#i know the end doesnt scan

[geekthefreakout]

"Guy Fawkes, Who?"

Remember, Remember

The 5th of November

Cas said "I love you" to Dean

Then trended over the US Election

Becoming the number one news-bearing meme

I'll always remember

That 5th of November

When he got sucked to turbo-hell, I screamed

There was some shit with Putin

For Nevada, we were rootin'

When Cas said "I love you" to Dean

Once we remembered

The 5th of November

For gunpowder treason and plot

But who cares for that guy

When Dean got hit with pie

And Cas, the CW forgot

So now on this day

We unbury that gay

With fanfic and art (we've made plenty)

And hold in our hearts the gay angel and hunter

Who broke Tumblr in November, 2020

[jrueships]

🙄

😋

[jensettermandu]

beware - kim minjeong

genre; smut

pairing; tattooist!winter x rockstar!female reader

content; smut, cunnilingus (r. giving), fingering (r, giving), brief mention of choking and spanking, implications of an unhealthy relationship, winter and reader both have piercings and tattoos but it doesnt go too much into it!

wc; 3.8k+

masterlist.

Her feet came to a stop, looking at the tattoo place and hoping that Minjeong wouldn’t throw her out this time too, last time was in the middle of the night, out in the middle of nowhere in a cheap motel. Her eyes scanned through the big glass windows, seeing the shorter girl who was sitting on the saddle chair with her back facing the window.

Minjeong slowly finished fixing her station, cleaning every little thing and organising everything, hating when her workstation would be messy. It wouldn’t even pass by Richie if it was and she was sure she would get fired as the guy had a lot of high-end clients because the place was known and had celebrities stopping by. 

She was somewhat underpaid despite having more clients than most of the other tattooists because of her designs and skill, but she knew that if she got hired anywhere she wouldn’t even get half the pay. It was a dog-eat-dog world in the end. 

Her ears were being graced with the heavy instrumental and the aggressive vocal fry of the metal song playing, that was until they were graced with the opening of the door. 

She was closing tonight and hated people who couldn’t read closing hours that were written clearly on the glass doors. “It clearly says that it’s closed.” She informed with an annoyed grumble, sighing as she waited for a response only to get none. 

Her ears tried to catch any sound of whoever entered as she had yet to turn around which was difficult with the music distorted music. She at last decided to turn around only to get stopped, her heart jumped up in rate at the cold hand that clasped over her mouth, the yelp muffled—in fear the first thing she did was elbow the person.

“Fuck–” She quickly turned around at the familiar voice that groaned in pain. “You’re fucking strong.” Y/n whined as she crouched down, holding onto the side of her ribs after the powerful blow. She was aware that Minjeong was strong after being manhandled by her in bed, but she didn’t expect her to have such reflexes. If she knew she wouldn’t have tried to scare her. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” Minjeong exclaimed, her hands wrapping around the girl's arms who looked up at her with her lower lip puckered. The girl’s heart eased from the galloping that it did when she thought she would die or get kidnapped. 

“You should know the answer.” Y/n’s voice came out somewhat strained from the pain.

Minjeong helped her back up on her feet, dragging the frail girl up by the arms. The strong scent of vanilla on the singer invaded her nose as she hadn’t been around the scent for a while. 

Minjeong sucked air through her teeth and shook her head, looking at the girl although her eyes trailed her stomach and the pierced navel first before going higher up. The band member was busy massaging her ribs slightly. “You’re a female yourself, you should know what is bound to happen if you think from my perspective for a second.” The girl complained and Y/n’s gaze fell on her at last. 

“I’ve been told that I see from the perspective of an idiot and not a woman and anyone can be an idiot.” She said with a small shrug, fixing the leather jacket as it had moved around from how she tried to see if Minjeong managed to bruise her. It was just slightly red. 

She hummed and turned back around on the chair to her station to finish up what she was doing. “Whoever said it was right,” Minjeong confirmed as the girl seemed quite reckless from what she’d seen on stage and now. 

“It was Richie—Is he in?” Y/n replied and looked back, deciding to sit down on the tattoo chair. 

“No, I’m closing tonight.”

Y/n looked around the chair that had a bunch of levers to be pulled and whatnot. The girl pulled one and reclined it further back before lifting her head and looking at the two separate legrests connected to it. “This could pass as some BDSM type of chair, would you let me eat you out on it?” Y/n questioned as ideas started to pile in her head about how she could position the girl in the chair or the tattooist position her. 

Minjeong finished and she turned back around to see the girl playing around with the levers and adjusting the chair. “No, there are windows right there and stop before you break something.” She slid over on the saddle chair she was in and grabbed hold of the girl’s hand, making Y/n look back up as she had been looking under the chair. 

The rockstar that had been plaguing Minjeong lately blew away the strand of hair that fell in front of her eyes and the two locked eyes, Y/n smiling at the girl. “But it could work if there weren’t any windows.” Y/n prompted as the idea as a whole didn’t have to be excluded if it hadn’t been for the windows. 

Minjeong let go of her hands and manoeuvred around to be in front of the girl. “If you’d do this…” She trailed off as she grabbed hold of the girl's legs, making sure that each was on the leg rests. Y/n watched the girl with a small smile, both of them in a better mood than the last time they were together. 

They had been able to wind down and relax after their latest rendezvous that had been intense with emotions; from the night they spent on the shitty mattress in the cheap motel to the constant fights they could have whenever they were together. Passionate, but in all the wrong ways as they both could still taste the bitterness of alcohol and the saltiness of tears on their lips. 

“Is this what you had in mind?” She asked as she pushed each leg rest apart, biting her lip as she parted the girl's legs and slid closer. Minjeong’s hands trailed over Y/n’s smooth and long legs, the scent of caramel and vanilla lingered along her skin.

Y/n hummed as the fingers ran over her knees and to her inner thighs. Minjeong’s fingers gently traced up creating goosebumps while she watched her fingers disappear under the black mini-skirt. Y/n expectantly watched until Minjeong caught her lust-filled gaze.

“Too bad there are windows then.” Minjeong reminded as she wasn’t going to risk getting fired if someone saw them and wouldn’t mind their business. She slid right back, teasing the girl and Y/n frowned, pulling the seat back up to sit straight as it had been reclined. 

“When do you get off?” Y/n asked.

“In 15.” She informed her and slid right back to her place. The heat that was pooling would have to wait a bit more, although neither knew how to make the time pass quicker because talking would mean having to beat around the bush of their last fight or talking about it which they never did. It was easier to fuck away the memories. 

“I won’t need more to make you tremble,” Y/n said and hopped down the chair, Minjeong’s eyes widened slightly when the taller girl grabbed hold of her hand and pulled on her. The girl rolled a bit on the chair before she managed to get up–ignoring her chair that fell over in the process. 

“Y/n–”

“It’s 15 minutes to waste doing something better than sitting around.” The lithe girl cut her off and Minjeong followed the girl who knew her way around the place. 

They walked past the counter and pushed aside the grey curtain that hid the small corridor that led to the office, bathrooms, changing room, and the first door on the left that Y/n decided to push open to not waste time—the supply room. The girl opened the door and blindly reached for the small light switch while entering and pulling Minjeong in after her. 

“I’m not trying to get fired for having sex in the supply room,” Minjeong muttered as all the ink, sanitisers and whatnot were stacked on the metal storage shelves. The door closed in the dimly lit room that just fit them both. 

“Trust me—” Y/n started and turned the girl around, Minjeong somewhat squirming at how cold the hands that gripped the flesh of her ass were. “We aren’t getting caught.”

Minjeong didn’t get the chance to question the girl’s words when all she did do was push her tongue against Y/n’s tongue when their lips met in that familiar kiss that was needy and somewhat sloppy. The barbell massaged against her tongue, making Minjeong play with it as she tilted her head to get more of Y/n’s mouth and lip gloss that tasted of vanilla. 

It was the least Y/n could do after their messy night.

Y/n squeezed the flesh in her hands, Minjeong hummed and ran a hand under the cropped tee. “You have a nice ass.” Y/n breathed out as Minjeong ’s fingers trailed up her ribs before she cupped the girl’s breast and ran her thumb over the hard nipple, this time the girl had simple barbells, making it easier for Minjeong to tug at the bud. 

“I’d have to say the same to you.” The shorter girl replied with her face nuzzling into the taller girl's neck to leave kisses that sent shivers through her whole spine, her lip rings gracing Y/n’s skin with a slight cold.

Y/n bit her lower lip as she pulled the skirt up over Minjeong ’s ass who pulled away and looked up at her. The air was cold against their hot skin and the blonde’s ass was left exposed in the lacy underwear. 

“But I love your hands on me.” The vixen hummed at Minjeong ’s words and pulled her right hand away, the other still gripping her other ass cheek.

The slender hand came to view, the same fingers that worked Minjeong’s pussy until it hurt and left her dripping wet onto her sheets, the hand that made her arch and squirm. Somehow just seeing the singer and guitarist's hand made Minjeong imagine what it had done and what more it could do. 

It made Minjeong lean in as Y/n gripped the side of her neck, thumb caressing the thudding pulse below the soft and inked skin where a tattoo started and trailed down. Their breaths mingled the tattooist stared up at her scum of a girlfriend if she could even call the problematic rockstar that. At least she was her tattooist, wasn’t she? She felt at mercy under Y/n’s touch and gaze, it was predatory, but she found comfort in the danger. 

Her peaceful life of tattooing people day to day turned into one of chaos drenched in ecstasy which made everything bearable. God, Minjeong despised her girlfriend as much as Y/n probably despised her, but at the same time, she loved just as much as she hated, the same way Y/n did. 

Y/n’s tongue stuck out, smoothing her hand over the slim neck until it was in her hold, toying with the lip ring on Minjeong’s plump lips that were wet and swollen. 

“Y/n.” Her voice was thick with lust, her cunt already throbbing as she wanted the fingers to work on her until her pussy was raw and aching from being at it for too long once again. A barely there whine at the teeth that tugged at her bottom lips, loving how the hand gently squeezed her throat while another kneaded her ass. Her nails dug into the side of Y/n’s ribs where her hand was under the girl's shirt. 

The two pulled back into each other, tongues moving against each other in heat and slickness. A gasp followed with a hum at the stinging when Y/n’s hand harshly clasped with Minjeong’s ass cheek the sound bouncing off the walls, gripping it and pulling her closer while Minjeong squeezed the breast she cupped in her hand.

The two stepped back as Y/n guided the way between the two metal shelves with her hands letting go of Minjeong and moving to grip her slim waist. Their lips parted from the messy kiss, only leaving remnants of salvia after each other. 

She slipped her hand from under Y/n’s shirt, running both her hands to her shoulders as Y/n leaned into her jaw, kissing along it with lips leaving a trail of shivers and goosebumps after, making Minjeong ’s chest heave a bit quicker.

“Fuck.” Minjeong sighed at the way Y/n nipped at her skin and moved her hand up to play with her nipples, her pace picking up as she kissed along her exposed collarbones. Her hand kneaded Minjeong’s breast through the spaghetti top that stopped right by her belly button, the hard and sensitive nipples protruding through the dark material as she was without a bra. Y/n pulled Minjeong closer by her waist, making it easier for her to lean down to her breasts. The blonde gasped when Y/n’s teeth tugged at her bud through the shirt, making her whine at the pain yet pleasure as she unconsciously tried to push Y/n to get down on her knees.

The singer hummed before pressing her pierced tongue against the same nipple through the shirt. It eased the pain and increased the throbbing of Minjeong’s clit who was holding back on moans because she had yet to touch her wet cunt and she already felt whiny. The words that followed from Y/n’s mouth made Minjeong push her onto her knees at last. 

“Gonna spend all my love and money on you.” Y/n’s voice humidly left her as she got down on her knees in front of Minjeong who held onto the top of her head. Their words tended to be fabricated and Minjeong was tired of listening to them; she preferred to have Y/n show it even if it would be in a different way from what anyone would expect.

The tattooist only had herself to blame for falling and getting tangled in the web of an unstable rockstar who was running a reckless life. It left marks on Minjeong, probably scarred and the only marks she left were with a needle and ink. 

“Shut up and show me instead.” Y/n looked up at the girl above her and smiled while running her hands up Minjeong’s smooth thighs which would have her in a choke hold while her face would be buried in her sweet pussy. 

The girl pushed up the skirt before attaching her lips to Minjeong ’s thighs. She could feel the girl holding back from squeezing her legs shut as she continued to kiss the inside of them with her nimble fingers running to the hem of the black lace panties.

Y/n pulled away and pulled down the panties, seeing the clear spot of wetness that Minjeong had left after her. She helped her out of them before stuffing them in the pocket of her jacket. 

“I want them back after.” The blonde managed to let out during her anticipation of getting her pussy eaten by the girl on her knees in front of her. 

“Do I come off as someone who steals panties?” Y/n questioned as she made Minjeong part her legs, giving her a perfect view of the glistening heaven between her legs. The vixen licked her lips and guided Minjeong’s right leg, her converse covered foot planting on the bottom shelf of the storage shelves. 

“You do, I’ve known you long enough.” Minjeong grabbed hold of Y/n’s head, her back pressed against the wall as her chest heaved. 

“You’re not wrong.” A cheeky smile covered Y/n’s lips as she leaned back in and started to kiss along Minjeong’s right thigh, the leg being propped against the shelf.

“I know I’m not, I’m missing pairs.” The girl breathily mumbled.

Y/n didn’t reply and instead reached her fingers up to Minjeong’s puffy and swollen lips using two fingers to part them. She leaned in between her legs—Minjeong releasing a light moan at the tongue that ran up from her clenching hole up to her throbbing clit. 

Y/n gathered the slickness around the bud that she swirled with her tongue before going back down and doing the same thing again. Minjeong’s juices gathered themselves on her tongue, the taste robust on her tongue and addicting, making Y/n dp it much messier to have as much as possible to lick up after leaving Minjeong a sopping mess.

The light moans and whimpers gradually picked up as Y/n continued to run her tongue along the lips she held spread with her fingers. As she gathered enough around the swollen clit she made Minjeong gasp, the grip tightening in her hair and Minjeong’s other hand quickly grabbed hold of the shelf post for balance. Things clattered as they fell from how abruptly she grabbed it, the shelf not being mounted to the wall. She hadn’t been prepared for the harsh suckling Y/n would provide with her mouth on her clit. 

“Fuck—that’s so good,” Minjeong whined, her head slumping against the wall as she closed her eyes. Her hips gyrated into Y/n’s face, unable to even try and hold still at the tongue that was flicking at her clit while Y/n moved her fingers down, teasing around the grasping hole that seeped with more wetness, running down her thighs. 

“I want you to fuck me with your fingers.” The girl moaned out, feeling Y/n tease around her hole with her fingers, remembering the view of them from earlier. The words made Y/n moan against Minjeong ’s cunt, the girl on her knees squeezing her thighs together. “To just play with my pussy until it hurts.” She spurred, wanting to get fucked until her vision would blur again, to get fucked over and over again as it made her forget everything. 

Minjeong moaned, her back arching at the two fingers that pushed into the warmth of her walls that were thudding, tightly engulfing them as they got clenched around with each moan. 

With her lips wrapped around the girl's clit she continued to suckle while flicking her tongue, Minjeong’s moans becoming louder and her grip on her hair tighter as her hips bucked into Y/n. She continued to scissor her fingers inside the girl, doing her best to adjust the tight hole more. The room filled with the moans, whines, whimpers and squelching of her pussy and the mess Y/n’s mouth was making.

The blonde could feel her body heat up at the firm yet soft muscle flicking at her swollen bud. She hummed, swallowing the dryness in her mouth as she tugged Y/n’s face more into her dripping pussy, the fingers stretching her out from the motion and being eaten out was one of the best things she could have gotten from her girlfriend at the moment. 

“Can you take one more?” Y/n pulled away mumbling, making Minjeong look down. The heat crashed in her stomach at the lead singer who was so assaultive on stage but was on her knees with a glint of submission in her eyes that were circled by the smudged eyeliner as her chin glistened with her juices, looking like she hadn’t eaten in years. It made Minjeong believe that Y/n could be different to her compared to what she truly was in front of everyone else. 

“Yeah, just keep fucking me.” 

Y/n couldn’t have gotten a better confirmation as she leaned back in with her tongue licking up and lips wrapping right around Minjeong’s clit again. This time she slowly pushed a third finger inside Minjeong’s snug walls which was enough for them to tighten at the stretch. She slowly moved her fingers, massaging and pressing her spongy wall while her tongue worked quickly, contrasting the slow strokes of her slender fingers. 

The pleasure overwhelmed the slight sting of three fingers being pushed right into her tightness. Her juices leaked, running down Y/n’s wrist who was lost in the way she had Minjeong so worked up. 

The build-up was fast at how her g-spot was pressed at and the work of the quick tongue, the hard barbell occasionally massaging added to the sensations that were blurring her head. All that Minjeong could hear were her noises, Y/n’s purr-like hums and how messy it was. Her mind filled with black as her eyes shut tightly and she gripped the post hard—something shifting and falling once again at how her body spasmed and she accidentally yanked on it from how sudden it was. 

Y/n glanced up at the girl who arched her back off the wall and threw her head back, her cunt pushing into Y/n’s mouth. A splatter of words fell from Minjeong and the girl couldn’t figure out what they were as they sounded more like whimpers. 

“So good, I want to cum all over your tongue, Y/n.” It made Y/n moan once again, wanting nothing more than for Minjeong to let go of everything on her tongue and face.

Minjeong felt the tingling spread through her body, her legs trembling and her eyebrows furrowed. Her breath hitched and warmth washed over her like a hot shower. Crying out at the orgasm that was way more intense than she expected in these circumstances as she felt lightheaded and white flashed behind her eyelids. 

Y/n tightened her grip on Minjeong’s hip, feeling the girl’s knees buckle. “Oh fuck…” Minjeong breathed out, the energy draining from her body as it relaxed. She blinked her eyes open—Y/n pulling her skirt back down as she pulled away, pulling her fingers out and helping the girl who unconsciously slid down to the floor with her. Her eyes shutting once more.

She looked at the girl in front of her whose cheeks were all flushed, her knees slumped against each other and her hands limp on the floor as she panted for air in the tight and hot space. Y/n leaned forward, restraining Minjeong of any possible room with her hands on each side of her on the cold ground. 

Her eyes opened, coming face to face with Y/n and despite feeling like she was held down by stones her hand came up. The tattooist cupped the singer’s cheek and pulled her in as she couldn’t get enough, she constantly needed more of what they had. 

It had all been so seemingly innocent, but before Minjeong knew it she was dragged into deep waters, drowning in Y/n's arms with no way out as it grew like an addiction. It had been too tempting no matter how many people told her to beware of what was disguised as innocence but only led to harm. They both dragged each other and what made it work was that it was always a one-way ticket to the gates of hell. 

masterlist.

[shuastar]

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ (JWW)

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴋᴇ!ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ x ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴄ: 8.2k (swear it doesnt get any shorter....) ᴀ/ɴ: ᴏᴍɢ ɪ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴀɢᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ㅠㅠ ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ 1ꜱᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ (ʟᴏɴɢ) ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ,,, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ᴘʟꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ <3 ꜱᴏ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ; ɴᴇxᴛ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2)

The honeyed spring air only proved to prod at your deep, growing, carnal fury at the scene in front of you. The wooden stilts of your fan dug further and further into the expensive lace of your thin sheer gloves, leaving bright red lines in its wake. As you stared at the traitorous scene in front of you, you felt as if your entire being was thrown into a wall. 

You should’ve known, really, that it was going to end like this. You should’ve known when the greasy money-tainted rat of your soon-to-be ex-fiance crawled out of his cave and to the royal palace, rubbing his hands together in faux prayer as he asked about your dowry. You were sure Seungcheol told him too – all fifteen million won of it. You could imagine how Lord Paree’s eyes would have seen the backs of his skull at the number — how he probably left the gilded royal palace in sheer bliss at the thought of receiving the monetary sum of three city estates just for a single marriage. Maggot, you thought, nails almost digging through the lace. Money-drunken parasite. 

A high-pitched dolphin giggle and a snap! of a fan slapped you out of your red-seeing stupor. 

Right. Yes. 

Dealing with (yet another) failed engagement was more important than the consequences that would follow. You could almost hear the concerned jabberings of Seungcheol, fur-wrapped on his stupid golden throne in the palace, as you stood in front of him. 

“Your highness, you aren’t married either,” you would point out, like you always do. 

Seungcheol would sigh and pout, “I know, y/n. That seems to be the problem.” Then, he would scan you up and down before clapping, jumping out of his throne and meandering his way down to where you were standing with a grin. “What kind of guardian,” he offered you his arm as he led you out of the throne room, “would I be if I got married before I saw you get married?” He pinched your cheek lightly, letting out a loud laugh at your severely disgruntled expression. “Don’t you agree, Duchess Park?” 

You would close your eyes with a long sigh, pretending like this conversation wasn’t one of Seungcheol’s only topics of interest since her debut into Society. “Of course, your highness,” you would mumble, muttering a few more colorful adjectives under your breath as you were led unwillingly to your fifth courtship date request of the month. 

If you knew then that your fourth engagement – in one and a half years, mind you – would end up shattered shambles yet again, you wouldn’t have even let Seungcheol drag you to the royal garden’s mezzanine for afternoon tea with that bastard in the first place. 

Really, you weren’t quite sure whether you were more angry at the fact that the idle-headed useless block of skin tissue or at the all gracious, ever-knowing royal highness for setting you two up together in a future cheating scandal. That was true. Yet fucking again. 

You were so tired of snatching the tea pot off of the wire-frame tables and throwing it at the girl (like it was the poor lady’s fault) before bitch-slapping your ex fiance with as much malice as you could muster at the time. Genuinely. You were so sick of walking into the next ball with no one by your side, save your secretary and personal guard, yet again. You were going to throw up if you heard your name with the words cheating, scandal, and shame in a Society gathering again. But most importantly, you were so sick of the look he would give you from across the ballroom and during your dances. 

“I heard about you and Lord Paree.” 

A step into a waltz.

“So has the rest of the fucking country, apparently.” 

A stifled cough let out due to your unexpectedly colorful language. 

“I wouldn’t say the entire nation, y/n.” 

“Hm, I fear I will have to disagree, your grace, as I heard even Duke Hong’s footmen murmur among themselves regarding my unfortunate turn of events.” 

A falter in his soft smile. 

“Forget him. I’ve always thought of him as an undeserving bastard anyways.”

You laugh, head thrown back – the most joyous you have been since last week. 

“Shall I be glad that you’ve thought so, your grace?” 

Wonwoo shrugs, twirling you around in tight circles. You feel almost lightheaded from his cologne, mingling in with the gentle puffs of breath from the waltz. 

“Think of it however you want,” he hums, dipping you ever so slightly against the sudden base of the cello. You swallow a surprised gasp as his hand, originally on your upper back, dips dangerously low – for a moment, sitting gently against the hem of your corset. 

The two of you come to a halt near the edge of the ballroom floor. You hate how you can feel a flush coming on the apples of your cheeks the longer Wonwoo stares at you, an odd mixture of pity and something else swimming in his eyes behind the metal-frame glasses. 

You bow, one hand on your chest. You know you don’t have to – he is of the same societal position as you. You know you don’t have to, but it feels almost second nature to go low into a curtsy of some kind in front of a man. 

“Thank you, your grace, for this dance,” you murmur, lifting your head back up. Wonwoo stays quiet for a good moment, before he blinks. 

“Find yourself another date for your second dance, yes? Someone better than that cheating bastard,” he hums. You think he’s about to reach for your gloved hand but his hands stay at his side – the only indicator of movement a slight twitch in his fingers. You force down your disappointment. 

Instead, you smile. There is nothing else for you to do, anyways. Seungcheol, although good of heart, would have another engagement for you lined up in no time. And with that, you would need to forget. Forgive and forget. You realize you’ve spent too much time in front of the Archduke’s son when you feel the presence of your guard behind you. 

“I will see you soon,” you greet, before you turn and leave. If you had stayed to hear his response, you feel like you would have stayed with Wonwoo for the entire night. And that was not very ladylike.

Wonwoo

“Wonwoo, one day you’re going to have to live for something else.” 

Seungcheol’s breaths came out in heaving pants as the two took a brief break from their sparring session in the royal palace’s courtyard. 

Wonwoo just raised a brow, wiping sweat off of his brow with his discarded shirt. “What do you mean by that, your majesty?” 

Seungcheol waved away the title. “Drop the pretense, friend. What I mean is,” Seungcheol dropped his empty water jug on the wooden bench, before bringing his sword up to his face, “one day you’re gonna realize you have more to live for than just this.” Seungcheol gestured vaguely towards the desolate sparring grounds. 

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, brushing dusts of sand off of his glinting blade. His fingers flexed on the leather grip. “I don’t live for just this, Coups. I know my responsibilities more than you think I do,” he sighed.

Seungcheol raised a questioning brow, stepping back into the sparring grounds with a twirl of his sword. “You sure?” his voice echoed, which was followed by unfamiliar click-clacks of a woman’s heels. Seungcheol cocked his head and grinned, canines showing, as he squatted down low, flicking his fingers at Wonwoo. “Then why are you asking to go out to fight? You might die.” 

Wonwoo cracked his neck before running at the young king, Their swords clashed in the middle of the sparring grounds, flickers of their manas bursting outwards. Smoky tendrils of black gravitated and fogged the ground near Wonwoo’s feet, curling themselves around his chest and slowly inching up his neck, before blending in with his hair. 

Wonwoo grunted in exertion, pushing Seungcheol back with the help of his mana. The king slammed into the back wall before landing back on his feet. Wonwoo stood over him, panting. Sweat dripped down his temples and his mana curled itself around his bare arms, against the contours of the muscles that laid there. 

“It is the only thing I am good for,” Wonwoo stated. His words came out soft, almost a whisper, as his hand stretched out towards Seungcheol. 

Seungcheol took a second more in his position, staring into Wonwoo’s despairing eyes. The dark browns looked more conflicted than Seungcheol had ever known. His own eyes darted towards the figure that stood in the opening archway of the courtyard. He could barely make out the face, under the layers of shadows, but he knew. He had called her here anyway. Not here as in the courtyard but here as in the palace. It was though, of course, purely coincidental that she had walked to the courtyard of her own volition. 

Seungcheol grasped Wonwoo’s hand, hauling himself off of the sandy ground. 

“You’re willing to leave your duchy? Your Society life?” Seungcheol stood in front of Wonwoo with his sword at his side. He gave the young archduke a knowing look. “Even the duchess?” 

Wonwoo stiffened at Seungcheol’s ending words, his hand stilling, hovering the tip of his sword at the entrance of its sheath. He swallowed. The sword dropped with a loud CLANG into its home in the sheath. He looked up at the king, who looked almost expectant. 

“Yes,” was his answer. He straightened, brushing sweaty strands of his black hair out of his eyes. “Yes, I am.” 

Before Seungcheol, with furrowed brows and disappointment flurrying in his eyes, could open his mouth, a quiet scoff rang out, ripping the silence between the two men into shreds. 

Wonwoo’s head snapped to the archway where the sound had echoed from, fingers curling around the grip of his sword. His other arm pushed Seungcheol behind him, which earned him a noise of protest from the older man. 

“Won-”

“There’s someone there,” was what Wonwoo said, before he stepped closer, into the shadows of the archway. The face that met him left him unable to breathe – as if his lungs had been squeezed out of oxygen from the inside; as if his entire being was wringed; as if someone had, one by one, cut the tendons of his muscles, rendering him absolutely useless. 

“I have been delusioned,” a cold, shaking voice started, “of our relationship, your grace.” You bowed deeply, silken hair falling over your shoulders, petals of the flowers in your hair dancing in the soft breeze, hand tight-fisted on your chest. “I ask for your apology in my,” a deafening pause, “assuming nature.” 

BANG

The sword fell out of Wonwoo’s limp hand. He rushed forward, almost tripping over his own feet and forgetting his look of indecency, leaving Seungcheol long forgotten in the edges of the sparring grounds. 

“Y/n,” he breathed, hands gently holding your upper arms. “Y/n, you misunderstand,” he hurried, forcing you to stand properly. The sight afterwards almost made him wish he let you stay in your bow. 

Your crystalline eyes were glassy and he could make out the glistening pools of unshed tears that poked against your charcoal waterline. Your lips stretched thin over your teeth in an attempt at a reassuring smile. But he knew you better than that – he knew more than half of the emotions that swirled behind your watery eyes and he knew what the tremblings of the corners of your lips meant. What it meant for you, for him, for the two of you. 

You shook your head, shuffling back against the rough grounds. A small laugh escaped your mouth. Your glossy pink lips curled up in a practiced smile – too robotic, too mirror-practiced, too Society for him to comprehend. It sent his mind reeling. It sent his mind reeling because you had heard what he shouldn’t have said. Because he was so used to seeing your dimpled smile in his embrace.

“No,” you responded, pushing his hands off of your lace-covered arms with trembling fingers. Your touch was soft but firm – a boundary that was unfamiliar in his realm. “I apologize for intruding, your grace, your highness,” another bow – this time at Seungcheol, who just waved her off from his position picking up the strewn wooden swords, “I will take my leave now.” 

A noncommittal noise rose from the back of Wonwoo’s throat and his hand wrapped around your wrist habitually, only to be shaken off without a single backwards look and a shuddering sigh as you walked away, head held high and hands shaking by your side. 

Wonwoo wasn’t stupid. He knew when to take a hint. 

“I’m not sure if you started a problem or made an existing problem worse.” 

Wonwoo shot a glare towards Seungcheol. “Thank you for your wise words, your highness. They are so helpful in my current situation,” he muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair. 

Seungcheol sighed, shrugging as he dumped the wooden swords inside of a crate. “Look at it this way,” he pointed out, “now you are free to go do your battling. Without any ties.” 

Seungcheol handed Wonwoo his discarded sword, eyebrows raised. 

“Right?” 

Wonwoo gave him no answer, only staring at your shadowed retreating form that walked now in the sunlight past the archway. He only stared as you, with a curt nod to a footman, entered the main palace halls again. 

“Wonwoo?” Seungcheol repeated. “You there?” 

Wonwoo blindly nodded, fidgeting with the loose ends of his sheath. “Yes. Yes, maybe,” was his vague answer, mumbled softly under his breath. And all through Seungcheol’s next set of rants about Society politics and the ongoing problems around the Northern border of Obella, the only thing Wonwoo could think of was the alien tightening of his chest – so much so that his lungs felt off and his heart hurt to breathe. 

Wonwoo was sick and tired of the stench of blood and rusting iron. He was sick and tired of the habitual curl of his fingers around the hilt of his battle-worn sword at every small crack in the woods. And he was sick and tired of being away – away from the Capitol, away from his duchy, away from her. 

So when, one morning, his best friend and commanding officer Soonyoung, came into his tent with a cream-colored envelope with a familiar crest stamped on the front, it felt like a weight had lifted off of his shoulders.

His tent flap fluttered as a head of blonde ducked in Wonwoo’s sleep tent. 

“Guess what a little birdie flew in with this pleasantly fine morning?” Soonyoung grinned, leaning against one of the poles of the tent, arms crossed.

Wonwoo looked up from his place sitting on his chair, sharpening his sword. His glasses hung low on his nose and his naked back rippled with aching muscles. He deadpanned, recognizing the crest as the royal crest. “What?” he hummed, standing up and setting his sword and whetting stone down. “Another commission from our dear king?” he scoffed, unwilling bitterness seeping into his words. 

Of course, he did not blame King Seungcheol for his current predicament. Actually, he did, just a little bit. But of course, not all of the situation. Around three fifths was because of himself – because he was greedy and ambitious and begged to be sent to the National Academy and rose to the top of his Weapons class. It was his fault, was what he told himself, that he was on his third year out in the battlefields in the north, fighting the royal battles for a king that presented himself to be one of Wonwoo’s closest friends. Of course an inconspicuous bitterness would form. 

Hoshi laughed, his own bare torso glinting in the early morning sunlight. He handed Wonwoo the letter. “Oh, you wish, Wonwoo,” Hoshi said, clapping his friend on the back. He squeezed as Wonwoo’s eyes skimmed over its contents. He could almost feel Hoshi’s smile from behind him. 

“Congratulations, my friend,” Hoshi laughed, “You have officially been reinvited to Society!” 

Wonwoo’s face crumpled into an off mixture of disappointment, relief, and boredom. Society? That was what Seungcheol was pulling him out of these battles for? Out of everything, Society? 

“Society?” he scoffed. The hollow, fakeness of The Capitol’s Society was what awaited him outside of the violent woods? His fingers tightened on the thick parchment. 

The fact that it was Society wasn’t the aspect that pissed him off down to his bones. It was the fact that Seungcheol knew why he gave up Society to begin with. 

Suddenly, Hoshi’s squinted eyes filled Wonwoo’s vision. His blonde-bleached eyebrows were furrowed on his face. “Why do I feel like you’re not happy to be going back?” 

Wonwoo let out a deep sigh, his eyes closing ever so slightly. His chest felt tight. “Because, Hoshi,” he grumbled, ripping up the letter and tossing it into his lantern flame, “I fucking hate Society.” 

Wonwoo watched as the tattered pieces of the ripped parchment crumble into the orange-red flames. It was his fault, he guessed. Going back to Society, to the Capitol, was something he knew he had to face, once his reign among the knights was over. Three years, even for a man like him, was a long time to not show your face even once in a public Society event. He guessed this was Seungcheol’s passive reminder: get to your duties. He could almost hear it in his head. 

Hoshi shook his head in faux disappointment, tsking. “Thought you knew better than that, Archduke Jeon. You nobility need to perform part of your duties, after all.” Hoshi’s grin makes Wonwoo’s lips stretch into a slight smile. “What? Has the battlefield ridden you of your noble blood, your grace?” Hoshi asked with an eyebrow raise. 

Wonwoo just shook his head with a small smile and a sigh. But he couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling of being called an archduke. Being called your grace. Those were titles he was used to seeing his father carry – his father, who was a charismatic ruler, his father, who loved deeply and truly, and his father, who lay cold and lifeless in the Jeon Family cemetery next to his mother for two years. 

Hoshi was not wrong, he knew. He knew there would be a time he would have to return to the very thing he hated the most about staying in the Capitol, about being a noble; whether or not he returned by his own volition was the question. And apparently Seungcheol had deemed three years, three years too much. The churning in his stomach could not be described as anything else but uncertainty. 

As Hoshi talked animatedly, with flailing arms, about the night before, when the soldiers had broken out crates of rum and beer to celebrate the strengthening of the Northern borders from the “evil spirits,” as they had called them, Wonwoo stared into the crackling lantern flame. If he returned to Society, as per the royal decree and as per his friend’s request, he would have to face the portraits that hung on his Capitol estate’s portrait hall. He would have to walk through the halls of his own home that had once been full of deeper, older, wiser, laughter of his parents without them. He would have to face the claustrophobia-inducing, over crowded ballrooms of the private high society gatherings, attend meaningless hunting outings, and present himself to the greater nobility public like some sort of relic or trophy to be garnished with wreaths and golden medals of bravery after the three year battle. 

But, of course, that was not all of the Society he had left behind. He had left behind a deeper, lovelier Society as well. Something – someone, he should say – that if he had any say in, he would keep hidden in the deepest parts of his heart. Someone, if he returned, who would – no, could – never be his again. She was not someone who waited around – especially if they had left like he did. 

But perhaps…

No. 

No, no, no. 

He shook his head. 

He could not bring his hopes up for nothing. He had a duty – to his duchy, to his family, to the legacy his father left behind, and to his country. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Wonwoo mumbles. Mostly to himself, yet Hoshi quietens in his rant at his friend’s words. 

Hoshi drags a wooden chair over, swinging his legs around it to sit – chest against its back. “For Society or…” Hoshi does not need to finish his question for Wonwoo to understand. It is implied, as it always had been between the two of them. 

Wonwoo sighed, burying his head in his hands. The balls of his palm rub into his battle-weary eyes. “For everything. My responsibilities, Society, the entry celebrations, and…” Now Wonwoo poses the discarded ending. Hoshi knows, he decides for himself. He knows already. Wonwoo could tell from his knowing glance out the tent flap. 

“You’ve had responsibilities out on the battlefield, Woo. I believe your archducal duties are of a similar hierarchy?” Hoshi twirled a quill in his hand. The commander veers out of the way of the silent topic with a quick glance that promises Wonwoo another conversation – preferably over a glass of wine – in another time. 

Wonwoo let out a tired laugh. “You jest. I fear my archducal duties far outrank the simple hierarchy of my responsibilities on the battlefield.” 

Hoshi shrugged. “It is what you believe, sir.” 

“It is what I believe,” Wonwoo murmured to himself. A hand slid down his face as he slouched down in his chair, a tired sigh escaping the battle-worn caverns of his lungs. “Fuck.” 

One of King Seungcheol’s infamous re-entry balls was decided to be held in honor of Archduke Jeon returning to the Capitol, signifying his re-entrance into Society’s cluster of feathers and prim-propers from his years in the battlefields. 

“Do you know how uncomfortable wearing this cape is?” Wonwoo complains for the fourth time, tugging at the golden lapels that hold the thick fabric to his shoulders. He huffs in apparent annoyance as the golden tips of the royal palace’s towers loom overhead when the carriage rattles to a slow trot and then a stop. 

Hoshi, from his seat across Wonwoo, rolls his eyes, his own body decorated with the uniform of the royal knights, and a long gleaming sword hanging off of his hip. “Oh boo hoo,” he mutters, stepping out of the carriage as soon as the door opens. He dusts his white pants with a concluding groan as Wonwoo mutters something under his breath. 

“What?” Wonwoo snaps, “When has it changed so that a man cannot simply complain about his uncomfortable and ill-fit dressings for a ball?” Wonwoo retorts. A strand of hair fell in his face as he crossed his arms. His tight military uniform – decorated diligently with captain stars, rings of honor, and golden medals of bravery – strains against his biceps. He stands next to Hoshi, adjusting his formal tie with a displeased wince of discomfort. “I would have much rather preferred-”

“-Wonwoo!” Hoshi interjects, a rough hand coming down harshly against Wonwoo’s back. One look in Hoshi’s eyes and Wonwoo hesitates to finish his sentence. “My friend, please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up. You look fine,” Hoshi groaned, walking up to the palace doors with Wonwoo in tow. “You should have expected this anyways,” he continues, giving a curt nod to the footmen that open the doors, “This is a ball held in your honor,” a familiar turn into a wider hallway, “Remember?” Hoshi’s neat uniform is pin-straight as he walks down the marbled halls. “And we’re already late. Do you want to get passive aggressively eaten alive by Society the first day back in noble action?” he throws Wonwoo’s way with a quick glance over his shoulder with a teasing grin.

Wonwoo sighs, following Hoshi through the gilded halls of the too-familiar palace. He could almost picture his younger self – five years old – running through the very halls, with Prince Mingyu and (then) Prince Seungcheol hot on his heels, all three of them giggling about something for another. He could picture the two of them, laughing – him with his head thrown back and her with her fan over her pretty pink lips – during the boring parts of each and every palace ball. The gilded palace was gilded – but not just in gold. 

y/n

You were very confused. 

And confusion never was something any noble wanted during a ball, nevermind the King’s re-entry ball, no matter how close your family’s ties ran. 

Of course, you were not confused about who it was for. It was obvious. The Capitol’s newspapers (and most likely every other newspaper business in the nation), had spent the entire past week dedicating their front covers to the headlines that included, but were not limited to, one of the five following words: Archduke, Jeon, Return, Battle, Ball. 

It was as if the entirety of noble society had decided to come together for this one re-entry event, which apparently had people jittery at the edges of their seats because the most eligible bachelor of any season, really, was back on the market. The one high noble who could pay off even the most expensive dowries, who could save a breaking family from complete, utter, desolate ruin, whose dark hooded eyes had enticed so many of the daughters from the highest noble classes, was back. He, on orders and grounds unknown, was returning from his three-year-long disappearance from Society and out into the vicious battlefields of the north. 

And you were absolutely, jaw-droppingly so confused as to why both King Seungcheol and Prince Mingyu (mostly Seungcheol, though Mingyu posed no help), held you (almost) hostage at their sides, rambling and fluttering on about how you should stay with them until the entrance of the “main character.” 

“Your highness, may I ask why?” you ask. Behind your proprietary fan covering the bottom half of your face, your lips curl in distaste. If it was wholly up to you, you would have been in a silken nightgown, getting ready for bed. 

“Is brother still holding you here against your will?” Prince Mingyu’s laughing voice reaches your ears. You turn, meeting his broad frame. His one-shoulder cape glints at the top with a pure-gold cap, in dazzling contrast with his cream-white suit. In his hands are two flutes of bubbling champagne. He outstretches his arm, tipping one flute towards you with a grin, canines pushing down against his bottom lip. “For you, my lady,” he teases, slipping the flute into your gloved fingers. He gives you a cheesy wink, before breaking into a dimpled smile. 

You roll your eyes, habituated with the prince’s oftentimes off-handed flirty remarks. “You ask that as if you have not been doing the exact same thing, your highness,” you huff, but you don’t reject the champagne flute, taking a sip of the bubbling liquid with a satisfied sigh. You clear your throat before turning to both Mingyu and Seungcheol, who is surveying the crowd. “Now I ask the both of you the same question.” 

Mingyu throws an arm around Seungcheol, who stands still, staring at the entrance door to the ballroom with an impatient-tapping foot. “You know why.” He leans his head against Seungcheol, lightly stepping on his older brother’s furious foot with a mutter of maintaining a mask of patience. Seungcheol responds with a simple furrow of his thick eyebrows.

You tilt your head. Mingyu’s lack-luster responses and Seungcheol’s decision to blatantly ignore your words are doing absolutely nothing to quell your curiosity, let alone your confusion. 

Usually, if this was like any other royal-hosted ball, Seungcheol would only keep you for a brief moment. That would frequently consist of introductions to any new or unfamiliar royal cabinet members. And then, he would let you go, which usually meant, for you, going to the closest empty table with a chair and sitting down for the rest of the night. At least until you deemed you had spent enough time brooding in peace in your despairing corner, that it was respectable enough towards both you and the royal family, to leave the ball and return to your estate. 

Of course, you were not unapproachable. You were born and raised in Society. One of the first classes you remember taking with your grandmother was ballroom dance. Before (or many times during) your brooding solitary peace, either Mingyu, Seungcheol, or Duke Hong would leisurely make their way towards you and offer you your dance of the night. 

Those times, when the familiar strings of the orchestra and the notes of the hired singer flowed through the crowded ballroom, you let yourself be guided. After all, it was your job. 

“The lady is always supposed to be guided,” your grandmother used to say, “If a man, especially of high standing, does not guide a lady through a simple waltz, he is not a man. He is a coward not ready to face even the simplest of pleasures.” 

“Save your first dance, y/n,” Seungcheol suddenly says, turning to her. His words seem oddly like an order, and you would not put it below him for it to actually be an order. His grin matches his younger brother’s. The furs of his dress stick out against his dark hair. And his entire being seems that much more irking in your eyes. 

If he has another fucking suitor lined up already, I’ll kill him. To hell with the monarchy.

From next to him, Mingyu chuckles, as if he (they) knew something you did not. Which is usually the case, actually. You need to stop being so surprised. 

“Why?” Your nose scrunches. Your fan is forgotten at your sides.  

Seungcheol sighs, shaking his head slowly like you’re some under-developed child who could not get the full picture. “You’ll see.” 

You snap your fan shut, crossing your arms. “Sometime soon, I hope?” A jolt of pain waves over your ankle, a testament to how long you’ve been standing in one place. You force down your wince.

Mingyu pokes your puffed cheeks with his white-gloved hand and a laugh. “Impatient much, duchess?” 

You swat away his hand with a glance. Your head swivels as you say, “I have been waiting with much patience, thank you very much.” A lick of annoyance flickers in you when you catch at least seven pairs of eyes and gossiping mouths staring at you and the royal brothers. “It seems as though the Archduke is late,” you add, glancing at the giant clock on top of the entrance doorway. 

Mingyu, now arm over your shoulder, tugs at your dress sleeves. “Awfully interested, aren’t you?” he grinned, a small bout of laughter ensuing at your barely concealed tick of anger. Not only at his words but also at his careless touches. He should be glad all of high society knew of your close family relations, or else his actions would have had dire consequences.

You push him away lightly, flicking your fan open again as you gently fan yourself, covering your mouth. “Awfully not, your highness,” you snap. Mingyu knew not to talk about that. You try to ignore the fact that the wound you had once thought was fully stitched up and closed, still hurts when poked. “If I can-”

BANG

“ANNOUNCING ARCHDUKE JEON AND THE COMMANDER OF THE ROYAL KNIGHTS, SIR KWON!” The herald’s voice echoed through the ballroom. 

It was as if the entire ballroom was on a brief pause – the gossiping groups of ladies, the loud laughter of the business men, the rolling children, and even the orchestra. The violinists, cellists, and singer all paused, craning their heads to see through the throng of people who awaited the arrival of the main character – the battle-won most eligible bachelor of all the seasons: Archduke Jeon Wonwoo. 

And all you wanted to do was to never see his face again. 

And of course you prepared yourself. You prepared yourself the moment you had received Seungcheol’s and Mingyu’s separate request letters of your presence at tonight’s ball as part of the royal cabinet. You prepared yourself throughout the time Nai, your maid, rubbed oils into your skin, braided and twisted your silken hair, and pulled your corset tight against your straining ribs. Yet nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the real thing. The thing that was not born out of your imagination that had severely overworked itself over three years. 

Because not only does Wonwoo look the part of the most eligible bachelor, he looks the part of a successful military commander, with his dark military uniform, draping cape, and glinting golden medals. It feels as if the entire ballroom moves towards him, like he has his own gravitational force, as if everyone is attracted to something in the man. You can already see the cliques of the younger ladies fan themselves lightly as their eyes glaze over his wide shoulders and chiseled face. The military uniform does nothing to hide his physique. 

Your fan slowly rises to your face. 

Your corset feels especially restricting when you see Wonwoo’s sharp eyes scan the ballroom. If this were any other situation, you would find the way Wonwoo leans down briefly to Soonyoung to whisper something with a confused furrow and Soonyoung breaking out into a shit-eating grin and tossing a wink towards the general crowd, exponentially more amusing. That had more fans fanning quickly towards the ladies’ face. 

The entire scene reminded you briefly of when you were seventeen, when you had first been introduced to Society, standing almost in the same position as you were currently – next to the two princes who flanked you protectively with crossed arms – and Soongyoung, who was fresh into the Corps of Royal Knights then, and Wonwoo, who had just graduated from the National Academy, striding into your debutante ball late. The small waves and winks Soonyoung sends now towards the various gaggle of young, single ladies of Society reminds you, rather nostalgically, of when you, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Seungcheol, and Mingyu had all spread out in Mingyu’s foyer on a wintry December day, and all you had talked about were the numerous engagement offers Soonyoung was getting from noble families. 

“What is this? Your thirteenth?” Seungcheol huffed, looking up briefly from Mingyu’s wide oak desk. He dropped his quill in the golden holder. “You’re gonna take away all the ladies from us at this rate, friend,” he laughed. 

You missed, in a small part of your heart, the times when Seungcheol had not been pressed to marry, find his match, continue the legacy. Now, his smile never crinkled his eyes when breeching on the topic of marriage and engagements. 

Soonyoung shrugged, legs dangling off of the couch’s arm rest as he flipped through a newspaper from last week. “Don’t know. You can have all of them, if you want, Coups,” he says, looking up from the tiny print. He gives a sideways look towards Mingyu. “And you too. Don’t want any of them. Not right now, anyways.” 

Seungcheol and Mingyu both grumble about the unfairness of knightly and royal duties as Soonyoung goes off on a separate tangent about the recent addition of a tiger to the park zoo. 

From the corner of your eyes, you see Wonwoo and Mingyu exchange an exasperated look. To be honest, you think it’s kind of cute – Soonyoung’s obsession with tigers, that is. It gives the man something childish in him. God knows he’ll need it in the battlefields one day. 

Suddenly, from the open window, the winter wind blasts through Mingyu’s parlor, wiping papers off of the low tables and out of your hands. 

You shiver, arms crossing around your torso. You rub against your thinly-clothed arms. 

“Sorry,” Mingyu apologizes sheepishly, quickly glancing over at you. “Should’ve closed that thing.” 

You wave him off, about to say something, when suddenly, a thick fabric is draped over your bare shoulders. You flinch at the sudden contact on your skin. From in front of you, Soonyoung’s eyes are wide, which looks rather comical when you see it in his entire position – upside down, legs spread around the backrest, black hair flapping. 

“I told you to close it.” Wonwoo’s tone is almost chastising as he moves from behind you to back to his original spot next to you. He gives Mingyu an almost-glare that has the prince sheepishly standing. Wonwoo picks up his book again, shaking his head ever so slightly. 

Mingyu gives Seungcheol a passive look before he sits down as well, eyeing the coat around your shoulders. 

One quick glance down at the lapel, and you find what you were looking for. The Jeon Duchy’s coat of arms glints up at you, the house crest shining proudly under the chandelier lights. Your cheeks heat when you recognize the expensive cologne that fills your nose. When you turn towards Wonwoo, he’s back in his book, absorbed, apparently, in the tiny printed words on the page. Your previously scattered papers are neat on the table in front of you. 

Wonwoo suddenly looks up from his book, catching your zoned-out stare. 

Your eyes widen. 

Wonwoo just gives you a small smile, before leaning forward and grabbing your papers. He lays his book face-down on his lap. “Do you need a quill?” he asks, handing you your papers. 

He catches you so off guard (as if you were only staring at his face, not listening to what he was saying), that you almost stumble over your own tongue trying to respond casually. 

“Er- Um- I mean, no. No, no, that’s fine,” you mumble, snatching the papers from his hand and scooting towards the other side of the long couch. “Thank you, though.” 

It feels like Wonwoo’s smile grows at your words. If you looked a little bit closer, you would have seen the tips of his ears turn a blush red when you glance down, fiddling with the academic medals on his lapel. 

“Anything for you,” he breathes, like it's a secret shared between you two. 

Mingyu and Soonyoung stare at the whole interaction with a mixture of forced disgust, confusion, and awkwardness, and you don’t miss how Soonyoung pretends to gag, Mingyu following suit, before the two of them go back to their lengthy tangents.

From next to you, you miss Mingyu’s quick glance down at your movements and the knowing glance he and Seungcheol share. 

Whispers break out as the two men – vastly different in the charismas they exude – stride towards the two royal family members. 

And you realize they are heading towards you before you remember you are standing with the royal brothers. And everything suddenly clicks into place. Why the two, more Seungcheol than Mingyu, wanted you to stay for so long – until the “main character arrives.” There is a bubbling pot of the sudden innate need to whack the king over the head with your fan. But of course. That would be terribly unladylike. Nothing a woman in your station should be doing, let alone thinking about doing. 

And it seems as if Wonwoo is as surprised at your presence on the royal platform because his dark eyes widen behind his glasses as he and Soonyoung stop in front of the raised platform you, Mingyu, and Seungcheol were standing on. 

You feel horribly awkward. And Soonyoung’s gaze flitting between you and Wonwoo before bowing his head, trying to conceal his laughter, is doing nothing to make the situation better. 

Seungcheol throws his arms out at the same time Wonwoo drops into a one-knee bow, Soonyoung in tow moments later behind him. At his sudden show of veneration, the crowd gasps softly and you shuffle backwards, only to hit Mingyu’s broad chest that blocks you from leaving the platform. You swallow. 

You need to get off this stupid fucking platform. 

But when you open and shut your fan, looking back at Mingyu, he seems awfully interested in exchanging eye contact with the ballroom’s chandelier. You know he heard your fan shut. The same, familiar spike of rage bubbles in your chest. 

These fucking brothers. 

“Success to your highness and peace to the nation.” Wonwoo’s deep voice, the one you had tried so desperately to forget, to lose in your discarded memories, to rip apart to shreds and feed to the dogs, echoes out against the quiet ballroom. If you strain your ears, you can hear, though, the stuttered gasps of the younger ladies and chaperones, on the verge of swooning at his first nine words. Resentfully, your brain conjures itself to the years when you were the same – fanning yourself to catch a handsome man’s attention.  

You wish you had the courage to laugh. To elegantly step off this damning platform. To get away (run away) from the man in front of the king.

You feel Mingyu moving ever so slightly behind you until you stand perfectly in between him and Seungcheol. Then, in the softest hiss of a whisper he is capable of, he mumbles, “Stay still. You’re sitting with us now.” 

You scoff quietly, raising your fan to your left cheek. The tips of the wooden stilts tickle your painted cheek.

From the corners of your eyes, you can see Mingyu pout. “Oh come on, duchess,” he whines. “I’m degraded down to fan talk?” His fingers wrap around your fan, pulling it down.

You’re glad you and Mingyu stand slightly off to the side because you don’t think you would be able to handle any more whisperings of your relationship with the men in your life Society has to cruelly offer. 

“You read right? The Archduchies are part of the direct royal council, now.” 

That makes you whip your head towards Mingyu’s. He is still facing forward with a practiced smile on his lips and hands in his pockets like this moment was the most relaxing all night. 

You, however, probably look slightly insane. Any fan etiquette goes flying out of the ballroom door at Mingyu’s words. You? On the royal council? Of course, on the surface, it is a great honor. You would be the first non-married matriarch to hold some semblance of power in the royal courts. But you could stitch together the gist of how Society would react to this. And based on Mingyu’s decision to tell you this late into Society’s winter season, you could land a (very accurate) educated guess that Seungcheol was going to announce in the next twenty minutes. 

“Are you crazy?” You whisper furiously, turning back to face the crowd. You can already see eyes slowly turn to the two of you, noticing your, now, not-so-subtle interaction. 

Mingyu just grins, bumping his shoulder with yours. And you don’t even get a chance to hear what he says because Seungcheol suddenly says, “Of course! Of course!” with the most excited tone of voice you had ever heard him use. Apparently Mingyu thinks the same because his head follows yours in staring at Seungcheol. Both of you, but mostly you because Mingyu is still surveying the crowd with a bright, confident, blazing smile that has the ladies of the court drowning in his eyes, are too embarrassed to look confused at what his words mean because you had zoned out of his rather one-sided conversation with Soonyoung and Wonwoo a long time ago. 

You can only stand stiffly in your place sandwiched between Seungcheol and Mingyu as both Soonyoung and Wonwoo rise slowly, giving Seungcheol a curt bow before turning to you and Mingyu. Your fan trembles with your hand as Wonwoo steps closer. 

You had forgotten how it feels to know nothing of what was to come. Especially when it pertained to him.

Your heart stills momentarily when his eyes land on you, moving up to your face and holding you in your place for a split second. You can’t even describe it. The feeling of seeing him so up close after all these years. After you had promised yourself to forget him. After you had spent hours crying in your bathtub, Nia rubbing your back soothingly. After you had fallen asleep, at least in the first weeks, on top of your duvet, letters he had once sent you crowding half of your bed, fresh tear stains ruining the expensive ink and paper. 

He looks so familiar it pulls at some part in your heart that you had thought was buried three years ago at a sparring ground. You observe him as he and Soonyoung pay their respects to Mingyu, who looks a pinch uncomfortable when his friends kneel in front of him. 

Black strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes and crowd his forehead. His military cape pulls your attention to his shoulders, which look broader than you remember them to be. And you can’t help but admit that his tight military top does nothing to hide his worked physique. His family crests glints at the connecting junction of his cape and his uniform, and his sheath, hand-crafted as a gift for his seventeenth birthday, holding his sword, rests against his hips. He looks regal, noble, eligible – so much so that it almost shakes the foundations of the walls you had built. 

Then he turns to you, those piercing eyes refocusing onto yours that don’t know where to land. His eyes? His lips? His chest? His shoulders? The crowd? A shadow of a smile paints itself onto his lips and you swallow. 

Your mouth feels dry. 

This can’t be real. 

When you had imagined the re-entry ball, meeting Wonwoo, nevermind seeing him so personally, had never once crossed your mind. 

Your fan slowly traced its path up to your right ear. 

From behind Wonwoo, Soonyoung grins, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling at your fan movement. Your own lips curl up in your practiced way. 

For the crowd, you tell yourself. 

The entire ballroom seems to watch the two of you in your silence, which was turning more awkward by the second. Wonwoo’s eyes carve a road up and down your figure. It makes your hands clench your fan tightly. 

You glance at Seungcheol, who nods, urging you to speak. You let out a small cough, averting your eyes briefly before your smile paints itself onto your lips again. Your fan falls. 

“It seems the battlefield has treated you well, Archduke Jeon,” you smiled, opening your arm briefly in a practiced welcome. 

It seems as if Wonwoo had not expected you to speak first, and for a second, he stands frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and hands still next to his body. At Soonyoung’s small embarrassed cough, he blinks rapidly, following your smile in suit. Except his looks too genuine, it tugs at your heart strings. And you berate your traitorous heart in wanting to pull him into a warm embrace. 

Remember how he left you. He doesn’t want you. 

The corners of your lips tremble. 

Instead, you feign indifference, lifting your chin. 

Wonwoo bows deeply first, followed by Soonyoung. He rises. 

“I see Society has welcomed you back with open arms,” he replies, his voice a pinch above a whisper. His small smile offers it as a jest but his words stab a knife into your gut. He has absolutely no right in jesting about your failed engagements. Not after everything. 

From behind him, you can see Soonyoung pinch his nose bridge, shaking his head ever so slightly, mouthing an apology to you. 

Wonwoo’s eyes linger a moment too long on you, before reaching for your hand. Out of pure etiquette that has burned itself into your entire being, you offer him your hand, and his head is bowed, lips hovering mere centimeters over your lacy knuckles before you realize what you are doing. And by then, it’s too late to retract your offered hand. 

Wonwoo’s lips meet the back of your hand. 

His own gloved fingers hold your hand like you are made out of the most delicate of china, his touch barely-there. 

And just as quick his lips are on your hand, it disappears from your skin. 

“May tonight bring you as much warmth as your presence brings to it,” he murmurs, so softly that you have to strain your ears to hear it. But it’s there.

Wonwoo rises before you have a chance to process his greeting words that were murmured into your hand. You almost miss the way the tips of his ears are blush-red between strands of his hair. 

Before you can say something else, Soonyoung is in front of you, bowing over your outstretched hand, pressing a light, airy kiss. You can feel him grin against your skin. 

When he looks up, he has a teasing grin painted on his face, and you have to force yourself to not roll your eyes at how he wiggles his eyebrows up and down. 

“Success and love for the Archduchess.” Soonyoung’s words echo across the ballroom, unlike Wonwoo’s. 

Too busy retracting your hand from Soonyoung’s grip, you miss the way Wonwoo’s jaw clenches, face hardening at Soonyoung’s words. 

: ̗̀➛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ @syluslittlecrows @gaslysainz @meowmeowminnie @luvjichang @peachytokki @nicoleparadas @haneulparadx

[erwinsvow]

ive been rereading ur bitchy reader stuffs n pleek do more of the pope cameo.. HER SAYING DICK APPT WHEN RAFE COMPLAINED ABT HER HAVING POPES NUMBER MADE ME GIGGLE OUT LOUD pretty please give us more of them 🤲

i imagine her being pissed off at rafe so she keeps giving him the cold shoulder and when he asks something she’d just go “maybe i should’ve gone to heywards instead he wont treat me like this 🙄” BUT ITS SO FUNNY KNOWING SHE DOESNT LIKE POGUES !!!!

LMFAOOO THIS IS KILLING ME!! one thing about my readers, their secret pogue crush is always gonna be pope <3

one thing you had in common with rafe—despite the glaring differences that were so hard to ignore—was that you both didn't care much for pogues.

that was putting it lightly, rafe despised them and you just didn't like them. but some were more tolerable than others—for example, the maybank boy who seemed to you the equivalent of a toddler with sticky hands versus pope heyward, who used to tutor in math. you don't know why or how they're friends, just that you like pope enough to be friendly, or rather polite, and you definitely don't like maybank enough to even think about him.

rafe didn't like any of them, and you didn't really care. you weren't in the habit of defending pogues, and certainly not when you were constantly trying to remind sarah to stay away from them, even though she never listened.

but seeing how angry rafe seemed to get at the mere mention was enough to give you some ideas. when you had jokingly—although now you remember you hadn't really ever clarified—said that you had pope's number because of dick appointments, rafe had gotten so angry it had resulted in the best sex of your life.

you were curious to know what else you could get out of it. unfortunately, your curiosity didn't last for very long. rafe pissed you off just as much as you pissed him off, and though these thoughts were often in one ear and out the other for you.

like today. you had been waiting for twenty whole minutes at the club for rafe, who had insisted he would be on time even though you knew he would probably run late since he was coming from barry's—all the way across town.

all he had to do was admit it, and you would have come later, but instead he had told you to show up at noon and that he wasn't going to be late.

normally you would show up at half past and just tell him to fuck off, but if he really was on time you would never hear the end of it. so you showed up on time and waited... and waited.

rafe finally shows up about forty minutes later, and you stare at him with your signature look—eyes rolling back, an i-told-you-so expression with arms crossed. you could make it more withering if you wanted, but right now you just wanted to hear rafe admit he was wrong.

"shut the fuck up," he says, taking a seat the table. your half drunken diet coke has left a ring of condensation, and you move the cup towards you, wondering how you'd become the kind of girl that waits forty minutes for a guy to show up.

"first of all, i didn't even say anything. second of all, you shut the fuck up. i'm the one who was forty-fucking-minutes late."

"it took longer-"

"longer than you thought? yeah, i said that. yesteday."

"well m'here now, so just order."

you huff, scanning the menu and not sure exactly what retort to use. instead you settle for shutting up entirely, not speaking to rafe the entire time. the waitress comes and goes, the food comes and goes, and you look up when rafe speaks but don't say anything back.

rafe thinks you'll give it up once lunch is over, but you grew up in a household where an hour of silent treatment is child's play. so the car ride to tannyhill, throughout the movie you put on and when you walk away to make popcorn, you haven't said a word.

while the movie credits roll, you look down at your phone, waiting for your apology and deciding when to leave if you don't get it.

"are you seriously gonna ignore me the entire day?"

you stare at rafe, not answering. this is your withering look.

"fine, princess. your choice," rafe shrugs. "finally got you to shut up for once."

you take a moment for his words to really hit you. like any other girl in the world, that comment from your boyfriend hurts a little. it even stings. you don't like the words in the air and you can even tell it left a bitter taste in rafe's mouth. he looks like he's just realizing he overstepped a little. then, for the first time since you saw rafe that day, you speak.

"you know, it's a good thing i didn't delete heyward's number from my phone. times like this i realize how handy it can be."

"what the fuck is th-"

"i mean, really, rafe. even these pogues you hate so much would treat me better than you do. i should go call him up now-"

"okay, princess i get it-"

"bet he'd probably fuck me better than-"

"okay, enough. jesus, i get it. m'sorry, okay? can you knock it off now?"

"i'm not knocking anything off. and you can go fuck yourself if you can't apologize for a little thing like being late-"

"i'm sorry, okay? now can you stop talking about pope fuckin' heyward?" you huff, finally a little pleased he apologized.

"thank you. was that so hard?"

"oh shut up-"

"you shut up. and don't be late again. or i'll show you fuckin' heyward-"

"enough!"

[imwetforyourmom]

I like the way you kiss me

summary: what could possibly happen in a bathroom, at a party, between two friends?

warnings: kissing, praising, public (?), swearing, song does not match up with the words whatsoever, dom!chris sub!reader, fem!reader, blow job, fwb, ASSUME YOU’RE ON THE PILL!!

IN HONOUR OF ARTEMAS’ NEW SONGG

~

y/ns hands flatten on her dress, rubbing it down in either a nervous or cleaning her skirt manner.

this was a huge party, and who knows who could be here? chris maybe, her friends with benefits. no, he doesnt like parties he wouldnt come.

he mainly didnt like them because everyone was always in peoples personal space and the heavy smell of achohol and weed was always bothering him.

fuck. this wasnt normal, y/n shouldnt know this much about chris, hes simply a hookup.. a friends with benefits. which, theyre still friends, so she guesses its normal.

while thinking deeply about what she should and shouldnt know about chris, she accidentally bumped into a a tall figure. while trying to avoid other sweaty bodies.

“shit! sorry!” she spoke quickly, her body moving off the others just as fast.

her eyes scanned up his body, stopping at his face as her eyes scanning his facial features, quickly recognizing chris.

chris.

chris smirked, looking down at her.

“you look hot, mama” he spoke, his voice seductive. he wrapped his hand around her waist and pulled her close to him.

“who you all dressed up for like that, hm?” he mumbled, speaking into the top of her head.

y/n quickly thought of her words, if she spoke truthfully, chris might spare her, and if she lied and said ‘for you’ he would know she wasnt expecting him here and edge her for hours on end, the next time they hooked up.

“me, I- uh, I wasnt expecting to see you here, chris.” she muttered, deciding to talk truthfully and give herself mercy.

“hm. well, now that im here. would you like to dance?” he hummed, his hand traveling off her waist and down her arm, wrapping his hand around hers, walking her with him to the dance floor.

“sure!” y/n answered, its not like she had a choice anyways, chris was already spinning her around and singing along with the music currently blasting through the speakers.

“I like the way you kiss me

I like the way you, uh

I like the way you kiss me”

oh.

this was y/n and chris’ song. the song. the song they always ended up fucking to. no matter where or the situation, she always found herself either ontop or under chris.

chris stared down at her, a knowing look on his face. a smirk slowly creeping onto his lips and his eyes trailed down her body once again, looking at how short her skirt was and how the neckline of her shirt cut off at.

he leant down and looked up, looking at others as his hips swayed with y/ns.

“would you like to fuck now or wait till later?” he whispered into her ear. knowing he was going to be able to fuck her at the end of the night, so in all honesty he didnt mind when she chose.

undoubtedly, y/n had been soaking wet for chris since he’d wrapped his arms around her waist and began talking to her in that deep yet seductive voice.

“now, please.” she mumbled.

* • •

chris’ lips ontop of y/ns, in a rushed but passionate manner. her lips returning the needy kiss, a thousand thoughts running through her mind at once, but all she could focus on was just how wet she was feeling from just chris’ hard on pressing into her thigh.

she moaned into chris’ mouth unexpectedly from his tongue pushing past her lips and teeth, intertwining their tongues in a hot and messy kiss.

chris walked y/n into the door, pressing her back into it, making it all the more romantic whilst his lips engulfed hers. his hands frantic once they connected with her body, moving them all over her, wherever they possibly could.

not tryna be romantic

ill hit it from the back

just so you dont get attached

he bit onto her lip once more before pulling away and pushing her down onto her knees by her shoulders, gently but quickly. y/n made it easier for him and lowered herself, running her hands down him as she moved.

she ran her hands up and down his thighs, before quickly unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans and boxers down altogether.

you bite my lip, just for the taste

you’re on your knees

im on the case

you take the heat, and with such grace

once his length is free and slaps his stomach she immediately wraps her mouth around his cock. wasting no time.

chris groans and places his hand on the top of her head, grabbing a fistful of her hair, he bobs her head up and down with force.

y/n wrapped her hand around what she couldnt fit inside her mouth. moving her hand up and down whilst chris moved her head up and down himself, her lips fully around his length and her cheeks hollowing as she sucked.

“fuck- y/n, you’re doing so good f’me” he praised, his fingertips lightly pressing into her scalp in a gentle motion, rewarding her I’d say.

she licked his underside aswell as sucking and bobbing her head up and down, making the experience all the more pleasureable for chris.

I like the way you kiss me

I can tell you miss me

I can tell it hits, hits, hits, hits

tears began collecting at y/ns waterline from the constant abuse to her throat.

with the experience y/n has at giving bjs to chris, she knows all his little weak spots, such as running her tongue tip under his tip.

“f-fuck, y/n- shit” he moaned, small grunts leaving his lips aswell.

“im- im cumming! fuc- fuck” he pushed her head further down, finally stopping when he was deep in her throat. throwing his head back, cumming down her throat.

y/n lightly sucked before she was pulled off him, using the grip chris had on her hair.

chris quickly moved his lips to hers again whilst he grabbed her waist and moved her over to the sink. he pulled away and pressed a quick kiss to her neck before bending her over the sink.

I like the way you kiss me, I can tell you miss me

I can tell it hits, hits, hits, hits

not tryna be romantic, I'll hit it from the back

just so you don't get attached

he ran his kisses down her back before stopping and pulling away around her lower back. he pushed her skirt up, giving him availablity to touch and grope her ass, aswell as moving her panties to the side.

and he does just that, his hands slither to her ass and grope it, before slapping it, then massaging the skin.

y/n whines impatiently, “chris, please” she spoke, her voice shaky with need.

“please what? hm? what do you want? use your words ma.” he teasingly spoke, knowing what she wanted.

“I want you, i want your cock. I need you. fuck, please chris.” with that chris pulled her panties to the side and ran his tip through her folds, collecting her arousal.

he slowly pushed in, his cock stretching out her walls as he pushed further and further in.

“fuck!” y/n moaned, the burning sensation throughout her body quickly changing into pleasure once chris began thrusting into her.

can we make a scene

can we make it loud

‘cause im so proud, baby,

im so proud of you

from the loud music playing in just the other room they had no reason to worry about being heard.

besides, the music was already enough but with the screaming and talking was even better. what better place than to fuck in a bathroom at a party? no one can hear the moans.

chris placed his hands on her hips, steadying her before thrusting harshly into her.

his pelvis hitting her ass, causing it to bounce with every thrust.

“god, y/n, you’re so pretty.” he mumbled, his eyes trained on her ass.

his hand traveled up her back and to her neck, he gently moved all her hair to her left shoulder so he could press his hot and wet kisses on her neck.

y/n moaned in response, too fucked out with his hard and such pleasureful thrusts to speak.

every two seconds chris would pull out almost all the way, before slamming back into her.

the sounds of skin slapping, moaning, whimpers and pants being the only sounds in the room.

y/ns hand gripped onto the sink edge whilst her other hand gripped onto the counter, holding so tight her knuckles and fingers were turning white.

“fuckk, chris” she moaned out, squeezing her eyes shut and feeding her bottom lip between her teeth, biting hard.

chris’ fingernails dug so deep into y/ns hips it was sure to leave red crescent moon shapes behind.

chris leaned back over to y/ns back and mumbled sweet nothings into her ear, his mouth slowly traveling from her ear down to her neck and shoulder, leaving wet and opened mouth kisses behind.

he kissed and sucked onto her shoulder and neck, leaving a deep purple color in its mark.

with the new angle he got deeper into y/n somehow, her velvety walls squeezing his cock in pure pleasure.

y/ns mouth hung open, drool dripping out of it every few minutes. her eyes lazily drooped open in pure bliss.

“chris- mhmmm, fuck, ‘m close” she whined, her voice awfully quiet and shaky.

“g- go ahead baby, im right behind you.” he answered, his face hanging in her neck as his collarbone was resting on her shoulder.

with that y/n let go and came all over his cock. with loud moans of his name and incoherent sentences.

with just hearing his name come from y/ns mouth like that was enough for him to cum, in which, he did.

he rested his body ontop of hers, not like he hasnt for the past few couple minutes, but now hes resting his entire body weight onto her.

“fuck, you did so good for me baby.” chris muttered, slowly getting off of y/n, aswell as pulling out of her slowly.

“mhh” y/n answered, still recovering from that heavily intense moment.

chris fixed her skirt and panties, then pulled his boxers and pants up.

he looked at her once more, his eyes scanning over her face, seeing the mascara running down her cheeks, the smeared lipstick and tear stained makeup all over her cheeks, proving that he fucked her just as good as he always has.

“you might wanna fix your makeup up some, sweetheart.” he pressed a kiss to her forehead, before opening and closing the door, leaving the bathroom and returning back to the party.

1883 words.

tags

@luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @leah-loves-lilies @mels22lunchbox @ssilentzom @haunted-headset @dollyspsychoxo @sturnib-tch @b2cute @genshin-addict

[opiopal]

yall wanna know something I think abt a lot? teenage/ little sibling mc au's. Mc gets brought down to the devildom at like 15-16 yr, obviously there is zero romance and instead they just get kinned as the 8th sibling in the HOL.

you guys wanna know what else I think of a lot? little sibling Mc being an agent of chaos when their found family trope isnt paying attention.

I can't help but imagine that once mc is kinned they get crazy spoiled. not spoiled rotten but they know they can get away with a LOT because they're now seen as the cute youngest that doesnt know any better. but obviously they do since they are a teenager who knows how the world works.

and I mention the agent of chaos thing is because they were already attending highschool before hand, so they quickly notice how highschoolish RAD feels, so they were able to jump into the social ring a lot faster then regular Mc. and thus have the ability to get information from people who trust them/like them. so it ends up being useful to them. and now to my leading point: imagine a sort of friendship with Mephisto. its really more like, a symbiotic relationship. they are around each other for a reason. and that reason is RADs newpaper club.

it first started out with Mc staying after at RAD with lucifer to help with a few things, eventually Mc was put in a random room to hang out in after they did all that they could. which turned out to be the room for the newspaper club. after a while they get bored because their D.D.D died and they snagged a paper that was meant for the next day. eventually Mephisto enters the room, goes to tell them to leave which quickly they say "Dia told me I can be in here, if you have a problem with what the lord wants you could always go tell him that!" which shut him up fast. a good couple of minutes go by before the silence is broken by Mc speaking up and going, "You know, this is kinda boring." offended, he whips around, "excuse me?"

"theres nothing interesting here. interviews.. talking about things that everyone already knows about.. like, I could google half this junk." "I- well what would you know!?" "a lot actually. you dont appeal to any of the students here."

he glares for second before inhaling slowly, remembering that diavolo might be nearby.

"oh yeah? as if you could do better." "I could actually," "well i would love to hear it then."

he says sarcastically. though Mc speaks anyways.

mc adjusts how they were sitting and scans over the paper for a second.

"a gossip section would do it good." "what?" "come on dude, its non-sports club 101, if you want people to pay attention to you, you need to appeal to them. I was in theater for a while and we'd bribe people with free food if they sat through the whole show. this place loves drama. and lucifer being drawn riding on a unicorn isn't funny enough to get more then one person to buy it."

slowly they start talking a bit more casually and stop being so hostile. eventually Mc says that they could tell him the gossip they hear if he wants to make a part in the paper for said gossip. so, from then on they slip notes to him about student drama. which does indeed get more papers told!

though one day, someone pisses Mc off. not really that they were the one insulted, but they heard a few demons talking shit about their older brothers. so for the next week Mc takes a good amount of notes on those demons. which eventually they go to Mephisto with their notes and gave them to him. when he questions why these particular demons, he's met with a very angry "if those cunts want to talk shit and not mind their business then why shouldn't their own business get talked about." for a moment he wants to press further... but unfortunately for him he found himself actually caring about this human very much so he couldn't help but just want to make them feel better... and this much of a consititant story would draw people in so its totally not that he kinned this kid as well, totally!! so for about two weeks the gossip section has an ongoing story that causes nearly the whole school to get a paper to stay updated.

of course every bit of gossip uses code names to keep people from being outed on anything. and honestly some of the gossip might end up being people bringing it to the newspaper club themselves, so maybe a small confessions page ends up being opened.

obviously this is something a little cracked, and just a not very thought out thing that exists bc it makes me giggle when I'm daydreaming before I fall asleep<3 and honestly I wouldn't be surprised if there was already a gossip section in the school papers, but unfortunately I was never ever able to make it past the first few lessons of session 2 of obey me, which sucks:/

[cass1dyyy]

“can i have this dance?”

warnings: a kiss on the cheek, angst, thats it i think. (hermione is not in this story btw)

lorenzo berkshire x reader

where a gryffindor who hates slytherins gets swept off her feet by one at the yule ball..

“are you guys really not going to dance at all?” i huff, exasperated.

im currently sitting down at a table with ron and harry, watching boredly as everyone dances with their partners. i’d had to go with harry to the yule ball, because i (embarrassingly) had no one else to go with.

“correct.” says ron, lazily manspreading next to me.

i roll my eyes. padma patil is also sitting with us, as she’d come with ron. bad luck for her i guess. suddenly, she’s swept off by a hufflepuff boy, who asks her to dance.

“arm, leg, im yours!” she says excitedly.

i groan, watching her leave. god, im not too fond of dancing, but anything would be better than this. i scan the large ballroom, and my eyes land on the slytherin boys. the only ones with dates are draco and blaise. the others just go with anyone they want, it gives them more freedom i suppose. then, i could’ve sworn i caught lorenzo berkshire’s eye. i brush it off, shaking my head. i mean, how could i have?

the music changes to a slow, romantic song. im just about to get up and leave to go to the bathroom to avoid the embarrassment, when ron speaks up, surprised.

“what the hell does that old git want?” he says judgmentally. i look up and follow his gaze, and see enzo berkshire walking towards us. ron’s right, what could he possibly want?

we watch cautiously, as he gradually comes closer, his stupid smirk plastered on his face. i frown at him, wondering if he’s confused or something. the slytherin boys hate our trio, and we hate them. what’s going on?? he walks up to us, and holds out his arm to me.

“can i have this dance?” he asks calmly, his lips curling into a smug smirk. i look at ron and harry, confused. they’re giving me a ‘dont you dare’ look. i mean.. its only one dance.. and i want to have a good night. the yule ball only happens once!

i take his arm, and he sweeps me away onto the dance floor. i dont bother looking back at harry and ron’s outraged expressions, i know that they hate lorenzo. my cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he grabs my waist, pulling me closer. i sling my hands over his neck, as we sway to the rhythm of the slow song.

“are you drunk?” i murmur to him. im still trying to wrap my head around the fact he’s asked me to dance, out of all these girls.

“what? no, of course not. why do you ask?” he asks, smiling slightly. gosh, sometimes i wish i could slap that smirk off his face.

“no reason.” i mutter.

after the song ends, he asks me if i want a drink. it surprises me, as i thought he’d just ditch me and go find another girl to flirt with. i excuse myself to go and ask harry and ron if they want one quickly. enzo doesnt mind, and kisses me on the cheek, before going to talk to one of his fellow slytherin mates. stunned, i turn on my heel and walk back to harry and ron.

“oh you’re finally back are you? have fun with that prat? you looked like you did.” snarled ron.

“what are you talking about? it was one dance, nothing happened!” i say, annoyed.

ron gets up, practically dragging harry with him. i run after them, furious. my heels click and clack as i walk frustratedly down the cold, uninviting hallway. suddenly, ron turns around.

“what the bloody hell do you want now?” he yells.

“why are you so fucking annoying? all i did was dance with someone, because youre too lazy to get up off your ass!” i scream at him, tears forming in my eyes. i know im ruining my makeup, but i dont care at this point.

“we all agreed that we hate them, and you just HAVE to rebel against the rules, dont you?” he spat.

“rebel? what is this, some sort of cult?!”

“im sick of this, why dont you go and get your face eaten off by that berkshire git? its all he wants from you. you’re stupid honestly, thinking he actually likes you.” he yells at me.

i stand there in shock, tears pouring down. harry and him run up the stairs, as ron mutters to harry,

“they get scary when theyre older.”

“ron, you spoiled EVERYTHING!” i yell at him. they rush off and i sit down on the stairs, yanking my shoes off, and start sobbing.

A/N: this was pretty bad im ngl, i kinda ran out of ideas at the end, so its pretty repetitive. my next post will be better i promise!

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 19

Lena gives Kara the right of way, and lets herself be led into the kitchen. When they enter the room, Kelly and Alex straighten at the sight of them, while Esme remains focused on pawing thru the fridge for the elusive cider.

Kelly's gaze remains gentle and perceptive-- Kara sees her focus dip to their joined hands before sliding to her wife. Alex, meanwhile, is scrutiny incarnate, her gaze hard as she scans Lena imperiously.

"Hi," Lena says quietly.

"Hi Lena," Kelly returns easily. "I'm glad you could come."

Lena relaxes a little. "Me too. Thank you for having me. You have a lovely home."

"Probably not what you're used to," Alex says, her tone carefully neutral. Kara spots Kelly's grip tightening in warning around Alex's hand.

"It's been a while since I've been home," Lena allows. "So this is a nice change of pace, for sure."

"Oh? Where do you live?"

"I split my time between Metropolis and Star City when I'm not on tour," Lena replies easily enough. "But of the two I consider Metropolis more my home. I grew up there."

"I didn't know that," Kara says.

"Mhmmm," Lena hums. "We in the city most of the year because of my brother's band. When they weren't performing, they were auditioning, so it was just easier to live there full time."

"You have a brother?" Esme says, perking up.

Kara feels Lena tense a little, suddenly realizing she might have shared too much. But it's too late to back pedal.

"We're not in touch anymore."

Sensing Lena's discomfort, Esme thankfully doesn't pry any further. Kelly keeps the silence from stretching too far.

"Well, we happy to have you. We figured you could share the guest room with Kara--"

"Or you can take the couch," Alex inserts. She studies Lena for a reaction, but Kara comes to her rescue.

"With me is fine," she says. "Unless you all fall asleep to the witchy thing--"

"Hexed! Mom, Lena watches Hexed!"

Finally, Alex relents, her posture sagging a little as she lets her guard down. "Then she's got good taste."

"She's got a crush on Samantha Arias," Kelly whispers theatrically.

Kara barks a laugh as Alex splutters indignantly. "I do not!"

"Do too!" Esme joins in the teasing.

"Don't worry, baby," Kelly assures her wife playfully. "She's on my hall pass too."

That makes Alex stop. "She is?"

Kara opens her mouth to mention having met Sam, but Lena nudges her sharply. She looks over and clicks her mouth shut when Lena gives her a look that says 'not now'.

"Well," Kelly says, even as Alex still gawks at her, "looks like we need to stock up on cider and spooky snacks, so why don't we head to the store while you two settle in?"

It's not the most subtle segue, but Kara is grateful for a chance to talk with Lena privately. Once Esme is shuttled off into the car, Alex gives them one last hard look before closing and locking the front door behind her.

Lena sighs. "Well, that went better than I expected."

"It helps that Esme's your biggest fan," Kara offers with a wry grin. Then she sighs. "Let's sit."

Lena nods, and they sit on opposite ends of the couch, orienting themselves to face each other. Lena looks nervous, and though Kara's first instinct is to ease that, she holds back. What was it that Kelly had said? Growing pains.

"Those pictures sucked to see, Lena," Kara says carefully. "I understand they were outside your control, but... it still hurt."

"I know. I just-- don't know how I can fix it. Like I said... it comes with the job. I signed up for it... but you didn't. I get that."

Lena sounds miserable, and looks it too. But Kara doesnt have any more ideas than Lena does.

"Maybe being with you means signing up for it," Kara allows, thinking out loud. "But what happens when I start being part of the scandal. What happens to Esme?"

Swallowing thickly, Lena lifts a helpless shoulder. "I don't know."

"Me neither. But it's something I have to consider." Kara slumps further into the cushion. "Also, I-- I don't know where I stand with you."

Concern flashed across Lena's features. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, but... I'm in your court, Lena. I'm... an intruder. And I care enough about you that when I see something concerning, I want to ask about you, but.... I don't know if I'm allowed to."

"You can ask me anything," Lena says.

"Okay." Kara meets her gaze and holds her. "Why didn't you want to meet with Morgan Edge alone?"

Lena's cheeks lose all color in an instant. Her entire body seems too lock, her hands clasped in a white knuckled grip.

"I don't expect an answer," Kara says quietly. "But that's what I mean. I don't feel like I have the right to ask about this. And I suspect plenty of other subjects will make me feel the same way."

Lena stares at her, eyes wide. Kara reaches out to clasp her wrist, but Lena pulls away. Hurt lances through Kara's chest, but the tight sound of Lena's breathing concerns her more.

"Lena--?"

"What else," Lena croaks.

Kara hesitates. "Lena..."

"What. Else."

Taking a deep breath, Kara carefully forges ahead. "We started this content to simply see where it goes. Do you still feel that way?"

Lena doesn't respond.

"Because it doesn't feel casual anymore. Joining you on tour was certainly impulsive, but it wasn't casual. I thrust myself into your life, and you invited me to, but... I can't really bring you into mine, can I?"

"I'm here now," Lena says, voice tight.

Kara nods. "And I'm grateful for that. But... you wouldn't be able to go to the store with Esme to get cider. Or even take a walk around the block."

Lena releases a short breath. "No. Not without putting her in danger."

"I know you would welcome Esme into your world as warmly as you welcomed me. But for her it would be temporary. For me, if I choose this, it would be permanent, and complete."

She watches Lena inhale again as though to speak, but she doesn't.

"I don't think we'll find a solution before the others get back," Kara continues. "But I wanted you to know where I'm at. What I have to think about."

Lena nods. "I understand. Thank you."

Finally, she meets Kara's gaze. A small smile, but it and the glint in her eyes are sad. She swallows several times before she's able to speak again.

"Can I... do you mind if I take a minute before the others get back?"

Kara nods readily. "Of course."

Lena rises stiffly, then retreats to the powder room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Tears burn at Kara's own eyes, but relief overwhelms them. Relief that the unspoken burden of worry and uncertainty that has been weighing on her, has now lifted in the speaking of it. Perhaps it's selfish of her to now make her concerns now Lena's burden as well, but... would it have been fair to either of them to keep it to herself?

By the time Alex's car pulls back into the driveway a few minutes later, Kara's hands stop trembling, and Lena re-emerges with clear eyes. Their eyes catch as the front door opens, and Lena offers a reassuring nod: whatever happens next, it won't affect tonight.

True to Lena's unspoken promise, the evening proceeds without a hitch. She gamely weathers Esme's velcro presence, listening with interest as she rambles about school gossip and the boy she likes in her history class. And after dinner, they watch Sam bewitch and enchant on screen while munching on sweet snacks and sipping cider out of mugs shaped like skulls and cats and candy corn.

That night, however, the air grows taut between them the moment the guest room door shuts.

"I can take the couch," Lena murmurs.

Kara pauses. "Do you want to?"

Lena shrugs. "No. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable--"

"Hey," Kara interrupts softly. She closes the space between them. "What we talked about today came from a place of love. It hasn't made me uncomfortable." She hesitates. "Has it made you uncomfortable?"

"I mean... a little. I don't like uncertainty, much. And with us in a gray area, I don't know what's... appropriate."

Kara smiles. "Sharing a bed can be as appropriate as we want it to be."

"Kara..."

"I plan to sleep on the right side, fully pajama'd. I don't figure we need to make things any less certain than that."

Lena chuckles in spite of herself, but isn't quite convinced. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Kara assures her.

Finally, she gets a small sigh of resignation. "Okay."

Kara's efforts are enough to banish the tension for a few minutes, but it comes back in full force once they crawl under the blankets. They face away from each other, but Kara can feel the stiffness in Lena's frame, a tension that takes root in her own limbs.

It lasts for several long silent minutes before Kara speaks up.

"You know I wouldn't have said anything, if I didn't care. Right?"

Lena sniffles. "I know."

---

The next morning, Lena lingers long enough to have breakfast with Esme and see her off to school. Once she clears her dishes, Lena collects her overnight bag and offers Kelly and Alex a soft smile.

"Thank you for having me," she says.

"Our pleasure," Kelly returns. "Thank you for coming. I know it was a long trip, and it meant the world to Esme."

"She's wonderful, truly. You've raised an amazing person."

Kara escorts Lena to the driveway. Once Lena stows her bag in the back seat, she turns back to Kara with soft, sad eyes.

"You're not coming back, are you."

Somehow, Lena saying it first makes it easier for Kara to concede. She shakes her head. "No. I don't think so."

"And us?"

Kara takes Lena's hand in hers, and Lena twines their fingers together.

"I care about you too much," Kara says, "to do this halfway."

Lena anxiously rocks on the balls of her feet, lips pulling against burgeoning tears. "Yeah." She manages to meet Kara's gaze. "So, back to normal life?"

"Ehhhhh...." Kara hedges. "The fact I dropped my job the first chance I got is a clue I might not like it very much. Maybe I'll look for something I'm more passionate about."

That brings beaming smile to Lena's face. "That sounds like a great idea. You deserve to find... whatever you're looking for."

Kara lifts her hand, cupping Lena's cheek. "And you, Lena Luthor, are stronger than you think. You deserve to work with people you trust."

She hopes Lena understands her meaning, and from the stunned half-open set of her mouth, Kara suspects she does.

Kara leans in one last time, kissing the corner of Lena's mouth. "Thank you, Lena. For everything."

Lena nods against her. "You too, Kara."

And then Kara watches Lena climb behind the wheel and carefully drive away. As she stares at the winking tail lights, even though her chest aches and her eyes burn, she can't help but feel as though a brand new life is just waiting to unfold.

[kitixie]

Little Girl Gone (pt 2)

Little Girl Gone / T.S. (part 2) 

part three here

Synopsis: You agree to meet up with Tommy for dinner, but when it doesnt go to plan you find yourself in a dangerous situation.

warnings: violence (not extreme, very canon typical), tommy is not nice but i promise it'll make sense later, cursing

word count: 2.4k

taglist: @budugu , please let me know if youd like to be tagged!

information: Thank you all so much for reading, it warms my heart to know someone enjoys my writing! please leave a comment if you have a critique or anything else to say!

Around 4:30 the following evening, you began to get ready for your dinner with Thomas.

As you brushed and styled your hair, you thought of his strange mannerisms from the night before. He had seemed off towards the end of the conversation, and that was something that never happened, as nothing ever threw Thomas off. Just as the final touches of your hair and makeup came together, you realized the time. You had been so lost in your thoughts and in your indulgent hair care and makeup routine, that you had spent an hour primping and priming. Now only thirty minutes away from Tommy’s arrival, you needed to pick out a dress.

To a man, picking out a dress for dinner may seem like a small task in the grand scheme of his day, but all women know this to be false. First, you pick a dress. Then, you have to pick coordinating stockings, an overcoat, sometimes an undercoat, a bag, gloves, and depending on time of day, a hat. So what most men would deem as a quick process, isn’t a quick process at all. You did happen to be in luck though, as your favorite dress was one of the only items of clothing you’d hung up in your small closet after you moved in. You had your stockings from the night before, and they were a perfect match for your skin tone so that was also an easy choice. You decided to forgo a handbag, as you’d just be going to the Shelby’s, so you wouldn’t need any money. For shoes, you settled on a pair of well-broken-in kitten heels. This outfit was out of your recent rotation, given the odd jobs and such you had been working after your fathers death and mothers disownment, but Tommy always dressed to impress, so you thought you should too. Following that train of thought, you added a pair of your mothers white satin gloves, and awaited his arrival at your place.

6:00 pm

A loud knock sounded through your apartment, and you quickly jumped to open the door. There, in all his glory, stood Thomas Shelby. Looking good as ever in his black suit with a pressed white dress shirt, this time his hat folded in his hands.

“Y/N, you look lovely this evening.”, he remarked, eyes scanning you from head to toe.

“Thank you Tommy, you look handsome, as always,” you blushed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Tommy smiled, offering his hand to help you out of the door and down the stairs of your apartment. You accepted his hand, loosely holding it in yours, before dropping it to turn around and lock the door of your home.

Once the two of you had made it to Tommy’s car, he opened your door.

“Always the gentleman, aye Tommy?”, you laughed, giving him a soft smile as you stepped into the car and sank down into the passenger seat.

“For you, yes, always.” He nodded, reciprocating your smile, and gently closing the door.

He rounded the car, getting in on his own side and starting the engine up. It gave a sputter, then turned over, allowing him to put it in gear.

“I could take a look at sometime that if you’d like Tommy.” You spoke softly, wanting to offer your help.

“How do you know anything about automobiles? Did you work as a mechanic in your time away, Love?” He joked, a small laugh followed by a toothy smile coming from his mouth.

“Yes, actually. I did.” You said sternly, not appreciating the mans sarcasm.

“And what else did you do in your time away? I suppose you also learned to train horses, or fire a gun?” He joked again, clearly not understanding your short tone of voice.

“One of those I did, the other I am still clueless about. Feel free to guess which.” You stated, now having grown angry at his teasing.

Tommy feigned a sigh, followed by his imitation of a horses neigh. The two of you remained silent for the remainder of the ride to Watery Lane, only for the conversation to be interrupted by Tommy as the two of you pulled up to park in front of the house.

“Just so you know, Arthur and Pol are here as well. They wanted to hear all your stories about your time away as soon as I told them I was bringing you over.” He spoke, his gaze remaining on your face.

“Okay, Tommy.” You spat, still quite upset about the conversation at the beginning of the ride.

Before he could ask any questions, you pulled open the door to the car, getting out. He tried to catch up to you, but you made it to the front door of the Shelby home before he did, and let yourself in the house. Old habits die hard, as they say.

Once inside the home, you surveyed your surroundings. Not much of the decor had changed, a few updated photos here and there, but mostly everything was still in its rightful place. You made your way through the house at a leisurely pace, admiring all the once familiar details that now seemed new. You made your way to the dining room, while Tommy still trailed behind you, watching your every move.

“Oh dear, it is so lovely to see you again! It’s been so long, how are you?” Pol said, quickly rising from her chair to give you a warm, yet firm hug.

“I’ve been good Pol, thank you. How have you been?” You returned, not only as a formality but because you were genuinely interested in her life.

As Pol rattled off her answer, talking about ‘business this’ and ‘this family that’, you noticed Tommy move behind you. He came around to your left side, pulling a chair out. You remained standing, not wanting to sit if that was where he had wanted to sit, but the soft hand on the small of your back encouraged you to take the seat. You briefly nodded up at him and gave a soft smile, then continuing to listen to Pol.

After Pol had placed food for everyone on the table, you all began eating. Someone had made a delicious meal, one of your favorites. You first assumed it was Pol, but when you complemented her, she quickly told you ‘Oh dear, I didn’t make this’ and cast a look at Tommy from across the table. You didn’t put any effort into figuring out what that glance meant, rather you just enjoyed the food and answered their occasional question. The questions weren’t anything to outrageous, until one came tumbling out of Arthur’s mouth.

“So, Y/N, what made you come back to the grand ol’ town of Small Heath?” He said, smiling at his question.

“I, uh,” you swallowed. You had truly hoped no one would ask, but you should’ve expected it. You cursed yourself for not preparing an answer ahead of time.

Your mouth ran dry for a moment as you tried to formulate what to say that would keep you out of the most shit. You didn’t want to blurt out the truth, but they most likely already knew it anyways, they were the Shelby’s after all.

“My mother and I had a disagreement about my…life plan.” You spoke, satisfied with your answer.

“What life plan, dear? What does that mean?” Pol added to the questioning.

“Probably the same life plan that included her learning about cars and horses,” Tommy said under his breath, but not nearly quiet enough, as the entire table heard him.

“Now Thomas, you know women can do what they choose.” Pol reprimanded, giving Tom a stern stare.

“Yes, women can.” He spoke, “but not Y/N.”

“And why not Thomas? Am I not a woman?” You said, letting your fork clank against your plate. He had your full attention now, and not in a good way.

“You are, you’re just…different.” He spoke, his gaze now on you instead of Pol.

You scoffed, and shook your head at him. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You didn’t recognize the Tommy in front of you, your Tommy, the one from 5 years ago, would have been uncaring about your interests, and glad to have someone be so knowledgeable about certain topics. You just stared at him for a moment, waiting on him to say something, anything, that would explain his previous remarks. But nothing ever came, and when you realized nothing ever would, you stood from the table, thanked Pol and Arthur for the dinner, and headed for the door.

Once outside the Shelby house, now all alone, you began walking. You were initially going to go home, but the dwindling liquor supply in your own cabinets encouraged you to find The Garrison. You walked down the streets, that still held a handful of people, mulling your thoughts. Tommy acted like a real jackass, especially given that he was the one who invited you over. By the time your anger had mostly settled, you reached the doors of The Garrison.

9:00 pm

You’d been sat at the bar of The Garrison for around an hour, and were plenty of drinks deep. You now held no anger towards Tommy; hell, you could barely picture his face in your mind. You hadn’t intended on getting drunk tonight, but the lovely barmaid by the name of Grace had been giving you all your drinks ‘on the house’, and who were you to turn down free alcohol? Especially given how you’d left your purse at home because you were ‘just going to the Shelby’s’.

A loud grunt came from behind you, followed by a man sitting down on the stool next to yours. You gave him a quick glance and nod, not recognizing his face. 

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing at the bar all alone, aye?”, he questioned, breathing his hot, putrid breath into your face. 

“One, I’m not alone. Two, none of your business, aye?” You said, hoping to be forceful enough that he got the hint and left you alone. 

Unfortunately, he did not. The next thing you knew, he had his fat arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his barstool. 

“Now listen here, little lady,” he breathed, “You can come to the back alley with me on your own will, or I can make you.” He threatened, brandishing a bowie knife from his waist. 

You sat for a moment, considering your options. You knew you definitely were not going into that alley, even if you had to die bloody for it. You quickly came up with a plan in your head, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you acted. 

“Fat chance, ya bastard. Now let me go,” you said loudly, hoping to draw some attention. 

The man laughed at you, and moved his hand up to grab your shoulder, encasing your frame in his large arm. There was no denying he had size on you, but you had speed. And speed always won. You quickly ducked under his arm, knocking your barstool over behind you. You grabbed his wrist as you slipped out of his hold, bringing his hand to the middle of his back. 

“What do ya say now, you piece of shit,” you laughed in his ear. 

Faster than you expected, he ripped his wrist from your hands, and turned to face you. You heard a loud pop, then the feeling of pain registered on your face. The fucker had just backhanded you infront of the entire Garrison. You gave a small chuckle, which spiraled into a full out laugh, leaving the man utterly confused. You turned your eyes up towards him, feigning doe eyes at the man, before you placed both hands on his shoulders. You moved in closer to his body, and before he could realize, you hooked your right leg behind his knee, and shoved his shoulders as hard as you could manage and still stay upright. 

The large man tumbled to the ground, hitting his head on your now discarded barstool. While you had the chance, you snatched the knife from his hands and knelt down on top of his large body. You pressed the edge of his blade against his own neck, feeling a sense of pride swell through you. You had just taken down this very large, muscular man in front of an entire pub. But before you could get any witty remarks out to your fallen opponent, you heard one thing. 

“Y/N, what have you done?” 

Fuck. Tommy had found you, and no less, found you on top of man, with a knife against his throat, in his brothers pub. 

“Y/N, get off of him. Now.” Tommy spoke, his voice sounding closer now. You turned your head to look at him, finally taking your eyes off of the assailant for just a moment. 

Tommy was standing right behind you, with a look similar to what you could assume the wrath of God would look like. He stood poised, with his hands behind his back, peaky hat on top of his head, hiding his eyes. You turned back to look at the fallen man underneath you, seeing his own look of fear on his face. Then you noticed drops of blood splatting onto the man's face. He wasn’t bleeding, you hadn’t cut him, this much you knew. You tossed the knife to the side, far enough away where neither of you could reach it, and felt for your own face. A warm spot of blood came back on your hand; He had cut the corner of your eye open when he backhanded you. You felt angry at first, then ashamed. This man had cut you, and you kept fighting him like a crazed person. Hot tears bubbled at the corners of your eyes, before you climbed off of the man. 

Tommy grabbed you, helping you to stand on your feet. You were still trying to hold back the tears in your eyes while he gently held your chin, looking over your wound. 

“Love, go to the office. Wait for me, I’ll be there soon.” He spoke, softly. 

You mustered a nod, and scuffled your way to the back office, to wait for him. 

[titan-senpai]

hiii! i read your valentino smut, and i hate him with every bone in my body, but i absolutely loved it. i was maybe hoping you could do some husk smut? i love him sm and i feel like he doesnt get enough love 😭 thankss so much and stay safe <3

𝐀𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤. 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐤 𝐱 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

[ Inspired by the song : Greedy, OR3O ft. Swiblet ]

Let's say before he made a deal with Alastor he owned the most famous casino in Hell . And Y/N being a gambler in their past lives decides to visit the place. placing risky bets adrenalin flying. catches a certain cat's eyes, what they didn't know they slept with the most famous casino owner...

Warning; Cursing, Intoxitaded, influenced by alcohol, alcohol use, NSFW, Smut, gambling [GN Reader!]

More of my Hazbin/Helluva content? Check it out here!

A/N; I LOVE HUSK, WE LOVE HUSK MWA MWA <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking in the so-called 'Most famous casino of Hell' as I showed the guard outside my reservation on my phone as he nodded letting me in. taking a look around the casino it looked like any normal casino? "Would you like a drink dear.." a waiter said i nodded as he gave me a drink on flame. "is it your first time here?" he asked looking how i was looking around. "yeah i guess, i haven't gotten time to come here.." I sighed. "We'll be in luck because the casino has no end here! Live your life to the fullest here my dear.." he smiled before waving goodbye as i smiled walking to a poker table.

Taking a seat as the person behind the game handed everyone cards. "Let's begin.." Succubi said, as I picked up my cards looking at them. Seeing it was a low hand. One said "Bet" as the person set 10 poker chips. "Call,"the other woman said. I thought for a second, "Actually.. Raise you to 30.." I said with a smirk as I placed my chips. "I'll raise it to 300.."The woman said in full confidence.. "Fold.."the man said next to me. "I play by my own rules..Call you to.."I smirked.. "A soul." I smirked as she gave me a fear look in the eye "Not any soul.. My own one." I looked her dead in the eyes. "Fo-o-l-d.."She said, trembling. I laughed as I felt the adrenaline kick in as I placed my cards on the table. as the succubi gave me their chips. I smiled as I asked the waiter to get me a drink.

Hearing footsteps behind me as a certain person walked to me wearing a suit taking a seat next to me, "That was quite an impressive young one.."He smiled as he ordered the waiter. "You want something to drink dear? My treat?" I smiled, "I'm good, I'm waiting for my drink." He fixed his tie "Those are cheap drinks.. I've got the good stuff. '' I didn't care at this point. I wanted to have some fun anyway so I nodded as he placed an order.

An hour passed by as I was a bit tipsy and so was he. "Woa.. careful doll.. Wouldn't want your pretty/handsome/Gorgeous face to get hurt.." without thinking i kissed him as he held my face. I didn't know how long that kiss was but he pulled away. "Let's take this upstairs?" he signald people as they led us through the crowd to an elevator. I stood there as he scanned a gold card and clicked the gold button going all the way to floor 666.

He held me as the doors opened revealing a gorgeous penthouse with a painting of him. "Woaaahh" I smiled looking around as he helped me to his bedroom as i took a seat on the bed. his lips connecting with mine both desperate for each others touch, "R u sure you want this darlin?" He smiled taking off his blazer and undershirt. "Yes.."I moaned as he attached his lips on my neck as he took my clothes off. Soon he took his boxers off revealing his Grey cock with white freckles leaking with pre-cum my insides desprate for him just by looking at it. pushing his cock inside as I let out a pornographic moan. "Holy Shit-.." Husk said as he grunted in my shoulders. slowly pushing his entire cock inside as my face showed pure bliss. finally it was at his base. "Oh my... you're taking my like a champ.." he smiled as he pulled out not fully just keeping his tip inside as i finally could breath before i could react i felt him push it in with power letting out a moan pushing my head on the pillow. The air out my lungs knocked right out as he sped up my eyes rolling even further now as I had my first orgasm, my hands reaching for him as he bent down still pounding it in me as my arms started to cling onto his back, my nails scratching him. "Right there!"I cried as he grunted going faster soon his movements became sloppy and started slowing down. "Where do you want me.." he said looking at me with a tired look. "inside.. inside please.." I whimpered. as he sped up reaching his own orgasm as he painted my insides white. his head going back from the pure bliss as i reached my own after he came my eyes shutting as my body shook.

pulling out as white liquid dripped out of me. Standing up as he got me a cup of water. sitting up taking the cup drinking water as he sat next to me. "Thank you for this.." He smiled laying back down. gulping down the water. "No thank you.. I've never got your name sir?"

"It's Husk, it's a pleasure meeting you."

[devi-nova]

i see way too many people calling stuff ai when its literally just..... hardcoded pattern recognition......

whoop de doo the thing you made for a specific purpose fufilled that purpose. thats not an ai thats just a program. shut up.

"oh this new ai powered webcam can zoom in on anything with these four squares on it!!" thats not a fucking ai thats image pattern recognition, all it does is scan the visible area for specific patterns, and once recognized, it zooms in. thats it. a fucking qr code scanner is more complex than that. its not ai. shut up.

"this logo maker uses ai to make images" no it doesnt. it randomizes images within the bounds of set fields and assets. its randomization giving a number of results to choose from. thats not fucking ai. shut up.

a real ai is a program that trains itself to respond to inputs "naturally" without instruction using trial and error, for example if an actual ai was to go through a maze,

step one, makes random movements

by making these random movements and bumping into walls, it learns that bumping into walls is an error

step two, explores randomly without touching walls

the ai doesnt know there is an end goal, however it will learn this if moving in a path that isnt directly connected to the exit is an error

step 3, the ai uses what its learned it should not do, and takes the path that is connected to the exit, and the task is complete.

ai is not pattern recognition, its learned pattern adaptation through time. ai is not randomization of assets. it is randomization with consequences that shapes it into a predictable behaviour. shut. up.

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 5 | Whispers Of Madness

summary: ever since one unfortunate day, you havent felt the same mentally. The dark entity that now permanently stabled a special place in your mind, making you go more insane with each passing minute. Whenever you try to reach out for help to the one person you trust, being your best friend matthew he always argues that nothing is actually there and your brain is messing with you but you know more than youve lead onto. Are you going to finally shatter and possibly lead to murder, or maybe finally banish the evil living inside of you?

warnings: ANGST, demon possession, dark entity, murders, mental health issues, satanic language, dark topics, suicide, police involvement, heavy language, blood everywhere, choking, skin bruising, mysterious black goop, viewers advisory is supervised! Proceed continue reading caution!

authors note: somehow we’ve made it to day 5 of consistently posting fics wohoo !! This one took me a portion of my time and this week has been pretty busy for me so I’m surprised I got this far, hope yall enjoy this bc I surely did writing it

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

Ever since that unfortunate night, I have never felt the same mentally nor physically. A constant demonic voice mocking my every move and slowly driving me towards insanity, flashes of a dark entity remain stuck and impossible to get out of my mind, making me want gouge my eyes out to escape through death. Sometimes i dont even recognize myself in the mirror, just noticing each and every one of the changes in my physical apperance as well as my behavior and I think if others noticed them too or do am I the old me to them? or have I never actually changed and my mind can somehow create physical forms of different versions of me on its own?

- The night of the incident

I slowly stirr awake in the middle of the night due to strange noises my ears keep picking up, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand I glance out the window to see nothing but pitch-black ahead of me. The soft moonlight being the only available source of light pouring into the room, my eyes scan the dark room for a possible source behind the strange noises. Its almost like whispering but not human whispers in particular, almost like a demonic voice... yeah no, demons dont exist so there no such possibility. Just to be sure Im not going completely insane I do a double check but now looking harder into the dark to try and justify the source of the noise is nothing harmless.

Thats until I see something dark looming in the corner of my room.

It appears to be a shadow but with a dark and demonic energy radiating off it, my eyes scan the whole silhouette and get stuck on a pair of brigh red eyes staring down at me becomes imprinted in my mind permanently which sends a cold chill down my whole body, making me rise in awareness and fear, my body immediately waking and becoming completely stiff, my abilty to move vanishing from my grasp of control. The dark shadow figure starts to step closer to me and my instincts kick in, subconsciously backing away from the proximity of the red-eyed creature as it stands at the foot of it. "W-who are you?" I shakingly breath out, my mind becoming consumed with fear and theories that this could possibly be the end of my life.

The red-eyed figure doesnt make a sound or a single move, my breathing now labored and heavy as it continues to stare down at my shaking form. Feeling completely vulnarble and defendless, it’s like theres no escape and I've been trapped, even cornered in the dark depths of my mind. "Agite... Tenebrae... Abyssi..." I hear a faint demonic whisper, identical to the ones I've heard before and realize where its coming from. Suddenly I get a shock down my whole body, almost as if a feeling of being possesed or something possibly entering my soul and attaching itself to it.

I convince my overthinking mind its nothing and Im just imagining things now, this is not real. Demons dont exist and they surely can't possess you, right? it cant be real, its not. Shaking my head to throw away any possible negative thoughts left behind and lay my head back down on my pillow, attempting to sleep of the demonic energy I still feel coursing through my veins. My mind manages to slowly drift off to sleep, my eye lids falling heavy as I slip into unconsciousness but the demonic whispers still remaining surrounding the shell of my ears.

- A month after the incident - Present day

A sudden snap of Matt’s fingers in front of my face kicks me out of the negative energy in my mind, him giving me an unamused expression and sighing. “You seriously weren’t paying attention again?” He annoyingly huffs, his lips becoming a thin line as his arms cross over his chest. “I’m sorry, I was just-“ while I am in the middle of my sentence and want to explain myself, the demonic whispers cut me off and start whispering in my ear until I look around and see him. The red-eyes creature. No matter how hard I want to take my eyes away from him, they just refuse to move alongside with my body. Just becoming frozen all of a sudden, “What? Are you good?” He stammered visibly shadowed with concern, his eyes darting around the room to find the spot my eyes are stuck on but is met with a simple empty room.

“What are you staring at?” He pondered, still in desperate search to find something I could possibly be staring at with such horror contouring my features. My breath starts to become more deep and shaky, the same feeling I felt coursing through my veins every time it appears, it’s almost like it’s making its appearance known before hand. Matt finally snaps me back to reality, jerking one of my shoulders to give him a response to his worried questions, when I look at Matt’s face and back where it was standing. It’s gone. It’s not there anymore. “Where did it go?” I mumbled with a trembling bottom lip, becoming tense and more aware of my surroundings. “What do you mean by ‘where did it go’ ? You’re fucking freaking me out Eli.” He inquired, still anxiously looking around before moving closer to me. Immediately noticing me tense up for some reason he doesn’t have the knowledge of and I just wouldn’t speak about it.

“It’s fucking not there anymore! It’s gone, again!” I clutch Matt’s arm into my chest, seeking any comfort and safeness I could get a grasp on. The whispers start again, this time approaching me closer until I feel a faint icy breath breathe down my neck which makes me flinch. “ǨḐlēʃ-tū yǫur crēāṭōr, ǝLizaʊƃth…” my hands immediately go to cover my ears, the satanic words echoing in my head and bouncing off every wall, almost delivering me a headache. Under my breath I keep begging it to stop, to release me from the hellish cage it’s trapped me in against my will just to torment and demolish all that’s left of my soul that it hasn’t destroyed yet. My mental health wasnt the best before and it just got worse after, I reached out for help to everyone I could but they either called me schizophrenic or ‘completely gone off the rockers’ by professionals, refusing to help me and ignore the actual issue.

“Is it this again? Seriously Eli, you have to stop scaring me like that!” He argues, becoming slightly annoyed. No matter how much I tell him about this mister lurking in the shadows, he just says ‘you need to get some professional help or go to a psychiatrist’ but when I tell him the stories regarding the ‘getting professional help’ that they ignore me and don’t believe demons actually have a possibility of existing. “You didn’t believe in this demon shit and always denied it, why do you suddenly act like you got possessed by a damn demon or something?” In that moment it hits me, the realization and theory of being actually possessed by a demon hits my head and if we’re an object I would possibly get a concussion.

“I’m not! It’s just that… oh, forget it. It’s gone now so it doesn’t matter.” I state, taking a deep breath to wash away all of the emotions I’ve been feeling at once in a single moment. It’s shocking how much my body can take and has taken ever since it appeared in my life, or does it? Maybe my mind likes to think and make it seem like I’m doing good but in reality I’m loosing my mind completely? When is it going to end? How do I make it end? Questions rise in my head as I start to overthink and get my anxiety to an impossible level. “Eli, what the fuck has been happening with you? You seem completely psychotic like those possessed girls in horror movies.”

“I-I don’t know what I am at this point, please just go home and stay safe. I’ve scared you enough already I don’t want to give you a heart attack” I breathe out, gesturing for him to go away as I my ears perk up with the demonic soft whispers coming back, the dark figure standing right in front of me. I immediately cover my ears as the whispers get louder and louder, suddenly I feel a pair of cold hands wrap around my neck and pure force starting to pull me upwards into the air. I become short on breath as Matt freaks out and quickly runs over to my body in the air, now being face to face with the black figure. My arms immediately attempt to remove the arms off my neck for more air but it only tightens its grip, Matt pulls at my feet but it’s not much affective. The red gloomy eyes staring into my soul and twisting my insides with the dark energy possessing my body.

The world around me becomes silent and I can’t hear whats happening around me. “Ǩo ǃàdêr ȯf Ḑoom, ʔou Ƀhall kjømbāť ʔo ʃiln Ǫne ȯf ḏhe ʔeḥples ȯf Ꮑȯvær lǟv or ʔe ťæpt ǝn ḟi ʃhyād ǷārtǤ, ȯy ʗhǯice ElizǞbeth. ȶime Ƀ is spiraling ȯut…” the sentence constantly keeps being repeated until my ears start to bleed but I don’t feel blood coming out of my ears, some kind of cold black goop starts to escape through my ears as I finally get released. Falling back onto the ground with a loud thud and coughing hysterically, the pain and bruises spreading across my body as well as deep purple marks saturate my neck. I feel this sudden urge, something driving me up to my breaking point, willing to do anything to escape this hell.

Matthew quickly runs over to me, examining my body and the bruises left as horror and concern fill his features. “A-are you okay? Are you bleeding anywhere?- oh fuck!” He stammered, noticing the mysterious black goop coming out of my ears. His eyes were so focused on my body he didn’t notice it at first, seeking as if he couldn’t handle all of this happening at once and neither was I but he was scared out of his mind when I was left with no emotions in my face. My mind backtracks to the demonic words spoken to me and somehow I feel I know what to do, I don’t feel like myself anymore. It’s like I’m some kind of puppet in a show being controlled on how I’m supposed to act, I pick myself up and walk towards the kitchen while ignoring the concerned questions falling from Matt’s mouth.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this but I can’t live like this anymore, he follows behind me and into the kitchen. My body starts to almost move on its own as if someone else had full control over it, reaching into the drawer where all of my knifes are kept and pick up the sharpest blade I own. Rising it into the air and turning to face Matthew, his anxiety immediately spikes to ungodly levels as he puts his now trembling hands. “What are you doing with that? Elizabeth, put it down!” Desperate demands leave his mouth in attempt to make me out down the possible weapon in my possession but I don’t listen, as much as I don’t want to do it, I might be my only way of escaping.

I charge at Matthew and stab him in the chest multiple times as hysteric cries leave my mouth while he screams bloody. His blood squirts all over my clothes and stain them, he falls to the ground and quickly I jump on top of him to weight him down and deliver a stab to immobile his arms, more blood covers our clothes, faces and the floor all together as I continue to cry out apologizes and explanations. “I’m sorry… I have to do this, I’m so sorry, Matt I’m sorry but I have to…” I cry out as blood and tears run my cheeks, to end the miserable pain he is experiencing I swing high into the air, gripping the handle of the bloody knife with both of my hands before apologizing for the last time and plunge the knife through his head which kills him in an instant.

My hands finally detach from the knife and immediately go up to my face, wiping off the blood and pouring tears from my face. Loud sobs fall from my mouth at what I have done, I just killed my best friend. Out of pure cold blood I killed my best friend, I-I’m a monster, a psychopath and everything fucked up. I am the demon… the demonic figure whispers another sentence in the weird language it has been using ever since trying to communicate to me but now it sounds more evil, like curses stuck to my name by the black shadow and following me around anywhere I go. “Ǫne lǻst stȅp ǵhǵn ɓe dǿne, ȵaM Ƀǿ̃e ȅt Ƀe ǵhǵe ȶǿ Ƿȯrld ȩfree, hāv ǵʍоḏ tɼȯ ḏon sǿlf ɴǿw. Ḕdǿn ḥesīṭȅte, ȅLīzǝbeth.”

The same feeling of knowledge runs down my spine, realizing what I’ll have to do next in order to be set free. My hands go back and take the knife out of Matthew’s dead body and line the sharp tip with where my heart lies, I close my eyes shut and with one swing I plunge the cold bloody knife into my heart. My body falling down next to Matthew’s already dead one, hearing the faint sirens of police in the distance as I slip into unconsciousness but by the time they make it to the kitchen, my body disappeared and only with the bloody knife left on the ground. It was evident two people have been killed in the process regarding the blood bath that was created but no matter how long or how hard they searched for my body, it was just gone. Almost as if a dark entity dragged it down with them to the deepest pits of hell…

Guestlist!

| - @sturnioloblues - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @luvvs4chriss - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - |

[moonsaver]

Wahh I'm back haha, don't worry about messing up the request it happens! I still loved it the other way around!

Im so sorry anon, im delirious from lack of sleep and didnt read your request right. I hope this will be okay, <33

--

Sunday is usually busy, so when on this specific day, when you insist on meeting up with him in the middle of his schedule, he's a bit irked.

He imagines its most likely something important, or you needed something that only he could provide (which could only be done in private, behind doors).

So he's very sure to clear out people from the vicinity of his office, telling them he'll be alright and hastily shoo-ing them away in the most professional manner.

And then.. you show up, with a cheeky grin and a heart-shaped box. Curious.

And you set down the chocolate on his desk, almost humorously contrasting to his very well kept desk. You explain Valentine's to him and he understands, mainly because it's a bit of his duty to keep tabs on festivities, even of other planets.

And he offers you to sit down, asks you about it in more detail, while curiously scanning the box. He doesn't realise you made it yourself until you drop it in the middle of conversation, and he stays still for a moment, deep in thought, before a loving smile breaks out on his face.

Sunday appreciates any effort from you so much. He knows he's not exactly easy to love, especially because you have to do it from a distance most of the time. So he appreciates it so so much. He's already thinking of all the ways he wants to pay you back – not because he sees it as a transaction, but rather he wants to let you know he sees your efforts and wants to return them, too.

Lovingly guides you to sit you down beside him, and feeds you a piece of chocolate first, and then eats it himself. Very neatly picks it up, careful to make sure it doesnt melt on his gloves, and it doesn't get on your face. Wipes off any excess bits on your face and compliments the flavors, tells you about how popular they are, flavors that are particularly favored from certain worlds, and all sorts of things. He wraps up the box neatly and insists you wait for a bit outside his office, tenderly kissing your forehead.

After a few moments of quiet shuffling, his door clicks open, as he gives you a very beautifully sealed letter. He says it was supposed to be for another occasion, and he had to rush the writing a bit at the end, but most of it was completed, and stamped perfectly. The letter is about 3 pages long, and full of well-wishes, and feelings Sunday probably wouldn't be able to tell you directly face to face. He kisses your hand and tells you he'll make some time for you another day, and make up for the time he couldn't spend today.

He listens to your quiet footsteps shuffle down the hallway, further away from his office, and once he's sure you're gone, he sighs, sitting down in his office chair. He sits deeply in thought, and anyone walking in would have thought he was in deep trouble, trying to find a solution for an extremely multifaceted and complex issue.. when really, he's thinking about just how dangerously he's wrapped around your finger. Perhaps he prefers it that way?

[heademptie]

Ghoap x Comms!Reader continued...

Reader avoids Ghost as much as they can, not wanting to stir things up more than they already have, but they're only successful because Ghost allows it. And Ghost only allows it so he can better observe them. He's tried pulling strings, using his rank and reputation to try and find out more about reader. But it comes up short. He gets access to their file, but its all fluff inside, lots of it confidential or just blank. Their name isnt even on the file, just the callsign (to keep reader anonymous) Laswell gave out. He asked her too, but she didn't have the answers he wanted.

"Tell me about them." "Not much to tell, I'm afraid. Why? You think they're a threat?" "Don't know yet." "Should I be worried, Ghost?" He pauses, thinking it over. But Laswell knows well enough, that if there was a threat, Ghost wouldn't hesitate. So she sighs and hands over the lackluster file. "They work behind the scenes, no field record. They were brought here-" Her voice drowns out with information Ghost already knows, the extent of Laswells knowledge on the matter. On first glance the file looks fine, personal information left blank or blacked out, a brief service record. Nothing in the field, like Laswell said, but a few listings for assistence with signal decoding. But most of their work is as a mundane office drone, 'A temp,' Ghost thinks amused.

So he skulks around base and observes.

Johnny is confused. He's been able to read Ghost for some time now, their connection and dynamic so intertwined, so in tune with each other, thriving since Las Almas. He notices almost immediately, the sudden hostility and caution Ghost displays on base, it takes him a bit longer to find the target.

He tries to ask outright, of course he does because why wouldn't Ghost talk to him, but he gets shut down. A gruff response. "Don't know what you're talking about Johnny."

Soap pushes, of course, but he gets repeatedly shut out. He moaps a bit, like a kicked puppy, before he catches on to who has made Ghost like this. He's surprised when he cathes the critical look of Ghost when Reader walks by, and he doesnt miss the quick glance they flick over Ghost. Then that glance jumps to him and reader gives a small smile and nod, one that looks a little too nervous to be oblivious to Ghost's scrutiny.

So he finds them the next evening, Reader is leaving tomorrow, going back to wherever they were before, so they went out for a drink. He slides up next to them easily, and gives a bright, syrup sweet smile to ease into things. Reader is a bit tense to begin with but relaxs just a bit once conversation starts. Soap starts slow and vague, idle chat morphing into talking about readers time on base before eventually reaching his desired point of discussion.

Immediately, the mood shifts. Reader is subtle with it, smile becoming a little tighter at the corners, and eyes scanning over him with an increased intensity. They play dumb, not lying to him but repeating his words, asking thier own questions, faux confusion furrowing their brows.

'They're good at this,' Johnny thinks as reader gives another vague answer, easing him in the direction to make a false assmunption. He's not mad, a little annoyed, but mostly he thinks that they're clever. 'Maybe this is why Simon is suspicious,' reader is still on guard, but as Johnny relaxes into the back and forth, so do they. Its like a game now. 'A simple desk worker shouldn't be this good'.

The night comes to an end and Johnny insists on walking them back to base. He'll bring it up to Ghost again, mention how reader easily navigated the pseudo interrorgation, get him to talk. Its on the walk back that reader looks over to Soap, eyes kind yet critical and sighs. He looks over and reader offers a smile. Theres something in that smile he doesnt have the chance to decipher before they've caught him off guard.

"It's his business to tell you what's going on. I don't want to step on any more toes, especially since im out of here in a few hours."

Soap goes to ask more, opens his mouth, ready to launch into his questions, eager to finally get answers. But they put a hand on his shoulder and he falters.

"But for gods sake just tell him already."

He's confused, but the look they give speaks volumes. Oh. Oh. Johnny understands now. The hostility, the caution, the observation. Just as they saw through Johnny and cupped his weakness in their gentle hold, they had done the same to Simon.

Oh. This is...

Reader is gone the next day, as was expected, but Ghost is only slighty eased, and Soap finds himself a little on edge. It's not till weeks later, with readers voice nagging at him with that kind exasperation, that Soap (a little liquored up) is in Ghosts barrack.

They're shouting at each other, fear turning into misplaced anger before it goes quiet in the small room. They're both breathing heavy, Ghost, Simon in this moment, breaks it.

"I'll kill anyone who hurts you. And I'd be pleased to." He follows closely, closing the gap until uncovered hands grasp Johnny's face, as gentle as Simon can manage. "If you're mine, no one, no one, can touch you." Johnny is thrilled.

As the sun rises, the two are twisted together in the sheets of Ghosts too small bed, Johnny wears a tooth rotting smile. They think, seperately, offhandedly, that they really should thank that too clever reader.

[sturnwritess]

Things always end.

[ my first angst 🤨 ] M.S

summary: reader goes to a party and shortly leaves after seeing matt all up on another girl.

warnings: Hard angst, toxic matt, slight mention of alcohol,mentions of drugs, not a happy ending,swearing and cheating.

LEMME KNOW IF U WANT A PT 2.

WC:

pink text: you, purple text: nick, orange text chris

(matt doesnt text in the group chat. since he's tuff)

------------------------------------------------------------

The flashing lights and blasting music and the smell of weed flowing through the house made me nauseous.

Chris and Nick texted me to come to the party in the first place.

------------------------------------------------------------

hey you coming to the party?

i might be, whos all gonna be there?

just a bunch of random influencers and also matt, me and chris are gonna be there too.

ok i will be there, cant wait to see you guys 😚

------------------------------------------------------------

You put on your slim black dress, knowing its matt's favorite dress. You put on your black heels and your red purse. You ordered a uber, and you scrolled through your phone and saw matt, nick and chris already at the party.

You arrive at the house and walk up the drive way, you enter the house and already the smell of weed and the sweaty bodies going straight to your head.

You run straight to the kitchen to find some alcohol, you took a shot of vodka, then another and then one more just for the fuck of it. You leave the kitchen and walk into the living room trying to scan familiar eyes, no luck.

You walk upstairs to see the other living room, you see all three familiar faces but one catches your eye. Seeing that tall,pretty,blonde and green eyed girl on his lap. His face drops when he see's your face drop, he gets the girl off his lap but he's to late. Your already down the damn stairs.

You run down stairs tears falling out of your eyes, fidgeting with your phone trying to call your friend to pick you up. Matt's right behind you trying to get your attention,"y/n! y/n!" no reply from you, your just trying to get out of that damn house.

You feel the alcohol starting to kick in,fuck.You think to yourself. Your hands finally grab the door handle and slam the door in matts face, everyone's attention lands on matt. He doesnt care about everyone else, he tries to get out the door. But that familiar blonde girl taps on his shoulder "matty, what was all that about?" she says. "Nothing, dont worry about it grace." he says in a harsh tone.

He runs back up the stairs telling Chris and Nick that they need to go.

As you walked out that door, your bestfriend nicole was there to pick you up. "hey babes, are you ok?" she asked in a gentle tone. You didnt answer and just nodded, your nose was red, your eyes were red with runny mascara running down. She could tell you were not okay, but she didnt want to bother you now.

2 weeks later..

19 missed calls from chris, 6 missed calls from nick and 2 texts from matt.

You didnt even bother checking your phone. You hadn't even ate in 5 days, hadn't took a shower in 2 weeks.

You just curled up into a ball in your bed in the hoodie that Matt gave you on your first date. Nicole had knocked on your door, asking to come in. You didn't answer so she took that as a no and left you alone.

While you were depressed Matt just partied and hid his feelings, Chris and Nick knew what was up but didn't dare to ask.

You finally had gotten the courage to check your phone and instantly went through Matt's instagram. Just to find,Her.Her.Her.Her.Her. She was in every photo she was even tagged. You clicked on her tag just to scroll to see her perfect body, thats all she posted.

After a hour you were done,you threw your phone and just cried into your pillow.

Matt had cried and sobbed, just never so anyone could see it. He always tried to text you and call you, he just never could hit the damn button.

You knew posting Gracie on your story would torment y/n and you always tried not to press that damn button. But you always did, Gracie wasn't the one you wanted. You wanted y/n and you fucked up that night. You were drunk and Gracie was there, you knew your brothers weren't gonna interfere but you damn well wish they would've.

You had issues and she had issues, you two loved each other to the point it hurt. You wished you could've prevented what happened that night, you had wished it never happened.

I always came to Nick always trying to get his opinion and screaming into his face for not stopping me from all of this. At the end of the night I would curl into his arms and bawling wishing he were y/n.

------------------------------------------------------------

SO WHAT DO YALL THINK?

@christinarowie332 @strawberrysturniolo @mattitties @nicksnosering @chrisenthusiast @mattsgirlie @mattsnymphette @chrissolosa @chriscumsworld @sturncrazy @sturniolopowers @sturnioloskies @sturnisposts @mattsturnioloarchive @chrissturniolosbitch @mattsturniolosworld @chrissturniolosbf

Lemme know if you guys want a happy ending in part 2