#because for all her posturing and claims that I can make my own decisions and choose what I want to do none of her words hold real truth

[robotsprinkles]

my mum likes to do this thing where she'll say "you're an adult now so you can make your own choices and if you disagree with me or your dad on our decisions you can tell us"

but the moment I say "hey. I want to take a gap/break year from uni to get myself in order and build the skills I need and recover from the last few years of everything"

she goes "yep. nope. you can't do that [insert whichever reason she's decided on this year]"

and I'm just sitting here wishing she 'd either stick to her word or just. not lie to me for once.

[lemonhemlock]

Adding to your nuanced discussion regarding Sara Hess. Although I have no personal vendetta against her orientation like some of these unhinged freaks, and can fully acknowledge her merit as a screenwriter when working within her area of expertise, I must admit that on the other hand, her bias against certain characters is sort of off-putting. The interviews that she did explaining her thoughts and feelings about Daemon (a character I personally dislike) as well as the decision (whether it was hers or not) to make Aegon the Elder a rapist, did have an effect on how I view her relationship to ASOIAF. The "civilians don't count" comment reeked of such flippancy that it only furthered my skepticism. I don't know that I would call it "unprofessional" but it does make me annoyed in the same manner I would be whenever engaging with a work of fiction wherein the author clearly hates a character and goes out of their way to paint them in a negative light. It's even worse when you remember that these are GRRM's characters and however limited their descriptions may be in Fire & Blood, it still requires a level of maturity to put aside one's own biases in favor of keeping their characterization consistent. Am I being too harsh? Does this even make any sense? Feel free to critique.

It is genuinely so annoying when you can sense authorial bias emanating through the text, whether positive or negative, and it betrays an immaturity of craft. I have to take my hat off to GRRM here, because, as annoying as his boner for Daemon is, he does give Daemon plenty of unsavory traits and does narratively punish him. Not once in Fire & Blood is the reader invited to consider how poor Daemon was just a misunderstood scapegoat and never deserved the things that happened to him.

Considering Daemon as a whole, I think it's fair to say he is the type of character that GRRM wrote out of self-indulgence and just because he thought him >cool<. Which is honestly fair game - he is a secondary character in a background story and has no true bearing on the main series. I think he is allowed a little fanboyish service to his own preferences in a whole saga that spans thousands of pages.

However, when you make it the main story, you have to take a little care so that your biases don't make the end product look like wish fulfillment fanfiction. And, for all their posturing that Daemon is not a good person and how shocked they are he has so many fans, both Sara Hess and Ryan Condal have never given Daemon the same treatment they've reserved for the greens. Daemon is whitewashed in the show compared to his book!counterpart and, even when he pulls his fair share of shit, he never gets punished in the same way Alicent, Aemond or Aegon do (and for far less grievous crimes, too).

What consequences does Daemon face exactly at the end of Season 2? He's spent the entire season trying to mount an alternative claim to the throne to Rhaenyra, yet she immediately takes him back when they reunite. They made Blood & Cheese a misunderstanding to make him less culpable, even had Helaena guide him in a vision. Even Alys Rivers is just trying to help him get on the right path. They nerfed Nettles, so, unless they'll turn Rhaena into his mistress in Season 3 (which they don't have the balls for), they've pretty much removed any source of conflict between him and Rhaenyra. He'll go to his death secure in his marriage and fighting for >the greater good<, whereas the greens have had their family unit completely disintegrated with nonsensical narrative choices.

I just fail to see how that is balanced. How that is a "both sides = bad" narrative. The favouritism is so blatant; they're not even trying. If this were a Disney spin-off, no one would care to criticise such blatant bias, but Ryan and Sara are out there pretending they're making prestige television.

[ginnsbaker]

what comes of telling the truth (or even part of it)

Summary: The guilt, more than anything, is what Yelena wishes she could wash away. She wishes she could stop the cycle, stop using Kate as a balm for her wounds. She wishes she could face her head-on, with honesty. But in this very moment, all she can do is rinse, lather, and hope that someday, she finds the strength to break free from her own destructive patterns.

Word count: 10.7K+ | Pairing: Yelena x Kate, Past Yelena x Reader | Tags: Light angst, fluff-ish

A/N: This is for all of my ILGOSS readers. Requested by anon:

Wait may I ask for a short story or one-shot on how Yelena and Kate ended up together? I'm still kinda curious tbh lol. Kate's patience is applaudable, but I can't help but think what if Kate is just a rebound

I had fun writing this oneshot because I have a soft spot for the sex-first-feelings-later trope :P

Masterlist

-

It's not stalking if you just happen to be in the same row of seats at the same event. Even if, for instance, you're based in New York and the event is in Chicago, and attending isn't exactly obligatory.

Right? 

Kate Bishop insists it's not. She's read numerous discussions on Reddit about stalking, and none seemed to describe a situation like hers. 

The thing is, she didn't exactly think it all through. Just like any rich girl prone to making impulsive decisions when money isn't an issue, she snagged the first flight to Chicago upon hearing about a chance to see Yelena again.

She didn't factor in that Yelena had upped and left with only a text as a goodbye. She didn't ponder over the fact that Yelena seldom replied to her messages since moving to a different state, if she even did at all. Had Kate truly heeded these signs, she wouldn't be anywhere near the front row where Yelena sits, nonchalant with a passive countenance. She wouldn't have spent the last half hour or so ruminating on how to approach her. Instead, she'd be back in the Hamptons, sipping on Piña Coladas without a concern, because that's what Bishops customarily do on their weekends.

Except, reading the situation has never been her strong suit. She's always been forthright with her feelings and actions. It's what Yelena claimed to like about her, so here she is, simply being herself.

Kate glances towards Yelena from the corner of her eye, trying to discern any signs of emotion. For anyone else in the room, Yelena appears unmoved, but Kate, with her intimate knowledge of the girl, can see the minute shift in her posture, the almost imperceptible crease in her brow. She's always been good at noticing the subtleties in people, especially when it came to Yelena. But perhaps this is where the problem began.

They never labeled what they had. It started off as casual. Friends with benefits, they'd joked in the beginning, no strings attached. Yet Kate, somewhere along the way, had tied a rope around her own heart. Her mistake was entering the arrangement already having fallen for the girl. And it didn't even begin when they started sleeping together. It happened way before Kate got to know the taste of her skin, the way a smile would sneak onto her lips with a contented sigh after she climaxed, or the way she'd clutch at Kate's shirt when Kate did something just right—too right.

Kate had believed she was okay with it, that she could handle being just a detour in Yelena’s life. But then she saw it—the way Yelena's walls crumbled when you came into the picture. It was a poignant twist of irony, watching Yelena fall unapologetically in love when she’d always been so cautious, so guarded around Kate. The woman who had so adamantly refused to be ensnared by love was openly enthralled by it when it came from someone else. Kate would listen, forcing a smile, as Yelena talked about you, and it would eat away at her insides. She tried to be supportive. But that didn't work out either. In the end, Kate still lost her.

And now, sitting mere feet away yet worlds apart, Kate grapples with truths that are lodged in her throat. She wonders if Yelena will ever see her as more than just a diversion, a temporary harbor. It's a cruel thought, and one that Kate can't shake off. But she knows herself. She won't run from the situation. Instead, she'll face it, no matter how much it tears at her. Because, for better or worse, that's just who she is.

-

She only gathers enough courage by the end of the seminar.

When the final speaker steps off the stage, and the flurry of applause begins to die down, Kate takes a steadying breath. She tells herself it's just Yelena—even though everything has changed. Her heart pummels against her ribs, a restless plea, as she forces her legs to move in Yelena’s direction. 

“Yelena,” she calls out softly when she's a few steps behind her.

Yelena turns, and for a moment, there’s no recognition in her eyes. Then, something flickers—surprise, confusion, a touch of alarm.

“Kate?”

Kate nods, her palms sweaty. “Yeah, hey. It's been a while.”

Yelena’s eyes scrutinize her, searching for something. Perhaps a reason for why Kate would be here, in Chicago, after all this time and after everything that's happened.

“What are you doing here?” The question isn’t accusatory or harsh. Just curious.

“I…uh, I wanted to see you,” Kate admits, more to herself than to Yelena. “I mean, I was already here for this convention, saw you walk by, and thought I'd drop in to say hi.”

Yelena’s smile is a little too tight for Kate’s liking. This isn't unfolding anywhere near how she had hoped.

“Hi,” Yelena utters nonchalantly, her gaze skimming over Kate's shoulder to whatever holds her attention beyond.

Kate swallows the lump in her throat, trying to push past the frosty reception. “I was going to ask if you wanted to grab coffee or something, you know, catch up,” Kate says, offering a lopsided smile that she hopes might charm Yelena into agreeing. 

But Yelena merely offers a tepid one in return, her eyes hard and unyielding. “I appreciate it, but I have plans,” she replies.

“Oh, okay,” Kate responds, doing her best to conceal the sting of rejection that pierces through her. She fumbles for a moment before managing to continue, “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m staying at the Evergreen Hotel for a couple more days. I'm on the 32nd floor, room 3206. Not that...uh, you need to know...but just in case.”

Yelena’s green eyes remain inscrutable. “It was nice seeing you, Kate,” she finally murmurs. “Enjoy your time in Chicago.”

And just like that, she's walking away, leaving Kate standing amidst the dissipating crowd, trying to make sense of the chasm that has seemingly formed between them.

-

Someone rings her hotel room at 11:45 in the evening.

Kate, snug in her pajamas and reading a brochure about the local Chicago sights, isn't expecting visitors. She moves to the peephole and is caught off guard when she recognizes the eyes staring back. Yelena's pupils are dilated, clearly indicating she's made several stops before her feet brought her here.

Opening the door hesitantly, Kate takes in Yelena's entire demeanor: the set of her jaw, the tightness in her posture, the fiery look in her eyes that seems to oscillate between anger and something that immediately shoots a jolt of desire down her core. “Yelena?” she whispers, a hint of trepidation in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

Yelena doesn’t answer. Her breathing is ragged and uneven, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Kate's.

“Look,” Kate says, her voice shaky, “if you could just give me a moment to change out of my pajamas, maybe we can get coffee in the hotel lobby or—”

“Why did you tell me you were staying here?” Yelena questions, her voice dangerously low.

Taken aback, Kate blinks a few times, panic bubbling up in her throat. “I-I don't—”

Without a word, Yelena steps forward, closing the distance between them. Her hands cradle Kate’s face, and she crashes into her in a kiss that’s hard and desperate. Kate is momentarily stunned, her thoughts obliterated by the sudden onslaught of lips and tongue. But then she reacts, wrapping her arms around Yelena’s waist and nearly lifting her as they move deeper into the living room. She uses her foot to kick the door shut behind them as Yelena takes command of the kiss, pushing into Kate with an urgency.

It’s been too long. But still—

But still, it feels instinctual, the way Kate's lips gravitate to that spot just below Yelena's ear, applying just the right amount of pressure to elicit that familiar sigh from her. Yelena's hand finds its way to the nape of Kate's neck, fingers intertwining with her hair before pulling roughly to break the kiss.

“Yelena…”

But Yelena pins her with a look, a surprisingly vulnerable one. “No talking, please,” she breathes. “No talking.”

Yelena's never begged her before. To Kate's embarrassment, it's usually been the other way around. It's only hitting Kate now that their months of estrangement have deeper repercussions than she initially realized. 

But before she can process the thought further, Yelena’s fingers are impatient as they fumble with the buttons of Kate's shirt, all while her lips never leave Kate's, each kiss deepening in urgency. Kate's hands, equally fervent, roam over Yelena's back, gripping at her shirt and pulling her even closer. They maneuver around the space, half-stumbling, half-guiding each other towards the bedroom. With a soft thud, Kate is gently pushed back onto the plush mattress, Yelena hovering above her. 

The ritual is as familiar to Kate as the back of her hand, yet a feeling stirs within her that this time might stand apart from the rest—perhaps the moment when her dreams finally bleed into reality.

So she gives Yelena everything she has to offer—and then some. 

-

When it's all done and Kate is lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, with Yelena softly snoring beside her, a thin sheet loosely covering her bare torso, Kate's mind spins erratically. 

Yelena’s proximity, so desperately craved for months, now feels like an intrusion into a grief that she’s scarcely begun to comprehend. She acknowledges that her sudden appearance in Chicago, after everything that transpired, may now seem more self-serving than she'd intended. 

She hadn't fully grasped the depth of Yelena's pain—pain so consuming that Yelena felt the need to flee to another state just to find a semblance of peace.

-

Morning light seeps through the curtains as Kate busies herself in the hotel kitchenette. She tries to make breakfast, aiming for familiarity in a situation that's anything but. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the hotel room as she meticulously flips pieces of golden-brown french toast, trying to keep herself focused on the task.

Then, the muted sound of a door draws her attention. Yelena steps out of the bedroom, dressed and seemingly ready for the day. Her appearance, so sudden and unexpected, makes Kate's heart race. She becomes acutely aware of her own state: clad in nothing but an oversized shirt that barely reaches her thighs, exposing her legs and the curve of her panties.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Kate offers meekly.

Yelena gives a slight nod. “Thanks, but I think I'm going to head out.”

Her eyes momentarily drop to the floor. Then, with deliberate steps, she closes the distance between them. Leaning in, she places an awkward kiss on Kate's cheek, then sidesteps her and makes her way to the door.

Kate remains still, eyes locked on the french toast that's now charring at the edges. With a sigh, she turns off the stove and contemplates what other sights Chicago might offer beyond the iconic bean.

-

Kate has her dinner early in the evening and waits by the door, just in case Yelena decides to show up again.

She doesn’t.

After spending another 48 hours sequestered in her hotel room, she packs her bags to head back to New York.

-

As soon as Yelena arrives at her apartment after her night with Kate, she heads directly to the shower.

The hot water cascades over her, but it does little to soothe the turmoil roiling inside her. Each droplet feels like a sting of reality, a reminder of the choices she’s made. She rubs the soap with more force than necessary, the lather not just cleansing her skin but also representing her desperate attempt to wash away the guilt.

It's not Kate she's trying to forget. It's her own actions, her own reasons for going to that hotel room. She’s aware she’s used Kate’s affection for her own comfort far too many times, each encounter chipping away at what little integrity she feels she has left. She hates herself for it. For taking refuge in Kate's warmth, for using her time and time again, and then leaving her in the cold morning light.

The guilt, more than anything, is what Yelena wishes she could wash away. She wishes she could stop the cycle, stop using Kate as a balm for her wounds. She wishes she could face her head-on, with honesty. But in this very moment, all she can do is rinse, lather, and hope that someday, she finds the strength to break free from her own destructive patterns.

-

Months pass without them seeing each other until Yelena returns to New York. Her media company sent her back for training, placing her under the guidance of someone who, in Yelena’s opinion, was a “complete unknown”. It's only a matter of time before she runs into Kate Bishop.

That happens sooner than Yelena expected when three days after her arrival, they bump into each other at a more upscale gathering. Yelena's attendance was mandated even before her first official workday, with the primary goal of extensive networking. She wears a sleek black strapless gown that reveals a fair amount of cleavage, but even that doesn't catch Kate’s attention. Instead, Kate's focus is clearly on the date accompanying her, arm-in-arm. Yelena’s hand is clutching the arm of another man, but he's just a work friend of hers who, coincidentally, is also gay. Clearly, she's not the one with the upper hand in this situation. Not that she—

Yelena is taken by surprise, not noticing Kate's approach until she's almost beside her. “Yelena, hi,” Kate says softly, standing just centimeters away. She looks stunning in her three-piece suit, her hair pulled back with a few curly waves framing her oceanic eyes.

Yelena manages a, “Kate,” in reply, before turning to her companion and saying, “You said you wanted to talk to the chief?” Her friend appears confused for a brief moment but then nods in eager agreement. She excuses herself quickly, not catching the brief, tight smile that graces Kate’s lips.

“Chief? Really?” her friend teases as soon as they're safely distant from her current source of distress.

Yelena rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. “I needed a quick exit strategy.”

Chuckling, her friend replies, “From Kate Bishop? Come on, Yel. You two have history. Ducking away like she's the plague isn't the mature way to handle things.”

Yelena lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I know, I know. It's just... the last time we met, the morning after was... less than ideal.”

“The morning after?” His eyes widen in realization. “You slept with her again?”

Yelena bites her lower lip and nods. His gaze sweeps the room, likely searching for Kate, before settling on her attempting to subtly look in their direction. “Well, that complicates things,” he muses.

“Tell me about it,” Yelena mutters, taking a sip from her champagne glass.

“Why don’t you just talk to her. Set things straight—”

She arches an eyebrow, “You think one casual chat is going to fix things?”

“Reminding her that you don’t have feelings for her and never will might just do the trick,” he says with an amused grin. “You don’t have feelings for her right?”

Yelena hesitates for just a moment, her eyes not meeting his, “Of course not,” she replies, her voice not as steady as she'd hoped.

He studies her, a knowing look in his eyes. Just as he's about to comment on her poor lying skills, Kate approaches again, this time without her date.

Kate's eyes are fixed on Yelena as she draws closer. “Mind if I steal her for a second?” she asks, not really waiting for an answer as her hand gently wraps around Yelena's elbow. Her touch sends a chill through Yelena, an electrifying jolt that she’s been trying to forget for months.

He simply nods, giving Yelena a sympathetic glance before prancing towards the bar.

Kate guides Yelena slightly away from the crowd, not to a secluded corner but just a few steps away to offer a modicum of privacy. Yelena finally extricates her arm from Kate's grip, building a wall with her posture. “What do you want, Kate?”

“I want to talk,” Kate simply says.

Yelena lets out a sigh, her jawline tensing. “Go on.”

Kate takes a moment, ensuring her words would be precise, “I'm not here to rekindle anything or chase after you. I'm not that naive anymore. You don't have to avoid me or disappear when I'm around. I'm over you. And I just... I want us to be able to coexist, especially in circles like these.”

Yelena's lips slightly part in surprise, the slightest quiver of something akin to pain shadowing her features upon absorbing Kate's frank words. Kate, with her perpetual, unfiltered candor, always did have a way of stripping a situation down to its stark, naked truth. But isn’t this precisely what Yelena wanted? To be free of the guilt, of the heavy, choking shroud that's been her constant companion since she left that hotel room months ago? Kate doesn't want her anymore. This should ease things, shouldn't it?

Yet, why does a peculiar tightness settle in her chest, a subtle ache that she dare not explore? Yelena swallows hard, facing the blunt force of Kate's liberation with a brittle nod. 

“If that’s what you want,” Yelena manages to say.

Kate tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as they scrutinize Yelena's face, seeking, probing. A ghost of a smile curls on her lips, devoid of genuine mirth as she observes the other woman’s discomfort, palpable even amidst the high-society glitter surrounding them. 

“What I want?” she echoes, voice imbued with a tempered steeliness, “Yelena, I'm handing you exactly what you've shown you want.”

Yelena’s eyes flutter away from Kate’s, uneasy, yet a stony facade refuses to let her susceptibility bleed into view. 

“You’ve always made it abundantly clear where I stand,” Kate murmurs. “And I’ve been nothing but annoyingly stubborn about it.”

“Kate, I never intended to—”

“It’s okay,” Kate interrupts softly. “I kept coming to you with these expectations, but you were clear from the start. You said it was just about sex—nothing more. I just hoped... maybe that could change with time.”

Yelena's throat constricts, the words she needs to say lodged firmly behind a barrier of guilt and self-reproach. “I’m sorry,” Kate adds, her voice thin and fragile, yet it reverberates loudly in Yelena’s ears.

“I—” Yelena begins, but the words falter, the apology sticking in her throat. It was her who owed Kate apologies—a sea of them, for every late-night encounter, every hurried departure in the dawn light.

She inhales sharply, fingers twitching at her side. “Kate, if there's anyone who should be apologizing, it’s me,” she finally says. “I’ve been selfish and unfair, and I took advantage of your feelings because it was convenient for me, and it allowed me to ignore my own.”

“I'm not blameless here either,” Kate says.

“It's not the same," Yelena persists, “I knew what I was doing each time I—”

“But so did I, Yelena,” Kate breaks in, her steadiness unwavering. “Every time I came to you, I knew what it was and what it wasn't. I chose to stay, each time. That’s on me.”

It feels like they’ve reached an impasse, neither knowing what comes after telling the truth—or even a part of it.

“So, what do we do now?” Yelena murmurs.

Before Kate can muster an answer, the sound of footsteps draws their attention. Kate's date slides smoothly into view, holding two glasses filled with a bubbling amber liquid. Upon seeing her for the second time, Yelena notices that she's an incredibly attractive woman who carries an air of elegance about her with effortless grace. 

“There you are!” she exclaims to Kate with a smile. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Kate, her eyes still lingering on Yelena, slowly pivots towards her, an almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. She gives her date a brief smile before glancing back at Yelena one last time. 

“It was nice seeing you, Yelena,” she says, mirroring the same words Yelena had used months ago, before turning away to enjoy the rest of the night with someone else.

As the noise of the event surrounds them, Yelena's friend returns, looking between her and the departing figure of Kate and her beautiful date.

“Is it over?” he asks cautiously.

Yelena's gaze is distant, her eyes unfocused, but she finally blinks, pulling herself back to the present. 

Her voice is a little shaky when she replies, “I need a drink.”

-

Kate was the first person she felt a connection to when she first came back to New York. The city's crowded streets and glaring lights felt foreign, like a twisted mockery of a place she once called home. The skyscrapers towered, the taxis honked, and the people bustled about, but none of that felt familiar to her—as if the welcome banner had been replaced with a glaring message that this was not the same place she had left eight years ago.

The airport had been a blur of faces, each one more indifferent to her existence than the last. She half-expected, perhaps even hoped, to see her sister's familiar face waiting for her among the crowd, but all she was met with were strangers hurrying past, engrossed in their own worlds. Natasha was continents away, in places she couldn’t know about, shouldn’t know about. 

And then there was you—the only other person she considered family, the only other face she yearned to see upon her return. Yelena could've called you if she wanted. Natasha handed her your number, with the faint hope that Yelena might muster the will to congratulate you over the phone. But she never did, aware that she wouldn't genuinely mean it if she said she was happy for you. 

Her fingers itched to grab her phone and dial your number, knowing you'd come to pick her up. Not necessarily because you missed her in the same way, but because you were always the kind of person who'd pick up a friend from the airport—and it wouldn’t matter to you that you hadn’t spoken a word to each other in years. 

Yet, as much as Yelena yearned to see you, your image was interwoven with the pain of unattainable desire. She didn't want to see your face, so happy and fulfilled without her in it. Because the memories would flood back: your smile, the scent of your skin, the way your voice would tenderly wrap around her name. You were married—have been married for quite some time now. And that simple fact was a barrier, insurmountable and cruel.

“Need a ride?”

Yelena quickly turned to her left, where a woman about her age stood with dark hair and soft blue eyes.

“Cabs are pretty scarce around this time,” the woman explained, adjusting the strap of her leather bag on her shoulder. “I mean, you could try booking one, but…”

Yelena's cheeks flushed. It was one thing to come back to a city after so long and feel lost; it was another entirely to admit it. She hesitated, wrestling with the unfamiliar interface of the rideshare app on her phone. “ll just wait,” she said defensively, trying to hide her discomfort.

The woman gave her a skeptical look but seemed more amused than annoyed. “I'm Kate,” she said, extending her hand with a warm smile. “Kate Bishop.”

Yelena took a moment before she accepted it. “Yelena.”

“Well, now that we're not strangers, how about that ride? My car's right outside.”

Yelena paused, studying Kate. The offer was tempting. There was something disarmingly genuine about Kate, and Yelena couldn't detect any malice or ulterior motives in her eyes. Still, she was guarded, her defenses up.

“Why would you offer me—a stranger—a ride?” Yelena asked.

“You're not entirely a stranger, Yelena,” Kate replied with a chuckle. 

Their eyes locked, and in that brief moment, Yelena felt an odd sense of kinship. A sigh escaped her lips. “Okay, fine,” she conceded, “But just to Manhattan.”

Kate's smile grew, reaching her eyes. “Just to Manhattan.”

-

Yelena steps into the high-rise building, an architectural masterpiece of glass and steel, shimmering under the vibrant New York sun. It’s her first day on this temporary assignment, and her stomach churns with a blend of anticipation and anxiety. 

She catches snippets of dialogue as she goes: project timelines, deadlines, and weekend plans. Yelena keeps her gaze forward, absorbing the understated opulence of the work environment. It’s a world she recognizes with every fiber of her being, and she’s ready to play her part.

As she steps into the elevator, ascending towards the upper levels of the corporate tower, Yelena takes a deep breath, bracing herself for the introductions, handshakes, and the performative exchange of pleasantries. The first day in a new environment is always a bit disconcerting, but she’s not new to adapting, to molding herself into whatever shape a situation requires.

“Yelena, right?”

The elevator door opens to reveal a woman Yelena recognizes from the previous night. It's not just any woman she encountered during her diligent networking; it's the very woman who was on Kate's arm, that Yelena begrudgingly recalls she paraded around like some kind of trophy throughout the evening.

Yelena nods, maintaining a neutral expression, as she exits the elevator and the woman steps in, effectively switching places.

“I'd love to chat more when I return. Just need my coffee fix,” the woman says, winking at Yelena just before the elevator doors close between them.

Yelena lets out an exasperated sigh as she searches for her cubicle. She doesn't anticipate having that chat and silently hopes that today's encounter is the last time she'll see that woman, or if possible, for the duration of her time in this office.

-

The next several moments don't go the way Yelena expected. Especially the part where she discovers Kate's date is her new boss.

Yelena feels a slight pressure in her temples as she hears the name. “Georgia Thompson.” The friendly demeanor and confident handshake of the woman in front of her sharply contrasts the casual, almost indifferent demeanor she exhibited at the gala.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Thompson,” she replies, trying to sound as composed as possible. 

Georgia offers a polite smile, her eyes assessing Yelena for a moment longer than she’s comfortable with. “Likewise. And please, call me Georgia.” It's only now that she picks up on the accent and realizes she's British.

Blonde, British, her boss, and apparently Kate’s new girlfriend. Just great. The universe couldn't be clearer about how much it enjoys playing tricks on her.

Yelena nods, pushing down the nerves bubbling inside her. She mentally kicks herself for not doing a thorough background check on her new employers, but how was she supposed to foresee this twist?

“I've heard great things about your work, Yelena. I'm looking forward to seeing what you can bring to our team,” Georgia says.

“Thank you. I'll do my best.”

Georgia leans back in her chair, the slight quirk of her eyebrow revealing she’s perhaps more perceptive than Yelena initially gave her credit for. “I hope you find the environment here conducive to your work. Everyone is very supportive, and we like to think of ourselves as a family.”

Yelena wonders if the emphasis is deliberate, a subtle hint at the glaring elephant in the room. Neither has acknowledged their encounter from the other night.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Yelena responds, trying to steer the conversation back to professional matters. “I've already been given some assignments, and I'm eager to delve into them.”

Georgia nods approvingly. “Good. If you have any questions or need any support, don't hesitate to ask.”

Are you aware of my history with Kate? Do you plan on making my life a living hell for the next several months?

None of these questions escape her lips. Like every job, this one comes with complexities and trade-offs that she has no choice but to endure. She believes she can manage. After all, enduring seems to be all she's doing these days.

-

Kate eventually drops by the office one evening. It's just a week later, and with everyone gone, Yelena is saddled with another article destined for the fluff column for the following day. 

Kate's unexpected entrance startles Yelena, her fingers slipping from the keyboard and sending a disjointed string of characters cascading across her screen, a stark contrast to the meticulously formulated words she had previously been weaving together. A sigh escapes Yelena as she straightens in her chair, muscles tensing, her gaze fixating on the other woman’s reflection in the darkened computer screen next to hers.

Thankfully, it’s who Kate speaks up first. “Working late?”

“Deadlines,” Yelena mutters, rubbing her forehead and trying not to sound as exasperated as she feels. “And what brings you here?”

“Was in the neighborhood and thought I'd surprise Georgia,” Kate replies with a nonchalant shrug, though her eyes are searching Yelena's for any reaction. “But I guess she left already.”

“Seems so. You just missed her by maybe half an hour.”

Kate hums, letting her gaze wander around the mostly empty office. “This place hasn't changed much since I interned here,” she muses.

“You interned here?” Yelena's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Yeah. Before everything,” Kate says with a faint smile. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Her eyes roam the open workspace before settling on Yelena's and the stack of papers next to her. “Looks like you’ve made yourself at home quickly.”

Yelena shrugs, fingers lightly drumming against the edge of her desk. “Work doesn't do itself.”

The semblance of casual conversation can't veil the tension that simmers just beneath the surface. Kate’s next words are a soft, cautious probe, “How have things been with Georgia?”

She’s testing the waters, Yelena observes.

“Professional,” Yelena replies curtly.

A small, almost rueful smile grazes Kate’s lips. “She’s good at what she does. Keeps things running smoothly.”

“She seems to,” Yelena agrees, resisting the urge to delve into whatever Kate is aiming at. “Is there something you needed, Kate? I'm on a tight deadline here.”

Kate’s eyes, instead of responding immediately, drop to the takeout bag in her hands, then flick back to Yelena’s face. It's as if she’s doing a calculus of how far to press, of how much of Yelena's abruptness to overlook.

“Actually,” she starts, her tone light and easy, “I came bearing food. It's way too much for one person.” She tilts her head, hoisting up a slightly crumpled brown bag. “Care to join me?”

Yelena is on the verge of formulating a polite refusal when her stomach, as if on cue, betrays her with a telling growl. She winces, slightly mortified, realizing her last meal was hours ago.

“Sounds like someone's hungry,” Kate teases, her grin infectious.

Yelena considers the offer, her resolve wobbling precariously on the edge between pragmatic hunger and the need to maintain an emotional distance.

“I don't think—” she starts, but Kate, undeterred, strides closer, placing the bag on a nearby empty desk.

“No strings, Yelena,” she says, an undertone of sincerity seeping through. “Just dinner. It’s been a long day, and it looks like you haven’t moved from this spot for hours.”

A small fortress of skepticism still guards Yelena’s expression, but she doesn’t stop Kate as she begins unpacking the containers from the bag. The rich, fragrant scents of stir-fried noodles and spicy broth waft through the air, momentarily making the whole room feel a bit warmer, a bit friendlier. It reminds her of the countless nights they shared meals at the office, back when they worked for the same company, a time when their friendship flourished alongside their physical hunger for one another.

Silently, Yelena concedes, rolling her chair over to join Kate, who’s already begun dividing the food into two portions. They eat in relative silence for a few moments, when Yelena then, prompted by a momentary surge of curiosity, asks, “Where did you guys meet?”

“We were seated next to each other on my flight back to New York,” Kate says after a thoughtful pause. “From Chicago. When I… when we attended that convention.”

She's torn between laughing or pressing her lips together upon learning that Kate met her new love on a plane, at an airport, echoing their own initial encounter.

“Does Georgia know about…”

Kate raises her eyebrows inquisitively. Yelena just motions between the two of them, drawing a soft chuckle from Kate.

“Right. Yes, she's aware. I told her the moment she said you’d be working under her,” Kate says.

Yelena's heart pulses an erratic rhythm at Kate's words. She fiddles with her fork, twirling it aimlessly between her fingers.

“And she was okay with it?” Yelena asks.

“Georgia is...different. She believes in leaving the past where it belongs,” Kate says. Yelena knows she probably doesn’t mean anything by it, yet it subtly pricks at her own propensity to keep one foot persistently anchored in the past.

“I'm glad,” Yelena finally murmurs. “I just... I didn't want it to be a problem.”

Kate reaches across the table, placing a reassuring hand over Yelena's for a fleeting second. “It won't be. We're all adults here. Just... make sure you're okay, alright?”

Yelena nods slowly, taking a deep breath. It's obvious to her now, more than ever, that some bridges aren't burned but simply left to weather the passage of time.

-

Yelena tries to get back into the dating scene. She registers on three distinct dating apps, uniformly using the same profile photo and an unvarnished bio that reads: Female. Twenty-nine. Single.

Her inbox becomes a conveyor belt of recycled greetings: “Hey”, “You're cute”, and “What are you doing tonight?” It's an endless cascade of faces and screen names, none of which pierce through the monotony of singledom. 

She swipes through profiles, a sea of faces belonging to people she will never meet, let alone speak to. There’s the overly chiseled man with a bio that hints at a penchant for arrogance. The vivacious woman with wild curls, a quote from Virginia Woolf emblazoned on her profile. The musician, shrouded in a cloud of recreational smoke, guitar in hand, always accompanied by a loyal puppy—because, of course, there's always that magnetism of a puppy. And then there's the corporate maven, every strand of hair in place, an entire life airbrushed into LinkedIn perfection.

But Yelena is searching for something else—though what exactly, she is not certain. Yelena’s fingers hover over her phone, frozen mid-swipe, as Georgia and Kate emerge from the former’s office. Dressed less formally than usual, with Kate in a chic blazer and jeans combo and Georgia in a strikingly simple dress, it’s evident that the office is not their final destination for the evening.

Yelena inadvertently becomes a secret spectator to their private moment, and she ducks her head back down, suddenly intensely interested in the glowing screen before her. But her attention strays, her ears fine-tuning to the whisper of their voices as they linger by the office door.

“...really looking forward to tonight,” Georgia is saying, her slightly husky with an intimate inflection.

“Me too,” Kate replies.

Yelena feels an involuntary lump form in her throat, and she realizes she’s holding her breath. Why the sight of them, so blissfully unaware of her prying eyes, should stir this maelstrom within her, she isn’t quite sure. It’s not jealousy, she tries to reassure herself. But what is it then? Resignation? Loneliness? 

Regret?

They depart, leaving behind Yelena’s questions unanswered. A notification pings—a message from a woman whose profile Yelena doesn’t remember viewing. She clicks on it in a semi-distracted state, reads a greeting that is refreshingly devoid of clichés or overtly sexual overtones, and something, just something, flickers within her.

-

Twenty minutes over their agreed time, and her date is nowhere in sight. She had replayed their messages in her head, made certain she got the place and time right. Had even arrived a little early to ensure she wouldn’t keep her date waiting. But as the minutes tick by, Yelena’s optimism dwindles. 

Her hand flutters to the hem of her dress, pulling it down nervously. She had chosen it with such care earlier, wanting to make the right impression. Now, she just feels stupid for even trying.

Yelena glances out, her mood sinking further as she realizes she's been stood up, and now she's trapped by the rain without an umbrella. Taking a deep breath, Yelena signals the waiter, requesting her bill with a tilt of her head and a brief but curt nod. Just as she's slipping her phone back into her purse, her focus inadvertently drifts towards the entrance of the restaurant. 

And there you are.

How could she not notice you? She could pick you out from any crowd. Your jaw, sharply defined, always gave way to the tender curvatures of your facial features in a manner that she found endlessly fascinating. Your ear, peculiarly unique in its shape, partially covered by wet strands that have escaped your messy ponytail. 

She watches, a strange tightness forming in her chest, as you speak to the bartender, presumably ordering something to alleviate the chill from your damp clothes. Yelena’s voice, when it finds its way out, bears a semblance of leniency that was lacking the last time they saw each other. 

“Y/N?”

Your eyes hesitantly veer towards her, interlacing surprise and something else she can’t quite discern. There’s a beat of silence where you simply regard each other, before you navigate through the tight arrangement of tables and subdued chatter to join her.

“Hi,” you murmur, a tentative smile on your lips as you hover near her table, waiting for an invitation to sit across from her.

She nods, eyes minutely tracing the droplets of rain as they adhere to your eyelashes, “You’re soaked.”

You glance down, surveying the damage of the moody weather this afternoon. “It seems so.” 

Before she can think about whether she'll regret this later or not, Yelena motions, inviting you to take a seat across from her.

-

Later that night, as she walks back to her apartment, she comes to two realizations.

First, that she’s no longer in love with you. When she asked you about Wanda, she detected a shift in your expression, a subtle hardening of your features. You had explained, sipping on that hastily ordered whiskey, that you and Wanda spent a year apart, and you didn't return to her on the day you had promised to reunite. You’d been in Montauk for the better part of a year, caring for your ailing mother. It's a noble thing, to put one's life on hold and step up for family. It’s endearing and also a bit tragic. Your brief time today in Manhattan was to check in on Wanda, having boarded a three and a half hour train just for a mere five seconds of her.

She remembers your slight smile, a tad rueful, when you mentioned passing by the café. “Wanted a glimpse of her, you know? Just to see how she's doing. Then, the rain,” you'd said, rolling your eyes at the unexpected twist nature had thrown your way.

The irony wasn’t lost on her, that this could have been her third chance, her third window to potentially be with you. You were there, and you were single, and you were still the person she used to love. But there was no stirring of old romantic sentiments, no lit flame of rekindling feelings. She was touched, not tempted, by your vulnerable predicament. 

Like a raging inferno that had burned brightly, fiercely, and then reduced to warm, comforting embers. It wasn’t gone, and she knew it never truly would be, but it had transformed into something else. She thinks love works in that way; never diminishing, but perhaps always changing. Her memories with you, sharp and painful, have softened around the edges, allowing her to accept things as they are, not as they could have been.

Her keys jingle in hand as she unlocks her apartment door, step inside, and decides that she is ready to take the next step with you and be your friend. 

As she closes the door behind her, Yelena is hit with a second insight: she longs to fall in love again. She realizes she's kept her heart guarded for a long time ever since you took up residence there and then left. 

With a slow exhale, she leans back against the door, allowing the coolness of the wood to seep through her blouse, grounding her in the present moment. She allows a laugh, letting it envelop her to her heart’s content. She's weary of being the Yelena that left you, the one that wasn’t chosen by you. More than anything, she wants to be reborn. To become a Yelena who no longer clings to the misguided notion that love, to be real, must come with an undercurrent of hurt. 

Her hand presses against her heart, feeling its steady beat beneath her palm, affirming her presence, her life, her capacity to heal and be whole again. Yelena realizes that she wants to fall in love where it does not require her to fragment herself, to withhold pieces in safeguard against an inevitable heartache. Love should be able to exist, she thinks, without the persistent ache of sacrifice, without the constant dread of its impermanence looming overhead.

Finally, as Yelena drifts into the embrace of her bed, she imagines that future, feels the potential of it thrumming in the space around her. A face lingers in her thoughts—perhaps, if circumstances change and she offers Yelena a second chance to reciprocate all she's given, that face might belong to the future she yearns for.

-

Yelena's documents fly everywhere as Georgia slams them down onto her desk.

“This is not up to our standards, Yelena. You can do better,” Georgia snaps.

Taken aback, Yelena tries to form a response, but is cut off. “I need this revised and on my desk by the end of the day,” Georgia orders.

Throughout the day, it doesn't get any better. Every time their paths cross, Georgia finds something to pick at, each criticism more biting than the last.

Desperate for a semblance of understanding, Yelena decides to shoot Kate a text during her lunch break. With a forced lightness, she types, What did you put in my boss’ coffee today? 😂 She's tearing through everything I submit!

Send.

The little ‘delivered’ sign morphs into ‘read’, yet the response she half-hopes for, half-dreads never comes. Yelena stares at her phone, then back to her computer screen, the cursor blinking accusingly at her. A deep sigh unfurls from her as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and refocuses on the draft. She can't help but be bothered that Kate leaves her on read, especially since Kate used to reply to Yelena immediately before.

This inattention is, paradoxically, an attention to the details Yelena wishes she could ignore. She had wanted to step out of this, out of feeling sidelined, unimportant.

However, Yelena squares her shoulders.

If Georgia desires perfection, Yelena will morph her work into an epitome of immaculate journalism, and she will do it without riding on Kate’s coattails. Biting down gently on her lower lip, Yelena delves back into the article, rephrasing and refining. But even then, as she polishes each sentence, part of her is attentive, waiting for the buzz of her phone, indicating Kate has replied. Yet, the only sound accompanying her through the ensuing hours is the rhythmic clack of her keyboard.

She doesn't hear from Kate for the rest of the day.

-

Two days later, the entire atmosphere of the office seems to have undergone a transformation. This is especially evident with the heady scent of lilies and roses filling the open space. Yelena, having arrived early, watches from her cubicle as coworkers trickle in, all casting appreciative or curious glances toward the opulent floral arrangement in Georgia’s office.

When her boss arrives, she’s an entirely different persona from the tempest of the day before. There's a different air about her today—lighter, tender, almost apologetic.

Georgia, making her way to Yelena’s desk, clears her throat, a barely-perceptible flush gracing her cheeks. 

As Yelena makes her way to her workstation, Georgia calls out to her. “Yelena, a moment?”

Cautiously, Yelena approaches her desk. “Yes, Georgia?”

Georgia stands up, her posture relaxed and her face apologetic. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It wasn't professional or warranted. I had a lot on my mind, and it was wrong to take it out on you.”

Yelena nods, her relief merely presented as a tight smile on her lips. “Thank you for saying that, Georgia.”

Georgia smiles faintly. “It's the least I can do.”

Late in the afternoon, Yelena hears the unmistakable sound of Kate's voice, its playful timbre unmistakable even from her desk. She's arrived to pick up her girlfriend. She’s greeted by Georgia's lit-up face, and they exchange a quick, affectionate kiss which Yelena pretends not to notice, even though it plays at the edges of her peripheral vision.

But then, Georgia pauses, pulling her phone from her bag with a look of mild annoyance. “Damn, I forgot about this call. Give me a minute, okay?”

Kate nods, shooting Georgia an understanding smile. “Take your time.”

Kate nods, a small but genuine smile playing on her lips as Georgia steps away, phone already at her ear. Yelena, sensing an opportunity, doesn’t let herself overthink it. She rises from her desk and approaches Kate with measured steps, her heart pulsing a bit harder in her chest.

“Hey,” Yelena begins nervously, hands slipping into her back pockets, unsure why she feels this way. “How’s it going?” Small talk doesn’t come naturally to her, but she hasn’t heard from Kate, and a small voice in her head is screaming that she probably did something wrong.

Kate, slightly startled, turns to face Yelena, her expression neutral. “Yelena.”

The exchange is awkward, stilted, but Yelena is not giving up just yet. “The flowers look beautiful. You picked perfectly,” she says genuinely.

For a fraction of a second, Kate's demeanor seems to soften, but it's fleeting. “Georgia likes lilies,” she states flatly.

Yelena swallows, pressing on despite the stonewall response. “Kate, is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Kate responds, the single word sharp and clipped, her gaze darting elsewhere, anywhere but Yelena.

Yelena's patience wears thin, and she scoffs, “Clearly, it's not.” Taking a deep breath, she admits, “Look, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry.”

“It’s not you,” Kate cuts her off, voice cold, eyes finally meeting Yelena’s with a veiled hardness. “It’s not about you.”

Yelena, taken aback by the frigidity in Kate’s words, hesitates but doesn’t back down. “Then what is it about? We can talk—”

“No,” Kate retorts, an unsettling firmness in her voice. “We can’t.”

But before Yelena can argue, before she can claw at the barriers Kate's erected, Georgia re-emerges from her office. She has finished her call and strides over, her arm sliding through Kate's with an intimacy that seems second nature.

“Oh! Yelena, you’re still here. Working late again?” Georgia asks.

Kate, without offering Yelena another glance, merely nods in Georgia's direction. “Ready to go?”

Georgia beams at Kate. “Yes, let’s.” Then she turns her attention back to Yelena. “Good night, Yelena. And thank you for the hard work. I’ll see your draft on my desk first thing tomorrow?”

Yelena nods, though her focus is still on Kate. “Of course, Georgia. Good night,” she murmurs, stepping aside to let the pair pass by her.

She clenches the Broadway ticket in her hand, the one she had intended to give Kate if she'd been allowed to apologize for... well, for whatever she evidently did wrong. Because to Yelena, that distant demeanor doesn’t resemble 'nothing' at all. Kate has never shut her out like this, not even when Yelena repeatedly broke her heart.

-

She can't remember the last time she and Natasha hung out alone together. Oh, actually, she does remember. The memory just makes her cringe now, to the point where she wishes she could crawl into a cave and never come out. It was at Natasha's apartment, the morning she decided she was leaving you, with only enough clothes for the night.

Yelena plays with the olive in her martini, stirring it idly. Her sister smirks behind her own drink—the usual on the rocks—and says, “You're doing that thing again.”

Her reference is obvious, even without the specifics. But still, Yelena looks up, an innocent look on her face, the corners of her lips quirking in a half-smile. “What thing?”

“That deep-in-thought look. The same one you wore when you first came home, trying hard not to ask about her.”

Yelena sighs, her gaze dropping to her drink. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me? Always.” Natasha gives a knowing smile. 

Rubbing her forehead, Yelena nods slowly. “I ran into Y/N the other week. And then there’s this awkward situation with Kate and her girlfriend... who also happens to be my boss.”

Natasha’s eyebrows lift subtly at the mention of Kate—at how Yelena said her name. “I see,” she says cautiously.

“And Y/N…” Yelena’s voice trails off as she momentarily loses herself in thought, the stirred feelings forming a tight ball in her stomach.

After a pause, Natasha gently prompts, “What about Y/N?”

Yelena sighs, fiddling with the stem of her glass. “I miss her. I partly blame myself for, sort of, pushing her to be in a relationship with me—”

“You didn't, Yelena. You can't force anyone to do anything.”

“Perhaps,” Yelena interjects, raising a finger. “But I'm not going to ignore my own faults in everything that transpired between us. She wasn’t ready to be with anyone, and I should have been a better friend instead of stepping into the role of a girlfriend.”

“Alright, alright,” Natasha says, leaning back, trying not to roll her eyes. “So what happened next?”

“And we talked about her current situation with Wanda. Did you know about that?”

Natasha nods. “It’s complicated.”

Yelena snorts, “When is it not?” Taking a pause, she adds, “But that’s not why I brought her up. I had an epiphany.”

“Oh?”

“I finally moved on. Like, truly moved on from her.”

Natasha smiles. “Yelena, that’s… I’m happy for you.”

Yelena takes a breath, preparing herself for what she’s going to say next.  “And that revelation led to another—”

But Natasha smoothly beats her to it. “You’re in love with Kate.”

Yelena's laughter is louder than she expects, as she quickly responds, “No, I’m not.”

“Okay, maybe you’re not in love with her. But I’m pretty sure you more than like her.”

Yelena's grin fades a bit. She sips on her martini, trying to buy herself some time. “What makes you say that?”

“That slightly panicked look you have right now? Classic.”

“It’s not…” Yelena starts, then stops, searching for the right words. “It’s not like that. We're friends. Good friends. And it's complicated.”

“Nothing worth having ever comes easy, you know?” Natasha says, signaling the bartender for another drink.

Worth having. Kate has always been worth it, Yelena realizes now. What she isn't sure of is whether she's worthy of Kate. But it shouldn’t matter if she is right? 

Kate has Georgia.

Natasha reaches over, placing her hand over Yelena's, like she can read every thought that’s going inside Yelena’s head right now. “You won’t know until you try. And whatever you decide, remember that it’s okay to be happy. It’s also okay to have wishes and regrets. We’re all human, after all.”

Maybe time is yet to be on Yelena’s side. Still, she silently bargains with the universe, or whoever might be listening, for another chance to try.

-

Yelena walks through the low-lit ambiance of the pub. A corner has been reserved for the surprise party. Colorful balloons float above tables and a banner reading, Happy Birthday, Georgia! is draped across the exposed brick wall. She struggles a little to carry the collective gift from the office on a reserved table, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Kate. The brunette is across the room, arranging last-minute decorations. She recalls her own birthdays this very woman made special for her, from surprise parties to intimate evenings with just wine, cake, and conversations that stretched till sunrise. 

Taking a deep breath, Yelena approaches her, hoping to clear the air between them.

“Hey,” she says, holding up the gift. “I brought the present from everyone.”

Kate looks up, her eyes cold and distant. “You can put it on the table.”

The curt response irks Yelena, and she finally lets out her frustration. “What's your deal?”

Kate looks around, seemingly trying to avoid the confrontation, but Yelena’s gaze stubbornly follows her every move, keeping her grounded. “I saw you,” Kate finally admits with a sigh. “With Y/N.”

Yelena sets her jaw at the mention of your name. She hadn’t realized Kate knew about that. How did she know? Albeit defensively, she responds, “So? We're friends.”

“Why is it so easy for you to be friends with her?” Kate's voice notches higher, catching the glances of a few restaurant staff nearby. “To make an effort to be in her life? Why do you make it so hard for me to stay in yours? Why do you push me away?”

She should’ve anticipated that Kate wouldn’t beat around the bush when confronted, but it still didn’t prepare her for how hard Kate’s words hit her. In a split second, Yelena grabs Kate's arm, gently yet with urgency, pulling her towards the restroom. Inside, she locks the door behind them, making sure they wouldn't be disturbed. But even as they are locked away from the prying eyes of the outside world, Yelena tightly holds onto Kate's wrist, her heart pounding against her ribcage. But Kate retreats from her personal space and leans against the cold tiled wall, her breaths uneven. 

“You need to start from the beginning,” Yelena says firmly. “How did you know I saw Y/N?”

Kate’s gaze drops, “I was nearby that day, getting a gift for Georgia. I saw you two together.”

Yelena, feeling cornered, repeats, “We're just friends. Can't I have friends?”

“It's not about you having friends. With Y/N, it seems effortless. But with me? It feels like pulling teeth,” Kate's voice cracks.

“What—I don’t know what you’re—”

“Don't, Yelena. Don’t pretend you don’t know why this is happening,” Kate huffs. “I talked myself into being okay with how easily you coast through our friendship, as if we didn’t sleep together in Chicago and you didn’t avoid me for months.”

Yelena blinks rapidly, memories of that trip to Chicago flooding her mind. The hotel room, the smell of the cologne Kate wore, the way Kate's lips had felt against hers. The guilt she felt afterwards, causing her to distance herself. Her chest constricts, eyes welling up as Kate's words cut through her defenses. Chicago was a sore spot, a turning point that she hadn’t allowed herself to examine closely since it happened.

“I can’t justify my actions after Chicago,” Yelena whispers, even if the slightest hitch in her breath can be heard in the small confines of the bathroom. “And I can’t even begin to explain why I did what I did. Just that…” She sighs, grappling with the words. “I felt horrible. Not just about Chicago, but about feeling like I used you for a long time.”

“I have never resented you for not returning my feelings,” Kate says with a small, sad smile. She's never overtly asked Yelena for more, even though it was clear she wanted it. Yet, it still hurts her how easily Yelena seems to let her go when things get tough between them. 

“T-That's just it, Kate. With Y/N, it’s s-safe. Safe in a way I knew what to expect. I knew she could hurt me, and I knew I could handle it, survive it. But with you...” Yelena hesitates, turning to grip the edge of a sink. “With you, it’s not safe. It’s terrifying because you could break me so easily.”

Kate's eyes soften even as her chin trembles. “I would never want to break you, Yelena,” she says just when the image of her girlfriend comes to mind—her girlfriend who’s arriving in half an hour to celebrate her birthday, the very one she organized. “Georgia... she was there. She wanted to be with me and didn’t make me feel like I was hard to love.”

“I never thought you were hard to love,” she confesses quietly, “I just—I wasn’t—”

“What?” Kate all but screams.

Yelena closes her eyes as she allows the words to finally fall from her trembling lips. “I just thought I wasn't good enough to love you.”

Kate steps closer, her smile edged with a hint of madness, her eyes glistening as they catch every veiled truth in Yelena’s carefully shielded confession. “What the hell are you talking about? You were always enough, Yelena. You were always more than enough.”

In that split-second, Yelena closes the distance between them, lips angling towards Kate's, driven by a longing that has simmered below the surface for too long. But just as their lips are about to meet, Kate abruptly pulls back.

Clearing her throat and breaking eye contact, Kate mutters, “I-I need to check if Georgia's already on her way here.”

Yelena feels as if a bucket of ice-cold water has been dumped over her. She feels her cheeks warming with shame. She takes a step back, forcing herself to breathe steadily.

“I... I'm sorry,” she says. “I shouldn't have done that.”

Kate runs a hand through her hair, looking just as frazzled. 

“Go,” Yelena urges softly. “You should go see her.”

For a moment, Kate seems torn, caught between staying and leaving. But then, she nods slowly and exits the bathroom, leaving Yelena still reeling from the almost kiss.

The door clicks softly behind Kate, and Yelena lets out a long-held breath. She turns the tap on, letting the cold water run over her fingers before she splashes water onto her face, the coolness of it a brief respite from the burning behind her eyes.

Minutes feel like hours, but eventually, Yelena gathers the courage to exit the bathroom. The room outside is livelier now. Among the new arrivals, Georgia stands out, her laughter echoing as she wraps her arms around Kate from behind. Some people wave at Yelena in greeting. She musters a weak smile in return, but her focus is on leaving.

Without looking back, she immerses herself into the evening, letting the city lights guide her away.

-

She's not masochistic enough to complete her temporary assignment in New York, enduring the sight of Kate with Georgia at least three times a week, and hands in her resignation the following Monday.

-

On her last day, Georgia squeezes her hand as she thanks Yelena for all her hard work. When she offhandedly asks Yelena about her future plans, Yelena simply shakes her head, replying, “Back to Chicago, but beyond that, I'm not sure.”

-

She thinks about what’s next for her the entire plane ride back to Chicago. But mostly, she thinks about Kate, about what-ifs and once-weres. She wonders how long this person will haunt her, just as you once did.

-

However, she's blindsided when she discovers Kate sitting on the floor next to her apartment door.

Yelena freezes, keys in hand, as her gaze settles on Kate. The hallway lighting softly caresses Kate's face, highlighting the weariness in her eyes and the strands of hair that fall out of place. She's cradling a coffee cup, and her coat is wrapped tightly around her, but Yelena can still see the trembling in her hands.

“K-Kate?” Yelena blinks several times, attempting to make sense of Kate here in Chicago, right outside of her apartment. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“A few... hours,” Kate says, stifling a yawn.

“Why didn't you call or text me?”

Kate shakes her head, a faint, melancholy smile touching her lips. “Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”

Confusion clouds Yelena's features. “A surprise?”

Kate sighs, looking down at the coffee cup she's clutching, “I mean... a romantic surprise.”

Yelena feels her heart skip a beat. “What are you saying?”

“Georgia and I... we're over.”

“Since when?”

“Since the morning after her birthday party,” Kate reveals grimly, not with regret but with sadness. It’s quiet for a while, neither of them saying anything until Kate looks up, and her eyes aren’t sad anymore, just hopeful. “I realized I had to end it the moment I felt how strongly I wanted to reach out and kiss you that day in the bathroom. When you tried... I couldn't ignore what that meant for me.”

Yelena takes a moment before she slowly lowers herself to sit beside Kate on the cold floor. The two of them side by side, shoulders nearly touching.

“So, you've been camped outside my door for hours because of... feelings?” Yelena teases, barely restraining a foolish grin, still acclimating to the sensation of allowing herself to be happy.

Kate leans back, her head hitting the wall with a rather loud thud and Yelena can no longer hold back a chuckle from escaping her. “When you put it like that, it sounds rather silly, doesn't it?”

“A bit,” Yelena teases, but her eyes are kind. “You could've just called.”

“I didn’t want to call,” Kate murmurs. “I needed to see you.”

“And where have you been this past month, after breaking up with Georgia?”

“Waiting for you to finish your stint working under her.”

Yelena quirks an eyebrow.

Kate grins and tenderly tucks a strand of Yelena’s hair behind her ear. “I want to do everything right with you.”

Yelena covers Kate's hand with her own, holding it in her lap. “I’m sorry about Georgia,” she says.

Kate narrows her eyes and half-smiles. “You’re not, but thanks.”

Yelena lets out a breathy laugh, her thumb tracing circles on Kate's hand. “I’m sincere about that,” she says. “I thought she was good for you, and I am truly sorry if I ruined things for you.”

“No, Yelena, you didn’t complicate things. You just...” Kate pauses, swallowing dryly, “It's always been you I've wanted. I’m not used to lying to myself. I couldn't be with someone else knowing there was even a sliver of hope you might feel the same.”

“Kate, I—”

Kate tilts her head, waiting, a hopeful expectancy hanging in the air.

“I feel the same,” Yelena breathes out, so softly that Kate leans in to catch every syllable.

Kate's lips curl into a smile, and it grows and grows to its brightest, and Yelena thinks about how she wants to be the one to cause it, over and over again.

“You do?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it, to admit it. I'm not used to...this.”

“To what?” Kate asks.

“To being loved first,” Yelena confesses with a shrug. “I’m always the one who cares more, the one who waits, who tries harder. I didn't recognize it when it was given to me without having to fight for it.”

Kate cups Yelena's cheek, her thumb brushing against her skin tenderly. “Well,” she whispers. “You better get used to it then.”

Tears form in Yelena's eyes, but she brushes them away quickly. “It's going to take some time,” she admits. “To trust, to believe that this is real and not just another heartbreak waiting to happen.”

“I promise to be patient,” Kate says, and Yelena finds it so easy and natural to believe her every word. “So, what happens now?”

“Dinner,” Yelena says, nodding towards her apartment. “And then we figure it out together.”

With a nod, Kate leans in and Yelena meets her half way. 

They kiss for the first time after laying all their cards on the table.

[garglyswoof]

🦇 klaroline + per my last email

“Oh my god did they even READ??? What part of ‘Rooms are booked at the Aman Venice’ is difficult to comprehend?” Caroline yelled at her screen, leaning over the keyboard as she began exaggeratedly typing a reply. She was already irritated by Kol singing loudly in Italian somewhere downstairs - some opera that he claimed he had starred in in the 16th century. Honestly, at this point she was sick of this city and its thin veneer of charm holding back the rot.

“Per my last email, signora” She bit out, throwing up her hands. “Gahh!!” A muffled laugh behind her spun her in her chair, Klaus on the leather chaise smiling way too patronizingly at her for her own liking. “What?”

“Does that work for you?” At her confused expression, he continued. “Being passive aggressive? What do you think that will accomplish?”

“It will make her realize she’s stupid and she should apologize for being unable to comprehend basic sentences?”

“You believe that? Or will it just irritate her and worse yet, she’ll ignore it and learn nothing?”

Caroline stared at him. There was a logic to his words and she was having none of it. “Excuse me, but I’ve arranged the entire vampire consortium because your diplomacy skills range from death threats to stuffing people in boxes when they piss you off, so forgive me if I don’t take your advice on my emails being passive aggressive.” The last part came out in a hiss that she’d not be proud of tomorrow but for now it was effective. She watched Klaus’ face grow mulish, obstinate, and wondered if he’d pick a fight. Her eyes flashed because frankly? Bring it. She was surprised when he stood up, posture stiff with hurt, and walked out of the room, trailing a sentence in his wake.

“I’ll just get out of your hair then, shall I? Since I’m so clearly a nuisance.”

Caroline sighed as he left, his footsteps receding down the stairs. Kol’s performance cut off mid-word in a choked gurgle, Klaus’ voice a low tremor of rage as a door slammed so hard she could feel the displacement of air in the room. She hadn’t meant to snap at him, but honestly was she wrong?

She had little time to think about it, as Kol quickly transitioned from his operatic reprise to crunching obscenely loudly on an apple while staring into her office, and Caroline rubbed her temples. Vampires didn’t get headaches - unless they were witch induced, of course - but that didn’t prevent muscle memory kicking in from exasperation.

“What, Kol?” She bit out, waiting for the inevitable punch line.

“Just letting you know I’m headed back to the States.”

Caroline lifted her head, eyes bright with surprise. “Wait what? We’re in Venice for the consortium and you’re just jetting? I thought you were at least having fun annoying the hell out of Klaus?”

“Well that’s just it, darling. It’s been fun feeding into the chaos, but I’d much rather start it. He’s too easy a mark when you’ve upset him.” Crunch. He leaned up against the wall, and that casual pose belied a head full of mischief, she knew well. What was his deal this time?

“What do you mean?”

Kol pushed off the wall, tossing the apple core, and Caroline watched it curve in a perfect arc into the bin. 

“Klaus is less fun with you around.”

Her brows knitted. “Excuse me? I'll have you know, Klaus is way more fun with me around.”

“Yeah you really don’t get it, do you?” Kol’s expression flickered, and for a moment the jester was gone, replaced with something almost serious, there and gone in a flash. “Everything he does. Even when he’s mad and stomping about the streets of Venice, you’re there. In his head,” He clarified, his hand waving about dismissively but doing nothing to lessen the gravity of his words. “All of it. Everything he’s thinking. It’s for you. So I can feed off that, use it, make fun of it endlessly, but after a while it gets old. Too -” He paused then, searching for the words as Caroline’s heart flipped. 

He shrugged then, whatever he was going to say was lost in a decision made. “So I figured since it’s almost time for my semi-annual Jeremy torture I’d head back ‘cross the pond.”

Taken aback by the abrupt subject change, Caroline could do nothing but sputter. “Gilbert?”

“Of course. He killed me and all, feels wrong to just let that lie.”

Caroline spun the chair around, the email forgotten. “We may not be friends anymore but I’m not sure I can support torturing Jeremy.”

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t kill him. Hunter’s curse and all, been there done that, watched Nik get the T-shirt. No thanks. I just…mess around with him. Move things around in his apartment, seduce his girlfriend, give him explosive diarrhea at work. Enough small things to drive him absolutely bat shit crazy, which is usually when I leave. The paranoia is a gift that keeps on giving.”

Caroline was struggling not to laugh, knew that Kol saw it and that it was not only what he was looking for but needed, at least for now. She wondered at what he had almost said, something in her heart called out to it, and knew she would look at Kol differently now, behind the mummer’s mask. 

He saw it in her face and closed off his own, began a refrain of the operetta as he spun out the door in full pointe, vampire’s grace a counterpoint to the calculated silliness. Caroline stared after him, thoughtful, his words sifting in her brain. Downstairs the main door opened and closed with the exaggerated creak of faulty jambs in this ever-sinking city. She turned back to the computer, the afternoon dimmed enough by clouds for the monitor’s glow to light the room. The cursor lay waiting. 

She erased it all, wrote a quick note re-explaining the details. Clicked send, angrily still, one part hanging on to the feeling, one part over it, a whole entire rest of herself thinking about Klaus. 

A few hours later she heard the door open, smelled the faint scent of blood. She hoped it was a least a tourist that had paid the blood price, this city was dying on its own without vampiric help. There was a moment of guilt, sharp and bright, as she knew whomever died was because of her. It's all for you - she heard Klaus say, Kol say, their voices blending together in words that spanned decades, and she got up and headed downstairs as her throat closed over her own words.

He was facing the fireplace, a glass of grappa that she just couldn't get the taste for in his hand, and he stood with the alert grace of his dual predators, waiting.

"Hey," she said softly, and his face turned in surprise. Her heart ached with his expression, guarded but searching.

"You were right." Three words to watch the light dawn across a face, his brow clearing, confusion to suspicion to delight as he saw the truth in her eyes.

Caroline held a hand up. "About the email. Not about threatening people. Just so we're clear."

"So Signora Rossini is not receiving an angry 'per my last email?'"

"Nope. Oh and," Caroline slid her arms around Klaus's neck, pulled him in close. "Kol's left for the states, so I guess we have this old building all to ourselves this evening."

The smile built slow and cut a dimple deep into his cheek, a hand circling to rest on the small of her back, the other sliding across a hip, her breath catching at the feel of it and the scent of blood that lingered on his lips. "Oh do we love, tell me, whatever shall we do with this extra time?"

She answered him with a kiss, the house quiet now, water lapping at its foundations, the sound of oars sluicing through the water mingling with the languages of a half-dozen countries. She kissed him and she thought of all she had ever wanted in this vampire life and before, and her lips curved in a satisfied grin.

-----

From my halloween extravaganza - send me a prompt or tell me something fun!

[hrkingston]

Eleven Favorite Women in Video Games

Women in video games are as many and varied as the worlds they appear in. Here are eleven of my favorites from over the years, in no particular order!

Claire “Lightning” Farron (Final Fantasy XIII, XIII-2, and Lightning Returns) Lightning makes this list because not only is she a dynamic character, but she’s a badass. While having pink hair and being overwhelmingly attractive, Lightning is not a pushover of a character by any means. She’s a soldier first, then something of a goddess, and her progression only escalates from there in Lightning Returns. I love how she started as a practical character and stayed a practical character, even when weirder and weirder stuff is hurled her way. She knows how to think, she knows how to fight, and in XIII, she touts one of my favorite weapons in all of Final Fantasy: a gunblade that actually makes physical sense. Lara Croft (Tomb Raider)

I will admit, I got into the Tomb Raider franchise rather late and there are still a lot of games in the series that I have yet to play. However, in many people’s eyes, Lara was the “original” female protagonist in video games. She was smart, she was strong, she was daring, she could fight, and, as we all know, she’s not bad to look at.

I myself am partial to the rendition of Lara found in the 2013 reboot of Tomb Raider from Crystal Dynamics. It was the first time that I felt completely comfortable playing as Lara, because while she was beautiful, I didn’t feel like the male gaze was being directly pandered to. This was a Lara that I had an easier time relating to, and is what really drew me into the series. So yes, while I was very late to the Tomb Raider party, Lara has claimed a special place in my heart. Commander Shepard (Mass Effect) Few people have kicked as much intergalactic ass as Commander Shepard, and the fact that you can get it done as a woman makes it twice as satisfying. Some might view this as cheating, since Shepard, while she does have her own base personality, is very much informed by the decisions the player makes. But no matter how the player steers Shepard, she is never any less awesome, and the fact that you can personalize her adventure only makes her that much more likable and easy to relate to. Yuna (Final Fantasy X and X-2) While Yuna was only playable very briefly in X, I always felt that she was the true protagonist of the story. Anyone who knows me well knows that I complain about Final Fantasy X a fair amount, but despite any and all of that, it was my first Final Fantasy, and Yuna my first heroine. Despite some character flaws and inconsistencies that I still question to this day (Yuna is relatively smart but makes some unfathomable decisions, her fashion sense changes beyond all recognition between games, etc.) she is still a wonderful character with a lot of heart. While she can fight through the use of her aeons, her truest power is her strength of character and strength of heart. She is brave, selfless, loving, and fiercely protective. I admire her greatly years after picking up my PS2 copy of her game at a flea market. Okami Amaterasu (Okami) Okami will always and forever be one of my very favorite video games with its gorgeous cell-shading, unforgettable characters, and wonderful storytelling. One of the things that may be a little off-putting to certain people about Amaterasu is that she doesn’t speak a single line of dialogue. Amaterasu takes the form of a wolf in this game, and all of the dialogue that advances the plot from her perspective is done through Issun, he sidekick. However, Ammy is loveable and memorable in her own right by getting her thoughts and points across through primarily canine actions, such as growls, whines, barks, and iconic postures such as the confused head tilt, the coil before an attacking spring, and even biting or headbutting people. She’s a different kind of protagonist and a model example of non-verbal storytelling, and will always be one of my favorites. Miranda Lawson (Mass Effect 2 & 3) Miranda isn’t the protagonist of Mass Effect, obviously, but a party member. However, she still deserves to be on this list because she’s so dynamic. It took me some time to warm up to Miranda, but the more I got to know her in-game, the more of a shine I took to her. She is tough, she is vulnerable, she is smart, she is emotional, she’s a leader and a follower, a hard-ass and a friend, and it’s these oxymorons and more that showcase exactly what a multifaceted and real character Miranda is. She’s complex, and getting to know all of her different sides was an absolute pleasure.

(I also may or may not have a massive crush on her and be bummed that you can’t romance her as Femshep.)

Fran (Final Fantasy XII) Fran is an almost frosty, aloof character due to how old she is and will be. Fran is one of my favorites because, despite how collected she is, you really get to see into her layers when she interacts with her sisters, and when she interacts with Balthier the sky pirate. Fran’s relationship with Balthier is not only one of my favorite aspects of her character, but also one of my favorite aspects of the entire game itself. Unlike how things normally seem to go, Fran is not Balthier’s sidekick, or subservient to him in any way. Fran and Balthier are partners, and I really love the camaraderie that all but oozes from them. Also, Fran by default is an archer, and I have a weakness for a good ol’ bow and arrow. Aloy (Horizon Zero Dawn) What did I say about archery? Guerilla Games has essentially delivered us a neo-Mesozoic Merida simulator and I could not be more pleased. But despite the lush world and intuitive gameplay, one of my favorite aspects of the game is our star herself, Aloy. Aloy is a perfect example of the coming-of-age narrative, as she spends much of the game trying to discover her origin and save her world with the information. She’s fiercely motivated and incredibly capable, using a combination of strength, cunning, and finesse to take on everything the world throws at her from prejudiced humans to deadly bandits to giant killer machines. Oerba Dia Vanille (Final Fantasy XIII) When XIII first came out, I couldn’t stand Vanille. Her voice bothered me, her personality bothered me, her in-game animations bothered me, everything about her bothered me. But then one day (I kid you not) I woke up and thought “Why did I hate Vanille so much? I really like her! What was my deal?”

Vanille was one of those characters I had to warm up to first. I see a lot of myself in Vanille, which is perhaps why I was so harsh on her in the first place. We are our own biggest critics, and I believe that I had been unknowingly using Vanille like a mirror. The fact that she tries to be so hopeful in the face of adversity is a trait that we share, as well as trying to cheer others up and make them see the bright side. Vanille and I, we can be annoying in our tactics, but we both mean well in the end.

Vanille has a good heart and is a lovely person, and the fact that I relate so strongly to her has given her a permanent spot in my heart. Elizabeth Comstock (BioShock Infinite) Elizabeth Comstock is, in herself, a journey. The story of BioShock Infinite is largely focused on her, and she really does propel it forward. One of my favorite things about Elizabeth, besides the mystery and intrigue that surrounds her character, is how much she changes as a person over the course of the game. In the beginning, she reminded me very much of Belle or Rapunzel, but by the end of the game, without giving too much away, she seemed like she was about a thousand years old, too wizened and tortured for her years.

Elizabeth is a very real character, and in a game where you play a protagonist that you never really see, she does a wonderful job emoting and making you really feel both for her and for the world around her.

Elizabeth is a masterpiece inside a masterpiece; both she and her game have resonated very deeply with me. Kasumi Goto (Mass Effect 2 & 3) Kasumi is a downloadable character, and the fact that not everyone experienced Mass Effect 2 for the first time with her on the team makes me sad. We don’t get to see as much of Kasumi as we do other characters, but what we do get to see is very well done. Bioware had the task of making people care about this character in a relatively short amount of time, since she isn’t technically “in” the story, and so most of her character development occurs during her loyalty mission.

Kasumi is one of those characters that I wanted more of, and I found myself bringing her on many missions just to hear snatches of her dialogue if I took her certain places or did certain things. Even during the final climactic mission, I found myself snickering at her quips. She was an optional character that, for me, didn’t feel optional, and that’s when you know a character is very well done.

(I also remained disappointed that the bug in her mission in Mass Effect 3 was never fixed.)

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  II

Tagging @chelseareferenced so she can read this goodness first hand! ;3

Chapter 2

“You have got to be joking!” Heisenberg can’t contain himself, not that he ever censored himself in the past. This is beyond ridiculous, even for the high and mighty bitch herself. He’s quick to turn on his heel to stare down the deceiver but he doesn’t call her out. Not yet anyway. He doesn’t need to, not when Lady Goliath looks about ready to burst a vein. “Mother Miranda, I must protest!” Lady Dimitrescu hisses, eyes practically glowing with rage. “Heisenberg hasn’t the faintest idea of the gift you are giving, he’d sooner throw it to the dogs!”

You wince at how little she regards you, conflicted. As it stands Lady Dimitrescu is fighting viciously to no doubt claim you as her own, which bodes marginally better than the man who would sooner toss you aside without a second thought than look at you. The Countess stands tall but her posture reminds you of a petulant child, demanding to be given what they want. Albeit a regal one. All while Heisenberg stands there with a mean snarl on his lips that brandishes his impressive canines, aimed squarely at Mother Miranda. Lady Beneviento sits silent as the grave watching the exchange while her devilish doll wiggles in excitement on her lap. Lord Moreau lingers on the edge of the fray, wringing his hands; he’s clearly distressed at the fighting and you almost feel ashamed for being the cause of the turmoil. “My decision is final,” Mother Miranda states firmly, voice echoing unnaturally around the room, her form already receding towards the doors. “Mother Miranda, please!” Lady Dimitrescu calls out, a brief look of panic flitting across her porcelain features when she receives no response at all. The cracks are already showing — she will not get her way today. In a desperate attempt to regain control she turns to Heisenberg, who stands tense as he watches Mother Miranda leave. “Heisenberg!” She seethes, hands balled tightly into fists that threaten to snap the delicate neck of her opera length cigarette holder into splinters, “say something!” You watch, helpless, as he casually lifts his hammer, taking his sweet time under Lady Dimitrescu’s smouldering gaze. The others have already made a hasty retreat, following their Mother’s steps closely, leaving you at the mercy of the feuding siblings. When Heisenberg finally locks eyes with her, hammer set proudly on his shoulder, the tension is so thick you struggle to breathe. Then, he smirks. The tautness of his body melts away into a well versed confident swagger, complete with a wolfish grin, and Lady Dimitrescu recoils so quickly in rage that you fear she’s given herself whiplash. The tirade of pure and unadulterated hatred that spills forth is in no way befitting of a woman of such high standing but Heisenberg seems unaffected. In fact, it amuses him to see her become undone when he ignores her. You don’t understand how he’s so calm when faced with such venom, practically cowering when she turns to you, face twisted in indignation. “Now don’t be a sore loser,” he tuts, quickly tugging you to his side, “Mother Miranda made her choice, are you really going to defy her?” He teases, grin widening at the sight of faint colour spreading on the Countess’ face. Heisenberg always knew how to get under skin and make her squirm. Sparing you one last glance Lady Dimitrescu turns sharply on her heel to leave, huffing in annoyance and frustration. Neither of you are worthy of even a biting retort, it seems. “You can breathe, you know.” You startle at Heisenberg’s teasing remark, finally releasing the breath that you didn’t realise you had been holding the whole time. You had been so transfixed on the very real prospect of your demise at the hands of a nine foot tall Vampire woman that you may have neglected that small fact of life. Lightheadedness makes your vision swim and for a moment you think you’re about to faint. If ever there was something to make you feel like you had one foot in the grave that moment was very much it. It does not bear repeating. Heisenberg takes in your deer-in-headlights expression, chuckling at the way his stare makes your little hummingbird heart flutter more. You’re absolutely petrified. It’s understandable, he knows that he’s dangerous and your little flock has more than enough stories about the big bad Lycan master that lets his hounds descend from the ominous Factory to feast on the nonbelievers. Utter bullshit. Well, mostly. But they don’t need to know that, of course. “So,” he drawls, tilting his head, “Mother Miranda says you’re my new— what was it? Ah, right, right, my new servant.” It’s a statement, but you’re not sure if he fully understands what he’s supposed to actually do with you, just like Lady Dimitrescu remarked. You nod shakily, bringing your still bound wrists up in a feeble attempt to warm yourself. It doesn’t offer much, the metal is so cold it brings your skin out in goosebumps. Thankfully, Heisenberg notices. “Oh, uh, sorry about that,” he clears his throat, a sudden switch, and with a flick of his wrist the shackles snap apart and shoot off to the side. They clatter to the ground unceremoniously, rusted and broken. It’s almost sad how much you relate to them at that moment. “T-thank you,” you answer meekly, rubbing at your sore wrists. The blood rushes to your fingers, making them tingle. It’s an odd, but muted, sensation, given the gravity of your situation. He doesn’t reply, merely tips his hat at you before motioning for you to go ahead of him. You’re unsure if it’s because he’s a gentleman or if it’s a power play but you move regardless, your pace hesitant. You’re not eager to be thrust out into the chill of the mountain, not that it’s any warmer inside at this point. You can only hope that the Factory is better than this.

It’s so much worse. The heat— it’s humid, stagnant, and downright heinous. Steam hisses and spits from rusted, internal pipes that streak across the walls and ceilings of the corridors, making the air humid and cloying. Your feet ache through your boots as you try to keep up with Heisenberg's strides, echoing off the metal grating underfoot in an annoying clank clank clank rhythm. In an attempt to cool yourself down you try to sweep up your damp hair from where it sticks to the back of your neck, grimacing at the wetness that covers your fingers. You’re a sweating mess and you hate it. The elevator is your near breaking point. In such a small space the heat intensifies, stuffy and borderline unbearable. It’s normal, your muddled mind tries to rationalize, since the lower levels are closer to the furnace, and it’ll get better once you go up, but it doesn’t take away from discomfort. You notice with great irritation that Heisenberg is barely batting an eyelid, though it’s to be expected. He lives there, of course he’d be used to it. The ride to the upper levels is uncomfortable and not just because of the humidity. His eyes are on you the entire time, at least you think so given those round glasses that he wears obscure his eyes from your view, no doubt wondering just why he’d taken in such a mess. And a mess you most certainly are. Heisenberg can see how your desperately try to keep stringy, moist hair from plastering itself to your sweat-soaked skin, failing miserably as the rebellious strands slip from your fingers. There are dark patches to your simple dress, made worse by how it clings to your body from the heat. He can barely stop himself from smirking when you curse quietly under your breath, rolling your eyes in irritation as you fuss over your hair. It’s the first time that you’ve shown some real spirit. Your annoyance is refreshing on your flushed face, the dim, artificial light casting you in a dewy, warm glow. Sadly, it’s not enough to overpower how badly you need a bath and fresh clothes. “Well, here we are,” he announces as the elevator stops and the door opens up; your new home. It’s another long hallway that looks similar to the dozen odd that you walked through to get here, but you do notice that it’s comparatively cooler. It must be near the top of the Factory. It’s a pleasant relief and you follow Heisenberg to a cluster of rooms a little lighter on your feet. The tour is, well, barely that, as he shows you a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom, all outfitted with the barest of necessities and far too much scrap metal, tools, and other engineering components. You linger in the doorway of the modest bedroom, staring at the single bed pushed up in the corner as though that’s the out of place object in the room. He leaves you for a moment, fumbling through papers and projects on the heavily cluttered desk that takes up the length of one wall, and you wander the hallway, peeking inside rooms with doors slightly ajar. Most are storage rooms with all sorts of junk inside, but one looks salvageable with an old, banged up couch and minimal debris. As you look about envisioning how to make it more homely, leaning against the door frame, you’re not paying attention and it gives Heisenberg the perfect opportunity to scare you. “Found yourself a room, huh?” He whispers into your ear, pulling back quickly as you shriek in alarm and swing out your arm instinctively to hit him. You can barely hear your heart hammering wildly in your chest over the sound of his raucous laughter, retreating from him quickly. “Why would you do that?” You shout, wide eyes staring at him. Heisenberg can barely pull himself together, breaking into small fits of laughter at the sight of your astonished expression, exhaling deeply to try and ground himself. “Couldn’t help it,” he explains, grinning at you, “it was a perfect setup!” Flabbergasted, your mouth falls open at his response; this man was one of the four Lords of the village, not some child playing tricks! Noticing the offense you take at his actions Heisenberg scoffs, his own expression souring as he turns away from you. What was he honestly thinking? You were just another haughty, stuck-up, loyalist to Mother fucking Miranda that clearly wouldn’t know a joke if it came up and slapped you in the face. “Bathroom is right there, you reek,” he snaps harshly, pointing into a small room lined with cracked, dirty tiles and rusting, dated appliances. You glare at his back, wordlessly going inside and doping your best to slam the door shut, but all you manage is a half-descent rattle. You look about yourself and suppress a shiver of disgust, staring at the old, rusting shower that has clearly seen better days, questioning whether you can forgo washing after all. Needs must, you think to yourself, as you dig out the cleanest towel you can find from a rickety old cabinet in the corner. Thankfully the water is fine when you turn the handle and you quickly strip to take advantage of the first good thing since you came to the Factory. As you stand under the tepid spray you wonder if you are, as Mother Miranda had said, perfect for this task. Doubt nips at your resolve and tries to whittle down your faith, but you refuse to let it win. You must succeed, for Mother Miranda.

[raindancer2004]

Two vampires, one mate?

Word Count: 4,180 Mentions of Demetri x Bella Swan x Edward. Demetri x OC Swan. Oneshot Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Summary: Alice has a vision of her brother Edward and the World’s Greatest Tracker Demetri sharing a mate. So what happens when the new girl arrives in town and things may not be as they seem? How does sharing a mate work out when the two vampires involved are very different?

This is a choose your own story fic. The story starts the same but you get to choose to read on for one storyline or click the link for the alternate storyline.

Carlisle, Edward and Alice arrive at Castillo Volterra with news that will change the life of one their elite guards. “Ah Carlisle so lovely to see you, it’s been too long” Aro greets his friend with a smile “Hello Aro, it’s nice to see you and your brothers again as it has indeed been too long” Carlisle replies with a smile of his own. “I gather you have some news you wanted to share in person…” Aro trails off “Yes, I didn’t think it appropriate to have this conversation over the phone” He replies. “Should this be a private conversation?” Caius asks curiously “I’d say yes as it involves of one of your elite guards” Carlisle responds and notices that the elite guards in the room stiffen slightly upon hearing this. 

Aro clears the room of the few lower rank guards before speaking again. “Ok, so what is this about?” “Alice has had a vision involving my son Edward, Demetri and a human girl” Carlisle responds and Demetri’s curiosity spikes “How am I involved in this Carlisle?” “According to Alice’s vision you and Edward are to…share a mate” Carlisle answers, turning to face Demetri who’s face clearly shows a shocked expression.

The room was quiet for a few moments before Aro spoke again “May I, my dear?” He holds his hand out to Alice, she looks to Carlisle who nods at her. Alice steps forward and places her hand in Aro’s allowing him to read her thoughts, to see her most recent vision. “Thank you my dear. You have an extraordinary gift” Alice steps back as Aro looks over to Demetri and nods at him to come forward.

Demetri moves to stand beside Carlisle “Master, what did you see?” “I saw that a human girl is moving to Forks and will attend the local high school there, which is where she meets Edward first and that she is indeed mated to both you and Edward. How that would work out in the long run is still to be seen” Aro answers him and notices the change in Demetri’s posture. Demetri feels a little deflated, knowing that his mate will meet Edward first and that their bond will no doubt be stronger than the one he will share with her. He makes a decision then and there. 

Click here for alternate storyline

“I won’t be sharing my mate with you…” “You don’t have a choice” Edward says cutting him off “I do and if you will listen rather than talk over me you would have heard what I was trying to say. I won’t share my mate with you because it won’t work. I live and work here and you live and attend school in Forks. I know that your bond with her will be stronger than the bond I would have with her as a result and I will not compete with you for her attention, for her affection…” He paused for a moment taking an unneeded breath “…therefore, I won’t be coming to Forks to claim her. She is all yours.”

Multiple gasps can be heard throughout the room and Demetri turns to Marcus who nods at him, sympathy clear in his eyes. “What about the mate bond?” Jane asked, concerned for her friend “As Demetri and the human will never meet the mate bond will not be a problem for them nor will they feel the side effects of being apart” Marcus replies, looking around the room. “So just so we’re clear Demetri, you have no intention of ever seeing her or claiming her?” Edward asks and Demetri nods “The girl is all yours” Demetri nods at the three Kings and leaves the throne room, going straight back to his room. Edward cannot help feeling happy, smug even knowing that he gets the girl all to himself. Carlisle gave him a disapproving look and shook his head at his son, not quite believing he could be happy at the expense of someone else’s sadness.

Later that evening Jane goes to see Demetri as she is confused as to why he gave up so quickly. “Demetri. Can we talk?” Jane asks as she stands in his doorway “Of course Jane. Come in” He replies, his voice low. Jane sat on the sofa and turned to face him “Why did you give her up so easily? Why did you not ask to go to Forks so you can meet her? I mean you can track anyone from anywhere” Demetri looked at her, trying to work out why she seemed to care about his decision. “Can you imagine sharing a mate with a Cullen, a vegetarian vampire? I can and he’ll ensure that she sees me as the ‘bad’ guy because of my job, because my diet and she’d feel torn between us. It wouldn’t be fair to me or her, so it’s better this way. I’ve lived this long without her what’s the rest of eternity?” Jane saw the emotion in his ruby coloured eyes and felt sorry for him, without thinking she moved and wrapped her arms around him “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this Demetri. You deserve to have her by your side for eternity” Demetri wrapped his arms around her in return “It’s ok Jane and thank you.”

Life at the castle had continued as it always had. Demetri and Felix trained the lower and transitory guards, went on missions as and when needed, the twins accompanying them when required. News of went on in the throne room the day Carlisle and two of his children came to the castle made its way around the castle and although some people had an opinion on the situation, noone was brave enough to question Demetri personally about his decision to give up sharing his mate with a Cullen. “I think what he did was selfless, he thought about how the situation would affect her and decided not to make her choose between them because ultimately, that would be the outcome eventually” Heidi said to Chelsea, who nodded in agreement “Doesn’t meant it hurts him any less nor does it take away the curiosity or the what ifs” Chelsea responded.

Meanwhile back in Forks the human girl from Alice’s vision moved in with her dad and started at the local high school although all was not as it seemed, for Alice’s vision was incorrect as Chief of Police Charlie Swan had not one daughter but two daughters; identical twin daughters Isabella or Bella as she preferred to be called and Aria.

Edward found himself attracted to Bella, knowing she was his mate and wondered if maybe Alice had seen her sister Aria with Demetri in her vision but decided to keep that thought to himself despite Alice having the same thought as him. Despite sharing this thought neither one of them told Carlisle nor did they inform Demetri that maybe he didn’t have to share ‘Bella’ after all.  

Edward stood in one of the many hallways of Castillo Volterra speaking to Demetri about the events that led him back there seeking his own destruction. Demetri felt himself get angry when he heard that Bella had killed herself because Edward had left her six months ago. “HOW DARE YOU? I GAVE HER UP AND YOU JUST…JUST LEFT HER AND NOW SHE’S DEAD. I HOPE THEY DO KILL YOU! YOU DESERVE TO DIE!” Edward said nothing as he knew Demetri was right, he did deserve to die.

When Demetri saw Bella standing in Edward’s arms the following day, he expected to feel something towards her, anything but he felt nothing and it confused him a little. Jane approached them “Aro sent me to see what was taking so long” Edward, Bella, Alice, Demetri and Felix followed Jane down to the throne room.

Once inside the throne room Aro greeted them “Ah Bella is alive after all, isn’t that wonderful. I love a happy ending but they are so rare.” Felix, Jane and Alec expected Demetri to do or say something about Bella but he didn’t and Marcus knew why. Bella was not Demetri’s mate.

Edward and Alice allowed Aro to read their thoughts, both hoping that they kept Aria a secret because to have known about her for over a year and to not have informed Demetri would most likely result in further trouble, something they didn’t need or want right now. Aro let them leave on the understanding that Bella would be turned, thus joining their world.

Nine months later Aro discovered a secret during the confrontation regarding Renesmee and was less than pleased to find out that Edward had tried to deceive him. Edward knew what Aro was going to say as he read his thoughts as his daughter showed Aro her memories, including being born and being looked after by a very ‘human’ Bella despite Bella being an immortal. “Carlisle although you and your family get a pass on the Renesmee issue seeing as she is half-human / half-vampire and is of no risk to our world, there is another matter that I’m afraid I cannot and will not let go” Aro said looking directly at his old friend. “What would that be?” Carlisle responded clearly confused. “Brother, what’s going on?” Caius asked, getting impatient. “It would seem that Edward and Alice have been keeping a secret, one that has…consequences” “I don’t understand. What secret Aro?” Carlisle asked, still confused “The secret surrounding Demetri’s mate” Aro replied, gasps filled the air as shocked expressions crossed the faces of all the vampires in the field. “THEY DID WHAT?” Demetri and Caius shouted out at the same time. “They knew Bella wasn’t Demetri’s mate and they knew who was and have since deliberately kept her from him.” Demetri growled loudly and felt Marcus’ hand on his shoulder “Stay calm. This will be rectified” Marcus assured him but he could tell Demetri was anything but calm.

Carlisle and Esme guessed who Aro was talking about as they knew Bella had a twin sister, Aria and paled “Esme and I had no idea about what they have done but I would like to help resolve this” Aro nodded “I know you were not involved and I would appreciate your help” “I know who you are talking about and I can go and get Demetri’s mate and meet you all back at the house?” Esme offered “Thank you Esme, that would be great” Marcus replied with a smile.

Esme calls Aria on her way over to see her and tells her that she needs to come back to the house. Aria agrees and offers to drive seeing as Esme had run to the house straight from the ‘battlefield.’ “What’s this all about Esme? Has something happened to Ness? To Bella?” Aria asked, worry clear in her voice “Bella and Ness are fine. I just need you to come home with me and all will be explained. I promise” “Ok” Aria replied feeling anxious about what was to come.

The moment Aria stepped into the room all eyes turned to her and the Volturi realised why Alice’s vision showed Edward and Demetri ‘sharing’ a mate, they were identical twins. Demetri’s world changed the instant he saw her, he felt drawn to her; the mating pull taking effect and he smiled at her. Aria stepped back feeling uneasy at having a room full of vampires looking at her. Aria felt Esme place a hand on her lower back “It’s ok hunny, you’re safe. I promise” Aria nodded slowly and Demetri fought the urge to run and take her into his arms to try and comfort her.

“Demetri this is Aria, Aria this is Demetri” Carlisle introduced the two of them first, noticing the look in Demetri’s eyes and felt sorry for him. Once Aria was introduced to the Kings, Carlisle explained why she was there and she looked over at Demetri, giving him a small smile. He slowly moved towards her, coming to stand beside her and noticed that she tensed a little so he stepped away to leave a small space between them.

Once Carlisle had finished talking Aria glared at Edward “Let me get this straight you knew I was mated to Demetri and yet you didn’t tell him, you kept me hidden from him. And as a result of that I had no reason to join your world, yet you still told me of your secret when Bella got pregnant knowing that I could be killed if they found out that I knew about your world. Why?” Aria asked, not quite believing what she was hearing.

“Because Demetri rejected you before he had even met you” Edward said looking at Aria, Demetri noticed the small smirk playing at Edward’s mouth. “What?” Aria looked shocked and she turned to face Demetri. “You rejected me without even meeting me?” Demetri saw the hurt look that flashed in her eyes. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t you I rejected. I rejected Bella” Demetri replied looking at her, silently pleading her to believe him. “I don’t understand, why would you reject Bella?” Aria was feeling more confused now.

Demetri explained how Carlisle, Edward and Alice came to Volterra to tell them about Alice’s vision of him and Edward sharing ‘Bella’ as a mate. “I explained that I wouldn’t share my mate with Edward because it wouldn’t have worked. I live and work in Volterra and he lives and attends school here in Forks and as a result the bond between them would have been stronger than the bond I would have shared with her and I was not going to compete with him for her attention, for her affection. Therefore, I decided not to come to Forks and claim her.”

A moment of silence passed before Aria spoke “But they knew there were two of us after Bella and I moved here…” She looked over at Edward and Alice before continuing “…And they didn’t tell you that there were two of us? Didn’t tell you about me? That maybe I was your mate and not Bella?” She says looking at Demetri who shook his head slowly “No” He placed his hands on her cheeks and looked into her brown eyes “I can promise you this...if I’d known about you, I would’ve come sooner to see you, to see if you were my mate, to claim you” He presses his lips to her forehead “I’m here now. I‘m claiming you now” “Really?” She asks low “Yes. I’ve waited a long time for you darling. You are mine and I can’t let you go...I won’t let you go…not now that I’ve finally found you. Do you think you could me give me a chance? Give us a chance? I promise to love and protect you forever” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into him, his scent flooding her senses and she nodded “Yes. I’d like to give us a chance” He smiled down at her before pressing his lips to hers in a quick kiss. “Thank you cara mia” He rested his forehead gently against hers and felt her relax a little in his hold. He smiled, tightening his hold on her and breathed in her scent letting it calm him. “You can’t be serious? My sister is mated to him?” Bella asks pointing to Demetri “Yes my dear, it’s very serious” Marcus answers “And as you’ve heard Alice and Edward knew...and they deliberately kept them apart, even went as far as to hide her deep in their thoughts where even Aro couldn’t see her. That or they rarely saw your sister prior to Italy” He continued looking at the Cullens “Which isn’t very likely given that they shared our secret with her, but the important thing is Demetri and Aria are together at last and that their bond is strong, despite this interference. Their bond will only grow stronger the longer they are together” He added glaring at Edward and Alice in turn, both of whom were keeping quiet and trying to avoid looking at the Kings, Demetri and Aria.

“Why would you keep the fact that my sister and Demetri were mates a secret?” Bella asked Edward “Because of who he is. I figured she deserved better than him, especially after he rejected ‘you’ so quickly” Edward replied and Aria felt the growl rumble through Demetri before the sound left his lips and stepped back from him. A moment later and Demetri had Edward pressed up against a wall, his hand around his neck. Aria smiled at seeing Edward being held off the floor, a look of fear settled on his face. “I’m a better man than you’ll EVER be. I would never leave my mate nor would I refuse to turn her” Demetri’s voice was dangerously low “LET HIM GO!” Bella shouted at Demetri as she moved forward. Demetri turned his head to glare at her and a loud snarl left him and Bella stepped back a few steps. “See what he’s really like?” Alice asked Aria and she scoffed “Your loser of a brother provoked him, he’s just defending himself” Aria defended Demetri’s actions and he smiled at this, happy he hadn’t scared her.

Bella looked at Edward before crouching a little, her gaze now fully on Demetri. Aria noticed this for a split second and wondered what her sister was doing but movement to her left answered her as Felix held the same stance as Bella, both ready to fight.

Demetri’s hold tightened around Edward’s neck and it began to crack “I should tear your head off after what you’ve done.” Bella growled upon hearing this and bared her teeth in warning, Felix copied Bella giving her a warning of his own.

“Demetri” Demetri’s hand stilled at the sound of Aria’s voice “Leave him be. He’s not worth it, really” Demetri thought for a moment before speaking, his voice low and his eyes had darkened a few shades due to his current mood “Aria’s right you’re not worth it” Demetri dropped Edward to the floor and Bella rushed to his side to inspect the damage to his neck. Demetri stepped back and felt Aria standing beside him, her arm wrapping around his waist. He wrapped his arms around her, letting her scent calm him. “Let’s go for a walk, get some air” Aria said looking up at her mate and he smiled, nodding in response. She took his hand in hers and they made their way outside and walked into the woods behind the Cullen house.

“If I had taken his head would that have upset you?” Demetri asked, curious “Not at all but I just didn’t want a fight to break out in Esme’s home and like I said he really isn’t worth it. My mate is the superior vampire and is far better looking too” She replied honestly before standing on her tip toes to press her lips to his. He smiled down at her “I know you’re identical twins but you mi amore are more beautiful than your sister…” He pecked her lips softly “…inside and out” He kissed her again and gently bit her bottom lip, she gasped and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth to deepen the kiss. A low moan left her lips and he purred in response, holding her closer to him as their tongues continued to move against each other in a deep, sensual kiss.

Sometime later Demetri and Aria return to the Cullen house and are greeted by Ness who was waiting for them on the front step. She had a huge smile on her face as she ran towards her aunt, giving her a hug.

They made their inside where everyone else was still gathered on the first floor. “Can I come and visit you at the castle?” Ness asks Aria and she nods “Of course, I’m sure that can be arranged.” Aria looked at Demetri to check that it would indeed be ok for her niece to visit them and he nodded smiling at them both.

Bella refused to allow Ness to go “You don’t get to decide that she’s able to come and visit you Aria. She’s my daughter not yours” “Maybe you should spend less time banging your husband and more time mothering your daughter then, rather than getting others to raise her” Aria replies and the vampires in the room try not to laugh with the exception of Edward, Alice and Bella who just glare at the newly mated couple in the room. “I think I’m in love” Demetri murmurs low as he smiles at Aria, liking the sassy side of his mate.

“So you’re just going to run off to Italy to be with him?” “I’m not running off to Italy Bella, I am moving to Italy. There is a difference” Aria replied “Why? You’ve only just met him” “Why? Why? Because he’s my mate Bells that’s why. And I’ve only just met him because your precious Eddie and his sister decided to keep us apart” Aria replied, emphasizing some of her words as she pointed between herself and Demetri “I’d like to get to know Demetri better, strengthen our bond and that is best done away from here and any further…interference. Wouldn’t you agree?” Aria replied looking between her sister, Edward and Alice. Demetri couldn’t help smirking before adding “And anyways Volterra is Aria’s home now and I for one am looking forward to sharing my home with my beautiful mate whilst we get to know each other better and plan our future together” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side, relaxing a little when he felt her lean into him.

Demetri helped Aria pack up her room in Forks and arranged for the boxes to be shipped to Volterra whilst they took two suitcases of her clothes and essentials back with them. “You’re going to love Volterra with it’s warm and sunny summers and before you ask, we do get to enjoy the weather safely within the castle’s two large gardens. Although Italy’s winters can be cold and wet not to mention we always have a white Christmas” “Sounds great Dem and I won’t miss living under a near constant rain cloud” She smiled at up him before pulling him down for a kiss.

Aria settled into life at the castle easily, making friends with Felix, the twins and Heidi first as these were the people Demetri was closest to. Santiago and Corin befriended her next and it didn’t go unnoticed that Afton and Chelsea tried to befriend her too, however when Afton found out Aria’s shield was better than his, he decided he didn’t want another friend and stayed away from her.

Marcus became very protective of Aria, something his brothers and their wives noticed “It’s understandable given that Demetri is his bodyguard and they have a close friendship bond” Aro explained to them one evening after a comment from Dora. Caius and Aro were also aware that Marcus had promised Demetri that he would personally ensure Aria’s safety in the castle whenever Demetri had to leave on missions, something the newly mated pair were grateful for. 

Aria had been with Demetri for about a year when she decided that they needed to talk about their future and make more permanent plans. “Dem can we talk?” “Of course although that doesn’t sound good” He replied feeling unsure of what she could want to discuss. Aria took a deep breath before speaking “I would like to talk about our future as there are a few things I’d like to do before becoming immortal” “Ok, what are they?” He asked and took her hands gently in his, his thumbs rubbing circles on the back of her hands. “I always wanted to get married and have a family and I understand that getting married may be difficult but I’d like to have a baby with you…” Demetri went to speak but she cut him off “…I know it’s a bit risky but I trust you and Carlisle to ensure I come through it safely” She smiled at him and he could see the hope in her eyes “I would love to have a baby with you and I’m glad you trust me to see you through this and I can marry you too by the way...” Aria raised an eyebrow at him “…Aro has an online certificate that grants him the power to perform wedding ceremonies just…not religious ones” He replied with a smile and watched as her face lit up with excitement. “Well then I’ll leave the details of the proposal with you but in the meantime let’s get practising” She gave him a flirty wink and nodded over at their king-sized bed. Demetri smiled and scooped her up into his arms and sped over to the bed, laying her down gently “I like the way you think Miss Swan” He replied before capturing her lips with his. Demetri was looking forward to spending forever with Aria and their future child.    

[kirnet]

“We deserve to live, too, ya know.”

Benita didn’t respond, just ground her teeth as she kept her gaze on the scene in front of her. Erin had not taken her by surprise, of course. He walked with a surprising heft for his size, and his collection of pens in his coat pocket rattled together with every step. “I would have expected you to be helping instead of hounding me,” she finally grumbled.

The unloading of supplies - stolen and claimed by stained hands- was going smoothly, even as the two pseudo-crewmates watched from the sidelines. Benita had been ordered to sit out by Amara, as not to agitate her still-healing wounds from the Hades, though she suspected that that was just an excuse for the crew to not deal with her moral posturing, as Halin put it. It mattered not. Dozens of members from the shantytown they had landed near were eagerly helping, desperate to claim any of the spare packets of medicine or rations they could snatch. Millie was directing the line now, making sure that everything progressed in an orderly fashion as Halin and Raiden struggled with moving another giant box down the ramp.

Erin shrugged, his cacophony of pens chiming as he sat down next to Benita. “I’ll step in when someone gets tired. No use in all of us exhausting ourselves at once, not with the amount of contraband we scored on this job.” His eyes trailed down to her bandaged fingers, almost daring them to ball into fists.

Contraband. Criminal. This crew would have been executed thirty times over if the Themi ever caught up to them, as would the citizens of the town for knowingly accepting such a collection of items. But Benita kept her hands loose, fingers outstretched on her thighs. Erin should know by now the mastery she commanded over her own body. “Then I suggest you indulge in your rest. Quietly.”

“I’m disappointed, Benny, but I can’t say I’m surprised,” Erin sighed, dropping his chin into his palm. “What does your doctrine tell you to do in this situation?”

To grab her spear and use it. She would make it quick and painless, of course, with the correct funerary rites recited. A soul was still a soul, no matter how wayward. “The Themi Code has no place for me as a follower anymore,” she answered instead. “And that is the only reason why you still live.”

She tensed as Erin lifted a hand, absentmindedly grabbing a pen and clicking it, a habit Benita had noticed whenever the engineer was puzzling over a new problem. “Was that a decision that you made for yourself, or was it made for you?”

Her finger twitched. 

“These people had no choice in their lives,” Erin continued, the pen tip pressed lightly against his bottom lip. “They were born poor and off-Earth because of some decision that was made for their ancestors generations ago.”

Benita shook her head. “You minimize the amount of choices that can be made. To be human is to choose.” Virtue is a choice, and the virtuous shall thrive.

Erin raised a manicured brow. “To survive? Survival is not a choice, it’s a necessity. Why should one person be denied the means of living while another gets to indulge in it? Not everyone was born to a marble monastery.”

“Do not preach the struggles of survival to me,” Benita spat. Birthplace is not the determinant. The chosen rise to their station. Faith is salvation to all.

“Then you think they should die?” Erin pointed his pen to the crowd of people digging through a rations bin. “They couldn’t afford overpriced food, so they accepted contraband. Should they have simply starved?”

Yes. “No. No, of course-“ Benita paused, exhaling slowly through her nose. A round, pale face, contorted in terror, flashed behind her eyes. “I am no stranger to the questions you raise, Erin. And believe me, my knowledge of survival is because of that fact, not despite it.”

Survival is nothing compared to an eternity of utopia.

“I only ask you to question your previous conceptions. I would be a horrible scientist if I didn’t.” His hand was moving impossibly slow, placing the pen back in his pocket before dropping his hand to the ground beside Benita’s thigh. After a moment and a glowing glance, he patted the ground twice before pulling himself to his feet. “Though I think you’re further into that process than either of us think. After all, I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“Where are you off to?” Benita questioned as Erin rolled his shoulders. 

He smiled in his usual lopsided way, a single dimple on his right cheek. “Halin is looking tired, don’t you think? I’m going to give her a chance to indulge in her rest, though I doubt it will be quiet.”

Benita watched his retreating back as he rattled away, his long hair swinging with every step. He had a point, she knew. It was a point that she had shed blood for, even if the concept had not been as fully developed at the time.

Traitor.

She stood, boots making no sound against the soft earth as she trailed after him.

Apostate.

Raiden was starting to tire, after all.

[limeade-l3sbian]

it’s kind of incredible to me that gendies can’t see how insane they are. let’s take the women for example, since they seem to be the prime people who do this, that use they/them pronouns. they don’t do ANYTHING other than that for their gender discomfort/dysphoria. maybe, JUST MAYBE, they wear really ugly clothes and have super obnoxious rainbow makeup “to not cater to the beauty standards”(even tho they still do in a way lol). but they claim that using they/them somehow is comforting and she/her is uncomfortable. how can they at that point not see how ridiculous that is? how can they not try to look a bit deeper into why the mere suggestion of something related to womanhood is uncomfortable, and instead of blaming womanhood and distancing urself from that, perhaps distance urself from patriarchy(as much as possible) and misogyny. i’m truly amazed by the stupidity of these people who seem to me at least like either they just has insane issues mentally or they truly can’t fathom the idea of not belonging to their oh so beloved lgbtq+ community, because they have the personality of a wet sock and have to try to bring their oppression points up somehow.

my own anger about this really just masks my sadness about it. I wouldn't necessarily call (some) stupid, but more so women scrambling to detach themselves from something they, like all of us, have been taught is some sort of social offense. bc like you said, it's mostly women who decide they are a "they".

Falling into the gender shit is easier than ever right now, so I don't necessarily blame (some of) them for falling into it. I could posture and talk about my personal experience and how I never fell into that shit and so neither should they (I'm not saying you're doing that, just an example). But not everyone had parents like mine who took my tomboy childhood in stride and defended me. Some people get that shit from the minute they're born now (raising a genderless child) which could be a great idea in the context of not making a pink or blue room and just letting the kid enjoy life. But what they really mean is asking a child in the formative years what they think they are and letting them make big life decisions when they'd still choose fruit snacks over a real meal (I would too but that's not the one).

Some of them do just like you say. A weird desire to be oppressed and to tag in to the "LGBT" community. But calling them stupid for having ever gotten into it sends a bit of friendly fire to the detrans gals around here who I keep a warm place in my heart for. I know that wasn't what you were saying, anon. This response is more of my thoughts than some "rebuttal" since I agree with a lot of your sentiments.

I'd just say this, anon. Reserve your anger for the movement, not the victims.

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Broken, battered, and beautiful-chapter 2

if you haven’t go check out chapter 1

 “Oh hi.” even in the privacy of her own home elain was clothed in a fine dress made of satin, the color of sunflowers with a high neckline. Gwyn tried to muster up embarrassment for her own plain outfit that most definitely could have been mistaken for sleep wear, but she couldn’t find the energy to care.  

“Hello, um I wanted to come by to say thank you for the other day.” Gwyn felt awkward and uncomfortable, this female had done nothing to wrong her and yet it was difficult to let the protective and territorial instincts go. Azriel was not hers, it was a mantra she replayed in her mind over and over. The words a double edge sword encouraging her to move on with a torturous truth. 

“It’s no worry, I never would have left you on the ground at night” elain smiled warmly, “and besides nesta would have my head if something had happened to you.” gwyn gave her a tight smile, the most she could force herself to manage. 

They stood in an unpleasant silence, the only sound being the soft anxious tapping of gwyns hand on her thigh, a nervous tick she had yet to break. thankfully after a couple dreadfully long seconds elain spoke, “would you like to come in?” 

Gwyn let out a sigh of relief and gave a slight nod of her head. She then followed Elain into her home. As Gwyn's eyes roamed the place she felt as if she had stepped into the spring court, or what it used to look like, she supposed from what Feyre had told her about its current state. 

Elain must have noticed her curious glance at the windows stretching from ceiling to floor with the sun blazing through them, “when I was looking for an apartment I wanted as much sunlight as possible,” she paused to reposition one of her many many plants. “For me” she paused once again, taking in the almost overwhelming amount of blossoms. “And the flowers. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a slight obsession with greenery.” 

“Slight is a modest term.” gwyn noted. She laughed. The sound was sweet and full and covered the room in a joy that could not be masked. Gwyn wished she could say she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed like that, but she had. Darkness coated the once joyous memorie, infecting it with anger and malice. Pain was soon to follow but Gwyn shoved it down, pressing a lid on her emotions, better to feel nothing at all then the heartbreak of what she had lost.

Elain quickly picked up a few scattered papers on her table and pulled out a seat for gwyn. “Would you like some tea? Emerie gave me a few samples but I haven’t had the chance to try them yet.” 

“I would recommend the strawberry green tea, personally I think it’s her best, though most of them are… editable.” 

She raised an eyebrow “most?”

“Well for Emerie's sake I’ll let you form your own opinions but between you and me, I’d keep a safe distance from the lemon ginger.” 

Elain looked amused. “I will keep that in mind.” 

gwyn watched as elain made the tea quietly humming to herself. She set down the cup in front of her, “one strawberry green tea.” Gwyn gave a nod of gratitude before quickly realizing that that was a poor response. God had she lost her manners along with her dignity. 

“Thank you.” 

Once again silence fell over them, the conversation they had both known gwyn had come for hung in the air, hovering, waiting for a moment to strike. But Gwyn had made a promise to Catrin, a promise to her found sisters, and a promise to herself that she would be brave. 

“What happened between you and azriel?” she blurted. Elain took a deep breath before answering, everything about her expression and posture, unsurprised by the question. 

“In order to really understand, I would have to start from the beginning. Are you positive you want to hear the truth?”

No. yes. No.  She did not want to hear, she desperately did not want to hear but she had to know. “Yes.” 

Elain nodded, “It’s been about four years since I became fae and the subject still isn’t my-favorite, but four years ago I was engaged to a man named grayson. Looking back he was truly dreadful and a little bit of a tool. But I was in love, or.” Elain’s cheeks flushed slightly. “what I thought was love. He truly hated the fae and when I became the one thing he hated more than he loved me, his love quickly became fear and his fear fueled his hatred. I was dependent on others, in more ways than one. And with my world being literally and figuratively turned upside down, the one person who was supposed to love and support me through it all, abandoned me without hesitation. Although the argument could be made that I was coddled my entire life and this was a much needed wake up call.” Elain paused, letting out a shaky breath. 

“If this is too difficult for you we can stop.” As much as Gwyn needed to hear this story she would not force Elain to relive her trauma. 

“I owe it to you and to my sister to avoid bad blood between us and if telling you this story is what it takes, then that is the least I can do.” She took a sip of her tea. “Now I knew I had just lost who I thought was the love of my life and then I was forced into the hands of another.” 

Her stepbrother, she thought. “Lucien.” 

“Yes,” elain smiled fondly. “He was my breaking point. All I wanted was to collapse into myself, to pretend that I was still human. But with him I couldn't. He was a walking reminder of everything I hated about myself. The only thing that haunted me more than him was my own reflection. I thought that if I avoided him I could ignore the magnetic pull that drew me to him.” She looked down and bit her lip. “Denial was a personal favorite of mine.” 

Gwyn raised her eyebrows. “I can tell.” she watched as color flooded her cheeks and Gwyn's lips twitched. 

“But it was proving to be a little more difficult than I had expected. And then there was this dark, attractive male who seemed to be intrigued by me. He was kind and he was there so I forced myself to believe I had genuine feelings for him, that I desperately wanted him.” Gwyn's stomach lurched but she forced it down. “He was a perfect distraction, there were these small moments where our fingers would brush or I would find him looking at me as if he desired me. I needed so badly to believe that this was what I wanted and yet I felt nothing. I thought that becoming fae had broken me. I made up my mind that if I kissed him, the feeling I craved would come. So at solstice, when I knew there was no way for him to avoid me, I gave myself an opening and waited until after dinner to give him his gift. He gave me a necklace and kissed my neck. We were moments away from, well you know, when he left very suddenly. I was confused and a little bit hurt and I still felt nothing. So I followed him, and well” elain let out a bitter laugh. “Let's just say Azriel said some rude things.” 

Gwyn’s face was one of constant shock as elain told her the shadowsinger’s conversation with the high lord of the night court. “The only thing he could say about you was Three Brothers, Three Sisters?!?”. 

“Yep.” 

“He thought he was entitled to you because his brothers were mated to your sisters?!? Even though you had a mate??” 

“Exactly” 

“And you guys were so not on the same page, you guys weren’t even in the same gods damn book.” 

She laughed. “I guess that’s what happens when you don’t communicate.” Gwyn's thoughts were a cage of her own making, one she couldn’t escape. She was outraged on behalf of elain, how dare azriel make some sort of claim on her, she was not a toy to be passed around. But she couldn’t help but think first Mor than Elain, what the hell was she to him? Had it all been a game of pretty words and sweet lies? Was she just one of many? 

“Anyway, I decided that the distraction wasn’t worth putting myself through whatever was going on with him so I gave him back the necklace. I assume that he saw you sometime that night or in the next few days because I saw you with the necklace a couple weeks later. I know that I did not have the right to be upset considering I gave it back but, for me, it confirmed that my decision was the right one.” 

Azriel had, in fact, come to her that night Gwyn thought back to solstice 2 years ago. It was the first time she had been alone with him, It was the first time she'd been alone with any male since.

 “Azriel and I barely spoke or interacted since solstice when a couple weeks ago, when I was shopping in town I saw him so drunk he could barely walk. I’d seen him with you a couple times and it seemed like he had changed so I went to go help him and he tried to kiss me. I slapped him and walked away. The next day he came by my apartment and begged me not to tell you. I told him I owe him nothing and closed the door in his face.”. She didn’t owe Gwyn anything either and yet she still defended her. “I then told Nesta what had happened and asked her to tell you.” elain took another sip of tea. “I thought it would have been better if it came from her.” 

Gwyn watched elain, even doing something as mundane as drinking her tea, in this house, she looked more peaceful and in her element as she had ever seen her. Gwyn was also positive this was the most she had ever heard her talk and despite a part of her still wanting to rip her head off, she was grateful for the female and she was sympathetic for what she had gone through, and she was embarrassed for not seeing this side of azriel. 

“I’m sorry.” 

A puzzled look graced elain’s face. “What for?”

“For what you went through, for whatever part I played in your pain.” she chuckled at that. 

“You did nothing wrong, besides if anyone should be apologizing it should be me.” 

Gwyn snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”

“How about it should be azriel apologizing to the both of us.”

“Deal”

elain looked out the window. “Oh speaking of solstice, I have to do my gift shopping.” she glanced at Gwyn, something in her gaze she couldn’t detect, maybe pity, maybe spite from an old grudge, maybe it was genuine, maybe a mix. Whatever it was made her ask, “would you like to come with me?”

And even if it was pity or spite, even if all elain saw was a broken toy in need of saving, she said “yes.”

tagging: @stars-and-scripts  @valkygwyn @em---r @whereisvaughan @purplecherrypie @lattristantketchup @bookish-isha @meher-sumedha @jennysofoldstone @ratabrasileira 

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 12k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: good god where to begin, loss of virginity : ) for real, big dick joon, cowgirl, unprotected sex, special appearance from namjoon’s sensitive neck o.o, premature ejaculation sorry bud, creampie, dom!joon still tho, sub!reader, sexting, dom!hoseok/master!hoseok, sub!jungkook, sub!reader agAIN, bondage and shibari, master/slave dynamics (sorry i have to spoil the prompt but want to properly TW this stuff, but the word slave is only used once out-of-scene), filmed sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, hoseok wearing the tear dior fit you are WELCOME, fingering, orgasm control/denial, oral (m receiving), anal (m receiving), a position i am told is called a lucky pierre/french sandwich, threesome in case you couldn’t guess, aftercare, guided masturbation, phone sex, pet-names, discipline/punishment

banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | thank you my darling SFHS babies ! i love you

DAY EIGHT

“Are you ready to make your decision?”

No. Of course the answer is no, but there’s no delaying it anymore. “Is it nine already?”

Sejin sighs, shuffling to the side of the table to indicate you’re to sit beside him. When you do, facing the boys on the couch, your heart gives another sickening lurch. Sejin squeezes your shoulder kindly. “Just a game, sweetheart,” he assures quietly, before raising his voice into the authorial tone he used for announcements. “Thank you for all being here on time, any on topic questions before we begin?”

Nobody answers, not even Jin. There’s a tense atmosphere, and you feel caught right in the centre of it.

“Okay, then,” he says softly, sensing the sullen atmosphere. “I’d like to give each of the Gentlemen a chance to explain why Y/n should keep them in the show. Let’s go around the room. Yoongi?”

To Sejin’s left, perched on the end of the three-person couch, is the doctor himself, legs crossed and face relaxed. “Um, Y/n should keep me in becau-”

“Say it to her,” Sejin guides, shuffling back to move out of the way.

Reflexively, Yoongi glances up at you, and the calm warmth of his eyes reassures you. “Y/n, I’d ask you to keep me in because we’ve had a good time together so far, but there’s so much that we have yet to explore. Beyond that, I’d like to think I’m a good fit for the house, and I’ll continue to assist Jin-hyung in cooking many meals.” Once he’s done, he sends you a small smile, eyes glinting playfully.

The younger boy sitting next to him is not as cheerful. Bottom lip red from gnawing, Jungkook tucks his feet up on the couch, resting his chin on his knees. His eyes meet yours after Sejin signals for him to begin. “I really hope you don’t vote me out because I like it here a lot. You’re so cool, and the hyungs are so cool, and I feel really happy here. I know we haven’t spent a whole lot of quality time yet, but I want to, if I stick around long enough.”

You bite down harshly on your tongue, sending him a strained smile. Fuck, this sucks. Beside Jungkook is Hoseok, who props his elbow on the arm of the couch, posture casual but face stricken.

“Y/n,” Hoseok begins, voice tentative and uncharacteristically subdued, “you’re a very intelligent girl and you have a lot of potential in being a sub. I’d appreciate the opportunity to stay in and show you and the audience how enjoyable BDSM can be. We’re all very lucky men to be on the show with you.”

On the couch beside, Namjoon is the next one around. He pauses, eyes dancing about the room as he thinks. “I think it probably doesn’t make much sense to keep me in the game,” he allows. “I’m not experienced like the others and so it’s a little hard to defend on that front, but I think me staying allows you the advantage of being my first and best experience. I feel like with just a bit more time, I’ll really grow into my element, and I feel safe doing it with you. So I really hope I stay.”

Squished beside him is Jin, who sends you a big grin, even if it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “This is so shitty,” he says with a laugh, “it’s harder than I was prepared for before I came, and I think that’s due partly to the warm environment that we’re developing with each other, but also because you, Y/n, are a very genuine and lively person. Of course this is a game about sex, but I don’t think any one of us could say that’s the only factor here. As for me, I ask that you keep me in at least a week more because I can promise not only a good time, but also an ear if you need one, and advice should you ever want it.” He pauses to glance around the room. “That goes for all of you,” Jin adds, “I cannot believe that I don’t hate any of you, I don’t know how the producers found such great people.”

His words ease a bit of the tension, and the rest of you let out laughs of relief, your heart easing slightly.

Next, it’s down on the floor for Taehyung, who seems to prefer sitting cross-legged on the carpet to any other spot in the room. “I really wanna stay here,” he pleads with his eyes locked on yours, so earnest, “you’re so fantastic, and Jungkookie and the hyungs are all so fantastic, and I don’t wanna go home so soon. And also I think in terms of sex and stuff, I bring a lot to the table.” Taehyung avoids Sejin’s gaze, fiddling with the hem of his shirt innocently even as he stares up through his eyelashes at the rest of you cheekily. “I think we saw that yesterday. Though in the future, hopefully it’ll cost me less.” He sends a withering glare at Yoongi and Jin. “You assholes.”

You let out a chuckle, Jin huffing in response and Yoongi just shrugging with a shameless grin. Finally, it’s Jimin’s turn, and your chest pangs as you remember the last time you were together. The way he squeezed your hand gently before getting out of the car last night, the way he walked you to your bedroom door, wishing you sweet dreams. The way you saw an entirely different man to the one he’s been advertising.

His eyes on you are imploring even as his back is straight and legs crossed. “I value the time I spend with you. This is, after all, a game about sex so I’ll defend myself by saying you can rest assured I’m skilled enough to please you well, but if you allow me to stay,” he drops eye contact, fiddling with his rings even as he fights to remain poised, “I do hope it’s not the sex alone that keeps me here.” Like a switch is flicked, his momentary vulnerability vanishes, and he glances up and sends you a smile, warm and at-ease, having said his piece.

“And Y/n,” Sejin guides from beside you, his kind eyes on you, “anything to say to the guys?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s been a week? Why is this so hard? “I- First of all, this decision has been insanely hard. You’re all amazing, not just in bed but as people, and I hope that whoever has to leave will still stay in touch. It feels really cruel that I have to say goodbye to someone so soon. The reality is, none of you did bad, and there’s nobody I don’t like; nobody that doesn’t belong here. I’ve made my decision, but- I don’t know. I’m not happy with it, but I don’t think I’d be happy with any decision. In the end, I guess I just went for the least painful option.” You take a deep breath, eyes lifting to look at Hoseok, who sends you a sad smile. You open your mouth-

“Wait!” Sejin interrupts loudly. Everyone turns to look at him in unison, eyes wide. “There-” He breaks off with a sigh, glancing at the camera closest to him before looking back down at the group. “Listen; this will be edited out, but ratings have been doing far better than we’d ever anticipated. We already hired a third editor to keep up with demand and get more episodes out than was on the schedule, and there’s talk we may even start getting sponsorships because the support has been creating headlines, at least on Twitter. The higher-ups at Bangasm, well… they want to make an exception.”

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” Sejin answers. “Act surprised.” The eight of you stare at him with varying degrees of bewilderment as he puffs his chest and carries his voice louder, switching back into producer mode. “Wait!” he repeats in the same tone as earlier. “The production team hasn’t been completely honest with you. This isn’t just a basic game with prompts each week like we told you. There will be a special advantage, a wildcard if you wish, that changes things up. They could affect the prompts, or how the game proceeds for that week. We call them Bangasm Bombs. And while we didn’t tell you, our production team has drawn the Bangasm Bomb for Week One.”

Sejin pauses to look at you all meaningfully. Jimin picks up the hint. “So; what’s the ‘Bangasm Bomb’ for this week?” he asks for you, gesturing quote marks with his fingers. 

Your mind is starting to whir, possibilities beginning to percolate in your mind, but you aren’t prepared for what Sejin says next.

“Nobody goes home this week.” 

Your mouth drops open, eyes darting around the room to see the open disbelief on the guys’ faces. “So I- I don’t have to send anyone home today?”

“No,” Sejin answers warmly, and you feel your shoulders sag in relief, a breath rushing out you didn’t know you were holding. Sejin winces, clearing his throat lightly. “That’s… the other thing.”

“Other thing?” Yoongi asks incredulously. “There’s more?”

“With the success of the show comes other benefits. For example; the CEO and treasurer of Bangasm have agreed to double our funding if we can keep the views up. No, Seokjin,” Sejin quips the second the eldest contestant raises his hand. Jin puts his hand down, lips pursed in a pout. “We’re changing the rules a bit. Before, we said if Y/n eliminated you, you’d pack your bags and leave. Now; you stay.”

Sejin can’t get another word out over the clamour that arises, everyone shocked and excited and confused all at once. He waves his hand for silence, and only after a minute or so everyone calms down. 

“So, there’s just no eliminating?” Jungkook asks with a comically quizzical look on his face.

“Please just let me explain,” Sejin requests, sighing. “Yes, there will still be eliminations. But if you get eliminated, you stay in the house.”

“So it’s a free pass,” Jungkook surmises.

“Not quite. No longer will you not be competing in the game, but you won’t be able to have sex with or sexually touch Y/n in any way. If you do, then you’ll be sent out of the house for good.”

“No sex with Y/n?” Taehyung asks meaningfully. “So… otherwise…?”

Sejin sighs, a tired laugh falling from his lips. “Just no sex with Y/n,” he confirms. “If you touch Y/n sexually, you go home. If Y/n touches you, of course we can’t send her home, so we’ve devised a punishment.” 

At the word punishment your head darts up to stare at the producer, but Hoseok beats you to the punch. “She’s gonna come join us in the bunkroom?”

“That’s for failing prompts, Hobi-hyung,” Namjoon points out, “Y/n doesn’t have any prompts.”

“Correct,” Sejin confirms. “If Y/n touches an eliminated member in a sexual manner, then that member gets to choose what she wears for the next 24 hours.”

You frown. “That doesn’t sound so…” you trail off when you glance up, only to be met with seven hungry sets of eyes. You can just about see the cogs turning in their brains as they stare at your body. “Ah.”

“Yes. So stick to the rules, and you get, as Jungkook so elegantly put, a free pass minus Y/n. Got it?”

The eight of you stay silent, still shell-shocked from the two revelations. This changed things. Now, when you voted someone off, they would get to stay, but they would get to stay. You can see both the positive and negative possibilities there, and it’s no surprise that a reality show would have such a sneaky plot twist.

So you’d have all seven fucking you for one more week, and then all seven every week in the future, only with your sexual prospects dropping as you went. It does ensure that you’ll begin voting for them purely based on sexual performance; considering their personalities in the house wasn’t an issue if you’d have those anyway. 

As you glance around the room, you can’t help but wonder if your vote would’ve been different had you known that he’d get to stay. And you wonder if you’ll end up picking the same person in a week’s time, after a new set of prompts. The thought makes you sit up, turning to Sejin again.

“Will the boys draw their new prompts, then?” you ask. “Do I get to know the theme again?”

“Ah, of course-” Sejin breaks off to sit up, retrieving a stack of slightly crumpled papers from his back pocket. “This week’s theme is dynamics and roleplay. Come pick a card.”

Like last week, you pay close attention to the reactions of each of the seven. Namjoon blinks wide at his, but doesn’t seem as put off as last week, and his eyes go distant when he sits back down, like he’s already picturing it. Jimin takes two, one for him at one for Taehyung, and the two compare, Taehyung laughing at Jimin’s and Jimin smirking at Taehyung’s, brushing his clean-shaven cheek with the back of his knuckles and murmuring something in his ear. 

When Jin gets his, he bites his tongue and shakes his head with a light laugh, and Yoongi’s mouth drops open upon reading his card, eyes darkening with lust. Jungkook winces at first, but thinks on it a moment longer and grins eagerly, taking a second glance and scrunching his nose cutely at it. Hoseok takes his last, calmly reading it with a pleased smirk, sliding it into his front pocket and taking a seat.

Your breath leaves you in a slow stream. You’re back to the not-knowing. Dynamics and roleplay. It could really be anything, you supposed. Naughty schoolgirl, pizza delivery guy. You didn’t watch a lot of porn but you vaguely knew some of the tropes, and it’ll be a rather interesting week indeed.

“That’s not all, of course,” Sejin adds, and you feel like your brain could implode with the information dump that this morning has been. “Would you like to hear the Bangasm Bomb for Week 2?”

“We find out now?” Hoseok questions. “Not at the end?”

“Well, in order to fulfil it you need to know now,” the producer explains. “This week, Y/n may not sleep in her own bed, and she may not sleep in the same bed twice.”

You blink, not expecting it to be directed at you. “I what?” Your mind catches up with the rule, and you let out a light laugh. “So, I’ll have to share with the other guys?”

"Let's not forget the type of show we're on," Yoongi points out, leveling an impressed stare at the producer. "Well-played."

"Thank you," Sejin replies shortly. "Now, that'll be all. Just a reminder, if your scene isn't filmed, it doesn't count, and it's okay if Y/n guesses the prompt, but if you tell her directly then your prompt is void. Seokjin; we ordered you a set of chef's knives that should be here later today. Please stop spamming the company's inquiries email."

He's out of the room before Jin can even react, open-mouthed but smug like the cat that got the cream.

The eight of you sit in silence for a moment or two, still reeling. It's Hoseok in the end that recovers first.

"So we all stay," he muses. "Even if we get voted off, we stay. Why is that both a blessing and a curse?"

"This is reality TV," Jimin points out calmly, "and it's porn on top of it. Tension and drama skyrockets ratings. Well; I'm going to make some coffees if anyone wants one."

Most of the group move back into the kitchen, rifling through cabinets like zombies to make their breakfasts, but Namjoon approaches you hesitantly, biting on his lip.

"Y/n, can I talk to you? Privately?"

You stand up off the coffee table, though still you're lifting your chin to meet his gaze. "Sure," you reply easily, "privately or privately privately?"

"Um," he hesitates, glancing towards the entrance foyer, where across the hall lies the unfilmed rec room. "Just privately is fine for now."

Everyone else distracted with the prospect of food and hot coffee, it's easy enough to just sit on the stairs, side-by-side and thighs touching. Like this, you become aware of how much bigger he is than you. Namjoon's legs sprawl out down to the bottom of the stairs, socked feet slipping slightly on the glossy stone floor, whereas yours are tucked on the step below you. He glances down at you with a nervous disposition, but his eyes are surprisingly steady.

"Hoseok-hyung and I slept in the bunk bed room last night, as you probably know," he explains. "Him and I talked a lot. About a bunch of things, but he helped me realise something. And after I got the prompt today, I was sure."

Your eyes widen as they watch him carefully. The roots of his purple are starting to grow out in a soft brunette that makes him look even younger, his face round yet gently sculpted, chin pressed out in solemnity. "Sure of what?" you question quietly.

Namjoon takes a slow breath, rubbing his palms over his knees. "I think it's better if I don't lose my virginity while doing some cheesy role-play for a porn show, you know? I know I chose to come here knowing what I was walking into, but... Hoseok suggested maybe we could use the rec room for some privacy and then I could just fill my prompt later in the week. Of course, the producers will probably get annoyed at me not losing my virginity on camera, but they never said I had to, and I think I want it to be something just for me, you know? Something that's just you and me, outside of the show. I understand if you don't want to do that, but if you're happy to, I think I'm ready now."

You take a few moments to fully process his words, the gravity of them. "You sure you're ready? If you are, I'm happy to do that, Joonie. I want it to be good for you. You deserve that."

He smiles at that, broadly, but with his head ducked down. "That means a lot," he admits, "but yeah. I'm ready. If you want to...?" He trails off, tipping his head in the direction of the private rec room.

You sit up straight. "Oh! You mean- now now? Yes, I can do that, wow, okay-"

"If that's alright?" he asks hastily, face pinched with worry, but you just stand up, holding out a hand to him. He takes it, letting you lead him to the door.

From the few times you've needed to use this room, it's been pretty empty. It's small; most likely originally intended as extra storage or a home office, and the producers had put a visibly second-hand couch on one wall, a skinny coffee table and a lamp in there.

Generally, it's a glorified staffroom of sorts, a time-out that's more valuable for its lack of cameras than anything actually inside. Today, though, you freeze in the hallway at the sight that greets you.

With the table pushed to one side, boasting two bottles of water, a box of tissues, a bottle of self-heating lube and a small bluetooth speaker, the rest of the room has been converted into a massive bed.

The floor is covered with blankets, sheets and duvets, thick enough to be like a bedroll, with pillows stacked on the edges. They cover most of the floor, roughly the size of a queen size bed. On top of the impressive set-up are a colourful variety of packaged condoms, arranged in a tasteful love-heart.

Namjoon groans at the display, pinching his brow. "Hoseok said he'd set up for me and make it a little more comfortable, I'm sorry."

"It's cute," you say with a laugh, "are you wanting to use condoms?"

Namjoon swallows. "Uh, you- what would you prefer?"

You shrug, collecting them up and flicking through the buffet of options. You chuckle as the majority are L and XL. Unsurprising. "I mean, we don't need one. So if you want to feel everything fully, I say go bare."

"G-go bare, please," he coughs out awkwardly, shutting and locking the door behind him, double-checking the handle. "Can we put some music on? It's really quiet in here."

"Of course." You busy yourself with the music, smiling at the fact that he must have appreciated it last time. By the time you select a nice playlist on your phone and pick a decent volume, Namjoon's surprised you by hastily stripping down to his underwear, shyly rubbing at his knees.

You stand stock-still for a moment, just taking in the gorgeous sight of his body, all understated muscle and bold lines and planes. He must do some form of exercise, because his chest is thick, as are his thighs, and his lower stomach is soft but lean. He's gorgeous, and between your legs you feel your excitement grow.

Hustling to strip your clothes off as a gentle guitar strumming fills the air, you feel the cool cotton of the duvet under your knees as you straddle Namjoon, the man sucking in a breath as your clothed pussy presses flush against his hardness.

"Give me a kiss," you ask softly, a suggestion to let him take control, and a sigh of relief leaves his lungs as he cups your face in his hands, tugging your lips onto his greedily.

The ferocity with which he kisses you takes your breath away. It's powerful, greedy and demanding like he's waited an eon to kiss you again. While he was surprisingly skilful the first time, now it feels like he's come into his own.

You make a noise of surprise in the back of your throat as you feel his tongue slipping between your lips, licking up into your mouth like he's trying to devour you. You're drunk on it, mind feeling hazy, but you manage to pull away for a moment, gasping out a, "how the hell did you get this good?"

Grunting, Namjoon's eyes flutter open and one of his hands slips back to cup the nape of your neck securely, preventing you from backing up further. "Hoseok gave me some tips," he admits. "Now get back here."

You let yourself be pulled in again and eaten alive, muffled groans and sighs of bliss slipping out between swipes of tongue and flashes of teeth, nipping at your bottom lip until it's swollen and aching in the best way.

Without realising, you've begin to grind your hips against him, needing friction, and he pants into your mouth at the feeling. The pleasure makes him sloppy, and you groan as his lips leave yours, veering down to kiss along your jawline, tugging on your earlobe before sucking blossoms of colour down your throat. You tip your head back, arching into his mouth and rocking your hips against him, the friction addictive.

"Gonna fuck you now," you hear him groan against your collarbone, lips on your skin that's slick from his spit. Even in your heightened state of arousal you can sense the slight question in his voice, like he's checking you're still okay with it.

More than okay, you glance down to see the point that joins you, your panties so wet that the grey of his boxers is marred by a dark spot, wet and clinging to the stiff outline of his cock. You curse lowly at the sight of it. "Fuck, please, I need you, Joonie."

He lets out a strangled sigh, hands trembling slightly as he pushes down the waistband of his boxers so that it rests below his balls, cock bobbing up to rest at his stomach. He swallows hard, eyes closed and back resting against the base of the couch. The sheets beneath you have heated up with your body temperature, arousal radiating off the two of you in waves. 

When you first reach out to touch him, you keep your eyes on his face, on his reaction. The initial contact makes his brow twitch, eyes clenching shut. So thick your fingers don’t touch around him when you grasp his base, he’s definitely the biggest you’ve seen in the house; a touch of irony that the least experienced member had the biggest genetic advantage. His bottom lip finds his way tucked between his teeth, thighs tensing beneath you. 

“Joonie,” you mumble in a mock pout, “are you gonna fuck me now or so I have to do all the work myself?”

His eyes fly open, gaze landing on your widened eyes of innocence, before darting down to where you’re gently stroking him, fingertips catching on the sensitive ridge beneath his head. “Hobi-hyung said you should ride me so you can get used to it.”

You chuckle, tapping your thumb over his weeping slit, making him hiss. “Let’s stop thinking about what Hobi said and start worrying about what you want. Do you want me to ride you? Feel how tight I am for you?”

He curses, brows knitting as he nods shakily, and you can’t hold yourself back any longer. With a low curl of thrill in your stomach, you sit up so you can quickly slip off your panties, before straddling him again. He feels heavy when you brush his length through your sodden folds, readying him for you, and the thought makes you groan lowly. 

“Wanted you so bad,” you confess over the music in the background, now a simple drum beat that gives you rhythm as you grind your hips over him, letting his blunt head catch at your entrance. “Fuck.” His fingers are digging into your hips just with the feeling of your pussy clenching over his tip, and you lower yourself painfully slowly, adjusting to the way he stretches you to your limit, dragging inch by inch against your walls. 

“H-oh god, it is, it’s so tight,” he comments with a hitch in his voice, and again you feel the muscles of his thighs twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to bury himself in you. Though the thought of it is hot, you’re merciful that he’s giving you time to grow accustomed to the sheer girth of his dick inside you. 

“Does it feel good, Joonie?” you ask, the question panted as he takes your breath away, grinning at the quick stuttered nods he gives in reply, fingers flexing on the flesh of your hips and ass. By the time you’re sitting flush against his lap, you can barely breathe, a shaky hand pressing onto your stomach almost expecting to feel him bulging out of you from the inside. He’s not just the biggest on the show, but the biggest you’ve ever had, and you feel like you could cum just from rolling your hips against him. 

“You feel so amazing, Y/n,” he praises, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close so that he can press his lips to yours. You whine as he shifts in you, feeling shakier than ever, but appreciate the chance to adjust to him, tongue chasing his and fingers slipping into his hair as you kiss. 

You’re content to stay like that for as long as he continues to move his mouth against you, mouth watering at the feeling of cockwarming him and joining your bodies so intimately, but the excitement of new sensation gets to him, and after a while he begins to shift, holding your hips down and grinding his hips.

Your jaw drops open, hands flying out to grip at his shoulders at the feeling. He’s so deep you can barely comprehend it, can barely think with his cock filling you so completely, and find yourself pleading quietly, an unintelligible babble of more, please more, need more. He shifts his posture as you sit on his length, uncrossing his legs and instead bracing them in front of him. 

“Want me to fuck you like this?” he asks, nipping at your throat, and you shiver at the husky gravel of his tone. What happened to the shy virgin? 

“Please, Joonie,” you gasp, clenching around him, “need you to move.”

His first thrust takes your breath away, punching the air out of your lungs. When he moves inside you it feels monumental, like a core piece of you shifting, and your eyes water with the delicious burn. You whine when he pauses for a moment, hands slipping down to knead at your ass. Namjoon’s eyes are like molten dark chocolate as they focus on you, rich and intense, and when your head tips down to kiss him again it’s so needy your teeth clash, the keening whimper in your throat sign enough that you want more. 

It’s only once he begins to fuck you in earnest, bouncing you on his cock, that you see how truly affected he is. Strands of lilac cling to his temples as he sweats, chest heaving and hands trembling even as his fingers dig in hungrily. His lips are slick with spit, but he makes no move to wipe them clean, just biting onto his bottom lip and sucking, hips snapping up with bruising momentum. 

You can’t catch your breath, but still you chase his lips like oxygen, needing to be as close as possible. His panting keeps you anchored as you moan shamelessly, toes curling and back arching. Your high approaches quickly enough that it shocks you, but there’s no escaping the pleasure that rushes through you with every snap of his hips. 

You lose contact with his mouth, cheek resting limply on his shoulder as he speeds up his pace, the muscles in your legs failing you, twitching uncontrollably. 

“No, no, no, fuck,” Namjoon chants lowly, and you feel a hand bury in your hair, holding you to the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry, I’m not gonna last.”

You moan at that, feeling him stiffen impossibly more inside you with every thrust. “Wan’ you to cum,” you promise in his ear, barely more than a gasped breath, “wanna cum with you.” To end the statement, you nuzzle your nose against his throat and nip at his pulse point. To your surprise, he shudders violently, suddenly going stock still.

Your eyes widen as hot ropes of cum fill you, Namjoon clutching you to him helplessly, groaning nonsense as his orgasm hits him out of nowhere. Your own high recedes, but you barely notice it as you sit up tiredly and clench around him, watching the pleasure flicker across his face as he rides the high. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes cast towards the ceiling and chest still heaving, “I’m so sorry, I… sensitive neck.”

You grin, running your hands up to gently brush over it, feeling him pulse inside you, spurting the final drops of cum from his spent cock. “Don’t apologise,” you assure, leaning in quickly to nibble at his lips and give him a lazy, indulgent kiss. “That was really fucking hot.”

He laughs, cheeks pinkening slightly, and you feel your heart warm at the return of the shy Namjoon you’d gotten used to. So he’s a lot more dominant and confident in the heat of the moment, you muse as he catches his breath, good to know.

When you find your strength again, slowly sitting up off him, you wince at the rush of cum leaving you, and the uncomfortable feeling of emptiness. That’s only exacerbated by the fact that you haven’t cum yet, but it’s his first time and you don’t want him to feel bad. Collapsing on the sheets beside him, you rest your head on his shoulder, breath still coming in shallow pants. “Good?”

“Good god, Y/n,” he exclaims earnestly, “I think I might be a sex addict now.” 

A surprised peal of laughter leaves your lungs, and you shove him playfully before crawling over to the coffee table, cracking open a bottle of water and cleaning yourself up with the available tissues. “Hoseok really did think this through, huh?” you muse, chucking him the box once you’re done.

Namjoon clears up the cum on his cock and thighs, grimacing at the way some of it has stained his boxers, but he sends you a guilty look. “I’m sorry.”

You frown, reaching for your clothes. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t-”

Whatever Namjoon is about to say is cut off by a sudden thud that gives you both a fright, followed by three polite albeit enthusiastic knocks. You stare in bewilderment at the door, before hastily dressing yourself.

“Is everything alright?” Namjoon calls out, putting his underwear back on properly and hopping into his pants. “Has something happened?”

“I should hope so, young grasshopper!” an enthusiastic voice chirps from the other side of the door, muffled but unmistakably Hoseok. “You’ve popped your cherry, Kim Namjoon!”

The academic winces, reaching out to unlock the door once he’s made sure the two of you are dressed. “Hoseok, what are you doing? Wha-?” He breaks off once he opens the door, and you rush around behind him to see what gave him pause. 

In the foyer are Hoseok, Taehyung and Jin, all in matching paper birthday hats, the strings of thin elastic digging into their chins. Hoseok’s holding two more in his hands, and he thrusts them towards you as Taehyung wiggles the weighty bottle of champagne in his grasp. Behind them, Jin calmly holds a kitchen knife.

“What’s going on?” you ask in bewilderment, stepping out into the foyer and wincing at the ache between your legs with each step. “Why the fuck are you holding a knife?”

Jin, his bright blue party hat on at a jaunty angle, stares down at his hands blankly before gasping, tucking it behind his back. “Sometimes I forget I’m still holding it.”

“That’s extremely alarming,” Namjoon says with a frown. “I still don’t understand why you’re all gathered outside the door.”

“It’s time for the party, hyung,” Taehyung explains, “to celebrate you finally getting your dick wet.”

Your cheeks go flaming red as you glance at Namjoon, the poor man spluttering and eyes wide like he didn’t know what to do. “If there’s champagne, I’m there,” you announce calmly. “Come on, Joonie, let’s go celebrate.”

Namjoon visibly relaxes when you aren’t offended, flicking you a warm smile. “Is everyone wearing a hat?” he questions incredulously, taking the thin cone card. 

“Mo-mostly everyone,” Hoseok answers suspiciously. 

“It’s just you guys, isn’t it?”

“Well, if you both wore one, we’d have the majority.”

You grin, patting Hoseok on the shoulder as you walk past him into the foyer. “Let’s just go,” you call out to the guys behind you, “there better be food.”

As expected, the three that greeted you were the only ones wearing party hats. At the dining table, which has been laden with aromatic dishes, steaming rice and empty champagne flutes, the other three await. Jimin’s is resting beside his plate and chopsticks, untouched. Beside him, Yoongi has his upside down, using it as a bowl for the rice snacks he’s munching happily on. The youngest man in the house hasn’t even noticed you’ve arrived, using it like a very inefficient telescope, one eye scrunched shut and the other focused on the pinhole at the top of the cone. Sitting at the head of the table, he aims it at Jimin, mouth hanging open as he tries to see through the tiny gap.

Giving up, he waves the wide end around the room, desperate to catch a glimpse of something. Once the cone lands on the five of you, he gasps, chucking down the party hat. “You’re back! I didn’t start eating the cake, like you said!” 

Jin frowns. “That sounds awfully suspicious.” Knife still in hand, he makes his way to the kitchen island, where you catch a glimpse of a beautifully iced cake with writing on the top that you’re too far away to read. 

Jungkook shifts restlessly in his seat, staring worriedly at Jin. “The- um, the birds attacked it.” If you look closely, you think you can see the slightest hint of vanilla icing in the crook of his mouth. 

Jin stares at the cake desolately. “The birds?” he deadpans.

“Seagulls, you know,” Jungkook tries to pass off casually, the pink of his tongue dashing out to lick the sugar off his lips. “Absolute vultures.”

Hoseok tsks in disappointment. “Was it seagulls or was it vultures?”

Jungkook stays silent an inexplicably long amount of time, glancing slowly between Hoseok and Jin. His eyes are wide like he’s trying to work out the lie in his head “...It was me.” 

Jin’s fingers are pressed to his temple as he sighs. “Right.” Setting down the knife, he picks up the cake and brings it to the table, placing it in the middle of the table. The rest of you all take a seat, filling in the spaces around the table. Taehyung slips in beside Jimin, Hoseok at the end of the table opposite Jungkook, and finally Jin, Namjoon, and you take the last of the seats. 

The cake is beautiful, neat and fluffy buttercream all over with swooping cursive written in a thin black stream. Unfortunately, a very delicate but obvious slice has been taken out so you have to focus to work out what the writing says. Once you do, you let out a reluctant chuckle, watching Namjoon blush once more, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his shirt shyly.

“‘Here lies Namjoon’s virginity,’” you recite, “‘1994-2020.’ Who came up with that?”

“That’s not impor-” Jin begins, but Taehyung swiftly cuts him off.

“I did!” he declares proudly. “Everyone agreed mine was funnier than Jin-hyung’s.”

“Obviously not everyone,” Jin replies bitterly, dishing himself up some of the rice closest to him. “Dig in, everyone, Yoongi and I worked hard on this. And congratulations Namjoon,” he adds, though he sends Namjoon a genuine smile, eyes twinkling. 

After everyone says their congratulations, the food is dug into and the cork of the bottle is popped, conversation flowing like the champagne. 

Over time, Namjoon seems to get used to the chatter about sex, perhaps not feeling so left out of the loop, and his face is more open and relaxed than ever, a dimple poking out when he smiles. You occasionally reach out to shove him playfully or squeeze his arm as the chatter continues, and he no longer freezes or stiffens up. It warms your heart that he feels a little more comfortable amongst you.

You’re happy to tuck into your meal, having worked up an appetite for lunch, but it’s barely more than a second after finishing your first helping that your phone buzzes. 

You slip it out casually, frowning when you see it’s a notification that you’ve been added to a group-chat. 

After that, you smother a scoff and slip your phone back into your pocket, hoping if your cheeks are red they can safely be attributed to the alcohol.

Glancing up, you see Jungkook stand up suddenly, eyes wide with barely-contained excitement as he picks up his bowl, chopsticks and champagne flute, scurrying over to dump them in the sink before disappearing upstairs. Yoongi stares at his empty seat in confusion, but shrugs and takes another mouthful of cake. You eat yours quickly enough that your stomach flips, or perhaps that’s just the anticipation.

After you’re done it takes you a few moments to build up the courage to look across to Hoseok, feeling his gaze hot on your skin. When you do, your eyes lock immediately, but he just continues to stare, lips pressed in a narrow line. 

Your heart leaps for a moment, wondering what that hard gaze means for you later on. Silently, as Taehyung continues to explain something to him with a mouth half-full of food, Hoseok lifts his eyebrow once, gaze darting to the roof. The message is clear. Go upstairs.

Biting your lip, you let Namjoon know you’re heading up, waving off his concern until he’s pulled back into a thread of conversation. You try to ignore the uncertain adrenaline rush that makes your hands tremble and your core throb all the way upstairs, until you’re knocking on Jungkook’s door.

The two of you share a look once he opens the door, one of anticipation and desire, and you let out a breathy chuckle. 

“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?” you ask rhetorically, stepping in and collapsing onto the bed. 

“I’ll take it if it means getting a good fuck,” he states matter-of-factly, sitting himself beside you and tucking his legs up. “Besides; I’ve wanted to see Hobi-hyung in action for a while.” 

Sitting up, you think back to that day in the confessional booth, where he had so easily made you fall apart without even taking a single item of clothing off. You wondered if he’d deprive you of his body tonight as well. 

“I think he’s angry at me,” you admit, “before I left, he looked… intense.” 

“Why would he be angry at you?” Jungkook asks with a frown, his hand slipping under the baggy fabric of his black tee, rubbing at his shoulder like he’s aching to take the item off. 

You go to shrug, but then your mind flicks back to this morning. “The elimination,” you realise, dread rising in your stomach just as much as your arousal is. “I think he knows I was going to eliminate him.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen, round enough to be saucers. “Wait, really? Why him?”

You find the words dry up in your throat. “I- God, I don’t know. How am I meant to choose anyone when you’re all amazing? Maybe his had the least impact on me, I suppose.” You eye the door to the walkway warily. “I guess he’s determined to change that now.” 

Instead of replying, you’re taken aback when Jungkook throws his arms around you in a tight hug, his long hair brushing at your neck and shoulder as he tucks his chin into the hollow of your collarbone. Hesitantly, you bring your own arms up to hug him back, feeling your tension melt in the warm embrace.

“It must be so hard,” he murmurs, “I don’t think Hobi-hyung is really mad, you know? He probably just feels like he wasn’t good enough for you and wants to prove himself.” 

This thought just sends another spike of guilt through you, but you have no time to dwell on it before the door is clicking open, making you and Jungkook instinctively jump apart. 

Hoseok stands there, as intimidating as last time in all-black. Though he’s wearing just socks instead of the heavy duty boots he was in that day, there’s no denying the power he holds in the clothes he wears like armour. Leather pants so snug they’re like a second skin and a black long-sleeved shirt, tight but breathable cotton with a harness of thin leather straps providing some structure. His raven hair is swept back, but just a single stray lock hangs low over his brow, drawing your eyes back to his. “Starting without me?” he questions lightly, though his face is devoid of humour.

You swallow hard. “No… Master,” you add, seeing the expectant look on his face. Once he steps further into the room, you notice the black bag that was previously hidden behind his back. The duffel bag from last time. You suck in a breath and clench your thighs before you can even think to stop yourself, and Hoseok’s positively gleam at the sound. 

“Both of you have been very naughty today,” he explains, dumping the bag on the bed beside Jungkook, beginning to casually pull a heap of bright red nylon rope out. “Little Jungkookie ate the cake that Jin-hyung worked so hard on, even when he was specifically asked not to. And Y/n… Y/n knows exactly what she did.” Your eyes widen when Hoseok sets the multiple lengths of rope to one side in a neat folded coil and reaches back into the bag to produce a pair of wide, heavy-duty shears.

“Woah, hyung,” Jungkook exclaims in alarm, “I can apologise for the cake, I-”

“Settle, Jungkook, it’s okay,” Hoseok explains softly. “I told you we’re gonna be tying you up, yeah? This is so that we can cut the ropes quickly in case you want out. They aren’t part of the scene.”

You feel a thrill run through your veins at the gentle click of metal resting on the nightstand once Hoseok sets the scissors down. He hadn’t needed them for when your arms were tied. It meant that whatever you were going to do tonight would be more intense. The thought of everyone else downstairs having a good time and hanging out while you and Jungkook were up here getting bound by Hoseok… it somehow feels even more illicit and dirty. 

“Let’s do Jungkookie first, hm?” the dom proposes. “I’ve been wanting to see what you’d look like all prettied up for me. Choose red just for you.” 

Jungkook positively preens at the compliment, hands tucking into his lap and chest puffing out. “I’m excited, Master!”

Hoseok gestures for Jungkook to remove his clothes with a flat expression. “Don’t be,” he retorts calmly, “this isn’t a reward, it’s discipline. We’re going to learn a lesson about behaving.”

The camboy trembles, hastily shucking off his baggy shirt and pushing his sweatpants down, naked except for a pair of white socks. Your breath is taken away by how easily he bares himself to the cameras and to the two of you, eyes eager and nervous as Hoseok picks up one of the longer lengths of rope.

“I want you to kneel, Jungkookie,” Hoseok instructs, “kneel on the bed for me, arms at your sides.” 

Jungkook obeys, breath hitching as Hoseok approaches, passing the coil over his palm. You watch with baited breath as a bright red strand of rope is run around his narrow waist. As the professional dom begins looping, knotting and wrapping the rope around Jungkook’s torso, the boy’s eyes grow lidded, cock twitching as it rests back against his lower abdomen. 

It takes a while, but time is as smooth as velvet in the soft silence of the room, just gentle breaths and the whir of nylon rope sliding so beautifully along Jungkook’s skin. 

By the time Hoseok is done, Jungkook’s eyes barely open, so content with the feeling of being patiently wrapped up, and he hums lightly as Hoseok rechecks the tightness of each loop, slipping two fingers between rope and skin in several places. 

Rather than bondage or restraint, this looks like art. An elaborate harness of red contrasts beautifully against the pale golden flesh below, hardness of his chest and abs softened by the vaguely fishnet pattern, loops that interlock and curve across his body gracefully, the most careful and precise lattice of scarlet ropes.

“Pretty, isn’t he?” Hoseok questions, and a finger comes down to run through the glossy precum that has been smeared onto Jungkook’s lower stomach. The boy hisses, arching his hips up in search of contact, but all it takes is a sharp swat at the head of his cock and Jungkook is whining, thighs flexing with the force of keeping still. “Patience, my little prince,” Hoseok tuts, patting Jungkook’s cheek with a hand still wet with the camboy’s own precum, “we’re gonna teach you how to be patient today.”

Jungkook groans low in his throat, lips parting at the term of endearment, and Hoseok grins at it, tiger-like. 

“Oh, do you like that, hm? Wanna be my special prince today?” Hoseok runs his fingers through Jungkook’s long hair, the camboy sucking in a sharp breath when they snag on some knots. Jungkook nods, eyes round and glittering as he looks up at his Master. Hoseok pouts, tapping him once on the end of his button nose. “It’s a shame you weren’t behaving today, then wasn’t it? Maybe if you’re good for me tonight, you can earn it.”

Jungkook’s brows lift pleadingly, looking so small under Hoseok’s harsh stare. “I’ll be good, though, Master.”

“Mm, I’m sure you will,” Hoseok confirms, swiping a thumb over Jungkook’s nipple to make him shiver, before he fixes an iron gaze onto you.

You swallow, slipping out of your clothes as quickly as you can once he gives the same gesture as before, crossing your legs and arms to try and preserve some dignity. Hoseok just tuts, picking up two of the remaining sections of nylon rope, only one still left waiting on the bed. 

“Hands at your sides, kneeling,” he instructs sharply, and you feel the way your walls clench at the authority in his voice as you hustle to get into position. 

The harness he puts you in is different to Jungkook’s, accentuating your breasts with bands both above and below them, leaving your stomach free but doubling the rope over so that every loop that wraps around you is twice as thick. The final tie is slipped up between your breasts, around the back of your neck and tucking back down to hold it all together, and your breath shallows at the secure feeling of the rope. 

It’s peaceful; the warm stripes of friction as he pulls strands through loops, the gentle flicking of the ends against your skin until he folds them away, the way it embraces your chest so snugly, but not too tight. It’s only once he’s done checking the rope like he did with Jungkook that he picks up the second, shorter length of nylon, and by then you already feel the sleepy yet electric haze of subspace seeping throughout your body.

“Hands,” he instructs, and you hold them out for him, watching with heightened arousal as he binds them, the rope wrapping around and between your wrists until they’re locked together. Last time your hands were bound behind your back but like this, you can watch him as he works.

It’s quick - a testament to his expertise - but you spend every moment with your eyes locked onto him. The eyes, gleaming with control and satisfaction, the pink tip of his tongue poking out just slightly as he focuses. His thin fingers, looping and wrapping and knotting with such skill. 

His last move, eyes darting up and smirking once he catches you watching him, is to connect the thick cuff-like ropes to the top of your harness, pinning them up to your chest, folded hands resting at the base of your throat. You instinctively tug once he’s done, only to feel the rope around your back tighten and dig in, but no distance made. The feeling of being at his mercy only adds to the slick gathering between your thighs. 

Once he steps back, eying the two of you up, your breath catches in your throat. Both you and Jungkook are fully naked, somehow feeling even more vulnerable in the rope, and Hoseok stands across from the bed in all his black leather glory, eyes raking over you like he’s assessing his work. 

“Are you gonna touch us, Master?” Jungkook questions in a small voice, fingers clutching at his own thighs, cock flushed and needy between them. 

“Not you yet, Jungkookie. Gotta warm Y/n up first.” Your eyes widen - for what? - but Hoseok is moving closer run a hand down Jungkook’s back, fingers jumping over the strands of rope. “Do you wanna help me, baby?”

Jungkook nods, blushing when Hoseok pinches lightly at his cheek. 

Hoseok leans over to you, carding his fingers into your hair and curling them in so that he can hold you steady. Like this, kneeling on the bed, you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, but he just tuts, holding you face-forward to Jungkook. “You wanna give her a kiss, Kookie?”

You swallow, fingers interlocking together as you look over to the camboy. He looks so needy, blissed out and pretty in his red rope, cock untouched and weeping. Your lips part automatically, tongue darting out to wet your lips and you don’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes are drawn to it, lids now as he nods. 

With your hands pinned to your chest and kneeling, you don’t feel able to meet him halfway so you just wait as Jungkook crawls to you, glancing up at Hoseok for permission before burying your hands in your hair alongside the dom’s. With barely a second to suck in a breath, Jungkook ducks his head, his lips descending onto yours with sweet, unrestrained need. 

Unable to touch him back, you let your eyes slip shut with the soft presses of his mouth, taking everything he gives you. Everything about Jungkook in this moment is soft; his lips, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones, even the subtle scent of vanilla as his hair tickles your face - but the stiff grip in your hair is anything but, reminding you where exactly you are and the hand you’re under.

Your breath hitches as two things happen at once; Jungkook’s tongue presses into your mouth, deepening the kiss, and behind you Hoseok shifts, getting up on the bed behind you. Though you can’t see him, you become even more aware of his commanding presence, through the simple gesture of a fingertip, tracing beside lines of rope with a touch so light you shiver.

“You both look so pretty for me,” Hoseok murmurs warmly, his voice closer than you’d expected him to be, sounding like it’s right beside your air. Jungkook doubles his efforts in response, and your core is alight with excitement when you instinctively go to touch him, only to be reminded of the restraint you’re in. 

Jungkook kisses without abandon, not hurried but deep and purposeful. Though you still tremble under Hoseok’s teasing touch, your mind is so enraptured by Jungkook’s tongue in your mouth and teeth on your lips that you lose track of it. 

The camboy doesn’t dare venture his hands further than your face, cupping it so tenderly as he delves into you, so your eyes fly open with shock when two fingers are suddenly slipping through your folds, running over your clit for a single delicious moment of pleasure. You moan in shock and pull away to look down.

Between your kneeling legs is the slender but calloused hand of your Master himself, wrapped around your front and slipping inside you without question like you’re his. His to explore, his to ruin. You pant at the intrusion of two fingers, clenching around him, but his only response is to tug suddenly at your hair, pulling your gaze back up again.

Nipping sharply at the bridge of your ear, Hoseok scolds you. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he growls harshly, “did I?”

“Sorry, Master,” you reply without thinking, barely a moment before you let out a muffled squeak from Jungkook joining you together again, wasting no time to obey. 

Hoseok doesn’t stop his motions between your legs; on the contrary, he continues without pause, fingers moving inside you with a steady urgency. 

For a while, your brows furrow, hips rocking below him. He keeps missing your g-spot, fingers too straight to press against it on each thrust, and he moves to three fingers without touching your clit at all, hand held foward off of you to avoid friction. You moan brokenly into Jungkook’s mouth as you realise Hoseok’s doing it intentionally, stretching you out almost clinically, without regard or want for your pleasure. You go weak at the thought, sinking forward into Jungkook’s embrace, but soon enough the fingers are removed from you completely. Empty and unsatisfied just like earlier, you huff and begin to kiss the camboy more frantically, desperate for some pleasure to replace it. 

But Hoseok clearly isn’t having it. “Stop,” he commands shortly, “hands off.”

Jungkook sits back quickly, making sure you won’t slump over before he presses his hands to his thighs again, cock twitching at the continued neglect. Blinking, he licks his swollen lips and glances behind you to Hoseok in confusion. “Master?”

Your mouth goes dry when you hear the unmistakable sound of a zip being lowered. Hoseok’s hand leaves your hair suddenly, and you feel unmoored between the two men, just you and your hands tucked under your chin. “You tasted her pretty little pussy in Week One, didn’t you, Jungkookie? Would you like her to return the favour?”

Eyes wide, you drop your gaze down to Jungkook’s aching dick, as it twitches and leaks another thin trail of precum, the boy groaning. “Please, Master.” His fingers flex, holding back from touching it. “‘Hurts,” he whines.

You bite your lip, mouth watering. He’s not as big as Namjoon, but you know how fully he filled you just yesterday, and to have him in your mouth… “Please,” you croak out, fingers wiggling in the air as you’re unable to lower yourself to him. 

“Good girl,” Hoseok praises, hands strong on your shoulders as he helps you down, elbows propping yourself up awkwardly in the space that Jungkook’s shuffled back from. “Gotta warm Kookie up too, don’t we? Open up, princess.”

Like this, you’re able to keep upright, but barely, craning your neck to look up at Jungkook. His cock is in front of you, and this close you can see just how flushed it is, the tip almost perfect. Hoping your pleading gaze can communicate your desperation, you open your mouth, letting your tongue rest just over your bottom lip.

Jungkook’s brows furrow in wanton need as he glances towards Hoseok. “Can I touch her, Master? Help her?”

“Of course,” Hoseok’s voice allows from behind you, palms running over the flesh of your ass, “but my little prince better not cum.”

Jungkook visibly shivers at the nickname, hips jerking uselessly. “Y-yes, Master,” he allows, before tipping your chin up so gently, gripping himself to guide his length into your waiting mouth. 

You moan the moment your lips wrap around his tip, the tang of his precum bursting on your tongue as you flick it over the slit, making Jungkook thrust up again, enough that his cock reaches the back of your mouth. You’re barely able to avoid gagging, but you inhale harshly through your nose, blinking up at him as he brushes your hair back with a shaky apology. 

Knowing he can’t orgasm, Jungkook seems happy enough to lazily roll his hips, just enjoying the wet warmth around him as you follow his rhythm, enjoying the slight ache of your jaw around his girth. Hoseok gives you only a few moments to reach this equilibrium before you feel his cock lining up against you. 

Eyes widening, you’re given no time to prepare as he slides inside you, slowly but without pause, making your back arch with the intrusion.

You moan, muffled, as Hoseok pulls out and begins to pick up a steady pace, once again sliding right past your g-spot, not fast enough to make your toes curl and not deep enough to make your eyes roll. There’s no denying he’s doing it on purpose, and the thought that he might not let you cum at all has you whining desperately around Jungkook’s cock, loud enough that Hoseok hears.

To your disappointment, he tsks and pulls out, tugging at your hair to pull you off Jungkook. “What the fuck?” you complain bitterly, sucking off the drool that’s accumulated in the corners of your mouth. Equally deprived, Jungkook makes a noise of confusion, but before he can speak up, a commanding voice calls out to you.

“That’s it, on your back,” Hoseok orders, making you jump as he smacks the flesh of your ass. “If you’re gonna be ungrateful you won’t get anything at all.”

You pout, craning your neck to look back at him. “Hobi,” you whine, hoping to appeal to that soft inner that got you what you wanted the last time you were scening with him, but it doesn’t work. 

Impatient, his hands find your hips, flipping you around unceremoniously. Your breath is punched out of you as you’re suddenly landing on your back, and you whimper as he hooks a finger in your harness over the top of your breast, using it to tug you higher up the bed so that him and Jungkook are on either side of your waist. 

“You’ve been far better behaved,” Hoseok directs at Jungkook casually, reaching into the duffle bag to pull out a square foil packet, “so you’ll get my cock instead.”

Jungkook bites his lip harshly, shuffling on his knees as Hoseok rolls a condom on. “Thank you, Master,” he replies politely, eyes lidded and needy. 

“What a good boy,” Hoseok coos, reaching over to brush a fond hand over Jungkook’s cheek. “Do you wanna fuck Y/n too, my little prince?” You let out a low groan at the prospect, at the way Hoseok speaks for you like you’re a toy of his. The thought is more erotic than you’d expect, and your legs part unconsciously.

Jungkook whimpers at the sight, dark hair curling at his temples with perspiration. “Please, Master.”

“Go on, then, baby.” Hoseok gestures for him to straddle you, and you whimper as Jungkook’s form blocks the light from the ceiling, framing him in a silhouette of dark hair. 

Your legs part further as he settles between them, cock brushing between your folds lightly until he puts a hand down to line himself up. With one arm bracing himself, Jungkook slowly drives his cock deep inside you, small rocking motions to get you accustomed to him as he bottoms out. The two of you groan in unison, the feeling of being full again like bliss.

Before Jungkook can set a pace, you hear Hoseok’s voice again behind him. “There’s only one thing,” the dom adds in an apologetic tone, “Y/n hasn’t earned an orgasm yet, not like my sweet prince has. If you want to fuck her, Jungkookie, she better not cum.”

You let out a frustrated moan, heel kicking into the mattress. “Fuck,” you whine, hips already rocking against Jungkook’s length inside of you, “are you serious?”

Calmly, Hoseok clicks open a bottle of what must be lube, and you feel Jungkook go lax above you, holding his weight off of your torso but dropping his head onto the bed beside yours, groaning lowly. “Of course I’m serious,” he explains simply as he preps Jungkook with his fingers, “I’m doing you a favour, Y/n. This way you won’t make the same mistake twice.”

You sob, feeling Jungkook twitch inside you from the pleasure he’s receiving from Hoseok. As the dom finally deems Jungkook ready and lines himself up, you realise why Hoseok was so popular at his job. Handling two subs, let alone one who was getting punished and one who was now getting rewarded, was a tough balance, and yet he does it with such cool and professional ease. 

Jungkook curses, rocking his hips with stuttered gasps, and you feel the impact of Hoseok’s hips through Jungkook’s body as he thrusts the first time, the camboy hurriedly throwing his other arm up on the other side of your head to prop himself up with more stability. You can feel the rhythm as he gets fucked, and the way his chest heaves, breaths panting over your bare shoulder. 

With your hands tied to your chest and lain on your back, you quickly realise there is nothing you can do to chase any pleasure for yourself, and you let out another low sob. You won’t be making the same mistake twice indeed, you muse as Jungkook barely shifts inside you. He feels so good, but it’s just not enough for you to get anywhere close to your own high. The lesson has most certainly been learned; if you want pleasure, you play by Hoseok’s rules.

“Please, Master,” you pipe up desperately, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder to the dom’s face, calm even as his hips rock with the graceful fluidity of a dancer, every stroke making Jungkook cry out. “I’ll do anything, Master, I’m sorry for being bad, just please let me come!”

A grin spreads across his face, satisfied, even as he grunts from exertion, Jungkook trembling above you as he’s brought mercilessly to the edge. “It’s too late for that,” Hoseok pants out with a chuckle, “it’s already time for my little prince to cum.”

Jungkook moans, a high-pitched keen at the pet-name, and the sound is so sinful you can’t help but clench, making him stiffen impossibly inside you. 

It only takes a thrust or two more, and a gruff command to cum before Jungkook does just that, spilling inside you with a drawn-out whine, thanking his Master with every breath he can suck into his lungs. 

He manages to keep his weight off of you as he rides his high, Hoseok fucking him into oversensitivity before he pulls out, leaving briefly to discard the condom. Jungkook pulls out of you with a wince, but a satisfied one, and rolls over onto his back, running his fingers under the lines of rope lazily as he catches his breath.

Once Hoseok returns, he begins untying you first, and as your wrists are loosened from your chest and promptly released, the cool air on your skin feels like defeat. Your eyes slip shut, a pout no doubt on your lips as you give him nothing but dead weight, forcing the professional to manhandle your torso as he undoes the rope bit by bit. 

You open your eyes once he’s done, frowning at him as he releases the rope from Jungkook’s body. Without looking, Hoseok chastises you. “Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds, “I’m sure next time you’ll be behaved like our Jungkookie here.” The boy in question preens softly at the compliment, blinking up at Hoseok as the dom brushes his hair out of his eyes.

The sight warms your heart, and you can’t deny that Hoseok has the right to discipline you, no doubt feeling self-conscious about his place on the show. And the feeling of him playing you so skilfully is something that will stick with you for a good while. You press your thighs together, sighing out at the slick still between them.

After finishing with Jungkook, speaking quietly with him in praise or reassurance, he comes back around to you, rubbing at the few red marks on your chest and wrists that have appeared from your movements. His eyes search your face, and you’re surprised to see the absolute calm in them, clearly switched out of the Master persona and just into a dominant but caring one. “Not hurt?” 

You shake your head after taking the time to really think it through, wiggling your fingers and toes.

“Not angry?” 

Again, you take a moment to consider, but shake your head.

Hoseok smiles down at you, warm as he squeezes your hands fondly. “Good. Now I know you can’t sleep in your own bed, so Jungkookie has kindly offered for you to stay here with him. Take care of each other, okay? I’m just down the hall.”

By the time Hoseok zips up his pants - you note that even after all that, you hadn’t seen him properly naked - and gathers his bag, Jungkook’s managed to slip his legs under the blankets, snoring away peacefully with the aftermath of a good orgasm.

After the dom leaves, you get under the covers yourself, watching the relaxing cycle of Jungkook’s chest rising and falling, the way his eyes flutter lightly in his sleep, but it doesn’t lull you to unconsciousness.

Instead, the unsatisfied throb between your legs just grows more ferocious than ever. If you could just get yourself off…

Your hand trails down, slipping between your legs naturally, but the first swipe of your index finger against your clit gives you pause. Hoseok had pretty clearly stated that you weren’t to masturbate without permission unless you were in a scene with another contestant and, well… 

You grimace as Jungkook snuffles in his sleep, wriggling around to get more comfortable. You can’t exactly wake him up.

Which leaves you with only one option.

Fuck it. As quietly as you can, you slip out of bed, stumbling over to your pile of clothes. After retrieving your phone - still somehow tucked neatly into your pants pocket - you hop back into bed and seek out the one contact who can alleviate your need. Hoseok himself.

You answer the call with shaking fingers, those not still buried inside you. When Hoseok’s voice comes through, it’s thankfully quiet and low, but the words still make you keen.

“Princess couldn’t wait until the morning, hm?” Hoseok chuckles quietly at your whine of response. “That’s okay. Let Master help you.”

You sigh out, sitting the phone so that it lies on the pillow beside you. “Please, Master,” you whisper, “can I touch my clit?”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “such a polite girl now. Baby took her lesson well. You can touch it, princess. Get yourself close for me.”

When you change the angle of the fingers thrusting inside you to make room to rub at your clit, you could cry from the satisfaction, biting your lip to muffle the moan that’s pulled from your lungs. 

Glancing quickly beside you to ensure Jungkook’s asleep, the sight of him sleeping so peacefully as you get off right beside him has you clenching down, and your back arches off the bed. 

Your high is close, and the faster you strum your clit frantically, the more you pant, desperate to keep quiet. Your mouth drops open as you suddenly feel the orgasm approaching, and you turn to the phone on the pillow, getting close enough that he can hear your whisper. “I’m go-gonna cum, Hoseokie, fuck,” you choke out before quickly pressing your lips together, preventing further noise.

His voice is low velvet on the phone, a calm command. “Cum for Master now, princess.”

You feel your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, crashing so violently that you curl over your hands, shivering and convulsing as pleasure rocks every inch of your body. As it floods you entirely, you feel hot tears stream down your face, ones you didn’t even know you were shedding. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves and you don’t stop your fingers until there’s no more pleasure left to be milked from you. 

When you finally cum down from your high, panting, you fumble clumsily for the phone. “Tha-thank you, Master.”

Perhaps it’s the post-orgasm delirium, but you swear you hear the smile in his voice when he murmurs, “you’re most welcome, princess. Now get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

After hanging up, you lock your phone and chuck it down onto the carpet beside the bed carelessly, the wetness between your thighs no longer uncomfortable, now just a satisfying reminder of the pleasure he finally allowed you. Taking one last look at the tranquil face of Jungkook as he slept, you let yourself join him in a blissful unconsciousness.

ELIMINATION GRAPH

No elimination this week ! What a doozy, huh? If you were curious, here are the results of the vote!

It was taken after exactly 48 hours of the poll being open, and required a sign-in with email to prevent spamming so that it was as fair as possible!

In the future, we’ll use this format for both Fan Favourite and Elimination voting. I’ll tell you the top three for audience fan-favourites in the following chapter, and for elimination you’ll find out Y/n’s final decision in the following chapter, plus this graph at the end for the complete results.

Thanks for all your support !

[hearts-hunger]

aay’han mar’eyce (bittersweet discovery): chapter five || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter four

Series Summary: In search of the Jedi you’ve been tasked to find, you and Din wrestle with the bittersweet discovery of your little one’s past and destined future. || Part Three of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: You and Din struggle with your hurt in the wake of his decision.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff | Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, pregnant reader

A/N: Drumroll please..... it’s the long-awaited angst! Which I have never claimed as my forte, but I think it works for our Struggling™ pair of idiots. They just love each other but they’re so mad at each other, god bless.

You were relieved to see the Crest’s familiar shape emerge through the haze and broken trees. Your feet hurt from walking, your baby was heavy in your arms, and you’d worked yourself into total hopelessness. The sight of your home was welcome and comforting, and you felt yourself breathe easier as you came closer to it.

You lowered the ramp with the remote control on the bracelet Din made you when you first came to live on the Crest, a pretty little thing that he’d modified to control the ship and, later, the baby’s bassinet. You wished you still had that bassinet; it made travelling easier, and there was always a safe place to put Grogu if you and Din had your hands full. You wondered if you’d need two cribs once your new baby came, or if your husband would have already shipped Grogu off by then.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” you said to yourself, nearly tasting your bitterness. You tucked Grogu into his hammock with intentional gentleness and closed the bunk hatch, wishing you could curl up and sleep too.

You heard the ramp close again over the sound of the refresher tap; the cold water felt good on your skin, and you buried your face in a towel afterwards, hiding from everything for a moment. When you finally looked up, you saw Din in the mirror; you knew him well enough to know he was studying your face in the reflection.

“Cyare,” he said, his tone soft through the modulator.

You whirled around. 

“Don’t cyare me, Din,” you snapped. “I’m not in the mood for it.”

You waited for the flare of frustration and annoyance in his body language; when it didn’t come, you felt a little off-kilter.

“I know you’re angry,” he finally said.

Oh, that did it. Maybe he wasn’t frustrated or annoyed with you, but you were livid with him.

“Angry?” you repeated. You marched over to him, an accusing finger pointed at his chest. “Let’s get one thing straight, Din. Angry doesn’t begin to cover how I feel about this. About you.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I’m sorry. But I — ”

“I don’t care,” you said, cutting him off, totally unwilling to listen to his explanation. You were finally, properly angry, and he was going to listen. 

“I’m not sending our son to train with her or with any other Jedi, alright?” you said. “You can make as many deals as you like and come up with a million macho rescue missions to risk your life on. But he’s my son too, and I’m not letting him go with her.”

You realized you were practically yelling at him; while you weren’t concerned about how it would affect him - Din Djarin was made of sterner stuff, and could handle your temper - you didn’t want to risk waking the baby.

“Come up to the cockpit with me,” you said.

His helm gave a questioning tilt. “Why?”

You started up the ladder. “Because I’m not finished yelling at you.”

He followed you up, giving you as much space as he could in the somewhat cramped cockpit. Despite fully intending to keep up your tirade, he was suddenly big, imposing; for the first time in many, many years, you felt intimidated by all that beskar.

“Din,” you said softly.

He reacted immediately to your change in tone, opening his posture towards you. “What is it?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this angry with him, and you certainly couldn’t remember the last time you’d been even the tiniest bit scared of him. All of a sudden, you realized you wanted your husband, not the unreadable Mandalorian standing in front of you.

You worried the hem of your shirt. “Can you please take off your helmet?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, moving to comply without hesitation. He removed his helmet and set it on the dashboard; his face was lined with worry and hurt. “Sorry, cyare.”

His expression crinkled in a wince as he remembered you’d asked him not to call you that. “I mean — sorry. Just — sorry.”

You felt your anger lessen by degrees — not enough to let it go, by any means, but enough that you were more willing to listen to him. Really, you wanted to know why he’d made such a decision; you wanted him to explain it to you, to show you that it really was in your son’s best interest, to convince you that your husband wasn’t suddenly a completely different person.

“It’s ok,” you said tiredly. “I’m not — I just don’t want you sweet talking me, ok? You need to talk to me. Really talk to me, right now.”

He nodded. “I am. I will. You have my full attention, and I will hear you out completely.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “But you’re not going to change your decision.”

His expression was pained. “No, cyare. I won’t. But I think you know that I can’t. We can’t.”

“We?” you repeated. “I didn’t make this decision, Din. You did, by yourself, and you completely ignored me while you did. Since when do you make decisions about our family by yourself?”

“I didn’t want to,” he said, and it frustrated you how sincere it was. “You have to know that. And I apologize for ignoring you — that’s not the way I wanted this to go, believe me.”

He ran a hand  over his face, his remorse clear as day in his expression. “I had to. I didn’t know what else to do. She was going to leave, and we were going to lose the only Jedi we’ve managed to find.”

You wanted to say that it would have been a good thing, but despite your intentions of bringing him up here to yell at him, you made yourself hold your tongue.

He looked at you with a surprising gentleness.

“It’s not forever,” he said. “It’s only training. Mandalorian children leave for training, too.”

“He’s not going for Mandalorian training, though,” you said. You understood that he was trying to comfort you, but the length of time Grogu would be gone was only a small concern next to the kinds of people he’d be with.

“Didn’t you hear what she said?” you pressed. “I can’t think of anything more different from the Way than — than thinking loving your family is wrong.”

"She didn't say that," he corrected. "She said attachment makes you vulnerable, which is true."

You tried to reconcile his justification with what you knew him to believe, with what he'd lived out since the day you'd met him.

"Vulnerability isn't bad," you said. "You taught me that. And if our son goes trains with the Jedi, he'll be taught that it is. Doesn't that bother you?"

His expression, always so easily readable, flickered with uncertainty.

“It does bother you,” you said, and with the realization came a surprising wave of relief. To know you were at least agreed on that, even if he wouldn’t admit it, was reassuring to you.

His posture stiffened with agitation, and you knew you’d hit a sore spot. You knew he wanted to pace, but there wasn’t room for it; he drummed his fingers on the top of his helmet instead.

“It doesn’t matter if it bothers me,” he said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself.

You balked. “How can it not matter, Din? You’re his father. Of course it matters.”

He shook his head. “What matters is that I honor the vow I made to him. That we honor that vow.” 

He looked up at you, his expression starting to show the frustration you felt.

“Has that crossed your mind at all?” he asked. “That you made a vow to him? In front of me, in front of the armorer?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Of course it has. It’s why I don’t want him to go with Ahsoka.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” he snapped. “Our vow was to return him to the Jedi.”

“Our vow was to be his parents,” you corrected. “And I think that overrides the promise to return him to the Jedi. What kind of parents would we be if we watched him grow up thinking that attachment and love were dangerous?”

“We’re not going to watch him grow up at all,” he shot back, bitterness and anger pouring from his tone. “Don’t you get it? He’s older than both of us. Once we’re gone, he’ll be completely alone.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “The Tribe ��� it’s completely gone, cyare. If there’s anyone left, they’re scattered. I don’t even know where the armorer is. Grogu needs to be raised in a clan, or raised by his own kind. We were never going to be able to keep him forever.”

You knew what he said was true. His rate of aging wasn’t a problem now, when you and Din were both relatively young, but Grogu would live to be much older than either of you. Din was right. If you were a part of a bigger clan, Grogu could be raised as a Mandalorian — it might take a few generations, but he would never be on his own.

“Let’s find another covert, then,” you said. “Or try to find Paz, or the armorer, or anybody from the Tribe who might have survived.”

Din shook his head. “No. There’s no telling where they are, and the covert on Nevarro is the only one I ever knew of. Besides, we have a Jedi right here he can go with. We’re not going to have this kind of chance again.”

“I don’t want him to go with the Jedi,” you said, for what felt like the millionth time. “Are you even listening to me? I don’t want him trained like that.”

“It’s not our choice how to train him,” he argued. “We didn’t vow to return him to the Jedi unless we didn’t like what they teach, and then, hey, I guess we can just do whatever we feel like doing.”

You frowned. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you,” he said, exasperated. “I’m just trying to make it clear that our opinions on Jedi training have nothing to do with the decision we need to make.”

“The decision you already made, you mean.”

He scowled. “Yes, and it’s a good thing I did, because you would have let her walk away.”

“Yes, I would have,” you shot back. “And I never would have dreamed you’d do anything different.”

“Then you’re not able to look at this objectively,” he snapped, his frustration rolling off him in waves. “Do you think I like the fact that he'll grow up learning the exact opposite of what I was taught? That I like sending him off to the people I grew up knowing only as the enemy? My father would be rolling in his grave if he knew. But I’m doing this because it’s what’s best for our son. I’m doing it because it’s what I vowed to do.”

Something inside you snapped. 

“Then you care more about the Way than you do about your son’s well-being.”

Din flushed with anger.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “You knew I was bound to the Way when you met me, and you agreed to live by the Way when you married me. I'm not asking you to do anything you didn't already agree to.”

“I didn’t agree to abandon our son.”

“We’re not abandoning him,” he said, and you could tell he was quickly reaching the end of his patience. “You knew when we adopted him we had to return him to the Jedi. It wasn't like the traditional adoption vow. He's supposed to go back to his people, and we're going to honor that vow.”

“What if I won’t?” you said. Your last attempt, your last recourse. “What will you do then?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, stunned, and your challenge hung in the air between you. You’d never refused to go with him on something before, and he’d never had to answer such a question.

“Cyare,” he said, quiet and numb. The furious, sparking anger was all but gone, replaced by a stony determination and a bone-deep weariness.

“Djarins honor their vows,” he said finally. “As long as you bear my name, you’ll bear that vow.”

You sucked in a breath. “Din — ”

He closed the space between you, pressing a gentle kiss to your brow. “I have to go.”

“Din,” you said again. You put your hand on his arm and held tightly. “Don’t leave.” Not like this.

He gently pried your hand from him. “We need all the daylight we can get, cyare.” He was still for a moment, then drew your hand up to his mouth and kissed your knuckles.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said, without hesitation. “Please don’t go. It’s not your fight.”

The shadow of a rueful smile crossed his face. “I made a vow to help her. I won’t back out on it.”

He held your hand for a moment longer before he let you go. He took his helmet from the dash and put it back on again, masking himself in that armor that had never felt so distant, so unreachable.

“Din,” you said as he opened the cockpit doors. He turned and tilted his head, and the beskar was familiar to you again, just for a moment.

“Come back to me,” you said.

He nodded once, solemn. 

“I’ll always come back to you, cyare. You know that.”

And then he was gone, leaving to risk his life in someone else’s fight, and it took everything in you not to run out and beg him to stay.

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekcryptid​​​​​​, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl​​​​​, @stardust-galaxies​​​​​, @theorganasolo​​​​​, @qhbr2013​​​​​, @willowtheewisp​​​​​​, @lori-tovar​​, @sarybennett​​ ♡

series taglist: @kyjoraven​​​​​, @sarahjkl82-blog​​​​​, @remmysbounty​​​​​, @bitchin-beskar​​​​​, @cosmicbreathe​​​​​, @prettyboyskywalker​​​​​, @happyxdayxbitch​​​​​, @radiowallet​​​​​​, @marvelous-glims​​ ♡

please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which Harry visits for the summer and secrets come out. 

hi loves! here is my fic for the Summer Fic Challenge hosted by @helladirections !! 

enjoy 7.4k words of fluff, tad bit of angst, and smut of friends to lovers bestfriend!harry

prompts: summer job & summer photoshoot

also feedback is always appreciated! please reblog if you like it! I’d love to know what you think <3

.・。.・゜

Sun. 

The heat that hit your face when you exited your vehicle was hot and bright. Slightest bit of sweat had made its appearance through your pores, and the brightest star radiating off your body made you relive the memories of what’s to come. The familiar exhilarating rush through your veins became present as you met with the sun. The sun had reminded you of the comfort and the fun you’ve had when you met with it. The comfort and fun you’ve had, and you’re going to have, with a specific person. Your favorite person. 

The favorite memories that you always go back to when you’re sitting in peace, reminiscing on life itself, had always been on the dirt while the sun was hitting your back, and you and your favorite person would talk and laugh. You would throw water at him when he would tease you or make a stupid joke that would sometimes be funny (you wouldn’t admit that to him). Those memories had kept you the safest and you felt the need to always go back to them, so you won’t forget them. Forget him. 

It was always a yearly occurrence to have these memories. For the past three years, you’ve had the most fondest memories of him and your adventure together, making your life brighter. Brighter than the sun. 

It wasn’t until you met him that your heart started racing and your heart grew bigger. Your heart grew for the past 365 days for the past three years, and would shrink as sadness and bittersweet goodbyes would fill your mind. It was the only time in your life where you actually counted down the days until you saw the sun again. Until your life was brighter again--brighter than the sun. 

“Well, well. If it it’s who I think it is,” his bright smile had taken you out of your trance. 

If it isn’t the person I’ve been waiting to see for the past year. 

Harry. Harry Styles. Harry Edward Styles. Harry ‘Sun’ Styles. 

Your heart grew fonder and a smile of your own took place on your face as you watched him fast walk towards you, almost to the point of running. Your smile grew wider and bigger the seconds the distance between you two were nonexistent, and you were finally in his arms. You felt your feet leave the ground while he picked you up to spin you around, tight arms around your waist and tight arms around his neck. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said into your neck. You felt his breath against your skin, goosebumps present on your arms, despite the hot day. 

You don’t reply nor speak because of the bit of fear in you and the overwhelming feeling you have from seeing him again—finally seeing him again. You just kept your head buried in his neck as your arms were tight around him that you’re worried you might be squeezing him too hard, but you got your answer by his arms hugging you just as tight. 

He set you down on your two feet, but doesn’t let go of you. The warmth he radiated from his body is enough to keep you happy if you were to travel to the coldest area in the world with him. His body would make the room warmer when he steps into it, even on the hottest day, like today. But it makes you happy, safe, warm, bright. Brighter than the sun. 

The two of you eventually let go of each other, and Harry placed his hands on both sides of your face, smiling down at you. You wrapped your hand around his wrist, needing to hold onto him. Your smile matched his, seeming that it’ll never fall. 

“What, not gonna say anything?” He teased, a smirk creeping up to his face, but truthfully, he’s missed your voice so much. The smirk could easily hide his blush because of how much he’s missed you. Calls on the phone don’t do your voice justice. The soft and delicate sound is music to his ears, and he’s deprived from hearing it in person. 

“I’ve missed you too, Harry.” 

Flower. 

Oh, how he’s missed you so entirely much that it makes his heart physically hurt. His chest would always sink every time he had to see you leave, but your smile made it easier to come back. 

He couldn’t help but just stare at you. Your beauty had caught his eye the first time he laid them on you, and he still thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. And your beauty outside worked well with your heart. The two were a perfect match: a gorgeous person outside and a beautiful soul inside. 

It was like you were too good to be true. He couldn’t believe it, really. Harry sometimes had a hard time comprehending that you were real, like he was afraid to touch you because you would vanish like a ghost or his arm would go through your body like a pond. But you were very much alive and real; a few yells of his name that would snap him out of his thoughts definitely proved that you were a real human being. 

But everytime he sees you, especially when it’s been a whole year, it feels like the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He was starstruck, to say the least. His memory of your beauty never faded away, but seeing you in the flesh was a whole different feeling. And that was the feeling he would always hold onto. 

Flower. His flower. His bright and blooming flower. 

“How are you?” You asked shyly, the words coming out softly. 

“Hey, it’s just me. No need to get all nervous on me,” he said as he noticed your nervousness. 

“You’re right. But how are you anyways?” Your posture was loose and you seemed a tad bit relaxed, which he’s glad for. 

“I’m good. Flight was okay, kinda tired, considering I came here straight to the airport.” 

“Harry! I thought you were going to your hotel first?” You had known this because of the phone call that took place before his flight. He wanted to hear your voice before not hearing it or communicating with you for practically a whole day, and he knew he would be deprived from it. 

“I was, but I kind of...forgot to book a room,” his words came out mumbled. 

“What? How did you forget? You were talking about it a week before your flight.” 

“Because…I was hoping to stay with you,” Harry said with a hopeful smile. “You know, there,” he pointed to the small house next to the field. You stayed at the little house every summer just so it would save you time from driving back and forth almost everyday. 

“You want to stay with me? But why?” You were confused, your brows furrowed. Harry could’ve asked you in the first place if you could stay with him, but you didn’t understand why he said he booked a hotel in the first place. 

“Please! It’ll be fun! Just you and me. And I’m only here for a month, so please?” He put on his best pout face, and you looked at him strangely. You knew you were going to say yes, but you always wanted to poke fun at him. 

“There’s only one bed,” you tested.

“I’ll take the couch.” In reality, he really hoped you would ask him to sleep next to you sometime in the next few days, but he didn’t want to mention it. 

“And the space is pretty small…” 

“Small spaces are no problem.” 

“The couch is not that comfy…” 

“Then I’ll sleep next to you.” When he didn’t want to mention it, he meant it, but it accidentally slipped out of his mouth. 

And in your head, you hoped he hadn’t been joking. You really hoped that he was being serious. The thought of waking up next to him every morning sounded like a dream to you. Sun shining through your curtains while your sun was waking up from his slumber. It was a dream you wanted to become reality. 

“Okay, you can stay. You know I wasn’t going to say no to you, right?” He placed an arm around your shoulder as he grabbed his bag from the floor, both of you walking towards the house. 

“I know. Wanted to see what kind of excuses you were going to make up. Can’t wait for this summer, flower.” 

.・。.・゜

The morning was ahead of you as the California sun was once again shining down on them on a hot, summer day. 

Yours and Harry’s evening was filled with eating dinner and catching up. Although you two had talked and texted almost everyday, the sound of each other’s voice brought a warm and safe feeling. Hearing each other talk about things you two already know didn’t bother either of you. 

You had seen Harry in the flesh, talk about his new hobbies, updates on his new apartment, and school. And you sat there with a smile on your face, immensely happy to have your sun back. 

To your disappointment, Harry had slept on the couch like he said, but you held back a frown on your face and respected his decision. 

Now, it was Harry’s first full day and was immediately going to be placed to work with no complaints. 

It was a summer job that you both had been grateful to have. Your grandmother had started a sunflower field for tourists and locals, and it’s been growing and blooming ever since you were younger. She had proposed the idea of you helping her work when you were sixteen, claiming that she was getting quite old and her back was hurting when she would stay in a crouched position for long periods of time, so you decided to help her from now on. 

Harry had stumbled on the field by accident. He was in California for the month one summer, spending it with his friend when he was 19 years old. You had been helping your grandmother for two years already when you met him, and he literally stumbled through the field, falling to the ground and staining his clothes with soil and dirt. You had scolded him, asking if he was drunk and to not get too close to the sunflowers, afraid he might collapse on them and crush the tall flowers. And he left after that. 

He came back the next day, apologizing for making such a scene and almost ruining your field, and asked if there was anything he could do to help. He asked with a look of guilt, and so you made him take out weeds, you pulled from the ground, out to the trash. Harry had hung out for a while until he left, but what surprised you was that he came back the day after, and the day after, and the day after. He was at the field almost every single day during his vacation, so you asked if he’d like to work during the summer and he excitedly said yes. 

Although planting the sunflower seeds takes place months before you open the field to the public, Harry comes to work a month during the summer to smooth out the dirt after everyone has left and the field closes. 

You and Harry have been coworkers and best friends for three years. He was 22 and finished with uni, and has his bachelor’s in sociology, and starting his new job as a social worker when he gets back to the U.K after his summer vacation in California. Harry had always found a way to visit you during the summer, considering it is also his summer job to work alongside you at the fields. 

You were proud of him. So proud of your best friend that he really inspires you to do better for yourself, for others, and for him. 

It wasn’t an obvious fact that you’ve taken a liking--or loving-- to Harry. How could you not? You two talk everyday and he visits you during the summer. You felt a bit selfish for not going out to England to visit him because you had to take care of your grandmother since no one else is able to, and you didn’t want to leave her alone all by herself. But Harry brushed it off and said it was completely fine, although he misses you. 

The not so little crush on Harry had started to develop throughout the years, and you haven’t yet said anything to him, knowing that it’ll break your heart if the feeling weren’t mutual. 

But planted seeds and smoothing out the dirt was so much better than not having him at all. 

“Hey! Get out of your thoughts will you? I’m practically doing all the work here,” he said, teasing you as he digs a small dent into the dirt and places the seeds in them. 

“Oh, sorry. Not like you planted this entire field yourself for the past four months,” you teased back, rolling your eyes as you crouched down and helped him plant. 

There was a comfortable silence that fell between you two, planting and sweating as the sun hit your necks. You loved being able to be silent with him. With being miles apart, it was never awkward for you two. 

“So, are you dating anyone at the moment?” Harry suddenly asked, breaking the silence. Your heart drops a little and you hold your breath as the question was unexpected. You’ve never really talked about your love life with him because of the fact that you’ve never had one--a serious one, and also the fact that you’ve been in love with your best friend for years. But Harry has talked about two girls to you, and it made your heart sink a little deeper. 

“No. No one at the moment,” you replied. 

“Anyone that has caught your eye?” 

Yeah, you. “Nope,” you said, shaking your head. 

“Oh. Okay,” he said as that ends the conversation. His answer had been so weird and confusing that he would’ve usually pressed you on the subject. “How many rows are we doing?” 

“Hmm. Probably 4 more?” The four more rows you two had to do was going to take a while considering the field ran out pretty far. 

Two weeks were spent planting, watering, and making sure the sunflowers grew perfectly. The field opened that weekend Harry had arrived and you were excited to see people smile at the flowers that grew so proud and tall. 

There were a good amount of people everyday visiting the field, and that made you happy: people appreciated beautiful sunflowers that took hours and days to grow. It was like they were appreciating the hard work in a way. 

The sky was still slightly light out, turning into a cotton candy dream; and the weather had cooled just a bit. The field closed a bit earlier on weekdays than it did on the weekends. The time spent when the field closes to when it gets dark out, is due to smoothing out the dirt in every row. Making sure there are no footprints or holes people made from walking, so it’ll be smooth and fresh for the next group of people for the next day. You and Harry took turns smoothing it out during the day every hour, and it kept you busy for the most part along with supervising the premises. 

“Do you want to do something fun? I’m already done with my half of the field,” Harry asked.

“Sure. I have about two more rows left until I’m done. But what did you have in mind?” You responded as you continue your work. 

“Well, I brought my camera, so I was wondering if you wanted to have a little photoshoot? Before the sun goes down?” He asked more softly. 

“Yeah, I’m up for it,” you said with a smile. You’ve always let him test shots on you before he went off and took pictures of nature. 

It took no more than 20 minutes until you were done, and you washed up and walked out back to the house to change into a much cleaner and nicer clothes before you met Harry back outside. 

You were wearing a long white dress that flowed just above your ankles. It wasn’t tight fitting since it’s hot out, and you generally preferred flowy dresses. 

Harry was against the tree, looking into the lens as he adjusted the lighting and focus. He hadn’t realized you were in front of him until you physically got in his shot right when he clicked, and you smiled. 

“Hi.” 

Harry slowly placed the camera down, taking in your presence. He’s seen you in dresses plenty of times and always thought you were gorgeous, but there was something about the way she looked that made his heart flutter a little extra. 

“Hi. You look, um, you look… fuck, uh. You look pretty!” His cheeks had slightly reddened from the embarrassment of trying to get his words out. Never in his life had a girl made him speechless, but it was no surprise to him because it was you. 

“Thank you.” A blush creeped your cheeks, and you were nervous as well. You didn’t want to look too over the top when he’s only going to take at least five pictures of you, but you wanted to look nice. And that made you feel entirely better. 

“Do you want to stand in front of the flowers? I can re-smooth out the dirt when we're done.” You only nodded as you two walked to the field. 

Once you stood in front of the sunflowers, you put a hand on your hip and tilted your head to the side slightly, giving him a cute pose as he took a couple of shots, bending slightly to get a good angle. 

After a few seconds, he stopped and looked down at the pictures, and you took that as your cue to start walking back to the house. 

“Hey, hey. Where are you going?” 

“I just thought we were done. I know you want to take some pictures of the field and stuff,” you say shyly. You were never one to be shy around him, but your feelings for him had taken over, making you flustered. 

“Oh, I figured I could take some more pictures of you, if you’d like? Didn’t mean I wanted to take pictures of the field when I asked for a photo shoot,” he says with a soft smile. 

“Oh…okay.” You walk back to the area you were standing in, making sure that your white dress isn’t touching the dirt. 

“Just go for it,” he tells you. 

You let loose and started to pose. You gave him various poses, looking into the camera and smiling sweetly or giving him a more serious but natural and sultry look. The wind had started to naturally move your dress, so went with the flow and continued to move so he could get some candid shots of you; playing with your hair, playing with your dress, and looking to the sides. He changed up his angles as well, adjusting to the light so the sun hits your face or going against the sun to give the picture a more dim feeling. 

“There you go, flower. Look over your shoulder again,” he instructed you, and you oblige. “Yeah, just like that.” His voice was low and raspy, and you wanted to hear that for the rest of your life. 

Harry couldn’t deny the beating of his heart, and how it pounded a little harder every time he clicked to take your photo. You were a natural in front of the camera, and he couldn’t stop clicking. Your beauty was enticing every time you gave him that sweet look. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he said softly, but it was loud enough that you heard him. It had taken you a little off guard, smiling at his compliment. It was the soft small, and you weren’t even looking at the camera anymore, but the person behind it. The one who had captured your heart on camera and in his hands.  at the camera anymore, but the person behind it. The one who had captured your heart on camera and in his hands. Click.

The next twenty minutes were spent taking pictures. You had run through the field as Harry got shots of your back as your hair flowed. He also got some as you running towards him with a big and playful smile that would be engraved in his head forever. 

It was T-minus three days till Harry’s departure, and it was getting harder and harder every time he had to pack up and leave again. 

You had told him that he didn’t have to work anymore, but he told you that he didn’t mind and continued working. You were walking back and forth at the ends of the rows, making sure no one was making a fuss or getting hurt, and everyone was relatively respecting the field. 

You got to the last row, and what you had seen had made your eyes burn. Your brows furrowed with anger, but your heart hurt with pain. Harry was in the middle of the row, taking pictures of a girl, and you could hear her laughing and practically flirting with him. 

A bystander would call it petty, but that was your Harry and jealousy boiled in your blood. He was supposed to be smoothing the dirt, and instead he’s taking pictures of a gorgeous girl that Harry probably found intriguing. As you walked towards them, you saw the rake standing under his arm as her phone was in his hands, snapping away. 

The closer you got, you heard Harry’s voice, “Nice.” 

“Does it look good when I do this?” The girl had said, and bent one leg up and threw her arm in the air, smiling. 

“Sure,” he said. He hadn’t noticed you walk over to them until he felt you yank the rake from his hold and walking passed them, opposite of where you came from, and continued the work he was supposed to do. “Okay, here you go. I took a few,” Harry said startled, giving the girl’s phone back.

“Wait, let’s look at them. I don’t even know if I’ll like them,” you heard her say, and you rolled your eyes, wondering where her groups of friends that she came with went. But continued to rake, going further and further from them so you can’t hear them anymore. 

“Uh, sorry. I have to get back to work,” he tried walking away, but she caught him again. 

“Oh, wait! I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime?” She asked hopefully. 

“Thank you, but I’m not interested. I hope you have a lovely rest of your day,” he said quickly and ran off towards you. 

You heard his footsteps pad against the dirt, and you turned around, finding him running towards you. “Leave me alone.” 

“Flower, please-” it was already too late as you were handing him the rake and you were already walking away, leaving a defeated Harry. 

The next day was awkward and silent. You had given Harry the silent treatment up until closing when you told him that it was time to clean, handing him a rake. 

Harry had been so off the entire day, and you barely said any words to him. He hated it. He hated you being angry at him, and he wanted to fix it. 

He found you sitting on the picnic table that’s in front of the house. You looked freshly washed up, different clothes and hair damp. You had this look on your face that looked so frustrated, but your eyes looked sad, and it pained him that he was the one who caused this. 

“Flower,” he said as he walked up to you. You looked at him but didn't say anything. He stood in front of you as your legs swung off the table. “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me. I know I was supposed to be doing work, but that girl just asked me to take pictures of her. Please, don’t be sad. I hate that I made you feel like this.” 

“Harry,” you started, and Harry slightly cringed as you didn’t call him by his nickname. “It’s not your fault. I realized how dumb I looked and I shouldn’t be mad at you. It’s just that when I saw you taking pictures of her, I thought of how when we did our photo shoot and how it meant nothing to you. It’s stupid, but that’s how I felt at the time.” 

“No, no,” he walked a little closer, now in between your legs. “Our photo shoot meant everything to me. You were—are so beautiful. And those pictures mean everything to me. I literally couldn’t stop taking pictures of you until you told me to stop because you were tired,” he said softly, and you nodded.

“I’m sorry for acting like this. I had no right to be jealous.”

“It’s okay. And don’t invalidate your feelings, okay? I understand why you felt like that. I would’ve acted worse if I saw you with some guy,” he confessed, and you looked at him. Does he feel the same? 

“Okay. Are we good now, sun?” He nodded, and you smiled. 

“Do you know why I call you flower?” He suddenly asks.

“It’s because you say I’m pretty.” 

Countless number of times, Harry had never failed to remind you just how beautiful you are. It was a boost to your self-esteem, and you really appreciated it. The compliment always made you blush, rose tiny cheeks made its appearance when the words came out of his mouth. 

“Well, that is true. But the other reason I call you flower is because you need to be treated properly. Like people can’t go without watering the flower because they’ll be left to wilt, and flowers don’t deserve that. They deserve to be shown off because they’re so beautiful—you deserve that. You deserve to be watered. You deserve to be graced by the sun.” 

Your mouth had dropped slightly, finally understanding in depth why he called you that pet name. Once he was done speaking, you felt your body fill with love and want. You felt special—beautiful. 

“There’s only a few people who I want to take care of, and one of them is you. I want you to have a beautiful and bright life under the sun.” 

You. You’re the sun. You’re my sun. I want to be under you. 

Your breath hitches and your anxiety rises. The erratic heartbeat pounding through your chest, enough that it runs through your ears as you start speaking without thought. 

“Do you know why I call you sun?” 

“No, you’ve actually never told me. Figured it was because I call you flower, and you know, we work on a sunflower field,” he added a chuckle after. 

“That is partially true, but it’s because you’re bright. Your smile and personality is bright that you could walk anywhere and just light up the room, the world. You really did make my life less boring, and more exciting and fun. And I know we only see each other a month a year, it’s all the texts and calls that make me excited to get up in the morning,” you said as you stared so deeply in his eyes, telling him every word that you’ve been wanting to tell him aside from the three words that are hanging off your tongue so carelessly. 

“You really mean that?” He asked as if he’s looking for some reassurance, but you’re glad to give it to him. 

Even if he’s the bright sun in your life, the sun eventually sets, turning the sky into a dark starry night that sometimes feels like he’s down and in a dark place sometimes. 

“I mean every word,” you said as you nodded your head. Harry smiled softly, looking down as he tried to hide his blush, but you see so clearly through him. “There’s something that I would like to confess.” Your mouth confessed for itself as there was no thought process in what you were about to say. Harry’s head lifted and his attention is now on yours again, waiting for what he thinks he’s been meaning to have the guts to say for a very long time. 

“Okay…” he encouraged you to go on. 

“I probably should have told this sooner, but I get so nervous and chicken out everytime I try to. I also didn’t want to lose you as my best friend either because that’ll absolutely crush me because you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and I cherish our friendship so much and practically kiss the ground you walk on. But I didn’t want you to lose what we have because I’ve known you for so long and didn’t want you to see me differently-” 

“Flower! Come out with it already,” he chuckled and you took a deep breath from your rambling. 

“Okay, so…” 

“So…” he said with a cheeky smile, and for a minute you think that he knows but just wants you to confess it for yourself so he can laugh in your face and tell you that he doesn’t feel the same way. 

“I’ve been crushing on you for quite some time.” And with that, your secret was out, and you had this boost of confidence to tell him how you really felt. “Hell, it’s not even a crush. Practically in love with you. I have been for forever. Ever since you came back the next day and helped me out with the field after you almost destroyed it,” you said with a chuckle, trying to cover the sound of your beating heart that you’re sure he could hear. 

“You’re serious?” Harry couldn’t believe the words that fell out of your mouth. He was so happy to finally hear the words, and the doubts and thoughts in his head had vanished once you told him you love him. 

“As serious as this sunflower field.” 

And he knew you were very serious.

Harry leans in towards you, closing the proximity of your faces, but still too far for your lips to touch. 

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” You asked, hoping you would hear the same thing he did. He chuckles at your impatience. 

“I love you too. Ever since I met you. You were the one I fell in love with. Practically stole my heart when you looked at me in the eyes and yelled at me to leave,” he told you softly, being delicate with his words as if he’s handing over his heart and giving you permission to take care of it. And you would, with every bone in your body, you would take care of his precious heart forever. 

“Harry…” Your eyes were stinging with tears from how happy you are to hear that he loves you just as much. You placed your forehead against his, wanting to feel his lips against yours. 

“My flower. Can I kiss you, please?” He asked as if he read your mind. You nodded, adding a soft ‘please’ at the end, and he captured your lips with his. 

The feeling of his molding with yours made your heartbeat a little faster than normal and your head dizzy. You were drowning in his love as your tongues touched and caressed against each other as your arms began tightening around one another, wanting to become close as possible. 

“Take me inside, please,” you said as you pulled away from him. He nodded, practically dragging you towards the house you two shared for the past three weeks. 

Once you two are inside, Harry wasted no time in meeting his lips with yours. The tug of your hairs to his hair made him moan in your mouth, and you stuck your tongue in his mouth, meeting his own. Harry’s hands roam all over your body, increasing your arousal. You eventually felt his hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump so you do; arms around his neck as you pull him closer. He carried you so effortlessly to the bedroom without his lips leaving yours, but instead deepening the kiss. 

Harry gently laid you down on the bed, putting his weight on you as your legs don’t unwrap around his waist. 

“Can I take this off?” You felt his hands roam against your ass, and you nodded softly before you felt his hands grab the hem of your flowy shorts, pulling them down slowly and revealing your panties. You lift your t-shirt over your head and you lay half naked under him, the sun. 

You hadn’t anticipated Harry undressing you, so your choice of panties that day were quite unattractive as they weren’t anything exciting. And you also decided to not wear a bra because of the hot day out, you needed your breasts to breath. 

“Sorry. If I had known we’d be doing this, I would’ve worn something sexier,” you shyly said. 

“Hey, I don’t care about that. You look absolutely beautiful. Love every single inch of you.” He leaned in to kiss your neck and down to your chest, sucking and nipping at your tits. He kissed your soft stomach leading to the top of your underwear, looking up at you in case you had changed your mind. 

You moaned, feeling impatient with how slow he’s going. “Please. Take it off.” 

He finally took off your cotton panties, slowly kissing the newly exposed skin as he takes them off. “Fuck, you’re such a sight. So damn beautiful.” You smiled and giggled, feeling warm from his stare and compliments. There was a moment of panic because you had forgotten to shave as little hairs on your pubic bone started growing back, but the look on Harry’s face like he’s about to devour you had washed away the panic because he simply does not care about that. 

“Can I taste you? Please?” He asked, his tone coming out needy. You moaned out a ‘yes’ before Harry kneeled on the floor and kissed your inner thighs, close to what you really want your mouth on, but so far away. He sucked lightly on your thighs, leaving love bites on the place for his eyes only. 

You bucked your hips a little as he does so, wanting your mouth on him already, and Harry can sense and feel you getting impatient, so he finally licks up a stripe from bottom to top. He sucked your clit as he got to the top before doing it over again. He then started licking your sensitive button relentlessly, making you even wetter than you were before, Harry heard you whine above him, arms spread out, practically a moaning mess on the sheets. 

“Fuck, flower taste so good, my flower.” You were ready to cum any second at that point. You grab onto his curly locks, and he groaned against you. 

He takes his thumb, swiping and rubbing your clit before sticking his tongue in your pussy, licking up your juices. Your legs spread further apart for him as your head is thrown back into the mattress. 

“Oh my…fuck,” you screamed out. You were so close, and wanting to be there already as your hips started to buck, grinding slightly against him as Harry flattened out his tongue for you. “Yes, baby.” 

After a few more bucks, Harry held down your thighs in order for you to stop moving as he continued to sucks and lick your clit again. One hand reaches up to your tits, squeezing and holding them as he plays with your nipples, and on the other hand, he takes two fingers and plunges them into you, thrusting them in and out of you. 

You were louder than before, practically on the edge of your pleasure. Harry fingered you faster, and you let go. A wave of erotic foreplay hit you and you were at your high. You were on the highest cloud, floating but also coming down. 

Harry cleaned you up with his tongue before kissing his way back up to your lips. You let out a string of ‘mmm’s’ from coming down from your high and being out of breath. As Harry kissed you, you reached between you, and fondled his prominent cock. 

With the heels of your feet, you managed to push down his boxers, his cock springing up from the release of the restraint. You took a hold of him, pumping your hand and he moans into your mouth. 

“Wanna taste you,” you said between kisses. 

“Later, baby. Want to be inside you already.” 

“But…” 

“We have plenty of time for you to suck me off later, but need to feel you right now,” he said and you huffed, but nodded your head. 

He got off of you and sat against the headboard, and you crawled to straddle him. After a few reassuring kisses, you grabbed his cock and lined him up to your wet pussy, sinking down on him. Moans and sighs of reliefs escape both of your mouths, finally feeling each other. 

The stretch you felt is amazing, nothing you’ve ever felt before. You’ve only had sex about twice in your life, Harry is around the same number, and nothing compares to this. The closeness and connection you both have emotionally is all the much better than meeting some random person and having sex with them. It’s something you both wouldn’t trade for the world. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, flower,” he groaned out, and you started to sway and grind your hips slowly. 

“You’re so big. So big, sun. Shit,” you replied back to him as your head is thrown back and you start to ride him a little faster, 

His hands find your hips, guiding you and squeezing the flesh in his big hands. Since you’re above him, your chest is face level with his, so he starts to kiss your chest softly, proclaiming and complimenting you on how good you are for him. 

“Just like that, baby. Doing so well for me. No one can make me feel as good as you do.” He sucked on the skin beside your breasts. 

“No one can. Never gonna feel like this with anyone. Don’t want to feel like this with anyone,” you moaned out from the feeling between your legs and the feeling of his lips on your skin. 

Your pace had become faster and rougher, grinding your clit against his pelvic bone, giving you such stimulation along with the feel of Harry’s nails softly dragging against your back. Harry then picked you up slightly, laying you down on your back. 

“That’s right. Gonna be mine forever right baby?” He looked up at you with puppy eyes and you looked up at him. 

In his words there was a hint of dominance, needing to be rough and possessive, but in his eyes, there was still the need for reassurance and love that only you would provide for him. 

You placed your hands on both sides of his face, kissing his lips and continuing to thrust inside of you. “I’m yours. Forever.” 

He smiled at that, kissing you again. “I love you.” 

Your smile matched his. “I love you. So much.” 

You and Harry were both on edge, sure that you two are prolonging your orgasm just so the feeling doesn’t go away. But you realized that you have a lifetime with him to do this again and again and again. And the feeling of you two connected will always be there. 

“Harry, let go.” 

“You first, baby. You almost there?” You nodded your head, his pelvis hitting your clit, making the stimulation stronger.

“So good, baby. You’re so fucking good,” you screamed out as your second orgasm takes over and you threw your head back.

He continued to move your hips, and he comes right inside of you, groaning out into your shoulder. 

Your chests were heaving up and down as hot breath came out of both of your mouths while you two lay on the bed chest to chest. Your head was on his shoulder, kissing his skin lightly as he does the same.

After a few minutes of catching your breath, he lifted his head, smiling at you. He had a dazed smile on his face when your eyes met his, and he kissed your forehead. 

“Can’t believe you’re mine now. My fucking best friend. My flower. She’s mine,” he said, couldn’t even believe the events that had just happened. 

“I’m yours,” you reassured him. 

“And I’m yours as well,” he said back. 

He moved off of you and cuddled up to your side. Both of you fully naked with no cover. Just two people in love, enjoying the sight and comfort you both bring to each other. It was a moment like this where you had wished you would get this everyday. With Harry being yours now, you didn’t know where that led you two distance wise. 

“Hey, what’s the frown for?” Harry asked, noticing your mood change and your body tensing. 

You propped your elbow up and rested on your hand. “What’s gonna happen now?” 

“What do you mean, flower?” He tucked in the piece of hair that has flown onto your face. 

“You’re leaving in a few days,” you said with a frown. The thought of him leaving again after what had just happened made your heart sink. “And we only see each other a month out of the year, and that’s too long. You’re going to start work soon, so I doubt you’d get any vacation time. And you know I can’t leave.” 

“Stop. I think we’ll be okay,” Harry said calmly—too calmly for your liking. He would usually match your energy and mood to understand you or you wouldn’t be alone in how you’re feeling, but he’s not doing it this time, leaving you confused. 

“What makes you think that?” 

“Because…I was initially supposed to work in the U.K, but the company I applied for is branching out to…here.” Your eyes widened. “So, I asked nicely if there was a possibility that I could be placed to work here, and surprisingly they said yes.” 

You sat up completely, but stayed silent, waiting for him to say he’s just joking, but he doesn’t. He just looks at you, also waiting for you to say something back to him. Your brows raised and your head bowed a little, urging him to continue. But there was nothing more to say from him. He had already said it all, and he felt fucking amazing. Harry’s shoulders and body language had visibly relaxed when his second to last secret swirled through the air, mixing with the aroma of your love for one another. 

“You’re not joking,” you said. Harry just shook his head with a small smile, wanting to beam at you, but waiting for your smile to break through. “Like, you wouldn’t do that--joke with me about that, right?” You asked, the thought hadn’t processed yet as it was still at the stage of just hearing the words. 

“Wouldn’t ever joke about that. I’m serious. I’m moving here, for good,” he leaned towards you, placing his hand on your bare hip, caressing your soft skin. 

“Harry…” Tears had formed in your eyes as your mouth and eyes widened. 

“Hey, neighbor,” he giggled, and placed his forehead on your collar bones, face in your chest. You hugged his head, pulling at his hair causing him to groan softly and placing kisses to your skin. “I’ve got an apartment in your building.” 

“You what?!” You pulled his face back to meet with yours. 

“Yeah. Floor 3, apartment number 3F.” 

When he said those words, your tears made its way down your face and you let out a soft sob. You were crying with how happy you are. The overwhelming happiness you felt that your sun will always be with you; on the same side of the world, the time zone, and three doors down. Happiness is practically oozing out of you, and your heart feels like it’s going to burst. 

It was the moment you’ve been anticipating for years. With a long distance friendship, it was hard enough to deal with having your best friend in a whole different country. But you both made time to talk to one another, even if it was only for a little bit. And after you two had made love, you were worried that you weren’t going to see him again for another year, but the effort and thought that he put you into consideration to move away from his home to be close to you, made you love him even more. 

And you knew that things would turn out great. 

feedback is appreciate here! <3

masterlist

[nerdygirl8203]

Old Money, New Feelings- Chapter 9

Warnings: angst, drinking, sleeping around, mentions of smut, fluff, bookstore work

Summary: Trying to escape the thought of Ransom proves difficult, especially when you work at a bookstore and Ransom’s grandfather is a famous author

Pairing: Ransom x fem!reader

For months I've kept my head in my job. Maybe money can make you happy. Even the idea of feeling something other than numbness and pain is a welcomed thought. Maybe if I have some one night stands the pleasure will make me forget about how Ransom made me feel. It never works. It isn't until one day at work when I realize just how much I'm still hurting.

"Y/N, I need you to work this Friday! It's all hands on deck!" Dawn, my boss, tells me. When I found out who was coming to do some signings for a book I immediately all but begged for the day off.

"Dawn, I can't be here. The man's grandson and I have some history!" I explain deciding to tell the truth is better than lying. I don't ever want to do something to cause the pain finding out you have been lied to causes. "I don't care if you cut off the grandson's cock! You will be here!" She says in the boss tone she only uses when your job is on the line.

Friday comes with the speed of light not giving me anytime to get myself mentally prepared. Since it's a book signing we are always supposed to be wearing better than our normal work clothes. I put on the fancies clothes I can while still not being too formal. I make sure my outfit fits my body well enough to show but not so well that I look like I'm trying too hard. I finish getting myself ready making sure I look good enough to eat.

After getting to work, and a few minutes of convincing myself to actually go into work and save my job, I walk into the bookstore I have grown to both love and hate. Today I definitely feel more hate towards the stupid building. I take a deep breath making sure to get a good whiff of the amazing book smell that I love. With that I get into work mode. My lips split into a polite but welcoming smile. I make sure it seems to reach my eyes. I keep my posture open and welcoming to everyone.

Halfway through the book signing and it's going well. I begin to think Harlem either doesn't remember me or is taking pity on me and not forcing me to talk to him.

"Y/N, I need you to go and get Mr. Thrombey a coffee with two creams and one sugar." Dawn tells me. She is calm and it can't help but flow off of her and absorbs into me. "Of course ma'am!" I say trying to sound eager.

I quickly walk to the café near our bookstore. This isn't anything new. Whenever we have guests I'm always the one to grab coffees, muffins, sandwiches, or anything else since I'm the newest hire. I wait at the counter for a fresh pot of coffee to be made for Harlan. It doesn't take me long to zone out. I'm only awoken from my daydreaming when my coworker, Molly, says my name.

"Y/n, you okay? " she asks softly and sweetly. I've always liked Molly. She works hard and I don't think there is a mean bone in the girls body.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't get enough sleep last night. Thank you though. I will definitely see you later.” I say before walking away. No matter how many times I've had to walk away without tipping I'm still not used to it.

I go back to Dawn with the coffee in hand. “Hey Dawn. I have his coffee.” I say and I look at her with a smile.

"Okay, go give it to him. He’s in the breakroom." she says with a smile, I never told anyone at work about my relationship, if one could even call it that,with the famed authors grandson so Dawn most likely thinks she is giving me the chance of a lifetime to meet one of my favorite authors and not that she’s actually sending me to a nightmare.

I look at her shocked. On one hand I only meet Harlan a handful of times so he most likely doesn't remember me but on the other hand there is a small chance that he does remember me and this will be very awkward however Dawn is being very kind and If I turn down this offer she will see me as ungrateful. I decide that me having a very small chance of having an awkward encounter is better than my boss thinking I'm not grateful of her kindness.

"Okay I'll bring this to him." I say and I smile weakly at her.

After I say that I will my feet to drag me to the breakroom. Once I get there I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. I gently knock on the closed door, "Mr. Thrombey, I have your coffee for you." I say in my most professional voice.

"Perfect, come in!' his soft voice says through the break room door.

I walk in feeling like I'm walking into the lion's den. I keep my head down hoping he doesn't recognize me. I put his coffee down on the small table that stands before him. After I set the coffee down I decide to smile up at him. "I hope you enjoy your coffee, sir." I smile at him and I start to leave. Right when I think I made it and he forgot me I hear him say my name.

I turn to see his eyes on my face, studying me. "Are you y/n y/l/n?" he asks in a kind and soft voice and just like that my hopes are dashed. “Yes I am. It's nice to see you again sir." "How are you, dear?” he asks in a nice and soft voice that holds no malice. "I'm okay.” I say softly "You know, Ransom misses you dearly." he says. I can't help but look at him like he has three heads. How could he miss me if he is the one that cheated and broke my heart. I don't know what to say so I just nod. "I don't know what happened or what you said to him but it whipped him into shape. "He says with a slight chuckle I take his bait and I ask "what do you mean?" "well he got his life together. Now he's my apprentice and he is even writing his own book, he asked me to bring a copy of what he’s made so far with me. He saw I was coming here and hoped you would be working and willing to read it. I believe he still loves you he is coming here later. Please talk with him.” Harlan is practically begging on Ransom's behalf. How is any person supposed to say no to that?

Harlan then gives me a story that looks unfinished and short. Even so him wanting me to read it before it's even done does tug on my heartstrings even though it's probably a tactic to get his bed-buddy back.

I gently take the makeshift book in my hands. I can't help but be amazed by seeing Ransom's name under the title claiming him as the author. However what amazes me more is later when I open the book and I see a hand written note addressing me.

It reads

"Dear y/n,

Hello my dear. I know that this is probably pointless but I have to at least try to get you back not as a fuck buddy but as my girlfriend if you will have me. I know I was horrible and what I did was worse but I fell in love with you and I was scared of that. I am so sorry I hurt you because I was scared of loving you. You did not deserve The treatment I gave you. As soon as you left I realized that I messed up and that I only wanna be with you. If you set rules that we can't have sex but we can be together I'll gladly go by those rules. You make me want to be a better person.

I understand if you don't accept my apology. If I was you I would never want to see me again but I'm begging you to give me a chance to make it up to you.i tried to have sex with others to get you out of my head but it didn't work. You did something the people aren’t related to me couldn't do. You made me fall in love with you. I love you, y/n. I hope you’re read ing this and I'm not just writing to no one. Just know that if you forgive me and give me another chance I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please give me another chance my love.

I love you,

Ransom”

I can't help but be chocked up seeing his message for me. I never would have guessed Ransom to be the write a letter type. My brain screams at me for making the decision that I make. I unblock his number and I text him “ we can meet after I finish work. My shift ends at 6.” with that I turn off my phone and I get back to work like nothing unusual happened at all when in all actuality one of the most unusual things ever has happened; Ransom said he was wrong.

[kireiwoo]

red, blue, my yellow. [jwy!]

˚➶. EXPO ↓

#𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 bestfriend!woo x fem!reader.

#𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 in which woo is your teasing florist of a friend who can’t seem to pick between red and blue; so you add a third option for him, yellow!

#𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 bf2l, fluff, crack, blasphemy(?), animal death, cursing, 6th grader jokes, two dorks being oblivious, kissing <3

#𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 2.0k+

“Okay, so Sky Blue or Cherry Red?”

“What the fuck? Those are so contrasting.”

Wooyoung whined at your indecisive and absentminded response, leaning his head against your turquoise, sweater-clad shoulder while watching reruns of Scooby-Doo on your old TV. You sipped on the sugarless vanilla latte he purchased for you, relishing in the brief but welcomed warmth the drink radiated in waves. Wooyoung obsessively shoved two paint-cards into your face, gaggling over how bright and saturated they were.

He visited earlier with the guise of simply hanging out with you, claiming that while occupied with his 9-5 job downtown as an optimistic florist, he missed your company. Initially he picked the job because it sounded delicate and comprehensively easy. Objectively, the work was relatively standard; water the daffodils and make sure his small, secret rose garden he called ‘wonderland’ was receiving enough sunlight; but his back ached with hauling boxes filled with seeds and bags packed of faux soil.

“Why are you seriously no help?” He chirped. You grumbled in response, focusing on the graphics of the late television show rather than Wooyoung’s juvenile complaints. Your hair was an unkempt rat’s nest and your spongebob pyjama pants were ruffled considerably, but you allowed Wooyoung into your house regardless of your external appearance. You knew he wouldn’t judge you anyways, too occupied with picking a paint colour for his new apartment.

“How about Sunflower Yellow?” You calmly, dismissively suggested, taking another long swig from the now-empty pale brown paper cup before tossing it behind your couch. You’d clean it up later anyways, but for now you had a whiny best friend to deal with. “Dunno if you’re hard of hearing or colourblind but yellow wasn’t an option.” Wooyoung quipped, his eyes flashing with a teasingly stumped mirth.

“You and I both damn-well know who has the better hearing, and she’s lookin’ right at ya.” Wooyoung giggled at your pouty disposition, finding your blushed cheeks and deep eye-bags adorable. He sat casually against your couch, dressed in his own quirkily mismatched ensemble. A pair of khaki shorts accompanied by a dark green sweatshirt and multicoloured socks, his scuffed three-year-old tennis shoes laying by your door. You found it endearing how Wooyoung still tried to come up with his own fashion trends, ending up looking like a stitched together version of brand-name and value-village. But he was being expressive in the form of seasonal apparel, and you were proud of him.

“Byeol?” He teased, gesturing to your mangy, blue-eyed siamese feline as she sat back and observed your get-together, scattering away once the attention was on her. Wooyoung sighed.

“Look, you chubby-cheeked wench, just answer and I’ll leave you to sleep in your little cocoon of grandma blankets.” You huffed at his insinuation, plonking your deft fingers against his cheek softly and gently.

You met Wooyoung in third grade, when sex didn’t determine friendship and the bounds of society were turned away by your blind infant eyes.

You’d been retrieving wild bluebells and dandelions, bunching them in your sweaty grasp as a sort of dedicated bouquet, explaining to the boisterous boy that you needed to leave it as a parting gift to a squirrel you saw that got run over (you called him Tootles). Looking back, it was innately bizarre how indifferent you were to the concept of death, but Wooyoung supposes that it was a sweet thought anyways. From then on, the two of you blundered together—but part of the reason Wooyoung stayed was also because of his obvious attraction to your lopsided pigtails and thrifted summer dresses. He remembers that you always had a food stain somewhere on your clothing.

Now looking at you, still messy and even more vulgar, he can’t help but think that he doesn’t regret any moments. You’ve gone through everything together; Wooyoung was present for your first period when the stomach pain and hunger cramps were immense, and you were there when his family suffered through a rough patch, assuring him that everything would be okay when in reality, the decision of divorce between his parents was settled a week later. Those were some of his most difficult moments, but he can look back at them fondly only because it brought him closer to you.

“Wench? What are you saying? I’m a god.” You offered in the most dramatized tone you could.

“Might wanna get your facts checked,”

“Might wanna get your mom checked,” You snorted, biting your lip while procuring finger guns just for the hell of it. Wooyoung sighed in mock disappointment, his frizzy purple-tinted fringe falling onto his forehead. You grinned and giggled, catching his attention cutely.

Your whiny puppy rolled his eyes before wailing a cacophony of displeased sounds, loudly filtering his discontentment with having a plain apartment. “(Y/N) you don’t understand the seriousness of my situation! Who wants to tell their grandchildren that their first—that’s right, first!—apartment was a boring cream colour?!” Fed up with his childish bumbling, you quickly smacked his forehead, chuckling quietly as he squeaked and softened his stiff posture. It was honestly so lovable how he got so passionate about the smallest, almost insignificant things.

“Listen, we’ll figure something out. I still think Sunflower Yellow should be an option though.” Wooyoung swatted at your covered tummy with an overzealous and enthusiastic expression, clearly excited with the concept of letting you help him. The soft scent of peppermint-chamomile flooded into your nostrils from his clothing, making you mentally note to ask him what detergent he decided to try. “You think wrong, settler! Now choose between these two colours or I’ll be obligated to steal half of your lifespan.” You laughed loudly at the unprecedented silliness of your best friend, shaking your head while sending a fleeting but absolutely enamoured stare in his direction.

“Honestly, at this point why am I letting you help me?” He hummed. You gurgled at his feigned distress, gasping and tackling him against the couch. You straddled his waist, pointing a manicured figure at his face while you fondly cursed at him. “As I recall, Mr. Jung; you arrived to my residence at exactly 12:01 PM with the excuse to hang out, only to badger me with your issues about... paint colours. You came to me.” Wooyoung sat enthralled by your change in attitude, bathing in the flawlessness of your execution regarding exposing him for his wrongdoings.

“Just boom, bam, pow: There’s that dude I’m in love with.” Wooyoung’s eyes widened considerably, a snarky smirk falling across his countenance as his cheeks devilishly flushed, looking similar to that of a ripened strawberry. Immediately you backtracked, wondering what you said that provoked this reaction, and realization struck across your face like a sharp slap.

Oh shit. Shit.

“I-Uh—you didn’t hear that.” You waved shy but frantic hands into his face, as if hypnotizing him into forgetting about your embarrassingly personal confession. But all he did was giggle and take ahold of your wrists, pulling your body forward so you were chest to chest with him.

A soft, addictingly brief kiss was placed against your creased forehead, the perfect lips of your best friend brushing against your heated skin. You swallowed thickly, placing your hands over his sweater-clad chest with confusion written all over your face. What in the hell kind of reaction was this—? Whatever it was, it was warm and delicate and felt right.

Then again, there’s nothing that ever feels wrong when it comes to Jung Wooyoung. Or maybe that’s just you.

“Y’know, you’re not very... secretive.” He settled, making perplexities skip through your mind like stones on water. Had he known? Was this the end of your life-long friendship? Questions ran through your mind endlessly, your heart rapidly beating and mind berating you for admitting your tini-tiny, small-as-a-planet crush. “I had my suspicions but you actually saying it was my sweet confirmation.”

“The fuck? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I-I—Hey! Don’t be angry at me!” He pouted, melting your heart into a pile of mushy and fragmented puddles. “What I was trying to say is, I love you too.” Immediately your face blanched and you dropped your head into the crook of Wooyoung’s neck, appreciating the small dust of red that decorated his ears. You simply couldn’t face him in fear that this was all a simulation; a seemingly harmless gaffe constructed firstly to tease you, and knowing Wooyoung with his wildly oblivious tendencies and boyish lack of empathy, you had no doubt that it was something he would try.

And yet, you couldn’t even force yourself to be angry at him. Because while you speculated that he was joking, somewhere in your heart you knew that he was being honest—simply in denial with the prospect of your long-lasting crush actually returning your feelings. “Hello? Earth to (Y/N)? Airhead? Loafer?” You snapped out of your reverie, staring at Wooyoung’s pinked face as his prying eyes drifted around your facial features, slowly tracing each detail.

“You love me too?” Shock ever-present, you searched in Wooyoung’s loving gaze for some kind of testimony, a confirmation, for some truth to be shed. And when all you could see were the glimmering, almost glowing sparkles in his large pupils, you felt the slightest bit reassured.

“Of course I do, bean!”

“As a friend though, right?” Wooyoung’s face screwed into an intense concentration, expression looking fragile and breakable. But in his wandering mind, he questioned how you could even consider that. He loved you as something more—with your tangled tresses and wrinkled clothes, even down to the fact that you couldn’t handle sugar but grimaced every time you drank your vanilla lattes, simply because they weren’t sweet enough.

It was the little things that he found himself so affectionately obsessed with. He remembers your bleached sundresses in elementary and how you couldn’t tie your shoes without help from a teacher. How you loathed wearing glasses because you thought they made you look nerdy, but complained because you just couldn’t see.

“Jesus Christ, Loser. No, I love you like... like a crush! Yeah, like a crush. Romantically.” He gushed, and if this wasn’t one of the most immature confessional moments in history, it sure was a cheesy one.

“Wait, really? You like-like me?” Good god. Your fingers trembled and lips twitched.

“Yes, how many times do I—” Wooyoung breathed out a shaky sigh as you leaned forward and smoothly took his lips with your own. He tasted minty and sweet, like petals and chocolate. His eyes fluttered closed as your lips meshed together, pushing against each other in a romantic twine of burning passion.

Suddenly, your hands were on either side of his head and one of his deft, spidering hands pressed onto the small of your back. The other hand trailed up to the back of your neck, twirling the loose strands of hair at your nape, his tongue breaching the space between your lips invasively—but then he tried to card his fingers through your hair; and you hissed and pulled away like a disenchanted cat, baring your teeth from the unprecedented pain.

“Shit! Sorry, baby.” Whereas your head flooded with spiking pains from small hairs being plucked, your heart was palpitating at the new but definitely embraced pet-name. “I told you that you should’ve washed your hair! But someone doesn’t like listening!” You tutted at the nagging, harrumphing before placing another complacent kiss against his lips.

“Oh shut up, Mr. I can’t choose between red and blue.” You never thought you’d get the chance to tease Wooyoung after directly smooching him; it was a fantasy and a reoccurring fever dream to feel his plush, pillowed lips against your own. Perhaps a perverse imaginative scenario, but it was a reality now. And reality suddenly didn’t seem so harsh; crowded in the warm arms of a starry-eyed shortie with calloused hands and a knack for gardening.

“You’re right, I can’t. But it’s okay, I prefer yellow anyways.”

Who knows what awaits you in life? Maybe the sky will drain of it’s blue and the roses will deplete of their red—but no matter the changes and disparities that occur over the years, there’s always one thing that you’re forever sure of:

“You’re my yellow, Jung Wooyoung.”

🥽 all rights reserved © kireiwoo. do not : plagiarize, counterfeit, or translate, & thank you for reading <3!

[icecreamsundayonajulyafternoon]

Alcina Dimitrescu/f reader

+some well meaning Chris

I also posted this on my ao3 account Homoeroticmicrowave as a part of my resident evil oneshots book the link to which is : https://archiveofourown.org/works/32351686/chapters/80202100

For context in this the reader works with Chris but got kidnapped by Alcina and ended up bonding with her

Anyway behold My dignified shit post:

Alcina tilted your head up by your chin with one of her claws with a gentle sort of care “I might just be enamoured by you my little maiden” her voice had a certain air to it as the power she carried held strong though the coldness it had been coddled by withered away.

“And I am just glad to have met someone as truly brilliant as you are you make my heart feel like it’s faltering” Alcina’s tensed muscles and rigid posture seemed to deflate as her claws retracted.

“My little human girl you truly are one of a kind you are too good for this world and it’s cruelty that it afflicts you with”

Her hands incased yours as she held them so lightly ”Stay with me” Alcina’s eyes steadily gazed into your own “I want you to stay with me in this castle forever with me. I want you to marry me and be mine and let me be yours”

You almost thought she was joking but Alcina Dimitrescu would never make such a joke and to claim that she had would be ludicrous it was simply not in her nature to be so brash with her humour. However, declarations received a treatment that was a far cry to how her delicate words of amusement were handled

“I can give you a life worthy of living for you. I’ll have you adorned in whatever clothes you would see fit to clad your body and express your beauty in all of its forms, I’ll have you living a luxurious life that would make a deity envious, your every desire would be fulfilled if you only ask and I promise you I will give you everything if only to see you relish the world you live in” there was a certain warmth to her tone that she never previously expressed to you.

”It’s a pitiful world full of devastation and tyranny and I will not have it harm you from hence forth”

You released one of your hands from her gentle grasp so that your hands could reach out

“You make me feel pink and small and like I’m fluttering like my feet could rise from the ground and I’d float in the air like some sort of silly, little cartoon character when they’re smitten by someone” you felt overheated and uncomfortable as you spoke but you continued

“I would stay with you whether or not you had riches to offer me. Castles and gowns and jewellery is all very lovely but it’s not what keeps me yearning. I want you Alcina, I want you and I want to spend every moment that I can with you” you smiled despite your inability to even glimpse her face. A coward you were and yet a lovesick fool you were all the same.

“I found a home with you Alcina.” Your eyes finally reunited with hers and as she looked at you, you had never felt more loved than in that moment. “Let me be your home too….let me marry you” the words caressed her heart and she moved your arms so that they fell around her neck and she lifted you up by your waist. “I treasure every moment I have with you my love” she whispered. “Let this world we’ll build last forever”

When you had a moment alone while getting ready you radioed into whatever members of your team were still alive and had their radios still working and on them “So I’m not gonna be able to go back with you guys but everything’s pretty good so uh yeah I don’t really know how to explain the predicament- no that’s too negative a word- situation- no, no this is not a situation that makes it sound like there’s some kind of situation- what I meant to say the events that preceded my current happenings can be perceived as a little odd however everything is fine, goodbye forever”

You threw your radio out of the window and into the snow and presumed it had broke. Chances were your teammates would not have heard your message but it was still polite to let them know you were alive and well and would simply just not be joining them on their way home or anything at all again ever because you were about to be married to a giant, homocidal lady. They could be angered by your supposed ‘disrespectful’ tone concerning how you address everyone and didn’t go over formalities but you were gifted with this thing known as manner which influenced your decision to inform them of your lack of presence on the return journey before hand.

You were just considerate like that.

You gushed over the dress you had been so graciously gifted. It truly was a work of art tailored just for you. Each detail of it was made with a passionate precision that had you gawking with glee as you admired every segment of material woven into the fabric.

It was a true marvel and you felt like a piece of artwork yourself that would be displayed with great care in an art museum. You looked like a glamorous painting that was created with such integral beauty that the expertise of the artist could not be measured by any title or prideful words.

A sense of pride ghosted your senses and you found your fingertips brushing the mirror with such a light touch that you couldn’t br sure your skin had made contact with the mirror at all. You were so subconsciously convinced what you were looking into was glazed with deceit and if you touched the mirror you would break the illusion of beauty and your true form of much lesser looks would be restored. But that didn’t happen and for a moment you could sympathise with narcissus as much like them you found yourself fawning over the being of beauty that you weren’t entirely sure was yourself.

You were truly a bride who’s beauty was beyond befitting of any title that could be bestowed upon you and you thought yourself to be belonging with angels of artwork, your place was dancing with the muses who were worth more than simple adoration and worship.

You weren’t a god but you were blessed by Aphrodite’s touch and you were sure simple folk could not help but be too mesmerised to experience jealousy at your envious appearance.

If it were a sin to be enraptured in revelling in your own appearance than you would relish the hellfire that rained down to scorch your flesh and soul. You’d paint such a pretty picture dancing in the misery of hell gifted by sins. Lucifer had treated you well and you thanked them for gracing you with what God couldn’t.

Alcina’s voice rang out like a dove from behind the door and lulled you away from the mirror your attention had been stolen by. “Perhaps you could be so gracious as to adorn me with your presence”

You turned to face the direction of her voice “of course anytime my love” you said earnestly.

“I won’t look at you now nor do I want you to see me just yet but I couldn’t help but to speak to you just for a moment beforehand…I want it to be special my dear and I won’t want for it to be any less special than either of us want for it to be because you deserve everything you want and yet lover I find myself needing to be selfish and needing to hear your voice”

”Alcina it’s okay” you couldn’t help but to let a giggle escape you “I can’t help but feel nervous to see you and yet I can’t wait to I love you and tonight is special because it’s our night it’s special because it marks the first day I get to be with you forever”

You head Alcina let out a small laugh tainted by an agitating anxiousness. “So do I”

You felt breathless as you stepped out into the night. Donna your apparent personal seamstress and now flower girl guided you to where it would take place.

Alcina stared as though she had witnessed something that couldn’t be explained by any science or rationality. While she herself was a sight to take in when she saw you she felt as though her childhood dreams were coming true as you seemed mythical.

When your eyes met her you felt like you were falling and you didn’t want to stop. Not for a moment. She was gorgeous. A wedding dress perfectly fit for her graced her elegant features. She looked ethereal and you wanted to reach out to touch her. Each step you took seemed so slow. Far too slow for your liking. You wanted to be in her arms and soon.

When you did finally meet her while tradition forbid you to kiss her just yet you at least reached out to hold her hands. Your eyes glistened with joy all of the love you had barely fit in your body as it threatened to burst out of you in bounds of laughter and tears. You felt so much and you wanted to feel like that forever. You wanted for this moment to last forever. You wanted to be held by her forever.

Your hair seemed so gorgeous and lustrous in the glowing moonlight. Fairy lights decorated the trees surrounding you and fireflies twirled in the breeze. To think you would see such beauty and wonder in what had once been a placed that had brought you such terror and havoc.

Alcina held you tenderly as though she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. She wouldn’t be isolated in that feeling as you were swarmed by disbelief, you didn’t shun all of the conflicting emotions you were feeling. Not for a moment. You welcomed them and you couldn’t help but tingle with the relief of any negative thoughts or surprise being overwhelmed with ecstatic delight. You had thought of marriage in the general sense before when considering where the events of your life might lead you and while it wasn’t conventional not anything close to what you could have ever expected you would gladly spend the rest of your days residing in Dimitrescu castle with Alcina. She really was one marvellous woman.

You had insisted on certain songs being played at your wedding from fun songs you had once joked about being played at your wedding to irresistibly romantic guilty pleasures that you would have been teased mercilessly for an infinite amount of times had you ever admitted you would want played. But that was in another lifetime and while Alcina may not always understand certain aspects of your interests she was always glad to watch you indulge in them.

You two danced, chests pounding with a romantic joy you had never thought existed in the way you felt it. As your arms wrapped around her neck as she lifted you up you couldn’t help but think how a much younger version of yourself would feel giddy at knowing how in love you were. Though knowing your child self the word ‘gross’ would also most likely make an appearance as the topic of love.

You admired every detail of her face and when you kissed her you thought about how you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with her. However long you had would be amazing as long as it was spent by your side whether it be one day or one hundred years you wanted to spend it all with her. You had been bewitched by her and you couldn’t be happier.

Then your moment was interrupted by the sounds of gunfire. Violence and stubborn hatred truly had a way of ruining even the most kindest and beautiful of moments.

Alcina scooped you up and ran, throwing you over her shoulder and quickly moving so that you may escape the presence of aggression and be safe in the sanctuary she made for you.

Over her shoulder you saw Chris running, bullets blazing as he ran with a determined rage. You thought he would have been long gone by now. You had convinced Alcina to give up her part in aiding Miranda’s plan. Surely you could convince her to let these people leaves unscathed.

You moved in front of Alcina, attempting to quell her anger and bitter bloodlust with promises of trust and hope. You begged her to at least let you try to form some kind of truce so that you would not have to live knowing people you cared about destroyed each other. Hesitantly she let you go. Though her reluctance was apparent and she looked so eager to snatch you up and lock you far from those who put your life at risk.

You left the castle and approached the direction you were adamant Chris and probably his team would soon be.

Geez he really went to the effort to risk his life searching for your and stealing you back with him all so he could lecture you on your lack of formality and far too casual tone when you had radioed in as well as your blatant disrespect, poor execution of the mission and your inconsideration of the expense of the property you had been given. Sounds about right. It was a mistake to attempt some kind of means of communication really. And now look what happened your wedding was ruined.

You raised your hands up to show you meant no harm when Chris and found and approached you.

There was a moment between Chris properly processing you were there and him first catching sight of you where it felt like everything had been put on pause. He eyed you suspiciously as though you were some sort of distraction, a part of a malicious scheme Alcina had made in order to proficiently destroy any hope of Chris’s rescue attempt and mission succeeding.

”Hey” you waved awkwardly in a hopeless attempt to break through  the immense pressure and tension of the situation “nice to see you’re still alive and stuff that’s cool” your voice rang out through the silence. “I’m alive too which is fun looks like we have that in common”at that point you were just throwing dumb words at him in a blatant attempt to get him to respond in a way that wouldn’t suck.

Chris grabbed you and pulled you into a vice-like hug. You felt him lift you up “It’s good to see you….Where is that thing? What did that bitch do to you?” He seethed.

”Nothing she actually had a pretty good sense of hospitality-did you come here on your own without anyone-“

He had you back on the ground but his grasp never left you as he shifted his grip so that he now had a steady hold on your shoulders. “This isn’t the time to act like nothings wrong if you’re injured or you’ve been drugged with something you need to tell me” his hold on you was just as secure as it was when he hugged you even if he no longer had you squished against him.

“I’ve not been hurt really I’m not lying to you Chris” you looked him in the eyes and tried to communicate with your facial expressions that you were telling the truth.

Chris sighed slightly but nodded “good, we need to leave we can continue this conversation when we’re safe-“

You put a hand on his chest to put some distance between you both “look Chris I’m- I’m not leaving. I’m staying here” Chris looked a mixture of perplexed and horrified.

He stepped closer to you so he was practically leering over you “what are you talking about! We’re going. Now.”

“No Chris I’m not. I love Alcina and I’m not leaving her. I won’t. You can leave I’ll make sure she won’t come after you just as I made sure she no longer interfered with Ethan finding Rose but I won’t go with you”You stared defiantly at him as you stood as tall as you could despite him towering over you.

”Alcina? Is that what that bitch got you to call her!You think you love that thing! Jesus Christ what did she do to you!” Chris looked disgusted at your words.

“Hey man I don’t ruin your weddings do I the least you could do is let me go back to her-“ Chris held your arm tightly preventing you from leaving as he radioed into someone.

”I’ve acquired S/n. Clearly they’re under some kind of influence- they must have been brainwashed or put in some form of hypnotic state!” Chris hypothesised to the person on the other end of the radio upon your immediate reluctance to leave. The moment you suggested you had no interest in leaving he stopped talking directly to you. “We’ll meet you there soon we’ll need a medic and possibly some means of restraint for them” he tucked the radio back into his pocket and turned his attention back on you.

“I’m all here I’m just genuinely okay to stay here” you implored him to recognise that you were in fact all there.

Chris ignored your attempts to defend your sanity and slung you over you shoulder. “Fuck are you doing!” You yelped at his sudden action.

“I don’t know what that freak did to you but I won’t let you suffer! I won’t leave you in this hell hole! We can fix this I promise!” He seemed so genuinely concerned and you understood why but you just needed him to listen. You knew how ugly this was going to end up if he didn’t.

”Stop calling her that! You know nothing of her! There’s nothing to fix! She’s been nothing but kind to me! Please just put me down and leave!” Your pleads were wasted as he stopped responding to you.

Panicking you thrashed in his stone like grip even going so far as to try to bite and scratch him. He grunted in response to your little attack and repositioned you so that you couldn’t easily hurt him and if you did you wouldn’t do much damage.

Your fears were ignited when you heard Alcina’s voice rampaging through the wind. Chris cursed and you began begging you to put him down and leave you. Unfortunately, he interpreted your words as an attempt to sacrifice yourself for his sake, which he refused to go along with.

He didn’t let go of you as he began running and quickly grabbing a gun which he fired at Alcina with a precision you wish he lacked. You started screaming begging for them not to fight but your words crumbled as your weeping shouts were overpowered by the insatiable violence that inevitably occurred due to both parties refusal to attempt any form of reason.

While you understood the motivation both of them had and if you heard one perspective by itself you could easily side with it if the other one remained unknown to you.

Chris set you down by a tree after tying you to it. You blubbered through your messy tears that he needed to stop and listen to you for just a moment. You were desperate for them to stop before it was too late but just as always you were ignored as Chris left you to fight Alcina.

Your thoughts flurried as paranoia and fear truly sunk in and you were sure one or both of them would die. As you were sure you would lose everything to the cruelty of bloodshed. Time seemed to drag on and you struggled to release yourself from the rope that held you securely. You were so sure that one of them were dead as horrific sounds seeped into the cold night air.

Your fears proved true when you heard Alcina’s screams rattle throughout the air. Your breath hitched. What just happened-

Your head snapped at the sound of footsteps and your whole body felt like it was burning as you saw Chris’s weathered face.

He untied you and lifted you up into his arms that seemed to tremble ever so slightly. “What-what just” you could barely get the words out of your mouth. It couldn’t have possibly meant what-no there had to be some other explanation. Any other explanation.

”She won’t hurt you anymore” with those words you fell a part.

Chris remained silent as you sobbed. He just kept walking. He was sure you were just experiencing some kind of false mourning as the result of whatever Alcina had done to you. And yet guilt threatened to creep at the doubt that teased the back of his mind. He held back his thoughts and focused on getting you home.