#not quite a speed write for the last chapter

[kasienda]

Bend the World Around It - Ch 5: Wedding Bells

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Read on Ao3

Last chapter finished in honor of @ladynoirjuly Day 31: Partners (posting early because I will be out of town then). Story inspired by @blur0se for @marimbles. Thanks to @coffeebanana for being an amazing beta!!

Chapter Five: Wedding Bells

Chat Noir is sprawled out on the couch. He’s reading something - an old classic in English. His choice of reading would have been unbelievable to her before their dream. Now, she doesn’t even blink. Instead, she plops down on the couch next to him and slides under his arm. 

She fits against his side like a puzzle piece that has found its place. Given how long she denied Chat Noir as a romantic possibility for so long, she’s almost not sure how they came to this moment.

And while part of her still thinks it’s silly to get married. They’re so young, they don’t know each other’s names or even all of each other’s lives, and it won’t count in the eyes of the law. She knows her maman in particular would caution her against making such reckless promises. 

But it doesn’t feel reckless when he’s the one who’s there when her maman can’t be, the one who has protected her from monsters, built her up when all was lost, who has placed himself between her and death.

He will be the only boy for her even when she doesn’t know his name. She knows it with the same certainty she knows the sun will rise the next morning.

And so she wants to get married. She approaches the way she approaches everything: with a sixty-four bullet point plan she’s written out in sparkly pink ink. And now that they’re finally here together, she wants to collect his input. 

“Are you at a good stopping point?” she asks. 

He shakes his head, but he’s already slipping a bookmark between pages anyway.

“I can wait until you are,” she objects. 

“Maybe you can,” he teases. “You underestimate this cat’s curiosity.” 

She can’t help the grin that blooms across her face. This boy. He had this way of disarming her completely. 

“I wanted to talk wedding stuff.” 

He peered over her shoulder to look at her list eagerly. 

“We can invite everyone who’s ever been akumatized,” she says.

“Definitely wouldn’t be the same without Mr. Ramier,” he says, grinning cheekily at her.

She doesn’t linger on his face or joke back. She knows that if she does, he will distract her. And as much as she loves being distracted by him, she wants to plan their wedding more. 

“That will also get most of the holders.” And somehow her parents and pretty much every one of her friends. It conveniently left out Marinette, though she suspects Chat will slip her an invitation anyway. But she’s going to do the same thing with Adrien, so she can hardly begrudge him. 

She hopes that he’s not too disappointed when Marinette doesn’t come. 

“Did you have any preferences for music?” she asks. 

“Kitty Section. Just based on their name alone.” 

She laughs. She suspects he’s actually a fan. Would he be amused to know that more than half of Kitty Section was in her class?

“Cake?” she asks, biting her lower lip. 

He frowns at her. “Seems like we’re on the same page on our favorite bakery already, are we not?” 

A grin splits her face as relief rushes through her. She had been silly to worry that he would want to order something nicer. 

Though she’s not sure there is anything nicer than her parent’s bakery. 

“Three weddings doesn’t seem excessive to you?” she asks. 

“Three might be too few given how much I love you,” he tells her. 

Goodness! He never stops! She tries to laugh, but it feels hollow. 

He takes her hand. "Hey. This was your idea. You okay?"

"I just feel silly. Like, we’re playing make believe. I just wish it was official."

"I mean, it is kinda silly,” he says, pulling her in for a kiss, and where there’s one kiss, there’s always three more with him until she’s giggling. 

“But in a fun romantic way,” he continues. And being silly is not a reason to not do it. And we also don’t have to do it if you don't want to.” He squeezes her hand. “If you want to wait until we know each other's names, I'd understand."

She wants to know his name before they get married. Without him knowing her name it doesn’t feel entirely real - it’s like they’re playing pretend or still dreaming. Not being able to talk about him with anyone only makes that feeling worse. 

But how long will they have to wait to know each other’s names? Months? Years? If she knew, maybe it would be worth it. But she doesn’t, and she’s tired of letting Monarch dictate every aspect of her life.

She wants to bring the dream to life. 

She shakes her head and kisses his nose. “I want to do it. I want the memory of it to be real.” She’s not sure if she’s explaining any of this right. So she gestures wildly to the wall. “If nothing else, we need some pictures! Know any photographers?”

“Wasn’t there an akuma victim who took pictures? His name was… uh Vincent, I believe?” 

“Right!” That was Adrien’s photographer. How could she have forgotten? 

… 

They spend the summer honing in on the details by taste testing her father’s cakes and exploring possible venues for an outdoor wedding.

She’s a bit irritated that the color scheme has already been decided based on their miraculouses, but on the other hand, she’s excited that she’s wearing red. 

Her mother would love that if she knew. 

She makes a point of showing her new transformation to her mother at one of their bakery visits when Chat Noir is in the bathroom. And her maman coos and gushes over it politely the way a casual friend would.

Not the way a mother would. 

Marinette sighs, willing herself not to be disappointed, wishing she could tell them if no one else. 

At least hiring them for the event would guarantee their attendance even if they didn’t quite understand what the day meant for their daughter.

But maybe she will be able to tell them one day and they could all revisit the memory from photographs.

She can’t believe that tomorrow is the day! She bundles up her collection of candles, ribbon, and roses. She’s determined to decorate their apartment so completely over the top that even her newly renewed husband will be wowed. 

But when she comes in through the living room window, Chat Noir is already there, leaning against the corner of the couch reading what she swears is his third novel in this month.

She frowns. This wasn’t their day. What was he doing there? 

He glances up from the volume, his smile reaches his eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks. The question comes out sharper than she intends. 

But his smile only widens. “Nice to see you, too, m’lady.” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’re not supposed to be here! This is not our day. How am I supposed to surprise you if you’re here? I thought— you’re not supposed to be here.” 

His expression softens and he stands, carefully taking the bags out of her hands before he takes her hands in his. 

“I… uh… it would have been difficult to surprise me here.” 

“What? Why?” 

He rubs the back of his neck. “I sleep here every night,” he confesses. 

Her face blanches. “How long?” 

“Since we moved in.”

Since they moved in? That was like six months ago. Hadn’t he gone home? Had his family not noticed his absence? She knew he didn’t have the best relationship with his father, but was it so awful there that he preferred to spend all that time alone. 

He hated being alone. 

Was this why he was always so happy when she arrived - like over the moon happy?

Tears are slipping down her face before she knows she’s crying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He pulls her into his arms. “I didn’t want to pressure you to be here more often.”

“And no one noticed?” 

He shrugs. “If anyone noticed they haven’t said anything.” 

She wants to scream. She wants to fight the people who clearly don’t know how to appreciate the wonderful man holding her. But he can’t tell her his name, she can’t know.

He kisses the top of her head. “It’s fine. You’re my family now.” 

He’s her family now, too. 

She kisses him and then pulls away. “Do you want to help me with your surprise?” 

A slow grin splits his face. 

… 

Chat Noir considers the new transformation in the mirror. It echoes an actual tuxedo, and it looks better than anything Adrien’s ever worn on a shoot. 

And that’s why he kinda hates it.

It doesn’t feel like him. It feels like he’s trying to impress someone. And he wants Ladybug to approve of his ensemble. She seems to have an eye for fashion. 

Will she hate it if he scraps the whole thing? 

Because this isn’t how he ever pictured his wedding. No one in his life really knows he’s getting married at all. But he’s getting married to Ladybug , which means he won’t trade the day for anything.

A soft tap on the door interrupts his musings. “Psst! Chat Noir? Can I come in?”

He grins at the unexpected voice. “No! Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?”

She opens the door and slips inside anyway. “Between the two of us, I think we can handle a little bad luck. You know there’s definitely going to be an akuma today. Probably a terrible one.” 

He grins at her through the mirror. She’s still in her usual transformation. He knows that she and Tikki put something together, but she’s been tight lipped about showing him any of her designs.

But she’s right. They don’t need to worry about bad luck. They have already dodged the end of the world.

“What’s going on?” 

Her fingers writhe with nerves. “I just— it occurred to me that you would be in here alone. And I, well, I wanted you to have the opportunity to express having doubts or cold feet or whatever.”

He pulls her to him. “So, you’re like serving as my best man, right now?” 

She nods. “Best man, best friend, your family. Whoever should be here and is not—“ 

He interrupts her with a kiss. “I have never been so sure about anything in my life. You?” 

She nods rapidly in agreement. “Yeah, that.”

She goes in for the kiss this time. And he can’t stop smiling. 

“We’re going to be late to our own wedding,” he teases. 

She waves away his objection. “Who’s not going to wait for us?” 

Her lips meet his again. 

“Monarch.” 

She growls against his mouth and he laughs.

“He’s right. If anything you should start the ceremony early.” 

Dread pools in his gut. 

Ladybug whirls out of his arms, but their fingers remain interlocked. In fact, he clings to her and she’s shaking just as hard so she feels it too. But he can’t let her go. Not now. 

Bunnyx can’t expect that of them, can she? 

“I just want you both to know that every time I show up to any of my closest friends they always react with panic and fear. Do you know how much that sucks?” 

But Chat Noir doesn’t relax. It doesn’t feel like Ladybug does either. 

Bunnyx sighs. “I come in peace! I swear!” Then she grins. “I actually have a wedding gift for each of you!”

…

Ladybug follows Bunnyx into the burrow. They immediately exit into another tiny room in the complex to find her parents standing there waiting.

Her papa starts at her sudden presence. 

“Ladybug! I hope you have found everything satisfactory.” 

She freezes, turning to Bunnyx with a silent question. 

Bunnyx nods enthusiastically. 

Marinette turns back to her parents, but words fail her and instead she’s crying. 

“Ladybug?” her maman asks. “Are you alright? You don’t have to get married today—“ 

Marinette throws herself into her maman’s arms.

“There, there,” her maman soothes as her papa looks on in absolute confusion.

A laugh breaks through her tears and she pulls back. 

“Maman, papa! I have something to tell you.” She lets her transformation fall. 

Their eyes go wide, and then they’re crying too. 

“I’m getting married today!”

Her parents both stare at her, unmoving with wide eyes and open mouths. 

“Please say something,” she begs. 

Her maman moves first. Yanks her into her arms. 

“Marinetta?” Her father’s voice comes out as a whisper. “You’re Ladybug?” 

She nods against her maman’s shoulder. Being in her arms in wonderful. Her grip is tight and firm. It feels like her maman instead of a friendly stranger. Her papa’s arms come around them both.

“Marinette! Marientte!” her maman cries. “I don’t understand. How could we never see it?” 

“You’re getting married? Since when did you have a boyfriend?” Papa asks. “How much have we missed?” 

Marinette laughs and laughs until she’s crying again. 

“I wanted to tell you,” she says. “I wanted to tell you I was Ladybug. That I have had a boyfriend for four years—“

“Four years?!” 

“—but three of those years technically never happened, even though they feel like they happened. I wanted you to meet him, which is why I’ve been bringing him around to the bakery, but I couldn’t tell him who you were to me. I still can’t tell him. When we learned each other’s names the first time the world ended. And the second time, apparently time broke. But Bunnyx says it’s okay to tell you who I am, so at least I can share today with you, with you knowing what it means.”

Her maman strokes her face as she rambles, but her papa breaks down into sobs. Like, heart-wrenching sobs. 

She turns to him in concern. “Papa? What’s wrong? Are you—?” But she can’t bring herself to ask him if he’s disappointed. 

“I didn’t make a good enough cake,” he says, attempting and failing to wipe away his own tears. 

It’s Marinette’s turn to stare at him in shock before she bursts out laughing. “What are you talking about? The cake is beautiful and delicious. I helped you make it!” 

He shakes his head. “That cake was for Ladybug. Not for my daughter.” 

She laughs again, and throws her arms around him. “Don’t worry, papa! We’re going to do this again once we know each other’s names. That will actually be our third wedding because my husband is ridiculous and has made me ridiculous by proxy.”

Her maman smiles fondly, her eyes tear up. Her hand strokes Marinette’s arm and shoulders. 

“I love you, Marinetta!” Her papa says. “I’m so happy that you’re happy.”

“We both love you!” her maman adds. “Thank you for telling us. I’m so sorry that we missed so much. You’ve become such an amazing young woman when I wasn’t looking.

Marinette can’t stop smiling. She doesn’t think this day can get any better than it already is, and yet, somehow it’s better than she ever imagined. 

“Would you like to see my Ladybug wedding dress again, knowing it’s me?”

Crying, her maman nods. 

…

The second Ladybug follows Bunnyx into the burrow, the rabbit hero opens the door to Chat Noir’s room. For a split second he feels dizzy, seeing two of her.

But he doesn’t have time to ponder the contradictions of time travel because it’s Nino and Kagami she’s ushered into the room. Even seeing them together associated with Chat Noir has his heart pounding with stress.

Kagami offers him a polite nod of the head, and Nino smiles widely. “What can we do for you, mec?” he asks. 

Chat Noir glances at Bunnyx. “Is this not a bad idea?”

“They’re my present.” 

Kagami frowns. “I am no one’s present.”

Even Nino looks confused.

But Chat Noir understands. Or he thinks he does. But the hope warming his chest burns painfully because what if he’s wrong?

“I get to tell them?” he croaks. 

She grants him a beaming smile.

“Both of them?”

Bunnyx nods, but her expression turns stern. “But no one else. I know there are others you would really like to tell, but you can’t. And you–” she whirls on Nino specifically. 

He freezes. “What?” 

“You can’t slip up. You especially cannot tell what you’re about to learn to Alya. I will give you a script for anytime she starts probing. And you will follow it, understand?” 

Nino visibly swallows, but he nods.

Bunnyx steps away. 

Kagami’s displeased glare is focused on him now, and Nino looks more like he swallowed a lemon after Bunnyx yelled at him, but Chat Noir can’t stop grinning. He gets to tell someone, gets to share this part of his life, the Ladybug part of his life with some of his best friends. 

He turns to Nino first. “So you know what I said at our first dinner about not being able to share this part of my life with my friends?” 

Nino’s brows furrow, but he nods. 

“I wasn’t being entirely honest. I was sharing things with my friends. I just couldn’t tell you that you were already my friend, my best friend.” 

Nino’s face goes blank, his eyes blow open. “A-Adrien?!” 

Kagami’s ice expression dissolves instantly. She’s blank with surprise for a second, but then she smiles.

“Plagg, claws in.”

Nino tackles him into a hug. They’re both laughing. “Oh my god, mec! You’re Chat Noir. I’m such an asshole!” 

“No, you’re not!” Adrien objects. “We’ve been over this already.”

Nino shakes his head. “But I didn’t know you were Adrien! God! I’m such an idiot. This makes so much sense. This is why you were so excited to show me your apartment! Mec! I’m so excited you’re not in that house! That you have someone!”

Nino hugs him again.

“Thank you,” Adrien says, squeezing back. “I’m so excited I get to share this with you.”

Then he pulls away and turns to Kagami. 

“Both of you.” 

She smiles. “Nino’s correct. This makes a lot of things make sense.”

“I’m sorry,” he tells her. “I never wanted to hurt you with my lies and disappearing act. I’m glad you can know why now.”

She shakes her head. “I understand. I’m honored to be part of your inner circle now. And I’m so happy that you’ve managed to find happiness with someone who understands you, who you can put first.”

He hugs her too. And then, Nino joins in, and Kagami squeaks.

Adrien hugs her harder.

He’s not alone anymore.

…

Ladybug doesn’t walk down the aisle. It doesn’t feel right. She yo-yo’s in instead, which is quite the achievement with her modified transformation, but it’s stupidly dramatic, which she knows her partner loves. 

His face glows when she steps down to stand next to him. She wonders if she even needed to spend all that time designing this Ladybug wedding dress with Tikki because his eyes are locked on her face. And he looks so happy. She almost wants to cry that she’s the one that can bring that light to his eyes. 

The formal suit he was wearing in the dressing room is gone. Instead, his transformation is the same as it usually is except his bell has been replaced with a red bow tie. It looks completely out of place and therefore ridiculous, and she can’t help but laugh when she sees him. It’s too perfect because it’s completely him.

There isn’t anyone standing on the dais behind or next to them. There’s no bridesmaids or groomsmen, and there’s no one to marry them either. They decided to stand alone and together because that’s how it had always been between them. And they don’t need anyone else to announce who they are to one another. 

And though she knows there’s dozens of friends and family seated behind them, in this moment she only sees him.

He takes her hands, lifts each of them to his mouth for a kiss. 

“M’lady, I do not have words to describe how meeting you changed my whole universe. You were a girl that literally fell from the sky.” 

She laughs. That was one way to put it. 

“You were not enthusiastic about this whole superhero thing, but you were smart and prepared in a way that I most definitely was not. It was easy to trust you, to fall in step with you as your partner right from the beginning. And then you stood up to the world’s biggest bastard, and I was blown away. I looked up to you then, and I have never stopped. I know that I must have been irritating in so many attempts to earn your attention and favor.”

She shakes her head in disagreement, squeezing his hands in reassurance. She would change nothing about their story. 

“And I’m so grateful that you saw past all of that. I can’t explain what your care and love has meant to me over these last four years, and even before that. You make me want to be the best version of myself. I promise to protect you with my life, to stand at your side, to shoulder every burden with you, and to follow you to the ends of the earth. I love you now and forever.” 

She wants to kiss him. She almost does before she remembers she has to wait a few more minutes. 

Waiting is agonizing. 

Instead she has to speak to him with words. She has always been terrible with words, but for him she wants to be better. She will be better. 

She squeezes his hands that she has yet to release. He is her anchor even now. 

“Sometimes, I’m really overwhelmed that we have to protect this city, and sometimes the whole world,” she begins. “I have wondered before if we didn’t have to do this if we could be together without masks.

“But I can’t wish for things to have been different. Because this city needing us is what brought us together, fighting akumas is what taught us to rely and trust each other viscerally as strong as instinct, what allowed me to eventually fall in love with you.”

His eyes are swirling with emotion and once again, she finds herself wanting to lean in and kiss him. Instead, she squeezes his hands again, harder.

“And so, I don’t regret any of it. I wouldn’t change any of it, not a single low moment because it brought us to today. And I’m really really grateful for today. 

“It will always be you and me against the world even when we have to bend the whole world around us.”

Her throat closes off suddenly, and she has to blink back tears.

“I l-love you,” she chokes out. “It doesn’t seem like enough to say.

Enough to promise. Because there’s so much more I want to give you, want to share with you. And one day - I don’t know when - but one day it will happen. There will be no walls or masks between us. But right now I give you my heart.” 

Tears fall over her partner’s mask and down to his cheeks. She gently frees one of her hands to gently wipe his tears away with her thumb. His head falls forward into her own. 

“There is no better gift in this—“

The akuma alarm goes off on every cell phone at once. Ladybug turns towards the sea of guests and laughs.

“Did I call it?”

He smirks. “You called it.” 

But neither of them immediately move. Monarch will not take this moment from them.

“Chaton, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband once again?”

He raises their joined hands, and kisses the back of her palm and each of her knuckles. “I will. And will you become my wife?” 

She feels so giddy she might fly away. “I will.”  

The trees at the edge of the park fall over like they’re made of paper. And still, no one moves. She is strangely touched by that.

She yanks him forward into a kiss. In that moment he is her whole world; he is everything. Cheers and whoops explode around them. 

It feels like a dream. 

But it’s not. It’s real. 

They pull away. Her eyes blink open and his green sclera blink back at her - bright and smiling. He nods once, and together, they turn towards the akuma. 

She has bad news for Monarch. Nothing can ruin this day. Even if they spend the rest of it fighting back to back akumas, they will spend it together. 

As they will for the rest of their lives.

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: SO. UM. once again this took fucking forever to come out which is kind of insane when you think about it because i've had 7000 words of this chapter written for like 4 months. truly wild. 2 babies have been born in the time that it's taken me to write this mini series but anyways there’s a lot happening here, shoutout to anthony for finally getting some more pov parts, the fun thing about your mc being out of commission for a while is that you have no choice but to write for the other characters. equality we love to see it. anyways most of it is angst, but it’ll all be wrapped up with a little regency romance bow i promise

wc: 7.6k

warning(s): aftermath of the end of last chapter which is angst. stab wound, talks of death, mentions of edmund's death, quite a bit of crying, anthony bridgerton's inner angst, miss worthing makes poor decisions. not a happy chapter but WHAT CAN YOU DO

“What were you thinking?” Violet demanded.

Anthony could barely hear his mother over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, the pure terror gripping his heart. He’d no idea how to respond to her. He doubted she would like to hear that he, indeed, was very much not thinking. 

And he was certainly not thinking much now, what with you on the brink of death with their doctor and his apprentice the only thing there to stop you. He could be of no help to you, bent half over in his chair, head in his hands, the image of you collapsing burned into his mind. 

“Anthony Bridgerton, answer me.” Violet stood over him, her face flushed and eyes filled with anger and fear. “What were you thinking, bringing Miss Worthing out into the city?” 

“I cannot deal with your questions right now, Mother!” he snapped, something letting loose inside of him. Anthony would have been ashamed had he any sense. “My future wife is in that room fighting for her life, and it is because I was not able to protect her. I am hardly able to form words at the moment, Mother, so please—” Anthony’s voice broke, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Please just be quiet.” 

It took a bit of nerve to be such an ass in front of his very own mother, but Anthony apparently had plenty of nerve at the moment. After you collapsed, he’d done the only thing he could think of in the moment and brought you back to Bridgerton House—it was closer than your residence, and if their physician had been able to keep his mother alive through eight pregnancies, then surely he could bring you back. 

Now, though, he was not so sure. Every other option seemed to be plaguing his mind, for your blood still stained his hands and his clothing and Anthony didn’t know if he would ever be able to get it off. 

His father died in his arms from something so small as a bee, and yet you had been stabbed. How were you meant to come back from that?

The door suddenly slammed open, and when Anthony glanced up, his insides twisted. 

“Where is she?” Eloise demanded. Her windblown hair matched the wild look in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks and haggard breathing told him everything. She was meant to be promenading with Penelope Featherington—her speed on foot was admirable. 

“With our physician,” Violet responded. She seemed more subdued now, and though Anthony knew he would apologize profusely later, he could not find it in himself now. He could hardly find anything in himself apart from panic.

“With our physician—” She turned on Anthony, her gloved hands clenched into fists. “What in God’s name happened, Anthony?”

He allowed himself a moment to breathe before he responded. “She was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Eloise cried. “She was with you! How could she have been stabbed?”

“I was not with her when it happened—”

She scoffed. “That is a likely fucking story.”

“Eloise,” Violet said, “language.”

“I do not care about my language,” Eloise spat, gesturing wildly with her hands. “My best friend has been stabbed— I will say whatever I please!”

And then, as if to just add fuel to their fire, Benedict rushed in. Anthony held back a slightly unhinged laugh and shook his head. You were dying and they were out here arguing. 

“I’ve made sure this hallway is off limits like you said, Mother.” Benedict looked just as shaken as the rest of them, and in a strange way Anthony was grateful. You’d grown closer to his family than he’d known. “Your lady’s maid is outside the door alongside a footman ensuring privacy, and your driver is on route to the Worthing residence to alert her parents. They’ve all been sworn to secrecy—no one will be disturbed, least of all Miss Worthing.”

“Thank you, Benedict.” Violet sighed, and she collapsed into an armchair. “At least one of us is in order.”

Benedict sat down on the sofa, his words coming out in a mumble. “I am hardly in order.”

The fire seemed to have died down in Eloise, for however temporary a time, and she settled down next to Benedict. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“She’ll be okay,” Eloise whispered, “right?”

No one answered for a moment. At last, Anthony looked up, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes,” he rasped, hoping with everything in him that his words would be true. “She will be okay.”

He would not have been able to live with any other outcome, not when it was his fault in the first place that you were in this position. 

Anthony didn’t know what he should have done, but he should have done something. He should have brought you to your senses and suggested a promenade in the park instead. He should have called on you at your estate, safe and sound in your drawing room. He should have been arm in arm with you, his heart steadily melting as you smiled and laughed and made him aware of all things good in the world. 

He could not lose you. Not when he still had so much to tell you, so many words left unsaid. 

Not when you didn’t know he loved you. 

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” He looked up at the sound of Eloise’s voice—though she did not look at him and her arms were still crossed, the sincerity of it was not lost on him. “I know it was not your fault.” 

His chest tightened. It was his fault. 

“You clearly care about her,” she said. “It is not fair to pin this on you.” 

“Sometimes we hurt the people we care about,” he said, his voice hollow. 

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But not this time.” 

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Eloise had been at odds with him for nearly this entire season because of their ruse. Though she knew of its falsity, she still chastised him for taking up time that could have been spent with her, still rolled her eyes when he announced his leave to go see you, still questioned why he had to go after her best friend. 

But Eloise was driven by her emotions, no matter how red hot or icy cold they may have been. At this moment, her concern for you outweighed anything, and she recognized the same in him. 

So Anthony nodded. Once, twice, hardly moving but a clear acknowledgment. He glanced at his mother and brother, both unfocused with glassy eyes. His mother’s were red-rimmed, and she held a handkerchief tightly in one hand. The guilt hidden from earlier struck. 

He silently thanked their governess for keeping Gregory and Hyacinth occupied, thanked that Francesca was on an outing of her own. The last thing he needed was for his littlest siblings to find out that the woman they believed to soon be their sister was one misstep away from death. And thank God for Colin’s decision to spend the day with Mondrich—one of his younger brothers in the heat of the moment was enough. 

Anthony let out a shuddering sigh, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair then planted his palms on his knees. He could hardly sit still but he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to get his nervous energy out. 

All he could think of was you. Of how the last word you spoke was his name. Of your dried blood on his hands, staining his clothing where he had held you. Anthony barely kept you from hitting the ground when you collapsed, and he nearly did the same once he reached his residence. 

Yelling at any servant in the proximity to call for the physician, unaware of his mother trying to calm him until she shook him by the shoulders, having to literally be forced out of the room by the physician’s assistant once they arrived because he refused to leave your side.  

It all felt like a blur, and yet he remembered it perfectly. It all played on repeat in his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out. 

The door slammed open this time, and when Anthony looked up, he felt as if he could wither away.

“Where is my daughter?” Cecilia Worthing demanded, her husband trailing after her. She was all out of sorts, with an even wilder look in her eyes and a deathly grip on her skirts. Mr. Worthing’s expression made his heart sink, with his haunted eyes and taut lips. 

“I am so sorry, Cecilia,” Violet rasped, and she crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms. It took a moment for your mother to respond, but she returned the hug as a sob escaped her. 

“Your footman said she had been injured,” your father said levelly, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “How?”

“She was stabbed,” Anthony spoke up, forcing himself to look at your parents. “Some zealot in the city. I brought her here as quick as I could.”

“The city—” your father started.

“Stabbed?” your mother interrupted, halfway into hysterics. “How?”

“We got caught up in the midst of a riot,” he said quietly. “We were separated, and I assume it happened then.”

Mrs. Worthing let out another sob as she pulled her husband into her arms, and though he kept a semblance of solemnity as he whispered to his wife and held her close, Anthony could see the fear in his eyes. 

How could he possibly offer reassurance? It felt different, staring at the desperation of your parents. The horrific realization that they might leave a family of two, might have to bury their only child. 

His stomach twisted and Anthony’s head fell into his hands again. He couldn’t. 

Eventually, Philip helped his wife onto the couch, and she remained curled into his side. No one said a word—how could they?

Apart from whispered reassurances between your parents and even shorter conversations between Benedict and Eloise, their saddened group continued in silence for the better part of an hour. No one spoke louder than a whisper, no one rose and left—they just sat together in their fear, hoping and praying that the inevitable could be denied. 

Until the door creaked open and each of their heads snapped towards the noise. Anthony shot up at the first glimpse of their physician’s assistant. 

“What news?” he asked immediately. The tension in the room had grown to be near palpably thick. 

“The surgery went well,” the assistant said, and all the air dissipated from Anthony’s chest. “Miss Worthing lives. The doctor is ensuring a final few things, but provided our treatment is followed, we believe she will recover fully.”

Anthony fell back against the couch with a breathless laugh, and Mrs. Worthing sank against her husband, wrecked by thankful sobs. Eloise’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, Benedict’s relief just as obvious. Violet just let out an exhausted sigh, her hand pressed to her heart. 

“Thank you,” your father said. “Can we see her?” 

“Miss Worthing is resting,” he said. “You will not be able to speak to—” 

“We do not care,” your father asserted. “I need to see that my daughter is still alive.” 

The physician’s assistant nodded after a moment, and the tension lessened in his shoulders. He helped your mother up, their hands clasped tightly together, and Mrs. Worthing looked at Anthony. You truly had your mother’s eyes. 

“Will you come with us, my lord?” she asked. 

“Oh, I—” 

“You are family,” she said softly. “You’ve a right to join us.”

Emotion swelled in Anthony’s chest, and it took a moment for words to come to him. 

“Of course,” he finally said, inclining his head. “And it is just Anthony between us. Please.” 

The slightest smile spread across her lips as she nodded, and they all stood up together. Anthony took her offered arm and they started down the hallway together, your father on her other side. 

How strange it was to be arm in arm with your mother. She thought the man beside her would be her future son-in-law, when he was truly nothing but a liar. 

No, he thought, not wholly a liar. Not anymore. Because they believed that Anthony was to be your husband. And if there was anything this had proven to him, it was that he wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

Anthony just had to figure out a way to tell you. How strange that it would be the most difficult part of this ruse. 

Violet’s maid and the footman stepped aside when they arrived and the assistant opened the door. Anthony followed your parents in, and his heart nearly stopped upon seeing you.

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears as she approached your bedside, and, after a nod from the doctor, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laid the back of her hand against your forehead. 

“She’s burning up,” she whispered. 

“It is typical after surgery,” the doctor said. “With any luck, she will sweat it out. I will monitor her throughout.” 

Your mother nodded, a shaky sigh escaping her, and she took your hand. 

“I am so sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I am so sorry I was not there for you.” She brought your intertwined hands up and lightly kissed the back of your hand. “I love you more than anything. Please, come back to us soon.” 

Your father joined her, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I do not know if you can hear us,” he said, voice slightly shaky, “but we are here for you. We will be here when you awaken, and every moment onwards.” 

Mrs. Worthing looked back at Anthony, inclining her head towards you. Anthony swallowed his doubt as he moved forward, but the breath was stolen from him when he could fully see you. 

Your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell just so, hardly noticeable, thin linens provided by the doctor rested over you, and sweat beaded on your brow. Alongside the discoloration of your skin, you looked… 

You looked as if you were dead. 

And Anthony knew that you were not—for God’s sake, you were breathing—but all he could think about, all he could see, was his father, all those years ago, dying in front of him while he could not do a single thing to stop it. And he felt that same helplessness with you; just standing there, watching, unable to do anything but hope. 

“We are here for you,” he whispered. “...I am here for you. No matter what, I am here for you. Just know that, if nothing else.” 

Your mother’s watery smile made him look to the doctor for fear of the same emotions eliciting even further in him. 

“When will she wake?” Anthony asked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him. 

“In a few hours, with any luck,” the doctor said. “At the very most, it will be the end of the day.” 

“We will gladly host her until she is able enough,” Anthony said, looking at your parents. “And we have plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from if you wish to remain by her side during those days.” 

“Thank you, Anthony.” Your mother placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to look up at him, and she smiled. “You make her so happy. It will be my greatest pleasure to officially welcome you into our family.” 

Anthony’s throat bobbed. God above, he hoped that was the truth. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. “She… she means a great deal to me.” 

“You’re a good man, Bridgerton,” your father said. “I’m thankful my daughter will end up with someone like you.” 

“Your approval means the world,” he said, and he found he meant it wholly. 

The doctor cleared his throat. “It would be best for her visitors to be limited as of now. The parents can stay, but…” 

Anthony nodded, smoothing his lapels. “Of course.” 

“We will alert you of anything,” your mother said. Anthony nodded again, and he allowed himself one more moment to look at you before he left. 

You were alright. You would be alright. That was all that mattered. 

Still, when he found himself alone in the hallway, finally able to breathe again, he still had that weight on his shoulders. 

A revelation such as the one he’d had should have been a blessing, a relief. A man in love was meant to be a happy one. But a man in love did not usually find his feelings in the midst of season-long ruse whilst his beloved fought on her deathbed.  

Anthony blew out a loose sigh, shaking his head as he continued through the halls. Being on his own, he found, was worse than sitting in silence with his family. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to gather his emotions and push them aside so he could be the man of the house as he was meant to be, but when he reached the room from before he was only met with Eloise. 

She looked up from the floor, and he noticed the puffiness of her eyes, her slightly blotchy skin. His heart sank yet again. 

“Benedict helped Mother to bed,” she explained, her throat bobbing. “All of this exhausted her. I’ve no idea where he is now.” 

Anthony nodded, his mind still wandering. “Ah.” 

“How is she?” Eloise asked, her brows knit in concern. 

“As well as she can be.” Anthony sighed. “She has a fever, but she’s resting. Her parents are with her and the doctor is watching over her. He said she should awaken before the end of the day.” 

The furrow softened as she smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Good. That— that’s good. I’m glad.” 

“And how are you, Eloise?” Anthony asked, folding his arms. 

“As well as I can be,” she responded wryly. Anthony’s lips twitched in a momentary smile, but she leaned against the couch and let out a sigh of her own. “This all certainly ended in the best way it could have.” 

“The best way would have been for it to have never happened,” he said. “I should have prevented it—I was meant to keep her safe.” 

“Brother,” she said wearily, “I already told you that you cannot blame yourself.” 

“And I’ve never been one for listening to you,” he said dryly, “have I?” 

Eloise huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I am not a fool, Anthony. I know what is happening between you two.” 

Anthony frowned. “Eloise—”

“You love her,” she said bluntly. “Do you not?” 

He tried to say something, but no words would follow. He could only stare at his sister and her nerve, resulting in a small smile from her. 

“You are not that talented an actor, brother,” she said. “It is easier for me to believe the two of you are truly in love than that you could actually trick me in such a way.” 

He blinked. “You believe she loves me?” 

Eloise laughed, turning her head slightly. “I do,” she said. “And seeing as you are not denying it, I believe that means you love her.” 

Anthony bit the inside of his cheek. So the two of you could fool the entirety of the ton for over half the season, but apparently not Eloise. How typical. 

He walked over and took a seat on the couch next to his sister, leaving a bit of space between them. He took a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I do.” He glanced at her. “I love her.” 

Saying it aloud—admitting the truth of feelings he’d been fighting for so long—brought him an unexpected lightness. One other person knew both truths: that they had been lying about their love, and that Anthony had been lying about his lies. 

It would have been laughable had he not been so unsure of everything else. 

It took Eloise a moment to say anything back. For a while, she merely looked at him, unreadable depths in her eyes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to fully decipher his sister. 

“I know my blessing means very little in the scheme of things,” she finally said. “But know that if this does come into fruition… I will support you two. Every step of the way.” 

The smile that spread across Anthony’s lips was brighter than anything he’d experienced today, and he inclined his head. “Truly?” 

“Yes, truly,” Eloise said, a smile of her own growing though she tried to hide it as she glanced away. “It is not a big deal. Do not make it out to be one. There are far worse men that she could end up with.” 

“Alright,” he said, unabashed in his joy. For such a solemn day, Eloise had turned his mood around. 

“And I will also keep your secret,” she said breezily, “again, so do not worry about that.” 

“You say it does not mean much,” Anthony said, “but you are wrong. Your support means more to me than you know.” 

She shifted, seemingly bolstered ever so slightly by his praise. “...I’m glad.” 

He smiled as he stood back up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his outfit. Anthony grimaced as his hands came into view. He was in dire need of a bath and some new clothes. He could not deal with your blood on him for much longer. 

“I must be going,” Anthony said. “I need to clean up. And,” he sighed, “ensure that none of this has spread to the rest of the ton.” 

Eloise hummed, and Anthony was nearly at the door when she spoke up again. 

“...Thank you. For being here for me.” 

His expression softened as he glanced back at her. “I will always be here for you.” 

Her lips curved just so. Anthony had never been so thankful to no longer be at odds with one of his siblings. 

-

Your head hurt. 

That was the first thing you could truly understand as your eyes slowly cracked open, squinting while you came to. You blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain your bearings and relieve the dryness of your eyes. 

It took another moment for them to adjust to the darkness—the curtains were closed, but no light filtered through. How long had you been asleep? 

You grimaced as you shifted ever so slightly, a dull but constant ache in your chest leaving you stiff, but there was a weight of a hand in yours. You glanced over and recognized your mother, asleep but still grasping your hand. 

You smiled. She came for you after all. 

But as you tried to shift further in the bed, you groaned, a sharp column of pain shooting through you. Your mother’s eyes shot open, her body starting from instinct, but it took a moment for her to truly realize it all. 

“Nice of you to wake up,” you said wryly. 

“You—” tears sprung in her eyes, and her lips spread in a grateful grin— “You must be alright if your first words are to antagonize your mother.” 

“I am still here,” you said. You didn’t want to tell her you didn’t think you would make it. That you thought your fate was sealed when you pulled your hand away to nothing but blood. 

“That you are,” she said breathily. “Are you alright, though? How do you feel? Does it hurt?” 

“I believe I am alright,” you responded, “I feel… tired. And my chest aches.” 

“The doctor said that would be expected,” she murmured. “What do you remember?” 

“...That depends,” you said. “What do you know?” 

Your mother gave you a look as she said your full name. “This is not the time for games.” 

Your cheeks heated and you averted your eyes. “I was in the city with Anthony. I was stabbed after a riot broke out. That is all I remember.” 

“Lord Bridgerton is the reason you are alive,” your mother said. “He brought you back to Bridgerton House, and their doctor saved your life.” 

Somehow it was possible for your face to burn even more. You dragged Anthony out to that meeting, and you repaid him by making him drag your near lifeless body all the way back to his estate. 

You were the worst fake fiancee a man could have. 

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears and you rapidly blinked them away. 

“Where is he?” you asked quietly. “Where is Anth— Lord Bridgerton?” 

Your mother gave you a knowing look. “It is alright to call him by his name, darling. It is quite clear how much he cares for you.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could not do this. “Where is he?” 

“He is with his family,” she said. “You caused everyone quite a fright.” 

“I can imagine,” you said hollowly. 

“Would you like to see him?” she asked. “Because I am sure he—” 

“No.” The haste with which you sat up drew out another wince. “No— I…” 

You closed your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip. You could not do this. 

Your mother said your name softly. “What is it?” 

You opened your eyes, ignoring the wetness around them as you looked at her. “Anthony and I cannot marry.” 

She blinked. It looked as if it took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?” 

“We cannot marry,” you repeated. “We— we never could marry. Our courtship is a ruse.” 

Your mother blinked again, this time wholly taken aback. “What?” 

“It is a ruse,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I wanted to escape the baron, and Anthony wanted to escape a thousand desperate debutantes. I proposed a mock courtship between us, and he accepted.” 

Her brows furrowed deeper than ever before, as if she still couldn’t fully believe it. “You lied to me.” 

“To everyone,” you said. You hadn’t a clue what had gotten into you, tearing apart a story carefully crafted throughout nearly the entire season, but something burned inside of you. You couldn’t keep going with this—you couldn’t keep stringing Anthony along, not when your feelings were far more real than they had any right to be. 

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?” 

“Because I did not want to marry,” you repeated. “The baron is nothing more than a lecher, and the thought of any sort of marriage to him disgusted me, but you and Father refused to listen to me. The only way to get out of it was for you to believe I had caught the affections of someone better. Anthony Bridgerton’s word was certainly better than mine in the eyes of the ton.” 

Your mother stared at the floor for much longer than you anticipated, and you could not tear your eyes away from her. 

“Mother,” you said quietly, “say something. Please.” 

“I do not quite know what to say.” She finally looked at you, and your throat bobbed. “All of our plans have hinged on this marriage for the entirety of the season. What am I to tell your father?” 

“Do not tell him,” you begged. “Please. It is enough that you know— I could not handle the shame if he were to as well.” 

“I do not keep secrets as well as you,” your mother snapped. “Marrying into the Bridgerton family would have saved us, both in riches and name. Even your dowry would have gone to use for something of your choosing.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together.  “And now you have almost died and we will have to control this and I just—” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you interrupted. 

That ceased her arguments quite quickly. “What?” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you repeated. “He has both riches and name.” 

Your mother frowned as she gripped your hands tighter. “You despise him. You got yourself into this entire mess in order to avoid him—you’ve said so yourself.” 

“What choice do I have?” you asked desperately. “His name is enough to weather the scandal I’ve created. His money will secure a life for you and Father, and he has a fine pedigree. It is the only way to save the Worthing name.” 

“Have you not considered the very man who has been courting you this season?” Your mother gestured with her hand. “Look where you are, darling! Lord Bridgerton has offered up his estate to us so we can be near you as you heal. Your courtship may have started as a ruse, but the man clearly feels something for you!” 

“We have become very good friends over the course of the season,” you said, “and I am thankful for it. But I cannot taint the Bridgerton name further.” 

“Dearest—”

“It is necessary,” you interrupted, but your quick movement brought on a sharp thread of pain in your chest and you winced. 

“Do not push yourself,” your mother whispered, and you nodded. 

“It is necessary,” you repeated, though slower. “My rebellion was just… naivete. I will not be the reason for our family’s ruin borne from my own stubbornness. I will secure our legacy, I will secure my future—I will marry Lord Cardew, and… and I will finally stop trying to resist my fate.” 

Your mother stared at you, and you stared back. “You said it yourself—our family’s well being hinges on my marrying into wealth. What sane man would consider me after what I’ve done?” 

She continued to look at you long and hard, her expression one of unreadable depths. “You are sure?” 

No, you wanted to say. You had never been less sure of anything in your life. But you could see no other choice. So you nodded. 

Your mother glanced away from you with a sigh, eyes searching the room for a moment before she nodded as well. “...Alright. If that is what you wish, your father and I will contact him once you are recovered.” 

“Mother—” 

“That is non-negotiable,” she said, and she smiled at you. “You may be blossoming into a true lady, but you are still my daughter. And I will not allow my daughter to do anything until she is fully healed.” 

You nodded. “Alright.” 

“I am sure that it goes without saying that you are never going to be allowed out of our sight until you are married and settled?” your mother said, and though it caused a sharp pain in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I assumed just as much, Mother.” 

-

Dearest Reader,

It is a fact well known throughout Mayfair that the social season requires the full attention of every single person, frantic mamas and bored bachelors alike. It is a game of wits unlike any other, and this season has proven no different. The middle of our merriment marks many of the most eligible debutantes as engaged — this author pays special attention to the season’s diamond, Lady Adelaida Kennington, who has found her happy ending with the young Earl Pembroke.

Though congratulations may be due to another lady of the ton, one of the simple yet highly discussed Worthing family — as it seems, Miss Worthing has tossed aside the much desired Viscount Bridgerton for the hand of the Baron Jonathan Cardew. One can only be left to wonder what Lord Bridgerton must have done to go from an obviously incoming proposal back to his rakish ways in little more than a night, but it most certainly has to do with Miss Worthing’s recent disappearance from society. Word has passed around of her frequent visits to the lesser parts of London, engaging in activity that can only be described as scandalous. Perhaps it was not the fault of the viscount indeed—Miss Worthing may have finally pushed Lord Bridgerton to his limits. 

No matter the reason for the ending of the courtship, this author must extend her thanks to the pairing for providing such material for my pen. It is not every day a nobody in the ton manages to bring down two families at once. Perhaps Miss Worthing deserves congratulations for conducting this fantastical feat all on her own. If it was outrage she was searching for, she has certainly earned it. 

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown 

You huffed a sigh and threw the leaflet across the room, letting your head fall back against the wooden headboard. It was one thing for Lady Whistledown to criticize you, it was another thing entirely for her to bring your family and the Bridgertons into it. You deserved everything that came towards you for what you had done, but your parents, the Bridgertons, Anthony— they were not a part of any of it. 

Especially when all your father had done was visit the Cardew estate to have a conversation with the man, see if he was open to the possibility of a marriage with you. Nothing was at all set in stone, but the way Whistledown told it, you were already steps from the chapel with a ring on your finger. 

So now, as if it weren’t enough that you were bed bound until your physician deemed you recovered for regular activity, as if it weren’t enough that you were likely set to be married by the end of the season, as if it weren’t enough that you were constantly denying Anthony’s requests to visit you, every single one of your idiotic mistakes was revealed to the ton through a woman too cowardly to write without a pseudonym. 

If you ever found Lady Whistledown, you thought bitterly, you would strangle her. 

The silence in your room was broken by the door opening, and when you looked up you were greeted with Julia’s face. The usual smile she bore when around you was not there, but before you could ask she answered your unspoken question. 

“I apologise for the interruption, my lady, but you have a visitor. He insisted on seeing you.” 

A small part of you knew who it was even before she stepped aside, but when Anthony Bridgerton walked into your room your breath still hitched the tiniest bit. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked immediately, holding back a grimace as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. 

“I had to see you,” Anthony said. 

“And you chose to do so by invading my privacy.” 

“I have not heard a single word directly from you nor your pen since the accident,” he said, his voice not without a slight barb. But underneath it all, an uncommon hurt festered inside of him. You could not see it, exactly, but you could sense it. “Forgive me for wanting to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive.” 

“I will remain here as a chaperone,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “You may talk as freely as you please — I will not repeat a single word.” Anthony nodded and pulled the stool away from the vanity so he could be closer to you, then sat down. 

Despite Julia’s reassurance, neither of you spoke a word. The silence began to weigh heavily, the tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife. For so long you had been rejecting Anthony’s requested meetings, not wanting to see him after what you had done. You feared for how he would react, both to your complete ignorance of him after your nearly fatal injury and your acceptance of Lord Cardew’s courtship. 

You left Bridgerton House without a word mere hours after your ill-fated decision despite the protests of your parents—you could not stay there for another moment under Anthony’s good graces, not when you had doomed any possible future with him. You did not deserve a single millimeter of Bridgerton good will. 

You stared down at the covers you laid under, fidgeting with your hands in your lap as you focused on everything except your visitor. You could not bring yourself to meet Anthony’s gaze, though you’d felt his own on you for the past five minutes. 

“Is it true?” 

You finally looked up at his sudden question, meeting the intensity of those dark brown eyes you’d lost yourself in so many times. “Is what true?” 

“Your marriage to Jonathan Cardew,” he said stiffly. “Is it true?” 

Just as quickly, you glanced away. It was near impossible to even be in the same room as the viscount since you had made the decision, even more so to think of the reason why it was that way. So instead, you just nodded. 

“Yes. If all works out, we are to be wed at the end of the season.” 

“Why?” Anthony leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as his hands clenched into loose fists. “You openly despise the man—you asked me to court you to avoid him. Why in the name of all things rational would you willingly enter a marriage with him?” 

“He will provide for me,” you said. “He has money, he has land, and he is a respectable member of society. He has already been content with the possibility of marriage once, and his name is enough to weather the scandal I have created. It is the smartest choice available.”

“And what of us?” He had an almost wild look in his eyes, and the worst desire took root in you to root your fingers in his hair and ease the troubles you’d caused him. “We have spent the near entirety of the season becoming closer, and you are willing to just throw it all away for a man like Cardew?” 

“I could not trap you in a marriage you do not want,” you insisted. “You deserve more than a woman you share no love for, Anthony, and to be married to the woman who made a fool of your entire family. Lord Cardew is the only option.”

“Even if all of that is true, that does not mean it is a smart choice!” he exclaimed. “He is not a safe man to be around! If he has been pursuing you so strongly and only backed off because of my influence, what do you think will happen when you are his legal wife with no sort of protection?” 

You swallowed thickly at his words. “He is not that sort of man, Anthony. He may be… horrid, and a complete egoist, but it will be a life of comfort. And that is the life that I need.” 

Anthony laughed breathlessly, completely devoid of mirth as he frowned. “You cannot be serious. I have been by your side for an entire season of feminist rants and marriage complaints, half of which revolved around Cardew himself, and now you are telling me that you are just— just alright with this sort of compliance?” 

“Nearly dying because of my own idiotic choices has forced me to reexamine my life,” you said plainly. “If I had been even the slightest bit unlucky, I would have perished on those streets, and what would I have had to show for myself? A rebellion that I was only able to take part in because of the privilege I so often fought against?” 

“You have made a difference,” Anthony insisted. “You provided for women that no one has the gall to look out for. You’ve spoken out for your own rights, you’ve stood up for your own interests rather than sit around and take what you have been given.”

“I have been fighting against a life that so many less fortunate than myself would kill for,” you said. “I believed death to be a better fate than being forced to marry a man I did not love, but when I was on death’s door, I realized how foolish I was— how utterly selfish.” 

“You are not selfish,” Anthony said, but you shook your head. 

“I am. Unbelievably so.” You huffed a mirthless laugh as you looked at him. “My parents did not love each other when they married, but they were friends. They could tolerate the other’s presence, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be able to care about anything else. They have grown to love each other in their own way, of course, and they are in a better situation now, but they could not have known it would turn out that way. They did what they had to for the sake of their families and themselves, and it is time I do the same.” 

“Love matches are rare,” you murmured. “And even if I were granted the opportunity… I would not deserve it.”

Anthony shook his head. “Do not say that.” 

“It is the truth,” you said, letting out yet another humorless laugh. “I have been horrible to my mother when all she has ever wanted is a better life for me than she had. I have fought her for every step of the way for no other reason than my hubris and the dim belief that I deserved different than everyone else simply because I wanted it, no matter what the greater good was. How can that not be selfish, Anthony?” 

“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “You said you dreamed of unmarried life! You told me your fantasies of escaping from society, of living on your own and depending on no one but yourself. You are willing to give all of that up, just like that?”

“I was a fool for ever doing so!” you exclaimed. “Anthony, this world is hard enough on its own for married women — what do you think will become of my family if I do not marry? What do you think will become of me?”

“But you are strong.” Anthony leaned forward, his brow knit in determination. “You are strong, and intelligent, and fully capable of managing on your own. Spinster brand be damned, if it is what you wish, you will flourish completely!”

“Will I?” you questioned, and you gestured at yourself. “I am bound to this room of my own doing because I refused to see the truth of the world around me. I was young and naive to believe I could achieve anything of the sort I dreamed of without consequences, and I will be naive no longer.”

“If you insist on marrying, at least find somebody else,” Anthony begged. “You will be miserable for the rest of your life if you marry Jonathan Cardew.” 

“I cannot afford to marry for love, my lord,” you said simply, “and even if I could find a man who loved me, I could never love them back. I would not force anyone into a marriage they did not want, not when…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head, choking them down. “It is not important.”

“Please do not marry him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I beg of you.” 

“Then who should I marry?” you asked, almost brazenly. “Who should I marry, if not him? I am certainly not one for options.”

You did not know what you wanted Anthony to say. To marry him? That he felt the same for you as you did for him? That, while you were indeed a fool for falling for him, he was one as well. That he would not leave you, not now, nor ever. 

But instead he just stared at you with those dark brown eyes that even now could make you melt, a million emotions brewing inside of them yet none of them being given an outlet. 

“I do not know,” he murmured, and your heart sank. “But I beg of you, do not let it be him.”

“It is not your decision to make,” you said quietly. “Soon I will be engaged to Lord Cardew, and I will be out of your life.”

There was an underlying desperation in Anthony’s eyes as he looked at you now, that storm of emotions thundering inside of him begging to be expressed. “I do not want you out of my life.”

The words felt like poison leaving your lips. “You do not have a choice.” 

Before Anthony could protest any further, you stood up and looked over at your lady’s maid. “Please escort Lord Bridgerton outside. I wish to be alone.” 

“My lady, are you—” 

“Julia,” you said, your voice strained, “please.” 

She nodded and she gestured for Anthony towards the door, but he did not move a centimeter.

Anthony said your name with such pain that you could not even stand to look at him, the inside of your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that you could taste blood all in the effort to prevent tears from emerging.

“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” you whispered. “I beg of you, Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Julia said quietly, “please obey my lady’s wishes.”

He stared at you with desperation before he finally nodded and walked out the door, Julia closing it behind him. 

You screwed your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palms into your forehead, letting out a frustrated sob as your hands dropped back down. The pinpricks of tears were already starting, and while you were thankful you were alone, you already longed for Anthony’s presence. 

You wished, more than ever, that things could be how they used to be. You wished you’d never even made this ridiculous deal with him—then you would not be in such pain, yearning for a man you could never have while the reputation of you and your family was destroyed and your life fell to pieces around you. You could not do a single thing about it, and you could not blame a single soul for it other than yourself. 

You’d never felt so useless.

-

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. pls dont ask to be added because i do not do tag lists anymore!! follow me or rb the masterlist or something idk @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter ii

✒ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, fighting, confrontation, tornado of emotions, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, public shaming (both direct and indirect), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of abandonment issues, mentions of therapy, attempts to self-regulate but reader is pissed, mentions of self-blame though oc knows its not entirely her fault, mentions of defamation charges, JK is just 🤬 while KTH is 😇

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: Woah okay....so had I fun writing this, even though it took me a hella long time to decide whether to continue the story as a series or not 🫣 Anyway I altered the summary slightly from chapter one (and updated for consistency purposes), but it doesn't change my overall plans! As you read this chapter, I hope you will be able to see my vision (I'm nervous af! haha)! Enjoy 🥰 (edited but pls forgive me for any oversights...my typos are ridiculous)

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You’re seated in a wide sofa chair, surrounded by four blank walls, and the gentle sound of water tricking from a faux rock waterfall. Every element of the space is carefully integrated as a means to calm you. Yet it doesn't calm you in the slightest. Your hands are clammy. Muscles tense with the adrenaline spiking through your veins. It doesn’t help that you’ve been running on nothing but black coffee all week either, refusing to eat until the first promo shoot with your company’s new endorser was launched.

A natural in front of the camera, Kim Taehyung was able to speed the process up, yet it didn’t stop the massive dark circles from forming under your eyes. This morning, he'd told you they were unnoticeable but you've seen how you look in the mirror, and they're anything but unnoticeable. Still, you find his gesture to soothe sweet. Thankfully, your new partnership has been smooth sailing which is quite a blessing considering the disaster he nearly walked into.

Yes. You’re referring to that disaster in particular. When, in some desperate last-minute attempt for validation, you threw yourself into the arms of your ex-husband.

More like fixed the collar of his shirt and whoops, slid right on his dick…again.

What is wrong with you?

You’ve been asking yourself the question far too many times. You’d think being a hot-shot CEO of a million-dollar tech company would make you like titanium, resilient as finely pounded steel but no; you're just barely keeping yourself together. You regret your rash decision that day, you regret ever marrying Jeon Jungkook, and you regret ever giving in to your stupid feelings.

That’s why you’re here now, waiting in the office of your therapist’s private practice, hands restless in your lap. You’ve been seeing Melody for just over two months since your divorce was finalized, ready to move on; trying to, more like.

‘JeonX CEO Jeon Jungkook’s ex-wife compensated $1.8 billion in divorce’

‘South Korea’s Golden It couple split with ex-wife taking half the company revenue’

These are the lovely words that greet you from your phone screen.

You have the urge to grab your special red ballpoint pen from your bag and scribble out the entire paragraph, except it’s not a printed gossip magazine— it’s a newspaper column on the internet. Instead, you close out the pesky tab on your phone and reply to its sender.

Chim 🐥: can you believe this crap they’re saying about you?! It's no shit you were given a hefty divorce settlement. You brought in half the income! They’re making you look like some kind of gold digger. I swear if I ever lay my eyes on that pretty ex-husband of yours, I will end him! 😡 [sent at 5:06 pm]

Park Jimin, your childhood best friend, sends you a follow-up text when you don’t immediately reply to the news articles he forwarded over. He’s been extremely overprotective of you lately and especially pissed at how the media’s been portraying you, while Jungkook is seemingly getting a free ride. He’s always had an axe to grind with your ex-husband, to be honest, the divorce gives him only more reason to hate him.

You: Thanks for your concern Chim, but nothing they say surprises me anymore. If you don’t mind, can you stop sending these to me? [sent at 5:12 pm]

You hope your message doesn’t read as cold or dismissive. Jimin’s concern for you is a light in a dark place, but you don’t really want to be reminded of the amount of slandering articles still targeted towards you.

Gone are the days when the public saw you as a powerful woman in business, the one to watch, or the CEO of the fastest-growing startup in the last ten years. You're now simply Jeon Jungkook’s conniving ex-wife; as if you’ve merely seduced him for his money and ran when the going was good.

Of course, the whole situation is skewed to his side; half the world is in love with him after all, and that includes the few lingering reporters who've been practically salivating three feet from you at any given chance, hoping to get an exclusive “inside look”. Your marriage was a sham, you wanted to scream, a mutual business transaction.

Too bad rather than an increase in status, resources, and market share, you gained a pile of twisted, unwarranted emotions and regrets.

“I apologize for the wait Ms. __."

The door swings open as your therapist rushes into the room. She stops at her desk to retrieve last week’s session notes, then takes a seat in the chair adjacent to you with crossed legs.

“It’s okay,” you assure, straightening your posture. “I understand how crazy busy the day can get. It wasn't a long wait anyway."

Melody gives a small smile and jots a few words on her notepad. “Thank you for understanding. How are you doing this week?”

You take a deep breath. "Tired," you respond, "especially this week at work. It's like as soon as I wrap up one project, there's another jumping out from nowhere." You used to be ahead of the game. Now you're barely surviving.

"That's right," she hums. "Last week you mentioned having to attend a charity gala soon. Would you like to start there today?"

Crap, you're suddenly reminded that you have to pick up your gown by 7 pm tonight. You entertained the idea of not going to the gala at all, but that would do you no favors in the end. Given your situation, you can't skip out on such an important charity event.

"Sure," you nod. "The Winter Gala's tomorrow night, actually. It's funny how I used to look forward to it every year, being an opportunity to network and catch up with my peers. I can't say I feel the same thrill this time around."

"Because of the divorce you mean?"

"Exactly. Being the CEO of one of the largest software corporations in the world, my ex-husband's influence far exceeds my own. So whether out of loyalty or political agenda, anyone who's anyone will be on his side of the room. I'm gonna end up being that one awkward person in the corner in a far too expensive Dior gown who no one wants to dance with." You nervously chuckle out the last sentence.

Melody opens her mouth to respond, yet stops when she notices you're not quite finished.

"It'll be the first time seeing my ex-husband after months of no contact too. I guess that's what I'm looking forward to the least."

When you think about it, the most you've seen of Jungkook is his face appearing on the massive screens downtown. He's been featured in at least a dozen interviews lately, teasing a brand-new product his company's planning to release in the spring. Seems he's doing well.

"What you feel is valid Ms. __." Melody seeks to assure you. "In the past, you used to go to these events with Jungkook right? He provided you with a sense of safety, as you did for him, no doubt. I wonder if it's a lack of consistency and belonging that worries you, more than it is about seeing your ex-husband and your peers. Companionship too, of course."

"I suppose that makes sense, but it never used to be this way." Your voice raises to match your sudden argumentativeness. "I used to be very comfortable in my own skin. I used to be confident going to these events alone, long before Jungkook came into the picture."

You pause to take a breath before continuing.

"When Jungkook became CEO of his family's software company, JeonX, he was steps away from being bought out by both our competitors, so a partnership was proposed. We married at 27 as nothing more than two ambitious, rising leaders in business. Neither of us was after love or romance when our careers were at stake."

"But then that changed for you," your therapist carefully observes. "Combined, you both held the largest share of the tech market. You and Jungkook were also in an extremely intimate relationship, yet treated it as a business contract. Unfortunately, those don't always come out clean in the wash. It appears to me that while you gave him three honest years of your life, he stole those three years from you."

The words take a moment to sink in; Jungkook stole three years from you. It conflicts with what you want to believe, though from the bottom of your heart, you know she's right.

"I feel so...guilty. I hate that I fell for him, and I hate that I'm struggling this much to let him go." As you tear up, Melody hands you a tissue from the side table with an empathetic gaze. You mouth a thank you and gently dab your eyes with the soft fabric.

"I'd give yourself some grace Ms. __. But if I may ask, what about Jungkook?" she gently probes. "Do you think he feels the same?"

"No...," you say with remorse, shaking your head. "He's moved on."

Melody remains silent for as long as you need in the moments following, cautious to follow your lead. The last thing a therapist should do is rush their patient through the session, so she sits patiently and waits for your go.

"Sorry," you finally say. "We should continue."

"No need for apologies," she replies. "Take your time."

It takes a good minute or two longer of sitting in your car before you can fully compose yourself. As usual, your session with Melody was intense and insightful, but it was far too short. You're gripping the wheel with both hands when her final words of the session echo through your head: "Give yourself some grace; blaming yourself won't do any good."

Seemingly simple advice, yet tough to follow when you constantly feel responsible for the mess you're in. Yes, even though Jungkook has the bigger end of the stick, you made your share of mistakes too. You should have looked into other options when you found out your competitors were looking to buy out JeonX instead of eloping with their CEO.

Just what were you thinking __? you harshly scold yourself. You were trying to protect your company. You both were. Too bad you placed the cart in front of the horse.

Forcing yourself to take a slow, deep breath, your eyes widen in alarm when you catch the time on the clock— 6:38 pm. Fuck! The boutique that's holding your gown for tomorrow's gala is closing in twenty minutes. Without a moment to spare, you yank the seatbelt and slam your foot on the gas.

"Good evening Ms. __." A young woman, fitted in a black pencil skirt and white blouse, greets you with a faint bow as soon as you step foot into the posh boutique.

"Hello, Hana," you refer to the young lady by name with a smile. "I'm terribly sorry to be coming in this late. I came by to pick up the gown I sent in for alterations two weeks ago. The event's tomorrow and I know the shop will be closed for the day."

Knowing the exact dress you're referring to, Hana responds with a soft tone, "Please don't worry Ms. __. We have the gown ready." She disappears to the back of the shop to retrieve it.

As you wait, your mind drifts to memories of last year's gala. You had worn a vibrant, gold gown that evening, slightly risky with a low neckline. Jungkook liked it though, as he wore a matching gold vest himself. You can imagine how crazy the press went when you both set foot on the scene, arms linked and appearing to have coordinated your attire perfectly.

Every investor at the gig wanted to be your friend that night, anxiously pushing through the crowds to speak to you. One of them nearly split your dress in two, as he had accidentally stepped on your gown after one too many drinks. You recall Jungkook scolding the man before turning his full attention to you, making sure you were alright. You consider this to be the first time you truly started looking at him as your husband, a feeling of warmth blooming inside you.

How foolish you were to let that feeling grow.

You're attending the gala alone this year, without him.

Possessing no desire to call attention to yourself this year, you've chosen a rich, navy blue gown instead. It's subtle yet sophisticated. Made out of the finest silk, its silhouette is sleek and falls straight down to the floor without any extravagant frills. The neckline is simple too, paired with a tasteful open back. There are no flashy accessories or embellishments, just a straightforward, classic design. You find the gown beautifully elegant, and nowhere near as bold as your previous one.

"Here it is Ms. __," Hana chips from afar, her heels clacking against the polished floor tiles. In her hand is a generously sized garment bag, your dress flowing underneath.

"Thank you so much, Hana," you say, taking the gown from her hand. "Again, I'm sorry for my tardiness picking this up. I hope you have a wonderful night."

You leave the boutique, the sun having already set.

The Winter Gala takes place on the top floor of Seoul's most luxurious hotel, specifically in its grand ballroom. The walls are adorned with gold trim, and its floors are elegantly lined with polished black marble. Above, a magnificent glass chandelier glimmers, catching the moonlight filtering through the surrounding glass windows.

Despite being a private event, the gala attracts a whole slew of press and locals who eagerly gather on either side of the hotel's front doors, treating it as a prime spot for viewing the red carpet.

Physically, you're ready; dressed to the nines, and makeup done just right. Mentally, you're absent; secretly sipping a margarita at the end of the earth, wherever that is. The day finally comes for you to make an appearance at the Annual Winter Gala and it's clear, you're not prepared in the slightest.

Your nerves consume you as you sit in the backseat of your limousine. You protested against being dropped off at the front entrance. Hell, you hadn't even wanted to arrive in a limo. However, your PR team insisted you be seen arriving, happy to be supporting a charitable event for the eighth year in a row.

Reluctantly, you complied.

Chim 🐥: I wish I could be there with you tonight 😞 No matter what, don't let those snobs get into your head. You look stunning and you have nothing to be ashamed of! [sent at 6:23 pm]

"Thank you, love," you whisper to aloud upon reading your best friend's endearing message. Before you can craft a reply, your door is flung open, with harsh flashes of cameras blinding you. When you step out of the limo, you hear a mix of passionate cheering and interrogative remarks.

"Ms. __, could you share with us your experience of attending the gala without Jeon Jungkook by your side for the first time?"

"Ms. __, it's unexpected to see you here this year, especially considering your recent separation from your ex-husband, who is also on the guest list!"

"Ms. __, how do you plan to navigate the evening's festivities without the familiar presence of your former partner?"

Just keep walking __. If you can just get inside the building and tune out the noise, you'll be fine. You coach yourself with every step, but make little progress with the amount of discomfort only skyrocketing. Your photos are being taken, and questions barrage you from all angles. To top it off, you feel a strong migraine coming on and oh fuck— is that the devil now?

You don't have to glance back to guess the sudden increase in cheering is due to the arrival of another hot A-lister. It has to be Jungkook with a new woman by his side. You think he wouldn't bring a date to an event like this, even if she were a hire? You'd be horribly mistaken.

You fight against the urge to turn around and confirm if your suspicions are true.

"__!" a voice calls out, which you ignore.

But wait a minute.

You stop in your tracks—that's not Jungkook's voice at all; it’s far too raspy.

Peeking over your shoulder, your jaw falls open as you see Kim Taehyung steps behind you wearing a boxy grin on his face. He's dressed to the hills with a shiny maroon, Louis Vuitton suit hugging his slim waist. Quite handsome, per usual, but what is he doing here?

Taking the initiative, Taehyung strides next to you and waves to the crowd charismatically. “My movie shoot wrapped up early so I thought I’d swing by and see what all the excitement’s about,” he says.

You observe how easy it is for him to appease the crowd, a skill you’re still working to sharpen.

“Tae-” you begin.

He then turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. You shiver at from the sudden intensity.

“I got an invitation too, and the gala happens to support a cause that I find close to my heart.” His voice lowers for the next part, allowing only your ears to hear. “I also didn’t want you having to be alone this evening, __. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

Taehyung’s words manage to coax you away from your previously frazzled state, comforting you as the chaos quiets around you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reply, giving a tight-lipped smile. “It’s actually a good thing you came since you’re basically the second face of my company after all.”

“I’m happy to hear that. We’ve been working so well together recently, and I don’t want to ruin it. May I?” He offers you an arm.

“You may.” You slip your arm into his and continue towards the hotel entrance. You admit you’re glad to see him.

With Taehyung nearby, your apprehensions of the night start to subside. He’s not always beside you, slipping away to mingle often, yet his mere presence relaxes you. You haven’t even thought about Jungkook to be honest. Well, maybe a little bit.

You take a sip of the drink in your hand and casually scan the ballroom until bingo, you spot your ex-husband by the bar in the middle of half a dozen people. Figures he’s the center of attention, effortlessly tethering people to himself. Jungkook loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves him. As you continue watching him from across the room, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within you; longing, sorrow, anger. You haven't seen him in over two months, it feels surreal.

Memories of your time together come flooding back all at once—both the good and the bad, yet mostly bad. It's strange how someone you were once so close to can suddenly feel like a stranger. You allow your gaze to linger a moment longer, curious to conclude a date is nowhere in sight. Perhaps you’re mistaken and they’ve merely slipped away for a second. You’re positive he would’ve brought someone.

Bitterly, you gulp down another sip of your drink. When you place your glass down, you nearly choke at the sight of Jungkook's dark eyes burning holes at you. You avert your gaze immediately, silently begging that he didn’t just witness you staring at him and take it as an unsolicited invitation to come over.

“So,” a provocative voice unexpectedly slides next to you. “Looks like you just traded one bachelor for the next __. I’m shocked to see you’ve shown up to our little soirée.”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, recognizing the owner of the slithery voice like the back of your hand. You do not have the stamina for this tonight.

“Kathy," you greet with the fakest, yet sweetest smile possible. "Nice seeing you again. I haven't seen you since last year. How's the baby?"

"Oh please," she scoffs. "Don't try to deflect, sweetie. We both know it's you who is of far more... intrigue. If you understand my gist."

You want to hurl at this woman's condescending tone. Nothing gets under your skin more than someone your age calling you sweetie. It's not endearing in the slightest, especially when it's Kathy Lee, Director of CommaTen. You despise each other, likely because you both hit it big in the industry at a young age. Meeting someone who reminds you so closely of yourself isn't always a blessing.

“Anyway, as I was saying," she continues, brushing her hair behind an ear. "I have quite the bone to pick with you about stealing that actor from me. Kim Taehyung was mine first, you know."

Hers? She speaks as if a person can be owned. You won't lie, you're surprised Taehyung agreed to partner with you at a time when most of Seoul's elites have turned against you. You're naive to assume that his support wouldn't backfire on his reputation. On the other hand, he's been your endorser for two months now and his following remains fully intact.

“To be frank, I didn't know the two of you were talking business at all," you respond to the accusations with composure, though burning up inside. "But of course, he's free to make his own decisions, can't he? Whatever the reason, something must have enticed him."

“You—" Offended by your insinuation that your offer was better than hers, Kathy doesn't stop what comes next. "We both know the only reason why Kim Taehyung's with you is because Jungkook left you! And you need the extra publicity, isn't that right?"

Fuck. Well, now you're really fucking embarrassed because, at that moment, everyone in the room shifts their attention your way. A pin drop could be heard in the entire ballroom since even the live band ceased their playing.

This is why you didn't want to come. Your fingers fumble with the fabric of your gown.

“Don't act like you're above me just because your company might be worth more than mine, __. We'll catch up with you soon," Kathy spits her final words before spinning around and triumphantly walking away.

Don't cry, you tell yourself. Everyone's staring at you; the press, your peers, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Don't you dare cry.

As the murmurs of conversation gradually resume around you, you force yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. Kathy's words were nothing but a feeble attempt to save her own face. Besides, what company doesn't have at least one endorser?

"Are you alright?" Taehyung's low, gentle voice catches your attention as he swiftly returns to your side, no doubt influenced after witnessing Kathy's verbal jab.

You manage a tight-lipped smile, nodding faintly as you attempt to push back the overwhelming wave of humiliation. "I will be," you reply, though the words feel hollow even to your own ears.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I hope you don't take her words to heart, __," he mutters. "I chose to become your partner because I genuinely believe in your product. I'm selective about who I support, so please trust me when I say it wasn't because of material gain or pity."

You're on the verge of responding to his reassurance when you catch sight of your ex-husband from the corner of your eye, striding his way over to you for the first time tonight. His expression is unreadable, so you brace yourself, unsure of what to expect.

"__," he starts, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable urgency. "Can we talk?"

You and Taehyung share a quick glance before you follow Jungkook out of the ballroom, seeking privacy.

As soon as you're out of earshot, Jungkook turns to you, his features softened by a hint of concern. "Hey," he starts. "I meant to get over to you sooner but got tied up. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," you respond, though you'd rather he didn't come over at all, especially after being dragged into the spotlight in front of all your peers and colleagues.

The two of you share an unsettling silence before he speaks again.

"You-You look good." He allows his eyes to rake up and down your body, causing you to cross your arms in discomfort. There was a time when his gaze brought a flutter of excitement, but now, you're not so sure it brings you the same pleasure.

"I'm sorry for what happened in there," he says. "You okay?"

"What?" you repeat, your eyes wide with surprise, stunned by his unexpected apology. "Am I okay?"

Where was this concern when he handed you the divorce papers nine months ago? Or when he willingly took advantage of your vulnerability that time in your office, only to disappear afterward, as if he hadn't just torn your heart out of your chest? You clench your fists, trying to contain the rising temperature of your anger.

"Yeah, about what she said about you," he clarifies. "It was uncalled for, and I feel horrible about it." He reaches out to touch you, but you instinctively step back, as if his touch would scorch you.

"Please, don't," you sigh, a trace of weariness in your voice. "It's fine."

"I'm serious __, I can have her charged with defamation for that. It wouldn't take much!" His insistence is unwavering, and it strikes your last nerve.

"You don't need to fight my battles for me, Jungkook," you suddenly snap, voice stern. "I'm not completely helpless now that you've divorced me!"

Jungkook's expression darkens, regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm not saying you are. I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" you repeat, doubtful. "How do you think that's going to look for me in the media? Jeon Jungkook slaps another high society member with a defamation charge for ex-wife. Thanks, but no thanks. I get enough of that as is."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know they've been difficult on you recentl—"

"Difficult?" you interject, your anger bubbling to the surface. "In case you haven't noticed my face is on every gossip magazine, billboard, press release, and anything else they can use to scorn me with. It's unbearable, especially since I still have a business to run."

Jungkook winces, clearly stung by your words. "Then let me help. I'll get them removed for you. I still care about you, __."

You scoff. "You care about me? Is that why you made me sign our divorce papers three months after you found out I wanted more than a fake marriage?"

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping to the floor guiltily. "It's not like that, __. I'm not trying to be an avoidant asshole. I want you to-"

"Find someone else. Yeah, I got it," you mutter bitterly, feeling a fresh wave of hurt wash over you.

"I'm sorry, __. I am."

You stare at him, torn between resentment and a lingering ache for the connection you once shared. Now, he's apologizing?

"So am I," you say, slowly backing away from him. "You don't have to do anything, Jungkook. I'm fine."

You then turn on your heels to return to the ballroom where Taehyung still waits for you, leaving your ex-husband standing in the hallway, alone.

a/n: A much-needed confrontation between oc and jk eh? But... *laughs evilly*..this is not the end...LMK what you think! 🤔🤍

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[sizzleissues]

Its May.

Okay so this is in the same AU I had last year its just changed and evolved while also being the exact same. Except now I have 15,000 words of it written, like 7,000 words of planning and lore and hours upon hours of research that I will be pointedly ignoring. Will be posting more stuff this month about the AU and my hopes and dreams for it

Also slight art improvement check? I’ll put their original mermaid designs below the cut.

It’s Marinette as a mermaid and … its not Adrien or Chat Noir but a third worse thing (Catwalker but in the purest manifestation of it being a curse and not who he wants to be) I will be making designs for mer!Ladybug, and mer!Adrien as its own thing later on.

Okay if you want to indulge me look below the cut

Old mermaid designs first. I am going to be talking about my design thoughts, thoughts and ramblings about this AU and what I’ve been up to. You have been warned

As you can see, some things have changed but neither design I hated, I just wanted to go further with it.

My brain is quite specific about mermaids and how I want them to generally look. I wanted to distinguish biological merfolk from transformed humans by having them being anatomically different. So Adrien has a vertical tail instead which is also way faster underwater. His transformation is quite distressing for him and very chaotic. Of course when he accepts it he’s not so raggedy.

Marinette similarly avoids her life as a mermaid by becoming human and I wanted her mermaid design to hint toward her fascination with humans. She wears a top she fashioned from human fabric she found in a sunken merchant vessel. In general all other merfolk either forgo clothes or wear things fashioned from materials available to them. There’s deep fear of humans and human things so even though human clothes are available to them (off dead bodies but…. Whatever) they choose to difference themselves as much as possible. The same taboos don’t exist for them and their bodies are already adapted from the temperature of their environment. Adrien has stray bits of netting and seaweed on him because he’s not exactly the best at controlling his speed and often crash’s through fishing nets and patches of seaweed resulting in stuff being caught on him.

A lot of their designs are still being worked but I’ve definitely pushed them the right direction!

On to the AU. You might have seem me cryptically talk about something I’m writing the past few weeks. This is because it’s been in my brain since last May and been on and off writing it since then. I decided I’d talk about it once May came back around but and then when I finished writing it, start posting sneak peaks and more spoilery art until it was fully edited and I felt confident in it to post with an aim for it to finish posting once May rolled around again. Oh god.

It’s set in the late 1700s in a fictional version of France that’s actually fragmented over a bunch of islands. I have done more fashion research than I ever thought I’d do and in the end we will still be taking creative license but know I do know what they actually wore! I ALSO did a butt tonne of research about sailing ships and turns out they are super complicated and now I know too much and yet too little still about them. It should be super fun and action packed if I can manage. Have some really good scenes already in my head I know you’ll love. We’re already three ships battle deep and I’ve only written four chapters. (It chills out for a bit after that)

This is entirely self-indulgent by the way. I’m writing this for me, you guys are just a bonus. I literally don’t care as long as it satiates my rabid need for the fic that only lives in my brain at the moment. Saying that, I do want to put my best foot forward.

The next thing I will be posting for this is their human forms and more blabblerings about that. For I am insane and all.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 18 - All For You

Guys, I fear this one may be worse than the last angsty one I wrote. Am I getting better or worse? – I have no clue…I’m just in a super angsty mood rn 

Also, I know that it “Born to Break Records” I said that Max didn’t know about reader’s godfather passing. What I meant to say was that he didn’t know at the time when he gave reader the trophy after she won her debut f2 race. But, because reader has a special helmet for Imola since Lorenzo was Italian, she’d have to tell him about the helmet. 

TW: EMOTIONAL ABUSE, HARSH LANGUAGE, SHITTY PARENTS, AND PHYSICAL ABUSE

I am prepared for the therapy bills…

How does someone write “and they swapped spit” in a romantic way?? Asking for a friend 

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! 

TAG LIST IS CLOSED 

It couldn’t be them. 

You blinked and stared in the direction that you had been previously looking. Your eyes narrowed as you gazed at the small crack of the garage and where the gate was. You quickly placed your special helmet down on a table and dodged mechanics as you stepped out. Mitch barely glanced at your leaving as you often went to visit other drivers before the race if you had time. And today, the parade was a bit earlier, so most of the drivers used this time to destress a bit more than usual. 

As you got closer, two familiar people stood out to you. Right now, they were arguing with one of the Red Bull security guards. Your face grimaced as you could hear the shouting multiple feet away. 

As you got closer, your blood ran colder. You knew it was a bad idea to come out here, but it was like a moth to a flame or even a lamb to a slaughter. You couldn’t stop your feet until you were just a few steps away. 

“Mom? Dad?” 

The group of three’s heads swerved toward yours. The security guard, who you recognized to be Frederik, looked at you with a questioning face. The other two looked relieved but also angry at you. 

Your father rolled his eyes and pointed toward you before yelling at Fred. “See, I told you that we were her parents, now let us in,” he demanded. 

Your heart dropped a bit at the statement. You were never one to stand up to your father, especially when he was already angry. 

Your hear barely nodded, almost as if you were trying to even convince yourself that you were fine with them invading your life. 

Fred looked over with concern. 

“It’s ok Fred.” 

“Are you sure kid?” 

Your mother huffed. “She said it was fine. Now let us through.” 

Fred sure took his sweet time to unlock the gate, something that you could find some thankfulness for. 

Your mother came close to you first and wrapped you in an awkward hug: one that you did not return as it was too quick to reciprocate. Your father just stood there, with the same disappointing stare he always had. 

You put your hands to the side. “What are you two doing here? Last I knew is that you wanted nothing to do with me.” 

Your father rolled his eyes and your mother let out a squawk. “Is that what you’ve been telling your friends? Goodness gracious child, going around speaking lies.” 

You winced at her demeaning tone. 

Your father spoke next. “You make it into Formula 1 and forget everything that we did for you? How fucking pathetic.” He all but spit out the last word.

“Kid!” 

Your head whipped around at lightning speed. Mitch was waving at you from the garage, a curious look on your face.

You tried to give her a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your face. “Coming!” You turned toward your parents. “You can follow me, but please do not touch anything and just stand in the corner.” 

That earned another round of scoffs and groans. 

“Someone has gotten bratty I see,” you mother seethed. 

You paid no attention and walked back to the garage. You only knew that they followed you because you had memorized their footprints long ago when you were too scared to even get out of your room on multiple occasions. There was a difference between their normal strides, angry strides, and sneaky strides that they used when they tried to “catch” you doing something you shouldn’t have been doing – like getting an extra snack because they “forgot” to make you dinner. 

You had hoped that Max, Christian, Vito, or even Mitch would be right there when you walked in, but the universe definitely hated you today. The said four were standing in a little circle, probably going over some last minute data. You had stopped in the entrance and watched them, scared that they would ask questions.

While you were watching, a rough shove was directed toward your back, sending you to the floor and making a noise. Your knees were definitely bruised now and your hands were scraped on the concrete. Max, Christian, Mitch, and Vito all turned toward the noise. You had just gotten back up and continued walking, parents behind you. 

Some of the engineers had watched your father push you and were starting to question as to who he thought he was, pushing you around like that. 

“Oops, didn’t see you there,” your father said. 

Vito’s back straightened in defense when his eyes looked at your parents. You shot him a sorry look as he made eye contact with you. 

“Ah there you are kid. We were just going over some last minute notes. Who might this be?” Christian asked, walking toward you. Right now, he was thinking that they might be some older couple that you might have known from your childhood. 

Boy, was he wrong. 

Your eyes glanced back at your parents and sent Christian a look, trying to communicate to him that you really didn’t want these two in the garage. 

“Uh, Christian, these are my parents.” Your hands lightly raised in the air, as if to show them off. 

Christian’s eyes darkened as he looked at the couple. Max behind him was mentally killing them both. Mitch was just wondering about how she could get you out of this uncomfortable situation. 

“Y/n didn’t tell me that we’d be having personal guests today,” Christian said, folding his arms in a defensive pose. 

You prayed that your father wouldn’t roll his eyes at your boss. 

Your father only stared at the slightly taller Brit before looking at you, annoyance evident on his face. Your mother, once again, scoffed. 

“Wow,” your mother let off a very fake giggle, “our own daughter didn’t tell you that we were coming? Shows you how much appreciation kids have these days.” Another fake laugh followed. 

Max winced at the sight of your crest-fallen face. You looked absolutely miserable. 

“Hmmm, doesn’t sound like our kid.” Christian tried to back you up. 

Your mother had walked over to where you special Imola helmet was laying. She picked it up and twirled it around. 

It was a beautiful piece of work. The colors of the Italian flag blended beautifully. On the side you had Lorenzo’s crest with his birthdate and death-date underneath as a tribute to him. You watched as her lip curled in disgust. But, you also saw as one of the mechanics came up and took it directly from her, telling her that no one but you or authorized personelle should be touching it. 

Christian spoke up again, “Well, we are very busy right now and I need to speak to my drivers.”

But before Christian could get you away, Max stepped forward, a false smile on his lips and a hand stretched out. 

“Max Verstappen, three time World Champion.’ 

You knew this shpeel very well. Max only said the whole title when he was over someone’s bullshit, or he knew that they were just using him for his fame. 

Your father had some type of dumbstruck look as he took Max’s hand. The fuming Dutchman used this opportunity to tightly squeeze his hand, tighter than a normal handshake should have been. It made him happy to see your father wince at the grip. 

Your father’s hand then came and rested on your shoulder. You tensed as his grip got much harder and harder, probably leaving yet another bruise. “My daughter has a lot to accomplish if you’re her teammate. Good thing she doesn’t have the talent to outshine you.” 

You hated it when your father belittled you. He had done this multiple times in front of old friends. He was a manipulator and a narcissist. Your breath, that had been a bunch of harsh inhales and exhales, started to hitch. Clear signs of a panic attack were just around the corner. And your team could tell that you were about to possibly have a meltdown if you didn’t get out now. 

Mitch finally spoke up. “We have a race in just under 30 minutes and I need to privately go over something with my drivers. Max and Y/n, please follow me. Christian, I need you as well and Vito you know what to do, we’ll be in the main driver’s room (Max’s driver room).” 

Your manager gave your parents one last glare before rushing out of the Red Bull garage. 

Mitch was totally bullshitting them because it was actually closer to 45 full minutes rather than less than 30. 

Max held your shoulders, much lighter than your father had. He noticed your breathing had started to pick up. He sent a worried glance at the Team Principal who was currently clearing the way. 

To you, it felt like your head was underwater. Everything was blurry as you looked at the world through tears, and your head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton. Your skin felt tingly and it pricked where Max’s hands were now gently holding your elbows as he guided you to the room. You could barely hear them trying to get you to calm down. 

Once in the room, you had sunk to the floor and wrapped your arms around yourself, as a means of protection. Hands waved in front of your face, trying to get your attention as you stared numbly forward. Each wave shook a flinch out of your body. 

A sudden inhale brought on ugly sobs as you tried to breath out apologies for things you didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. Please, please don’t hurt…me.” 

Your speech was broken, along with the hearts of Max, Mitch, and Christian who watched their strong girl break down because of someone who should have loved you. Quick knocks on the door alerted the room of someone else. 

You suddenly froze, not breathing, as you were thinking that your parents were about to invade yet another safe space. Yet, your vision was filled with red and familiar cologne. 

Your body acted on autopilot as your arms wrapped around the familiar figure of your boyfriend. 

His voice was still fuzzy as he started to rock you back and forth. 

Arthur looked around at the pained faces of your teammate, race engineer, manager, and team principal as they all looked down at you. 

Christian kneeled down next to the younger Monegasque. “Is there anything we can do?” 

He thought for a moment. You were curled sideways in his lap. Your legs were scrunched in fetal position, arms wrapped around his bicep as you clung to him. Your head rested against his chest with your eyes still closed. 

“Her blood sugar gets low after an attack, can someone find some juice?” Vito and Christian all but bolted out the door. 

“Mitch can you turn off the light? And Max, please rub her back. I’d do it, but her arms are wrapped around mine.” 

The lights suddenly dimmed behind your eyelids and a hand gently touched your bad, trying to see if you’d flinch. When your back didn’t tense, Max continued to apply gentle pressure and his hand moved in small circles. 

A big sigh escaped your lips as you came down from your sobs. Your lungs burned with each ragged breath, but they were thankful for new oxygen. 

Your eyes remained closed as you took a minute to get your bearings in order. You tried to count down in your head starting from 100, which normally helped you calm down faster. You finally cracked your eyes open and sat up a bit straighter. The hand that was soothing on your back lifted away. A whine almost escaped your lips, but you reeled it in. 

Arthur took notice of your open eyes and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “How are you doing? You were out of it for a while. Much longer than usual.” 

You hummed. “I’m ok. A bit…” 

“Thirsty?” The voice of your manager sounded as he walked in with multiple juice boxes in his arms, Christian behind him with even more juice boxes, and a certain Monegasque driver carried a variety of snacks in his arms. 

Your eyes widened with excitement as your hand reached up to grab an apple juice from Vito. Arthur quickly took it from you and pressed the straw in and held it to your lips. 

“Small sips,” he reminded you. You wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew he was right. 

After a couple of sips, you asked, “How long was it this time.” 

Your legs finally stretched out from their crunched position. 

“Almost twenty minutes,” Mitch told you, handing you an icepack to put on your head. She guessed that you may be prone to migraines after panic attacks and got you one just in case. Mitch was glad to see you take it and put it on your head immediately. 

The room was silent for a moment, before Max spoke. 

“Kid, what were they doing here?” 

You sighed. “I thought I saw them and I went to go check it out. Turns out it was them, and I really can’t speak up against my dad when he’s angry.” 

Arthur concluded, “So he bullied you into getting what he wanted?”

You winced at the word, but nodded just the same. 

Christian spoke up. “I couldn’t get them kicked out of the grand prix since they had tickets, but they aren’t going to be in the garage. Do you feel all right to race today?” 

“You don’t have to kid if you aren’t feeling well,” Mitch also added on. 

You shook your head. “No, I want to race.” 

The room knew what this weekend meant for you. When you had happily shown them your new helmet, their eyes had welled with tears as you talked about the man who loved you more than life itself. 

Max, who hadn’t known until Wednesday, had given you the biggest hug when it was a good moment. You didn’t know who was comforting who at that moment, but the hug would go down in your list of top 5 hugs ever. 

Arthur sensed that you wanted to stand by the way you were wiggling. He slowly helped you to his feet as he pressed another juice box into your hands. Charles quickly opened a bag of Cheetos as you stared at the orange bag. 

“I ran to Logan,” he simply stated. He knew that the American was the one who always had your favorite snacks on hand. One, because it was a big American brand, and two, the blond had a soft spot for you and always kept them stocked. 

You took the orange twist and happily munched on the snack. The digital clock on Max’s desk showed that there was about 10 minutes left until you needed to get into the car. You quickly finished the small bag and chugged the rest of the juice. 

Christian had to step out and start heading to the pit wall. Mitch followed the older Brit so that she could get to her spot inside the garage. Max and Charles left because Max needed to go over some things with GP, while Charles had to run back to Ferrari to get into his own car. 

Vito stayed behind to check on you for just a few more moments. He knew first-hand how scared your dad and mom made you feel.

Then it was just you and Arthur for a couple of minutes. Your forehead pressed against his. 

“Thank you, for coming to help.” 

Arthur chuckled. “You really need to stop scaring me. No flipping today, ok?” 

You nodded before he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips this time. He tried his best not to smile into the kiss, but he couldn’t help it. 

You gently punched his chest. “Thur, you do that every single time.” 

Arthur brought you back closer. “It’s just because you make me so happy chéri.”  

You gave him another peck, before you led him out of the room. He helped you put your helmet on, and did his ritual “forehead kiss” to the top of it. With your handshake also done, you climbed into your car. The mechanics who had seen you with your parents made sure that you were all right. They were met with a bright smile and a thumbs up from you.

For this race, you qualified rather high. Max had pouted because today had been a Ferrari front-row lock out. You had to remind him that he had beaten Charles before from starting father back. It seemed to pacify the Dutchman. 

Starting Grid 

Charles Leclerc  

Carlos Sainz 

Max Verstappen 

Lando Norris 

Y/n L/n 

George Russell 

Lewis Hamilton 

Daniel Ricciardo 

Logan Sargeant 

Alex Albon 

Oscar Piastri 

Lance Stroll 

Fernando Alonso 

Yuki Tsunoda 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Pierre Gasly 

Esteban Ocon 

Valtteri Bottas 

Zhou Guanyu 

Kevin Magnussen 

To say this would be one of your worst races (and you'd DNF-ed before), would be an understatement. Your migraine had come back and your water was completely out by the last quarter of the race. You hadn’t been able to keep Charles off for long for Max to catch up, which made Charles take the lead in the second half. 

Max had also been confused as you had dropped behind him as well when you should have been your strongest. 

You loved racing, but today you hated it. Your brain felt as though it was pounding with a sledge hammer against your skull. 

“For the first time in almost two years, Charles Leclerc has grabbed a victory. Charles Leclerc is the winner of the 2024 Imola Grand Prix. Max Verstappen clinches second with his rookie teammate Y/n L/n right behind him to make it a 2-3 for Red Bull. They are followed by Lando Norris and Lewis Hamilton…” 

Race Results 

Charles Leclerc – 25 points 

Max Verstappen – 18 points 

Y/n L/n – 15 points 

Lando Norris – 12 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 11 points 

Oscar Piastri – 8 points 

Alex Albon – 6 points 

George Russell – 4 points 

Logan Sargeant – 2 points 

Carlos Sainz – 1 point 

Fernando Alonso 

Yuki Tsunoda 

Pierre Gasly 

Kevin Magnussen 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Zhou Guanyu 

Valtteri Bottas 

Esteban Ocon 

Lance Stroll 

Daniel Ricciardo 

Standings After Imola 

Max Verstappen – 168 points 

Charles Leclerc – 120 points 

Y/n L/n – 80 points 

Lando Norris – 73 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 60 points 

Oscar Piastri – 53 points 

George Russell – 35 points

Carlos Sainz – 34 points  

Alex Albon – 26 points 

Fernando Alonso – 23 points 

Daniel Ricciardo – 21 points 

Logan Sargeant – 19 points 

Lance Stroll

Pierre Galsy 

Yuki Tsunoda

Zhou Guanyu 

Kevin Magnussen 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Valtteri Bottas 

Esteban Ocon 

Constructors Standings 

Red Bull – 248 points 

Ferrari – 153 points 

McLaren – 126 points 

Mercedes – 95 points 

Williams – 45 points 

Aston Martin – 23 points 

Racing Bulls – 21 points 

Alpha Romeo 

Haas

Alpine 

When you pulled into Parc Ferme, you barely had the strength to get out of the car. You only found out that you needed to get out was when Max lightly tapped your helmet and held out a hand. You gratefully grabbed it and Max hauled you out. 

“Are you ok?” he asked, with concern storming in his blue eyes. A nod of your head pacified him for now. 

Your headache only got worse when you spotted your parents standing at the wall. You tried to send the team apologetic looks when you walked right past them, something you never did even if you didn’t even podium for a race. You always ran to their open arms. 

You’d send them lots of coffee and gifts for their families to make up for it. 

You kept your helmet on for as long as you could. It helped to damper all the loud noise of the paddock. 

Max and Charles both recognized that you wanted little to no noise if possible, so they kept quiet or spoke in soft whispers if they did speak. You immediately sat down in a corner, trying to cool off and will your migraine away. 

You only opened your eyes once again when you were called to the podium. You were thankful that you didn’t feel any panic as you walked out and stood on the lowest step. You watched as Max walked out and stood on the second place step before watching Charles almost skip to the top step. You giggled as you watched the Ferrari driver subtly stick his tongue out at Max. For a moment, you were scared at the repercussions but Max only smiled and rolled his eyes.  

You took off your cap for the Monegasque anthem along with the Italian one. When you were handed your trophy, you gently kissed it (even though it didn’t light up) and held it to the sky while also pointing. The two older drivers watched as you looked so happy. Deep down, they wanted you to be on the top step, but your time was coming. 

Max was then handed his trophy. His lips were a bit tight, but he’d get over it. 

Charles was quite the opposite. You guessed that he was finally happy that his dry spell was over. A sixth career win and first in almost two years. You clapped as the red-clad driver held his trophy proudly. 

Your head was still pounding, but the migraine was slowly going away. You didn’t have much strength to do your usual champagne cannon, but you still sprayed Charles as much as you could. When there wasn’t anything else to spray, you poured the rest on your teammate. 

You had a giant smile on your face as you looked down at the crowd. Yet, it slowly disappeared as your eyes found your parents, looking up at you with distain clearly written on their faces. You turned to Max, who was already looking down as well. 

He pointed down, though, right next to them where Christian and Geri were both standing, proud smiles on their faces as they looked up at you. 

Geri was trying to communicate for you and Max to stand closer and to smile for her camera. You quickly put your hand around his waist to bring him in closer. With trophies raised and bright smiles, she held a thumbs up when she took the picture. Christian just continued to look at the two of you as though you had just won him every single race possible. 

You were then assured off the podium and back to the garage. 

“I promise, I’ll find you after. You know how much I hate wearing my clothes after they get sticky,” you told Max as you walked toward your drivers room. 

You had barely just gotten you shirt on when your door opened and closed. 

Your rolled your eyes. “You couldn’t have just waited?” 

You turned, expecting either Max or your boyfriend. Yet, you were met with a slap across the face. Your cheek stung as you shakily raised a hand to touch it. A hiss left your lips when your fingers glazed your reddening cheek.

You barely had time to get try to get away, before another hand hit the side of your head, making your migraine slowly creep up again. 

This time, a sob slipped through your lips as you looked at your parents, who were fuming.

“What did I do?” you tried to get out, voice cracking. 

“After everything we did for you, you can only get a shitty third place?” your mother spit. 

“Seriously, how fucking pathetic do you have to be. Offering up the trophy to someone who is dead?” your father questioned. 

It was your turn to suddenly seethe. You pointed a finger at your dad. “He loved me. He taught me everything I know.” You knew you were pressing his buttons, and you were about to press the big red one that says Do Not Press. “He was the man that you’d never be.” 

Another hit to the face had your head swinging. You knew that there would be a big bruise in the morning. But you were proud for finally standing up to him. 

Your mother’s hand hit the other side of your face, sending you staggering back to your dad. You braced yourself for another hit, but it didn’t come. Your eyes opened and widened at the sight of your teammate with murder in his eyes. 

Christian was behind him, on the phone, with your manager to the right, boyfriend and his brother on the left.

“You touch her one more time and you’re fucking dead,” Max spoke, scarily calm. Your father jerked to hit him, and that was game over.  

Security came quickly after Max had some more colorful words and quite possibly a hit to his face so that your father’s matched yours. 

Arthur had come to wrap his arms around you, as a protective barrier. 

As you watched your mother and father be led out by cuffs, the news coming that they had been banned for life from any Formula 1 activity, and that Vito had now gotten you a restraining order (something he said that he should have done years ago just in case) – you knew that you had finally found the family that you had always wanted. 

The family that you had always needed.   

And you’d keep racing and winning, because 4 years ago, you made a promise. 

To keep going and to keep fighting. 

As you walked out of the garage, with a third place trophy and your helmet, you gently pressed your own kiss to the top of it. 

“You’d be proud of me,” you whispered, “and it’s all for you. Because you were everything that I needed.” 

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 Imola was an experience. Glad I could podium in my late godfather's country to make him proud. I wish he could have been standing there to watch me today, but I have three other men who are enough for me. To Christian, Max, and Vito - I love you three, thanks for always watching my back. Oh, and my boyfriend is pretty great too, he's just shy. Thank you for an amazing experience, I'll be back next year to win (Charlie move over)

tagged: christianhorner, maxverstappen1, and vito_official

liked by christianhorner, maxverstappen1, vito_official, and 94,294 others

y/n_nation I'm not sobbing, you're sobbing

kid_y/n geri and christian both smiling like proud parents killed me

maxverstappen1 why would you do this?

y/n.89 ?? charles_leclerc he's crying right now y/n.89 oh, sorry not sorry?? maxverstappen1 you will be

christianhorner I know I can't speak for him, but he'd be so proud of you kid

gerihalliwellhorner we love you sweetie! can't wait for the next family dinner! maxverstappen1 family dinner? sebastianvettel you didn't get the invite?? y/n.89 oh no christianhorner uhhhhhh charles_leclerc he's crying again

mad_max the way that in every picture, they're looking at y/n

y/n_updates aahhhh the boyfriend has been mentioned!!!

y/n.89 I can't believe we're going to the track that THEE lightning mcqueen drove on

arthur_leclerc you mean...the Monaco Grand Prix....where you live...my hometown...Charles's home race... liamlawson she said what she said - lightning mcqueen's race charles_leclerc I'm done y/n.89 LIGHTNING MCQUEEN RESPONDED TO ME???? LIAM LOOK AT THIS liamlawson I'M LOOKING charles_leclerc goodbye y/n.89 DON'T GO

f1 see you all in Monaco!

author can everyone forgive me now?

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[dfortrafalgar]

Catch Up

Law x Fem Reader

You might have met your soulmate while intoxicated, making out with him in a dark broom closet. But the only thing you left with was his first name.

Warnings: MATURE CONTENT, MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!, reader is meant to be over 21, bar crawl setting and responsible alcohol consumption

--

A/N- I'm still (still!) working on requests, and posting un-posted fics from my google drive in the meantime. I'm hoping to have my inbox open once again at the end of the month, or perhaps early June, now that my work/life balance is adjusting properly since starting my new job! I'm really sorry to those who have been hoping for consistent fics from me, i really wish i could write as much as i was recently but i'm still trying really hard!

[Also posted on AO3]

Chapter 1

[Next]

It was hard to convince yourself that you weren’t just the slightest bit tipsy as you kept your head lowered and channeled all of your focus into making sure your feet walked in a linear path.  How many bars had you gone to again?  Four?  Five, maybe?  Your body swayed slightly with your gait as your mind scrambled to catch up with the last drink that you had.  It was only a cocktail, as all your other drinks from your bar crawl were.  Was it mango-flavored?  What street were you even on now?  You blindly followed the two women in front of you whose voices were gleefully mocking the words you had said some hours before the sun had gone down.

“‘I’m not a lightweight, never have been!’” chided Ikkaku, eyes crinkled in a smile as she poked fun at your previous confident statement.  She tossed a glance over her shoulder where you walked only a few steps behind.

“I’m not a lightweight!  My voice isn’t even slurring yet!” you fought back, increasing your speed to keep pace with your best friends.

“And what was the last drink you had?” Nami asked, pulling her phone out of her bra to check her map.

“A mango margarita,” you confirmed.  “With a little lime wedge and a mint leaf for a garnish.  The place was called Elgia Lounge and it was on–”

“Okay, okay, you’re not drunk!  We surrender!” laughed Ikkaku.  “I’m glad you’re not, though, because this next place apparently has some of the best pineapple daiquiris in the entire city.”

Your mouth started watering immediately at the thought.  You were always a sucker for sweet cocktails, arguably some of the most dangerous drinks due to the way the tangy, sour mixers completely blocked the taste of any alcohol added.  Sometimes, it was impossible to tell if there even was alcohol in the glass, but with the way you walked, there was obviously more than enough from your previous locations.  You hadn’t quite passed the threshold into drunk territory yet, but the image of a sweet and tart pineapple daiquiri might just be the thing to completely inebriate you.

Nami stopped dead in her tracks and looked towards the congested buildings immediately to your right side, scanning the signposts in the dark and looking for a specific one.  Tucked in between two sports bars, with absolutely zero signage on the graffiti-covered door, the red-head nodded her head toward the unmarked entrance.  “This is it.”

“Nami, you’re going to get us killed,” Ikkaku murmured, eyes squinting at the door to spot any indication that this was indeed a speakeasy and not a hidden trap house.  

“Am not, I swear this is the place!”

The three of you approached the steel door, Nami confidently being the one to ring the doorbell that was attached to a small intercom system.  It took a few breathless moments of mild worry before a voice filled with static came through the speaker.

“Password?”

You and Ikkaku were both blindsided as Nami crossed her arms over her chest and loudly proclaimed, “Suck my big, fat cock.”

Another few seconds of silence followed before the lock on the door clicked open and the same voice from before spoke, “Come in.”

“What the fuck,” you muttered in shock.

“Told you it was legit!” Nami chided with a giggle.

“A place that makes you say, ‘Suck my big, fat cock,’ as a password doesn’t seem very legit to me, but I’ll take your word for it,” Ikkaku mused as she followed Nami through the door and down a flight of stairs only illuminated with blue and pink fluorescent lights.

Graffiti completely covered the entire interior of the stairwell, leaving no part of concrete untouched from colorful ink.  Even the ceiling above you was marked in elaborate, incomprehensible swirls and zags of paint of all different colors, made even more colorful in the odd lighting.  The stairwell seemed to last forever as you followed your two friends down into the underground, clutching the steel railing for dear life as your tipsy vertigo fought with your ability to walk down a flight of steps.  You finally reached the bottom to another door, this time lined with a soft, cushiony leather fabric.  Nami pulled open the door and greeted a black-clad man standing in the small room directly behind it.

“IDs,” he grumbled.  Straight to the point.

The three of you fumbled through your purses for your driver’s licenses before handing each of them over to the man for a review.  He clicked on a pocket flashlight, scanning each card, handing them back to you with a hum.  “Enjoy the night, ladies.”  His large hand pushed open another door that was hidden in the wall itself.

The room that was opened to you was unlike any of the other bars you had entered, both during your current crawl and in your entire adult life previous.  The room was cloaked in a sexy blue and pink lighting, decorative art of pin-up models framed on the walls along with retro-inspired neon signs and liquor branding.  Groups of people filled the tables nearby, laughing and drinking through the booming music that flowed freely through the space.  It was crowded, almost overwhelmingly so, but you squeezed close to Ikkaku’s back as you pushed your way through the other patrons to get to the bar.  Your hand accidentally grabbed Ikkaku’s ass as her shoulder bumped into your breast, both of you wheezing out surprised laughter.

You popped through the stream of people to the bar which was, unsurprisingly, completely filled with every seat taken.  Two men worked tirelessly behind the counter, filling shakers with liquor and mixers, bitters and juices.  A bin of assorted fruits sat open in front of patrons, allowing the bartenders to grab their garnishes quickly and decorate their glasses with expert precision before passing them off to elated, tipsy customers.  You, Nami, and Ikkaku squeezed yourselves into the far corner of the bar, between the counter and a booth of patrons.  

“At least we can stand here!  It’s a bit crowded but it’ll do for now,” the red-head yelled through the shaking stereo that sat nearby.  

One of the two bartenders waved his hand in the air to attract your attention.  Long, spikey auburn hair framed a sharp face and crooked nose.  You were confused at the angular sunglasses that covered his eyes, but paid no mind in the end.  His voice cut through the music, but was clearly worn after a long night of screaming at people because of the volume.  “What can I get for you, ladies?”

Nami handed the man her credit card, explaining that she was going to close out after one drink for each of them, which he gladly accepted and placed in a secure box by the register.  Your eyes frantically scanned the illuminated menu above the bar, the raunchy, debauched names of the signature cocktails revealing absolutely nothing about their ingredients.  

“What the hell is a ‘Fuck Me Sideways?’” you shouted towards your friends.  

The man behind the counter cackled.  “That’s a pineapple daiquiri!  It’s sour as fuck, hence the name!”

Your mind flashed back to your conversation from the street, mouth once again salivating at the thought of the tangy, delicious concoction.  “I’ll get that please!”

The man memorized your three orders and immediately got to work.  You watched idly as he nudged his coworker’s shoulder and alerted him of the order so he could help with making your drinks.  It was then that your eyes trailed to said coworker.

All sound in the room faded into a muffled nothingness as your eyes narrowed on the other bartender, pupils dilating.  Toned, tanned arms and hands were littered in elaborate, grungy tattoos, and you could tell with the way his worn t-shirt dipped below his collarbones that he had another large piece on his chest, defining his pectorals even from beneath his clothing.  His jawline was sharp, a small goatee defining his chin, black sideburns framing his perfect face as intense, golden eyes focused on his work.   His tongue poked out from his thick lips slightly, revealing a tiny glimpse of a stud pierced through the muscle, and giving his intimidating appearance a sudden adorable qualm as long, deft fingers poured shots of liquor into his metal shaker cup.

You barely noticed the fingers snapping in your face.

“Hey, Earth to Apollo!  Can you read me?” Ikkaku hollered directly in your ear, shaking you out of your trance.

You jumped in surprise, music fading back into your consciousness as the sound of Nami’s laughter brought you firmly back to reality.

“Looks like someone’s got the hots for the emo bartender over there!” sang the red-head, leaning against the wall and making a very lewd gesture with her hands.

You grumbled.  “Do not!”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Ikkaku chuckled in response.  “He is pretty cute… if you don’t make a move I might.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you growled, making your best friends roar in laughter.  A rush of blood filled your face with an embarrassed heat.  “He probably already has a partner, a guy as hot as him can’t possibly be single.”

“There’s only one way to find that out, and it’s to talk to him,” lectured Nami.  “Come on, you’re on a bar crawl, you’re drunk, you’re hot, your pants make your ass look fucking amazing.  I would look the other way if you dragged that hunk to the bathrooms.”

“Nami!  Shut up!” you screamed, thoroughly embarrassed now.  It’s not like anyone could hear your conversation amongst the intense volume of the room, but the subject matter still made you flush from your tailbone to the crown of your head.

The conversation dissipated into enthusiasm about the location, the three of you taking note of the sex-positive decor and how good the playlist was.  Every once in a while, your eyes would dart back to the raven-haired man with his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as he filtered a cocktail through the metal strainer and into a slim, iced glass.  He reached forward into his box of garnishes, procuring a thin lime wedge and expertly slicing it down the middle to perch it on the rim of the glass.  As you were staring at him, his eyes darted up directly meeting yours.  Your face flushed red hot with embarrassment, but before you could yank your gaze away, he flashed you a grin that had your legs quivering.  He held up the drink.  It was your’s.

You pulled away from Nami and Ikkaku who hardly noticed your movement as you approached the bar and reached between two peoples’ shoulders to grab your cocktail from the man who kept his deep, golden eyes on your form the entire time.  An elated, cold sweat ran up your spine and you flashed him as good of a smile as you could through your ceaseless embarrassment that he had caught you staring.

Once the drink was in your hands, he tossed you a wink.

You hobbled back toward Nami and Ikkaku who were already holding their own orders, sipping idly through their conversation.

“You look like you got spooked by a ghost or something!” giggled Ikkaku, squeezing your left cheek with her fingers.

“Ikka, that hot emo bartender gave her her daiquiri!” Nami replied for you, making the curly-haired girl gasp in excitement.

“Did he say anything?  Did you say anything?”  The questions rolled off of her tongue faster than your heart rate.

“He just winked at me, and smiled, I guess,” you stated through nervous breaths.  

Your best friends dragged you into the conversation that had developed in the short time you were away getting your drink, but when you tossed another glance over your shoulder, you once again locked with golden eyes that froze your feet to the ground.

—

You weren’t exactly sure how much time had passed over all, but it couldn’t have been more than an hour.  You and your friends finished your drinks, closed out your tab, and proceeded to the dance floor to burn off energy under the neon disco lights and pounding music.  You let your mind stray away from the bartender’s piercing glare while you moved your hips against Nami’s, the two of you poking fun at Ikkaku from afar as she found herself in an awkward dance with a random man who was far from her type (that is to say: not a woman).  The room was dipping slightly around you, the sweet pineapple daiquiri definitely making you tipsier than you wanted to be.  You didn’t have to pee at that moment, but you figured it would be worth a shot to sober you up even just slightly.  With a nudge against Nami’s shoulder, you pointed to the bathroom, mouthing your intentions, and waved to her as you walked toward the back of the room through the sea of happy, alcohol-fueled patrons.

The bathroom was situated behind the bar past a few rows of small booth tables, and the further you walked from the center of the lounge the more the music faded to a much more tolerable volume.  The walls remained lined with graffiti, which you trailed with your eyes as you walked, marveling at the tantalizing swirls of colors and personalized messages and names memorialized forever on the concrete.  You finally rounded the corner into the small corridor where the two single bathrooms were found, along with a single broom closet that was kept closed with a padlock.  Your feet blindly led you towards one of the bathroom doors that was cracked open.

“You know, those pants make your ass look phenomenal.”

A husky voice stopped you in your tracks.  A million thoughts rushed through your mind within an instant.  Who was talking to you?  Did you get followed to the bathroom?  Were you being watched?  Were you in danger?  Should you have brought your purse with you instead of leaving it with Nami?  Were you going to make a run for it?

Fighting against your flight, you turned around to face the voice that cut through the muffled music.

Intense, golden eyes, raven-black hair, and a sly, toothy smirk.

“Sorry if I scared you, I promise I didn’t follow you back here,” he added, his face morphing from a flirtatious, mischievous expression into a more apologetic one.  “I had to take a piss, too.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, really!” you replied, inwardly wincing at how your voice involuntarily quivered with excited anxiety.  The Hot Emo Bartender was standing in front of you.  Had he just complimented your ass?  “And, uhm, thank you!  For my ass.  I mean, for saying I look good.  Or, phenomenal, I think?”  You pinched your lips shut forcing yourself to cease your drunken rambling, but your reaction only made the man’s mouth curl into a grin as a laugh bubbled out of his throat.

“Go sober up in there, princess, then we’ll talk.  I’ll wait for you out here.”  The man ended his sentence by entering the second unoccupied bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

You quickly did the same.  The bathroom had the exact same aesthetic and lighting as the rest of the establishment, the mirror completely covered in graffiti and leaving little room to view your current appearance after you finished your business.  You gazed through the dried ink, fixing your hair with your fingers and pushing your boobs into place under your top, blowing an encouraging huff out of your mouth before washing your hands, drying them, and exiting the bathroom into the corridor once more.

The man had indeed waited for you, leaning nonchalantly against the wall with one leg up checking his phone.  He was tall, much taller than you, and his legs were long and skinny, complemented beautifully by his tight, bespeckled jeans.  The spots were definitely an odd aesthetic choice in your mind, but you couldn’t complain.  Somehow, they suited his vibe perfectly.  He picked his head up and looked you up and down, that charming, mischievous grin once again returning to his lips.

“Feel better?”

“Absolutely, I didn’t think you’d actually wait out here,” you confirmed.  Somehow, your voice had evened out from the anxious drunken stupor you sported before.  Maybe pissing out the alcohol did have its merits.

“Good, I wanted to talk to you but needed to see if you were too drunk first.  Those pineapple daiquiris are really something,” he explained.

You were very quickly gaining more comfort in his presence, isolated from the club beyond the corridor in the dim lighting that accentuated his cheekbones and gave him the sexiest aura you had ever seen.  You swallowed your pounding heart and returned his grin.

“Talk to me?  Out of everyone here?” you questioned, putting on your charm.

“I don’t just talk to any random bar patron,” he responded.  “In fact, I barely talk to anyone here at all.  But how could I pass up such an alluring face?”  He stepped across the corridor to you, reaching out a hand that smelled like the generic brand soap in the bathroom.  His callouses tickled the fine hairs of your cheek and chin.

“And ass?” you asked innocently, clearly enjoying the little game you two had initiated.

“And ass,” he repeated.  “Though…” his eyes trailed up and down your body from his closer angle, eating you up through your clothes.  “You’re definitely the most stunning girl I’ve ever seen, all around.”  His golden eyes met yours once more.  “You have beautiful eyes.”

He had done it now.  You were beyond flustered, convinced that your entire body was glowing red and steaming like a geyser from your anticipation and embarrassment at his tender compliments.  A part of you still wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t the type to talk up every woman at the bar, but Nami’s words from prior bounced through your skull.  You were drunk, you were hot, and damn it, your pants did make your ass look good!  You only live once, right?

With alcohol and adrenaline fueled courage you never experienced before, you closed the narrow gap between your bodies and pressed your lips against his, standing on your toes and grasping his shoulders to steady yourself.  The anxious voice in your head told you he was going to push you away, call you some horrible slur and leave you in the dust to regret every choice you made leading up to that moment.

You were very pleasantly surprised when his lanky arms looped around your waist, clutching you close to his sturdy form as he moved his lips against yours.  You weren’t an expert kisser by any means, but something about the way his mouth moved told you that he wasn’t actually used to doing this, more of a smooth-talker than a do-er.  He was reluctant to open his mouth to allocate for your tongue, instead simply pursing and unpursing his lips against yours.  The feeling made you pull away, failing to suppress the giggle that followed.

Before you had the chance to make any snide, lighthearted comment, however, a tattooed hand traveled down your arm and gripped your hand, dragging you toward the broom closet.  He fiddled with the padlock on the door without letting you go, shoving open the entrance with his shoulder and pulling you inside.  The door slammed behind you, now almost completely muffling the music blaring from within the club.  The two of you were now free from prying eyes that might wander into the corridor to use the bathroom, completely unaware of the actions taking place just one door away.

In the stark darkness of the closet, the man’s hands found the collar of your shirt and pulled it down as best as he could, encouraging you to slip your arms out and pull it over your head.  His lips pecked at your jaw, your chin, your neck, and the dip of your breast as you unhooked your bra and let it flop to the floor.  Your own hands grasped his ratty t-shirt and yanked it over his head, its loose fit making undressing his torso much easier.  Your fingers now had access to his bare skin, your breath hitching in your throat as you blindly felt around firm abdominal muscles that met a lean yet supple chest and broad shoulders.  Even through the lack of light you could tell just how attractive this man was.  A smattering of coarse hairs covered his chest and stomach, but for the most part he was well trimmed, save for the patch of hair that you felt at his naval.  You heard his breath catch in his throat as your fingers followed the dip of his pelvic bone and trailed along the belt of his jeans.

“Wait,” his airy voice muttered.  “I need to know your name.”

You laughed, divulging your information.  You felt his lips smile against the skin of your neck.

“I’m Law,” he added.

“Law…” you exhaled his name on your soft, aroused breath.  “Can you fuck me, Law?”

A low groan rumbled through Law’s throat as his hands now played at your own waistband.  “Anything for you, princess.”

[wwilloww]

sh. | chapter twenty three | jhs

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 5.8k WARNINGS AND TAGS non penetrative sex. some mild angst.

AN hey :) i'm that dude sliding into ur dms after not responding to ur text for three months but i AM here with a new chapter for you all. this one, for some reason, was a doozy to write, but i hope you find something warm in it waiting for you. more to come soon! love you--and thank you for sticking along with me on this ride!

← || series m.list || →

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE: WITHOUT A GOAL

Hoseok’s hand is warm in yours. You smile at him as he tugs you from Jimin’s bedroom. For a moment that is all there is: you, Hoseok, and the singular place where your bodies are joined. You are silent, curious about where he is bringing you. 

Namjoon calls your name from within a door. 

He jogs out before you have a chance to respond. “I’ve been looking for you!” he says with a grin. 

“Have you?” 

“I need a hand organizing some of the books in the library.” Then, sheepishly, “I thought you might like looking through some of them. I was hoping you’d help me.” 

You glance between Namjoon and Hoseok, trying to read their expressions, wondering if this is some remnant of your dream or if this is simply a perfectly normal conversation. 

“Hobi-hyung!” Taehyung calls, appearing at the end of the hallway. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

You and Hoseok share a look. “Apparently we’re quite popular,” he muses. 

“It seems,” you reply. 

“Sorry—” he mouths at you, as Taehyung slips his arm through Hoseok’s and tugs him away. You watch each other until the other disappears from view. 

Looking at Namjoon shakes loose the dregs of the dream from last night—the swirling mist of early morning, the possession in his eyes—as Namjoon leads you to the library. You watch his face closely for any recognition that the person you saw in your dream is the one standing before you. But his face is open– happy, even–taking in the sights and senses around him. 

“Is there a reason you keep pulling me away from Hoseok?” you finally ask Namjoon.

“No—why would you say that?” Namjoon asks, his brow furrowing. You shrug it off. 

“No reason.”

The day speeds by in a blur, and before long you find yourself at the dinner table, crowded around with your friends. Jin has whipped up a fusion meal: gochujang parmesan pasta with a whole brown butter spatchcocked chicken. It’s rich, creamy, and zings with acid at the end of the palate. You all coo over Jin’s culinary accomplishment, which he happily soaks up.

Jimin is a little quieter than normal, but when he’s not staring at his hands beneath the table, he’s consistently glancing at you, like he’s looking for something.  You offer him small smiles when you catch his gaze. He quickly looks away. It doesn’t feel like him. You have the sense he’s standing across a bridge from you, a forest, large and looming at his back. 

Where are you, Park Jimin?

—--------------

When dinner’s done, you all stay seated for hours around the table, laughing, talking, sharing small moments from your day. Jungkook shares that he tried to find a way onto the roof, which procures a very large, very enthusiastic scolding from the rest of you, Taehyung found some paints in an unexplored closet and has begun painting in his free time, and Yoongi sheepishly shares about a new song he’s been working on, in very vague, humble terms. You and Namjoon excitedly detail your work in the library, sorting books, and the discovery of a locked box of books. Everyone is enchanted by the story, and Jungkook offers to try to break the lock with a hammer, to which Namjoon shudders deeply.  

Though you never explicitly agreed to it, it’s become a tradition that you all eat dinner together each night. As the conversation winds down, your cheeks are heated from laughing, talking, and smiling so much. The gang breaks apart, some of you shifting back into the kitchen to finish dishes and tidying after Jin’s masterpiece. You and Jungkook tag team the table, collecting remaining dishes and napkins. 

Jungkook pauses, and leans across the table towards you. 

With a smile, he asks, “Wanna stay over tonight?” He waggles his eyebrows. 

“We’ve been meaning to have a moment alone,” Hoseok cuts in. You look up from your dishrag and spray bottle to find him standing in the doorway. You wonder how much he overheard of your conversation. We, you think. Hm. “Do you mind?”

You glance between Jungkook and Hoseok. 

“I did promise him earlier,” you say with a shrug to Jungkook. 

“Don’t you worry, Jungkook,” says Jimin, who also appears from the kitchen and lounges against the door. Somehow he manages to make every position—seated or horizontal or standing—look luxurious and effortless. “Why don’t you come hang out with me tonight?” 

“Really?” Jungkook says, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah—yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Mind if I join you two?” Yoongi chimes in. He, too, has emerged from the kitchen. Jungkook and Jimin nod, Jungkook’s face reddening slightly. You can read on his face what he’s imagining: the three of them tangled up in bed. 

This is may be the first time you’ve noticed Jimin and Yoongi being so straightforward with each other. You had always noticed the way that Yoongi would watch Jimin a little bit extra carefully than the others, his eyes tracking Jimin’s movements and the immediate surroundings whenever the latter was present. Before your group agreement you had always attributed it to Yoongi’s protective side, how he looked out particularly close for Jimin, despite Jimin’s lack of need for a guard dog. It had always seemed to you to be some kind of disagreement in perception, one you couldn’t always understand. Jimin had never needed protecting, not with his quick words and sharp judgment. But now, alone, stranded in the wilderness, who was Yoongi protecting Jimin from? 

“I, um, wanted to do some reading tonight anyways,” Namjoon chimes in, poking his head through the entryway. You exchange a glance, your gaze asking what no one wants to ask aloud: Do you want to be alone? He nods in response.

With arrangements settled, Hoseok slips his hand into yours. You look down at it, a little surprised. 

“Come on,” he says, and leads you to the back of the house. 

In the bedroom, you take in the sight of what is supposed to be your room (even if you share it). The last time you were here, you were getting ready for the dinner party that changed everything. The room remains unchanged, and yet it feels entirely different than the last time you were inside. 

You wonder where that red dress went. Knowing Namjoon, he probably returned it with a careful touch to its proper home shortly after the orgy. 

Standing in this room, something in you feels older, a little more mature. That’s not the word…

—Bigger?—

Yes, like you had grown, larger, more expansive, around the edges of your previous self. Has it really only been a couple days since you left your belongings here and began wandering the beds of the house? (Officially, and with everyone’s knowledge, that is.) The distance between now and then feels like it stretches weeks, time itself stretching taut and thin, despite it only being a handful of days.

Time seems to move so strangely here, in this house, like a river, barely moving in some places where it collects, stills, and becomes cold in the far reaches of its depths. And yet, there are other days that speed by with the quickness of a white water rapid. Right now, there is a part of you that feels caught in the eddies: whipped along and holding your breath. 

“You probably just want to just go to bed, don’t you?” Hoseok says as he strips off his sweater, revealing a simple t-shirt beneath. “You must be tired.” 

You come up behind him and wrap your arms around him, standing on your tiptoes. With your head on his shoulder, you look at him in the mirror. 

“Mmm. A little. Not too tired though.” The end of your sentence remains unspoken, but still understood: Not too tired to touch you.

You catch his gaze in the mirror and hold it for a moment. He smiles. A sense of ease and affection flutters in your chest. 

After a moment, though, that warmth becomes too warm, searing into your cheeks and making your heart flutter, and you break away, your hands falling to your sides as you take a step back. 

“Almost everyone in this house has asked something of me today, but I never learned why you pulled me out of Jimin’s room in the first place,” you say. 

“Do I need a reason? I just wanted to spend some one-on-one time with you. Is that too much to ask?” 

You startle, but gather yourself.“Never.” 

You both get ready for sleep, as if there’s nothing else to do. And when you have very thoroughly brushed your teeth and washed your face twice, instead of climbing into bed, you grab the book you were reading earlier in the tree and Hoseok promptly grabs his journal. You are avoiding the bed. 

You settle on the couch by the fireplace, sprawling out comfortably. The two of you lay there for a while, both minding your own business. It feels awfully domestic. Like you’re a married couple already settled into routine. The difference is—not a single word of the page in front of you is sinking into your mind.

 The difference is—you’re burning up, your whole body tuned to how close he lies—where his hands are (they’re playing with the edge of the page)—how his foot brushes against yours—how deep his voice resonates when he apologizes for nudging you. 

The difference is—you notice every edge of him. 

“Don’t apologize,” you say firmly. 

“Sorry—Don’t? Why not?”

You laugh. “I don’t ever want you to apologize for touching me. If anything I want you to touch me.”

“You do?” He stares blankly at you. 

“My god, Hobi,” you say, rolling on your side and discarding your book. “Sometimes you can be so thick.”

“Me?? I’m the thick one? And what about you? I’ve been waiting for days for you to pull me into a closet or a spare room or—god forbid—just kiss me out there in front of everyone—”

You reach for his hand, pulling it away from his book, and into yours. For a long moment, you both stare at each other, as if waiting for the other to make a move. And then, making a decision, you both move at the same time, hands reaching for faces, lips magnetized towards lips. 

Hoseok’s hand trails down your body, slipping beneath your pajama pants. Your hand wraps around his wrist, stopping his movements. 

“But—Jimin—” He said, I’m not allowed to come.

He chuckles. “It’s so sexy when you say another man’s name in my bed.”

You roll your eyes. “Behave,” you remind him. “But I did make him a promise. And in all honesty, I have no interest in being punished again. Today was enough.” 

Hoseok’s brows raise, and for a moment you think he’s going to ask about what happened between you and Jimin, and will end up hurting himself by wanting to hear the gritty details. But instead, he shakes his head and continues. “You know, not everything about sex has to be about orgasm,” Hoseok says, raising and waggling an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” 

“Sometimes sex can just be about pleasure. Instead of trying to chase something down, like a goalpost or, um…” he searches for the words. “Like some kind of race, where the only objective is to come. It can just be about the sensations along the way. Gentle pleasure.” 

“Edging, you mean,” you say, a little bit of disappointment in your voice. You have had enough of edging in the last weeks to last you an entire lifetime. You would consider yourself the resident expert of edging, considering how many orgasms you’ve been denied since arriving at the doors of this mysterious house, though you have a sense Jimin or Jin might try to come for your title. 

“No, not quite.” He frowns, trying to find the words. “I think edging brings you right to the cliff of an orgasm and hangs you over the drop for as long as you can hold out. The thrill is in not knowing if you can hold on or not.”

“Oof, all this talk of edges and cliffs hits a little too close to home,” you giggle.

“Okay, yeah that wasn’t the best way to say it.” He smiles. “But you know what I’m trying to get at, right?” You nod. “What I’m proposing, we just get to feel each other. Make each other feel good—without running. Running towards a finish line, I mean.”

That sparks an idea in you. “Where did you learn all of this?” 

Hoseok flushes. “Oh… You know.” 

“I don’t.” 

“It doesn’t really matter. Former partners. Reading.” 

You pass quickly by the first answer and focus on the second. “You read… about sex?” 

“Yeah. Sex. Psychology. Sexual health. Namjoon is my dealer.” 

You laugh. “Your dealer?”

“My book dealer,” he grins. You nod knowingly, well aware of one of Namjoon’s favorite activities: shipping his friends books during quarantine in the city. He sent the books out wrapped messily but compactly in brown construction paper. You can picture his notes, scrawled in pencil in the margins. He hated the thought of permanently marring a book with an ink pen, but in the same moment, couldn’t shut up with his brilliant ideas, even if it was received by the silence of a page. 

Namjoon had always been the designated librarian of your friend group, and was ever enthused to coerce anyone into reading whatever book suited his most recent interest with him. He had been trying to get a book club with you all up and running for years now, and yet—

“Never thought much about what it was that Namjoon was reading,” you murmur. 

“He’s got a diverse taste, that’s for sure,” Hoseok chuckles. “So, what do you say?” He leans in close, his fingers gliding over your belly. “Want me to make you feel good?”  

You’ve never really thought about the possibility of sex without a goal, without an orgasm to reach for at the finish line. But you nod, and smile, and his fingers slip beneath your pajamas again. 

At first he just explores you, his fingers tracing around your lower lips, pressing here, circling there. He doesn’t kiss you, but lays close enough, watching your face as you try to hold it together. But you can’t help it: little gasps slip out and pattern the silence. A gentle warmth begins to build in your belly. But without the urgency, the rush, the goalpost of it all, you find yourself focusing on the sensations in a deeper way than usual.

“Hobi—” you breathe. “It feels good.” 

“Good,” he grins. You reach for him, to slip your hands into his own pants, but he stops you. “Just let me make you feel good, okay?” 

That’s when he slips a finger inside you. He begins by pumping shallowly and oh-so painfully slow. You can feel every inch of him as he slips deeper on each thrust, opening you up for him. He’s careful, deliberate. 

“Close your eyes,” he whispers. “With your mind, I want you to trace where I’m touching you. Focus on the sensation of it all. Put all your attention there.” 

His other hand wanders your body, a gentle finger tracing your collarbone, a palm cupping and pressing against your breast, swirling touches against your belly. Your attention follows his. You feel your skin brighten, warm. All of it culminates in a sensation that he’s exploring you, learning you with a careful sense of duty. You can feel his diligence. 

“I want to be closer to you,” you gasp as he adds a second finger to you. And you mean it in more ways than one. But he answers the surface request, pulling you flush against his chest, lifting your leg over his hip. Your fingers cup his face, tracing over his features. 

He builds you to a slow, radiating heat, one that sifts through your whole body. You burn like embers, flushed and gulping for air. 

“Where are my hands?” he asks gently. “Follow them. Tell me what you feel.” 

“Warm. So warm, Hobi. Like sunshine.” 

Where he touches light radiates through your skin, down to your bones. It’s sex like nothing you’ve had before. There’s a part of you that keeps wanting to shift away from the slowness and sense of it all, to grab for more, to beg him to let you chase pleasure. It is the same part that has whispered since you arrived at the mountain house: run, run. The whisper turns to a shout: run, run. But when you breathe in deep and bring your attention back to touch—his finger circling your nipple, your bare feet brushing against the soft cotton of the sheets, his lips biting down on the soft flesh of your earlobe, his fingers moving slowly in and out of you—there is a new awareness, golden and bright. 

You take a deep breath. You settle into the feeling. 

It feels like forcing open a door, hinges rusted shut from disuse. 

It is a door that leads into your own body. It’s traitorous territory. But you breathe once, then again, sinking deeper, deeper, led by his touch.

You let your hips move against him, a slow grind. His hand is now between his and your pelvic bone, and you know that as you rock against him, he can feel it too. You shift closer, so you’re intentionally pressing against his groin, your hands tangling in his hair, raking slowly against his scalp.

The closer your bodies move, the more his touches blur into pleasure against your skin, the more the lines between you blur too. This is what you had all anticipated a few days ago, right? The muddling, the mess. You had told everyone you wanted to lean into it. But as sensation bubbles to the surface of your skin, so does something else within you: something dangerously warm. Something dangerously happy.

When he groans into your mouth, echoing your own pleasure, you know you’ve gotten what you want. 

Tonight, it’s so easy to find a quiet rhythm with him. It feels like it was never any other way. Without the element of chasing down an orgasm, there’s nowhere to go except here, now. Nowhere to go except towards him. 

That’s how you fall asleep, your bodies slowly grinding against each other’s, gasping against the other’s mouth, the other’s neck, the other’s chest until sleep swallows you whole. 

-----------

When you wake up Hoseok is pressed close to your face, his eyes wide open, a grin on his cheeks. 

“Oh my god are you watching me sleep?” You roll over, away from him, sleep fogged and groggy. 

“Come here,” he rolls you back towards him. “I was waiting for you to wake up. I have something to show you.” 

With his urging, you quickly get dressed, grab some coffee and something quick to eat, and head out. You’re sure he’s going to bring you outside.

“Hobi, maybe we shouldn’t,” you say. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, a look of genuine confusion on his face. 

“I don’t think any of our stints outside were any good,” you say. “Can we stay inside today? Please?” 

Hoseok nods. “That was the plan anyways. No outside for us, at least not for a while. We’ll stay inside today.” 

You smile at him.

He leads you to the back door, but instead of going outside, he takes a turn down a narrow hallway that you hadn’t noticed before. It leads to a spiraling, narrow staircase descending down into the unknown depths of the house. Though the white walls of the passageway are narrow, as if they might lead to a basement or root cellar, the steps shine as if they’ve been polished recently. As you step onto the first step, you notice a thin carving on the edge of every stair. A woodland scene: a bear, an evergreen forest, a collection of tree-loving creatures. The wood itself is gorgeous: a reddish lumber that glows in the dim light. A delicate handrail leads your descent.

“Where are we?” 

You’re in shock that even after all this time in the house, there are still parts you haven’t explored. A dark basement is hardly something you’d like to explore alone, but you trust Hoseok, so you give him your hand and let him lead you down the stairs, trying to ignore how they seem to melt into the darkened floor below.

The sound from upstairs dampens, the voices of your friends blending into silence as you journey deeper. 

The temperature too, drops, raising goosebumps on your skin.

You emerge into a dark hallway, and Hoseok’s grasp tightens around your hand. 

“This way,” he whispers. 

There’s a doorway at the end of the hallway, a simple thing, and you know that’s where you’re headed. 

Hoseok pushes the door open and light spills all over you. 

The room that opens before you is walled by a thousand mirrors, an oak-golden floor, and a sweeping modern chandelier dangling from the ceiling. To your right, a wall of windows looks over the valleys and peaks of the mountains. Today the light is bright and warm, and as it spills over the changing leaves, you feel like you are held in the center of a pendulum. 

You’re standing in a ballroom. 

“This is it.” 

“Goddamn, Hoseok, this is beautiful.” You step away from him to wander the room. In one corner is a baby grand piano, and you run your fingers over the keys. Perfectly tuned. 

“I thought you would like it.” 

“I love it.” 

There’s something about the open space and the reverberating light that fills you with energy. 

“Yoongi showed it to me,” Hoseok says. “I bet he loves coming down here.” He plinks a key too. “Where he can play and sing without anyone listening.” He smiles fondly, and then turns his attention to you. “I thought maybe today I could give you a dance lesson?” Hoseok offers. “It’s something we could do together. You know. Without having to fight off a rabid bear or dangle off a cliff.” 

“Risk management. I like it,” you laugh. 

“But also selfishly—I was missing dancing with someone. And I’ve been working on a new piece of choreography, and, well, it needs two people. Will you help me with my little experiment?” He gives you those doe eyes you know better than to say no to. Still, you hesitate.

“You know I’m no dancer.” 

“But you’re good enough.” 

“Are you saying ‘I’ll do?’” you laugh.

“Yes, basically. But also, I wanted to do this—”

Hoseok steps closer to you, wrapping his hands around your lower back. 

You had danced with Hoseok in the past,  stepping in when he needed a hand or wanted to practice teaching a new dance before bringing it to a studio. You were decent, you could admit that, but you were no professional. 

“You just want to touch me, don’t you?” you tease. 

“Of course I do.” 

“And last night wasn’t enough?”

“Of course it was enough. And now I want more.”

“Ah…” You trail off. “I dunno. I’m not at the level you’re used to.” 

“You’re at the perfect level,” he grins. “Please? For me?” 

You sigh and nod. “Fine. But you owe me.” 

“I owe you times a hundred! Yes! Thank you!” 

He bounds away from you, before flicking on a stereo. A remix of an old waltz comes on, synths and electronic iterations dotted throughout the classical sound. He pauses, puzzling over how to start. You can see it in his eyes, all of the steps of the dance existing at once, the story of the dance, and the logistics of how to pull it out of the trenches of his mind to share with you. And then it clicks.

“Maybe we can just start out with a basic waltz? Just to warm up?” 

“Absolutely,” you say, and offer him your hand. He messes with something on his phone—speaking of, when was the last time you checked your phone?—and the song changes to a traditional waltz. He sweeps you into his arms. 

And like that, you’re off. His left hand holds your right tightly, while his right hand presses gently against your back. You’ve done this with him before, and the steps come back quickly and easily. Before you know it you’re laughing gleefully as you twirl around the room. 

You can’t help but compare it to the dream. There’s that same warmth, the way both dream Hoseok and real Hoseok had felt identical. Or no-–that wasn’t it. You had glowed identically in their presence. 

That was it. 

“I dreamt about this,” you blurt, before you can think of what you’re saying. This is the first time you’ve spoken about the recurring—and intimate—dreams you’ve been having about your friends to anyone beyond Jimin.

“So you’re dreaming about me now?” When you don’t answer, he asks, “What did you dream?” 

“That you wanted me—to marry you or something. It was some old timey thing. There was a barn. And lots of candles. And you teased me, endlessly. And you wouldn’t kiss me.” 

“I’m sorry—” 

“Hobi, it was my own imagination that didn’t kiss me, not you.”

“Well dream Hobi was right about one thing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“That I want you.” 

You flush, letting your eyes drift down. 

The dance comes to an end and Hobi puts the original song back on. He shows you the dance once from beginning until end, miming a dance partner in his arms, before he walks you through his choreography step by step. Tongue caught between your teeth, you follow him painful step by painful step, over and over again, until you’ve gotten the movements down. 

“Now we try it all together?” 

“That wasn’t all together?” 

At first it’s stumbling and awkward, but it doesn’t take too long for you to catch the gist and begin moving in tandem with him. As your hips roll, so do his. A perfect mirror. As you turn, he’s ready to catch you and pull you into him. As you step towards him, he steps back. 

Your bodies move as one and it feels so easy, too easy with him. The movement of the dance feels so natural that you find yourself blurting out: “You’re easy.” 

“Excuse me?” He stops moving, an incredulous laugh breaking free from him. 

“Shit, no sorry—I mean. You feel easy.” 

He tilts his head, still not understanding. 

“These past couple of days. Everything has felt so nice with you. So simple.” 

He nods slowly, finally unraveling what you’re getting at. “Yes, I, well, I agree.” He steps away to turn off the music and all at once, as the gargantuan room around you settles into silence, you’re struck by the profound quiet. Although it’s frequently quiet in the house, you usually have at least a passing awareness of the other people in it, a shuffle from the hallway, a cough from the room next to you. Now, all you hear is your breath, and his. Now, it’s just you and Hoseok. 

You nod. You’re not really sure where you’re going, what thread you’re trying to pull at. You follow him across the dance floor. 

“I’m confused that it’s so easy.” 

“You’re confused?” He turns back to you. “Aren’t these kinds of things supposed to be easy?” 

“Yes—I mean, gosh.” You run a weary hand over your face. “It was so hard. After we fucked the first time. Not hard. It was so goddamn awkward. And in all honesty, painful too.” 

Hoseok grimaces. “Yeah, I—Even though I was shitting on everyone else and, you know, the whole ass dynamic, I don’t even know how to put into words how uncomfortable it was for me too. Even though it was my own fault, I hated it. I hated every moment of it.” 

You nod and squeeze his hand. 

He continues. “It feels so stupid because I can’t even remember what was holding me back from you,” he clears his throat. “From you all, I mean, when right now it feels so easy. It makes me think that I was a complete and entire dummy.” 

You chuckle. “You were a complete and entire dummy. But then again we both were.” 

You want to say that you’ve been holding back too, but you swallow the words down. This moment, everything, him, it feels like it’s drawing short. Like it’s so fragile that at the arrival of the wrong word or touch it would shatter around you, leaving you too, broken into a million pieces. 

“We work well together, you know,” Hoseok says. “We’re good partners.” 

“It is really easy dancing with you!” 

“I don’t just mean dancing.” 

You stop. “What do you mean then?” You ask tentatively.

He pulls you close, runs his nose against your neck, nips against your ear. “I mean, I think you and I work really well together. It’s so natural it makes me wonder.” 

“Wonder what?” 

He laughs. “What it would be like to lean in—to explore this connection. To keep making it work.” 

“Well, of course–” you stop yourself. Well, of course we can keep exploring and making it work. You swallow the words, swallow the promise of offering him something more than what you can give. “Well, of course there are the others too. It feels so wonderful to be connected to you as well as to the others. Like it feels like it’s not supposed to work? But it totally does.” 

“Yeah, uh.” Hoseok steps back, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “The others. Totally.” 

You notice the tension but you’re too worried to step into it and interrogate it, lest you upset the precarious balance you and Hoseok hold these days, the tightrope between past and present that it feels like you’re constantly walking. 

“I mean it, Hoseok. It feels like this should all be a disaster but—it’s been the best part of my year.” 

You get him to smile at that. “I know. It’s been really special for me too.” The two of you grin at each other for a long moment, and then Hoseok is blinking and stepping away, moving towards the speaker to flip it on again. “Again? I think we can really get that final move down.” 

“Alright,” you sigh. “Again.” 

This time, when you go through the steps, you really feel the core of them. You understand the story behind it. You keep catching Hoseok’s eye in the mirror, and find his gaze glimmering and full of admiration. Sweat beads on your forehead with the effort of it all, but you’re exhilarated. In glances and glimpses in the expansive mirrors, you watch two bodies—bodies so familiar you might mistake them for those of a pair of old lovers—glide across the floors. Behind your figures, the valleys stretch, cavernous and deep. The mountains radiate with the kind of sun that only spills right as the seasons are in shift.

And then, you are back in the moment, trying to remember the next move, and the next, and the next. 

When he pulls you against him, he slips his leg between yours and raises an eyebrow, pausing longer than the dance calls for. The command is clear: Grind on me. 

You give a tentative swivel of your hips against him, gaze stuck to him, his form. 

“That’s all you got?” His hand on your hip presses against you, showing you the way. Showing you how to move your hips. You lean forward, so your lips are at his ear. Your breath ghosts over him, and you can feel him shudder beneath you, before his strength returns and he continues guiding you. 

“Like this,” he says. 

Sure, the move is part of the dance, but not quite like this. 

“Again,” he breathes. 

This time you shift your energy, bringing your focus to your hips. With careful deliberation, you grind your hips forward, pushing your pelvis to his, letting his thigh press up to your core. It’s the perfect amount of pressure to have you shuddering against him. 

“Fuck,” you groan. 

“I love when you have that filthy mouth on you.” 

You smile into his shoulder. His hand continues to roll your hips against him, matching the beat of the music. 

And then he shifts, his weight pulling away, pulling you with him, resuming the dance. But this is different. As you move, your bodies are pressed together without air, your lips ghost over one another’s, your fingers dig into each other’s flesh, desperate for more. When the dance dictates that he’s at your back, he presses his pelvis to you and you feel him against you. In the mirror you catch his gaze and he smirks. 

“This okay?” he whispers against your neck. 

“More than okay,” you reply. 

There’s a darkness swirling in his gaze, a contradiction to the usually sunny disposition you’re so used to. It’s a warm darkness, one that beckons you near, one that sings sweet promises of drowning oh-so gently. 

Do you want to drown?

In the next step you’re spinning back into him, and all choreography forgotten, you kiss him, hands flying to his face, pulling him down to you. He seems surprised at first, but soon relaxes into you, his arms wrapping around you, hands splayed across your lower back. Your kisses are hungry, needy. 

It’s like you’re making up for lost time. You devour each other, lips mashing together messily, hands wandering, clutching, gripping. Time slips past you like a stream. 

He begins to walk you backwards, until your back hits the cold surface of the mirror. You gasp at the cool sensation, your body split between the heat of exertion and the livening shock of the glass. His lips devour yours, his tongue scraping against the roof of your mouth. You pull him as close to you as possible and whisper in his ear: 

“I want you.” 

“Fuck. Forget the dance. Bed. Now.” 

— 

You sprint through the halls and up the stairs, laughing, giggling, Hoseok pulling you forward, forward. When he kisses you against the wall of your bedroom, you melt. When he slips under the covers with you, ignoring the knocking on the door and the sound of one of your friends calling your name, you turn into liquid in his hands. As he fucks you with his fingers, while you take him into your mouth, you hum with pleasure. 

Still at the back of your mind, the knot of a question sings: Why don’t we ever talk about what happened that night, all those months ago? It’s repeating like a chant, in tune with the sounds of pleasure that he pulls from your body over and over and over again.

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[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Trapped in Silk (Vampire!Thranduil x Human!Fem!Reader)

Summary - After some time alone to stew in your punishment, the elven king returns with two offers…offers you did not quite catch. Now after mindlessly blurting out a number, you must deal with the "punishment" at hand.

Warnings - Smut, language, female reader, afab reader, vampire!Thranduil, brat!Reader (not as apparent), female genitalia (reader), male genitalia (Thranduil & Guard OC), name calling, pet names, praise kink, voyeurism, threesome (not as noticeable), oral (both male & female receiving), choking, implied mind-control, mention of blood, mention of drinking blood, biting, impact play (slapping), sensation play (Thranduil being cold, Guard being warmer), size play (brief), blind-folding, bondage, sex toys (pretend they exist in middle-earth once again), slight dom!Reader, slight sub!Guard OC, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, orgasm control & denial, overstimulation, & a crappy fluff scene. (I hope this is all, I apologize if I missed anything!)

Pronouns & POVs - She/Her (Reader is also called a woman a few times), third-person-ish

Word Count - 8,800+

A/N - Here I thought the warnings for the first chapter were bad…this took ages to write when I first posted due to utter chaos breaking out while I was in the middle of writing. I apologize if there is any grammar or anatomy errors, I use an online checker so it does miss a few things & I am genuinely awful at anatomy! Pure smut under the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

That familiar heavenly static spread throughout your entire body, starting from the tips of your toes up towards the heated flesh of your cheeks. Your lower body mindlessly rocking against the speeding silicone - the muscles within your stomach clenched and trembled in harmony alongside the muffled hums.

A faint sheen of sweat glistened upon your forehead as you writhed in pleasure against your restraints, beads of sweat trickling down your temples. Your hips rocked in slow, steady circles against the heavenly silicone as the corners of your lips further dampened with salvia.

"Holy shit!" The gasp fell out of your plump lips as you were dragged further down the endless rabbit hole of pleasure, again. Every atom within your being trembled alongside the speeding vibrations that rested between your thighs.

 The speed that your chest rose and fell quickened as you began to come back from your last high. Was this number four or five? Was there already a five? You had lost count of the endless times that heavenly release graced your body, and yet, you still desperately yearned for more.

"Having fun, pet?" The sudden warm vibration against your neck made your desperate form tremble further; the beautiful blur of your bobbing head made the familiar pair of thin lips curve upwards into a faint, mischievous grin.

How he wished it was bobbing for another reason- patience, Thranduil. That would come soon enough, and so would he.

"Such a responsive little slut." He purred as the tips of his frozen fingers began to glide up your sprawled out arms; a trail of goosebumps was left behind each inch of flesh he touched upon the steady path towards the restraints.

His hands were quick to loosen the smooth ribbon around your wrists - only enough to ease the tightness and tension it held upon them but not free you from them, never freeing you from his cruel grasp. 

A shiver roamed down your spine at the sudden cold glide of his fingers tracing your sides - the cooling sensation against your burning skin was a brief distraction from the unlimited pleasure that rested between your thighs.

His slender hands came to a halt as they hovered above your thighs, his hungry-pale eyes feasting upon your bare flesh for a moment as he attempted to restrain himself.

The bare sight of you was utterly addicting, one that could pull him away from the realities of his cruel job with ease no matter the endless times he had seen you like this before; he had to admire it - he had to feast upon it.

The corners of his lips began to dampen with saliva as he remembered that heavenly taste. Bitter, metallic, and far sweeter than any fruit he had ever tasted before. More addicting than any wine that had graced his lips and far more heavenly than any meal any had prepared for him prior. It was his source of life as much as it was yours.

His hungered thoughts were soon broken at a pathetic whine that slipped through your plump lips, his back teeth sinking into the inner flesh of his right cheek as his freezing hands continued on their steady glide down your burning flesh.

An equally tortuous action for you as you yearned for nothing more than to touch him, truly feel him if not inside of you - then the simple sensation of his frozen flesh upon your fingertips would do as well.

A desire that grew stronger at a familiar soft click, the silicone suddenly falling in all motion as the once addicting view of you morphed into something far more divine, far more otherworldly as pure, unfiltered desperation began to spread throughout your body.

A disappointed groan slipped out of your parted lips as your thighs began to tighten around the silicone as your hips started to sway in slow, circular motions.

Silently praying it would restart as your thighs tightened around it or that any being who was listening would restart it for you, to gift you with an ounce of pleasure that you so desperately craved - so desperately needed.

But, your prayers went unheard. After all, the only being that could grant them within these twisted halls preferred your whining pleads over your joyous cries from answered prayers.

The sudden aching boom of his ice-cold palm coming down upon your throbbing clit echoed throughout the silent halls, a loud yelp flying out of your mouth as you writhed against the smooth restraints. Yearning for more of the bitter pleasure you knew that only he could truly bring you.

"Now, now, pet." He tsked - the sound of his voice reminded you of the rattle from a venomous snake's tail. His chilled hand hovered above your heated, damped flesh for a moment before continuing its steady descent down your legs.

Taking in every curve, indent, and scar they met upon their journey, each feather-like touch a silent reminder of how much he adored you - anger and all.

"I think you've had enough fun,"  The low snarl of his voice cut through the harsh static that filled your ears, his hands quickly busying themselves with freeing your ankles from the tight silk that restrained them. 

The action was a mindless attempt to restrain himself for one last time before caving to his inner demands to corrupt you - to feed his thirst. "however, I believe it is my turn for some fun as well."

Though you could not see him, you swore you could hear that mischievous grin that he had plastered upon his face as the silk dropped onto the bed. Your thighs were quick to squeeze around the silicone even tighter, holding your breath as you attempted to squeeze down upon any button your skin touched while you mindlessly ground against the smooth silicone tip.

The scent of pure, utter desperation danced within his nostrils as he watched the addictive, primal-like sight before him burning into his mind for a later date. The speed at which your hips rolled, the indents and curves your body made to each motion, the quivering of your lower lip as you felt even a mere spark of pleasure, and the scent of pure - utter desperation that filled the room. A memory he would surely be fond of later on, but for now-

"Don't you think so, my starlight?" He hissed, yanking the dampened silicone out from the tight grasp of your inner thighs. He could not let that thing replace him; how funny. The elven king was jealous of a pathetic piece of plastic.

The blurry sight of your head rapidly bobbing eased the burning jealousy within the pit of his stomach slightly. Good, he was still your top priority. The corners of his thin lips rose into another mischievous grin as the soft whoosh of his clothes falling onto the floor danced caught within your ears.

"That's a good little slut." The cold purr against your neck sent a shiver down your spine as your inner thighs began to dampen further; it was as if a switch within you flipped as nothing seemed to matter anymore except earning yet another praise from his majesty. 

A familiar soft click danced throughout the heavy room as you felt the heat of his breath sinking into the crook of your neck, part of you knowing all too well what heavenly sight lingered outside of the rouge silk that filled your view.

The way his breath hitched against your neck furthered this image within your mind, how the pattern of his breathing wavered every other second due to the addictive scent of your blood dancing within his nostrils - the things he would do to bury his fangs into you. How his silk-like strands of hair would graze upon your neck and chin as he groaned under his breath, his limbs must have begun to tremble as his grip upon his throbbing cock tightened.

The bed creaked as his weight shifted again as the unsteady heat of his breath grew closer towards your neck, his inner-self screaming at him to sink his fangs into your flesh and claim you again. But - it quickly faded away alongside the soft clicking of his hands gliding upon his cock. No, not yet. It was not time yet.

The tension that danced within the air was tighter than the restraints that prevented you from aiding his majesty in his current endeavors. The things you would do if these damned restraints were on him, hell, the things you would do to that idiotic guard if it meant you would get a moment of pure, unfiltered pleasure again. 

"Open." The low command quickly pulled you away from the tight grasp your depraved thoughts had upon you, your back teeth freeing the hold they had upon the inner flesh of your mouth as your lips parted open. How long have you been chewing on your cheek? 

A question you would never find an answer for, nor did you desire one the moment the throbbing tip of his cock slid into your mouth - everything else fading into nothingness as the familiar tang of him graced your tongue.

An odd taste, one bitter and salty that made your eyes well with tears and your mouth water, and yet, you could never truly get enough of it.

The corners of your lips further dampened with escaping saliva as he continued to push his cock further inside of your warm, wet mouth. "Fuck." He hissed in pleasure as the damp heat of your mouth fully encased his cold, throbbing flesh. This time, a faint shiver roamed throughout his body.

His slender fingers tangled within the back of your hair as he began to thrust his cock into your mouth at a slow speed, allowing you to adjust to the familiar taste and sensation before the pace of his hips quickened.

The hot tears which once welled in the corners of your eyes began to trickle down your cheeks, dampening the silk which shielded them. 

As the speed of his hips began to quicken, you felt the built-up mixture of saliva and precum within your mouth begin to spill over - rolling down onto your chin and slowly trickling down onto your neck.

The sight of your pure, utter corruption left the elven king completely hypnotized as his limbs began to move on their own accord. The once soft grip upon your head tightened as he picked up the speed, tangled fingers bobbing your head back and forth as he continued to ram his cock into your mouth - fucking it as if you were nothing but a toy to him.

Your pathetic gags were completely muffled upon his cock as he watched your plump lips swallow it whole; his moans were quick to mask the noises you were making within your ears alongside the wet slap of his cock thrusting into your mouth.

The pair of hungry pale eyes burned into your skull as he slowly slid his cock out of your mouth, the throbbing tip resting upon your lips as your lungs began to fill with air. Your chest rose and fell in sync with the pulsations of his cock, small gasps expanding within your lungs as he watched you - waiting for a signal that you were okay or needed more time. 

One he quickly received as your lips parted and a nod of your head, a brief wave of relief washing throughout his body before he shoved your head back down - towards the base of his enlarged cock.

"Fuck. Good slut." He hissed in pleasure, holding your head in place as he watched your lips swallow him whole - barely hugging the base of his cock before he began to puppet your head again. The knot within his stomach began to twist and strain as you hollow your cheeks, giving him control but with a brief twist.

The warm twitching caress of your tongue curling around his chilled cock with every thrust he made, made his thrusts quickly grow more unhinged. His muscles tensed with each thrust of his hips as he continuously rammed his cock into your mouth, the throbbing tip hitting the back of your throat with each motion making new tears spill out of your eyes with a choked sob and gag.

The strained not within his stomach threatening to snap at the new vibrations against his cock, his eyes darting around the room in an attempt to control himself, an attempt which failed as his gaze fell back upon you -

A string of saliva and precum clung onto your chin and his cock; the once rouge blindfold stained a muddy gray with your tearful makeup. And finally, the rouge-hue that once enhanced your lips had been smeared across your face and the base of his cock; faint impressions from your plump lips decorated the king's lower abdomen amongst the veins and scars.

The divine sight of your corruption was the final push that sent him over the edge of bliss and into a shallow abyss of pleasure. "Shit!" His hips came to a halt as he held your head in place, a muffled gag falling upon your cock as your lips wrapped around the entirety of his base one last time, your nose pressed firmly into the toned, lower flesh of his abdomen as white ropes quickly flooded your mouth.

The familiar salty-bitter taste of it made you gag again as you squirmed within his grip, but he held you still as rope after rope continued to flood your mouth to the very brim - threatening to spill out of the bruised corners of your lips.

"Don't waste a single fucking drop, slut." The pressure upon the back of your head eased ever so slightly as you stopped your squirming, yet, the pressure quickly traveled elsewhere - the sides of your nose. The unsteady flow of air you had came to a halt as the salty liquid swished around your hollowed cheeks, giving your tastebuds no room to escape from the unpleasantly addictive taste.

Your nose scrunched upwards within his grip as you squeezed you swallowed, your face scrunching up in brief disgust as the pressure upon your nose faded away.

"Good whore." The king hummed contently while lightly tapping your cheek before he began to back away, the bed creaking under his shifting weight as his cock slid out of your mouth completely - the string of saliva and cum that was once attached to it had dripped down onto your chin and chest.

An onslaught of coughs and gasps escaped your mouth as you attempted to regain your breath, the bitter sting of cold air filling your lungs amongst the onslaught of coughs. The harsh sound of your ragged breaths appeared to silence everything around you or nearly everything. Beneath the coughs and unsteady gasps, you could have sworn you heard the tap of covered feet entering the room, but it must have been your imagination! Right?

"Easy little dove. I've got you." His loving coo eased away most of your worries as you felt the comforting glide of your lover's hands trailing your trembling body, a pleased sigh escaping your lips as you felt yourself drifting away within the waves of his coolness. Your breath returned to a steady pace as you listened to the sweet nothings your lover whispered as his hand continued to roam your body.

"You have been such a good girl. I think you have earned a reward." He hummed, pressing a kiss on the tip of your nose as his hands began to reverse their trail - now roaming towards your upper body. "What do you think, my dove?" A question quickly answered by the sight of your head bobbing rapidly, finally. You would get what you deserved.

"Good girl." The heat of his words gently caressed your lips as the bed creaked beneath him, his weight shifting forwards, his lips hovering above yours - a mere breath away, as he released your wrists from the cruel silk that encased them. 

Freedom that went unknown to you the moment his cold lips encased yours, static ringing within your ears as time around you came to a halt, lips becoming one while everything faded away. 

The dizzying scent of pine and tobacco swarmed in your nostrils as his cold tongue slipped into your mouth, the once steady pounding within your chest and veins rising in speed as he breathed you in.

A low satisfied hum vibrated against your lips as your tongues began to tangle with each other, the graceful dance masking the delicate, cold pull of your hands towards him.

The bitter-metallic scent that lingered beneath your skin became even more alluring as a tingling warmth began to flood your veins. Biting back a hungry snarl, the elven king began to lead the once graceful dance into a battle between your tongues - neither side daring to back down as did neither side within himself.

A quickly short-lived battle as the cold pressure that once laid upon your lips had faded into the static of the background, your last moan tingling upon the plump flesh. Every fiber within your being vibrating but, something felt off.

As your hands began to glide upon his toned body, you felt a familiar smooth cling upon your wrists; when had he put these back on you?! Each twisting attempt to free yourself from them fell flat as the silk began to squeeze into your wrists tighter.

A low chuckle broke through the tense static that roamed the air as a faint heat grazed the crook of your neck. "Now, now, pet." The words vibrated into your neck as his hands began to trail down your sides again.

The cooling glide of his fingertips tracing each curve and indent your flesh held sent a shiver down your spine. 

"Either you stay still like a good girl, or-" The last word clung to his lips for what felt like an eternity. The coolness of his hands radiated onto your flesh as they now hovered above your hips. The sound of your heavy breaths swarmed the air. Odd, it did not feel like you were breathing that hard.

"I will leave you tied to the bed. Alone." The empty threat made your voice rise in pitch as an endless spew of whining pleads escaped your lips, a crashing wave of promises to be a "good girl" quickly followed. Your mind raced with thoughts of his cold touch back upon you, or better - within you.

"That's what I thought." He hummed into your neck; the sensation of his soft, ice-cold lips gliding down your skin left a trail of goosebumps behind. His cold hands lightly traced small circles upon your hips as his lips glid across your body.

From your upper abdomen down towards your lower navel, the elven king laid a kiss upon every curve and scar - ensuring to paint over each old, drab indent with a fresh, vibrant bruise from his soft lips before making their way upwards.

Though you could not see it, you could feel the smugness of his grin with each kiss that pressed into your soft skin. "Now, about your reward." The heat of his words fell back onto your lips as the tips of his fingers slid up your sides, a swift movement that made you tremble momentarily.

"You have two choices." His hands began to trail up towards your head, fingers roaming through your hair towards the silk strap as the bed creaked under the shift of his weight. "Pick one." The room fell flat as the words bounced around in your skull, had you missed the options he had given you or was this another game?

"I-" Words caught within the back of your throat and formed into a lump as you laid there, motionless. Just pick anything, Y/N! He said two choices, two, so pick one- "I choose the second option." The words wavered once they finally escaped your plump lips - it was now your breath's turn to catch within your throat.

Static began to refill the air as everything fell flat, your words circling in your head as you laid against the silk, wondering if you had made the right choice - or if there was even a choice at all. 

"Very well." The simple hum of words allowed the bottled-up breath to escape your throat and replace it with a fresh one; a soft tap echoed throughout the silent room as his hands busied themselves within your hair, finally freeing your eyes and returning your vision. "Sit up. Eyes stay closed." 

A simple command that went unquestioned within your lust-drunken mind, the bed creaking softly under your shifting weight while your eyelids remained heavy. "Good girl. I will tell you when to open them." The heat of your breaths ghosted the others' lips, your heart stalling for a beat as you felt the warmth slowly grow closer and closer until it completely encased your lips.

A pleased hum vibrated against his lips as you further surrendered yourself to the cooling meld of his lips against yours. A sensation that lasted upon your lips only as long as the vibrations of your pleased hums against his. "And open."

The simple command bounced around your mind as the heavy lids of your eyes flew open before closing a few times, allowing your blurry vision to focus on the fiery-haired man who stared up at you from in between your legs. Wait, fiery-haired?!

A vocalized squeak slipped out of you as you backed yourself into the silk pillows, your gaze shifting from the emerald pair watching you curiously towards the sapphire ones that watched you hungrily.

"Now," The cold voice began, a mischievous twinkle flashing behind his darkened eyes. An ice-cold hand cradled the side of your burning cheek. "you do not have to do this, however," He paused again as he lowered his hand slightly, his thumb now resting upon your plump lower lip. "he has agreed to serve at your command for the night. Only tonight."

Only tonight. The words bounced around your skull while you tried to wrap your mind around the situation. Or whatever was left of it.

"I..." A knot began to weave within your stomach as you felt both pairs of eyes burning into your form, one that managed to weave itself in-between the strings of pleasure and worry that rested within the pit of your stomach. "Are you sure about this-" "Entirely." The eerily calm tone of his voice further weaved the knot within your belly and stirred the confusion within your head.

"After all, I gave him quite the show earlier. It is only fair he returns the favor." The king stated as if it was a well-known fact you had forgotten. "However," He began, the cold glide of his thumb swaying back and forth upon your lips soothingly. "if you are not comfortable with it, I will send him away and let you rest for the night-" "NO!" 

The heat within your cheeks burned hotter than you had felt prior, the corners of your lips curving upwards into a nervous grin as you felt both pairs of gemstone-colored eyes further burn into your flesh - into the darkest depths of your soul and desires.

"I meant, erm, no." The words escaped your lips in a breathy laugh. "I wanted to ensure that you were okay with it because, well, you are a bit-" "Possessive?" His grip upon your face tightened for a moment, the frozen sensation of his palm rubbing into your skin as you attempted to nod your head.

"Why, of course, I am possessive." The corners of his thin lips curved upwards into a smug grin as the bed creaked beneath his shifting weight, the heat of your breath caressing his lips. "I have the prettiest woman in middle-earth; I'd be a fool if I were not." The gentle tone of his words made your lips curve upwards; he always knew what strings to tug at within your heart to make you smile.

"Now, tell him what you want, dove." The breeze of his breath graced your lips again as his cold hand continued to caress your face, a soft hypnotic attempt to reveal your true desires. "He is under your command." "I want him to eat me." You breathed against his lips, your smile transferring onto his at your innocent request.

"Tell him, pet, not me." The hypnotic command sunk into your lust-drunk brain, making a string of nearly incoherent words fly out of your plump lips and vibrate against his cold ones.

Though the elven king would never admit to it, he loved watching you command his subjects, treating them as if they were beneath you only to slip away with their king not far from their posts to have their sensitive ears filled with another form of your screams. 

"I want you to eat me." Though your words wavered, the command remained firm. The shimmering emerald eyes adverting from your gemstone ones up towards the pale blue pair, waiting for the nod of his head so he may begin. One he quickly received.

Unlike your beloved king, he started far more gently with you - his warm lips pressing delicate kisses upon your inner thighs as his hands hovered above your hips as if you were a fire ready to burn him.

"You may touch her." His lightly calloused hands rested upon your hips upon the king's approval. The warmth and gentleness of his touch felt rather peculiar compared to the frozen, rough chill you had grown accustomed to from your lover - not that you were complaining.

His hands delicately traced circles upon your hips as he leaned further in between your inner thighs, the flesh of his cheeks quickly matching the fiery hue of his hair the further he went. "Hurry up before I change my mind." The king's cold tone boomed throughout the tense air, the heat of the guard's breath jolted forwards at the sudden outburst.

And with a final look shared between both men, the guard's wet, warm tongue finally found itself against your aching cunt. You could not help but gasp at the new, strange sensation - far too accustomed to the bitter chill of your lover against you - but you could not help but sink further into him the more he lapped against you.

A slew of pathetic whines fell out of your parted lips, the lids of your gemstone-colored eyes growing heavy while the weight of your head tilted back onto the silken pillow as you sunk into the hypnotic sensation of the guard's warm tongue against your core. 

The warm tickle of his hands gliding up your thighs sent a shiver down your spine as the speed of his tongue against your throbbing cunt began to slow. His attention shifted from the entirety of your pussy to swirling slow, delicate circles against your aching clit. 

"How is he, my dove?" The vibration of your lover's words against your neck distracted you from the smooth warmth slowly inching closer to your core. "So good." Every syllable of the two words hovered upon your lips, barely falling out of them, as your body threatened to tremble again.

"Tell him, not me, pet." The lids of your eyes snapped open at his words, your lips falling open further as his command slipped through your lustful mind unquestioned. "You feel so go-fuck!" The sudden warm stretch of the guard's fingers entering your aching core brought everything to a halt.

Not only was he far warmer than the king, though even the bitter winter air was warmer than him, his fingers were also longer and thicker than the chilled slender ones you had grown so fond of.

Each thrust of his skillful fingers stretched out your inner walls in a way you had only known your lover's cock to do so; you could not help but wonder about the sizes elsewhere.

The weary pair of emerald eyes locked onto yours as he continued the steady pace, his lips and tongue still paying keen attention to your aching clit, blissfully unaware of the loud moans falling out of your parted lips.

"That's it slut." The king purred against your neck, the vibrations making your inner walls clench further around the thick fingers that roamed deep within you. "Sing for us, songbird." And you did.

The weight of your skull sunk further back into the silken pillows as you melted further into the glide of the guard's fingers, a faint twinge of guilt forming within your belly alongside the weaving knot of pleasure as you realized you never quite caught his name. Though, that was the least of your concerns now.

 "Ah!" The whining gasp echoed throughout the silent halls as the guard's fingers struck your core repetitively, the suction around your clit growing more intense, your thighs wrapping around his skull while your tied hands began to glide upwards.

"Do not-" A thwack echoed throughout the room as your hands neared your face. "-cover your face." The heat of his breath drifted away from your neck as a familiar coldness encased your wrists. "You will show him how pretty you look when you cum."

The knot within your stomach tensed further as you laid there at the mercy of the two men, forgetting that you were supposed to be in control. 

Your hips began to raise and lower in sync with the guard's motions as a familiar static-like heat began spreading throughout your body, thighs trembling against the sides of his fiery skull as the waves of pleasure rose higher. Threatening to whisk you away, the ties within your stomach tightening further, nearing the breaking point until-

"That's it, songbird. Cum for us." With that simple command and a loud whine, you broke. Static roaming throughout your entire body as your toes curled, slipping away into the rabbit hole of endless pleasure as the rest of the world began to fade away.

The pressure of your thighs upon the guard's head tightened as your lover lifted your wrists to his face, the scent of pure lust roaming throughout your veins overwhelming his desires. The last thread of strength he held within himself began to fray the further you fell, and this time, he did not try to fight it.

"Ah!" The sudden sting of the skin upon your left wrist tearing made your body tense as you were brought back to reality for a mere moment; any thoughts you had regarding the pain upon your wrist faded away the moment your lover moaned into it.

The bitter-sweet metallic tang of you flooded into his mouth as his sapphire eyes glazed over; a sense of relief roamed through his stilled veins as he continued to claim you, claiming you in a way that he never could.

The endless, bitter sting of blood flowing into his mouth furthered the electricity that roamed throughout your pounding veins as you laid there - sprawled out for all to see, desperately fighting to come down from the high you once yearned to reach.

His moans stifled into pleased vibrations against your wrists as your life source continued to seep into his mouth, the last drop far tastier - far more lustful - than the previous one as he verged on the edge of draining you dry. Desperate to quench the thirst that roamed deep inside of him if it was not for one thing, the one thing that led to this situation to begin with - his love for you.

And with a final reluctant suction, the bitter pinch of his fangs departed from the sensitive flesh of your wrist. The chilling sensation of your lover's tongue against the open wound sent a brief shiver down your spine, unaware of his desperate attempt to catch the final heavenly droplets that escaped from your bruised wrist before allowing them to rest on your panting chest.

The uneasy speed at which your chest rose and fell gradually subsided as the cold air began to fill your lungs, your previously tense figure sunk into the smoothness beneath you as your thighs loosened around the redhead's skull.

"Good girl." The chilling tap of your lover's fingers against your cheek aided you back down from your high, the corners of your lips curved upwards into a blissful smile as your lustful gaze shifted upwards to meet his.

His pale sapphire eyes burned holes into your skull as he drank up the heavenly sight, wishing he did not stop the physical drinking as his desperate thirst returned the longer he gazed down at you.

The sudden smooth sensation of the guards' hair gliding against your thighs drifted your attention away from the elven king, watching as the fiery head of hair departed from your legs alongside the slender, now glistening, fingers that once roamed inside of you.

The previously worry-filled emerald eyes now blinked up at the pair of you just as mindless, if not more, as you - patiently awaiting his next command.

"Come here." The low command was nearly instantly acted upon as the guard quickly scurried next to his king. Silently hoping his majesty would not notice how tight his trousers had become and how his eyes drank in every ounce of you.

Gazing upon every bare inch that was on display as if he were a parched traveler who had finally come across a waterhole. Desperate to quench his ever-growing thirst, as was the creature who stood beside him.

"Clean them." The king now commanded you, yanking the damped hand to rest not far from your face allowing the slender, glistening fingers to fill your sight. 

The corners of your lips curved into a mischievous grin as they parted open, allowing the peculiar, bitter tang to fill your mouth.

Your tongue danced between the crevasses of the warm flesh that rested in your mouth, sucking against them as you had your lover's cock not too long ago while you mindlessly blinked up at the guard. 

The flesh of his cheeks still burnt as brightly as his hair, his lower jaw clenched as his molars grasped at the inner flesh of his cheeks from the sensation, and his emerald - once fear-filled - eyes quickly shifted their burning gaze onto the ground.

Once again, silently hoping none would notice how tight his trousers had become as he was far more fearful of the torture your lover would bestow upon him for his enjoyment than what the painful restraints he called pants were doing to his aching cock.

It was a miracle that any blood flow reached his lower body, let alone his cock.

The pressure upon his fingers eased as they left your lips with a pop, your tongue grazing over the tips of his fingers a final time - the mischievous grin never leaving your soft lips.

"That's a good slut." He purred, watching as the slender fingers now dripped with the wetness of your saliva. "Now, get up. On all fours." The command made your lips fall into a disappointing line, yet your gaze stayed glued upon the lustful man before you, pushing yourself upwards into a seated position.

Your gaze never left his as your sweaty palms sunk into the smooth silk beneath you, nearly slipping yet managing to make it appear as graceful as always - or at least that was the tale they spouted to others when discussing their latest conquests.

"I said, now." The boom of his hand coming down against your clit bounced echoed throughout the tense room. A loud yelp flew out of your plump lips as your body jolted backward at the static feeling.

The familiar electric sensation roamed throughout your veins as if the simple flick of his palm against your aching clit had shocked you into feeling every atom that roamed within your veins.

“Now, slut.” He warned lowly, though only two words - they dripped with the same amount of lust as something else dripped within the guard’s pants. “Or do you want to start counting?” 

The question made you hesitate for a moment, wondering if the strikes against your aching bundle of nerves would all be worth it to push his buttons a bit further, but you had promised to be good for an ounce of pleasure and - you intended to keep that promise; for now.

The bed creaked as you shifted your weight into your wrists, rising onto your knees and allowing your palms to slide against the silk - inching closer to the guard as your lower half remained up in the air. Your burning gaze never left his even as you felt the familiar cold stretch of your lover's cock entering you.

"Fuck." The heat of his breath graced your neck as his aching, cold cock continued to push further into you, stretching out of your drenched, sensitive inner walls. The bed creaked under his shifting weight as the cold flesh of his hips met the warm flesh of your arse, the faint slap of flesh hitting each other echoing throughout the room.

A small gasp of pleasure escaped your lips as his throbbing cock continued to push further into you, the once steady gaze breaking as your eyes looped upwards into your skull at the ice-cold stretch.

The rhythm of his hips continued to rise in speed with each thrust he made, the thin string of restraint within him already threatening to snap as his cock carved itself deeper into your drenched, sensitive cunt.

A familiar tingle began to arise throughout your body, starting at the very tips of your toes, as the lids of your gemstone-colored eyes began to flutter shut. Becoming lost in the rough motions deep within you, taking in every rough jab of his throbbing, cold cock against the deepest spot within you while your arms began to glide down against the silk. Arse fully on display, up in the thick air.

Yet another heavenly sight that would forever replay in their depraved minds, one seeking it out for his fix of pleasure while the other sought it out for anger. Nonetheless, both could agree the sight had been far too short-lived.

The cooling glide of your lover's hand slipping beneath the silk and your flesh sent a shiver down your spine, his entire weight sinking into you further, allowing for a higher-pitched whine to fall out of your plump lips.

Your lower abdomen sunk into his cold flesh as his thrust grew more rapid and unhinged - if they were hinged to begin with - while another pressure wrapped around your neck, the warmed backings of smooth gems sunk further into your neck.

The melody of skin slapping against each other dancing throughout the less than silent halls, a sound far too familiar for all yet never expected, as he pulled you back into him. Arching backward, the guard became further lost in the trance of flesh bouncing with each sharp thrust of his majesty's cock.

His hand stayed firmly pressed against your lower abdomen, pushing down upon the small bump that would appear as his cock carved itself deeply into your aching cunt.

A knot began to weave within the pit of your stomach as his hand pressed down upon the little bump in your lower abdomen, making you feel every thrust and stretch his cock made far deeper than before.

"Thranduil," His name fell out of your lips in a choked moan, the weight of your head falling back towards him as your body arched into him further. "I can't. Please, I-" Your pleas for pleasure caught in the back of your throat, stuck somewhere between the tightened grasp of his cold palm and the smooth gems that sunk into your skin.

The loud sound of skin slapping against each other echoed loudly throughout the halls, catching within every ear it stumbled upon alongside the pathetic squeaks that managed to fall out of your lips.

A familiar burn began to rise in the king's hips, a burn he paid no mind to as his thrusts grew more and more animalistic. 

The knot within your stomach began to strain, the edges threatening to fray and break as each rough, unhinged thrust of his throbbing, cold cock hit that spot deep within you - nudging you closer towards the endless abyss of pleasure.

The overwhelming scent of your sweet, metallic lust filled his nostrils and earned a hungry growl from his thin lips; the remaining strand of restraint within his depraved mind threatened to snap as the movements within his hips began to slow.

The entirety of his length glid out of you slowly, stalling at every inch, until nothing but the swollen head of his tip rested within you. His hot breath caressed the crook of the left side of your neck while the grip upon your neck eased, allowing the tense air to grace your lungs before leaving them with a gasp as the flesh of his hips slammed into your arse.

The lids of your gemstone-colored eyes flew open at the sudden stretch deep within, your body jolting forwards slightly, his grip around your neck tightening to keep you steady as he repeated this action a few more times. 

With each cruel thrust of his hips, he added an extra faint amount of pressure upon your neck, ensuring you would remember you were his even when the gems were "missing" before his hips returned to the previous, unhinged pace.

The corners of his thin lips curved upwards into a mischievous grin as his burning sapphire eyes finally met your desperate, pleading gaze. The remaining sparkle of restraining within his pale-colored eyes faded away as quickly as the pace his hips held, dimming into a familiar darkened shade you yearned to see again, knowing what would soon happen.

His name was a choked prayer stuck upon your lips as your toes curled further, the nails from your left hand pierced into the flesh of your right palm as your knuckles began to turn white, desperately grasping at anything to stall the straining knot within you from snapping -  even if it meant your flesh.

And with the simple narrowing of his darkened gaze, it snapped.

An unspoken command which threw you over the edge allowing you to sink into the deep abyss of pleasure, hot tears forming in the corners of your eyes as the static that roamed your body grew more intense.

The weight of your body slumped back into his as waves of pleasure rang throughout your overly sensitive body, yet he did not let up.

His mind had been overwhelmed by his thirst, his hips moving on their own accord, far more feral-like than before. Nostrils flared as the heavenly metallic scents of your life source mixed with the wetness that dampened your inner thighs.

Unable to control his thirst any longer, his grip upon your neck tightened further for a final time as the aching tip of his cock crudely hit the deepest spot within you. An act of his affection before his sharpened teeth buried themselves into your shoulder, tearing at the overly sensitive flesh, letting that sweet, hypnotic liquid spill into his hungered mouth.

The static that roamed your body turned into a bitter sting as your inner walls trembled around his stilled cock, being swept away by another drowning wave of pleasure as white ropes flooded deep into your womb. But that was not the only sting you felt.

The pressure of your nails sinking into your palm pulled you back and forth from reality alongside the stinging suction on your shoulder; droplets of crimson trickled down your palm as ounce after ounce of the same liquid flooded his lips.

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as the dampness between your inner thighs began to trickle down further; a mixture of your wetness and his cold cum dripped onto the bed alongside the familiar rouge of your life source.

A spew of ineligible moans caught within the back of your throat, escaping as a faint whimper as the weight of your head began to grow heavy. The colors surrounding you began to blur as the weight of your body mindlessly swayed against his.

The suction upon your neck came to a halt as the scent of your blood grew weaker as sound attempted to reach your ears but was silenced quickly by an overwhelming ringing.

A sharp pounding bounced around your skull as your limbs grew heavier, visual static formed within your eyes which grew larger and darker until everything faded away.

──────

The hiss of fire caught within your ears as the ringing within them began to die down.

The warming glow caressed your features gently, making you look like the most stunning piece of treasure within the king's eyes even as your nose scrunched upwards in disgust at the light that peaked through your lids.

An annoyed groan fell out of your swollen lips as you rolled onto your opposite side; a pained hiss quickly replaced the displeased sound as you placed pressure upon the fresh wound.

"Careful, songbird." The lids of your eyes fluttered open at the gentle warning, blinking away the familiar pale shades until they melded together into the stunning sight of your beloved. "I do not want you to strain yourself." He hummed as he placed his palm against your cheek, allowing you to melt into the cooling embrace. 

The two of you stayed in that position for a few moments, the weight of your skull sinking further into his cold touch as the whispers of sweet nothings danced alongside the soft crackle of fire across the walls.

"I know you are rather comfortable," The words escaped his lips in a breathy whisper, the tip of his thumb gliding back and forth upon the warmed flesh of your cheek. "however," He continued, slowly stopping the soothing motion. "you do need to eat, my dove." He finished, pressing a kiss upon the top of your head before sliding his hand away from your cheek.

The soft tap of his feet against the floor was masked by your disappointed muttering, earning a soft chuckle from the typically stoic man. 

"I know, I know. I am horrendous for worrying about you." The corners of his lips plastered upwards into an amused grin as he made his way back to the bed with a plate full of fruits and a glass of water. "I am fine-" "Then prove it. Eat." 

His slender fingers inched towards your face, a pale green orb rested between his pointer and his thumb, before stopping a breath away from your lips. "Open." A command you hesitated at, the sound of food was not appalling, but the pounding within your skull made any action appear dreadful.

Your gaze shifted from the small grape to meet his pale sapphire eyes. The soft sparkle revived within them as they observed you patiently, knowing well you would eventually cave to his command but fearful of pushing you any farther than he had already. After all, you had fainted only a few hours prior.

Eventually, your plump lips parted open, allowing his frozen fingers to slip the sweet fruit into your mouth. The action repeated a few more times as he carefully observed you, gently guiding you into a seated position after the first few grapes and ensuring you chewed it thoroughly before offering you another.

"Good girl." He hummed, placing the bunch back onto the silver platter that rested on the bed. "Now drink." Bringing the cold glass onto your soft lips, allowing it to rest against them until you opened them again.

The cooling flow of liquid reaching the back of your throat eased tension you were unaware you had been carrying, a pleased hum vibrating against the glass as you swallowed down every drop.

The pounding within your skull began to ease as he returned the glass to its tray, offering you a few more grapes before placing the silver onto the same nightstand where a familiar piece of silicone rested.

"How are you feeling, my love?" The bed creaked under the new weight as a sturdy arm embraced you, pressing the smooth silk of his robes into your flesh - robes you had not noticed you were wearing until now. "Did I hurt you? How is your head? Should I get a healer? I can go bring one right now if-" His anxious questions silenced as you placed your finger upon his cold lips, softly shushing him as you curled into his side.

"I am fine, my head is a bit sore, and I do not require a healer." The words escaped your lips in a yawn as you rubbed your cheek into his robe, earning a soft chuckle from him. "But there is something I would like." "Oh? And what is that?" A low chuckle vibrated against your finger as he encased your wrist with his hand, lowering your finger down from his lips before pressing a kiss on the back of your hand.

"A bath." The corners of your lips curved upwards into a blissful thought of washing away your tension in the warmed water. "A bath? Is that all you want?" The blur of your head nodding rapidly at his question made another chuckle escape his thin lips as he shook his head softly.

"Well then, if that is all you need," The bed creaked at the missing weight as he rose from the bed before quickly hooking an arm under your legs and another behind your back, lifting you up into his sturdy grasp. "shall we?" He asked, not giving you a chance to answer outside of a small laugh while he carried you to the pool of water.

His graceful strides were far slower than they typically were, giving you some added time within the comfort of his arms before placing you back onto the wooden floor to disrobe you.

The soft swoosh of robes falling onto the floor echoed throughout the peacefully silent room as your tired frame slumped into his, soaking up every ounce of cold he had to offer as your arms wrapped around his waist. 

"Oh, my love," He began with a chuckle, watching as you buried your face into his lean but muscular frame. "what am I going to do with you?" His lips were frozen into a permanent smile as he lifted you back up into his arms with ease, your face staying buried into the safety of his toned chest as he slowly entered the water.

Clear blue, warm waves brushed against your lower body as the two of you sunk further into its soothing embrace. “Is this better?” A pleased hum vibrated against his chest the moment the question left his thin lips, lips that softly placed yet another kiss on the top of your head as his cold, slender fingers roamed your hair as you snuggled into him. An arm sliding out from under your legs allowing him to hold you closer against his chest.

These blissful moments like these were far more precious than any jewel or gemstone in his possession. It was something that soothed the jealousy that lingered inside the pit of his stomach because he knew no matter who he allowed to touch you or gaze upon the heavenly sight that was you, none could make you feel as loved and secured as he could nor could any maiden do the same for him. 

You were his peace within the cruelties of the world. You were his life, his air, his blood. But most importantly, you were his heart.

A soft yawn brought him back from his loving trance, a hand mindlessly drawing shapes upon your upper back. "You can rest, my heart." He whispered, pressing another upon the top of your head. "I promise to be here when you wake." "You promise?" The question came out as another strained yawn as you leaned your weight further into his, the lids of your eyes growing heavier as each second passed. "I promise."

And you did, the lids of your eyes drooping closed as a long, pleased sigh escaped your lips as the welcoming embrace of sleep finally enveloped you.

Snuggly rested within the chilled, safe embrace of your lover into the deepest sleep of your life, blissfully unaware of what cruelties the elven king had in store for that poor, unsuspecting guard. 

But you would make it up to him later .

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

< Previous Part

[a-very-sneaky-mimic]

Successfully finished my map of the airship from my fic!

"If I Too Am Forgotten, Will You Look For Me In The Stars?"

(Was originally gonna be three decks but the last one is just empty cargo space so its not worth the effort lol)

(As I've said before, quite a few sprites are just edited/taken from the game, but any stuff that you don't recognize from the game is made by me.)

I've also annotated some neat details/notes! ^^

Annotations and non annotated version below the keep reading thingy.

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

2. Star windows! ✨The light from them is faintly visible on the floor of the dandelion room!

1. The control console for the airship! It has a comically oversized compass, and reasonably sized barometer and a wind-speed-cup-spinny-thingy- you know what i mean.

Anyways it also has two little magic-crystal-wishcraft-orb-thingys that the pilot somehow uses to control the ship- idk ill figure that out later, they've got little stars in em though cause i think it looks neat!

3. Dandelion room! I think in my fic I may have described patterns all over the room- but imma retcon that to just the circle thingy depicted here, it only glows when the ship is actively being flown- so technically its impossible for the dandelion to be visible while the symbols are glowing but idk it looks cooler this way.

4. Hey! See those constellations?! Those are the irl zodiac constellations! all of them are as accurate as I could make them, with correct number of bright pixels for stars and lines in as close to true lines as i could make them

5. So all the stuff in the house is sorta low detail cause its frozen in time, so I got to be pretty creative coming up with details for the door!, it's got stars everywhere and even the writing along the top!

6. Odile has blocked her window on purpose, she doesn't need any more reminders how high in the sky they are :P

7. Mira has her ~bonding papers~ she needs distractions with the new emergency haha

8. Bonbon and Nils rooms! They're pretty barren, as they're both a bit mentally lost atm :(

But Bon has some of the food & spice supplies stored in theirs and Nils has Bon's sleeping bag in her room due to nightmares that may or may not occur in the futureee.

9. Loop aint gonna make their bed.

B. The stairway to the cargo bay! As I said before, i didn't map it as its basically just alot of empty space and crates & barrels etc.

Why is it "A" now instead of "10"??? Because the annotation circles I made didn't have room for two digits in this font! And I wasn't about to start over with bigger circles :D

A. Sif and Isa's room is arranged for optimal cuddle configuration.

C. Somebody's keeping an eye on the fam! (/◕ヮ◕)/

D. How does a stove work on a wooden airship???? IDK magic probably

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

Now at long last I can start writing the next chapter 🙃

[fandomzwriterk]

Can you write about Smoke x female reader and Smoke trying to ask the reader out on a date?

A/N: I gotchu👍 Also we’re starting the trend of “todays chapter is brought to you by****” Anyways this chapter is brought to you by the song Lose My Breath by Stray Kids & Charlie Puth

Warnings: none just fluff

Early morning at the Shirai Ryu…

You were up and walking around one of the training rooms, stretching and trying to get relaxed and not stiff like you just laid on a ton of bricks. You had fallen asleep once again on the floor from last nights training. How you ended up in your bed, you didn’t know but regardless, you had things you needed to do. You were the only one up, not even the Lin Kuei brothers were up this early. At least that’s what you thought. You had just gotten a wooden dummy set up, making strikes at the stomach, legs, and the neck which was nice since you couldn’t get hit back, just learning to control speed right now. You did this at least ten times, three minutes each just making combos on the wooden figure.

“Somebody’s up early.” You heard behind you

You spun around after knocking the dummy back onto the ground. You didn’t mean too, but the strength you held back and the shock of being caught boosted your ability to let go of what you were holding back. There, right behind you, was Tomas standing with his arms crossed and his eyes staring you down. He was leaning against the wall, watching you with such intent.

“How long have you been there?”

“Not long. I knew someone was up this early, so I just wanted to see who it was. Didn’t expect it to be you though.”

“Well I want to train away from Johnny and Kung Lao. Elder gods forbid they let me have one day without them making a mess or distraction.”

Tomas moved to walk towards you in the center of the room, seeing his eyes focus on you and not what you had been doing.

“If you and your brothers were around more I’d ask you for help but you three are gone so much I-“

“Well I’m here now aren’t I?”

You nodded. Tomas wanted to see what you were doing so why not indulge him? It’s not like he’d hurt you either. Out of the three brothers, it was obvious Tomas liked you the most. Whether out of intrigue or friendliness, you’d yet to figure that one out.

“Come on, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

You only nodded as Tomas charged you, causing you to jump to the side. You pushed the dummy far away, almost making it hit the wall as Tomas spun around and swung with his karambit aiming for your body. He was pulling his strikes, which wasn’t normally how he trained. You blocked his arm and pushed his dominant arm that held the blade. He took a step back, smoking about five feet away from where you were and posed to have you attack him.

“Come on Y/n I know you can go harder than that.”

He wasn’t teasing with his words, he wanted you to train with him right now. You took a step as he used a smoke bomb to get closer to you, quickly closing the gap as you went to punch at him. You noticed his blade wasn’t sharp as you both clashed and were pushing each other with your forearms. Tomas was pushing forward just as much as you were, trying to see who was stronger. You kicked his calf, causing him to move his leg forward while he grabbed your gi top, pulling you back to him whole you both tripped each other. Tomas hit the ground first, you falling on top of him, sitting on his waist. He held his blade up near your throat while you readied a punch. You both froze, realizing you had gotten Tomas down first.

“Ha! I got you.”

“Yeah yeah I was going easy on you.”

You rolled off of him, letting him sit up as you sat next to him. He was out of breath, quite quickly which was odd since he was good at keeping composed all the time.

“God it’s so hard to breathe.”

He pulled his mask off, tossing it behind him as you saw his face red and burning. He was panting hard, how did he lose his breath so easily?

“You’re just out of practice.” You joked

He wiped his forehead with his arm, turning his head to smile at you.

“Maybe I have other reasons too.”

“And what might that be?”

“I’m not going to give in that easy.”

“Oh do you want me to beat it out of you?”

“Go ahead. I’m not pulling back this time.”

You both rolled away from each other, now standing face to face with a large gap between you two. Neither of you moved, your eyes drifted around as Tomas swung his karambit around in his usual “I’ve so got this” type of attitude. You might be smaller than him, not as strong as him, but your small size made up in speed. If you tried hard enough, you could definitely beat him.

“Come on Y/n I thought you wanted to beat me.”

You ran up, readying your own small practice blade while Tomas did the same. You both clashed in the middle, putting weight on each other with your forearms once more. You watched Tomas’ eyes as they followed up and down trying to find a way to hit you. He pushed you back, his leg swinging for your head. You did the same, kicking his leg with yours. Tomas swung his karambit to hit your nose, but you quickly blocked the side of your head by covering it. You went to punch his stomach while he pulled out a smoke bomb to move behind you. He was ready to strike, but you were faster. You squatted down and kicked your leg behind you while you spun to face him. The hit to his ankle made him stumble and you noticed he was quickly out of energy as his stomach hit the ground hard.

“You alright there Smokey?”

No reply and Tomas jumped at you, holding you close as he rolled over you, taking you with him as he hit the floor. Your face was mashed into his chest while his arms held you tightly.

“What’re you gonna do about it-“

You grabbed one of his smoke bombs, setting it off right on top of him making him let you go as you ran a little ways away. The smoke was thick enough to fill the room, so you tried to move as quietly as possible. The faint outline of his dark grey hair could be seen, so you went to move behind him since his vision was unclear, and now it was your turn to fight back.

“That was a cheap trick Y/n. I didn’t know you play dirty.”

He was looking around for you as the smoke began to clear. He was right in front of you, his back to you not noticing you quite yet. You jumped forward, sending both of you down to the ground. Just as you touched his back with only the tips of your fingers, Tomas grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a hug while he rolled over you with him above you.

“Nice try.”

His hands held down your wrists while he had one leg between your legs and the other on the outside of your leg. You struggled against him, but his weight was fully on top of you and had you pinned on the ground. His smile had that classic smug expression, noticing you had lost and he had all the power.

“I know we said that if you won I’d tell you but I think I’m going to tell you anyways even if you lost.”

His eyes softened, letting you go and sitting back on his heels. You crawled a little bit away from him, doing the same as you both stared at each other.

“You know Y/n, I’ve never said anything remotely close to what I’m going to say but-“

His face was red again, holding something back in his mind.

“I think you’re… beautiful. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

He held his hands out, his palms up as a gesture to say he wanted you to put your hands on his. You did, feeling that funny little feeling you’ve had for Tomas all these years. His eyes drifted from your hands to your face. You were sure he was staring into your eyes.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, I just never had the courage to tell you after… you know.”

He was talking about Shang Tsung and his so called “reign of terror”, but you all had won so there’s no need to worry anymore.

“After all of that, mostly from watching Bi Han betray us… I knew I needed somebody like you to be by my side. No, not needed, more like wanted. What I’m trying to say is-“

You quickly move up and placed your lips on his, stopping his words right then and there. He kissed back, but you knew he was in shock. You pulled back, intertwining your hands together.

“I’ve always loved you Tomas, and of course you’ll always have me.”

He smiled, his eyes bright and shinning with the excitement of something you couldn’t quite place. He pulled you into his chest, placing his arms around you in a warm and tight hug. He buried his face in your neck, and you could feel his smile on your skin.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

The End…

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed! I’m so sorry it took so long😭😭😭

[sordidmusings]

A Coronary Tale - Chapter 1 (Sanji x Reader)

Chapter Summary: You have been hiding away in The Wood, biding your time with the company of your three dear ravens. Fearing those who could find you should you leave your new home, you settled yourself deeply in with the trees and rocks and river, building a quiet routine. Unfortunately, you were wrong to expect no one else to enter the abandoned woods.

Themes and tropes: slow burn for her/lit fuze for him, hidden identities, witchcraft, curses, political pit of vipers, lost royalty, witch hunts, nonverbal gestures of love

A/N: Howdy doodie I finally done did this 😩 My addition to @fanaticsnail's Storyteller collab with the tale of The Three Ravens! I am shuffling stuff around quite a bit and I really hope that you all enjoy my changes and additions! What we have here is an absolute train wreck of a meet cute so that's a start lol The title is a reference to one of the songs I had in mind writing this and definitely the main one with lyrics, A Coronary Tale by Dana Sipos

@fanaticsnail also gifted me the mood board

Wordcount: ~5.2k

Warnings: fem!reader, bit of blood, descriptions of injury but no gore, you're like a little feral maybe, Sanji's kinda into that too at least

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Another twig snapped and your breathing stopped. Every nerve threading through your body pulled your mind from one place to the next: under the skin of your palms, scraping against rough bark; in the balls of your feet, throbbing from their recent pounding at the ground; in the  depths of your lungs, burning for oxygen but turned still as stone in fear. Mostly, though, your mind lived in your ears, desperately sifting through the forest ambience and calling ravens for clues of your hunter.

Enough moments passed to release your lungs from their stalling and you began planning your next steps. Your burrow was far but that was good; you had more time to make sure he couldn’t track you there. You had been leading him East, away from your home, since he’d chased you across the river. The last you’d heard of him was due Northeast of you. If you headed exactly opposite him, you’d be back at your river, able to follow it down to your stuff and scramble back to your hide.

The weight of the risk settled down on you and kept your body from following through with your plan. What if he circled back to find your trail again? What if he was waiting for you at the river, knowing you’d likely collect your things?

You shoved your forehead into the scabbed bark of the great oak that hid you. The calming breath you hissed out held the hint of a whine and you cursed yourself further for the noise. Each moment he was more likely to turn back. Each moment he was closer to finding you. 

Scrunching your face in a snarl towards your fear, you shoved yourself off the tree and ran westward.

Traversing the Wood was second nature to you by now, but you’d only flown through it with such great speed one time before. You moved much more like a fleeing elk than the panicked rabbit you were then, even with your fright measuring close to that of your memory. Your eyes and body knew the trappings of the woods before your mind could even name them; thorny vines were ducked, wayward branches were parried, felled trees were vaulted. Even your long dress wasn’t a hindrance; you simply gathered the skirts high and tight to free your legs and keep the cloth from stretching branches. The only thing slowing your race home was your adrenaline beginning to weaken beneath the force of your exhaustion.

You burst forth from the Wood’s edge, scattering leaves and dirt and noise in your bid for speed over stealth. You could see the river close now, only a stretch of stony shore between you and safety. Not a single stride shortened despite the shrieking of your muscles or the begging of your lungs. You were beginning to boil in the heat of your blood pumping in your hands, feet, and head, but you would not slow, not even with the new glare of the sun making the air feel even more hostile. Your flight would continue as long as the flutters and caws of the ravens urged you on. 

“Wait!”

You shrieked in response and slid right into the swirling current before you. Still furious and frigid with late spring melt, the river overwhelmed you, forcing a gasp from you at the shock to your system. Water flooded into your open mouth and nose, choking you as you spun until up was left, down, and sideways. Despite flailing for a chance at breath and life, your mind kept screaming, West, west, that came from the west!

Your saturated dress sunk you deeper in the toiling water. It gave the chaotic current more purchase to rip and tug you in every direction, bouncing your limbs off all the river’s hidden weapons. Rocks tripped your sandaled feet at every attempt to find footing and thudded against your shins and arms with each turn in the water. Skeletal branches from long submerged trees scraped at you and grabbed at your skirts. Each new hold on the cloth only ended with another old seam ripping and releasing you back to the whims of the river.

Reigning in your sense, you curled into a ball to keep your feet from shoving beneath a rock, trapping you, and to protect your head from smashing in on any of the great boulders that lurked under the water's surface. Just when your world was fuzzing away at the edges, one of those boulders found you and punched the last bubbles of air straight from your lungs.

Before the current could take you further, you used the last of your strength to spin and scrabble at the rough stone’s surface. The moment you got a grip you summoned every ounce of life in you and heaved. 

With a crouping cough you broke the surface of the water. Great lungfuls of cold water scraped their way out of you. Through your heaving and gasping you drug your upper body to splay across the sun baked stone. It burned into your cheek and you couldn’t help but be thankful for the distraction from your raw throat and skinned fingertips. Everything but that sensation began to swirl and drift away into a distant fog.

Within that fog was a warm embrace. It wormed around your chest and lifted you away from the grounding heat under your cheek. You whimpered, agitating your tender throat, but couldn’t bring yourself to do anything further to protest. Sweet shushing soothed your mind, quickly replacing the comfort of your stone and covering the distant cawing. As you floated away, the steady rhythm of each hush set your sore lungs to breathe in soft waves.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

The afternoon sun pierced right through your eyes the moment you opened them. Wincing them back shut, you changed your goal to taking stock of your injuries. Your whole body was throbbing, muddling the deeper hurts in a constant protest that sounded with each beat of your heart. Through the cacophony, you heard your right ribs screaming, your throat moaning, and your fingers sobbing. 

You flexed your hands slowly to test them. They trembled and ached at your orders but followed through with no great spike in pain. Next, you shifted your torso in a minute rock from side to side. Your ribs punished you spitefully for the motion, but there was no telltale crackle of bone and you were able to keep breathing throughout your shimmying. Lastly, you began sucking in a deep breath to attend to your throat and lungs. You began hacking halfway through, earning more ire from your battered side.

“You’re awake!,” a relieved voice chimed. Gentle fingers traced your face, continually brushing from your skin into your hair. “Thank goodness. You haven’t been out long; it's only been a minute since I pulled you from the river.”

Your heart kick-started again, not caring the least bit about the man’s attempts to seem non-threatening. His claim as your savior did little too; wishing you death and wishing you harm were two separate things. Your pain quieted to a whisper as your awareness shifted to scouring the space around you for information. The ground under you was solid and your palms felt warm stone. The constant swish and rumble of rapids filled the air. I’m still on the riverside. Calm breathing sounded quietly from your left, only a foot beyond the fingers still caressing your face. He’s already recovered.

“You gave me quite the scare there, Bichette. I thought the river took you,” he whispered to you. “I’m so glad I ran back to the river instead of continuing in the woods.” The genuine care and worry in his tone only made your distrust grow. You instead trusted the continued caws from the treeline. His touch disappeared and you heard the grind of his shoes against the rocky ground as he stood up.

“Keep resting, Mademoiselle, I’m just going a short way down the river’s edge to see if I can spot us an easy way back.”

You counted each step he took away from you, every crackle on stone ramping your anticipation higher and higher. The roaring of your blood in your ears grew to match that of the river but his footsteps still cut through. You slowly bent your knees up to remove your sandals and plant your feet on the ground. Despite their exhaustion, your muscles listened when you tensed them. Your count was nearly there. Thirty! You flung yourself onto hands and knees then bolted.

“Stop! Please!”

You were much slower than before, having to drag the weight of your water-logged clothes, half-drowned body and freshly abused skeleton with you. Your lungs couldn’t keep up with even the diminished speed of your strides and you had to fight with each breath not to cough, yet the urgent calls of the ravens circling you pushed you on. The man’s thumping steps were quickly catching up, but you were almost at the treeline.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, chérie, please stop,” he tried again, begging through panting breaths.

One raven sped ahead of you and landed on a large branch with another loud call. You zeroed in on his choice - an old maple spreading high over its neighbors. Its branches started far above the ground, but that was no problem for you, even now. Your switch from sprint to climb was seamless; one step launching you from between the maple's snaking roots and the next propelling you just that much higher with a bare foot catching deeply against its sturdy bark. Ignored the warnings from your hands, you used knots and lumps for handholds, hauling yourself higher and letting your feet follow the same path. You didn’t let yourself slow until you were well mingled in the smaller branches of the tree, nearly forty-five feet in the air. The way the distance shrunk your pursuer gave you a small bit of comfort.

“I’d climb up there but you’d just jump out, wouldn’t you?” he called up to you.

As if to prove his point, you widened your stance and bent low, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. The three ravens flapped their wings in threat of flight. It was all mostly for show; your body was at the end of its rope.

“Ah, Bichette, what has you so scared?” he asked, voice and eyes mourning.

You bared your teeth at him and hoped that he was too far to see your watery eyes. The aches of your body were becoming too much; your bruised ribs stunted every breath, your flayed hands trembled and bled, your scraped toes weren’t far behind their damaged state, your abused throat burned at every scrape of air in and out, and your shaken head, as well as all below it, thudded with pain. The worst of your worries though was the wooziness creeping in on the edges of your mind in the wake of your adrenaline rush. Also the man below you, wrapped in his absurdly expensive clothes, which were just as soaked as your torn rags.

“You’re a strong one, I’ll give you that.” 

You held your shaky snarl. The ravens flapped and cried.

“But even you need food, water, and rest after a chase like that. You nearly drowned,” he pressed, desperately trying to make you see reason. “I’m not going to hurt you, Mademoiselle, I promise.”

You continued to stare down at him with all the ferocity of a caged animal, and he sighed.

“You’re also going to want to get out of those wet clothes. Your laundry on the shore should be dried by now and I dropped my food there as well. There’s plenty to share. I can help you back to go get it,” he persuaded. “I’d go get it myself, but I don’t want you to disappear.”

You’d hold my clothes hostage to find me again, you grumbled internally. The three ravens stilled and took their time looking down at the man. After their analyzing, they took off, leaving you feeling truly cornered and alone. The man saw your face crumble as you watched them go and he ached for your sorrow.

“Well, neither of us are going anywhere, so-” he blew out a long breath and looked down at the tree’s base “-might as well get to know each other.” He found a spot he deemed worthy and settled into the cradle between two large swells of roots. He craned his head back to check on you and found you still staring down at him. He couldn’t decide if he preferred your teary glare to the lost look you sent the birds; both had him wounded.

“I’ll start,” he offered patiently, looking down to his hands fidgeting with his gold rings between his bent knees. “My name’s Sanji.”

He waited a good twenty seconds but received no response. He looked back up and you stared down.

“Can I have your name, chérie?” he pleaded gently.

He was met with more silence.

“Okay,” Sanji relented. “Okay, Mademoiselle, that’s fine. I’ll talk for both of us for now.”

He settled in deeper against the tree, continued his fidgeting, and wished he had his cigarettes.

“I’m a chef; feeding people is my greatest joy,” he started earnestly. “I was sailing the seas, feeding a patchwork crew. Our captain managed to find trouble everywhere he went, dragging us along with him toward his ridiculous dream.”

Sanji paused. You watched as he raked a hand through his shiny blonde hair and attentively took in the way his face softened into a fond smile. Craning further for a better look, you managed to see the sad scrunch in his brows conflicting with the upturn of his lips.

“He was dragging us towards our own foolish dreams, too, though. I want to find the All Blue,” he admitted. He looked up in time to see your incredulous look and the curious tilt of your head. They made him burst out in bright laughter at the dramatic shift in expression from you. You hated how pretty he looked like that.

“Yeah, that’s what I expected; most people think it's a fairytale.” He calmed his chuckles and asserted delicately, as much to himself as to you, “I know it’s out there though. It has to be.”

You fought hard against this man’s charms chipping away at your suspicions. Your complaining injuries helped keep you cautious, even through the strong pull of his placating eyes.

“Our captain would like you. Anyone with your tenacity catches his eye. He’d probably want to add you to his collection,” Sanji joked lightly. “You would fit right in; our navigator and archaeologist always respect a strong woman like themselves. Our musician and engineer are welcoming to new company. Our sniper and doctor might fear you a bit though.” He took a moment to think before looking down and grumbling, “And that damn mosshead would complain, but when isn’t he.”

You were about to start tuning him out, needing to defend yourself from being endeared, when his next words cemented your curiosity to the forefront of your mind.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’m stuck here.”

He sounded so heartbroken. You knew that sound; had heard it leaking from your father and brothers - from your own lips.

“My family-” he spit the word with potent vitriol “-found a use for me. Pulled me back here with a threat against my real family.”

You diligently tried to see the emotions in his face, but he kept it firmly turned from you, hiding away. You cursed him for adding a sad ache to your chest as if you didn’t already have enough pains. Looking again at his fine clothes, you began to wonder if they felt more like a trap than a trophy to him. Sanji turned back up to you and his heart stuttered at the first glimpses of compassion on your face. It made you even more beautiful.

“I-I’m sorry, chérie, I didn’t mean to make this a therapy session.” He chuckled awkwardly at his own foible, frustrated with himself for dumping his emotions on you but happy with the result. You decided with great conflict that his unsure smile was just as pretty as his laugh-scrunched face. He let that smile slide off of him, meeting you instead with a vulnerably relaxed face that looked so intrinsically forlorn. Seeing his bare humanity, you needed no further prompting.

Sanji watched in bewildered awe as you pursed your lips at him and sent him a warbling whistle. Your imitation was perfect; it sounded exactly like a robin greeting the sun.

“What…” he trailed off, still taken aback by the strange but sweet turn. “What does that mean?”

You finally allowed yourself to relax your posture and settled your beaten body to splay across the tree’s limbs. Your legs dangled around a few branches, allowing them some much needed relief, and you laid on your front, making it easier to keep your watchful eyes on the man below you. Bedding your forehead into your forearm, you offered a miniscule smile from tight lips before repeating the birdsong.

“It’s beautiful,” Sanji complimented. “Fitting for such a striking lady.”

You scrunched your nose disapprovingly at him and whistled out a piercing warning call.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed. “I just can’t help myself with-”

Avian shrieks split the air and you shot up to find their source. You easily ignored the whimper the action forced from you, but Sanji struggled to do the same.

“Ma chérie, please be careful-”

You spotted six flapping wings and laughed in bright joy, fully distracting Sanji from his worries. The flying forms looked odd; one had a bulbous blob by its head and the other two had billowing streams of color falling from them. You recognized the streams as cloth as they grew closer, but the final item remained a mystery. That raven landed the easiest, having nothing that would snag on leaves or branches. The other two were having much more trouble.

You giggled again at their hijinx, fully amused by their frustrated crying and hopping and flapping at the edge of the tree. To help them, you began weaving your way out towards them until you were at the limits of the branches’ strength to hold your weight. You reached your arm out as far as it would go, feeling the straining stretch in each joint, but still fell short of bridging the gap between you. The whole time, Sanji was calling up fretful and concerned warnings, which you easily ignored. 

Despite your attempts to help, the two raven still just fretted about and progressed no closer to a solution. A shrill whistle cut their actions short and captured their attention. You held up two fingers to them then pointed to the smaller garment. They stayed still and you frowned at them with all the practiced disappointment of a school teacher. You repeated the actions with more gusto, this time finishing the display with a hand waving them toward you. Suddenly getting the memo, both ravens began working the same cloth in your direction, repeating the process of free-shift-snag until it was within your reach. 

You grabbed the familiar green cloth and held it in front of you, recognizing an oversized men’s shirt. The ravens continued their work until you were holding a pair of loose beige pants too. You gave the two birds a loving pet and a quick kiss on their bowed heads in thanks. You slinked your way down to about thirty feet from the ground, seeking more open space between the branches to change out of your sopping and torn dress.

Sanji took in the whole exchange with wonder.

“You really are the Witch of the Wood,” he whispered reverently.

Your face twisted with confusion at the title and you rapidly shook your head.

“But your ravens!” he argued. “They all say the Witch has three ravens for familiars - that they help her spy on all who enter this stretch of forest.”

Well… he’s close, you admitted to yourself. You squeezed the excess water out of your ruined skirts (you hoped some would land on his head), removed your freezing underwear, and slid the pants on under your skirts. The top went on next, acting as a cover for you as you squirmed your arms out of the sleeves of your dress. Once that was accomplished, you began shoving the heavy material through the neck of the shirt. The process was frustrating; the wet material clung to you with every move, forcing you to make more and more and agitate your wounds further and further. When you finally managed to get it all out of the shirt, you shoved your arms through their holes and pulled the dress over your head.

Luckily, your quick work left a minimal transfer of moisture from your old outfit to your new one. The relief of mostly dry clothes felt even greater than you imagined, and you took great pleasure in balling the ruined fabric up and tossing it to ricochet its way down the tree, landing next to Sanji with a great plop. Staring at him again, you turned bitter at the reminder of the title he gave you. I am no witch. You wished you aimed for his head.

The deep crimson smears and fingerprints Sanji spotted on your discarded clothes refreshed his worry. He had gotten far too distracted trying to charm you and even more distracted once he saw your smile. Sometimes he regretted his overwhelming soft spot for women. Then he would see another woman and have that thought overwhelmed. C’est la vie.

“Bichette,” he cooed, hoping again to win you by charm, “ma chérie, please let me take you back. We need to get those wounds looked at.”

You looked down your nose at him then pointedly turned away, looking instead to the final raven bearing a gift for you. He was still holding tight to a cloth knot at the top of a parcel, but he had adjusted to rest its weight on the branch below him while he waited for your attention. You grabbed the parcel from him, immediately noting the intricate weave of the fabric beneath your fingers, matching well with the delicate patterns unfolding throughout it. This must belong to the expensive man at the foot of the tree. A shame to get bloody fingerprints on his fineries, you thought with sadistic glee. Serves him right for chasing me through my woods.

Untying the cloth proved easier on your fingers than your wardrobe change, they had turned to a monotonous pounding instead of the sharp alerts of pain sometime during your first challenge. Opening the wrapping revealed two containers of food, a smaller one sat atop the larger. First popping the top option open, you found two perfectly prepared pieces of meat on the bone. They were seared to perfection, browned just so, and smelled of gentle spices, just enough to enhance the natural flavor of the meat. You snapped the container back closed so you could check in the other. This one contained the most mouth-watering curry you’d ever seen or smelled, nestled in a thick pool next to fluffy white rice. You looked back and forth between the food and the man below with a raised brow.

“A quick lunch I whipped up,” Sanji responded to your unspoken question. You rolled your eyes at him, doubtful that anything in this meal could be made quickly. Maybe the rice. You wrote his dismissal off as showboating in a further attempt to woo you. 

Having no silverware, you prepped your fingers as best as you could by dabbing them on the rich cloth, licking them to wet any dried blood or dirt, and repeating the process until only the barely there leak of fresh blood remained on your raw fingertips and broken nails. The process had them stinging angrily at you again, leaving you biting desperately on your tongue to hold back whimpers that still pushed through. Thankfully, it didn’t take very long. The river water had rinsed them mostly clean, leaving only the layered mess of blood and the dirt from your climb.

Taking a clump of sticky rice, you scooped up a bit of the fragrant orange curry. The taste was just as divine as the smell and you moaned at the best food you’d had in years. You bit into a piece of the scrumptiously tender meat next, recognizing sea king, and you were yet again reminded of Sanji’s opulence. You had to admit to his good taste though; the meat from this variety of sea king leaned much more towards chicken than fish in both texture and flavor, absorbing the bold mix of spices in the curry perfectly. Judging by the vibrant tint to the meat, he set it in a well-crafted marinade as well. Had he not told you he was a chef before you got the food, you would have never believed this was the work of his own hands.

“At least I know you’re getting a good meal,” Sanji said. You were angered and endeared by his honesty. “I came to The Wood for a break. Before the rumors of the Wretched Witch of the Wood, this land and its river were known for their beauty. I can see why now.” He looked up to you with warm eyes and an affectionate smile. You snubbed your nose at him.

“Before I found you, my plan was to find the calm stretch of river, wade around, then sit and eat where absolutely nothing and no one needs me. I chose the food to bring the memory of some of my friends with me.”

You slowed your ravenous shoveling to stare at what was left of the curry with guilt twisting your gut. If it were just food you were taking, you’d happily rob this rich stranger blind, but memories were a different story. Your gaze roamed your three ravens, earning inquisitive coos from them with your misty eyes. You centered your gaze back on the massacred curry, feeling hot shame smother over you. A gentle beak nudged at your cheek.

Sanji let himself sit in the quiet following his confession. He was glad you slowed down, fearing you’d upset your stomach with a quick and filling meal, but he did have to admit, it warmed his heart how much the messy display reminded him of his captain. 

While he had no great time to appreciate the beauty of the scenery before, he found the time now. Trees old and new clustered lovingly around each other in a long stretch, interwoven with blooming hedges of mountain laurel and patches of lacy ferns. Moss hugged the damp places of The Wood, keeping them warm and alive. The earth here was not soft; it was made of packed dirt, rock falls, giant boulders, and wrestling roots, but sweeps of dead leaves did their best to cushion the path of each resident.

The river that had previously felt so threatening and cruel now soothed him with its endlessly running waters. He was mesmerized as his eyes followed the shifts from a shrouding deep blue to frothing white and back again. The cycle felt endless and inevitable, stable and sure, outside the reach of time or the shortfalls of consciousness. It made him small, it made his problems small, and he found peace.

The whisper of rustling feathers broke him from his blissful mindlessness. Sanji turned to see one of your ravens nudging the mound of his tied cloth toward him. The reminder of you made him realize he hadn’t heard a peep from you since he started his zoning. He found you had fully turned your back to him and you were staying statue-still. Now slightly concerned, he reached for the cloth only to stop with a surprised yelp when the raven pecked his hand. It cawed mockingly at him before flying right back to your side.

Reaching cautiously despite the raven’s distance, Sanji grasped his cloth. Again, he looked at your bloodied fingerprints with a clenching heart, but he brushed past it as best as he could and untied the limp fabric. Laying out the cloth, he saw that it held the smaller of his food containers. Opening that, he found the two pieces of meat on the bone untouched. His cheeks ached with the force of his new smile.

“Thank you, ma chérie, you’re very kind,” he called up to you. He shook his head at your lack of response and began munching happily.

Hearing that he had begun his own meal, you were able to stomach the rest of your food.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

The sun had long since bruised the sky, its wounds showing the end of their healing in purples and blues instead of oranges and pinks. Sanji still sat stubbornly and dutifully at his post under your tree. You had succumbed to sleep a while ago, your body much too ravaged and worn to fight the need for rest any longer.  

Seeing you’d fallen under, Sanji tried to scale the tree to bring you down and carry you back to get help, but each attempt was swiftly thwarted by stabbing beaks and talons. They first started as more of a threat, tugging at his clothes, but as he got bolder in his attempts so did the ravens. They found their courage to fight him and would not back down. Instead, Sanji backed off fully after a beak opened his hand for first blood and the other two readied their screeching weapons at each of his eyes.

Retreating from them, Sanji took his time to collect you some fresh water from a fast-flowing piece of the river in his rinsed container. He used the clean inside of his cloth to dry the excess from the outside of the sealed container before laying it carefully on the expensive fabric at the base of your tree like an offering. He stood before it and looked at you through the time passing around his frozen stance, wishing he could just decide what was best for you. Your ravens seemed to think it was not him, nor his wishes to take you away. They were adamant that you were best left to rest as the tree cradled you. He supposed this forest was your home, it fit for its pieces to care for you.

Then again, it was the very river of these woods that so readily snatched you up to steal you from the living.

Sanji waited until the sky had grown much darker than the deep blue of his eyes in the waning light to leave you. He feared more for your future than finding his way across the river and out of The Wood in the dark. Before he could tear himself away though, he had to take you in one more time, hoping the vision will last him until the next time he lays eyes on you. He grieved for the state of you; not just your new hurts but your patchy clothes, your frayed hair, your callused hands. He felt especially for the prominent ribs that greeted him when he wrapped his arms around you to free you from the river. His mind toiled with worries and indecision his whole trek back to the castle.

“Oh, Bichette, how am I going to help you?”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

End Notes: Robins can symbolize renewal, new beginnings, and finding joy as they are one of the first signs of spring. They are also part of the dawn chorus, announcing the sun each morning.

[miseta]

Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique

Starting over In Madrid

Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)

After moving to Madrid as the new Real Madrid photographer, Nicky's eyes can't look away from the pretty face of Misa Rodriguez. But how is she going to handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her working contract's strictly forbidding her to date players? Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clasico Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and peaks

This chapter is quite long ! Hope you guys still like to read it as much as I loved writing it, and I had so much fun doing photoshop visuals I did several for this one

TW: may content explicit sex, +18

6K words

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The rain was pouring down when we landed in Paris, drops splashing hard against the windscreen of the bus, driving at an unbelievably low speed. I was sitting beside Ana at the front row, slowly drowsing, swung by the steady movements of the vehicle. My mind wandered, taking me back with Misa and Hayley waving happily to me again at the start and end of trainings. I was so glad to have them back. My vibrating phone took me out of the memory. I pulled it out of my pocket and broke a smile when I saw Angela had texted me. 

A: Hey Nicky! How are you it’s been years !

N: Hey Angela! Yeah so long sorry I didn’t call. Work has been mad but I’m good and you ?

A: I’m fine! What did I miss ? Can we call ?

N: Sorry I’m on the bus in Paris right now can’t call you. I do have a lot to tell you!

A:��Tell meeee Wait I know It’s Misa???

N: Well spot-on lol

A: Tell me everything!!

N: Well we kissed… more than once and that’s it for now.

A: Oh that’s all …?! What are you waiting!! But you’re in Paris with the team ?

N: Yes

A: And you’ll be in the same hotel ?

N: Yep

A: And you’ll have a room for yourself ? 

N: Yes……..

A: This is looking good or bad it depends

N: Stop it Angela! Right now Misa is focusing on her match and won’t let anything happened. 

A: How many nights are you staying ?

N: 3 but only one after the game

A: Leaves 1 night still…

N: Girl!!! you’re not supposed to encouraged me !! The close still exists…….

A: Right yeah fuck the close! She’s a friend with benefits no big deal ! Just keep it secret... anyway you and I both know it's bound to happen

N: Pfff I can’t bye Angela

A: I’ll call you when you’ll be back in Madrid ! Can’t wait to know the all Paris story, especially the end !

I rolled my eyes and put my phone back in my pocket, a part of my body itching now my brain was imagining the things that could occurred in two days. I shook the thought, peering at the blurry shapes of the fancy buildings of Paris through the heavy rain.

***

We arrived at the hotel at the end of the afternoon, everybody back on the bus at once for a late practice session. Misa didn’t break her self-promise to work hard and we didn’t interacted much during the first hours in the French capital. We quickly ate and went to bed after training. Everybody was very concentrate. 

Next day, the players trained all morning in the stadium of the Parc des Princes where the match would take place. However, the club permitted a free period on the afternoon and Naomie, who was born in Paris, organized an improvised visit of Montmartre with some of us. 

I was the only non-footballer member of the tourist groupe. Hayley had forced Misa to join. She originally wanted to study in her room, watching videos of goalkeepers playing as a last minute homework, but had had to let go under the insistence of her friend for well deserved break. 

Even if most of us had been to Paris before, we were charmed by the tortuous and hilly streets near the Basilica. I was dragging myself behind the sporty women,  getting distanced more and more, as I climbed laboriously the endless stairs to the Sacré Coeur. Misa glanced behind her, saw me, nudge Hayley and the two of them lowered her pace to let me catch up. 

"¿ Qué pasa Nicky ? Tired after the morning training ? It was a hard one I must admit…" She teased as I leveled with them. 

"I didn’t signed for this ! Don’t have your stamina !" I panted. 

"Come on let’s go that way ! We’ll do a detour but maybe that mean less stairs" Hayley indicated a pedestrian curvy path on the left. 

We chatted happily on the way. It was so nice to hang together again. We shortly arrived to the front but below, a huge amount of stairs still separated us from the basilica. I snorted. 

"Come on Nicky !" Hayley pushed me forward but I eyed an empty bench aside the path. 

"I just need a break !" I said heading to sit down. As I passed in front of her, Misa hold me back, grabbing my arm. "We leave you on that bench and we’ll see you at the Sacré Coeur in two hours !" she joked. 

"Carry me then !" I said. I felt free in Paris, far away from the Ciudad Real Madrid, it was making me flirty and I played at being dramatically on the edge of fainting. 

Misa was already grasping my arm to pull me closer, ready to catch me. "Don’t temped me, Princesa !"

"Ok girls ! I’m still here remember ?" Hayley waved at us, amused. Misa and I parted, embarrassed. "We’ll do Nicky a favor and rest a bit." she added already sitting down on the bench. 

We joined her, silent for once, calmly enjoying the beautiful view of the roofs of Paris while tourists and locals flocked toward the Basilica. A big kind of pigeon walked to us, eager to find some food at our feet. 

"Esta paloma ha comido demasiado, French pigeon are fat !" the goalkeeper said, curious. 

I peered at the oversized bird. "I don’t think it’s a common pigeon…" 

Hayley put out her brand new camera  "I think it’s cute"  she said fondly and took a photo "It will be our souvenir of Paris". The Australian footballer jumped up and position herself in front of us but scared the bird away. "oh no I wanted a family portrait ! Anyway… say cheese !" she shouted at us. 

I shoved my arm on Misa’s shoulders, she grabbed my waist as we put on our best smiles. "You’re too cute girls" Hayley dropped. I felt my face blushing and I tried to hide it in the crook of Misa's neck. However, the embarrassment was almost pleasant as it felt so good to be allowed that little bit of freedom with Misa. Hayley knew the truth and was keeping it safely to herself.

A little breeze swept some fallen leaves on the path. I was so at peace in the foreign city I rested my head on the goalkeeper’s shoulder, smothered by the warm presence of her hand at my side. Hayley took another shoot. "You can tell me if you want a photo of you two kissing in Paris at this level…" she threw at us. We chuckled and I went back at hiding in Misa’s neck. But Hayley was just teasing and had the delicacy to turned around to photograph the city stretching in front of us, allowing the little break only for ourselves. 

I straitened up and peered at the goalkeeper. Her half-closed eyes were looking at her lap, a bashful grin making her so cute. I glanced around us to see if any of our teammates had followed us. It was clear. "I think I’d like a kiss in Paris" I said, my hand, still on her shoulder, caressed the side of her neck. Misa shyly smiled and raised her head. A worry flashed in her eyes and like me, she checked if we weren’t observed. When she was sure we wouldn’t take any risk, she leaned over and timidly kissed me. Felling she was pulling back, I hold her face, not ready to let her go, having not enough of her lips against mine, and I felt her grin through the kiss. "You can’t devour me in public like you almost did in your office" she muttered. I retreated and flash back at her. Her warm and soft gaze made my stomach flutter. I felt an urge to hold her close but didn’t dare, somehow finding it more intimate than a kiss. Instead I took her hand and got up, pulling her behind me. 

"Let’s go to that damned basilica !" 

***

The teams entered the stadium in two neat rows under the cheering crowd, the Ultras Paris tribune loudly chanting "Paris est magique !". Tension and concentration gripped the Real Madrid girls as the traditional greeting took place. Shortly, everyone was taking their place in the pitch, ready for the kick-off. Misa’s knees had been warped up entirely since her injury during the previous game but she was jumping and stretching energetically in front of her cage. 

The game started, PSG had the ball, led by Grace Geyoro quickly advancing, passing the ball to Tabitha Chawinga. The forward ran faster and faster, closing the gap between her and the penalty area in less than minute. Ivana, Rocio and Oihane surrounded her and she passed the ball back to Sandy Baltimore who send it in the feet of Marie-Antoinette Katoto. The French player dribbled past Ivana and was block by Olga but managed to keep the ball. She send it to Sakina Karchaoui, and recovered the ball behind Olga’s back, heading straight into the penalty area. 

Misa readied herself to jump, shouting restlessly at her defenders. Katoto crossed the ball, Chawinga waiting, and she controlled it, aimed and shot. The ball rolled between Rocio’s feet at full speed. Misa dived and crashed onto the grass, her outstretched arms missed the ball by centimeters and she saw it entered the cage, almost brushing the right goalpost. The crowd burst in joy as PSG scored at the 6th minute. Real Madrid were having a hard game start. The goalkeeper got up, furious at her defenders and probably more with herself. She kicked the ball back in the game, her brows furrowed, her mouth nervously chewing a gum.

First haft-time past with no further remarkable action, apart from a miss aim kick from Karchaoui at the 40th minute. The second half however was punctuated by the many attacks on both side. Unfortunately, all the attempts of Madrid were stopped by the impassable feet of the French defense. 

Madrid was falling back as fast as they could as Sakina rushed on the left side, knowing how dangerous she could be. She crossed the ball again, aiming for Grace Geyoro. The ball buried itself in the groupe of players lost in confusion. The whistle blew and the gesture of the referee was pretty clear. She mimed a square with her hands, her arm pointing the center of it to finish. The ball had found the arm of Oihane leading to a penalty in favor of the French team. 

At first sight, Misa’s face was unreadable, but I was beginning to know her well enough to decipher her extreme tension. What she dread and wanted the most was happening, a chance to prove herself when all was resting on her again. She settled on the goal line, stretching arms and legs to prepare herself. Katoto would do the shoot. The entire stadium was holding its breath. Katoto waited a few seconds. She jogged to the ball and kicked it to the left. Misa jumped on the good side and kick the ball with her fist, sending it out of the pitch. She leaped back to her feet, screaming in triumph as her teammates hugged and slapped her in congratulation.   

The match resumed. Like before the penalty, both teams worked hard at scoring without succeeding during the entire time. Finally, the whistle blew to signal the end of the encounter. It meant Madrid had lost again. We were all disappointed by the outcome but less battered than after the Clasico. We all knew we had put an honorable performance regarding our opponent. 

***

On the road back, the team was quiet for everyone was brooding the defeat. It was still early when we arrived at the hotel and groups of teammates formed in front of the building, sharing ideas to change their minds. I overheard Sofie and Kathellen taking about a club houseboat. Haley joined them at planning the evening, grabbing a passing moody Misa that surely wanted nothing more than to bury herself in her bed. 

"Don’t even think about escaping Misa Rodriguez. You’re coming with us, willing or not !"

"Estoy cansada y no quiero bailar ! Leave me, Aussie !" she moaned and struggled to set her arm free. Hayley gestured me to approach. "Nicky’s coming too ! You don’t want to miss a night out with the best girls, do you ?"

"Vamos Misa, it’s our last night in Paris !" I insisted and sized her other arm to prevent her from fleeing again. She stopped struggling but began to silently sulk.

"We going to a péniche sur la Seine" announced Kathleen with glittering eyes. Misa sent her a questioning look. "It’s a boat on la Seine, you know, the river of Paris" she mocked her.

"I know the river of Paris, thank you." Misa snapped back but I couldn’t tell if it was true. Anyway, the prospect of it didn’t seem particularly appealing to her.  

"Misa stop being so grumpy, just let go for once !" Like she would have with a child, Hayley took the goalkeeper’s chin between her fingers, and mirror her own putting expression, having Misa to finally break a smile. "Thanks Jesus, we have Misa back ! Let’s go change. We meet in one hour max at the hotel reception !" 

After hesitating over and over about what to wear, I had finally put on a knee length dark gray T shirt, a jean jacket and a pair of black derbies from where my Real Madrid socks were sticking out. I didn’t like to look too classy, even in Paris. When I arrived in the lobby forty minutes later, Misa, Hayley and Kathellen were already there, chatting casually together. Hayley was the first to notice me. "Girl you’re looking good ! Come seat with us. We’re waiting for Sofie and God knows she can take forever to get ready". 

I took a place on the sofa besides the midfielder, facing Misa who discreetly looked at me from head to toes and put a thumb up to silently show her approbation of my outfit. My voiceless lips formed the words "you too" in return. The goalkeeper was wearing simple gray pants and a sleeveless top witch nicely brand out her muscular shoulders. 

We waited for Sofie an entire hour and ordered a taxi. The danish girl had barely apologized, quickly gathering us for a selfie as we got out of the car at our destination. The surroundings were charming, large bare lawns stretching in front of the Palace of the Invalides on a side, a sumptuous bridge crossing the Seine on the other. The streetlights and granite paving stones perfected the lovely decor. 

We walked to the bridge, climbed down a few stairs and arrived on the docks where a few barges were mooring. As the cliché says, the banks was indeed giving a very romantic vibe and I suddenly wished Misa and I were alone. The tall brunette was photographing the place, finding it at her taste finally. 

A few minutes later, we entered the barge-club and came to the dance floor on the lower level. The place was bombed-out and suffocating, colorful spots of light splattering on the sea of heads. After getting some drinks, we spotted a less crowded space and formed a small dancing circle. It was good to see the footballers having fun whole-hearted, relieved of any kind of pressure at the moment. Kathellen and Sofie spend many time dancing together, pausing now and then to take selfies and to chat on their phone. Misa was getting loose as she drank more and more Pina Coladas while Hayley kept making fun of her wild dancing. As for me, I was sweating hard and feeling slightly tipsy after two and a half pint of beer. 

The partying pretty footballers were drawing attention. A few girls approached them more than once. Kathellen and Misa had the most pretenders with respectively six and five woman coming to chat or dance with them. Of course, it annoyed me beyond reason for I was forcing myself to stay distant with the goalkeeper. When the sixth girl, moreover not an ugly one, tapped Misa’s shoulder with insurance, I escaped from the crowd to cool down near the wall of the room, not bearing to witness another flirt.  

I took a long sip of my beer, wiped the sweat off my forehead, while peering at the girl chatting Misa with dark eyes.

"C’est toujours étouffant ici ! T’as bien raison de faire une pause si tu veux tenir toute la nuit !" a women just came leaning against the wall besides me. 

I glanced at her, perplexed. She was tall, black, her face bearing many piercings and wearing her hair in long small braids. I actually found her very pretty. "Sorry, I don’t speak French !" I apologized.  

She came closer to avoid shouting over the music "Oh, I couldn’t guess ! You look very Frenchy. I’m Sonia." she pointed at herself. "Nicky" I mirrored her. 

"You dance Nicky ?" she led out an inviting hand and smile to me. I glanced at the place where I had left Misa but didn’t caught sight of her. Felling still annoyed by the goalkeeper power to attract girls like moths on a lamp, I nodded, dropped my empty glass, and followed Sonia back into the crowd. 

I could tell the woman was a confirmed dancer at the first contact. Her hands on my waist and scapula guided my body along her moves. She spoke in my ear without breaking our dance  "you’re living in Paris ?". Her smile was really charming and I felt exhausted all of sudden. Why couldn’t I crush on girl like her ? Why couldn’t things be simple and flowing ? Why was I liking one in the handful of people on earth I wasn’t allowed to ?

"No, I live Madrid actually, I’m just here for a couple of days " I answered. She made us turn around in a few quick dancing step and I caught a glimpse of Misa’s face glancing at us from across the the room, scowling, lips pinched. I couldn’t help feeling a bit satisfied jealously had changed side. 

"When are you leaving ?" Sonia asked. 

"Tomorrow" I said sadly as I was really enjoying your trip in Paris. 

The pretty women strengthened her grip, her mouth back to my ear "too bad… we can still spend the night…". I led out a soft chuckle. The prospect was tempting but I couldn’t go with Sonia like that. We weren’t even together, but I felt a jolt as I realized I would feel like cheating on Misa. My heart tightened as the thought of the footballer’s upset features. 

I pulled back from Sonia, my eyes already excusing "I’m sorry Sonia but I can’t. Thanks for the dance though, it was nice. You made me feel I danced well too". Sonia grind, obviously not vexed "De rien ! Good night to you Nicky." and she left, disappearing in the compact mass of people. 

The room had filled even more, blocking the view I had on the goalkeeper and barely allowing me to find my way back to the wall. I leant against the relatively fresher surface and began to text Misa to know where they were. The familiar silhouette of a brunette with broad shoulders extricate herself from the packed dancers. Misa scowl disappeared the moment she saw me and I was so happy to find her I flung myself in her arms, alcohol allowing me to be so reckless.  

Misa raised her eyebrows, surprised by this outrush of affection, especially after having see me dance with another women but shortly her body relaxed and she hold me against her. Not leaving her embrace, I slowly began to moved along the song’s rhythm. The goalie followed me, our hips pressed and moved in sync. Somehow feeling like sheltered by the dense crowned, we danced like we were alone, eyes closed and bodies stuck against each other. 

The music went slower, I turned around and put my back to her. My butt pressed on her hips, she wrapped her arms around me, shoved my hair to one side and planted a kiss on my neck. I shivered, led a blind hand grasp her hair for her to kiss more. Her hands on my stomach pushed my bottom harder against her while her lips worked their way up to my jawline. My face oriented itself toward them. She found the corner of my mouth, I growled in frustration and I turned to her again to fully receive her kiss. The close, the risks, the consequences, were swallowed by those luscious lips pushing me back to the wall, my arms around her neck ensnaring her body to mine as she had me cornered. 

The slow melody faded to a groovy one but we weren’t dancing anymore, lost in our heated kiss against the wall. I was so worked up it was painful. Snogging her wasn’t even barely enough, it was becoming excruciating. I was dying for more, for the all party, for a release that had never came yet. So I quitted her mouth and went to pant in her ear "Let’s go back to the hotel, to my room… por favor!". Hearing her gasp finished to convince me we shouldn’t last here anymore. 

As I began to drag her toward the exist, Misa held me back "We can’t go together on our own, it will look suspicious. We have to get the others to go or wait for them !". She had stay more sensible tonight and I had to admit she was right if we didn’t want Sofie and Kathellen spreading the juicy story of two girls coming back earlier to the all team in the morning. 

We found the three other footballers and I spotted Sofie muttering something to Kathleen while looking at us. I realized we were already suspected. Misa went next to the danish girl who nudge her with her elbow and exchanged a suggestive glance. The goalkeeper shook her head, bitterly adding "I queued to the bathroom and I found Nicky having a good time with a pretty French women". 

Sofie bought her partial lie, hitting my shoulder in collusion. "Why didn’t you go with her ? Enjoy your last hours in Paris baby !". 

"Nah, I’m far too tired ! Honestly I’d like to go, you can’t breath in here!". 

"Oh ! So soon ?" Sofie probed with a look the rest of our groupe. I caught eyes with Hayley and passed her a silent plea to help us. I saw the Australian midfielder glanced at Misa, the goalkeeper imperceptibly nodded, her face reddening with embarrassment. 

"I’m ok to go, I’m too hot too and I don’t want to end up looking like Misa’s lobster face." Hayley jibed while backing us up, having Misa shrinking on herself with shame. 

To avoid any further suspicions, the goalkeeper and I didn’t take the same cab to return to the hotel. I paired up with Hayley, leaving Misa with Sofie and Kathellen. In the taxis, I thanked my friend for having us covered. 

"I got you girls, but be more careful, you two are getting so obvious it’s a miracle nobody else hasn’t figured something out" . The Aussie winked. "And please go to your room, I’m next to Misa’s and I would like to sleep well". 

"God sake, Hayley…" 

*** 

I closed the door of my hotel room, tension of my expecting body reaching new heights. All I had to do was wait for Misa but it was already too much for me to handle. My brain was running wild. What if she couldn’t come ? What if she finally didn’t want to ? I had to busy myself to keep my sanity. 

I took off my jacket, shoes and socks and glanced at the room. The bed had been done, white sheets and pillows neatly smothered and ready for us. I found the room too bright and I turned on the night lights near the bed headboard before turning off the ceiling one. The dim glow shrouded the place with a quiet warm ambiance. 

Going in the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked tired and messy. I  brushed my teeth and my hair, took a bit of conditioner to freshen it. Then, I checked my make up, put back deodorant and a spray of perfume… Once, twice, thrice… all of that to help me regain some confidence in vain. 

I went back in the bedroom, more nervous than ever. The waiting seemed to last forever, having me wonder if she was going to come at all. Maybe she found it was too risky in the hotel we shared with the team and staff…

…a soft knock on the door made my heart lift. 

I rushed at it, opening to a very agitated Misa, the goalkeeper checking several times she wasn’t followed before she stepped inside. 

"Perdon Nicky !"  Misa sighted once she had closed the door. "Sofie wouldn’t let me go. She insisted we chatted and drink more in her room for she wasn’t feeling tired ! I told her I’d to go to bed but she wanted to come in my room and busy herself on her phone while I’d sleep !" 

I giggled "Sofie is one of a kind…"

"Si, she is ! But I got rid of her ! Uf !" she leant back to the door, relieved. 

"Phew ! Here you are at last !" I smiled to her, my nervousness surging again. 

We face each other in the small room, jittery and shy, unable to move, now we were finally at it. Silence settle between as we watched each other expectantly. Misa looked down, pressing her lips in an embarrassed smile and nervously massaged her neck. In spite of her charismatic appearance, she could be rather timid in those circumstances. I shook off some of my own diffidence and I walked to her, caught her face in my hands, looking at her tenderly, and my desire for her took over me again. 

I embraced her, kissed her softly, my impatience giving place to a will not to rush as the night still lay ahead. I wanted us to fully experience everything, each kiss and touch, equally moved and aroused by the fact that tonight would always be the first with her. 

Misa sunk in our slow motion, her arms around my neck. Her fingers gently crept in my hair and she pulled my face to deepen our kiss. I ran my hands under her t-shirt, stroking, caressing her skin, before I grabbed and pulled the cloth off the women’s head. Our kiss broken, my gaze wandered over her body and she sized the moment to take off my dress, her fingers folding the fabric up slowly, and finally shoving it off my head as well. We resumed our kissing, skin brushing, hands and fingers running along each other spine, to the point of giving us goosebump. 

Misa advanced, walking me backward to the bed, and taking her shoes off on the way. Our already fast breathing quickened. My heels hit the bed framed, I gasped, turned over at the last moment, having Misa loosing balance and falling onto the mattress. She smiled in surprise and settled herself in the middle of it, her half bare body an irresistible invitation to join her as soon as possible. 

I went over her, instantly back at full-mouthed kissing, a needy fire surged and spread as she caressed my bare skin. Misa straightened up and I wrapped my legs around her hips. Her powerful hands secured me against her while she looked up to me, silently asking for us to resume our kissing. I leaned toward her mouth and softy bit her lower lips, hearing the woman rasping breath in return. I released her, she send her tongue between my lips, reaching for mine, as her fingers found my bra and worked at unhooking it. I imitated her and we both sent our underwear to the floor. Quickly, we pressed our chest against each other, back at stroking our now entire naked upper bodies, the feel of Misa’a soft and bare breast on me stirring waves of heat in my stomach. 

I couldn’t bear to take our time anymore, I put my weight against the goalie to bring her to lie down again. Misa grinned and resisted. I unwrapped my legs, straddling her tights and unceremoniously pushed her back onto the mattress. Her eyes fed on the view of my almost naked figure. I, myself, could barely stand the sight of her lying body, topless, with her arms and long hair spread out on the pillow, her shaped abs and tanned smooth skin showing in the half-light. She looked up with hooded eyes, mouth half opened, surrendering to me taking the lead and allowing me to simply contemplate her for a moment.  

I came to lay a little aside over the goalkeeper, Misa’s arms enclosed me, pushing our breasts to gently squash, sending us both gasping at the sensation. A hand cupped the nap my neck, making my mouth fall back on her lips as I felt her rise her tight between my legs. I led out a wail, fingers gripping the pillow as she began to apply a light pressure there. Slowly I grinded on her, sending rush of pleasure in my body at each slide on her leg. But shorty, the fabric of her jeans bothered me. I broke the contact and I heaved my upper body onto one arm, leading down my other hand to unbutton her pant. 

I reset my position above the goalkeeper, began with a light kiss on her mouth and moved down to her neck. Misa’s hands ran down my back to my bottom as I nipped and licked my way to her breast, her long moans filling the room as I started to kiss her there. One of her hand found mine, the other resting on her own hair, her furrowed brows was giving away her longing. I paused, inhaling the smell of her skin, before I continued my road down. 

I stopped when I reached her jeans, witch I grasped firmly to took it off. Misa chest was rising up and down deeply, looking avidly at me as she had very well guessed were I was planning to go next. I took the time to dispose of my panties, more turned on to see her head jerked back on the pillow as she regained some of her breath. Fuck she was so hot ! Her perfect awaiting body menaced to finish me only at the sight. I tried to cool myself down, pushing back my own arousal as I swiftly pulled off the brunette’s own panties, having both of us bare and trembling with want. 

Slowly, I lowered my head between the goalkeeper’s spread legs, taking a glance at her blushed face, her brown eyes and half-opened quivering lips almost begging. My tongue ran through her and Misa's head fell back again, closing her eyes, as a hight pitch whimper escaped her mouth. Her sweet voice filled the room and covered my own whining. Her hands desperately clung at my hair to have me go on and on, her sounds louder with the increasing rhythm. 

At a moment, she set her arms upward, and messed with her hair, witch fell over her face beautifully. The vision of the brunette lost in pleasure almost had me go over the edge again. One of her hands hided her face, the other gripping the bed sheets as my fingers found their way inside. She was so loud now I was sure we had awakened all the occupants of the floor. I lifted my head to check is she was close, barely able to hold on myself, but Misa, wanting more, pressed my face between her legs again. Fuck ! I was so close, my own cries muffled by my business on her core, when her legs went rigid and pressed on each side of my head. The goalkeeper’s body shuddered, accompanied by deep whiny sights, as she sunk into the bliss. 

I exhaled and rested against her leg a moment, regaining my breath. After the short break, I went next to Misa, facing the goalkeeper laying on her back, her face lost and beautiful. She turned on her side, sent a weak arm over my waist for me to took her in and she nested on my collar bone, peaceful and exhausted. I watched her yearningly, I kissed her forehead and a discreet smile stretched her mouth. 

A couple of minute had passed, with us staying cuddling, when Misa lifted her head to put a soft kiss on my lips. She pulled my face to give me a more heated one, and another. Then she grabbed my leg, heaved it onto her hip and my breathing quickened again at once. Her hand grasped my neck, she sent it traveling to my breast, caressing and pinching my nipples a moment, turning me into a moaning mess, before she led it down, and downer. 

She touched me at last, gasped and smiled at finding me all drenched and I hugged her tight, feverish whimpers leaving my mouth as her fingers easily sled between my legs. I had been already so close I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold much more. Misa’s fingers sunk inside, I whined so loudly I’d have been ashamed, excepted I didn’t gave a fuck. Warmth grew, choking and pleasant each time she went in and out, filling me more and more when I was already so full. 

My half-closed eyes wandered on Misa, and it was the sight of her far too pretty blushed face focussing hard on making love to me that made me came. The deep waves of pure pleasure radiate through my entire body, my arms tightening around her neck, eyes shut, entirely surrendering to the overwhelming feel. 

As bliss took me in, both of us went limp against each other. Exhausted by her match earlier, the footballer as given her last strength to it. I flipped onto the other side, still recovering, while she managed to turn off the light and come to lie close. She pulled the cover onto us both, wrapped me with her arm, I sized her hand falling over, hearing her letting out an approving noise in response. Her slowing and deepening breathing told me she had fell asleep at once, against me, in Paris, the magic French capital.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Chapter 7 ➺ In the haze

[maple-seed]

Thrown - Chapter 45: Absence

Summary: Loki takes a trip abroad and longs for what he left behind.

Word Count: 2,059

Author's Notes: Hey everyone. This chapter of Thrown will be the last one posted until January. Holidays are taking their toll and my writing speed has slowed considerably so I'm going to take a little hiatus. My current plan is to start posting again on January 11, 2024, and hopefully returning to the once-a-week schedule at that time. Thanks again for your patience. Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates, and take care.

Thrown Masterlist Loki Masterlist

Loki didn't care for it, the Avengers compound. It was all much too pristine. Clean lines and straight edges. Crisp white and chrome and glass. Sterile. It felt lifeless, when compared to the meandering streets and stone buildings back in New Asgard. Perhaps worst of all, it was full of Avengers.

The tower had been superior, Loki felt. At least the tower had a certain element of grandeur going for it. He kept this opinion to himself. Something told him that may be a sore point.

This trip had been mandatory. There were things to discuss regarding New Asgard, but chief among them was the fact of Loki's continued residency. They called it a "review of progress", but obviously it was a check in to make certain he hadn't been using his freedom to plot some sort of coup. The euphemism was laughable. Loki wouldn't deny that he had progressed, in many ways quite drastically, since he came to this realm, but in what way could these men hope to measure it?

Moreover, he found it insulting that they believed if he had been plotting a coup, that they any hope of detecting it.

There had been interviews and meetings and endless questions. Thor had, apparently, written very detailed reports regarding the goings-on of New Asgard, and particularly Loki's contributions. While the descriptions in the reports were true, Loki felt they portrayed his actions in an overly-generous light.

Throughout the assessments and interrogations, Loki hadn't mentioned you. There were a number of reasons, of course. They would not be likely to understand the way he cared for you, and even less likely to understand the way you cared for him. They would wonder how it was possible that someone like you might love him. He didn't have the energy to explain that he wondered the same thing. They would suspect he had bewitched or corrupted you somehow. Possibly, they might insult you for your folly, which was certainly not something he would be able to tolerate. More than any of that, however, describing you to them simply felt wrong. You were something more precious than this. This trip here was a direct result of the most terrible period of his life. A punctuation on his misery. Even drawing the concept of you into this mire felt like it would sully you somehow.

And so he refrained from mentioning the source of his most drastic changes while here on Midgard. Thor followed his lead, and only brought you up occasionally, and then he only described you as their friend. Loki was grateful.

The days dragged on. Any time he felt that surely he had answered every question of every authority, there was someone new with something else they had to ask, just to be sure. And still that was not the most unbearable part. The most unbearable part was being away from you. This absence made him question how he had ever gone so long without putting his hands on you. It was ridiculous, in the basest sense. He had gone much longer than this without seeing you. He had gone a thousand years without seeing you. He had ached for you for months while standing by your side, but somehow this ache was stronger.

Thor relayed messages by text, and even offered to facilitate a call, which Loki accepted only once. The walls here were listening, quite literally, and there was little he wanted to say to you that he was comfortable having recorded by Stark. Still, hearing your voice had buoyed his spirits and made the rest of this trip moderately more tolerable.

One night, Loki dreamed. He was aware of the dream immediately. He was on the mountain terrace that your hiking trail led to, standing by the stream. The moon was bright and the stars were out, as they had been this past winter when you had brought them here. You were there, standing near the edge, looking out over the landscape. He breathed your name. You looked back over your shoulder, a smile breaking immediately. "Loki." It was only his name, but it carried with it all the longing that he felt. The two of you met and embraced and it all seemed so real; the air, the sky, your skin. It was an illusion, yes, but it was true enough for now, and he held you in his arms for the rest of the night, if only in his dream.

**

This morning was to be their last here at the Compound. There was another meeting, supposedly the final one, where Loki would be interrogated. Thor insisted that "interrogated" was not the right word. Loki felt certain that it was the right word when he found himself sitting at a glass table in some conference room, his brother beside him, with Stark, Rogers, and Fury seated across. Stark and Rogers seemed to be amiable enough, but Fury kept a stone-faced expression. Loki realized he had never seen the man look anything other than angry, or at best mildly irritated. It could be that his face simply looked that way. Perhaps having just the one eye was naturally limiting in expression. He and Thor should exchange notes, he thought. He was not foolish enough to say it out loud.

"I gotta hand it to you, Billy Goat Gruff, you're earning all the gold stars here." Stark wore that insufferable smirk of his. "What he means to say," Rogers, ever the peacemaker, cut in, "is that we think you've been doing very well in your time in New Asgard." "I'm grateful that my existence meets your approval." Loki fought to keep his teeth from grinding. "Oh come on, don't be like that." Stark closed a folder in front of him with a flourish. "You know why we feel the way we do. Before you showed up here in your TARDIS, the last time we met you were blowing us up and tossing us off buildings. I mean, you cut out a man's eyeball for god's sake. Completely unnecessary move, I might add." Loki looked away with a scowl, fighting back violent memories. "And now," Stark continued, "now you're carrying groceries and building homes and teaching underprivileged kids magic algebra or whatever." He leaned back in his chair. "I think it's understandable that we're impressed. You've worked so hard to overcome your natural tendencies." "Perhaps you've mistaken what my natural tendencies are." Loki muttered. "And we're willing to accept that." Rogers offered. "But you understand why we've had to take these measures." "Certainly." "That being said," he glanced at Stark and Fury, "I think we can agree that we can lighten up a bit. Less surveillance. Fewer reports. You've put in the work and you've earned a bit more trust." Loki was annoyed with himself for feeling appreciative of such a meager gesture. But he did, all the same. "Thank you."

Fury spoke for the first time. "I have a few questions first, before we loosen the leash on this would-be mass murder." Thor scowled at the title, but didn't respond otherwise. Loki nodded. "I am happy to oblige." Fury leaned forward and rested his hands on the table, lacing his fingers. "We've spoken at length about your past; the good and the bad. I want to talk about your future." "Of course." "What do you see in your future? Are you really content living in a small town on the coast of Norway? Ruling over nothing in particular? Do you truly think a prince, a god, like you won't get bored? Crave something more?"

Images passed through Loki's mind. The winding streets of New Asgard, the road that led to the mortal town, your farm nestled in the bend. He saw your studio, your kitchen, your face. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I can say with absolute certainty that everything I crave can be found in New Asgard. Even now, all I wish is to be there again."

Fury's eye bored into him, perhaps trying to judge if he was sincere. He seemed to find what he was looking for and leaned back in his seat.

It was silent for a moment, Stark cut his eyes from one person to the next and drummed his fingers on the table. "Okay, so we're done here? The wonder twins are free to go?"

**

If Loki had his way they would have made for the hangar directly from that conference room, but there were hours still to pass before departure. Thor had to pack, he had farewells to bid, and even had lunch with some of his teammates. Loki caught word that the Widow would be there and he was certain his presence would sour the mood. He abstained, and had a meager meal in his room instead. He fixed his mind on the promise of seeing you again and whiled away the hours until finally, finally they boarded the quinjet. The flight was tolerable enough, knowing that every minute brought him closer to you. When they landed he didn't bother going home at all. He said his goodbye to Thor and immediately set off down the road from New Asgard.

He opened your door and was met with the smell of baking. You were in the kitchen, one tray of cookies cooling on a rack and another about to enter the oven. His ache was soothed at seeing you, but it wasn't enough. He called your name as he crossed the room as quickly as he could.

You glanced up at him as he reached you. "Oh, hey Loki." It was much more casual than he expected. Not deterred, he leaned in to kiss you but missed his target as you turned away to place the tray in the oven. "How was your flight back?" He was stunned for a moment, but took a step closer. "It was fine." He leaned again and once more you took no notice and turned at the last moment to another counter. This time he narrowed his eyes. "No fights with Thor?" He didn't answer, instead he placed himself in your path and his suspicions were confirmed when you casually turned from him and reached up to open a cabinet. You startled when his arm shot out and snapped it shut. His eyes were burning as he loomed and growled. "If you don't kiss me immediately I will burn this realm to the ground." You considered this for a moment. "Where would you start? There are a couple places I would-" You were cut off as he looped an arm around your waist and pulled you close in a crushing kiss. He was gratified when your hands immediately found their place at his shoulders.

Once he was satisfied he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours. "You are, without question, the most irritating, petulant mortal I have ever had the misfortune of loving." A smirk curled your lips. "How many mortals have you loved?" He chuckled softly and kissed your cheek. "Just the one." "Sounds like I'll be winning a bunch of titles, then." "Yes. Superlative in all respects."

He was pleased to notice that your hands didn't leave him, winding their way around his neck. You leaned your head against his shoulder and sighed. "I missed you." "And I, you. Desperately." "How did it go?" "Very well. For several days I refrained from throwing Stark out of a window. A resounding success." You laughed. "I'm so proud of you." "And how were things here?" "I wasted away, pining for my lost love." "I should expect nothing less." He stated solemnly. "I do have the remedy."

Without notice, he bent and grasped your waist, effortlessly tossing you over his shoulder. You squealed. "Loki!" He started carrying you toward the bedroom. You kicked and wriggled, to his absolute delight. "Loki wait!" "Oh, I have waited long enough, I think." You reached away from him, toward the oven. "The cookies!" "You should have considered that before you gave that insolent performance at my homecoming." You struggled some more, laughing. "At least let me turn the oven off!" He waved a hand and there was a click of a knob. With no more excuses, you relented.

He stepped into the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him.

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[art-missy]

Overwhelmed (Gekko x Reader)

Part. 1 Part. 3

Part. 2

Third part is right here. This chapter was quite interesting to write. ^^ Once again, thousands of apologies for my bad English.

“You’ve been dating for two weeks and you haven't gone on a single date outdoors yet ?” 

Gekko let out a deep sigh at Jett’s words as he looked at you debating with Iso and Deadlock from the other side of the room. You both had agreed on taking things slow and not a lot of things changed between you. You both still hung out a lot in Gekko’s room like usual but sometimes in yours. You still had the habit of drawing a lot together but you sometimes played video games together (he was still very surprised by your skills) or watched movies snuggled in each other’s arms (Gekko loved doing that and he knew you did too). He also sometimes kissed you. It was only small pecks on the cheek, your palm or the corner of your lips (he was still scared of overwhelming you) but his heart always fluttered when you responded with a light hand squeeze. As for outdoor dates with you, he was thinking of asking you to go on a boba date with him. He couldn't help but imagine the both of you with your fingers intertwined together, walking in the streets while sipping sweet drinks.

“Wow,” snorted Neon. “He’s really down bad, huh.”

“Gekko, you’re staring.” Jett chuckled and he snapped out of his daydream.

He giggled sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “Oh shush.”

He stole a quick glance in your direction and smiled broadly when he saw you laughing at whatever Deadlock just said.

Phoenix walked out of the firing range, parading like a peacock in the lounge. “Haha ! Now I’m definitely the king of this range !”

His prideful exclamation brought the attention of everyone in the lounge – even Dizzy who was sleepily floating next to Jett’s head – as he was walking towards his locker, a big smile on his face. Everyone was pretty used to Phoenix's prideful personality. Always bragging then humble-bragging and throwing up his confidence everywhere and whenever he could. It was always a bit surprising at first, exhausting and exasperating maybe, especially during missions. But despite his overly confident and very teasing personality, Phoenix was pretty far from being an asshole. You were still rarely interacting with him, though. Something about his high and burning extroversion had the scaring ability to consume your social battery at a concerningly terrifying speed.

“Sure, pretty boy.” Jett playfully scoffed. “What about what Cypher told you last time ? You know, about victories requiring sacrifices or something like that ?”

You lifted an eyebrow at Jett’s words but were not surprised. You wondered if Cypher’s words ignited Phoenix’s ego. It was very probable. Cypher had the talent to pick the best information into his vast collection of tea with an almost sadistic thoroughness and to use it in an almost diabolical way that you admired as much as you feared.

You looked at the camera in the corner of the room and you noticed it nodding in your direction as if saying a small ‘hello’. 

Big brother is watching me.

“Well he raised me into the king that I am now. Like, you know, a royal councilor.” Replied Phoenix, smiling smugly to Jett. “I finally got the highest score in the simulation.”

Everyone turned their eyes towards the screen board displaying the new ranking of agents' performances and you let out an impressed whistle when you saw Phoenix on top of it. You pressed a fake compassionate hand on Iso’s shoulder.

“How do you take the hit ?”

He flicked your forehead and faked a glare in your direction. 

“Ouch !”

Meanwhile, Jett was almost losing her mind, not believing it. “If Kay/O see this...”

The nanobomb couple took a better look at the scoreboard and Raze let out a surprised and excited gasp. She then pointed at you with her index finger and excitedly called your callsign.

“You never tried the simulation in the fire range. What are you waiting for !?”

Hmm. The overwhelming sensation of being the center of unwanted attention. The exasperating feeling of exhaustion swimming through your veins as the eyes of your colleagues pierced your skin. The urges to roll your eyes and to click your tongue in annoyance as everyone’s gaze seemed to ask you the same boring and predictable question : ‘Why ?’.

How unpleasant.

To that, your body let you choose between the reassuring weight of your headphones around your neck inviting you to escape, and the adrenaline twitching your fingers inviting you to be the predator instead of the prey.

Of course they would be curious. It has been two months since you became an agent of Valorant and you kept everything and everyone at arm's length. Barely present during training, ready to escape during briefings and never there during meals, the other agents hardly knew you. So secretive yet so observant.

You felt Deadlock gently nudging your knee to draw your attention and you looked at her. Her eyebrows raised slightly when she saw your fierce and sharp gaze. She silently handed you a can of juice and patted your knee. You nodded to her and chugged the drink down thankfully, throwing it in a trashcan once finished. You also felt Iso patting your back and shoving something in your jacket pocket. You internally thanked them for distracting you from the annoying curiosity from the agents in the room.

You felt like a main character of one of these multiple choice games Gekko introduced you to. Except you did not really care about the ending. Speaking of Gekko, he was currently gently smiling at you, his warm eyes sending you messages of love and reassurance that immediately relaxed you. He knew how much PDA made you uncomfortable, so he kept his distance, sending you comfort and affection from afar.

You took a deep breath and looked at Raze. “Why would I try this simulation ? It isn't even close to what we experience on the field.”

Killjoy looked at you curiously, fixing her glasses on her nose. “What do you mean by that ?”

You rolled your eyes and wondered how someone as brilliant as Killjoy could miss something so obvious. “During missions, we’re used to our enemies setting traps, ambushes, surprise attacks and engaging hand-to-hand combat while we are also under the pressure of the spike beeping each second closer to its potential explosion.” You started rambling, your eyes setting on the simulation on the other side of the reinforced glass window. “The only thing your simulation does is sending robots shooting endlessly in our direction with boringly predictable patterns, raising walls that always have the same locations and let prideful peacocks be proud for being able to do the minimum.” You shot a blank look at Phoenix. “No offense.”

“It stings a little but none taken.” The Brit smiled.

Killjoy seemed like she was taking notes, mumbling to herself in German. Raze smiled at her girlfriend, as if sensing her sudden excitement. Killjoy then looked back at you and walked towards you. She took your hands and squeezed them excitedly.

“Thank you for your constructive comments !” She excitedly leaned towards you as you leaned backwards. “Would you like to test the new simulation once I’m done upgrading it ?”

You grimaced at her proposition, your nose slightly scrunching. “Uhm…may I ask why ?”

“Well, your comments will certainly help me improve the simulation so it’s only fair you’d be the first to test it.” The German engineer answered breathlessly. “And you're always so impressive during missions. I’m curious about how you’ll handle the fire range simulation.”

You frowned a little and looked around to see that everyone was staring at the both of you. You let out another sigh, patted Killjoy’s hand, pushed her gently towards Raze who gladly took her in her arms, and took a step back. Just imagining yourself fighting in that freaking simulation while the other agents analyze each of your movements like mad scientists made you sick.

“Very sweet, little engineer but I’ll pass.” You shook your head then pointed at Phoenix. “Ask Peacock Boy instead.”

“Oh come on !” Inquired Phoenix. “We only see you fight on the field.”

“It won’t kill to keep it that way.” You coldly retorted, forcing a smile.

How irksome.

You knew that your colleagues were curious about your abilities, but their inquisitiveness made your skin itches like some kind of rash. You did not want to stay here. You had to see Sage anyway, to change your bandages. So you walked out of the room at a quick but not rushed pace, too buried into your own thoughts to notice a certain blue floating creature following you closely.

Meanwhile, some agents exchanged silent glances. They found you cold, icy even. You never meddle in the base activities, you stayed out of conversations and nobody ever saw you in the canteen. 

They almost thought you hated them.

Almost.

What made them doubt was how you fought during missions, taking care of protecting each one of your teammates while fiercely fighting every enemy that had the misfortune to meet your path. You were terrifying yet so protective. It was one of the first things that made Gekko fall for you. And as he ran to join you, he smiled when he noticed you playing with Dizzy in front of the infirmary door. He loved seeing this facet of your personality. This tender side that you rarely showed. The soft chuckle you uttered as Dizzy nuzzled against your chest made his heart flutter. You finally noticed him and shook your head with exasperation.

“Where did you get this habit of running for nothing ?” You sighed as the floating critter nuzzled in your arms. 

Gekko smiled, cupped your face in his hands and pressed a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. “I don’t know. Let’s say that my love for you fuels me in energy.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s those energy drinks you love to chug down.” You said, taking his hands to gently squeeze them.

He looked at your bandaged forearms and restrained a sigh. Since you came back from that almost week long mission two weeks ago, you had these burns on your forearms that required care almost daily. These burns were not regular ones. According to the other agents that were with you during that mission, you carried the spike in your arms and ran far from your injured teammates while defusing it while it was a few seconds from explosion. That was the reason why Neon heard Sage screaming in the comm two weeks ago. Your ‘dangerous and reckless behavior’ (Sage’s words, not his) could have killed you if you weren't so lucky. 

“You sure you don’t want Sage to use her radiancy on your injuries ?” He asked, his thumbs caressing the back of your hands.

The grimace etching your face made him sigh. He did not know why you were so adamantly opposed to letting the healing abilities of the Chinese sentinel treat your injuries. Even after two weeks of trying to convince you, you categorically refused to let Sage heal you with her powers. At first, he thought that it was only just your pride restraining you, but the grimace of irritation and exhaustion stretching your face each time he mentioned Sage and her healing ability begged him to differ. 

“Want me to stay with you while she applies the ointment on your forearms ?” 

You shook your head and Dizzy made a sad gurgle noise and nuzzled in your neck. “I’d prefer you don’t look at these…uhm…injuries.”

Well now he was curious. How bad would that be ? He took a better look at your forearms and frowned a little. Those burns were proof that he indeed almost lost you two weeks ago. Gulping, he forced himself to ignore the cold shiver that ran down his spine and cleared his throat.

“I was thinking maybe we could go on a date ? Outside the base. Like, right after you’re done with Sage.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “How spontaneous.” You tilted your head and restrained a sigh when you noticed the camera on the wall behind Gekko, the lense focused on the both of you. “I accept but please, next time warn me a few days beforehand.”

You caressed Dizzy’s shell as Gekko smile illuminated his face.

“Hell yeah ! Join me in my room when you're done.”

He gave you a quick peck on the cheek then took Dizzy and ran through the corridors. You grimaced at the camera before turning back and opening the door of the infirmary. You found Sage sitting on her desk, reading a book. She raised her eyes from her book once she noticed you and set it down.

“You’re here.” She smiled. “How are you feeling this morning ?”

You did not return her smile, just sitting on the hospital bed while she took the bottle of ointment and a first aid kit off the cupboard.

“Alive.” You answered plainly. “I’m still breathing.”

She took a seat in front of you and proceeded to take off your bandages, humming softly.

“I heard you and Gekko are now a couple. Congratulations !”

“You’re two weeks late but thank you.”

The bandages finally off your forearms, you took a better look of your skin. Colorful burn marks decorated your epidermis, glowing softly of radiant energy and pulsating with your heartbeat. The effects of the almost-exploding spike on your skin. These marks vaguely reminded you of Jett’s ones on her wrists when she used her ult or Gekko’s tattoo linking him to his critters on his left arm. Your veins stood out the most, an ethereal touch on this beautiful chaos that is now your skin.

“Does it still hurt ?” Asked Sage as she started to apply the ointment on your derm.

You shook your head and sighed at the coolness of the liniment. “No. But it sometimes tickles.”

The healer nodded, focused. The glowing of your marks subdued once she was done with your arms and she let out a sigh. “Their glow is weaker than last week. You should be able to go back on the field in a few days.”

Well that was good news. You grew tired of staying in the base. Of course you sometimes ran errands with Iso and Deadlock, but you sometimes missed the adrenaline of missions. You will not have to wait for Gekko’s return in the hangar or in his room. You’ll be directly with him. 

“Please be less reckless next time.” Sighed Sage. “I know you did this to reduce the risks of further injuries on your teammates, but know that they’re also here for you.”

A grimace appeared on your face as you remembered Iso taking you in his arms, begging you to stay awake. It was the first time you’ve seen his face so expressive, so panicked. Skye had tried to heal you without much result. Something about the raw energy transferred from the spike to your body was interfering with her ability. It was a great euphemism to say that that mission two weeks ago was far from boring. Well in fact, you did not really have time to be bored since you almost died.

“I can’t promise, sorry.” You sighed back.

Sage shook her head and rolled new bandages around your forearms. “I knew you would say that.”

Once she was done with your arms, you stood up and thanked her, walking towards the door. When the door slid open, you saw Cypher playing with a trap wire on his knuckles.

“Hello !” He said, his tone joyful.

“Optimus Prime.” You nodded, your tone flat. You let the door slide shut behind you and started walking in the corridor. “I don’t have time for a game of chess today, sorry.”

Cypher peacefully walked beside you, his pace and demeanor relaxed but attentive to yours. “Oh I know. You have your sweet outdoor date with Gekko.”

Of course he knew. You were used to it at this point. Observant but secretive, Cypher always looked after you since the day he dragged your ass out of one of your hideouts to convince you to join Valorant — while also stealing your stacks of tea. If a few months ago someone had told you that you’d be hunted down by a cyberpunk cowboy preaching the noble goals of a secret organization and how good the food was in their base, you would have peed yourself in laughter. Well now look at you, walking down the said base’ hallways with this cyberpunk Moroccan informant cowboy.

“You seem less tense these days.” Said Cypher in his usual mischievous tone. “I’m glad that loneliness isn't eating you out anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow and rolled your eyes. “Can loneliness really eat me out when you're constantly spying on me ?”

“Good point.” He giggled. 

At least he was not hiding it.

One thing that you loved about Cypher : you did not need to lose your time talking to him that he already knew.

“I’m glad that Gekko is your new balance between a wanted company and a recharging isolation.” You could literally hear the soft smile in his voice. “I recommend you two to communicate, though. Especially you.” He pointed at your forearms with a knowing tilt of his head.

One thing that you hated about Cypher : you did not need to lose your time hiding anything that he already knew.

A true know-it-all.

“Does he know about the… peculiar aspects of these burn marks ?” He asked, but a slight inflection in his tone indicated to you that he already knew the answer.

You didn't tell Gekko about the oddness of these burn marks. Knowing him, he would panic, be worried sick and ask you every ten minutes how your arms felt. He already found it odd that you needed to see Sage for applying this ointment. You could not tell him that you needed Sage to inspect the glow of your forearms. He even offered to help you apply the ointment but you declined. That was very sweet and made your soul flutter but you had to refuse. You did not want to worry him. You cared about his smile and you did not want to kill it. But you suspected his radivore critters to have a slight idea of what was happening with your arms. Especially Dizzy who always nuzzled in your arms and Wingman who always patted your bandages.

Until two weeks ago, you would have never thought that you could be in love. You thought yourself too broken to feel that kind of feeling, sometimes cringing when you read it in some novels you liked to read. The only examples of that kind of love that you ever took the time to observe were from the duo of menace that were your biological parents and the sweet but spicy couple that were the nanobomb duo. Who would have thought that your heart would be in that kind of situation ? Craving for his smile, his laugh, him. You did not want to see the worry shadowing his light, even if you had to go through pain for it.

“No need.” You answered plainly to Cypher.

You heard him sighing.

“Love is not only about sacrifice. It’s also about sharing.”

“Please don’t start with your proverbs or I’ll rip your mask off your face to shove it in your ass, Amir.” You sighed, massaging your temples.

He raised his hands in mock defense but his lips didn't stop moving under his mask.

“It isn’t fair that Gekko is the only one not underestimating his partner.”

The offended look you shot at him made him laugh. You were about to retort something when the sound of a door sliding interrupted you.

“You’re finally here ! I passed by your room to– Cypher ?”

What a beautiful look of surprise on Gekko’s face !

“Greetings, Gekko. I wish you both a lovely outing.”

Gekko glanced at you, a bit lost but nodded at Cypher. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

You were still massaging your temples when Cypher patted your shoulder in an odd fatherly way. 

“I leave you two then.” Cypher started to walk away. “Oh, and don’t forget to use protection !”

You were still massaging your temples to relax yourself as you heard Cypher turning around the corridor. You were certain that he would spy on your outing through CCTV, sipping a cup of tea like the gossip starved bastard that he is. You let out a deep breath and your shoulders relaxed. You then looked up at Gekko and noticed his very flushed face. Flushed to the point that his face stood out more than his hair.

“You did not run for once. So why the heck is your face red ?” You brows furrowed. “Are you having an asthma attack ? Where is your inhaler ? Wingman, the inhaler !”

Gekko snapped off his daze and shook his head and took your hands. “No, no –Wings’, put that down !– I’m good. Everything’s good.” Your skeptical eyes squinted at him and he lifted your hand to kiss your palm. “I’m good, babe, really. You’re cute when you’re worried, cariño.”

He shot you his boyish smile, his face still very flushed and you raised an eyebrow. 

“Then why is your face redder than a poppy flower ?”

“I– Didn't you hear what Cypher just said ?”

You walked in his room and sat down on his bed — high-fiving Wingman in the process — then looked around. Your eyes landed on a pair of shoes near the foot of the bed right beside your partner’s skateboard.

“Be precise, he’s quite talkative.” You shrugged then pointed at the sneakers. “Aren’t these my shoes ?”

You recognised the sneakers with retractable roller skate wheels.

“Huh ? Oh yeah, that’s what I wanted to tell you. I passed by your room to take them.” He cleared his throat and you and Wingman exchanged glances. “I thought that we could do our date on wheels. You know, like you on your roller skate and me on my skateboard.”

You nodded and gently stopped Wingman’s tiny cute hands from caressing your bandages, humming softly. “It has been a while since the last time I roller skated.”

“Here’s a good opportunity, then ! I wanted to see you on roller skates since you told me you used to use them a lot.”

Here we go again, your heart fluttering. In only two weeks, he showered you with so much love and respect that you sometimes wonder where he got it from. He listened, did not suffocate you in any way and always supported you. It was new for you, but not unwelcome. He was always gentle but revitalizing.

★★★

Boyle Heights neighborhood, Los Angeles, California.

Funny that Gekko grew up there, you literally had a hideout in this neighborhood. But even though you used to hide there, you never really took the time to explore it. Especially with someone so eager to show you their favorite spots while showing off some skateboard tricks or cheering everytime you did a stunt on your wheels. A thing that you discovered about Gekko : he loved taking selfies and short videos. It was a cute thing about him that made you smile.

“How did I manage to survive without these gifts from Heaven ?” You breathed out, your eyes sparkling at the dish on your plate.

After hours of showing graffiti spots and street performances, he brought you to a food spot that served one of the most delicious foods that ever touched your taste buds.

“I’m glad you love the food here.” Gekko chuckled at your enthusiasm.

You put another fork in your mouth and a delighted smile painted your face. “Woah. Even in a gastronomic restaurant I can’t have this much taste.”

Gekko seemed to perk at your words. “Gastronomic restaurant ? Didn't know you were a foodie.”

You shook your head. “I’m not.” You took a sip of your drink and sighed at the taste. “Damn. Even the drink is good.” 

He chuckled at your words but he stayed thoughtful. You rarely talked about your past before Valorant. You dropped some anecdotes sometimes and when he asked more, you went silent. He suspected you already knew before joining Valorant how to fight since you barely went to training sessions (to spare your social battery, you said) but always managed to make your enemies suffer on the field. And the fact that Fade and Iso had a slight idea of you might be when they heard Valorant taking an interest in you made him curious. 

“Is this plate better than a gastronomic one ?” He asked.

“Most of the time, gastronomic restaurants focus more on the quote-unquote presentation than the actual taste.” You sighed. “Which can sometimes lead to people choking on a tiny little thing sold as food that barely tastes like something.”

Gekko coughed on his food at your words. He took a sip of his drink to clear his esophagus. He then restrained a laugh as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’ve got beef against gastronomic restaurants ?” He coughed his laugh down.

“Oh absolutely.” You said calmly.

“What started that beef ?”

And you went silent again. Gekko restrained a sigh and kept eating, his eyes on his plate. He agreed to go at your pace, to be patient, but sometimes, it sadly felt like he was talking to a wall. You listened to his story but you never gave him the occasion to listen to yours. He heard you clear your throat and his eyes set back on you. Your eyes were on your plate and your fingers nervously tapped the table.

“I was around nine the first time I went to a gastronomic restaurant. I threw up on a waiter.”

The randomness of this revelation caught him off guard. A small smile appeared on his lips as he acknowledged your attempt at a conversation about you.

“No way !” He chuckled. “And that’s how your hatred towards these kinds of restaurants started ?”

No pressure, only encouragement.

“I think it’s just the repetition of unfortunate events that keep happening everytime I’m in these types of restaurants.” You said, your forks playing with the remnants of your meal. “Throwing up on a waiter, spilling my drink on the owner, choking on food, being sick for a week… No matter the country, a gastronomic restaurant stays the same.”

Gekko nodded. He remembered you briefly mentioning that you used to travel a lot around the world. You took a deep breath and put down your fork.

“What are we doing this afternoon ? Are we going back to HQ ?”

He giggled at your attempt at changing the subject.

“Nah, we’re not done chilling.” He shook his head. “I know a place you would like.”

“Oh ?”

After your copious meal, you two walked down the streets of Boyle Heights, digesting your food. Your shoes had their wheels retracted in their sole and Gekko held his skateboard under his arm. Your eyes were wandering on the different shops while Gekko glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. His demeanor was hesitant. His eyes sometimes landed on your hand and avoided yours when you caught his glances.

“Is everything alright ?” You asked, looking at him.

“Huh ? Everything's good. No worries.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Okay.” You resumed looking at the different display glasses on the street.

Looking down on his cross-body bag, Gekko saw the disappointed look his crew sent him, making him gulp. Slightly nervous, he cleared his throat, catching your attention.

“Actually, I’d like to hold your hand.” He said in one breath. “If it’s fine with you.”

You looked back at him and he noticed your eyes slightly widening in surprise. You then looked down at his hand, then back at his eyes and nodded. A smile immediately illuminated Gekko’s face as he intertwined your fingers together.

“Your heart is beating so fast right now.” You said.

“And who’s fault is that ?” He retorted, chuckling.

If Los Angeles did not already have sunny weather, Gekko would be the cause of it. His happiness was so flagrant that most people on your way thought that you just accepted his marriage proposal.

You, on the other hand, were slightly moved but hid it pretty well. Gekko’s blatant happiness was heartwarming and even though this kind of public demonstration of affection made you a little bit uneasy, your boyfriend's smile held your soul in a comforting embrace. 

Still walking hand in hand with your partner, you buried your other hand in the pocket of your jacket. Your eyebrows raised when you felt something hard against the pads of your fingers. 

“Oh ?”

“What is it ?” Gekko turned to you and looked at you curiously.

You pulled the object out of your pocket and saw that it was a lollipop with a purple packaging. You immediately recognised it as one of these sweets Iso liked to eat. 

“A lollipop.”

Funny. It was as if a piece of him was saying that he was there, that you were not alone anymore, like an older sibling watching over you. Cypher, Iso, Deadlock and now Gekko and his fling of colorful and joyful critters. Who would have thought that you wouldn't be alone anymore ? Not you.

Gekko hummed as he dragged you into a store. The soft fragrance of old paper invaded your nose followed by the scent of coffee. 

“A bookstore ?” You gasped.

“Yup ! And it sells good coffee too.” He looked at you, a confident smile on his lips. “Do you like it ?”

Your eyes traveled on the different shelves around you, the different covers hiding so many stories, the different seats so inviting… and then you froze, your eyes fixed straight ahead of you.

You immediately spotted a certain book on a shelf and rushed towards it. “I haven't read it in years.” You murmured, nostalgia dripping from your voice. You turned towards Gekko and handed the book to him. “First time I read it, I was a kid. I got so scared that I hid it in the farthest closet from my bedroom.”

Gekko took the book and smiled. He put down his skateboard near a couch and sat down, patting the space beside him. “Wanna tell me about it ?”

You put the lollipop in your mouth and joined him on the couch.

And that was how you spent the afternoon : remembering some moments of your childhood through books. You laughed, teased, and playfully bantered together for hours, quietly of course to not disturb other readers. You snorted together each time somebody hushed at you for being too loud and you had fun making a tier list of the best covers on a shelf. Gekko really had a talent for creating comfort zones and it was one of the many things you loved about him.

It was at the end of the day when you walked out of the bookstore, laughing, Gekko’s arm around your waist. A new level of complicity bloomed between you. 

“Oh ! Before we go back to HQ I have to make you taste the best boba tea in the world !” He exclaimed.

You giggled at his enthusiasm and as he pointed to a bubble tea parlor not so far from the bookstore.

“The best boba in the world ?” You repeated.

“You heard me right !” He set his skateboard on the floor and grinned. “The first one there ?”

“Seriously ?” You raised an eyebrow.

His sweet puppy eyes took you off-guard for a second and he noticed that. “Come on !”

You rolled your eyes and quickly pulled the wheels out of your sole and started rushing towards the parlor without waiting for him, giggled at him accusing you of not waiting for a countdown. You quickly heard the wheels of his skateboard behind you. You found yourself laughing in delight. Gekko’s sunny personality could erase a storm. You both abruptly stopped right in front of the parlor, startling the employee. 

“I win.” Said Gekko, catching his breath.

“You wish.” You snorted.

You exchanged a smile and Gekko handed his hand to you, which you accepted, squeezing it gently. You ordered your drinks and circulated hand in hand in the streets of Boyle Heights as the sun was slowly settling.

“Mmmh. This boba is really good.” You nodded. “But I know better.”

“Better than this !?” Gekko dramatically gasped. “Impossible.”

“I’ll drag you there someday.” 

Gekko’s heart missed a beat. Did you just imply that you will organize your outing next time ? 

“Did you like our date ?” He asked.

You nodded and smiled softly at him. “Yes. But please don’t organize it at the last minute ever again.”

He just laughed and kissed your cheek and laughed louder when you complained about his lips being cold because of the drink. He too liked your date. And as he took a selfie of the both of you, he promised himself to cherish this moment. A few weeks ago, he would have never thought that you two would end up dating. You were so close yet so far, always in your bubble and letting almost nobody in. He himself was so surprised that he managed to slither into your cocoon. But now that he was in, there was no way that he went out.

He wondered what Cypher meant earlier about him being the only one not underestimating his partner, though. He pretended that he heard nothing, but it still ran free in his mind. But he decided to set it aside for the moment. He was having a good time, and no negativity had the right to ruin it.

“Now that I think about it,” Gekko started as he stopped walking. “We've been dating for something like two weeks and I still don’t know your name.”

You stopped right in your tracks, your eyes widening in shock. “Damn. You’re right.” Even though you never called him by it, you knew his name : Mateo. Since the day he told you his name, it never quit your brain. It wasn't fair. The only people in the protocol knowing your name was Cypher —of course, Deadlock and Iso.

Squeezing his hand in yours, you tell him your name, staring into his warm eyes. You saw his pupils dilating as the syllables escaped your mouth. He repeated your name in a soft murmur, as if pronouncing a precious secret, squeezing your hand back. And as you returned back to the HQ, he kept repeating your name in his mind like a lucky charm.

Let's say I'm a tiny bit satisfied with the ending this time. A tiny bit. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Anecdote : A friend made me a tacos and I was eating it while writing the restaurant scene. It was so good that I almost cried. But my facial expression was so weird that she thought I was having an allergic reaction to something in the food.

Thank you for taking the time of reading this. I wish you a great day/evening/night.

[cyarikaplease]

in the middle of the night, in my dreams

din djarin x f!reader

chapter two: the fall

summary: As you research what these strange occurrences could mean you wonder... What if the strange man in your dreams is a symbol of death?

You

The past few rotations have been the same; wake up, go to work, come home, hastily finish your chores, and go to bed. It’s all the same. Except for one thing.

The brown eyes. And who they belong to.

The first dream you had when you saw the man sitting across from you at the cantina was just the beginning. In the next dream, you were on a snowy planet, the wind biting your face and stinging your eyes.

And then you saw it again; saw him again. He was in the distance just over the horizon. As he got closer you noticed that the bitter temperature and the harsh wind made his face flushed and his hair tousled. But one thing stayed the same of course— his eyes.

You woke up before anything else happened, recording what you saw and what you remembered before continuing another day as normal. It’s been a similar pattern lately, have an ominous dream, see the man, the eyes, the face, and wake up.

One dream you had was quite short. You were wandering in a marketplace on a planet you didn’t quite recognize. And then something happened that hasn’t happened so far. You were face to face with the mysterious man. In fact, he almost ran right into you. But before either of you could say anything, you woke up, scratching your head and trying to record all that you saw quickly before you forgot. Now that you saw him up close and personal, you noticed that he’s wearing all black, something that you don’t quite know how to interpret.

That brings you to tonight. You’re getting ready for bed, hoping to have a similar dream, or at least one that can maybe explain all this. You can only hope.

Your subconscious is running wild. Your senses are overwhelmed with things you can see, feel, smell, and hear. But there’s something about this dream so far that’s not like the other ones— you’re aware you’re in a dream. You look above you where the sun is peeking through the treetops. The trees tower over you, making you feel small. And there’s a light breeze, a comfortable one, shaking the branches and whistling softly. There are no living things in this dream, at least that you can tell so far. You’re alone but it feels nice. It feels like a vacation from the monotonous life you live.

And so you sit on a fallen tree trunk, taking in your surroundings and admiring the beauty that you don’t have in the tunnels on Sullust. Maker, how you’d kill to experience this in real life, to feel the sun on your face, to feel the wind kiss your skin, to smell the scents of nature around you. Perhaps these are real places, real planets that exist. Perhaps they’re a figment of your imagination. Either way, you decide that you should remember all that you can about these places and research them at the library.

This feeling of bliss doesn’t last long because out of the corner of your eye, you spot him. You’re not really sure what to expect of him. You’ve barely had any form of real interaction. You meet his gaze and before you can speak he shouts, “Hey!” running towards you at full speed, dodging the rocks and branches littered on the ground. Something shiny catches your eye and you realize that he has a blaster attached to his belt. His hand grazes it as he runs toward you.

You can’t do this anymore. You have to wake up. This man is a threat. Hurry. Wake up. Wake up NOW.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up!!!

You open your eyes to the dull gray ceiling yet again, rolling over groggily to grab your journal. Your hands shake as you write down the details of the dream, terrified that the man you keep seeing is a threat.

You realize… he’s wearing all black. He only has a blaster with him and nothing else. As soon as he saw you, he sprinted straight towards you.

He’s wearing all black.

Could it be Death following you in your dreams?

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t know anyone else who’s dealing with something like this, let alone anyone that you can even talk to about your situation. All you can do is research at the library like you decided in your dream. And hope that there’s something that contains an answer.

Din

He wakes up gasping, feeling like he just ran a marathon. This is the fourth time he’s seen you in his dreams. Now that he’s seen you up close, he realizes he’s seen you before, but the context is still a mystery. Everything about you is a mystery. Except this time he saw how scared you were, how your eyes filled with fear.

…Maybe running towards you with a blaster on his hip was a bad idea.

But what does it all mean? Who are you? And why are you haunting his dreams?

He sits up and groans at himself in frustration. It’s been a few rotations since he captured the bounty, Kaba Baiz. Karga was right and the guild master here had information that led him to the Mandalorian covert. The Armorer declared him an apostate for removing his helmet when Grogu left with the Jedi. He’ll have to go to Mandalore to redeem himself in the Living Waters. He’ll get there eventually, but there are some things he needs to address first.

Like these strange dreams.

Perhaps he can ask the Armorer before leaving Glavis Ringworld.

He heads back down to the lower sublevels of the space station like he did a few rotations ago. He anxiously hopes that the Armorer will actually speak to him still. He should’ve asked her this before he was declared an apostate.

He enters through the door and walks down the bridge, inching closer to the small covert. The Armorer is working over the forge, Paz Vizsla standing off to the side. Their helmets turn towards him as he enters, an uncomfortable tension hanging in the air.

“What do you want, apostate?” Paz snarls.

“I came here to seek answers.”

“About?” The Armorer asks.

“These dreams I’m having.”

She sets down whatever she’s working on and turns towards Din, cocking her helmet to the side.

“I never used to remember them. I wake up remembering some small details every time. But now I keep seeing the same person.”

“What person?”

“A woman.”

“I see.”

“Do you have any idea what it all means?”

After a small sigh, she says, “No. I don’t. Perhaps you’ll be better off talking to a Jedi.”

“A Jedi?”

“They’re better suited to help you with your… unique situation than I am.”

“Thank you,” he says awkwardly, the unwelcome feeling settling in.

He turns and leaves, feeling their stares burn a hole into him as he walks away. He got the message loud and clear— stay away from us.

In due time I’ll be redeemed, he tells himself. Just enough to keep himself sane while he embarks on this little side quest.

Stowed away in the Razor Crest is the armor that the Armorer made for Grogu. He’ll travel to Osuss where he’s training with Luke to give it to him. He figures that while he’s there he can ask Luke or Ahsoka about the strange dreams he’s having. Two birds, one stone as they say.

Surely, one of them will help him, right?

He doesn’t sleep at all on the way to Osuss. He’s anxious for a cocktail of reasons; to see Grogu, to see what they say about his dreams, and the general underlying dread that comes with being an apostate now.

When he lands on the lush, green planet, he mentally prepares himself for dealing with the Jedi. They have a strange way of going about things; a strange way of understanding the galaxy that Din doesn’t quite grasp. Most of all he hopes he’ll see Grogu, even if she doesn’t learn anything about his dreams and what they mean.

Ahsoka greets him once he’s stepped off the Razor Crest and walks towards the school. There are a myriad of droids around him, constructing the school stone by stone. But he looks around— no sign of Grogu or Luke.

“Where is he?” he asks Ashoka.

“Training.”

“Can I… see him?”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“But I came all this way.”

“It’ll interfere with his progress.”

Figures, he thinks to himself.

“Can you at least make sure he gets this?” he says, holding out the small piece of armor.

“Of course,” Ahsoka says, taking it in her hands. There’s a small but unreadable smile on her face. And all of a sudden Din’s nervous to ask her about the dreams. But he has to. He didn’t come all this way for nothing.

“I need to ask you something,” he blurts out.

“What is it?”

“I’ve been having strange dreams.”

“What kind of dreams?” she asks, curiosity laced in her voice.

“The same person keeps showing up.”

“How many times?”

“Four.”

“You don’t know who this person is?”

“No, I’ve never seen her before.”

“It’s a woman?”

“Yes. Human,” he adds.

“Have you spoken to her?”

“Not yet.”

“What happened the last time you saw her?”

“I… chased her. She got scared and before anything else happened I woke up.”

“You’re aware you’re dreaming when this happens?”

“Yes.”

She pauses for a moment, lost in thought and trying to piece together what this all means.

“Have you… heard of something like this?”

“Something similar. But only with other Jedis or ones in tune with the Force.”

“So what does this mean for me?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, “But you should find out. Find out where she’s from and see if you can find her outside of your dreams.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. Let’s hope it becomes clear once you meet her,” she says with a playful smirk, beginning to walk to the school.

“Oh, and don’t chase her this time,” she adds, climbing the small hill and disappearing.

He doesn’t know how to feel. He didn’t get to see Grogu or even get a clear answer about his dreams as he had hoped. He’s a tad disgruntled but what other choice does he have than to listen to Ahsoka’s advice? This connection he shares with you might be worth exploring. He just has to figure out how.

You

Anxious, paranoid, frantic.

You’ve spent hours upon hours in the library after your shift, searching for reasons; searching for answers. But to no avail. You’ve poured over books, research journals, and articles on data-pads. There’s nothing you can find out about a strange man with hypnotizing brown eyes donned in all black that signifies death. That should make you feel better, but it almost makes you feel worse. Apparently, you’re the only person in the galaxy with this specific problem.

Is it a problem, though? For one, you’ve never spoken to this man. You’ve only ever vaguely crossed paths a handful of times now. But the real question is why? Why are you of all people connected to him? Is the galaxy trying to tell you something? Or is this just a man you’ve seen before in passing somehow inching his way into your dreams? You did read something about how every face you see in a dream is someone you’ve seen before. The mind is unable to formulate a face from scratch. But that’s impossible. You’ve been banished to the underground world of Sullust for as long as you can remember, most of your neighbors and coworkers being Sullustans themselves. You’ve only met a handful of humans in your life and surely you’d remember the face following you. Those eyes are hard to forget.

Not only is this strange man a regular occurrence in your dreams but there’s something else that’s new– You were aware you were in a dream. You could control your actions, choose what you say, and decide when you want to wake up. You were able to find out what that is during your research. It’s called lucid dreaming and to your understanding, it’s a skill one needs to practice and develop. But why were you able to do this so effortlessly? Why now after all this time? It’s a little suspicious that you suddenly gained this ability when this man started appearing in your dreams.

Nightfall looms over your head, only a couple of hours until the library closes and it’s time for you to go home. Part of you feels silly for being afraid to go to sleep of all things. It’s not like anything can physically harm you in the dream realm… right?

No, but it can scar you for life.

-

Your bed haunts you in the corner of your room. You can’t fight off sleeping any longer. You have to work the next morning like you always do. You can’t afford to be late, nothing is worth risking going back to the droid department. Reluctantly, you crawl into bed, staring at the dull gray ceiling and hoping for an uneventful dream.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

-

@pedrostories @littlemisspascal

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1131 - Initial Thoughts

It wasn't enough to have a 2 week break, the scans also had to come out late XD

But finally, One Piece is back, and Luffy stands before another self-proclaimed Sun God. We can see some writings on the wall but Oda does like a good swerve, so let's see what he has for us

Spoilers for the chapter below, support the Official Release too

Yamato's cover is him on Komachiyo and Tama on Speed running after the katana thief, nothing too big really - and honestly Speed is really fast so this thief shouldn't outrun them

We pick up right where we left off with Luffy reacting with joy that they're in Elbaf

Hahaha Luffy's quickfire questions and observations quickly annoy Loki who's trying to honey his words

Loki yells and it causes the trees to shake and rumble, animals also seem to growl so it wasn't haki

Loki seems to truly believe himself to be the Sun God 'from all the legends', but telling Luffy not to speak unless he commands it isn't a good start

Also Loki has a 'special bounty' of 2.6bn, so above Yonko Commander (And Dorry and Brogy) but not quite on Yonko, wonder why it's special? Maybe it's not imposed by the WG? Maybe it's a Giant's bounty

When he asks Luffy what he thinks of his predicament Luffy just goes 'looks like you got caught' XD blunt as ever

Huh, Loki's only been imprisoned for 6 years? Last chapter they said 'a few years back' he was sentenced to crucifixion? Maybe a mistranslation? Six is more than a few

His chains are Sea Prism but he says he's the pride of Elbaf's strength

And the big tree is as many theorized Treasure Tree Adam, the same wood the Sunny is made out of!

Loki has a proposal for Luffy - who he called Loppy before being corrected - he wants Luffy to release him and in exchange he'll wipe out any pirate crew he wants

Seems pretty confident that he can solo a pirate crew, that or he just really wants to get out

He showed the carrot but here's the stick; he can't force Luffy to agree, but he has some leverage

The snowy lands here is known as the 'Realm of the Dead' (likely a reference to how Loki is Hel's father in Norse Myth) and is the lowest layer of Elbaf: a place for prisoners and executions

You know that kinda gives me the same vibes as Impel Down's level 4

Things have lived on this layer for thousands of years, so they also call it the 'First World' - which could mean we're blending Hel and Niflheim - the realm of primordial ice and cold, which does sometimes get mixed with Helheim

In Norse Myth (Prose Edda mainly) Niflheim and Muspelheim were the first realms of Ginnungagap (the void), fire and ice mixed to make steam which became Hel - but the Norse for fog or mist is 'Nifel' thus the confusion. The icy rivers of Niflheim melted by Muspelheim's fires also unleashed a yeasty venom that birthed Ymir, the ancestor of the Jotnar

Luffy is cornered by giant beasts, with a cute polar bear, and some humans, all of whom are in service of Loki. The beasts at least befriended him while he was a kid

There is the hilarity of Luffy not taking this serious because like, Loki has no fucking idea who he's talking to XD

Like, you threaten him with a bunch of giant animals? The feral forest child who trained with giant animals for 2 years?

The humans below are explained to avoid being eaten by dressing up in foul smelling clothes and being like 'living corpses' but the minions do kinda get their feelings hurt by this

They do scout out Luffy though, hoping he has anything good on him, before apologizing for fainting after Shanks appeared on the island

Mentioning Shanks perks Luffy up though, who has already befriended the giant animals to Loki and the minions' shock

Excited, Luffy asks about Shanks, but Loki sees an opportunity

Annnnnd chose wrong, he calls Shanks a coward and Luffy immediately goes Gear Fourth

The Kong Gun misses - Loki has been blindfolded this whole time, either he can still see a bit or he has his own impressive Observation Haki - hitting the tree instead

Loki's quick to backpedal on 'it's just a joke bro' and to try and throw a sense of honour in the mix by the fact that he's chained up

Luffy however ain't about that, you piss him off he'll be pissed off, Loki meanwhile already seeks to kill him once he's free in a thought bubble

Luffy asks why Shanks was here, but Loki plays coy, the gears are turning again

Back at the castle bridge, the bridge is shaking causing Nami and Usopp to panic

Usopp spots someone behind them running on the bridge

It's Rodo, still smoking from the lightning attack so the crew deduce he's the same guy

They're being chased by Gerd and Goldberg (and Piper the Owl) as Goldberg carries the Sunny

Zoro expects this to be unfriendly, but before he can draw his sword Usopp attempts pragmatism: they may be allies

For now the group agrees to get to the end of the bridge, so they're on solid ground and because a village may be nearby

Somewhere else in the Realm of the Dead, Hajrudin appears! He's been on the hunt and caught a Moose with Stansen

He specifically came down here to hunt for good meat, in order to have good food waiting for the Straw Hats' arrival

Stansen asks how they'll carry it, the translation is iffy since it even has a t/n, but it seems that it snowing prevents them from having an apparatus

There's also a quick recap of Hajrudin's loyalty to Luffy via Dressrosa, with Leo also there

The two giants instead just decide to carry the Moose, while singing a song about their crew - whose layout is also shown to be just those 5 members

Back on the Longboat, Brook has given Robin a haircut

Brook hasn't cut women's hair so he was nervous, also skull joke

Lilith enjoyed the skull joke because it's a scientific impossibility, Bonney, Jinbe and Franky like the hair too

OG HAIRSTYLE ROBIN MY BELOVED

Awwww and she wanted it that way because that's how Saul would remember it!

Franky of course is keeping it very emotionally together for her

Even Oimo and Kashii mention how it's the same style as how they remember in Enies Lobby

The longboat is also right by Elbaf, from this perspective you can see that the greenery we've seen when Shanks was there is more like an elevation, so this Land of the Dead may be the bottom of a cliffside

But we have a cliffhanger, Saul has fallen and can't get up!

Oda don't you fucking dare cause Robin heartbreak after she's gotten so excited about seeing someone from her past she thought was dead! It's not allowed! Forbidden I say! Don't do it!

Other than that, this was a chapter that seemed more dedicated to giving us more on the personality of Loki. He's definitely a little bit devious, but he's both completely unaware of how strong Luffy is and probably overestimates how tricksy he need to be with manipulating his freedom. Definitely has a grand opinion of himself, and over 2 billion berries as a bounty is nothing to scoff at even if it is lower than Luffy's. I do like though how Oda has knotted things up with releasing Loki, there was an obvious easy route but Loki spends more time shooting himself in the foot which makes it less and less likely that Luffy will simply free him. If anything, one Eustass Kid may be more compelled to free Loki than Luffy is - wouldn't put it past the giants fishing him out and throwing him into this Land of the Dead.

Usopp's observation may also work out with the rest of the crew buddying up with Goldberg and Gerd, maybe bullying Rodo a little more, or they'll just end up in the village and befriend some new characters. If the Land of the Dead has humans that betray Elbaf in some way there may be humans still living in Elbaf itself, I do continue to be intrigued as to how Oda will blend more Norse Myth into the story. If we get a character named Snorri you best believe I'm gonna talk about it.

With the Longboat docking into Elbaf too the crew will likely reunite sooner rather than later, there is still a wealth to explore and discover though, but seriously let Robin be happy!