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lifeonmarz-blog · 6 months ago

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Pluto through the houses: Synastry

1st: Both people have a way of prying under the skin of the other bringing all the insecurities they thought were hidden to the light. It can be almost jarring and abrasive. Even though its not intentional they pick up on it so naturally they probably didnt even know they hit a wound. This relationship may come about at a time when your self image and public persona is going through a change. Lying about that image can also be an issue here. Lying to protect how the other views your life. A lot of glamorization and intentional avoidant of details. These two can be mesmerized by the persona of each other. Pluto person is almost thirsty for the attention of house person. House person likes the attention but is much more nonchalant about it maybe even a little scared of plutos intensity. Their upbringing emotionally is similar but may not seem similar in the physical aspect of it. People could look at this couple as an odd pairing. It can seem taboo for one or both of them. You can tell that they were attracted to the darker aspect of each other. Its pluto so you know the power dynamics are being tested, pluto person is controlling over the house person. Sometimes that could be to extreme extents. They want their full undivided attention always. If pluto person releases their grasp this can be a very powerful magnetic couple. Manifesting with ease through how others view them together.

2nd: Pluto person ''levels'' house person up, this could be financially or with plutos image but essentially both people add to each others persona. The flow is more natural if the woman or more feminine person is the house person. Wishful thinking could be a problem here because this is actually a very romantic placement. The way love is expressed if very comforting and ideal for both people. Theres a mutual taste in the type things you enjoy so it becomes easy to believe you might not get this somewhere else. The dates are very fun and the couple loves to show each other off. This is one of the easiest houses to create abundance in as a couple. Balancing work and love is an obstacle, if both parties aren't equally as committed to setting aside time together. It can easily become a situation were someone feels neglected. It takes a certain amount of emotional detachment to have a long lasting relationship with this placement. Id say this is a more subtle place for pluto to be it isnt as harsh as some of the others.

3rd: Challenging each others views is almost second nature. Both help each other think outside the box. Their perspectives usually differ quite a bit so it makes for interesting conversation. Pluto person redefines how house person approaches business and relationship matters, offering constructive criticism that the house person usually appreciates. This placement can be nice for an entrepreneur and their partner. Pluto person sees house persons gifts and wants to help refine it. House person teaches pluto person new ways of achieving goals. Too much focus could be on career matters and the relationship could be on and off one or both parties could make excuses for why the communication isn't consistent. One person can try harder to keep the relationship together the other avoiding emotional intimacy. When things are smooth they view each other as the ideal partner then the communication waivers again. Pluto person encourages house person to come out of their shell. If you have any fears about expressing yourself without guilt or shame. In its positive this relationship will help you feel comfortable being yourself without judgement.

4th: Pluto person reminds house person of family member usually a parent. For better or worse. These two came together to unlock something in each others DNA, realizing something about their worth or finding a new sense of gratitude. They mesh well into each other, operating like they've been together for years even if they just met. This connection could've been established through insecurities or for financial benefit. There could be insecurities around how much more money one person makes over the other or secretly competing with each other. This relationship could demand a lot of time and attention being distracting to the career of one or both parties. Or on the flip slide someone can feel unseen and lonely falling to the backside because of the career of the other. Emotionally there's a feeling of being unfulfilled like something is missing. House person views the pluto person as their ideal, perfect match even, The childhood of these two was similar. They share similar wounds around the upbringing. Others may look at this couple and think why are they together? They don't care how people view them they have an understanding between each other. They view each other as someone they would want to have a family with. They are very giving towards each other the energy balances well they know the unspoken things that would make you smile. They fit well into each others families. This person can feel like your calm space, enjoying spending time together at home.

5th: They both love children and can want to have a family together. If they have pets they treat each others pets like their own. They see the beauty in each other and want show their partner off to the world. They introduce each other to a lot of new people blending into each others friends group really well. Power struggles can create tension because they could feel like the other person plots on how to have power over the relationship.Pluto person has a lot of control over the emotions of house person. House person may try to play it cool but pluto has a hold of them. Pluto person wants to lead the relationship but house person may not be okay with that. Public arguments could be familiar to them. It doesn't even have to be an argument but people can tell when they aren't on the same page. They can try to make each other jealous when there out together. Its exciting to see each other worked up. House person could want more public affection so the jealously feels reassuring. This connection could've started at some sort of get together or the first few times they were around each other there were other people present. They could embarrass each other in public flirting with someone in public in the lower natures. This connection feels very familiar to both people. They could feel like siblings not in weird way lol but just the way they were raised and how they think, its very similar to each other. They have alot of fun together. It takes both people back to childhood. This could've started as just friends then turned into something more.

6th: Friends to lovers type of vibe. This match could've been unsuspecting. Knowing each other for a while but just now deciding to give love a go. Theres a lightheartedness about this connection. Both people are just seeing where it goes without pressure or expectations. No expectations may not be the best thing though, it may keep these two in a cycle of unknowing. They can feel like they manifested each other but question if their ready for what they asked for. Self worth issues play a big role here. Theres changes that need to be made internally to make this connection work but one or both people are reluctant to change. Holding onto the past wounds from relationships. Making the assumption that everyone is the same. The energy in this connection can be unbalanced. Someone feels they aren't good enough for the other or thats implied by the other person. Routine are a topic of conversation, they could feel insecure about how they spend free time and feel the need to lie about what they actually do or feel uncomfortable about always doing the same things. On the flip side they can give each other better physical and mental habits, showing more efficient ways to get things done. Living a more healthy lifestyle and thinking more positive. They love spending the morning together getting ready together. The type to make sure you've ate and check in just to see how your doing. They show love by being reliable. This is the type of couple that would discuss what their gonna wear so their outfits are similar. They could have a busy schedule and have to plan time together. Meeting up could always feel so exciting because of the timing factor. Teaching each other how to be honest about your needs and expectations could be hard but pluto is in the 6th house for a reason.

7th: Pluto person wants to show house person off to everyone. They feel like they really got a catch and wants everyone to see how special house person is their very proud to be with them. They want to invest in each other, bossing up each others aesthetic and or finances. In the lower octave the masculine energy fears the feminine is attracted to them mostly because of the money or gifts. The masculine can have insecurities around their worth so they lead with money but then still feel unloved because they led with materials. Both people couldve came into the relationship with insecurities about the physical body they make each other feel confident and dissolve the previous thoughts. They want the same things in life, sharing the same values. Be aware of the promises you make not getting carried away in excitement and not being able to uphold it. Or vise versa the actions are more important than the words. They could've meet on social media or in a work setting. Theirs interest around what each other do for work. Something about the career is attractive to the other. They bounce ideas off each other and help further their career advancement. Maybe even working together. They don't mind putting pressure on each other to maintain a level of structure and refinement. They watch your social media pages fantasizing about the two of you together. Also something about the way this person dresses you either love or you just want to dress them yourself.

8th: At first they could've found it hard to completely give into this connection and avoid true intimacy. Serious commitment is important for them they aren't into flings, they do things with a purpose. They view the relationship from a practical standpoint and analyze how this will contribute to their lives and how much they are willing to give to make it work. When the bond is proven to be strong they want to share their resources. They can give too much though then build resentments about not feeling the energy is being reciprocated. A lot goes unsaid, trust issues and resentments are lurking in the shadows. On the stingier side pluto person doesn't want to share their success with house person or they want house person to jump through hoops for it. They love sharing information with each other. This couple can be a mystery to others. They dont share much about their relationship preferring to keep things private. They notice the friends their partner has that dont have their best interest at heart. Self esteem and codependency issues could show face. The arguments they have are intense. Triggering unspoken insecurities in each other. This relationship builds the confidence of each person. Your a safe space for each other without judgement. On the flip side its important to focus on your own identity and not get to caught up in what your partner thinks. Change because thats what you want to do. Learning to relax and go with flow will do this couple well. Except that everything cant be planned and controlled. This placement creates a solid foundation for a long lasting relationship.

9th: These two share a lot of experiences together. They've been a lot of places together, been seen in a lot of rooms together, everyone knows that these two are together. People cant take their eyes of these two wanting to be in their business. This placement really makes me think of youtube couples.Transforming each other preparing for the spotlight. They really boost each others popularity. They love to be seen out together but that makes sense because they get alot of attention. They share a lot of similar interest and love to combine ideas. An example would be two musicians making songs together. Wounds of hyper independence makes being available and being of service something that really brings them closer together. Traveling together is really looked forward to. Traveling also doesn't have to be physical, a lot of mental shifts happen in this partnership. You really get to witness the growth in each other. In the lower natures the ego wars are strong here. Both people don't wanna feel like their submitting to the will of the other. They make each other chase, a lot. Outside influences cause a lot of friction in this relationship. Other people could know when their at odds with each other. Both like to go back and talk to friends or the internet about whats going on. The arguments are PETTYYYYY. They affect each others self esteem alot.

10th: Proud of each others public image, the work ethic and goals align. These two make a good team they share alot of similar ideas so they naturally go towards the same direction. Creating a business together could be a good idea. They look very aesthetically pleasing together and both know this, using it to their advantage whenever they can. This connection could be stop and go or have taken a while to really get off the ground. It seems there was always something else taking attention away from growing the spark. The more dominant energy could subtly restrict how much the other person expresses themselves. Power struggles and feelings of having to fight to have your opinion heard may present but thats the perfect time for them to assert their own beliefs. Which will always be respected in any healthy relationship. Putting on a brave face when things might not be so well is something that attention might need to be brought too. You cant have support if your not honest about your needs. The relationship could be different behind closed doors than what they present to the public. An example is seeming serious in public and maybe not that affectionate but much more goofy and relaxed at home. When traveling together may be a time frustrations really appear. One person could me more relaxed with how they do things and the other could prefer to have a schedule and routine in place. They could also want to do the same things but at different times. They feel a responsibility over each other, they stand up for each other.

11th: There is a lot of love to go around. Friendships, familial relationships and business relationships are equally as important as intimate relationships to this pair. This is a very busy couple that has hands in many points they both have hobbies or responsibilities that take up a lot their time. Double dates would be really fun for them. Doing physical activity together really grows this bond as well. Beware of how much money your spending when together. Yall like to have fun first and consider cost second. Trying new things together is something that really brings this couple closer. They love surprises and spontaneous dates. Both people are very good at vetting out potential partners their very particular about who they show interest in. The fact that you two came together you take the union serious and both require the stability of a solid foundation. This started as a friendship then grown to become more serious. You didnt expect to meet this person when you did. Meeting through other people, spontaneously or online. The friend groups of these two are different they can also come from different cultures or have different upbringings. In the lower natures someone could want to much freedom, they dont want to put ''tittles'' on the relationship. Favoring partying and keeping the vibe light and friendly. Pluto person could try to use house person as a status upgrade. Like the gateway to other groups of people. Im sure they would just call that networking though lol. This relationship can lack a long term vision. One or both people can feel like they aren't worthy of a ''normal'' functioning relationship. Preferring to keep things spontaneous when their actually just running from fear of the unknown.

12th: This couple manifest success together easily, people are intrigued by them. They give power couple vibes. Something is very alluring that brings alot of attention the magnetism has plutoian qualities. Others could think they'd like to have a relationship like this one. Thats from the outside though. Both people know how to keep private matters private. I think of public figures that want to uphold a certain image. These two idolize or romanticize each other, ignoring the obvious red flags. They can become very codependent on each other for emotional fulfillment. If their not on good terms it messes the whole day up. Breaking up to make up. Loving the passion that comes with it. Balancing work and the relationship may be something that has to be worked out. The arguments are very intense and passionate. There personalities start to merge into one, they start really sound, look and act alike. They give so selflessly to one another. They have dedication and patience to get through the challenging times. Their spirituality is developed through their love for one another. Experiencing things they haven't in any other relationship. Truly changed for the better. They understand each other like no one else ever has. They've both experienced something that was very specific and that bonded them. Its the 12th house so you know i have to mention addictions. Yes, this could be actual addiction to a substance but it can be an addiction over the career, belief system or relationship. An area in this persons life gets way more attention than the others. The belief system of these two can be different or started different.

Songs: i put a spell on you- Alice smith, haunted- Beyonce, sycamore tree- Kali uchis, boomerang- Yebba, something about us- Daft punk

#astrology #12th house #astrology101 #8th house #astrologyfacts #astrologychart #astrologyzone #astro notes #pluto astrology #pluto aspects #synastry #astrology notes #pluto

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nezz-cringe-crib · 7 months ago

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growing up is realizing that dipcifica was actually a pretty damn good ship and holy shit i totally misjudged this pairing.

i never really liked dipcifica mainly because of how it got represented by the fandom, but looking back on it, it would've made a lot of sense and it would've been beneficial for both of them to date each other. and even in a completely platonic sense, their dynamic worked well enough that they could've done a lot more together.

dipper is a very nerdy awkward guy, clearly. he likes solving mysteries and sometimes he gets a little in over his head because of it. and his silly little awkward teenage love life reflects all of these things. that little shrimp was disney's #1 simp, it's actually insane. whenever he'd start to fall for a girl it'd end up going pretty terribly because he'd have no idea how to just act like himself and he'd also become a little bit of a jerk. (i'm not trying to like dog on dipper btw. he's just a kid and these are all understandable flaws, especially at his age and at the time period gravity falls took place in). however, with pacifica, a lot of these flaws are manageable solely because of how they're introduced to each other. dipper hates pacifica at first and wants nothing to do with her, but eventually they're forced to work together and realize "huh. we actually make a really good team." for dipper, this gradual building of a relationship is really beneficial to him. he wouldn't just go head-first into simping for some random girl and he'd also learn to respect her as a person and realize when he's being a little bit of a dick. being with pacifica, platonically or romantically (though personally i think romantically would strengthen their pros more but thats just my personal taste), would've helped dipper become a better person.

this goes for pacifica as well. pacifica's homelife is extremely controlling and it's what groomed her into becoming the mean girl that she's first presented as. as the show continues though, it's clear that she doesn't really want to be mean to anybody. she only acts spoiled because she doesn't know what else she can act like. she wants to connect to people but she's been so forced into this fake rich life that she has no idea how to be genuine with anybody. that's why her having a connection to dipper is so important. dipper is a little blunt, and he especially won't hide that from pacifica because he initially hates her and her family's lifestyle, so this'll eventually help pacifica realize "oh shit. i'm kind of a dick. my family are kind of huge dicks." and we do end up seeing this from her in "Northwest Mansion Mystery". she learns how to be herself, learns who "herself" even means, and learns to stand up for who she is when she figures that out. also pacifica's pretty damn smart???? especially socially???? she could absolutely help dipper do a lot of things when it comes to mystery solving, and with her status it'll most likely be things that dipper could never pull off and never even thought about because that's just what he's used to. they'd both end up learning a lot from each other because they'd be dragged into environments that they're not familiar with, but the other is. and their different perspectives/lifestyles would help the other view their environment in a new light.

not only is their relationship genuinely really beneficial to the both of them, but i also just know that their dialogue and scenes with each other would be so damn silly i can't not say yes to it anymore. i also just personally like headcanoning them both as bisexual so that's a plus for me.

anyways, tldr: i was wrong about dipcifica and its actually really good, i just think people should really analyze their relationship more since the way the fandom presents it (or how ive personally seen the fandom present it) is a little icky and shallow at least in my opinion. yay for dipcifica being silly little goobers :3

#gravity falls #analysis #dipper pines #pacifica northwest #dipcifica #nezz brainz

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ahundredtimesover · 10 months ago

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I Want You to Stay (06) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: We're slowly heading somewhere! Still slow but it's something hehe thank you again for appreciating this piece! 🥰 Also... JK in that Vogue outfit with a corsage. YEP.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The silence that engulfs Jungkook’s apartment once you enter the following Monday is quite unnerving, as it brings back memories of the last time this happened and a half-naked woman came out of the bedroom and questioned who you were. The gym is empty. There’s no other sound of someone typing away or talking on the phone like the few times that you found Jungkook working before you even arrived.

You take a deep breath and decide to just face whoever comes out of these doors until one of them opens and out comes the man himself - alone - dressed in an oversized jumper and sweatpants. He looks like he just got out of bed with his semi-mussed hair - with a little sprout bouncing along as he moves - and groggy eyes, which widen once it registers that you’re here.

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” he replies, his deep and gruff voice startling you a little. “What do you have there?”

He gestures towards the paper bag you’re holding, and you remember what you decided to bring over.

“Uh, chicken noodle soup,” you mutter, somehow suddenly shy. “Just an option for this morning. I wasn’t sure if you were still feeling under the weather.”

“I think I’m just fatigued,” he says. “But uh, I can have that.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, putting it in a pot to eventually heat.

You prepare his suits for the week then prepare his breakfast, pouring yourself a small serving as well. He takes his seat and starts eating, and you glance at him to see his reaction.

“Where did you get the one from last Saturday?” He asks, his face expressionless.

“From a store nearby,” you answer. “I was heading somewhere and your building was on the way.”

“This tastes better. Where did you get this from?”

“I, uh, I made it,” you say softly, feeling a bit of pride that it’s something he complimented.

There’s prolonged silence that you’re suddenly nervous about. His eyes remain focused straight ahead while yours constantly flit towards him, partly to gauge if he’ll start talking about last week’s meeting and partly to see his reaction about your dish.

“You don’t have to send or make me food, Ms. Cho,” he finally says, wishing he’d said it with a bit more warmth.

But he’s not used to speaking that way, so it comes off as displeasure, as if he doesn’t appreciate what you’d done even if that’s exactly how he feels. He’s grateful; he just doesn’t want another reason to think that you actually care about him.

“My health is my responsibility, not yours,” he adds.

“I, uh… I suppose that’s true,” you say even more softly. “I just thought it would be nice to be given something like this when you’re sick.”

And it’s the truth. During the times you were unwell, Hoseok would remind you to rest or take your medicines; he even bought you vitamins and it’s why taking them became a habit of yours. You barely had the energy to make soup. But after that one time when you braved through an event and Yoongi noticed you feeling under the weather, he took you to a noodle house and ordered extra chicken noodle soup for you to take home. You had it all through the weekend, and though it wasn’t like your mom’s, it was still something familiar, and it was comfort that you badly needed.

You thought it was something you could extend to Jungkook. You weren’t sure if he was spending the weekend at home by himself, but in case he was, you thought that something warm would help. You were on your way to watch a local film and happened to pass by his area, the image of him sick and probably alone prompting you to just buy that dish and leave it at the reception. You suddenly craved it and made one for yourself last night, thinking it wouldn’t hurt if you brought some over for him as well. Even if he thinks it isn’t your responsibility, you think it’s still within your role to make sure that your boss - the Vice President - conducts his functions properly, and he can only do so if he’s healthy.

As you finish the small portion that you prepared for yourself, Jungkook wonders who’d taken care of you during the times you were sick. With your friends and family miles away, perhaps there wasn’t anyone. Maybe it was a boyfriend. Or maybe like what he’s come to see, you did things on your own. Maybe you think there’s no one doing that for him, too.

And you wouldn’t be wrong. He was never good with company, after all, whether it was offering or keeping it. So when someone offers something as simple as a bowl of soup for when he’s feeling unwell, it cuts through the walls he’s built around himself because he’s become used to no one even knocking to check how he’s doing.

But in an effort to remain unmoved and insistent on keeping his distance, he sets boundaries once more.

“You don’t need to do this for me, Mr. Cho,” he states. “I appreciate it, but I’d prefer if you don’t do it again.”

He sees your face fall from his periphery, and much as he wants to take it back, he knows he has to hold back. It was hard enough to resist feeling cared for.

He’d really spent the weekend by himself, turning down his friends’ invitation to go to a resort and Hoseok’s offer of dinner at this newly opened steak house. Jungkook was buried under the covers when the phone rang informing him that you’d left something for him, unwilling to move and get off the bed because he was too tired but also too hungry, so when he opened the bag and it registered to him what you've given him, he felt less alone and less sad for himself. The image of your shy expression flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help the smile he let out, giving himself only a minute to bask in your kindness before reminding himself that it means nothing more than making sure he’s well. It’s harder for you if he’s sick, he convinced himself. Still, he’d rather not think about it; he’d rather not torture himself by his brain wanting you to mean one thing, but his heart hoping it was another.

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice a little too firm for his liking. “I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.”

“It—” didn’t, he wants to say. It made him feel nice and comfortable and that’s what he can’t let himself feel around you.

“I treat this as part of my job,” you reason, a half lie because you really did want to extend some kindness even if he may not exactly be deserving of it. “But it may not be so for you. I’ll take note of this moving forward.”

Jungkook concedes. Any objection will counter what he’s been saying, even if he didn’t mean all of it. And like how you always do, you get over it quickly, flashing him a measured smile and taking out your iPad to go through this week’s schedule.

You both head to the car after and discuss his previous meetings. You’re detailed and engaged, taking down notes and asking him questions like the professional that you are. He tells you about his meeting with artist Lee Jaemin and that he agreed with 80% of the pieces that you and Yoongi chose. You talk about the Board members’ reactions during his presentation and he shares what they talked to him about during the dinner.

“Socializing with them was tiring,” he admits. “I couldn’t keep up with all the things that they wanted to talk about.”

You give him an assuring smile. “You looked like you did well,” you assure him. “They seemed engaged, although as Mr. Jung would say, part of that is for show, to get on your good side. It would be smarter to think that not all of it was genuine.”

“True. But I enjoyed speaking with Mr. Saito. He’s an architect, too, and we had a really good talk about incorporating traditional elements in a modern design.”

“Yes, he’s always been kind,” you say. “But it’s good that you’re able to forge these relationships. Perhaps it’s also new to them, seeing you in that light. I suppose they don’t know you all that much. It’s a nice change being able to engage with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, well, it’s just during the company events that you attended, it wasn’t exactly hard to spot you,” you chuckle, seemingly comfortable now.

“And why is that so?”

He turns to you, legitimately curious because he’d never really noticed you before, even if he knew you as Hoseok’s assistant. If he’s being honest, you didn’t even look familiar when you first met, and that just reinforces the fact that Jungkook didn’t really care for the other people around him, especially during those events he was required to fly to Seoul to attend. If he’d paid a bit more attention, maybe he wouldn’t have been caught off guard when he did finally meet you. Maybe he wouldn’t have been as rude, too.

“If I may, sir, it was quite easy to spot one of the Jeon sons always at the bar,” you chuckle. “Your father and cousin would often look for you and you were always in the same spot.”

You’d noticed him, Jungkook thinks to himself. He wonders what you’d thought about him then, but given how he hated those events, it probably wouldn’t be something good. He just always couldn’t wait to leave.

“Ah. As you can tell, I’m not one who likes to socialize,” he says. “I don’t really know what to talk to people about. And I’m not that good with names nor faces. It was easier to keep to myself.”

“That’s understandable. But you already know that’ll have to change,” you remind him. “Half of what Mr. Jung did was attend events.”

“I know. He’s been preparing me for that. I need your help in that aspect, too, from remembering names to getting my energy up. Those are oddly what I’m most nervous about, if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I hope I can make things easy for you.”

You’ll never know the irony of your words, and perhaps the push and pull it brings about - as you try to make things easy for him, the harder it actually becomes on his end.

You find yourself back at the tailor shop the next Thursday for Jungkook’s suit fitting, and if it wasn’t for Taehyung telling you that your gowns are ready, you would have totally forgotten that you had some dresses made as well.

While Jungkook tries on his outfits, you’re instructed to choose several dress shirts that he’d be adding to his wardrobe, given the various functions he’d be attending from now on. You didn’t anticipate for this to be part of your role, but you don’t mind, as it’s a welcome change to what you normally do, which is attend meetings, bury yourself in paperwork, and everything else in between. At least you’ll be visiting the venue for the Arts Center event tomorrow, but today, you focus on the task at hand, which turns out to be harder than expected.

The options are endless. It doesn’t help that you have to envision Jungkook in each piece of clothing and that he looks good in every one of them, and that you have to imagine him at all. You see him everyday - and have seen him in as little as in just his gym shorts - and you don’t really want to have him in your mind as well. But how he presents himself is a big part of his new role, as Hoseok had told you. As the Vice President, Jungkook needs to look sophisticated and respectable, someone worthy to represent the company and the Jeon family name.

You go for different hues of grays and blacks and other colors, too. There’s an olive green that looks really nice, and a few maroons and pinks that would add variety to his everyday look. You’re focused on making your choices, but your focus shifts to Jungkook when he comes out of the dressing room donned in a patterned black suit. The fit is perfect and even with the distance between you two, you could spot impeccable details that make the outfit look elegant yet fresh.

“This is for the gala,” Taehyung states. “What do you think, Ms. Cho?”

“It looks nice” is all you manage to say.

It’s the only word you feel is neutral enough to describe him. Even if you could accept that Jungkook is handsome, you don’t exactly want to say so in front of him.

“I was going for something better than nice, but that should be fine, I guess. What do you think, Kook?”

“I like it. But don’t you think the sleeves are a bit too fit on my arms?” Jungkook asks his friend.

“Well, it’s not like you were flexing them when I was measuring you,” Taehyung playfully rolls his eyes. “But I can adjust it, since I doubt you’d take a pause on lifting weights anyway. It’s probably the material though so don’t worry, I’ll fix this. Okay, on to the next one.”

You return to your task at hand, choosing some patterned tops that are appropriate for less formal events, and you inform Taehyung who then says that he’ll have those made in Jungkook’s measurements. With your task finished, Taehyung instructs you to head downstairs so you could fit your gowns as well, and you follow in anticipation because these might just be the first and only custom-made pieces of clothing you’ll ever have the luxury of wearing.

A female staff assists you, making sure that the length and neckline are to your liking. The first outfit, the one for the Arts Center event, is an old rose sleeveless lace midi dress that looks even more gorgeous when worn. The gown for the Appointment Dinner is a black short-sleeved pleated piece that is both functional and fashionable, but it’s the last one - the one for the gala - that has your jaw dropping to the ground.

“Ms. Cho,” you hear Taehyung call out from outside the fitting room. “Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, unable to stop looking at yourself in the mirror and turning around to try to see every angle of the stunning dress. “It’s just, uh…”

“It’s what?” He asks worriedly. “Can you come outside so I can see?”

You take a breath before pulling the heavy curtains open and find Taehyung and Jungkook standing not far away.

“It’s too pretty, Mr. Kim,” you say shyly. “I don’t think I can wear this.”

“Well, you will. Because it’s custom-made,” he points out. “And it looks gorgeous on you. It fits perfectly. I assume the others do as well?”

“Yes,” you smile, feeling like a fairytale princess who gets to wear a gown that her fairy godmother had made for her. “They’re just…”

“Exactly what you need as this guy’s right hand woman,” Taehyung finishes for you.

He gestures towards his best friend who seems expressionless and probably unimpressed by how you look. It’s not like you mind but it at least wouldn’t be humiliating if he just stood there looking uninterested.

“What do you think, Kook?”

“It looks nice,” Jungkook shrugs, repeating the words you’d used on him earlier. Shifting his gaze from you to Taehyung, he excuses himself. “I’ll head to the car, I have calls to make.”

“I’ll finish up here,” you say, turning around to go back to the fitting room.

Jungkook exits the shop and finally breathes, feeling like he’d suffocated inside because of how you looked. He’d wondered how the dresses turned out, curious about the designs because Taehyung didn’t want to show him; it’s a surprise, the man had said. And now Jungkook knows why.

Stunning would be an inadequate word to use. The burgundy color of the gown made it look sophisticated on you, even more with the off-shoulder that showed off some of your features that he’d rather not think about. The flow was elegant, and he half wishes that he hadn’t thought of having these made only so he could avoid the moment earlier when he felt his throat dry up because of how beautiful you looked.

He’s gonna have to get used to being rendered speechless every time, he thinks, but it’s not like it doesn’t happen everyday, anyway. Every morning that he finds you standing in his kitchen, donning the pencil skirt and blouse ensemble that assistants are recommended to wear, his mind short circuits. There’s something especially fresh and electrifying about you at the start of the day, and he always has to pull himself together and act normal around you without giving himself away.

He can’t nurture the attraction, after all, even if he’s reminded of it during times like earlier, even more so when he gazes at you and you hold it, letting the tension build unconsciously. Because that’s what happened, as you pulled open the curtains and looked up. He wishes you were too shy to notice how long he had his eyes on you. But it’s why he had to get away. You’re too much for him sometimes, and he doesn’t know if you have any idea of how you affect him.

Jungkook stares at his phone, half hoping that an actual call would come to distract him. But nothing does, and he leans his head back and groans in frustration. What is it about you that makes him absolutely weak in the knees and stupid in the head?

Back inside, you give Taehyung your address so he can have the gowns delivered to your apartment for your convenience.

“Thank you again, Mr. Kim,” you say. “I wish I could do your creations justice.”

“You will. It’s in the confidence, so exude it, okay?”

“I’ll try,” you giggle. “Especially since those pieces will pretty much blow the Office of the VP’s budget.”

“Is that what Kook said? That these are budgeted under him?” Taehyung arches an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes, sort of. I just assumed because he’d pointed out that they were being made as part of my functions,” you explain.

“Hmm. I know his office has a lot of money but these gowns would definitely blow up any contingency fund you have,” he chuckles. “So no, your assumption is wrong. Kook’s paying for all this.”

“What?” You exclaim. “But that’s— why?”

“Well, you do need these as part of your job, and he wanted to save you the inconvenience of spending for them. I mean, he did buy Lucas some suits, too. But between you and me, I think this is his way of apologizing to you, just in a very gallant way.”

“You mean unnecessary and undeserving,” you correct, still in shock that Jungkook is paying for all those, even if yes, he can easily afford them.

“Nope, not at all. I know he’s been difficult to deal with and I’d like to apologize on his behalf, seeing that he’s terrible at doing it. I know it doesn’t make things better but at least it’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.”

“Well, that does help a bit,” you smile, following him as he heads out the door. “But thank you again, Mr. Kim.”

“Off with the formalities,” he laughs. “It’s Taehyung. And you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do to somehow make up for my ass of a best friend.”

“He’s not too bad. Not anymore, at least,” you counter. “I’ll go ahead. Have a good day, Taehyung!”

Jungkook manages to look down on his phone in time for you not to see him watch you talk freely and casually with his friend. That’s another person close to him who gets to experience how you’re like - joyful and warm, perhaps a little shy sometimes, but comfortable just the same. It’s something he’ll only see from afar; your positions necessitate some distance, but perhaps that’s better than not having you around at all.

You enter the car and you’re back to being quiet and reserved, your eyes focused on the road while Jungkook, in an effort not to keep glancing at you, turns to his leather notebook and doodles some designs that pop in his head. It’s his way of calming himself down most days, helping him focus given that his mind is often filled with too many thoughts that he can’t express. He hopes that in drawing them, he can somehow rid himself of the feelings he’s locked in and it helps, as he’s somehow able to get over the tension from earlier and the tiniest bit of jealousy over your casual engagement with Taehyung.

You both return to the office, with Jungkook proceeding to his room to prepare for a lunch meeting and you follow, taking some signed documents that he’d left earlier.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say as he settles in his seat. “Thank you for the dresses. I… I’ve never had anything as beautiful as those and undeserving as I may feel, I’m just really appreciative.”

Jungkook isn’t prepared for the softness in your voice as you say the words, and like the consistent jerk that he is, he brushes it off.

“Taehyung made them; you should thank him. I just paid for them,” he utters, his tone stern and uncaring.

His eyes flit to you when there’s silence on your end, and he wishes they hadn’t. There’s resignation in yours, as if he’s shattering another moment you’re creating where you’re just being sincere and he’s being dismissive. It’s his default, he reasons, not just towards you but towards everyone. Normally he wouldn’t mind how the other would take it, but with you right now, he wishes he was so much better than this.

You hold his gaze, as if trying to tell him things you don’t want to express. He’s not one to apologize, but he also won’t accept gratitude. You’re starting to think that what Jungkook can’t handle is any form of human connection. It’s something you struggle with at times, but you’re at least open to it, willing to accept kindness and appreciating people for what they have to offer. Jungkook deflects; he turns away. It seemed like it took so much for him to even verbalize needing your help and perhaps he was desperate; his reputation was on the line after all. But even then, he doesn’t give nor does he accept, and you wonder what made him that way.

“Is there anything else?” He finally asks after a long beat of silence.

“Nothing more,” you shake your head and excuse yourself.

Returning to your desk, you look at Jungkook from your seat. There’s a hint of emptiness in his eyes that you often mistake for apathy. Perhaps there’s more and perhaps the help he really needs isn’t just about dealing with his father or remembering names or navigating relationships required for his role. Maybe it’s about opening himself up a little, or smiling when the situation calls for it, or not questioning other people’s kindness towards him. Maybe it’s about realizing he’s more than just this heir to the company or the playboy he’s known as. Maybe it’s about seeing that he’s capable of sincerity and gentleness as well.

You sigh to yourself. It’s probably a long shot but you only feel strongly about it because you know what it’s like to turn people away. If it hadn’t been for your family and friends, you probably would’ve continued to do so. Jungkook may be your boss but he’s human, too, and he may just be waiting around to see who’d be patient enough to extend a hand and let him know that he’s not alone, that someone understands, and maybe that someone is you.

The days fly by too quickly for your liking and you haven't been able to take a breath. You had a meeting with the organizing committee of the Appointment Dinner most of last Friday and you spent your weekend coordinating with the designers for the Arts Center launch. It’s been last minute preparations these past two days and before you know it, Wednesday has come. You stayed late the night before and were gladly checked in at the hotel with the other assistants, so you at least got a bit of sleep even if your body felt like it continued to stay awake.

But tonight is important, as the newly appointed executives will be formally introduced to the corporation’s directors, shareholders, and subsidiary companies. You’ve been organizing this with the planning committee since the appointments were announced, and given that coordinating events like this is one of your primary tasks, you’re exhausted and excited and nervous all at once. But it’s the second time you’re doing this and you’ve learned so much since you did this for Hoseok. There’s more knowledge, sure, but there’s also more confidence. You also know enough to eat before the guests arrive and at 3PM, it’s exactly what you do, knowing you won’t have much else until the event ends.

The other employees compliment your dress, and you’re too shy to say who had designed it but you eventually do, knowing it’s good for Taehyung’s brand. But you don’t say much else, choosing instead to focus on the guest list as you’re tasked to do, and you go around the events hall to make sure that the VIP name cards are placed on their proper tables. You’re able to sneak bites of the canapes as you go, allowing yourself a flute of champagne for that kick you need to socialize with the guests tonight.

You engage with the early birds when they arrive, guiding them to their seats and putting on your most welcoming smile. You get Mr. Ri’s message that they’re nearby, so you head outside and stand by the entrance and wait for them, knowing Jungkook would want to know how things are going.

He exits the car in a black suit and white top, a statement brooch adorning his classic coat. The strands of his long hair are tucked behind his ears and he looks even more polished than usual, a look that catches attention; it definitely catches yours.

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Some of your invited guests have arrived.”

“Have you spoken to them?” He asks, as you walk slightly behind him towards the venue.

“I have, and they’re looking forward to seeing you.”

He nods, and just as he’s about to enter the hall, he stops and turns towards you.

“You’re busy tonight, aren’t you?”

“Somewhat, sir,” you reply. “We all have our tasks but I’m free to move around. Do you need help with anything?”

“Just, uh, names.”

“I’ll always be nearby,” you assure him.

Your smile gives him the comfort he needs. He’s been without it since yesterday afternoon, given that you had to prepare as part of the organizing committee. And while the support team and Yoongi have been encouraging, only you really know why every event such as this is important for him.

Jungkook has already made gains with some of the Board members last week; this time, it’s about engaging everyone else - the staff, the partners, and key personalities in the industry. Hoseok and Ji-woo have done this before but it’s Jungkook’s first time. He’s no longer just an executive in the Southeast Asian office; he’s now the Vice President of the entire company. There’s a lot of pressure that comes from carrying the Jeon family name, and even more being the only one of the two sons who’s taking on such an important role.

The event hall is grand. It’s pretty special, too. It’s one of the projects he worked on as part of the design department years ago before he left for Singapore, and the thought makes him stop. Perhaps this is the reason why his father chose this venue for tonight; if anything, it’s a reminder of what Jungkook is capable of. He takes a breath and looks around to soak everything in before approaching his invited guests - partners and consultants he worked with in his previous role.

But that ends quickly, as many more people approach him for a greeting.

Jungkook is a bit overwhelmed. He tries to hold eye contact when he speaks to them but he can only do so for so long. Some faces are familiar but the names escape him, and he starts to regret all the times that he flew here for events like this and never engaged with the other guests. If he had, perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard.

There are those who introduce themselves, while there are those who don’t, perhaps assuming that he’d know who they are. Just like the couple who’s speaking to him excitedly, and he wants to return the energy by at least calling them by their names. His mind is blank, and just as he’s about to give up, he looks up and sees you, your eyes catching his as if you’re just waiting for his cry for help.

There’s pleading in his eyes and you get it immediately, as you walk towards his direction then greet the pair next to him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” you say. “It’s lovely to see both of you again. I saw in the news that you’re launching a new project with our partners from Dubai. That’s quite exciting.”

“Ah, Ms. Cho,” they greet you back. “Yes, all thanks to Mr. Jung who helped us with that partnership. We’re excited for it as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure. We’re looking forward to it,” you smile.

“Thank you. I’m pleased to know that you remain as the Vice President’s assistant,” Mrs. Yamada says. “Perhaps we can invite Mr. Jeon to one of our hotels in Japan? Or even in London?”

You turn to Jungkook who looks less tense than he did a few minutes ago.

“Ah, yes, that would be great, Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” he responds. “I’m sure I’ll find time during one of my trips and I’ll definitely give you a call. Perhaps we can talk about projects we can work on as well.”

The excitement in the couple’s faces is a joy to see and for their sake, you really do wish that Jungkook makes good on his promise. You ask him about it after they leave, and he says that the names were familiar. Ji-woo’s talked about working with them before and that they’re long-time friends of the family, so he should maintain that relationship.

A call of his name prompts both of you to look to the side, and he turns to you with a questioning face.

“Mr. Adam’s an investor. Behind him is Professor Zhang from SNU. They’re friends of your father,” you tell him. Seeing Bitna signal for you, you say, “I have to check on something, Mr. Jeon. I’ll be back.”

You turn around to head to one of the tables, but you look back to watch Jungkook greet those who approach him, his smile becoming more natural as the moments pass by. You briefly meet with some staff about the musical guest and some other last minute adjustments. You greet Taehyung and Seokjin who show up to support their best friend, with both men complimenting how you look.

Knowing that Jungkook will be needing you again after, you call over Do-hyun and Yohan and delegate some of your monitoring tasks to them, and then stand by one of the tables as you watch the socialization take place as more guests come in.

Your eyes find Jungkook again as he’s engaged in a conversation with some Board members and other partners, and you smile a little at how he’s able to maintain eye contact and look like he’s actually interested, especially after he looks up and gives you a look as if to say that he’s trying his best.

“Why are you watching him like some child who’s trying to make friends at the playground?” Chin-sun asks, the teasing tone of her voice making you chuckle. “He’s a grown man, you know? He can hold his own.”

“I know,” you reply, turning to her. “But it’s one of the many things that’s new about his role. And probably one of the more important ones. I just wanna let him know that he’s doing a good job.”

“Well, there’s no wife or girlfriend to do that. I guess that makes it your responsibility then.”

You disregard her comment’s implication and point out that Hoseok does that for Jungkook, too, but he’s just as busy and perhaps just as nervous as well.

“It matters a lot to hear it. Plus, social events can be overwhelming and isolating at the same time. He’s still getting used to it,” you add.

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn to her.

“You know, I admire you for a lot of things,” she says. “Your ability to remain kind after everything is one of them. I mean, after how he treated you those first few weeks? That was tough.”

Your resigned face pushes her to continue. “Do-hyun could’ve gone on without telling me about seeing you cry and I still would’ve known. You tried to hide it but your smile always fell too fast and your eyes were just always sad. Must’ve been hard, trying to get the team on his side when you couldn’t do that for yourself.”

“I honestly don’t know how I survived that first month,” you laugh to mask the sadness from that experience. “But that’s in the past. He still has his moments but at least there are good ones now. I’m here to do my job. Being kind after everything is part of it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to keep it to yourself though,” she laments. “If we couldn’t help, we could’ve at least cheered you up.”

“I didn’t want to bring you guys into it,” you say. “The team was incredibly busy with so many things and I managed. That’s what matters.”

“Oh, ___,” she sighs. “You put so much of yourself in your job. I think that’s why the bosses trust you. But that takes so much out of you, too. Do you have anything left for yourself?”

“What’s left is right here, Chin-sun. I don’t think I know what I am outside of all this.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? I mean, I’ve worked with you for three years and I can’t say I really know you outside of this, too. And if you can’t… well, that’s something to think about.”

“And I have. It’s something I’ve asked myself, but trying to find the answer isn’t as easy as asking the question. So I just put all my energy into my work because where else would I? It at least pays the bills and lets me enjoy little luxuries every once in a while,” you reason.

“Well, I know what learning who you are outside of this job would entail, and I’m a little selfish because I need you around,” she smiles. “No one does things the way you do, and that’s also why I figured that at some point, Mr. Jeon was gonna get himself together because he can’t afford to lose you. You’re so good at this, ___. He’s lucky you didn’t quit.”

“Apparently, it takes a lot to get me to quit,” you reply.

Or I was just never brave enough to do it, you want to say. Asking the question is indeed always easier than finding the answer.

“Let’s hope you find a way to find yourself without resigning. We can’t afford to lose you, too,” she winks.

“I appreciate that, Chin-sun. Thank you.”

“Well, I think it matters that you know that you’re doing amazing. I hope he treats you as you deserve.”

He tries, you think to yourself. At least that’s what you hope.

The call of your names from a familiar voice excites you, as A-yeong approaches you and Chin-sun. You engage in your usual hushed conversations until you see Jungkook in another sea of people and you decide to approach him, the relief on his face telling you that he’s indeed been needing you.

It’s not your preferred crowd. Something you’ve learned in your years of attending these events is that you would smile and entertain them and men would think it’s an invitation to invade your personal space. A lingering touch on the elbow, a hand on your waist, standing a millimeter too close… and they disregard your uncomfortable look or attempts at stepping away.

The man you’re introduced to is new but his ways aren’t, and you scan the hall to find Bitna who turns to you in time, the look you give her signaling another person to look out for. It’s a system they developed that they’ve filled you in on, and you immediately excuse yourself and check on the food served at the back even if you know they’re still well stocked. It at least allows you a breather. You’re not even a main actor but you’re tired as hell from socializing with people.

It’s not long after when the event starts. Speeches and a performance take place while dishes are being put out, and it’s after the main course is served when Jungkook steps away from his seat.

Choosing to stand towards the back before he’s called on stage to be introduced, he scans the hall and thinks about the work that the committee put in, including you, who had to deal with him while dealing with all this. He catches sight of you speaking with the other assistants, and he already knows there’s some planning going on. But like the last time, he felt you around even if you were busy; you held his gaze during the times he felt a little overwhelmed.

“You ready?”

Yoongi’s voice is deep but calming, and Jungkook takes it as his friend’s way of encouraging him.

“Not really, but I’ll manage.”

“Good. You’ve got people on your side,” Yoongi assures him. “Like me. And especially her.”

He gestures towards the left where Jungkook sees you approaching them. Since you started working for him, he didn’t expect how easily he could find comfort in your presence. He went from wishing you were someone else, to wanting to distance himself from you, to constantly hoping you were around. Those last two could actually coexist, and they do. There’s still detachment as his means to combat the attraction - he tries not to care about you, to not get to know you, to remind himself of who you are in his life, but he still depends on you for support, for comfort, for stability. You make his life easier; you also make it feel less lonely. And every time you’re there is a moment where he feels like he could breathe, like the noise in his mind stills because he’s forced to focus on you; somehow, you captivate him that way.

“Are you ready, Mr. Jeon?”

The contrasting tenderness of your voice gives him that boost and he nods despite the lingering nervousness.

“I guess so,” he huffs. “Let’s get this over with.”

He walks towards his seat up front while you stay behind with Yoongi who leads you to one of the free tables at the back. You both don’t say much to each other, focusing instead on the short speeches that Ji-woo and Hoseok give, both of them expressing their gratitude and giving previews of upcoming projects to look forward to. They’re masters at commanding a crowd, as evidenced by their engagement and loud applause at the end of it. You can already imagine Jungkook feeling even more nervous, knowing that’s not really his style, but you hope that your earlier encouragement lingers, as he walks towards the stage.

He delivers his speech flawlessly. Knowing him the way you do, you could tell he let his vulnerability shine through, even if it may not seem much to everyone else. The teaser about the Arts Center gets people excited, which he builds up on. He even slides in a few jokes that surprisingly get the audience entertained.

A small smile paints your face and from next to you, Yoongi chuckles in almost disbelief.

“Is it safe to say you’re proud of him?” He asks, as Jungkook walks down the stage and CEO Jeon takes the mic.

“You could say that,” you turn to him. “It’s silly, considering how things started. I… I didn’t think I’d be genuinely rooting for him, you know? But I am. I really want him to do well.”

“That’s good to hear, ___. I guess it means that things really are changing and he’s treating you better.”

“I think they are,” you hum. “I mean, not the best, but I also don’t know what that’s supposed to look like. I guess I’m just understanding who he is a little bit better now. And I think that makes the difference.”

“Like I said, he’s not a terrible person. He just needs… someone to be patient with him, someone to show him kindness,” Yoongi says. “I think that’s what he lost along the way. He stopped being that way to himself and so did people. They just didn’t want to upset him, but they also didn’t give or show anything more.”

“You think so?”

“Why do you think it’s so hard for him to forge even the simplest and most basic connections?” Yoongi questions. “They lack meaning for him. I think he’s forgotten what that’s like. Without sincerity or kindness, without intensity or honesty, there’s just… emptiness. Everything is fleeting for him.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” You eye him curiously.

“Because I think your kindness did something to him.”

“And that is?”

“He’s showing a bit of that to himself, too. And I guess to others as well,” Yoongi explains.

“I’m a mere assistant doing her job, Yoongi,” you shake your head. “It’s a little selfish but I do what I can to appease him and to make our relationship good enough to make this job bearable for me. If it makes him a better person, good for him and better for me. I’ll just keep doing it then.”

Your friend’s silence prompts you to turn towards him. He seems to be in deep thought, perhaps analyzing what you’d just said, which he tends to do.

There’s no lie in your statement. You’d done your part of standing up to Jungkook at the start; you at least got to show you were capable of fighting for yourself in that sense. But after that, you learned that keeping things in and letting him see how his actions affect you works as well. You show kindness because it’s natural for you, but also because it keeps the peace, it keeps both of you stable.

But you can also admit that you do all that because wanting him to know that he’s got you on his side is a way to tell yourself that you’ve got people rooting for you, too, even if you’re not the best at keeping relationships nor keeping people close. You show Jungkook what you want to experience from people; you make him feel what you want to feel. Maybe that makes you selfish. You think it also makes you human.

It’s not something you tell Yoongi, though. But maybe with the way he looks at you assuringly, you suppose he knows it, too.

The event finally ends and the guests start exiting the venue. You bid them goodbye while instructing some in-house staff about cleaning up. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon greet you on their way out, commending you for your work along with the others, and it’s their encouraging smiles that remind you of one of the reasons why you stick to this job. They’re people you don’t want to disappoint as well, and seeing them satisfied is always a good thing.

“Hey, you’re officially off the clock,” Bitna reminds you. “A couple of us are staying for closing, remember?”

“Right,” you smile.

They have a day off tomorrow because of tonight but it’s not something you can afford, given that you’ve got the Arts Center event one a week from now. It’s almost midnight and you’d have to be up in 5 hours.

“I’ll get going then. I’ll just say goodbye to— oh, Mr. Jeon,” you say, finding him just as you were about to look for him. “Is there anything I can help you with before I leave?”

“Oh, there’s nothing. Just, uh, how are you getting home?”

“A cab,” you answer.

Yoongi nudges your arm from next to you with a pout on his face. “Yah! I’ll take you home. It’s not safe to take a cab this late.”

“Yes, that’s preferable, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook says. “It’s been a long night.”

“Okay, sir,” you nod. “And it has. You also did really well. I didn’t expect the jokes but they were obviously a hit. Yoongi laughed, that’s how I know.”

“You laughed, too,” Yoongi points out.

“I’m glad it worked, then,” Jungkook says. “You can get going. You can also report to my place at 8AM to give you more time to rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungkook heads out and rushes to the car where Mr. Ri drives him home. His mind is still buzzing from what transpired but he’s glad he managed like he said he would, like you believed he would.

And amidst the relief that he did well and the nervousness from having to do something similar again next week, there’s you, a vision that he quickly shakes off and one he finds himself seeing after every big and small thing that he does.

Your warm shower and your bed have never felt this good, only because you’re as tired as you are and you want nothing more than the weekend to come. But you’ve got a few more stressful days ahead of you and you try to push through them one at a time.

You go to Jungkook later than usual that Thursday then spend much of the entire day meeting with him and the team about next week’s event. You conduct a visit to the venue the next day and then spend the weekend answering guests’ queries and helping Chin-sun coordinate with suppliers. Monday and Tuesday have you going from one place to another and hopping from one meeting to the next, all while balancing your executive assistant and events manager responsibilities.

It’s incredibly tiring, but you also won’t deny the exhilaration you feel. There’s something so satisfying about seeing everything come together, especially as you look around the venue - an industrial commercial space that Jungkook and Yoongi jointly designed specifically for tonight. The high ceilings allow for the large panels that project the Arts Center design, with bright lights Illuminating the curated sculptures and art pieces placed around. The space elicits a feeling of newness and familiarity, of hollowness and clarity. There’s integration of traditional and modern elements and essentially, of history and emergence.

It leaves you quite breathless as you look around. It’s not even the Arts Center itself but you know that this is the emotion that Jungkook wants the guests to feel. He wants them to be in awe, to look on in excitement.

“It’s pretty great, huh?” Yoongi asks next to you. “Worth all the hard work.”

“It is. Design and logistics did amazing in putting this together,” you say, given that you’ve spent the entire day working with both teams to set this up.

“Well, Jungkook’s vision is captivating to begin with. It really makes a difference when you’re led by a creative mind. Selling the idea won’t be so hard in a place like this.”

“I really hope so. We’re banking on the artists for exposure. There are gonna be articles about it, too. The whole process is being documented and that makes the final product much more exciting,” you explain. “I… I actually feel really good being a part of this. I’m glad I didn’t quit after that first week.”

Yoongi laughs along with you, knowing now that that experience no longer bothers you the way it used to. But he’s glad about it, too, not only because he selfishly wants you around but even more, he knew that you needed this, that you needed to feel redeemed in Jungkook’s eyes and in yours. Yoongi hopes that as the project goes on, you’ll learn more about yourself and what you want, what you’re good at, what you can give, and what makes you happy.

“That makes both of us. I’m sure Jungkook thinks so, too,” Yoongi replies.

“Well, we’ll never know because he’ll probably never admit it but it’s a good thought,” you smile. “As long as we maintain this unproblematic dynamic, I’m good.”

“Speaking of which, where is he?”

“On the way,” you say. “He had a meeting to attend and he said he’ll be fixing up here. He should be here in a few minutes.”

Do-hyun approaches you about the photographer and you excuse yourself, instructing Yohan next to her to lead Jungkook to the waiting room when he arrives.

Jungkook steps into the venue and like he’d hoped, he feels the energy as he takes it all in. There’s a lot of possibility as he looks around, and that’s what he wants the guests to see. He wants the artists to envision their own pieces displayed; he wants the creatives to imagine fashion shows and photo shoots and videos that come to life; he wants people to see the potential of an Arts Center beyond just looking at art pieces.

But underneath the pride is nervousness. There will be important personalities coming today and it’s his opportunity to engage with them, to make them want to be a part of this. Talking about the details of the project would be easy; it’s connecting with them that’s a challenge. He had last week’s Appointment Dinner as a trial and like you said, he did well. It’s tonight that matters so much more to him. He supposes that what happens will set the trajectory for how the promotion of the Center will go, so making a good first impression is crucial.

Yohan approaches him and leads him towards the waiting room where his outfit, which Taehyung had pressed and sent over here, hangs on a rack. There are two magazine publications that will feature this event and both include an interview with him and some photos.

Jungkook starts dressing up, knowing he’ll be called for those not long from now. He looks at himself in the mirror and the uncertainty fills him again. It’s not the look he would’ve gone for but his best friend was adamant that an event like this calls for something new. With his trousers and fitted shirt on, Jungkook breathes in and out, and it’s at the same time when there’s a knock on the door and your call of his name suddenly makes him nervous.

You enter, stopping as you shut the door, your eyes a little wide, and look at him. You’re a sight to behold in your floral-laced dress and if he was anxious seconds ago, he’s even more now.

“I knew I should’ve stuck to the classic,” Jungkook sighs at your unmoving form.

“What—what do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, finally finding your voice.

“You’re not saying anything,” he frowns. “Tonight probably wasn’t the best time to show up in an outfit like this.”

“And why is that?” You wonder, walking closer to him now. You try to calm your racing heart because Jungkook looking this good in a checkered flared trouser and white v-neck shirt was not something you expected. “You look…”

“Pretentious?” He chuckles, shaking his head and bending towards the mirror, his angled body making you feel even hotter.

You’ve long accepted that Jungkook is a very handsome man. It’s probably why it was more frustrating despising him and, like Soomin said, also satisfying. He’s got a perfect mix of boyish and manly features with his doe eyes and chiseled jaw; the aura of confidence and nonchalance perhaps add to that as well. It also doesn’t help that he has a really good physique, something you’d seen on his first day on the job and one you’d denied affected you. You’d gotten used to it somehow. Hard as it was to suppress those thoughts every time you fixed his tie or watched him walk about his penthouse in his gym clothes, you managed. You’ve always been professional, and you’ve always reminded yourself to not let it affect you.

But tonight, it’s just hard not to, especially with the way his biceps are popping out of those short sleeves; and if the shirt were an inch tighter, you’d probably be able to trace his toned chest and abs as well. He’s cut his hair, too, slick and pushed back as if he's starring in some western rockstar film.

“Good…” you manage to say after what seemed like minutes. “The outfit looks good on you, sir. It’s new and fresh, not like the usual formal attire that screams ‘businessman who only wants profits.’ This is posh and stylish. It makes you look more approachable.”

“This is what would make me look approachable?” He asks incredulously.

“Actually, a smile would,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh. “But this works, too. It fits with the theme.”

“That’s what Tae said, too,” Jungkook sighs. “He insisted that at least for these Arts Center-related events, I should dress a little more boldly and more interesting, things I definitely am not but, well, I couldn’t counter him when he said that my usual prints and styles make me look like I’m just going to a meeting or some business conference.”

“And he’s not wrong,” you point out, walking closer to him. “You don’t need anything eccentric, just something exciting. This is simple yet sophisticated.”

“Have you seen the coat?” He asks, gesturing to the rack when you say no.

“Oh. There’s a corsage,” you say, admiring the matching brown checkered piece.

“An oversized one,” he rolls his eyes.

“It looks pretty.”

“That’s what he said, too.”

“If you don’t like it, why didn’t you tell him during the fitting?”

“I did like it but it’s Tae - he’s good at convincing people that they look good. And I probably thought that, too. But he’s not yet here and he’s gonna be late so right now, all I can think about is that I’ll look ridiculous.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” you say, surprising him. “If what I think matters, then you’d have to take my word for it. The outfit looks good. It captures people’s attention and that’s what you need. You’re just gonna have to follow this up with similar styles but that wouldn’t be a problem. Just carry yourself with confidence. It’s what Mr. Kim would say.”

“I know. He texted that same line to me five times today.”

“He’s your best friend, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure he’s looking out for your best interest.”

“True, but then again, we were forced to become friends when we were young so who knows?”

You laugh at his words. “Is that so?”

“Our fathers are best friends so we spent a lot of time together,” Jungkook shares. “We were all so different and we got on each other’s nerves but I guess that made us closer. I… I wasn’t close to my brother so I just stuck with those who stuck around. It’s a good thing they turned out to be decent people.”

“They’re very kind, I should say.”

“Yeah. It sucks that their kindness didn’t rub off on me,” he says as he holds your gaze.

The tension rises as you look back at him. It’s hard not to fall into his eyes, and you’re thankful for the knock on the door and Yohan’s voice on the other side saying that the interviewer is ready for Jungkook now.

“Five minutes,” you call out, breaking the moment and retrieving his last piece of clothing.

You assist him in wearing his coat and just like reflex, you immediately fix the sleeves and adjust the corsage that isn’t actually that big. You look at him from head to toe and see Taehyung’s vision. There’s something captivating about Jungkook in this fit; it makes him intriguing and someone to look out for. You suppose that was the intention.

“Respectable enough?” He asks worriedly once you meet his eyes.

“Respectable enough,” you affirm, hoping your smile can give him the encouragement he needs.

You open the door and let the first set of crew in. You watch on as they interview and take snapshots while your own team from the marketing department capture what’s happening as well.

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the sofa, his eyes looking out into the distance as he absorbs the questions and thinks of his answers. He gesticulates as he responds, something you noticed him only ever do about topics that seem very important to him. He’s done it during meetings with the team and with Yoongi, and you suppose there’s that level of honesty that he shows then. His responses are thoughtful and profound, as the questions revolve around the type of art pieces to be displayed, how culture can be celebrated and respected, and what the public can look forward to once the Center is open to everyone.

The next interviewer starts off with the practical questions before moving to the technicalities of the design and structure such as the materials used, the techniques utilized in renovating such a massive complex, and how the Center itself represents art and culture. This is when Jungkook fully relaxes. You see it in his body language, in the softness of his expressions, and in the mellow tone of his voice as he discusses in terms you don’t fully understand but somehow still make you feel like you know exactly what he’s talking about.

It’s different seeing him in this way. Your team vetted these interviewers and publications and they seem sincere about their articles and so you know they aren’t there to judge; Jungkook knows they aren’t there to scrutinize him. He’s not there to impress them or even to sell the idea; he just wants to share it, to make it known, to narrate the process of this project that may still be in its very early stages but which has lived in his mind for years.

He may not always be good with words but you can tell that he finds them when the ideas are clear to him. He’s able to articulate what he sees in his mind and there’s something captivating about that. There’s a lot you can learn from him, you think, and if what you develop after having stayed this long is even just a fraction of his creativity, then you’d feel accomplished.

You can tell even more now how important this is to him, especially when he emphasizes the individual’s need and desire for connection and how he wants the Center to be a hub for that, or perhaps its creator. You wonder if he knows so much about it, or if, like you, it’s something he also constantly seeks.

You’re so focused on taking him all in that you don’t notice that you’ve been staring. Your eyes fall on his fingers, waving about as he draws imaginary pictures; they land on his lips, pink and dry as they utter words that are perhaps the most he’s said, and suddenly, his voice is the most comforting it’s ever sounded to you. You look upwards and that’s when you notice it - his eyes are on you just as yours are on him yet he continues talking, and you hold onto it for a few seconds before you feel the heat reach your cheeks. It feels like a burn and you snap out of the spell-like feeling you were caught in as you turn away now and try to catch your breath.

You hadn’t meant to stare but you were drawn to him at that moment, and as he talked about how the designs reflect the tangibility yet elusiveness of human connection, you found yourself drowning in his words and in the way he said them. He’d caught you before you could look away, and you decide that the only way to go about it is to pretend it didn’t happen.

And that’s what you do, as you remain on your spot with your eyes scanning the room, no longer focused on him.

The interview ends right as Chin-sun enters to say that some guests have arrived. You instruct her to entertain them first with Manager Lee as you wrap up in here and it’s not long after when you’re left with Jungkook once again.

“Was that good?” He asks, his gaze on you as you look elsewhere.

“It was. You seemed more relaxed,” you state, unnecessarily fixing the couch to distract yourself. “That’s a good way to start the evening, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure the guests would enjoy speaking with you tonight.”

“That’s what I hope,” he replies. “I’ll need you close to me to keep track of scheduled meetings or any invitations. I’d also like them to be familiar with you as my assistant so they know who to reach out to in case I’m not available.”

“Of course, sir,” you say, turning around to face him again, suddenly feeling nervous about the intensity of his look. “I’ll take note of all those.”

He nods then exits the room and you follow. You trail him as he starts to greet the guests one by one.

There are heads of private foundations and curators. There are creative directors from entertainment agencies and some art enthusiasts. There are artists and authors and poets, all of whom are intrigued and seemingly excited about what’s in store.

Jungkook heads to the front after being introduced by Manager Lee and takes his time to introduce the project, utilizing the panels and all of the interiors’ walls to showcase the design virtually. He presents his plans and the role of artists, creatives, creators, and consumers. It’s a half hour speech that ends, followed by a light sit-down dinner that Jungkook takes advantage of to engage with the guests.

He first greets the deputy minister of the arts and culture ministry and then Mr. Saito, who’d likewise brought some of his artist friends from Japan.

You then follow Jungkook around as instructed, taking notes on your phone in between to list all the upcoming meetings and other activities scheduled on the spot. You’ve somehow developed this skill with Hoseok but it still doesn’t get any easier. The fact that so many of them want to touch base with Jungkook after his pitch says a lot about how well he did and how much it resonated with the people he wanted to connect with.

Based on your notes, you can already tell it’s gonna be incredibly busy moving forward, and the thought suddenly makes your head hurt. But you push through, knowing there are more people to meet with, even with Chin-sun and Manager Lee entertaining half of them.

Jungkook takes the stage again to introduce some of the artists whose works will be displayed in the Arts Center, and he gives them time to talk about their pieces and what drew them into the project. The company head who’s been contracted to create the products for the souvenir shop also speaks, and as they share, you feel the excitement heighten. The opening is still a long time from now but things seem so clear and so certain, and you know that was because of Jungkook - because he demands the same level of excellence he practices from others, because he’s committed to his vision and he makes sure to see it through.

More engagement takes place, and your only breather is when Jungkook decides to talk to his father and then Hoseok but after that, you’re back to following him around and running out of calling cards for people to keep and call you in the future.

The last of the remaining guests finally leave at 10PM. You look around and the art pieces are being carefully wrapped for transport. The panels remain but Do-hyun and Yohan will be returning in the morning to pack everything up. Slowly, you start to feel the soreness creep in and the headache intensify but you shake all the pain off. There are two more days left for the week and you just have to power through them to survive.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Chin-sun asks as she readies to leave.

“I live on the other side of the city from you. From all of you,” you remind them. It’s really the only reason why you don’t hitch a ride with them, especially considering that they have families and pets they go home to. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“What about Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, surprising you because you thought he’d been on the phone. “Can’t he drive you?”

“He left an hour ago, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “He has that early morning flight to Jeju tomorrow.”

“Mr. Ri can drive you home after he drops me off,” Jungkook says. “It’s too late in the night and it might be hard for you to get a cab.”

“Okay, sir. Thank you,” you mumble, waving everybody goodbye as you follow him towards the car.

You get inside and find him sitting in the backseat, his coat removed and his head rolled back. You can tell all the socializing drained his energy again, and you’d hate to remind him that there’s a Property Expo next week that his father assigned him to attend, as well as a Partners’ Fellowship Dinner where he has to deliver another speech. You decide to do so in the morning instead and let the soft sounds of the radio soothe your mind.

“I think tonight was a success,” he mutters, prompting you to turn towards him. “Everyone I spoke to seemed excited.”

“They were,” you affirm. “They wouldn’t be scheduling meetings with you if they weren’t.”

“That’s true,” he hums. “That’s one major event down and several more to go.”

“I hope the team was able to show you how well we work together, Mr. Jeon. And that like me, they’re all on your side.”

Jungkook lets your words settle. He agrees. The team was like a well-oiled machine. Each member knew their roles and performed their tasks excellently. And there was you, of course, handling every one of his instructions and requests with grace. You looked really beautiful doing it, too, and he doesn’t know if he wants to thank or curse Taehyung for designing another dress that makes you stand out from the crowd because that’s what happened tonight - everywhere Jungkook looked, it seemed like all he could see was you.

He shakes away the thought, knowing that constantly acknowledging his attraction towards you would just make things harder for him the way that denying it would, and while he doesn’t have a solution for that either, he supposes that not acknowledging it at all would be the best option.

So he focuses on the team instead, and he feels comforted to know that they worked hard because they knew how much tonight mattered to him, as Do-hyun expressed earlier.

“I’m glad they are,” he finally replies. “I… I still don’t think I’m their favorite person but as long as they don’t despise me anymore, then I’m satisfied with that.”

“They don’t,” you counter, although even you’d know that’s a half-lie.

“They do. Or did, at least,” he laughs dryly. “It’s easy to stay unnoticed outside of the team’s office, you know?”

The tinge of sadness in his eyes confirms what you’re thinking - he’s heard some of the team conversations about him. And while you’d argue that they’re not vile or anything close to that, you also know that talking about him not smiling or not expressing his gratitude are things you shouldn’t be saying behind his back. Even if they’re true.

“I”m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon. We–”

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” he interjects. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t given you reasons to feel that way. You all did go from Hoseok to me and that’s quite the downgrade in terms of camaraderie and stuff.”

“We still didn’t have the right to say those things. And no, I’m not agreeing that you’re a downgrade,” you clarify. “Like you said, you and your cousin are very different.”

“I did. And that’s why I’m not surprised, is all I’m saying. But despite all that, the team did amazing tonight. Not like I’d expect they wouldn’t because they prefer someone more joyful or expressive, but it… it was also nice to see them enjoying themselves. I hope you did, too.”

“It was a memorable experience, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “It’s something new. The previous projects and events we handled were either residential or commercial in nature and our creativity wasn’t pushed as far as the Arts Center is doing. And we all appreciate that, even if we may not show it.”

“That’s good. At least there’s still something that you’re all getting out of this.”

There’s a sadness in his voice that you’re hearing for the first time. You don’t know what about tonight that’s making him vulnerable and honest with you. Perhaps it’s all the talk about human connection that he seems to struggle with, and maybe he’s realizing now that even with the team performing as well as they are, there’s still something lacking in soul and emotion that he thinks is because of him.

Whatever it is, you hope that he doesn’t let it bring him down too much. Working closely with him, you’ve come to see more of him despite his efforts to keep those layers unpeeled and you’ve come to understand him a little more. You’ve forgiven him in the process, too. The team is still adjusting and you know it’s your job to bridge that gap. You’ll just have to figure out how.

You let the silence end the conversation, not knowing what else you can say to comfort him at this moment. But you try though, as the car stops in front of his building and you call his name right before he closes the door.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking curiously at you.

You almost forget what you’re about to say as he’s bent forward, his arm propped on the car roof, the surrounding lights highlighting the features of his face.

“You did great tonight, too. And I learned a lot from you. Thank you for guiding us, sir.”

He’s left speechless, as he holds your gaze for a moment before nodding and closing the door. Mr. Ri drives away and you look back to see Jungkook walk slowly towards the building entrance, briefly looking your way before disappearing inside.

You arrive at the office the next morning at 9AM with a splitting headache, your body dragging itself towards your chair as you try to maintain balance and get yourself together. Jungkook had messaged late last night that he was going to have a breakfast meeting with his father so you could go straight to work, and given last night’s late finish, you could come at a later time as well.

That gave you another two hours of sleep, which you were thankful for considering the terrible state you were in when you woke up. Your body felt sore and the dryness of your throat signaled that you’re about to get sick - it was just a matter of when it was going to fully kick in. It’s how your body reacts to stress, a pattern you noticed since you started working in the company. It’s usually after succeeding weeks of late nights and big events when you give in - the headaches start then the sore throat; not long after, the fever hits and you’d have to spend days just doing nothing until you’ve expelled the exhaustion away.

On rare occasions, your mother or friends come, knowing you’d be too sick to make yourself some food. But they don’t always have that luxury. They have their own lives, too, lives that they just happen to have far away from you. But it’s why it mattered that you gave Jungkook that noodle soup when he was unwell. You know what it’s like to be sick and hungry and completely helpless, and you had a feeling that just like yourself, he’d deal with it on his own. You’ll probably have to stock up on food tonight to get you through the next few days; you just hope you haven’t completely fallen apart by then.

You take your medicines and try to focus on your tasks for this morning, scheduling meetings and screening photos from last night to be used for marketing purposes. Needing some tea, you head to the pantry and briefly check in with the team before heading back. You see that Jungkook has just arrived, as he accompanied his father to one of their project sites after their meeting. He calls you over and asks if Do-hyun and Yohan have come back from fixing things at last night’s venue.

“Yes, sir, they just got here,” you reply. “Everything’s been stored properly and Chin-sun’s working on the payments already.”

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “It’s lunchtime though, so you should all grab a meal. There’s a French restaurant that just opened a block from here. I heard it’s got great reviews, so take the team there and have them order anything they want. You can just use your card to pay but it’s under the office’s budget.”

“Okay, sir. Uhm, that sounds great,” you manage to say, excitement filling you because you spent the other night watching review videos of that restaurant on YouTube and immediately told Jimin and Soomin that you’ll be eating there when they visit you the next time. “What about you though? Aren’t you joining us?”

“I… Well…”

“You don’t have any other scheduled meeting other than the one we’ll have as a team at 2:30.”

“I don’t have to go,” he answers. “You all worked hard and deserve to enjoy yourselves and I don’t think that’ll happen if I’m around. We can all debrief during the meeting but lunch is your time to get together and bond as a group.”

“You’re part of that group, too, Mr. Jeon. You are our boss,” you counter.

“Exactly.”

“But Mr. Ju–” you stop, not wanting to draw another comparison, which you said you’ll stop doing.

“I know. Hoseok would join you for lunch or dinner and the team enjoyed his presence,” Jungkook states. “I don’t think that’s the case with me. This isn’t me putting myself down but… you know that I don’t really… do things like that. I’m still learning that part of the role and I don’t want to spoil their fun.”

“You can’t really speak for the team though,” you point out.

“Well, you represent them to me. Am I wrong to assume all that?”

“No, but I think it would be a good opportunity to prove to them otherwise,” you advise.

Jungkook sighs, knowing you’ve got a point. But he insists, claiming that he’s still figuring out the team and how to relate with them.

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you concede. “How about your lunch?”

“I’ll manage. You can all go ahead so you can get back on time.”

“We will. Thank you. I already know they’re going to enjoy it.”

The team is ecstatic when you tell them about lunch plans. They also only wonder about Jungkook’s presence once they’ve ordered and perhaps they’re still figuring him out, too. Much of their engagement with Jungkook is through meetings, as none of them, save for Manager Lee, feel comfortable or even free enough to just approach him. They also don’t know much about his interests or his quirks, and that puts you in the same boat as them.

You said once that you’re not sure if you’ve gotten used to him already. Maybe slowly you are, as you look around and wish that he was here to experience this, too. Somehow you just think he’d love the duck confit dish that you eventually order for yourself. Maybe you can let him know, and he can order it on his own time.

Lunch ends with everyone on a high from the delicious meal. Even you forget how terrible you’re actually feeling and let the laughs and scrumptious food compensate for the fatigue.

You get back to the office and head to Jungkook as the rest of the team prepares the conference room for the meeting. You see a half-eaten sandwich on his desk and hate to think that it’s all he had while you enjoyed a fancy lunch that he ordered you all to have. He seems to pick up your thoughts as your eyes flit from him to his food and he affirms you that he’s not that hungry, given the heavy breakfast he had this morning.

“How was lunch?” He asks.

“It was great. The food was really good. I had the duck confit that I think you’ll like and… uh, they were asking where you were.”

“They were?”

“Yeah,” you respond. “They were wondering why you didn’t join us.”

“What did you say?”

“That you were on a conference call,” you say. You didn’t like that you had to lie to them about it, but you also didn’t want to use that time to talk about Jungkook behind his back again. “Yohan said that it’s understandable; you’re always busy and he doubts you get a break while you’re here.”

“Oh. Well, he’s not wrong.”

“We had a good time though, and I’m sure they’ll tell you later but thank you. It’s nice seeing the team enjoy themselves. I wish you could see it, too.”

“Maybe one day,” he says sullenly, standing up right after to head to the meeting with you.

The room quiets down when you both arrive and Jungkook feels once more the shift in their disposition once he joins them. He can’t fault them for it knowing that’s because of him, but as time passes and the more he talks about the value of human connections - which the Arts Center aims to foster - the more he starts to think of exactly what he’s missing by keeping himself too far a distance from everyone else around him.

His father tries, he can tell. Most of their breakfast or lunch or dinner meetings aren’t actually meetings, and he supposes it’s just his old man’s way of spending time with him by disguising it as something work-related, knowing that Jungkook wouldn’t be into it if it wasn’t. His mother asks him over to their house on some weekends for lunch, her own way of reconnecting with him after years of being apart, but even with that, Jungkook just gives the bare minimum.

He doesn’t not like them; he just stopped being close to them at some point and he didn’t really care to mend it as he grew older. The women he sleeps with don’t count since he doesn’t even really talk to them, and other than Taehyung and Seokjin, and occasionally Yoongi, who keep up with his attitude, there really isn’t anyone else whom he thinks enjoys his presence enough to want to have him around.

He doesn’t know about you though, but he makes an educated guess and thinks there’s not much of him you’d miss just like anyone, and while the thought stings a bit, it’s one he tries to live with.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee greets and implores the others to do the same. “Thank you again for lunch. It was really delicious and pretty fancy. I wish I’d worn a prettier tie than the one I have right now.”

“Your tie looks fine, Manager Lee,” Jungkook replies.

“Ms. Cho said you were busy, that's why you weren’t there,” Do-hyun boldly says. “Hopefully next time you can join us. I mean, not to assume you’ll treat us again, although that would be nice, but–”

“Do-hyun just wanted to say thank you,” Chin-sun butts in. “And that we understand you have so many things going on, Mr. Jeon, so hopefully, when you have time in the future, you can join us for a meal, too.”

“That, uh, that would be fine, yes,” he mumbles, taking his seat and avoiding looking at everyone except you. “Let’s start the meeting.”

You’re there for over two hours, rehashing the entire process, given that it’s the first event out of many that the team organized. Jungkook is generous in complimenting everyone, including you, and he gives updates on the interest generated and all the artists he’ll be meeting in their respective studios as a result.

The Ministry of Culture minister likewise pledged support, promising a linkage with the international media festival organizers like Jungkook had hoped. You’ve all accomplished so much in so little time, but the rest of the timeline shows that there’s still so much ground to cover. You plan the next steps and then spend half an hour talking about the other small projects that the VP’s office is managing before Jungkook adjourns the meeting and orders you all to head home to get some rest while he stays behind to work some more.

You follow him this time, trying your best to be stable as you take the bus home. You manage to buy some beef bone soup on the way for dinner, and once that’s all finished and you take a long hot shower to hopefully get rid of the stress in your body, you plop down on your bed and fall asleep with no warning at all.

You wake up in the middle of the night, your clogged nose keeping you from breathing. With puffy eyes, you search for your eucalyptus inhaler and take your medicine before going back to bed and hoping that when you wake up, you’ll feel less terrible than you do right now.

But you don’t, as you wake up to your alarm not long after and feel even worse. Your body is sore, your head feels heavy, and it’s a struggle to even turn to your side to try to pull yourself off the bed. Knowing there’s no way you’ll manage today, you call Mr. Ri and inform him that you’re unwell and can’t make it to work.

“I can’t even type nor talk properly right now,” you tell him. “Can you–”

“I’ll tell Jungkook, don’t worry,” he assures you. “And just to remind you, you’re sick, okay? So stay in bed, don’t do chores or anything, and don’t think about work for even a second. You hear me? And update me on how you are.”

“Yes,” you cough out. “Thank you.”

You lie underneath the covers and hope to the heavens that more sleep would make you feel a bit of relief and it does, given that when your phone rings five hours later, you don’t feel like your head is splitting apart.

“Good, you’re awake,” Mr. Ri says on the other end after you greet him. “Can you open your door?”

“Okay, just give me a few minutes. I’m exceptionally slow this morning.”

Mr. Ri laughs but tells you to take your time. You put on a hoodie over your gray sweatpants and briefly wash your face before opening the door.

“Work’s got to you, huh?” He asks worriedly as he stands in front of you. “Is it bad enough to warrant a visit to the hospital? I can drive you there.”

“I’ll manage,” you mumble. “But what are you doing here, Mr. Ri? Mr. Jeon has a meeting in an hour.”

“I know. But he wanted me to give you this.”

The older man initially hands you a large paper bag but decides to just place it on your table given your weak state. He removes the containers of chicken noodle soup, rice porridge, and soybean sprout soup, boxes of soft bread, and a small jar of yuja marmalade for tea.

“What–”

“Your meals for the next few days so you don’t have to worry about preparing them,” Mr. Ri says. “Jungkook wants you to focus on resting. He wants you to take Monday off, too.”

You look at him and suddenly feel like crying. You knew that waking up, you’d be worrying about what to eat, given that you barely have ingredients to work with. You also don’t have the energy to make anything, especially something that’d help with your health. Jungkook just relieved you of that, and at a time like today, you feel what it’s like to be cared for. And though you can argue with him using his own words - your health isn’t his responsibility - you won’t pretend that it doesn’t give you comfort knowing that he’d made the effort to buy all this and have them brought to you.

You talk a little bit more before he heads out, and you lead him to the door where you look across the street where the car is parked. Your eyes may be puffy but you don’t miss the silhouette behind that backseat window.

“How is she?” Jungkook asks as Mr. Ri enters the car and slowly drives away.

“She looks like someone who’s been working hard these past months and in need of rest. She says it’s normal but this is probably the worst. These few days off will be good for her.”

“I hope so, too.”

“She’s thankful for the food, Jungkook,” the older man says. “I know she’d probably say you didn’t have to but I could tell it meant a lot to her. She doesn’t always ask for help, you know? It’s good you’re somehow letting her know that she can count on you when she needs you. If this is you making it up to her, you’re on the right path.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement, although unsure what it means for him. Is it to compensate? To apologize again? To return the favor because you’d done it first? Is it to let you know that he has your back, too, the way you’ve been showing him that you have his?

He’s alerted by a message, your name on his screen somehow making his heart jump. It’s a text message and not one from the usual messaging app you both use for work purposes because, well, that’s really the only thing you talk about.

[From: EA Cho] Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.

It’s the use of his name. It’s the sincerity in your simple words.

He smiles to himself.

Whatever it means to you, he knows it means another thing to him. He doesn’t want you to feel alone. And that in the coldest nooks of his uncaring heart, he actually does care for you. For this moment, he’ll acknowledge it. For this moment, he’ll let himself feel it. He can only hope you feel it, too.

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x oc #jungkook angst #jungkook series #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #boss jungkook

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coryosbaby · 1 year ago

Note

We need part 2 of that sub!coryo pls 😩😩

ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ʜᴇʀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ, ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ !

synopsis: Coriolanus will do anything to get to the top, right?

content warning . Power dynamics, edging, bondage, use of toys (ballgag + vibrator), degradation and praise . Dom! Reader, sub! Coryo

Notes: subcoryosubcoryosubcoryo !!! <333

He comes to you at midnight.

The walk to your apartment from Coriolanus’ own is not far, a mere few blocks over. When he gets there— knocks, greets you like the polite boy he is— he begins to unbutton his shirt. It’s an immediate demand from you, something that he suspected you would want the moment he walked through the door. He slips off his shoes, his suit, his ratty overused shirt. He looks away shyly, as if he’s not one of the most gorgeous men to ever walk the earth. It’s as if every ounce of his ego leaves the moment he enters your room.

He slips his underwear down his legs. Crawls onto your silky expensive sheets. You watch with a pleased smile, peeling off your red slip to bare your body to him. He gulps, his eyes never leaving the spot in between your legs.

You straddle him, just above his knees, not quite touching his cock yet. He bites his lower lip and blushes like a schoolgirl.

“Have you been a good boy?” You ask him, with precision. With calculation. With practice. He nods, and although he’s nervous like always, he grabs your perfectly manicured hand. He brings one of your fingers up to his mouth, suckles it with his soft pink tongue.

“Yes.”

You let him taste your digits for a little while longer, let him get used to this headspace you’ve taught him to embrace so openly. When he pulls the digits out of his mouth, your hands move up to stroke his blonde curls.

“My uncle has been treating your family well, I hope?”

Your uncle is one of the men you referred Coriolanus to, as a reward for letting you use his body for his own pleasure. The boy finds that he may like this situation a lot more than he thought. Your cunt is exquisite, your way of fucking so primal and raw. He’s completely infatuated with it. And the way you treat him, the way you care for him in such a way, makes him forget. Makes him forget his responsibilities, his past, his worries. He can let go when he’s with you, in more ways than one.

With fluttering lashes, he nods. His tongue brushes over his lip as he watches your naked cunt in between your legs.

“Very well.”

“And what do we say, for someone going out of their way to get you that position?”

He playfully lifts the back of your hand up to his mouth, and presses a kiss to it with soft, plush lips.

“Thank you, mistress.”

—

It’s not long before you’ve got the boy tied up. Red rope contrasts against pale white skin as the boy’s wrists twist and turn in the restraints. It was his idea, this bondage technique that leaves him completely helpless, and you know once again that the boy is a lot darker than you anticipated.

He’s got a vibrator pressed to his swollen, aching cock, held to it by an elastic band that’s just a bit too tight around his skin. A blue ballgag sits in between his pretty lips, and it’s caked with drool and spit. You lean down to lick it up, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you turn off the vibrator for a third time tonight. Tears pool on the boys crystalline lashes, a small whimper leaving him when you turn the device back on again with the remote in your hand.

“So handsome like this, Coryo,” you praise him, your nails scarping against his bare thigh. “Like a pretty painting. I’d love to keep you here forever.”

Coriolanus wouldn’t mind that, though he’s scared to admit such a thing to you. His hips thrust against the vibrator as you continue speaking to him in that sweet tone.

“You know I want to let you cum. But we need discipline. Don’t we, darling? We need to be patient, to work hard for what we want.”

He nods. He understands perfectly, and you don’t think you’ve ever had a boy in your bed so obedient. It’s not what you originally anticipated, given Coriolanus’ selfishness and greed. But you assume that his need to please has to form somewhere— and you’re so glad that it has formed in your bed.

You’re aroused to no end, watching him struggle. Your fingers move down to rub your swollen clit between your fingers. Coryo’s eyes focus only on that movement.

You can see him getting close again, can see that familiar twitch of his cock right before his release. You turn the toy off again. He cries out, his wrists pulling against the restraints vigorously. He’s like an animal, twitching and moaning. You know that if he somehow releases himself from those ropes that you won’t be able to stop him from fucking his cock into your drenched heat.

He tries to say something through the gag, but you ignore him. If he really needed to tell you something, he would knock on the wood of your headboard. You stick a finger inside yourself, swirling your release around and getting the digit nice and wet. Coriolanus can’t completely part his mouth due to the ballgag, but there is an open space on the sides that gives you access to the inside of it. You stick your finger in that space, rub your wetness on the inside of his cheek. His tongue can’t taste it due to the ballgag pushing it down, and he has no choice but to leave your slick there, untouched.

The tears fall harder now.

It goes on like this, his release being denied again and again while you spread your cunt to him and get him all desperate and hot. The tip of his cock is so red that it’s almost purple.

Until it comes to one point, when the boy can’t seem to take it anymore. His orgasm hits before you can even notice it, and his cum squirts out of his cock in thick, heavy streams. You turn the vibrator off mid orgasm, and he flails helplessly as his high is ruined. He sobs through the gag, begging you to let him cum again, to let him feel you. Your cunt has been neglected for so long that you can’t help but say yes.

You remove the vibrator from him, taking note of the faint line from the band cutting off a bit of circulation. You rub him with your palm to get him all squirmy again, let his cock sit proudly against his stomach for a second time. You straddle his thighs, grabbing his cock from underneath you and positioning it at your entrance. His head tilts back, his breathing uneven and heavy. You sink down onto him with ease.

His cock is so thick, so long, and it fills up your cunt perfectly. Your thighs bounce up and down on him, your wetness leaving a creamy ring around the base of his cock, and the boy can’t do anything but take it. He wants to touch you so badly, to feel your tits that are practically bouncing in his face. But he knows that the feeling of being helpless, of not being able to move, makes the restraints all worthwhile.

Your ass slaps against his thighs as you ride him, the feeling of his heavy balls hitting you making you quiver with arousal.

“So good,” you moan out to him, as you watch his pretty, blushing face. “Oh, coryo. Your mistress is so proud of you.”

He whimpers, and wants to say thank you, but to no avail. You pull him in for a kiss. It’s an odd one, because of his lips being spread apart by the gag, but you do it anyway. You bury your face into his neck and reach down to rub your own clit. Coryo watches with a glazed, fucked out expression. You can feel yourself getting close, your cunt clenching down on him. Coryo desperately tries to hump against your pussy, tries to aid in getting you there, to that special peak that only he can bring you. His thrusts are weak, however; he’s close himself, the overstimulation now giving way to something incredible. He knows he’s going to fill your cunt to the brim.

“Coryo,” you groan out, desperate. “I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum around your fat cock. Do you want that, sweet boy? Do you want your mistress’ cum?”

He nods, fucking his hips up eagerly, as if to say “give it to me. Give it to me now.”

And you do. That coil in your belly snaps, white hot heat coursing through your veins as you ride out your orgasm. Coryo’s cock kicks at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him, and he practically screams as his second orgasm washes over him. Your cunt milks him with everything it has, his warm spend kissing your cervix and leaving you satiated.

When you slow, the boy’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing shallowly. He must be tired, so incredibly tired.

His used, softening cock slips out of your hole when you move off of him. His cum drips sticky strings onto the bedsheets below you, and your filled hole gives you content.

Your fingers gently undo the ropes around Coryo’s wrists. He groans as his sore arms are finally able to relax, his eyes still shut as he moves in and out of a post orgasm sleep. Your hands remove the ballgag, too. You move the objects off the bed and watch as the boy curls up on his side. You find it quite endearing, and you smile.

After you clean up, pee, and find a new pair of pajamas to sleep in, you slip into bed. Coriolanus has never stayed the night before, but there’s always a time for firsts, right?

Soft snores leave his mouth, spit leaking from the corners of his mouth. His body turns over, and his head rests gently on your tummy. He sleepily mumbles, something almost incoherent but you understand anyway.

“Thank you, mistress.”

#Coriolanus snow #Coriolanus snow x reader #Coriolanus x fem! reader #Coriolanus snow smut #sub! Coriolanus snow #sub! Coriolanus snow x reader #Coriolanus snow fanfic #tbosas #the ballad of songs and snakes #the ballad of songs and snakes fanfic #thg #thg fanfic #the hunger games #hunger games #hunger games tbosas #Tom blyth #dom! reader

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arlowthenacho · 4 months ago

Text

cherry wine

(carmen berzatto x reader)

summary: carmy has panic attack and calls for you.

warnings: cussing, fem presenting reader, kissing, intended lowercase, please let me know if i misses anything !

wc: 975

a/n: omg its finally done...part 2 to “that funny feeling” !! its a bit short but i dont have the patience for anything longer lmao. @unbearableblog ik you wanted to be tagged so here you go <3

its been a week.

a week since carmen invited you to his house. and the funny thing is, its happened again. more than again, actually.

within the seven days after he originally asked you to come over, you’ve been invited to come back about 5 more times, all for the same reason. being a little taste tester for carmy. telling him what needs salt and what’s too bland and what’s perfect and doesn’t need any more tinkering.

and what’s even funnier than the fact you’ve been in carmen berzatto’s kitchen at 11:00 pm for the better part of the week is the fact he hasn’t tried to get in your pants at all. not once.

all he’s done is…talk.

about you, about him, about his family, and about yours. and its been nice.

refreshing.

seeing this other side of him, this vulnerable side of him, has been almost eye-opening. everything you thought he was had been turned to dust and reborn with new perspective. carmen berzatto wasn’t just the guy who occasionally hooked up with you to let off some steam anymore.

he was soft, and gentle, and vulnerable, and sweet. sure, he had his faults. his stubbornness, his ceaseless need for perfection, and most of all, his pride, but the sweet balanced the sour.

your thoughts drift back to the show playing on the t.v briefly, when a buzzing in your back pocket stuns you out of focus.

carmy parmy 🧑‍🍳

can u comw over?

huh. carm never really misspelled words. whatever.

course! gimmie likeee 15 mins

carmy parmy 🧑‍🍳

please come quickly

shit. now you’re worried.

you hastily make your way towards your bedroom and throw on a hoodie and leggings, damn near sprinting to your car.

after turning on the ignition and pulling out of your garage, you’re right back where you were a week ago. only this time you wear a concerned frown.

“carmen?” you rap your knuckles against the door, your breaths coming short and shallow.

“its unlocked,” his voice is hardly his right now. its all television static and distance.

you burst through the door and frantically scan the room for any trace of carmy. after a couple seconds of searching, you see him curled into himself on the floor of his kitchen, hands in his hair.

your heart drops six feet deep as you sit next to him, taking his hands into yours.

“hey, carm. what’s the matter, hmm?” you spoke with a foreign gentleness, a tone that was never usually present between you and carm.

“i just—i cant…” he hyperventilates. “i can’t breathe,”

and within a second, your blood was lead and dropping your organs to hell.

“i cant—”

he can barely finish his sentence before being enveloped in your arms. the sinking in your gut was still present, but you ignored it. you both just sat on the floor, holding each other together.

after a while of holding carmen, his breathing had somewhat evened out. he releases the white-knuckling grip on your shoulders and lifts his head from your chest. you brush the stray hairs out of his eyes and smile softly.

"hi, baby,"

he takes a stuttering breath.

"hi."

"what happened, carm?" you whisper, not daring to break the silence you both have fallen into. carmen takes another deep breath before letting the words fall from his lips.

"its, uh. family stuff. my mom is fucking insane and it just..." he pauses, takes another breath, and continues. "during christmas one year, she went really crazy. and it gave me some lasting issues."

your heart ached for him in a way that you can't explain. he spoke a little more about his warped family dynamics before trailing off. he meets your eyes again, but with a look in his eyes that you can't quite place. you're rendered speechless for a second before finding the words to say to him.

"you're safe now, baby. you're safe now." you pick the both of you off the floor and towards the couch, still grasping carmen tightly.

another week passed since carmen had the panic attack.

that night, you stayed at his house for the first time. you're departure was abrupt and maybe a bit rude, but in your defense, you panicked. however, you have been over his apartment pretty frequently for one reason or another.

today, you've been invited over to cook.

its 12:34, which is a normal time for carmen to ask for you, when you start to get ready. you only throw on a bra, some socks, and more comfortable shorts before you get in your car and drive to carmen's.

your knuckles rap against his door twice before he opens it.

"hey, hi, come in," he rushes out, mindlessly taking your hand and dragging you inside.

"oh, alright then," you mumble, letting yourself be pulled into his space.

the kitchen smells like an array of spices and you look at the bottles that litter carmy's counter. rosemary, tumeric, paprika, chili flakes and more things that you can't pronounce are written on the glass.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when carmy picks you up by the waist and places you on a clean portion of the counter. you smile at him and swing your legs against the cabinets below.

"what do you have for me today, carm?" you tease.

"this."

he nearly lunges for you and attaches his lips to yours. he tastes hungry, like hes been starved of your lips for an eternity. you gasp an press back into his mouth with a matching passion. his hands find your waist and yours find his hair. a whirlwind of pulling and tugging sends you both into a frenzy before he parts away for air.

"this wasn't about the food, was it?" you breathe. he giggles, the sound akin to something angelic.

"no, it wasn't. it never was."

#💌 arlow writes #carmen berzatto headcannons #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear fx

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crescenthistory · 2 months ago

Text

Murder's on the Wishlist

Pairing: Barty Crouch Junior x Reader

Summary: For the first time, you are forced to spend Christmas at home instead of at Hogwarts. Your usual companion over the holidays and devoted best friend, Barty, comforts you.

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: not proofread, very strongly hinted at abusive homes on both parts, neglect, unhealthy family dynamics, lowkey a panic attack, angst, hopeful/comforted but not necessarily happy ending, Intense Best Friends Who Actually Are In Love, a lot of physical affection, murder is mentioned a lot, barty's killer instincts are in high gear, barty being real soft in private, i think it's gender neutral reader

Note: can you tell i like hurt/comfort fics? also i'm much more happy with this portrayal of barty, i think i'm getting somewhere

***

You had been staring at the letter in your hands for what felt like hours, though you were sure only a few minutes had passed. The creases in the parchment were worn thin from where your fingers gripped it tightly, the sharp angles of your mother’s elegant script slicing into your thoughts.

Dearest,

It’s been decided. You will come home for the Christmas holidays this year. Father insists.

Mother.

That was it. Short, curt, like an afterthought. As though this decision had already been engraved in stone and she was only letting you know as a formality. The sinking feeling in your chest tightened. Every word felt like a weight pulling you down. You had done everything you could to avoid it, year after year, and it left a curdling taste in your mouth to know you failed at last. There was always some excuse to find for not going home for the holidays, for staying behind at Hogwarts where you could hide out with Barty. It had not been difficult most times, it was not as if it truly made an emotional difference for your family whether you were home or not. Home. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, because the house you were being dragged back to was not your home, never had been.

Hogwarts was not necessarily either, but your friends were. With them, and thus at Hogwarts, you were safe, sheltered. It was only once they realised how content you were there, that your parents’ watchful eyes narrowed and their grip on your neck that they had seemingly forgotten about tightened.

You’re growing older now, your mother began saying last summer. It’s time we finally making something out of you, Merlin knows you won’t.

The comments did not bite anymore, none of it really bit. At least that is what you told them all, when your little makeshift family in the Slytherin dungeons gathered in one of the dormitories to trash your respective families. It was lighthearted, it helped you all carry the burden – but it was not real, none of your defiance could be real. The only ones who truly stood up to their parents with all the unfiltered rage you all harboured was Barty and Dorcas, and you saw where that landed them. Dorcas living with Marlene, Barty clinging to the castle he claimed to hate.

With a shaky breath, you crumpled the letter into your fist and shoved it deep into your robe pocket, already moving. You could not do it. Face your parents and their expectations, their cruel words, their harsh neglect. How delicately they tethered the line between neglect and overbearing – somehow hitting you where it hurts most with both. Unwanted and unsuccessful. Forgotten and watched. There was just no way you could go through with it, but as your pace picked up to a borderline sprint down the hallways, you knew there was no way out of it either.

You needed Barty. You needed to see him now, to tell him – to feel something other than this crushing dread eating away at you from the inside.

He picked you out of the crowd that first day in the Slytherin common room, where you were plastered on the wall with fear probably written all over your face and a defensive snarl ready at your lips. He had simply looked you over, smiled and said You seem fun, let’s go. Ever since you were attached at the hip, he taught you the definition of loyalty (though you have since learned that Barty’s loyalty often went much, much further than most’s) and of unconditional love. Whether it was dying acid green streaks in his hair in the boy’s bathroom sink, piercing each other’s ears in your dormitories, laughing in the common room until it was so late he had to steal you a potion to help you not be so tired the next time – it was the two of you.

Most importantly, every single Christmas for the past six years, it has been you two. Requesting some entirely unfit dinner from the house elves, bringing it to a part of the castle you rarely got to go, and doing everything one does not do during the holidays. Creating your own tradition of no traditions, just satisfying every odd thought and instinct – though, as usual, you sometimes had to be Barty’s self control, just as he often was your bravery.

Your ears were ringing by the time you rounded the corner, hand burning around the letter in your pocket. There was no true coherent thought in your mind.

You found him in one of the dimly lit corridors of the dungeons, perched on a windowsill as though he had been waiting for you. He had that wild, chaotic gleam in his eyes, a constant spark that lit up whenever you were around. The only thing that felt right in the world right now.

When he spotted you, his face split into a grin – sharp and playful, yet softened only by the affection he reserved for you. "Treasure!" he called out, jumping off the sill to stroll towards you.

"Barty." Your voice came out thinner than you wanted, and before you could stop yourself, you were moving toward him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. His arms, instinctive and familiar, immediately wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

“Shit, what happened?” he asked, his voice losing that teasing lilt it always carried. “Who do I have to kill this time?” His promise to fix things for you in his own twisted way, usually made you laugh. Now, though, all it did was tighten the lump in your throat.

As you tried to stabilise your voice to speak, he moved you around the corner into a small alcove in the wall, attempting to give you some privacy.

“My mother,” you finally choked out, voice muffled against his robes. “She– she wants me to come home for Christmas.”

His whole body stiffened, and you felt the shift in his posture against your body. Barty's hand, which had been stroking your hair gently, curled into a fist against the nape of your nape. You could practically hear his jaw clench.

“They’re making you go?” he asked, his voice sharp with annoyance. “You can’t go. You’re supposed to stay with me.”

“I know.” The words tasted bitter. “But I have no choice this time, she made that clear. ‘Father insists’.” You imitated your mother’s voice with teary contempt, making Barty tighten his hold on you, as if he could protect you from the inevitable with sheer proximity.

“Well, fuck him,” Barty growled. “I’m not letting them take you. You’re not going back there.”

“I don’t want to, Barty,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. “They’re not giving me a choice.”

“I will. I’ll give you a choice. I’ll do anything, you don’t have to go.” His mouth was so close to your ear, you could feel his lips moving, melting slowly into him at his words.

“I know that’s a lie, but I don’t care if you have to lie,” you said, your voice trembling as you pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, your desperation plain. “Just make me feel better, even if it’s just for a little bit.”

Barty’s intense stare softened visibly at your pained expression, his eyes flickering with something darker, more protective, and just as unhinged as you needed him to be. He exhaled slowly, then leaned his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face as though you were the most precious thing in the world.

“It’s not a lie. You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice as soft as the brush of his thumb against your cheek. “I don’t care what they say. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll burn your fucking house down if I have to.”

A small, humourless laugh escaped your throat, the thought of him actually doing it not entirely far-fetched. “Barty…”

“I’m serious.” He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, his expression wild but laced with something raw and sincere. Your arms were around his waist, holding onto the small of his back for dear life. “You’re mine, Treasure. They don’t get to take you away from me, not now. Not ever.”

Your heart stuttered, his words sinking into you like a soothing balm over the dread. He had always been this way – intense, borderline obsessive when it came to you. But it wasn’t suffocating; it was the only thing that made you feel safe. Maybe that was the dangerous part, because you believed him.

“Oh, how I wish it were that simple Barty,” you murmured, sinking back into his arms, needing to be enveloped by him entirely, to drown out everything else. “We’ve talked about running away for years, but we both know we cannot. My life would be ruined, I would have no options for a stable, viable future, no money for the first time, nothing to fall back on, no–”

Barty cooed shushing sounds in your ear, swinging you back and forth as he brought you down from the intense spiral you were ranting your way into.

“You would have me,” he whispered into your ear and you shivered into him from the immense emotion washing over you.

“And, at this point, would it not be worth it?” Barty continued, voice edged with frustration, his mind already whirring with reckless plans. “We’ve got an entire castle at our disposal. You could hide here. They wouldn’t find you. We’ll make it work. Or,” his voice dropped even lower, more dangerous, “I’ll make sure they can’t make you leave.”

You pulled back to look at him, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes as you met his gaze. His fierce protectiveness was written across every line of his face. His lips quirked into a half-smile, as though he could see the spark of hope in your eyes, no matter how small it was. You knew it couldn’t be, of course, but he pretended – maybe even believed – so beautifully.

“I don’t want to leave you behind,” you admitted softly. “Not for them.”

“You aren’t.” His voice was firm, a promise. “You belong here with me. And I swear, Treasure, I’ll make sure of that. Even if I have to drag your family into the Forbidden Forest and–”

“Barty.” You laughed, genuinely this time, though it came out shaky. “You can’t just solve everything by threatening murder.”

“Why not?” he shot back, his grin widening, though his eyes remained serious. “It works, doesn’t it? It makes you feel better, doesn’t it?” For the last part his hand travelled to grip your shoulders a bit, as if he needed to make sure that he was helping you feel better, even if only slightly.

You nodded teary-eyed, having no real words for the boy and how much he eased your fears and pains. Instead, you let out a long sigh, leaning into him again, your head resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear calmed you more than anything else had today. “I wish we could just… stay here forever,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“You wanna spend the rest of your life at Hogwarts, Treasure?” Barty quipped, earning a small pinch in his back that he yelped at.

“You know what I mean, Barty,” you whispered into his shirt, and though you couldn’t see it, his eyes softened at that, holding you a bit more tenderly.

“Then we will,” Barty murmured into your hair, his lips brushing your forehead in a rare, soft gesture. “We’ll make this place ours, any place you want. Fuck the rest of them.”

You felt his arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer. His touch was possessive, but comforting. Like he could shield you from everything, even yourself.

“Promise me something,” you whispered.

“Anything.”

“Promise you won’t forget me while I’m gone.” There was a slight teasing tone to your voice, showing Barty that you were more at ease.

Still, he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, his brow dramatically furrowed as if the thought itself was absurd. “Forget you?” He almost scoffed, his tone incredulous. “I think about you every second I’m not with you, Treasure. Don’t you know that by now?”

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his touch grounding you despite his theatrics as he stared into your eyes with that intensity that always made your heart race. “You’re not just someone I forget. You’re the only thing that matters.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words, your eyes stinging again, but this time it was softer, warmer than the cold dread that had been suffocating you. His words were like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge. There had never been any move to label the care that existed between you – Rosier called you a couple once and no one corrected him, and since then that had been the status quo. There had been no conversation, just unwavering loyalty and support that you could not for the life of you explain. To you, there was everyone else and then there was Barty.

“I hate this,” you admitted, voice small as you fisted his shirt into your hands. “I hate the thought of leaving you. We always said fuck Christmas, but still – I don’t want you to be alone during it.”

“I won’t be alone,” Barty began, deadly serious in that way that told you he was anything but, “I’ll have a thousand house elves to torment and pictures of you to keep me company. If I’m lucky, Slughorn’s staying over the holidays like he did in fourth year.”

“Oh well, in that case, I might as well go fuck myself for all I matter,” you joked, tilting your head and rolling your eyes – but not moving even an inch away from him.

“You won’t be gone forever,” Barty said, voice lower and more genuine. His fingers were tracing patterns on the back of your neck, and you leaned into his touch. “And when you come back, we’ll make up for all the lost time. Hell, I’ll make sure we never have to spend another Christmas apart again. We’ll do something so ridiculous every year, we won’t even remember the one we spent apart.”

You let out a breathy laugh at that, imagining the kind of chaos the two of you could wreak at Hogwarts when you got back. Barty was always brimming with chaos to unleash, and somehow, you knew he meant every word. He always did.

“Are you dedicating all your future Christmases to me, Junior” You quirked a teasing brow, finally sporting a small smile. Barty could have kissed you right then just to thank your lips for showing him your joy.

“I’m dedicating everything to you, Treasure, if it would make you happy.” He smiled at you, that lopsided grin of his that made your heart twist in ways you couldn’t explain.

For the first time since you opened that letter, you felt something other than fear. You felt hope.

“I reckon it would,” you whisper, leaning in for a hug, this time out of gratitude instead of desperation. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek in a rare moment of affection. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For always making me feel better. Even if you have to lie.”

Barty grinned at that, his eyes gleaming with that familiar wild spark. “I have never meant anything more than what I say to you, love. But when you ask, I’d lie. I’d do a hell of a lot more, if you’d let me. You already know that.”

You smiled back, feeling the tension finally begin to drain from your body. With him, you could survive anything. A horrible, draining week with your parents will eventually be just that – a week – when you’re back in Barty’s arms.

“You always make it sound so simple,” you mused, the warmth of his body soothing, but the thought of leaving him still gnawing at your insides. “Like it’s all going to be okay just because you say so.”

“It will be.” His voice had that same self-assured, almost manic edge to it, but underneath it was something steady. Unshakeable. “You know why?”

“Why?” you asked, a soft challenge in your tone, though a part of you already knew his answer.

“Because we’ll make it okay. You and me, Treasure. We always do.” His fingers trailed along your jaw, lingering there, as if he needed to remind himself that you were still here with him, for now. “You think I’m going to let them take you away without a fight? I’ll give them hell. They can have your time this once, your body, but they can’t touch this.” His hand pressed against your chest, just above your heart, his eyes dark and serious now. “They’ll never touch this. Not us.”

You inhaled sharply, feeling the intensity of his words pulse through you. Without thinking you repeated his last words not us, which teased a soft smile from him.With Barty, there was always a battle, always some unseen war being waged. And right now, the war was over you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. They felt fragile in the air between you, but Barty didn’t flinch. “I just don’t want to go back there so soon. It’s suffocating. They’re suffocating.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes flickering with understanding. He didn’t push you to explain further, he never had to. He knew enough, and the things left unsaid were just as clear to him as the things you told him. He hated your family almost as much as you did, and in some twisted way, you knew he was angry not just for you, but for himself too. “Your family’s shit. But you’re not them. You don’t belong with them. You belong here, with me. And if I could, I’d rip you out of that hellhole and never let them see you again. I will as soon as possible.”

“Barty…” You closed your eyes, grounded by his hand still lingering on your chest. His words were sharp, but they smoothed you over in ways you couldn’t explain.

“You’ll come back,” he whispered, his lips brushing the edge of your temple, almost a kiss. “I’ll wait for you. And when you do, we’ll make sure it’s the last fucking time you have to deal with them. I’ll do whatever it takes. I swear it.”

There was no hesitation, no doubt in his voice. His intensity, that relentless drive he had to bend the world to his will, made you believe him. In a way, it always did. His promises weren’t just comforting; they were declarations, vows. He wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear—he meant it. And you knew Barty well enough to know that when he promised something, it was never just words.

You breathed him in and took a half-step back, silently declaring yourself convinced and comforted all at once.

“I guess I’m gonna have to get you a real Christmas present this year, since we’re forced to be civilised,” you said, and he snorted.

“Nothing can ever civilise us. Not even your mother.”

“Probably not,” you smiled, taking his hand to lead him out of the corner he secured for you, ready to face the world. “But we can make it a game and have fun pretending.”

“If so, what do regular citizens get their person?” Barty mused, and you tried to smile through your heart skipping a few beats.

“Gonna have to guess socks.”

“Socks, that’s a good one.” He barked out a laugh at his own joke. “I’m gonna get you so many boring socks Treasure, just you wait.”

You bumped into him as a response, and when you looked up he was already looking at you with a huge grin, clearly pleased with this turn of the conversation.

“Oh, it is on, Junior.”

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merakiui · 3 days ago

Note

a little scenario that’s been floating around in my head for a bit (◕ᴗ◕✿) soft non con with hybrid wolf Jade and a bunny girl darling…

Jade who’s going into rut, delirious and no way to properly relieve himself without a mate… maybe a walk through the forest will help him clear his head! He’s barely managing in his condition ;( all hot and stumbling over himself… this was a bad idea. maybe he should just find someplace to lay down. But he spots a little bunny girl in the bushes and next thing he knows his legs are working again and he’s chasing her through the forest!

The poor thing is trembling and kicking at him, but she’s no match for Jade’s strength! Surely she’s about to be eaten! But he’s more horny than hungry orz and she’s only slightly less fearful when he’s suddenly burying his face between her thighs. He’s not gonna eat her but he still wants a taste! She’s so small and soft and warm… and smells SO good. He won’t listen to her protests but is being surprisingly… gentle… doing his best to prep and stretch her out with his fingers (｡>﹏<) but it’s still so much when he’s finally inside!

Jade’s cooing sweet praises at her for taking him so well between pathetic whining and panting ( ;´ - `;) he wants to be slow but he can’t… it’s the sweetest relief he’s known! He passes out soon after knotting her, and after the swelling went down enough she took her chance to escape! He’s disappointed to see that she’s already gone when he wakes up :(

It’s a relief for her to still be alive after that encounter, but not so much in the following months… She better pray that she never runs into him again, cuz if Jade sees how pregnant she is with his pups he’s sure as hell not letting his little bunny girl escape a second time (๑-﹏-๑)

👁 👁 AAAAA THIS IS A FEAST!!!!! Anon, you have no idea how down bad I am for bunny x wolf dynamic…… orz and with wolf Jade as well,,, it’s over for me. OTL small bunnygirl with a belly full of pups… so heavily pregnant that all of the other bunnies in your village marvel over how you’re able to hold so many, all of them assuming those are baby bunnies. No one knows anything about the wolf you encountered and you won’t tell anyone because you’re too scared, fearing that the others in your village will panic if they think you led a wolf into your safe, peaceful home. >_<

But sometimes it really is so difficult to stand for long periods of time or do lots of work without breaks, and you have the appetite of a wolf now with so many pups!! You’re only a few months along, but you look like you’re at the end of your pregnancy, fit to burst and give birth any moment. You avoid doctor appointments because you worry they’ll be able to tell what really happened even though everything is completely confidential and Dr. Rosehearts would never do such a thing!

Aaaaa imagine instead of encountering Jade again it’s his twin brother…… Floyd who only finds you because you smell familiar (like a wolf or maybe like his family), so he’s confused when he parts the bushes to find…a bunny??? And you panic because you think it’s him—the wolf who chased you down and fucked into you like a mindless beast. Floyd who tries to speak softly and sweetly to get you to calm down. You’re so pregnant. He doesn’t want to stress you out. :< maybe you can come back to his home and he can make you something nice to eat as an apology for spooking you. You must be starving, right?

Wolf Floyd who unintentionally leads you right to Jade. :)

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: pregnancy #tw: hybrids #meraki faves

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eupheme · 7 months ago

Text

— clean slate [into the fire, part v]

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, canon-typical descriptive violence and death, references to blood/gore, anti-ghoul sentiments, physical violence against reader, hurt/comfort, kissing

a/n: please mind the tags! this chapter got twice as long as the others (maybe I didn't want it to end, haha!) and there was a good break, so to keep things consistent, I am splitting it in half! both are being posted today though, so you don't have to wait 💖

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game. But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

(or - they took something from the Ghoul, and he’s here to collect)

The afternoon edges into night, and he tells himself each hour is the last one he'll think about you.

The Ghoul had waited for you to look back. Stock-still in the swirling dust that bit at his skin. A white-knuckled grip around the thick coil of rope.

You hadn’t.

His hand still reaches to scrubs at his neck, his jaw. To wipe you away or rub you in, he’s not sure.

It doesn't fucking matter.

He's stuck around a long time. Enough to see generations of families grow old and then die. The last few weeks are no more than a blip, in his far too-long life.

Hell - he's spent more time underground, than with you.

But something prickles at him. Lingering like a bad trip, leaving his teeth clenching and jaw aching as he finishes out the bounty.

It's messy.

It shouldn't have been. Should have been easy - but he's aching for a fight, something to take his mind off things. He's antagonistic.

Could've finished everything up from afar, but he ends up in close range. Another scar marring his chest, new splatters streaked across his dark coat.

It aches, a deep bruise as it heals.

Still only slightly dulling the itch of irritation.

I haven't lied about anything.

Didn’t last night mean anything to you?

It's sometime the next morning, after a night of a starless sky closing in around him, that he gives in.

Heading the way you went without thought, and when he does notice, he tells himself it's only because he needs more chems. That it’d be a shame to lose a supplier as good as you.

That it's easier, for both of you to stick together.

Maybe that's why he was careless. Knowing deep down, it would be easier to find a corpse later than to haul around a bounty, kicking and screaming.

The small sliver left of another man, from another life, knows he was cruel. That anger had turned him into a viper. Had always been good at striking first. Self-preservation beaten into him after two-hundred years - an old, festering wound.

He doesn’t know how to apologize anymore, but he can already think of a few ways to distract you.

Maybe you’ll forget completely, if he's thorough.

The Ghoul is faster than you are. Needs less rest, less food. Has already plotted just how far you can get in a day. Your footprints faded as packed earth leads to woods, but you’re not the type to wander, and there's only a few settlements in the miles ahead.

Halfway to his destination, when his eyes snag on a patch of rocks. A broken bits of branches on the trees just before it. There's something smeared across the stone - tasting like iron, when the tip of a finger brings it to his tongue.

Something ancient twists in his stomach, awakening from a slumber.

Backing up, he's able to piece together the struggle. Seeing the flattened grass, the heavy boot prints, melding with the smaller ones.

Finding a body, fallen off to the side - angling off the rock with the stain. Something familiar about the look of him.

A boot sinks into their side, rolling them over. A curl of a lip - he recognizes them. One of the two bounty hunters they’d fun into.

He had hated their eyes on you when they blew through that town.

Something had prickled at him then, but he had ignored it. A grit of his jaw - should’ve dealt with both of them.

There’s a hole in their head - red spilling down their neck, still tacky to the touch. A clean, close shot. His finger sinks in the wound, the same size as your 10mm.

"Good girl." The Ghoul murmurs.

The slightest ease of the knot in his chest.

A crunch of glass beneath his feet, the glint of the sun catching the needle. Another shape he knows well - a syringe. Probably a tranquilizer.

Three meeting one, with three leaving. The dead weight of you weighing down their steps, the footprints pressing heavily into the earth.

Easy enough for him to follow, as he slings his gun free.

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game.

But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

Despite being back among faces you knew, fear had been your only companion since the meeting in the forest.

Hazy memories flicker through your mind. Being dragged, snippets of light and the heat of a fire. The bright sear of dawn, and the dry embrace of the desert again.

Waking to the feeling of your arms being wrenched above your head. Coming to, hissing and spitting. Nails catching the face of one of them - Baine, you think - his fist cracking down hard against your cheek in retaliation.

Leaving you dazed, as your wrists were caught again - bound in place. A cruel curl of a lip, as they examined you like a brahmin.

“You look like a Wastelander”. It’s spit out, a wet mark against the floor, “We’ll get you back where you belong soon enough.”

You’re not sure how much time has passed. A day, maybe. Hunger gnaws at you - only a small sliver of comfort in the dried meat and fruit tossed your way.

Axton, the head of the Reclaimers - those who were tasked with bringing people back - had grown up with you. At one time, was perhaps even more than that. A distant relation of the current Overseers, his blood too thinned out to be of use - but even he won’t look you in the eye.

You both know how this will go, when you get back home.

Hope drains from you, with each hour. Eating away at the little flicker of hope in your chest, wrapped tightly around your heart.

Maybe he’d show.

But despair clouded your thoughts, soon after.

“You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

“You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."

Maybe he’d been truthful all along, and you hadn’t listened. Read into all those small moments, weaving them together until they had made something tangible.

The looks, stolen breaths and almost-careful touches. All fleeting, but you had caught them. Holding them close to your heart.

But life isn’t like the holotapes you grew up, back when everything felt safe.

There aren’t cowboys anymore. No heroes on horses - with their silver spurs and a shining, golden badge.

No one was coming for you.

The footprints die out, as the bleached trees grow thin.

Tall grass to packed dirt, dried by the sun. Rolling hills and then mountains, scraping against the horizon. The dipping sun casts him in a red light that bleeds to black at his ankles, his shadow stretching back long and lean behind him.

But these roads aren't wholly unknown to him.

Spent time blowing through Junktown and The Hub, a couple dozen miles away. The memory hazy, but there weren't too many places folk could stay, once the sun went down and everything wild and unruly came crawling out.

A feeling in his gut has him stopping two miles down the road. A half-dug quarry, long abandoned even before the world went to hell. Threadbare railings and platforms held together with spit and a prayer, framing the rusted building that cuts into the stone walls.

The tip of his boot taps a loose rock, sending it off the edge. Head cocked as he thinks, until he hears the faintest clatter a hundred feet below.

Two-hundred years ago, he had stood on a ledge much like this. Valley of the Gun. The final shootout had his guns lost in the dust. Fist-fighting with the leader of the gang, until they both near tumbled off the edge together.

Honorable, in the way he had caught the man's hand. Tried to haul him up, but had to let go when a knife was pulled - keeping him the hero. A satisfying death that wasn't his fault, a way to keep his conscience.

All movie tricks. Angles and the implication of falling, as the camera focused on his face that swam with regret.

Comin' after a girl then, too.

Thinks that's why the old memory has loosened in his mind.

Funny how things can change, but the bones remain. How he's still drawn back to life he's left far behind. Even if his conscience was buried, a long time ago.

Some things linger. He could go down. Take one of those ladders, work his way through the tunnels that are sure to wind through the limestone, and up through the back.

But he's never much liked being underground.

Another second of considering, before he's heading for the front door.

He used to like a script, but that was back in the day when the worst thing that could happen was a box-office bomb, not the hell he's been dragged through.

A half-cocked plan already forming. Twisting that connection between them, his own abandoned contract. Get him through the front door and to the man in charge at least, and that might be all he needs. Let years of instinct take over, after that.

Had already gotten a good look at a couple of them, when he first picked up the bounty. It had made him curious - why there was so much fuss, over so small a thing. Easy caps, he decided, when he had gotten a look at you.

Picking up that their brutality had been learned from sharpening their teeth against a silver spoon. Hardy - compared to some Wastelanders - with their filling meals and their pristine weapons.

But they sure as hell don't have the same grit as one.

Not much of anything, really, when compared to him.

The door opens with the push of his shoulder. Hand beneath the swirl of his coat, finger already fixed on the trigger. Not far in until he’s running into one of them - another Vaultie.

The man startles, wide-eyed when he sees him. Green, in his shades of blue and yellow.

“Here ‘bout a job.” The Ghoul keeps his voice light, in spite of everything.

Knows they’re keeping you alive for someone else, as much as that makes his jaw clench. No need to go rushing in just yet.

A flicker of recognition, as the man frowns, “How’d you find us?”

His head tilts, that smooth drawl slipping in, “Wouldn’t be much of a Bounty Hunter if I couldn’t, now, would I?”

The Vault Dweller’s eyes are fixed on his face, that familiar look of fear and disgust - dipping down to the pocket of his nose, the curling smile of yellowed teeth.

It’s strange how foreign it feels, after the hours spent with you looking at him so differently.

Maybe he’d been a fool, after all.

Maybe it’s more than your tight cunt that he wants to bury himself in, to claim. Something soft, bitten back behind his teeth. Something he doesn’t even know if he has a name for, anymore.

Something he didn’t know he needed , until he had chased both it and you away.

“We’ve already got her.” The man manages, after thinking it over, “Don’t think we need your services anymore.”

There’s another flash of teeth at the confirmation.

“Agreement was to find her. And who do you think rustled her up?” His brow lifts, “Would’ve been half-way to New Reno by now, if I hadn’t herded her your way.”

That sharp edge creeping in, “Think my time’s worth a little somethin ’. Don’t you?”

It’s easy for the guard to leave that decision to someone else. Standing aside, to let him pass.

“Thank you kindly.” The Ghoul tips his hat, a swirl of his coat as he passes.

Taking just enough steps past them, waiting until the man’s back turns. Spinning on his heel, after.

The knife glints between his fingers as he twirls it. A hand pressing over the Vault Dweller’s mouth, before the blade sinks into their neck.

Muffling the dying gurgle. A grunt as the Ghoul yanks the blade free - leaving the body crumpled in the shadows, as he winds deeper.

One down.

Hold on, he thinks.

I’m coming.

His whistle echoes in the chamber.

Half old-world - a long-forgotten leitmotif that fuses with new notes of his own. A part to play until he doesn't, letting the Ghoul guide him.

Down the half-lit hallway, the lights flickering overhead from the ancient generator. Everything picked clean like he figured it would be - every last piece of scrap ferreted away, leaving only dusty crates behind.

Still playing the part, as the low murmur of voices grows louder. Ears pricking up, listening for hers. Picking out at least three or four others from the layered hum.

A sneer, at the number. He’s faced worse odds. It’s in his favor really - take out as many fuckers as he can. Send bits and pieces of them back.

His intentions masked, an old habit, by the time he enters the warehouse. A wide steel grate floor, opening up to a second level below, scattered with old machinery.

There’s a table. Cards littering the top - a luxury brought from the Vault, as they bet using caps. Couple Vault Dwellers and that Wasteland son of a bitch from the town. Four total, one lounging on a sleeping pack as if it’s just another night, and they weren’t bringing you to your death.

It rankles him, teeth set on edge.

A scrape of chair legs on the floor, at the drawling condescension of his voice.

“Ain’t y’all a little old for a sleepover?”

Hands rest on holsters, but they don’t draw. The Ghoul focuses on one - a face he recognizes, the one who had sought him out.

The man’s legs spread, as if he’s got something worthwhile between them. The leader of this whole operation. Axton , or some shit like that - it hadn’t been worth his time to remember.

“Believe you fellas got somethin’ of mine.” The Ghoul drawls, “I’m here to collect.”

There’s a pause at that.

One of them, a right-hand man by the look of their padded leather armor - not a scratch on it - scowls. A face that tells another story. Pink marks start at their cheek, jagged lines that end at a thick neck.

His eyes narrow at that, lip curling. A flicker of unease in his belly - fingers clenching where they rest against his hips, close enough to draw.

“You’re too late for payment, ghoul. Heard you were dragging your feet.” His head tilts, towards the Wastelander who had gone still, “We went and got her ourselves.”

The Ghoul grins - a fierce thing, with a flash of teeth. A lilt, in his voice.

“Now, what makes you think I’m here for caps?”

It gives them pause. His question - the prospect of a ghoul showing up, unannounced.

“What else you here for?” Another grunts - eyes already back on his cards, a comfort in their numbers.

“Think you know.”

“The girl?” Atmos laughs, and the sound is cruel, “Heard she split from you. Caught her after.”

A tilt of his head towards the armored man and the Wastelander. Taunting then, “Must not be that good, if you let her slip away. What, she get tired of looking at your ugly mug?”

If they only knew the kind of things he’d done to you. What you had done to him, right back.

The Ghoul is only half-paying attention. Sticks and stones, all their insults falling on deaf ears. Too busy with eyes that flick over the top floor. Then down to the ground below.

Something flipping inside his guts, when he sees it. Cast in shadow near the base of the stairs, but his eyesight is keener than it’s ever been.

Arms bound, the knot looped around the hook of an overturned crane. A raw, split mark - swollen and bruised flesh - on the curve of a smooth cheek. Just above where your teeth cut into a piece of cloth, tied tightly around to gag you.

A tilt of your head, and then your eyes are meeting his. Round and blank with fear. Widening, when you see him.

His girl.

Muscles string tight, eyes narrowed as his teeth clench. You’d paid for what you did, and he’d be there to return the favor.

His gaze snaps back, and focuses. Whatever plan he had been working up burns, turning to ash.

“Always heard that beauty was in the eye of the beholder.” The Ghoul’s tone is conversational - although his blood boils, scalding hot, “But if you wanna see an ugly fucker , well… you best look right there.”

There’s a nod of his head, towards the man in charge. As if on cue, their heads twist to look - just as he draws, and then fires.

The Vault Dweller’s head caves in. Gore splattering against the blue of his suit. Barely a breath before his finger is tugging again, a bullet going through the chest of a second.

Always too goddamn slow.

Hesitant to take a life, even with their bravado.

Something that molted from his skin with the rest of him, over a century ago. He’s already reaching for the gun holstered at his shoulder before return shots are fired.

He can feel the flicker of something miss him, before he’s charging. Ducking under the swing of a knife, the muzzle pressed against ribs.

A hoarse shout that is drawn out by the ringing blast. The knife caught and sent spinning into the back of the Wastelander, heading towards the door.

Flinching, as something slams into his shoulder, just shy of his collarbone, and out the other side. The turn of a head - an eye fixed on the last man standing.

Padded armor won’t do much to stop him.

“That your handiwork?” The Ghoul growls, as his head tips towards you.

The man's finger twitches but he’s faster - a shot going into the meat of their thigh. Downing them as they scream, as the Ghoul saunters over to tug the hilt from where he’s buried it in the Wastlander’s back.

It glints a gleaming red in the light, as he adjusts his grip. Eyeing the scripted tattoos that cross over the man’s knuckles - as they grip at their thigh, near-tenderized from the blast.

Ones that had struck you. Could send them back, spelling out something obscene. A rough laugh at the thought.

He’s got someone waiting for him. But, he knows from experience…

That this won’t take too long.

In the hours since you parted, it’s only now that you can breathe.

For a long moment, you hadn’t dared believe. Eyes drawn to the noise above - the loud pitch of voices.

One of them - rough and low - draws your attention. Everything dark from your angle, an ache as you had tried to see.

Knowing that shadow. The brim of his hat.

The burn of his eyes, when they fixed on you. You could feel the fury in them, even from here. A muted sound of desperation from behind your gag, as you watched.

The Ghoul shoots first - the second his eyes pull away, and it’s all over in a matter of moments.

Your eyes closing at the sound of gunfire, of screaming - until it finally cuts short. Leaving the warehouse eerily silent, except for the clicking of spurs against metal.

He crouches in front of you, now - and you can’t help the whine. So much trapped behind the thick binding of cloth. All you could do is tug at your bound wrists - neck craning as you tried to watch from below.

A force of nature. Bared teeth a quick draw. Again you’re forced to admit to yourself how lucky you were to still be standing, after your first meeting.

He had blown through them like it was nothing.

“Hold on a minute, honey.” That low tone is familiar, calming you as his fingers hook around the cloth. Leaving a smear of red against your jaw as he tugs the gag free - shucking his gloves after.

“Are you hurt?” It comes out ragged. Tongue heavy in your mouth, throat dry. Eyes scanning the dark leather of his coat - all that red , smeared across it, “Thought you got hit.”

He barks out a laugh, your chin trapped between thumb and forefinger, “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Something dark swirling across his features, as he tilts your head towards the light. His thumb pressing at the edge of your bruise, denting skin.

“They got you good, didn’t they?” He murmurs, and you smile through a wince, at the dull ache of pain.

“You got them.”

“Sure did,” It’s distracted, as he cuts at the binds, next. The rope fraying and then splitting, an ache in your shoulders when your arms finally lower.

“Fuckin’ amateurs.” He mutters again, watching as you wince at the rubbed-raw skin at your wrists. The corners of his lips tipped down, lost in thought.

“Thought you would’ve liked seeing me all tied up.” It’s a weak thing. An attempt at humor, the ache in your heart at seeing him cut by the acidity of your last meeting.

He blinks. Comes back to himself, a hoarse hum of amusement.

“Only when I’m doing it, sweetheart.” The Ghoul’s eyes meet yours then, a hint of a smirk with the tilt of his head.

“Can think of a much better way of gagging you, too.”

There’s almost a softness to his tone. Just barely there, tinting the rough edges. Something like hope flutters - delicate, behind your ribs.

“You… you came, for me.” You need the clarification. To hear him say it. That this isn’t some ruse, a way to take you directly to the source, “You’re not-”

There’s a sigh, as he fixes you with a long look. His head tipping towards the platform above, a lazy flick of his finger towards an arm that dangles from the ledge.

“Well that there man’s the one I got your contract from,” The Ghoul drawls, “Said I was to return what belonged to somebody else.”

Those eyes fixing on you again, “Seein’ as you’re not , and seein’ as that man is now indisposed…”

His words trail off - and you can’t help the small smile, as he finishes.

“I’m thinkin we’re square.”

The look you give him is soft. Admiring. You don’t know how he tracked you down, but he did.

“You saved me.” It’s hushed, and at your tone his eyes pull from you.

Fixing somewhere low, off to the side, as he crouches. Uncomfortable with the way you look at him. How you see him. Not used to it, not after so many years.

You’re not able to resist.

Muscles stringing stiff when you lean forward. Lips pressed against the leather of his cheek, fingers ghosting against his jaw.

A huff then, teeth biting into his tongue with the shake of a head. His eyes dark, as you pull back, hovering.

“Darlin’ if you’re going to be stealin’ a kiss, you best be doin’ it properly.” The Ghoul rasps, eyes flicking down to your mouth.

His head tips towards yours, but it’s your that meets his first. A little sound in your throat as your lips slot against his. Warm and insistent as his knees drop to press into the cement floor.

Tugging at you, as your fingers grasp at his collar. A hungry lick of his tongue against the seam of your lips as you whine, crushing your chest to his.

His fingers at your neck, your jaw. Angling your head, a rough groan as you part for him. Turning ravenous - wandering hands as your tongue slips against his. Panting breaths and a grinding of hips when he yanks you closer.

“How many were there?” He hums, as you try to sneak a ragged breath.

The curve of a smile when you try to ignore him, a click of his tongue.

“I dunno,” Your mind is too foggy. Too focused on the hands that trace against your waist, “Four? No… maybe five?”

“You don’t seem too sure, sweetheart.” He does smile then, at the little mark between your eyebrows. Untangling himself - a hand reaching down to adjust himself, as he stands.

“As much as I’d like to take you right here,” He husks, eyes dragging over you, “The last thing I need is a bullet in the ass.”

A tilt of his head, towards the open floor.

“Come on, cowpoke. Let’s do a sweep.”

the last (final, for real this time) part will be up in just a little bit! 💖 thank you so much for reading - this series has become so much to me, and every ask or comment or tag or reblog has absolutely meant the world 💕

#please mind the tags!#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout tv series #fallout #cooper howard

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additiva · 3 months ago

Note

can u rec some lestappen fanfics pleaseee i feel like i’ve read everything and ur an amazing writer so i trust ur taste (even ones you haven’t read and want to read will do) tyy

Ooh I love this. Also that's so lovely thank you 🤍❤️

Lestappen Fic Rec List

Below the cut.

Ok not an exhaustive list, but here are the ones I remember LOVING.

Some are well known, some less so.

I can't rec any I haven't read yet sorry I'm super picky about the writing style, which you don't know until you get into the fic.

I've tagged some authors, some I couldn't remember their Tumblr names even though I follow them. I'll try to remember to tag them later, but also feel free to do so, if you know them.

Please leave kudos and comment on these fic if you check them out 🤍

I'll try to remember to update the list in future if I can.

Every Other Sunday by Anney

Obviously

Home (is wherever I'm with you) by actparci

Charles leaves Ferrari. There's a million of these, and this is my favourite.

Grapefruit Mignonette by slapshots

Restaurant au. The best of the trope in my opinion though the others are also good.

Set My Midnight Sorrow Free by PrincessElectra

-LOVE this series. Ugh. NOT an au.

Violent delights by grandprix

-ABO. Adore this series esp the second one.

Straight Lines by @alphatinies

Yes. Can't describe just read.

Blood Soaked Gown by sixteenthirtythree

ABO. Friends w benefits. Max is retiring and wants Charles to take his Red Bull seat. Adore it.

Canine teeth in the side of my neck by mintchocolatechip97

Silly! Biting. Don't look directly at me.

If I had words by @formula-fun

ABO. Charles has a miscarriage. Don't let the pregnancy themes scare you, it's perfect. The dynamics are 🫠 I adore this Max 😖

Called to the devil and the devil said hey by @creabirds

Yes. Sticks in my brain like glue.

A life in your shape by weiwuxian

- Max is Batman. This bit, I'll never forget:

But it was what made it fun — being taunted and kissed in the same breath. To fight and fuck and feel worshiped the whole time.

Top of the world (looking down on creation) by eaurouge-sangnoir

Sex worker Charles, virgin Max. 😖

Breathe You In (Like a Vapour) by @fabbyf1

🌶️🌶️❤️❤️

I'll Be Right Beside You by @fabbyf1

Max has amnesia. Charles is perfect.

Curious by LaurawritingF1

Charles is bicurious. Max is happy to help.

Heart Out series by @drivestraight

Girl!Max. Charles is bad at sex, but for some reason Max keeps doing it with him. Underrated. One of my fave series ever. Charles is a simp. He cannot handle Max, but he tries anyway, and I LOVE him.

Panem et circenses by Anney

SO underrated wow. Dystopian future of F1 fic, and like. Wow. Perfect. Wow.

Dirtbag, baby by mondaycore

All of their lestappen. Again, don't look directly at me. Look at the fic instead.

The Skirt by Anonymous

Silly! And short. But I love it.

Says he's going to teach me what fast is by @foggystars

Their lestappen are great but actually this Charlos one is my fave 🤌

And these are not Lestappen. They're Maxiel primarily, which I don't seek out in my life but they're SO perfect it makes me sick. I think anyone would enjoy them. The writing is just perfect.

To the Victor Belong The Spoils by @powerful-owl

Hunger Games AU. Wow the writing. The characterisations. Wow. It's all perfect. Wow. Please read it. You'll love it.

Steal the air out of my lungs by nahco3

Resident doctor au. Both accurate and compelling. Max is so dear to me. And Lewis. Love of my life, ugh.

Leave this blue neighbourhood series by tiredtiredsharl

This whole series I must've read 20 times. Multi-ship, though not Lestappen. Found family. It heals me with every word, it's just 😖😖❤️❤️.

Okay that's it for now. Lmk what you think.

#lestappen #fic #ao3 #fic rec #rec list

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lovelybucky1 · 1 year ago

Text

Unbreakable (Tommy Shelby x reader)

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, cheating, sub!tommy, AFAB reader, degradation, riding, brat taming, extended metaphors, floor sex, misogyny

masterlist

Despite dating Arthur for some time now, you did not know his family very well. Of course, you knew them by reputation, who didn’t? But personally, Arthur’s brothers and aunt were mostly a mystery to you.

You expressed to Arthur how you’d like to meet them formally, and after a bit of grumbling from him about how he doesn’t want them to scare you off, he agrees. You set a date: Saturday night at the Garrison.

The rest of the week went quickly, and by Saturday evening, you’re sitting in front of your vanity getting ready. You apply your makeup, doing a bit more than usual, knowing Arthur’s family has a taste for nice things. You wear the delicate gold necklace Arthur had gifted you after only your second date. You loved it, of course, but that was when you realized just how intense the Shelby men are.

“Almost ready, love?” Arthur asks, coming into the room and standing behind you to straighten out his collar in the mirror.

“Yes, I just need my coat,” you say, making eye contact with him in the reflection.

Arthur leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek before leaving the room to get your coat. You put away your jewelry box and makeup, then stand to meet Arthur by the front door.

Ever the gentleman, Arthur holds out your coat and you slip your arms into the sleeves. He then wraps his arms around your waist to kiss you deeply. His chest feels solid against your back and you smile into the kiss, loving how good he is to you.

You break the kiss and look up into Arthur’s eyes. “Ready?”

He takes your hand and presses a kiss to the ring on your finger before opening the door.

“Lead the way, miss,” he smiles.

It isn’t a far walk from your flat to the Garrison. You’ve been there before, of course, but only with Arthur alone. He prefers to spend his time at your place, something about liking the peace. You know about the noise in his head, the constant battle behind his eyes, and you’re glad that you can be somewhat of a reprieve from it.

You walk across the wet cobbles of the street, hand in hand with Arthur. As masculine and manly as Arthur is, and with the amount that he exaggerates to compensate for his insecurities, it’s ironic that he is following behind you as you walk. You feel like you’re walking a dog with him trailing just slightly behind you as if he’s relying on you to direct him. Like he turns off his brain when he’s with you and lets you be in charge.

Soon you find yourself standing outside the pub, faces lit with the golden glow from inside. Arthur gives you a smile as he opens the door for you, and you step inside. The pub is loud, like every pub, but it’s not the commotion of a bar fight you’re hearing. It’s a joyous sound, like a celebration.

“Arthur!” you hear a man shout.

You look over and see your boyfriend embracing his brother John. When they part, John looks over at you.

“You must be the missus,” he jokes, making Arthur roll his eyes.

“Don’t put that idea in her head, John,” Arthur laughs.

“It’s already in my head, love. Now I just need a ring,” you tell Arthur.

The three of you laugh, and when it subsides, John ushers you over to the bar to get you both drinks.

A crystal glass of whiskey is shoved into Arthur’s hand, while a gin and tonic is handed to you. You thank John for the drinks and excuse yourself, holding onto Arthur’s arm and leading him away from the counter.

You walk around the room, searching for familiar faces. The men in the pub look like a rough crowd, but they’re all dressed nice enough and everyone is seemingly in high spirits, so you don’t worry.

Arthur finds his aunt and introduces you. Polly shakes your hand and you notice all of the rings that decorate her delicate hand.

“What beautiful jewelry,” you say.

Polly tips her chin up and smiles at you, obviously pleased with your compliment.

“Only the finest for us Shelby women,” she winks.

You smile back at her, then look over to Arthur who is watching with a smile of his own.

You figure Arthur must have talked about you at length to his family, because they all seem to know who you are, and from what you’ve heard about Aunt Polly, she doesn’t take kindly to strangers.

“Is Tommy ‘round?” Arthur asks Polly.

“He was. In a sour mood, he is. He wandered off a bit ago but I’m sure he’ll turn up,” she says before taking a sip of the drink in her hand.

“Right, well I’d like to show her off to the others, so if you don’t mind,” he puts his hand on your waist and brings you to the corner of the room where a group of men stand.

Arthur introduces you and they all shower you with compliments, but after that, you keep quiet and let the men talk about their business. After a while, you begin to grow bored with their conversation and you excuse yourself.

You take a lap of the pub, taking in your surroundings. Everyone seemed to fit in here; you were the only lone person in the room. It must be nice, you thought, to have such a strong sense of family. Even though most of these people aren’t related by blood, they’re loyal and trust each other, and what more do you need from a family?

You smile to yourself, imagining your future with Arthur. His infatuation with you makes you feel like a queen, and you want nothing more than to be with him. Of course, you know about the family business and the risks that entails, but you know Arthur will do whatever it takes to protect you. He’s like a guard dog, in a sense.

You look towards the bar at the drink choices, searching for something a bit more exciting than your usual, and while you are momentarily distracted, you don’t see the man you are about to bump into.

As soon as your shoulder hit his, he whipped his head around to glare at you. You look up at the man and your stomach drops when you realize who it is. Tommy Shelby is staring angrily back at you with a wet spot from his splashed drink on the front of his light gray vest.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” you apologize quickly.

You look around for a napkin or rag, but your attention is brought back to Tommy when he exhales sharply out of his nose and places his glass on the nearest table. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks down the bridge of his nose at you.

“You’re Arthur’s woman, right?” he asks instead of responding to your apology.

“That’s right,” you respond. You don’t like how he referred to you like you’re Arthur’s property, but you figure now is not the right time to correct him.

“Hm,” he hums, looking over your body judgingly. His icy eyes make you feel like he’s staring right through you, and it makes your skin crawl. “Are you a whore?”

The scoff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. “I beg your pardon?” you ask, incredulous.

“With the way you’re dressed, I would’ve thought you were advertising,” Tommy says. “I wouldn’t put it past Arthur.”

“No, I’m not.”

“How much do you charge? Mustn’t be very expensive. The good ones know how to mind their manners,” he continues like he hadn’t heard you deny his accusation.

“I’m not a fucking whore,” you say with a huff.

“Such crass language for a young lady. You’re a sailor, then?”

You furrow your brows in a mix of anger and confusion. You cannot understand why Tommy is being so rude to you, especially when you’ve never met before this moment. Arthur always said Tommy was the best, but that is certainly not the impression you’re getting.

“Forgive me if I’ve caught you at a bad time, Tommy, but I will not be talked to in such a way.”

Tommy leans back slightly and raises his eyebrow at you.

“I will talk to you any way I please.”

Tommy’s dismissive, almost bored tone digs under your skin. How dare he treat you like this? Especially when his brother loves you so much.

“I’ll be telling Arthur about this,” you tell him, trying to keep the flare of anger in your chest at bay.

“And I’ll be sure to tell Arthur to keep you on a tighter leash.”

You make a noise that’s a mix between a scoff and a laugh. “If either of us are on a leash, it’s him.”

Tommy looks a little surprised at your response but says nothing. He watches as you turn and make your way back to Arthur. You pull him away from the conversation and he follows blindly. Your anger is evident in your walk and your tight grip on Arthur’s bicep.

You drag him towards the snug, and Arthur scrambles in front of you to open the door to the room. There, you explain your interaction with Arthur’s miserable younger brother. Arthur assures you that he will talk to Tommy and convince him to give you another chance, and maybe even an apology.

“Tommy doesn’t like strong women. Feels intimidated or something,” Arthur explains to you, arm around your shoulder as you sit on the cushioned bench.

“Hard to believe you two are related,” you tease, rubbing your hand up Arthur’s thigh. Whatever smart response that was on his tongue died as you palm over his crotch. Arthur’s eyes flick between your face and your hand, waiting patiently for you to make your next move. “You’re going to take me home and apologize on your brother’s behalf.”

A grin splits Arthur’s face and he stands up, grabbing your hand and tugging you to your feet. You escape out of the front doors of the pub without saying goodbye, but neither of you cares. You’re not in a partying mood after Tommy insulted you, and Arthur’s only desire in the world is to make you happy.

Unfortunately, the clock on your relationship ran out before you were able to reconcile with Tommy, to no fault of your own. You decided to surprise Arthur at his house with a basket of his favorite baked goods when you caught him in bed with another woman.

You didn’t cry, didn’t yell, didn’t curse at him and damn him to hell. You turned on your heel and left as quickly as you came, never looking back.

Once you got back to your flat, you allowed yourself to process your emotions. Arthur had used you, that much was obvious. You made him feel better, feel good about himself, and he wanted to keep you around. He acted like he loved you; maybe he truly did but his head is just that fucked up. Either way, he betrayed your trust, and you were heartbroken.

Two weeks passed and you almost forgot about the lost relationship. You no longer dwelled on it, overanalyzing every action that could have made Arthur do what he did. You accepted that it was his mistake, his loss and that you’ll be just fine.

You continued working, grateful for your inherited flat because your meager income as a typist did not stretch very far. Life was back to normal, and you could almost forget about the whirlwind months spent with Arthur that left you with a broken heart. You almost did forget, until a reminder was standing on your doorstep late at night.

You had just finished your supper for one and were washing the dishes when you heard a knock at your door. You weren’t expecting a visitor, especially not at this hour. You open the door to reveal the last man you ever expected to see: Tommy Shelby. He doesn’t greet you, he just stands in your doorway with his hands deep in his pockets, looking at you expectantly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, making a point to block the entrance of your home so he couldn’t barge in.

“I want to apologize,” Tommy said with a sigh, like this is a great burden to him.

You furrow your brows and stare back at him. “If you’re apologizing for your treatment of me at the party, I'm afraid you’re too late,” you say, not attempting to keep the bitterness from your voice.

“I want to apologize for what Arthur did,” he corrects.

“Why?” you ask.

“Let me inside and I’ll explain.”

You roll your eyes at his sense of entitlement to your time but step aside to allow him in. He walks into your flat and looks around, taking in the room. It’s nothing much; a small couple of rooms decorated eclectically with all of your favorite things. Tommy makes a bit of a face, but you’re not surprised. You bet his home is decorated with knives and guns and severed body parts from his enemies.

Tommy turns around to look at you. “You’re not going to offer me a drink?”

“You came here to apologize, not for a drink,” you counter.

“Fair enough.”

You lead him over to the sitting area. He sits in the plush leather chair while you sit in the center of the sofa.

“On with this apology,” you say.

“Right,” Tommy clears his throat. “I’m sorry for what Arthur did. You seemed like you were good to him, but Arthur isn’t meant for that kind of life.”

“What kind of life?”

“Domesticated.” Tommy leans back in his chair and rests his ankle on his knee. “See, Arthur is a fucking animal. He doesn’t think like a man, he acts on instinct.”

You hum and nod your head in faux agreement. “I already knew that. I spent a month house-training him, and I thought I did a fine job.”

“An animal like him can’t be broken.”

“I see. But wouldn’t that make you an animal as well? Seeing as you’re from the same litter and all,” you reply with a slight smirk.

“The distinction between man and beast comes down to intelligence. I am no animal.”

“I disagree. Man is just an animal that walks upright and can speak. If anything, I’d prefer an animal that acts on its base desires than a man who succumbs to vices and needless violence.”

It’s a direct jab, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Tommy. He raises his eyebrow at you and watches you intently.

“I am not an animal,” Tommy says again. His insistence makes you want to doubt him even more.

“Maybe not, but men are even easier to break.” Tommy is silent after that. His blue eyes stare into you like they did when you first met, but now instead of anger burning behind them, you sense something different. “A few cigarettes, some booze, and some cunt would be enough for you, right?”

Tommy nods his head once. “Perceptive.”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To be broken?”

“Arthur talks when he’s drunk. Can you blame me for being curious?”

A flutter of excitement appears in your chest against your wishes. Luckily, this isn’t your first time. You’re able to school your expression into something of disinterest, mirroring his.

“You can be curious all you want. I don’t understand why you think anything would come from your visit.”

For the first time tonight, Tommy lets his stoic expression crack into a smirk. “Because you’re heartbroken and lonely and angry enough at Arthur that you want to get back at him.”

You swallow thickly. He’s not wrong, but you’d rather die right here on the couch than admit that.

“Quite presumptuous, Tommy. What if I promised myself to God, gone and became a nun in the past two weeks?”

“Nuns don’t wear dresses cut like that,” he smirks.

“What do you want?” you ask instead of responding to his jibe.

“I think that much is obvious,” he says before looking over your body.

“That’s not how this works. If we do this, you have to tell me what you want, or you’re not going to get it.”

“I see. So I have to humiliate myself and explain to you all the perverted things I want you to do to me just for the chance of you agreeing?”

“Yes,” you smirk.

He nods and reaches into his coat for his cigarette case and matchbook. A comfort, you think.

“Shall we start?” he asks, and when you nod, he continues. “I want you to take off your dress. Go slow and put on a show for me. Then I want you to get on your knees and suck my cock and get it nice and wet so I can fuck you.”

You listen, nodding as he talks. “Very good telling me what you want, but I’m afraid I don’t do things like that.” Tommy looks taken aback. “I don’t put on shows, I don’t get on my knees, and I certainly don’t let you fuck me.”

“Very well. Why don’t you tell me what it is you do then, eh?” Tommy says, a smirk still on his lips. God, you can’t wait for that expression to fall.

“If you insist,” you start. “I’ll put you on your knees, I’ll let you get me wet so I can fuck you. I’ll make you put on a show for me, nice and slow. Do you get the picture, Tommy?”

“I think I do,” he says, blowing smoke out of his nose and mouth.

“Are you interested?”

“I am.” You chuckle to yourself. “Does that surprise you?”

“Oh, not at all,” you smile. “Men like you are typically the ones who enjoy this most.”

“Men like me?”

“The ones who insist they aren’t animals, yet they beg to be treated like one. Wealthy, powerful, important men who carry so much stress that they just want to let it all go. Poor boys just need to let someone else do the thinking while they just feel.” Tommy’s lips part as he watches you. The words seemingly have an effect on him if the fidgeting of his legs is anything to go by. “Do you want that, Tommy? Do you want to let go?”

Tommy doesn’t answer you at first. He stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table next to the chair and clasps his hands over his chest.

“I’d like to give it a try.”

You smile at him and lean back against the couch cushion. For a moment, it’s a stare-off. Tommy is waiting for you to make a move, while you’re doing the same to him. You raise your eyebrows and pat the couch cushion next to you. Surprisingly, Tommy gets up from the chair and moves to sit beside you.

“There we go,” you grin. “Now why don’t we start by taking off your jacket?”

Tommy nods and tugs his arms out of the sleeves, not breaking your gaze the whole time. He drapes the jacket over the back of the couch and now he’s left in his white shirt, vest, and gun holster. You look questioning at the gun strapped to his side.

“Planning to kill me or giving me something to use against you?” you ask.

“You know how to use it?” he asks instead of answering.

“It can’t be that hard. Any animal can manage it,” you whisper, leaning closer to him. His eyes narrow as he looks at you, but otherwise he has no reaction. “You know, your brother told me that you don’t fancy women like me. Strong women, ones who don’t roll over for you. That’s why you were so rude to me at the party, right? Because I spilled your drink and I didn’t immediately drop to my knees to suck your cock.”

“I like nice girls,” he says, licking his lips.

“You like nice girls to hang off your arm and to parade around to one-up your associates. But I think you do fancy women like me. You’re intimidated, sure, but I think you like that. Does it get you hot when a lady bosses you around, Tommy?”

He swallows audibly, but you don’t let it show that you heard. You just look at him, waiting for an answer. Never one to admit his weaknesses, he stays silent. You place your hand on his thigh, just above his knee, fingers digging into his muscle slightly. He looks down at your hand, watching, waiting for you to put it where he wants it. Unfortunately for him, you stay still.

“Answer me,” you say.

“Yes,” he says, frustration evident in his voice.

“Yes, what?” you ask, just to make him suffer.

“Yes, it gets me hot.”

Tommy’s jaw is clenched tight, clearly unhappy he isn’t getting his way. Finally relenting, you slide your hand up his leg and press the heel of it into his crotch. His breath hitches and you just barely contain your laughter.

You remove your hand just as quickly as you put it there. Tommy makes a slight whine but quiets up when you swing your leg over his thighs and straddle his lap. Your skirt bunches at your sides, resting on his legs and hiding you from his view. He looks up at you, eyes with only a ring of blue, obstructed by his lust-blown pupils. You grab his shoulders, fingers digging into the tense muscles, prodding the painful knots.

Your eyes trace his plush lips and you wonder what it’d be like to kiss them. Would he submit and let you explore him, or would he try to resist and dominate the kiss, just so he could have some semblance of power? As intrigued as you are to find out, you don’t want to give Tommy the satisfaction of making the first move.

Hesitantly, Tommy puts his hands on your hips, and when you don’t bat them away, he grips tighter and begins to rock you back and forth on his lap. His breath hitches and his eyes flutter shut when your core rubs over the bulge in his slacks. You look down at him, unimpressed, but he cannot see your expression. You let him continue a bit longer, building up the pleasure so it’s more satisfying when you rip it away.

You thread your fingers through the hair and yank, pulling his head back and eliciting a pathetic moan from his lips. His eyes fly open to glare at you, but you don’t even put on the guise of an apologetic expression.

“Y’know, Tommy,” you start, not letting up on your grip on his hair. “Your bother’s like a dog, but you’re a fucking horse. A fucking stubborn one at that. You don’t need a soft hand and scratches behind your ear, you need a whip and some goddamn discipline.” Tommy tries to shake your hand out of his hair, but his attempt is futile. “You’re just a horse that needs to be broken.”

“And you suppose you’re able to do that?” he asks, still far too cocky for the position he finds himself in.

“Yes,” you answer plainly, and he quirks an eyebrow at your confidence.

You reach down between your legs and firmly grab the bulge in his pants. Your grip is tight, just on the right side of painful. Tommy whines and curls in on himself as much as he can, which isn’t very much due to you being on his lap.

“Has getting talked down to like an animal really done it for you?” you ask teasingly.

You know he won’t answer, but the glare he gives you is enough. You let up on your hold and begin to drag your fingernails over his hard cock, alternating between too much pressure and not enough, just to make his head spin.

“Take your cock out,” you order, but he doesn’t immediately react. “What are you waiting for?”

“You’re so crass. You could at least ask me nicely,” he responds, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

“Do you ask your horses to pull your carts full of guns and drugs?” you ask. “No, you give an order. You are just a stubborn workhorse, Tommy. I owe you no more kindness than the shit on the cobble.”

“Why would Arthur ever let you go,” Tommy says sarcastically as he moves to undo his trousers. You choose not to respond to his jibe and instead watch him take himself out of his slacks.

His cock is nothing spectacular. It’s a cock, a toy for you to use to get yourself off with, and something to lead him around by. And by the looks of the leaking pink tip, it doesn’t seem like it will be too difficult to control him.

Tommy wraps a hand around himself and begins to stroke it. He’s very clearly putting on a show for you, and it makes you want to roll your eyes. All men think they’re God’s gift to the Earth when they have their cocks out.

“I’m not here to watch you wank,” you say.

“What are you here for, then?”

You reach down and grab his wrist, stopping his movement. “Do not act like I asked you here. You came to my doorstep in the middle of the night so I could fuck you. Stop pretending like you don’t want me to show you the animal you truly are.”

Tommy bites his lip to hide what almost looks like a smile. “Then show me.”

You feel the two of you have finally reached an understanding of how the rest of the night was going to go. Tommy lets go of his cock and you replace his hand with yours. You stroke him slowly, but your grip is tight. The sensation is torturing him, the evidence is written all over his face. His lips are parted and his eyebrows are pinched with pleasure.

You wonder how much of this slow, unsatisfying attention he can take before he begs for more. His hands twitch at his sides, clearly resisting the urge to take over and fuck his hand to completion. The other hand not around his leaking cock trails up his chest, feeling the firm muscle underneath his shirt. You undo a few buttons to get a glimpse of the creamy skin underneath the crisp shirt.

Tommy usually looks so put together but like this, with his pants undone, cock out, and shirt mussed, he looks like a wet dream. Your free hand continues to travel up and stops at the base of his throat. You push just slightly, not enough to cut off any kind of air or blood flow, but enough to get his attention. He looks up at you and nods once, a simple gesture but sufficient. You tighten your hold on his throat and he keens, hips thrusting up into your hand, searching for more friction. You wouldn’t have thought choking would be something that did it for Tommy Shelby, but he’s shown himself full of surprises so far.

“Fuck me,” Tommy whines. You chuckle to yourself at his desperate tone.

“What was that?”

“Please fuck me,” he pants.

“Well, what’s the point in having a horse if you don’t ride it, eh?”

You climb off of his lap and stand in front of him. You unbutton the waist of your skirt and let it fall to the ground, leaving you in only your top and panties. Tommy’s eyes drink in the sight of you hungrily, taking in every inch of your bare legs.

“Would you do me a favor, dear?” you ask him sweetly. He nods and moves forward so he’s sitting on the edge of the couch. “Could you take my knickers off for me?”

You step closer and Tommy reaches out to grab ahold of the elastic waistband. He looks up at you once more before pulling them down and letting them fall around your ankles. He’s now at eye level with your pussy and staring intently.

“You’re drooling, Tom,” you chuckle, which seems to snap him out of his trance. “Do you want a taste?” Tommy seems to have trouble with that question. He does want a taste, but if he waits any longer to get his dick inside you, he might go insane. “What’ll it be?”

“I want to fuck you,” he says, grabbing your hips and looking up at you pleadingly.

Beneath you like this, he looks as if he was praying to you. Like you’re his God, his master, and you suppose in this moment, his fate does lie in your hands.

“Greedy boy,” you say, grabbing his hair again. “After I stroked your fucking cock and let you rut against me like an animal, you can’t even return the favor?”

“Fine, fine, let me lick your cunt then,” he says, voice desperate.

“No,” you huff, putting on a show. “If you need to get your cock wet so badly that you can’t think about anything else…” You snap your fingers and point at the floor by your feet. “Lay down.”

Tommy obeys, pointedly ignoring how the order makes him feel like a dog and how hot he finds it. He lays down on his back and looks up at you, waiting for you to join him on the ground. You step over him, a foot on either side of his hips, and lower yourself so you’re hovering above his thighs.

You grasp his cock and point the tip at your entrance, rubbing it through your wet folds. Tommy’s breath hitches at the contact, but he doesn’t have time to recover before you’re sinking down on him. You go slow, easing yourself into it as his thick cock stretches you, making room for him inside.

Tommy’s hands grip your waist, but he doesn’t push you further down or try to direct you anywhere. Good boy, you think. When you bottom out, you let out a sigh of relief. You allow yourself to wait there, sitting on his thighs with his cock inside you as you relax your muscles. Yes, you’re doing it to prep yourself to ride him, but the look on his face as he tries to restrain himself from fucking into you is priceless.

“Talk to me, Tommy.”

“Fucking move,” he grits out between his teeth.

“Is that how you talk to me?”

“I’ve got my cock in you, eh? I don’t think I have to do much more charming.”

You roll your eyes, then your hips. It was a quick motion, over as soon as it began, and it only served to frustrate Tommy more.

“I want you to tell me how it feels, not give me orders,” you say.

“It’s not fucking enough.”

“So why don’t you ask for more?”

You know you’re being frustrating, and you can tell Tommy is nearing the end of his rope. His fingers dig into your skin a little more, and you wonder if he’s going to leave bruises behind.

“Please ride me before I go fuckin’ insane,” he huffs.

You smile sweetly and start to rock your hips, quickly finding a rhythm that begins to light up your nerve endings. Tommy groans in pleasure, the deep sound spurring you on to give him a little bit more.

“So fucking tight,” he moans. “Wanna see your tits.”

You look down at him and smirk. “So crass, Tommy. You could at least ask me nicely.”

He narrows his eyes and reaches up to grab the low neckline of your blouse. He pulls it down, making your breasts spill out. You gasp and bat his hands away, but make no effort to cover yourself up.

“You don’t like nice,” he says. “You want someone just as terrible as you are.” You lean down and brace yourself on his chest to move your hips faster. There is no doubt that you are fucking him, and he can do little more than touch you.

“And you are as terrible as they come, Thomas.”

Tommy grins, albeit a lazy, fucked out grin. He palms at your tits as you bounce on his cock, not caring about being nice or gentle with him. He’s an animal, he wants it rough and he is more than capable of taking it.

Your fingers curl into his shirt and you pull at it like the reins of a horse. You both move with each thrust, finding a rhythm and working together to fuck each other to completion.

“Good fucking cunt for a whore,” Tommy says between panting breaths.

You glare down at him. You would have thought by this point he’d be too fucked out to back talk, but this horse is hard to tame. You release your hold on his shirt with one hand and clamp it down over his mouth. Tommy’s lip hits his teeth and he tastes blood, but a bit of violence has always done it for him.

“I am not a fucking whore. You’re the one who begged me to fuck you,” you huff. You know he’s baiting you, but there’s something about his smug, condescending tone that’s ever-present that irritates you. “You’re the fucking whore, Tommy. Needy, desperate, pathetic. I bet you’re close, eh?”

Tommy takes your hand off his mouth and grins lazily up at you. “Yeah, I am.”

“You have to have permission for that.”

“Then give it to me.”

“Beg for it.”

You know this game can’t go on forever. You won’t give in and he’ll refuse to beg, but eventually one of you will come. Never let it be said that Tommy Shelby isn’t full of surprises.

Tommy drops his chin and makes his eyes wide, trying to appear as innocent as possible. “Please let me come, madam. I promise I’ll return the favor. I need you.” He is playing it up, playing the role you want him to just to get his way, but it works.

“Fuck, come for me,” you gasp as you bounce faster.

“Where-?” his question is cut off with a whine when you stand up, leaving his cock wet and exposed in the cold air. Immediately, his hand is around it and he’s jerking himself off to keep up the pleasure, but this time you don’t stop him. You kneel between his spread legs and wrap your hand around his.

“Make a mess of yourself, Tommy,” you order.

Before he could argue, hot come spurts out of his cock and lands on your hand, shirt, and trousers. You watch as his pants turn dark and his shirt becomes transparent with awe, reveling in the sight of Tommy Shelby turning into a wreck before you.

You wipe your hand off on his pants and move it between your own legs to rub yourself to completion. His fucked-out expression, whimpers of pleasure, and occasional twitches of the aftershocks of his orgasm combined with the friction on your cunt send you over the edge. Your pussy flutters and your body sags with the relief of the loss of tension.

Panting, you lay on the floor next to Tommy. You both stay there, not talking, not touching, not moving for a good while. You’re content like that, having gotten some Shelby-related frustration out of your system. You feel better than you have since Arthur cheated, and everything is good again. That is until the man beside you opens his mouth again.

“How much do I owe you for the fuck?” he asks.

You don’t bother to pick your head up. You simply smack his chest, making a hollow thud and a laugh come from the man.

“I should be paying you,” you respond.

“Was it really that good?” he teases again.

“You’re insufferable, Tommy.”

Tommy rolls onto his side to look at you, but you do not mirror his actions.

“And you’re a horrible wench. A wicked, evil woman who takes pleasure in seeing others suffer.” There’s no heat behind his words, and you feel a smile forming on your face.

“And you’re a stubborn fucking ass that kicks his owner.”

Tommy sits up and reaches for his jacket, taking the pack of cigarettes and matchbook out of the pocket. He puts one of them in his mouth, tucked in the corner.

“I’d say we’re a good match, eh?” he says before striking the match and lighting the end of the cigarette.

You scoff. “I’d rather die than be involved with another Shelby.”

Tommy turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “I’d say we’re already involved, but if it’s so important to you,” Tommy pauses for a moment. “I’ll take your name.”

You blink at him. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“You know, since you’re so adamant about being in charge. I’ll take your surname, then I’d really be yours.” That smirk and teasing tone that drives you insane is back.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Tom.”

Tommy stands up and grabs his jacket and hat, then puts them both on without breaking eye contact with you.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he says as he turns around, walking towards the door.

“No, you won’t!”

Tommy shoots you a wink over his shoulder before slipping out the door and back into the night where he came from. You know that tomorrow night he will show up on your doorstep, and you know that you’ll invite him in. Damn, those Shelby men.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders smut

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lxdymoon0357 · 2 months ago

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Idk if your requests are open it not but if it is can you give me some pinjng for Roxanna x fem reader / gen reader? I need more of her 😭

(Honestly, understandable. She is a bit of a goddess...a demonic one, but a goddess nonetheless. Homophobia LGBT ally)

Roxanna Agriche X Fem! Reader Headcanons.

⊈ Rozanna either met you as you were her maid or you were a pet from another noble house. Either way, she had you under her control, doing her dangerous betting every single day. She had you easily wrapped around her perfectly, bloody manicured finger.

⊈ Your life was daily in her hands and she was always careless with it, but you know what you did when you came here; either by force or own desperate situation, but of-course it never scared less not knowig which is your last day.

⊈ Eventually you and her did fall in love and she had you close...Though Lante was horrified at his daughter being in love with a girl, but afterwards he calmed down and let her date you, as long as she'd somehow get a child for him to his lineage continues and Roxanna nonchalantly agrees.

⊈ Level passed!! New Level: You're an Agriche now!

⊈ Of-course you're now also a victim to many of the Agriches, including Dion, Charlotte, Fondaine and possibly others. But it's okay, Sierra adores you, Maria...she is weirdly infatuated, Jeremy is slightly jealous you're taking his sister's attention, but eventually you also become his friend.

⊈ She often feeds your blood to the butterflies as well, so they can recognize you too. Also adding tiny doses of poison into your tea, food, drinks. Has the most expensive furs decorating you with the heaviest security around your room.

⊈ Freedom is basically non-existent with the way she moved you into her room and you didn't go outside for like...three months! (I know it's normal for you nerds, probs. But please be normal right now.) ut yeah, almost zero freedom of going out, your'e free to do yada yada in your room though.

⊈ I know for SURE! Roxanne doesn't allow Dion anywhere near you, you'll easily be his next victim so Dion can see Roxanne's emotions more rawful, Charlotte is just annoyed with you being here, because you're simply BELOW her and you're also one of the favourites of THIS HOUSE?! FUCK YOU!

⊈ Speaking of favourites, you'll be joining them in Lant's "special-favourite children dinner" whenever it happens, maids and butlers and cooks are asked to taste everything in advance so you don't get poisoned by ANYONE. It will rain hell by Roxanna if anything happened.

⊈ Has you in makeout sessions right before bed, her fingers gently groping your tits and tweaking your nips, very gently though...depends if it leads to more or simply just a makeout sessions where you both sleep snuggled against each other, where she wakes up every few hours to make sure you're alive.

⊈ Has made sure you're always as safe as her mum, speaking of her mum. You spend a majority of your free time with Sierra, she likes you though a bit nervous around you two. You have to be super nice and get her to warm up to you and she'll adore you as much as she adores her daughter, likes that someone in this house brings her daughter happiness even if she herself couldn't.

⊈ Lanta, Charlotte, Dion, Maria, Grizelda are weirdly homophobic..yet allies? I don't get it, but imagine them just mocking Roxanne for liking a girl despite being beautiful, but the moment a guy or anyone would try to get near you and the person is dead because they're like "Not Roxanne's little shit, you fucker. I'll fuck you up if you hurt her, she's only ours to hurt" like a messed up family dynamic which is hysterically insane.

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your-nanas-house · 9 months ago

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Because you were a good step-daddy

◇ Pairing: Stepdad!Cillian Murphy X stepdaughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, blowjob (face-fucking), handjob, choking, gagging, stepdad x stepdaughter dynamic, fluff, maybe slightly dub-con? Not really, daddy kink (?), age gap (but everyone is off age)

◇ Summary: Cillian had been such a good addiction to the family that Y/n couldn't help but reward him.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

"I heard what you said to your friend and I know mom doesn't threat you like you deserve.. that's why I wanna do it" Y/n informed Cillian, her soft eyes staring at his face as he sat on the armchair of their living room, her cheek pressed against his thigh.

"Darling... Your love is already the most precious gift I can ask for. There really is no need—" the older man started, speaking with a soft tone at his step daughter while swallowing a lump in his throat, his gaze focused on hers.

Since the first time he met Y/n, after dating her mom for months and finally move in together, he knew how big her heart was and how caring and open to their relationship she would have been. But her good heart was about to cross a boundary... that he deep down wanted to cross.

"I know! But you deserve it, you've been so nice and kind, Cillian" she murmured with a little pout, she really was feeling a bit upset because she truly believed that the Irishman in front of her deserves the world, even if he didn't think the same.

Her eyes softened, trying to make her expression look like if she was pleading him, in an attempt to melt his heart and doubts "Pretty please, you really deserve it... you've been so good" she added the praise while stroking slowly his thigh to reach the laces of his pants.

The young woman could tell that there were still battles in the pretty head of his but she knee that with a gentle push they would have went all away. Just a little tiny push... or stroke, she thought.

And after a deep inhale her face was snuggling against his crotch, catching him off guard

"Fuck! Honey—... t-there really is no need, I-I... Oh god" Cillian's low voice said, his big hand moving automatically on her head to allow his thick fingers to intertwine in her locks. His body unconsciously reacting at the situation, making his hips move forward so that his already half-hard boner could hump her face.

Just a little push, Y/n repeated to herself with a tiny amused smile... her step-dad was still just a man after all.

"Such a good step-daddy, being so nice to everyone, buy things.. doing grocery and being the man of the house" her sweet voice hummed as she lowered his sweatpants and starts to suckle on his clothed lenght

"While also working... cooking, and taking care of us" Y/n kept adding, trailing wet kisses along the form of his boner till arriving to the wet spot his pre-cum left on his boxers "Yes... such a reward worthy daddy" she purred out before sucking on the fabric to taste him, gifting some friction to the probably already angry red tip of his.

His grip on her hair was getting tighter and rougher, his breath was heavy and his self-control was slowly running out... she could tell, mostly by his movements of his hips which made his crotch press against her face even more and his aggressive grip on the armrest... tight enough to make his knuckles become white.

No words where exchanged as soon as her warm lips met the soft skin of his V-line, tracing a trail of wet kisses down to the soft skin of his cock. Her smaller hands wrapped themselves around it to move his foreskin and expose his leaking tip at the fresh air so that her wet tongue could taste him.

The young woman placed some kiss after suckling on his tip, lowering herself down till her mouth met his balls, and her lips could wrap around one to suck while her hand worked on his length. She did the same for his other ball as well before a low whine coming from Cillian interrupted his sweet melody filled with moans, groans, and heavy breathing.

"Stop teasing, love" he ordered breathless, pulling her head away from his cock for a split second so that he could compose himself and not cum so quickly.

It has been a while since someone took care of his needs. He sure was in a relationship with Y/n's mom, but she didn't have any interest in being intimate with him since he moved into their house.

His thick fingers caressed his step-daughter's cheek softly, his thumb slowly smearing her spit on her bottom lip, letting her kitty lick his fingertip before sucking on it.

"Such a good thing, you are" his Irish accent made her smaller body shiver, her right hand started to stroke his cock again, teasing the tip a couple of times to lubrificate her actions before finally getting to the main "gift".

Her lips wrapped around his tip again, her tongue flat against it as she prepared herself... moving down with a sudden motion that allowed her to deep-throat him fully. Her gagging noises nearly swallowed by his low groans.

The older man let her throat adjust at the intrusion, stroking lovingly her soft hair while cooing praises between heavy breaths

"Just like that, that's a good girl... relax your cute throat for me, love"

As soon as she was able to, tears threatening to wet her cheeks, his fingers curled again in her hair in a dominant grip. Tight enough to be able to guide her like he wanted but not as to hurting her.

"Fuck, love!" Cillian cursed, his movements at the beginning slow before carefully increasing them. Now fully fucking her face.

Her gagging noise becoming bit louder as his cock kept thrusting in her mouth, his balls slapping her chin at each eager move. His grunts weren't that low as well, due to the pleasure he was creating by using her face like he wanted.

His grip got tighter, a couple of thrusts after she gagged again around his cock and his whole body tensed as hot ropes of cum were shoot down her throat. Slowly and carefully he let go of Y/n, lowering his hips to free her and allow her to breath properly while she decided what to do with his seed.

Her puffy eyes were red because of the tears and her jaw hurted but she couldn't help but smile as he saw her step-dad slowly relax with a happy grin on his handsome face

"Thank you, darling... I was really craving a good blowjob".

#cillian fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian fic #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fluff #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #stepdad cillian

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potatoplace · 3 months ago

Text

You Can Have It - Chapter 2

Alpha!Feysand x Omega!Reader

chapter 1 | chapter 3 | series masterlist

Story Summary: You've been a baker for 75 years, and are finally moving on from the Winter Court to the City of Velaris to start your own bakery after your grandmother passes. After your grand opening, the High Lord and Lady of Night become daily visitors to your bakery for months, every day having your most popular pastry- one that increases fertility for a short time. All the while, the two alphas want nothing more than to call themselves yours.

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, mentions of sex toys, I really don't think there's anything else?

Words: ~7.8k

Author's Note: it's here! I struggled a lot to get writing with this chapter, I think it's because there's so much I want to happen! Things should start moving a bit quicker after this chapter, were done with most of the OC introductions (just lil friendos for reader to have outside of the inner circle~). Hopefully in the next chapter reader will meet Rhys and Feyre :)

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

You had been reading for a couple of hours before Mor returned to the inn, busting into your room as soon as you opened the door at her frantic knocks.

“I brought dinner!” Mor squealed as she set a bag onto the table in the middle of the room. “I went to Sevenda’s and got my favorite of hers, it’s this delicious pesto chicken pasta with broccoli in it, I think you’ll love it! We just have to make sure to take the bowls back tomorrow, Sevenda made me promise and I’ve forgotten a couple of times already,” Mor said sheepishly, a grin on her face. She sat down and began pulling out the takeaway dishes along with napkins and utensils.

You sat down in the other chair, gladly taking your share of the heavenly smelling food and digging in. Mor followed suit, and the two of you ate happily in a comfortable silence for a moment.

“So, were you able to set up a meeting with Auric already?” You asked Mor before taking another bite- it tasted even more amazing than it smelled.

Mor nodded. “Yes, he agreed to tomorrow at two o’clock at this cute little café just a couple of blocks down from here. He mainly wants to know your plans for the land before finalizing the sale. Auric’s family has owned the land since Velaris was founded, and since he doesn’t have any children he just wants to make sure it’s a business with good intentions, I think.”

“That makes sense, I would probably do the same in his position.”

“Agreed. I think he’ll find a cozy bakery to be a perfect fit, he ran a custom paint and supply store once he took over, and I believe it was an apothecary before that.”

You smile softly at the knowledge that your bakery will be on land with such a long history, one that must have made so many people happy. “The apothecary part will be somewhat carried on with my bakery, I have a few different pastries with special herbs in them to give different effects to the person that eats it. I have one that was very popular in the Winter Court, it helps to boost fertility. We started having a greater amount of births around every major holiday, that’s when I would bake the most of them,” you gushed, always happy to talk about your baking.

“Really? Oh, that will be lovely! Since the war, everyone in Velaris has had their eyes turned to the future, and it seems almost everyone wants to have children nowadays. Once word gets around, you’d best be ready for constant business for that pastry alone.” Mor’s words instilled confidence in you, something that you needed every so often to be sure you’re making the right choices.

A half hour later, Mor stood from her chair and began packing up the dishes. Before she left, she pulled a small metal card from her pocket and handed it to you. “This is your bank card, you’ll need it to make any purchases within Velaris. Kallias and Viviane had me set up an account for you and deposit your farewell bonus. Ten thousand for every year you worked for them, a total of 700,000 gold marks.”

“700,000?!” You asked in a frantic tone. That was to much- far, far too much. “That- they must have made a mistake. That’s a ridiculous amount of gold!”

Mor only smiled at you as she answered, “No, they were very specific about the amount. They said if you were panicking to tell you that five thousand every year was for your grandmother, and five thousand was for you. And to tell you that there is no way to convince them to take any of it back, so don’t attempt.” Mor’s smile turned to a grin when you stayed silent, still processing the immense wealth that you now possess. “I’ll be here a bit before two tomorrow to show you to the café for your meeting,” she said as she left your room, bag full of empty dishes in her hand.

“Thank you, Mor. For everything you’ve done today.”

One more bright, sunshine filled smile. “You’re welcome, Y/N. It’s no problem, you’ve been lovely to get to know.”

You return her smile, and shut the door when she is out of sight. Standing alone in your hotel room, you suddenly feel the weight of your day crashing into your shoulders. You set your new bank card on the table, the weight of its wealth too heavy at the moment.

You made your way into the bathroom, carefully removing your dress from your body to not snag your wings on the fabric. Then you set to drawing the bath- luckily, it was fully enchanted with plumbing, allowing for hot water to fill the tub.

It was a bit smaller than you were used to, not quite the right size to fit a winged body, but it would do just fine until you could have your own custom tub made for your apartment.

As soon as the tub was filled, you sank into the warm water, keeping your wings out of the water for tonight- too much of a hassle to dry with how tired you are already.

You let the steam relax you, sinking into a soft, relaxed state of mind. It drifted to your grandmother- she had died today, but you weren’t devastated. She had been in pain the past thirty six years, caused by the curse Amarantha had put upon her. Your grandmother had accidentally served burned pastries to the revel, one making its way to Amarantha herself. As Nanna’s punishment, the evil queen had cursed her blood to burn away slowly until she eventually passed.

But she was in peace now- able to move on to the next life, hopefully one that’s happier, less filled with psychotic fae.

And here- here, you could believe that. You’d seen so many different kinds of fae today, more than you’d seen at once Under the Mountain. Every one of them got along, there was only minor haggling and bickering to disrupt the peace. Besides that, everyone had sounded happy, unburdened.

It was nice.

The Winter Court, even six years after Amarantha’s fall, was still struggling to find the same freeness that this city radiated.

Your grandmother would have loved it here, the two Palaces dedicated to food stuffs alone might have convinced her to move here.

You would love it twice as much, just for her. She had always wanted you to live a full life, one of joy, hopefully with an alpha and a family of any size. She had been an omega as well, understanding that need, that overwhelming desire to have a family, an alpha that loves you.

When you presented, your mother and father had already passed, taken by a brutal pneumonia that had overtaken most of your village. Your grandmother had been the only family left to teach you, and she had done all she could to prepare you for your secondary sex and all that came with it.

You had yet to take an alpha, ever. During your few heats before being trapped Under the Mountain, you had taken a beta as your lover, trusting him enough to help you through them.

And Under the Mountain… Well, you were lucky enough to have been relegated to the kitchens at all times besides during your grandmother’s punishment. No alphas had been allowed to work at kitchen staff, so you were kept relatively hidden during your heats, though they had been less frequent due to the stress, possibly even from the magic sucked from your body.

Now, though, they had returned in full force, three months apart and stronger than ever. Viviane had been kind enough to show you to the small shop dedicated to sex toys in the square of the capital city, some of them designed to mimic a knot.

The toy you had gotten that day had seen you through your last six years of heats, along with a special blend of herbs your grandmother had created that lessened the symptoms to a close to manageable level.

Now, though, in a new city? Maybe you could find an alpha for yourself, as well as follow your lifelong dream. You let yourself drift off and think about what your alpha might be like as you washed your body.

As soon as you were clean, you got out and dried yourself off. You wrapped yourself in the towel and padded into the bedroom once more, finally ready to unpack your things.

It went quickly enough, you hung up your dresses and put away your romance novels and cookbooks. One of them was your grandmother’s entire catalog of recipes, all of her tricks to making any recipe a bit easier. It was your most prized possession, your own catalog a close second.

Your bags were empty now, and you placed them at the bottom of the wardrobe, along with your pair of extra boots.

All alone. A new city.

You crawled into your bed after putting on your favorite nightgown, long sleeved and reaching your calves in a blue so light it’s nearly white, and a scooped back allowing for your wings to remind untouched by fabric.

The sheets on the bed are soft, and you bury your face in them for a moment, reveling in the feeling of them on your skin. A gentle huff leaves your mouth, and you turn your head to look out the window, to where it’s snowing.

You’ll be sad when the snow is gone, but you can’t deny that you’re excited to see the other seasons come and go as they do outside of Winter.

And your bakery- you wonder how that will change throughout the seasons. Different pastries, outdoor seating, seasonal themes- would you be able to make it snow inside during winter?

You drifted off to different imaginings of your new business, new home as well as you’ll be building an apartment above the bakery itself.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

You awoke the next morning to the winter sun shining into your eyes. You stretched for a moment, then got up from your bed, and walked over to the doors leading to your balcony and stepped through them. Outside, the snow had stopped falling overnight, and now looked to be around five inches deep.

That wasn’t bad, not bad at all. This time in Winter there would be nights with a foot or more of snowfall. It looked to be about ten in the morning- that would be more than enough time to go and grab some breakfast, and maybe shop around a little bit.

You quickly pulled on a pair of thick grey wool tights after removing your nightgown, then slipped into your thickest winter dress, making sure to get all of the buttons into their holes to make the fabric wrap snugly around the base of your wings to protect the skin beneath. The dress, made of thick wool with a silvery fabric layered over the top, was one that you didn’t wear too often, as you didn’t tend to venture outside of the High Lord’s palace often when it snowed heavily. Your wings, even after living in Winter for the first twenty five years of your life and the past six, were still sensitive to the cold at times, so you preferred to stay inside during most of the heavy snow season.

This dress keeps the rest of you warm and cozy, and you want breakfast, so you’ll risk your wings feeling a bit chilled.

You pulled on your boots that nearly reach your knees and lace them up quickly, your stomach’s loud growl making your fingers move faster. Then you throw on your scarf, hat, and mittens, taking care to slip your bank card into your right mitten for safe keeping, and then you’re out the door, locking int behind you and bounding down the stairs.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Druana said from behind the counter as you breezed past her, making your way to the door.

“Good morning, Druana!” You replied enthusiastically. “I’ll see you in a little bit, I’m going to explore the city on my own for a while.”

“Have a good time, and be careful in the snow. It gets slippery on the stones beneath quickly,” Druana warned as you opened the door and slipped through it.

“Thank you!”

And then you were in the crisp winter breeze, breathing in deep lungfuls of the clean, snow scented air. You’ll definitely miss this once the season slips into spring, but you’re here now.

And it’s beautiful.

The snow has iced the roofs of the buildings around you perfectly, and everything looks like a little gingerbread town. You made your way through the streets slowly, following the delicious scent of cinnamon, sugar, and coffee that you picked up.

Soon, you were at an adorable café, decorated with soft pastels inside and out, primarily pink. And you could tell that inside there was a cinnamon coffee cake and coffee to go with it, one of your favorite breakfasts- just perfect for your first official morning in a new home.

You entered the building, spotting a slim high fae beta at the counter in the back.

“Good morning,” she chirped cheerily at you as you made your way to the counter.

“Good morning,” you responded, already looking over the display of baked goods she had out. “I’ll have a slice of that cinnamon coffee cake,” you said, pointing to the perfect looking coffee cake. You then looked behind the other fae, taking in the coffee brewing equipment. “And a coffee with a bit of cream in it, please.”

“Of course,” the other fae said, grabbing your order in a couple of minutes, sliding a plate and a mug over to you after you’d slid your mittens off. “That will be two gold marks,” she said, and you handed over your bank card, hoping that you weren’t doing this wrong. The fae opened up a ledger, and pressed your card against it. “Alright, here’s that back. You can take a seat wherever you like, and just bring the dishes up to the counter when you’re done,” she said softly as she handed you the card back.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile. You grabbed your items, and sat at the table right in front of a window looking out onto the street you’d just come in from.

Both the cake and the coffee were delicious, warming your insides nicely as you sat and watched people go by, the city slowly waking as you ate, a few customers walking in as you did. You returned the dishes to the front, smiling at the pretty fae running the café. “Thank you, it was absolutely delightful! Would you happen to know the way to a bookstore near here?” You asked a bit shyly.

“New to town?” The fae asked, and you nodded your head in confirmation. “If you go to the right and head down five buildings, take a left and then in two more buildings you’ll be at Gina’s bookstore- she’s very nice, and loves meeting new people.”

“Thank you so much, I’ll probably see you again soon. My name is Y/N, by the way,” you said.

“My name is Jayla, it’s nice to meet you Y/N. And it’s no problem, I’ll see you again!” The fae said cheerily.

You followed her instructions well, and within a few minutes you were shaking the snow off of your boots and dress and walking into the cozy bookstore. There were rows and rows of shelves extending into the back of the store greeting you, and when you looked to your left there was a counter with a green skinned fae behind it. Further down from the counter, there was a small sitting area in front of a fireplace- a roaring fire already blazing inside.

“Welcome in!” The fae said with a warm smile as she looked to you, standing just inside the now closed door. “My name is Gina, I’m happy to help you find anything, or you can browse around for a bit.”

You moved closer to her, taking off your mittens and tucking your bank card into the collar of your dress as you did so. “My name is Y/N, I was wondering if you had any romance novels?” You asked, feeling a bit shy at the request, especially once the alpha’s scent washed over you.

She probably thinks I’m some silly romance obsessed omega now, you thought to yourself.

“Ah! Another romance lover! Right this way, I’ll show you some of my favorites too, if that’s alright,” Gina exclaimed as she quickly made her way over to you and grabbed your hand, leading you through the rows of books to the middle of the store.

“Right in the heart of the store is where I keep my favorite genre,” Gina said as she pulled a book from one of the shelves. “And this is my favorite romance series! It’s called Healer of Time, it’s about this omega high fae from the Dawn Court. She has these really strong healing powers, and she somehow ends up traveling back and forth between current time and three hundred years ago, and has to choose between two fantastically hot alphas, one from each timeline. It’s just perfect, and I’ve helped make the series all the rage in Velaris!”

She handed the book over to you, which you eagerly accepted. That sounded like the best blend of romance and adventure to you. “How many books are there on the series?”

“Nine so far, but the author puts out a new one every year or so, thank the Mother!” Gina responded, pointing out the other eight books for you.

“Wow, that’s a pretty good turn around. I honestly think I’ll get the first four today! It sounds like a really good read.”

Gina grins widely at you, and her excitement is too contagious to not smile back. “I’ll take these up to the front for you, but if you have any more questions feel free to come up and ask me!” Gina took the book from your hand and pulled three more off of the shelf.

“Do you happen to have any cookbooks?”

“Of course, they’re near the front, off to the right in the row second closest to the wall Y/N.”

You make your way over to the area, and quickly spot the section dedicated to cooking and baking. One catches your eye, titled Night Court Favorites, with a beautiful illustration of a moonlit picnic on the front. On the back, it promised the recipes for the past three millennium of Night Court nobility’s favorite dishes. Probably as good a place as any to start your full cooking journey, now that most of your meals would not be prepared by the other kitchen staff of the High Lord’s palace.

You flipped through it quickly, eyes snagging on a recipe for Night Court traditional curry- it sounded absolutely delicious.

With the cookbook in hand, you ventured slowly back to the front counter where Gina stood talking to another fae excitedly, your books waiting on the counter for you.

“Ah, Nesta, I’d like you to meet Y/N, she’s the customer I was telling you about!”

The other fae turned around, her movements sending a small amount of her scent- a winter bonfire and very alpha- and you were struck by her beauty. Sharp angles and liquid steel eyes, and lovely golden brown hair twisted into an elegant braid crown on top of her head.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N, are you new in town?” The high fae’s voice was husky and holding a certain power to it, absolutely lovely.

“It’s nice to meet you, Nesta. And yes, I just moved to the city yesterday.”

“Well I hope you find the city to your liking. Gina was just telling me that you like romance novels?” You nodded your head. “I host a little book club here every second and fourth Wednesday at four in the afternoon, and we mainly read romance novels. I always like to extend an invitation to those Gina thinks would enjoy it,” Nesta offered.

“Oh…” you thought about it for a moment. “I’m in the process of getting my business up and running right now, but maybe in a couple of months when things have calmed down?” You asked hopefully.

Nesta nodded her head in agreement. “That’s fine, just talk to Gina when you’re ready to join, she’ll let you know what book we’re reading. Well, it was nice meeting you, but I’ve got to be going now now,” Nesta said, making her way over to the door.

“It was lovely meeting you as well, Nesta. I’ll see you in a couple of months.”

The alpha was out the door after waving goodbye, and you were left alone in the bookstore once more with Gina.

“Did you find everything you wanted, dear?” She asked, taking the cookbook from your hands.

“Yes, I did. Though I’m sure I’ll be back in a week for some extra reading, if I end up having the time.”

“You mentioned a business? What kind?”

Your books were bagged now, and you handed over your bank card after pulling it from your collar. “I’m going to be opening a bakery in the Rainbow, if all goes to plan.”

“Oh, that’s nice! We can always use more food stores, and bakeries especially! I’m a big fan of anything bread,” Gina said with a laugh, handing you back your bank card and sliding the book filled fabric bag over to you. “It came out to 11 gold marks and one silver mark, and if you absolutely hate the first book, I’ll let your return the rest and pick out something else, alright?”

You grin at her. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but it’s good to know! I’ll see you sometime soon, Gina. Thank you.”

“I look forward to hearing what you think of them! Walk safely, it can get slippery,” Gina warned as you stepped back into the snow and cold, door thunking shut behind you.

You followed your route back to the café you’d eaten at, simply names Jayla’s. You walking, taking the path that you think leads to the inn. You end up making a few extra turns, but you’re back in the warmth of the inn after you finally find the building. Druana is nowhere to be seen when you enter after kicking the snow off of your boots and dress, so you simply go up to your room.

Your bag lands on the table, and you immediately pulled out the cookbook, flicking through it again to find the curry recipe. You spy a notepad, quill, and ink pot which you grab and bring over to the table.

On the page, you write all of the ingredients you’ll need to make the curry- tonight, hopefully, if you can find everything you need in the two food centric Palaces. You’ll need chicken, a few different root vegetables, a good variety of spices, and coconut milk- you hoped that one of the various stalls you’d seen yesterday would have some prepared, you don’t quite feel like going through that hassle yet.

You check the small clock hanging on the wall, seeing that it’s only a quarter to noon still, that should be plenty of time to get the ingredients you need and be back here in time to meet Mor.

Next you look in the cupboards of the kitchenette, which hold a large frying pan, a pot with a lid, a cutting board, cooking utensils and small knife set. There’s also two sets of plates, bowls, cups and utensils. The frying pan and pot should work nice enough for the curry, there’s not much point to you buying your own cookware until your building is completed. And there’s a cold box, enchanted to keep dairy and meat fresh.

That would hopefully mean going to only one Palace today, or at least before the meeting. You let the ink of your list dry for a few more minutes, flipping open to the first page of your new book series, quickly reading the first chapter.

Just as you thought, it was going to be a good fit.

You folded your list in half once, then again, and tucked it into the collar of your dress alongside your bank card. You should probably get a purse of some sort soon. But that can wait.

You’re bounding down the stairs again in an instant, and Druana is back at her desk this time.

“Oh, I didn’t even hear you come in! I’ll see you again soon, Y/N.”

You smiled at her and said, “Yes, I should be back at or before 1:30, and Mor will be meeting me here, just so you know.”

“Thank you,” Druana replied with her own smile.

You were back in the winter air, sun shining down on you now. Your breath still made puffy clouds in the air, but you didn’t care. It’s winter, and it’s beautiful.

Slowly, you made your way across the nearest bridge that connected right to the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, your current destination. Upon entering the more tightly packed area, you gravitated towards a large stall, covered in so many different vegetables and large glass jars, only a few still filled to the brim with spices. There was a tall, dark skinned high fae standing behind the stall.

“Can I help you?” She asked in a low voice, and you instantly pinned her as an alpha.

You pulled out your grocery list. “Yes, I needed the vegetables and spices on this list, if you happen to have them,” you said, handing it over to the female when she gestures for you to give it to her.

“I just so happen to have almost all of these spices, and the ones I don’t I can point you to another sweet fae who has them, as well as the coconut milk and rice you need. And I have all of the vegetables you need. Making the traditional curry?” She asked as she began gathering the vegetables for you.

“Yes, I’m new to the city and want to learn some of the common dishes here, and this sounded like a wonderful start.”

“Well, I’ll say that it’s one of my personal favorites, so I hope you won’t be disappointed. My name is Petra, by the way, it’s always nice to see new faces in town.”

You smile at her, so happy that so far you’ve only had positive experiences with the people of Velaris. “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Now, would you like to buy small spice jars that you can bring back and refill, or just go with the amount you’ll need for the recipe?” Petra asked you, holding up a small glass bottle with a metal lid fitted to the top.

“I think I’ll buy the spice jars, please.”

She fills the three small bottles up quickly, putting them in a thin wooden container with a handle, with six slots perfectly fitting the spice jars.

“You can come back and have them filled up for a slight discount for any spice sellers in the two food oriented Palaces, but I’d prefer if you came back to my stall,” Petra said with a wink, placing the container into the tan fabric bag containing the vegetables. “That will be 7 gold marks, please.” You handed her your bank card, and she quickly passed it back after pressing it to her ledger. “Now, the other two spices and the coconut milk you need, you can find three stalls down on the right, and the male next to her has a good price on chicken, just to give a few suggestions,” Petra offered, pointing out the two fae she was speaking of.

“Thank you so much, I’ll be sure to come back when I need more vegetables,” you said before walking away, exchanging waves and warm smiles.

You made your way over to the other stalls, quickly buying the other two spices, coconut milk, and rice you need, as well as the chicken the recipe called for- one large chicken breast. You trekked back to the inn carefully, switching the bag between hands every so often.

“Grocery shopping, I see,” Druana greeted you as you breezed into the inn after kicking the snow off of your clothes.

“Yes, I thought it would be better than ordering in every night,” you chuckled as you made your way over to the stairs.

“Well, good luck with that. And don’t burn my inn down,” Druana added playfully as you began going up the flight of stairs.

“I’ll do my best!” You unlocked your room, immediately dropping the heavy bag next to the books you’d purchased earlier. Groceries sure are heavy when you have to lug them across town. No matter. You’ll get used to it soon enough, especially once you have to purchase for the bakery.

You put the chicken and coconut milk into the cold box, and the vegetables and spices onto the counter. Right after you had, there was a knock at your door. “Y/N? It’s me, Mor.”

You swung the door open, letting the bubbly blonde into your room. She was carrying a large yellow envelope under one arm, and decked in winter gear from head to toe, but still slightly shivering even in the warmth of the building. “Time to go?” You asked, still holding the door open.

“Yes, getting there a little early is wise with weather like this. Nothing quite like eating shit one to many times on your way to a meeting and ending up late,” Mor said, already moving back out of your bedroom door and into the hallway, and you followed her after making sure your bank card was still tucked safely in the collar of your shirt

The door snicked shut and you locked it quickly, following Mor down the stairs and outside once more. She led you through the streets cautiously, obviously afraid of falling down, but you made it to the café within ten minutes, and to your surprise it was Jayla’s café.

“Ah, welcome back Mor, Y/N,” Jayla said from behind the counter as she wiped it down with a cloth.

“Morrigan!” Exclaimed an older male’s voice, gravelly with age. “It’s wonderful to see you again, come, introduce me to your friend,” the elderly high fae said, beckoning the two of you closer to where he was seated at a table, three other chairs surrounding it.

“Auric, this is Y/N, the lovely young fae hoping to buy your property. Y/N, this is Auric, Velaris’s most experienced paint mixer, including magic imbued paints as well,” Mor said as the two of you sat in the unoccupied chairs.

“It’s wonderful to meet you Auric, I truly fell in love with your family’s property the moment I saw it,” you said right before Jayla came over to the three of you.

“Would the two of you like anything to drink?” She asked, and you noticed that Auric already had a mostly full cup of tea in front of him.

“I’ll take a tea, whatever you recommend please.”

“The same for me, please,” Mor said. “Thank you, Jayla.” Jayla nodded and walked away, going behind the counter to begin brewing your teas.

“So, you fell in love with the land? What did you like about it?” Auric asked you, eyes running over your face. It was then that you scented him- a male omega. It had been years since you’d met one yourself, before the mountain you believed.

“I loved the view looking towards the Sidra, you can see the mountains in the background as well as all of the other beautiful buildings in the city. The land itself is so lovely, it’s nice and flat, and I think it would look wonderful with a little extra landscaping, maybe a tree or two of that would be alright. And the location, on the outside edge of the Rainbow would be perfect for a bakery, close enough to a few residential areas, but also involved in the creativity that the area boasts,” you gushed, still picturing the view in your mind. Being able to bake and look out at such a beautiful river, beautiful city, truly, would be amazing.

Jayla returned, two cups of tea in hand that she placed in front of you and Mor. “A lovely raspberry tea for the both of you,” she said before walking back to the counter.

“A bakery, hmm?” Auric questioned, raising a brow at you as you took a sip of the tea- delicious. “Are enough sure you have the stamina to run it? It’s a hefty job.”

You nodded your head once, fully confident in your abilities. “Yes, I previously worked to bake for the entirety of the Hugh Lord of Winter’s residence, and over the course of… Well, being Under the Mountain, I was assistant to the head baker, my grandmother, for twenty years, and for thirty years after that I was head baker myself. I am confident that I can handle running a bakery on my own.”

The older fae’s eyes narrowed at your for a minute, before they crinkled as his lips spread into a smile. “I like you. I’m sorry that you had to go through that, but it’s good to see you’re stronger for it. Now, what type of baked goods will you be selling?”

You breathed a small sigh of relief before answering. “Well, I do have a few favorite pastries of the Winter Court that I’ll have, as well as loaves breads and cakes. Plus I have a number of recipes made with medicinal herbs or berries that have health boosting benefits. My most popular one by far has been a fertility boosting pastry made with a berry native to the Winter Court.”

Auric hummed as he considered everything you had said. “And what will you name it?”

“I… What?”

“What will you name your bakery? Surely you know what you want your business to be called, Y/N.”

“Of course I do, Auric. It will be called Sparaiya Bakery, after my grandmother. She might have left this plane, but she will always be with me, especially when I bake.”

Auric clapped his hands together once. “Very well, then. I’d like to sell you my land, Y/N. I think you have a good amount of experience, you have a vision for your bakery, and you seem like a strong, loyal person. I believe my ancestors would be proud to have your business on their land,” the older omega said sincerely. “I’ve set the price at 100,000 gold marks, are you willing to pay that much?”

The thought of that much money alone being spent made your stomach churn, but you reminded yourself of the massive amount of money that Kallias and Viviane had given you, and that this land was worth every single mark you were going to spend on it. “Yes, that’s perfectly fine with me.”

“Perfect!” Mor pulled the envelope from between her arm and chest, pulling a few documents out and summoning a quill and a pot of ink. “The two of you can go ahead and sign here, and Y/N, you’ll just need to press your bank card to the top right corner after you’ve both signed.” The two of you do as she says, standing and shaking hands afterwards.

“Thank you so much, Auric, for entrusting your family’s land to me. I hope that if you come by once it’s finished, you will be proud.”

Auric regarded you warmly, squeezing your hand an extra time before letting go. “I’m sure that I will be, Y/N. Let me know when you’re opening, and I’ll be sure to stop by.” He grabbed his copy of the sale documents

“I’ll make sure to. Have a wonderful rest of your day,” you said as he walked out of the café, leaving you with Mor. “I’m so happy he said yes! Oh, I should go tell Marcus that I have the plot of land now, and get everything moving in that direction. Thank you so much, Mor. You’ve been such a help in all of this,” you said, placing a kiss gently on the alpha’s cheek. “I’m going to head over to Marcus’s business now, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, of course!” The alpha responded, already donning all of her winter clothes again to bundle against the cold. “You walk safely over to there, Velaris gets slippery when it snows. Now, will I see you for lunch this Thursday?” Mor asked, and you mentally double checked the day of the week in your head- Monday.

“Yes, three days from now sounds perfect. Do you want to meet somewhere or at my hotel room?”

“I’ll meet you at your hotel room this time, alright?”

You nodded your head in agreement. “That sounds good, I’ll see you on Thursday Mor. You walk safely too!” You were already out of the door with your bill of sale in hand, beelining your way as well as you could to the Palace of Flame and Steel. When you arrived at Marcus’s shop, you swung the door open and stomped off the snow on your boots before entering. “Marcus!” You said excitedly as you met his eyes, waving the paper in your hands at him. “I have land now, will you be able to come assess it in the next few days?”

Marcis stood from his place behind the desk and made his way around it to you. “I can go right now, there it too much to do around here at the moment,” he said, already ushering you out of his shop, flipping the open sign on the door to say closed, and locking it behind him.

“If you’re sure…” you said before grabbing his hand and pulling him with you to the Rainbow as fast as the two of you could manage in the snow. “This is it!” You gesture to the dilapidated building excitedly.

“You are planning to tear it down, right?” Marcus asked, amusement in his voice.

“Of course I am, silly, I wanted the land. It has such a beautiful view of the Sidra and the mountains, come here.” You pulled him past the building, to where you had stood when you’d known that this was the land you wanted your dream to come to life on.

Marcus let out a heavy breath. “Okay, I get it now.” He looked around, taking in where they were situated. “And it’s in the perfect spot for a bakery, you really picked the best possible spot.”

“I know!” You squealed, jumping as high as you could without using your wings in your excitement. “So, what’s the procedure for tearing down the old building and starting the new construction?” You asked, ready to learn the necessary details.

Marcus pulled you back onto the street, and the two of you began to walk back to his business. “Well, we need to submit a request for a permit to demolish, and one for construction. But since I’ve done a good amount of work in the past six years, I doubt that there will be much more than two days of waiting time between submitting it and getting the permits. We can fill out all the forms once we get to my office, and I’ll get them sent up to the House of Wind as soon as I can.”

“Alright, that sounds doable enough,” you said as you threw a smile at him, happy that he’s kind about you not knowing much about the building process.

Soon enough the two of you are back at his office, and he swings the door open, letting you go inside first. He went through a filing cabinet behind his desk before pulling out a half inch thick stack of papers in total. Marcus turned back to you, placing them on the desk and gesturing for you to take a seat.

You do as he asks, and he sets two piles in front of you- both are identical. You give him a quizzical look, not understanding the purpose of having two.

“One pile is for your own personal records, and the other is for the permits and for our contract agreement, for payments and things like that. I suggest you read everything closely, and I can explain something to you if you’d like.”

You read through the stack of documents, finding everything to be fair, both in compensation for the company, and certain protections on promises made to you. You signed the contract documents first, letting Marcus take the pages as you finished to sign them himself. Then came the permit application, you needed to state why you wanted to tear the building down, then what you were going to replace it with.

That was easy, the current building would not suffice for a bakery, it might even burn down if you ride to light a fire in it. And building on top of the land, well, a bakery plus a second floor apartment with a small garden.

Once it was all filled out, Marcus went through every page to make sure that everything had been signed. “Alright, everything looks to be in order. I’ll write to you to let you know when it’s been approved, okay Y/N?”

You nodded your head, happy to be done with the paperwork portion of the day. “That sounds just fine, Marcus. I’ll see you in a few days, most likely,” you said before standing from your chair, stretching your muscles and wings slightly.

“I’ll see you then,” Marcus responded, asking you over to the door. By this point, the sun had begun to set over Velaris, but the city was more alive than it had been all throughout the morning.

“And thank you, Marcus. I look forward to working with you,” you added as you stepped outside and away from his shop.

“It’s no problem, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.”

And the you were off, your new property deed tucked under safely against your body. You were eager to make your way home, wanting nothing more at this point than a hot bath and a warm meal- you didn’t particularly care in which order. You were at the inn soon enough, kicking snow off of your boots and the hem of your dress for the last time of the day.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” Druana greeted from behind the counter, waving a bark skinned hand at you.

“Thank you, Druana. I’ll see you in the morning!” You said, already making your way up the stairs in your rush to finally get out of your winter gear.

The door to your room swung open and shut quickly, and you sat at the table in the center of the room, undoing the laces of your boots as fast as you were able. They came off, then followed by your dress after unbuttoning the back carefully. Now you were only standing in your underthings and tights, and very much feeling the chill that had set in from being outside in your bones. You stripped off the rest of your clothes before heading into the bathroom and starting the tub.

Gloriously hot water spilled out of the faucet, and you didn’t wait for it to fill up, merely settling yourself in as the water slowly came up to your neck. You allowed yourself to soak for a few minutes, letting the cold seep from your bones and warmth replace it. Once you felt warmed and comfortable, you washed yourself quickly after hearing your stomach growl loudly.

After toweling off, you went back into your bedroom and donned a soft set of white cotton underthings, as well as an oversized lilac sweater that you were able to wear like a dress, the back already having had the fabric carved out of it to fit your wings. It was so cozy and soft, you felt buried in it. Just how you wanted to feel after an eventful day.

You went to the kitchenette, pulling out the cutting board, pot, and pan. You grabbed the cookbook from the table and set it on the counter next to the cutting board, reading over the instructions once more. Next you pull out the chicken and grab a suitable enough knife, dicing the meat into bite sized chunks as the recipe called for. You set them in the pan, lighting the charcoal beneath the burner to get the heat started.

You washed the knife and cutting board and dried them off, then grabbed the root vegetables that you’d bought earlier. Similar to baking, you switched between washing and chopping the vegetables to moving the meat around the pan easily, being careful not to burn anything while getting everything else you would need prepped.

Paying attention to the recipe, you measured out the right amount of each spice, mixing them with a bit of water to create a paste that smelled heavenly and spicy.

The chicken was done now, and you added the vegetables along with a bit of water and the coconut milk. Then all you had to do was wash and set the rice to cook, and wait. You rinsed the rice in one of the bowls, getting the water clear before carefully draining it out and placing the rice in to the now boiling water.

In another twenty minutes, you deemed the vegetables and rice to be cooked enough, and dished out a nice serving of rice, with lots of curry on top.

You cleared off the table, moving your new books over to the nightstand by your bed, then brought your dinner to the table. You sat facing the windows and stared out at Velaris as you ate, pleasantly surprised with how nicely the curry had turned out, with it being your first time cooking anything like it.

Soon enough you were full and getting sleepy, so you brought your dishes back to the sink. You plated the rest of the rice and curry into the other bowl that you hadn’t used, then washed all of the dishes you had used that night.

By the time you had finished, your bed was calling to you, and it was such a soft, sweet landing when you finally made your way under the covers, deciding to sleep in your massive sweater instead of changing into a nightgown.

It’s not like anyone will see me sleeping, anyways, you thought to yourself, right as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, filled with the view from your new property.

Series Taglist: @icey--stars @breadsticks2004

#you can have it #acotar a/b/o #alpha!feyre x omega!reader x alpha!rhys #alpha!feysand x omega!reader #acotar omegaverse #feysand x reader omegaverse #feysand x reader #alpha!morrigan #alpha!nesta #acotar fic #acotar #acotar fanfic #feysand x you #tato writes #omega!reader

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