#edited to tag said wonderful fiancée properly

[release-the-sheep]

Very glad you reblogged thst ask game because I was secretly hoping you would.

Wednesday Night Fever: Where did the title come from?

And I'm also going to take this as an opening and ask what brings you to your characterizations of Maura and Jane in a romantic context (because I think it's absolutely spot on)?

oh my goodness yay! hi!

So, WNF was originally going to be a shorter, much more pwp-esque affair wholly inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's song Espresso, because I listen to music while thinking about my blorbos and my brain grabbed onto the idea of that as a Maura song and then proceeded to go brrrr about it. So it was gonna be called something like "Isn't that sweet? (I guess so)" in classic songfic fashion. But then I was thinking about how they would end up in a scenario where Maura is teasing Jane who is trying, for whatever reason, to hold back, only not really trying and just getting desperate and losing her mind a little, and plot happened. And at that point it felt improper not to have the title be related to the case.

Honestly, I find titles Hard. So I was looking for an easy out of some sort, and I figured, the murder happened outside a club, what's a phrase that's easily recognizable as being club-related... Saturday Night Fever. okay but get a little silly with it... different day of the week. Sure. That's how it happened, lol.

As for your second query........ what indeed. Very good question. I don't exactly know. I know my writing of Jane's Figuring It Out is heavily informed by my own experience of that, but that's not really what you asked. A lot of my characterization of them together is informed and maybe cribbed from (franken-cribbed from, I guess, since it's a lot of sources) All of the fic that I read upon first watching and continue to read now. That includes yours, btw. A lot of DanteBeatrice77's stuff as well, and coolbyrne, and @domini-porter, and @julieverne, and more recently @doomsday-dj and..... so many. god there are so many great writers in this fandom. I'm forgetting more than one for sure and I'm sorry to those folks but man there are so many.

I also have a very wonderful fiancée ( @vocallife) I have been mentioning in the majority of my comments lately because we've been using fic as bedtime stories and I read to her, and sometimes our dynamic matches with Jane and Maura's so I do draw on that, too. It's the whole service top/power bottom thing, I find it fairly consistently transposeable to our favourite detective and chief medical examiner.

And also my characterization comes from the fucking performances put on by Angela Michelle Harmon and Sasha Alexander. There are so many gay, gay choices those two made all the time constantly on that set and I simply want to explore them

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fiancé: Chapter Two

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: E, 18+ Only

Summary: Based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé ,’ by @alloftheprompts on tumblr. Now edited and extended!

A/N: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head recently, so here we are a year and half later. Yay!

This story includes swearing and alcohol with more tags to be added!

Masterlist

The Fiancé:  Chapter One

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

Good Morning, Washington!

Any minute now.

Any minute.

Your face is starting to ache from having it scrunched up so you can stare through the peep-hole properly.

3... 2... 1...

He still doesn’t appear.

How is that possible? You take the briefest of pauses to glance at your watch before swiftly returning your eye to the peep-hole. It’s 7:31. He’s always out of his door every single day at 7:30 for an hour long jog, and you’ve known that for three years because the sound of his door opening and closing is basically your alarm clock. Except for today. Today, you’ve gotten up before the opening and closing of the door because you want to make damn sure you don’t encounter him on your way to work. 

He’s always on time, how is he not out yet? Oh, no... Is he dead? Don’t be silly, of course he isn’t... No, he can’t be. Oh, just go.

Standing back, you exhale a short breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder and open your door. Closing it as quietly as possible behind yourself, you lock it and turn, pushing your keys into your bag.

Then you hear his door opening.

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

You can do nothing else but freeze and stare at Steve Rogers stepping out of his apartment. As he closes and locks his own door, his keys going into the pocket of his sweatpants, he then turns to you and gives you that warm, wide smile that has you instantly smiling in return.

“Well, good morning. I didn’t know you even knew this time of day existed.”

You tilt your head, arching an eyebrow even as you unsuccessfully try to stop your smile from widening. “A-haa, you’re so funny, they keep ignoring my emails to have that little fact put in the museums.”

A corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other as he chuckles, his hands in his pockets. “How rude of them, I’ll bring it up at the next gala commemorating me.”

You snort as you walk together, him slowing a little so you can enter the elevator first. “Please do, I can’t wait to watch the live-stream of that.”

The elevator doors close as he leans his shoulder against the wall, your hands holding the strap of your bag as you face the doors.

“That reminds me actually...” Your gaze shifts to him as he looks to you, raising his eyebrows slightly. “... Tony’s throwing a party this Saturday to celebrate Christmas, ‘super-secret boy-band style’, I believe the invitation says.” Amusement and exasperation drips from his tone. “As you can imagine, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my weekend, but I have to go, SHIELD and Stark orders, so, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

Your mouth had already opened to make a quip at Stark’s expense, and now it just stays open.

Oh, God...

The nervousness that had vanished at the ease with which he can put you instantly returns.

“Uhm...” You can’t lie. You can’t say no, because A) That’s rude, and B) you’ll just have to give him a reason why, you won’t be able to stop yourself, and you really don’t want to give the truth. “... Yes. That sounds like fun.” You don’t know how you managed to say it without sounding completely like a robot.

He tilts his head, arching an eyebrow. “Easy, you know we both wouldn’t exactly call it ‘fun’, but I just thought you might want to see some of the guys, too, I know they’d love to see you.”

Oh, I do miss Sam and Nat, when was the last time we hung out... Right, so... Okay, that’s fine, then, that settles it, it’s just a friends thing.

Your smile is a little easier to maintain now as you nod. “Sure, yeah, that does sound like fun. Closer to our kind of fun, anyway.”

He looks slightly relieved, straightening as the elevator slows and the automated voice announces, ‘Ground Floor’.

“Great. Having you around will make it a little more bearable.” The doors open and he gestures for you to step out, his smile widening. “And I do reckon you owe me for Saturday.”

Oh, shit. 

You have to tell yourself to keep fucking moving and actually walk out of the elevator to the main doors of the building.

He means... Saturday. As in two days ago. As in when you were at your office Christmas party. As in when you bumped into your ex-boyfriend. As in when you told said ex-boyfriend that Steve Rogers is your fiancé. As in when Steve went along with being your fiancé. As in when he had his arm around you, called you ‘my girl’ and kissed the top of your head.

Swallowing, you quickly plaster on a smile as he catches up to you and gets the door, my God, just stop being so polite, letting you exit first.

“Oh... Yeah, well, you know...” You hope he knows because you don’t bloody know.

Letting the door swing shut and electronically lock behind him, he pushes his hands into his pockets again as you both pause on the pavement.

“Like I said, it wasn’t as awful as you painted it to be, and neither will this Stark party be, but I reckon fair is fair,” he smiles, tilting his head.

Oh. So we’re still not addressing the fiancé thing. Okay. Absolutely bloody fine.

You laugh quickly as you realise you’ve been quiet a second too long. “Oh, yeah, well, I think this party will be a lot more glamorous and the buffet a bit bigger.”

“That it will be. And a free bar, I’ve been told.”

“Oh, perfect!” You sound far too jovial about that. Hang on, that might actually help. Widening your smile, you gesture behind you. “I’d better get going, I have an early meeting.” Lies. “Thank you for the invite, though, I’d better dust off my glad-rags, see what wonders they can do for me.”

He chuckles and he’s still smiling and, oh, that smile. “Wear whatever you like, you look lovely in everything.”

You just laugh, slightly forcing it as you feel heat rise on your cheeks but, thank God, he’s already turned away, jogging off down the street. You meet a passing woman’s brief gaze and quickly drop your slightly maniacal smile, clearing your throat. It must have been really maniacal, actually, as her eyes quickly dart back to you and she frowns.

All righty.

Turning on your heel, you start to stride down the street, your mind buzzing. 

Oh, God...

You have a crush on Steve Rogers. Of course you have a crush on Steve Rogers, who doesn’t? But the absolute last thing in the world you want to do is ruin your friendship. You’d moved to D.C three years ago, on pretty much a whim, well, and a job offer, and a friend insisting it would be the best thing for you, not just your career... and it had been. You’d made such a good friend in Steve, and others, you loved your job, and... God, you really did not want to ruin any of it.

At the party, you’d nearly blown it, you still can’t believe you’d even said it. Steve had had every right to just laugh or frown at you or say his version of ‘what the fuck’, (’now hang on a second’), and you would have completely understood and forgiven him... Except he was the kindest man in the entire universe, so of course he’d just gone along with it, cracked one joke afterwards and not mentioned it again. Granted, it had only been an evening and a full day ago, but you were always messaging each other and it still hadn’t come up. Even on the ride back from the party, he’d driven, you’d just talked about the changing weather, sung along to a few songs on the radio and chatted about how you were each going to spend your Sunday.

Well, maybe, actually, it had been you talking about the weather, you singing along to the radio, and you talking about your Sunday. You had asked him how he was going to spend the next day, though... and asked question after question. Oh, he was going to watch a game at Sam’s? And Bucky was going to be there? How nice, how were they, by the way? Oh, how nice, that’s good, oh, look, back at the apartment!

Even when you’d messaged him yesterday it had just been to talk about the game, how the boys were and to send pictures of Sam’s new TV. Steve was either being very gracious and just letting it pass, or it just didn’t bother him at all, or even occur to him to talk about it.

Either way, you certainly weren’t going to bring it up.

With two weeks to go until Christmas, the weather was certainly colder, and, boy, did you feel it. Wishing you’d remembered your gloves in all the rushing around, you quickened your pace, shoving your anxieties away and dreaming of the hot drinks machine in the office kitchen.

Oh, hooo, I’m coming for you.

—

Stepping out of the elevator, you breathe a sigh of relief as the warmth of the office instantly washes over you. It’s a quiet space in a large building that houses everything from a law firm to a high-end fashion magazine, so you love this little floor of peace.

Book-publishing wasn’t something five-year-old you had dreamed of going in to, but you loved it. You loved discovering and meeting new, exciting authors, making their dreams come true, spreading their voice and imagination to the masses, and, hey, getting to read the proof-copies before the rest of the world is definitely a perk.

People in your office are lovely and calm, too, and despite the running joke that they’d have first dibs on Captain America’s only authorised biography should it ever come to fruition, no one really brings your friendship up unless you do. Smiling at the receptionist, Dolly, she returns it with a wide beam, which isn’t so unusual, she’s the happiest and most positive person you’ve ever met, until you realise she’s shoved her chair back and is darting around the desk to catch up with you.

She probably got up to something exciting at the weekend and can’t wait to tell me. She’s always doing exciting things, I wish I had the energy to do exciting things.

Walking along with you as you pass desks, only a couple of people here as it’s only 8:27 a glance at your watch tells you, Dolly is still beaming.

“So...”

“So...?” you prompt after a few moments as she just looks at you, exhaling a laugh.

You can always have a laugh with Dolly, she’s always ready to.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

Oh, shit, it’s not her birthday, is it? No, it’s in May, we went to the Mexican restaurant across the road and got free tequila shots.

Raising your eyebrows as you smile in bemusement, you laugh again. “Uh, not really. Oh, I’m happy to see you, as always?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re so coy!”

Pushing your office door open, you frown even as you continue smiling because what the hell is going on. “About what?”

She raises her arms as she stares at you, watching you place your bag on your desk and shrug your thick coat off. “’About what’?! Are you kidding me?”

Am I dreaming right now.

Sitting down in your chair, you raise your hands slightly, palms up. “I don’t actually understand what’s going on right now.”

Her hands go to her hips as she looks at you, amazed. “You’ve always been so damn good at keeping secrets, SHIELD should recruit you, I’ve always said it.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you to say, but I really don’t know what’s going on, Dolly.” Turning your computer on, you raise your eyebrows.

A wide smile breaks out across her features as she raises her arms again. “Your engagement, you secretive little secret-keeper!”

Your mouth drops open as you stare at her, one hand hovering over the keyboard, the other on your mouse.

“... I’m sorry?”

“Gwen heard you telling Joe at the party!” She’s grinning. She’s beaming. She’s delighted. “I get why you’d want to keep it a secret, but I’m so pleased you’re deciding to tell people!”

“Oh, my God... Dolly—”

“Oh, is it still a secret?” Her arms drop as she glances at the rest of the office but luckily no one’s close by. “Okay, all right, I’ll make sure no one gossips, I’ll put a stop to it if I hear any.” She grins again. “Until you tell people that is.” As you open your mouth to speak, she gives a little squeal and presses a hand over her heart. “I’m just so, so happy for you, babe, I can’t wait to hear all about it!”

I’m not dreaming. This is actually a nightmare. Or hell. Hell would be more deserving.

“Dolly, I, uhm, I actually—”

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” she interrupts, pulling a face as you hear the phone at her desk ringing. “Guess the day’s started.” Beaming, she blows you a kiss as she heads out of the door, pulling it closed behind her... but not before mouthing, “I love you, I’m so happy for you.”

You just watch her through the large window. Watch her march down the aisle in her heels. She always has great heels. Unique and stylish ones. Ah, yeah, she has a friend at the fashion magazine on the 21st floor. And you’re down here. On the 11th floor. Staring out of a window at your friend. Having an out of body experience.

You blink a few times as you sit back, frowning at yourself before you exhale a laugh.

Oh, come on, now, get a grip. Just call her once she’s finished with whoever she’s talking to, and then it’ll be fine, you’ll laugh about it, laugh about it some more when you have lunch, and then maybe laugh about it a bit more later. It’ll be hilarious.

Clearing your throat, you sign-in to your computer and open the internet browser. You usually check your phone first thing in the morning, but having been too preoccupied frantically running around trying to get ready to evade a certain someone, you haven’t had the chance yet. As Head of Marketing, you like to know what’s going on pretty much every second of the day on social media, see what trends there are and see what people are saying about the company’s books.

The browser opens onto a round-up of the news stories of the day, as it always does so you can get a quick overview of what’s going on, and you start to glance over them.

And then you freeze.

Oh, fucking hell.

Fucking Jesus Christ.

Headlines are jumping out at you, screaming.

Cap’s New Flame!

Who’s On The Guest List For The Wedding of The Century?!

Downtown NY Wedding Boutique Says It’s Already Making A Dress!

I Pledge Allegiance To... Who?!

You click on a random article and instantly start to read, your mouth open.

Good morning, Washington! What news we have for you! Previously linked to former SHIELD Director Peggy Carter in the 40s, then her niece, Sharon Carter, a few years ago, Cap’s love-life has since been as still as the ice he was found in... until now! Who is the mysterious lady who’s rumoured to be Steve’s fiancée? There’s no word yet on her name or even what she looks like, but we’ll keep you up-to-date with minute-by-minute re-caps (pun not intended!) and updates! Click the alarm for notifications, or subscribe... 

That’s why the woman on the street had stared. Quite a few people had stared actually. Some had even whispered. You’d just chalked it up to your usual anxieties but... Oh, God.

There’s a knock on your door.

Your gaze drifts up to find Dolly opening it, biting at her lower lip as she leans in. She’s not smiling anymore.

“Uh... It’s the, uhm, editor of the Washington Post on line 1, she, uhm... She’d like to schedule an interview.”

You stare at her, frozen, feeling hot and cold all at once.

Oh my fucking God.

—

Comments, reblogs and likes make my day in a way I can’t describe.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in this series!

Tagged: @herb-welch​, @jobean12-blog​, @gifsbysimplysonia​, @multireality​, @saltyspiceduh​, @sergeantangel​, @sarcasm-is-my-native-tounge​

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[justsomewritingsandshit]

The Wait Is Over

Carlisle Cullen x Female!Reader

Length: 1681 words

Warnings: badly edited, I’m so tired fam

Requested

Masterlist for this series | Part 1 | Part 2

Long ago, before Carlisle had found others of his kind, he believed that he might have been damned to spend eternity alone. Destined to constantly hunt, run, and survive by himself.

He encountered the Volturi during his early travels, quickly discovering that not only were there hundreds of his kind, but a ‘monarchy’ too.

The Volturi coven’s ways differed from his own greatly. They revelled in the thrill of their hunt, as well as human blood, much like the other vampires that Carlisle had come across. Their ways vastly opposed Carlisle’s own morals, and his preferred animal-based diet. Thus, the blond vampire left Volterra after a few decades; his eagerness to learn, and his love for humanity easily forcing him out from behind the stone walls of the Volturi Castle.

Carlisle went on to live amongst the humans. The calm vampire quickly discovered that he had an amazing inner strength, never once divulging his thirst. Taking such a rare opportunity gifted to him; Carlisle went on to study, and later practice, as a doctor – he was always rather giving.

Practising medicine is how he met Edward Masen, the first of his ‘children’. The dying teen had been the first-person Carlisle changed, but he was certainly not the last. The following century was filled with adventures with the family he’d procured post-death.

Still, as his many of his ‘children’ found lovers, Carlisle often wondered if he’d do the same. Alice had Jasper, Rosalie had Emmett – their love was beautiful to be witness to, and it left Carlisle wanting the same.

Eventually, he stumbled upon Y/N.

Y/N was the most remarkable human (or vampire) he had ever met. The woman was a nurse, a healer, a lover, a fighter, a thinker… She was far more than Carlisle could ever have dreamt he could one day deserve. The entirety of his coven loved her – even the more stubborn, stuck-in-their-ways members adored their ‘father’s’ love.

The day he finally asked her to marry him, he had wept tearlessly (as only a vampire can).

He’d gotten down on one knee, late one night. Carlisle had shamelessly been carrying around the ring he’d picked out in his left pocket, safely stored in a small, vintage ring box – Alice had been the one to tell him to do so, telling him his proposal was often ‘spontaneous’. It had been a normal day, considering. He had simply looked to Y/N briefly, and then let himself think about how he would rather fight a newborn army than spend a second longer not knowing if Y/N would spent ever and a day with him.

Nurse Y/N Y/L spared barely a second before she said yes. Alice immediately began planning their wedding, though technically, she had commenced planning their nuptials six weeks prior to their engagement.

Forks was a rather dreary place year-round, and the coven would be outed by sunlight, so their wedding was organised to take place in the middle of October. Fall happened to be Y/N’s favourite season, and the brown hues of the once green trees were too beautiful to not be included in their wedding’s colour scheme. Carlisle’s father, Reverend Cullen, had been a man of the cloth, and an important part of Carlisle’s human-life. So, it was important to him that the wedding take place in a church. They easily picked the one on Main Street, as the outside of it was as beautiful as its inside. The reception was to be held at the Cullen residence, just a short commute away.

St. Anne’s, a rather quaint church, had been decked out by a sprightly Alice the morning of. The white pews were tastefully decorated with wide, brown ribbons. The end of every other pew held floral garlands, brown and white chrysanthemums spun around dark green foliage. The aisle was laden with a long white carpet, Alice’s snide attempt at hiding the rather hideous old blue one.

The vampire guests mingled with human ones easily, not that the human guests were aware of such a fact. All guests had arrived, not a single RSVP being turned down – people were far too interested in the Cullen’s, it seemed. Attending vampires had been warned to keep the Cullen’s identity secret, and had been informed that they were not to feed within a ten-mile radius of Forks – a precautionary method that many of the vampires simultaneously loathed, and respected.

The Alaskan coven, the only other ‘vegetarian’ coven known to the Cullens’, had arrived days prior. Alice had begged for their early arrival, as she claimed that she required Kate and Tanya’s help in the set-up of the reception. Peter and Charlotte, vampires from Jasper’s past that he still kept in touch with, arrived a day before the wedding – the two mates been man-handled into cleaner, more formal clothes by Alice, much to her husband’s amusement. Other vampires arrived, having heard of their old friends upcoming nuptials. Vampires that Carlisle hadn’t seen in centuries had turned up for the occasion. Even the Volturi had sent emissaries.

Many of the human guests were friends and co-workers of the pair. They looked to be in awe of the other guests, very much stunned by their striking beauty, and when the time came they needed prompting to take their seats. Any slow stragglers were given Rosalie’s famous death-stare until they were properly seated.

Shortly, the wedding march began.

Carlisle, already at the altar with his sons as his groomsmen, steadily looked to the double-doors of the entrance. Almost dancing into the room once the doors opened, came Alice. She was bridesmaid number two, the other being Y/N’s long-time friend. The two girls entered, quickly walked the aisle, then stood opposite the groomsmen.

If Carlisle had been a living, breathing creature… his heart might have stopped at his fiancée’s entry.

Y/N was ethereal. Astounding. Celestial.

She wasn’t on the arm of a family member, as she’d long ago lost them all. Instead, she walked herself down the aisle. Her painted hands were clutching tightly at her bouquet. She was very much attempting to not fall in front of the large crowd that had gathered. Assured that she wouldn’t be at risk of tripping, Y/N looked up, her eyes connecting easily with Carlisle’s. The adoration and longing in his gaze left her breathless.

As she approached the altar, one of her hands went out to reach for Carlisle’s. Nothing had felt righter than her hand in his.

The priest spoke. They talked long about the deep bond and commitment they were making, with the two lovers answering when appropriate to do so.

“I do.”

“I will.”

Then, when prompted, Carlisle gave his vows. “If I am to perish tomorrow, let it be in the sanctity of your embrace.” His words, similar in construct to a poem or a monologue from a play, left their audience in suspense. “If I were to go through life without you by my side… I would not be living. Having you as my lover, as my friend, and as my companion, ensures that I will never feel alone, nor lonesome, again. I am excited, thrilled, to spend an eternity with your smile, with your laugh.” A ring had already been slid onto Y/N’s finger, yet Carlisle did not recede his hand. “Knowing you, has been the greatest gift I have ever received. I love you, Y/N.”

Several members of the congregation dabbed away tears that had gathered.

Y/N, also teary-eyed, took the ring held out to her. “Carlisle,” She breathed, before shakily taking his hand in her own, “Once again, you have managed to out-do me.” A patchy laugh came from the audience. “I used to think you over-rated,” Another laugh emerged, with a particularly loud chortle from Emmett, just behind Carlisle. “I felt like I already knew you, when we met. I’d heard so much about you…” Y/N quickly blinked away tears that had begun to form again, “I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn. Working with you, loving you… knowing you… You complete me in ways I didn’t know were possible.” Smiling softly, she paused to slide on Carlisle’s ring, then looked back up to gaze lovingly at his face. “I love you more than I can possible verbalise… I guess I’ll just spend forever, trying to find a way to tell you exactly how much I love you.”

To a vampire, time passed by slowly, always. Yet, in this moment, Carlisle felt like every second was at least a minute long… Eventually, their priest announced what he’d been waiting for, “You may kiss-” Carlisle didn’t bother listening to the rest of the sentence. Instead, he pulled Y/N into his arms, dipped her low, then planted his lips onto hers desperately. Their lips slotted together seamlessly, this particular dance one their lips had danced dozens of times before.

A wolf-whistle pulled them apart. Y/N was breathing heavily, quite flustered. Carlisle was beaming.

The newly-weds marched arm-in-arm out of the church, grinning and smiling despite the fact it had begun to drizzle. Carlisle’s sleek Mercedes, which had been adorned with matching ribbon, was parked out front. The drive to the Cullen residence was full of the two lover’s giggles, and their murmurs of admiration.

Secretly, both of them counted down the hours until they could leave for their honeymoon (with Carlisle counting the minutes and seconds, as well). Y/N had no idea where they would be going, but she’d booked three weeks off of work for it, so it had to be far from Forks.

Carlisle assured her, “You’ll love it.” What person wouldn’t want an island, and home, completely secluded from the rest of the world – their own perfect, quiet spot? Though, to Carlisle; where they celebrated didn’t matter, rather it was the fact they celebrated at all that truly thrilled him. His long wait was over… Carlisle Cullen was married to his mate.

The only thing going amiss, was the fact that she was very much still a human. But, Carlisle mused as he pulled into his home’s large garage, that was a problem for another day.

Masterlist for this series | Part 1 | Part 2

TAGGED:

@iamwarrenspeace, @stilesloverdaily, @itsnotnormalteen, @aw-hawkeye, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @snapplejuice, @lookatflam, @seninjakitey, @theshortegg, @lexa-hataka, @gqlqxies, @artemis629, 

[darkwing-katy]

Second Chance - Part Eight

Guys, I’m posting this from my new home in Florida! Whoot-whoot!

Thank you so, so much for your patience with me. My life has gotten incredibly hectic, and it’s taken me a while to be able to update. But it’s finally here, chapter eight of Second Chance! It will be a while before chapter nine comes out since I’ve got to unpack and apply for jobs and get settled in here. Thanks to all who have commented on this fic or messaged me--I still jump for joy when I get a notification that someone’s said something about it! Let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming chapters! Special thanks to @sannvers who is busy with band camp and still managed to edit for me.

Title: Second Chance

Pairing: Eventual Gaston x Fem!Reader

Rating: T

Words: 7,466

Summary: You try to stop Gaston from shooting the Beast and falling to his death, but you arrive too late to save him. As you sit there, sobbing, the Enchantress offers you a second chance to save him.

Tagging: @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli@hobbithorse19@leah5684 @princessbelgoof @captainskyline @theoncergames@geeky-girl-394@were-allstoriesinthe-end084 @brooke-supernatural16@certainasthesvn@jordyhaley @superlokidwholock @smilesnjh @prongspower@bitchingqueenoferebor@scarletdarkholme @hemmingbaes @bae-kage @areuslow@lovelylpevensie@uknwwhttheysayboutthecrzy1s @moonbeams-and-pie @17gnomes-in-a-trenchcoat @superwholockedrosx @panda-reads-stuff @ultimatetrashlord@elenawrit@the7thsilence @blackxthexbeast @rainwing-galaxy @arkhamsnight @imoyu-trashblog @martapetrovic @ciaprincess @juggernaut-jones@fangirlx26@fangirlx26 @epicfallenismine @izzymaria1994 @loveablelulu13 @malfoy-milkovich-royalty @kylorenlover15 @banana-cat @withouthannah @stone0502 @shiroyuki18 @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag @lainris @banana-cat @samaxraph99 @honey-badger-dont-give-a@daisiesflower @afairytaledreamer @flufycorn384 @lovelyturtle36 @kairi73 @aerondrage @softbcky @pnchingwalls101 @chalatea @crowleysfavoritehuman @afairytaledream @silverwingedfox @asymmetrical-flower-child @my-whataguythat-gaston @elyza-jeanette @migirl323 @soulgirl518 @betterlattethennever @bonemarrow-writes 

Previous Chapter

“I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t let us take a carriage,” Adam grumbled, though he was only half-serious.

“You’re enjoying this just as much as (Y/N) and I are, so stop complaining,” Belle replied, rolling her eyes.

It was a bright morning, with not a cloud in sight. For now, a gentle breeze cooled you, but you knew that come afternoon, it would be quite warm in the direct sunlight. You leaned forward and patted your horse’s neck; you were going at a slow enough pace that you felt comfortable doing such.

The three of you were en route to Villenueve to officially announce the engagement of Prince Adam and Belle, and also to invite the whole town to the wedding celebration. The happy couple had decided they didn’t want to wait too long, so the wedding was to be held in the beginning of August. Today marked the beginning of July, which meant you had a month to plan the festivities.

It was a bit daunting, but considering Adam had dozens of servants, you were fairly certain it could be done. In fact, tonight, you, Belle, and Adam were to have a meeting after dinner to start discussing the details.

You allowed your thoughts to drift to Gaston, whom you’d visited briefly before leaving. He’d been asleep deep enough that your approach hadn’t woken him, and you’d decided to let him continue sleeping. You had left enough food for both breakfast and lunch with him, since you weren’t sure if you would be back at the castle until evening. He hadn’t stirred, not even when you accidentally set the tray down too fast and the plates had clinked together. Macbeth was sitting next to him, a piece of straw marking his place.

Remembering the sight brought a faint smile to your lips, at least, until you thought about his uncharacteristic behavior last night. Your smile faded at the memory of the depressed man who hadn’t even bothered flirting with you. LeFou will have an idea of what to do, I’m sure. Although should I even bother cheering him up? Maybe this is the slap in the face he needs to realize his faults.

“…right, (Y/N)?”

You shook your head and looked at Belle. “What?” you asked.

Belle smiled. “I was just telling Adam about how I thought we should have doves released from behind us once the priest declares us man and wife,” she replied.

You frowned. That didn’t sound like Belle at all. “Really?”

“No!” Belle shook her head at you, her eyebrows creasing as if she was disappointed in you for believing her. “Are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet this morning.”

“I’m fine.” One of her eyebrows raised in doubt. “Really, I am!”

“Did something happen last night?”

“No! Everything is fine!” you insisted. You met Belle’s eyes with your own in the hopes that she would drop the issue. She squinted a little bit, as if trying to peer past your defensiveness, but you met her gaze steadily. You could handle Gaston; she had a whole wedding to plan.

She blew a tuft of air out her nose and turned back to her fiancé, knowing that you were just as stubborn as she was and that if you didn’t want to answer her properly, you weren’t going to. The small victory made you smile internally, though you were careful to not let it show on your face.

Adam must’ve sensed the rising tension, as he suddenly cut in with a, “I think I’ll ask Lumière to be my best man.”

Both you and Belle smiled at him, the momentary tension dropped. “Oh, he’ll enjoy that,” Belle grinned. “He’ll be singing about it for days before and after the wedding, just to annoy Cogsworth.”

Adam winked. “I’m almost counting on it.”

You imagined the tall man you’d met yesterday dancing around the older servant and laughed, catching the prince’s attention.

“Will you be alright dancing with him for a song or two, (Y/N)?” he asked, turning his blue eyes on you. “Plumette won’t mind.”

“Who’s Plumette?” You remembered hearing her name a few other times, but you’d yet to meet the woman.

He thought for a moment before replying. “You’ve seen the Madame and the Maestro, haven’t you?”

You nodded.

“Plumette is Lumière’s love. She’s one of the maids in the castle, and Lumière is utterly devoted to her.” Adam glanced at Belle as he said that, prompting a soft smile from her. You blushed at his words and actions, feeling once more like you were intruding on a private moment between lovers.

“If she’s his lover, then are you certain that she will be okay with us dancing?” you asked slowly.

Both Adam and Belle nodded. “Oh, yes, I’m positive of it,” he affirmed. “But I will say, Lumière is quite the dancer. Are you up for that?”

You and Belle started laughing at the seriousness on his face. He scrunched up his face in confusion. “Your highness, I enjoy dancing,” you said, still laughing. “I just don’t get the opportunity to dance very often.”

A sudden vision played in your mind’s eye: you, in a cream-colored ballgown, surrounded by many, many other couples in similar colors. Maestro Cadenza sitting at his harpsichord, the beautiful Madame de Garderobe next to him, arms outstretched as she sings a marvelous aria. You with Lumière, smiling at each other; the feeling of floating as you glide around the grand ballroom that you so admired. A bow, another spin, a partner switch. You look into green eyes that smirk at you, matching the expression on your new partner’s lips. Firm hands grasp you, one around your waist, the other holding your hand out as you begin a waltz. The rest of the dancers fade away, leaving only you and Gaston and the music. He’s wearing a red vest over his usual ruffled shirt. His hair is perfectly coiffed into its usual ponytail, a red ribbon tying it back. You let him lead you in the steps, fully trusting that he knows what he’s doing.

The vision vanished as quickly as it had appeared, only lasting a few blissful seconds.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to have a partner like you,” Adam said, eyes twinkling. You nodded at him, and the conversation turned to food. You paid attention and chimed in when you felt like you had a worthy comment, but for the most part, you let the engaged couple discuss the meal. After all, it was their day.

By the time you all but reached the village, the meal had been decided upon as well as a general idea of decorations. During the last few moments before entering Villenueve, you noticed Adam sitting up even straighter, his casual demeanor still there but somewhat diminished as he made himself more…princely. He looked calm to your eyes as you rode into town, but when Belle put a gentle hand on his arm, you realized he must be nervous. After all, hadn’t you heard yesterday that he’d used to tax the villagers heavily? The poor man probably felt guilty for his pre-curse self’s actions.

A crowd gathered around you three as you went further in. You felt uncomfortable with the amount of attention on you, even though you were certain everyone was watching the royal couple more than you. Why couldn’t we have simply had the town crier announce it? you allowed yourself to wonder as you tried to sit up straighter. It would’ve made this much, much easier.

But you knew part of the reason, at least, was Adam’s guilt. He wanted to show that he was no longer the man who would let a village suffer to pay for his pleasures. He wanted to demonstrate that he was approachable, a prince that they could rely on and trust. It was all an effort to fix his image, although you were also certain that even if the villagers all hated him, he would be content as long as he had Belle’s love.

Would Gaston do the same? He clearly felt some guilt for his actions, based on the conversations you’d had with him. He might not apologize out loud for what he did, but showing remorse counted. Well, in your mind it did, but only because you were sure that his pride would never allow him to fully apologize the way he should. It bothered you, but you shrugged it off. After all, you win some, you lose some.

You scanned the crowd for LeFou but didn’t see him. The three of you continued through the marketplace and stopped at the washing fountain, where you all dismounted. The crowd followed you and stood there, muttering to one another about the reasons why the prince had come to town. Adam sucked in a deep breath as Belle tucked her arm around his. You looked for LeFou again and spotted him in the middle of the villagers, Tom, Dick, and Stanley standing by him. He gave you a small wave that you reciprocated. Suddenly you felt a lot better about everything.

“People of Villenueve, I have a very important announcement to make,” Adam began, his voice silencing the curious murmurs. “I know I haven’t been the best prince in the past, and for that, I am deeply sorry. I promise you, it will never be like that again.” All eyes were on him and Belle. “As part of my amends, I would like to invite you all to a royal ball next month. It’s not just any ball, though.” He looked at Belle, who beamed at him. You heard a couple close to you whispering, but you couldn’t make out their words.

“It will be a ball of celebration—celebration of a curse being broken, celebration of families being reunited, and, most importantly, the celebration of Belle and I’s marriage.”

It felt as if everyone was holding their breath in the seconds that followed his announcement. Then someone began to clap. The lone clapper was soon followed by cheers and shouts and even more clapping as the whole town joined in. Even the Bimbettes and the schoolmaster, who hated Belle, were whooping at the announcement. You grinned; the clapping had started from the part of the crowd you’d seen LeFou in.

You looked back at the engaged couple. Belle was laughing and covering her mouth at the sight before her. You looked closer and saw that her eyes were watering—the town who called her ‘funny’ and practically ostracized her at times was now cheering for her with genuine joy. She didn’t need their acceptance, but you could see that it still meant a lot for her.

You couldn’t deny a perverse sense of pleasure at the scene. You hated it when everyone had made fun of your friend and her kind father (and you, occasionally). Now that she was marrying a prince, they wouldn’t dare speak against her so openly. She wouldn’t have to worry about Maurice being called ‘crazy’ or thrown into an asylum (granted, that was more Gaston’s fault than anyone else’s, but still). She could finally stop worrying about what Villenueve thought of her.

A man—Monsieur Ames, who often sold eggs in the market and flirted with Madame Charee—stepped forward, his arm raised. Adam nodded at him. “Congratulations, your highnesses,” Ames said, bowing to both him and Belle. “I just—did you say we were all invited?”

Belle laughed. “Yes, of course! There’s room for everyone who wants to come,” she replied with a kind smile.

Ames’s dark eyes widened in pleasant surprise. “Thank you, your highnesses! Let me know if you need any eggs!” He bowed again and turned to step back into the crowd.

“Actually, we wanted to let everyone know that you are all welcome to participate in our preparations,” Belle added. “We’ll need help to get everything ready on time.”

All of a sudden, everyone began throwing their arms up with shouts of what they could volunteer to the wedding. Some of it was unnecessary, you knew—Belle was planning on working with Garderobe to design her wedding gown, so she wouldn’t need the seamstresses, and you were fairly certain that Lumière would be insulted if someone not of the castle cooked the meal. But there were many offers to help get the grounds ready, and you knew that would be a task that would require lots of teamwork to get done.

You caught another glimpse of LeFou in the crowd, and this time, he made eye contact with you. The both of you smiled, and he pointed towards the tavern. “Meet there?” he mouthed—or maybe he said it, but it wasn’t like you’d be able to hear him. You gave a nod of affirmation, hoping that he’d understand it might be a while. With a grin, he spun around and headed in that direction.

You sighed. You were eager to talk to him, but first things first. You returned your gaze to Adam and Belle, who were already talking to villagers about what they could do to help. Oh, yes, it was definitely going to be a while.

You slumped down into a chair and let your head slide to the table. Lefou laughed. “Long day?”

“You have no idea,” you mumbled against the rough wood. He laughed again, and you slowly lifted your head up. “And they’re still at it. I have no clue how they do it.” You’d talked to maybe a third of the villagers before eating lunch with Maurice, then you’d left Belle and Adam to continue talking to the villagers on their own while you met LeFou. Their patience and politeness had no end, it seemed.

Then again, Belle would probably say the same about you if she knew the depth of your interactions with Gaston.

Before you could bring up the captain, Stanley, followed closely by Tom and Dick, walked up to your table. He had two mugs in hand, as did Tom (or was it Dick? You never could tell them apart). “Brought you another drink,” he said easily, setting both mugs down. “There’s one for you, too, mademoiselle,” he added, sliding one mug to you.

At first you were confused by his actions, but then you saw that Tom (at least, you’d decided you were calling him Tom) also had two mugs of ale, one of which he gave to Stanley. “Thanks,” you said, grinning at the man. A little beer would be nice right now. I’ve earned it, you thought, grabbing the handle and taking a gulp. The bitter liquid made you splutter; you didn’t drink often, and you were unused to it. The men chuckled at your reaction, but you could tell it wasn’t out of meanness. With watering eyes, you choked down the drink and gave them a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

“Maybe next time you shouldn’t take such a big gulp,” Dick said helpfully.

“Yeah, good idea,” you muttered, pushing the mug away from your body. After shaking your head, you sat up to better face them all. “So…erm…” Well, this was awkward. How on earth were you supposed to ask LeFou about Gaston with them around? “How are you?”

Great, (Y/N). Engage them in conversation. That’s the way to get LeFou by himself.

“Good,” Tom replied. Dick shrugged in agreement.

Stanley’s eyes flicked to LeFou and back. “Good,” he agreed quietly.

You opened your mouth again, but before you could ask another generic question, LeFou leaned forward and spoke: “We’ve been asking around about Gaston,” he said in a low tone.

You flinched at Gaston’s name. Wait, did he tell them the truth? you wondered, feeling suddenly nervous. You’d trusted the shorter man—surely he wouldn’t betray your trust like that!

“Yeah, LeFou mentioned that you were helping him plan the funeral, so we helped him ask people to attend,” Dick said after taking a gulp of beer.

You felt a wave of relief at his words. LeFou hadn’t told them the truth. The secret was safe (for now, the dark voice in your mind muttered). “How did that go?”

From the looks of the four men in front of you, not well. “It seems that most of the townspeople are still mad about the whole storming the castle and unwittingly leading them to destroy their loved ones,” LeFou explained.

You winced. Well, when you put it that way…I can’t really blame them. “Fair enough. And that’s everyone, you said?”

“Pretty much,” said Tom.

“Except maybe a few,” Stanley indicated the table.

Dick waved a finger. “And a few that are not currently present.”

“Such as Jean and Ames and Stanley’s sisters—” continued Tom.

“Sisters?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“You know, the triplets?” Tom looked at you like he was genuinely surprised you didn’t know.

“Wait, the Bimb—the triplets?” you exclaimed in disbelief. You looked at Stanley, who lifted his mug in acknowledgement. “Those girls are your sisters?”

“Yes, they are,” he sighed and took a drink.

Well, there’s something you don’t find out every day. “Well…it’s good that not everyone hates him,” you said, more to yourself than to the rest of the table.

“Not that it matters,” interrupted Dick, “since he’s dead.”

“To Gaston!” declared Tom, who’d somehow almost finished his mug and lifted it up. Dick and Stanley echoed him also raising their mugs for a drink.

You felt warmth creep up your neck at their sadness. You knew it was for the best that they didn’t know of his survival right now, but you still felt guilty that they were mourning their friend.

LeFou sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I need some air,” he mumbled, playing along with the dampened mood. You took that as your cue and stood.

“I’ll come with you. I need to go back to the castle soon, anyway.”

“Will you be alright?” Stanley asked the stout man as he rose from his chair.

LeFou patted Stanley’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.” He smiled at him, and for a moment, you felt like you were missing something between them. You gave yourself a mental shrug, chalking it up to their friendship. After all, you and Belle could sometimes speak without words.

“Goodbye,” you told them, giving a small wave. They all raised their mugs in farewell of you and LeFou, and you both made your way outside.

“Sorry about that,” LeFou said once you’d exited the tavern. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d take, and they’ve been staying close to me ever since Gaston’s…death.” He sighed.

You shook your head. “No, you don’t need to apologize. It’s good that they care enough about you to be concerned.” You automatically started walking towards Belle’s home, but LeFou pointed in a different direction.

“May I?” he asked, clearly having a place for you to talk in mind.

“Of course.”

You walked in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “So, uh…how is our friend?” You could hear his eagerness at news. You felt a soft smile forming on your lips. LeFou truly was a good man.

You sighed, letting the smile drop. “Well, it’s odd,” you began, stepping around a mud puddle, “but he’s…different, I think.”

“Oh?”

“Was he ever depressed with you?”

LeFou stopped in his tracks. “Depressed?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion.

You nodded. “Yes. Depressed.”

“How so?”

He resumed walking, and you saw that you were going to a part of town you’d never really gone to before. The shops were sparse, instead replaced by a few small homes. Ahead of you was another archway that led out of Villenueve to the woods. Where are we going? “Well, Adam proposed to Belle yesterday evening, and apparently he saw it from the cell, and when I visited him last night, he was, I don’t know…sad. He kept going on and on about how he’d thought Belle was the one for him and how ‘of course, she’d marry him’—‘him’ meaning the prince—and he was much more introspective than I’ve ever seen him.”

The wind blew gently, rustling the leaves of the trees. You caught a glimpse of something in the woods. Is that a house?

“Has he been sleeping?” LeFou asked, almost sharply, like he was more concerned than you’d expected him to be.

“I would assume so,” you replied, frowning as you tried to recall if Gaston had seemed like he was getting enough sleep. “He was when I brought him food this morning.”

LeFou let out a short whoosh of air. “Good,” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?” You were now almost certain that you could see a house in the woods. It was close enough to easily walk to and from town, but far enough that it earned a bit of comforting isolation.

“He has a history of not getting enough sleep,” came the shorter man’s hesitant reply.

“What?”

LeFou sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “We were in the war together, you know? We fought and survived, but it was hard on him. He had nightmares about it almost every night for the first few months back.”

“I thought he loved the war? He told me it was glorious and fun.” You could make out the outline of the house and wondered if it was perhaps were LeFou lived.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have nightmares. You can love something and still be afraid of it.”

I suppose.

LeFou continued. “That’s how he was with it. I followed him back here after it ended, and he let me move into his home with him. That’s how I know about the nightmares. That’s also where his mood swings come from, I’m almost positive of it.” He stopped, and you wondered if he was done with his statement. “Did he talk to you about it at all? The war?”

Alright, maybe he wasn’t done. “A little. We were up late one night and he told he about being chased for three days.” That was the first night he asked me to stay.

“That was a hard three days…but he never once lost his grip, you know? He was always in control, always in command, even without sleep.” LeFou’s voice had taken on a wistful tone, like he was mentally reliving those days. “He was amazing.”

You felt yourself blushing at his reverence. You knew that LeFou loved the man, but it almost felt like you were intruding on his memories.  

A comfortable silence fell between you two as you made your way to the small cottage. LeFou, ever the gentleman, opened the door for you and let you enter first. It was a bit dim inside as the sun was slowly setting and most of the windows faced the east rather than the west, but you could make out a few details: there was a black bearskin on the floor, a lavish wooden armchair sitting in front of an unlit fireplace, a simple table with benches, and there were odd shapes on the wall around the fireplace. As you observed your new surroundings, LeFou walked to the other side of the house and pulled back a piece of cloth that covered a few of the west-facing windows, illuminating everything. You saw that the odd shapes were simply animal heads—a buck rested directly above the fireplace, a smaller bear head to the left of it and a boar head to the right.

My God, there’s a lot of antlers here, you thought. Antlers crisscrossed over each other on the mantle, there were antlers hung on the wall, antlers inside a large wooden tub on another table. There was a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling—well, you say chandelier, but it was made of, of course, antlers and probably other bones.

“Yeah, Gaston really loves using antlers in his decorating,” LeFou explained, joining you and offering a cup of water. You took the offered drink and nodded, eyes wide at the overabundance of antlers.

“So I noticed.” There were also furs abound, most likely from all of the animals he’d hunted. There were also a few pillows, some of which had simple embroidery and others which had more elaborate designs. There was a large trunk against one corner of the wall, no doubt filled with more furs and blankets for the cold winters. “Did you make the pillows?”

LeFou scoffed. “I wish. No, those were all done by Gaston’s mother, the Madame Legume.” One in particular caught your eye—a faded red pillow with a black fleur-de-lis encircled by cream deer antlers. It was odd to see a fleur-de-lis here, since they were only for royalty to use in designs. Along the edges of the pillow were cream swirls and lines. “That one’s his favorite, too,” LeFou said quietly, following your line of sight.

“It’s not what I’d have expected from his mother,” you replied. “Did he ever talk to you about her?”

LeFou shrugged and motioned for you to sit in one of the chairs. “Not really,” he said, taking a seat next to you. “He doesn’t like talking about his family.”

“He told me his mother died in childbirth and that his father was a hunter, but that was about it. I got the impression that he and the Monsieur Legume didn’t get along.” You set your cup on the table and leaned back against the chair.

“I’m surprised he even told you that much.” The shorter man leaned back as well, his fingers dancing across the armrests. “He told me bits and pieces of his childhood when I served under him, usually when he was drunk. Then, when we came here and he invited me to move in with him, he revealed a little more.” He exhaled deeply and glanced at you. “I think his father blamed him for the death of his mother. A few times when he got really, really drunk, he rambled about never being good enough, never living up to her. For a while I thought he meant a woman that he’d loved and lost somehow, but then I realized it was his mother.”

You sat in silence, absorbing all of this information as he spoke. That sounds horrible. At least Papa never said anything of the sort to me.

“I think that’s why he’s so…himself, you know? He always wants attention because he never got it from someone he cared about.”

“He’s still trying to prove himself,” you murmured, not intending to interrupt LeFou but doing it nonetheless.

His brow furrowed. “What was that?”

You pursed your lips, trying to find the right words before elaborating. “If his father always told him he wasn’t good enough, maybe he was constantly doing things in order to prove himself. That’s why he became the best hunter. That’s why he joined the war. It might even be why he protected the town from those invaders years ago. He’s got a hero complex, but it’s not borne out of narcissism, however he may act like it is. It’s out of a desire to show that he is good enough.” And that in itself is sad. It doesn’t excuse his actions, but it explains them. All of the pieces of the puzzle that was Gaston were slowly falling into place the more you learned about him.

You could almost picture a young Gaston trying to earn his father’s favor by rallying up the villagers against the Portuguese. Afterwards, he might’ve gone up to the elder Legume and announced that he’d defended Villenueve, and the older man would’ve ‘hmmph’ed in response. So what could he do? A few years later, when the war presents the ultimate opportunity to prove his worth, naturally, he would join.

He said his father died during the war, though. So that means he must’ve come home, ready and eager to be commended at last for his status as Captain, and learned that he was dead, along with any chance of redeeming himself in his father’s eyes. Merde, that’s awful.

You suddenly wanted to embrace Gaston, and unlike previously, it wasn’t due to your crush. You sympathized with him.

“You said no one seems too upset about his ‘death’, right?” you asked, frowning.

LeFou shook his head. “Most of the villagers are still angry at him.”

You sighed. “Can’t say I blame them. He was horrible that night.” You sank your head into your hands. “What are we going to do? How are we going to let everyone know he’s still alive if they hate him?”

“If we could convince everyone else to give him a second chance, then the wedding would be a perfect time to announce his survival.”

“But what good will it do if everyone decides to riot against him?”

“Would they?”

“I don’t know!” You lifted your head and slammed your arms against the table. “Maybe that’s a worst-case scenario, maybe it’s not, but it doesn’t make a difference because I’m going to have to tell him that the people he wanted to adore him actually despise him!”

LeFou winced at your violent reaction. “That’s not gonna be fun at all,” he muttered.

“No, it’s not!” You inhaled and exhaled, trying to expel your frustration. It didn’t work, and you looked at a window to calm yourself down.

The sun had begun its descent, giving the outside a gold hue. You’d spent more time here than you’d meant to, and now you had to go back to the castle to give Gaston dinner. And possibly tell him about how many people hated him. And then plan a wedding.

“You seem frustrated. Are you okay, (Y/N)?” LeFou asked, concerned.

You considered faking a smile, then realized that he was too shrewd to let that fool him. “No,” you admitted. “It’s just…sometimes it’s hard, doing all this.” You returned your eyes to him, secretly appreciating the way he was leaning forwards, showing his genuinely concern for you. “It helps that you and Belle and the Prince know, but there’s just all this responsibility on me to take care of him and I wouldn’t change it for the world (Use it wisely echoed Agathe’s voice in your mind, conjuring up a mental picture of golden haze) but sometimes it’s just so damn hard.” Your voice cracked at the end of your rant, and you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“Take deep breaths,” LeFou said gently, using his hands to illustrate inhaling and exhaling. You followed his movements, breathing in and out for a few minutes until you felt better. Once you let out a deep sigh, he took your hand in his. “It’s going to be alright, (Y/N). You did a good thing, and you did it for the right reasons. That doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy, but if you can convince an Enchantress to turn back time, then I think you can handle this.” He grinned at you. “You’re strong and smart, and if anyone can figure this out, it’s you. And I mean, I’ll help. And so will Belle!”

You felt yourself smiling at him, and this time, it wasn’t forced. “Thanks, LeFou. You’re amazing, you know?”

He laughed. “I try.”

You laughed, too, and sighed again. “I need to go. But thank you for everything—you’re right, we’ll figure this out.” You scooted your chair back and stood, stretching. “I’ll see you around, okay? And you’re always welcome to come to the castle and visit, even if you don’t want to visit him yet.”

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

You waved goodbye to him and opened the door. The outside air was still warm, but it was pleasant. Perfect weather for a slow evening ride back to the castle.

If you rode slowly enough, you could use the time to mull on your conversation with LeFou. He’d given you a lot to think about.

You took your time going up the steps to the cell. Not because you were reluctant—rather, you were eager to see Gaston—but because you were still mulling. You felt certain in your conclusions about the captain; they made a lot of sense in regards to his personality and actions.

I don’t know if I could ever ask him, though. Would he even trust me with that kind of intimate knowledge? He only told LeFou when he was drunk, and LeFou’s his best friend. Still…I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like growing up. No wonder he craved attention from the villagers.

Gaston didn’t acknowledge you when you entered the cell. He was once again leaning against the wall of the open door, but he didn’t ooze charisma the way he normally did. If anything, you felt as if he was angry: his entire body seemed stiff, and when you walked over to be across from him, you saw his mouth twitch.

“I see you’ve finally deigned to visit. Apparently I’m not worthy of your presence anymore,” he said, venom lacing his words.

You flinched at the harshness of his tone. Where the hell is this coming from? “I’m sorry?” was all you could think to say as you slid down the wall to the ground.

He let loose a sardonic chuckle. “It’s been a whole day, a whole day of me sitting in this godforsaken prison, with naught to keep me company save for this book.” He picked up the copy of MacBeth and waved it at you before throwing it across the cell. You flinched again. “What am I to you, (Y/N)? A pet? A toy? Someone to talk to at your own whims when you don’t feel like talking to Belle?”

You frowned. This was a much different Gaston than you’d seen last night. Last night he’d been quiet, melancholy. Tonight, he was on the offensive, attacking you viciously with words.

Your lack of response only spurred him on. “Nothing to say? Of course. You only care about conversation when you’re in control of it.” He sneered at you. “Typical.”

All of your confusion suddenly flared into anger. “Excuse me? That’s not the case at all! You steer the conversation just as much as I do!”

“Is that what you think? I know how you work. You lure me with acts of concern and compassion—you pretend to care about my injuries, then you act as if we’re friends, and then you vanish!”

“Gaston!” you exclaimed, feeling heat surge up your cheeks and down your neck. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He slammed his hand onto the floor, making you jump. “Don’t try to deny it, woman,” he growled.

You blinked, then felt your own face form into a snarl. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight? Why are you acting like this?” Without thinking about it, you stood, needing to be taller than him.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you actually care!” he scoffed, jumping to his feet as well.

“I do care!”

“And why would you?” he shouted, gesturing to himself. “Why would you care about me?”

You threw your arms up in disbelief. “Because that’s what friends do! They care about each other! They express concern when one of them is acting like an ass!”

“We are not friends, (Y/N).”

Those five words cut into your heart, as did his green eyes, glaring at you. You tried to think of something to say, anything at all that could hurt him as much as he’d just now hurt you. Nothing came to mind, leaving you standing there, fuming. As you stood there, mouth agape, you began to notice things about Gaston: the dark bruises under his eyes, the way his hair had gotten unusually tangled, the fact that he seemed almost jittery as he glared at you; his fingers twitched against his legs, and he was swaying where he stood. It was barely noticeable, but it was there.

Something’s wrong.

As upset as you still were, you forced yourself to swallow your anger. “Gaston, what is wrong?” you asked softly, hoping that maybe a quieter tone would calm him down. “You haven’t been yourself since last night.” Instinct told you to take a slow step towards him, so you did. “I just want to know why.”

His eyes darted from your face to your feet and back to your face, but he didn’t say anything.

You continued. “Even if you don’t think of me as a friend, I think of you as one. And as your friend, I’m worried about you.”

Gaston wouldn’t look at you. He stood there, no longer glaring, but his fingers were still dancing along his calves. They alternated between tapping and curling up on themselves, almost as if he was making a fist and then abruptly deciding not to. “We’re not friends,” he repeated, this time in a low voice that lacked the previous harshness.

“Yes, we are,” you replied. You cautiously reached for his arm. When your hand grazed him, he flinched, but he made no move to stop you. “What’s wrong?”

He tossed his head, but it was slow. Finally, he sighed. “I’m tired.”

You gently tugged down on his arm. He followed your cue and sat, with you sitting next to him. It was as if the fight had disappeared from him. “Why are you tired?”

“Because I haven’t slept,” he mumbled.

“What?” you couldn’t help but demand. He leaned his head back against the stone wall. “But you were sleeping this morning!”

“I was trying to sleep, but it wasn’t working.” Gaston sighed and placed his hands in his lap. “I couldn’t do it.”

You frowned. “Why not?”

He sighed again. “Nightmares.”

You felt the minnow of fear swim into your stomach. LeFou had mentioned this. “How long have you been having them?”

“Since the night I told you about the war.”

The minnow doubled in size and you realized just how long ago that had been. “Gaston, that was three nights ago. Are you saying you haven’t slept in three days?”

He grimaced. “That sounds about right. Feels longer, though, but that might just be me.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He hesitated, then sighed again. “Can you just…stay and talk?” He sounded so defeated, so vulnerable. And he was looking at you with those eyes, pleading with you to just stay with him.

How could you refuse? “Of course,” you whispered. He patted your thigh, but it didn’t feel like he was trying to flirt. It felt like camaraderie, like he was relieved that you weren’t leaving him yet again. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything,” he muttered, closing his eyes and leaning his head back once more. “Just hearing another voice helps.”

“Alright. Well…once, when I was about six or seven, my cousin Amèlie convinced me to sneak into her stables and ride my aunt’s horse bareback. I’d never ridden a horse before, so you can imagine how well that went.” You didn’t know where to go from there; it felt too stiff of a conversation. “Umm…I used to love pretending I was a pirate queen. My father didn’t think it appropriate for a good Christian girl, but my mother would indulge my imagination. She would find sticks or brooms and we would pretend they were swords clanging together.” This story felt a little less awkward. “Sometimes she would hide things around the house and make a little map for me. It wasn’t anything too difficult, of course. At first they were drawings that told me where to go. Then, when I began learning to read, she would write destinations that I could sound out. As I got older, she began writing little clues that I’d have to solve, and while I would search through the house Papa would sit at the table and watch. Sometimes he would roll his eyes, sometimes he would smile.” You grinned at the memories of the game. “Once or twice, Mama managed to convince him to play along. He would be the King, kidnapped by some nefarious enemies, and I, the Pirate Queen, would be the only one who dared to save him.” You paused for a moment before continuing. “I guess it didn’t occur to me that had a pirate actually rescued the King, then she would still be hanged, regardless of her good deeds.”

Gaston snorted, and you took that to be a good sign.

“Mama is the one I got my imagination from. She always wanted to be a writer, but that’s not something that her parents thought proper, so she was never allowed to publish. Nor would she be able to, if she’d been allowed, I don’t think. I think I told you that she taught me to read. ‘Reading is living a thousand other lives,’ she once told me. ‘Lives that you’d never be able to experience any other way.’ Her favorite book is The Adventures of Arabella, which she gave to me before I moved here. It’s my favorite, too.”

“I see.”

As you continued to share tales of your life, you noticed that Gaston made fewer and fewer noises to indicate that he was listening, although he did eat some of the food you’d brought. It seemed that having someone to listen to was exactly what he needed in order to relax. You wondered if LeFou had done this for him before—stayed up late just talking.

A thought occurred to you as you ended your latest story. “Gaston?” you asked.

“Mmm?”

“You threw a dagger at me yesterday afternoon.”

“Yes?”

“You told me you haven’t slept in three nights, correct?”

“I suppose.”

“You threw a dagger at me when you hadn’t slept in two days?”

He flashed you a grin, that grin you felt like you hadn’t seen in days, and shrugged. “I never miss my target. I should think you should be impressed.”

“Impressed? How about I stay awake for two days and throw a sharp, pointy thing at you? Then we’ll see who’s impressed!”

You gave him a light punch to the shoulder, which earned an exaggerated ‘Ow’ from the man, but both of you were smiling. “I could teach you, if you want,” he offered.

“Deal.”

Then he did something unexpected: he leaned his head on your shoulder. You blushed at the action, although you knew he was doing more because he was so tired than for any other reason. Or so you think. Maybe it’s because he wants a pillow, maybe it’s because he likes you, that taunting voice whispered in your head.

“You can keep talking,” he mumbled.

You leaned your head forward a bit to see that he’d closed his eyes again. “How about I read?”

“Mmm.”

You took that to be his approval, so you shifted forwards to reach for the book. Your movement made him lift his head (was he pouting or were you imagining that?), but the moment you’d grabbed the book and sat back against the wall, he replaced it. You smiled to yourself and opened the book to where he’d marked his last stopping point.

“Scene six. Forres. The palace. Enter Lennox and another lord. Lennox speaks: ‘My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, which can interpret further, only, I say, things have been strangely borne…”

As you read aloud to Gaston, you yourself started to feel a little tired. But you’d promised that you would stay, so you ignored your own feelings and kept reading. By the time Lady MacDuff and her son had encountered the murderers looking for Lord MacDuff, Gaston was snoring softly. You yawned; it had been a few hours since you’d come up, and now it was late at night.

You glanced at the sleeping Gaston, his head still resting on your shoulder. In order to make himself more comfortable while you read, he’d scooted closer so that your shoulders were touching. His body radiated warmth in the coolness of the cell, and you were glad of it. The blanket was crumpled up within arm’s length of you, so you grabbed it and spread it across both yours and his legs. Then you marked where you thought he’d fallen asleep at and continued reading the book to yourself. Without realizing it, you felt yourself drifting off, the words on the pages blurring together so that you had to reread a few sentences over and over again.

Malcolm: Well, more anon—comes the King forth, I pray you?

Doctor: Ay, sir, there are a crew of wretched souls That stay his cure: their malady convinces The great assay of art; but at his touch— Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand They presently amend

…they presently amend…

…they presently…

…amend….

[smuttyfairy]

His Throne Pt.2 [JHS]

Genre: smut, angst

Word Count: 6,840

Tags: degradation, praise, fingering, face riding, dom!Hoseok, prince!Hoseok, infidelity, kinda exhibitionism

Written by: Admin Jifairy

A/N: Ahhh yes, it’s finally done. It’s not nearly as good as the first (imo) because I wasn’t as motivated to write this one. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! A huge thank you to admin Smutty for reviewing and editing my work!! (PCs to Vikttoria16)

Part 1 Vers: Hoseok | Yoongi | Taehyung | Namjoon | Jimin | Jungkook | Seokjin

I love you.

You wished you hadn’t said it.

But more importantly you wished he had.

If he had told you he loved you, you would’ve tried to convince him to run away with you. But apparently happy endings like that don’t happen to insignificant maids like you.

You thought about the last time you guys had sex, how unaware you were of the situation. You needed to sleep with him one last time - needed to properly memorize everything about him.

It was the night before Hoseok’s wedding when you decided to do just that.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Shh,” you brought your finger up to your lips and shushed the groggy and confused prince. He looked so cute with his hair all messy and his beautiful brown eyes looking up at you.

You set your candlestick beside Hoseok’s crown on the white victorian dresser next to his bed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Hoseok whispered, his voice raspy. He pulled himself up so he was leaning on his elbows, causing his shirt to tighten on his broad chest. You imagined your hands resting on it, your nails digging into his skin as he fucked you senseless. And then you realized what he said.

You shouldn’t be here… But that’s where he was wrong. You should be there. You should be there instead of her.

You looked to your right, beyond Hoseok, and saw his fiancee’s huddled body curled up in the covers next to him. Hoseok’s eyes trailed after yours and rested upon his sleeping fiancee, a slight snore escaping her.

You noticed the large space between the two. There was obviously no love in this bed.

You took a step closer to Hoseok and slowly pulled the sheets off of his body. You were trying to be as quiet as possible so that you didn’t wake his fiancee up. “One more time,” you whispered, gazing into Hoseok’s eyes. “You got your break up sex, but I didn’t get mine.”

That couldn’t have been your last time together. You didn’t get the chance to appreciate the small things about being with him. Like his heart shaped lips, the way his hands roamed your body, or how he held you like he never wanted to let go.

“Are you crazy?” Hoseok hissed through his teeth. He looked at the sleeping body next to him before bringing his eyes to meet yours. “We can’t do that. Not now, not anymore.”

You ignored his statement and began to undo the buttons of your nightgown, one by one. Once it was fully unbuttoned, you slid the soft, blue fabric off your shoulders and watched as it fell to the floor without a sound.

You stood there, the light of your candle cast against your exposed body, as the love of your life laid there in his bed with his fiancee. You never would have imagined you two would end up this way, and yet there you were, in your bra and underwear practically begging him to sleep with you.

Hoseok pursed his lips together to prevent himself from groaning at the sight of you. Oh, how he missed your teasing. He shook his head, “Y/N… We can’t.”

“Come on, Hoseok,” you purred. “Don’t you wanna feel your cock inside me one last time?”

Even though you two were whispering, your voices felt so loud in the dead room. You were surprised Hoseok’s fiancee hadn’t woken up yet.

Hoseok closed his eyes and let himself fall onto the bed, making it shake and groan from the sudden movement. Immediately, he glanced over to ensure his fiancee hadn’t woken up because of it.

You silently chuckled to yourself at his nervousness even though the movement worried you as well.

Hoseok shielded his eyes with his forearm as he said, “God, you know I want to, but I’m engaged, and my fiancee is right fucking here.” He removed his arm from his eyes and gestured to her as if you didn’t already know.

“That just makes it all the more fun,” you smiled. You could faintly see Hoseok’s brows knit together with hesitation.

Hoseok wondered how you would even be able to fuck each other without waking his fiancee up. Would you ride him? Would he be on top?

For a second, he imagined being on top, you writhing under his touch as he fucked into you slowly so that the bed wouldn’t move too much, waking his fiancee. His pants tightened at the thought of his hand covering your mouth to keep you from shouting his name with pleasure.

He wanted to fuck you, so, so bad. He missed the crazed sex you two had. Sex with his fiancee wasn’t nearly as good as sex with you. You two had been together for so long, you understood each other’s wants and needs. You knew each other’s limits. But sex with his fiancee was boring, to say the least. She was so vanilla it pained him. Not once had he been able to come while fucking his fiancee; he’d always wait till after she fell asleep to go rub one out in the bathroom. He’d think of you and remember how warm your mouth felt around his aching cock, and he’d never fail to come.

He’s thought about fucking you every day since the last time he actually did, but, right now, his conscience was telling him one thing while his cock was screaming another. He didn’t know which one to listen to.

You watched as Hoseok laid there, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t denied your remark, so you took that as a silent agreement on his part.

You stepped closer to the bed, your knees touching it, before gently placing a knee onto the bed. It sunk from the pressure, and Hoseok, falteringly, scooted back in the bed, providing you ample room to lay down.

Hoseok missed you. A lot. Ever since he’d gotten engaged, he hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see you. You were always busy tending to his pompous fiancee, and if you weren’t doing that you were off cleaning like a maid should. He hated that. He knew you deserved so much more than the life of a maid.

“Stop thinking,” you whispered. Hoseok seemed so distant and lost in his thoughts. He should be focused on you. On your willingness to give yourself to him. On your practically naked body in front of him. “Just fuck me.”

Letting his cock control his emotions, Hoseok grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer to his parted lips. You smiled at him and watched as his gaze lowered to your lips, admiring how kissable they looked. He licked at his lips before crashing them with yours. The slight smacking of your mouths working against each other echoed in the room, but it still wasn’t loud enough to disturb his sleeping fiancée.

Hoseok licked your bottom lip, begging for access. You opened your mouth, letting him snake his tongue into your mouth as he massaged your tongue with his. You wanted so badly to moan at the sensation, but you knew you shouldn’t.

Hoseok’s grip on your wrist tightened as he pulled you even further into the kiss. That familiar aching in your core began to build, and the need for friction between your legs was nearing unbearable. Your legs were going weak because of it. You brought your free hand up and rested it on the bed to keep yourself from falling.

Hoseok threaded his fingers through your silky hair, pressing your mouth even harder against his. You could feel your lips start to bruise from the pressure, but Hoseok didn’t lighten up on his ministrations.

He kissed you with such fervent urgency. You wanted to fight for dominance, but all you could do was melt into the kiss and the sensation of his tongue running over yours. All you could do was accept everything he had to offer because this was, after all, your breakup sex. So it was your turn to memorize his every movement no matter how achingly painful that was for you to do.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled away from your lips, taking every bit of warmth with him. Your face was flushed, and you were out of breath.

Before you or Hoseok had a chance to catch your breath, you placed your other knee onto the bed. Then, you carefully laid down on your side next to him, your back pressed against his warm chest. Hoseok instantly wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand finding its way to the hem of your panties. That familiar, safe feeling of being wrapped in his arms flooded your senses.

You wished this didn’t have to be breakup sex. You wished it could just be sex.

Honestly, it didn’t even have to be that. You wished it could just be you and him, in love. But the hard reality of this was that you were the only one in love, and with an engaged prince nonetheless. You should feel silly for trying or even just thinking of being with him, but here you were, aching to be touched and touched by a royally engaged man who never confirmed just exactly how he felt about you.

Hoseok’s fingers grazed against your clit, bringing you out of your reverie. It was the slightest touch, but it caused waves of euphoria to ripple throughout your body, settling in your toes as they curled in on themselves.

Your mouth fell open as a silent moan escaped your lips.

Your hips instinctively bucked against his hand, searching for more pressure. When Hoseok’s hand didn’t give you the friction you needed, you arched your back and pressed your ass against his cock, feeling the hard member under the soft fabric of his pajamas. His cock settled between your cheeks before you rubbed your ass back and forth and in circular motions.

You could hear Hoseok inhale sharply from behind you.

You were going to continue teasing and torturing him until he touched your swollen clit.

Hoseok’s open mouth latched onto your shoulder, his teeth slightly brushing against your skin. He wanted to moan and whisper filthy strings of praise into your ear, but he knew the second he would there’d be no stopping him from growing in volume, and that’s the last thing you two needed.

Instead, he settled for sucking onto your exposed skin. He left behind sweet butterfly kisses between every harsh suck as he made his way up your neck. Your neck and shoulder were flowered with an array of pink and purple hickeys.

Eventually, Hoseok took the hint and rubbed circles around your clit with his thumb. You quietly sighed at the pressure and stopped your attack on his cock. As Hoseok continued to play with your clit, his middle finger sliding up and down your slit, soaking it with your juices. Then, all at once, he shoved the digit into your aching, wet core.

Your thighs immediately clamped around his arm, trapping Hoseok’s finger inside you. Your eyes closed, and you could see stars in the back of your eyelids. His fingers were long and slender but filled you up and stretched you out so perfectly. He was able to reach spots within you that your own fingers couldn’t explore.

“Another,” you breathed, your voice nearly inaudible. “Add another finger, Hoseok.” Delicately, you opened your thighs so Hoseok could push another finger in, stretching you further.

The sound of Hoseok’s fingers working in and out of you filled your ears, your arousal evident. The noise was so intoxicating Hoseok could drown in it. His cock hardened beneath you, and precum began to drip from the tip. He needed friction just as much as you did.

Pressing his hips into you, Hoseok began to grind against your ass. His movements were slow and hesitant as to not shake the bed. It was unbelievably painful, and yet every time the head of his cock grazed against your ass, he couldn’t help but moan into your hair. You helped him out by moving your hips in circular motions again.

Hoseok added a third finger into your wet core and used his palm to rub your clit. His hand was beginning to cramp from the position his hand and arm were in, but he never slowed or stopped his fingers from pleasuring you.

You reached behind you and began to stroke Hoseok’s cock over his clothes. It was hot and heavy in your hand, and you could feel every pulse. You twisted your wrist back and forth as you pumped his cock and ran your thumb over his slit. You held him a little tighter and started to stroke faster and faster.

As you stroked faster, Hoseok began to scissor his fingers inside of you, brushing against your walls at an absurd pace.

“Hoseok! I’m-” You breathed heavily. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning his name even louder. Even though he was moving so fast, you needed him to go faster. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and you knew you were about to come all over them.

You were so focused on chasing your relief, you stopped stroking his cock.

“Come for me, Princess.” Hoseok whispered into your ear. His hot breath tickled on your skin, adding to the pleasure. You missed when he’d call you princess. You could forget you were a maid, forget he was engaged, forget all the difficulties that came with your relationship, and for the night you’d become a princess. During sex, you were his princess, and that’s the only princess you wanted to be. “Come all over my fingers.”

And with that command, you were coming all over him, your juices coating his hand and making a mess all over the sheets. Hoseok quietly groaned at the sensation of you tightening around him. You continued to clench around him as you came down from your high, and you tried hard to conceal your heavy breathing. Your body convulsed under his touch as he pulled his fingers out of you, gently brushing against your sensitive clit in the process.

“Shit,” you hissed.

You laid there for a second, regaining your breath. Hoseok removed his hand from your panties and brought the soaking wet digits to his mouth before sucking on them, tasting your arousal. “God, you taste so fucking good, I just wanna eat you out and feel your pretty little cunt on my tongue.”

You smiled at the praise before reaching behind you and stroking Hoseok’s cock again. You could feel the wetness of his precum soaking through his clothes.

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “Come for me; I wanna taste you, too.”

Before you could stroke him any faster, Hoseok grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “No,” he whispered. “I wanna come inside you. Wanna feel your tight little cunt clench around me, Princess.”

Before you had a chance to protest, Hoseok was pulling down the hem of his pajama bottoms. His cock sprung free from the cloth prison, hitting his stomach. With his right hand, Hoseok grabbed his member, and with his left, he lifted your leg up, providing him room to slide into your soaking entrance.

He pushed your panties aside as you held your leg up, waiting for him. Finally, you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He rubbed it back and forth, teasing you.

You closed your eyes and let your head loll back and rest against Hoseok’s firm chest. He leaned down and planted soft kisses into your hair and on your forehead, and then watched as his cock gradually disappeared into your heat.

He was moving so slow, inch by inch, admiring the way you swallowed him up. He was so close to coming just from feeling how tight and wet you were for him. Hoseok laid there, his cock inside you, as he tried to keep himself from coming. He tightened his stomach and pulled his lips into a thin line.

It was torture for the both of you.

“Fuck,” Hoseok rasped. “I love how tight you are, always so tight no matter how many times I fuck your pretty little pussy.”

“Stop talking and actually fuck me already,” you groaned.

Suddenly, Hoseok was thrusting into you at a slow and steady pace.

Both of you were covered in a thin layer of sweat, causing your skin to stick to his every time he shoved his cock into you all the way to the base. The explicit sounds of your hot, sticky bodies melding into one filled the room.

You missed the feeling of being filled to the brim with his cock. He was still the perfect size for you, like you two were made for each other.

As Hoseok continued his sweet pace, you wished you could see his face twist with pleasure as his hips met your ass, but all you could do was imagine the provocative image. That wasn’t very hard to do, though. You remember vividly the way Hoseok’s eyes turned to slits, the way his brows came together with concentration, and how he always chewed on his bottom lip right before he was about to come. The picture was forever etched into your mind because nothing was more satisfying than knowing you did that to him. Knowing you turned him into a horny, dazed mess.

“Faster.” The word slipped past your bruised and swollen lips.

“Can’t.” Hoseok grunted. He didn’t have to say why he couldn’t for you to understand.

His fiancée was the problem. If only she wasn’t lying five feet away from you, then Hoseok could fuck you with the frenzied urgency he usually did. But, unfortunately, he couldn’t, and it was killing him.

You grumbled internally. At the pace Hoseok was going, it would take forever before either of you came. Taking matters into your own hands, you lifted your hips and pulled off Hoseok’s cock until just the tip was left before slamming your ass back to meet his hips.

Hoseok hissed behind you, and you continued the motion. His hand immediately gripped your waist, tightly. His nails dug into your skin, marking your hips with crescent shaped bruises. With you moving your hips and Hoseok still thrusting into you, the movement became faster, to a pace that would easily get you off - although it wasn’t nearly as fast as you were accustomed to.

The slapping of your sweaty bodies grew louder, as a result.

What if Hoseok’s fiancée woke up? The thought was oddly exciting. Her waking up and finding her fiancé’s cock buried inside a lowly maid. Just thinking about the rage she’d be in made you cackle internally with amusement.

After a while, you began to rub at your aching clit that was begging for relief. The simultaneous stimulation of your clit and pussy made the heat pooling in your stomach spread like a wildfire.

With your free hand, you latched onto Hoseok’s soft hair and craned your neck so you could crash his lips with yours. You needed something to distract you from the mess of moans threatening to escape you. You let your moans die on Hoseok’s tongue, on his lips, and in the back of his throat.

Hoseok did the same as he groaned into your mouth. He couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect you were. How soft your lips were, how tight your cunt was, how your body fit perfectly in the crevices and curves of his. He couldn’t believe that he was fucking you again. It was painful enough coming to terms with thinking the last time y'all fucked would be the last time he would ever hold you so tight.

It might just break him letting you go a second time.

Before Hoseok could dwell on the painful memory, your breathy moans pulled him back to the present.

“I’m about to come,” you sighed against Hoseok’s lips.

“Again?” Hoseok smiled. “You love my cock that much, huh? I haven’t even come yet, Princess, why don’t you wait your fucking turn.”

You whined at his demand. Lucky for you, you knew just what gets him going. Stroking his ego always proved rewarding.

“Yes,” you pulled away from his lips, but held your grip on his hair. Keeping your voice low, you said, “I love your thick cock. I’m a nasty cockslut that loves to come all over you. God, you fuck me so good, Hoseok. Please let me come. Please.”

Hearing you beg made his cock twitch inside you, he loved when you talked dirty. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Hoseok whispered. He licked a stripe from the base of your neck to your ear before nibbling on it. The light touch made you shudder beneath him.

Suddenly, the slow and steady pace Hoseok was fucking you with turned violent and erratic. Your breath hitched, catching in your throat.

“Yes, just like that!” You mumbled. You arched your back and shoved your face into the pillow under your head, biting the fabric. Your muffled moans left Hoseok on cloud nine; they were more frequent and growing louder as you neared your second orgasm.

Hoseok clamped his hand over your mouth to shut you up. You stopped stimulating your clit and grabbed onto Hoseok’s arm, and you released your grip on his hair, letting your arm fall onto the bed.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, shit!” You cursed into Hoseok’s palm.

Just as you tightened around him, clenching your thighs together, Hoseok muttered, “If you keep doing that I’m gonna come.”

“N-nobody’s stopping you,” you smiled into his hand and closed your eyes.

Hoseok continued plunging his cock into you, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. After a few more thrusts, you came hard for the second time. Whimpers fell from your lips as your body convulsed beside his before, finally, going limp. You squeezed hard around one last time, causing him to groan your name loud and clear. “Fuck, Princess, I’m gonna-”

“Hoseok?” You heard a small voice from behind you. Your eyes shot open.

Hoseok immediately stilled inside you. His hand on your mouth pressed harder against your lips. You inhaled quickly through your nose before holding your breath.

Hoseok’s fiancée was awake.

With one swift quick motion Hoseok threw the blanket over the both of you, covering you up.

You felt Hoseok’s fiancée shift around in the bed beside you. “Why are you being so loud? Quit moving.” She mumbled, her voice groggy.

Even though you should be scared his fiancée was awake and worried she’d notice you, you couldn’t help but be amused by the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok apologized, trying to keep his voice steady. He was a little out of breath from fucking you. “I’m just a little restless since…” he paused and looked down at you. “Since we’re getting married tomorrow.”

You let go of the breath you were holding. You didn’t want to hear this.

You could easily expose the both of you right now. The thought briefly crossed mind just so you could experience the satisfaction of pissing off the vain princess, but you immediately reminded yourself that if you did get caught, you’d probably be fired or worse - executed.

To distract yourself from letting useless thoughts cloud your mind, you decided to have a little fun.

“Sorry for waking you,” Hoseok apologized again. As he continued to assure his fiancée everything was alright, you tightened yourself around him. “I-”

Just as he was about to say something else he choked at the sudden pressure on his cock. You smirked, loving his reaction.

“I-” He started again but was cut off by you swirling your hips, fucking yourself on his throbbing cock. “Shit.” He hissed under his breath.

“What?” His fiancée questioned, completely unaware of the situation.

You continued to fuck Hoseok, slowly lifting your hips and sinking back onto him. It turned you on knowing Hoseok was completely powerless in this situation.

You knew Hoseok was about to come right before his fiancée woke up, so it shouldn’t take long before he actually does.

“Nothing,” Hoseok grunted. His hand was at your waist again, his grip firm. The harsh pressure of his fingers digging into your hip was oddly arousing. You knew it’d be in your best interest to stop teasing him, but you just couldn’t find it in you. It was too amusing.

The familiar twitch of Hoseok’s cock warned you of his threatening orgasm. You attempted to move the slightest bit faster to speed up the process without giving away your presence.

You could feel his thighs tensing behind you; he was trying to prevent himself from coming but the attempt was futile.

“I’ll t-try to keep it d-down,” Hoseok said as he came inside you. The thought alone that his hot cum was shooting inside you as he talked to his fiancée was enough to get the fire in the pit of your stomach ablaze once again.

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning. If you bit any harder you could’ve drawn blood.

Hoseok’s hot cum filled you up and then slowly seeped out of you, running down his dick and filling your panties. You continued to squeeze around him, milking him of all the cum that you could.

“It’s fine, I’m gonna get something to drink since I’m up,” she said. “Do you want anything?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

You felt the bed shift some more followed by light footsteps that grew softer with time. You heard a door open and close.

She was gone.

Hoseok’s heart was racing, he was so worried you were going to get caught. He didn’t know what would have happened if you did. You’d probably be executed before his very eyes, and he’d probably be disowned, worst case scenario.

Hoseok finally pulled out of you and exhaled loudly, “God, you’ll be the death of me some day.”

You laughed at his remark. He’s the one who’s going to be the death of you. You were the one who practically risked your life for this one moment. Of course, it takes two to tango, but you knew the royal family wouldn’t hesitate to put all the blame on you to uphold their honor.

“You know,” you smiled and craned your neck so you were looking into Hoseok’s deep brown eyes. “We have about twenty minutes before she comes back.”

You knew the palace like the back of your hand. It takes roughly ten minutes to get to the kitchen from Hoseok’s bedroom, and the princess still doesn’t quite know her way around yet so you might have more. That gave you plenty of time to go at it one more time.

Hoseok smirked at you, “Still not satisfied? You already came twice.”

“And I can do it a third time.”

“Fine, but you’re doing all the work this time,” Hoseok grinned.

You turned your body so you were chest to chest with Hoseok but still laying on your side, “Fine by me.” Your hands found their way to his hair, entangling your fingers with it. You kissed him softly, drinking in the way his lips felt against yours. You trailed small kisses up his sharp jawline and watched as he closed his eyes and stretched his neck, allowing you access to the exposed skin.

You really wanted to suck on his skin and give him hickeys similar to the ones he gave you, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t mark him the way he could you because even though you were his, he wasn’t yours.

You needed a change of positions.

Suddenly, you pushed Hoseok’s shoulder so he was laying flat on the bed, and you quickly threw a leg over his waist so you could straddle him. Pulling yourself up, you sat on Hoseok’s spent dick. You ground against it, bringing it back to life. You wished you weren’t still wearing your panties, it just made it harder for the both of you. All you wanted was to feel your skin on his.

Hoseok was struggling beneath you. You were so fucking hot, he just wanted to slam his cock into you again, wanted to give you more hickeys, wanted to hear you screaming his name with that pretty little mouth of yours.

You locked eyes with him, drowning in the image before you. Hoseok’s shirt was all wrinkled and one of the buttons was undone, his hair was a mess from you running your fingers through it, and his face was flushed. His entire demeanor screamed ‘wreck me’, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Once Hoseok’s dick was fully erect again, you grabbed it and pointed it to your awaiting entrance after pushing your panties to the side.

Hoseok grabbed your wrist, “I thought you wanted to taste me, Princess?”

Confused, you scooted back and placed yourself between his thick thighs, and you leaned forward, getting ready to give him a blow job.

Your mouth was open, centimeters away from his cock, when you heard Hoseok chuckle from above you. You looked up, a pout forming on your lips. “What? Why are you laughing?”

You watched as Hoseok gave you his signature sweet smile and shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes. “Come here.”

You sat up, and Hoseok grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. Once you were straddling his chest, his hands reached behind you and cupped your ass. Your eyes never left his, not even for a second.

He slid his hands up your back, sending tingles down your spine. You shivered under his touch. His fingers latched onto your bra, unhooking it, and for the first time that night, he saw your breasts and marveled at the sight of you. You never failed to take his breath away.

He slid the bra off your arms and threw the clothing onto the floor somewhere. Then he raked his hands down your back, leaving behind more marks that ultimately claimed you as his.

His hands were back on your ass. He massaged your cheeks before hooking his fingers through the waistband of your panties and sliding the material off of you. You moved his hands and finished taking the cum filled lingerie off yourself, dropping it onto the bed beside you.

Now, you were completely exposed, just the way Hoseok liked you. But it wasn’t fair to you that you were the only one undressed again, like last time. So you gingerly unbuttoned the rest of Hoseok’s shirt, revealing his toned chest. Your hands roamed his body.

Hoseok’s eyes never left yours as he brought his hand to your dripping cunt. You were surprised when he slowly shoved his fingers into you, curling them in on themselves. You slammed your eyes shut and your mouth fell open in shock. His fingers felt so fucking good.

Hoseok smirked beneath you as he continued to curl and scissor his fingers in and out of you. He curled his fingers one last time, scooping up some of his cum left inside you and then pulled out of you. He raised the digits dripping with his cum to your mouth, implicitly telling you to suck on them.

You obediently opened your mouth and sucked on his fingers, finally tasting him. The cum was slightly salty and surprisingly still warm. You let the cum coat your tongue, savoring the taste of him, and then you swallowed. Some of it dribbled down your lips and onto your chin. You stuck your tongue out and lapped up the thick substance.

Hoseok groaned at the sight of you. “Good girl,” he praised you. “Always so good for me. Now come on Princess, ride me.”

“But I thought you wanted to taste my pretty little cunt on your tongue,” you smirked at him, remembering he said that earlier. You planted your knees on the sides of Hoseok’s head and dropped yourself onto his open mouth.

Without hesitation, Hoseok licked a stripe from your clit to your entrance and then dipped his tongue inside you. You rutted against him until your clit brushed against his nose. You jerked your hips forward again, trying to put more friction on your clit.

Meanwhile Hoseok continued darting his tongue inside you and lapping up your arousal.

“Do I taste good?” You breathed. You continued to grind against his mouth, loving the erotic sounds of Hoseok eating you out.

“Yes, so fucking good,” he groaned and the vibrations sent waves of ecstasy through you. You arched your back and pinched one of your nipples, stimulating it. “I could taste you forever.”

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “I know you can do better than that.”

Hoseok grabbed your hips and stilled you and shoved his tongue deep inside you. Your juices trickled down Hoseok’s chin, soaking the collar of his shirt. He pulled his tongue out of you and focused on your needy bud. Your clit was always so sensitive, and if he focused on it, you knew you’d be coming in no time. That didn’t seem like a bad idea, though, since you had a limited amount of time before Hoseok’s fiancee came back.

“Ah! Hoseok!!” You screamed a little louder than you meant to.

“Scream my name, Princess.”

You chanted his name like a mantra as he sucked on your clit.

It wasn’t long before you were seeing stars again and the desperateness to come was ever present. “I’m close,” you warned Hoseok. “S-stop.” You didn’t want to come on his tongue but on his cock.

You lifted your hips so he couldn’t eat you out anymore. “D-don’t wanna come yet. W-wanna come on your cock.”

You stayed planted above Hoseok’s face, panting.

“Then what are you waiting for?” He asked.

You shimmied down his body until you were lined up with his cock. You grabbed the pulsing member and lowered yourself onto it. He didn’t give you the satisfaction of teasing him as he slammed into you to the hilt.

“F-fuck!”

You waited for him to drill his cock into at an absurd pace, but he didn’t. He put his arms behind his head and smiled up at you. “I told you you were going to do all the work.”

You groaned internally. You just wanted him to give it to you nice and rough to the point you’re feeling it the next day. You wanted to be aching all over, barely able to walk.

“You gonna move or-”

“Shut up.” You hissed and started moving your hips back and forth. After you adjusted to his length you pulled yourself off him and slammed your hips back down repeatedly.

“Fuck you’re so fucking good. Look at your tight little pussy swallowing me whole.” Hoseok threw his head back. You continued going hard against him, moving your hips around until he hit your g-spot.

The slapping of your ass against his hips flooded your ears. He was reaching so deep inside you. “Oh, my god!”

You squeezed your thighs together and rotated your hips. Now that his fiancee was gone, you didn’t have to keep your moans to yourself. Strangled moans escaped you; it was music to Hoseok’s ears.

His cock throbbed inside you, nearing his second orgasm of the night, and you were reaching your third. As you bounced on his cock, chasing after your high, Hoseok clenched his stomach and growled at the sensation of you.

He’ll never get tired of the image of you fucking yourself on him. He loved seeing you so fucked out.

You placed your hands on his chest, leaning forward. Your hair fell around you, covering your face. Hoseok pushed the strands back so he could see your face as you came all over him. He loved the way your mouth fell open as you silently moaned, letting the pleasure take over you. The way your eyes sparkled with bliss.

You needed to hurry - you didn’t know how long it’d been since his fiancée left, but you were sure she’d be coming back any minute now.

“You gonna come, Princess?” Hoseok grunted. “Gonna come all over my cock again?”

“Yes. Gonna come all over you like a little slut.” You hissed as your clit rubbed against his abdomen. You tightened around him feeling his pulsing member more distinctly. More choked sobs left your gaping mouth. “I-I’m coming!”

It didn’t take as long as usual for you to come all over Hoseok. You’d been trying to delay your third orgasm for awhile now, but you just couldn’t anymore. 

You stilled on Hoseok’s dick. “Don’t stop now, I haven’t come yet.”

You sighed, too drained to continue moving. Hoseok took pity on you and began to fuck himself into you. “Don’t worry, baby, if you keep clenching like that I’ll be coming real soon.” So you kept clenching around him, trying to help him come faster. He fucked into you so rough that it hurt, but you were too tired to stop him. After a few more strokes, Hoseok yelled, “I’m coming!” And then his hot cum exploded inside you. He grunted and kept himself inside.

You fell onto his heaving chest. Your heavy breathing mixed with his as you two tried to catch your breath.

That was it.

That was the last time you’d ever have sex with Hoseok. Even though you were lying in his arms, his cock inside you, you couldn’t help but feel so indescribably lonely. Your eyes welled with tears.

You told yourself you wouldn’t cry, but you were never really able to easily control your emotions. A single tear fell onto Hoseok’s chest, and he quickly realized you were crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, worry evident in his voice. You didn’t look at him because you knew if you did you’d end up crying even harder.

Instead, you buried your face into his chest and inhaled the scent of him. You let yourself melt into his body. You wanted to tell him you loved him again, but you figured your words would only be met with silence, so why bother?

In less than twenty-four hours Hoseok will be married to another woman. He’ll hold her at night, tell her he loves her, and they’ll probably even have kids someday. You were so jealous that she gets to wake up to Hoseok and hear his morning voice and see his bedhead. Something that you’d always dreamed of doing. You were so jealous that he was hers and hers alone.

Hoseok ran his thumb under your eye, “Don’t cry.”

He reached over and grabbed his crown off the dresser and placed the gold item loosely on your head. “You’ll always be my princess,” Hoseok whispered.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister bellowed. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Hoseok and Jisoo in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, that is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly. “Into this estate these two persons present come now to be joined.

“If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

You stood off to the side, alone, with a perfect view of Hoseok’s face. You wanted to scream and shout and let everyone know that you loved him, and that you should be the one marrying him, not her, but you kept your voice to yourself.

Watching the ceremony only hurt you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

When no one dared to speak up, the minister continued. Turning to Hoseok he said, “Mr. Hoseok, if you would repeat after me: I, Hoseok-”

“I, Hoseok,” he repeated.

“Take thee Jisoo-”

“Take thee Jisoo.”

“To be my wedded wife-”

Hoseok hesitated. His eyes drifted past his fiancée’s head and stared straight into yours. Your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes softened, and a somber smile filled his face. “To be my wedded wife.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health-”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.” Hoseok repeated, still staring into your eyes. 

Tears welled in your eyes. It was like he was saying the vows to you. It felt as if there was no one else in the room but the two of you. Everything else seemed to fade away into nothing as you watched Hoseok.

“To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part.” The minister finished the vow.

“To love, honor, and cherish, 'til death do us part.” Hoseok stated. His eyes bored into yours.

Silence fell around you, and you watched desperately as he mouthed three achingly painful words.

I loved you.

Part three (final)