#he needs to be excelling and he needs to be bringing something fucking undeniable to the table if he has a hope for next year

[danthropologie]

People saying Daniel couldn’t match checo are as delusional as us. Did they see Daniel in Miami he was saying so much out of pocket stuff regarding a seat next year. Also he wouldn’t be this positive if his sim times weren’t as good as checos or at least close to his times.

well and from those very first little leaks about sim times and comparisons, the report was always that it started out bad for daniel but got better fairly quickly, to the point where they were basically neck-and-neck and either one could be framed as the faster of the two depending on who you're asking. and i'd assume that daniel's probably either stayed consistently on pace with checo or gotten even better (even if just marginally so) just based on how he's carrying and backing himself recently.

and i don't want to start a whole checo bashing session because i DO think he's a good driver and he's definitely the best pairing with max that red bull has had since daniel, but it is funny to me how the anti-daniel faction seems to enjoy comparing mclaren era daniel specifically—a clear outlier in his otherwise stellar career—to checo in order to say that he doesn't have what it takes anymore (if he ever did, according to them lmao).

i was looking at this head-to-head comparison earlier and obviously we all know that points don't tell the whole story, but looking at daniel's red bull years in a 2nd or 3rd best car vs checo's in a championship winning car is......interesting, i'll say that

[watchmegetobsessed]

SAFE AND SOUND

a/n: this one took a little longer to write, but im so happy its finally finished! its not what i originally planned, i started a whole different plot but hated it so started again, but i might go back to the first story, so maybe more bodyguard!harry content is gonna come! anyway, hope you’ll enjoy this one!

pairing: Bodyguard!Harry X Reader

warning: use of weapon (no one dies), mentioning of cancer (no one is sick), sexual content

word count: 9.1k

masterlist

“This is not up for discussion, Y/N. What you are doing and what you are about to achieve soon might upset a lot of people that hold great power. We can’t just assume you’ll be fine, walking around like anyone else in the world.”

Your boss, Julian explains it to you, leaning onto his desk, trying his best to keep his cool about your protest to get you a guard to watch out for you and keep you safe. It’s been an ongoing struggle and fight you two have been having these past weeks and it became a burning situation since you’ve made some major progress in your project.

“I’m not some kind of royalty to have security with me all the time,” you grumble rolling your eyes.

“Not just royalties have guards, Y/N. Just accept it, that you’re valuable, your work is very important not just to our company but to the whole world. Do you not realize how big it is? You are close to having the cure to cancer, Y/N! You can easily get a Nobel-prize for that!”

“I know that it’s important, but no one knows me, no one will see me on the street and know who I am or what I do!”

“It’s not about the people on the street. The world is a dark place, darker than you could imagine. Please, just… I want to know that you’re safe.”

Staring back at him with your arms folded on your chest you contemplate his words. You can see the rationality in his words, it’s just that you don’t want to break your routine, you don’t want people around you all the time, you don’t want to end your privacy like that. But Julian is right, your work is important and there have already been a few attempts to steal your researches, but they miserably failed. However that doesn’t mean they will be stopped the next time as well.

“One guard,” you speak up. “Just one. I’m not gonna have a whole fucking team,” you tell him raising your eyebrows. He lets out a relieved sigh, a tiny smile tugging on his lips.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Reaching out to the phone he presses the buzzer that signals to his assistant, Monica outside and a few moments later she walks in, accompanied with a tall, suited man, his green eyes immediately falling to you upon entering the room.

“Y/N, I took the courage to pick him out for you myself. This is Harry Styles, the best you can find in the city if not in the country,” Julian introduces him as he pushes himself away from his giant mahogany desk, walking closer to the man as they shake hands firmly. You stand up from the armchair you’ve been sinking into these past ten minutes and unsurely hold out your hand to the man.

“Harry Styles, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces himself, a thick British accent lacing through his voice and the way his green irises stare back at you, you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest. Mr. Styles is undeniably the most charming and handsome man you’ve ever met, with his perfectly carved cheekbones and chiseled jawline, pink lips and those enchanting green eyes framed by his thick lashes. There’s something in his appearance, something feminine, but still, he holds so much masculinity at the same time, it’s hard not to be enamored by him.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you mumble your name, shaking his hand slightly before letting go of it.

“Details about your cooperation have already been discussed with the security agency and us, but of course, your word is what counts, so we’ll walk over the whole plan with you as well,” Julian explains to you and you nod shortly.

The three of you move to the conference room and the next hour goes by with working those so called details out, some of them are ridiculous, some of them you can get used to, at the end you are left with a somewhat bearable plan, but one thing is for sure. Harry Styles will be a big part of your life from now on.

THREE MONTHS LATER

The tiny pack of sugar tears open in your hands, but you put too much effort into it so the countertop is now covered with the content of the pack instead of ending up in your paper cup.

“Fuck,” you growl, dumping the empty pack into the trash before grabbing another one, hoping it won’t end up the same way.

“Let me help you,” a smooth, male voice speaks up next to you and Harry grabs the pack from your hands as he places his own coffee to the counter. You let him tear the pack open easily, pouring the sugar into your drink without problem before he puts the lid back to your cup.

“Thank you,” you mumble, closing your tired eyes for a split second. You’ve been overworking way too much these past weeks, it’s starting to shut your system down, but you don’t want to rest, not when you’re so close to finishing your project.

The past two weeks have been major, you finally made the progress you’ve been working towards for months now, letting you step into the last phase of your work finally. But it’s been a quite stressful time as you’ve been eager to finish as soon as possible, but that meant little to no time spent outside of your lab.

Harry shoots you a reassuring smile before you both grab your drinks and head out of the café in the direction of your workplace.

The past three months were one hell of a ride when it comes to Harry. You didn’t hide your dislike towards his continuous presence in your life, standing by your side wherever you went. It frustrated you, made you feel like you didn’t have your freedom any longer even though he never did anything to make you hate him. He was considerate, respectful and only wanted to do his job, yet you still gave him a hard time at the beginning, right until the need for his work was proved.

Two months ago someone broke into your apartment while you were out, they searched through the whole place, looking for something. Well, not just something, they were clearly interested in anything connected to your research, but luckily, you’re not dumb enough to just let these stuff lay around your home.

Even though you didn’t encounter the person responsible for it, the incident still shook your up. Knowing that someone could get into your personal space so easily, that they could have come at a time when you were home and vulnerable, it scared you. Harry was the person that eased the worry and fear in you, he took care of everything in an instant and upon his best advice, you moved to a new apartment with a higher security level. He even moved to the place next to yours so he could be as close to you as possible at all times. There was a much needed shift in your relationship after that and you didn’t see him as an intruder any longer in your life, but more as a hero.

“So would you like Italian or Mexican tonight for dinner?” Harry asks as the two of you enter the building, using your IDs you go through the massive security gates, the guards in post nodding in your way.

“Isn’t it your night to choose?” you smile at him sideways as you wait for the elevator.

“Okay, then Thai,” he smirks, making you laugh. “Hope you are not planning on eating it here again,” he gives you a warning look and you purse your lips.

“I have a lot to do, and—“

“Y/N, you need to rest sometimes,” he scolds you as if you were just a child.

“I do rest. Sometimes,” you answer with an innocent look as the elevator’s door slides open and you walk in with Harry following you right behind.

“Like once a week? Do you even sleep when you’re at home?”

“I do! Don’t make me look like I’m some kind of crazy workaholic!”

“I’m just worried about you, is all,” he sighs, giving you a hard look.

“Oh, Mr. Styles. If I didn’t know you better I would think you might have a soft spot for me,” you smirk at him teasingly before the elevator arrives to your floor and you walk out without a word. Harry just stares after you with a small smile tugging on his lips as he thinks about your words. It’s funny, especially because you both know something more than just a professional relationship has been going on between the two of you, only dancing around it as the situation is a little too complicated to address now.

It’s not like any rules are tying you down, but you would rather not mix up work with your private life. You might have feelings for Harry, but you refuse to act up on them until he is out of his duty as your personal guard.

Your days are usually the same. While you lock yourself up in your lab, working with no end, Harry stay either with you in there or he hovers around the door, keeping an eye on everyone and everything. Just the thought of his presence never fails to bring you a sense of comfort, knowing that you don’t have to worry about your safety until he is near. It might seem nerdy, but you can easily get lost in your work. It doesn’t feel like a job, growing up with parents who were excellent doctors and pharmacists themselves, you were doomed to be a science enthusiast yourself from the beginning. Learning has never been a task for you but a gift, as you liked to look at it.

Working overtime happens often because you lose touch with time easily once you get down to work. Nothing exists outside of your lab and you hardly realize how late it is until Harry usually warns you.

“I didn’t joke when I said I didn’t want to have dinner in here,” he steps into your sanctuary while you’re in the middle of running tests for the millionth time today. Pushing your glasses up to the top of your head while the machines are buzzing and whirling, you look up at him with a tired smile.

“Let me just… finish this one last test and then I promise we’ll head out.”

“Alright, but I’m watching you. No more tests,” he warns, sitting on one of the stools while you finish what you started.

Harry never really asked you about your work, for a while you weren’t even sure if he knows what you’re doing and why it’s so important. It was never discussed at the beginning and he never brought it up later either. But judging from the time he spends near you at the lab he must have picked up a few things about it surely.

The machines stop working and the tiny beeping sound signals that the results are out. You grab the long printed paper and start scanning the data, chewing on your bottom lip as you hope to find what you’ve been looking for all day. The numbers are coming in great, but it’s been like this for a while, it’s the end that never matches up with your expectations. So when you get there and see the graphs showing the result that you’ve been dreaming of since the start of the whole project years ago, your mouth falls open in disbelief even though it’s what you’ve been working for all this time.

“Oh my God,” you whisper.

“What?” Harry’s head snaps up in alert, jumping off the stool.

“I… I did it,” you breathe out, glancing up from the paper. “It’s my first time succeeding, Harry!” you start laughing, the shock taking over your whole body that you really did it this time.

“And what does that mean?”

“Come on, let me show you,” you tell him in excitement, pulling him over to the computer where you pull up all the data you’ve been working on. A virtual version of a cell comes up on the screen as you start typing, modelling what you want to show him. “This is a completely healthy cell, it’s what you are made of too, mostly,” you ass with a chuckle before another cell comes up on the screen. “And this is what cells that are affected by cancer look like.”

The difference is a lot more complicated than what you can explain to him in such a short time, but he can see it with his own eyes. The color, the shape, everything is different from the first one. Harry examines the screen and nods shortly, letting you know that he is following.

“I’ve been working on a substance that is able to not just detect the cancerous cells but it can also kill it effectively without hurting the healthy ones.”

You bring up the virtualized version of the substance you’ve been working on, a short animation showing how it can tell the two cells apart and only attack the cancerous one.

“I haven’t been able to get the numbers above 60% when it comes to succeeding in the process of selection so my whole project was about finding a solution to that. I’ve been trying to find the right substance to mix with our already existing one to solve the problem, but I haven’t been successful in it.”

“I assume until now,” Harry hum and you nod smirking.

“Yeah. The last test results came back very good, quite promising. It’s still not the end of the process, but it’s a huge step.”

“That’s great,” he smiles at you and though you know he probably understands just a fracture of the whole process, he can still figure out how important it is. “Congrats, Y/N.” “Thanks,” you breathe out, pride filling your chest as you shut the computer off. “I guess this is my cue to end the day,” you smile at him before packing up everything, getting ready to finally leave.

It’s not the first time Harry is spending the evening at your place. You often have dinner together, or watch a movie whenever you get home early enough to do that. Through the time you’ve spent together because of his job you’ve grown to be friends above everything. Good ones, in fact, which is a big deal for you since making friends has never been an easy task for you.

You bought takeout on the way home and as Harry set the table you poured yourself a glass of wine, knowing well Harry would never drink when he is on duty and he is basically working all the time he is with you, so you’re drinking alone. You both sit to the dining table, starting dinner together in a comfortable silence. It’s another thing you appreciate about Harry. He doesn’t try to talk when it’s not necessary, you hate small talk, you’d rather sit in silence than talk about something nonsense and Harry is a partner in that.

“When do you need to leave work tomorrow to get to the party on time?” he asks breaking the silence and you freeze. His eyes fall on you, examining your features for a moment before he smirks. “You forgot about it?”

“I just… thought it’s going to be next week,” you truthfully admit.

“We talked about it last week,” he smirks at you playfully. “And I told you it would be next week which is… this week.”

“I know how the days work, Harry,” you give him a look of ‘give me a break’ before you turn back to your food. “I just…”

“You just forgot it,” Harry finishes for you, and you just roll your eyes at him.

Glancing at him over the table you wonder if he’ll wear something different than is usual attire he always wears. Black suit with a white shirt underneath, the top two buttons left undone, giving you a tiny peek at the tattoos on his chest. You know those are not the only ones, you’ve seen him with the suit jacket off before, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his whole left arm is covered in ink and you wish you’ve had the chance to take a better look at them.

Harry is such an intriguing person in a lot of different ways. He definitely likes to keep things to himself, not one to ask for attention and it’s not just because of his work, it’s his personality. However he is good with people, interacting with them, being social. A skill you haven’t really mastered yourself yet and you probably never will. He always seems to know what to say, you’ve never seen him even the slightest bit anxious or nervous before, the confidence he holds is unmatched and it makes it hard to not think about him in ways you shouldn’t be.

After dinner he helps you clean up, just like he always does before heading out, but before he could leave he stops and turns back to face you.

“Oh, a friend of mine is visiting from the UK on Sunday. I already mentioned it to you before, but I was hoping I could get the afternoon off,” he wonders and you nod right away.

“Of course! I’ll be just fine at home,” you smile at him.

“Thank you,” he smiles back before walking out of your place at last.

Because of the party in the evening you are forced to stop working early the next day. It’s weird to leave the office in broad daylight, but you know today can’t be one of those days when you end up seeing the new day in the lab.

Harry was right yesterday, you completely forgot the whole party thing, meaning you didn’t plan anything ahead and you had nothing to wear, so through the day you called your sister, Mara to help you out. She was more than happy to lend you anything you needed. She meets you at the office, beaming to spend some time with you finally. It’s not that you don’t like her company, but you are quite different, is all. Your sister didn’t get sucked into the world of science, though she definitely has the bright mind to take up on any field she would want to explore. But she was more into the world of art, having written her first fantasy novel at the ripe age of twenty, she is now a bestseller author at only twenty-nine with a bubbly personality and basically every trait you never owned yourself.

“Harry! So nice to see you again!” Mara beams at the man as the three of you meet up at the lobby.

“Hi, Mara,” Harry smiles with a tiny nod.

“Alright, I have everything you could need so let’s head to yours!” your sister cheers before you make your way out to your cars.

Arriving to your home Harry splits from the two of you, letting you to get ready in peace and also to get ready himself. Mara didn’t joke when she said she has everything you need, the trunk of her car is basically filled with clothes and shoes, there’s no chance you won’t find something to wear tonight.

She orders you to take a quick shower as she unpacks everything she brought and when you emit from a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around your body and one on your head, Mara gets down to work.

“So do you have a date for today?” she curiously asks while she does your makeup.

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you huff ironically. “It’s just gonna be Harry and me.”

“So Harry is your date?” her ears perk up, but you’re quick to protest.

“Of course not! He comes with me everywhere,” you mumble with your eyes closed as she is doing something on your eyelids.

“But it could be a date,” she offers and you huff in disagreement.

“You know that’s not how it works, Mara.”

“You are making it more complicated than it is! No one would blame you if you just… went for it! Harry is obviously an attractive guy.”

“Then maybe you should date him,” you bite back bitterly. Growing up you weren’t the boys’ favorite, they always paid all the attention to your sister. It’s not that you blame her or them, she always had a more capturing and lively personality that attracted people naturally. But it made you wonder if there was something wrong with you, spending all your time with your nose buried in a book or doing researches for fun while Mara was out with her friends, living her best life. Even her published books were inspired by her personal life experiences.

“Y/N,” she sighs, her hands leaving your face so you open your eyes to look at her disapproving expression. “You obviously like him so I would never do that and besides that, he for sure likes you too.”

“What’s not true,” you deny right away, but then you look at her curiously. “But why would you think that?”

Mara smirks at you tilting her head to the side, seeing right through your act that you’re not interested in Harry. Of course you are, but you choose to keep it at bay for the sake of his job.

“Y/N, I see how that man watches every move you make. It’s written all over his handsome face.”

“Of course he watches my every move, that’s his job!”

“No, it’s different. You’ll see it sooner or later,” she smiles before ordering you to close your eyes again so she can finish your makeup.

Mara does wonders to your looks, the makeup look she does on you already makes a huge difference since you don’t bother to do anything on your every days. But she didn’t stop there, she made your hair look like you just stepped off of the pages of a magazine and the dress the two of you chose was the cherry on the top. The emerald green dress was tight around your curves, showing just enough of your body to be still considered modest, but also have some spice. And though there are a lot of advantages of the dress, your first and most important thought (to you at least) was how well it goes with the color of Harry’s eyes.

“I’m a genius,” Mara sighs satisfied with her work as you slip on the pair of nude heels and put your necessities into the little clutch you’re taking with you. Just when you’re gone with everything, the doorbell rings and your heart jumps in your chest, knowing that Harry is standing on the other side of the door.

“I’ll get it for you,” Mara smiles rushing to the door as you walk into the hallway, standing a few feet behind her so as she opens the front door and Harry comes into view, over Mara’s shoulder his eyes easily find your figure standing there, feeling a little awkward and self-conscious, like you are about to go to prom with your crush. Difference is that you are not a teenager anymore and you aren’t going anywhere together together. Tonight is just work for him.

But as his bright green eyes fall on your frame and you see his lips slightly part, you can’t help but allow yourself to think for a moment that it’s more than just work. That he feels the same way about it as you do. Though you don’t voice your hopes and just smile at him faintly, hoping you don’t look completely ridiculous in your outfit.

“Harry, come on in!” Mara invites him into the apartment and he walks in, wearing his usual black suit with the difference of having a tie on around his neck, his white shirt is appearing neat and crispy and his sometimes unruly curls are now gently combed back a little so his curls are not falling into his forehead.

“Hi,” you smile at him nervously fumbling with your clutch as he takes a few steps closer to you.

“Hi. You look… beautiful,” he smiles back at you a little breathlessly as he takes a respectful look down your body before his green irises meet your gaze again.

“Thank you. You look great too,” you chuckle softly. “Should we… head out?”

“Yeah, sure!” he nods, offering you his arm and you link your arm with his instantly, hoping you won’t trip in your heels. “Lock the door when you leave, Mara, alright?” you call out to your sister who is watching you smiling.

“Sure! Have fun!”

You wave at her one last time before walking out and shutting the door closed behind you.

This party is held every year at Pharma-Z, mostly this is the time when the brain meets the money. Investors and funders like to meet the people behind the million dollars researches from time to time and this is the occasion where both sides show up. Julian always asks you to be social and try to mingle, but the whole thing feels forced and painful for you. You’d rather just be left alone with your researches and projects without having to schmooze to the people who give you the money for your hard work.

It’s held at one of said investors’ luxurious penthouse, that doesn’t even look like someone’s home with the huge outdoors infinity pool, the spacious and modern interiors and the expensive looking decoration that was put up just for the occasion.

“Y/N! I’m so happy you are here!” Julian approaches you with a drink in his hands and you’re happy to see a familiar face in the crowd. You don’t really know others from work, only your little team you directly work with and of course, your boss, Julian.

“It’s not like I had a choice,” you chuckle giving him a short, friendly hug. Julian is far from a nightmare of a boss some people have to face at their job. He is an actually nice and very smart and intellectual person. The pharmaceutical industry can be harsh and dark, the competition between the businesses is way more intent than people think. This is why you need the protection. Some companies profit off of the fact that cancer has no cure yet. They make money from all the treatments that doesn’t even guarantee full recovery. A lot of big fish don’t want the cure, because that would make them lose a good chunk of their income and some of those would even go to the depth of hurting you for being so close to ruining their business with your invention. Pharma-Z is luckily a genuine company that wants to help sick people and that’s why you’re working there.

“You know how important it is for the company,” Julian sighs, but he understands how uncomfortable these events make you feel, though he can do nothing to help you. “Harry, nice to see you again,” he smiles at the man by your side.

“Julian, nice to see you too,” he nods, shaking hands with your boss.

“Mingle a little so people can see and meet you, alright?” Julian requests and you just nod silently before he moves on to the next group of people.

You get yourself a drink to ease your nerves a little as people start approaching you. Some of them you’ve met last year, but there are a lot of new faces. Your project has brought in quite a few new sponsors and investors and now they want to meet you and talk about the research their money is going into.

You try your best to keep a smile plastered across your face as you tell the people the same thing over and over again, receiving praise and compliments on your work before moving onto the next conversation just to start over again.

You can feel your social batteries running out, not sure you can put up with another conversation with a wealthy investor who wants you to know you have a job because they gave money for your project in hopes of you bringing more money to them.

Harry has stayed by your side the whole evening, and you didn’t notice but he kept examining you every few minutes to make sure you were holding up and he noticed how tired you’ve grown from socializing for so long.

“Y/N,” he softly calls out, his palm finding the small of your back. “Why don’t we get some fresh air?” he kindly offers and you immediately understand that he is trying to get you away from the guests and the overwhelming conversations you’ve been dealing with. Nodding you let him usher you outside, finding a spot where the two of you can be a little alone.

“I fucking… hate small talks and being nice to everyone,” you let out a long and heavy sigh, as you lean against the railing, paying just one short glance at the city’s bright lights under your feet. Harry chuckles shortly.

“I figured. You’ve been chewing your lips so hard I was afraid you’d start bleeding.”

Now that he has brought your attention to it, you realize you are doing it again, so you let go of your bottom lip from between your teeth and it brings out another chuckle from Harry.

“I’m just… not good with these… social stuff.”

“I disagree with that,” he hums, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh please, if you haven’t realized it, my number of zero friends is a tell, I think.”

“Come on, it’s not zero. You’re friends with Mara.”

“But family doesn’t count, she is kind of forced to be my friend,” you shrug, making him laugh.

“Okay, but I’m your friend too, aren’t I?” You furrow your eyebrows at him.

“You spend time with me because it’s your job.”

His eyes soften on you as he leans against the railing next to you, looking so effortlessly handsome and charming, you almost need to take a deep breath at the sight of him. And the cheeky smile on his pink lips is definitely not helping your case.

“I know you didn’t mean that. You’re a smart woman, Y/N.” Reaching out he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he inches closer a tiny bit. “I think we stepped over the line of just work.”

“So… you consider me your friend?” you ask shyly.

“If you have to ask maybe I’ve been doing something wrong,” he chuckles softly, making you smile too. Folding your arms a shiver runs down your spine from the cold evening breeze. “Are you cold?” Harry asks, but before you could even say a word, he shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Oh, thank you,” you breathe out shyly.

“Do you want another drink?”

“Yeah, I think I might need another one,” you chuckle and nodding he tells you to just stay there until he gets you a new one.

Turning towards the view, you enjoy the lonely moments for a little, not too keen on going back inside and keep up the façade of interest any longer. You’d rather just head home, maybe have another drink with Harry on your couch while you watch a rerun of whatever show is on TV and then fall asleep after a hot shower. You’ve been working way too much lately and it’s just now crashing down on you. Next week you definitely should cut back on your hours at the lab, the project is already going amazing, it won’t hurt if you actually had some rest before you lose your mind.

You hear footsteps approaching you and you think it’s Harry returning, but as you turn around you are faced with a stranger, a man who is staring down at you with bloodshot eyes and… a gun pointed at you.

Your breath hitches, your blood freezing in your veins at the sight and your legs almost give up underneath you.

“What… who are you?” Your voice comes out as a whisper, tears already flooding your eyes as you melt against the railing as if you had anywhere to go, but you have no chance against him.

One glance at the gun allows you to see that it has a silencer on, with the music coming from inside and no one around, if he shoots you, he’ll be able to get away before anyone realizes what happened.

The man doesn’t answer, just holds up the gun, aiming right at your chest and you close your eyes, thinking that this is it. This is how your life ends, in the middle of a posh party with no one around to help you. Your lips are trembling and hands are shaking as you hold onto the railing, waiting for the inevitable to come, keeping your eyes shut, not wanting to see your killer as the last thing you see before you go.

And then you hear the muffled gunshot, making you scream in fear, your knees turning into jelly, but the pain never comes. Instead, you hear grunting and growling as a body falls to the ground in front of you.

Your eyes snap open and you see Harry straddling the man, the gun lying near your attacker’s hand and he is trying to reach it, but before he could, you kick it away as Harry throws a punch at his face that stops him from trying too hard to free himself.

The next few moments are so busy and blurry at the same time. Your legs give up underneath you, making you fall to the ground, your whole body shaking in waves. In the meantime Harry gets the man into a position where he can be easily controlled and people start flooding out at the scene, helping Harry while security working at the party take the man, the police already on its way.

When Harry can finally step back from the attacker, his eyes fall on your figure and he rushes over to you, kneeling down next to your trembling body, cradling you into his arms upon seeing how shaken up you are.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s over, you’re alright,” he murmurs, holding you tight as your fists grab onto his shirt, your breathing is uneven, the oxygen barely makes its way into your lungs as you’re panting and gasping from the shock. “Come on, let’s get you inside, Y/N,” he gently tells you, helping you up from the floor even though your body feels like a pile of brick.

You can feel everyone staring at you, whispering behind your back as you try to hide in Harry’s arms while he walks you back inside, away from the man that tried to take your life. He walks you into one of the bathrooms and closing the lid he sits you down to the toilet while he grabs a towel and wetting it he kneels in front of you, tapping the cloth to your cheeks gently. You haven’t even realized that you’ve been sweating from the shock and the coldness feels amazing against your burning skin.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, but not even you are sure why.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Y/N,” he gently murmurs, giving your hand a squeeze as you shut your eyes closed. He grabs a glass from one of the cabinets and fills it with water handing it over to you.

“Thank you,” you mumble, bringing it to your trembling lips, but before you could drink it, your eyes snap up to meet his gaze. “And thank you for… what you did.” Your voice dies down at the end, the picture of the man pointing the gun at you still living so vividly in your mind.

“No need, it’s my job after all, right?” he chuckles softly, making your lips twitch the slightest bit before you start sipping on the water.

The police show up soon and they arrest the man who refuses to talk. They also request you to give your statement about what happened, but Harry manages to let you just give them the brief story and go in sometime soon to give them your full statement so you don’t have to spend any more time there. They are quite sure the man was hired by someone who doesn’t want you to finish your project, and it’s scary how far some people are willing to go just for the money, just to keep sick people in suffering for their own benefit.

Heading home you stay silent as Harry drives, staring out the window you let the nightlights of the city pass by you while you still see the same face, the face of the man that held a gun at you tonight. The gunshot is still ringing through your ears, it was so close, so real… of course it was real! All of it was real and your life was on the line. If it weren’t for Harry, you wouldn’t be here right now.

Arriving to your home Harry helps you out of the car and you cling onto his hand as you head up to the apartment. He keys the two of you into your home, flicking the lights on and looking around before you go further inside, just to be sure.

“It’s all clear, don’t worry,” he murmurs as you nod and make your way into the bedroom. Kicking your heels off your feet you sit on the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath, feeling your limbs loosening up a bit for the first time in the past hour.

Harry moves around the place doing whatever before he joins you in the room, kneeling in front of you his hands find your bare knees and your eyes meet his worry-filled green irises.

“Do you want to take a shower?” he softly asks and you nod your head. “Come on, I’ll start the water for you.”

He helps you up from the bed and walks you into the bathroom. You stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do as he starts running the water in the walk in shower before he steps back to you.

“Would you…?” you ask, turning around, needing help with the zipper of your dress. Harry clears his throat as his fingers work on it and a moment later the fabric loosens around your frame as you hold it to your chest with your arms. Turning back around you peek up at Harry and you notice the slight blush on his cheeks.

“I’ll be outside at the door, okay?” He whispers, his fingers delicately touching your cheek as you nod before you watch him walk out and close the door behind him.

The hot water feels freshening, like it could burn away the memories even though it’s still so vivid in your mind. You stand under the running water longer than you intended, but it feels nice and needed. Once you’re done, you wrap yourself into a fluffy towel and walk out of the steamy bathroom only to find Harry sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting like a loyal puppy. When he sees you, he stands from his spot and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan over your body that’s barely covered.

“Alright, I’ll go now, but if you—“ “Don’t!” you gasp, panic taking over you at the thought of being left alone. One of your hands grasps his arm to stop him from moving and he freezes in his spot, staring back at your fearful eyes. “Please, stay here,” you plead, voice barely over than just a whisper.

There’s a heartbeat of a pause in him as he is watching you intently and for a moment you think he’ll say no, but then his hand finds yours on his arm and he gives it a gentle squeeze as he nods.

“Okay.”

You let out a long, relieved breath as you ease into comfort. He’s staying, he’ll be with you all night, protecting you from everything and everyone.

“Can I take a shower too?” he asks softly and you nod, stepping to your wardrobe to get him a clean towel. “Thank you. I’ll be back shortly,” he tells you before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door closed behind him.

You hear the water running again and you find yourself standing at the same spot as you listen to the noises coming from the bathroom. Harry is in there, soaking under the water naked and you can’t take your mind off of how badly you want to be there with him.

It’s not just because of what happened tonight, though it made you realize that you don’t have much time to waste. Nothing can assure that you’ll live another day and you don’t want to deny happiness from yourself. You want to be with Harry and as far as you can make it out, he feels the same way.

Upon a sudden decision, you pad your way over to the bathroom door and open it carefully, the warmth immediately hitting your face as you step inside and close it behind you. The glass of the shower is steamed up, you can only make out the blurry frame of Harry in there and you wonder if he heard you come in, but it doesn’t seem like that. His clothes from the night are lying on the floor in a pile, his watch that he always wears is carefully placed next to the sink.

Your hands grab onto the edge of the towel around your body and you unwrap yourself, hanging it up on the wall before stepping to the shower. Hoping you won’t scare him, you open the door, the steam immediately hugging your naked body warmly and you see him standing there with his back facing you as you step into the spacious walk-in shower.

He notices your presence, you see him freeze mid-movement before he peeks over his shoulder, his eyes falling on you as he slowly turns, facing you completely. Standing in front of him completely bare, you feel more vulnerable than ever in your life. You’re scared that he is going to send you away, that he won’t let you get closer to him and if that happens, you’ll feel humiliated, but he just stands there in his naked glory and doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a chance to shoot your shot.

Reaching up your hands slide to his hard chest, up to the base of his neck as you push your front against his, skin to skin with the hot water running down your bodies. His hands find your waist and you could cry from the feeling of his touch on you. Pushing yourself up to your tiptoes your nose nudges against his as your eyes fall closed.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, stopping you right when your lips could meet. Opening your eyes you see the hesitation in his green irises that appear so much darker than they usually do.

“Do you not want it? You don’t want me?” you whisper.

“I do. It’s not that,” he sighs shaking his head slightly. “But you went through a lot today. I don’t want you to make decisions you might regret in the morning.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs on your lips at how considerate and protective he is over you, thinking that this might be just something that crashed over you in the heat of the moment, but it’s been in the making from the first day you met him. Despite all your protesting against him, you knew you needed him and not just as your guard. He is what’s been missing from your life all along, you just never realized it.

“There’s nothing I could regret when it comes to you, Harry. I needed tonight to open my eyes. Our days are counted, I’m done running from my own happiness.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath as his hands hold tighter onto your waist while your hands run up his neck until your fingers tangle into his wet locks.

“I need you. And not just because of tonight. I’ve always needed you.”

“I’m here, Y/N. I’m all yours,” he breathes out before his lips smash against yours all wet and hard, but it’s the most heavenly feeling you’ve ever experienced.

You become a mess, tangled in each other, lips melting together as your hands explore naked limbs and torsos, bodies pressing tightly against each other shamelessly. Harry walks you backwards until your back hits the cold tile and you let out a whimper as you arch your back at the sudden feeling, just as his head dips down, lips attacking your neck, kissing and nibbling on the soft skin. Your light leg lifts as his hands wander down your thigh, your hips pressing together and you feel how hard he is, his cock pushed against your other thigh, making you moan at the feeling. Reaching down you blindly wrap a hand around the base, giving him a few slow pumps, earning a guttural growl from him before his lips return to yours, kissing you hard and filled with passion. His hands are all over you, on your thighs, ass, back and chest, as if he was mapping your whole body wanting to remember how every inch feels under his touch.

Without tearing his lips away from yours, he blindly reaches behind him, shutting the water off before urging you to jump into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you out of the shower, placing you to the counter next to the sink as he stands between your legs, his hands once again finding your breasts as they knead them, making you whimper and shake under his touch. It’s euphoric and addictive, you already know you won’t be able to go a day without feeling him against you like this.

“Bed?” he breathes out against your mouth and you nod eagerly. Reaching to the side he grabs a towel, wrapping it around you, tapping and squeezing you to dry you off, throwing fits of giggles when you grab it and wrap it around his body as well.

The towel falls to the floor abandoned and forgotten as he lifts you off the counter and brings you to the bed, laying you down and holding himself up above you with one arm. His other hand cups your cheek and turning your head you kiss his palm gently, eyes glued to his as he settles between your legs.

“Are you sure about this?” he breathes out, his lips dancing against your cheek and the corner of your mouth.

“Yes! Harry, please!” you beg with a whimper, your whole body aching to feel him inside you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, love,” he kisses you as his hand leaves your heated face, runs down your naked body until his fingers reach your throbbing clit.

He slides two digits through your already wet folds, but just to work you up even more he starts drawing circles on your bud, turning you into a whimpering mess underneath him. Your fingers dig into the lean muscles on his back, feeling them twitch from his movements and one hand sliding down to his ass, grabbing a handful of him while pushing him closer to you, his erection pressing against your core.

“Harry, I need you!” you moan, not able to contain yourself any longer. You need to feel him, you need him as close as possible.

Reaching over to your nightstand you grab a condom from the drawer, ripping the package open with your teeth before you carefully grab his erection and roll the condom down his length, ready to finally feel him inside you.

He flicks his fingers on your clit one last time before his hand wraps around the base of his cock, giving it a few pumps while his soft lips kiss down your jawline and throat, his face hiding in the crook of his neck. Your arms circle around his shoulders, your chest heaving from the sensation as he positions himself just right, the tip teasing your hole. Harry lifts his head up, his bright eyes finding your gaze just as he sinks into you, filling you up perfectly.

“H-Harry! Fuck—“ you gasp at the feeling, your walls stretching around his thick cock as he stays still for a few moments, letting you adjust to his size.

You draw your legs up, giving you more space to go deeper as he starts thrusting, sliding in and out of you oh so perfectly, inching you closer to your relief with each movement. You cup his face in your hands, staring into his eyes as if you could see his soul in them and for a split second, you feel like you actually do. His lips are parted and the cross pendant is grazing your chest while he fucks into you, never falling out of his rhythm.

You want to beg to him not to stop, to keep moving and moving, but no words can leave your mouth as your back arches, your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. You start grinding your hips in sync with his, allowing him to reach deeper into you, making your toes curl from pleasure.

“Harry, I’m gonna—I-I’m gonna—Ah!” You can’t make up one coherent sentence as your legs start shaking, feeling your orgasm taking over your body.

“I know, baby. Let it go. Let me make you feel good,” he pants, his lips kissing you everywhere he can reach, your lips smashing against each other in a messy kiss, your tongue meeting his in the middle just when you reach your high.

You moan and cry out his name, fingers digging into his flesh as you chase your release. Seeing you fall apart underneath him is enough to throw him over the edge, spilling himself into the condom as his mouth hangs agape, your name falling off his tongue as if it was the holiest glorification. Combing your fingers through his hair you hold him to your chest as he collapses on top of you, his head lying on your naked chest as you both try to catch your breath in the sudden silence that came over you without the sounds of your passion.

Rolling off of your body he slips out of you, an empty feeling taking over you right away, but he is quick to cradle you into his arms to keep the intimacy. You lay your head to his chest, a thin layer of sweat covering the both of you, but you couldn’t care less. You listen to his steady heartbeat as you draw one of the swallows on his chest with your finger, running it over the lines of the ink. You want to soak in the moment and stay in it for as long as possible, but you can barely keep your eyes open. As Harry’s fingers are gently running up and down your bare back you let your eyes close and the last thing you remember is hearing his soft whisper.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep you safe.”

You wake up without an alarm in the morning and it’s the first time for that in a long-long time. You stir and groan before you open your eyes, your hands reaching out next to you, looking for the man that was next to you when you fell asleep, but there’s nothing and no one beside you now.

Panic rises in your chest as your eyes pop open and you frantically look around in the room, hoping to see him somewhere near, but you’re alone.

“Harry?” you call you as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest since you’re still naked. No answer comes and you can feel your heart rate rising instantly.

Getting out of bed you grab the nearest clothing item you find which is an old hoodie, and you put on a pair of clean panties before you carefully walk out of the bedroom, afraid of what you might find outside, but it’s completely silent and still, no one is around. Harry has left.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, feeling the lump in your throat growing as tears are forming in your eyes.

Where did he go? Why did he leave? Is he coming back? Is he gone forever?

You can’t stop yourself from going into depth you shouldn’t, just because you don’t find him first thing in the morning, but you still haven’t entirely recovered from last night’s events and before you could stop yourself, you are thinking about the worst possibilities there could be.

And then you hear the lock turning in the front door.

Blood rushes out of your head as you freeze, afraid it’s another attacker and this time you won’t be as lucky as you were last night. But as the door opens Harry walks in with a paper bag in his arm and you can’t help, but start sobbing at the sight of him.

“Harry!” you cry out, launching at him and he barely have time to put the bag down before he catches you, locking you in his strong arms.

“Hey! No need to worry, it’s just me!” he soothes softly, his hands running up and down your back and head. “I’m sorry I scared you, just wanted to get you something to eat, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head as you try your best to hold back your sobs.

“I just woke up alone and I thought…”

“I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have left while you were sleeping. But I’m back and I’m alright.”

You just nod, hugging him a little longer before you loosen your hold around him to lean back and look him in the eyes.

“So… you’re staying? With me?”

“If you want me to, yes,” he nods with a soft smile as he cups your tear-soaked face in his hands. “I’ll keep you safe and sound and I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

“Just be yourself and… be with me,” you shyly ask him and he nods, his smile growing into a wide grin before he leans down and captures your lips in a sweet, intoxicating kiss.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[pseudofaux]

Howdy gorgeous 🥺

I was wondering if you could do a thigh riding or c*ck warming with Lucien? Totally fine if you can't, I understand <3

Hey, pretty! 🥰😚 OHOHOHOHOOOO, YES!

I went with warming because he just! needs some warmth!!!

(Requests are open until May 1, dear reader, if you’d like to make one!)

It had been a very long day, so long it was hard to believe the clock which insisted it was midafternoon and no later. He had endured the worst kind of morning: meetings with useless faculty and undertrained assistants, followed by a lunch so unappetizing that when he entered the hall for his midday lecture his stomach audibly rumbled. He kept further betrayals of his condition at bay by pure force of will and sips of water, and planned to eat a protein bar when he was back in his office.

But there had been no more bars in his desk drawer. Damnation. It was only her unscheduled arrival with a boxed sandwich and a little container of fruit that saved him (and his assistants, from his temper). “I was just thinking of you, and wanted to make sure you were eating,” she said. And she sat herself down at the other side of his desk and primly ate a snack of her own while she looked over a file folder, then her tablet. He marveled at her the whole time.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly when he is done eating. “You are an angel.”

“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” she says, gentle as she always is when she must say something unpleasant. It is adorable, and the sandwich is already restoring him. Just being near her sets an undeniable buzz into the lowest layer of his skin.

“Not my best,” he confesses. “But your coming here has improved it considerably.” He enjoys the way she tucks her head down, pleased and shy about it.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Oh, what a question. She’s looking at him with those brave, clear eyes now, so wide and trusting, and he is not sure he has it in him to resist. It’s been a difficult day. He’s already locked his office door, unwilling to have his time with her interrupted by anything he can’t ignore so easily as a knock. The only person he wants to let in is already here.

He makes a show of glancing at her eyes, then back down, as though he is ashamed of what he wants to say. She takes the bait with all her usual kindness. “What, what is it? What can I do?”

“Would you... no, we don’t have time. When do you need to get back to your office? Thank you very much for coming,” he says, standing. She is already standing, too, her fine little eyebrows drawn down. She is the picture of consternation and it is very hard not to laugh. So very, very dear to him, she is.

She steps so quickly around his desk he is not sure her feet touch the carpet. “Don’t be like that,” she demands. “Tell me! I love you.”

He’ll never understand but forever appreciate her free use of that phrase. It softens him and the way he melts for her is real. Planned, but real.

“I was thinking,” he is careful to confess and make it sound like a confession, “That it would be nice to do the rest of my work with you sitting in my lap.” He holds out his hands to say There, that’s it, that’s all.

She looks a bit surprised but she smiles and takes another step closer. “I can do that,” she tells him. “I brought my tablet to work on. I just need to make notes on some scripts. So long as I won’t be in your way...” She looks both ways as though someone is going to overhear and he has to bite his tongue, safely hidden by the placidity of his smile, to keep his joy at her stupid, adorable nature from being found out, “I can stay until it’s time to go home,” she finishes.

“And what do you want to do at home?” he asks, pleasantly enough but looking at her so directly she goes still, then squirms.

“Just the usual stuff,” she says softly. He loves to make her droop but can’t stand to watch it for long, so perhaps it’s only a second or two that he lets her stand there before he takes his own step toward her and pulls her into his arms.

“The usual stuff is very nice,” he assures her. His voice is a purr, and she squirms for a different reason, and his body is already responding. He could have made her a script of how this would go, but he doesn’t mind. He wonders if she would make any notes on it. Camera should face south to avoid window glare. Make sure he doesn’t say that like a bastard.

He walks backwards to his chair and pulls her with him, but sits down by himself and holds out a hand. She puts her hand in it and he can’t quite hold back his laugh, but he tries to smother it kissing the back of her hand. “Panties, please,” he says when knows he can talk without laughing.

“Oh! Umm. That kind of sitting in your lap. Yes!” She yanks her hand back and gracefully bends forward, so close he can feel the heat of her face on his knee. It feels like kingship. He catches her you should have just said under her breath and has to bite his tongue again, this time behind a less placid smile.

The fabric she hands him is palest lilac with white eyelet lace. He takes a deep, appreciative sniff and uses them to muffle his groan before he tucks the little piece into his shirt pocket and then unbuckles, then unzips. He doesn’t press her to watch as he extricates himself because he knows she is watching, knows the exact expression of interest on her face. She loves to watch, she’s a curious being. He likes that about her.

It’s quick work for him to be hard enough for what he wants. He takes her hand this time, to apologize for being a little mean earlier, and gently guides her to turn around. “Hold your skirt, my dear,” he tells her kindly, and when she does he tries to be just as kind when he picks her up by the waist and brings her to his lap.

He has excellent spatial awareness. He knows just where to put her, and he worked himself until there was a generous bead of precum on his tip. He did not plan for her to be so wet but is not shocked, only delighted. “You could have just said,” he whispers thickly as he pulls her down onto him. The glide is exquisite, her snug warmth unparalleled. She is perfect.

Her tiny squeak is perfect, too. He likes to imagine he pushed air out of her hidden spaces and it escaped through her mouth. That’s not how bodies work, but she’s very, very special.

He flexes himself inside her as she settles her skirt, then rolls the chair back to his desk and savors her breathing as he leans forward to retrieve her tablet and stylus so he can hand them to her. “Here you are,” he says, full of warmth even though she is the one who is full.

Her hands shake but she takes the tools, and works. He does, too, his desk is still littered with files and research documents he needs to annotate. Her fit around him is so warm it is comforting even as it is arousing, and he stays hard in her for the few hours they work in his office without even needing to move in her or tease her. He actually has a very productive afternoon, and from his glimpses at her work he is proud to see she is working, too.

(The devil is in him, though, so he gives her a fifteen minute warning when he is nearly done with his papers and when the clock strikes five he presses her onto his desk, goes to his feet without letting her off his lap, and then fucks into her magnificent warmth until she shudders, careful to be silent all along.)

[47-shades-of-hitman]

Seven days of Valentine with Agent 47 | Day 5 | NSFW

Day 5 - “Cream-pie” for dessert | NSFW

Even though Agent 47 is an excellent cook, you'd much rather have him for dinner.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral (male and female giving/receiving)

Link to my Hitman-related Discord server

Your legs dangled off the edge of the countertop, occasionally kicking the drawers underneath. Not that it mattered, because your socked feet would do no damage to the hardwood of the kitchen.

Agent 47 stood stirring in a pan of spinach, but the scent of well-seasoned salmon was what made you linger here whilst he prepared dinner – well, that, and the hitman’s presence.

He remained in his crisp white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons undone, crimson tie loosened. The veins running across his forearms made you want you trace your fingers over them, but you didn’t want to disturb him.

The scene in front of you was utterly domestic – a checked tea-towel thrown over his shoulder, a thin sheen of sweat visible on his brow in the heat of the stove, his bare feet on the kitchen floor. It was a sight you could get used to, but his occupation made you unable to settle in the way you wanted.

You let your foot graze against his hip, and as he looked up at you, you smiled softly at him.

“Thank you.” you whispered. “For taking care of me.”

“Of course.” 47 replied, wrapping his fingers around your ankle, caressing your skin as he flipped the salmon with his free hand. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Your heart swelled at the nickname like it always did when it slipped velvety smooth off his tongue. That, combined with the current setting, made your stomach flutter with something else than just love.

Oh, how you wanted to run your fingers over that exposed sliver of his pale chest and run them all the way down to his abdomen, where his hard muscles came down to that beautiful and soft V-shaped curve, right above his—

“(Y/n)?” You snapped out of your impure thoughts. “Hm?” “I’m almost done. Could you lay the table, please?”

Your eyes locked with his and you slightly tilted your head. “What’s for dessert?” As much as you loved 47’s cooking, since he was excellent at it, you preferred to taste him above all.

“Well,” 47 began, “I have brought those chocolates you like, and we also have some soft serve with whipped cream and—”

“Can’t we just start with the dessert?” you purred suggestively, reaching over to caress his arm. His blue eyes flickered to it, his muscles slightly flexing at your touch but soon relaxing as he realised what you were doing.

“What did you have in mind? This will all get cold if we—” “Can you just shut up and kiss me?”

You hooked your leg around his hip, pulling him towards you. His hands came to rest on either side of your thighs and you leaned in, connecting your mouth to his. 47 hummed into it, pulling back after a few seconds in order to turn off the stove.

He was soon kissing you again, though, softly sucking at your bottom lip. You took his face in your hands and deepened the kiss, tongue sliding over his without much effort.

Agent 47 took your hips and pulled you to the very edge of the countertop, fingers undoing the button of your pants before sliding it down your legs. You smiled at the action and at the practised ease he displayed while doing so before positioning himself between your legs again, so he could press his face into your neck and leave a few marks-turning-bruises.

His fingers came to rest at your jaw, tilting up your head so he could suck at your throat, tongue and teeth gentle and hot against your skin, travelling down to the top of your shirt. Without a word, you lifted your arms so he could take it off of you. Deft fingers unclasped your bra and immediately teased at your hardened nipples after disposing of it.

You sighed, popping a few buttons of his shirt as he brought his lips to rest at the nape of your neck, brushing down to suckle at the sensitive buds in the centre of your breasts. His mouth remained there whilst he opened his belt, ridding himself of the restraining fabric of his slacks.

The outlines of his erection were pressing against the cotton of his briefs and you soon fondled it, finding it steadily swelling against your palm. He pulled back from your breast and once again opted for your lips, rolling his tongue against yours deliciously.

For a moment, he reluctantly tore himself away from your mouth to focus his gaze on your heated flesh – he pried aside your panties to reveal the soaked folds of your flower, fingers parting them to find your swollen clit and tease it – albeit shortly. You softly moaned, legs jerking at the feeling of his thumb brushing at your clitoris, toes curling already.

“47…” you whimpered. “Fuck me…” “All in due time, sweetheart.” He slid your underwear off your legs and inspected your wet pussy for a second before retreating to the fridge. “Hey, where are you going?” you breathed, afraid that he was having second thoughts about this little adventure.

From the fridge, he took the bowl of whipped cream he had prepared earlier, soon returning to your side. He leaned closer to your ear, ghosting his lips over the shell whilst you rested your hands on his biceps.

“I’m in the mood for some… Cream-pie.” You shuddered at the huskiness of his voice, gripping at his arms as he licked a wet stripe from under your ear to your throat, and then, he crouched down between your legs, hot breath fanning over your drenched sex. With his finger, he took a dollop of cream and smeared it over your pussy lips without a warning.

You shivered, one hand grabbing at your own breast whilst the other gripped at the edge of the counter. “Fuck, 47…” He kissed the insides of your thighs, searing breath wafting against where you needed him most.

You didn’t need to complain for long – soon, his mouth latched onto your cunt, tongue slithering in between your labia to taste from your nectar. You moaned loudly, immediately arching your back and pressing yourself tighter against is mouth. “47…!” you mewled, “Fuck!”

He hummed against your core, tonguing at your clit for a moment. You cradled one hand behind his head, pushing him impossibly closer. His chin was slick with your juices as were his lips, eating away at you. He kissed at your folds before wrapping his lips around your sensitive clitoris, suddenly sucking it flat against his tongue.

Your stomach twisted pleasantly and you gasped his name, pleasure pulsating through you with every movement of his mouth on you. Biting your bottom lip, you whimpered, grinding against his face. He had only barely started, but you were close – undeniably close…

“Forty—” you moaned, unable to murmur his name. “Gonna cum…” you managed to gasp under the heat of his tongue on your cunt, slipping into your depths, tasting you even deeper. His thumb brushed at your clit and you gripped the edges of the counter, digging your nails inside the wood as he pushed you closer to that edge with every passing second.

“Gah!” A cry of dismay left your lips when his heat was suddenly gone before he allowed you to climax, yet he soon positioned himself between your legs again, pressing his mouth firmly to yours. You could taste a mixture of yourself and whipped cream on his tongue, the sweetness only adding to how naughty the flavour already was.

47 shimmied off his briefs and rested his cock on the expanse of your pussy, rubbing it up and down across it to lube himself up and tease you in the process. “Fuck…” you sighed, gripping at his forearms as he guided his tip into you, sliding deeper until he was fully hilted inside of you, filling you up nicely.

Agent 47 gripped at your thigh, his other hand coming to rest in your neck, thumb pressing under your chin to make you look up at him. His piercing eyes locked with yours as he began to thrust, soon increasing the pace for he knew from the clench of your walls around him that you needed him – desperately so.

You could only choke out a few moans and something sounding like his name as he stared at you, pools of blue drilling into your soul as the soft pap-pap-pap of his body colliding with yours echoed through your skull.

His breathing hitched at the feel of your tightness, his speed quickening out of instinct. 47 could not look away from your blushing face, captivated by how delicious your expression was, how your lips parted and brows knitted together in a deep frown, a tell-tale sign of your orgasm nearing.

“47…” you forced out, “You’re gonna make… Me…” You could barely find your words, but he told you that he understood by pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, tongue parting your lips right away.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled him closer, snogging him deeply, and there it was. Your toes curled and you tensed, momentarily paralyzed in the moment, but electricity pulsated through you and the flicking of his fingers on your clit were no help either. With a soft cry, you orgasmed, fingers tingling as they caressed the tattoo on the back of his head, wholly familiar with its outline.

He drove his hips into you a few more times until he was sure that your high had subdued, and as soon as he removed himself from your satisfied depths, you slipped onto your knees, bringing the bowl of whipped cream that had been standing next to you along.

With one of your fingers, you took a large dollop of cream and spread it on the weeping tip of his cock, smearing it all the way to the base.

Agent 47 laced one hand in your hair as you brought your mouth to his length, your hot breath hitting his skin pleasantly. Even though he was big, you were quite experienced and it wasn’t he first time you took him in. It didn’t take long for you to establish a steady bobbing of your head, messily sucking at the whipped cream in the process.

He gritted his teeth and sighed your name, keeping himself from throwing back his head in pleasure, because you were way too beautiful to not cherish the sight. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, humming around his cock to send vibrations up his spine.

Pleasure jolted through his spine and his hand in your hair convulsed, and he muttered something akin a warning – you pulled back immediately and he leaned down to drag you back onto the counter. Right in time, because he bottomed out in one swift movement as soon as you felt the surface against your ass again, spilling himself deeply inside of you.

47 pounded into you a few more times, his spend running down your thighs whilst he pulled out, causing him to sigh softly.

“I love you, 47.” you breathed, pulling him down for a kiss. It was sweet and short, but still hot, especially combined with his seed cooling on your thighs.

“And I, you, (Y/n).” was his reply, his hand cradling your face. For a moment, he rubbed his length between your pussy lips again, spreading whatever was left around there. “A cream-pie for dessert, hm?”

You bit your lip, smiling sweetly. “Oh, 47…” you mused, pulling him closer against you, “It’s too bad that I can’t eat it myself… Why not help me do it?”

His answer was non-verbal and consisted out of his fingers plunging deeply into you, determined to give you what you wanted.

By the time this was going be over, your original dinner would be long cold.

[tothemeadow]

Serendipity [Chapter 2]

Chapter 1

When the kingdom of Ainamoryp falls, a motley crew of unlikely allies must come together to save the country.

warnings: swearing, mentions of death

words: 3.5k

(a/n): All characters range from 19-20. Reader insert, reverse harem.

-

Chanswell Forest, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 18:30

Off in the distance, the sun begins its descent, bathing the sky in splashes of oranges and pinks. It’s somewhat hard to pinpoint through the thick canopy of the forest, but the last sunrays of the day still poke through the trees. The ivory steed Shouto rides upon walks at a comfortable speed; poor thing had spent most of the day galloping past farmlands and numerous villages, all in hopes of taking the prince to safety.

There’s a watchpoint south of here, hidden away in the woods. Get there, seek for help. The soldiers there will lead you to safety.

That’s what the one palace guard had told Shouto right before he took off. Chances are the guard is long dead by now, much like the rest of Endeavor and the royal court of Dinton Keep. A bitter taste lingers on his tongue, paired with a dull ache pounding at his temples. Bastards, the whole lot of them! If only he stayed, he could’ve saved more lives. It’s his duty to protect the people of his land, to ward off any potential dangers, no matter how big or small. Better yet, he has no idea why the northern land of Nialliv invaded in the first place. As far as he knew, the political relations between the two nations were perfectly fine. While they weren’t the best of friends, they weren’t enemies, either.

“Dammit all to hell,” Shouto seethes under his breath. Whatever the cause of the invasion may be, he had to figure it out – and fast.

As the sun continues to set, the forest darkens evermore. Like his father, Shouto was born with excelled magical abilities, unlike most of the mortals in the land. It was a miracle that both his mother and father passed on their traits, granting him the power of fire and ice. They serve him well, make him quite the formidable opponent when it comes to battle. He creates a flame in his left hand, casting a bright glow around him and the horse as they continue their trek through the forest. Judging by the way things are going, he might have to come to a stop and find some sort of shelter for the night. He hadn’t suspected that the watchtower be so far away from Dinton Keep.

Perhaps it’s the work of the gods or a simple miracle when he spots torches in the distance. Drawing closer still, the dimly lit watchtower comes into view, standing tall and proud. Large, weathered stones make up the walls, iron torches bolted into their sides. It’s an impressive tower, to say the least. A lone guard stands out front, swinging back a lambskin flask and chugging down its contents. He sputters as Shouto’s horse comes forth, its greeting whiny loud through the forest’s silence.

“Aye, bloody hell-“ the guard cuts himself short once his eyes land on Shouto’s face. They grow to a comical size, nearly bulging from the sockets as his jaw falls lax. “Your highness!” he croaks. “You… You…”

“Who’s in charge here?” Shouto demands, voice sharp. “I need to speak with them immediately.”

The guard nods dumbly, scrambling over to the horse and taking a hold of its reins as Shouto hops off its back. “Chances are the main chambers,” he blabbers. Now that he’s up close, Shouto can easily smell the alcohol on his breath. “Somebody inside oughta show you the way.”

With a curt nod, Shouto sidesteps the drunken guard and stalks his way inside. Iron candelabras hang from the ceiling, thick white candles steadily burning away and illuminating the hallways. A duo of guards walking in his direction come to a sudden halt upon seeing him. Like the one outside, a look of surprise dawns upon their faces, yet they still fall to a singular knee, head bowed in clear respect.

“Your highness,” the one on the right says, “what a surprise. How may we be of service to you?”

“I need to speak to whoever’s in charge,” Shouto says simply. “I presume they’re in the main chamber?”

The same guard clears his throat. “Sorry to trouble you, your highness, but Sir Rengoku took off earlier this morning – said there was something of extreme importance that he must tend to.”

Muttering under his breath, Shouto presses a hand to the lower half of his face, heaving a great sigh as he drags it downward. “Is there anyone I can speak with?”

“Prince Shouto! What brings you here, your highness?” a new voice calls out.

Turning around, Shouto is met with another man; unlike the other guards, this man’s armor is built different, the iron plates bent into sharper, more intricate shapes. A set of wings are built into the shoulder pieces and the sides of the helmet, giving the suit a mystical appearance. A plume of bright red hangs from the crown of the helmet, swishing around much like one’s ponytail does. No, this isn’t a regular guard – this is a knight of Endeavor.

The knight tugs off his helmet, revealing a friendly face inlaid with dark red eyes and a burst of burgundy hair. A pair of earrings hanging from his lobes swing as he nods his head in greeting. “Allow me to introduce myself, your highness. I am Sir Tanjiro Kamado, a proud knight of Endeavor.”

Odd – why would a knight of such high status be positioned so far way from the capital?

Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, Shouto perceives Tanjiro with a hard look. “We need to have a talk – immediately.”

_______

Dinton Keep's dungeons, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 05:23

At the first few rays of dawn, you begin to stir awake. For a moment, you wonder why you don’t feel the rock of your ship, but then the previous day’s events suddenly hit you. Ah, that’s right, you think, Endeavor got fucked over and I was put into a cell.

Off to the side, there’s slight murmuring. You recall the freckled boy you met yesterday – the healer, Izuku. What, has he resulted to conversing with himself like some sort of madman? Shifting onto your side, you crack your eyes open; immediately, you spot Izuku standing by the window, elbows propped on the sill. Although the light is still somewhat dim, you can spot the dark circles under his eyes, the sharp curve of his frown. Now that you think about it, he didn’t get any sleep last night, did he? You can’t say you blame him, either; he was present when Nialliv attacked and took over the city. Gods know the horrors he witnessed, the terrifying sounds of people screaming and helplessly being slaughtered.

“Did you find out anything?” Izuku whispers.

“No,” an unembodied voice says. It takes you aback – by the mere sound of its rasp, it’s obvious that Izuku isn’t speaking to himself. “Endeavor’s crawling with Nialliv guards, the royal grounds are bloody as hell, but that’s about it. I haven’t really seen any patrols in the surrounding farmlands, but that’s bound to change here directly. We oughta get going now before we miss our damn chance.”

“Izuku?” you drawl, voice heavily riddled with sleep. “What’s going on?”

Turning to you, Izuku flashes you a soft smile. “Good morning, Captain. We didn’t wake you up, did we?”

Shaking your head, you sit up and rub the tiredness away from your eyes. “I usually get up at dawn anyway,” you tell him.

“Oi, who the fuck is that?” that same, unfamiliar voice speaks. “Who are you talking to?”

Izuku throws an irritated look out the window. “Really, Kacchan? Do you really have to say it like that?”

“Answer the damn question, Deku.”

Izuku sighs. “It’s a pir-“ he stops, then, quickly glancing back to you. Clearly, he remembers the little outburst from yesterday and your reaction. Clearly his throat, he tries again. “A friend. She’s the captain of The Pearl Lady.”

“Kacchan” whistles, long and slow. “Gods, Deku, befriending pirates now, eh? Nice to see you finally have a backbone.”

Annoyance twinges your insides. Whoever this Kacchan is, he seems like an asshole. Scrambling onto your feet, you brush the stray pieces of hay off your clothes and stalk over to the window, taking your place next to Izuku. You forgot how tall he was, your head just barely coming up to his chest. Looking through the iron bars of the window, you’re finally met with this mysterious “Kacchan”; the first thing that catches your attention is the mop of wicked blonde hair, then the piercing red eyes training on your face. His expression is stern, nearly tiptoeing to the point of becoming angry, but he’s handsome, undeniably so. A large pair of clawed earrings stick out from either lobe, and numerous strands of beads hand from his thick neck. Whoever this guy is, you’ve never seen anyone dressed like this before.

Kacchan unashamedly scans his eyes over you, an eyebrow quirking up his forehead. “Captain, huh? Sure as hell don’t look like one to me.”

You scoff. “Excuse you, Kacchan. You look like you rolled out of a barn and mount donkeys for fun.”

His eyes narrow into slits. “What did you just say to me? Fucking brat, I’ll kill you!”

“Hey!” Izuku whisper-yells. “Keep it down! We can’t alert anyone!”

“Fine,” Kacchan spits. “I’ll deal with this bitch properly once you’re out.”

Your mouth opens, ready to rip him a new one, but then Izuku promptly yanks you away from the wall, slamming his large hands over your ears as the wall suddenly explodes. It’s not a large explosion, not in the slightest, but it’s enough to create a hole for you and Izuku to crawl out of. However, you’re guaranteed that somebody had to hear it.

Once the dust cleared away, your heart nearly stops beating within your chest. Kacchan didn’t come alone – no, he sits upon a dragon, a brilliant beast a fiery red, its glorious scales practically glowing in the early morning light. You blame your tiredness for not noticing it earlier.

“Well?” Kacchan says, looking unamused. “Are you going to stand there all day and gawk like an idiot or are you gonna get on?”

Immediately, Izuku crawls through the whole; turning around, he holds out a hand for you to take, a determined gleam in his eyes. “Well, Captain? Are you?”

For a moment, you hesitate. Here are these two men – two complete strangers – busting you out of prison, and for what? Normally, you’d tell them both to fuck off, but there’s something about the look in Izuku’s eyes that makes you think differently.

“I think it came from down there!” a distant voice shouts. Shit, it’s one of the guards!

Without another thought, you take Izuku’s hand and crawl through the wall. A gust of wind strikes your face once you’re outside. Glancing down, you notice how your cell was sitting at the edge of a cliff; the sea slaps at the jagged rocks, almost taunting you to take a fall. Your head feels oddly light, vision beginning to swim the longer you stare at the water. Squeezing your eyes tight, you feel Izuku pull you into his chest, the smoothness of the dragon’s scales as you land on its back.

“Alright, let’s blow this joint!” Kacchan exclaims, cackling wildly as the dragon takes off into the sky.

“Wait, wait, wait!” you shout.

The wind blasts your ears as you pick up speed, your clothes and hair flapping wildly. Kacchan only continues to laugh while you throw curse after curse at him, telling him to slow the fuck down before all of you get killed. Izuku’s chest rumbles as he chuckles, his thick arms tightening around your waist to keep you still.

Gods, you’re really flying on a dragon. They were meant to be creatures of legend, be told through tales of old and new. They’re the work of dreams and imagination, not reality. But no, here you are, zipping through the sky with nothing holding you back.

And by the grace of the gods, you want to be let down.

________

The outskirts of Levalon, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 09:03

“I take it that you don’t get to travel very often?” Tanjiro speaks, tone light. Together, he and Shouto ride side by side on their horses; unlike Shouto’s beautiful ivory mare, his is a simple russet brown in color. It’s nothing to brag about, honestly, but his horse is strong.

Shouto hums in response. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid. My father often kept me busy with royal duties and studies. I hadn’t much of a chance to visit the surrounding villages.”

“Well, then hopefully you’re in for a treat!” Tanjiro chirps. “Levalon is nothing like Endeavor, but it’s a sizeable town! I’m positive you’ll like it.”

“You know,” Shouto says, glancing at Tanjiro from the corner of his eye, “you’re pretty optimistic for a knight. It reminds me of a great friend of mine.”

“I’m glad.”

Up ahead, the stone wall surrounding the town of Levalon comes into view. The bray of a donkey echoes as it passes through the archway carved into the wall, the wagon attached to its harness rumbling away over the pebbled path. It’s such a strange sight to see, this level of normality. There’s a group of kids playing tag in the grass, their carefree giggles carrying through the wind. As Shouto and Tanjiro draw even closer, the chattering coming straight from the market streets is already loud and frantic.

“It pains me to know that this town won’t be like this for much longer,” Shouto comments. Tanjiro remains silent; he knows Shouto is right, but it’s a hurtful thing to even think about.

As the two trek into town, they’re met with hustle and bustle of everyday life; people come and go from the market streets, either rough spin sacks over their shoulders or a wicker basket in their arms, children running down the street, a shaggy mutt following close behind, a hidden figure in a cloak snatching an unsuspecting person’s coin purse-

“Wait a second!” Tanjiro calls, hopping off his horse and hitting the ground with a metallic clank. The hooded person spares a single glance Tanjiro’s way before they take off at a breakneck speed in the opposite direction. Again, Tanjiro yells as he gives chase after him. Sighing, Shouto looks to Tanjiro’s horse; it stands where he left it, shaking its mane and looking around. Ah, so it’s devoted to its master – how lovely. Shouto respects the notion no matter the creature.

The horse whinnies as Tanjiro returns, face flushed and eyes wide. “Dammit, that thief is fast. No matter – I know where to find him.” Cocking his head, Shouto peers at the other inquisitively. Tanjiro merely grins, a finger reaching up and tapping the end of his nose. “Would you believe me if I told you that I have a good sense of smell?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it in the slightest,” Shouto replies.

Tanjiro’s smile grows, his eyes crinkling. “Thank you kindly, your highness-“ Immediately, his smile drops as his nose twitches; oddly, it reminds Shouto of a hound when it’s attuned to a kill, to the fresh scent of spilt blood. Tanjiro cranes his neck to the sky, his mouth falling lax. Following his line of sight, Shouto looks up, his own jaw dropping as well.

Amazingly enough, a dragon flies far overhead, its bright red belly twinkling in the morning light. Shouto’s heard tales of dragons ever since he was a young boy still feeding from the wet nurse, of how they conquered great lands, of how saved the lives of their worshippers. While it’s a common tale that dragons allegedly went extinct, it’s perfectly clear that they haven’t.

“By the gods,” Tanjiro mutters, voice full of wonder, “a real live dragon. Do you think it’s heading towards Dovahkiin?”

“There’s only one person I know who’s of Dovah descent,” Shouto grunts. “Why he’s here, I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t part of the attack on Endeavor, was it?”

“No. The fires weren’t caused by such a beast – they were created by monsters.”

Tanjiro hums. “Well… Wouldn’t you want to ask your friend for help? If you’re planning on taking back Dinton Keep-“

“I refuse to ask him for help,” Shouto interrupts, a scowl pulling at the corners of his mouth. “In fact, I’d rather not see him at all.”

________

In the skies, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 09:10

Kacchan sneezes.

“Ugh,” he drawls, shaking his head. “Some idiot’s probably talking about me.”

“There’s not much to talk about,” you say offhandedly. Izuku snorts in amusement, but it quickly turns into a cough to cover it up.

Kacchan jabs a finger in your direction. “If it was up to me, I would’ve thrown you off a long time ago, sweetheart. Don’t press your fucking luck.”

After flying in the air for a few hours, you’ve grown used to the feeling of the dragon’s muscles flexing underneath you, the strong gusts of wind continuously hitting you in the face; however, you refuse to look at the trees and fields dotting the land below. You’ve also grown used to Izuku’s and Kacchan’s presence, although the latter is a bit too sour for your liking.

“Whatever you say, Kacchan,” you bluff. You actually wish that he won’t, but you also refuse to admit that as well.

“For fuck’s sake,” Kacchan hisses, “it’s Katsuki. Only that dumb Deku calls me Kacchan.”

Furrowing your brows, you look over your shoulder at Izuku. “Katsuki? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Laughing awkwardly, Izuku scratches his cheek, an embarrassed flush blooming on his freckled face. “Well, like he said – I’m the really the only one who calls him that, and it’s been that way for years…”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Yeah. So.” Training his vivid eyes on you, he flashes you a sneer. “You’re a pirate, right? How the fuck did that even happen?”

“That’s Captain to you, boom boy. Ever hear of The Pearl Lady? Yeah, that’s mine. And, if you don’t watch your tone, then I’ll happily show you a close up of what a cannon looks like when it’s going off.”

Katsuki laughs, then, a wicked smile curving his lips. “You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that. I like ‘em feisty.”

You scoff. “Damn hog,” you grunt. As much as you’d like to curse him out, he’s similar to Izuku when it comes to size. Katuski is tall – even more so than Izuku, you reckon – and he’s huge, a singular bicep almost the size of your head. He could easily toss you off the side of the dragon if he truly wanted to.

“We should take a rest stop,” Izuku offers. “Plus, we need to figure out a way to get in touch with Shouto-“

An animalistic growl rumbles in Katsuki’s throat at the name; he snarls at Izuku, even lashes his teeth.

“Gods,” you start, eyes going wide, “what the actual fuckis wrong with you?”

“I won’t do anything with that icy piece of shit,” Katsuki snarls. “How do ya even know he’s alive, huh?”

“There wasn’t a body,” Izuku presses, expression going dark. “Besides, I’d think they would’ve bragged more if they killed both the king and prince in one foul swoop.”

The prince? Like the prince of Ainamoryp? Gods, if he truly is missing-

“That’s our only chance, isn’t it,” you say, voice flat. “If Ainamoryp is to stay alive, the prince is needed to take the throne.”

“Yeah,” Izuku tells you, “that’s exactly it.”

You inhale sharply.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Katsuki spits. “I’m not even from this damned country. It’s not business whether it burns to hell or not.” With a shrug, he crosses his thick arms over his chest.

Anger roars in the pit of your belly, climbs up your insides and encases your heart. How dare he say such a thing, especially to yourface? You’ve crossed the seas, visited the lands, but this is your home. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, but you had to do something. Shooting forward, you grab onto the straps of Katsuki’s cape, snarling as you lean in close.

“Born here or not, you don’t get to say anything, you bastard. Lives were taken for no damn reason, and I wasn’t even able to walk around my own hometown without being thrown into a cell. If you hate Ainamoryp so much, kindly drop me the fuck off and get bent.”

Katsuki’s eyes are large as you push away from him, settling back in your spot before Izuku. Surprisingly, neither say a word; instead, Katsuki turns around, shuffles up the dragon’s neck, and takes the reins in hand. With a simple yank, the dragon is making a sharp turn, heading back towards the town you previously flew over.

“If you want to find that stupid prince,” Katsuki shoots over his shoulder, “Levalon’s the best chance you got.”

======

Time for the first choice in this "pick your own adventure" piece! Will you stay behind with Katsuki or go into Levalon with Izuku? Voting closes on June 6, 2021.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: The Proposal (Keanu x Reader)

Summary: Follow up for Always the Quiet Ones. After a month away, Mr. Reeves is back and he has a proposal for you. Part 1 - Always the Quiet Ones | Part 3 - Dark Paradise| Part 4 - Without You

Author’s Notes: I just got attacked by a plot bunny and this happened. I will continue to visit this universe because I totally love the possibilities here. If you have ideas or suggestions, my ask box are always open. And as always, feedback is appreciated.

Wordcount: 5985

Warnings: Smut (dirt talk; bad language; d/s vibes; unprotected sex)

Your shift had wrapped up a few minutes ago and after hours on your feet, you were taking a few moments to rest before heading home. Trying to avoid rush hour and a packed train, you were hanging out in the breakroom with Sean, one of the bellboys.

The breakroom was the place of rest for all the employees, from the secretaries in the administrative offices, to the front desk girls, the housekeepers and bellboys. It used to be a dark, depressing place when you first started 3 years ago, with concrete walls and poor lighting, but everyone pitched in to turn it into a comfortable room.

Now with painted walls, nice couch, and armchairs; a dining table and even an old expresso machine the restaurant threw out and one of the guys from the laundry room fixed, it felt like your second home. How sad was that?

You moved to town for college with big hopes and dreams to become a lawyer and help out your family, but to make those come true you had to face long work hours at the hotel, fitted between your classes. Whatever free time you had was spent studying and finishing college assignments.

You didn’t even know what a social life looked like at this point, but that was ok. You were almost done with college and if you kept your grades up – which you have been doing – you had great potential to get an internship at Pearson & Hardman and then your life would change, you just knew it.

“Earth to Y/N,” Sean called, making your attention snap back at him. “Did you hear a word I’ve said?”

You hadn’t, lost in your own thoughts. He had been telling you about his quarterback days before he blew his knee and had to give up a career in sports and take this job to help his family. Sean liked to reminiscence his glory days and you didn’t mind listening, but sometimes you didn’t really pay attention.

Not like some of the others. They would hang to every word. Mostly because Sean was handsome and funny, and everyone seemed to have a crush on him. However, according to Maggie, he only had eyes for you.

If you had known about that a month ago, you would be more excited by the prospect. You liked Sean. He was a great guy. Always took the time to walk you to the train station whenever you finished your shift late, like a perfect gentleman. Definitely boyfriend material.

He wasn’t, however, the one that filled your dreams; made you wake up gasping and wet, in desperate need for release. He wasn’t the name you hoped to see crossing your cellphone screen every time your phone rang or the face you searched in the lobby whenever you walked in for work.

“Sorry, I didn’t.” Your smile was sheepish and apologetic.

“That’s ok. I think I’ve told this one before,” he said with a shrug, his blonde hair falling over his eyes. “So, I was thinking, since we’ve both done for the day, maybe we could…”

He trailed off when Maggie walked in, her blue eyes wide and excited as she looked your way, small hands compulsively straightening her receptionist uniform.

“A guest just requested housekeeping in his suite,” she announced, her eyes darting at Sean, before looking back at you as if trying to convey some secret message that went over your head. “He asked for you specifically.”

“So? She clocked out,” Sean was the one to reply. “Send someone else.”

“I can’t.” Maggie’s eyes seemed to plead with you, but you could only stare at her in confusion. “He’s in the presidential suite.”  

“Mags, she’s not going,” Sean insisted, his voice turning annoyed. “Doesn’t matter how VIP this guy is.”

“It’s Mr. Reeves!” Maggie blurted out, panicked and you couldn’t contain your small but sharp intake of breath. She was the only one who knew. No wonder she was so nervous.

“Again…” Sean began. “She’s not…”

“No, I’ll do it,” you cut him off, getting to your feet. “I know he’s very… particular about his bedsheets.”

It was a weak excuse, you knew, but you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to see him again. Even if you didn’t hear from him for a month. Even if you didn’t even know if he wanted to see you too. For all, you knew he really just wanted you to change his sheets.

Heart hammering in your chest, you made your way to the top floor where the presidential suite was. Your feet were heavy like lead; anticipation and dread mixed in your belly as you approached his door, holding the vacuum-sealed package with the new set of bedsheets. You rasped your knuckles on the polished wood, announcing yourself.

It wasn’t Mr. Reeves that opened the door, but a gorgeous redhead, tall and with a model’s body, her makeup and hair perfect and part of you wanted to reach over to check your hair, which had been in a ponytail the entire day.

She stepped aside so you could walk in and at first glance, you saw no sight of Mr. Reeves and wondered if maybe Maggie got it wrong, but when you walked into the bedroom, you could see his broad back fitted in a perfectly tailored grey suit as he spoke on the phone at the balcony.

“Considering how expensive this place is, you’d think they would keep their sheets clean,” the woman spoke, shaking you from your staring and bringing you back to work.

You quickly stripped the bed from the old sheets which were in perfect condition and started the slow task of redressing the bed under the watchful gaze of the woman and you fought the urge to squirm.

Who was she? A girlfriend? Wife? Lover? You had researched extensively about Mr. Reeves and for all accounts, he was single and one of the most eligible bachelors out there. Maybe it was so new the gossip sites didn’t get word of it yet.

You knew the second Mr. Reeves walked back into the room because the scent of his aftershave preceded him, and the piercing gaze of the redhead moved away from you.

“Keanu, darling, should we head for dinner? I heard they have an excellent duck here,” she said, her tone so pretentious it grated on your nerves.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Cheryl, but I’m exhausted. I’ll just gonna order room service and catch some sleep. It was a long flight.”

And how was it possible that just the sound of his voice was enough to send a thrill of arousal through you? Your entire body was suddenly tense with expectation, waiting for the undeniable pleasure his voice promised.

“Of course,” Cheryl said, sounding disappointed. “See you tomorrow then, handsome.”

You glanced over in time to see her lean for a kiss. Mr. Reeves turned his head just in time and her lips landed on his cheek instead. Cheryl looked upset but had no time to protest because he closed the door in her face. You let out a small snort, attracting Mr. Reeves’ attention.

“You didn’t actually have to change the sheets,” he said, walking closer to you, one hand loosening his tie. “It was just an excuse.”

You stood there, holding one of the pillows halfway into the new pillowcase, watching him. You thought he looked like sin in jeans and a t-shirt, but in a suit like this, he was just perfect. It was dark grey, the shirt a shade lighter, the tie black. His hair was combed back, a bit longer than the last time you saw it, and his beard trimmed and neat.

“You like whiskey?” he asked on his way to the bar, shrugging off his blazer and throwing carelessly on the couch.

“Not really,” you replied, leaving the pillow on the bed and walking into the sitting room. He had already measured the amber drink in two glasses, offering one to you.

“You’ll like this one,” Mr. Reeves said with a smile and you took the glass because you didn’t really know what else to do. “Maggie in the reception said you were off duty.”

“I clocked out half-hour ago,” you said, sipping the drink and wincing as it burned down your throat. It tasted like oak flavored cough medicine, so you set the glass aside under his amused gaze.

“Good. You can have dinner with me,” Mr. Reeves announced, taking a seat at one of the armchairs and you fought the urge to glance down his lap, at the prominent bulge you knew it was there.

“Won’t your girlfriend mind?”

“Cheryl? She’s a business partner, nothing more,” he said, sipping his drink.

“Does she know that?” the words slipped from your lips before you could contain yourself and Mr. Reeves snorted, his eyes crinkling with amusement and your heart leaped at the sight.

“Is that jealousy I’m hearing, sweetheart?” he asked, offering you a hand.

Your rational side was telling you to stay away. That he was just using you. The stupid, hopeless side of you took his hand, letting him guide you onto his lap and cup your cheek. His rough thumb traced your lips and you parted them, allowing Mr. Reeves to push it inside. You even swirled your tongue around it, sucking slightly and his gaze darkened, his erection pressing against his zipper and your center.

“I’ve been thinking about this the whole day,” he said, his voice lower, throatier. His hand coming up to your back, finding the zipper of your uniform. That was what gave you pause, made you let go of his thumb and get up from his lap. “Something’s wrong?”

“I’m a housekeeper, Mr. Reeves,” you declared, voice surprisingly strong considering your nerves were wrecked. “Not a…”

“I never said you were,” he interrupted, a confused frown marring his handsome features and you snorted, arms crossed over your chest.

“No, you just fucked me senseless, then disappeared for a month and came back like nothing happened, ready to fuck me again.”

There was a biting tone to your words, you knew, but it was warranted. You had your pride at the very least and no matter how amazing the sex had been and how you hadn’t been able to push him out of your mind, you weren’t just getting back in his bed without knowing what this was.

“You’re right.” His words startled you a little. You were expecting him to argue or even kick you out. You didn’t expect him to agree with you. “I should’ve called. I just get into my head when I’m working a deal and…” Mr. Reeves looked up at you, his brown eyes big and soft, like a chided boy. “I know that’s a crappy excuse, but it’s the only one I have.”

He patted the couch next to his chair and after a moment of hesitation, you took a seat begrudgingly.

“I should’ve made myself clear last time. I apologize for that,” Mr. Reeves said. “The truth is, I’ve been watching you for a while.” You raised your eyebrows at his words, and he grimaced. “That sounded weird, I’m sorry. What I mean is, I’ve noticed you. Before last time.”

“I know.” You noticed him too. Several times since he started staying in the hotel. Whenever you two were in the same room together and you glanced his way, he seemed to be watching you, but it was only last month that you actually talked to him. “Why?”

“You really don’t know?” he asked with an amused smile, eyes traveling over you. “It’s not just a physical thing. I can tell you’re smart, hardworking, kind and attentive… I like you.” Mr. Reeves declared, his gaze piercing. “And when I see something I like, I take it.”

“I’m not a thing,” you pointed out, lips pressed together in displeasure. He had sounded so nice at first.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he amended. “I just want you, but I don’t really have time for relationships, so I hope we can reach an agreement.”

“An agreement?” you repeated in confusion.

Mr. Reeves stood up and moved to the table where a briefcase rested. He took out a manilla folder and hand it to you, giving you an encouraging nod until you opened it. You gasped as your entire life was displayed in front of you on paper.

The fact that your dad left when you were ten, abandoning you, your mom and your younger brother. How your mom had to take a loan so she could pay off your father’s debts, leaving your family and a horrible financial situation. Your own student loans and other financial issues; a copy of your paycheck and a bank statement that showed you only had a hundred dollars in your account. All the complaints you filed with your housing counselor about how loud your roommate was.  

“Wha… ho…?” you couldn’t form words, too shocked to speak.

“I can make all those problems go away,” Mr. Reeves said, taking his seat again. “I can get you a proper apartment, all expenses paid and even an allowance if you want to quit this job to focus on your studies or get an internship in a law firm. I can even get you some referrals, but with your GPA, I don’t think you’ll need them.”

“Why?” It was all you could manage, your mind a turmoil of thoughts.

“I told you,” he started, swallowing his whiskey, one hand resting on your knee. “I take what I want, and I want you. I tried fucking other people to feel the same thing I did with you, but I was right. You might have ruined for others, sweetheart.”

Mr. Reeves cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek, but his touch which before seemed so inviting, made you pull back, stand up and pace.

“And what would be expected of me? If I accept this?” You asked, words coming out a lot more bitter than you intended.

“Your company and exclusivity,” he replied easily. “You’ll have the same from me, of course.”

“And when you say my company, you mean…”

“Your company,” Mr. Reeves interrupted, sounding a little impatient. “If I wanted a hooker, I’d pay for one. I just…” he let out a long sigh. “The time I spent with you? It was the first time I had fun in a good while. It wasn’t just the sex, it was everything. I want that on a regular basis. Especially since I’ll be coming over more often with the new brand of Arch about to open here.”

“I had fun too,” you admitted. “You don’t have to… you could just take me out for dinner and date me.”

“I want to take care of you,” Mr. Reeves said, tone soft as he stood up, coming to stand in front of you. Once again cupping your jaw, but this you let him. “Is that so bad?”

“I guess not,” you breathed out shakily as he guided you closer for a kiss.

“So, you’ll do it?” he asked, inches away from your lips. Close enough that you could smell the whiskey in his breath.

“Can I think about it?” you asked, and he nodded, his eyes searching for your consent. You nodded too and Mr. Reeves finally kissed you; chasing away all thoughts of the proposal he just made you.

---

You’ve been staring at your computer for the last twenty minutes. You were supposed to start an essay, but you were thinking about Mr. Reeves and his proposal instead, wondering what to do.

Your first impulse was to say no. Pride and indignation rearing their heads. You were broke, but you had some self-respect. You weren’t interested in selling yourself like that. Be his… kept woman?

Then again, it would be nice if your mom didn’t have to worry about the loan anymore. She could start saving money for your brother. A college fund so Jason won’t have to struggle like you.

It would also be nice not to have your own student loans any longer. To know that once you graduate you won’t have to slave yourself to pay back every cent. And having a place for yourself? Not having to share with a loud, insufferable bitch like your roommate or deal with the hallway parties and neighbors being noisy…

There was this apartment building close to campus, two bedrooms, one bath that you always daydreamed about whenever you walked by. In your mental picture, you’d turn one of the rooms into an office, with ceiling to floor shelves and a window bench, because you’ve always wanted one. A pullout couch so your mom and Jason could come to visit you and a fully equipped kitchen because your mom loved to cook…

Were you really considering this? Committing to a man you knew barely so you could have nice things? You were really that desperate? Well, no, but who didn’t want comfort? Who didn’t deserve to go to bed every night and not worry about money? About the roof over their heads? Over their families’ heads? And if you played your cards right, you could make sure to get everything you wanted and needed out of this arrangement.

Getting to your feet, you grabbed a few reference books and everything else you needed to know to make a viable contract and sat back in front of your computer, ready to work. After three hours, you stepped out of the library, laptop on your backpack and a copy of the contract you drafted inside a manilla envelop as you headed for the hotel.

It was your day off and you weren’t really planning on going anywhere near your place of employment, but if you were going to do this, you wanted to talk to Mr. Reeves as soon as possible.

You made a beeline for the reception desk where Maggie was talking to a guest. Her expression shifted into confusion when she saw you there, but realization quickly drew on it as well as an excited smile. She thought you and Mr. Reeves made a cute couple and said the whole thing sounded like a fairytale. She was so naïve it hurt.

“Is...” you trailed off, giving her a meaningful look, ignoring the curious look the other receptionist gave you.

“Yeah. I’ll make sure they know you’re on your way up.” Maggie winked at you, already grabbing the phone as you moved towards the elevators, your heart once again hammering against your chest, your palms sweaty.

The sound of your name as you waited for the elevator made you jolt, turning around to look at Sean coming over to you with a confused smile.

“I thought it was your day off,” he said.

“It is. I just…” you looked down at your hands, at the envelope and back at him. “Have some business to take care of.”

Right then, the elevator’s door parted, revealing Mr. Reeves in workout clothes, towel hanging from his shoulder, water bottle in one hand. His eyes landed at you, his lips pulling into a smile as he rested his free hand on doors to keep them open.

“Is that for me?” he asked, gaze dropping to the envelope before meeting your eyes again. You swallowed the lump of anxiety in your throat and nodded. “Well, let’s go then.”

You glanced back at Sean, at the understanding in his eyes, that quickly shifted into disappointment as he gave you a quick nod and walked away, leaving you to follow Mr. Reeves into the elevator.

As the doors slid closed, you could feel your entire body trembling with nervousness; you could barely draw breath like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the cart and you were painfully aware of Mr. Reeves' presence behind you.

He led the way to his suite, holding the door open as you stepped inside first.

“May I have some whiskey?” you asked as soon as the door was closed.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” he pointed out, setting his things aside as he made the way to the bar and poured you the drink.

“I don’t. I just need something to…” you paused, thinking about how to phrase it. Settle your nerves? Give you some courage?

He set the drink aside and walked towards you, helping you to shrug off your backpack and coat, setting it on the table along with the contract, before he turned back to you, his presence strong and strangely reassuring as he looked into your eyes.

“Whatever you decide, I will not judge you,” Mr. Reeves declared, resting his forehead against yours.

“But you won’t have me either?” you asked, hand coming up to his jaw, running over his beard.

“When you’re the owner of a multimillion company, people can try to take advantage of you,” he sighed. “I don’t mean you, just to be clear. This way, I get to take care of you and get what I need out of this, without risking my company.” He kissed your forehead and each eyelid, and you sighed too, your body instinctively relaxing in his embrace. “Tell me your terms.”

“I brought a contract,” you whispered, arching your neck to give him room to work as his lips moved down, kissing first your cheeks, then your chin and finally the hollow of your throat.

“I hate reading contracts,” he mumbled against your skin, his warm breath tickling you. “Just tell me.”

“Ok.” You struggled to focus and think back at the document you spent most of your afternoon working on. “The apartment. I want to pick it and when this is over…”

“If,” Mr. Reeves corrected, one eyebrow arched at you. “I don’t want us to start anything already thinking about the end.”

“If this is over,” you reworded with a nod. “I get to keep it. I want it in my name.” he only hummed in response, his fingers making quick work of the buttons of your shirt, pushing it down your arms. “And to ensure your investment, I’ll stay for at least a year, but after that, I can call it quits whenever I like.”

“No,” Mr. Reeves said, pulling back.

“No?”

“No,” he repeated, looking at you. “I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. You break things off at any moment. No need for that one-year clause.”

“And what makes you so sure I won’t just wait until you give me the apartment and end things?”

“I guess I’ll just have to trust you,” Mr. Reeves declared with a lopsided smirk, before catching one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking lightly through the fabric of your bra, making you gasp and grab his hair. “and in my ability to keep you entertained.”

You nodded, your head suddenly foggy and sluggish, too focused on the bolts of pleasure running through you to actually remember what you were doing.

“Sweetheart?” he called, looking up at you with that same smirk. “Your terms?”

“Right!” you shook your head, trying to clear it as you took a step back from him and he actually pouted in displeasure, but if you let him continue, you weren’t going to remember your name, let along your contract. “I don’t want an allowance. I can work.”

“Whatever you want,” he nodded taking his seat on the same armchair from last night and even though you knew it was probably a bad idea, you sat on his lap at his invitation. “I just thought you might like some more time to study, even find some internship in environmental law. Didn’t you tell me that was what you want to work with? I don’t think there are many paying positions in non-governmental organizations.”

“True,” you conceded as his lips returned to your body, pressing soft kisses all over your neck, his hands kneading your thighs, making wet heat pool between your legs. “Maybe I should be more realistic. Administrative law is pretty interesting as I found out.”

“If you say so.” His fingers skimmed over your cunt, making you roll your hips and groan, desperate to feel him without the barrier of clothing.

“Ok, so maybe a small one until I get a new job in a company I like,” you conceded, getting up long enough to kick your jeans aside, before coming back to his lap, earning a pleased grin from Mr. Reeves.

“Like I said, whatever you want.” He kissed you and you sighed again his lips unable to believe how much you missed this after only having one time before.

“How about your terms?” you asked breathlessly when Mr. Reeves released your lips. “It’s not fair if only I get a say in it.”

He paused for a moment and you took the opportunity to tug at his shirt. He obeyed without a word, letting you take it off him, his eyes had a faraway look as he thought about what you had just asked.

“The apartment. Pick someplace with a gym and a pool,” Mr. Reeves finally said, meeting your gaze. “I’m planning on staying over whenever I’m here.”

“I can do that,” you nodded, trying to think if the building you liked it had those things. “What else?”

“Your studies need to come above everything else. Even me,” he said and once again you nodded. “And I hope you understand that my company will come first too.”

“I understand.” You really didn’t expect any different. “Anything else?”

This time, you were the one to kiss over his neck and jaw as he thought things through, but you didn’t manage to go very far, as Mr. Reeves tilted your face back up, catching your eyes.

“You need to be completely honest with me. If you’re not happy with something I did, with this arrangement, with me, you need to tell me.”

You looked at him stunned; surprised by the care and worry in his tone. How could you think for even a second he just wanted to use you? And it made you wonder if you even need all of these terms and contracts and arrangements in the first place.

“Mr. Re… Keanu,” you amended when he arched an eyebrow at you. “Will you do the same?”

“Yes.” He gave you a short nod, eyes never leaving yours.

“Then yes.”

“That’s all I need,” Keanu smiled at you once again catching your lips and you melted in his embrace.

His hands traveled over your back, touching softly until he found the clasp of your bra and released it, helping you out of the garment, before kissing you once again, hand cupping your breasts, thumb teasing your nipple and making you arch up towards him, your moans muffled against his lips.

You rolled your hips in payback, rubbing yourself against the bulge in his sweatpants, making Keanu’s breath catch in his throat, the hand in your hip squeezing slightly, encouraging you to continue, root against him, seeking your release, but it wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. Your body begged for his touch; your center pulsed and throbbed in need of him.

Reaching between your bodies, you tugged on the waistband of his pants and Keanu lifted himself so you could pull them down enough to free his cock. It laid hard and heavy against his lower belly and you licked your lips in anticipation, sliding to the ground on your knees so you could take him in your mouth.

He grunted above you at the first hesitant touch of your tongue against his head. His hands squeezing the arms of the chair, his eyes hooded watching you, lips parted, drawing shaky breaths.

Holding him steady, you let your tongue sneak out again, brush against his slit, collecting the pearly white drops gathering there, tasting him. You were surprised to find you quite enjoyed the salty, slightly bitter taste.

Emboldened by the discovery, you took his head fully in your mouth, eyes never leaving his as you sucked on it, making sure to stroke the rest as you’ve seen it.

“Give me your hand,” he croaked, his voice rougher than before and you obeyed, almost pulling it back when he ran his tongue over your palm. “To smooth things over.”

You only hummed in response, bringing your hand back to his cock and he was right, this time your motions were easier and by the way, Keanu’s lids fluttered, quite more pleasurable.

Slowly, you moved your head down, taking more of him, your tongue licking the underside vein, before swirling around his girth, exploring every ridge, every bump, before you pulled almost all the way back up and started all over again.

Keanu’s breaths were coming in short pants, his head was thrown back, his hands fisting the chair, his moans filling your ears and the sight of him this undone was making your body hot with want, sending a thrill through you. You did this. You made this powerful man succumb to you with just your mouth.

“Faster, sweetheart,” he asked, one hand coming to rest on your nape in encouragement, but not pushing it down.

You followed his request, bobbing your head faster, trying to hollow your cheeks to give him more friction and Keanu cursed above you, his hips moving up just slightly and you wondered how it would feel to let him fuck your mouth.

“Stop, stop,” Keanu said, tugging on your hair and you let him go with a pop, watching him with unsure eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Absolutely not,” he assured, pulling you back to his lap. “I just need to be inside your pretty cunt when I cum tonight.”

His words made you ache for him, your neglected clit throbbing in need and it was almost as if Keanu could read your body better than you, because he brought his hand to your core, thumb rubbing against your clit, fingers teasing your folds through your soaked panties, making you cry out and rock against his hand desperately.

“See? You need it too,” he whispered against your ear and you nodded, your arms around his neck as you rolled your hips. Keanu pushed your panties aside so he could press his fingers into you, rubbing your g-spot.

“Oh sir, please,” you gasped, pressing your forehead against his, one hand coming to stroke him. “Fuck me.”

“Soon, sweetheart,” Keanu assured, his fingers moving in and out of you. “I gotta get you nice and wet and ready for my cock. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

All you managed was a nod as you rode his hand, chasing the sweet pleasure of your climax, feeling your entire body tight and tense and ready.

 “You’re gonna cum, baby?” he asked, lips drawing into a smirk and you nodded, feeling Keanu speed his motions, his thumb pressing a little harder on your clit. “Do it. I wanna feel you soaking my fingers.”

A long moan slipped from your lips, your body arching and quaking above him as your orgasm washed over you, setting all your nerve-ends into haywire. You were so lost in the aftershocks that you barely noticed as Keanu pulled his fingers away, replacing them with his cock.

All you knew was the way it seemed to drag out your pleasure as he filled you up, your walls quivering around him as if trying to draw him deeper into you until you no longer knew where Keanu ended and you began.

“Ready, baby?” he asked in a pant, his hands on your ass and you just nodded, still too dizzy to really follow what he meant. Not until he slapped your ass lightly, bringing you back to the present, meeting his eyes and smirk. “Ride me, sweetheart.”

“Oh!” Using his shoulders as leverage, you raised yourself until he was almost all the way out, before sinking back in, making both of you moan at the sensations.

It took you a while, but with Keanu’s help, you managed to set a good rhythm, bouncing on his cock, while he licked and kissed and nipped your breasts, his own hips rising to meet you, making the armchair shake and squeak beneath both of you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Not when your entire body seemed to sing with delight. All you could feel was Keanu beneath, around and inside you. His cologne mixed with the heady scent of his sweat filling your nose; the sight of him completely lost in pleasure as he marked your skin, branded you as his. His grunts and curses and moans like music to your ears. The taste of him still in your tongue…

There was nothing else in the world you wanted and the last rational part of you that seemed to have managed to keep going wondered why you were so hesitant in getting into this arrangement in the first place. You would be winning even if all you got of it was him.

“I’m not fucking you well enough if you’re still managing coherent thought,” Keanu whispered, pulling your closer to his body, until you were flushed together and stood up, making you squeal in surprise, arms tightening around him. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna drop you.”

He brought you to the table, spreading you open on the polished chestnut surface, before pushing back inside you, startling a cry out from your lips. Soon enough he was fucking you hard and fast, one of your leg over his shoulder, his thumb once again rubbing your clit and all you could focus was him, needy little moans spilling from your lips.

“That’s better,” Keanu said with a smirk, bending down to nip at your belly.

You threw you head back and held onto the edge of the table, too far gone to do anything else as your second orgasm washed over you, making you almost scream out his name, your senses blacking out for just a moment until your felt Keanu stilling, a loud groan spilling from his lips as he came too.

For a while the only sounds in the room were your ragged breathing as the two of tried to recover, Keanu draped over you, head on your stomach making your leg bent in an awkward angle, but you were too boneless to give a fuck, even if you knew you’d end up with a cramp. You were too blissed out, sated and sleepy to care.

You barely felt Keanu pulling out of you or taking you in his arms and bringing you to bed. It was all just flashes.

Keanu cleaning you up with a warm cloth. The bed dipping with his weight as he pulled you into his arms, cuddling you close. Keanu getting up despite your protesting grumbles. Kissing your forehead and promising to come back in a bit.

You finally woke up, groggy and pleasantly sore, looking around in the dark room to catch your bearings, taking a moment to recognize where you were and why. Another one to realize you were along in bed and Keanu’s side had long grown cold, but there was a note on his pillow. He had a business dinner and would be back late so you should order anything you wanted from room service. You guessed you were gonna need to get used to that sort of thing. There was no point in being disappointed.

Naked, you padded into the sitting room finding the contract you wrote on the coffee table. You picked it up, noticing Keanu had scratched out the one year clause and added the other things you two had talked about, his handwriting neat and elegant, but his signature at the end, a messy chicken scratch.

It was official then. You were his. And Keanu was yours. For as long as this arrangement lasted at least.

xxx

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[redevenir]

lonely are the brave

wc : almost 3k

a/n : @exolssecretsanta​  here it is, my present for @mmmhs​, as a part of the #exolssecretsanta2020 it’s me ! your secret santa ! hopefully you’ll have a good time reading this ! Also The plot is entirely based on the movie The Spy, which is about the life of Sonja Wigert, and I strongly encourage you to read about her after you read this fic (so you won’t get spoiled) because it is incredible and she deserves to be remembered. And the title is from the 1962 Kirk Douglas movie, based on Edward Abbey’s The Brave Cowboy. It’s an excellent movie, and probably a very, very good book. The settings are very different but the title fitted too well. Merry Christmas, I wish you the very best. More importantly I think I wish for 2021 to be exactly what you need it to be.

As the entire theater bursts into applaudes, Kyungsoo thinks you might just be what he needs. Even in shades of gray on the big screen, your magnetism is undeniable. He claps a few times as you deserve it, and since his every move are being watched, it’s a quick way of expressing his satisfaction. He leaves the movie room before anyone else has stopped cheering.

***

You can’t keep your eyes off the newspaper. The head of the new Governor occupies two thirds of the front page. You sigh. It is still hard to believe the Empire has won, once again, and this war they won in two days. It’s humiliating even for you, and they haven’t reached your country yet. They didn’t defeat you. You are no soldier, you are not general. You’re not even in the war force, and the kingdom isn’t yet at war. But there is something excrutiatingly mortifying to read the news every morning, nails painted of red, and contemplating the fall of this world as a bystander. You wonder how fast they’ll take the kingdom next. Of course, it has to be their next move. Maybe they won’t even pretend to wage a war. Maybe the Queen will just bend the knee. Your hear a soft pshh when the ash of your cigar falls into your cup of tea. You hear your name, and a croissant is thrown your way.  

« So ? What do you think ? He looks weird, right ? I mean, weird for the job ? Chanyeol gently taps the face of the Governor with his own croissant. I mean, he looks all… He gesture vaguely, throwing crumbles your way. It’s always harder for him to find his words in the morning. You guess it’s because it takes him some time to be properly awake.

Intellectual ?

Yes ! He smiles but his eyes are cold and mocking. They usually come all… He tries to sit straighter and extand his shoulders to show you what he means.

Bulked up and ready to kill you with their bare hands ? His mouth full, he nods and claps his hands once in agreement. You look back at the photography. Governor Do has a stern face. Eyebrows heavy, black hair cut short, thick glasses. He does not seem very large, even in his uniform. This one, you begin, as Chanyeol stands up to empty your ruined cup of tea and fix you a new one, this one is going to make fool of us all. You drink one to that. That’s why they didn’t send an obvious brute. They think he’s going to seduce us, and win us without a kill. You put your cup down a little too hard. Fuck him.

So, what’s your plan for today ? He properly buttons up his shirt, and you eye the disappearing skin all the way. The look you send him is full of fire and decadent promises. Ah, don’t look at me like that now, I must go ! You avert you gaze, back to your newspaper. He catches your smile as he puts his jacket on.

I know, I know, so do I. I have an appointment with Junmyeon, I’m assuming a new movie, the musical is really exhausting, at least with movies I can have normal workdays, you dramatically sigh, the back of your hand on your forehand, as if about to die.

That’s the price of success, my dear. He bends over to kiss you as you stand up to kiss him, leaning against him. I’ll give you a reward of my own tonight if you will, he adds, and payfully smacks your butt before heading out. I love you, good luck !

***

Luck is indeed what you need when you read the invitation Junmyeon hands you. Handwritten, neat, efficient. Both personal and artificial as can be, like any good performance. The twist your stomach makes is almost enough for you to throw up. You remain silent while he scans your face. It has always been clear where Junmyeon stands : where the money lies.

So ?

What ?

Will you go ? You weigh your words carefully. When your eyes meet his, you realize Junmyeon hasn’t set his mind himself.

Why would I ? It’s just an invitation to dinner. I have no reason to go.

***

It’s exactly why you have to go. We might be at war soon, milady. It is an opportunity for us to find out more about their plans. We need you to go to Governor Do.

You keep your eyes on your reflection as you wipe your make-up off. It is only the two of you in the changing room. Most of the lights are off, except for the fairy lights. You like it better that way. It’s more intimate and peaceful. You like how the little glitters in the Christmas tinsels reflect the light, like fireflies of many colors. But what the minister is telling you is shattering you from inside, like a very slow explosion – or maybe you are about to implode and collapse on yourself. He leaves you no choice but to become a huntress in the shadows.

***

You don’t tell Chanyeol about it. You don’t know where Chanyeol stands. Him, who sleeps in your sheets, who praises you like it would save his life, who loves making romantic gestures in a most bombastic way. You don’t know where Secretary Park, from a little ambassy stands. After all, the country he comes from has already signed a pact with the Empire. They pledged immediately and before any other nation. You assume, from the way he talks about them, that he is not fond of his leaders. But what do you know. You lie awake on your bed for hours, letting your body cool down, staring at the ceiling like it might hold all the answers. You shiver, and don’t even bother to sit up to smoke. You don’t need answers, you just wish for peace of mind – it is a luxury of the past now. When Chanyeol enters, a few hours before sunset, he thinks you look worse than he does, and he joins you wordlessly, looking for the comfort in the touch of your tender skin. He doesn’t tell you about his problems, and lets the both of you zone out, bodies intertwined as one. Later, when you both wake up, he smoothers you with kisses, and the fire in your head blinds your worries away.

You don’t talk about it.

***

Chanyeol doesn’t ask you anything when you come back from your work trip. He just wonders if it went well. When you shrug and sigh in answer, he takes it upon himself to make you feel better, and his kisses have never been more delicate on your skin, and he feels like a sun, radiating warmth and life and feeding it to your tired skin. When he nibs lightly on your ribs and you ruffle his hair, you feel his smile against you. Eyes closed, you feel him moving up to your face. His voice his only a whisper, but it deep and stable when he calls your name and asks what is wrong. You keep your eyes closed but he watches your face from the side, how harshly you bite your lower lip before licking it.

I don’t think I should say it. You feel too bad to notice the restrained sigh against your ear. He pulls you closer to him, until you lie on top of him, forehead against his chest, determined to avoid his gaze. His right hand finds its way through your hair to cup the back of your head, and he assures you he understands.

I just wish I could fix it for you. He feels the shadow of your smile against his skin.

You’re doing all right, Chan.

You don’t tell him about the dinner. You don’t tell him about the indecent dress you wore, about the most light fabric it was made of. How it looked like you were naked under a waterfall. How all eyes were on you the minute you walked in, except those of the new Governor. You keep to yourself the way they pierced right through you, and how enthousiastic he was to talk with you. You don’t tell him about the evening you spent discussing movie and literature with a war lord, and you try to forget his lingering hand on the small of your back when you left, and his offer to do this again, since having you among the company was a delight. You push down the half hidden threats whispered in your ear during the dance and pretend it was all a dream.

It doesn’t work.

You stop dreaming.

***

It becomes regular. Every few weeks you’re invited west of the border. First for evenings. Then for several days. Kyungsoo, as he insists you call him, lets you an entire wing of his mansion, to use as you please. You have no use to it. You don’t dare to ask him who were the previous owners of the place. Or where they are now.

It is lovely though. Decorated with a keen eye, even if it is a bit old fashioned. Lots of floral patterns on the walls, as to reflect the exuberance of the gardens around the residence. He offers you all sorts of pretty things, dresses and night gowns and shawls of the finest fabric. You spend hours discussing every matter that catches your attention. He inquires your opinion about everything, and sometimes you believe it is genuine interest and not a test anymore. He takes you to walks in the woods and teaches you how to shoot – just in case. When you ask him who might threaten you,  he puts his hand on you cashmere-covered waist and through it you feel his warmth. His eyes are on the same level as yours when he confesses, as he’d believe you might be his equal. You let him kiss you, a whole in the chest and your heart in the throat.

The minister of home intelligence is satisfied when you tell him the news. A sympathetic look in the eyes, he pats you on the shoulder, thanking you for your sacrifice, and urging you to keep up the good work.

***

Chanyeol watches you decrepit. He wonders why you don’t ask him about his absences. He tries to bring life back into you. He dances with you and reads with you. He makes love to you like he’s offering you his soul – he is. Since you don’t want to talk about what’s troubling you, he shares everything instead. Almost. He tells you about his childhood, about his home. About his college years and about his first love stories. He tells you about some of his colleagues, and how he hates the war. He tells you he wants to go away, when all of this will be over. To where there is music and joy. He lies naked before you, exposing himself more than ever before. Everything is yours to see, every last bit of his soul. Only one secret he keeps for himself.

***

Shades of grey don’t do you any justice, Kyungsoo decides. He dreams of glitter and colours to project, to have a more accurate image of you when you’re leagues away. For a few weeks, he toys with the idea of making you the face of Hope. You could be the Empire’s most glamorous face. When he mentions it to minister Byun, the response is thrilled, and Baekhyun assures him he’ll find the crème de la crème to work on this most ambitious project. What Kyungsoo doesn’t expect is your reluctant answer. He watches it all happen silently on your face. Conversations between the two of you often take time. You don’t think in the same langage. You rarely talk in either of your mother tongues. And you’re both quite cautious around each other. He really doesn’t want to mess this up. There is a fire in you he wants to stir up, not to put it out. There is not taming you in his mind.

When you tell him you’re not sure about meddling you’re career and your personal life, he knows he has to put a ring on it.

***

Every night you sleep at the mansion, you allow yourself one hour of rummaging in Kyungsoo’s office. The rest of it is spent imagining the face of the traitors. Or you think about the wonders of self control you’ve unfolded the day he proposed. You are a terrific actress indeed.

***

When the newspapers of both countries announce you are engaged, you understand what sacrifice you have made. You never see Chanyeol again.

***

The night you find the pictures is a relief. Even you know they’re dangerous. Every little rock on the shores of your country is there, carefully spotted. The map stored with them identifies them all. You know the next time you leave Kyungsoo will be the last.

When you give them to the Minister, you ask for a new passport. And a way out. He asks if you have any idea of who the contact might be. You say it’s someone in an ambassy. You say there’s not just one person. You say they’re everywhere. You say it’s over. You don’t mention the fact that everyone has turn their back on you. Because you’re the face of national complacency.

Maybe that’s why they come to you directly. For the first time, they come knocking to your door. You recognize them as Chanyeol’s coworkers. Jongin, Minseok. They say Kyungsoo asked them to drop by – see if you were all right. You know that’s not what he said. If there is one thing Kyungsoo values about you, and takes pride in, it’s precisely the fact that you don’t need nor want to be babied. When they see your smile, and the absence of light your eyes, they both shift their balance. Your face remain unreadable when they ask you about your former lover, and Jongin realizes why Governor Do has set his mind on you. You’re stronger than most of the people he has met – including the governor. There is no point trying to fool you, so he goes straight to the point.

Where’s Chanyeol ? So he was a traitor. Good riddance – your heart climbs his way up your throat – it’s been a long time.

I don’t know.

Are you sure, presses Minseok. Jongin’s glad the disgusted twist on your lips isn’t adressed to him. It is humilating, even in second-hand.

In case you haven’t noticed, I got engaged. I don’t know to who’s shoulder Chanyeol went crying. Jongin wonders if his past lovers speak as lowly of him as you do now. Chanyeol might be a deceiving bastard, but he was a nice guy to be around otherwise. He clears his throat.

Is there any place he might have told you of ? Where he could be now ? You hum slowly.

The lonely islands. He has a cabin there. Likes to be alone to meditate or whatever.

Could you take us there. One, two, three, you have nothing left to loose.

All right.

***

Nothing has changed. The island is still exactly the same. Every rock, every sprig of lichen. The gentle howling of the wind, caressing your cold ears, caressing your eyelids, caressing your lips as if saying, just this one more time. You bit the inside of your lower lip hard and don’t let go. You have no word to tell them. You watch them climb their way out the small boat, and head toward the wood cabin. You don’t mention there is no other boat tied up to the rocks – their time is worthless.

You come inside right after them. The amount of dust on every surface is the same as the last time you came here, only weeks ago. It feels like years and years have passed by, but it is merely an illusion of your stretched heart. You let your gaze brush over the scarce furniture, trying to put your attention on attention itself, blocking any harmful thoughts. You feel the cracks in your armour. Of what could have been. Of what you let go. Of what you gave up.

You notice the guitar, and a rush of adrenaline blows away your attemps at meditation.

He’s here.

You leave the room, aiming for the water closet. You close the door, sit down and bite your fist as hard as you can.

***

It’s you. It can only be you. Chanyeol watches you enter the room through the floor slits. You’re having a mental break down, he can tell. But he cannot make it to why you are here in the first place. You’ve never tried to talk to him since he stopped coming to you. The Governor’s fiancee. His jaw tenses. No wonder you couldn’t tell him what was wrong. How could you hide it from him he understands. How you were probably used for it by your own government tears his heart apart. If only he had told you what his business was. What he was working for – the very same thing you were fighting for. The wooden floor is only a couple centimeters’ thick, but it is far enough to keep him from touching you. How he wished he could console you know. Tell you everything will be repaired. Take you to dance and fireworks. Oh, to hesitate between the prettiest of flowers at the shop and settle for all of them. To fix you cups of tea and quick meals.

***

In the kitchen, Minseok abruptly opens a drawer.

***

For miles around, every submarine reports the explosion.

[thesilkenlair]

(Casey Here!)

As much D&D as I play, you'd imagine I would eventually get around to illustrating some of their most iconic monsters! Which is to say, the ones that I personally find the most iconic. Which is to say, the ones I memorized when I was reading my dad's monster manual at age nine. Purple worm - Sandworms never go out of style. I've seen a lot of rad designs for this bugger over the editions, but I favor the slightly less reptilian older takes for this particular critter. It's kinda basic, but sometimes that's what you want. It's like a shark or a crocodile: Just flat out unchanged across the ages. Hook horror - I've heard it rumored that Gygax used a small Gigan figure to represent this monster. I can't verify that, but it definitely sounds right. Hook horrors are one of the very first things you meet when you play around in the caves, and they kind of remind me of the Father Deep monsters of the Hork Bajir homeworld that way. Mind flayer - Mind flayers! Basically, take all of your Dracula conventions and dip them in a fresh coat of Lovecraft. There's that old "decadent aristocratic upper caste system who literally eats the poor, but still somehow comes across as less evil than the actual real life 1%" setup that will never stop being relevant. Though personally, I see mind flayers as the first alternative for folks who want to play that monster-who-feels-the-urge-to-eat-their-friends-but-refuses-to-do-it shtick but don't want to deal with vampire baggage. You know, the furry option! ... Slimy? Rubbery? Do we have a word for anthro-cephalopods? I'm only a casual furry. Gelatinous cube - I'm not apologizing for giving this one a slot. Froghemoth - So, back when I participated in my very first long-term campaign, I played a druid. You've met Talia before. Naturally, I was chomping at the bit for the day I finally got to turn her into a froghemoth, and celebrated the day my wish was finally granted and she was allowed to chug human-supremacist-cultists like popcorn. Yeah, okay, the froghemoth is one of the classic vore-monsters. But it's a charming design in its own right. Kind of a freaky Hanna Barbara critter, like you'd see Space Ghost fighting. No matter how many artists draw it, they can never shake that inherent goofiness that third edition tried so hard to purge. I would probably cram them somewhere onto Fronterra if I was sure they were public domain. As is, I'm 99% certain that this is what Visser Three turned into when he ate Elfangor. Tarrasque - D&D's original kaiju! Kind of just takes the name and nothing else when it comes to its mythological origins, but I don't mind. The Tarrasque is that endgame "let's test the players" final boss monster... Or at least it's supposed to be. My DM reskinned it for our final Pathfinder session, and one of the PCs still nearly killed it in a single turn. Also, he let Talia turn into one, so maybe Pathfinder is just bullshit? Regardless, the Tarrasque has one of those simple, iconic designs. I've heard rumors it was based on the concept art for Fallout's deathclaws, and like the Gigan-figure, I can't verify this in any way. With its reptilian features, twin horns, spiny carapace and grabby fingies, it has an undeniable lizardlike quality that I can't help but find charming. Kinda feels like a more refined version of Zilla? Though for an insatiable eating machine, I notice a lot of artists give it very little belly to work with. Come on, this guy eats entire cities! Give him somewhere to put it! Rust monster - An icon of icons, the rust monster! Drawing its origin from a bizarre Chinese "dinosaur" toy, later designs have made it more insectoid in appearance, but never feeling QUITE like anything Earthly. It's the four limbs. Between the four limbs and the tail, it's hard to tell if it's an arthropod mimicking a vertebrate or the other way around. I'm pretty sure this is part of what inspired my ossaderm creatures for Fronterra. Also, Ryla can turn into one in our campaign. I have no shortage of havoc to wreak when the opportunity comes. Behir - Dragons in D&D are kind of... extra. Godlike beings, paragons of whatever personality trait they represent. Whenever there's something uber powerful in D&D, it gets compared to dragons. It makes them kind of unapproachable. Behirs provide all the essentials of a dragon - Serpentine body, scaly skin, horns, sapience, breath weapon, taste for human flesh - wrapped up in a smaller, weirder, IMO cooler package. You know, your Lambton Worms. A lot easier to port in and out of adventures, a lot less of an event when they show up, but still a formidable force in their own right. I like the behir. The behir knows how to taunt me just the right amount. Bulette - Another Chinese "dinosaur" figure monster, the bulette is actually another one I associate with Talia. Whenever we faced a problem that didn't have a glaringly and immediately obvious solution, she would turn into a bulette, whether it was for beating up robots, digging through obstacles, trampling smurfs, navigating labyrinths, distracting slashers with cute dog tricks... it was kind of her signature form. But shenanigans aside, the bulette is just an excellent monster. While the "land shark" shtick may be common, there's a lot more going on with the bulette's design. It's rumored to be a mad wizard's creation, as he combined a snapping turtle with an armadillo and mixed in a helping of demon blood to taste. Personally, I always considered that to be a neat little rumor to flesh out the world, but never assumed it to be true. The bulette just feels too naturalistic for that. Like some kind of protomammal or crocodylomorph, or weird triassic monstrosity. Magic and demons and dragons and so on DO affect the ecosystem. I always figured the bulette was just something that evolved to compete in this new biosphere. Owlbear - This one, on the other hand, I fully believe the "mad wizard was bored" explanation. Another chinasaur critter, the owlbear is frequently made fun of. What makes it scarier than a regular bear? It can't fly, so why have owl parts at all? Why trade fangs for a beak in what is at best a latural move? Well, first of all, fuck you, owls are creepy motherfuckers, and that alone is enough to justify it. But secondly, that's part of its charm. Besides some improved vision, the owl DOESN'T make it more dangerous. What makes the owlbear dangerous is that it's an insane, Frankensteinian monstrosity roaming uncontrolled through the wilderness! It doesn't need weaponry, its sheer temperament is enough to make it a worthy opponent. Sure, the practical threat might not be hugely above that of a bear, but storytelling isn't about numbers. Any asshole can go outside and get eaten by a bear. The owlbear is part of this world. The owlbear is a reminder of what magic can do. Someone somewhere actually made this thing, for whatever reason, and now the world is irrevocably changed because of it. Owlbears go beyond practicality. They bring the lore! Also, bears don't have very good eyesight, so the big owl eyes probably make them better hunters. Flumph - Is that a Japanese-style martian? Do we just have aliens in D&D? Dear lord, I love them! Okay, the flumph has got a sizable hatedom. And that hatedom can eat my ass, because the flumph is precious and perfect just the way it is! Flumphs are designed as a sort of sidekick-type creature. They're not very good fighters, but they bring knowledge and lore to the table. Whether they're aliens from some far off star, seeking your aid to prevent catastrophe, or psionic natives of the Underdark eager to bask in your positivity and hopefully stick it to the tyrants they're forced to share real estate with. My group generally treats them as straight up aliens, benevolent but strange. Course, we're all pretty strange, so we get along just fine. Otyugh - Okay so, the aberration creature type implies that this is something from another world that doesn't belong. And yet otyughs, which are aberrations, are an essential part of this world's ecosystem? Okay, I can buy the idea that an alien organism adapted to our world and is now a key part of it. Fronterra's got a TON of that. It just feels like after a point, the otyugh would be considered a beast? Otyughs are great. Every ecosystem needs a decomposer, and every fantasy story needs at least one dive into the sewers. Otyughs provide both, and are intelligent enough to keep the plot moving if it hits a snag. There's always going to be garbage, refuse, carrion, decay, things that need to be broken down and processed. Carrion crawler - The carrion crawler is pretty similar to the otyugh in that it's technically not considered a beast, and therefor must have its origins elsewhere, but feels so integrated into the ecosystem that it just feels like it belongs. They usually can't talk, so they're not just reskinned otyughs, but I still consider them pretty essential. Otyughs find a singular spot where waste is dumped and shovel it down at their leisure, while carrion crawlers skulk through the tunnels, actively seeking their food. The crawler got one of the most radical redesigns on the transition from second to third edition, but I can't really choose a single favorite. The oldschool tentacle-faced cutworm looks like it could be a real animal, while the googly-eyed Halloween decoration feels like it could be from another world, merely having set up shop here. Could there name apply to two wholly different creatures? If so, then I'm not sure which one mine would be considered. I kinda mashed them together into something that doesn't quite feel like either. But I like it for what it is. Maybe I'll sneak it onto Fronterra. Aboleth - Tentacled, telepathic sea creatures who turn humans into slimy minions, who remember everything their race has ever seen, and who are always plotting something behind the scenes. Yeah, the aboleths really crank up the Lovecraft elements. Actually, between the mind flayers, the flumphs and the aboleths, even the most oldschool D&D covered quite a few essential Lovecraftian bases. The flayers are your corrupt yet still recognizable humanoids who can be considered truly evil, the flumphs are benevolent-yet-bizarre guardians who know more than you, and the aboleths are the truly unknowable, sinister intellects. The fact that they can barely function on land honestly only adds to that, IMO. They're inherently difficult for a party to reach, and they offer some nice underwater adventure seeds. Not enough adventures go underwater. There's this perception that the ocean is bad for storytelling because so many writers lack the creativity to make it work. I wanna run an underwater adventure now. Beholder - Icon of icons! THE D&D monster! The beholder! Paranoid, jumpy, always five steps ahead and twenty steps perpendicular! Beholds are fun in just about every way. Between their wacky, diverse designs, their elaborate lairs, their eccentric personalities, their bizarre powers, you're never gonna run out of fun with beholders. Remorhaz - It's always been a thing that bothered me with environment-based monsters. Why does the ice monster who lives in the cold use ice as a weapon? Aren't most of the things it encounters going to be resistant to the cold? Sure, a cone of cold will still kill a polar bear, but a lot of the monsters in the tundra are outright immune to cold. A while dragon's not going to get much use out of its breath weapon fighting frost worms and frost giants. That's one reason the remorhaz sticks out to be. We have an icy tundra beast whose insides are a scorching furnace, which it can intensify and weaponize as it sees fit. Which also conveniently explains why its design - a sort of cobra-esque centipede - invokes warm-weather creatures, despite its icy environment. It's a nice subversion of the usual tropes, plus it's just a memorable, cool looking critter to begin with. On a smaller note, the remorhaz feels like a good loophole for Ryla's "no cold weather morphs" rule. Turning into something elementally affiliated with ice is no good, but a non-magical monster that survives the cold by superheating its insides? That seems perfectly viable to me!

[oikoik]

—the color of a bruise (part one)

warnings; depictions of mild violence/self-defense, cursing

word count; 1298

a/n; part one is here! I hope you all look forward to the series and thank you for all the support already!

(7:47pm; Miyagi suburbs)

Everything hurt. Even the chill in the air seemed to cling to your bones. It had been a long day. Your classes seemed more like lectures and your brain could barely make out left from right as you made the familiar trek back to your apartment. Dusk had begun to fall upon the city, the few lampposts that lined the street emitted a soft orange glow onto the sidewalk.

The accounts of the day replayed in your mind, and you couldn't help the soft groan that fell past your lips as you realized you'd finally have a day off tomorrow. A break was much needed, and you were sure as hell going to enjoy it.

Your thoughts were on what you'd order for dinner that night when you turned into the alleyway that would act as a shortcut to your place. Unlike most nights, when the alley is silent and void of any commute stragglers such as yourself, there were three figures off to the side a few meters ahead. Upon closer inspection, you were able to make out two of those figures as being boys, most likely not much older than yourself, being hassled by the another taller, looming person. You were convinced they could handle themselves. Sure, they were pretty small, but there was two of them, they'd be fine, right?

You were merely about to pass by when you saw the older man shove one of them to the ground with such a force that it left your blood boiling under your skin. From the faint orange glow of the overhead lamp, you noticed the traces of blood accenting the ridges of the boy's face. Any anxiety in your system dissipated at the sight, now being replaced with rage in the pit of your stomach.

You noticed the boy who was still standing gawk at you as you neared, subtly trying to gesture for you to just keep walking, but you ignored the attempt. As soon as you were a little less than a meter away from the back of the attacker, you could feel the anger kept tightly in your chest come seeping out in rage-laced words, "Hey, jackass!"

Your hand was in your backpack, firmly gripping the can of mace you never left home without. The moment the man turned, you unleashed a fat stream of the burning liquid to the man's face. "Fucking pick on someone your own size!"

Doubled over, the man yelled incoherent curses, but you failed to recognize them. The world surrounding you ceased to exist the moment you spotted the hefty pistol clutched in the man's left hand.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you stared at it, any previous emotions now being replaced with a primal fear. Amidst your frozen panic, one of the boys clutched almost painfully onto your arm, dragging you with him as he and the other ran down the street.

It wasn't until you made a sharp turn that your sense of reality came back. You began pumping your legs as fast as you could, somehow managing to keep up with the athletic strides of the two boys. Panting, you painfully sucked in breaths of stuffy air while also trying to recollect your thoughts.

The ginger haired boy spoke first, "Who are you?"

Still struggling to process the fact you saw an actual gun that could have actually killed you, you let out a shaky breath. "Y/N."

The same boy placed a hand on your shoulder, with a pearly white smile, and a grin on his lips, "You just saved our lives."

“My dad always told me to never leave home without my mace. Thank god I actually listened to him for once.”

The other boy, however, couldn't help but feel immense sympathy for you. It was written all over his face as he whispered just quietly enough for himself to hear, "What have you done?"

(5:32pm; Miyagi)

Three days had passed since you met and departed from the two boys you encountered on the lonely street. After you had gone your separate ways, you figured you'd never hear of them again and would simply slip back into a normal routine.

You were wrong, so very wrong. Your kind act of playing the Good Samaritan brought to you an entirely new sense of reality.

You had been out for most of the day, morning classes and the afternoon in the library. Your backpack seemed to weigh even heavier on your shoulders as you made the walk back home.

More than anything, you wanted to kick off your shoes, take off your pants, and pass the hell out for a few hours. However, you ideal evening plans came to a halt the moment you got to your front door.

With the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, the West-bound windows offered you substantial light to see shadows moving about your living from the crack below the door. Immediately, your muscles tensed, and you quietly reached for the can that had just saved your life previously in the week. Hesitantly, you began to unlock the door, pushing the knob ever so slightly. The moment the door was cracked open wide enough, the can was in front of you.

With extended arms, you positioned yourself in as threatening of a stance as possible in case the intruders felt the desire the pounce back. What you weren't expecting, though, was the undeniably handsome man sitting at the breakfast bar.

As you peered around the room, you took notice of several other men, all dressed finely, and all sharing features that you could argue resembled that of Adonis. Although you flaunted you're weapon of choice, none seemed to be fazed by the blatant threat you were trying to appear as.

"Ah, there you are." The man perched at the kitchen bar smiled warmly at you.

You did not smile back. "Who the hell are you?"

He took a glance at your still outstretched can of mace, his smile never leaving him. "You must be Y/N."

"How the fuck do you know my name, and I asked you a damn question--who the fuck are you?"

At your tone, a few of the other men surrounding you seemed to go stiff with your words, eyeing the reaction of the man sitting across from you.

"Before we get any further, I think it might be best if you put away the mace, from what I've heard, you're an excellent shot."

"What the hell does that mean? I'm not moving until you tell me who the fuck you guys are and why you're in my house."

"You see, Miss Y/N, I can't really discuss much here. It would be much better if we could do this at a more discreet location."

Immediately , the warnings your father always gave you came rushing back to your mind and you couldn't help but scoff, something that caught the man off guard.

"I've been alive on this goddamn earth long enough to know what goes down at secondary locations, so don't you dare think I'm going anywhere with you, fuckhead."

One of them to your right instantly tried to square you up, but halted at the gesture of the man before you. He chuckled. However, it was clear you were wearing down his patience.

"My, my, my, you really do enjoy making things difficult, don't you, kitten?"

He took a daring step towards you, watching as your reflexes naturally made you jerk the mace to be level with his face, your finger lingering just above the trigger.

"But I'll have you know, my men and I have absolutely no interest in bringing you harm. Quite the opposite, actually."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m here to offer you a job.”

[pikapeppa]

Felassan/f!Lavellan smut: Caught

Chapter 19 of The Love That Grows From Violence (post-Trespasser Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is posted!

In which... well, the title says it. But also, a Dorian cameo!

~7000 words. Read on AO3 instead.

***************************

Tamaris plopped down on her bed and started setting up to write her letters. She was still dearly hoping that Felassan would join her sooner than later, but she had to find some way to occupy her mind until he was finished with his task, or she’d drive herself crazy. 

She placed a piece of parchment on the large tome she’d brought upstairs to use as a writing surface. She’d written to Cassandra already a few days ago, so Cassandra didn’t need another update yet. She’d write to Thom instead and leave it to Varric’s ravens to figure out where he might be now, and then she’d write to Bull and to Istimaethoriel and the clan. 

She opened her bottle of ink and dipped a quill in it, but before she could start writing, she remembered that she’d meant to call Dorian to apologize for storming off to the roof the last time he’d called. 

Fuck, she thought. She put the ink and quill on the bedside table, then went over to the dresser and grabbed the sending crystal.

She rubbed her thumb over the surface, and the crystal pulsed with a gentle purple light as she waited for him to answer. A few seconds later, Dorian’s voice floated up from the crystal’s face.

“Well well, if it isn’t Tamaris of Clan Lavellan,” he drawled. “Thedas’s most unmannerly ex-Inquisitor—”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, do you want me to apologize or not?”

“Oh, excellent,” he said brightly. “Let me just fetch a glass of wine.”

She tsked. “I’m sorry, all right? I…” She sighed. “Things kind of hit a sore point, but I shouldn’t have just left you hanging. I’m sorry.”

“Hm,” Dorian said.

She sighed again. “And I should’ve called sooner to apologize for leaving you hanging. Okay? Are you finished pouting now?”

Dorian chuckled. “I suppose it’ll do. Your apologies are always so charmingly rude.”

She scoffed at this. “You sound like Felassan.”

“I shall take that as a compliment,” Dorian said. “How is he?”

“Why?” Tamaris said pointedly. “Eager to hear from your new best friend, are you?”

Dorian laughed. “That must mean the sending crystals arrived. I hope they’re of use to him. And no, Tamaris, giving sending crystals to Felassan does not mean I love you any less.”

She grunted, then relented. “Seriously though, thank you for sending those to him. He’s really pleased about it. He… I think he might have found a use for them.”

“Oh?” Dorian said curiously.

Tamaris got up from her bed and went to close the door before replying. “I just told him yesterday that Solas took the eluvians from Briala,” she admitted. “I think he’s got an idea to help her relating to your crystals being precursors to eluvians, but I don’t really know.”

“You didn’t ask?” Dorian said.

“He’s busy with something else right now,” she said.

“Well, tell him I’d like to know what he comes up with,” Dorian said. “It would be nice to hear about a project that’s magical in nature instead of political.”

“I bet,” she said sympathetically. Then she realized she hadn’t asked him about the political situation in Tevinter the last time they’d talked. “Fuck, I should’ve asked. How are you and Maevaris doing there? The Lucerni are shaping up?”

“Oh, they’re doing very well,” Dorian said airily. “Learning their manners, using their knives and forks in the correct hands and all. I’m far more interested in hearing more from you.”

“About what?”

“About Felassan,” Dorian said, in a tone that clearly translated to ‘obviously’. “Now that we’re chatting on our own, I’d appreciate some more details.”

“I thought I never gave any interesting details,” she said snidely.

“It’s not too late to start.”

She scoffed and didn’t speak, but in truth, she wasn’t sure where she’d even begin to explain to Dorian about Felassan. Would it even make sense to him to describe how much Felassan mattered to her when she’d only known him for a few weeks?

Dorian spoke again, and his tone was softer. “I quite like him, you know. That was a rather telling conversation to be a part of.”

“How so?” she asked.

“He has many sides,” Dorian said. “That issue with the Dalish clan…” He paused for a moment, and his voice carried no levity when he spoke again. “That was undeniably chilling. I understand why you were angry.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. 

“And yet…” Dorian paused again, and Tamaris could easily picture him stroking his mustache in thought. “You’ve been in the house together for how long now?”

“Just about a month,” she said.

“Hm,” Dorian said pensively.

She lifted an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?” 

“It’s… interesting,” Dorian said slowly. “Such a short time… but I think he knows you better than Solas did. Possibly better than I do.”

Her gut jolted at this. “What do you mean?”

“When you got angry and left our conversation, Varric and I counselled Felassan to let you have some time alone,” Dorian said. “We told him you prefer to work through it on your own when something bothers you. He refused. He said he wasn’t going to let you sit alone with this because… venhedis, what were the words he used? Something like the brightest flames deserving a gentle hand to stoke them so they don’t burn themselves out. Something like that.”

She stared at the crystal with a ringing of disbelief in her head. Felassan had said that to Dorian and Varric? The brightest flames deserving a gentle hand… He’d said that about her? It certainly sounded like something he’d say. But to say something that tender about her to her friends — to Dorian, whom he didn’t even know… 

She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. Then Dorian spoke again, and his voice was a little bit tentative. “It… made me think, actually. That perhaps we were… remiss by not pushing you harder to talk to us after everything happened.”

She cleared her throat. “No, it’s… it’s not your fault,” she said gruffly. “I was…” Gods, she’d been so angry for so long, and she’d become inaccessible in so many ways. It was only now with Felassan’s gentle hands building her up that she could see how much she’d shut herself away. 

“I was fucked up, Dorian,” she said. “I wasn’t letting anyone in. It’s not your fault.”

“No,” Dorian said, and Tamaris raised her eyebrows at the vehemence in his tone. “I stopped trying,” he said. “I… I think perhaps we were… scared of your intensity. You can be quite terrifying, you know.”

She huffed despite the lump in her throat. “Thanks, I guess.”

He chuckled, but his tone was somber when he spoke again. “We gave up trying to… to bring you out of your shell. And for that, I am truly sorry. And I am very glad that Felassan seems to have found a way through your shell.” His voice warmed with humour once more. “He’s quite something, isn’t he? I might have a bit of a crush. That voice of his is like a golden trap.”

Tamaris barked out a laugh. “Yeah. He caught me pretty fucking thoroughly.”

The playful words left her mouth and hung in the air between herself and Dorian, like a spritz of perfume that neither of them had expected. 

“And she shares details after all,” Dorian said gently. “I knew you had it in you.”

She didn’t reply. She just sat frozen on her bed as her own words rolled through her mind: he caught me thoroughly. All of a sudden, it was like something inside of her had crumbled, breaking apart in her chest and showing what she’d been so reluctant to see all this time. 

She could see it now though, in complete crystal clarity, almost like looking through an eluvian’s activated depths: how special Felassan was, how important he was, the possessiveness she felt for him. The desire that continued to ripen between them every day, and the laughter they shared over the stupidest jokes and teases. 

Felassan was everything she’d been terrified of letting in for the past few years, and without quite meaning to, she’d summarized her feelings for him in just a few unfiltered words to Dorian: he caught me thoroughly. She’d tried to hide from him and she’d tried to run, and she’d tried to keep him away from her most damaged parts like she’d done to everyone else. And still he’d caught her — not because he was a trap like Dorian’s joke suggested, but because he was wide open.

Felassan was a warm and open smile and wide-open arms. Tamaris had stumbled clumsily toward those wide-open arms, and Felassan had caught her. 

Dorian’s voice jolted her from her jittery reverie. “Are you still there?” 

“Yeah,” she said huskily. “I’m… I’m still here.”

“Do you have to go?” he said.

His voice was warm and understanding, and she could easily picture the curl of his smile beneath his mustache. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ll, um… I’ll call you in a couple days.”

“There’s no rush,” Dorian said. “I’m very busy and important, so I might not have time for you for a while.” 

She huffed in amusement, and Dorian chuckled. “Goodnight, Tamaris.”

“Goodnight,” she said. “And… thanks, lethallin.”

“You’re welcome, my friend,” he said. Then the sending crystal went dim.

Tamaris set it gently on the bedside table. She picked up the quill and ink, then just sat there on her bed holding them and not doing anything. 

He caught me, she thought. It still stunned her how aptly the words described her feelings for Felassan. When they’d first met, she’d been stuck in a sort of freefall of bitterness and self-isolation, barely veiled by the alcohol she’d taken to drinking every night. But Felassan tolerated her moods and her snappishness, and he’d made her laugh and helped her quit the booze. And more quickly than she’d ever imagined possible, she’d slipped into a different sort of freefall altogether – one that was more tempting and terrifying than any bottle of liquor could ever be. 

She’d started falling for Felassan. And no matter how much she resisted it, no matter how much she tried to keep him at bay and to shield her unhealed wounds from him, he’d stood there patiently with his cheeky jokes and his warm amethyst eyes and his wide-open arms. 

Tamaris had fallen for Felassan, and with his infinite patience and care, he had caught her. 

She didn’t know how long she sat there on the bed holding her ink and quill and thinking about him. But when he finally knocked on her bedroom door, she hadn’t written a single word.

As always, he stepped into her room without waiting for a response. His face was wreathed in a cheeky smile, and her blood thrilled at the sight of him, but she forced herself to give him the annoyed look that she knew he expected.

“Why do you bother knocking when you’re just going to walk right in anyway?” she asked.

“Because I have excellent manners,” he said. “Knocking is polite.”

“Walking right in is rude,” she pointed out.

“My manners are selective,” he said airily. “Sometimes a little rudeness is exactly what’s called for.” He sauntered over to the bed and gestured at it. “May I?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Since when do you ask for permission to lie on my bed?”

“Since the bed is already occupied,” he said. He eyed the blank parchment that was scattered on the bed. “You got far with your letter-writing, I see.”

His smile was teasing, and Tamaris desperately would have liked to make a clever retort, but the conversation with Dorian was still too fresh and thrilling in her mind. “I was talking to Dorian,” she said, and she started clearing her belongings from the bed to make space for him.

“Ah,” Felassan said. “How is my new best friend?” He lay down beside her and tucked his arms behind his head.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “The two of you are ridiculous. Fucking thick as thieves after one single conversation.”

He smirked. “What can I say? It was a good conversation.”

“So I heard,” Tamaris said.

He looked at her. “Did you, now?”

She tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. “Um, yeah.”

“What did you hear?” he said.

His tone was light and casual, but his face was warm and expectant and open, and… gods, Tamaris had fallen hard for him, and she couldn’t believe she’d resisted for so long.

She gazed at him in silence for a moment. Then, carefully, she shifted closer to him and straddled his hips.

His lips curled in a tiny smile, but his soft and expectant eyes never left her face. Tamaris swallowed hard, and without looking away from his precious handsome face, she peeled her sleeveless tunic over her head. 

She cast her tunic to the floor, then dropped her gaze to her hands as she unbuttoned the front clasps of her bra. She dropped her bra on the floor, then deftly unstrapped her left arm and placed it on the floor as well. And only then, when she was bared to Felassan’s gaze from the waist up, did she met his eye again. 

He was watching her intensely. His eyes were wide and hungry as they tracked over her breasts and the planes of her bare belly, and she could feel the hardening of his cock beneath her as his greedy gaze took her in. But his arms were still folded behind his head, and he was making no move to touch her. 

When his eyes finally returned to her face, her heart thumped. His eyes were glowing faintly, lit warmly from within by magic and desire. But what really stole her breath was the tenderness in his face.

A pang of nerves shot through her belly. It was a good pang, though — a pang that reminded her in no uncertain terms that she was not alone in this. She was not alone in the roiling storm of desire between them, desire that was thickened and deepened by the obvious emotion that they both shared. 

But Felassan lay quiet and still with his arms tucked behind his head. As the seconds ticked by and her heart thudded in her ears, she realized what he was waiting for — what he’d been waiting for this morning, and what he’d been waiting for all along, ever since the morning after their first time. 

He was waiting for her. He was waiting for her to act, to speak – to tell him in no uncertain terms that this was what she wanted. 

Tamaris took a deep breath. And finally, after weeks of keeping the words trapped at the back of her tongue, she let them loose.

“I want you,” she said. 

A beautiful smile lit his face, but his words were serious. “Are you sure?”

Tamaris rested her right hand on his abs and tilted her hips forward. She rubbed herself slowly against the bulge between his legs, and his smile slipped into a look of want. 

“I’m sure,” she said firmly. “I want you, Felassan. I’m ready.”

He exhaled slowly and smiled once more. “Good,” he said softly. Then, finally, he reached for her with one hand.

Her breath hitched as his fingers approached her. He placed his palm flat on her body, his fingers brushing her sternum as his thumb traced the underside of her breast, and Tamaris stopped breathing. 

Slowly and delicately, he trailed his fingers down her sternum toward her navel, and a bloom of heated anticipation burst to life between her legs at the nearness of his fingers to her groin. But his hand was slowly moving back up, his palm breezing very gently over her skin, and then he was trailing his fingertips beneath her breasts, stroking the curves of her body as though he was storing their shape in his fingertips for later.

Tamaris arched helplessly toward his teasing hand. He continued his slow and careful perusal of her skin, skimming his knuckles over the taut planes of her belly and brushing his fingers over her collarbones, and all the while he was avoiding her nipples, brushing his thumb and his knuckles around them but never over their hardened little peaks.

Within the space of a minute, Tamaris was panting and rocking her hips, and the buzzing of unfulfilled desire in her nipples was almost more than she could bear. When Felassan lowered his hand from her chest, she arched her spine and moaned.

“Please,” she begged. “Felassan, touch me!”

A smile lit his face. He carefully sat up on his elbows, then pushed himself upright without shifting her off of his lap, and Tamaris grabbed his shoulder for balance; they were face-to-face now, and his one arm was encircling her waist. He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, and her excitement ratcheted up as she anticipated his kiss–

“Lean back,” he murmured against her lips. “Let me touch you.”

She immediately leaned back, keeping her one hand on his shoulder for support. Then Felassan dipped his head low and licked her nipple. 

A bolt of lust shot through her body straight down to her groin. She gasped and arched toward his mouth, but he kept his touch teasing and light, running his tongue over her nipple with smooth long strokes before pulling very lightly at the peak with his lips. 

Tamaris twisted desperately on his lap, but his arm was too tight around her waist, and Felassan didn’t relent; he continued to torture her nipple with little flicks of the tongue and tugs of his lips, and when he moved on to treat her other nipple with the same glorious and terrible attention, she actually sobbed. 

“You fucking tease,” she whined.

He lifted his mouth and grinned. “I’m not teasing. I’m simply savouring. The memory of your nipples in my mouth has been keeping me up at night for weeks.” 

“So suck on them already!” she burst out.

He laughed wickedly. “Why would I do that when I could have you squirming on my lap like this?” He dropped his head once more and brushed his cheek over the peak of her breast, and she let out a strained little moan.

“Felassan…” She tried to tilt her hips down to press against the bulge of his cock. Maybe if she riled him up, she could goad him into touching her more firmly. But as she twisted in the muscular grip of his arm, she realized something: he was holding her in such a way that she couldn’t rub herself against him.

“Why are you torturing me like this?” she demanded.

“Because I know you like it,” he replied.

She let out a breathy laugh. “You are such a smug asshole.”

“And you burn much more brightly when I stoke you in just the right way,” he murmured.

She darted a look at him, and her heart squeezed. Despite the salacious undertone of his words, his eyes were tender and warm.

In this moment, she realized that he knew what she and Dorian had been talking about. Felassan knew that Dorian had told her what he’d said after she’d walked away. 

But he didn’t know all of it. He didn’t know what she had told to Dorian in turn: that she had fallen hard for Felassan, and that she was so incredibly grateful to be caught.

She clasped his neck in her hand and kissed him. His lips parted for her, and she nipped his lips and stroked his tongue with hers as passionately as she could in the desperate hope that her kiss would tell him what she wanted him to know, but still wasn’t quite brave enough to say.

She gently suckled his lower lip, and he let out the most beautiful growly groan. Then his hand was curving along the side of her neck, his fingers sliding into her hair, and when he pulled her head back to kiss her throat, she mewled and twisted her hips again, to no avail. 

“Felassan, please,” she whined. He was leaving a trail of tiny open-mouthed kisses along the taut line of her neck and down, and the closer his lips got to her breast, the more she became convinced that she was going to explode before he even really touched her. 

He hummed against her collarbone, then suddenly took her nipple in his mouth and suckled hard, and she cried out in surprise and clasped his neck to hold him close. He pulled her nipple deeply into his mouth like he was trying to draw all of the pleasure in her body toward the perfect hard pressure of his lips, and just when Tamaris was starting to feel some relief, he released her. 

She dug her nails into his neck. “Felassan, just – fuck me!” she blurted.

He burst out a little laugh, then suddenly rolled her over. The next thing she knew, she was sprawled on her back beneath him. 

He placed a tiny teasing kiss on her breast. “You’re so impatient. But I’m not sure you’re ready.”

She laughed giddily and lifted her hips toward him. “This again? You’re so fucking mean.”

He tutted and rolled her nipple between his fingers. “Don’t slander me. I’m not mean; I’m extremely nice. In fact, I am so nice that I shall check to make sure you’re ready for me.” He sat back on his knees and started unlacing her breeches, and she panted and twisted her hips restlessly until her breeches were undone. By the time his deft fingers were finally pulling her breeches and smallclothes down, her smalls were so wet that they clung to her for a moment before finally peeling away.

Felassan let out a slow and breathy groan, then reached down and ran his palm over his bulging groin. Satisfied by his reaction, Tamaris lifted her hips and spread her legs. “Does that mean I’m ready?” she asked cheekily. 

He lifted his eyes to her face, and another bolt of excitement coursed through her blood: his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were aglow. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I think I need a closer look. Maybe a taste.”

She burst out a breathy laugh. “You’re so full of– oh gods!” His head was between her legs, and she arched and clenched her fingers in the sheets: Felassan was devouring her, his mouth moving between her legs in a ravenous rhythm of open-mouthed kisses and long hungry laps of his tongue, and for a moment she just lay there gasping for breath, stunned by the torrid heat of his lips and tongue as he drank in the evidence of desire that he’d fostered between her legs. He clasped her thighs and held her wide as he kissed her sex, and it really felt like he was tasting her, like he was taking the time to feast on every fold of her flesh and every drop of slippery nectar that heralded her desperate want. 

Then his attention honed onto her clit. His ravenous mouth became gentle and slow – oh fuck, so gentle and slow: he was doing nothing more now than brushing his lower lip over her swollen clit, and it felt so fucking good and so fucking torturous that she lifted her head to stare pleadingly at him.

A pulse of excitement made her lightheaded: he was looking at her, too. His beautiful amethyst eyes were glowing and his cheeks and ears were flushed, and he was looking directly at her face while he caressed her clit with his lower lip.

A hint of a smile curled the corner of his mouth. Without breaking her gaze, Felassan ran his tongue over her clit, and she gasped and stared breathlessly into his eyes, stunned by desire and by the sheer intimacy of this act. Having him watching her while he feasted on her, knowing that she was watching him… There was something so intimate about it, almost more intimate than the act itself, and as he licked her and kissed her and brought her toward her peak while gazing into her eyes, she knew that the pounding of her heart was more than just sheer lust. 

She stared at him, lightheaded with pleasure and want and the fervency of her own affection. He gazed steadily at her in turn, his eyes glittering with magic and with carnal intent, and only when her climax suddenly burst did she break from his hypnotic gaze.

She slammed her head back into the pillows and let out a visceral cry. Felassan was still licking her clit, lavishing the sensitive bud with gentle little laps while his palms smoothed along the insides of her thighs, and when Tamaris’s scintillating climax ebbed away, he finally lifted his mouth from between her legs. 

He wiped his mouth on her belly, then shifted up higher on the bed to lounge beside her, but his hand was still drifting over her inner thigh. “Did you enjoy that, avise?” he murmured. 

She nodded, feeling too good and too spent to talk, and Felassan smirked. “Yes? You liked watching me while I slid my tongue over that tight little nub between your legs?”

A fresh shiver of lust pulsed between legs. “Yes,” she breathed.

He nodded thoughtfully. Then he curved his fingers against the sensitive folds of her sex. “Did you enjoy staring at me while I made you come all over my tongue?” he asked.

His tone was innocent, but his voice was so fucking smooth, and his fingers lying still against her body were sheer torture. She gasped and bucked her hips toward his hand. “Fuck’s sake, Felassan, yes!”

He angled his wrist and slid two fingers inside of her, and she cried out and arched her back. Then Felassan pressed his lips to her ear. “Ar em hartha al emathast’sulahn mar asreun’en bellanaris,” he purred. 

Oh fuck, she thought deliriously. This was what he’d been threatening for weeks, the words in his own native tongue–

He curled his fingers inside of her. She mewled and grabbed his shirt, and he spoke into her ear again. “Ir silras ahnsul al palash’odhe mar blardhea.” 

“Felassan,” she whined. She didn’t know what he was saying, but — but fuck it, he was right: there was something about the rhythm of his words, the tone and liquid lilt of his accent shaped around the ancient Elvhen words, and it was doing something wonderful to her, even though she couldn’t discern his meaning. 

He slid his fingers inside of her in a slow and careful thrust. “Ir’emah diana’ma sule ma tela odhea i’tel em,” he murmured, and Tamaris sobbed and twisted helplessly beneath him. His fingers were swirling inside of her, and as Felassan continued to whisper in her ear, it felt like his words were swirling inside of her as well. His fluid Elvhen words were finding something hidden in her blood and bringing it to life, making her feel more alive and in tune with the feeling of his fingers curling inside of her and striking the perfect place of pleasure inside of her body–

She came suddenly, to her own surprise, and she was so taken aback by the suddenness of her climax that she couldn’t even cry out. She couldn’t breathe or say a word; all she could do was lie arching and splayed on her bed as the pleasure of his fingers and his words spanned and pulsed through her entire body from her scalp all the way to the tips of her toes. 

When she could finally breathe again, all she could manage was the faintest moan. Felassan chuckled, then lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

For some reason, his voice was curled with humour. She took a deep breath, then spoke on a moan. “Does what hurt?” 

“Your chest,” he said. 

My chest? she thought in confusion. She opened her eyes and looked down at her chest, and her eyebrows leapt up.

There were long red marks across her chest – scoremarks from her own nails. She’d scratched herself in the throes of her rapture, and she hadn’t even noticed. 

“Oh shit,” she said. She burst out a breathy laugh, then groaned and stretched languidly on the bed. “I didn’t even feel that.”

“Too busy feeling other things?” Felassan said slyly.

She admired his gorgeous cheeky grin, then rolled toward him and pushed him onto his back. “Get naked,” she said. 

He tsked. “There you go, commanding me again.” He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, then started unlacing his breeches, and Tamaris watched avidly the laces came undone. 

He lifted his hips and started pushing down his breeches, and she was amused to note once again that he was wearing no underwear. “All right,” he said playfully. “Are you satisfi–”

She surged toward him and kissed him, cutting off his playful words, and then she was straddling him and clutching his shoulder for support while she rubbed her slick cleft along the length of his cock.

He moaned loudly into her mouth and grabbed her shoulder blades, and Tamaris greedily swallowed the sound of his pleasure as she curled her hips toward him. He was so gorgeously hard and smooth, and his fingers were sliding firmly from her shoulder blades down her back as though he was savouring her skin beneath his fingers. She rocked against him, spreading her slickness along the length of his cock, and he broke from their kiss with a gasp.

“Tamaris,” he moaned. He grabbed her hips and tried to lift her, but she tensed her thighs and went still.

Felassan’s eyes darted to her face. “Is something wrong?” he panted. 

She twisted her lips wryly. “I just don’t think you’re ready.”

He stared at her for a second. Then a wicked smile burst across his face. “Oh, avise,” he said, and he laughed. “You can’t withhold from me.”

“I’m not withholding,” she said innocently. “I really don’t think you’re ready. I’d better take a closer look.” She slid off of his lap and shuffled down between his legs, then braced her weight on her shortened left arm and brushed her lips over the head of his cock.

He grunted with pleasure and lifted his hips, and Tamaris purposely lifted her head to look at him. “I want to know what you said to me in Elvhen,” she said.

“I said a lot of things to you in Elvhen,” he replied. His smile was cheeky but the light in his eyes was an urgent glow, and Tamaris admired the obvious lust in his face before lowering her head toward his cock.

Felassan jerked his hips, and she lifted her head once more without touching him with her mouth. “Tell me some of the things you said,” she demanded.

He exhaled shakily and smiled. “Whatever happened to enjoying a little mystery?”

She took his cock in her mouth and all way down her throat, and the sound he made… gods, it was guttural and animalistic and full of desire, and it was almost enough to make her give up the teasing act and fuck him. 

With an immense effort of will, she resisted. She slowly released his cock, then sat back on her heels. “Tell me, Felassan,” she said, and she placed her hand on his thigh, teasingly close to his cock. 

His eyes glittered with heat as they focused on her hand. “So cruelly insistent. One thing I said was this: ‘I could listen to the symphony of your orgasms forever.’”

A ripple of want burned down her throat toward her belly. She took his cock in her fist and pumped him once, and he leaned his head back with another gorgeous groan.

“Tamaris…” he breathed.

She stroked his length once more, then released him. “What else did you say?”

He lifted his head to look at her with his luminous eyes. “I also said this: ‘I am drunk on the perfume of your pussy.’”

Oh fuck, she thought feverishly. She crawled back up his body to straddle his hips and rubbed her slick heat against the length of his cock. “What else did you say?” she panted.

He moaned and squeezed her hip. “Tamaris, I need you…”

“Is that something you said?”

“It is something I’m saying now,” he said sharply.

She smiled at his snappish tone, then leaned in and brushed her lips over the tip of his ear. “Tell me something else you said,” she whispered.

He suddenly wrapped his fist in her hair and pulled her head to the side, and she cried out with pleasure at the sudden pull. He lifted his hips to rub against her pussy and dragged his tongue along the side of her neck, and by the time his lips were at her ear, she was practically sobbing with want.

“‘I’m going to fill you up until you can’t breathe without me’,” he growled. “That is something else I said. Can I do as I promised now, or have you not had enough of provoking me?”

“Yes!” she gasped.

He nipped her neck. “Yes to what?” he demanded.

“Yes, I want you to fill me up!” she cried.

He smiled against her ear. “That’s all you had to say,” he purred. He released her hair and lifted her hips, then started slowly lowering her onto his cock.

She mewled and dug her nails into Felassan’s shoulder, and he burst out a guttural breath. “Ar iselana mana per ma...” he moaned. 

She panted for breath and didn’t reply, and he continued to fill her up inch by blissful inch. When she was fully seated on his cock, they exhaled together in a groan at the completeness of their melding bodies. 

He slid his palms from her thighs up to her hips, and Tamaris wrapped her arm around his neck. In tandem, they began moving together in a languid rolling rhythm. 

Tamaris slowly curled her hips to meet him and pressed her forehead to his. “What did you just say?” she breathed. 

He let out a breathy groan and stroked her back. “I said… I said that I have waited so long for you.”

She went still for a moment, and Felassan cradled her neck. “And I would have continued to wait,” he murmured. “I told you before, avise. Some things are worth waiting for.”

She stared wordlessly into his steady violet eyes. A bloom of emotion burst in her chest and spread through her rib cage, rising up through her throat and pressing at the back of her eyes, and when Felassan’s expression grew tender, she knew that he could see it too. 

She kissed him and flexed her hips to take him deep. He slid his arms around her, and then he was hugging her tightly as he filled her with his cock, and as Tamaris suckled his tongue and breathed against his lips, she wished she had two whole arms if only to hold him just as tightly as he was holding her. 

She hugged him with her right arm and rested her stunted left arm on his shoulder. Without breaking the rolling grind of their hips or breaking from her kiss, Felassan reached up and stroked her shortened arm, smoothing his hand firmly from her shoulder down to the stump and back, and the bloom of affection in her chest only seemed to swell more hotly than before. 

She kissed him hard, then broke from his lips to breathe against his cheek. “Move me how you want me,” she whispered. He’d pleased her so much already, with his mouth and his hands and his filthy Elvhen words, and the slow thrust of his cock was pleasing her all the more, and all she wanted was to make him feel just as good. 

He squeezed her shortened left arm, then slid his arms around her once more. “This is how I want you,” he told her. “A slow-burning flame for this slow arrow.” 

She smiled against his cheek. “That’s a lot of words to say – ah — that you like what I’m doing already.” 

His pleasured groan drifted across her ear, followed by his husky voice. “I know how much you like my words. And I am very good with them. Did you know that I was once a very good spy–”

“Shut up,” she laughed breathily, and she took his lips in another kiss. She cradled his neck and rolled against his lap in a slow and steady grind, and Felassan licked her tongue and stroked her back and lifted his hips to meet her, and despite the distracting bliss of his body meeting with hers, Tamaris was careful to note when his hips became more jerky and his kisses more firm.

He broke from her lips with a breathy grunt, and Tamaris’s excitement flared anew; his eyes were glowing once more, glittering with the kind of hot luminance that meant his control was starting to slip. She lifted her hips and came down more firmly on his cock, and he jolted and grabbed her hip. 

“Ah,” he gasped. “That — Tamaris–”

He didn’t need to say anything more; without any further cueing, Tamaris began to fuck him in a hard and rapid rise-and-fall. 

She clasped his neck and gazed into his eyes. He was staring at her too, his eyes glazed and feverish with need, and as Tamaris continued to lift and lower herself on the slick length of his cock, his face began to twist with the most beautiful expression of longing.

“Tamaris,” he begged. 

“I know,” she breathed. She kissed him once more, then turned his head to the side and nipped his neck. 

He gasped out the most beautiful pleasured sound, and she felt his cock jerking inside of her. She kissed and licked his neck, then started sucking on his skin with just enough pressure to hurt. His breathing grew erratic beside her ear and his cock became even harder, striking even deeper inside of her body, and Tamaris whimpered and bit his neck.

He dug his nails into her shoulder blade and cried out in climax, and Tamaris hugged him with her right arm as he groaned and panted and shuddered ecstatically beneath her. She continued to roll against him, taking his thickness into her body and savouring his length as he filled her up, and when his shuddering stilled and his fingers went lax against her back, she finally went still on his lap.

She brushed her lips over his temple, then down to his jaw. He sighed languidly and leaned his head to the side, and Tamaris happily took advantage of the angle to nuzzle the side of his neck.

She kissed and licked his neck, and he let out another lazy sigh and ran his hand over her curly hair. “Are you hungry? I can make you something. You don’t need to feed on the salt from my skin.”  

She lifted her lips. “I thought you liked it when I suck on your neck.”

“I love it when you suck on my neck,” he said.

She stroked his cheek, then brushed her lips over his ear. “Then stop complaining,” she whispered.

He laughed – that perfect, lilting roll of a laugh — then lifted her off of his lap and settled her on the bed so they were lying face-to-face. “Abrasive and tender in a single breath,” he said. “What a quixotic marvel you are.”

His palm was moving in a slow and lazy stroke along the side of her hip. She smiled goofily at him, but she couldn’t help but compare their current pose to the way they’d fallen asleep last night. They’d been lying face-to-face like this last night, and Felassan had been gazing at her in this soft and tender way. But this moment now was so much better than last night. Now, his face wasn’t tinted with sadness and ravaged with tears. Now, their skin was completely bare and dappled with the shared dampness of each other’s sweat and sex. 

Now, Tamaris could finally admit to herself that she had fallen in love with Felassan. 

“What’s on your mind?” he murmured.

I love you, she thought. But she still couldn’t tell him yet. The admission was still too fresh in her mind, too new and too tender to release into the air, and despite the unmitigated depth of her feelings, she wasn’t quite ready to tell him yet. 

 “I think I am hungry after all,” she said. “Can you bring me a snack?”

He smiled slowly at her, then pulled her against his body. “I take back that offer,” he grumbled. “You’re getting far too pampered.” 

“Spoilsport,” she said. Then she squealed when his fingers crept teasingly over her ribs.

“Don’t tickle!” she gasped, but he didn’t give in, and soon she was helpless with laughter beneath him. 

She grabbed his hand to stop him. “Okay,” she wheezed. “Okay, okay, I don’t need a snack.” 

He lifted his hand to cradle her neck. “That’s a relief,” he said. “Because I’m not willing to leave this bed anytime soon.” 

She gazed happily into his perfect violet eyes, then tilted her chin up for a kiss. I’ll tell him soon, she thought. Soon, she would find the courage to tell him that she loved him. 

But for now, she would linger in the heat of his sweat-laced skin, and she would enjoy the precious feeling of being caught.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Somebody Else ~ Part 4

SOOO, I got inspired last night and ended up starting/finishing the next update. I hope you enjoy it and stay tuned for the next part! I have excellent plans for a few more chapters. Feedback is always welcomed! 

Angel Reyes x Reader/ Ezekiel Reyes x Reader 

Word Count: 1.6k 

CATCH UP HERE

Warnings: language, general angst, brother jealousy 

Translations 

He estado mejor: I’ve been better.

Estás preciosa: You are beautiful.

Por que, mi amor: Why, my love?

Vigila tu espalda hermanito: Watch your back, little brother. 

-------------------------------------

She knew he was here before she ever heard the knock at the front door. It had been fourteen pathetic days since she asked him to leave her alone and he walked away. Her body tinged with anxiety mingling through her nerves, she wasn’t ready for this to see him. Y/N gaze shifted when she heard the inevitable sound of a motorcycle turning onto the street, Y/N reluctantly braced herself against the counter trying to find any courage still residing within her. The door rattled open as the cool air found residence on her skin, Angel Reyes was a goddamn Adonis. 

“Hey Ba-.. Y/N. ¿cómo estás?”  

Angel stepped closer to her immediately causing Y/N to recoil, her new-found courage evaporating into momentary fear. When he noticed her hesitation his right hand unknowingly found home atop his heart as he gently rubbed at the aching spot. Angel felt his heart break all over again. ‘This was all your fault’ constantly replayed on an infinite loop as a haunting reminder, ingraining itself into his daily thoughts. Why did Adelita get under his skin? How did he stray from the one girl who’s remained by his side since the very beginning?

“He estado mejor.” Apprehension lingered in the room; unhappiness etched its way into the bare concrete walls. The air maintained a stagnant, stale, and smothering ambiance. But if she knew one thing for sure it was her undeniable energy with Angel even when he the cause of her heartbreak.

“Estás preciosa. I miss y—” Suddenly, she stormed towards him firmly placing her soft hands over his smooth lips effectively cutting him off mid-sentence.

“Cut the bullshit, Angel. Have you talked to her since we broke up?” Her ocean blues were glazed with unshed tears as she impatiently awaited his response unsure if she was actually prepared for the answer. Even on Y/n’s deathbed she would never admit it aloud, but some deeply rooted and fucked up piece of her yearned to be by his side once again, and that terrified her more than raising their unborn child.

Seconds crawled by before a tear slid down Y/N’s blushed cheek. Angel’s muteness was more than enough of a response to her question. She was officially an idiot…again.

Y/N’s lip quivered with melancholy; her pulse raced against her skin; her once quick-witted tongue momentarily muzzled as defeat seeped into her very core.

“I need to stop imagining situations in my head that aren’t going to happen.”

Once more Angel attempted to close the gap between them slowly inching her way. She was so close he could almost graze his fingertips against her freckled skin. Too focused to comprehend his surroundings, Angel neglected to hear the tiny whimper leave Y/N. Her hand placed defiantly in front of her frame halting his movements. “Please, stop. Don’t come any closer.”

“¿Por que, mi amor? His breathe tickled along her jawline causing her spine to shiver. Angel was a man of many skills. He so desperately wanted to push the loose tendrils of her blue hair and look into her eyes. They always reflected nothing but the honest truth, it was her God-given power and imminent downfall. But Y/N refused him forgoing his selfish whims.

“When I think of our love, I think of pain, and that shouldn’t be so. But I love you so much. That’s what makes this next part so tricky.” Stay strong, Y/N.  

The fire blazing in her dark and injured heart seemed to glow around her like an unwavering flame. She loved him because Angel had seemingly brought her back to life. She had been like a lonely caterpillar in a cocoon, and he had drawn her out and shown her that she was a butterfly. Then he proceeded to rip off her delicate wings.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Y/N?” He was losing her. There was no absolutely doubt in his mind.

“Goodness can be found sometimes in the middle of hell, Angel. I’d say this is pretty fucking close, wouldn’t you agree?... I’m pregnant.” Y/N shuddered as air rushed past her lips releasing itself from the confines of her lungs.

Shock radiated every neuron in his entire body suddenly feeling himself come alive. Suddenly Angel was hyper-acute of the stunning figure in front of him. The edges of his vision darkened as blood rushed throughout his ears. It reminded him of the first time he heard the ocean; distressingly peaceful.

“Angel, you, uh, look a little pale. I think you need to sit down.” Still lost in translation, Y/N reached for his forearm guiding him towards the kitchenette chair. Stagnant electricity remained claustrophobically between the duo. She kneeled against the cold tile finally at eye level since he walked in.

“I’m sorry for coming in and fucking up your life. I never meant for things to get so fucking twisted. You have to believe me, Y/N. You are genuinely the best gal I’ve ever had the pleasure to call mine. Never forget that.”

A sad smile graced her lips, her muscles pulsated with uneasy energy. “That doesn’t change the fact that you want her. It was my fault, I fooled myself into ever believing I was your end game.” Her gentle hands rested on his dark denim jeans rubbing small circles all while subconsciously soothing his anxiety, allowing him the luxury of simply inhaling some much-needed air. Even after he dumped her, abandoned her for his interest in another dangerous woman filled with her own deceitful secrets, Y/N still somehow grounded him.

“Every morning, I wake up and forget just for a second that it all happened. But once my eyes open, it buries me like a murderous landslide of sharp, sad rocks. Once my eyes pry themselves open, I’m heavy, like there’s too much gravity on my heart. I’ve been in love with you my whole life but I think it’s time for me to walk away. For good, this time. I’m ... letting you go. Consider yourself free.”

Y/N pivoted off his knees standing up straight while taking a few steps away from him.

His voice a mere murmur; “When did you find out?”

She internally chuckled recalling the shitty day in question. “The day we ended things.”

Unexpectedly, Angel became the question king in concerns with all matters of Y/N’s life.

“Does anybody else know?”

The words left her mouth before her brain had a moment to register. “Simple, Ez.”

“Why did my brother know before me??”

“Because he’s my best friend.”

Shaking his head in disagreement; “He might be your best friend but he’s in love with you. He’s been drooling over you since elementary school. You run into his arms literally any time something happens. You think I don’t see this shit?” His angered tone seemingly increased forcing the veins along his tanned neck to bulge out ferociously.

“He was always the better Reyes brother. Papa Reyes never could understand what made me glued to his eldest son.”

Before Y/N could blink, Angel rushed her, invading her personal space. Her breath quickened as she quietly huffed. Angel’s hand was clasped securely along her jawline forcing her to see him, to feel his all-consuming, unbridled rage before he leaned in even closer. The hair on her neck stood up sickeningly straight as he spoke into the shell of her ear.

“When I was balls deep in Adelita, there wasn’t a moment where I even considered how you’d feel. I was blinded and betrayed by lust. You think my baby bro would want my sloppy seconds?” His malicious tone oozed with venom scaring Y/N into suspended submission. Down the road Y/N heard the tall-tale rumble of a engine cruising towards her house.

“I just wanted you to know, Angel. No matter how much I hate you, this is our child and I won’t deny you your basic rights. Trust me, I don’t expect anything from you…not at this point. Hopefully one day soon you wake the fuck up and see that I’m not the goddamn enemy. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

The wood frame rumbled as a strong fist met Y/N’s yellow front door breaking the already shattered tension. The moment was spoiled as Angel walked towards the foyer. He fingers connected with the chilled knob, twisting until success. He was met with rich, hazel eyes gleaming back at him. Fucking Ezekiel.

“Vigila tu espalda hermanito.”

Y/N appeared in Ez’s line of sight deciding to stay quiet in the background. Curiosity and awkwardness engulfed the threesome.

Ezekiel wasn’t going to back down. He finally had his chance and he would be damned to maintain his silence.

“The best man has already won.” With that, Ez clapped Angel’s rigid shoulder before moving to greet Y/N. He didn’t dare glance back no longer caring about what his brother thought and proceeded to close her front door.

“You sure do have perfect timing Mr. Reyes. I think you pissed him off.”

His chuckle aerated the room bringing a warmness to the peak of her slender neck. His muscular arms found her waist pulling her close into his chest for an embracive hug.

“Don’t shoot me. I just came for the hot meal…and enticing company.”

It was good to hear her laugh, and not just any plain laugh, but one buried within the borders of your chest that vibrated the room. His nerves soon calming as he dared a look in Y/N’s direction. She smiled sweetly, sincerely happy to be in his presence. All her life, she had learned that passion, like fire, was a dangerous force to reckon with. For it so easily spun out of control.

-----

Tags: @pupyluv247​ @feelingsonfiire @partypoison00

[smuttymess]

bts astro soulmate reading | for vanessa

sign: taurus sun | leo moon | virgo rising

lover: min yoongi | soulmate: kim taehyung

Those born with their Sun in Taurus are known for their reliability and fortitude: they know the power of making a plan, staying the course and seeing it through to the end. People initially experience you as a thoughtful, diligent, and strong-willed individual who can be trusted to make key decisions not lose their cool under pressure, establishing you as a valuable figure both in the workplace and in positions of power but also in your personal relationships. Your Virgo rising, or how you present to others, only furthers your presence as a matter-of-fact, hard working person who values perfection and purposefulness in everything that you do no matter how seemingly small and unimportant. Beneath this stoic, occasionally cold exterior is fiery Leo Moon, which brims with a boundless energy that comprises your internal state of emotions and reactions. Leo is driven by ego and being seen, meaning you derive great value from being appreciated from all of your hard work, and you're not afraid to ask for it. When the elements come together, you are likely to experience profound clashes between your outgoing, showy and prideful Leo Moon and the patient, balanced nature of your Taurus Sun. Your specific placements make you one of the most opinionated and brazen signs in the zodiac, meaning you are highly respected but not always liked. Let's face it: not everyone is ready for your level of honesty! And while this can sometimes leave you feeling misunderstood (Leo loves to be loved), the strength of your Taurus Sun affords you heightened sense of self and the world around you alongside a keen understanding that not everyone is for you. Once the bruises on your ego have healed, you're more than happy to pour your signature loyalty, compassion and dedication into the many people that do adore you, creating lifelong relationships that are of the most importance to you.

A Moon in Leo means you have a deep confidence gained from your vast life experience, and your Taurus Sun knows how to use this knowledge to move you forward towards your best self. This inner security allows you to speak candidly, something that others deeply admire about you and undoubtedly has contributed to your success in career and relationships. In being able to very frankly admit to your strengths and weaknesses, you are able to advance ahead of others who are still unsure of their place in the universe and focus on achieving the greatness you know you are capable of reaching, going for nothing less than perfection. It is no surprise that you are selective with your relationships, naturally gravitating towards people who match you level of intellectualism and curiosity. It is Min Yoongi, the sensitive, creative Pisces, that strikes your interest at a large dinner party hosted by a shared acquaintance within your high-rolling social circle from various industries. Preferring to lay back on the sidelines, Yoongi takes in the room, his eyes becoming fixate on you as you light up the room with your Leo fire while deeply immersed in raucous conversation about current events. A Virgo Moon, Yoongi immediately connects with your very logical and perceptive mind, but his lively Aries Venus is both amused and turned on by the evident passion underlying your words as you so expertly articulate your point of view. It is towards the end of the night after countless passing stares when Yoongi finally approaches you, the low, seductive hum of his voice sending you into a daze as his dark eyes pierce into you. It's not everyday you hear people speak their mind in this way - your authenticity is refreshing. I'd love to hear more of your thoughts. Sit with me? This combination of praise and immediate appreciation for your inner self is almost foreplay in and of itself, which only intensifies with the natural flow of the conversation that follows. Not one to waste time, you tell Yoongi to call you when he's free to meet again while he's in town, and it's through the long, winding exchanges in the days and weeks that follow which sets this love affair into motion.

Pisces and Taurus are two signs that connect on a highly emotional level, falling for each other's minds before even thinking of moving to the physical. Underneath your strong, Virgo exterior lies a highly empathetic, good-hearted soul that senses a similar kindness in Yoongi - a quality that you sometimes overlook Though softs spoken at first, you enjoy seeing him open up about his passion for music and artistic pursuits which are much different from your own career path. While you don't enjoy too much leisure in your daily life (there's so much to do!) you find yourself spending hours in bed with Yoongi with whom time simply stands still. His innate passion extends into sex, which you two take your time getting to but inevitably erupts in something very intense and romantic. You are both extremely sensual signs representing the art of pleasure, and nowhere does it become clearer than when Yoongi's lips are on yours, devouring every inch of you while one hand rests behind your neck and the other is free to explore the rest of your body. He is soft but commanding in his presence, his eyes laser-focused on yours as his fingers slide your panties to the side to enter your core, expertly curving inside you and driving a loud moan from your lips. Yoongi is the type to make you fall in love with his sensitivity but also his genuine care for your orgasm, his movements sending shivers throughout your spine as he draws you closer and closer to your edge and stopping only when you are trembling and thrusting against his fingers to ride out your high. A Pisces gets lost in your pleasure, wanting to satisfy you to the fullest extent. You're so fucking beautiful, I can't wait to taste you.

Though highly compatible in bed, this is not a forever duo due to the conflicting nature of your placements. The classic Taurus/Pisces dilemma lies their innately different expectations and life values: while you are both money-motivated, you work in entirely different ways to achieve your goals. You deeply crave the stability that comes with financial independence, while Yoongi's Pisces, makes him much more interested in the freedom that wealth offers. He is the free-flowing fish, who often spends a great deal of time alone inside his fantasy world where he is able to bring his artistic visions to life, neglecting you in the process. You prefer to live with two feet firmly on the ground, and while his Virgo Moon makes him driven, he does not match your level of intensity in this way. His laid-back demeanor, while initially endearing to you, over time this becomes frustrating as it does not align with your need to be doted on and truly adored on a daily basis. It soon becomes clear that your visions of the future are not in sync, and it is the decisive Taurus that ultimately cuts ties in pursuits of someone that is a better fit.

However hurt you are when one relationship prospect ends, your pride does not let you stay down for long - after all, you are all about improving and moving forward. Your sign is likely to immerse themselves in work projects or helping friends and family when they need a distraction and something to get lost in. A Virgo rising has an innate love of learning that knows no limit, and you are likely to enjoy travel that involves a historical/educational component. It is while on a solo adventure through Rome that you meet a fellow wanderer - his dark brown, curly hair falling across his face as his eyes come to meet yours, revealing perhaps the most gorgeous face you've ever seen. I'm Taehyung, pleasure to meet you.

You are dual in nature, and you need someone to appreciate that in full - quirks and all. Enter Kim Taehyung, the enigmatic Capricorn whose varied emotional complexity matches your own and effortlessly clicks. Immediately you come to admire each others shared levels of honesty and ambition, traits you explore over walks through the city streets and subsequently over long-distance phone calls once you return home. From the start these two earth signs are like magnets to each other, and the chemistry's pull is undeniable. Your impatient Leo spirit has likely landed you in trouble by rushing into things romantically, and the Capricorn man is more than happy to take things move at your pace - in fact, he enjoys nothing more than a slow build. While hours-long conversations floating from topic to topic may be a waste of time, with Taehyung it is easy to get lost in the sultriness of his voice, but also the way he romantically views the world around him - the charm emanating from his Aries Moon is infectious and speaks to your soul that also wants to achieve but cares deeply about people. He is also exceptionally lighthearted, knowing exactly when to shift from the pragmatic, hard-working idol to laid-back and silly friend that just wants to make you laugh with a random meme or nonsensical text. Traditional at heart, you're more than happy to be wooed, allowing Tae someone to plan a date and show you an excellent time by curating according to your fine tastes. A Leo Moon knows the value of themselves and their company so doesn't settle for anything half-assed, your Virgo rising makes you prone to criticism, while your Taurus means you are particularly averse to anything that is careless or superficial. You prefer grand gestures to be thoughtful in nature, and you are pleasantly surprised makes you feel appreciated from afar, repeatedly surprising you with gifts delivered that perfectly match your style. Thought this would suit you nicely. Show me on video, I can't wait to see you in it... By the time you are back together in person, it's almost as if reuniting with a long lost friend who you also can't wait to ride.

After several weeks of foreplay over the phone, you two waste no time when you find yourself standing at the entryway of his hotel suite. The intuitive Capricorn male can easily recognize a bit of a praise kink within you, one that his very task-oriented side is happy to experiment with and execute in in the bedroom. His Aquarius in Venus is creative and loves to play, excited to explore dominant/submissive behavior you've expressed interest in and very much wanting to be the one that allows you to relinquish the control you have on all areas of your life. It is truly unnerving how dual he is in nature, his eyes darkening to expose his dominant side that senses your anticipation at the appearance of a small toy, the tension steadily building between your thighs as you imagine how it will feel against you. A true tease, Tae lights you on fire with ease as he moves to close the gap between your bodies, his fingers gently tracing your jaw and neck as his lips graze your trembling lips. Patience, my love. It's going to be a long evening. Tae's Capricorn/Aquarius combo alongside your Taurus/Leo means that there is an unpredictability in the dynamic, resulting in many sexual possibilities. You're both more than capable of switching roles, your Taurus takes the lead as Taehyung stares up at you in awe, his lips falling apart as you press your breasts against his strong chest. You enjoy coaxing praises from his lips as you straddle him, grinding down onto his length slowly as a desperate moan escapes his lips and he bucks his hips, aching to fill you up. You've teased me all this time, let's see how you like being toyed with. There is something so deeply satisfying about his deep voice groaning and telling you how perfect you are as you bounce on his cock, stopping strategically to to edge him and hear him beg with those beautiful lips of his. This is a pairing that is as good at long-drawn out passionate sessions as they are with to-the-point quickies, learning with ease how to make the other come undone in a matter of minutes. It is not unusual for a 20 min break in the day to turn into you and Tae on the couch, your leg over his shoulder with his finger rubbing your clit as his strokes feverishly into you and smiling as he sets a new record. While sex between these two can be extremely gentle, especially after days apart, there is a natural bit of a competition here: who can make the other come the hardest? Either way, you both win.

Together, a Capricorn and Taurus build a life of comfort, stability, and trust that could only be created by two earth signs. Above all else, you need the emotional stability that comes from being with a like-minded soul who is as strong, independent and decisive as you are - someone who will let you shine brightly while confidently pursuing their own goals. But at the end of a long day, your partner also needs to be able to consistently shower you with the love and affection you crave - almost as if it were their second job. While you certainly get off on being admired by many, at a deep level you truly desire one lifelong love who only has eyes for you. You find this in Capricorn Tae, a highly disciplined, hardworking spirit who also enjoys surprising you with his quirky, unconventional nature that brings out your inner child and proves to be a life partner in all ways. With a shared love for learning and individual perfectionism, this is a duo that will likely achieve greatness in very different fields but find a way to make them mesh well - Taehyung in music and art and you in whatever path you choose - while providing a level of understanding to each other that few others can. This combination enjoys a very stable and established home base in each others hearts given a high importance placed on wealth and comfort, but not extravagance or over-indulgence. This is a pairing that likely has an apartment in the heart of the city for business matters, but prefers the coziness of their primary residence outside of the city. It is in this home that you are able to fully decompress from a day of leading and producing to simply be your unique selves, the space serving as a sanctuary for you to get lost in pure domestic bliss. Possessing a complimentary balance of temperaments and desires, Capricorn and Taurus is a match for the ages, one that is long-lasting and rooted in family, loyalty and prosperity.

[gingermintpepper]

The Elite Four and the 8th Gym Leader

Something I only really noticed now despite it really being a running theme in Pokemon is the strength of the eight Gym Leader in relation to the League. 

We see in Pokemon Origins that Gym Challengers are encouraged to challenge the Gyms in any order and that Gym Leaders have teams of varying strength to cater to the badges and approximate strength of their challengers but the one thing’s that’s been consistent across almost every region is the fact that the eighth Gym Leader is someone of Champion Trainer Caliber--often times proven to be stronger than multiple Elite Four members. And I honestly don’t know why? 

Don’t believe me? In Kanto, the eighth Gym Leader is Giovanni--a man who has the entire region in his pocket what with Team Rocket’s mafia-like hold on things like Silph and the Game Corner and someone who was undeniably powerful; brazen enough to head the creation of the ultimate battle oriented Pokemon and strong-willed enough to actually control Mewtwo for a while. When you bring him down, Green takes his spot at Viridian even though we know Green’s strong enough to be the new Champion. He beat Lance and the League before Red and he’s still a Champion Class trainer now. But he doesn’t take up a spot at the League like he wanted all that time ago. Is it because he’s grown past his petty one-up complex with Red? We never find out, but it doesn’t change the fact that a Champion class trainer is sitting in eighth Gym Leader’s seat when he could’ve easily snagged a League chair. Alright, one time’s not to bad. 

In Johto, Claire’s the eighth Gym Leader and, not only is she second only to Lance in their family of Dragon Tamers, the elder says that she could surpass him if she just had a better attitude. If that doesn’t make her at least League class then I don’t know what does. 

Hoenn’s the first region where the eighth Gym Leader outright becomes Champion eventually, though it’s not through usurping but rather through request. Wallace and Steven have a great relationship all throughout R/S/E and it’s even better fleshed out in ORAS but when Steven grows tired of being stuck up on Ever Grande, he doesn’t ask any of the E4 to cover for him. Drake’s right there and he’s bound to have tons of experience and strength, not to mention the respect of the other League trainers but, nope, he asks that Wallace hold on to his title and take up his seat on Ever Grande for him while he does some rock finding. Wallace is already widely established as a powerful Water type Pokemon Master but this more or less means that Wallace was always a Champion class trainer and had simply inherited the Gym from Juan because “well, I can still do contests as a Gym Leader”. Not to mention, in ORAS Wallace is revealed to be a guardian and gatekeeper for the Cave of Origin and Sky Pillar. This guy’s got mad power and skill, but he’s most often found chilling in Sootopolis when he’s more than powerful enough to rival--if not outright surpass--Steven in strength. 

Sinnoh is wild. Volkner challenges the Elite Four out of sheer boredom as the eighth Gym Leader. I don’t know if he’s on Cynthia’s level (and let’s be honest, that’s a bit ludicrous to think about) but, like Claire, he’s definitely more than powerful enough to be in the Elite Four. Like Wallace and Steven, Volkner has an excellent relationship with his best friend Flint who’s third in the lineup of the Sinnoh Elite Four and it’s highly implicated that Flint and Volkner are, not only of equivalent strength, but very used to working and training together as seen by their Double Battle techniques and the fact that Volkner turns down battles with Flint when he’s bored because he knows Flints techniques too well. 

Again in Unova, Iris is your eighth Gym Leader in White but is outright the Champion in both Black 2 and White 2. I have no idea if she was always comparable in strength to Alder, we don’t get to see Alder battle at all really in the main stories but in both B/W and B2/W2 Iris is active in the region and she takes care of people. 

And that’s another thing actually! All of these trainers? These eighth Gym Leaders? Not only have they all been super powerful and respected as trainers, they’re also incredibly important people to their regions and communities as a whole. Green keeps an eye on things from Viridian, takes the time to train up new trainers so another Rocket fiasco doesn’t happen and in HGSS he’s investigating things on Cinnabar after the eruption. People speak highly of him and of course they would--this is the kid that helped Red save Kanto from Team Rocket. Claire’s the next head of her clan--Lance is busy with League stuff so it falls to her which is why the Elder pushes her so hard. I’ve already talked ad nauseum at how Wallace is more or less Hoenn’s poster boy--a master of contests, of battles, gatekeeper and lorekeeper of important places to the Continental Trio and of water type Pokemon, something that couldn’t represent Hoenn better what with them being like 70% water. Volkner’s in charge of the lighthouse, an architect, technician and skilled craftsman all in one. This bastard took out the streets of Sunyshore and replaced them with solar panels. Who the fuck?? He’s easily a certifiable genius with energy and that sort of proficiency just sorta naturally bleeds into his battling. It’s why he gets bored so easily. 

Kalos is iffy--we don’t know anything about Wulfric and Alola doesn’t really have a League, but Hapu is chosen by the Tapus which I suppose counts for something. 

In Galar things are back to form with Raihan and Leon’s legendary one-sided rivalry and the fact that it’s outright stated that  Raihan is more than Champion class--all he’d need to do is fight a Champion that’s not Leon-- but he won’t out of sheer stubbornness. So like, what’s the point? Why are the Eighth Gym Leaders some of the strongest in the region without having actual seats on the League proper? 

Is it a bureaucracy thing? Is it a security thing? The strongest trainers can’t all be in the League because generally speaking the Pokemon  League is usually pretty far removed from the action on the ground and that way there’s always a powerful Champion or thereabout-class trainer ready to respond when the Elite Four can’t come and intervene? Pokemon is confirmed to be a universe in which many, many wars have taken place; maybe it’s a left over from that era where first responders meant the difference between life and death.  

I have no idea what the connection is and I’ve been agonizing over it for ages heLP--

[ohh-baekhyun]

Nothing Like Us | 01

✨Summary: Rich, charming and undeniably good-looking, Byun Baekhyun is used to women falling on their knees for him. You are the opposite though. Quiet, reserved and indifferent, you are never afraid to put him in his place if you need to. That’s probably why he is quite besotted with you. No woman has ever challenged him the way you do. Thus when he has the chance to spend three weeks under the same roof as you, he makes it his sole mission to win your heart.

✨Genre: Arranged Marriage-ish!AU, romance, fluff, smut in future chapter, 2nd POV.

✨Word count: 4.9k 

The day after your parents signed the divorce papers, your mother took off, bringing your sister along while leaving you behind with your father. You remember crying as you begged her not to leave. Even if she blatantly favors your sister over you, having her in you life is much better than living with a father who doesn’t give a damn about you. Your Dad never wanted kids, thinks they are too much of a burden to bear. That’s probably why as soon as your mother left, he shipped you off as far away as possible and hasn’t had much to do with you ever since.

You were only fifteen back then, and it isn’t easy to adapt to life on your own. There were many nights when you were alone, feeling forlorn, scared and homesick, wishing there’s someone you can call but there is no one.

Not that you haven’t tried forging a relationship with your parents and sister. You did. Very deseparely if you may add. A few times, you tried calling but never once did they pick up. You tried sending letters too, telling them how you were doing, letting them know that you were excelling in school, practically begging them to be proud of you. You thought maybe one day they’d want you back, but it’s been six years and that day never seem to arrive.

Until yesterday.

It felt like a dream when you received a call from your father telling you that he has booked you a flight back home. He didn’t mention anything other than, “Mr and Mrs Byun have invited us for dinner” and you didn’t further question what the dinner is about. You were simply overjoyed to finally see your father again.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Baekhyun asks as he leads you down the stone path in his backyard. The two of you have just excused yourself from the dining room as he wanted to speak to you in private.

You lift your shoulders in a shrug. “Why?”

He stops by a wooden bench, bending forward and running his hands over the surface to brush off the dust. “Here, sit.”

You look at him, hesitating for a moment before eventually taking a seat. “What is this about?”

He settles on the space next to you, turning slightly so he is facing you. “Our parents want us to get married.”

M-married?

You are not sure if you’re hearing him right. For a while, you can only stare at him. Your lips move to try to mutter a word but nothing is coming out. At the end, you manage a small “What?”

“I know,” He says. “That’s a lot to process. Take your time.”

“Take my time?” You chuckle, not because it’s funny but because it’s ludicrous. “I don’t need time to process this. You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna marry you.”

“Say that to our parents. They orchestrated this whole shit.”

You narrow your gaze suspiciously. Somehow you have a feeling that this is one of his stupid pranks. Not that it’s new to you. He does it all the time. Asshole acts like its his job sometimes. Pisses you right off.

“I swear to God if this is one of your–”

Baekhyun lifts a finger up, cutting your speech short. “I know what you’re about to say. But no, it’s not a prank. I’m serious.”

“So you’re telling me you are agreeable with this arrangement?” You ask with raised brows.

“No. But I’m doing this for my father. I’m sure you’ve heard.”

Yes. Your Dad has mentioned about Mr Byun’s deteriorating health condition on the way here from the airport. In fact he is currently overseas undergoing a treatment for his illness. You feel a pang of sympathy for Baekhyun but it does nothing to change your mind.

“I’m sorry about your father, Baekhyun. I truly do. But marrying me isn’t going to cure his sickness.”

“I know that,” He says with a deep sigh. “He just wish to see me settle down before he...you know.”

“Settle down with…me?”

Baekhyun nods. “You know how much my parents adore you. They’ve been playing matchmaker since we were teenagers.”

“But he can’t force you to marry someone against your will. Do you think you can spend the rest of your life being tied to someone you don’t love? You can’t even commit to a relationship.”

He shrugs casually. “I don’t really mind if it’s you I’m marrying.”

You huff, not believing him. “You don’t even like me.”

It is true that you and Baekhyun were childhood friends. The two of you grew up together and he used to be your neighbour. But your personalities with his are like oil and water. Never compatible. Suffice to say, he is the only person who knows how to get under your skin. Not that you hate him, nor is he your enemy. You admit he can be quite likeable sometimes. Especially when he’s not doing, or saying something stupid to annoy you. Which happens once in a blue fucking moon by the way. Sometimes you can’t believe he is twenty-six while you are only twenty. It should be the opposite.

“I never said I don’t like you,” Baekhyun denies. “I do actually. I think you’re…uh–”

“I’m what?” You probe, lifting your brows.

“I think you’ve got nice teeth,” He says.

What? “Teeth?!”

“Yeah. Teeth. They look especially nice when you smile. Which you don’t do often by the way.” 

Is this a joke? You thought as you give him the eye-roll. “Look, you may not be someone who takes matter like marriage seriously, but I do. I can’t sacrifice myself to spending the rest of my life with you just to please your father. And if I ever plan to marry, it would be to someone I love.”

He exhales and nods. “Alright, I respect your decision.”

You rise from the bench and gaze down at him. “Can we get back inside now?”

“Sure.”

When the two of you return to the dining room, the table is cleared and no one is there. You glance at the man next to you who looks as equally confused. He walks out of the dining room and you follow him into the living hall only to find no one there too.

“Where is everyone?” you ask.

“Your father has left.”

That’s Baekhyun’s mother. You bring your head around, watching as she strolls down the staircase.

“Wha-Why?” you ask, feeling uneasy. “Did he say anything?”

“We were discussing about you and thought it’d be great if you could spend three weeks here with Baekhyun and use the time to consider the arrangement.”

Your mouth drops open. “What do you mean?”

“I assume Baekhyun has told you about it, yes?” She looks over at his son.

“Yes, but–” I glance at Baekhyun, silently asking, Are you behind this too? He gives you a clueless shrug.

“Treat it as a trial period,” she continues. “just for you to figure out if you like Baekhyun enough to marry him,” She pauses, smiling as she takes your hand in hers. “You don’t have to feel obligated to say yes, but of course Mr Byun and I would be delighted to have you as our daughter in law.”

There is so much to process here and it is happening all so suddenly. Your mouth opens and closes, fighting to find a word to say but you can’t.

“Oh, and your father also mentioned he’ll be out town for a few weeks,” Mrs Byun adds.

Wait what?

Panic grips your by the heart as you glance from left to right, searching for your purse. You find it sitting on one of the sofas and quickly dash over to grab your phone. There’s a message from your father. You hold your breath and clicks on the notification bar to read what it says.

“Sorry, I have to leave early to catch a flight to China. Mr and Mrs Byun have offered to let you stay at their place for the meantime. Hopefully you can come up with a decision by the end of your stay there. I truly hope you’ll say yes. This is everything I could’ve wished for you. For you to marry someone great, someone with a high stature like Baekhyun. You’ll make me so proud. Plus, Mr Byun has been such a big help to our family. We owe him one.”

The words slowly sink. It’s like your surrounding are spinning and you’re feeling like you are about to faint. You sway a little on your feet, but suddenly Baekhyun is on your side, one arm sliding around your waist to hold you up.

“You okay?” He whispers, peering down at you.

You nod slowly. His face is way too close to yours that you have to look away before he catches you blushing.

“Aww, look at you two, what a perfect match,” his mother praises, clasping her hands together and smiling so dreamily like she’s watching some romance film.

You clear your throat, straightening your back so your body is no longer in contact with Baekhyun. He takes it as a cue to let go, but his eyes remains on you as if he’s afraid you would somehow collapse if he looks away.

“I’m feeling a little worn out from the jetlag,” You say to his mother. “Would you mind me heading up to my room first?”

“Oh dear, of course! You must be so tired.” She looks over at Baekhyun. “Can you show her to her room please?”

“Which one?” He asks.

“Any bedrooms upstairs,” she says and then adds, “Maybe try avoiding the haunted one.”

Your widen eyes volley between Baekhyun and his mother. “H-haunted?”

Baekhyun chuckles, placing his hand on your lower back. “Let’s go,” he says, then he guides you up the stairs.

“What did she mean by haunted?” you ask, glancing up at him as you walk.

“The previous owner committed suicide in one of the bedrooms upstairs.”

“Oh great,” you mutter under your breath.

Up here on the second floor, things are a little less opulent compared to the first. There’s a hallway with three rooms on each side. The lighting is dimmed, and the wall is covered with a few rustic paintings. You spot your little suitcase waiting for you outside the door at the far end of the hall. Must be your room.

“Which one is haunted?” You whisper carefully to Baekhyun as he leads you down the hallway. He motions to the door right across your room and you immediately feel chills cascading up and down your body. 

Baekhyun opens the door to your room, and you step inside, pulling your suitcase with you as he flicks the light on.

“Let me know if you need anything,” He says.

“Baekhyun wait,” You turn around, feeling more nervous now that he’s leaving. The door nearly closes, but it flew open again.

“What?” He says, standing at the doorway, his hand holding onto the door jamb.

“Where will you be sleeping?”

He nods towards the room next door.

“Oh,” That’s a relief. “Okay. Goodnight.”

A little frown forms on his forehead as he stands there, studying your face. “Will you be okay?”

“You mean will I be okay staying across a haunted room? or will I be okay staying with you for the next three weeks?”

“Both.”

“No and no,” You reply sharply. “can’t even stand being in the same room with you for a minute, let alone live together.”

You didn’t know what got into you, but you certainly didn’t mean to say that. 

Baekhyun inhales sharply, like he is resisting the urge to fire something back at you. “Do you want me to send you home? You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”

Not like I have a home, you wanted to tell him. But that will only lead to him questioning you why. You are too exhausted for questions.

“Nevermind,” You reply, turning away from him. “Just leave me alone.”

“I swear you are so fucking confusing sometimes,” He murmurs under his breath.

“Me? Confusing?” You snapped your head around to glare at him. “This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t agree to this stupid arrangement. You brought me into this! It’s all your fault!”

The door swings open and Baekhyun takes a step in. “If you’re so against it, you should’ve said no to my mother just now. It’s as simple as that!” He argued. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because…I–” You halt, lips parting and unparting. “I just can’t, okay?”

His brows knit together. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“My Dad wants me here,” you finally admit with a defeated sigh. “And he thinks I should marry you.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell him that you’re not up for it?! You didn’t seem to have any problem shooting me down earlier,” He says snidely.

“You don’t understand,” you say. “Me and my Dad, to say that our relationship is strained is an understatement. He’ll be so disappointed if I say no. And I don’t want to destroy the little contact we have left by letting him down.”

He stares at you, taking a moment to let your words sink. “So you’re actually going to consider marrying me?”

“I really don’t know, Baekhyun,” you tell him with a big fat sigh. “I’m too exhausted to think right now. All I need is sleep.”

He nods. “Alright, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” you mutter when the door is about to close.

He looks at you, a small smile on his face. “It’s okay, I actually missed it.”

Your lift one eyebrow at him. “You missed being yelled at by me?”

“Yeah,” He admits. “But I miss you even more.”

He sounds so sincere you nearly fall for his words. But then you are reminded that this is Baekhyun you’re talking about. The man blurt whatever he wants, whenever he wants to. You can’t take his words seriously.

“Goodnight, Baekhyun.” You simply say.

“You’re not gonna say it back?” He asks, mischief filling his eyes.

“Nope,” You say, turning away from him.

“Fine. Just don’t come looking for me when the demon creature haunts you tonight.”

You whip your head around to look at him. “There’s a demon creature?!”

Instead of answering, he turns away and slams the door in your face like a first class asshole that he is, leaving you all alone in that room.

You spent the last night stewing over what a terrible idea this whole situation is, so when morning comes, you’ve finally made peace with the fact that you’re staying here for the next three weeks. Anyway, it’s summer break. There’s nothing you can do, and nowhere you can go. You’re either here with Baekhyun, or all alone in your apartment overseas.

You figure the former is more appealing because no matter how insufferable Baekhyun can be sometimes, he is still your friend and you could use some company.

As for the marriage arrangement, as crazy as it sounds, you might actually consider giving it a chance.

Might. Consider.

And if you were to say yes, you’re doing it for your Dad, not for Baekhyun. Maybe it’s the message he sent you that is appealing to your sacrificial side. The side that is willing to do anything to make him proud, to earn his approval. Maybe this would help salvage your relationship with your Dad.

You can only hope.

Deciding it is pointless to continue stewing, you get off bed and slid on your plush robe before leaving the room. In the daylight, roaming the hallway doesn’t feel as eerie as it felt last night. But knowing there’s a haunted room still gives you chill.

You finally stop at Baekhyun’s room and rap lightly on the door.

No answer.

You tried knocking a few more times and finally decide to enter when there’s still no response. The door parts slightly just enough for you to peek your head through. You glance at the bed. Baekhyun is not there but you can hear the shower running.

Your eyes continue to roam over the room. There’s a huge display shelves covering one side of the room and it’s filled with train sets and famous landmarks built out of Lego.

You smile to yourself. You’ve always known about this obsession of his since he was little, you just didn’t know it would stick with him until now. The adult Baekhyun doesn’t strike you as someone who plays with Lego. More like someone who plays with women. Guess you don’t know him well after all.

Something else catches your eye.

Scattered on the floor near the shelves is a lego set that is halfway done. You’ve never seen one that huge before. Looks like he is building the Tower Bridge. Intrigued, you find yourself entering the room, leaving the door open behind you. You made sure to be mindful of your steps as you make your way around the bricks and pieces. Has anyone ever tried stepping on this thing? Hurt shitless just so you know.

You bend your knees and squat down to get a clearer look of the miniatures. Everything looks so wee and cute. You smile at a tiny replica of a london bus and pick it up. As you’re inspecting it, the bathroom door behind cracks open.

You slowly bring your head around and…

Oh My GOD...

You gape and freeze on the spot, the bricks slipping out of your grasp, free-falling to the ground. Standing at the threshold of the bathroom is Baekhyun. Wearing nothing from head to toe. And he is staring at you, eyes wide open, looking more dumbfounded than ever.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He yells from where he stands.

“I’m sorry!!” You snap your head around and quickly get to your feet. You’re about to flee the scene, but as soon as you take your first step, a sharp, jabbing pain strike you on the back of your feet causing you to take tumble.

You don’t like to use the f-word unless needed but...

FUCKING HELL!

Everything crashes down. For a second you can almost see your life flashes before your eyes. They say it happens before you die. Well you’re not dead. But you’re pretty sure it feels all the fucking same when your ass landed on these tiny little bricks on the floor. Hurts like hell!

“Fuck! Are you okay?”

You lift your head and gasp at the sight of him striding towards you. All naked. His giant dick swinging freely.

Don’t look at it, don’t look!

Instead you ogle.

God, you can’t unsee that thing even if you try. Maybe it is a testament to how lonely or horny you are. You’ve been in a dry spell for many years now. Or maybe because you’ve never seen a penis that huge, that thick in real life before. All of a sudden you’re wishing this is porn so you could just get on your knees and suck him off into oblivion.

Baekhyun clears his throat and the sound slice through your dirty thoughts. You snapped out of it, glancing up to find him towering over you.

“I’m so sorry!!” You yell while simultaneously slapping your palm over your eyes to cover your vision.

With your free hand, you push yourself up to your feet and quickly turn to scuttle away. Your ass is on fire but you don’t even care anymore. All you need is to get out of there.

Holy Shit

After that awkward encounter in Baekhyun’s room this morning, the two of you are now having breakfast in complete silence. Mrs Byun has to fly out of the country to be with his husband, so it’s just you and Baekhyun in the house. Plus the housemaids. But they are mostly unseen unless needed.

The dining room is so quiet all you hear is the clinking sound of spoons hitting against the plates. You are trying so hard to avoid eye-contact with Baekhyun. It didn’t help that everytime you chance a glance at him, he is already staring and all you can think of is his...you know what I’m saying. Afterwards, you’ll start blushing like mad.

Baekhyun, on the contrary, is enjoying this too much. That smug grin on his face says it all, and his eyes never leaves you, not even once. He loves messing with you like this, especially when he manage to get you all shy and red like you do now.

Once breakfast is over, you immediately retires to your room. You spend the rest of the afternoon in bed with your e-reader, reading the newest fantasy-romance you’ve just purchased. For a while, you allow yourself to disappear into someone else’s life, in another world that is different from the one you’re living in. It feels freeing, and it helps obliviate all the pain even though it’s just for a little while.

When you finally exit your room, it’s only because you’re feeling thirsty. You’ve taken a shower and are dressed in your maroon sweater that falls over one shoulder with a pair of black leggings. It is nearly seven o’clock and the hallway is starting to get dark. Suddenly reminded that there might be a demon creature roaming who knows where, you made your way to the staircase with hurried steps.

That’s when you run into Baekhyun.

He is climbing up the last flight of stairs while you’re about to descend. You stop in your tracks and stare. He didn’t notice you there as he’s playing with his phone. Seems like he just went for a swim. His hair wet, and he’s clad in a grey bathrobe. The belt is knotted, but the V neckline is revealing his bare chest. You feel a tug in your lower belly as you continue ogling. This man has a very very broad shoulder, the kind that makes you feel small, and with the droplets of water trickling down his skin, he’s looking even more lickable than usual.

What are you talking about?!

You shake your head to shove that musing far far away. You swear that naked encounter this morning really did a number on you.

“Hey,” Baekhyun greets as he reaches the top of the stairs, no longer staring at his phone but you.

You respond with a soft hum and proceed to brush past him. He tsks and reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you back.  

“How long are you planning to ignore me?” He ask, sounding gruff.

“I’m not ignoring you,” You deny. “I was just going to head downstair to get something to drink.”

“Then explain why you’re hiding in your room doing who knows what for the whole fucking day? Is that what you’re planning to do for the rest of your stay here?” He asks.

“No,” You answer in small voice.

Baekhyun studies your face, like he’s searching for an answer. “Is it because of what happened this morning? you walking in on me naked?” He surmises.

Yes and yes.

You feel your cheek growing hot, and Baekhyun notices it too.

“Come on, it’s just a dick. Pretty sure you’ve seen one before,” He teases.

“That’s not just a dick, that’s–” the words trail away and you press your lips together to stop yourself.

A slow smirk pulls at his lips. “What?” he asks.

That’s one hell of a fucking dick, you say internally, refusing to voice it out. The man doesn’t need an extra boost to his ego. Instead, you raise your chin and say, “What do you want from me?”

“Look,” He says, getting serious again. “The reason we’re both stuck in here is because we have to; I’m doing this for my father and you’re doing this because you don’t want to let your father down. It’s up to you whether or not you want to marry me, and you’ve got three weeks to consider it. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun while you are here.”

He’s right. You can’t be staying in your room with your nose stuck in your book for the next twenty-eight days.

“What do you suggest we do then?” You ask him.

“There’s a game I’d like us to play,” He suggests.

“Game?” you ask curiously, tilting your head to the side.

“Yeah. We can get to know each other through this game.”

“We know each other, Baekhyun,” you tell him. “We were friends remember?”

“That was six years ago. People change,” he says in an as a matter-of-fact tone.

True that. “Fine, how do we play?”

“I’m sure you know this game; Truth or Dare. You get to choose one between the two. If truth is chosen, I’ll ask a question and you have to answer it honestly. No lie, no avoiding the question. And if you fail to answer, you’ll have to perform a dare. Each person gets three turns a day. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“I’ll go first,” he starts. “So, truth or dare?”

You take a moment to think. Choosing dare seems like too much of a risk to take. Baekhyun can be very mischievous sometimes. What if he dares you to do something ridiculous like a lap dance or anything of that sort.

“Truth.” You finally choose.

“Are you seeing anyone right now?” He asks.

“No.”

He looks relieved as he smiles. “Now, your turn.”

“Truth or Dare?” you ask, hoping he would choose the latter. You have a strong urge to dare him to lick your toes or wash your feet or anything like that to annoy him.

“Truth,” He picks instead.

“Ugh,” you grumble. Honestly, you can’t think of anything to ask at the moment, so you end up asking, “What’s your hobby?”

He gives you the eye-roll. “Boring.”

“Just answer the question, Baekhyun,” You say impatiently, wanting this to be done so you can get away from him. “So, what’s your hobby?” You ask again.

“Sex. I love sex...if that’s a hobby.”

“Why am I even surprise?” You whisper to yourself, rather monotonously.

“My turn again,” He goes on. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“I’m just curious...” He hesitates for a fleeting moment. “Are you a virgin?”

You look him dead in the eye. Not that you are a virgin but not that it’s his business either. “Why do you want to know?” You ask.

He gives a casual shrug. “Just for future reference.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Come on lady, do you really think nothing is going to happen between us over the next three weeks?”

How presumptuous! “I’m not going to sleep with you if that’s what you’re saying.”

“Ouch.” He clutches his heart, pretending to be hurt. “I thought you’d be interested after seeing my human sausage.”

“You did not just say human sausage.” You press your lips together, trying to suppress a laughter.

“What should I call it then?” He raises his brows. “Mushroom head? Semen maker? Corndog?”

“Please, stop,” You say through your pressed lips.

He grins. “What about cum factory? Sounds good?”

That’s it. You burst into laughter in a terribly unladylike way. It sounds almost like a pig snorting that you have to turn your back to him to hide your face.

“Do you want me continue, babe?” He teases. “I can go on all night.”

You shake your head jerkily. “No! no more dick talk, please.”

It takes a while for you to compose yourself. You take a deep breath and turn back around to face him. Baekhyun chuckles at how flushed you look after all those laughters. To tell the truth, he’s been wanting to make you laugh like this. You look so beautiful you damn near take his breath away.

“You haven’t answered my question,” He says. “Are you a virgin?”

“I’m not telling you,” You refuse.

“Well, you know the consequence when you can’t answer a question.”

“Fine, I’ll do a dare. What do you want me to do?”

Baekhyun rubs his lips together, taking his time to think.

“You’re not going to ask me to kiss you, right?” You guess. Somehow that’s the only thing that crosses your mind.

“That’s not what I’m thinking,” He gaze into your eyes, then your lips. “though I wouldn’t mind at all.”

You swallow nervously. “Wh-what do you want me to do then?”

His gaze ascends to your face. “Sing me that song,” he demands.

“What song?”

“Baby...” He starts singing, “Shark doo doo doo doo.”

“Go fuck yourself, Baekhyun!” You snarl and start walking off down the hall.

“Where are you going, babe?” He asks through his laughter.

You flip him the middle finger and keep walking. 

Next Chapter

To be Continued

[mediioxumate]

@dearleader​ sent ❣ for a random kiss from Kaito for Kokichi! || accepting!

9. a bleeding / bloody kiss.

The past 72 hours or so had been too fucking much. Between losing Gonta, his rift with Shuichi, getting so so damn close to getting out. And now, he was in the hangar still, coughing his lungs up while Kokichi, who was allegedly the mastermind held him fucking hostage.

But... something was off. Had been off. 

The more Kaito thought things over... it didn’t line up. Sure, he was a leader of sorts, heart of the team, excellent at pep talks, but what did Kokichi really gain from kidnapping him? Why would the mastermind bother with this? And, considering Kaito didn’t have much else to do, he found himself sitting and pondering between coughing fits. 

He’d spent so much time trying to bridge the gap between him and Kokichi, and subsequently the bridge between Kokichi and the others. It had really felt like he’d gotten somewhere, even if all evidence at the moment pointed to the contrary. Well, he’d just have to do things the hard way, he supposed. Putting together a plan wasn’t terribly difficult, he just needed to get Kokichi to talk to him. Luckily he’d had a few visitors, and between finally being able to make peace with Shuichi and have Himiko bring him what he needed, he was ready.

Unfortunately, like usual, his captor was five steps ahead of him, and Maki just a couple steps behind that. 

Shit. 

Everything spiraled out of his control quickly, but somehow, that seemed to be exactly what the other boy wanted. He could hardly keep up, between the poison coursing through his system, between making Maki believe she killed him, the electrobomb. 

Before long, they were on their final steps of the plan, Kokichi’s breathing ragged as he stopped the press for them to trade. He was fading fast, and Kaito’s heart clenched in his chest, thoughts racing. Kokichi’s blood was about to be, undeniably, on his hands. While he was fully confident that the plan would work for fooling Monokuma.... Shuichi not so much. His sidekick was much too smart for that, and he could only hope for his and Maki’s forgiveness.

At least, Kaito thought, he was dying anyway. 

As they did the trade off, Kaito paused Kokichi, just for a moment, firm hand on his shoulder. There... weren’t many good words here. “Kimchi...” A soft laugh rumbled through his chest before his lips twisted, unsure, exactly, of what he wanted. They were both bloody messes, and Kokichi looked... frail like this. Gently, he draped his coat over the boy’s slim shoulders, letting it hang there.

It sent a cold shiver down his spine to see the life draining slowly, the room huge and eerily quiet between them. Kaito found himself leaning down, pressing a lingering kiss to Kokichi’s forehead, the tangy iron taste of blood hitting his tongue - though he couldn’t tell you which of theirs it was. 

“Okay... showtime.” He helped Kokichi over to the press, positioning him carefully, draping the jacket sleeve over the side. His lips found their way to Kokichi’s skin again, pressing to the weakening pulse point in his wrist, flipping the hand over to brush a kiss over his knuckles. 

There wasn’t time, not to talk, nothing more. They were on a timer. 

With one, tearful, final grin, Kaito gave the boy a thumbs up. “See you in the stars, Kimchi.” It was a weak ending, admittedly, but if he didn’t hurry, Maki would be in danger. With a shudder, he made his way back up to the control panel, setting the camera to roll again as he restarted the press. 

[supercalifragilisaow]

A Suspension of Judgment

Please, if you read, read it all before commenting. I make several points, dependent on one another.

*Something on Morality* 

I’m just curious as to what kinds of relationships those of you who react so extremely have had. Yes, believe victims of abuse. Now, what is abuse for you? My definition of it doesn’t exactly come close to what Arryn’s definition is. I don’t deny this was undeniably the worst for her, and that Bob and Eliza, if this is true, even if only part of it is true, have some apologizing and reckoning to do with their own guilt. But in relationships, if I look at my and my friends, people sometimes yell, sometimes cheat, sometimes say things they regret. Don’t you know anyone whose relationship started as cheating? Because I know several, and while it’s never a good or moral thing to do, it’s out there. People recognize they’re in love with someone else, or they’d be better fit with someone else, and it hurts and it’s hard, but it’s really common, you all. I feel like most of the responses I see don’t make a difference between all the things. You’re ready to cancel two people completely because they cheated and it got ugly? 

I understand that you have to make the distinction between fantasy and what’s fiction and what isn’t, but I ask you to consider how many fanfic you’ve read where Bellarke cheat on their significant other with each other, and that was fine, because of some higher love or soulmate stuff. It’s possible - it perhaps looks this way - that Bob and Arryn had a good relationship but ultimately were not good for each other. They probably had good moments, excellent ones, and then poor ones, the ones she has chosen to describe, because she posted this as a reaction to abuse she got from fans, STILL, and also because she’s rightfully upset at Bob and Eliza. Perhaps she was completely blameless in everything, perhaps she wasn’t perfect either. I’m not saying she deserved it. To me, the abuse she received at the hand of the so-called Bellarke fans is way worse than the abuse she claims she received by her boyfriend at the time. Let me explain. It is horrendous that people did all these things. I don’t know to what extent Bob - with PR expectations from the show binding him, probably - could have really stopped that shit with the “fans”, but it was never ok and these were a bunch of childish assholes. It was constant when they were together, and it was still horrible when they broke things off. Many of them, I’m sure, will now be cancelling Bob and Eliza like they had no part in abusing this woman. The abuse one receives in a relationship, in my opinion, unless it’s really extreme, matters for others (=non-friends and family) to know only if it’s physical violence. The definition of emotional and verbal abuse is really blurry, and I’m certainly not going to cancel someone because they fought with their significant other. It would matter how constant this was, how bad the verbal abuse was. Don’t forget, I did say Bob probably has some serious apologizing to do. But does that make him a terrible man? Not for me. It makes him a flawed one (we knew that already), perhaps one that wants to do better. I know plenty of them, and believe me, there are many others who are terrible enough for all of them. 

 *Educating Men (sadly)*

I don’t think all of what she describes is “abuse”, and it’s my judgment call: there seems to be a good deal of her accepting things and realizing later she’d rather not be with someone like that. I don’t call that abuse. We all grow and realize things after the relationship is done. It’s good she realized all the choices she made to accommodate him. Bob was probably most of the time not like this, or she wouldn’t have stayed with him, and I don’t believe in burning someone at the stake because they’ve had bad days. Yes, I said bad days. Much studies on gender and how society engrains some things in us will tell you cis-men have more tendencies toward anger and toward expressing that anger explicitly than cis-women, because of the way we are treated differently as children. This is something cis-men who recognize that fact have to unlearn, and it is as difficult as unlearning anything. Unfortunately, it falls on some of us to educate these cis-men in a slow, painful process. Perhaps Eliza will be reaping the rewards of what went badly with Arryn. Don’t you know other relationships where that happened? I know several.

I find this situation similar to the Aziz Ansari case. Did he sound like a bit of a creepy man who you wouldn’t go on a second date with, who wasn’t a good listener and who took advantage of his fame to try and get dates with women? Definitely. Is he a disgusting pervert doubled with a serial sexual harasser and assaulter who should be cancelled like Weinstein? I don’t think so. If he’s learning now, if he’ll be better, then that’s fine by me. I’m sorry for the women who have to educate these cis-men. Fuck that noise, but it’s the life of post me too and post mainstream feminism. Not a bland “believe all victims, cancel all the accused”. 

*What could be public in all this*

The biphobia is bad. People start off in life with prejudices, as you know. I’m a person who learned and grew from prejudices and right wing upbringing to become what would be qualified here as radical left. Perhaps Bob learned after a few years. (Perhap he didn’t) The world is not the same now as it was even 5 years ago, in cultural, social terms, especially in LGBTQ terms. We all have to unlearn prejudices. I’d like to see Bob apologize for that at least, or address it in some way. The calling her pathetic is bad, I guess, but I’ve been called names too during fights, and I don’t consider myself abused. Perhaps she does, and I don’t blame her for that. I do blame anyone who’ll make this all in all private matter very public, and ruin lives for this. I’m sure the damage done to Arryn would have been much less if the fans had behaved like normal persons in the first place. It would just have been some deplorable drama that happens in life sometimes. She’ll find someone better for her. She’ll have boundaries that she didn’t before, about what she won’t or will do for or because of a partner. The gaslighting is bad, but nothing I haven’t heard of before when relationships go astray. Denying feelings (not ready to accept them, not wanting to lose her, who the hell knows why, for sure not us), meeting up in secret. Perhaps Bob and Arryn had both decided to move while he was in Vancouver so yes, she did everything like *women often do*, but perhaps he hadn’t decided to leave her yet, perhaps he wasn’t sure where this was going. People make mistakes, sometimes repeatedly. But for the love of ***, what is private and what is public??

It’s good for all of you to expect perfection of yourselves and of your partners. Sounds like you have great relationships (sometimes they become less good, too, none of what Arryn writes explains whether this was bad from the start or became bad): I’m just empathic of what goes on behind the scenes, and compassionate as to what brings people to do the things they do. It’s not our call to excuse or condemn anyone. If Arryn were my friend and she told me about all this, I’d support her 100% and call the guy an asshole, which would be deserved. As it is, she is not my friend, and i’m sick of this culture where this has to mean immediate cancellation for the persons involved just because they’re “celebrities”. You’re not a pervert or an evil person because you cheat. You’ve chosen to hurt someone and you deal with the private consequences of that (guilt, losing friends, etc) I’ve had friends (and I suspect a parent) who have cheated, and some who have been cheated on. I still think Bob is neither a bad nor a great person. So is Eliza, probably. They’d need to do way more for me to condemn them (like, politically, or, like I said before, an accusation of domestic violence or of actual gaslighting). As it is, it looks like a private matter taken public (again, only because fans have gotten involved in the very first place in HORRIBLE and ABUSIVE ways). I’m not mixing everything up. Arryn is not my friend and Bob and Eliza are not my friends; I don’t know these people. I don’t feel worse about them than I did before this came out, and I hope Arryn finds a way to heal from this. If it helps her to call his behavior abusive, and what Eliza and him did gaslighting, very well. But what followed seems a bit intense and out of proportion for me. I hope some of you agree. Let’s not forget: there are two sides to a story, there are many ways to live, there are many things to learn. 

Thanks for reading.