even after a long day. But it is always appreciated when she can’t see much of what’s immediately in front of her. He’s too good for her, far too good.

About fifteen minutes later, Copia returns, now lacking his jacket that is slung over his elbow, and he’s got the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up, giving her a pleasing view. She can’t help when her eyes linger on his freckled forearms, admiring the dusting of hair that catches in the backlight when he sets a glass of water and two white tablets on the bedside before draping his jacket on the small chair by the bed.

Heaving herself up, the duvet falls from her naked chest as she stretches. Pressing her palms against the back of her neck and scratching gently with dark nails, as if doing so might rid her of the niggling annoyance that’s burning throughout her skull. She rolls her neck, trying to knead out the ache with little success and reaches for the tablets and water. Popping the pills into her mouth, she sips at the water.

Copia looks at her, mismatched eyes trailing over pale skin. She doesn’t miss the hint of a smile and inclines toward him as he curls a finger beneath her chin.

“Swallow,” he tells her.

She does, holding his intense gaze through her half-lids, smiling lazily. The water cools her parched throat, and she hums, her eyes slipping closed when Copia leans down and kisses her forehead.

“Someone’s in a certain mood,” she hums with a soft intensity.

Copia scoffs lightly, leaving her unable to ignore the smug grin on his face. “My moods can wait,” he soothes before he leaves again.

He vanishes for but a moment, returning with a bowl of something on a small bronze tray.

“Pastina?” She asks, perking up despite the rolling nausea that isn’t only caused by the headache. What an idiot for not eating.

“There is no better cure,” he offers the tray and sets it in her lap. “It’s exactly what my baby needs, sì?”

The broth is warm, and the sprinkling of parmesan adds a pleasing nuttiness when she takes a bite and sips on the broth. After a few mouthfuls of the tiny stelline, the nausea is far less intense, and she feels considerably more alive unsurprisingly. She can feel the energy returning slowly and sluggishly, chasing off the roiling sickness.

“Thank you, darling. How was the meeting?” She asks when Copia sits comfortably beside her, leaning down to unbuckle his Italian leather shoes.

She watches the crease deepen between his brows, and he shakes his head.

“It was, uh, fine… I guess.”

“Did you speak to him?” She asks despite already knowing the answer.

Copia shakes his head, and she sighs, not out of irritation, but there is a tiny hint of disappointment that makes itself known.

“You can’t avoid him forever, darling,” she tells him gently, swallowing another mouthful.

Copia makes a noise of annoyance, something deeply like a growl. “But he’s…”

“What? Your brother? The one who needs your guidance the most right now?”

Waving a hand dismissively, Copia fiddles with his shirt sleeve, rolling and unrolling it again, then starts on the buttons at his throat.

When he doesn’t answer, instead rising from the bed to remove his shirt, she huffs. It’s hard to stay even a little irked when she gets a wonderful view of his broad back. She remembers when he was a cardinal, how his frame was similar and equally as pleasing then as he is now, all filled out, freckled and soft around the hips and tummy.

“Darling, I’m serious…”

Copia remains silent and brooding until she’s finished and the tray is back on the bedside table.

“I don’t want to have this conversation right now,” Copia mutters in annoyance, sitting back on the bed, looking at her with soulful eyes. “Not when you’re not feeling—“

“I’m fine. I promise,” she wraps an arm up around his neck, scratching her nails lightly against his nape. “I don’t like bringing it up, but you know you need to speak with him sooner or later.”

Dropping his mouth to the inside of her elbow, Copia kisses the delicate skin and nods solemnly.

“Thank you for this, I needed it,” she says. “And if it’s any consolation, I think it was a valid tantrum if I’ve ever seen one.”

The small scowl on Copia’s features deepens, and he looks at her, eyes darkening just a touch. “You think I’m throwing a tantrum?”

She shakes her head, touching his cheek and stroking her thumb across the high points, eyes scanning his features. He looks so tired, so defeated, annoyed and tender, yet she can’t blame him for any of it.

“Well, I’d be insufferable about it too,” she admits. “I mean, the only thing that's insufferable right now is my headache.”

“And my love for you?” Copia leans in, leading her arms to curve over his shoulders, speaking with that smarmy, sappy tone that makes her belly coil with desire.

Threading her fingers through his silky hair, she claws lightly along his scalp, enjoying the way he shivers and his eyes flutter.

She rolls her eyes and lets her head fall limp dramatically in his cradling hands. “Yes, it’s a tragedy in itself, really.”

Copia slides his bare hands up the curve of her back, gathering her close. “Is my piccolo lupo feeling affectionate today?”

She nuzzles deeper into his naked sternum, practically smushing into his skin and willing herself inside the space of his ribs. The sensation of being skin to skin always makes her tingle and press closer when it isn’t a source of overstimulation. There is something so vulnerable about being laid bare, but Copia has never judged or pushed, only doted and praised. Now she seeks it, wants to be close and smothered by his affections as if that could cure the ache of this damned migraine.

He’s plush, like one of those stuffed teddies with the softest of fur, and the dusting of dark hair over his chest and belly tickles her cheek as she breathes him in deeply, content to stay right here and listen to the sound of his breathing.

“Join me for a bath, amore? We can talk more later, hm?”

“Uh, maybe not a bath,” she spreads her fingers through the hair on his sternum, tracing the patterns of the tattoo over his heart. “Might make my headache worse.”

“Ah, sì,” he drops an apologetic kiss to the crown of her head as he lapses into thought. Eventually, he offers, “A shower, then?”

“Yeah, but… just give me another moment to enjoy this,” she turns her face into his skin, wrapping tighter around him like a snake.

Copia laughs, the sound warm and breathy and lets himself fall back against the lush bedding and closes his eyes, stroking a hand up and down the line of her spine.

“Maybe we should invite him for dinner?”

Copia snorts, but he doesn’t immediately shoot the idea down like she worries. Instead, he nods, content to lie there for a while, basking in the glow of shared body heat.

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

#wrote this when I was suffering from my usual stint of headaches so I made my oc suffer asdfgh #ghost #the band ghost #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #frater imperator #papa emeritus iv x oc #cardinal copia x oc #frater imperator x oc #copia x oc #oc mercy #oc red

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madridnoora · 2 months ago

Text

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Forbidden - Homecoming

Fifth instalment of the forbidden au - lsu!joe x oc

Instalments - one, two, three , three.two and four ౨ৎ

a/n: thanks for all the love on this au! I'm going to be writing some shorter blurbs about Joe and Daisy, so if you guys have any requests or asks feel free to inbox me :)

Summary: Joe accidentally breaks rule number two, and people on campus begin to question his and Daisy's relationship which leaves Daisy feeling angry and embarrassed. The LSU Homecoming football game against Florida creates more than one surprise for Joe.

⋆｡˚ word count: 13.0k

18+ Content. MDNI :). Mentions of drinking, smoking and sex. ⋆｡˚

Pale laptop light illuminated the dark room as Daisy sat at her cluttered desk typing away on a political science paper. A clicking sound meshing with the subtle heartbreak playlist that was playing from her phone. It was Wednesday night. Three days since she got back from Austin and she had spent it hiding away in her dorm room.

Cardigan by Taylor Swift came on shuffle. Daisy sat back in her chair, taking a break from the words she furiously typed on the painfully bright white screen. Since seeing Lucas, she felt almost heartbroken again. It was like seeing him had confirmed that they were done, that the last six months of her life were real and that she had in fact lost the one person she had ever loved.

When you are young they assume you know nothing.

It was to describe the complicated feelings that twisted at the organs inside her torso. She felt over Lucas but that in itself was enough to make her feel a cutting sorrow. One that banged at her chest with a deep pulsing pain. Seeing him on that field was like saying goodbye to her teenage self. It was like shutting the chest and locking it with a key, then throwing it in the ocean never to be opened again. That part of her and her life that she once loved now only existed in memories. She was mourning it.

Drunk under a streetlight, I knew you

Hand under my sweatshirt, baby, kiss it better

The memories weren't all bad. Lucas and Daisy had a complex relationship, one which took place over some of the most important years of growing up. They were just kids. Kids who were learning how to love, learning how to make mistakes and correct them. In the end, the bad outweighed the good, but that didn't mean the good never existed.

Daisy thought about the times they would dance around in the street after sneaking out to be together. The times they shared when no one was looking and it was only them. Sweet delicate kisses that always felt like the first. The fast beating heart that came with doing things for the first time. She lost her virginity to him. She reminicised on the innocence they had shared with each other, the way Lucas' hand was lightly shaking as he felt under her sweatshirt for the first time. A small smile found itself drawn upon her dry lips.

With a good memory, came a bad one. A way of her brain protecting herself from getting too carried away in romantic thoughts.

Chase two girls, lose the one.

Daisy had always heard rumours about Lucas with other girls. Mostly when they were fifteen. She could excuse that. They were both young and stupid, each of them doing childish things which they regretted. Once they matured, she never heard a single other rumour. Until he went to college. Then they came back. Rumours of him hooking up with girls at frat parties or with the Longhorns cheerleaders. She heard them from mutual friends from high school, people who went to the same college as Lucas. When she would bring it up, he would shut her down defensively. He would shout and scream about her lack of trust, and how she was letting jealous people tear them apart. A small part of her always knew that the rumours were true, but her heart wouldn't let her believe it fully. Her heart wanted to believe her first love. Her heart told her he could never treat her the way people were saying he did. So she stayed. She stayed for way too long. She would have stayed even longer if he never ended things. Maybe breaking up with her was the most loving thing Lucas had ever done.

To kiss in cars and downtown bars, was all we needed.

You drew stars around my scars, now i'm bleeding.

Every thing was so much simpler before they went off to separate colleges. All they needed was each other and no one else in the world mattered. He would make her feel special when no one else could, he would nurture her when she was sick, he would attend every cheer or dance competition he could. She would spend vacations with his family, she would be at every football game, every practice. They would have done anything for each other.

A wet droplet rolled down her warm cheeks. Tears bubbled in her eyes, now threatening to spill uncontrollably.

I knew you's haunt all of my what-ifs

The smell of smoke would hang around this long.

She thought about how things would have been if she never came to LSU more than she should have. She got into University of Texas, and it's statistically a better school but it didn't feel right in her gut. Her dad was an LSU graduate and her grandpa. Something in her stomach pulled her to LSU, like it was a magnet and she was metal. Lucas was the most angry she had ever seen him, he didn't speak to her for four days after she told him. He punished her with the cruel silence.

Maybe the whole thing was her fault. Had she have gone to Texas, Lucas wouldn't have been cheating, he wouldn't have got annoyed at her so much, the distance wouldn't have been an issue and they could have been happy. She ruined it.

The what-ifs would haunt her for the rest of her life.

What-if she stayed. Would it be different? or was breaking up always the fate that was written for them.

Tears poured from her eyes as she let herself feel the emotion. She needed this, she needed to let it all out. One last cry at the funeral of her old self.

I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired.

and I knew you'd come back to me, you'd come back to me.

Her last thoughts remained on what happened on the field. When the final whistle blew and Joe led LSU to a convincing defeat over Lucas and the Longhorns.

Joe didn't tell her what Lucas had really said. But Justin told Bella.

Bella told Daisy on the flight back.

'and Lucas was all like 'keep your fucking hands off my girlfriend' Bella told her the full explicit details with a lighthearted laugh. Daisy didn't find it funny. It was worse than she expected.

girlfriend.

She hadn't been that in a long time, yet he still claimed her like a possession. Even after it all, his hands lingered over her shoulders holding onto her like a lantern he couldn't let drift into the night sky. He held her down while every one else around her was able to float and fly. Chained her to his grasp.

Did he really miss her or did he miss being in control of her?

Her heart wanted to believe he missed her, but her head now outweighed those feelings. He just wanted control over her. He came back but only for the benefit of his own ego.

She should have known he would.

Lucas was no longer the boy she fell in love with and she was no longer the girl that loved him. They were dead, existing only in past lives.

Daisy took the sleeve of her jumper and wiped away her tears.

She needed this. One last big cry.

Then she broke the chain. The one which had been keeping her tied down and tied to him.

She was free to float.

and their story ended.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Daisy and Bella sat on the grass of campus, soaking up the midday sun. Bags of lays chips, bottles of diet coke and fruit were spread around them as they enjoyed a picnic in their long lunch break. Neither of them having anymore classes for the day.

Daisy had been telling Bella of the new found closure she had experienced last night, how she had woken up feeling like a woman who was ready to take on the world. Bella told Daisy all about the double date she and Cassie went on the night before. It went pretty bad from Daisy's understanding. The guys were not anything like the pictures and also had absolutely no personality. Cassie and Bella had to beg the kitchen staff to let them leave through the back entrance just so they could get away.

'you should go on a date' Bella said nonchalantly and Daisy almost spat out her diet coke. She shook her head profusely. Daisy didn't date, she didn't go on dates, especially with people she had never met before. The whole idea of it made her skin crawl.

'come on, you're single! why not.' Bella tried to convince her.

'nope' Daisy was firm.

'I'm gonna set you up. I just need to find the right guy' Bella ignored Daisy's plea's and begs. Bella was going to set Daisy up with someone, she just had to take a week or two to figure out the right guy. Conduct thorough research and come up with a hypothesis on a man that would be perfect for Daisy.

Daisy went back to her lays chips and crunched them with annoyance until a shadowed figure blocked out the sun.

Both the girls turned to see who it was.

'heeyyyyyy!!'

It was Jada. Daisy breathed a sigh of relief.

'oh my god, hi!' Daisy stood up and greeted her with a warm embrace.

Jada was the captain of the LSU cheerleading team and a good friend from freshman year, one Daisy had been neglecting since the whole quitting cheer and football world.

'I haven't seen you in so long, you look so cute' Daisy held on to Jada's shoulder she looked her up and down. Jada was beautiful, like stupidly beautiful. Her skin so smooth it looked fake, her body built in the most insane way, her hair so curly and volumous, never once had she seen a hair out of place. She was always picture perfect.

'you too! i've missed you so much daisy dukes.' Jada's nose crinkled up as she sounded out the sweet nickname Daisy hated but could never shake. Everyone called her it, except from Cassie, Bella, Justin, Ja'marr and Joe. Most people from high school and back home just called her dukes. She had it coming the summer in tenth grade when she decided to wear nothing other that tiny denim shorts.

'sit. sit' Daisy said pointing the grass.

'okay, just for ten minutes. I have to get ready for practice'

The three girls sat once again on the pale dry grass. Small talk coming from each of them, all catching up about what they had been doing over summer and how the beginning of sophomore and senior year for Jada had been going. Then Jada says something that causes Daisy to stumble and spiral over words and thoughts.

'weird question, are you and joe burrow like hanging out?'

'NO' The word comes out of Daisy's mouth way to quick and way to strongly. Bella side eyes her with a furrowed brow of both concern and confusion. She hadn't forgot about the way Joe reacted to seeing Daisy and Ja'marr dancing in the bar and now this. Something was going on and Daisy wasn't telling her.

'I mean, uh' Daisy clears the nervous lump in her throat. 'We like spoke at a party a few weeks back'

Jada nods her head.

'Why'd you ask?' Daisy quizzes.

'Oh nothing. He like messaged three of the girls from cheer asking if they knew who you were and what your last name was' Jada said as she swatted a hand through the air like it was a nothing statement.

But it wasn't.

Daisy's heart dropped to her stomach. God, how fucking embarrassing. Her old teammates getting spammed by Joe because he wanted to know her last name. Could he be anymore obvious? Now she knew how he really had found her instagram, she had just assumed he had asked Justin like a normal person would. He was such an idiot. Vexation crawled through her veins.

Bella watches Daisy's reaction and what's happening is clear. She would wait until Jada left to bring it up.

'One other thing' Daisy looked to Jada.

Jada's got a nervous smile on her face and it makes Daisy start to feel queazy.

'Erm. I need you.' huh. Jada scratches her back briefly.

'It's the homecoming game next week and all my flyers are either injured or away on a class trip out of state. You're my only option.'

Not a chance. Daisy's face drops in almost horror as she realises what Jada is asking from her. She wants her to step in and cheer at the game next week. Daisy shakes her head quickly and lifts up a finger wagging it in the air.

'No, no. absolutely not'

'Daisy please' Jada gives her best puppy dogs and prayer hands begging her to consider it. 'you were like the best flyer we had. Please. I'll forever be in your debt'

Daisy can't even bring herself to consider it. There was no way she was ever stepping back on a football field to cheer again.

'Nope. I'm sorry Jada, but I can't. Hold some auditions and I'm sure you will find someone good enough' Daisy looks at her friend with sympathy. She felt bad. Homecoming night was the biggest night of the season for them. All the old alumni come to watch but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't want to do it. It was too soon.

'Okay, well it was worth a shot' Jada packs up her things and stands up. The ten minute conversation now over. 'It was nice seeing you Daisy dukes, and you bells'

Daisy and Bella wave goodbye to her.

Bella glares at Daisy.

Daisy's eyes dart around trying avoid the death glare. She felt like a dog that had been found guilty.

'Sleeping with burrow' Bella kisses her teeth and shakes her head. Daisy's cheek flush a crimson red.

'Wow. It's sick truly. Sex with the number one quarterback and head frat boy' Bella continues torturing Daisy.

Daisy brings both her hands over her face and groans a loud groan. Bella is loving watching her squirm.

'God. I know, I know' Daisy says still into her hands.

Bella bursts into a laugh. She pulls Daisy's hands from her face.

'Reeelax. I'm kidding. I think this is good for you. To get out and have fun, as long as it's just sex'

'just sex' Daisy confirmed with a tight lip.

'Actually speaking of him, I need to go see him now' Daisy is reminded of the little texting stunt Joe pulled. Bella nods with a shrug, letting her know she is free to go ahead.

Daisy grabbed her stuff and rushed in the direction of the frat house he lived in. Since they last slept together, Daisy had ignored three of his texts, each one asking if she was up or telling her to come round. She had been hiding herself away in her dorm room in Austin, avoiding the world around her.

But now was done hiding.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The front room of the frat house was a mess of food wrappers, beer bottles and dirty dishes. The smell was starting to sour, but they were oblivious to it.

Frat brothers sprawled across the stained brown sofa's, half of them taking rips from a bong. Joe sat on the other end next to Ja'marr and their housemate Matthew. They watched as some other brothers played Fortnite on the television screen, all while scrolling on their phones. Some of the brothers talked about the recent girls they had been hooking up with, some talked about classes and some spoke about sports. All of them in a chill state, lazily spending the day doing nothing.

The dramatic slam of the hefty dark wood front door causes them all to jump.

They hear footsteps on the wooden hallway walking towards where they're all sat.

They all look at each other with panicked eyes, none of them knowing who was coming. The boys smoking rush to hide the bong behind the sofa and frantic hands try to waft the smell away.

They hold their breaths.

Every single eye looking at the corner that opened up to the living room.

Their jaws hang ajar when they see who it is.

Daisy.

Her face is scowled. A piercing glare directed at only Joe. Her arms folded across her chest in dismay.

Every other boy in the room looks at Joe. Rule two wasn't exactly going well for the little situation Joe and Daisy had going on. Every single member of Joe's frat and football team knew he and Daisy were hooking up. Joe had to make sure they all knew she was off limits.

Joe keeps his blue eyes on her, and her only. It had been days since he last saw her and she had been ignoring his messages. But now here she was, stood in the front room of his house looking so delicious, even with the grimace look on her face. He didn't know what he had done and he didn't really care all that much. She didn't intimidate or scare him, instead he found the whole tough girl thing she had going on cute.

He checks her out with a arrogant smirk. She's wearing a cropped navy blue striped t-shirt with the neck hem cut so it sat off the shoulder. It exposes a white lace bra strap and a collarbone which looked oh so kissable. On her bottom was a familiar distressed denim miniskirt, the same one she had been wearing when they first met. Her tan legs were bare, some simple nike trainers on her feet. When Joe meets her eyes again she some how looks even more angry.

'are you fucking serious?' Joe is taken aback by her violent words. The boys in the room all hold their breaths, Ja'marr tries not to laugh by covering his mouth and looking at a blank spot on the wall.

'what' is all Joe can get out as his holds his hands up defensively.

'rule two' Daisy uncrosses her arms and places her hands on her hips.

Joe lets out a scoffed laugh and puts his hands out in a questioning manner. He had no idea what she was talking about, he hadn't told anyone he didn't need to.

The frat boys are eating up every aspect of the situation. All of them eating fake popcorn as they watch the argument unfold.

'messaging the whole of campus trying to find my instagram. I've got girls from the cheer team asking me about you, about us.' Daisy spits in exasperated breaths.

A crowd of 'ohhhhhs' and 'ahhhhhhs' sound out from the frat boys around them as Joe had just been exposed in front of them. Ja'marr no longer holds in his laugh, instead he's slapping at his knee in hysterics. Although Joe was his best friend, it was nice to see him get humbled every once in a while.

Joe sits still amongst the now chaotic room. He had asked the cheer girls if they knew her before he ever knew she was on the cheer team. He never thought his desperation to find her instagram would come back to bite him. But here it was, biting him...hard.

Joe doesn't even know how to respond, because quite frankly there is nothing he can say to make the situation better. All he can do is try to save face and dignity in front of his frat brothers and teammates. He goes coolly nonchalant and joins his friends in laughing about the situation.

'my bad, sweetcheeks' He offers her a glance and a shrug before he goes back to the egotistical grin he often wore.

'you're so insufferable sometimes' Daisy says coldly causing the room to quiet and Joe to look back at her.

She turns around and Joe thinks she's leaving, but she doesn't.

Instead, Daisy starts to walk over to and then up the grand staircase. The staircase which leads to where Joe's bedroom is. He gulps, the bottom of her ass cheeks just slightly peeking out from under her short skirt. He feels the blood begin to rush to his crotch. He frowns when he realises all the other boys are looking at her as well.

'look t'fuck away' Joe growls at them as he stands up and rushes to follow her on the stairs. The boys listen, all of them darting their eyes back to the paused Fortnite game on the television.

Joe catches up to her and guides her into his room quickly with a forceful hand on her lower back.

His bedroom door slams.

'Turn the volume up' Ja'marr says to the rest of the boys as he points to the television.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

'What the fuck are you doing?' Joe quizzes her with a demanding tone while she places her bag on the floor of his messy room. LSU training clothes lay around every where, spray canisters of deodorant scattered over his desk. An Ohio state poster hanging crooked on his wall. He navy duvet crumpled up and unmade. Pillows in every direction.

'No. What the fuck are you doing?' Daisy snaps back at him, swirling around to face his frowning face. Joe's jaw is tightening as he huffs and puffs at the little stunt Daisy just pulled. Barging into his house, embarrassing him and then walking up the stairs with her ass out. Daisy's own glare of annoyance back and stronger than ever.

Joe marches close to her and pick her up under the armpit. She yelps out a shriek of surprise. Joe throws her onto his bed, climbing on top of her. Daisy moves the strands of hair that landed on her face from the force of the landing and when she opens her eyes again she meet's Joe's indigo ones. The look she came to be familiar with in his eye.

'You'

Joe presses his lips to hers quickly. Fours days was too long to go without his fix of her. Their sex was rough and fast paced, desperation clinging to every move he made, every kiss, every thrust. Every moan and grunt that passed through each of their lips was one that had been building up in the days they hadn't seen each other. Combined with the anger and irritation in the air between them, it made the sex intense and fiery. They fucked like they hated and loved each other at the same time.

They finished quickly but some how their orgasms were stronger than ever before. The elation and exhilaration more powerful than ever before.

Joe gets up from the bed first and throws her one of the t-shirts he has laying around on the floor. Daisy, once again cleans herself up. Joe watches as she wipes his seed from bare breasts, they bounce a little bit in response. He likes the sight. He likes her bare naked in his bed wiping him off her.

Joe grabs himself some clean boxers and throws Daisy her panties. He then rummages through one of his drawers and chucks something else at her. It hits Daisy in the face, she looks at what it is, holding it up in her hands.

A spongebob t-shirt.

She pulled her hands down, uncovering her face and looking at Joe.

'you can stay tonight' Joe says casually, not really focusing on her and instead setting up the playstation in his room, his eyes scanning for the television remote.

'What if i don't want to' Daisy quipped back with attitude.

'Then get your shit and leave, I won't stop you'

Daisy's eyes widened in disbelief and her mouth hung agape in shock. Joe's words were brutal. Brutal in the sense that they made it very clear he did not care what she did. Joe didn't care whether she stayed the night or left.

Daisy huffed. Reluctantly, putting on the silly shirt he had gave her.

Joe smiled. He clambered back into bed next to her with the remote and a playstation controller.

'knew you'd stay' a cocky jab flew from his lips as he loaded up Fortnite.

That night Joe and Daisy spent a quiet evening together, Joe ordered them so takeout food and played video games while Daisy worked on her paper in bed next to him. They didn't talk much, they didn't need to, the silence was a comfortable one. They did fall asleep beside each other. In the night, they got uncontrollably closer. Joe wrapped one arm over her waist. One he removed hastily before she could wake up and notice it come morning.

The next night she stayed over again, leaving before sunrise on Saturday morning as Joe, Ja'marr and Justin had an early morning flight to Nashville, Tennessee for a game against Vanderbilt.

The departure was an awkward one. Leaving in the clothes she came in two days ago while walking past frat guys still awake from a night of partying. Ja'marr, Justin and a few other teammates stood with their bags waiting for their quarterback to come down the stairs so they could head to the airport.

'Hey texas' Justin gave her a quick hug and she shyly nodded. She assumed Justin knew, but she hadn't been a hundred percent until he had seen them together.

'Joe, we're running late' Justin says with subtle dismay.

'Yeah, I know man, I overslept' Joe's excuse fell flatly, especially since they could hear his bed creaking in an early morning rhythm and Daisy was hot with rose tinted cheeks. Joe was late because of early morning sex and they all knew it.

'I'm gonna head.' Daisy's voice was unusually shy, and slightly raspy. She avoided the eye-line of all the boys, picking at the skin around her nails.

'Have fun' she said and offered a small wave as she turned to walk out of the frat house door. Ja'marr waved back and Justin nodded. The atmosphere was uncomfortable. Justin hated it. The thing between Joe and his friend was ruining his relationship with her.

'Later' Joe didn't even look at her when she left out the door. An unfazed act.

'Just because it's meaningless, doesn't mean you can't look at her when she says bye man' Justin's words are laced with ever so slight disgust for Joe's ungentlemanly actions. Justin picked up his bags and headed out to the cars waiting to take them to the airport.

'What's his problem?' Joe asked Ja'marr.

Ja'marr shrugs and follows Justin out.

They would return from Nashville on a late flight in the evening.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Joe and the LSU football team beat Vanderbilt 66 to 38 in a dominant performance. Ja'marr was the standout player of the game, he caught six passes for 123 yards with two touchdowns. Joe had a heismann worthy performance again and threw for six touchdowns.

Daisy didn't watch the game. Just because she had closed the book on her previous relationship and attended a game this season, didn't mean she wanted to have anything to do with the football world.

She did hear about it though. It was all over social media.

She decided to send Joe a quick message. Nothing to personal or forward, just something casual, something friendly.

daisyymoore

nice game!

About an hour and a half later, she got a response.

@.Joeyb_9 sent you a message

thanks. plane just got in. meet me at my place at 11. Just walk in.

Daisy pondered the message. She had stayed at Joe's two nights in a row, if she stayed tonight it would be the third. That felt too personal, too involved, too not casual. She didn't want to find herself in a complex situation with Joe. It was meant to just be some fun, some fun that was forbidden. Joe was like her dirty little secret, and that was all.

She sent back a text saying she was busy and locked her phone.

Joe never responded.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

From Monday to Thursday of the next week nothing other than the boring usual happened. Daisy would attend class, Joe would attend training. Daisy hung out with Cass and Bella. Joe hung out with Ja'marr and Justin. Daisy would get a text from Joe, she would go round and they would hook up. One night she stayed, the other she didn't. The whole thing was becoming routine. It was beginning to become difficult to imagine the times when she wasn't having casual sex with the quarterback.

Now, it was Friday night.

Daisy, Bella and Cassie all snuggled up under a blanket with a bowl of sweet and salted popcorn watching the fourth episode of Vanderpump rules in a row. A half drank bottle of wine on the floor beside the one they already drank. They were taking mouthfuls every time Kristen Doute did something unhinged.

Being a nineteen year old girl was fun sometimes.

They're laughing at an episode when a knock on the dorm room door startled them. Daisy gets up to answer it with apprehension. No one ever knocked on the dorm room door, not unless it was with a noise complaint.

She clasped her hand around the silver door handle and pulled it open with caution.

Her brows furrowed. There was no one there, at least that's what she thought until she heard a desperate plea from beneath her.

'Please, I'm am coming to you because I have no other option, please Daisy'

Daisy's head turned sharply to the floor. Jada was on her knees doing prayer hands.

'This is the most important game of the season for me, please Daisy. As a friend if nothing else, please be a flyer.'

Daisy gaped in amazement as Jada begged and begged with wide puppy dogs eyes, ones which had panic drawn across them. She was desperate, more desperate than Daisy had ever seen anyone. On her knees humiliating herself all in the hopes of making Daisy change her mind.

'I've asked everyone and you're the only one who knows the routines.' Jada's pleading cries sound out once more. People in the dorm hallways beginning to watch on in confusion. Weird looks being given to both of them.

'I don't even train anymore' Daisy said.

'Yes you do. Coach sees you tumbling in the gym all the time' Daisy got caught out in her lie, it left her feeling bare and exposed.

She looks back to Cassie and Bella for guidance. Bella just shrugs but Cassie nods her head, telling her to do it. Maybe it's the wine she had drank or maybe it was the fact that her friend was in need of saving and she was the only one who could do it. Either way, she knows come tomorrow morning she will regret her decision.

'FINE. Fine. I'll do it, just get up of the floor' Daisy said grumpily. Jada jumped to her feet and smashed into her with a forceful, tight hug. Squealing sounds rang out from both Cassie and Jada. Cassie excited to once again see Daisy cheerleading.

'I'll ask Justin for them spare home game tickets. I have to see this' Bella said with amusement as she pulled up her phone and typed away quickly.

All of a sudden, the red wine begins to wear off and a sinking, sobering feeling manifests itself in the belly of Daisy.

What had she just agreed too?

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

It felt like a nightmare. Like it wasn't real, like it wasn't a choice she actually consciously made last night and that she would wake up at any moment.

But it was real.

She could tell it was real from the purple, yellow and white LSU cheerleading uniform that Jada had dropped off bright and early, along with gel, a comb and hairspray. It hung on the closet door and Daisy glared at it with squinted eyes. It had been almost a year since she last wore one, and she cursed herself for the fact she ever did.

Today was the stupid homecoming football game against Florida.

She felt like she was going to throw up.

Every single aspect of the day made her feel nauseous.

From having to get ready and do her hair just right, to meeting and mingling with her old teammates, some of whom she disliked, to actually having to perform on the field, to the inevitable moment Joe saw her on the sideline. Every single part of today made her feel faint, she just wanted to snap her fingers and have it be done, over with and never thought about again.

'I can do your hair, like old times' Cassie said cheerfully as she finished getting ready for the game herself, way earlier than she needed to be. Bella and her planned on joining in on the tailgate that took place before the game.

'Why did I agree to this?' Daisy groaned as she sat in the chair of her desk facing the mirror and began to do heavier makeup than she usually did.

'Because at one time, whether you believe it or not, you actually enjoyed it. Lucas doesn't have to ruin everything y'know' Cassie said as she began to slick back the top half of Daisy's silky brown hair. Her words make Daisy think about the times she was a cheerleader. It's hard to say she never enjoyed it because before college it was her most passionate hobby, but then she came to LSU and Lucas would always complain about her doing it so she ended up loathing it so much she quit.

I guess tonight she could find out whether she actually did hate it or if she had just been manipulated by an insecure ex boyfriend.

Once her hair and makeup was done, Daisy put on the tight uniform and looked in the mirror, her poms in her hand. She felt indifferent about the way she looked, she didn't love being in the uniform but she didn't hate it either.

'You look so pretty, Daisy. I'll see you at the game later, look for me in the bleachers' Cassie reassured and hugged Daisy, then Daisy left her dorm room to meet with her old teammates.

They had to get their before the game to run some routines and prepare for the fans arriving.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Gunna blared through the speakers of Joe's car as he, Justin and Ja'marr headed to the stadium for the game. He felt ready, determined and fully prepared for the homecoming game ahead. Florida was a top ranked team in SEC meaning it could be a tough night, but he knew he could lead his team to a victory. He had spent hours and hours reviewing game footage and revising the playbooks.

'You know Bella asked me for two tickets last night. Cass and her are coming' Justin dropped the bomb as she scrolled aimlessly through instagram stories. Joe wasn't shocked that Daisy wasn't coming.

'How you feel about that qb? only girl at college who doesn't care about seeing you play' Ja'marr tries to wind Joe up again, thinking that if he kept trying enough Joe would eventually crack and admit that maybe it was something more than casual. But Joe wouldn't admit something that wasn't true.

'I don't care what she does outside of my bed sheets' Joe shrugged nonchalantly, with an air of arrogance. He wasn't lying either, for the most part. He didn't care what Daisy did, where she went or where she didn't go, as long as she wasn't hooking up with teammates, his frat brothers or other football players. He wouldn't miss her tonight, in fact he might not even message her to come over. He might scout for another girl in the after party they were throwing if they won. That seemed like a good plan, he didn't want to get too involved with her. He didn't want her catching feelings for him or anything.

Joe rounded the corner to the stadium and drove into the underground parking. Ja'marr looked out the tinted window of the backseat and saw a sea of people dressed in purple and gold in the distance. The pre-game tailgate already firmly underway. Chants happen in the distance and he can see the cheerleading team amping up the fans. Shakes of poms in the air, and signs which read 'geaux tigers' being broadcasted proudly.

'I got a good feeling about tonight' Ja'marr said as Joe parked up the car and they all made their way to the locker room.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Purple figures started to fill up the bleachers of Death Valley. An hour before the coin toss was scheduled to take place. The atmosphere was charged with an electric anticipation, excitement seeming to hang in every breath.

The LSU football players ran out onto the field to a roar from the existing crowd, Florida ran onto the field with a subtle chorus of boos.

Joe runs throwing drills while Ja'marr and Justin practise routes. All of them coming together for brief moments to stretch out their muscles to avoid injury. Small talk encapsulates conversation. Until, Justin lets them know he was going to speak with Bella and Cassie briefly, just to 'make sure they found their seats'. Joe rolled his eyes as Justin ran down field. He didn't understand why Ja'marr would grill him about Daisy but left Justin alone when it came to Bella. Just because they weren't sleeping together didn't mean they weren't something more than friends.

More fans crammed into the stands of the vast stadium, a hyped music playlist rang around in the speakers. Cheerleaders were practising tumbling along the side lines, while others formed pyramids and did tosses in front of the crowd to get them pumped up for the match.

Joe and the team would always glance at the cheerleaders, they were typical young boys. Most of them members of fraternities, so when you put a bunch of girls in short skirts and tiny tops around them, they were always going to look.

Joe and Ja'marr checked them out. Eyes trailing to women up and down, most of them they recognised but some they didn't. Perhaps they were freshman who had been called up.

Ja'marr slapped Joe on the chest to get his attention. Joe's eyes lingered on a blonde cheerleader who was looking at him with a seductive smirk. He shot her a wink and watched at the blush crept up her cheeks. It could be her tonight.

Ja'marr backhanded his chest even harder. He was looking at something down field, someone standing out in a huddle.

Joe's eyes still remained on the petite platinum blonde girl. She was pretending to stretch, but really she was just giving the star quarterback a show in hopes of getting something more than his attention later.

Ja'marr whacked him once more, this time with enough force to take some of the wind out of Joe, even with all the padding on.

'WHAT MAN' Joe shouted in annoyance as his teammate breaks up the eye fucking he was doing. Ja'marr doesn't respond, his eyes just keep looking down field. Joe let out a disgruntled huff and let his eyes look to the sight that had his best friend so hypnotised.

'holy shit'

'gah damn' Ja'marr lets slip before rushing a hushed sorry.

There, stood in a huddle of other cheerleaders was Daisy and it was like everything was moving in slow motion. Like the world around Joe had paused and she was the only thing playing. The noise of the stadium was now only a dull ringing in his ear, the blonde on the sideline forgotten about in seconds.

Her hair is half up, slicked back and pinned behind with a small purple bow. The rest of it was cascading down her back in perfect curls. The light breeze of the warm Louisiana evening made strands float in the air around her. She brought a delicate hand to her face and swiped away a stray hair. A strange feeling pinches at Joe's stomach.

Olive skin glows under the warm floodlights as she talks with some boys dressed in the LSU mens cheer clothes. She laughing at something they're saying, nodding her head long with them and whatever they were saying. A pom filled hand rests on one of the guys' biceps. A different feeling rattles against Joe's ribcage.

Joe looks at what she's wearing. It's the same as everyone else on the cheer team but somehow she's wearing it differently. The tight purple skirt, which has a gold outline on the hem, clings to her body in different way, it stops on her thighs just below the end of her ass cheeks. It's tightness makes her ass look bigger than it ever had before. Joe swallowed. His eyes rake over her flat and toned torso, one that he knew all too well. Then they stopped on her chest. She was wearing a cropped purple top with a matching gold trim, one which has LSU written across in bold golden yellow lettering. Small diamonds dotted across the words. Once again, it clings to her chest snuggly, her small breasts more pronounced that they ever usually were.

Every moment is in slow motion. Thirty seconds plays like thirty minutes in Joe's mind. Never did he think he would see her here, in Death Valley, let alone dressed like that.

'Gator's incoming' Ja'marr says but Joe doesn't register it, all he can think about is how good she looked in purple.

Joe's jaw stiffens when he understands what Ja'marr meant. There were a few Florida players on their way into to tunnel and heading back to the away locker room. They should have just kept going but they didn't. One of them, a nobody, reaches out a hand and taps on Daisy's bare arm capturing her attention. Joe watches as they engage in a conversation, she's smiling at the nobody, exchanging words that were killing Joe. What did he want? What were they talking about? Why did he touch her? The conversation is over quickly, Daisy waving quickly as a goodbye to the swamp donkey as he runs off into the tunnel. The feeling is no longer just a pinch, it grasps at Joe's insides and twists them viciously. He raggedly breathed through clenched teeth.

Ja'marr looked at him.

'Don't say a word' Joe shot at him, his words stabbing sharply. They head off down into the tunnel themselves. The game would be starting in forty minutes.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Daisy was talking with some of her friends on the team, discussing what had just happened. One of the gator players, who went to high school with her, had come up and said a simple 'hello'. The guy was in the grade beneath her and was on the football team with Lucas. Daisy had also happened to have been friends with his long term girlfriend all throughout high school. They just exchanged some small talk about how small the world truly was, how his girlfriend was and how college was going for each of them. The gator wasn't a starting player this season but he hoped he could be next year.

Her talking get's interrupted.

'you're looking nice tonight miss daisy!' a flirtatious chirp came from behind her.

She turned over her shoulder. Ja'marr's cheeky grin plastered across his face. She didn't think they had seen her, she thought there was a slim chance that maybe, just maybe, they would be so distracted by the game that they would have never known she was on the sidelines but alas, she was wrong.

Joe's in front of him, walking with his head down, one hand gripping his helmet by his side and the other gripping over the padding of his chest. Daisy looks as him after offering Ja'marr a sarcastic smile back.

Joe doesn't look at her, he only glances. He tilts his head up to where she's standing, their eyes meet for only a split second. His face was hard, locked in tense emotion and his eyes are cutting her sharply with a glare she had never seen from him. He continues walking into the tunnel, not saying a word. Ja'marr runs behind, following him. They left behind a confused Daisy, and some even more confused cheer teammates.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The marching band vibrantly sounded out LSU's signature pre - game song while Daisy and her team performed a routine to the crowd. She could see Cassie and Bella violently waving at her with both arms, trying to get her attention. She can't help but start laughing at them.

Once the routine was over, the marching band had performed and the national anthem had been sang, it was time for the cheerleaders to line the tunnel exit where the football players would be running out from. She stood beside Jada and shook her gold and purple poms in sync with the rest of her team. Nerves clawed at her beating chest. Joe's glare had left her feeling anxious. He had never looked at her like that before, a look which held so much annoyance and disgust.

The trumpets sound, and the smoke begins to pour. The beating of cleats on the pavement turns to crunches on the grass as the players come barrelling out. They're hooting and hollering adrenaline filled fighting words. Daisy can't help but look for his number and his name on the jersey, but she doesn't spot him.

That's when she sees him emerge from the corner of her eye. Not running, or bouncing out the hallway, walking slowly out the mist of smoke. Helmet off, hanging by his side in his hand. Head held up high. An aura of self-confidence and courage swirling around. Daisy's eyes slightly widen, she had never seen this side of him, especially not this close up. The cocky and arrogant frat bro persona was no longer there, and a poised leader stood in his place. It was attractive.

Joe keeps walking but stops in front of where Daisy is stood, only for a brief moment. So brief, that many people wouldn't have even noticed it but Daisy did. Joe's eyes trailed up her body, up her purple uniform before he met her eyes and shot her a look. It was a look she couldn't make out due to how quick it came and went. A fleeting glance with unwritten words that she couldn't read.

Then Joe ran. He ran onto the field placing his helmet on his head and clapping his hands to rally his team. The coin was tossed and the game kicked off.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The purple filled stands were noisy all throughout the game. The first two quarters were tough, Florida's gators convincingly going toe to toe with LSU's tigers. When the second half came, that changed. Once again, Joe Burrow gave a heismann worthy performance, the stand out moment being when he threw a 53 yard touchdown to the hands of Ja'marr Chase.

Joe remembers when he did it, when he let the ball go from the cannon known as his right arm. It spiralled through the air with force and might. An instant touchdown. The student crowd roaring in happiness, screams leaving their mouths in celebratory glee. His team celebrated down field but he was looking at only one thing; the jumbotron.

Daisy's smiley face flashed upon it.

Daisy had been on it a lot, cheering and pushing a fake cheesy smile. One which made the apples of her cheeks bunch up and her eyes gleam. To Joe, it felt like every time LSU did something it would cut to her. The camera lingering on her for longer than it should have, getting her from every angle it could. Every dance move or cheer, captured in high definition and broadcasted across the nation. Joe knew this happened, cheerleaders going on camera when LSU score points. It happened in every tier of football but tonight it felt more than ever.

Sometimes Daisy would wave to the camera, portraying a sweet and innocent all american girl act but Joe knew she wasn't innocent. Not when she was between his bed sheets arching for him, screaming out moans of euphoric pleasure.

'Why is the cameraman so close' Joe had groaned to Ja'marr after he spotted her on it again. His pale blue eyes darting to see the cameraman in person. It was just some scrawny student media personnel, one with brown thick rimmed glasses and charcoal coloured greasy hair. He was considering going and pushing him away from her, asking what his deal was, but he knew his deal. Clearly, the camera man liked the look of Daisy more than he liked the look of the other cheerleaders.

Joe kissed his teeth.

Cameramen, Football players, Nerds, Male cheerleaders.

Was there anyone Daisy didn't infatuate?

It pissed him off. Joe didn't like the idea of sharing her with others, not because he liked her but because he didn't like the idea of losing. If Daisy went and hooked up with some nerd from her class that meant that he was better than Joe, that's how his mind worked. Never in his whole life had he had a girl not begging to be with him. Daisy made him feel on edge, like their was always a chance he would just be her second choice. Joe wasn't second to anyone or anything.

But he had no right to stop her from meeting other people, just like she had no right to stop him. It was just sex, meaningless and casual.

The game ended LSU 42 - Florida 28.

That meant a party, one that Joe wasn't really in the mood to attend, but he had no choice. It was in his house after all.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Multicoloured strobe lights flashed across the walls of the busy frat house. Heavy rap music boomed from the speakers with a shaking bass, beer pong was set up in the crowded dining room. Beer kegs littered across the deep wood floors. Drunk boys and girls lined every corner of the house. Weed stunk out the place, and vape clouds acted as make shift smoke machines. The kitchen table was crammed with various bottles of liquor, each other them half drunk as the celebration reached it's peak.

Joe was sprawled out on the couch, the petite blonde cheerleader from the field was sat on his knee. Her arm loosely laying around his neck and across his shoulders. Her name was Abby. Every few seconds, Abby would flick the poorly done extensions over her shoulder while she whispered sweet nothing's in Joe's ear, but Joe wasn't listening to or looking at her.

Daisy was standing on the edge of the dance floor, speaking with a guy. He had come up to her around forty minutes after she arrived and they hit it off. His name was Daniel. He was member of a different fraternity down the row of houses, but he studied animal sciences. Kind of a juxtaposition. He was sweet, different from most of the other frat guys she had met. She wasn't that attracted to him or anything but they were getting along really well, both of them sharing the same sense of humour. It was nice, pleasant to just be able to speak and get to someone new.

Joe's eyes narrowed on the interaction taking place. He'd been watching it since the guy first approached her. When he saw it first happen, he turned to his housemate and asked if he knew who the guy was.

'Daniel Kingston, plays lacrosse and lives a few frats down'

Joe grimaced and clicked his teeth in the sound of his disapproval. He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed another drink. As he did, he tried to catch Daisy's eye line, but it didn't work. She was too focussed on her conversation with Daniel. Her cheeks flushing as she let out a laugh.

Fine. Joe thought.

and that's when he set off into the crowd to find a play mate of his own. He saw the girl from the field and knew she would be an easy girl to please. A couple flirty exchanges and dark glances later they made it to the couch where they are now, but Joe can't seem to shake the gaze he has set on Daisy.

Dark eyes filled with irritation dance over her body. Joe looks at what she's wearing, no longer was she in the purple cheerleading uniform from earlier. She was in a small black pleated mini skirt, with a simple white cropped t-shirt. Some platform low top Dr.Martins on her feet, white socks poking out up to her ankles lined with a lace frill. He can feel the fabric around his crotch begin to tighten. He distracts himself by looking away quickly and taking another drink of his beer.

Daisy felt holes burning in the side of her body, she felt the lingering eyes of someone across the room. She took a break from her conversation with Daniel and turned her head to the direction they were coming from. She wasn't met with eyes. Instead, for the first time that evening, she saw Joe. He was laid back on the couch, taking a sip of beer and Daisy's old cheer teammate Abby was sat on his lap. Her head resting in the crook of Joe's shoulder, her hand stroking his arm. Her eyes for a brief moment widened in shock, not expecting to see the sight before her. She bit her lip, to hide any emotion from showing on her face.

Daisy couldn't tell how she felt. Joe wasn't doing anything wrong but it felt weird to see him with another girl. Daisy gulped and brought her own red solo cup to her lips, relief in the form of strong sweet liquor. A light burning sensation cascaded down her chest.

She glanced back at Joe. His hand was now rubbing on the thigh of Abby in a way that looked almost comforting, something more than just typical hook up behaviour. She drank another gulp, this time it was bigger than her last. Her green eyes still remained static on the couch.

Joe let himself look back to Daisy, only this time she was looking back. A light frown or a mild scowl was decorating her face. Daniel was still talking to her but it was clear she was no longer listening. Joe felt the smug smile creep back onto his face, his actions with Abby had effected her. Made her notice him and he liked it. He shot her over a wink. One which was cheeky, slightly cruel. He continued stoking the thigh of Abby and brushed some hair from her neck, planting a small peck. He did it just so Daisy would see. When he looked back to see her reaction, a momentary panic set it.

Daisy was no longer stood at the corner of the dance floor and neither was Daniel.

Joe shot up off the couch, ignoring Abby's whining voice asking him what he was doing or where he was going. She called for him to come back but Joe only one thing on his mind -- finding Daisy.

The room was dark, the strobe lights making faces only appear in brief flashes. Hands sway in the air as like a G6 by Far East Movement plays out the speakers. A frat party classic that had already been played multiple times. Slurred drunken voices shout out the lyrics as Joe tries to push his way around the crowd, looking in every direction for a five foot three brunette. His frustration growing and growing with every drunk person that gets in his way, at one point he gives someone a hard shove.

when sober girls around me they be actin' like they drunk

when sober girls around me they be actin'-actin' like they drunk

Every lyric that sounded out of the overplayed song only irritated Joe more. He couldn't see her, not over the stupid flashing lights and clouds of fruity vape smoke.

'Move, move out the fuckin' way' shouting as he pushed people.

He ran a stressed hand through his blonde hair, a sheen of sweat sticking across his tanned skin. The overfilled room creating an unbearably humid heat.

'yo man, y'good?' A hand grabs his bicep, he shrugs it off quickly before looking at the culprit. It's Ja'marr, a deep ruby red haired girl is clinging his his arm drunkenly. Lipstick smudged on her face and around Ja'marr's lips. Usually, Joe would have taken the moment to give Ja'marr a pat on the back, a silent well done for his hookup but he was in too much of a hurry.

poppin' bottles in the ice, like a blizzard.

when we drink we do it right gettin' slizzard.

'You seen Daisy?' Joe shouts over the loud music. Ja'marr shakes his head with a light shrug of his shoulders and a small downward turn of the mouth.

'Daisy Moore?' The red head shouted at Joe over Ja'marr.

Joe nodded quickly, not questioning how the red head knew her name.

'She's over there, near the kitchen' The red head pointed in a direction which Joe didn't hesitate to follow, once more working his way through the warm and sweaty crowd of intoxicated students. Thankfully, at six'four Joe was able to see over most of the crowd. His icy eyes scanning no longer in frustration but anger, an anger which intensified when he finally spotted her in the sea of people.

it's that 808 bump, make you put your hands up

make you put yo hands up, put yo, put yo hands up.

Daisy is hanging from the neck of Daniel. Close. Way too fucking close. Daniel's hands are on the small of her lower back, maybe even the top of her ass. It's too dark for Joe to make it out clearly. What he can see, is that their foreheads are almost touching and they're looking at each other as they bounce along and sing to the song.

Daisy pulls her arms from off the boys neck, putting them in the air while she presses her body against his. Slowing rolling her hips up and down. Joe watches as Daniel moves a hand from her ass and instead moves a stray hair from her face, looking longingly into her gleaming eyes. Joe knows what going to happen next, and he won't let it.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The bright lights of the frat house startled party goers. The once booming music, now cut off at the source. Groans of displeasure and disorientation bounce around the house.

Some frat guy in a backwards cap and a Ralph Lauren three quarter zip stands at the top of the stairs with a bright orange megaphone.

'IF YOU'RE NOT A BROTHER OR WITH A BROTHER, GET THE FUCK OUT'

The party was over.

People rushed around, grabbing their alcohol and belongings from all over.

Daniel grabbed Daisy's hand and led her toward the large double doors at the front of the house. She followed coyly behind him. People stumbled past them, every one pushing their way out the doors as the frat brother on the mega phone told them to hurry up. Daisy kept her head down and looked at her feet, making sure she wouldn't stumble over herself while walking out.

When she stepped outside, the cool air hit her like a refreshing cold drink on a summer afternoon. Clean air filling up her second hand smoke filled lungs. She goes to take another step, still clinging onto Daniel's hand but the feeling of another hand on her forearm hits her like an electric shock.

Joe waited outside by the door to grab her. He saw her walking out behind Daniel as he gave her a hand to cling onto. How kind of him, Joe's sarcastic thoughts only served to piss him off more. He quickly grabbed onto her forearm and pulled her back in to the house.

It all happened so fast. Daisy was disorientated, not understanding what was going on. One minute she was following a new friend out of the frat house, the next she was back inside it by the tug from an unknown hand.

'Bro, she's min-' she heard Daniel's voice argue at the doorway.

'Stop fuckin' talkin.' She recognises Joe's voice and raises her head abruptly. She watches as he shoves Daniel out of the front door with such fierce force that he falls over. Then he slams it shut, a startlingly loud thud echoing in the empty house. Everyone else had left already.

Drunk frat brothers and their girls wobbled to different bedrooms rooms.

'Go to my room' Joe's not looking at her. His toned back, covered by the grey cloth of his t-shirt, still facing her. His tone was harsh, and commanding. His voice low and brooding.

'No' Daisy quietly chirps back, Joe's demeanour was intimidating. So intimidating, she wasn't sure if she wanted to fight him and his words in this moment.

Joe let out a long breath of frustration, his hand rubs over his eyes.

'Get up the fucking stairs now' His tone now somehow even more harsh, his words no longer only commanding but filled with a rudeness Daisy was not fond of.

'N.O...no' Her response is feisty, spelling out the word for Joe in the hopes he would understand it better.

Joe spins around, his muscular arms cross over his chest in agitation. First, she was flirting on the field with some gator football player, then she ignores him all night, then she decided she's going to leave his house with another guy and to top it all off, she was now refusing to do what she was told.

Daisy swallows a lump in her throat as she meets Joe's intense, burning gaze. The air around her being sucked away by an invisible vacuum.

Within a split second, she's in the air. Thrown over Joe's shoulders and he's marching them towards the stairs.

Ja'marr snickers from the couch where he and the red head are sat cuddling, watching the Joe and Daisy show go down with amusement. Daisy starts hitting Joe's back and wriggling as they are halfway up the stairs. Cries to put her down ring out. Joe doesn't falter, he could barely feel the small hits coming from her dainty hands.

When they get to his room he slams the door shut with his foot and put back Daisy down on the ground. Daisy pushes herself away from him, more annoyed by Joe than she had ever been before.

'What was that?' Her chest rises and falls quickly as she gawks at him in utter disbelief.

Joe doesn't reply to her, instead he begins to take off the wristbands that lay colourfully on his forearm. He unclasps the watch he always wears and places it on the cluttered desk in the corner of his room.

'You have no right to drag me around like I'm just some sort of toy you pick and choose when to play with' Daisy's voice is shaky. She was never good with confrontation, but this was something that needed to be said. Joe was hooking up with, or at least kissing the neck of her teammate Abby and that was okay, but the second she talks to a guy he becomes demanding and controlling. He was hypocrite. and a total jerk.

'You're a real fucking headache sometimes, y'know that Daisy'

Joe's words cut through Daisy's stomach like they were a knife. Slicing her open and letting her bleed out. Flashes of her past relationships arguments rattled her mind.

'Me? This is all you Joe. My night was going fine but you ruined it' She spat back at him, a deep loathing crawling up her spine.

'You don't do what you're told' Joe's called back. His jaw set tight and heavy, nostrils lightly flaring.

Daisy's face contorts in confusion. What was he on about? She quite literally did anything Joe asked of her, she stayed away from his teammates, his frat brothers and other football players. She never told anyone about them, she never stopped him from speaking to or hooking up with other women.

'Flirting with that fuckin' gator player.' Venom laces his words.

Daisy looked at Joe again, only becoming more confused. She hadn't spoken to any football players other than him and Ja'marr, she hadn't even spoken to Justin. He vanished somewhere after the game. Likely hanging out with Bella.

'On the sideline, in your little cheerleading uniform' Joe tries to make her remember but he only winds himself up more in the process. Why couldn't people just stay away from her, it would make his life so much easier, so much less stressful if he didn't have to worry about what situations she was getting herself in. He recollects seeing her for the first time, in her purple LSU uniform and watching as some nobody player steals her attention. Joe shakes his head, trying to shake the thoughts away.

The realisation dawns upon Daisy. She has to let out a laugh.

Joe's face contorts in further anger, his nostrils flaring and huffed breaths exhaling from his chest.

Daisy collects herself and lets out a sigh. 'That was just some guy from high school, he was in the grade below. I also happened to be pretty good friend with his girlfriend, the one he's still with. We were talking about her. Dumbass'

The world crumbles around Joe. He's humbled. Standing at six foot four but feeling minature. Joe let his own ego, and his own cockiness control his thoughts and over reacted at something minor.

'and Daniel?' Joe tries to save face by bringing up the other problem from tonight.

'and Abby?' Daisy jabs back. 'You say no teammates but she's on the cheer team'

'Please. You stood in for one game, you're not on the team' Joe tuts with a click of his teeth as he shuts down Daisy's line of argument.

'Is she your type?' Daisy wonders out loud.

'Is Daniel yours?' Joe challenges her question.

Daisy walks over to his bed and sits on it. She folds one leg across the other and begins to untie her shoelaces. She looks at Joe, scanning the emotion behind his ocean eyes.

'No' her word is hushed, almost whispered out into the silent room that surrounds them.

'Are you and Abby hooking up?' Daisy probes for more information almost shyly. She thinks back to seeing them together on the couch, the way Joe stroked her thigh in a manner which looked more comfortable, more friendly than he ever was with her.

'That shit doesn't concern you' Joe shuts her question down quickly.

'I was just wondering' Daisy backs herself up.

'we aren't, but don't ask me shit like that again' Joe answers her when he can tell her face has dropped, when he can tell her shoulders are tenser than usual and her plump lips are pouty.

'You and I, we're friends, dais. That's it. Friends who fuck meaninglessly' Joe clarifies the agreement.

'we're not friends Joey' Daisy speaks frankly but an aura of seduction clung to every word. Her voice soft and sweet like honey. She picks up her shoes and puts them over by a pile of dirty football clothes and a half deflated football before returning to sit on the bed. She leans back, her forearms propping her up. Every movement dripped in sex appeal.

Goosebumps dotted over Joe's skin as he heard his nickname roll off her tongue like a gentle harmony. 'Joey'. Most people called him Joey, but when she said it it sounded different, more delicate, more soft, more sexy. His deep eyes roamed slowly over her body, taking in every detail of her.

we're not friends joey

Her seductive words play back in his head as he studied the curves he was beginning to know so deeply.

Daisy's own piercing stare is looking at him, her eyes darting over his athletic form studying the muscles she was beginning to know so well.

and they're in that place again. The Garden of Eden, in which both of them are a forbidden fruit waiting to be bitten into. The place where the air is so thick with tension, it makes it hard for them to breathe. Pounding heart rates and yearning thoughts control every movement. Green and blue eyes glossing over with a deep hunger that needs to be satiated. They needed each other.

Joe doesn't hesitate, he rips his grey t-shirt over his head and chucks it in any direction. He goes to get on top of Daisy.

She puts her leg up. A pointed foot on his bare chest stopping him from coming any closer.

The pleats of her black skirt fall backwards and can see what was hidden underneath it. A sheer red lace thong was all she had on. His mouth waters at the sight.

'Thought I was too much of a headache for you' Daisy's words are slow and tormenting. She dragged out the insult he had called her only moment prior. She couldn't let him get away with it that easily, she had to see him squirm. Her foot was still placed on his toned chest, right in the center, holding him back from being able to touch what he so desperately desires.

'dais-' Joe starts.

'say you're sorry' Daisy cuts him off. Joe looks at her wide eyed. Daisy was never one to be commanding, especially not in the bedroom. That's where he took control. But now she had switched the roles, and he wasn't sure if he liked it.

'don't play fuckin' games with me' He grumbled.

'say you're sorry' She repeated her words firmly.

'FUCK!' Joe glances at the red lace that is torturing him. An agonising throbbing sensation in his crotch.

'I'm sorry' His words are small, pushed out his mouth unwillingly but it's enough for Daisy to feel accomplished.

'thank you baby' Her soft voice purred, her leg dropped from his chest swiftly and she lefts him have full access.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Ragged breaths ripple through the room. Warm, humid air clings to them. They're naked, skin to skin, pressed against each other as Joe bury's his length inside her with fast thrusts. Her hands grip and tug at his silky hair, soft moans leaving both of their mouths. Joe's head in the crook of her neck, nipping and pinching at her collarbone with his teeth.

The red lace panties long gone, thrown on the headboard of his bed, decorating it like they were a trophy.

Daisy wraps her legs around Joe's waist, bringing him even closer. She wanted to feel every inch inside her. The wooden bed creaked around them sounding out a painfully obvious rhythm. The headboard banged lightly against the white walls.

Joe's teeth nipped at her perky breasts, one hand moving to grab the other, lightly massaging it.

Joe flipped them in a swift manoeuvre. Daisy now perched up on top of him, sitting pretty on his thick length. It was rare she was on top. Very rare. She looked down at him, feeling some slight nerves run through her system.

'ride me cowgirl'

His large hands gripped tightly at her hip bones, tender squeezes which made her feel more reassured.

Slowly she began to circle her hips, ever so slightly moving up and down as he remained inside her. Joe guided her every move. Deep eyes traced her toned figure, her waist small and her hips wide as she straddled him. Her breasts lightly bouncing up and down, hypnotising him. Her abdomen contracting with every whine of her waist, with every drawn out roll of the hips. Her olive skin glowed with sticky dew, a testament to the heat they created in the room. Strands of her brunette hair lay messily around her peach flushed face, bouncing with her every movement. A plump pink lip bitten between her teeth. Her head tossed back in pleasure, eyes closed looking up the the ceiling. Silent prayers to god even when she was sinning.

The strange feeling pinched at Joe's stomach again. He couldn't take his eyes off her, an aura as golden as the summer sun shone around her. She looked ethereal, like an angel sent down to earth from heaven. She didn't look real, she was a sight that seemed too good to be true.

He shook away the thoughts with a couple hard blinks, focussing no longer on the sight of her but the pleasure she was giving him. The transactional, meaningless sex between them.

Daisy picked up her pace, leaning slightly forward. Her open palms pressed onto his strong chest as she bounced on his length, feeling him deeply. Joe smacked her ass leaving behind a harsh red mark and a soft, stinging sensation that sparked an electric thrill within her. Her mouth parted with a subtle whimper, one that makes Joe smirk.

'you like it huh baby?'

Daisy could only nod her head as she continued riding him. Her stamina tiring, and her legs beginning to ache. Joe could tell. He could feel it in her slowing pace, and the ragged breathes she let out.

He curled a warm arm around her and flipped them once again, so he was back on top of her. Her weak legs shaking against his rib cage as she instinctively wrapped them back around his wide abdomen. His gold chain dangled against her chest, a sweet cooling sensation briefly skimming over her burning skin.

'let me make you finish' Joe breathed softly into the sultry air around them. Sloppy wet kisses laid on her chest as he looked up at her through his eyelashes.

'you been so good for me' His words sound almost teasing, almost mocking. A bold playful glint sparkled in his eyes as he watched her squirm beneath his soft touches.

'you want it baby' Joe whispered. The room more silent than it had been all night as their movements paused. Joe still inside her dripping flower.

Daisy whimpered. She hated when he did this. She hated begging for him but he made her feel too good to resist. Her kitty purred for him, pulsating in deep yearns.

'i want it' a shy whisper from her soft, full lips is all it takes.

Joe begins to thrust into her, this time faster and harder. Daisy's nails grip onto his back. Scratching hard as she tried to control the pleasure overtaking her body.

Both of them were close. Their climax's pooling with a strong pressure in the bottom of their torso's.

Daisy reaches it first. Joe places a gentle hand on her mouth as she cries out his name louder than she ever had before. Joe stifles a laugh, a cocky one. If he hadn't covered he mouth, she may have woken up the whole fraternity.

Joe continues pumping into her, his own high coming closer and closer, he's about the pull out when Daisy's words stop him. Hitting him like a cold slap to the face.

'You can finish inside me y'know. I'm on the pill'

Joe looks up briefly to the sky. A silent thank you in his thought. Why hadn't she told him this before?

He pins her leg up as he continues his hard pumps inside her. Jaw clenched, eyes tightly shut as he prepared himself for the ecstasy that was coming.

He came inside her. His toes curling at the feeling.

Tired breaths sounded out softly in the muggy sex filled air. Foreheads pressed against each other as they both came down from the adrenaline of their blissful highs. For a brief moment, their eyes open and meet each others. Daisy's eyes soft and doe like. Joe's gaze a tender one. Unreadable meaning written in each of them. Deafening silence filling up the space around them.

After two seconds, their eyes widen in realisation of their closeness. Joe jumps off her, leaving her bare skin coldly laying in his navy sheets. Daisy, suddenly feeling exposed, grabs the blanket and covers herself. For the first time, she didn't have to clean herself up.

Joe rummaged through the messy middle drawer of his dressing table, grabbing her a pair of his boxers and the same spongebob t-shirt she always wore when she stayed round. He placed them at the end of the bed for her to grab, before he himself grabbed some boxers putting them on.

Daisy shuffled in the bed as she put the clothes on he had given her. The boxers were baggy and the t-shirt fit her more like a dress, but they were comfortable. This was the most aftercare Joe ever offered her, so she took what she could get.

'Pass me your phone' Joe said casually, holding out the palm of his hand.

Daisy did so hesitantly. She watched as he tapped at her screen a few times and typed something in, then tossing it back on the bed beside her.

He'd added himself as a contact.

She looked at him and he could feel her questioning gaze.

'It's easier to message this way and uhh-' Joe said as he scratched the back of his head with a hesitation to his next words. 'just in case you need anything or whatever' He tried to complete his sentence coolly but it wasn't effective. Was this him trying to say he cared about her? Daisy wondered or maybe it was just because it was easier to organise their hookups. Daisy went with the second option.

They slept beside each other once again, underneath the comfy sheets of Joe's bed. This time closer than usual. Her back pressed against his. The warmth of his skin radiating against her all night long.

Sweet dreams softly filling her slumber.

౨ৎ

#joe burrow #joe burrow au #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x oc #joey burrow #lsu joe #lsu!joe #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x you #౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ forbidden - joe burrow au #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fan fic #fanfiction #send anons #send asks #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow bengals

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hyunfilms · 2 years ago

Text

this time around (lee felix) | one shot.

—summary: life decides it's finally the right time.

—pairing: lee felix x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers | fluff, smut

—word count: 3.9k

—content/warnings: blue haired felix 😮‍💨, cussing/mature language, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex - but not super descriptive!!, lots of kisses and intimate/sweet moments, use of pet names: baby/angel/love, oc’s friend also uses ‘baby’ in a platonic way, quickly edited so pls excuse any mistakes!!

—INSPIRED BY: LOVE ME AGAIN - V

It’s funny how life works.

Especially when you’re sitting at this wedding, sipping on another glass of rosé— staring at the one man who, at one point, meant the entire universe to you.

Then, it’s also funny how life works; when life decides that this is your person, just not the right time.

“Girl, can you go and do something? He keeps looking at you. And don’t tell me he isn’t because I can see that blue head from miles away.” One of your bestfriends since college said. He nudges your arm, making you almost choke on the sip you just took.

“No, Reggie!” You almost whine, turning towards him. “It’s been so long, I don’t even know what I’d say to him.”

“Okay, but baby, he looks like he’s dying to talk to you. Poor Felix. Y/N always playing her goddamn games.”

“Quit it.” You nudge him back and he snorts.

“I’m kidding. But seriously, he looks like he wants to talk to you. Who cares if it’s been so long? I’m sure the conversation will flow perfectly. Give it a chance.” He takes a sip of his own cocktail. “Besides, if I remember correctly, you were head over heels for that man just as he was for you.” You sigh, setting your glass down— quickly reminiscing about the past.

You might have been young, and you may not have experienced everything life had to offer yet; but to say Felix was the love of your life would be an understatement.

He was everything to you.

Love, adoration, fun.

Sweetness.

He was also sadness, anger, hurt.

Pain.

Everything that entails love; being so, so in love.

And it’s just unfortunate that it wasn’t the right time because Felix was someone you pictured your life with. Everything about the relationship was right, and equally balanced. He showed you just how much he loved you and how much he adored you. You had more good times than bad with him. He taught you how to communicate better, to express your needs and wants, to enjoy life and live in the present moment.

He taught you so much that he really is part of the reason why you’re the person you are today.

After the three years of dating, Felix was graduating college and you were going into your senior year. Understandably, you felt like you needed to experience your last year by yourself, and you felt like Felix needed to figure out his plans moving forward. As much as you loved the way he factored you into every decision, you felt like it was wrong for him to do so— for him to feel like his life revolved solely around you. And of course, you loved him. This would’ve worked. But, it wouldn’t have felt right.

You needed to find yourself without Felix, and vice versa.

Breaking up with Felix was probably the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, but he understood. And because he loved you, he let you go. There was no bad blood, no hint of hate or anger; Felix had only left with more love and hope, praying that you’ll be okay.

Maybe one day, you’ll find your way back to each other.

It’s funny how life works.

“I’m not going to force it. I’ll let it happen if it happens.” You look at Reggie, taking another big sip of your rosé; eyes quickly glancing over to Felix from over the glass. He’s still conversing with a few mutual friends, eyes meeting yours from a distance. His eyes are soft, facial expression slightly unreadable.

Pressed, crisp black button down with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. Silver watch adorning the left wrist, slacks sitting nicely on his frame.

You’re sure of the butterflies you feel. It’s crazy how Felix still has this effect on you.

You clear your throat and revert your attention back to Reggie with a: “Can we go dance?”

“Now you’re talking.” Reggie laughs, grabbing your hand and leading you to the dance floor for a dance with other friends. The majority of the time you’re on the dance floor, you’ve temporarily pushed your thoughts and feelings away to enjoy being around friends you haven’t been able to hang out with or see in quite some time. You’re enjoying yourself, singing and dancing along to the music blasting in the venue. At one point, you don’t realize that Felix and his friends have joined in, creating one huge crowd in the middle of the dance floor that’s become the life of the party.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom and get some air. I’ll be back in a few.” You say in Reggie’s ear. He nods, throwing up the ‘okay’ sign to acknowledge that he understood you through the loud music.

“You need me to come babysit your ass?” He leans near your ear to quickly ask.

“I’ll be fine!” You laugh, rushing off to the bathroom to relieve yourself from all that rosé. You take a couple of moments to freshen up and pat away at your makeup, hoping to keep it together for the remainder of the night. You fluff your hair a bit before giving yourself one last look before walking out and heading towards the back end of the hotel.

It’s a beautiful night tonight— one where the stars are twinkling brightly above, dotted throughout the night sky and circling around the full moon. There’s a faint breeze that feels awfully good on your skin right now, the waves crashing against the surface just right below the hill where the hotel sits.

“Hey.” A familiar, deep voice comes from behind you. You fiddle with your fingers a bit, bottom lip tucked underneath your teeth as you turn and come face to face with Felix— eyes completely fixed on the one man whom you’ve always loved; the one man who, at one point, meant the entire universe to you. “I’m sorry, I just came outside to make sure you were okay. But, I guess I should’ve figured it was since Reggie was still—” Felix shakes his head and lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “Nevermind. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you for checking. I—” You lazily point at the sky. “I just needed some air. Was getting really hot in there.”

“Yeah it was.” He laughs a bit. “You sure you’re doing okay? Do you need me to get you water or anything?” Typical Felix, you think. He’s still the same. Everything about him has remained unchanged.

“I’m okay, Felix. Thank you.” You respond softly. “It’s nice to see you.” He digs his hands into his pockets, head tilting to the side.

“It’s nice to see you, too. It’s been so long.” He smiles. He’s the first to step forward and envelope you in a hug, taking in his scent as you hug him back. Oddly enough, everything feels the same. Felix’s hugs have always been the best, and part of you hates having to part once the moment is over. “You look amazing, Y/N.”

“You do, too.” You point at his hair. “Though, I have to say the blue hair was a surprise?” He laughs and nods.

“Uh yeah, was kinda a bet with some of my friends.”

“It looks good though, you pull it off well.”

“Thank you.” He licks his lips before nodding towards the bench further down the path. “Do you wanna catch up?” He pauses. “I-I mean it’s fine if you wanna get back to the party, totally understand. I just thought we could kill two birds with one stone and–”

“I’d love to.” You cut him off with a sweet smile, letting Felix lead the way to the bench.

And so here you are, sitting side by side with Felix— enjoying the night while the music continues to play in the background. You start by telling Felix what you’ve been up to all these years, how your parents have been, living life in the city. Felix says he’s been in and out of the city, traveling back and forth between Australia to hang out with family in between work. You share lots of laughs when you update each other about family and their whereabouts, reminiscing about the times when your families would have lots of fun together. The both of you also talk about how it’s been awhile since everyone’s been under the same roof, but it’s a nice occasion to be together. Then, somehow, the conversation shifts to love and dating. You awkwardly tell Felix that you haven’t really been in a serious relationship since graduation. You’ve dated around, but nothing felt right.

Nothing felt equally balanced, or like it was meant to be.

But, it’s okay. You reassure him you’ve been okay focusing on you and doing your own thing. In time, you’ll welcome whatever is meant to be in your life. And Felix tells you he’s glad to hear that— that he’s also dated around but things just didn’t feel right, either.

“Y/N.” He calls for you as he looks out, then shifts his attention back to you. “Are you happy?” He looks at you, really looks at you, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Almost like he’s doing his best to read you, to find the answer deep within your orbs, your body language.

“I guess so, yeah.” You softly smile at him before looking at the view. “Are you?” He shrugs a bit.

“Yeah. Think so.” He licks his lips and lets out a small breath. “As long as you’re happy, then that’s all that matters to me.”

“Thanks, Lix.” There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you two after that conversation. But, something shifts in the air; shifts enough to the point where you feel Felix’s eyes rest back on you from your peripherals. The sudden tension could be felt from miles away, but you’re not sure how to act on it. The simplest thing you could do is—

“I’m sorry, is there something on my face?” You break the silence and ask, a bit confused as to why Felix just keeps looking at you, staring; fixed. He lets out a small laugh before shaking his head.

“No, there isn’t. I just—” He pauses. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Always been. I can’t help it.” He says, eyes softening again as he settles on your features. He gently brushes the hair away from your face, thumb trailing down to your cheek to caress the surface. You lean into his touch a little more, having to pull away when you realize the reality of this all.

It’s funny how life works.

“You know.. I think I’m gonna call it a night.” You shyly chuckle and look down at your lap, hands awkwardly rubbing away at the fabric of your dress as you let the excuse linger in the air for a second. “I didn’t realize how exhausted I was after all that dancing and singing.” Felix chuckles. He feels a little embarrassed, but he also dug himself into this one. He shouldn’t have reached out so quickly. He couldn’t help it.

“Do you need me to drive you anywhere?”

“No, I rented out a room for the night solely for this reason.” You stand with Felix following suit.

“Let me walk you to your room then?”

“Oh, you really don’t have to Lix. I’ll be okay.” He smiles hearing the nickname roll off your tongue.

“I want to.” You look at him with a small smile and nod.

“Okay. I just need to grab my things.” He follows behind, keeping a safe distance just to keep you comfortable– not knowing that you’d rather have him close than far away.

Inside, everyone is still keeping up the energy except for a few that have either left, or decided to sit down for the remainder of the night. Reggie is drinking water at your table, and he can’t help but throw a certain look your way when he sees you walking in with Felix following right behind you. You catch on though, and you simply shrug while Felix returns to his friends to let them know he’s heading out.

“Okay so.. what exactly is happening here? Miss ‘It’s been so long, I don’t even know what I’d say to him.’” You roll your eyes and grab your things.

“I’m heading up to my room. Felix is just walking me there.”

“Walking you all the way up to the second floor? Goodness me.” You laugh and shake your head.

“You should get to yours soon, too.”

“Mhm, I want a progress report tomorrow morning.” He puckers his lips before eyeing you up and down.

“Stop it.” You glare at him. “I love you, goodnight.” You simply tell him before turning on your heel to bid your other friends goodbye, along with the bride and groom.

“Get it girl, I love you too!” You hear him respond just as you continue your goodbye’s until you’re near the entrance, with Felix waiting right outside the doors in the hallway.

“Hope you’re ready for a good long trip up to the second floor.” Felix laughs.

“Yeah, sounds pretty exhausting, honestly. It’s been a night.”

“It has, but I had lots of fun.”

“I did too.” He steps inside the elevator after you, leaning back against the railing. He eyes your figure, the way the dress hugs your curves nicely, heels strapped around your ankles. You’ve always been so beautiful; everything about you, inside and out. You can see the way Felix is focused on you through his reflection on the elevator doors in front of you, and it makes your heart do flips.

Because he does that thing he always does— when he tilts his head at a certain angle just to see you, read you, perfectly. Knowing you’ll meet his eyes at some point just for him to pull you in closer.

To plant a kiss on your lips,

Down to your jaw,

Collarbone—

“Y/N, is this not your floor?” Felix asks, breaking you out of your thoughts when you realize he’s holding the elevator doors open.

“Oh, right. Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out for a bit.” He lets out a tiny laugh as he watches you walk down the hallway, turning right at the end to get to the second door. You tap your hotel key against the reader, hand twisting the handle to unlock the door. Before you can open it fully, you turn back to Felix— seeing him quietly standing there with his hands dug into his pockets. “This is me. Thanks for walking me to my room, Lix.”

“Course. I guess I’ll let you be.” He smiles toothlessly at you. Your inner dialogue is conflicted right now, wondering if you should just let him be and let this end right where it is—

While the other half is yearning to keep him around, to have his company, to just be with him even after all these years.

“Have a good night, pretty girl.” He continues, hoping that he really doesn’t have to part with you right now. He’s not gonna force it though, and he’s not gonna say anything else— even though he feels like he has a lot more to say to you tonight. Maybe this is how it was meant to be after all, which Felix will have to learn to put to rest if it truly ends this way.

But, before he can turn on his heel to walk away, you follow up with:

“Actually, do you wanna just stay and hang out a bit more?”

“If it’s not a bother.”

“Never. Sorry, I should’ve asked earlier. I just didn’t want to make it awkward or whatever.”

“Could never be that way with you, Y/N.” You chuckle, stepping in and letting Felix follow you in. You set your clutchbag onto the side table at the corner of the room, undoing your heels and setting them aside.

“God, that feels amazing.” Felix laughs as he sits on the edge of your bed, watching as you get comfortable. “I can’t wait to get comfortable. You have a room here, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wanna change and just come back here? I feel bad that I’ll be the only one getting comfortable.” He laughs a bit and shakes his head.

“I’m good for now. I promise.” He watches as you undo your necklace. “Need help with your dress?” You look at him through the mirror as you set your necklace down onto the drawer and silently nod. “I got you.” He says, getting behind you to help you unzip your dress. It’s something small, but so intimate and sweet.

And with Felix, it feels perfectly right. Even if years have passed. You never feel out of place with him, and he only feels like home to you.

He slowly unzips your dress, eyes trailing down as his hand falls down to the small of your back. You feel his breath tickle the back of your neck, body only inches away from yours as he keeps his position there.

“Felix.” You softly call his name, and he can tell. He just knows. He looks at you through the mirror, hand slowly wrapping around your waist.

“Is it weird to say that I’ve really missed you?” He says lowly as his eyes trail down your neck this time, fixed on the weak spot that he remembers so, so well.

“No. I’ve missed you, too.”

“I mean it.” His fingers are fiddling with the strap of your dress. “When I saw you tonight, you were all I could think about. Not that anything’s changed, but—“ He lazily slips the strap down, letting it fall to the side as his finger traces a line up your arm; to the curve of your shoulder. “I just couldn’t believe that I was finally seeing you again.”

“Lix.” The way you breathily release his name from your lips tells him everything he needs to know. You’ve missed him too, you’ve really, really missed him, too. And of course he feels the same way you do— absolutely. If it wasn’t for shit falling into place at the wrong time, Felix was sure that he’d still be loving you the way he was before.

No question.

Nothing has changed. The love he’s had for you will always mean more to him than anything in this world.

Felix still feels like love, adoration, fun.

Sweetness.

And if you let him, he would also feel like sadness, anger, hurt.

Pain.

Because Felix is love, and everything that love entails.

“Missed everything about you.” He says, planting a feathery kiss on your shoulders. “Missed the way you laugh.” Another kiss on your shoulder. “The way you smile.” Another near the base of your neck. “Just you.” He says near your ear, reading your expression. You bite onto your bottom lip and finally turn to face him, his hand coming back up to rest on your cheek. “Always been you, love.” His thumb is caressing the surface, giving you leverage to plant a kiss on the palm of his hand.

“Always been.” You mutter back, allowing Felix to fully take you—all of you— in this moment.

Sooner or later, your dress is on the floor while you continue to keep your lips pressed against Felix’s in the heat of the moment; afraid to break the kiss and create distance. You don’t ever want Felix away from you again, no. You want him close— with you, for you, by you.

Just you.

He takes his time with you, letting his hands roam across every inch of your body while he takes you in and settles in between your thighs; pressing his pink, plump lips across your body like he’s soothing you, making up for the years that you’ve lost.

You’re tangled up in him, but you find that there’s no other place that you’d rather be than here; giving Felix the freedom to love you, love on you, however he chooses to tonight. You trust him to take care of you because he always has, and he always will.

It’s not long before your hands are gripping the sheets, repeatedly calling Felix’s name like a mantra. He praises you as he picks up the pace, pounding relentlessly to show his need for you. His lips graze the surface of your neck, collarbone, chest, whispering sweet nothings into your skin:

Missed everything about you.

So perfect for me, love.

So beautiful, so pretty.

Always been you.

All about you.

He continues, and continues— holding you close to his body while he tries to go slower, deeper; hitting all the right places that you like so much just to hear you, see you, writhe underneath him.

You.

Let me be yours.

“Fuck, Lix. I’m close—“ Is the only thing that you’re able to say as you feel the coil within you threatening to unravel. And he must feel it too with the way that his hips begin to stutter, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he tries to hold on. He feels your walls completely tighten around him, pulsating as your face contorts in pleasure and a silent moan leaves your lips.

“Baby, where do you want me— fuck— I’m—“ Felix barely lets out. You reassure him that he’s okay to let go inside of you, and not a second passes before he’s painting your walls. His forehead falls onto yours just as the both of you come back down from your highs, focusing on regulating your breathing after the intense pleasure that washed over you. “Are you okay, angel? You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks, close to a whisper. He kisses you lightly on the tip of your nose, before he seals one off on your lips. He holds it there for awhile before pulling back, realizing you still have yet to respond to him.

“I’m okay. Not hurt.” He nods.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Felix takes his time cleaning you up and soothing you, helping you get washed up and ready for bed just before he leaves to do the same.

For a moment, you feel like everything is over. That maybe, that was the closure you needed to finally close off that chapter in your book. That maybe, that was it to Felix and you’d return to being [somewhat] strangers again. It makes you a little scared, a little anxious.

But, it all blows away when Felix comes back, dressed for bed just as he had said. He shuts off your lights and slips into the bed next to you, pulling the sheets up so that you’re comfortable.

“For a second, I didn’t think you were actually going to come back.” He lets out a small, breathy laugh as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you flush to his body.

“What, why not? I’m here to stay, love. Not going anywhere.”

“Even when tomorrow comes?”

“Even when tomorrow comes.” He kisses the back of your head. “Unless, you have other plans already?”

“No. Just you.” He chuckles.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You snuggle closer to him, allowing his warmth to completely envelope your body. Before you know it, you’ve fallen into a deep sleep in Felix’s arms, and he does too. Even when the morning comes, you still find yourself wrapped around Felix and snuggled against his body, light kisses being pressed against your head when you wiggle in his arms.

It’s funny how life works.

Because this time around, Felix is here, lying beside you; making things feel right, connected. Balanced. You shift in your position to look at him because this time around, you’re staring at the one man who, up until now, still means the entire universe to you.

Then, it’s also funny how life works; when life decides that this is your person, and this is finally the right time.

This time around.

—perm taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk @hanji-cafe

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stellarzidal · 3 days ago

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holy yap alert above AND below. (click the alt text for the third photo if it's a genuine issue! much lav mwahmwah)

... so. we meet again my very few followers. how are you all doing tonight? 🤗 good? good. take more oc content BOOM

waffle gets worked on in the background, meaning that it's very important that i must update my pages on his indulgent aus every now and then. apologies, it's a rite of passage here. he DID have a intro card and general stats made forever ago, but i never was pleased with his twisted nor his ability. i think i'm much more happy with it now ^^ i also am still dealing with feeling shame/fear about making the oc that reflects me most interact with canon characters, along with fearing any sort of mischaracterization, but i'm hopefully changing that with like... probably the dumbest thing. i made him shrimpo's best friend.

NOW HEAR ME OUT... BEFORE I GET SCARED AND FLEE..... the backstory is a little funny. shrimpo's cowardice in other toons' intimidation (like the shrimpo/sprout dialogue) makes me think that it would funny if he started a fight with waffle because the other was not intimidating at all. y'know, until they duke it out and waffle's not actually that bad at it. it's almost impressive. he tolerates waffle, wouldn't ever call him a friend but chooses him to run to if there's something going on. waffle, meanwhile, sticks around like a little enabler for violence. think of him as those minor antagonists in kids cartoons; he's a disagreeable pain in most episodes, but he isn't the devil reincarnate. he's just. a dude. LMAO

the syrupshrimp duo agenda falls on me now... gulp. it's okay i might be back for more art. thank you for reading till the end nyehehe

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trumanbluee · 1 year ago

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the only time i feel i might get better - matty healy

minors dni !! this is 17+ nsfw material !!!

please reblog if you like it! ᡣ𐭩

content: you get sick at matty's and he takes good care of you <3

word count: 4.6k

warnings: mention of vomit, oc is on her period :( , a bad ending, and matty being very very darling.

a/n: hi!! i know i said i wasn't going to post again for a bit but i think this is so cute and its just sitting in my drafts!! enjoy ( and pls reblog if you do! ) :)

She groaned in her sleep, stirring slightly as she felt another cramp tear through her stomach, the ache travelling down into her legs as she tucked them to her chest, brows furrowing at the sudden pain. She hadn’t slept well all night, spending an hour of it with her head in the toilet, Matty holding her hair back and rubbing her back softly, bless his heart.

Her heart dropped at the thought of him having to see her in that position, retching what little food was in her stomach, up. They were a relatively new couple, having been dating for almost 6 months, and, of course, she’d had her period around him, but she’d never gotten it at his place, and never felt as sick as she did right now around him either. She felt horrible, half from the pain in her slightly puffy, bloated, lower belly, and half from the embarrassment of him seeing her like this.

Fluttering her eyes open, she saw that Matty’s side of the bed was empty and, upon further inspection with her outstretched hand, he’d been up for a while, the sheets a crisp cold feeling compared to the warmth of her blanket cocoon. She sighed, wondering if he’d been able to go back to sleep at all after the nights events, before her thoughts of uncertainty were interrupted when he tiptoed into the room, obviously under the impression she was asleep, holding a tray of pancakes, orange juice, a cup of coffee, and a vase of fresh flowers.

He stopped when he turned towards the bed, noticing her eyes peeking out from behind the fluffy duvet, and smiled softly, head tilting to the left as her asked her sweetly, “Morning, baby. Feelin’ any better today?”

This earned him a firm shake of her head as she sat up in the bed, lip pouted slightly to show him her discontent. He cooed, placing the tray of food in front of her on the bed, ensuring the legs of the miniature table were stable before he sat down on the other side of the bed, planting a soft kiss to her temple.

“Don’t have to eat it all if you don’t want, honey, I just wanted to wake you up with something nice after you had such a horrible night.” He said, sitting cross-legged next to her on the bed. He pointed to two little white tablets that lay next to her orange juice. “Brought you some Panadol too, baby. Make sure you eat at least a little before you take it, don’t want you getting sick again, yeah?”

She nodded, “Thank you so much Matty,” She croaked, throat still sensitive from the acidic bile she’d thrown up in the night, “I’m sorry about last night.”

His eyebrows raised, face scrunching in disbelief as he tried to process what she’d just said. He moved closer to her on the bed, hand coming to rest on her knee above the blanket she’d wrapped herself in.

“Sorry?” He tutted, shaking his head, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about baby, what'd you mean ‘sorry’?” His lips turned into a slight frown, disheartened at the fact that she felt the need to be sorry about being sick.

“Ju-Just, you havin’ to stay up with me… I just feel a bit bad that I ruined our night, I guess,” She spoke sheepishly, noticing the disappointed look on his face as she spoke.

“Oh sweetheart,” He cooed, moving to place the breakfast tray on the floor, before scooting close to her on the bed, pulling her into his chest, one hand rubbing her back in a light rhythm, the other combing through her hair. “You don’t have to say sorry, ‘kay? It’s my job to look after you. Don’t ever apologise for being sick, baby. It happens to everyone.”

He felt her nod against his chest, and he stopped his fingers carding through her hair as she looked up at him, thinking twice about leaning up to kiss him as she realised she hadn’t brushed her teeth yet this morning.

Almost as if he was reading her mind, he shook his head, laughing to himself softly.

“Baby, really?” He chuckled, brushing a little bit of sleep from her left eye with the soft pad of his thumb as he did so, “ You wanna kiss me, you can. I think we’re way beyond worrying about morning breath, don’t ya’ think, darlin’?”

She blushed, surprised that he could read her so well, shoving her face into the soft fabric of his white shirt, earning another chuckle from Matty, the sound rumbling in her mind and warming her insides, affecting her probably more than it should have given her in her ill state.

She detached from his chest, fishing the tray of food up off of the floor beside her, and placed it on the bed, before leaning into Matty again, his right arm wrapped around her as she picked at the sweet blueberries that decorated her pancakes.

She sighed contentedly, sipping on her orange juice as she lay, listening to Matty’s steady heartbeat as he sat beside her, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger lazily. She’d be lying if she said that this side of Matty didn’t turn her on, his need to comfort and protect her rising to the surface in a similar way as it did after he’d been particularly rough with her in bed. The idea of him taking care of her a particularly good one in her mind.

She felt a familiar heat pooling between her thighs as she sat beside him, glancing up at him occasionally as he typed on his phone one-handed, most likely making note of lyrics he’d thought of, his brain constantly moving 100km an hour. She watched as his slender thumb glid smoothly across his screen, pressing the keyboard expertly.

‘This shouldn’t turn me on so much.’ She thought, biting her lip lightly as she shamelessly observed him, now sitting up further in the bed to gain a better view.

She blamed it on her period. Sure, Matty was hot, and, God, she’d fuck him 10 times a day if she had the stamina, lord knows he probably did, but getting turned on by typing? That’s pathetic.

Finally, he saw her out of the corner of his eye, lower lip between her teeth and cheeks a light red as she watched him. He raised an eyebrow, turned his head to face her quizzically.

“What are you looking at?” He smiled at her and she blushed, quickly averting her eyes to the half-eaten pancake in front of her, picking at it delicately.

He laughed softly, “Going shy on me, baby?” he asked, bringing the arm that was wrapped around her shoulder up to her hair, ruffling it playfully, before leaning down to press a firm kiss to her cheek.

She tucked herself deeper into his side, having once again discarded the tray of food onto Matty’s bedroom floor. He wrapped his arm around her once more, giving her a tight squeeze.

“You okay, honey?” He asked softly, looking down at her as she lay on his chest, tracing her finger softly on the front of his t-shirt, “Feelin’ a bit clingy today? Is that it, huh?”

She nodded, moving impossibly closer to him, wrapping both her legs around his left, her arms wrapping around his bicep, clinging to him like a koala.

He chuckled softly at her, peering at her from the corner of his eye as he watched her cling to him desperately. His attention turned completely towards her however, when he heard a small whimper sound from next to him, at the same time as she’d fidgeted in her spot, causing her sensitive clit to lightly brush the side seam of his sweatpants through her thin sleep-shorts.

His eyes shot down to her, fearing that she was having the same horrible cramps she experienced in the night.

“You okay, baby? Tummy hurting again?” He asked, concern evident in his tone.

She was embarrassed, not wanting to admit that the sound was out of pleasure, not pain. So, she nodded, eyebrows creasing together as she looked up at him.

It was insane how well he could read her. From the second they met, a couple of months before they’d started going out, it was like he could see into her mind and knew almost everything she thought and could anticipate what she was going to say next.

That’s why looking up at him was a huge mistake on her part. He knew as soon as he looked at her he knew that she was lying, and he thought he knew why.

“We’re not lying now, are we sweetheart?” He asked earnestly, looking into her eyes as he spoke.

“W-what? Why would I lie?” She said, not expecting to be caught out so soon.

He raised his eyebrow at her, expecting her to have admitted her lie, “Oh, okay… so just now, when you wriggled around for a second, and I felt your cunt on my leg, it was just a coincidence that you made that little sound at the same time? Is that right?”

She flushed red, face turning to dig into his arm to hide, embarrassed at being read so easily, once again. She let out a muffled whine, annoyed both his teasing, and her horniness.

He sat up from the bed, unlatching his arm from her grasp to face her.

“Baby,” He cooed, “want you to use your words when you feel like this, ‘kay? Want you to tell me what you want.”

She nodded, still covering her flushed face, now with the duvet in place of his bicep.

“I just wanna make sure you’re feeling better after last night, honey. Don’t wanna hurt you or anything, y’know?”

He looked torn. Torn between his restraint and not wanting to take advantage of her in such a vulnerable state, and his wanting to give her everything she wants on a whim.

An idea popped into his head, and he stood from the bed, reaching down to peck a quick kiss to her forehead, muttering a ‘be right back’ before exiting the room.

She sat in his bed, awaiting his return as she sipped on the now lukewarm coffee he’d brought her. But it wasn’t very long before he came back, having discarded his shirt and sweats for reasons unbeknownst to her - though she wasn’t complaining, she could spend hours tracing the outlines of his tattoos - especially his ‘We Are Kings tattoo - whether that be with her eyes, fingertips, or tongue.

He walked over to her, boxer shorts hanging low on his hips, and flipped the duvet off her, reaching his hand out for her to take.

“C’mon baby,” He pulled her up, “ran us a bath.” He patted her on the bum softly as he walked past her and out into the hall. She followed dumbly, brain foggy from the tooth-rotting sweetness of their morning in bed together.

Stepping into the bathroom, she saw that not only had he drawn them both a bath, with bubbles in it, which she knew he didn’t like, but had meticulously placed candles around the edge of the bath.

She could’ve cried at the gesture, and she almost did, eyes growing blurry before she blinked the tears away quickly.

Matty stepped into the bathroom behind her, kissing her on the side of her cheek, then neck, as he reached for the bottom of her (his) shirt, pulling it over her head softly, before tugging her pyjama shorts down. He helped her step into the warm bath, holding his hand out for her to balance on. Once she was in, and he’d made sure the water wasn’t too hot, he tugged his boxers down his legs before stepping into the bath himself, setting himself behind her so her back rested against his chest.

She sighed in content as he brought his large hands up to her shoulders, massaging her upper back soothingly. She leant her head back against his shoulder, Matty retracting his hands from her shoulders to wrap them around her, rubbing her arms up and down soothingly.

He lent down to kiss her on the cheek, instead meeting her lips as she quickly tilted her head to meet him. Meaning for it to be a quick peck, he was surprised when she deepened it, running her tongue along his bottom lip teasingly.

He pulled back, hand resting on her jaw as he guided her lips away.

He sighed, “Baby… don’t make me be the bad guy,” he frowned, not wanting to tell her a strict no, but also not wanting to hurt her whilst she was in her particularly vulnerable state.

“Please,” she pleaded, un-slotting her legs from between his beneath the bubbles to squeeze her thighs together desperately.

He shook his head, shooting her a pleading look, “Honey, I just don’t want you to hurt yourself or to be sick again… I promise, once your period’s done I’ll do whatever you want me to, baby.”

She furrowed her brows in frustration, annoyed at his refusal. Of course, she couldn’t be that annoyed, he was only trying to ensure her comfort and safety, but this didn’t matter in her mind, not when she was this horny. What was she gonna do if he didn’t give in to her? Finger herself to no avail? They both knew that wouldn’t work, and she knew that Matty was the only one who could satiate the need in the pit of her belly.

She spun around in the bath, being careful not to spill any water out of the bath, before pushing away from him slightly to see him better. She huffed, whining “It’s not gonna hurt, promise.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, only now beginning to grasp just how desperate she was, watching as she crossed her legs, heeling digging against her clit harshly, causing her to hiss, wincing slightly at the sensitivity.

She sighed in frustration, pouting slightly as she looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

“What if– what if I said it would make me feel better? I swear, baby, if it doesn’t feel good I’ll tell you to stop.” She pleaded, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

He eyed her carefully, thinking about it carefully. It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

He sighed, lips tugging into a smirk as he finally nodded, ushering for her to resume her previous position, between his legs, back pressed against him.

He leant down to whisper in her ear, brushing some hair away from her face as he spoke, “Make sure you tell me the second it hurts even a little, okay darlin’?”

She nodded, leaning her head back against his chest, lingering a soft kiss onto his chin.

He traced his hands up and down her thighs beneath the water, her legs automatically widening like muscle memory. He laughed breathily in her ear at her eagerness, before sliding his right hand to her core, pressing light circles to her clit as he planted soft kisses along her neck, her having tilted it to the side to grant him further access.

She moaned softly, bringing a hand up to play with the chocolate curls at the nape of his neck, tugging softly as he began to tease a finger around her entrance, keeping his slow rhythm on her clit.

“Feel good, honey?” He spoke softly into her ear, not slowing his teasing motions, but not speeding up either.

She nodded, brows furrowed as he slipped the tip of his index finger inside her.

“Use your words, baby. Need to hear you say it, ‘kay?”

“F-feels good, Matty, promise.” She stuttered out, his fingers speeding up slightly on her clit for a millisecond, before it returned to its original speed.

“Good girl,” he murmured in her ear, pushing his index finger into her cunt completely, her head slamming back to meet his chest as he curled it expertly.

Her hand that wasn’t occupied with Matty’s hair emerged from the water, where it had been gripping her thigh, and she placed it on her left boob, swiping her thumb over her nipple delicately and squeezing the soft, meaty flesh around it.

She arched her back as Matty prodded a second finger into her, curling it as he had the first. As she arched further into his chest, she felt Matty’s hard cock against her back, and teasingly wriggled against it.

He groaned, fingers speeding up as they fucked in and out of her, his hand that was rubbing her clit now came up to brush her hair out of her face, before he flicked her right nipple playfully, ripping a guttural sound from the back of her throat as he returned his hand to her clit, rubbing fast circles over it with his middle and ring finger.

He felt her cunt tighten around his fingers, thighs slamming together to stop his hands from retracting.

He pressed his plush, pink, lips to her ear, pressing airy kisses along it as he breathed, “Gonna cum for me, baby? Yeah?” He felt her become impossibly right around his fingers, and she moaned loudly as he said, “Gonna feel so much better afterwards, baby. C’mon, give it to me.”

Matty fingers stilled inside her as she came, eyes squeezing closed and toes curling as the water in the bath sloshed around them, her loud moan echoing around the bathroom. He waited for her breathing to settle slightly before slowly pulling his fingers out, the water in the bath cleaning them off.

She flipped herself over carefully, legs wobbling slightly as she straddled his right leg, her boobs planted flat against his chest. She reached up, planting a soft kiss to his lips, whining softly against them as her clit grazed his leg when she pushed herself up.

Pulling away from her lips, Matty tutted in faux annoyance, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Still not done, baby?” He asked, smoothing his hand over her hair and then resting it on her cheek as she looked up at him,

“No,” she confirmed, half-mooned, lidded eyes peering up at him.

He sighed, “What am I gonna do with you, huh?” He asked playfully, “Too horny for your own good.”

She whined as she shifted herself further up his body, his rock hard cock laying flat against her slit as it rested on his stomach. He lay back against the steeper end of the bath, hands on both hips, thumbs drawing shapes on her delicate skin.

She wriggled her hips slightly, his cock bumping over her clit multiple times before she rose to her knees, almost slipping on the slippery bottom of the bath, luckily being caught by Matty’s large hands on her hips again.

She laughed softly, looking up at him as she did so, seeing him biting his lip softly to keep in his laugh, the rumbling of his chest betraying him. She slapped his stomach playfully.

“Hey!” She scolded, “Don’t laugh at me,” She said with a fake pout on her face.

Matty cooed, laughter still rumbling in his chest as he spoke, “Aw, sorry honey, it's just, when I said I didn’t want you to get hurt, I didn’t mean slipping over in the bath and dying.” He giggled as he spoke, and she couldn’t help but grin at him, pouncing onto him to plant a sweet kiss to his lips, before pulling away.

Her brows furrowed and index finger pointed at him as she reprimanded him, trying her best to keep her face straight as she spoke, “Okay! No more laughing,” Her eyes narrowed at him accusingly, “back to sex.”

He nodded stiffly, hand coming up to his head as he saluted her militarily, firmly repeating her previous statement.

She giggled softly, lifting her leg up with help from Matty, before shifting herself on top of him completely, his hard cock trapped between her sticky cunt and his firm belly. She groaned as she rocked back and forth slowly, before pushing herself up slightly, grabbing the base of his cock, tapping it on her clit a few times before she pushed it into herself, sighing in content as she sunk down, the full feeling in her tummy satiating the desire she’d been holding there all day.

He groaned softly, brows knitting together as she sunk all the way down onto his cock, her clit brushing against the groomed pubic hair at the base. His hands rested on her hips, rubbing shapes softly as he helped guide her up and down on his length. She was so tight around him, clamping down hard when he moved a hand from her hip down to rub her tender, puffy clit.

She moaned breathily, back arched and head thrown back as she bounced on his cock rapidly, water splashing around the bath and onto the floor. Her right hand rested on Matty’s ‘We are Kings’ tattoo, providing her with leverage to move quicker, and her left hand wrapped tightly around his wrist, nails digging into his Mortal Kombat tattoo as her orgasm approached her.

Matty felt her hips faltering slightly, and her thighs began to shake, causing him to tighten his grip on her hips, holding her still as he slammed his hips up to meet hers. She whined loudly, his thick cock filling her completely, slamming against her cervix with every unyielding thrust.

“Feelin’ good, baby? He asked breathily, panting slightly, his curls falling in his face, sticking to his slightly damp forehead.

She responded the only way she could through her foggy, fucked-out brain, squeezing his forearm impossibly tight and keening loudly, before her mouth fell open in a silent scream.

He continued his relentless pace, bringing them both closer and closer to cumming. His brows knitted together in concentration as he tried to keep his pace consistent, but he was struggling. She was so fucking tight, squeezing him like she was afraid that if she didn’t, he’d somehow disappear.

Thankfully, he could tell she was close, her lower lip pulled between her teeth and cheeks rosy, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had to hold his orgasm since the second he’d slipped into her. Something about his cock and her cunt fit so right, he could probably cum just at the thought of it.

Matty looked up at her through the mess of wet curls in front of his eyes, “Need you to rub your clit for me now, ‘kay honey?”.

She immediately obeyed, bringing the hand that was wrapped around his wrist to rub her clit at a harsh pace. She cried out, hand faltering slightly at the intense pressure building in her lower belly.

She was so close, she just needed something, anything, to push her over the edge, and almost as though Matty read her mind, he leaned forward, attaching his mouth to her left breast, swirling his tongue around and biting lightly at her perked up nipple.

The hand rubbing her clit and rapid hip movements halted as she felt Matty, whose head now rested on her shoulder, still inside her, groaning loudly as he came inside her, rope after rope of his sticky cum coating her walls. She wailed, eyes rolling back into her head as the tightness in her stomach finally released. She leaned forward to bite Matty’s shoulder softly, tears streaming down her cheeks at the intensity of both her orgasms.

She slipped her arms out from between their chests, wrapping them tightly around Matty’s neck before pressing her head into his neck, sighing contently.

Matty smiled softly against her, lifting the hand that still rested on her left hip to rub her back gently.

“Water’s gone all cold, sweetheart,” He said, slightly muffled by the delicate skin of her shoulder.

She shrugged lazily in his arms, murmuring back a sweet, “M’cozy.”

“Y’cosy?” He bit back a soft laugh at her lovely voice, “Not gonna be so ‘cosy’ when you get a cold, honey.” He continued rubbing her back, cooing inwardly when he heart a soft sniffle beneath him.

“How ‘bout this, baby, let me get out, and I’ll go get your clothes, get you nice and dry, and then we can go back to this exact position in my bed… That sound good?”

She nodded weakly against his chest, and that's exactly what they did. Quickly pulling on a new pair of sweats, he remembered he’d laid out some boxers and an old sweatshirt of his on the bed before he’d gotten in the bath, and he was particularly grateful for it now, grabbing the pile off the bed, and a towel warmed from the dryer, before speed-walking back to the bathroom. He knocked softly before walking in, wanting to be safer than sorry, and heard a soft hum from behind the door. A sign to enter, he assumed.

Walking in, he saw that she was still in the exact position he’d left her in, knees tucked to her chest, with her chin rested against her knees. He cooed, putting her new clothes on the basin before helping her stand in the bath, opening the warm towel and wrapping it around her body, her hands poking out to keep it wrapped around herself as he scooped her up, setting her down to sit on the lid of the toilet.

Grabbing the clothes off the basin, he slipped the soft grey sweater over her head, and pulled his boxers up her legs, pressing a kiss to her forehead once she was dressed.

She murmured a ‘thank you’, to which he responded by kissing her again, this time on her lips, before picking her up again, placing a hand on her left knee, pushing it to wrap around his waist, before doing the same to her right.

Keeping her steady with a hand on her bum, he walked the few steps to his bed as quickly as possible. He held her up with one hand as he used the other to pull back the covers, before carefully crawling into the bed, being sure not to disturbed her comfort in his arms as he did so.

Wrapping the soft duvet around the both of them, he looked down at her to see her smiling up at him. He beamed back at her, dimples visible in his cheeks, before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her puffy lips.

She sighed in content, pulling away from the kiss and resting her head on his shoulder again, nose nuzzling against the soft skin of his neck. He smiled to himself, before picking up his phone from the bedside table, checking his notifications quickly before he opened Instagram, scrolling aimlessly through his reels. He swiped upon a particularly funny minions meme, pushing air out of his nostrils in a half-laugh, before angling his phone down to show her. He looked down to watch her reaction, his favourite thing in the world being to see her laugh - it was automatically a great day for him whenever he was the one to coax a giggle from her - but instead saw she was asleep, lips parted slightly, and eyebrows relaxed.

He smiled fondly down at her, using the arm she was laying on to rub soothingly up and down her arm. He clicked ‘Save’ on the meme, telling himself to remember to show her later, before he opened Safari, logging into Twitter, or ‘X’ now, - ‘so fucking stupid’ he thought - looking to see what fans had to say about their new show, ‘Still… at their very best.’

©trumanbluee - reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! but i do not wish for my work to be republished, translated, or copied. thanks!

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foxymoxynoona · 4 months ago

Text

To Kill A King (Chapter 16)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

Summary: What’s more charming than Prince Seokjin? Nothing, obviously. Except maybe the rotating palace guests who each smile and bow and charm in an attempt to hide their true motives. Fortunately Seokjin has a close circle of friends (well, servants) who watch his back and endure his humor and help him navigate the tumultuous seas of heartbreak, love, and an arranged marriage, not necessarily in that order. If only they had helped him keep a closer eye on his bride-to-be’s handmaiden, who arrives with her own agenda… or maybe it would have been better if he had noticed her less? One thing is certain as this royal drama of the heart plays out: there are many people competing to kill a king.

Main Pairing: Prince Seokjin x Female OC Genre: Historical Fantasy World, political conspiracy, romance Rating: 18+ Content Warnings & story tags: includes explicit sex (mxf, fxf), possibly graphic violence/injury later, love and sex triangles or uh quadrangles?, sort of e 2 l, sort of bodyguard trope, sort of arranged marriage, a lot of plotting murder (it’s literally in the title), maybe character death, grief, pining, angst, love, oral (f & m receiving), public sex, I don’t know everything yet as the story is long and still being written

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NOTE: check out the Character & Setting Cheat Sheet for a refresher on who’s who

No one was getting close to the prince’s room. Dulce couldn’t even get to the hall; guards formed an impenetrable wall across the path and she had no reason to push her way through. She tried the back hallway instead, the one that ran around his courtyard, thinking she might be able to catch a glimpse from there of what was happening. Doctors must be in with him now, attempting to remove the blade and stop the bleeding of whatever organs it had penetrated. If it hit the heart, there was no hope; he’d slowly bleed out around the knife or quickly once they removed it. Even if the heart was just nicked, the pressure would cause it to rupture, perhaps after he thought he was perfectly healed, just out of the blue. His lung would be bad too. Yes he had two of them, but if blood or oxygen built up in his chest cavity, his lungs wouldn’t be able to expand and he’d suffocate or drown on his own blood. Dulce had heard it was possible to survive with a good surgeon but did not believe that was true, based on what she had seen in life.

She knew too much about all of it, that was the problem. She knew how to make a clean, quick kill and that doing so was a mercy. She also knew how to drag it out, make someone suffer, though that was not her style. There had been a few times when the kill had not been clean, or in the early days when she was open to working alongside someone else and learned from their shoddy work. A bad kill meant a slow, painful death. Sometimes that’s what the person calling the shots wanted but Dulce didn’t take those jobs. There was no joy or glory in death to her. Even death of truly detestable, irredeemable people left her hollow. Suffering didn’t undo the pain they had caused others, it only stopped it. There was no justice in death, just an end.

Where had the knife penetrated? Were the doctors competent? Was he alert and suffering or was he still unconscious from the pain? Was he losing blood and would never wake up?

The hallway around the courtyard was blocked off too, no way to get through and spy. She could try to scale the roof and gave it a great deal of thought, but likely they’d be on high alert for any movement up there at the moment. She’d get caught and probably not learn anything. She needed to be in the room, and there was no way or reason for her to be in the room, because why did the maid of his fiance need to be in the room?

Nasimiyu ought to be here, though it was better for her own safety that she was shut up elsewhere. Dulce felt her blood boiling into her ears. If you loved someone, wasn’t your place beside them no matter what? Seokjin might die and Nasimiyu wouldn’t know until someone came to tell her. Dulce knew Nasimiyu didn’t love Seokjin but she’d seemed to grow more fond of him, and at least she was concerned about appearances, and anyway didn’t her crown hang in the balance of whether Seokjin lived? Wasn’t that enough to bring her around despite the risk? How could she be anywhere, doing anything else, if she was supposed to love him? Just because her maid had sent her to her room? She had obeyed, Nasimiyu who was never obedient, which meant it was what she had wanted to do anyway. But she didn’t love him.

Dulce pressed against the wall and tried to slow her breathing in the middle of the churning chaos. At least he wasn’t alone. Seokjin was surrounded by his closest friends right now, surely –at least Jimin and Jungkook must be in there with him, maybe Taehyung too. His friends the servants, the only friends he really seemed to have. Was the king there? At least if Seokjin was conscious, he’d have someone there to hold his hand if he wanted it. Dulce knew how frightening those final moments could be. She’d seen so many of them, and she tried not to stick around, but sometimes… sometimes it was impossible not to notice the fear and loneliness, as people called out for a wife or a mother or a husband, as they begged for death to pass them by today, as they tried to barter with any gods listening for more time. But there were no gods, only Dulce. And she didn’t have time to give, only to take. This time, it was the prince. Maybe hers had not been the hand to plunge the knife but she knew about the plots to kill him and the king. She had done nothing to stop them –had in fact been helping one of those plots. It might as well have been her hand. What if the letter she had delivered was a set up for this?

That was entirely likely, she realized. Her hands were stained after all.

She hadn’t been close enough to see his face but she could imagine it based on his body language, how calm he’d been, as though the knife was nothing but a hand pressed against him for balance. He’d been conscious in the wagon, trying to make jokes and put those around him at ease even as he shuddered in pain. She’d never unsee it. It couldn’t be the last thing she saw of him, the prince in profound but masked pain, and yet it might be.

A hand grabbing her arm made her exhale and spin, reaching instinctively for a blade she’d never get from her pocket in time. Taehyung’s face staring down into hers, wide eyes, hair wild and shirt crumbled, brought the hum of the hall back into hearing.

“The Queen’s room! The Queen’s room too!” The cry rippled up and down the hall, another armload of kindling on the fires of panic.

Taehyung leaned in close, his lips pressed to her ear as he murmured, “The rooms have been noticed.”

“How’s the prince?”

“Damned if I know,” Taehyung breathed, and bodied her closer to the wall in an effort to stop the jostling. “Where did you stash?”

Dulce leaned away with a shock and demanded, “Onto that already? Aren’t you worried–”

“Yah, what can I do? You think they’ll let a stablehand in there?” he quickly corrected. “You think I can do the stitches or anything at all? Focus on what we can do.”

It was practical. Usually she’d be the one pointing that out, and it shook some sense back into her. Right.

“They saw the rooms,” she repeated, trying to latch onto something concrete and focus. It didn’t need to be asked; she could hear the alarm about it, but she felt frazzled in a way that was not familiar. “They’ll think it’s related…”

“Yes, so we’d better make sure it isn’t!” Taehyung hissed.

She gave a sharp shake of her head and argued, “No, it is. That’s good. Cover. But not to us.”

“Yeah, you think? Then the whole thing gets tied to–”

“You need to move the things,” she whispered.

“Did anyone see you? Anything get left behind–”

“One of those masters saw me– or didn’t see me, but knew someone was down there and told me the way out.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung said.

“Just move the stuff and that’ll be the end. If they saw me at all, they’ll be looking for a woman in the caves, not you.”

“Where you said?”

“Yes, it’s–”

Taehyung was gone before she could finish the reminder. She hoped he was certain, hoped he knew where he was going, and hoped he had a good plan for where he was moving things. She especially hoped no one saw him or missed him while he was there.

She stayed backed against the wall as the hallway began to clear, folks off to find whatever shelter they thought would help them right now against these invisible forces. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to be. Probably Nasimiyu was waiting for her but Dulce couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be less. If Nasimiyu wanted to be a leader it was time to figure out her own way during a crisis, it wasn’t Dulce’s job, certainly not anymore. Her job was–

She was still a maid, damnit! She took off down the hall to the nearest linen closet and piled her arms high with towels, and a bowl for good measure, then circled back at an urgent clip.

“Towels,” she shouted at the guards blocking the hallway to the Prince’s rooms. “They called for towels.”

“No one in or out,” a guard told her.

“Then you take them in, they said there’s blood everywhere,” she snapped and tried to shove the armful at the guards. “You think I want to deal with that and being out of a job because they don’t have the supplies they called for?”

“No one called,” another one said.

“The other hall, but you’re faster– nevermind then, take the towels in and clean! You think the King and Prince want to shelter in a room filthy with blood–”

“Just go,” the guard huffed and stepped aside to shove her through. Over her shoulder she heard him insist, “You know that brat belongs to the princess, she checks out.”

Fools, every one of you.

But she didn’t stop because she was through, miraculously through! She kicked the door frantically until a guard on the inside opened it, then bustled through with her towels and promptly froze.

Seokjin lay on a board resting across the parlor table, his shirt open and bright smears of blood drying across his stomach and arms. His face was pale and unmoving, eyes closed and lips parted like a mask of death. She couldn’t see the wound itself because two men hunched over it, working. Her stomach churned. A dozen people stood around the room besides, half watching with rapt attention, the other half intentionally diverted. The King was nowhere to be seen.

“Who are you? What the hell are you doing here?” an older man shouted at her –that older bodyguard of Seokjin’s, the one who’d been with Seokjin on the wall the other day. He recognized her in a second and scowled, “You can’t be here.”

“I brought towels… they were sent for…?” It did not take effort to look dazed by the scene before her.

It was different. A body was different when you’d known the person in it.

“Nobody sent for towels! They shouldn’t be letting anyone through!” The man flung open the door and began shouting down the hall.

But he hadn’t thrown Dulce out so she dove forward and dropped the armload of towels onto the sofa. Seokjin’s skin was parted like curled flower petals, instruments sticking out as they did whatever was necessary to save his life. How odd that she and these men stood on opposite sides of the table, dragging a toy back and forth across the veil of death –a tug-of-war that ultimately could only end one way, though they might hold the line for years, if they were any good.

I didn’t do this.

I did do this.

Who had actually done it, though? She looked around for anyone who might have answers they would give her, but the only familiar faces were Jimin and Jungkook, both staring blankly at their prince on the table.

She approached them anyway, bumping Jimin’s arm before whispering, “Do they know anything yet?”

“No whispering!” one of the doctors shouted, and before Jimin could say a word Jungkook grabbed Dulce’s arm and dragged her to the door the older bodyguard opened.

“Hey!”

“Get out of here. You shouldn’t be here,” Jungkook repeated the line.

“Let go of me–”

“Go hide with your princess,” he said and promptly bodied her out and slammed the door.

Her whole body shook. She had not seen signs of life and to be pushed out like that stung –not her ego, but because of the absolute terror on Jungkook’s face. She wasn’t sure why he’d suddenly evicted her other than needing something to do when there was nothing he, nor anyone else in that room save the doctors, could do. Likely not even the doctors.

She would not go hide with Nasimiyu, not when there was a guilty party to find here, not when they might be bumbling the investigation right this very moment. They must be, if they believed the queen’s rooms being ransacked was related to the death of Seokjin’s bodyguard and the stabbing of the prince. They would believe the obvious thing in front of them, but what would they miss?

She moved quickly through the halls, trying not to blink to avoid the image of the Prince’s blank face. How close had Nasimiyu been? Should she have been able to stop it? Why hadn’t the bodyguards stopped it? Things were avoidable if you paid attention, unless someone was as good as Dulce, but Dulce would never have done this out in the open.

Someone wanted to be caught. They wanted the attention.

She paused, right in the middle of the hall, just as another quartet of guards ran in front of her in the direction of the queen’s rooms. Probably every guard and inspector in the city was being called out. Her mind had caught a fragment of a moment, the moment he’d been stabbed– he had been with his father, and twisted his father or himself. Had the Prince not been the target? The prince was much easier to access than the king. Maybe a commoner, maybe someone taking advantage of the king being among the people and loosely guarded when otherwise it was not so easy to gain access to the ruler of the country…

They must at least have the man in custody. Surely they had managed at least that. They would get answers from him, whether truthful or not. Who was investigating the dead bodyguard? Namjoon? That seemed like a potential conflict of interests, for vaguely political reasons Dulce didn’t understand other than that he and Seokjin were not friends.

She deliberated, standing in the center of the path, which direction to go? Where to start: to find the King, to find the assassin, to find the dead bodyguard? How exhausting, inspecting was much more complicated than assassinating.

Well she couldn’t just stand here and wait for the shout of the Prince’s death to echo down the hallways. If she moved quickly, maybe she could figure out who was behind this before that surrender was given. Maybe she could pinch out those wicks before the investigators had a chance to fumble justice. Just in case the ransacking of the queen’s rooms did get tied to her, and idiot investigators lumped the whole thing on her, she better move quickly with her vengeance.

She picked a path and set off.

Seokjin’s head throbbed. He felt his heartbeat in his temples and in the ankle he’d sprained as a boy and in his shoulder. There was something odd about it, his heartbeat, but he couldn’t figure out what; it seemed steady and strong, as far as he could remember. That was it, he wasn’t used to noticing his heartbeat.

A buzzing in his ears turned into the hum of voices and then time began to move more quickly. He blinked crusty eyes open and tried to make sense of the crowd, especially as background details of his own bedroom sharpened into focus. Why were all these people in his bedroom?!

“Jimin,” he croaked out, then coughed at the effort, then flinched at the sharp pain in his chest. That was all it took for events to rapidly fall into place: a man with a knife aimed at his father, a knife in his own chest, a bumpy ride in the back of a wagon.

“What do you need?” Hoseok asked, crouched instantly by his side. The voices had all hushed and Seokjin felt like a fish in a tank now, all these faces blinking at him like hungry birds. Lying down was suddenly oppressive but as soon as he tried to move, the pain burned in his chest and shoulder. Hands reached for him, which he hated more than lying down, so he batted them away and just tried again, putting weight on his right side only this time until Hoseok shuffled the pillows behind him to prop him up.

No Jimin, but Jungkook and Alonzo and Marks were close, Hoseok, the doctors, a nurse whose name he did not know. For the briefest moment he thought it was Dulce with her dark hair but as soon as the woman began to move he saw at once it was not her, even before she turned a very different face. Her movements were all wrong; she carried a cup of water differently.

“Do you know where you are?” Hoseok asked, gentler than Seokjin had ever heard him. That’s how he knew it was serious, that Hoseok wasn’t thinking a whit about appearances or decorum but let the concern show openly on his face.

“I know what happened,” Seokjin said. His voice was gravelly from disuse. Instinctively he reached for the cup the nurse held out only to flinch and pull back. Hoseok gave her a scathing look and took the cup, then clearly deliberated whether to hold it for him. “I can take it,” Seokjin said, willing it to be true. “But what happened?”

“You were stabbed,” Jungkook answered.

“You’ve suffered an injury to the chest, a narrow margin to the right of your heart–” one of the doctors began as the other spoke over him, something about narrowly avoided anything critical alongside but significant blood loss and risk of clots or empyema, which meant nothing to Seokjin.

“Am I dying?” he asked, not interested in trying to parse their medical jargon.

“No,” the first doctor said. “However you should remain in bed and resting for at least a week as we watch for infection or–”

“How long have I been in bed already?” he asked Hoseok, agog at the subsequent answer the festival was day before yesterday.

“Two days,” Jungkook clarified. “Less than two days but more than a day.”

Could no one give him straight answers? He carefully lifted the cup to his lips, not appreciating the way it trembled. His stomach grumbled, a sharp cramp of hunger that was hopefully a good sign. Really, almost two days he’d been asleep? He craned his neck to see the injury but taped gauze obscured whatever grotesque stitching job they’d done. He’d made it this far in life with few scars but this would likely be a gnarly one.

The memory of that cut on Dulce’s throat intruded and he frowned.

“I’ll help,” Jungkook offered, trying to reach for the cup of water.

“I want food and answers,” Seokjin clarified, handing the cup to Hoseok instead. “Where’s my father?”

“Uninjured,” Hoseok quickly assured him. “But…”

“Not visiting,” Jungkook added when no one else did. Seokjin wasn’t surprised. Nothing kept his father away like illness or injury. He’d have gone to the funeral, but anything short of that and he’d keep a wide berth until Seokjin was well enough to go to him –which he would probably need to do soon for any real answers. He doubted anyone in this room was privy to valuable information. The doctors were talking about his condition again and he didn’t really care to hear it. He lived, time to move forward.

“Anyone else injured?”

Alonzo cleared his throat before answering, “We found Edmund.”

“Wha?”

“Strung up in the courtyard when we brought you here–”

Marks scoffed, “Don’t act like you were bringing him in. You were off–”

“Not working! Maybe if I had been, we wouldn’t be in here right now–”

Seokjin waved his hand, which quieted no one, so he ignored their bickering and demanded of Hoseok and Jungkook, “What about Edmund?”

“Hanging in the courtyard but dead before that,” Jungkook said. “Had a paper on his chest but no one’s saying what it said.”

“Dead before that as in–”

“Someone killed him before and put him there.”

Seokjin heard this but couldn’t make sense of it. This was all such substance to wake up to from a dreamless sleep. He was pretty sure there had been no dreams. He didn’t feel rested at all, just brittle and empty. His heartbeat still felt too loud, like it should rattle his teeth.

“Who someone?”

“Nobody’s telling us,” Hoseok pointed out. Seokjin looked around the room. It felt too quiet without any of his animals in here.

“Has someone been feeding–”

“Yeah I did it and Jimin,” Jungkook said. “They don’t like all the people coming through so they’re all shut up in your study.”

“It’s not hygienic to have all those animals around someone healing,” one of the doctors scoffed, disdain on full display.

“Ok,” Seokjin said. He began to twist on the bed, tugging the blankets away from his legs. The shouts of protest were immediate but he ignored them and said, “Bring me a robe or something.”

“Your Highness, you should remain in bed–”

“Yah, I’m sure I will come right back after I talk to my father.”

“There’s nothing you need from him right now,” Hoseok too tried to argue.

Jungkook, though, brought the robe and then Hoseok snatched it from him to help Seokjin from the bed and slide the robe on himself, clearly realizing he wasn’t going to be able to dissuade the prince.

Standing was more exhausting than he’d expected, but between Hoseok and Jungkook he got to his feet and began the shuffle towards the door.

“Wait wait, you need slippers at least,” the nurse said.

“This is absurd, he should remain in bed! He is not well enough to go strolling through the palace!”

“I will avoid strolling, understood.”

“Walking though is good for him,” the second doctor mused, tapping his chin in thought. “When he feels up for it. Get the blood pumping through his body again.”

“Unless his heart ruptures!”

“Was my heart damaged?” Seokjin asked. It would be just perfect if it was, if now his body was a ticking time bomb. He had so much still to do in life, right? Something something. That’s what people always said. Technically it was true, he had a kingdom to rule someday and all that, but it seemed very far beyond him right now. Just walking to the door with Hoseok and Jungkook holding his arms was challenging enough.

“We don’t think so but the injury was close, it’s impossible to say for sure! You need to rest and recover for at least a month–”

“Didn’t he say a week before?” Seokjin asked Hoseok. He was trying to be funny and saw on their faces that they knew it too and didn’t appreciate it, but jokes were preferable to admitting that this hurt quite a lot and he was beginning to wonder why he felt so strongly about getting out of bed right now. He needed answers, sure, but it wasn’t like he could do anything with those answers. Maybe he needed to see the palace and that it was still standing, or needed to see the limits of his own body, or just needed to see his father, nothing more than a little boy once again. No mother anymore for him to run and clutch the skirts of, sadly, so father would have to do.

Walking made him dizzy so he went slow, and limped a little not because his legs hurt but because the rhythm helped him keep moving. Hoseok and Jungkook pressed by his side until Jimin saw them in the hallway and sprinted over with a gasp to usurp Hoseok’s place and try to convince Seokjin back to bed.

“Once I see my father, you won’t have to convince me,” he promised.

“No one expects you to be up yet! You’re supposed to be resting! Why did the doctors allow this?”

“He’s the… prince…” Jungkook argued, looking perplexed.

“Damn right I am and I want answers about who did this!” Seokjin shouted. “It’s annoying! I’m going to have a tragic scar right over my heart and I want answers!” It was for the benefit of the huddle of maids nearby who gave him wide-eyed stares before scurrying away. He hoped he looked more strong than crazy, sashaying through the palace in his robe and slippers, but the performance had winded him and he had to pause for a moment, leaning heavily against Jungkook to catch his breath. Breathing hurt more than being stabbed had; this was what he thought being stabbed should feel like. At the time it hadn’t hurt, he’d just felt like… butter. The knife had just carved into him like he was nothing, nothing at all.

“Can we at least find a rolling chair for him?” Jimin asked Hoseok and Marks.

“I’ll be there before you find one!” Seokjin called after Hoseok’s retreating back. Eager for it to be true because he knew his father would never let him live it down if he was wheeled in, he pushed further, harder, until finally the door of his father’s study loomed in the distance.

He couldn’t make out the words this far, but the raised voices could not be missed.

“Well?” King Donggun asked as Seokjin opened the door, so sharply that at first Seokjin thought it was aimed at him. Instead the barbed question glanced off his uncle, sitting comfortably on the sofa, an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

Instead of answering, Dongsuk looked at Seokjin and greeted cooly, “You’ve awoken, have you?”

“Seokjin.”

“All’s well,” Seokjin assured them both and shuffled heavily into the room before sinking into the chair. With a gesture Donggun sent Jimin and Jungkook from the room. A pitcher of water sat on the table beside him and Seokjin wanted it but did not have confidence he could pour and then hold the glass without trembling.

“I didn’t expect to see you up and about so soon,” his father said, drawing closer, as if the tense scene Seokjin interrupted was nothing at all. “Are you well?”

“He said so.”

“I’m all right,” Seokjin told him. “A bit hassled but more interested in what the whole point of this was. They were after you, weren’t they?”

A great breath rushed from the king and for a brief moment he looked ancient.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, eh?” Dongsuk asked, a derisive sneer curling around the cigarette as he lifted it to his lips to light. “The people grow bold when that head slumps with lazy entitlement–”

“The people grow bold when they are desperate,” King Donggun argued. “Why are they desperate, brother?”

“Because they do not understand to be grateful.”

“What should they be grateful for?” Donggun asked, settling back in his own overstuffed chair. He lifted a skull from the table beside him and rolled it between his fingers, exploring the cracks and crevices with detachment, as if he’d memorized them years ago in similar fits of musing. “Life isn’t about gratitude. There’s nothing I can do to make them grateful. People will always think they could be better off ruling themselves and it is the burden of those above to protect them from the horrors of what that would truly be like.”

Dongsuk took a long drag and puffed it out; Seokjin thought it was intended in his direction but perhaps his uncle simply forgot to notice him further. Seokjin was no more than the chair now, there to soak up the scent of cigarettes and cradle the ass of men with allegedly great minds and a blessed birthright.

“Gratitude that you allow them still to live it,” Dongsuk corrected. “Do you think this will be the last attempt? There will be more until they succeed. You ought to have nipped this when it was still a bud.”

“Destin was behind this?” Seokjin dared to clarify.

“Did you get anything else out of the man?” the king asked his brother.

“‘Freedom for Destin!’” Dongsuk mocked, his voice suddenly a low, bellowing shout. “Nothing but those words. Obstinate, I’ll give him that. He said nothing else and now he will say no more.”

Donggun’s glare narrowed as he gritted through his teeth, “You were not to kill him.”

“It wasn’t done to annoy you.”

“There are other methods beside the brutal, we might have learned more–”

Dongsuk shook his head and huffed, “You are weak, brother. That dagger would have sliced through your soft body, hand and arm to follow because you’re made of custard. You see the core of a man when you bring him to the brink, and he had nothing more to say. You would not have coaxed something different from him with cookies and wine.”

“Now we will never know,” Donggun mused, gaze still trained on Dongsuk. Seokjin watched them back and forth, waiting for the next volley. It was good to catch his breath for a moment anyway, and he found they were answering the questions he hadn’t thought of yet anyway. Destin behind the attempted murder of the king, was it? Not surprising given their growing unrest. Dongsuk had tried to torture anything further out of the man who was now dead and had given them nothing except the obvious, but apparently Donggun thought there might have been more to be got.

“Do you think there was more to it?” he asked his father. “Not Destin, as the man claimed?”

Dongsuk interrupted whatever response might follow, “Your father listens to the gossip of scullery maids. What do the rumors say, brother? That I tried to have my brother killed to frame Destin and so set the stage for my war?”

Seokjin felt a cold shiver rush through his body. The room was very cold, wasn’t it?

“I don’t need to frame Destin for a war,” Dongsuk scoffed. “They’re so stupid, they’re begging for a war and you’re running out of reasons not to give it to them, unless you’re twice the coward I think you are. I have no reason to murder my own brother. I do not want your crown.”

Donggun shrugged and let the skull fall with a heavy thud back to the table.

“Your motives have always been beyond my understanding,” Donggun admitted. “Why crave the battlefield instead of a life of peace and prosperity?”

“The battlefield is merely the path.”

“I think the path is a velvet couch and fine horses and a ball with good music–”

“The starving people to the east disagree.”

“So feed them,” Donggun countered. “Have your soldiers distribute bread while they’re marching through the streets flashing their overpolished swords.”

“Is that your order? They nearly killed your son in an attempt to kill you and you want us to make them cakes?”

Seokjin felt like a boy again and the adults were talking over his head. Was there not a straight-forward solution? The Destin people wanted independence, so why not grant it? If it led to their misery, at least they chose it themselves. Ah, but where would they get the steaks he and his father enjoyed so much? Where the chicken for their stews and the dairy for their cheeses and the leather for their armor and boots? Was it not possible to establish proper trade with an independent Destin? He knew the counter-arguments though, he’d heard them the one time he dared ask such a “stupid” question at council: they would pay triple or more for the things they now took for free, or very close to it. An independent Destin might be unwilling to trade at all, and then what? Paloma and Minsk would have to supply these things, they would be crushed by the demand and claim independence next, and who after them? The quality of life, the wealth of the kingdom, the strength of the kingdom would fall. They would be left a small, humbled palace, open once again to invasion. Everything his family had built for themselves would crumble. Wouldn’t that be tragic?

“That is not my command,” Donggun said, again with that ancient sigh.

“Then what is? Already you are too slow to act.”

“What, will Desitin grow more bold?” Donggun demanded. “They are in my city driving a knife into my chest. They are in my palace plucking off my son’s guards and dangling them in front of my nose. They’re in my wife’s rooms, desecrating– to hell with them all–”

“Mother’s rooms?” Seokjin interrupted.

“They were ransacked while we were at the festival,” Donggun said, sinking back into his chair. “Don’t ask me more, I can’t talk about it.”

“Yes you’ve made that dramatically clear,” Dongsuk scoffed. “Perhaps your enfeebled son can face the rooms in your stead and make a catalog of what’s missing, since it’s beyond your ability?” The disdain for the king’s grief was clear in his voice, but it missed Donggun; he nodded and mumbled, “Yes, perhaps so…”

For a moment Seokjin sat with this. It was too much to make sense of. It felt like something should be more dramatically changed around the palace for all of this to have taken place: he’d been nearly killed, his father had been the target, his bodyguard was found dead after an absence, and his late mother the beloved queen’s rooms had been robbed? Should the whole palace be in shambles? Or deserted? Or absolutely overrun with guards at the very least?

There was something beyond it all that felt unsettling to him but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Perhaps that was silly, it was plenty to feel unsettled about. An assassination attempt on a monarch, yes, all right that made sense. Killing a bodyguard to weaken security, sure, although why was the body held for so long and revealed at just this moment? And then to destroy the Queen’s rooms, the queen who was no longer alive to care, it had to be to send a message but it was just… so personal. It felt different. There was something strange here when so far Destin’s demands were very direct –though Seokjin didn’t expect he’d be the one to figure it out. His head felt a little swimmy and fluffy now and he began to wonder if maybe he really ought to have stayed in bed a bit longer.

“What did the note on Edmund say?” Seokjin asked, trying to ignore the horror of his own words. He couldn’t stop to think about what those words meant, about what that young, inoffensive, dumb but kind-hearted youth had gone through for only the crime of guarding the Prince. A life snuffed out and for why? It wasn’t fair. If they wanted to kill Seokjin, have at it, but Edmund hadn’t deserved death.

The king gestured to the table in between the men, near the water Seokjin still longed for. He hadn’t noticed anything else on the table, ignoring what he had assumed were the familiar macabre trinkets his father kept scattered there. Now on closer look he saw a crinkled, torn paper, a folded note, a pile of bloody cloths, two knives, and a silver ring.

He picked up the papers first. The folded note was worn as if it had been folded and unfolded a dozen times. The message inside was simple, written in a shaky poor hand: FREE DESTIN.

“In the pocket of the man who tried to kill us,” Donggun said, watching Seokjin’s study while Dongsuk watched the curl of smoke from his cigarette glide up to the ceiling.

Seokjin folded it closed and tossed it back to the table. The second note was crinkled and torn but not folded; a giant rip at the top muddled a few of the letters but the message was not lost:

We are here. We know everything. We will take everything from you until we get what we want. Each cut will hurt more. FREE DESTIN.

Seokjin dropped the paper quickly back onto the table to mask the shiver.

“Well they sure know how to write a threat,” he muttered. “Brutal and to the point, but there’s a sort of poetry to it, isn’t there?”

“There’s only one way to answer a threat and come out victorious,” Dongsuk said, reaching forward to tap his cigarette into an upturned skull that was certainly not intended for that purpose –but then a skull really only had one and it had stopped protecting a living person’s mind a long time ago. “With decisive action. They took your home, so take theirs. They tried to take your son, so take theirs.”

“Yes, crush them so there’s no spirit left, only a spark of hatred to simmer for the next generation or so until it catches again and burns our kingdom to the ground,” Donggun sneered.

“Is that your command?”

“No it’s not my command! What is my command! I haven’t decided what my command is yet! These things require thought!”

“If your son had waited to think, you would be dead now,” Dongsuk pointed out and pushed to his feet. It was the closest to praise Seokjin had ever received from him and made him feel instantly like he had done something wrong. He was not here to side with his uncle; he agreed the situation required time to think. He was glad this didn’t rest on his shoulders and yet… if the assassination had been successful, it would. He would be the one sitting in front of this table, looking over these items that had brought about the death of his father, trying to decide the fate of a nation and the people within it. How, how was anyone supposed to know what to do with a situation like this?

“Seokjin?”

He had missed whatever they asked him but answered anyway, “We’ve already been stabbed. If we react too quickly we’re more likely to expose some new place for them to sink a knife…” He trailed off, head tilting and gaze narrowing as he surveyed the knives on the table, one of them in particular which was actually a dagger, sharp on both sides. Gingerly he picked up the blade, certain he was mistaken. His thumb brushed across the bumps of rubies lodged in the golden handle, flecks of dried blood falling to his lap. The same swirls etched into the blade dipped in and out of view behind streaks of dried blood. The weight felt the same in his hand.

“Seem familiar?” Dongsuk asked. Seokjin startled that his mind was so easily read --it had to be, otherwise his uncle had no way of knowing he had held this exact dagger when it fell from Dulce’s boot the night of the masquerade ball. “A wound knows its maker,” his uncle continued. “Did you feel a twinge in your chest when you touched it?”

He had indeed felt a twinge in his chest.

How the fuck had Dulce’s dagger wound up lodged next to his heart after an attempt on the king’s life?

But it wasn’t Dulce, it couldn’t be. She wasn’t not the one who had stabbed him. She hadn’t even been at the festival until, possibly, the moment it all happened… had she? Now he doubted his mind because he felt sure he had seen her face and just as sure she had not accompanied Nasimiyu that day. He might have hallucinated her.

He threw the dagger down on the table, convinced he was mistaken. Somehow that united his father and uncle in a laugh at his expense. He didn’t care. Likely the blade was mass produced, a common souvenir in some stall where anyone might get an identical weapon. He sure didn’t know how to tell if the rubies were real; he’d never seen a fake as far as he knew.

“He realized it’s his own blood,” Donggun chuckled, like Seokjin was a toddler confused by his reflection in the mirror instead of a grown man feeling a panic of confusion as to why Dulce’s dagger had nearly ended his life.

“It’s a nice piece of metal. Someone should clean it,” he mused, pushing up from the chair onto unsteady feet.

“We’ll give it to you as a keepsake,” Dongsuk suggested. “It will be your reminder that you’re resilient after all.”

“Once we figure out who it belongs to,” Donggun corrected.

“Destin, right?” Seokjin reminded. That didn’t make sense, Dulce had no connection to Destin. Paloma and Marvono were different, and her mentions of Paloma were too casual, too sincere feeling to be a mask for a true Destin origin.

… Right?

“Unfortunately, Destin is more than a single person,” Dongsuk scoffed and then strode from the room. End of discussion. Seokjin regretted that, because he wanted to stride from the room, but now it would look like he was following his uncle. Instead he looked at his father, afraid of being trapped alone with him.

He ought to have known better. Donggun seemed to be looking anywhere except at him. He lifted the skull again, then set it down. For a moment they both stared at the knives on the table, and Seokjin braced himself for a question he was not prepared to answer: have you ever seen either of those knives before? Do you have any idea who could be behind this? But Dulce couldn’t be involved, it just didn’t make any sense! What, she was skulking about plotting treason in between beating towels in the laundry and lacing up Nasimiyu’s dresses? She was, what, luring his bodyguards away to torture and murder? Jimin and Taehyung and Yoongi, all of them escaped the murderous intentions of this ridiculous handmaid assassin but Edmund, he was the target that made sense? At the very least she would have sliced up Namjoon by now, hm? Overpowered men much larger than herself, then gone home and rebraided her hair?

“Well I think I’ll–”

“About time for me to take a turn,” the King interrupted, standing briskly from his chair. “Mind you, don’t sit for too long, it’ll let the blood pool in your ass and you might never get up again.”

“Wha??” But then, what had Seokjin expected? His father didn’t cast a second look at him, just left him alone in his own parlor and went off to do who knew what. Not even a good to see you up after Seokjin had nearly died saving his life –an impulse, and arguably a bad one, unappreciated as it were. But then if he hadn’t, he’d be king now, and Seokjin supposed that was even worse than being the wrong son.

For a brief moment he relished sitting alone in a room. Unfortunately, it left him at the mercy of his thoughts, which then drifted back to the dagger on the table in front of him. No, it wasn’t right. Dulce. There was some other obvious explanation. Nasimiyu would be able to tell him that the blade wasn’t Dulce’s.

Since there was no one to stop him, he wrapped the dagger up in the bloody cloth beside it and tucked it into the deep pocket of his dressing gown.

Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook all waited for him just outside, two of them springing from the wall as he opened the door and Jungkook leaping back like he’d been about to break it down.

“It got quiet suddenly,” Jungkook explained.

“I had a moment to myself. Let’s go, to Mother’s room.”

All three men looked at him confused; Jimin clarified, “To… the Queen’s rooms?”

“Yes, let’s go. No one mentioned they were ransacked while I was out.”

“We were dealing with bigger concerns,” Hoseok defended. “You.”

“How bad is it?”

Jimin’s expression mirrored Hoseok’s as he answered, “We don’t know, we don’t go in there.”

“Where’s Taehyung?”

None had any idea where he might be off to, though Jungkook said that Taehyung had come by multiple times until Jimin chased him off because it was going to look suspicious. Seokjin didn’t need appeasement about whether Taehyung had worried about him dying. For a brief moment he found himself wondering if, should he have died, his father would have legitimized Taehyung. He’d need an heir quickly unless he wanted to risk everything falling to uncle Dongsuk, next of kin. Then Destin would be lucky to have a single survivor…

The guard had been increased outside of his mother’s rooms but they moved quickly aside to let him through. They would only have ever allowed he or his father through, and no one had mentioned dead guards, so how had anyone got inside? But Taehyung regularly got in, so there must be a way to sneak past, or distract. Probably the guards were already looking into it on threat of job loss or death, without the bodies of overpowered guards to show for their dedication.

He thought his father might have already put everything back into place, but that was not the case –or if it had been worse than this, he had not got very far. Seokjin couldn’t remember the last time he had been in here, but the damage was obvious. Easels overturned, clothing crinkled on the floor, jewels scattered like someone had been in a rush and not sure what they wanted. The bedding was ripped from the bed, all the drawers tumbled on the mattress. He picked his way through the mess, feeling a stone settle in his stomach –not from the destruction itself, per se, but because his mother wasn’t here to put everything back and he didn’t know the way she would have done.

He stooped to lift a broken hair comb from the ground, fitting the floral decoration back into place but the twine was snapped and it didn’t stay.

“Who the fuck would do something like this?” Jimin muttered, equally as horrified.

“Yes, murder is one thing, but this is just rude,” Seokjin joked with no heart in it. Behind Jimin, he noticed the empty spaces on the walls and found himself wondering which paintings had been taken. Maybe he could figure it out, if he sat and tried to remember all of them, and struck out the ones he could still see, but he thought it unlikely. As a boy he was always a blur running through the rooms in search of his mother, taking for granted she would always materialize from behind an easel.

The painting Taehyung loved so much was gone, he grew certain of that as he looked over the walls. There were so many missing, without knowing what they were, he couldn’t have said whether that was the target or was simply grabbed alongside the others. Taehyung would be devastated. He couldn’t think why the thieves would have taken it, since he didn’t think it was any more or less valuable than the others, but maybe they didn’t have a reason. Just grabbing whatever they could to sell, to fund their rebellion. He supposed he should be grateful they hadn’t simply put a torch to the whole thing. Maybe some of the missing things would turn up in the black market over time and he could get them back. He’d recognize something of hers if he saw it, he had a good eye for that sort of thing. Once he’d recognized a necklace of his mother’s on another woman at dinner and innocently pointed it out, accidentally fueling rumors that the king was sleeping with Lady Aukem. Later he’d seen a ring he gave Delphine in the window of a pawn shop while traveling through Sartia and despite Zselyke saying he was paranoid because no self-respecting noble would pawn their jewelry in a shop, it had turned out he was right.

He’d bought the ring a second time and given it to a random beggar on the street so at least some good would come from it.

Once he recognized a piece of jewelry or an item of clothing, once his mind had made an impression of it, he was always right. Always.

The dagger couldn’t be Dulce’s, it couldn’t.

“Can you tell what’s missing?” Jungkook asked.

“I don’t come in here,” Seokjin reminded him. “Paintings, jewelry.”

“Should we clean this up?” Jimin asked, and it was so kindly offered that Seokjin felt a tear sneak past the blinking.

Why did someone have to come in here? They were just rooms, the Queen was gone, but it felt so personal, to attack the memory of his mother like this. She’d never done anything wrong. She was a champion for the poor and the frustrated, she would have been an ally for the angry Destin –was that why they’d done this? Whoever it was? Had they felt no guilt or shame, knocking over a dead woman’s things, dumping her gowns on the ground like they’d never been worn by the living, breathing queen? He did not usually care so much about inanimate objects like this but standing in the rooms was messing with his head, it was all starting to spin together: his mother’s smile in the mirror as the maids styled her hair, his mother’s real smile as she playfully scolded Seokjin to hold the puppy still as she painted their likeness, the broken floral comb he thought now might have been a gift from his brother when they were children, a cascade of rubies and emeralds and sapphires tumbling from a vanity because a stranger had entered these rooms and– no, because careless children were running through, a broken blue vase another victim, a little boy knocked to the ground because he’d touched a dead queen’s throne –which little boy, was it himself, or Taehyung? Or Yori, his secret nephew? Kanna had reached out because she was afraid and wise to be so –he’d only met her and his nephews because of the letter Dulce delivered to him.

Dulce knew about his nephews and Kanna. She’d read the letter and resealed it, he was certain.

But that was ok, Dulce was not a threat. Dulce was… was warm sparkling eyes over a cup of the best hot chocolate to be found in Yeonhalbi, and raspberry filling smeared on a red lip, and the pink hues of the sunset painted across her cheeks and–

So what if Dulce had known he was meeting Kanna where and at what time? It didn’t tell her anything that would have implicated her in assassinating the king. She hadn’t been holding the dagger, she hadn’t even been there, the events were unrelated. Being a nosy maid did not make someone an accomplice to murder.

“Was Nasimiyu’s maid at the festival?” he asked quite suddenly, not trusting his own thoughts. Jungkook and Jimin could clear it up for him straight away. “Dulce, I mean.”

“She was there when you got st– attacked,” Jungkook answered. “She wasn’t with us before that, I think she just got there.”

“She was here in the palace most of the day. I saw her carrying laundry around,” Hoseok added. After a pause, he added, “Taking her time, like she’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Yeah, probably at the festival,” Jimin snorted. “You know she’s got the worst tasks since she fell out of favor with the Princess.”

“So she was here… and then she went to the festival…” Seokjin’s head was still swimming but he tried to make sense of a timeline. “Hoseok, you never saw whoever it was that placed Edmund’s body?”

Hoseok’s eyes went wide and he gasped, “You don’t think–”

“No I don’t think Dulce placed his body,” Seokjin immediately snapped, more sharply than he’d meant to. “I’m just asking because no one even told me where it was.”

“You’re tired. We told you it was hanging in the courtyard,” Jungkook reminded him.

“And no, I didn’t see anyone. It wasn’t there one minute and then suddenly it was, while we were all distracted by you all roaring into the courtyard.”

Jungkook glanced at Seokjin and suggested, “She’s pretty small to hang a heavy dead body over a railing– and she was back at the festival, there’s no way she beat us here–”

“No no, I don’t think that,” Seokjin insisted. “She didn’t stab me, she didn’t– I only asked because I’m trying to make sense of my own memories and I didn’t think she was with Nasimiyu but then I thought I saw her when I was injured.”

“Yeah, she stopped someone right before they yanked the dagger out of you,” Jungkook told him. “You would have died if they did. Idiots, everyone knows you don’t take the knife out.”

“Lovely. I’ll have to thank her.”

“Not everyone knows that,” Hoseok argued. “I didn’t know that.”

“Who was it tried to take the knife out?” Jimin asked.

“Don’t know, I didn’t see.”

Seokjin nodded, only half listening. It was too much for him to understand except that Jungkook was right, he was tired, and his brain was doing something very strange and trying to convince him that Dulce was somehow involved in all of this when he knew very well she was not. That made no sense. That a farm girl knew not to yank out a knife and had hurried to the festival as soon as her duties were done all made perfect sense. Besides, if it was her knife, she would yanked it out and run away to hide the evidence!

There, irrefutable proof. He let out a sigh of relief that caused immediate and immense pain. All his efforts to ignore his pain were catching up with him and he could feel it hitting his body at once now that adrenaline was not propelling him through the pursuit of answers. His chest hurt, but his shoulder was worse. His arms and legs hurt. His head hurt most of all. How was he supposed to stumble back to his room and rest when all of this made so little sense and another strike might come at any moment? But how was he supposed to do anything else?

Each cut will hurt worse.

Seokjin pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and admitted, “I think I will rest in bed for a bit longer.” Jungkook and Hoseok had his arms before he could even think about overbalancing, and he grimaced as the pain of shifting rippled through his chest. Slowly he opened his eyes as it passed, and took a single step forward, careful not to step on any of the scattered items.

He froze, gaze caught by the aged flatness of cheap silver among all the fine jewels and polished gold tossed about.

“Hand me that,” he said, unable to gesture with his arms held. The rock settled in his stomach again, heavy, dragging him down in such a physical way that he felt Jungkook’s and Hoseok’s fingers tighten on his arms.

“Um… this?” Jimin asked, following his gaze and lifting a diamond bracelet.

“No,” Seokjin corrected. “That locket.”

Lady Zselyke was leaving Seokjin’s room, one hand to her mouth, one hand to her heart, tears shimmering in her eyes. It gave Nasimiyu pause, not sure she wanted to visit in the wake of whatever had set the royal cousin off. Was Seokjin really in such bad shape? Was that why he had called for her, to say his goodbyes?! She’d been told he was stable but badly injured and sleeping the last two days, not that he was taking a turn for the worst!

Not that she’d been told much at all. For two days now she’d been coddled and brushed off each time she tried to get information about what had actually happened and why. “We’re working on it, you’re perfectly safe,” she was told by every council member serving as a gatekeeper for her access to the king, in the same tone of voice one might say don’t worry your pretty little head over man-stuff like death and danger.

Dulce had shared nothing, claimed to know nothing, even when Nasimiyu had snapped at her that she wasn’t a very good informant then, was she? Nasimiyu didn’t believe her anyway; Dulce was missing for long periods of time in which she said only that she wasn’t supposed to be “on shift” –as if being close to Nasimiyu at a time like this was really a matter of scheduling! As if she was just a maid who ought to adhere to a schedule in the first place! She wouldn’t even tell Nasimiyu where she was and Nasimiyu was too angry to degrade herself asking a second time.

Nasimiyu had never felt so alone in her life, and so the summons from Seokjin to his room was a shocking comfort. Here at least was someone who actually cared about her and would answer her questions and thankfully was not dead when Nasimiyu still needed him. The certainty of some respect at last steeled her resolve to enter the room in the wake of Zselyke’s tearful departure.

She’d expected him to be in bed but instead Seokjin sat on the couch in his parlor, a fluffy red rat on his shoulder and a bundle of fluff in his lap –not the rabbit she’d kidnapped before, something else without big floppy ears. She almost thought it was a pillow at first but it made a chirpy-purry sound and twitched as he pet it.

“Nasimiyu,” Seokjin greeted with a broad grin that caught Nasimiyu off guard.

“Yes… you asked for me,” she reminded him, then added, “How are you? No one will tell me anything.”

“Yes ah, well… a little heartsick,” he joked, lifting a hand to his heart. “Cured now that you’re here.” The shoulder rat immediately reached for his hand and he lifted it, palm up for the thing to inspect before it turned away from the empty hand. It was a squirrel. He had a pet squirrel.

Belatedly she prickled and insisted, “I tried to visit before.”

“Oh… you did?”

“Yes and I was chased away. Honestly, it was insulting, as if I’m not your fiance!”

“Who denied you?” he asked.

Before she could respond, his valet cleared his throat –Jimin, that one– and admitted, “The doctors said you needed peace and quiet… we did let her know you were stable and resting…”

Seokjin cut him off with a wave of his hand but he was smiling, so obviously not angry. Nasimiyu thought that a bit unfair.

“Exactly the right time to have his fiance by his side,” she scolded.

“My apologies, Princess. If you had asked again, I would have given in. I won’t be so rigid next time.”

Nasimiyu’s eyebrows shot up at the gall and she stared Jimin down, certain he could not possibly have meant to give her that much cheek. Her blood began to boil and she opened her mouth, fully prepared to give him the tongue lashing such impropriety deserved.

But Seokjin once again flapped his hand at Jimin and at the two guards and the doctor who’d just come from washing vials in the bathroom and ordered, “All right, everyone may leave now. Except you, Nasimiyu.”

“Ser, it’s time for–”

“For me to spend some time with my concerned fiance, now go,” he said, more sternly this time. Nasimiyu watched this with fascination, drawn by the serious look he gave everyone present until they all shuffled from the room. Seokjin so rarely looked serious, it was rather becoming on him. Jimin looked more hesitant than even the guards, but when Seokjin narrowed his eyes and grinned it both broke the spell and compelled Jimin out the door.

“I’m sorry for that,” he told her. “For them keeping you out, I mean. I would have liked you here. They’ve been… coddling, to say the least.”

“You didn’t even wake up for two days,” she pointed out. “They were right to be frightened.”

He patted the couch next to him to invite her closer and asked, “And you? Were you frightened on my behalf?”

“I was worried,” she said, perfectly true. She took a step closer, then looked warily at the animals. As if to punctuate her uncertainty, two more balls of fur went running past her, under and through her skirt hem as if she wasn’t even there. She gasped and leaned against the couch.

Seokjin’s laugh quickly turned to a grimace that he seemed just as eager to brush past, gesturing, “Those were Daffodil and Nutmeg. This squirming worm who’s tired of my pats is Petunia.” He set Petunia on the floor and she tore off on legs Nasimiyu couldn’t see. “And this distinguished gentleman is Lord Sciurus.”

“He’s a… squirrel.”

“He is.”

“I didn’t think you could keep those as pets.”

“Well normally you shouldn’t, no, but I found him when he was an abandoned baby. His mother had just been killed and I didn’t want to leave him to die as well so I brought him home, raised him up, and he’s repaid the kindness with endless amusement.” Lord Sciurus scurried from his shoulder down to the ground to briefly touch the back of a slow moving tortoise, then raced over to a tree in the corner. “He’s very fond of Tuga, I think because they came from the same place.”

Nasimiyu nodded, not sure what else to say.

“Are you fond of animals? Did you have any pets growing up?” he asked her.

“No. Animals are all right,” she quickly corrected herself. “I like horses.”

“I already know that.”

“I like dogs,” she admitted.

“More than cats?”

“My father is allergic, we weren’t allowed,” she admitted.

“I’d say you could have cats here but they might eat my children… maybe we can find a very well behaved one…”

“I don’t need a cat,” she assured him, then sat because he’d glanced at the couch again. This was in fact the first time she’d spent time in his room, a fact which only now dawned on her. His rooms were not as extravagant as she would have expected for the royal prince, though certainly eccentric. The wall of cages –for animals, not even for anything sexual– were… notable.

Well, it didn’t quite matter what his rooms were like. They would have separate rooms still while married, and she could insist he just always came to hers.

Belatedly she realized he was watching her, and quickly asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got stabbed. But it’s not that bad, you don’t need to worry about it. They said I’m healing very well and will be back to my usual behavior in no time.”

“Then what was Zselyke crying about as she left here?”

“Ah…” He grimaced again and scratched his neck and admitted, “She’s just… excitable. Too many deaths in the family before this so she gets all worked up when there’s almost another.”

“You’re very casual for having almost just died.”

His hand stretched out and across hers, resting in her lap, and he insisted, “I’m fine. Really. How are you? They told me you’re doing all right and haven’t had any trouble but I’d rather hear it from you.”

“No, no trouble unless you count my fiance getting stabbed in the middle of a festival and then coming home to find his bodyguard hanging in the courtyard–” His hand squeezed hers and she wished he’d let go, she did not appreciate the coddling even if she understood she ought to play the role of soft, worried fiance right now. She was afraid, secretly, but not in a way she wanted to admit to him.

Who had done this?

Did her father have someone else acting without telling her?

Or was it someone else, and she, as another royal and the future queen, was on the list?

“I’m sorry you had to see it,” he told her, coddling, patronizing, and for a brief moment she warred with whether to shove it away. Didn’t he know she was too strong to be bothered by something like that? But she’d never seen something like that so close before. She’d never seen blood run so freely. It had been everywhere by the time they got back to the palace, his body coated in it, him unresponsive and –well, in the moment, her concern for him had not been faked.

“I’m not falling to pieces,” she insisted.

“I know but I can pretend.”

“Pretend what?”

“I’m just glad you are safe and I’ll make sure everyone understands that my door is never closed to you,” he told her. “I’m sorry that you were left in the dark, it won’t happen again.”

“Do you know who did it then? It’s over?”

“Ah…” He stalled, nudging a rabbit with his foot as she came over to inspect, then hopped away. “I don’t want to worry you…”

“I’m already worried. You just said, no secrets between us.”

“I know, I did. I don’t… I don’t think we can be happy in our marriage if we keep secrets from each other. I never want to,” he said. His gaze met hers, brown eyes so earnest it almost made her squirm, like if he looked too long he would realize just how many secrets she had. Honestly, she didn’t think you could be a very good ruler if you didn’t understand the value of secrets, but there was certainly something romantic and ridiculous about the idea that you and your spouse would have none between you. She’d never stopped to question whether her parents did, but she didn’t think so.

“Yes, I agree. Your worries are mine as well, so just tell me.”

“Destin insurgents,” he answered. “I wasn’t the target, my father was. The man who did it has already been… dispatched, after saying nothing other than a call for Destin independence.”

Nasimiyu frowned and pointed out, “The restlessness is getting worse.”

“I’d say it’s far beyond restlessness now,” he chuckled, then let out the quietest grunt and grimaced.

“Stop laughing if it hurts you. Not everything calls for jokes, you know. I’d say this moment in particular is a very serious one!”

“It’s how I cope.”

“Yes I know but maybe find a better way.”

“Like what? How do you cope?”

“By learning everything I can. You said your father was the target but then why in the world was your guard murdered?”

“That…” His face scrunched up and she braced herself for another stupid joke, but instead he admitted, “There was a note with Edmund clearly meant to threaten and intimidate, saying how they’re here among us. I don’t want to frighten you–”

“I’d say I am a healthy amount of frightened. Anyone who isn’t worried hasn’t got a brain in their skull.”

“I don’t think you’re a target but of course this is why… why we have increased the guard. No more lone guards. Shifting rosters. Background checks. I want to protect you but we both know the reality of our positions.”

Not once I’ve taken over, she bit back. This sort of thing didn’t happen in Marvono because her father didn’t allow it, and it wouldn’t happen once her reign was in place either. If Donggun was a better, stronger king, the unrest would never have even started, much less reached this boiling point.

“Well what are you going to do about it?”

“About which part?”

“Destin,” she said. “It’s your father who’s got us to this state but you’re the one who’s hurt from it. Tomorrow it will be our problem so we shouldn’t let things get even worse.”

“I… I’m not sure yet what to do about Destin,” he admitted. “It’s… complicated.”

“Everything about being a king is complicated, but you can’t drag your feet about it.”

“First we need to get our palace safe again and then we can think about–”

“Treat the symptom, ignore the cause?” she interrupted, incredulous. “That’s not–”

“It’s not my decision right now,” he argued. “There’s only so much I can do. My father is the king, not me.”

Nasimiyu felt her face heating up with frustration. Didn’t Seokjin see that was exactly why it would be so useful to step forward now as a brave, better leader? If Donggun stepped aside –or was pushed aside– then they could change Yeonhalbi’s future even sooner, no need to wait years for her father’s plan with all its steps.

“For now,” she huffed. “But you can’t let him give us a broken kingdom to fix. We can’t wait to get involved. Get your head out of the sand, Seokjin. You almost died for him!”

Despite her outburst, Seokjin remained wholly calm. He nodded, as if he’d expected all this and was not bothered.

“We’ll know more tomorrow,” he told her. “I’ve only been awake a few hours, Nasimiyu. The doctors keep squawking at me about being out of bed this long. I went straight to my father and uncle to get involved with what we do now. I’m not hiding but I don’t know enough to fight for anything yet. I hear what my father says, I hear what my uncle says, and I know that Destin is a province of people who are struggling. Not everyone there is an assassin, they’re just… people. We can’t make a rushed decision about their future without knowing more.”

“Does your uncle want to declare war?”

“Yes,” Seokjin confirmed. Of course he did.

“And your father wants…”

“Undecided.”

“I don’t like your uncle, but you’re being too much like your father. Too cautious.”

“You agree with my uncle then?”

“I…” Nasimiyu quailed as the question turned back on her. “I don’t know the same things you do yet about Destin. Obviously the insurgents have to be found out so they can’t try again–”

“But it’s treating the symptoms while ignoring the cause of it all,” Seokjin countered, tossing her own words back at her. “But if we focus on humanitarian efforts, does it send the message to everyone that they ought to assassinate their king to get what they want? Is it even possible to placate them, and how, or will nothing short of independence work? Then the kingdom crumbles… these are big, difficult questions, Nasimiyu. I’m glad you want to be involved in solving them because I sure don’t fucking know…” He sighed and shook his head. “But you don’t either, so work with me here. You’re right, this is our future.”

“So then where do you think we should start?”

“Well we both need to learn more about Destin,” he pointed out.

She avoided his gaze, annoyed by a very practical answer. She had studied up on everything she could before coming to the palace but nothing about Destin or the splitting off of provinces that seemed useful now. Her father would never consider such a thing and so her schooling hadn’t either.

“Speaking of,” he mused. “Is Dulce connected to Destin somehow?”

“Dulce?” The name was so out of nowhere that for a moment Nasimiyu couldn’t even place it. “My… handmaid, Dulce?”

“I don’t know any others,” he pointed out, grinning, but at least not chuckling.

“She’s from Paloma.”

“Yes… hm… how do I put this…”

“Plainly, I hope.” Nasimiyu felt her mood darken even further. Why was he bringing up Dulce at a time like this? Ought she bring up Namjoon? Here they were having what was arguably a good, weight conversation for the future king and queen and he suddenly changed the subject to someone she didn’t want to think about?

“Do you know she’s from Paloma, or is that something she told you?”

“What exactly are you asking me? I have no reason to doubt where she’s from. It’s not exactly information she’s forthcoming about anyway so I’m not sure how you know–”

“How well do you know her?” Seokjin asked. “For how long?”

“I… well enough. What is your point, Seokjin?”

He hesitated, blinked at her, and Nasimiyu felt nervous flutter in her stomach.

Oh. Fuck.

A rush of cold through her body was chased by a flush.

What had he found?

She tried to hold herself steady because if he was asking her, it meant he hadn’t connected Nasimiyu to anything yet. It could all be a mistake because certainly neither of them had anything to do with Destin!

Seokjin reached for his robe, discarded over the arm of the couch, and fished out a bundle of fabric. Once undone, it unveiled a knife, crusted with dried blood. Dulce’s knife.

She wasn’t sure she’d succeeded in keeping her face neutral, but asked as carefully as she could, “What is this?”

“The dagger that stabbed me,” he said. “Have you ever seen it before?”

“No. No, I haven’t.”

Dulce, what have you done?

“I saw it once, among Dulce’s things, or one that looked very much like it.”

“Dulce didn’t stab you,” Nasimiyu pointed out. “It was a man I’ve never seen before.”

“Yes, I know. I’m not accusing her of stabbing me, I’m just trying to understand… I wanted to know if you had any… any doubts or suspicions…”

“That my handmaid is part of a Destin plot to overthrow the royal family? I am absolutely certain that’s not the case,” Nasimiyu assured him. She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt in the moment. Obviously Dulce wasn’t part of a plot with Destin, but she was part of a different plot, and that was absolutely her dagger. It had to be. There were only two of them in the world; Nasimiyu had the pair made especially for the two of them, with that exact etching in the blades that showed a very abstract version of the constellation in the sky the night they’d met. Nasimiyu hadn’t even told Dulce that’s what it was, abashed by her own streak of romantic grandeur after having them made. It was a mortifying gesture, but Dulce had liked the sharpness and the weight and the rubies.

“The thing is…” Seokjin looked loath to say this next part. “Isn’t this hers too?” He pulled another something out of the pocket of that cursed robe, and let it fall into Nasimiyu’s outstretched hand.

“A… necklace?” Nasimiyu choked out. Not just any necklace. Dulce’s locket, that one she picked at with her nail sometimes.

“I don’t know if you’d heard about someone ransacking my mother’s rooms at the same time as all of this.”

“Yes, I heard though I don’t really understand it. They stole valuable things?”

“Paintings, jewelry, who knows what else. I went to look for myself and I found that,” he explained. “That definitely did not belong to my mother.”

Dulce, what have you done?!

Nasimiyu didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t think quickly enough. The dagger was bad enough but the locket too, it absolutely meant Dulce had to be involved somehow –but then why was Destin getting credit? Had her father gone ahead with an assassination plot so soon? Was he intentionally framing Destin? Did he have Dulce acting without Nasimiyu being informed? Or had Dulce gone rogue? Had Dulce been playing them all along?

All Dulce’s skulking the last few days came immediately to mind. No, even further back than that. Dulce had been cagey for a while. And angry, she’d be a fool not to have noticed that Dulce was angry, and volatile, and pushing back. Distancing herself from Nasimiyu. Distracted with someone –or something– else.

What if it wasn’t Nasimiyu’s father who was acting, but something else? It would be just like Dulce to double-cross, wouldn’t it? Maybe she was playing two sides right now. Maybe… maybe she and Namjoon?! Speaking of mysterious people…

But it was just a hunch. If her first guess was right that Dulce was involved in this at Prince Hamisi’s command, Nasimiyu needed to know right fucking now so she didn’t accidentally bring the house down on herself by saying something wrong that led it all back to herself.

“That’s not Dulce’s,” Nasimiyu said, popping it open with her nail. Seokjin leaned forward, as if he hadn’t thought to do that earlier, but there was nothing inside to prove Nasimiyu a liar –no images, no lock of hair, no engravings. “This looks like some cheap trinket you’d buy at a pawn shop.”

“She has a locket just like this, I’ve seen it before.”

Nasimiyu gave him a curious look and mused, “You seem to notice an awful lot of my maid’s possessions.”

“I have an eye for jewelry,” he said, and had the humility to at least look shamefaced.

“She keeps it tucked inside her dress,” Nasimiyu countered.

“It fell off once, when she was in the kitchen fetching food. I picked it up and it looked just like this.”

Nasimiyu did not like being questioned and insisted, “I can promise you I know much more about Dulce’s possessions and this isn’t the right locket. I give all my handmaids a locket with a photo of me inside so they can remember their duty to me as first above anyone else. I would never give them something as cheap as this.”

“Your other handmaids have them too?” he asked, outright skeptical of her admittedly insipid lie.

“Only Dulce wears it,” she scoffed. “So you can see why she’s my favorite.”

“I know she’s your favorite and I’m sorry to be asking questions like this, it just seems odd, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t. For all I know those things belong to Jimin.”

“They… don’t.”

“Well they don’t belong to Dulce, either, I know her much better than you do. She has no ties to Destin but she is tied to me, so if you’re accusing her of something, you’re accusing me!”

“I’m not, Nasimiyu, I’m not,” he insisted, immediately placating. “I’m sorry, I knew it would be uncomfortable but I had to ask. I really thought… but I’m relieved, truth be told. I had to ask but I was hoping you would call me crazy.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Nasimiyu agreed, eager to lean into that very suggestion. “I know it’s been frightening, Seokjin, but Dulce is one of the most trusted people in my life. I vouch for her completely.” For at least a little longer.

Seokjin nodded and sank back against the pillows, looking absolutely spent now, somehow both flushed and pale at the same time.

“Ah. I’m relieved,” he said again. “Thank you. You see why I wanted to talk to you in private. The last thing I’d want to do is hurt either one of you.”

She patted his hand this time, shocked by how cold it felt, and assured him, “I know. You’re just tired. Have you looked at your own staff though? There’s that stablehand who’s always stepping out of his place, or… or I’ve heard kitchen staff tend to be shifty and think they can sneak around unnoticed.”

“We’re looking into everyone,” Seokjin promised, but the strength was gone from his voice in a way that genuinely alarmed Nasimiyu. He looked sickly now. Fading.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m just tired. I’m all right.”

“You look like you’re going to faint,” Nasimiyu realized. “Here, lie down, I’ll get the doctor–”

“I’m not going to faint, definitely not in front of you. Maybe just– I’ll get some rest. Today has been… but will you come back later? We can talk about happier things. We still have a wedding to plan.”

Alarmed by his compliance as she nudged him to stretch out, Nasimiyu found herself joking, “If Zselyke can stop crying long enough to help.”

“Be kind, she’s not made of the stern stuff you are.”

“I’m calling for the doctor.”

“I’m fine.”

Nasimiyu was worried he had pushed himself too hard and might not be out of danger yet, and she was also not much interested in catching her fiance in a dead faint, so she spared them both and hurried to the door to trade places with the doctor.

She needed to talk to Dulce. She needed an explanation immediately as to how Dulce’s dagger and locket were involved with this assassination attempt –one in which Seokjin had almost been killed, completely ruining the plans to get Nasimiyu on the throne. Was that Dulce’s plan? Was she trying to sabotage Nasimiyu? Which was more likely, that, or that Prince Hamisi had changed the plan and not told Nasimiyu, maybe told Dulce not to tell her? Would Dulce keep a secret like that from her?

Nasimiyu’s own guards and attendant fell into step around her as she strode down the hall. Where would that woman be right now? Nasimiyu had no interest in chasing her all over the palace, not only because she felt very tired now but also it would leave her looking rattled if she was running all over, and this was not a time to look out of control of herself.

Realizing she didn’t need to do the work herself, she snapped at the maid trailing her, “Find Dulce and send her to my room immediately.”

The maid’s eyes were wide as she nodded and scurried away to do so, leaving only the guards to flank Nasimiyu back to her room where she promptly shut them outside so she could calm herself. She was absolutely sweating now. What was going on? Why was Dulce’s locket in the queen’s ransacked rooms? Stupid locket was empty anyway. She’d always wondered what Dulce kept locked inside but it really said something, didn’t it, that she had nothing precious to carry within.

Nasimiyu sat heavily on the sofa and clenched her head in her hands. If she couldn’t trust Dulce, she wasn’t sure she could trust anyone. Who else could she be certain had her best interest at heart? The shocking thought that it was only Seokjin was most unwelcome. She had more people in her life than that. Obviously she needed to send a note to her parents –she realized with a start that she hadn’t done that yet, which made no sense. She could have them send a quick note by bird and follow with a longer letter. Obviously her parents should return to Priva at once and not leave again until the marriage was complete. No one in this royal family knew what they were doing; they needed Prince Hamisi’s firm hand to get this place in order.

Unless that firm hand had betrayed her using her own handmaid.

She moved to her desk and dashed out the simplest note she could think of and stepped out into the hall to call for someone to have it sent immediately to her parents, then returned to work on the longer letter, only to find herself at a loss for words. How was she supposed to explain these things in a way that sounded neither too revealing nor as frightened as a little girl? She wasn’t confident her parents could read between the lines; she’d never been much of a letter writer to begin with, certainly not with an embedded message. She couldn’t strike the right tone, coming across with each attempt as accusatory or frail.

She paused her efforts, mind wandering for a moment back to the actual assassination attempt. Dulce had come out of nowhere. She was supposed to be at the palace doing chores and tasks and anything other than enjoying herself, so Nasimiyu didn’t know why she was suddenly at the festival in the first place. There to watch the success of her efforts? Maybe the assassin was someone Dulce had hired, in order to put a space between herself and the act for security. The target was the king, after all, not Seokjin. But to use her own dagger was too careless, Nasimiyu would never have thought Dulce was so stupid. It wasn’t like her at all. Dulce’s expression of horror when she’d reached Seokjin had looked so sincere, as if she too fully understood the potential consequences of what had just happened… or was it just guilt from botching the assassination of the king?

Oh where the fuck was that woman to answer for herself already?!

Nasimiyu ripped up the papers and tossed them into the wastebasket, then reached for a new sheet but the surface was empty. She yanked open the desk drawer to dig for more and froze.

The drawer was empty. Completely empty. No paper, no ink, but more importantly, no dagger.

Nasimiyu pushed back from her desk as if it had burned her. The entire time Seokjin had been talking about the dagger, she’d been thinking only of Dulce’s. He’d asked if it was Dulce’s. Of course that was Dulce’s dagger; Nasimiyu knew exactly what it looked like; she’d had it custom made; she carried its twin under her clothes –but in a fit of anger after finding out about Dulce fucking Namjoon she’d shoved it in this very drawer, refusing to carry that token of their bond.

No, maybe she’d moved it and only couldn’t recall. Things had been so crazy since then, probably she’d put it somewhere else. She checked the other two drawers in the desk but it wasn’t there because yes, she must have moved it. Or a maid had. Just because she didn’t think they’d have any reason to poke around her desk drawers, didn’t mean they wouldn’t; maybe one of them was nosy and needed to be promptly let go.

Nasimiyu left her desk and instead tore through her jewelry boxes and shoe boxes but found only two ornate knives from Marvono, undecorated practice blades Dulce had used to train her with. She checked the shelves with her hair pieces and perfumes all the way to the back of the wardrobe. She felt around the bottom of the wardrobe, then began ripping gowns from their hangers and digging through any pockets or bundles in the fabric. When she still didn’t find anything, she crawled around looking under the tables and couches, under the bed. She swiped her things around the bathroom to clear drawers and shelves. Her room looked like it had been ransacked after the queen’s but still no ruby dagger had been found.

Did Dulce still have hers after all? Was it Nasimiyu’s dagger that had been used to stab the prince?!

Nobody knew that though. Only she and Dulce knew about the knives and Dulce wouldn’t frame her or blame her. No one else knew about the knives, right? She racked her brain, trying to recall if anyone else of her household would ever have seen the dagger. What if the king released a drawing, asking for anyone who recognized it, would someone point to her? Or to Dulce? But nobody dug through Dulce’s things daily to clean and organize the way they did Nasimiyu’s.

A knock at the door made Nasimiyu’s heart leap that it was Dulce, but only crochety old Mirte walked through.

The head maid gasped, “Princess! What has happened?”

“I’m looking for something,” she said, darting forward. If she was careful, she could test it out here.

“My goodness! What are you looking for? We can find whatever it is for you, there’s no need to… to worry yourself.”

“I’m looking for my dagger,” Nasimiyu explained.

“Your dagger? Which one?”

It was not the answer she had hoped for. She had not been sure any of her maids even knew she ever carried one. The whole point of a concealed weapon was for it to be concealed.

“Well I don’t have many of them,” Nasimiyu snapped.

“Of course not, my lady. I suppose it’s all relative… tell me which one and we will find it for you. There’s the silver one with the turquoise in the handle, or the plain silver pair –oh I see them there.” She watched Mirte go to where the silver training daggers were tossed to the floor. “There’s the one with the rubies in the handle, and–”

“No, that one doesn’t belong to me,” Nasimiyu interrupted. Quickly she added, “I’m looking for the one with the black leather handle.” Such a dagger didn’t exist.

“Doesn’t belong to you?” Mirte repeated, obviously convinced it did.

“It’s Dulce’s,” Nasimiyu corrected.

“She has a gold and ruby dagger?!” Mirte asked, incredulous.

Nasimiyu glared, “Yes, and so? It belonged to her father or something, I don’t know, she’s very careless with it, it’s always falling off her when she’s working, I’ve given it back a dozen times.”

“I haven’t seen one with a black leather handle…” At Nasimiyu’s glare, Mirte amended, “I’ll get the girls in here right away and we won’t stop looking until we’ve found it!”

“See that you do!”

Nasimiyu strode from the room with no destination in mind but afraid she’d crumble if she kept up the lies. Where the fuck was Dulce? They were really in it now. Nasimiyu’s dagger gone missing was too much of a coincidence. Someone knew it was Nasimiyu’s and wanted to frame her for trying to kill the king, though she didn’t understand how Destin played into that kind of a plot. No one would be able to tie Nasimiyu to anything to do with Destin. If they tried, she would just say her dagger been stolen. After all, someone had hidden a body, why not also take a dagger she didn’t notice was missing until later?

But dammit, she’d just admitted to her own maids that she recognized a dagger by that description and it belonged to Dulce, minutes after telling Seokjin she’d never seen a dagger like that in her life. Her own staff would identify the blade if they went asking, and point to Dulce, and Nasimiyu would obviously say her staff was lying or misquoting her, but if it cast doubts on her… doubts might be enough rope to hang her by.

What if she admitted to Seokjin the dagger was hers but that someone had stolen it from her room? There was already the dead body in her closet, surely that gave a foundation for someone entering her room again to steal a blade to frame her. Would he believe her? He would. He must!

But would King Donggun? Would General Dongsuk? She shuddered at the thought of questioning under them, if they thought she was involved in any way. The fact was that Dulce was a far better liar than she was, and if those heartless men did the interrogation, Dulce would have the more convincing answers. Nasimiyu’s title ought to protect her but what if it didn’t? The whole problem in Destin right now was exactly why they needed new leadership in this country, and that couldn’t happen if Nasimiyu went down for trying to assassinate the king! No matter what, no matter what sacrifices had to be made, that couldn’t happen. It wasn’t just about saving her own skin, this was for the greater good.

Probably the king’s men were already interrogating the household staff. It was a miracle that hadn’t already happened, and someone in her household was going to betray her and say the dagger was hers, she was certain of it. You couldn’t get loyalty anywhere these days.

Nasimiyu turned and ran to Seokjin’s room. At first the door only cracked at her knocking and one of his bodyguards said,

“Mind you, the prince is sleeping!”

“How dare you use that tone with me!”

The man practically gasped, “My apologies, Princess, I didn’t see it was you! I–”

“Let me in right this moment.”

“He is resting though–”

“He said his door is never closed to me, now stand aside, I will not say it again.”

The guard shuffled aside and let her enter. Jimin and another guard both looked up and Jimin repeated what the guard had said, that Seokjin was sleeping.

“This cannot wait and he wouldn’t want me to,” she snapped and strode past them down the hall where his bedroom must be. She had only a passing glimpse that actually his chambers were more rooms than she had expected, much bigger in fact and with a perfect view of the sea if one liked that sort of thing. She didn’t bother to notice anything else, just pushed the curtain open for light and sat on the side of his bed to shake him awake.

“Nasimiyu?” he stammered, bleary-eyed and confused. “What’s wrong? Why are you here? Is everything all right?”

“I lied to you earlier,” she confessed. “Not on purpose, I was just in shock… I panicked… I wasn’t sure what you might think but you’re right, there shouldn’t be secrets between us, and especially not a secret like this–”

“Nasimiyu, wait, wait.” He pushed himself up to sitting, stiff and grimacing, before reaching for her arm. “Slow down. What is it?”

“Oh Seokjin,” she cried and threw her arms around his shoulders. “The dagger and locket are Dulce’s!”

Dulce walked toward the kitchen with purpose, annoyed beyond measure.

Rumor had it that the Prince had been walking the halls for the first time, that he was seen heading towards the king’s sitting room and then back to his room, and people had been coming and going from his room all afternoon.

The state of his health was less agreed-upon, with some whispering he’d shuffled like an elderly man, and others saying he’d stumbled like a drunk, and still others saying he’d practically skipped, as if he was in a full state of health so that they wondered if he’d even been stabbed at all.

Dulce believed no one. She wanted to see with her own eyes but sneakily wandering past the prince’s room did her no good; he was clearly tucked away inside with an increased guard she had no way of striding confidently past this time. The next best thing to seeing with her own eyes was to hear it straight from a reliable source. Taehyung wasn’t in the stable or yard, Jimin wasn't in the servants’ wing, so the only place she knew to hope for that encounter was the kitchens.

This close to dinner time, the kitchen bustled with the clang of trays and spoons against pots and inevitably a dropped glass or dish. She realized her mistake almost immediately; none of the prince’s inner circle would be casually lolling about here. The best she could hope for a quick update from Yoongi, or maybe she would luck out and Jimin or Jungkook would be there.

Was it really true, that the prince was awake? Not only awake, but moving about the palace? Stable but sleeping –as the report had been for the last two days– was no comfort. Stable just meant the likely incompetent doctors couldn’t necessarily see any battles raging beneath the surface of his skin. Infection could be entering his blood, or blood quietly seeping throughout his chest cavity, entering his lungs or compressing his heart until symptoms showed too late. She also knew his “stable” health could all be lies spread to keep people from panicking until the prince’s fate was known. Just because it came from Jimin didn’t mean anything; he’d looked pale and worried, and might have told Dulce what he too wanted to believe was true. She’d have felt better with just a glimpse with her own eyes –not that she could have done a single fucking thing to help in any way, but at least… at least she’d know.

Staff bumped into her, chasing her to the wall with annoyed glares. She opened her mouth to tell them she needed food for the Princess but no words came out and the staff ignored her anyway. Maybe taking food to Nasimiyu would be a good thing, give her some purpose amidst all this waiting, but probably Nasimiyu was dressing for supper anyway. With no information to give, she’d been avoiding her.

No, that wasn’t true. Dulce avoided her because she didn’t want to be bothered with petty tasks right now until she knew whether the Prince was going to die or not. She couldn’t deal with Nasimiyu’s fretting about the plan or danger or whatever other ridiculous things were making the princess snappish and sharp, according to the other maids. She was a fucking princess, being in danger came with the territory, dead people came with the title, Nasimiyu needed to steal her spine and learn how to carry on in a crisis. It made Dulce so angry that Nasimiyu was utterly useless right now. The one time Dulce had been by her room and asked her for updates, Nasimiyu had none, refused to force her way into the room, and seemed insulted that someone hadn’t come to cater and coddle her, that in fact they were all far more concerned with the targeted king and dying prince and captured assassin and dead bodyguard.

It’s not her fault, Dulce tried to remind herself. It wasn’t Nasimiyu’s fault that wealthy people were born into privilege and made useless for it. It wasn’t Nasimiyu’s fault she had no power or standing in the palace and no actual idea how to get things that weren’t given to her. It wasn’t Nasimiyu’s fault that the prince had apparently thrown himself on the blade instead of letting his father suffer the consequences of his own policies –fool man!

Dulce’s neck itched. It was all the noise and bustle of the kitchen, she hated being here. She picked her way around the edge of the kitchen, craning her neck to find Yoongi through the throng while also knowing full well that Yoongi probably didn’t know anything that she didn’t. In fact she probably knew more because she’d done her damndest the last two days to find out anything she could about what had happened –but had learned only that the lousy assassin and the note on Edmund both gave credit to Destin, that whispers suggested it might be Dongsuk framing Destin to instigate a war, that there might be no way to find out the truth because he’d conveniently tortured the assassin to death. Of course.

Dulce didn’t have an opinion yet. Dongsuk was capable, certainly. Destin might be angry enough too though. It wasn’t like there were any shortage of assassination plots bubbling around the king, take your pick. For all she knew Prince Hamisi was impatient and sent another man after the king, told him to frame Destin, and now here they were because the stupid Prince had a self sacrificing nature, damn him! What a stupid way to be. Absolutely stupid.

There, she saw him at the far corner. Yoongi hunched over a pot, glaring at whatever was inside and not up to his standards. He scolded the lower servant beside him and turned to the next dish for review as Dulce dodged the people around her to get within view. Once there, she waved her hand, both wanting and wanting to avoid his attention. If he could just tell her that the Prince had sent for something to eat, she’d finally be able to rest. Focus on whatever she needed to do next. Which was, honestly, to talk to the prince and tell him everything she knew. It had almost been too late. What if she’d talked to him sooner and it could have prevented any of this…

“Yoongi!” she called. She felt like she’d shouted so loudly but the bustle of the kitchen swallowed it up. It was embarrassing to shout. She wasn’t someone who shouted ever and it felt ridiculous. She cupped her hands around her mouth for volume and tried again, “Yoongi!” This was stupid, she realized that, she should just come back later once the supper service was done. But she needed to know right now, was it true? Was the prince finally awake? Was he going to be all right? Somebody had to know!

“Yoongi!” she shouted, loudest of all, and this time he turned to her, startled by her shout. No, not by her shout. A strong hand grabbed her arm, pinched it like a crab right below the shoulder and lifted to get her off balance.

“Hey, wait!” Yoongi called in the background. It cut through the noise as a second guard grabbing her other arm. Her feet barely touched the ground now, her body twisting at the discomfort of how tightly they gripped, how high, her shoulders aching as they wrenched this way and that because the guards both tried to turn opposite directions.

“Found you,” one said, on top of the other saying, “You’re under arrest.”

“For what?” she asked, going wide eyed with genuine surprise. Not that there wasn’t plenty to arrest her for, but she hadn’t actually done anything illegal this time. Recently. Well, except for the queen’s chambers and stolen paintings but surely they hadn’t connected that to her. Unless that gamemaster in the caves had seen her after all….

“You’ll get your answers when they want you to get your answers,” the burlier of the two told her and managed with his own strength to haul her his direction.

Yoongi reached them and tried to grab at her, demanding, “What are you doing? Where are you taking her?”

“I need to speak to my lady, the princess,” Dulce told them. She tried to sound calm and confident since it was immediately apparent a wilting damsel approach wouldn’t work.

“No.”

“What’s she done? Let her go, there’s some misunderstanding,” Yoongi said. Behind him the kitchen had gone eerily quiet and still, everyone frozen, watching this. Dulce realized there were in fact at least six guards here to grab her. She’d been so lost in her own worried thoughts, she hadn’t realized they were approaching. She’d been so overwhelmed by the kitchen but blind in her impatience that she’d lost her mind and now–

“I need to speak to the Prince then,” she said. “Tell him. Tell him I have important information he needs to–”

“Yeah I’m sure you do,” one chuckled. They were rough with her arms, careless of her small size between them. She thought they were going to rip her in half when they reached that door due to their poor coordination.

“I will talk to the Prince,” Yoongi insisted, valiant in his efforts. “There’s some misunderstanding–”

“The prince is the one what ordered her arrest!” the second snapped. “For attempt to murder the king, so unless you want to join her in the cell, shut your mouth and get back to your little pots!”

Dulce went silent and stopped all resistance as they hauled her out of the kitchens and through the halls, the noise of their armor and boots making up for the absolute silence of everyone who froze to watch.

Prince Seokjin had ordered her arrest? For attempting to kill the king?! The one thing she hadn’t yet done?

The palace dungeons were far down twisting black stone corridors, shiny and reeking with the stench of stale sea water. Dulce’s toes barely scraped the ground as they dragged her this way and that, careless of the strain on her shoulders and back, or the way her head glazed the stone wall as they thrust her through the cell door and slammed it shut behind her. They’d thrown her hard but she landed on her feet and sprang back to the small barred window in the heavy metal door.

“I need to talk to the Prince!” she said again. “It’s important! It’s a matter of life or death!”

“Sure it is,” the guard sneered. “Yours! Think the Prince will be sending his regards through the General so don’t worry, you’ll have someone to talk to soon. So long as you’re saying what he wants to hear.”

With that they slammed a small door shut over the opening. Dulce was left in total and complete darkness, not even a sliver of light from a non-existent window to let her see the outline of herself.

It had all happened so fast.

Well, apparently the prince was indeed awake.

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sparksinger · 7 months ago

Text

Everything I'm Not

Summary: When a Decepticon attack rocks the base and Cordelia's self-worth, Optimus reminds her that family is a choice. One that he makes every day.

Rating: Teen and up (canon typical violence)

Relationships: Optimus Prime & Cordelia (OC), father-daughter dynamic, not romantic

Content/Trigger warnings: canon-typical violence, no major character death, robot gore, Decepticon attack, depiction of battle

Word Count: 10.1k

(complete fic below cut)

“If I ever were to lose you,

I’d surely lose myself.”

‘Future Days’ – Pearl Jam

The sun was beating down unrelentingly on the Autobot base, situated on Diego Garcia deep within the Indian Ocean. Cordelia’s chestnut-auburn hair was stuck to her face as she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, her sneakered feet pounding the running track that seemed to stretch on endlessly before her.

Coach Ros Hogan stood at the finish line, the whistle poised between her pursed lips, her dark brown irises tracing her class’s progress as they continued with their gruelling five kilometre run around the track.

Cordelia’s calves burned more and more with each additional step as sweat trickled from the nape of her neck, down her t-shirt and onto the small of her back. She cursed Coach Hogan inwardly, risking a quick glance over her shoulder as she tried to keep up with the rest of her classmates. She was in the last third of people in the thirty-or-so of them that were running. Sport, or indeed, any manner of physical activity had never been her forte.

Unless she counted running from Decepticons. That she could say she was really good at.

The forty-degree heat did not help matters. It felt like she had swallowed half the sand on the base, and she yearned for the cool, fresh water she knew was waiting for her after the last two laps that she had yet to run. She had a sharp stitch making itself known in her left side and the pain behind her skull seemed to beat in time with her feet, each one worse than the last.

Hannah Reid, a girl of British-Jamaican descent slowed her pace slightly in front of her, adjusting her stride so that she fell into pace easily beside Cordelia. The bright sunlight cast a rich hue over her light-brown skin, accentuated by her dark brown hair. Her hazel eyes found Cordelia’s and a raised brow posed her silent question.

Cordelia had gotten to know Hannah a little better over the last year or so, once she had restarted at the school that was situated on the base at Diego Garcia. Children of both the military and civilian personnel attended the facility, and Hannah was the only one that Cordelia had felt a genuine connection with.

Hannah’s father was a Logistics Officer, and her mother was a medic. Hannah herself was an easy-going, kind-hearted girl who had seemed to be the only one who hadn’t been intimidated by Cordelia’s bond with Optimus. She had treated her like she treated everyone else, and after a year of being whispered about by the other kids, she found the treatment quite refreshing.

“Coach must be in a bad mood, huh? Making us run around in this damned heat. I wonder who pissed in her Cheerios this morning.” Hannah made speaking seem effortless as she loped gracefully along beside Cordelia, her 5’7” frame covering twice as much distance as Cordelia’s own petite five-foot-one inch did.

Cordelia exhaled heavily before she answered Hannah, trying to increase the seemingly limited capacity of her tired lungs.

“This should be…illegal.” Her words were punctuated by deep inhalations and exhalations through clenched teeth. “My calves feel like they’ve been submerged in a vat of acid.”

Hannah snorted and tried to cover it with a strategically timed cough. “Well, to be fair, it’s worse for you.”

Cordelia raised a brow in a silent question, unable to summon any more words while her lungs felt like they were in a concrete vice.

Hannah chortled, placing a hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. “Well, to be fair, it is worse for you. You’ve technically run twice as much as the rest of us; or at the very least, you’ve done twice as many steps.”

Cordelia regarded her friend with what she hoped was an unimpressed stare, blinking to try and stop the sweat from dripping into her eyes. She chose not to reply, but to spend the remainder of her quickly depleting energy on finishing the assigned distance before she collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

The beating of her feet on the floor became her monotone as the track disappeared beneath her, eaten up by each heavy fall of her trainers. It felt like she was having one of those anxiety dreams where no matter how hard and how fast she kept running, the finish line was always just out of her reach.

At long last, she crossed the painted white line and collapsed into a breathless heap onto the tarmac. Her lungs were working overtime, drawing huge volumes of air in before expelling it quickly, completing her respiratory cycle in record time. She scrunched her eyes shut against the harsh glow of the sun, bright as it was at three o’clock in the afternoon.

Cordelia heard Coach Hogan’s whistle blow, sounding like the hallelujah chorus. Hannah approached her then, holding out a bottle of still water to her. Cordelia took her outstretched hand and was pulled to her feet, slightly dizzy with being right-side-up again. She uncrewed the cap and took a long swig, the cool liquid a nirvana against the dry scratchiness of her throat after the run in the searing heat.

“Feelin’ alright Prime?” Hannah asked, taking a drink from her own bottle before replacing the cap. “You doing okay? I don’t wanna have to get the big guy over here to scrape you off the floor.” Cordelia rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her friend’s gentle teasing and nudged her in the side with an elbow.

“I’m fine. It seems my cross-country talents only kick in when there is a life-threatening situation happening, i.e. getting chased by a bunch of blood-thirsty Decepticons.”

Hannah shook her head in mock disappointment. “And here I was thinking that Coach Hogan’s whistle would get you running like Usain Bolt. Tut tut Miss Prime. And technically, wouldn’t it be Energon-thirsty Decepticons? Unless they’ve become afflicted with vampirism, in which case we’d better tell your dad straight away.”

“Oh my god. I think you are actually insane!” Cordelia laughed, pulling Hannah’s arm to link through her own. They started to amble slowly back towards the changing rooms, their heartrates now back down to a healthier rhythm.

Coach Hogan came up behind them, her ever present whistle swinging around her neck. “Come on ladies, get moving! I don’t particularly want to stand here and watch you two run another five laps of the track because you couldn’t be bothered to get back to the changing rooms before the end of the day.”

Cordelia bit back the retort that rose from the base of her throat, knowing it would be futile to argue with Coach on a Friday afternoon. Everyone was hot, tired and all wanted to go home.

Hannah apparently, did not share this viewpoint.

“With all due respect Coach, you set the times. If you had us running an hour ago instead of a half hour ago, we would have extra time to get changed and you could go and get that Martini that clearly has your name on it in the mess hall.”

For a second or two, Coach seemed to be too incensed with rage to reply. Cordelia watched the figurative tumbleweed roll across Hannah’s face, and she knew that Hannah knew she had messed up. Hannah’s grip tightened on her arm imperceptibly, denoting her friend’s instant regret at her smart remark to the temperamental coach.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you Reid. Another five laps!”

Hannah sighed and took her arm out from Cordelia’s, looking at her with an expression of irritated defeat on her pretty face. Coach Hogan didn’t appreciate the delay and took a step towards them both, her whistle grasped tightly between a thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t make me repeat myself Reid. Your father will hear of this insubordination.”

It took everything Cordelia had not to burst out laughing right there and then as she watched Hannah run back to the track and start to run at a steady pace around it in a clockwise direction. She stood there for a few minutes, her vibrant green eyes tracking Hannah’s long, lithe shadow, graceful and fluid as she ran.

I bet I don’t look like that when I run. More like a foal that hasn’t figured out how to stand up yet.

She felt her lips twitch at her inner monologue and worked hard to keep a neutral facial expression. Coach Hogan did not appreciate humour even when she was in a good mood, and though Cordelia had pity for her friend at having to run an additional five laps around the track, she did not particularly want to join her.

“Are you waiting for Christmas, Miss Prime? Unless you want to join Reid, I would suggest you go to the changing rooms and get changed.”

Cordelia did not need to be told twice. She mumbled a quiet ‘yes ma’am’ and scuttled off to the changing rooms at a brisk walk, throwing one last glance over her shoulder at Hannah who cut a lonely figure as she jogged on the tarmac.

The changing room was deserted when she got in there. She decided against having a shower in the school changing rooms. At their very cleanest they were about as enticing as eating her dinner off the floor in the mess hall. She grabbed her bag from the hook she’d left it on as she made her way past, grateful for the fact that there were toilet cubicles available now that everyone else had left.

Once she was dressed in her old band t-shirt and black cycling shorts, complete with her battered Converse shoes, Cordelia made her way out of the changing rooms and around to the front of the school compound where she had left her bike chained at the beginning of the day.

The Autobot base was huge, easily seventeen square miles, and the quarters that she shared with Optimus were just over a quarter of a mile away. She biked to school most days, it was an easy and efficient way to get there whilst at the same time meaning she didn’t have to rely on Optimus for lifts.

She was grateful for the base’s flat, smoothly surfaced cycle paths as she made her way leisurely back to the quarters she called home. Her backpack was light against her back, filled with only her history assignment and the clothes she had worn for Coach’s impromptu run around the track this afternoon.

A quick glance at her watch told her it was just after four in the afternoon. She knew that Optimus wouldn’t be home until at least seven at the very earliest. His average day consisted of back-to-back meetings with various human officials, appointments with government liaisons, overseeing the day-to-day running of the base and making sure that any and all potential Decepticon threats were closely monitored.

Their shared quarters were in quiet darkness when she got there, punching the access code in that would grant her access. She dismounted from her bike and walked it in through the ‘human’ sized door that hissed slowly open. Everything was just as she had left it this morning, snippets of her own presence dotted about the place.

Their shared space was practical yet homely. Directly opposite the entrance sat Optimus’ enormous desk, built to match the scale of the behemoth twenty-eight-foot tall Autobot leader. It was constructed from various different metals, some of which had been brought by the second wave of Autobots in the Xantium and built using Cybertronian construction methods. The chair that went with it was made from old storage containers that had been reinforced with industrial-strength concrete. It was a sight that always made Cordelia laugh, but she was always grateful when they could work in a companiable silence together.

Her own desk sat atop his, amongst the data pads and other detritus that littered Optimus’ desk. His was a tidy desk, but the last data pad he used was always sat near the front of his desk, away from the others that he had neatly piled up in the corner.

A catwalk platform hugged the far right-hand wall. It housed a small bathroom, kitchenette and an enclosed area where her wardrobe and bed were. It was small but immensely cosy, and it was more of a home than she had ever known before. On the left side of the room was Optimus’ berth, where he recharged once every ten days or so.

Cordelia tucked her bike against the wall and then made her way over to the small kitchenette to grab a can of soda to keep her company while she attempted to make a start on her history assignment. She grabbed a punnet of grapes and then hurried down the stairs of the catwalk before ascending the ladder that was attached to Optimus’ desk so that she could sit at her own and begin her work.

The task that she had to tackle for her history assignment was to analyse the social and economical impact of the advancement of technology during the Industrial Revolution. Cordelia was a well-rounded student and usually enjoyed history, but having to sit through the teacher’s last few lessons on this particular subject had been a difficult undertaking.

Sighing, she settled herself at her desk and began making notes, trying to work out some kind of a structure on which to construct her essay.

The time ticked by slowly, the background noises of the base fading into white noise that kept her company as she worked.

Two soda cans later, she was halfway through a tedious chapter on the invention on the steam engine, and although it proved fruitless in the entertainment department, it had proven itself ripe with little snippets for her essay. She was just in the middle of paraphrasing a particularly useful paragraph when she heard the familiar hiss of the door opening.

She looked up in time to see Optimus walk through the door, his twenty-eight foot high frame just getting enough clearance between his ear finials and the top of the door-frame.

She abandoned her work, springing up from the desk chair and ran over to the edge of the desk, their eyes finding each other at the same time. A wide grin split her face in two, as it always did when she saw him.

She got that same feeling of warmth blooming up within her from the very centre of her chest. It seemed to spread throughout her entire body, causing the fine, baby-like hairs on her arms and the nape of her neck to stand up in accompaniment with the goosepimples that kissed the surface of her ivory skin.

No one else on the planet, not even Leo, made her feel as safe and as loved as this gentle mech did. It was a feeling that she cherished, and she had promised herself that she would never take it for granted, not for one single second.

Optimus’ optics tilted upwards at their inner corners with his own small, signature smile that he seemed to bear only around her. His footfalls sounded heavy and even on the floor, growing louder as he neared the desk.

“Good evening my little one, how was your day today?” he asked, lowering his great bulk until he was sat comfortably before her. He leaned his forearms on the desk, encircling her in a semi-circle of steel.

Cordelia sat down, allowing her legs to dangle freely over the edge of the desk so that she could swing them gently to and fro. Optimus’ optics traced her movements, bathing her in a pool of gentle blue light as his gaze settled upon her.

“It was okay. I managed to get some good notes done for my history assignment, although I might die of boredom before I actually manage to finish it.”

Optimus raised an incredulous brow at her diatribe. “Oh, that is something that I simply cannot allow to happen. I would hate for you to perish due to lack of mental stimulation, and I know Mr Edwards for one would be absolutely devastated to be deprived of your contribution to…” he paused here, leaning forward slightly to read the mess of papers that lay upon her desk. “…the social and economical impacts of the growing advancement of technology during the Industrial Revolution.”

Cordelia eyed him will ill-disguised astonishment. “Why, Optimus, it sounds like you’re being a little…sarcastic. Don’t you know that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?” her lips twitched as she spoke, betraying her inner mirth at their exchange of gentle banter.

Optimus canted his head to one side, feigning innocence. “Sarcasm? I would not dream of sinking to such a…deplorable level. I merely speak the truth.” His expression was a perfect poker face, giving nothing away. Not even the covers of his ear finials were spinning.

Cordelia could hold it in no more and burst out laughing, shaking her head in gentle disbelief at her giant guardian. “Do you know something big guy?” she asked, wiping a stray tear from her eye once she had recovered enough from laughing to speak.

“I am sure you will make me aware, little one,” he rumbled, his own lip plates twitching infinitesimally. He nudged her playfully in her ribs with an index finger as he spoke, causing her to yelp out in surprise.

She playfully swatted him away and made a fist at him, waving it backward and forwards in front of his field of vision before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You are the biggest dork on the planet. Literally!” She was rewarded with his low, gentle and rumbling chuckle. It reverberated deep within her ribcage, making her feel like rippling water.

He placed a hand palm up on the desk then, waiting for her to step on. She did so without hesitation, her feet knowing where to step without her having to look where she was going. She assumed her favourite position on his palm; sat down with one leg tucked beneath her and her left arm hooked around the base of his index finger.

“I will accept that, but only from you my little one. Only from you.” His optics softened as he spoke, looking at her with the pure unfiltered and unconditional love that existed in such unlimited bounds between them. “How was the rest of your day, aside from the deep trauma of nearly being bored to death by your history assignment?”

Cordelia leaned back easily into the gentle curve of his fingers, drawing absent-minded circles into the metal of his palm with her nails.

“Oh, it was okay. Nothing major. Coach tried to kill us, and Hannah got five extra laps for being a smart-ass.” She immediately regretted her choice of words when she saw the thin set of Optimus’ mouth and the way his optics had narrowed dangerously, the dull flare of anger glowing behind his cerulean irises.

“Coach tried to kill you?” his voice was quieter than usual, and it sounded like he was working hard to keep control of his tone.

Cordelia sighed and buried her face in her hands. “Ugh, obviously she didn’t actually try to kill us. She just made us run around the track in this heat, and I thought it was a little unfair.” She heard the whirring and hissing of hydraulics as Optimus moved, but she didn’t raise her face from her hands. She felt the cool touch of his index finger, prying her face away from her hands with the incredible gentleness that only he seemed to be capable of.

“How far did she make you run?” his tone brokered no room for argument, and she knew that sidestepping the question or trying to distract him would only make him more determined than ever for a straight answer.

“It wasn’t even that far, and---”

“Cordelia.” Her name, uttered in that no nonsense baritone of his was enough to stop her in her tracks. Stupidly, she felt the biting sting of tears behind her eyes and blinked them away furiously, refusing to show Optimus that she was upset.

As usual, he saw right through her façade and tenderly moved his finger until it was underneath her chin, carefully tilting her face upwards until their eyes met. “Oh Lia, please don’t be upset, I am not angry with you. In fact, I am not angry…merely…displeased at the thought of you needlessly expending physical energy in this heat. I simply wish to know if Coach Hogan put you and your peers at risk; for if she has, this is an oversight that must be rectified immediately.”

His finger moved to stroke her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes against his gentle affection. She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly taken up residence in her trapezius and deltoid muscles. Optimus watched her with that eternal patience that he seemed to possess in such abundance, waiting for her response as if he had simply asked her what her favourite colour was.

She dropped her eyes from his and placed a hand on his fingertip, patting it in a way that she hoped would show him she was not upset. Or that upset, anyway.

“She made us run five kilometres. It wasn’t that far; I’m just being dramatic.” She felt rather than saw the gentle ex-vent of cool air from his nose, having been cycled through the ventilation systems situated underneath his helm, the ones that helped to keep his CPU at its core temperature.

Optimus’ own shoulders relaxed by a fraction of a degree, evidenced by the quiet hissing of his hydraulics. He was silent for a short time, although the covers of his ear finials did a quarter of a turn counterclockwise, denoting his mild annoyance.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger, shutting his optics for a few seconds before responding to her. “Thank you, my little one. While I wholly support the continual development of your physical health and education, I do not condone the needless pursuit of exercise when there is a high chance it will be detrimental due to the high temperatures that we have experienced today.”

Cordelia smiled at him weakly and chewed on the inside of her cheek to buy herself some time. She noticed that his pupils had grown smaller and that his brows were beginning to tilt down in his characteristic frown, forming a loose facsimile of the letter ‘V’.

“Hey, relax big guy. You worry way too much. We had water and she wasn’t y’know…being a total drill sergeant about it. I’m fine, we’re all fine.”

Optimus simulated a sigh and fixed her with that penetrating gaze of his, the one that she felt could see right through to the very depths of her soul, to the very foundations of all that made her, her.

“I trust your judgement, Cordelia. However, it still does not sit well with me. Are Hannah’s parents aware that she endured further physical exercise in the form of punishment?”

Cordelia shrugged. “I guess so. I mean, Coach said that she would make Hannah’s father aware of her ‘insubordination’ as she called it, so yeah, I would imagine they know. If Coach didn’t tell them yet, I know Hannah would have by now. She’s even more dramatic than me you know.”

That caused Optimus’ facial features to loosen, and a small smile moved his lip plates upwards at the corners, giving his face an overall more gentle and softer appearance.

“Is that so?” he asked, clearly meaning it as a rhetorical question.

Cordelia stuck her tongue out at him in response and he ruffled her hair playfully with his index finger.

His face grew serious again. “Would you allow me to speak with Coach Hogan? I merely wish to understand her motivations for assigning the class such a task in this weather.”

Cordelia shut her eyes, puffing out a mouthful of air from puffed up cheeks. “Op…I’d prefer it if you didn’t. She is…unique in her teaching methods, I’ll give you that. But you speaking with her…it will only cause more aggravation.”

Optimus ex-vented air from his nose again, the slightest hint of steam uncurling from his nostrils and into the open air. “I will not apply needless blame, nor make it difficult for you and your classmates in future lessons, but” he paused, lifting a finger to stroke her cheek. “But your safety is one of my most important priorities, Cordelia. The thought of any harm coming to you, even harm that you may perceive as merely…minor, it pains my Spark in a way that I cannot comprehend or put into words.”

“Oh Op, come here.” Cordelia shuffled forwards on his palm, her arms outstretched. He wordlessly closed the gap between them, nuzzling her face carefully with his nose. She smiled against him and rubbed circles into his facial plating with her nails. “I tell you what, would you be open to a compromise?”

Optimus pulled back slightly so that he could look at her properly. “A compromise? I will listen with an open mind little one.”

“How about this time, you let it go, but I promise you that if Coach does anything again that I feel is…untoward or not…safe, I will tell you straight away and then you can speak with her. Is that fair enough?”

He regarded her with a look that could only be described as pure pride, his previously small pupils growing exponentially. “Indeed…that sounds like a fair trade. If you wish that to be the end of the matter, then it shall be.”

Cordelia swallowed, suddenly overcome with a wave of emotion. “Thank you, Optimus…for listening to me. I can’t say how much it means to me that you do.”

“Of course I listen to you Cordelia. I always want you to be able to speak your mind with me. Your viewpoint is incredibly important to me, and I will always listen to you and make sure your voice is heard. Always.”

Cordelia was about to reply when her stomach decided that that would be the appropriate time to emit a thunderous rumble. She placed a hand on her abdomen, embarrassment flushing her cheeks with scarlet colour.

Optimus raised an optic ridge at the sound, a wide smile making its way onto his face. “I think it would be prudent to find a solution to your evident hunger, my little one. Shall we see what you have in the cupboards?”

A dull, rumbling vibration roused Cordelia from the dregs of sleep. She opened her eyes to the dark, murky shapes of her and Optimus’ shared quarters, her vision struggling to adjust for the first few seconds of consciousness.

She pushed herself into a sitting position, the duvet falling from her shoulders and pooling at her waist. Another low concussion rocked the foundations of the base, and she could have sworn she saw the bottle of water on her bedside table ripple slightly.

The noise of the doors hissing open claimed her attention. Optimus hurried through, the faint blue glow of his optics the only source of light in the otherwise dark room. He had something clutched in his left hand and dropped it in front of her on the bed before wordlessly turning and retrieving a few bottles of water, tucking them into the subspace pocked on his forearm.

The item he had dropped on her bed was a large jacket, army issue and one that looked miles too big for her. She was about to ask him why he had given her a random jacket when the alarm began to sound.

It was low and deafening, filling her ears with its low, monotonous drone. She didn’t need to be told twice to get dressed and hurried herself into a pair of leggings that she’d slung over the foot of her bed a day or so previously. Next, she donned the jacket, tucking her arms into the long sleeves and having to roll them back two or three times so that her hands could actually be free. The hem of the jacket easily fell halfway down her thighs, but that didn’t matter now.

The next thing she was aware of was being scooped up into Optimus’ immense palm, his fingers holding her securely. He held her close to his chest, his free hand hovering just above her. He was in full Prime mode, his optics tight and trained on something in the near distance. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and just as another low explosion rocked the immediate vicinity, his battle mask slid into place across his mouth and nose.

“Optimus, what’s happened? What’s going on?” her voice sounded quiet and vulnerable amidst the muted booms and explosions, and Optimus armed himself with his Energon sword, clearly not wanting to take any chances.

“The base is under attack. I am taking you to the emergency assembly point. It is one of the most fortified shelters on base. You will be safe in there with the other civilians. I am going to appoint Bumblebee to stand guard outside so that no one unauthorised can gain access.”

He broke into a loose jog, his hold on Cordelia growing a little tighter with the increased movement. She held onto his index fingers tightly, her own knuckles blanched white with the effort. The base flowed along effortlessly beneath her, eaten up quickly by Optimus’ long strides. NEST soldiers darted around like ants, gathering weapons and co-ordinating themselves into defence and attack groups.

In what felt like no time at all, Optimus reached the entrance of the emergency shelter and dropped to his knees, a little more heavily than he usually would have done. A tall, thick-set soldier was stationed at the door, taking a register of all who had gone inside so far. Optimus lowered her to the ground and tipped his hand gently, allowing her to slide off his palm and onto her own two feet.

She turned around before he had fully released her, desperate to speak with him before he went off to join the battle. He shifted so that he was only down on one knee, leaning his weight on his forearm, resting on the other knee.

“Go on my little one. I will find you after this situation has been dealt with. You’ll be safe here, I promise.” He tenderly ran the tip of his index finger down her face as he spoke, drawing a path from her temple down to the fine line of her jaw.

“Stay safe, promise me you’ll be safe.” Cordelia looked up at him earnestly, not one ounce of worry for herself present in her mind. All she could think of was that he would soon be running into a barrage of Decepticon fire. Decepticons who did not care and who would stop at nothing until their end goal was achieved. Whatever that end goal was.

His battle mask retracted, and a look of gentle affection transformed his entire face. “I promise you Cordelia, I will come back to you. You have my word. Now, on you go. That’s my girl.”

He nudged her gently towards the entrance of the shelter, anxious to get her inside. The tall soldier reached out for her, taking her left hand in his and marking it with a messy ‘26’ in black sharpie.

“I know who you are kid, but just in case. Always good to have an ID system going in times like this.” He turned to look at Optimus, standing to attention. “Don’t worry sir, she’s in good hands here. We’ll make sure she’s well looked after for you.”

Optimus nodded gratefully and reached into the subspace pocket on his forearm, pinching two two-litre bottles of still water between a thumb and forefinger. He handed them to Cordelia, his mask sliding back into place across his face.

He rose to his full height then and sprinted off to join the fight, his heavy footfalls sending vibrations throughout her whole body. She had no time to lament his absence as the large soldier ushered her inside, a hand on the small of her back as he guided her into the enclosed space.

“I’m Sergeant Grayson ma’am, nothing to worry about. Prime and the Autobots will have this sorted in no time.”

She didn’t reply but smiled at him weakly, watching him as he tipped his beret to her before going to resume his post at the entrance to the bunker. She set the two water bottles down; evidently Optimus had not been the only one to be well prepared. There were at least two dozen water bottles scattered throughout the small and sparsely furnished room.

Well, at least we’re not going to go thirsty, she thought wryly, turning in a slow circle to take stock of her new surroundings. The room itself was basic and clinical in every sense of the word. Grey was the colour of choice for everything in the room, the only variation being different shades of the same colour.

Her eyes scanned the room for Hannah. Hannah’s barracks were in Zone D, the same zone in which she and Optimus’ shared quarters were located. Hannah’s parents would not be in the shelter, her father would be co-ordinating with the other NEST personnel and her mother would be on standby in case of any unexpected casualties.

Cordelia recognised some girls from her class at school and smiled at them with that surface level smile saved for casual acquaintances, but did not go over to speak to them. She was too preoccupied with trying to find Hannah.

The bunker was filling up fast, and though Cordelia recognised a lot of the faces that were pouring in, none of them were Hannah’s. She decided to go and check the single toilet in case Hannah was in there, a growing sense of unease gnawing in the pit of her stomach over the whereabouts of her friend.

Panic grew within her, slowly at first as the minutes ticked by without any sign of Hannah. As time passed, her heart began to hammer more forcefully in her chest, beating a jumpy staccato against her ribcage. Saliva pooled in her mouth as nausea claimed ownership over her stomach, threatening to eject her evening meal. She focused on taking deep breaths in through her nose, and letting them slowly out through her mouth, attempting to replicate the gentle thrumming of Optimus’ Spark in her head.

Dull explosions continued in the distance, muffled by the bunker’s thick, reinforced concrete walls. Cordelia weaved her way through the bodies that were pressed together once more, making sure she hadn’t missed Hannah in all the chaos. After another two laps around the room, Cordelia was certain that Hannah was not anywhere within the compact throng of people.

She positioned herself close to the entrance, waiting for the opportune moment to sneak out. Sergeant Grayson was preoccupied with checking another few people into the building, marking the back of their hands in black sharpie as he had done with her. Bumblebee was standing with his back to her, concentrating on a data pad he had clutched in one hand.

Keeping herself tucked close against the wall, she allowed herself to be moved along with the constant current of flowing bodies, seamlessly blending in with everyone else. The late-night air was mild, yet significantly cooler than the day’s blistering forty-degree heat. Cordelia could smell hints of hibiscus and coconut palm on the sea breeze, a stark contrast to the muted booms that were coming from the south.

Cordelia wasted no time, breaking into a brisk jog, heading straight for the barracks that Hannah shared with her parents. It took her only minutes to get there, the non-descript building looking as it always had done, sitting innocently amongst the other barracks.

The ground vibrated subtly beneath her with yet another explosion as she approached the front door and gave two loud raps with her knuckles. She was met with nothing but eery silence.

A few tense seconds ticked by as Cordelia felt her mouth grow drier as more and more time passed by. She had just raised her hand to knock once more when the door was thrown open, causing her to take an involuntary step backwards.

Hannah half fell out of the door, her dark wavy hair dishevelled and pointing in all directions. She looked up then, her eyes meeting Cordelia’s.

“Hey! What are you doing here? Come on, we need to get going! My dad’s just rung me and told me that the ‘cons have attacked the main emergency shelter! He told me to go straight to the command centre!”

She gave Cordelia no chance to reply but grabbed her by the right wrist and started pulling her along in the direction of the command centre. The command centre sat in the very centre of the base itself, the main hub of activity and communication for all who lived and worked on Diego Garcia. Optimus spent most of his time there and when Cordelia had caught up on her schoolwork, she often spent the evenings there keeping him company while he finished up the fiddlier parts of his day.

Cordelia struggled to keep up with Hannah’s longer stride, pumping her legs to make up for the lack of distance that she covered compared to her friend. Hannah’s grip on her wrist was hard, and despite the relative mildness of the late night, her skin was cold to the touch.

A low, whistling sound distracted Cordelia from her second sprint in less than twenty-four hours and she lifted her head to find the source of the sound. A projectile was heading straight for them. Whether it was a bullet or a missile, Cordelia could not tell. All she was aware of was the sound growing louder and louder, reminiscent of a low growl as it got closer and closer to the two girls.

Cordelia tried to pull Hannah out of the way of the incoming danger, but it was like trying to pull a brick wall down with her bare hands. Hannah did not yield to her by one single inch. Time seemed to slow as the projectile dropped in altitude, looking to make landfall right in their path.

Then, just at the very last minute, a huge slab of concrete was thrown over their heads and into the trajectory of the ballistic. The force of the following explosion knocked both Cordelia and Hannah off their feet, the world temporarily turning upside down as they flew through the air before falling back to earth with a sickening crunch.

In the back of her mind, where rational thought still resided, Cordelia was mildly impressed that Hannah had managed to keep a hold of her wrist, fingers biting into her skin in a manner that bordered on painful.

As she landed, her left arm bent underneath her at an unnatural angle and she felt a tangible crack before a jolt of severe pain shot down through her entire arm. She barely had time to register what had happened before an enormous black, metallic foot slammed down mere inches from where she and Hannah were laying.

Her eyes traced up the leg to which the foot was attached, and she felt her heart leap into her mouth as her eyes locked onto the scarlet optics of Barricade. His mouth turned upwards in a cruel smirk as he bent down, a hand outstretched.

Again, Cordelia tried to roll out of the way and pull Hannah with her, but Hannah didn’t budge. She appeared to be completely immobile, seemingly rendered into shock by what was going on around them. She pulled once more, wincing through clenched teeth as another jolt of pain shot up through her arm.

Barricade’s outstretched hand was drawing ever nearer, and Cordelia scrunched her eyes tightly shut, sending a fervent prayer of love to Optimus, hoping that on some visceral level, he would be aware of it before her life was snuffed out by the encroaching Decepticon.

At the last possible minute, another hulking black mass, this time flecked through with bits of gunmetal grey, hurtled through the air and straight into Barricade.

The two titans’ bodies met in an explosion of sparks and metal screeching against metal, the sound almost painful. Ironhide rolled to absorb the impact of his leap and before Barricade could get to his feet, swung his right arm and delivered a swift uppercut to the Decepticon’s jaw that sent him flying once more. In a move so fast she couldn’t follow it with her eyes, Ironhide armed himself and unleashed a storm of bullets down on Barricade, pinning him to the ground.

Chunks of concrete littered the air, falling like rain. Hannah suddenly found herself again and pulled Cordelia easily to her feet and once more in the direction of the command centre. Barricade was starting to retaliate against Ironhide’s relentless attack, but not before the Weapons Specialist turned his head in the girls’ direction.

“What the frag are you doing out here?! Get to the shelter – NOW!”

In any other situation, Cordelia would have found Ironhide’s tone of voice terrifying, however, it was not his tone of voice that terrified her, rather than the fact that he himself sounded terrified.

Hannah forced her legs into motion once more, pulling her along with a renewed sense of urgency and strength. Cordelia had no choice but to be towed along by the stronger girl, her own feet pounding on the floor twice as much as Hannah’s to make up for the difference in their strides.

Cordelia could smell the acrid scent of gunfire and scorched metal in the air, the night sky lighting up intermittently with explosions that rocked the world all around her. She tried to concentrate on nothing except her own footfalls, trying to count along to a beat in her head.

Behind them, Ironhide was still going toe-to-toe with Barricade, the vibrations from the force of their clash travelling through the ground and up into her body. Her eyes widened when she saw Optimus directly in front of them, locked in a fierce brawl with no other than Soundwave.

Fear clenched around Cordelia’s heart, her vision tunnelling until Optimus and Soundwave were the only things that she was aware of. Her eyes tracked every iota of Optimus’ movements. The way he lifted his left arm to block a blow from Soundwave and the way that he countered with a swift kick to the Decepticon’s chest before unleashing a powerful blast from his Ion Blaster, sending Soundwave flying through the air.

Before Soundwave could get up, Optimus transformed into his vehicle mode and covered ground faster than Cordelia had ever seen him move before, crashing into Soundwave with a force that she felt in her bones. Optimus executed a swift handbrake turn, halting Soundwave’s progress in getting back to his feet with his back fender, putting the Decepticon on his back once more.

Metal screeched against the floor with a ferocity that set Cordelia’s teeth on edge, her legs momentarily slowing to follow the progress of the battle. Optimus transformed back to his bipedal mode, his foot slamming down onto Soundwave’s chest.

Even from this distance, Cordelia could hear the groaning of Soundwave’s frame under Optimus’ immense weight as the larger and heavier Autobot leader bore down on the smaller Decepticon. Soundwave lifted his head from the floor then, his crimson optics locked on the two girls running straight for them.

Cordelia snapped back into reality then, digging her heels into the ground in an effort to slow Hannah down, pulling back at the same time. This time, Hannah responded to the resistance and turned to look at Cordelia, a confused frown creasing her face.

“We’re going the wrong way!” Cordelia shouted, pulling Hannah in the direction of the command centre. Once again, Hannah was unyielding, seemingly totally unaffected by Cordelia’s attempts to get her to change direction.

“No, you’re wrong! Massster says I must bring you this way.” Hannah’s voice was toneless and devoid of any discernible emotion.

Ice shot through Cordelia’s veins, paralysing her to the spot. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, in perfect time with the beat of blood in her eardrums that momentarily deafened her.

“What-what do you mean? The command centre is this way!” Cordelia could hardly hear her own voice over the cacophony of gunfire and metallic scraping.

A horrific grin split Hannah’s face, metamorphosing it into someone that Cordelia did not recognise. Bile rose up into her throat as she watched Hannah’s skin bubble and recede to reveal a purplish metallic surface, its plates shifting and rearranging until all traces of Hannah had been erased. In her place stood a Decepticon at a height of around six feet, eerily similar to the Decepticon Frenzy.

His face still bore that sinister grin, an evil laugh bubbling up from somewhere within him. Now completely rid of his human disguise, he coiled his spindly limbs around her, ignoring her shouts of pain when he pinned her broken arm to her side with ease.

He lifted her as if she was nothing more than a bag of shopping, slinging her roughly over his shoulder in a loose approximation of a fireman’s carry. He sprinted toward Optimus and Soundwave, intent on delivering her to the superior Decepticon Commander.

Optimus’ head snapped up then, his optics dilating with pure, undiluted fear as his gaze locked onto Cordelia. Time seemed to slow between them as he launched himself off Soundwave, simultaneously transforming into his vehicle mode as he did so.

He landed roughly on the ground, his suspension taking the brunt of the impact. There was about 150 metres between them and his 425-horsepower engine ate up the distance as if it were nothing at all. In less time than it took for her to draw another panicked breath into her lungs, Optimus was upon them, transforming back to his robot mode with a graceful flourish.

He skidded forward on one knee, his left hand outstretched. His fingers wrapped around the pair of them, lifting them from the ground with ease. The fingers of his right-hand sought purchase on Rumble’s body, easily prising him away from Cordelia. Rumble thrashed furiously in Optimus’ grasp, but it was futile. Cordelia watched wide-eyed as Optimus’ fingers closed around the mini-con, effortlessly crushing him until he was nothing but a twisted mass of bent metal and sparking circuits.

Optimus dropped him and cradled Cordelia protectively to his chest, lifting his head just in time to see Soundwave and Barricade hobble through the dying light of a groundbridge, disappearing into a swirling vortex of blue-green light.

His optics fixed her in his steady gaze, still at their widest aperture despite the Decepticons’ retreat. She felt the light tickle of a scan before his fingers palpated her body with the utmost gentleness, doubtless checking her for injuries. He stopped abruptly when he got to her left arm, feeling the injury that she had sustained there.

“You’re hurt,” he muttered, rising to his full height and moving toward the med bay decisively. “I’m taking you to Ratchet.”

Cordelia suddenly found her words as she was carried over the remnants of the brief but intense battle, NEST personnel outing out stray fires here and there that dotted the immediate vicinity.

“Optimus, wait, wait! We need to find Hannah, she’s in trouble!”

That pulled him up short. A confused look crossed his features, moving the mosaic of his facial plating into a serious frown. “Cordelia, Hannah is safe with her mother in the triage centre. She’s helping with first aid.”

Multiple feelings of simultaneous relief and disbelief flooded Cordelia’s psyche at the same time. Immense gratitude for the knowledge that her friend was safe and away from danger, closely followed by the embarrassment realising she had fallen for the guise of a Decepticon Pretender.

“Shh, it’s alright. Come on, let’s get you patched up.” No further words were exchanged between them as Optimus ducked to go through the doors of the med-bay.

Ratchet treated her arm quickly and efficiently, informing her and Optimus that it was a clean break and that she’d need to be in a cast for the next six weeks. Other than that, he said, it should heal without complications and function as it had before, albeit with an added weakness.

He’d shaken his head good naturedly at her as his nimble fingers wrapping the plaster of Paris around her arm with ease, saying “always the left arm with you!”

She’d sat silently on the berth in the med-bay, Optimus sitting wordlessly beside her as Ratchet worked. Once he was finished, Ratchet had gone to assist the other Autobots with repairs, setting up his own triage system in the neighbouring hangar.

After Ratchet left, the silence was unbearable. Neither Optimus nor Cordelia said anything, both too shell-shocked by what had just happened to form any coherent sentences. Cordelia wasn’t aware of how many minutes ticked by, but she could not find it within herself to look at Optimus. She did not want to see the weight of the disappointment in his gaze or feel the sense of shame anymore than she already was.

She fiddled with the edge of her cast, tapping her nails on the fresh plaster. Her blood beat furiously in her ears, audible evidence of time’s unwelcome passage. She was aware of Optimus sitting next to her on the berth, her gaze fixed pointedly on his feet. There was a good ten feet between the berth and the floor below, and Cordelia debated how likely it was that she would sustain another injury if she attempted to jump off the berth. She was sitting on the edge, her legs dangling over from the knee.

She shifted forward a few inches, mentally psyching herself up to make the jump. It wasn’t that high, not really. She’d fallen from higher places and not had injuries that had been too serious.

However, before she could move forward another centimetre, she felt a gentle pressure around her waist and looked down to see Optimus’ digits there, wrapping around her middle and lifting her carefully into the air, mindful to avoid her broken arm.

Her hands instinctively held onto his index finger as she was raised higher into the air. Still, she did not look him in the eye as he transferred her onto the palm of his left hand and dominant hand of choice, raising her up to his eye level.

The atmosphere between them was thick with unexpressed tension, weighing down heavily on the pair of them. Cordelia could hear the increased volume of air being taken in through the vents on the back of Optimus’ head, cycling through his intakes quicker than usual and being ex-vented as a lukewarm steam that she could feel on her face and the nape of her neck.

Her chin dropped to her chest, her heart beating a furious tattoo behind her ribs. Her hands shook slightly, and she clenched them into tight fists in an effort to stop it, her nails biting into her palm painfully. Too late, she realised that was the wrong thing to do as a fierce pain travelled up her left arm, reminding her of the break Ratchet had just treated.

“Shit!”

She shot up into a standing position on Optimus’ palm, cradling her injured arm against her chest. Optimus did not reprimand her for swearing, or indeed say anything at all, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her. She could hear the quiet click of his optics as he blinked and the whir of their housings as he tracked her frenzied movement across his palm.

She peeked over the edge of his hand to see how high she was, her heart sinking when she realised, she would not simply be able to slide off. A louder intake of air finally made her look up, the sight that met her eyes making her wish immediately that she hadn’t.

Optimus’ face was a mask of inscrutable emotion, save for the set of his optic ridges. They were tilted upwards by a fraction of an inch, denoting only a hint of the feeling swirling within him. He regarded her for a long time, his blue optics unblinking. She could not hold his gaze and dropped her eyes back down, tears threatening.

“By the AllSpark Cordelia…what could have possibly been going through your head to make you think that running into the middle of a battle was a good idea?” his voice rose slightly at the end, betraying the effort he was going to to keep his emotions in check.

Cordelia could find no words to answer him at first, the confirmation of his disappointment in her too heavy to bear. Her bottom lip quivered as treacherous tears fell, dropping soundlessly onto Optimus’ metallic palm. She worked hard to control her breathing, not wanting it to run away from her.

God, at least let me keep control over one damned thing!

“Cordelia?” he pressed her gently, evidently not taking the silent treatment for an answer.

She took a deep breath, trying to arrange her thoughts into something legible so that she could understand them, not at least to convey them to Optimus.

“I…I thought Hannah was in trouble, so I went looking for her. I snuck out of the shelter, and I went to her barracks. She was there and she said that the emergency shelter had been attacked and that her dad had said to go to the command centre. I didn’t see any reason as to why it wouldn’t be true…there was nothing.” More tears fell, punctuating her answer with the sad burden of Optimus’ evident frustration.

“Cordelia, the base is filled with experienced and trained personnel who would have located Hannah if she was in any sort of trouble. It is not your job to go looking for people who might be in danger! Do you realise what could have happened today?”

A sudden flame of anger ignited within her, burning through any shame she had previously felt.

“Of course I realise what could have happened!” she hissed, taken aback by the venom in her own voice, but it was not enough to stop her. “Don’t you think I know what could happen every single, solitary day?! A Decepticon could drop a rocket on my head, a new liaison could order me away or put me into federal custody at any moment because of my connection to all of this!” she threw her hands up into the air, her anger snowballing.

“I have to watch you throw yourself into danger nearly every other day, not knowing if you’re going to come back! So yeah, even if I am on a base with ‘experienced and trained personnel’, I will get involved if I think it is going to make a difference to a friend of mine!”

Optimus showed no outward signs of responding to her outburst, his face infuriatingly calm.

“Cordelia, when I adopted you three years ago, I took on a responsibility for your safety and well-being.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air between them. She felt the solemnity of his words in the deep cadence of his sonorous baritone.

She said nothing in response, motioning with a small nod of her head for him to continue.

“You are not yet eighteen, and as such, I have a legal, moral and ethical responsibility to you. That includes but is not limited to your physical, mental and emotional health. That was an oath I made to you and an oath I intend to keep until you send me away or I am no longer physically capable of doing so.

“You are a choice that I make every single day, Cordelia. I make this choice partly out of a sense of duty, but above all, because I love you, so so much. And by law, you are my responsibility.”

Despite the outpouring of love she felt coming from him, her temper flared again, pushed over the edge by his leaning on legalities to enforce his protectiveness. Blood filled her cheeks as her heart rate soared, fuelling the fire that had already been stoked deep within her belly.

“For god’s sake Optimus!!” she shouted, her voice full of indignant anger. “I am not one of your soldiers!”

He held her in his steady gaze, nothing but pure love emanating from his optics. He was silent for a short time, the only sound between them her panting breaths as she tried to regain some sense of control over her wayward emotions.

“Exactly.” He said softly, a quiet reverence present in his gentle tone. “You are my daughter, and infinitely more precious than a mere soldier.”

His words pulled her up short, her anger extinguished as suddenly as it had been ignited. She struggled to process his words, understanding the meaning behind them but not fully taking them in. She had spent so much of her life hiding from pain and terror that accepting love, even though she had been with Optimus for three years now, still did not come naturally to her.

“You are my daughter, Cordelia,” he repeated, bringing her closer to his face. “And because of that, I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

Those words broke through the last of Cordelia’s feeble defences, and she crumbled into a heap on his palm, quiet sobs erupting out of her, as raw and unstoppable as a broken dam.

“Optimus, what can I give you in return? You are everything I’m not! You are selfless, loyal, brave and the kindest soul I have ever met! I can’t hold a candle to you. I don’t know why you chose me, because you chose wrong. You should have just let me fall and saved yourself all of this regret!”

Her head dropped to her chest again, heavy with the weight of shame that had abruptly resurfaced.

She felt the cool metal of his fingertip underneath her chin, tilting her face upwards to meet his gaze.

“I must respectfully disagree with you, my little one. I chose you because I love you. I protect you because I love you. More than you can possibly comprehend. And as for what you give me in return; you give it to me every day. You give it to me with the beat of your heart, with your infectious smile. With the faith and trust you choose to place in me, day after day.”

He dipped his head forward so that they were leaning forehead to forehead, despite their size difference. She could feel the subtle vibrations of his inner workings and the deliciously cool sensation of his metal skin against her own flushed face helped her to ground herself.

“And most of all, you have awarded me with the intimate trust of someone who I can simply be ‘Optimus’ with, as opposed to ‘Optimus Prime.’ You have shown me a part of myself I had long thought dead; the Optimus who remembers without regret. The Optimus who leads without shame. The Optimus who hopes for the future that we can build together. Cordelia – there is no greater gift to be given among Sparks than that of hope – for hope can light even the darkest hour. And where there is life, there is always, always hope. I do not, for one, single astro-second regret saving you, and I never will.”

He pulled back from her slightly, only to press his metallic lip plates tenderly to her forehead and press a paternal kiss there, one that spoke of the reverence and love which he held in such abundance for her.

She looked up at him tearfully, wiping her eyes with the back of her right hand. “I’m sorry Optimus, I didn’t mean to get angry with you. Thank you…for always being there for me. It means more to me than I know how to say.”

He held her close, bringing his free hand up to support the one he held her in. “Oh my little one. You never need thank me. Losing you is simply not an option. It is something that I absolutely cannot allow to happen. Not now or at any point in the future.”

She allowed herself to be wrapped in the safety of his love, content just to enjoy the moment in the here and now with him, her heart happy in the knowledge that she was perfectly safe with the Autobot leader who had given her everything she had long thought lost to her.

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