#reader x melancholy

[wildechildwrites]

Promise

John Price/Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: lil bit of angst

No Use of Y/N

Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Your husband comes home unexpectedly with his team in tow

A/N: *Posts something* *Disappears for another four months*

AO3 Link: Promise

John’s posture visibly relaxes as he steps through the front door, knots in his shoulders unraveling as he rounds the corner and spots you. The sun’s setting, golden rays filtering through the kitchen window, wrapping everything in a warm glow. You’re stirring a pot on the stove, humming to yourself, and as you turn to look at him, lips curving softly, John murmurs a hello, voice reverent with poignant adoration.

Your bright eyes flick from his to the three curious pairs behind him, and you click your tongue in disapproval. “John, if you'd called ahead, I could've ensured I made enough for your guests.”

“They're not staying long, love, just–”

“Oh, nonsense,” you cut him off, waving your hand as if to brush away the thought, tone authoritative. “You sort your business, and I'll see what can be done to stretch the meal. Honestly John, what kind of first impression is that; me turning out your boys without dinner?”

You cross the warmly lit kitchen and give him a quick peck on the cheek before introducing yourself to his companions, a bright smile on your face. Soap hasn't quite managed to pick his jaw off the floor, so Ghost leans over and shuts it for him. Gaz smiles back at you, recovering from his shock with more ease as he extends a hand to you.

“I'm Kyle,” he says keenly, and the stormy face of his captain, standing just out of your eye line, makes him quickly drop your hand. “The boys call me Gaz.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Gaz.” You reply, genuine warmth threading through your voice before you turn towards the two other men. “You must be Ghost and Soap.”

“Aye,” Soap replies after a beat, “Price never mentioned he had a…” he trails off awkwardly, and Ghost smacks the back of his head. You laugh lightly, not having to look at your husband to feel the glare he’s shooting his soldiers.

You reach your hand towards John, and he tangles his fingers in yours automatically, pulling you towards him. You give him a playful smile before turning back towards his boys. “He’s a big advocate of separating work from home. Won’t even let me call him Captain.”

The suggestive lilt in your voice makes the men duck their heads, and you turn to John, watching the tips of his ears turn pink with barely concealed glee.

“We’ll be in my study,” he grumbles.

The men can hear your laughter ringing as they head down the hall.

You can’t help the thread of anxiety twisting low in your stomach as you add more broth to the soup you’re making. The less you know, the better, but the unexpected presence of John’s entire team sits poorly with you. He didn’t even send you a warning text, entirely out of character, exacerbating your unease. Muffled voices filter through the walls, and you try to distract yourself, curbing your instinct to eavesdrop. The soup is simmering on the stove, so you go to the pantry and grab a box of brownie mix and a bag of chocolate chips, quickly mixing all the ingredients together and popping the pan in the oven.

You’re licking brownie batter off the spatula when John comes back into the kitchen, and you can tell by the expression on his face that you’re not going to like whatever he’s about to say. He takes large, quick strides towards you, and you manage to toss the spatula in the sink before he sweeps you into his wide arms, tugging you to his chest in a tight embrace. You inhale as deeply as you can, pulling the familiar scent of him into your lungs.

“I’ve got to go out of town.” He finally says gravely. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to contact you until what needs to be done is done.”

There’s a high price to being married to a military man. John’s gone more often than he’s not, and when he does slink back home to you, it’s always with new scars and fresh nightmares, things that weigh on him in a way you’ll never be able to comprehend.

You know, with a sort of inevitable finality, that John won’t get to retire. It’s not in his nature, and no matter how much he loves you; he loves the job more. He’ll come home in a box one day, and every time he leaves, you have to accept it might be the last time you’ll see him.

Unwanted tears gather in the corners of your eyes, and you give yourself a moment, face pressed against John’s chest, willing yourself to be strong. Your voice is muffled when you finally speak, unwilling to pull away from the comfort of his arms.

“There’s a go bag full of clean clothes in our closet. When do you need to leave?”

John squeezes you tighter against him, burying his nose in your hair. His heartbeat is loud in your ears, steady as always.

“We’ll stay for dinner, but we’ll be leaving tonight. I’m so sorry, love.”

You dance around each other like it’s a normal night, basking in the warmth of the oven and his company, choosing to ignore the tug at your heart strings, the quiet sounds of his team filtering through the wall. You can feel his watchful eyes on you while you fill the bowls with generous scoops, but you pretend not to notice, humming to yourself with a cheer you don’t feel.

The timer on the oven dings, and you pull away, quickly turning so John can’t see the redness in your eyes. You know what you signed up for, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

“I was going to make some grilled cheese to go with the soup, will you get them started?”

The silverware clinks merrily, the living room filled with the sound of quiet chatter. The table hasn’t been this crowded since two years ago, when you convinced your sister to come for a visit. She’d brought her little ones, and John had doted on them, acting so soft and attentive, making you absolutely melt. You see echoes of that same care in his interactions with his men, hidden beneath an artificial shell of severity.

“This migh’ just be the best soup I’ve ever tasted,” Soap pipes up, elbows tucked uncomfortably to avoid jostling Gaz, “I’da kept you a secret too, with cooking like this.”

“Johnny.” John’s voice is a hard warning, but he betrays himself with the slightest curve of a smile beneath his whiskers, a spark of pride in his eyes.

“There’s some soup left on the stove, if you boys are still hungry.” You smile. “And I’ve got brownies for dessert.”

The appreciative noise Soap makes borders on obscene. “Dinner and dessert? Do ya’ want another husband?”

The thud of John’s boot connecting with his Sergeant’s shin echoes through the room, and you try and fail to stifle a snort. Gaz quirks his eyebrow at you, humor dancing in his expression, and you let out a giggle before slapping your hand over your mouth self-consciously.

“Apologies.” Ghost pipes up dryly, inclining his head towards Soap. “We don’t have ‘im house trained yet.”

You let out another laugh. “It's alright, I'm still working on John.” The boys laugh, and your husband shoots you a look.

“You’re fostering insubordination, love.” He says gruffly, and you smile sweetly at him, grabbing his hand under the table and giving it a tight squeeze.

The men eat fast, faster than you’d like them to, the meal ending too quickly. Ghost and Soap clear the table, cracking dad jokes that make you roll your eyes good-naturedly, and Gaz plants himself solidly in front of the sink, ignoring your protests.

“Let me do the dishes,” he says stubbornly, an immovable brick wall, ignoring your attempts to shove him out of the way. “My mum would have a fit if she knew somebody cooked for me and I didn’t do the washing up.”

“I’m not going to discourage his good manners; he rarely gets to put ‘em to use. Come and sit with me for a minute.”

John’s leaning against the kitchen door frame, his warm eyes crinkled with amusement at the scene in front of him. You whirl around with a grumpy look.

“John, order him to let me take care of it,” you command, pointing at Gaz, and your husband just laughs, reaching out to grab your hand.

He leads you away from the bustle of the kitchen to his study, shutting the door behind him. His normally pristine desk is strewn with papers and maps, and you try and fail not to look too much, wondering what’s in Mexico that could need such urgent attention. John sits in the wide leather chair behind the desk and pulls you into his lap, burying his nose into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin. You both inhale deeply, folding into each other.

The silence is heavy. You’re too aware of the ticking clock, the inevitable goodbye. You’ve barely had him for a few hours, and then you’ll be alone again, in this house designed for the two of you, constantly listening for the familiar sound of footsteps, desperately waiting for the phone to ring.

“You know, love,” John murmurs, “If anything were to happen to me, the boys would make sure you're looked after. Kate too.” He pulls back to look at you, his expression earnest. “Made them swear to it.” Your stomach drops like a rock, the tears you’ve been fighting all night rising back to the surface. John's thoughts have been in the same place as yours, lingering on realities best left unacknowledged.

You choke around the lump in your throat. “I don’t need anyone looking after me. I just need you.” You wrap your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him. “Just come back home, John.” Your bottom lip wobbles, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes, and he sighs mournfully.

“None of that, love. You know I can’t stand to see you cry.”

“Just–” you cut yourself off to smother a sob. “Just promise me you’ll always come home.” You want to beg him to stay, beg him to never leave you again, but you know he has to go. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be the man you married. You’ll settle for an unsustainable guarantee, worthless words with no force behind them. Your wedding ring sits heavy on your finger, a noose around your neck.

The lie sours in the air between you.

John’s gaze is melancholy. His thumb gently brushes away the tears making their way down your cheek, and he leans in to press a tender kiss to your lips.

“I promise. Always.”

You walk the boys to the door, making sure they’ve got everything they need, slipping the last brownie to Soap when no one else is looking. You give your husband a tight hug, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek before turning towards his men.

“It was nice to meet you all.” Your face is blotchy from your earlier tears, eyes still rimmed with red, but you smile as sincerely as you can.

Gaz reaches his hand out. “It was a pleasure. Thanks for dinner, it was delicious.”

You ignore the offered palm and pull him in for a hug, hoping it’s not overly familiar. The way Gaz relaxes into your arms tells you he needs it, and you give him an extra squeeze before pulling back. “You’re all welcome anytime you want a home cooked meal.”

When you turn to Soap, he sweeps you into his arms eagerly, crushing you tight enough against him to draw a strangled squeak from your lungs. “You’re a dead brilliant cook,” he says, voice oozing sincerity, “Price’ll have ta beat me out the door with a broom.”

“Johnny.” Your husband’s warning tone is enough for Soap to release you, grinning cheekily. You shoot John a reassuring look before turning towards your last guest.

Ghost eyes you warily, his posture unnaturally stiff. You open your arms slightly, tilting your head, a silent offering. There’s a beat, and then Ghost steps into the hug with the faux indifference of a moody teenager, throwing one arm carelessly over your shoulder. You have to stifle your urge to laugh. “Be safe,” you say softly, and there’s a shock of warmth in his icy stare even as he grunts noncommittally.

You’re plunged into empty silence when the men file out of the house. You watch them get into their cars, a bitter taste in your mouth. John turns to look back at you, saying something you can’t hear to his men before running back, slamming the front door behind him firmly. Your heart leaps.

“Forgot something,” he says, and grabs you, pulling you in for a searing kiss. You melt together, lips parting against his, arms automatically reaching up around his neck. He pulls back, and you tighten your grip around him.

“I love you,” it’s a desperate plea, an impossible ask.

“I love you, too.” John says, and his eyes slide to the door, strong fingers untangling himself from your hold.

When he leaves, he takes the warmth with him.

[adoreddestiny]

For the pop up event, "would you like me to whisper it in your ear?" For Xavier, MC being the one to say it pls!

ೃ⁀➷ POP UP EVENT !! — aurora’s writing corner

“would you like me to whisper it in your ear?” — xavier x gn!reader

silky sunlight streamed into the room through starry striped curtains. it was the kind of sunrise that transformed yellows to golds and golds into flecks of glowing ambers.

through the streaks of harrowed sunlight you could see particles of dust wafting in through the slightly opened window. warm, muscular arms bundled you tightly to their chest and a soft noise escaped the man that lay at your side.

your star buried his nose deeper into your neck. fluffy silver hair tickled the bridge of your nose but you lay still and silent in his embrace.

a succinct silence stabilized the atmosphere around the two of you whispering occasional secrets of the world that moved along outside the sun-painted windows.

“you’re up earlier than usual,” xavier said. his voice streaked through the softening quiet. your breath caught in the back of your throat and he squeezed you a little tighter.

“so are you,” you whispered. you were certain he could hear the rhythmic beat of your heart against his eardrums.

“is something bothering you?” he asked, ignoring your previous comment. he resembled a purring cat, content to turn his back towards the glistening sunlight and into the eclipse of your embrace.

you pressed your lips together, glancing down at him. wide starlit eyes gazed back at you and you let something unintelligible slip through your mouth.

“what was that?” he asked, eyebrows creasing in a gentle, concerned manner.

you couldn’t bring yourself to repeat the words that reverberated in your mind. you simply stared at him at first. just laying in his embrace as if the world wasn’t turning vastly outside.

then you smiled, leaning in close to graze your lips against the shell of his ear. “would you like me to whisper it in your ear?”

his pale complexion took on a rosy hue as he tightened his grip around you for the second time that morning. “that wasn’t fair,” he muttered.

[astradreaming]

perseus jackson | melancholy

God of Loyalty, Mercy and Tides.

Zeus generously offered the Son of Poseidon immortality after defeating Kronos during the Battle of Manhattan at sixteen. Perseus Jackson, commonly known as Percy agreed to said offer.

The new god of Loyalty, Mercy and Tides was born.

strings of fate

'How could I ask for more?'

↳ Death of a Bachelor by Panic! At The Disco

'Haven't I given enough?'

↳ Gilded Lily by Cults

'You know it's not the same as it was - And nobody's coming to help'

↳ As It Was by Harry Styles

'And the world's gonna know your name'

↳ Hall of Fame by The Script

'Oh Father tell me - Do we get what we deserve?'

↳ Way Down We Go by KALEO

'Best to give me your loyalty'

↳ Royalty by Egzod

fanart cr: left cr. velinxi/velsmells. middle cr. frostbite.studios. right cr. alexcopeman

[osleeplessflowero]

// y'all have had too much fluff. let me ruin it rq ❤️Reader's pronouns are They/Them, and their Soul type is up to you. 🧡 Angst Warning 💛 This is connected to my Multiverse Traveler!Reader x Nightmare oneshot, "Chasing". 💚 NOT associated with Flowerfell!! I like to think of this particular flower disease as a bit different than that since it's my own take and I don't ship Frans which is what the original AU was 💙 enjoy the pain :)

A portal abruptly opens and shuts, then it happens again. And again. And again. Nightmare shifts through them with relative ease, travelling alone through universe after universe.

He's alone again, looking for something- no, someone in particular. Those beneath him couldn't help but wonder why he kept going out alone these days, but they weren't complaining too much. Just means less work for them in the end, right?

What Nightmare hadn't told them, is that he is indeed looking for his Soulmate, a human who managed to sneak their way into his heart. Sliding past all of the negative sludge and managing to get through to him, leaving him breathless. The two of you had come up with a game of sorts, Nightmare travelling between universes in order to find the true you, the one who'd found him before. But considering everyone here has separate variations depending on the timeline..that's easier said than done.

While rushing through, he comes to a stop when he reaches an almost completely destroyed realm. All that remains of it is a simple cliff and a sunset view, flowers covering the ground and swaying gently in the breeze. A figure sits, dangling their legs off of the edge. He approaches..mainly out of mere curiosity, wondering who it could possibly be. Who knows? Maybe he could use their pain for a quick boost.

He walks over slowly, stopping immediately when the figure turns their head to him with a small smile. It's..it's you? No. It's not the true you. This is another variation. Flowers cover parts of your body, your arms, legs, torso..and even your eyes, blocking your view and blinding your vision. They're your favorite kind..he remembers you telling him that. It's some kind of magic disease, what was it called?.. Right- Bloom's Disease, that's what it was. A virus that would slowly wear the victim down until they were reduced to petals..

..This is distracting him from his goal. But yet, he can't bring himself to leave "your" side.

"Hello." You greet, completely unaware as to who this stranger is. "..Greetings." Was all he said before sitting down beside you, his tendrils relaxing and lying down behind him. He looks over your state, you seem to be pretty happy despite not being able to see anything..he doesn't really understand that.

"I briefly remember how it looked." He raises a browbone. "The sun." Oh. "Is it still pretty?"

He looks up at the view before you, taking in a deep breath of the faintly remaining air.

"..It's beautiful." "I'm glad. I always loved looking at the sunset. It makes the sky all pretty.." "..Like one big watercolor painting?" "How did you know I'd say that?" "..A hunch, I suppose."

There's a short pause. ..He really should be getting back, but..he doesn't want to leave you here either. Just a little longer, he thinks. Then he'll go.

"Who are you?" "..Someone you know very well in another time." "I see. I'd have liked to meet you in this time. You seem nice." "I'm far from the word, dear." He smiles a little, looking over you.

"..Thanks for taking the time to sit with me. It gets lonely out here." "..Of course."

You lean your head on his shoulder, something he normally would protest against, but..he'll allow it this time.

"..There was a big explosion..something happened, and then I couldn't hear anyone anymore. ..I suppose now it's only me. ..I can't see anything, nor can I even hardly move..so I suppose I'll just stay here, watching the sunset I can conjure up in my mind."

He..decides not to tell you a majority of this universe had been completely destroyed, likely by Error while he was going on a rampage.

"..You have a very sad air to you." "That's something that tends to be attached to me. Does that bother you?" "Not really. I have that sort of feeling around me, too." "We have something in common." "Yeah.."

He hesitates, before putting his arm around you. You smile a little, nuzzling your cheek against his coat.

"..I know I..probably don't have a lot of time left. I couldn't even get up if I wanted to." "..Are you afraid?" "..A little bit. Anyone would be if they knew they were going to die, wouldn't they?"

Nightmare averts his eyelight for a moment, before looking back to you.

"I suppose they would."

"..What's your name?" "..Nightmare." "An unusual name, I'd admit."

He smiles a little, remembering how you'd said the same thing when you met the first time.

"I suppose it is, isn't it?" "I like it though. It has a nice ring to it-" You cut yourself off, coughing out flower petals and letting them fall into the abyss before you. He holds you close, making sure you don't fall off as well. A look of pity crosses his face.

"Sorry. I've always been a mood killer, haha." You laugh tiredly. "..Don't worry about it. I am myself." "Another thing we've got in common, huh?"

You move to lean on his shoulder again and he places his hand over yours, gently holding it beneath his own bigger one.

"Hey.." "Yes?" He looks over at you with a soft eyelight. "You said you know me in another time..what am I like?" "Well.. there are a lot of ways I could describe you..I still don't have the perfect one, just yet. Such a colorful person..someone I still have to get to know, once I find them." "Surely there's some word you could think of.."

He lets out a hum of acknowledgement, taking a second to think.

"..Nightmare?" "I'm here. I'm only thinking." He reassures you, squeezing your hand lightly.

"I suppose the word I'd use is.." His face shifts into a fond smile. "Wonderful."

You smile at that, some tears making their way out from beneath the flowers, making them bloom a little more and causing you to wince.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his tone and expression worried. "S-Sorry, it's.. it's just nice to think about. A timeline where I'm not doomed by these. One where someone likes me. Someone cares about me."

A tear pricks at the corner of his eyesocket, gently falling down his face. ..He hasn't cried in a while. It feels..strange.

He leans down, moving your hair slightly and pressing his teeth to your forehead, a small kiss to comfort you. You smile a little more, before you feel a few of his tears hit your face.

"Nightmare? Why are you crying?" "I'm sorry." "Whatever for?" You speak softly, sitting up and facing the direction you can hear his voice from. "That no one could be there. That you've..had to suffer, alone. I know that feeling better than anyone else. You don't..deserve that. Not you. Never you."

You reach up your hand until you're sure you're touching his face, resting it on his cheek. He leans his head into your touch, turning his face so he can gently kiss your palm. You wipe away his tears with your thumb, smiling weakly up at him.

"Don't cry for my sake. I'll be alright. ..At least..I got to meet you, right?"

You lean back a little, holding out your arms. He realizes what you're doing, hesitating slightly due to your fragile state before giving you a hug.

"There you are.. doesn't that feel a little better?" "..Yes." "Good. I wouldn't want you crying on my behalf."

It's quiet for a little bit.

"Hey, Nightmare?" "Yes?" "When you see me again..the other me, I mean. Can you do something for me?" "What is it?" "Give me a big smile. One I haven't seen before." "..I don't know if I can." "You could try, couldn't you?" "..I suppose I could."

He stares at the flowers that had surrounded where you were sitting, frowning at them.

"I'm..feeling a little sleepy. Can I sleep here for a little bit?" "Of course you can, dearest. However long you need to.." His voice breaks a little as he speaks, shaky. "Thank you.." You bury your face in his shoulder as he listens to your soft breathing.

A few minutes pass..with nothing but you, him, and the permanent sunset before you.

"Dearest?.." He whispers to you.

..There's no response.

He backs up to look at your face, seeing a smile still placed there.. your body going limp. His eyelight shrinks almost immediately as he realizes.. you're gone. ..Tears begin overflowing again as he hugs you tightly to his body, his shaky breaths now the only sound there.

The flowers on your body emit a faint glow before they surround you, shifting your form. He backs up a little, watching as the flowers begin to float into the air..your figure no longer present. He reaches out to grab one before all of them have left mere petals behind, staring at it fondly.

He doesn't know how much time passes as he looks at the sunset once more, before finally forcing himself to leave as the remaining parts of the realm begin to break and disappear.

..He really needs to find you.

Putting the flower in one of his pockets, he opens another portal..and continues his chase.

[shiguknifeii]

uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh, send help?????

[littlemisshottopic]

THIS IS MY EPIC CHEW DEE X READER AND I NEED TO GET IT TO 50 READS !!!! I PUT A LOT OF EFFORT IN THE FIRST CHAPTER AND IF YOU READ IT EARLY YOU MIGHT WITNESS A GREAT STORY !!!!!1!1!1!1!1!1111!!!!!

[writer-ann-artist]

Aemond x Depressed!Reader

Part two Part three

• Parents and Measters recognizing readers' melancholy personality at a young age

• Doing their best to care for reader without making them worse

• Parents loving reader without fail

• Parents crying because reader tried to show affection

"John! John!"

Lady Meraider shouted across the room as she interrupted her husband's meeting. Lord Meraider turned to face his wife with swift panic. Only to see a smile accompanied with tears. Lady Meraider practically fell into her lord husband's arms. She laughed through hiccups as Lord Meraider held her. She finally gained composer and loosened her grip on her husband.

"What is it my love? Why are your emotions out of control?"

"It's y/n, "

"Are they alright?!"

"Yes, yes! Everything is perfect!"

"Then what has happened?"

"I was talking with her Septa, about how her studies were going. And while we were talking y/n came into the room, all quiet as usual."

Lady Meraider gave way to tears again. Lord Meraider wiped her tears so she could continue.

"Y/N came in and decided she wanted a cuddle, it only lasted a minute or so before she left again, but Husband. She cuddled me of her own will!"

Thus time Lord Meraider gave way to tears along with his wife.

• Readers parents having high hopes for when they come of age

• Their daughter is wonderful who could not love her their special baby after all, all her peers enjoy her company, and many of them being males

• Parents already giving grand plans for thier daughters wedding

• Depressed!Daughter peers not liking/shaming them first their dreary disposition

• Daughters peers not liking that despite her constant sadness males are willing to try for her (they don't try too hard though)

• The mothers disappointment and the fathers anger when others flat out reject their daughter

Lord Meraider tossed his cutlery across his plate as he watched another lords daughter cut into his daughters dance. Only to see the boy agree to the other girl. The Meraider daughter doesn't look upset to the untrained eye, but her parents knew. They knew that they would both have to sleep that evening knowing their daughter would cry that night. Especially since this was the third dance she had been jilted.

"Fools, all of them. They should be grateful I even invited them here."

"I know husband, I know."

Both parents sigh as they watched their daughter gracefully leave the dance floor without causing a scene.

"Once day, I promise you wife. Our daughter may appear the be prey to these harlets, but she has a fire. I've seen it in her eyes. She will outshine them all."

• Lord Meraider sending his daughter to his brothers for a possible marriage pact

• Daughter not knowing who the marriage pact is with (if she knew she would not show)

• Reader helping her cousins get ready rather than herself, said cousins, having to heavily persuade reader to let them doll her up

• (Emerald or black dress) the dress readers cousins had made specifically for her

• Reader doesn't meet cousins potential betrothed, but he does see her

• Reader waits with her cousins in line from oldest to youngest while the potential husband arrives

A great storm begins to brew as the Baratheon's wait for their guest. All wait with excited nerves and cautious brains. All but one, the one who is unaware of who the guest really is. The storm rumbles through the keep, shaking windows, and the inhabitants' hearts. With a crash of lightning, another sound of thunder echoed about, only this one was different. It shook fear into the patient inhabitants, causing a few to gasp and jump in their place. Non but one recognized the sound.

"What was that?"

"Sounded like a Demon, or some monster."

"Stop trying to scare your sister!"

"It was just thunder."

The sound echoed again, but this time ahead of the thunder. With the sound of nature accompanying the ferocious entity it made the sound it emitted lounder than before. The inhabitants of the keep looked to the ceiling as the metal fixtures shook with the terrifying sound.

"That's not thunder."

The fear inside the room grew in an immense measure. The suitor was here.

• Reader stood with her cousins, she was just as nervous but was better put together from a strangers eye view

• The cousins had taken a step back leaving Depressed!Reader to be front and center

• When the daughters notice the distance between them and their cousins, they try to pull her back to them only for the prince's voice to stop them in their tracks

"It appears I have been mislead. Should I translate this to you trying to deceive the crown?"

The prince's voice echoed through the grand hall. The lord of the keep scoffed.

"You think I would purposely offend the brother of the crown? My prince, please tell what has offended you so that I may correct it?"

The prince let's a hum vibrate from him. As if in deep thought, he looks to the young woman. They girls reach for the one closest to the one eyed prince. There was only four children of the lord, yet he was seeing five young woman. Unbeknownst to them he had remembered and recognized one of them. One he had missed for a time.

"I seem to recall you only having four daughters. Why do I see five young woman in my presence?"

The lord did his best to not laugh. It was a simple mistake. One that could have been avoided if his forerunner had done his job.

"My apologies, my prince. Let me clear up any confusion."

• The lord introduced each of his daughters from eldest to youngest, each one avoided eye contact with the prince

• When his eye settled on the one he remembered, he caught her eyes on him before she gave him a deep bow

• The prince watched her as she was introduced, she stirred something from within him

• The lord suggested a dinner to be held to welcome the prince and his decision

• The prince had decided he would make his decision before the end of the night despite the lord wanting him to know the young lady's

"I will marry the sweetest one." Announced the prince as he removed himself from the dinner chair

• The lady's lined up, ready to wish the prince good rest, they were confused as the prince lingered

• The prince and lord shared a look as if to know what the other intended to do

"Just a kiss is all I ask, just one from each of you. I only ask for the sweetest one to be my wife." The prince stated before approaching the daughter closest to him. Each one shocked by the searching kiss from the prince. Each squeak from his daughters made the Lord worried and fearful. Worried for how his daughters will feel after the invasive proposition and fearful of the prince being displeased.

• When the prince kissed the reader, her whimper was the lowest in noise, nearly nonexistent compared to her cousins

• Their kiss lasted the longest, and the prince allowed his lips to move along

• Not to mention, he continued the kiss after the reader layed her hand on his forearm, he had immediately removed himself when one of her cousins had touched him

• The prince detached himself with a hum watching a readers eyes fluttered open

After a pause of watching the prince hold and stare down his niece, the lord spoke. "Has a decision been made, my prince? Have my daughters or niece met your standards?" Again the prince hummed, this time from deep within his throat. "Sweet." Was all the prince had said before exiting the dining hall.

Very self-indulgent this is. Thinking about fleshing this out into a full story. Depending on how motivated I am, this may or may not happen. Will most likely turn into an oc x Aemond instead of an x reader.

[familyvideostevie]

i cannot believe the year is almost over. plz send some requests to help me cope

[23victoria]

painfully beautiful 💔

i love everything about this even if I am crying 10am in the morning 🥹💔

Darkness To Light. | Sully Family.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : instead of lo’ak being the one diving into the sinking ship, it was you - neteyam’s twin sister. pushed by the sheer amount of adrenaline in your system, you desperately search for your family. knowing you cannot handle losing anymore of them as well.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : sully!family x sully!daughter (neteyam's twin sister)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : heavy on the dad!jake x reader & brotherly lo'ak in this. is this me trying to stake my claim as becoming one of your fave sully!daughter writers? yes, it is!! seriously uhmmm prep your tissues for your daddy issues! yes, that was a purposeful rhyme. & sorry didn't rlly proofread this!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : atwow spoilers, mentions of grief, loss, death, protective and emotionally exhausted reader :(, ure gonna cry because i love pain. hurt/comfort, angst.

𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Tsmuke - sister, Tsmukan - brother, Iarsä - Y/n's Ilus name, Yawntutsyìp - darling or little loved one.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3k words !

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @eywas-heir @spicycloudsalad @missdreamofendless @prty-poisxn @scarlettwitch-4 @23victoria @avidreader3107 @purplehyacinthss @itssiaaax @neteyamoa @tsireyasgf @nijirozzz @useryourbut @yua-himari @sweetheartlizzie07 @grierpilots @reneehillary69 @fruitsalad1 @forasgaard

𝐘/𝐍'𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑, the cries of her mother muffled to her ears that lay flat on her head. Her other half, her twin brother. The eldest, born only 7 minutes apart, was no longer there. There had come a time when his presence was so natural, no questions asked - no alarming feeling. He was always her shadow, and if not. Neteyam was there in an instant at her beck and call. 

They were both spitting images of their mother, they even shared her same deep spiritual connection with Eywa. Even their songcords aligned with each other. Y/n remembers then, how her mother had said such occurrences only really happen with twins. That in itself was a rarity for their clan. 

Now he was gone, yet she remained. The shadow that loomed over her, escaped as the Eclipse crept up on them.

You blink once, twice. Wiping the tears that you didn’t even realize were streaming down your face. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Lo’ak blankly gazing down at his hands which were coated in Neteyam’s blood. She scoots closer to him then, ripping the fringes of her loin-cloth off and dipping it into the water. 

If Lo’ak notices the shakiness of her hands, he doesn’t comment on it. It feels like his tongue had been stapled to the roof of his mouth at that very moment. Alas, his tender heart squeezes a fraction as you use the fabric to try to wipe away the remnants of blood.

A rough voice coming from your father cuts through the sentimental moment.

“Where are your sisters?” He’s not intentionally glaring, but his eyes alone felt like he was picking through your soul.

“Your sisters, where are they?” He repeats, more urgency detected in his tone now.

“I don’t know.” Lo’ak mumbles, every part of him looking lost.

Your mother's cries of terror grow in volume then. 

“Where are they!” Jake bellowed, time was of the essence. Now more than ever. 

“Dad,” Y/n whines out, wishing for him to just take a moment. 

His eyes meet yours for a moment, before breaking away. He couldn’t look at you right now, doing so would make him lose all of his resolves. Jake had to stay locked, just for a few more moments. Then he’ll have the chance to mourn, to bring you into his arms. To apologize for how now you must live the same faith he had to endure and suffer through.

“On the ship, they are tied up on the ship.” Tsireya wavers, her grip on Neteyam’s leg not letting up.

Spider's mouth moves, but you don’t hear a thing. Turning back to your brother, you hover over him. Neytiri leans into you as she cradles him to her chest. 

Jake gets your mom’s attention, and by doing so she passes Neteyam to you. Y/n freezes up, feeling how cold he is. Seeing how pale he is. This isn’t her mighty brother, it was a shell of him. 

As Neytiri flies away on her Ikran, the sound of its wings breaks you out of your reverie. Gently, you lay him back down on the rock before pushing yourself up. Staggering over to Lo’aks side, he pulls you into him. 

Usually, he’d nag about your height difference, but this time he used it to his advantage to briefly tuck his head into your shoulder. 

Jake looks to Lo’ak. “Both of you, stay with your brother.” 

Lo’ak takes a step forward, bringing you with him. 

“But dad, I want to go with you,” Lo’ak whispers. 

“Please, dad,” Y/n begs, unable to fathom sitting by her deceased twin while her sisters were still in harm's way.

Jake shakes his head, “You’ve done enough.”

“No, dad,” Lo’ak breaks. A part of him cracks, the guilt and shame consuming him.

Y/n places a hand on his shoulder, trying to give him some support. 

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that, brother,” Y/n spoke, catching on to where his mind was heading.

There you watch as your dad and Spider become one with the water. Y/n moves back to kneel down beside Tsireya, as she cradles Neteyam’s face and gives him a light kiss on his forehead.

Lo’ak takes one last glance at his brother before reluctantly tugging on your arm. 

Y/n regards him with uncertainty. Before you can question him though, he caresses the side of Tsireya’s face for a second. “Stay with him.”

Tsireya flounders, “No!”

He rushes to the edge of the rock, and you can only wince as you apologize to Tsireya for your and Lo’aks actions. 

“I’m sorry, Tsireya.” 

She tries to shout for you guys to come back, but it’s too late. You’re already both calling for your Ilu’s as you jump into the ocean. 

Iarsä swam right beneath you, and in an instant, you are gripping her tightly and making tsaheylu. Deep in your brain, you wondered if Neteyam’s Ilu felt the loss you do. What about his Ikran? Oh, Eywa.

“Tsmuke!” Lo’ak called for you as you started to lag behind a little. 

Quickening your pace, you moved by him. His worried eyes flittered over to yours.

“Tsukan, I am fine.” You tried to reassure him, but you know he saw through it all. 

His lips pulled down into a frown, but he knew now wasn’t the time to comment back to you.

Either way, he is interrupted by the shocked gasp that leaves your mouth. The ship isn’t too far from you guys now, but it’s beginning to flip over and sink down. 

Lo’ak guided you closer to the ship, haphazardly avoiding miscellaneous floating objects. 

“That’s Spider and Kiri!” Lo’ak blurted out, his finger pointing at two figures bobbing up and down in the water. 

Y/n nods, as Lo’ak yips to alert them that they are here. 

“Bro!” A light flashes in your eyes, and it’s coming from Spider. 

A sigh of relief escapes you seeing Kiri alright, but you can still see how distraught she looks. It physically hurts you not to tell her what had just happened, but time was escaping you all even more quickly.

Kiri watches the Ship fully engulfed by the ocean. She trembled, “Mom and dad are down there, in the ship!”

An alarm rings like an insistent bell in your mind. Of course, no wonder they were alone.

But where is Tuk? Y/n’s conscience is on overdrive, the exhaustion is gnawing at her heavily. She’d get nowhere like this, tackle one thing at a time. That’s what she needs to do. 

“Grab on- Y/n!” Lo’ak protested as you descended further into the murky waters. Except it was too late, she was already gone. 

Y/n’s eyes squinted as the water pulled at her skin due to the high speeds she was going at. In spite of that, it did not matter. Nothing mattered more than saving whatever was left of her family. 

Darting into the first opening of the ship you are able to squeeze through, not without realising the spaces were far too cramped to navigate your Ilu through. With that, you reluctantly release her. 

The further you descended, the more effort it took to be able to examine your surroundings. You can feel your chest starting to tighten just a little. However, Y/n notices a faint outline of an avatar body ahead of her. 

It takes every willpower within her to not weep at the sight of your dad twitching against a part of the collapsing ship. Jumping into action, wrapping both of your arms around one of his. Then you tug as hard as you can, back from where you had just come from.

You recalled the air pocket you encountered not too long ago. Yes, that will work for now. 

The closer you grew to your destination, the more your dad fidgeted in your tight grasp. Then, his arms reached up. 

Y/n and Jake exhale as they break through the surface.

“Dad?” She whimpers her heart, sinking as Jake struggles to catch his breath. 

He clutches onto the side of the wall, his chest rising up and down far too rapidly. 

“Dad, please. Take a few deep breaths!” She falters when trying to approach him, scared to jolt him even more.

He groans, eyes bleary, “Neteyam?”

It felt like an axe had been wedged in your heart. You’ve dealt with far too much in a span of few hours.

“No, dad. It’s Y/n”

“Oh, Y/n…you just look so much like him.” He struggles to say.

Y/n clenches her eyes closed in despair. She knew that voice, it was the one he’d use to try to weave out of something. Sugarcoating, he had told you when you were younger. 

She couldn’t help but weigh on the thought that he probably thought he was dead and with Eywa. 

Sighing, her hand presses into her face. “Sorry, I know. You and ma always say that.” 

In a blink of an eye, profound guilt encapsulates her very being. Once again, Y/n has been reminded of Neteyam. What she has lost, what she must now grieve.

Gulping, her voice stammered “I’m sorry, sir. His death was all my fault. I should have done better.”

Jake’s heart lurches at your words, being reminded of Tommy. 

“Focus, just focus on getting out.” He coughs as the lights behind you flicker. The ship's loud groans rattle in both of your ears. 

“Okay, okay,” Y/m mumbles to herself. Analyzing her surroundings, she realizes the water is rising at a quicker pace. Dammit.

“We’re losing air pockets, dad. Come on, let’s go,” She insisted.

Jake lets out sounds of pain as he moves into the corner.

“You know your way out?” He inquires. Before you look at him with a scrutinizing gaze he takes you in with all his pride. His daughter, his first-ever daughter. 

Ah, there it is. Furrowed brows and all. 

“I think so. But dad, you’re gonna have to hold your breath for a while. Okay?” She responded, ignoring the ache in her limbs. 

You lean into him then, thumbing the blood seeping out from one of the cuts on his face. 

Just like he’d do to you when you were little, an action so simple whenever you’d hurt yourself. Something you inhabited from him. 

That’s exactly why he can’t keep you here. You still had so much more to live for.

“I can’t make it, but you can. You can, you can.” 

You speak over the top of him, anguish spreading across your facial features. “No, no-no, dad!”

The tone in your voice pitches, conveying the desperation you felt right at that moment. 

“I refuse, I can’t lose you too. Not you, dad.” She says vehemently. So much finality had been wrapped into that sentence, and he knew that you weren’t going to move. 

If he can’t make it, then you weren’t leaving his side. You’re going to stay right here.

He rapidly blinks his eyes, finally clearing his vision properly. 

Ignoring the pounding from his head, he looks at you. Truly examining you. 

The face you hold at that moment is the deepest wound to strike him yet from today. 

Just now, he can see how mature you’ve become in a span of less than a day. It left him with such scorching indignation. No kid should have to grow up this quickly, but the unique circumstances brought upon your family had forced you to do so.

There are tears running down your face, and the seawater should mask it well. But he’s your father, he knows. He can see you clutching something tightly in your hands then. It feels like cinder blocks had been pushed against his gut when he recognizes it to be one of Neteyam’s armbands. 

Y/n follows his eyes, unclenching her first. He was right.

She swallows, lips trembling. “It was floating in the ship close to where you were before, maybe it was a sign from him. He was letting me know you were close. I didn’t even realize when it floated into my hand. It must have slipped off before he…”

A deep frown settles on Jake’s face whilst hearing you get choked up. He kicks his legs, ignoring the throbbing feeling spreading through his body. 

He leans his head on top of yours. 

“I’m so sorry, baby girl. I’m so sorry.” He coos.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to calm down. 

After he pressed his lips to your forehead, you lean back from him.

“We’re running out of time. Okay, you need to be really calm. Breathe down from here.” You press your hand to his lower chest. Mimicking the breathing you learned not too long ago from your dear friend Tsireya.

He follows you, pursing his lips. Inhaling, exhaling.

You close your eyes.

“The way of water has no beginning and no end.

The sea is around you and in you. 

The sea is your home before your birth, and after your death.”

Your eyes open, watching Jake take your words in. He tries his absolute hardest to ease his mind, just like you had done moments ago.

Good, he’s doing good.

Y/n continues. 

“The sea gives, and the sea takes. 

Water connects all things.

Life to death, darkness to light.”

The water is now up to your chin, even as you tilt your head up.

“Dad, you can do this. Please.” 

He nods his head, “I’m with you, Y/n.”

The words bring you great comfort, your heart now being able to lessen some of its burdens.

Y/n finally smiles. 

“Okay, last breath. I love you, dad.” 

He winces at the prickling pain but manages to give you a smile in return.

“I love you too, my daughter.”

With that, both of you breathe in before going underwater.

You start the treacherous journey out of here, doing your best to retrace the directions you had mapped out in your mind. Making sure to occasionally check back on your dad as you hurdle through random objects that stuck out. 

Y/n looks behind her shoulder once again, easing up when she sees Jake not too far behind. 

With a motion of your hand, you wordlessly say “follow me”. A reminder that maybe wasn’t needed, but you had to feed your dad some courage. 

Your chest begins to constrict a little, but you try to keep your mind elsewhere. 

You thank Eywa as you see the exit, holding on to the bar as you reach your hand out.

Jake latches on to it as you swim through the opening. There you both try to seamlessly get out from the remainder of the ship. The gap between you and the surface lessening. 

But Jake begins to slow down significantly. Immediately worried, you wrap your arms around him. Chugging over your limit as you pull him up with you.

Y/n starts to hear the muffled noises of her dad starting to choke. 

No, no, no. We’re almost there.

A gush of movement is felt from behind you both.

Lo’ak is holding onto Payakan’s fin, using his free arm he darts out to grab your elbow. He tugs you to him. 

There, you and Jake are able to hold on to the Tulkun for further momentum. 

The cool air nips at your cheeks as you finally break through the water. 

“Hang on, both of you! Breathe, breathe.” Lo’ak urges as he quickly holds your face to see if you’re alright. 

Y/n bows her head and then goes to personally thank Payakan for saving their lives.

“I see you, son.” She hears, there you gaze as Lo’ak and Jake share a bittersweet moment. 

However, right behind them, you see familiar figures moving closer to you all.

“Ma Jake!” Neytiri called.

“Dad, dad!” Tuk cried.

“Mom!” You and Lo’ak gushed.

“Come here, I have you. It’s Okay.”

“Tuk, Kiri.” She whispers to herself, finally allowing relief to invade her senses.

Your mother leans over, squeezing both your and Lo’aks hands. 

But you needed more.

Pushing off of Paykan's fin, you swim over to where Neytiri and Tuk was. 

Neytiri grabs you swiftly, letting you fall into the makeshift circle.

“Oh, my yawntutsyìp. My sweet, sweet child.” She mumbles, repeatedly kissing your cheek. 

She could not even begin to fathom the loss you have yet to fully process and grieve for. 

Another person in the Sully family tree had lost a sibling today. 

“Tsmukan, Tsmuke.” Kiri too leans forward in concern. 

You just give her a solemn smile, grateful that almost all of you were safe and alive.

She watches her parents embrace before her eyes loom over the empty gap in their family huddle.

It felt like only yesterday how Neteyam would always pinch her and Lo’aks ears, “Why are you guys always forgetting our family meetings?”

Huddling closer to one another, while unspoken you each know this event was something that would drastically change all of your lives forever.

“Sully’s stick together. That was their greatest weakness, and their greatest strength.”

“Thank you, great mother,” Kiri speaks up into the sky.

“Yes.” Neytiri echoes. 

Lo’ak gazed at you, then to the sky above. 

Y/n followed his actions. She was hoping to each mighty being above, that Neteyam was safe and sound. No longer in pain or danger. That was the least her dear brother deserves. 

As everyone loosened their holds, your parents did the opposite. Instead, they brought you into their arms.

There, they cried with you. Finally having a chance to mourn the loss of your twin. 

From above and with Eywa, Neteyam looked down at you with questioning eyes.

“Why are they all crying, great mother?” He asked, not being able to understand the entirety of the situation that occurred before him.

Eywa can only give him a saddened smile. 

“Because my child, they are grateful to have known you.”

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

⤷ feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated ! feel free to ask through my inbox if you would like to join my taglist. ♡

[astradreaming]

melancholy masterlist

Perseus Jackson, god of Loyalty, Mercy and Tides

strings of fate

perseus jackson

the gift

[tender-rosiey]

from me to you — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this takes place in chapter 268, soo sort of spoilers ahead? also long live gojo satoru; gojo leaves you a letter 🙏

“y/n-sensei, there is a letter for you as well!”

that catches your attention, and you look up at the first years. you tilt your head slightly, and yuuji hands you an envelope.

you gently take it from him, and the first thing you notice is “wifey” written on it then the doodle of satoru with his blindfold on. you feel your throat tighten, and your hands shake slightly.

you let out a small breath then shakily open the letter.

hey, honey!!

it first reads.

I feel like there is still much I didn’t tell you in our last meeting, so here I, your beautiful and handsome husband, am writing them down.

you swallow lightly, and a small smile appears on your face as you imagine satoru saying that, then you continue to the next line.

first, I changed all your computer passwords to variations of “satoruisthebest” at one point. your confusion was so cute!!

you quirk an eyebrow at the admission, but when you rack your brain, you remember that one day when you couldn’t log into your computer.

what you vividly remember was satoru being sat beside you the whole time, and now that you think about it. he was smiling so widely the entire time, letting out small chuckles every now and then. oh, that sneaky man.

“satoru, I am telling you it’s broken!”

“sweetheart, we spent over 2000$ on that. if it broke, then we could easily sue the company,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“2 year guaranteed top performance my ass!”

you smile at the memory. it was pretty satoru of him to do that. your eyes then move to continue reading.

second, there are times when I would tell megumi that you would be coming with me, then he would turn and leave me when he found out I was tricking him.

your eyes glance up at said boy who is sat across of you. he made it out alive, despite everything. he suffered so much, but he made it.

it makes you relieved, and you can imagine satoru being bloody proud of him and saying something along the lines of ‘you handed sukuna’s ass to him, very cool!’

no matter how much megumi had frowned and grimaced at satoru’s presence or antics. it rooted itself as something—safe and familiar.

you can’t count on your hands the times when you and satoru would visit the siblings, and nobody really said it, but these meetings did all of you a favor, a chance to kind of wind down. maybe act like death might actually not be looming tomorrow.

it feels like just yesterday when megumi would cling to you when he got really sad or nervous, after so much time spent getting comfortable with each other.

he grew up well, you think, eyes gliding to next.

third, I hid your uniform every two to three weeks, so you have to stay with me.

at that, your eyes widen a bit. satoru’s schedule was pretty packed, but he somehow managed to squeeze time for quality time between you two.

it tugged on your heartstrings, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated it, not a single space on his face left without a kiss. however, finding out that he went out of his way to make you rest and stay.

satoru’s care really showed in his actions, and you feel like this is the biggest proof of it.

“satoru, have you seen my uniform?”

“nope! maybe, it is a sign to stay home today? you’ve been working so hard, wifey!”

you cupped his face, pulled him down to your height, and kisses his cheek, “you’ve been working harder, ‘toru. let me take off some of the load at least.”

“we could both stay!”

“you’re kidding, right?”

“I already told yaga; I miss you!”

you try to stop the reminiscing further and try to compose yourself before reading the rest.

fourth, I’m the one who kept adjusting the thermostat. I just wanted an excuse to cuddle.

a fond yet melancholy smile appears on your face. you kinda figured that one out. satoru’s favorite pastime was cuddling, so it’s no surprise that he would go out of his way to create the need for it even further.

add to that, once you went to get some green tea and saw him from the corner of your eye teleport to the thermostat, click something, then teleport back to bed.

you figured that the room being chilly that night was not an exception in the middle of july.

“babeeee, it’s so cold! let’s cuddle!”

“maybe the problem is with the thermostat?”

“I checked! I think cuddling is the best solution.”

you giggle as you recall the moment, one of many similar. your heart feels a bit lighter as you go through the letter. something satoru managed to always do even in person.

he would plaster sticky notes, get you trinkets, and even pull pranks on other just to see you smile. feeling more encouraged, you keep on reading the letter.

then you feel your chest constrict so tightly that you might just throw up.

fifth, I am really gonna fucking miss you.

you read the line over again, and you purse your lip in hopes of silencing any noise that may come out as you feel the lump in your throat return, even worse than before. your breathing starts getting more difficult.

your grip on the letter tightens, and you find yourself thinking back to the good times. memories of late nights spent in each other’s arms, thinking about everything and nothing at once.

hushed whispers of confessions and quiet giggles as you reminisced on your highschool days. tight hugs when recalling the sad moments and the departure of a certain someone.

“you know, y/n, I think we might just be made for each other,” he said one night. you hummed and looked him in the eyes.

“three am thoughts?”

“three am admissions,” he grins slightly, “I am made for you, and you’re made for me.”

you remember him pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, while you teased, “and what would you need little old me for, so much that I got made?”

he feigns thinking then closes his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, “grounding me.”

I love you. I really do, but you should know that already, right?

your eyes drift down to the corner of the paper, and that is when you feel your tears start free-falling. there is drawn a chibi satoru besides a chibi you and between them is a heart.

the chibi satoru is giving yours a big smooch, while she laughs. you never thought that the day your jealousy burns would be because of drawings, and drawings of you and your own husband, nonetheless.

“but wow, gojo-sensei is shit at writing letters,” you hear nobara remark.

megumi responds with a small chuckle, “I am fine with mine.”

“what about you, y/n-sensei?—”

the trio becomes silent as you let out a sob. a watery smile makes its way up your face as you kiss the letter gently and murmur, “so shitty.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will tell @callmemirro

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[matcha-writer]

I loved how this was written! The struggles and changes that come with being blind as well as adjusting to a unique lifestyle really touched my heart ❤️ And the romantic comraderie was comforting and subtle, something I really enjoy reading 😊

The loss of light. (Levi x blind!reader)

Summary: In the battle held against Eren, reader loses their eyes. And as they finally starts getting used to a life without sight, someone unexpected reaches out. Levi Ackerman asks them to move into Marley with him.

Cw: uh since reader goes blind forever here, it might be kind of uncomfortable to read?

"...nothing we can do..."

"...did our best but..."

"... never see again..."

"...sight is gone..."

Gone, gone, gone….

It echoed in your head.

Soft murmurs reached your ears. You quietly listened, laying on your side, curled into a ball. You wrapped yourself tighter and tighter with every word, seeking comfort and shelter from you don't know what. Your eyelids fluttered as you tried to open them.

Were you in a dark room?

You blinked a couple times, squeezing your eyes shut harder with every press, but it felt strange. There was no difference. The darkness only felt more heavy, more suffocating. But there was no escape. Not a single ray of light.

Ah.

You really have gone blind, haven't you?

-

It had been a week since the war had ended. You had returned home along with everyone else, to Paradis.

And this past week, all you've known about the world is from hushed whispers.

You have only heard about how strange Paradis looked without the walls. About the ruins. About a lot of things. You hadn't seen any of it though.

You haven't seen a single thing this seven days. Not Paradis. Not the hospital room you were kept in. Not the doctors or nurses. Not any of your friends. Not even yourself.

You haven't seen a single ray of light. You haven't seen the sky, the sun, the moon, the stars–nothing.

And you were never going to see it ever again.

Darkness is your home now.

You cried the first day, as the nurse helped you to the bathroom. You cried when you stumbled against your own leg and almost fell down. You cried when they took off the bandage of your eyes, dabbing medicine but you could feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.

You cried the second day when you accidentally asked the nurse why she kept the lights turned off and she held your shoulder and gently explained to you as if you're a little kid. You hated it when she wiped your tears and didn't let you wipe it yourself in case you damage the eyes even more as if it's not damaged beyond repair already.

You cried the third day when you woke up and was unsure if you've actually opened your eyes because there was no fucking difference. You cried when you tried rubbing your eyes and instead felt the starchy bandage.

You didn't cry the fourth day. Nor the fifth day. Or the sixth.

You stopped crying.

It was a strange week. You woke up, a nurse would help you eat food, take you to the bathroom when necessary, give you meds, then you went back to sleep. Day and night made no difference to you.

Armin and a few others came to see you somewhere between day 2 or 3. Armin held your hand and told you to not feel bad. That you had done enough. That your role would not be forgotten. But now it was time for you to rest.

You had laughed, blinking back the tears. You will not cry in front of the kids, you told yourself. Then you congratulated him and blessed him, told him to do his best. That you were so proud of him.

And you couldn't see faces but you could have sworn it was Connie who sniffled and it was Jean who rubbed your back.

And then, nothing.

No one really told you anything anymore. The first few days, you'd ask whoever you can find about what's happening and the latest news. But then you started noticing the annoyed tones and you stopped.

Now you know nothing.

And no one bothered to tell you. Why should they, you were no longer a captain were you?

You were nothing.

It was 2 more weeks later, when you were almost well enough to be discharged and you were used to this new dark world of yours to do basic things by yourself. You were standing by a window, trying to make up for the lack of sight from the warmth of the sunlight on your hands and the fresh air on your face. And you didn't know how you knew but when you heard the click and whirr of something mechanical enter the room, you turned around and smiled.

"Captain."

"Kid."

And after 3 weeks of not crying, you thought you might just cry then. But you swallowed it down.

"You're still gonna call me that?"

"You're one to talk. You still call me captain." He grumbled.

You laughed. It had been years ago when Levi used to be your commanding officer. And then you became a captain yourself. But that never stopped you from calling him by the title, for no other reason than to see him irritated.

"Lost a leg I heard? That why you on a wheelchair?"

"Appears so." Levi had replied in his usual dry tone. Then it had turned softer. "Those ever going to be okay again?"

Wasn't it strange? You thought. How you saw nothing but darkness and yet you can feel his gaze on you. You can picture the exact expression that must be on his face right now, bored, half-lidded, eyes fixed on you, his mouth a straight line. A flat, emotionless face because oh he'd never show you that he cares. But his eyes would be warm and they'd tell you all that you'd ever needed to know.

"Nah." You replied airily. Did he know how bad you wanted to run away from the room right now? You might've attempted it, had it not been for the fact that you can't see shit and you would most definitely stumble and trip over.

You wondered how unpleasant you looked right now. You knew your hair was a mess, you hadn't bothered really taking care of it. And you bet the scars on your face weren't pretty either.

"...forever?" He asked quietly.

"Forever." You confirmed.

And fuck the sun and the moon and the sky.

But you were never going to see Levi and his scowl ever again.

-

It had been one month and you were finally released from the hospital. A nurse followed you for two days, helping you to get familiar with the routes so you could move by yourself. Then you were left alone.

But you were a quick learner. You always were. You figured out soon enough how to live without the existence of light in your world.

And you wondered.

Where do you go from here?

-

You stiffened as you reached the hallway leading up to your room, your hands on the wall. Losing your eyesight had only heightened your other senses. And said senses told you somebody was there, at the end of the hallway, right in front of your room.

"Hey."

You relaxed, a smile quirking up. That voice. You knew that voice. You'd always know that voice. That always bored, tired and monotonous tone of his.

"Pleasant surprise, captain."

He sighed. "For the walls sake, please stop calling me that." He said, almost exasperated.

"Oh, why so?" You slowly shuffled your feet, using the walls to draw a mental map and reached the door of your room. You leaned on the wall beside the door where you guessed Levi was right in front of. "It's meant as a term of respect, captain. Maybe if you just stopped taking it personally?"

"Shut up." He grumbled. "We both know exactly why you call me that. Additionally, you are anything but respectful."

"Now that's just offensive. I only mean the best."

"Fuck off. We're the same rank." Levi paused. "Or at least was." He added bitterly.

"Resigned too, have you?" You asked quietly.

"Not much of a choice, was it? I can't do shit in this state. Plus I'm too old and too tired. Arlert did hope for me to be an advisor but I rejected it."

"Figured. You would've done well though."

"Like I said, I've done my part. What happens rest is up to the brats "

"Mhm." You nodded. "Smart brats though, they'll work it out." You reached for the doorknob, twisting it open. Then you guestured him to come in. "Ah, can you move the chair on your own, or do you need help?"

You heard Levi quietly exhale.

You waited a few seconds. Then sighed.

"You need to learn how to ask for help, you know. I know your hand still hasn't healed. So you could just ask." You told him as you walked over, using your intuition and hands to understand his position. Your hands brushed past his hands before it found the metal handles. You walked behind it to push him in.

"I know." Levi said quietly.

"Just your ego or did you feel guilty cause I'm blind now?" You asked casually. "Also tell me if I'm doing it right, might push you against a chair or something."

"That's fine. Leave it here." Levi replied. You reached behind to shut the door, then plopped on the bed.

"Your rooms a fucking stable, what the fuck." Levi muttered, a hint of disgust in his tone. You chuckled. It shouldn't be too messy, you knew, probably just a few clothes out of place. Leave it to Levi to be dramatic.

"Blind kid here remember? Show some sympathy." You said in mock offense.

You could almost hear Levi's eye roll.

"When are you moving out?" He asked.

"Fuck if I know." You sighed. You knew you couldn't stay much longer in the military quarters. Not when you're no longer a soldier. But you had zero fucking idea where you go next. "I mean, I heard someone saying queen Historia was going to arrange like apartments for the war veterans? Maybe I'll ask for one. Pathetically, like a begger." You muttered the last bit under your breath.

You heard Levi shift in his chair. "You're not pathetic." He said calmly.

"Yeah well." You groaned, dragging a arm over your face."What about you?"

Seconds passed. Levi gave no response.

Another thing losing your sight did was make you overthink every little thing that you couldn't see. "Levi?" You called out warily. "You there?"

You heard the whirl of the chair beside you. "..yeah. I'm here."

"God." You slumped back down. "Don't go fucking silent out of nowhere. I don't like it. Specially not when I can't see shit." It was the helplessness really.

"No. Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." Levi said quietly.

You shifted. The years you spent with Levi had taught you to read Levi like no other. Levi never showed it on his face but..you could always tell when his tone would change.

"What's bothering you?"

Levi shuffled in his seat. Oh something was bothering him alright.

"What's wrong? Seriously." You felt the anxiety rise. You sat up straight. "Please, please don't be quiet like that. It freaks me out now. Was it me? Did I do something wrong? Ask something wrong?–"

"No." You heard some clicking sounds, almost as if he was fidgeting. "No. It's not you."

"Spit it out then, please." You spoke quietly and slowly, carefully choosing the words. There was a strange tension in the room, it made you feel suffocated. And you hated it. As if the darkness wasn't suffocating enough. "What did you want to say Levi?"

Another few seconds passed.

"Come with me."

You froze.

Somewhere in the room, a clock ticked away, synchronized with your heartbeat.

"...to where?" You asked softly after a pause.

"Marley. Come with me to Marley."

Heavy, heavy breaths. The pounding in your heart almost ached.

"...I don't understand."

"I.." Levi let out an exasperated breath. "Onyankapon offered me to go to Marley with him. Start new. And I thought.. since there's nothing left for you here either..so you might want to.."

And for a second you forgot to breathe. You could tell the exact moment your heart collapsed and your lungs stopped working. And you felt the exact moment time stopped around you.

"..you want me to go to Marley with you?" You asked in a quiet voice. So quiet you wondered if he could hear it. Perhaps you hoped he wouldn't hear it. He wouldn't hear the crack in your voice.

"..yes."

You felt your fingers clench the bedsheets. Just something to hold on to, anything. Because God damnit.

"Thought you didn't like having me around?"

"I don't."

"Yeah?" You laughed, a little breathless. "Have you considered the fact that now that I'm blind I'd be ten times worse to have around? Since I basically can't do shit."

"That's your concern?" He asked frustratedly.

"A valid concern. I will not be a burden Levi. I refuse to be."

"Shit, no." Levi huffed. "You're not a burden. And you're not pathetic. And before you even go there, no I'm not showing pity on you. So shut up."

You smiled. "No?" No, you knew. Levi was never the type to do things out of pity. And if that's the case.. "And what are we going to be there in Marley, Levi?"

"What?" He asked in a confused voice.

"We're going to live together as in what? Old comrades?" You swallowed, heart hammering against your chest. "Friends?"

Levi stayed quiet.

And you almost choked then, as the realization hit you. The silence gave you your answer. The last answer you thought it'd be. And there was pain, pain, pain. Everywhere. In your head and your heart.

You wanted it. So bad.

But he deserved better than you, didn't he? Someone who could take care of him, not someone who needed to be taken care of.

But he wants me.

The thought sent a fresh wave of pain along your chest. He wants me.

How could someone like him, want me?

But maybe, just maybe…

Just this once. You'll let yourself be greedy.

"I'll go."

"What?" Levi's voice was breathless. There was disbelief in it.

"I'll come with you to Marley, captain."

And for the first time since then, you let yourself cry. You let tears roll down your face and you let the sobs take you. And this time, when your fingers clenched around the bedsheet, his fingers slowly, tentatively wrapped around yours. And it told you everything he never got to say. All the things he didn't dare say.

And when he gently tugged on you, you didn't resist. You let him pull you to him as you wrapped your hands around him, curling up on his lap. And you cried, hands pressed to your face as your shoulders shook, and you cried because it's the first time you felt safe since you woke up in the dark.

It's okay. It was him, wasn't it? How could you not feel safe with him?

He'd die for you.

Levi and you. Levi and you. Isn't that how it always were?

In the battlefields, in trainings, in expeditions..

When have you ever looked over your shoulder and not found him scowling at you?

Levi's hands ever so gently wrapped around your shoulder, another hand smoothing the stray strands of hair out of your face when you felt his lips press to the top of your head. And it was the lightest whisper but you heard it.

"Thank you." He whispered.

And you nodded. Again. And again.

It's okay. You'll be okay.

He'll always be there.

-

"Levi?" You stood by the kitchen doorway, hands planted on the door. Your fingers flexed instinctively, braced for anything unexpected.

"Right here." He called out, and you immediately relaxed at the confirmation of his presence. You reached out your hand, searching for him. He took it, gently tugging you forwards towards him. You grinned when his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

"Hi."

"Good morning to you too."

"I thought I told you to wake me up before you leave the bed?" You pout.

"Sorry. You looked peaceful."

You laughed hearing his answer. But you tipped up to plant a peck on his lips. Missed halfway though, you could never get the kiss right. "Seriously though. I freak out, you know that."

He let you go, ruffling your hair. "Yeah I know, you paranoid little shit. What, did you think I got abducted by aliens or something?"

"One can never know." You say airily. And though it was meant as a joke, you didn't tell him the real answer. It's everyday you're scared that one day, you'll wake up and he won't be there anymore.

"Go sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

"I think I'd stay around here a little while." You listened keenly to the sounds of his steps, the splatter of oil and something being pieced on the cutting board. Your nose perked up.

"Eggs and bacon?" You guessed as you walked over towards the kitchen counter. You used your hands to feel out an empty spot, then heaved yourself to sit there so your legs dangled.

"I'm feeling generous today, so I made pancakes too. Whatever you're in the mood for." He replied, the sound coming just beside you.

"No wonder why I love you." You beamed brightly.

"Because I feed you?" He scoffed.

"Indeed." You winced slightly when he flicked your forehead. "Hey!"

"Brat." He murmered.

You grinned, rubbing your forehead.

"What's the day like Levi?"

It had become an everyday routine of yours to ask the question. And Levi was never very good at making aesthetic descriptions but he tried. For you.

A lot of things had changed in Levi Ackerman's life. One of them was perhaps this.

He never really cared about the appearance of things. Colors were just colors to him, the sky was blue, the trees were green. That's it. It was you who loved it, you'd nitpick every little detail.

"It's not blue, it's like a pastel indigo you know? With a hint of green? Like, like turquoise I don't know-" You'd ramble and he'd scoff.

You loved everything and anything. All of it memerized you. You swooned everytime you saw a rainbow, got giddy everytime it snowed. And it used to be everyday, you forced Levi to look at the sky "cause it's so fucking pretty today!"

Colors didn't matter to Levi much until he met you.

He didn't care about colors but he cared when they were on you.

He liked the color of your eyes, how it'd change shades in the sun and how it went perfect with the color of your skin. He liked the color of your hair, of your lips, of every outfit you ever wore. He liked how the green of Scouts would look on you.

But it was always you who thought colors are the most wonderful thing in the universe.

Sometimes you'd lean uncomfortably close, squinting in concentration as you observed his face.

"What?" He'd cringe.

"You have pretty eyes." You'd mumble.

"It's fucking gray."

"Not quite. It's like silver but with a tinge of blue. Stormy clouds and moonlight."

He found it cruel that the world took away your only source of joy.

So there he was, every morning, trying to explain the exact shades of color that was on the sky today. One time he accidentally called the sunlight yellow and you were mad offended. "It's golden!"

Levi didn't mind though, not really.

Not when he gets to see the way your face brighten up with every little detail.

"Can I help?" You asked after a while.

"Yeah no. You'll burn my kitchen down."

"Please? I'll be careful, promise." You whined, jumping down from the counter. You brought your hands in a pleading gesture.

"Fine." He muttered. "Do the eggs then."

"Oh but I always end up breaking the yolk."

"Well don't break the yolk. Be careful."

He watched you as you cracked an egg in the bowl. You stiffened up immediately.

"Broke the yolk didn't I?"

"Yes" he snorted. "You're eating that one."

"Sorry. I'm such a mess." You mumbled.

Levi sighed. You got insecure when you couldn't help.

"If you want to help you can go wash the dishes."

That cheered you right up.

His eyes followed you as you practically bounced towards the sink.

That was another thing Levi had to get used to. Your energy.

Levi has always been a kept-low person. He's calm and quiet. Never talked unless he had to. Then you came and you were this big ball of pure chaos and he never knew how to quiet keep up with you.

He loved it though, he loved how you expressed emotions so freely, how you rambled on about the smallest things so easily. He loved it all and he loved you.

The loss of light in your world had never changed a thing about you.

He often wondered what it must be like, living in the dark like that. At first, it was strange for him, how you'd always seem to notice his presence before he even entered the room. You'd turn around and give the brightest smile. It was strange how your silver orbs looked straight in his eyes yet he was aware you saw nothing. How you'd hear the smallest sounds, notice the barest shifts in the air.

You loved the rain, and you loved the snow. You said it was nice to at least feel the world every once in a while.

But there were things that always broke his heart as well. How you were always so tense, the way you'd start panicking the moment you reach out and can't find him beside you. Sometimes, you'd be so dazed in doing something or perhaps sleeping, and he'd touch you and you'd flinch or jump on your feet. Then on, he learned gently knocking before entering any room you were in so to not startle you.

You were always the careful one. The on your toes one. You never let your guard down. Back in the scouts, your instincts never failed to impress him. So he often wondered what it must be like you for now, now that you lost one of your biggest advantages. When so much of your life you passed relying on your vision. After losing your eyes, you have only become more tense. One little unusual sound and you'd go rigid. He absolutely hated the helpless look that'd take place on your features when you'd struggle with something.

He hated how you never asked for help.

And he hated how sometimes you'd have nightmares in the middle of the night and you'd wake up, overwhelmed when you saw nothing but darkness. You'd forget the loss of your vision and you'd panic when no matter how much you screamed, you can't seem to wake yourself up. And he had to hold you, he had to calm you down, he had to remind you. And he hated, absolutely hated the look that'd take place after the daze passes and you realize there's no escaping the darkness.

Sometimes, you'd ask about your scars. You'd ask if they were hideous. And Levi would press a kiss on your temple, and that'd be an answer in itself. But yet, sometimes he found you going over the torn tissues of your face, expression scrunching with every feel of the ragged surface around your eyes. He'd always take your hand and press it to his own face, as a reminder.

Then you'd trace his ones. You'd go over the scars that ran from his eye to his chin gently. You remember those, you still had your sight when Hange had stiched them up. But it helps you ground yourself.

A reminder that you weren't the only one.

Sometimes you'd go out, you and him. And before Levi had gotten the prosthetic leg, you used to push him around. It was perfect really, Levi were your eyes and so you helped him move.

And then it was Levi's hands entertwined with yours as he'd guide you around the streets. You liked parks, for the feel of bare grass underneath your feet.

Sometimes Gabi and Falco would join. During then, it'd be Gabi who'd enthusiastically tell you little details of the world around you. And she was definitely better than Levi so he'd stay quiet. "A black cat just passed by and it exactly looked like Mr. Levi, like, like with the scowl and everything-"

Sometimes, Reiner, Pieck and Onyankapon would come visit. And those days, nothing could wipe the grin off your face. You liked it when there were people in the house. You liked it when it was loud.

Levi didn't like loud. But he liked that it made you happy. It made you feel safe in that dark world of yours. It reminded you that you weren't stuck in your own head, you were here, with everyone else.

A lot of things had changed in Levi's life, but he didn't mind.

Not really.

He liked how easily you'd reach out to hold him when you'd lose balance or you needed to know where he was. He liked how your kisses were so sloppy and almost always missed and the way you'd get so embarrassed. He liked how your tense shoulders would relax once you realized it was him before you.

He liked how you trusted him with your life.

A lot of things had changed in Levi Ackermans life.

You had brought love into it.

And he doesn't think he'll ever be able to let you go.

[ctrlhope]

Bound By Blood (m)

synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire. 

Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway. 

He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums. 

Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is. 

Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass. 

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath. 

The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god. 

You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety. 

You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.

Love is something you will never be granted the property of. 

You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper. 

You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a  girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed. 

One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor. 

Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene. 

You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath. 

You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced. 

It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain. 

For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time. 

Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe. 

How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that. 

“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.

You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should. 

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind. 

Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face. 

“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again. 

Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.

You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.

“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want? 

All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you. 

Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action. 

The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone. 

You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.

Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.

You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful. 

Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again. 

A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before. 

He desires an answer.

“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height. 

You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive. 

You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way. 

You think you dislike the feeling. 

“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.

You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart. 

“I suppose so.” 

He frowns. Try again.

“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel. 

The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down. 

Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you. 

“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead. 

You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment. 

“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants. 

“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you. 

“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage. 

“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it. 

All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady. 

You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.

“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top. 

He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it. 

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.

Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely. 

He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.

“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.

When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens. 

“Purity.”

Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon. 

He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.

It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions. 

Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status. 

The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive. 

It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.

You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything. 

The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones. 

You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs. 

It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one. 

Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter. 

A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons. 

“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor. 

You simply shake your own. 

“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again. 

“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is. 

“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation. 

You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace. 

You had not been optimistic since then.

She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks. 

“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.” 

You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.

“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?” 

You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design. 

Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world. 

You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.

“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.

“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.” 

Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before. 

Ah. It all makes sense now. 

“Oh.”

“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.” 

Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him. 

However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut. 

“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.” 

She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.

“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.

“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.” 

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement. 

“Good.” 

Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest. 

Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest. 

You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable. 

Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.

Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall. 

Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway. 

You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them. 

You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms. 

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why. 

His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status. 

He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that. 

You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!

You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught. 

His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back. 

Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before. 

“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.

It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion. 

“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy. 

He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being. 

“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place. 

You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.

“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam. 

His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features. 

Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.

Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.

They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?

“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.

“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic. 

“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.

You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.

“Yes. Thank you.” 

You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms. 

Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.

However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.

“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.” 

You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone. 

“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.” 

“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.” 

He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.

“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.

“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.

You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is. 

“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too. 

“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.” 

He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.” 

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right. 

The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown. 

He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother. 

All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise. 

Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white. 

How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing. 

“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares. 

If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips. 

Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it? “When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast. 

“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them. 

“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.

“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him. 

“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head. 

“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more. 

“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.

“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.” 

He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.” 

In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway. 

The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night. 

You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible. 

It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions. 

Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined. 

In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach. 

Why did he know your name? 

It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in. 

This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages. 

He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby. 

You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort. 

Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.

You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else. 

Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath. 

Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on  making his war for you.

Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne. 

You only wish it was that easy.

“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that. 

The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths. 

At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position. 

A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door. 

Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster. 

A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears. 

She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen. 

You do not like to think of them.

Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess. 

“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away. 

Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading. 

“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.

This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!” 

“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before. 

“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls. 

“And what am I meant to do?” 

“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!

You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart. 

At least that is what you hope. 

The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents. 

A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month. 

He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible. 

Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid. 

What a strange feeling it is.

The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.

You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.

Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake. 

His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend. 

Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered. 

You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–” 

His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own. 

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.

Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own. 

You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people. 

But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain. 

You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance. 

They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible. 

You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire. 

“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems. 

“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.” 

You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales. 

The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body. 

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction. 

You pause.

“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer. 

“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would. 

You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.

“But if someone were to see them–” 

“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.” 

Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut. 

You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.

“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear. 

“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone. 

He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.

“Good lamb.”

You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge. 

Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else. 

That is the only logical solution, at least. 

But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well. 

Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week. 

It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect. 

You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can. 

His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name. 

You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.

You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior. 

His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has. 

You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away. 

The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.

More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.

Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor. 

She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.

Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form. 

You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being. 

Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose. 

Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them. 

Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for. 

You reach to spray your second favourite  perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.

Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.

It is all too strange for you to want to understand. 

Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible. 

The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.

A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can. 

But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?

A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you.  It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed. 

So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?

No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.

Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn. 

Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it. 

You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.

A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it. 

You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.

Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open. 

There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.

But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you. 

The future king would be a fearsome thing. 

“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore. 

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…” 

“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.

“I– Prince Kim…” 

“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.

“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of. 

“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.

You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse. 

That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape. 

“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it. 

He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you. 

Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof. 

“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal. 

Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.

“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore. 

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”

You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room. 

“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt? 

Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country? 

You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft. 

“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.

“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft. 

It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever. 

“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.” 

You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment. 

A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh! 

He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?” 

A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable. 

Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before. 

“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine. 

“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you. 

“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.” 

You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.

Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.

“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day. 

“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own. 

He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself. 

“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.” 

What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?! 

Oh heavens, oh gods. 

“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.” You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be! 

Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.  

It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place. 

Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.

“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long. 

“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating. 

“What…?” 

His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.” 

“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again. 

You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order. 

In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him. 

You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare. 

You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory. 

You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do. 

As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.

When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it. 

His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core. 

“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.” 

“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest. 

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself. 

The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen. 

You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–” 

“Taehyung.” 

“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.

He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth. 

“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”

He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well. 

He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly. 

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?” 

You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more. 

With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours. 

Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own. 

His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it. 

His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body. 

Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse. 

The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.

The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.

This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince. 

The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste. 

“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own. 

Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him. 

When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him. 

Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.

For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well. 

He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever. 

He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.” 

He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him. 

God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.

“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.” 

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god. 

His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left. 

When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort. 

“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core. 

Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal. 

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being. 

“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.

“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else. 

The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting. 

“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige. 

His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him. 

You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you. 

Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth. 

He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal. 

A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything. 

Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life. 

You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible. 

His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.

All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting. 

He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.

It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.

His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit. 

A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt. 

You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact. 

Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering. 

His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue. 

Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.

“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him. 

He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high. 

It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle. 

Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form. 

Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled. 

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them. 

“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt. 

You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place. 

He will not have you running away. 

Not now. 

Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters. 

He is. 

He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows. 

Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.

He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.

“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels. 

Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality. 

He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good. 

His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”

Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through. 

Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.

You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want. 

“Please.” 

He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.

Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you. 

But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.

One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for. 

Not yet.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it. 

He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity. 

“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes. 

He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more. 

He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk. 

So sensitive. So ready for him. 

As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet. 

He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck. 

His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls. 

He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take. 

A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock. 

He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort. 

You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there. 

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity. 

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your  skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more. 

He is falling apart before you, because of you. 

He has gone mad because of you.

The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.

You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.” 

He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.

You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs. 

“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.” 

He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.

“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly. 

Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?

His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.

You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused. 

With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop. 

“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.” 

He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him. 

Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.

He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.

Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.

“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit. 

“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.” 

He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him. 

“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul. 

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him. 

Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.

“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!” 

He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.

His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more. 

“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body. 

“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!” 

He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your  lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter. 

It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.

“Who are you going to marry?” 

You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?

“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by. 

“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him. 

“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel. 

“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore. 

Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck. 

“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.

“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment. 

His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.” 

Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe. 

You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide. 

Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise. 

“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing. 

Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body. 

“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.

Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright. 

“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already. 

“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire. 

His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you. 

When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.

He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.

At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.

Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases. 

It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games. 

But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.

He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it. 

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night. 

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you. 

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time. 

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him. 

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth. 

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[p4ranormaluv]

INSIDE YOUR MIND — 희승

PAIRING: stalker!heeseung x therapist!reader

GENRE: smut (mdni), angst?

CONTENTS: non-con, f!reader, heeseung rides a motorcycle (brief concept), talk of childhood abuse/ptsd, mentioned past death, house invasion, brief mention of voye.urism, rope restraint, praise?, one pus.sy slap, petnames, very rough treatment/s.ex, oral, finger.ing, mention of blood, hair pulling, threats, choking at the end, creampie, squirt.ing

WC: 4.7k

NOTES: read at your own risk!

COPYRIGHT OF @/P4RANORMALUV. PLAGIARISM NOT TOLERATED.

when heeseung filled out his patient form and you had your first therapy session with him, your first impression of him was ‘boyish’.

he has a charming smile that you’re sure makes most women’s hearts race, but you couldn’t help but notice the melancholy vulnerability in his eyes— or the way he even laughed. but you probably wouldn’t have those thoughts if you hadn’t already read his papers: childhood trauma and neglect, deceased parents (unnatural death), and diagnosed ptsd.

“just write whatever comes to your mind. it doesn’t have to be anything profound.” you said as you handed heeseung a new journal with crisp white pages. “treat it like your best friend, tell it anything you want.”

“uh, okay.” heeseung laughed, a little awkwardly as that adorable smile came across his lips, scratching the back of his neck. “thanks, doctor y/n.”

as your sessions continue to progress, heeseung seems to become more comfortable, even growing an attachment to the journal. you find he’s always carrying it by his side or in his black backpack. likewise, he seems to be growing more fond of you as well.

“i like you…you’re nice.” heeseung whispers suddenly, completely off subject of what you’re talking about.

you blanch in your seat, the leather squeaking beneath you as you adjust your position and stare at him a tad uncomfortably.

your posture is very straight and professional, completely opposite to the man who sits on the small couch across from you, legs spread and body language relaxed as he stares at you.

you have a feeling there's a deeper meaning behind his simplistic words, you just can’t seem to decipher them— even as you take a moment too long to look at heeseung’s expression. the mask he wears over his emotions is much thinner than when he first walked into your office, now sheer like a veil. but still, you just can’t quite identify it. heeseung seems to be a particularly complex patient.

“why do you think i’m nice, heeseung?” you smile, trying to come off as relaxed and casual as he is, to keep him in this malleable state. but really you’re preparing to remember everything he says— so you can write them down in your session notes during a moment when it’s not too obvious. (you try not to make your patients feel like lab rats or some creature you're studying.)

“you’re just…really caring— and kind. like..i can tell you actually give a fuck. you’ve never ignored me or not listened.”

you can’t help but laugh, trying to contain the noise and bite down your smile.

you’re quite literally payed to listen, but it is unfortunately true that there’s many therapists that don’t genuinely listen to their patients. and heeseung isn't wrong, you do genuinely care about him.

“of course i’m not going to ignore you, sweetheart.”

at the pet name, heeseung’s eyes grow wide— and so do yours, the words that just came from your mouth hitting you as you lightly gasp.

“oh, i’m— i’m so sorry, heeseung. it just slipped out.”

heeseung just nods, eyes bambi-like as they remain wider than usual, bottom lip sucked into his mouth as he bites down, continuing to stare at you. it oddly makes you squirm— his eye contact. so you look down at your notebook instead, eventually able to organize your scrambled thoughts enough to actually absorb the notes you’re pretending to stare at.

“do you think perhaps you like women who remind you of your mother?”

“…no,” heeseung all but growls.

you jolt in your seat at the completely foreign tone coming from the man, snapping your head to his direction.

his teeth are clenched firmly, making the contours of his jawline more pronounced. his previously almost doe-like eyes are now hardened and sharp enough to pierce.

it’s sends a chill up your spine— but it’s also…strangely attractive.

you’re surprised at your own thought, disturbed by it as you push it to the back of your mind.

“i hate anyone who reminds me of her.” he adds darkly.

“…alright.” you respond quietly, heeseung’s hawk-like eyes now watching how you quickly scribble something in your notebook. “maybe now’s not the time to touch on that. what else do you like?”

“oh, um….” heeseung hesitates, the question clearly catching him off guard. “music, movies, video games, motorcycles—“

“motorcycles?” you ask, a clear spark of curiosity in your tone that heeseung doesn’t miss. “i’ve always wanted one.”

“yeah! it’s a yamaha r6. i got interested in motorcycles as a kid, used to fix old ones up with my dad.”

‘avoids grieving parents death with anger?’ you quickly jot down. ‘but holds onto the past of his childhood as a way to feel connected to parents?’

the fast drawl of your pen echos in the otherwise quiet room, heeseung watching your smooth legs move from crossed to uncrossed in your pencil skirt.

“that sounds amazing, heeseung! what about movies, what genres are you interested in?”

“oh, mostly horror…slashers. that kind of stuff.”

“anything else?” you ask easily, though you take mental note of the things he’s listed with minor alarm. of course it’s not wrong or an automatic concern if someone is interested in these things, but in your line of work you can’t overlook anything.

“…disney.” he answers, his somewhat thoughtful yet blank expression shifting into that charming grin. “dramas sometimes.”

“what was your taste in movies as a child?”

“the same.” he answers easily. “my parents didn’t really care what i did. if they were watching something r rated and i walked in they wouldn’t turn it off. they wouldn’t even tell me to get out of the room.”

“how did that affect you?”

heeseung’s face falls. it’s minutely, but you certainly don’t miss it. you’ve figured out that heeseung often pulls this expression when talking about his childhood, the things that haunt him still. but he hasn’t admitted that yet— even to himself you think. and it’s too soon to push right now, so you choose not to point it out.

“i knew about everything…by 9 years old i knew all about sex, drugs, murder…everything.”

somewhere along your conversation heeseung’s eyes have turned black, pupils staring so still at you that they almost look dead. and the longer they stay on you, the stronger an air of fear brushes coldly up your spine— like you should be afraid.

you don’t know why. heeseung has never shown any signs of violence or anger issues, nor is that listed in his patient form. it must be the anxiety that simply comes with the job of being a therapist. that’s what you tell yourself as you feel the paranoia ghost its hands across your shoulders as you sink into the unknown behind heeseung’s eyes, succumbing to your morbid curiosity of what awful memories he must have to turn his honey brown orbs black with emotion, or lack of.

and just like that— like the owner has just returned home and turned back on the lights, heeseung’s eyes get that sparkle in them again as he smiles, voice deep yet pleasant as he speaks.

“i don’t think it’s affected me though.”

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

rain drums against the roof of the clinic, fluorescent lights above you beaming even brighter as darkness has fallen outside.

you glance at the time on your watch, seeing that it’s nearing 8:30.

you chose to stay late to try and organize your messy desk and patient files, which are becoming an inconvenience with how poorly you previously organized them. you’ve made some good progress, but even though you’re not finished, you gather your things and slip back on your heels to exit the building. the rain is pouring down much harder than you thought when you step outside, immediately scurrying back underneath the protection of the clinic’s overhanging roof to shield yourself from getting completely drenched.

you let out a frustrated sigh as you look out into the darkness, a few dim, flickering street lamps your only source light.

you’re about to pull out your phone and call a cab when you hear the growl of a motorcycle, it’s crescent shaped headlights appearing in front of you a moment later.

the man gets off and leans against the bike, removing his helmet and combing his fingers through his tousled hair.

it’s too dark to see, but when he turns his face at a certain angle, the street lights hitting his features just right, you’re able to recognize him.

“heeseung?” you call out amidst the pounding rain, a rumble of thunder almost punctuating his name after you say it.

heeseung glances at you before quickly jogging over, leaving his bike parked on the street as he joins you beneath the roof’s shelter.

“hey, y/n! what are you doing here so late?”

“i stayed overtime.” you explain, voice still a little raised so he can hear you over the heavy downpour. “what are you doing here?”

confusion is laced in your tone, wondering why heeseung would stop right in front of the clinic when he wasn’t even scheduled to see you today— much less after hours.

heeseung smirks, wordlessly pointing to the convenience store across the street.

“oh,” you blush, embarrassed at how you stupidly assumed he was here for you.

“late night drive. i was gonna grab some snacks. but now that i’m here, let me drive you home.”

“w— what? no! i…i can call a cab.”

“it’s late, y/n. it’s not safe getting a ride by yourself at this time of night.” heeseung argues, and you do agree. you usually don’t take cabs when it’s dark and no one else is with you. but…

“it’s unprofessional…” you confess hesitantly. “you're my patient.”

heeseung somewhat cocky expression doesn’t change, eyes making you feel small in a disturbingly good way as he looks down at you. he must be able to sense your lack of conviction, because he’s taking off his backpack to remove his leather jacket and guide your arms through the large arm holes. it rests against you heavily, way too big for your frame, but it makes you feel a little warmer as it shields you from the rain.

“come on, y/n.” he says with finality after asking you to put on his backpack as well, so you can ride on the back of his motorcycle properly.

you squeak when he suddenly lifts you up like you weigh nothing and sits you on the seat, heeseung chuckling at the sound. your cheeks only burn more.

heeseung puts on his helmet before getting on the bike himself, turning to look back at you.

“hold on tight, okay? don’t let go.” he orders, grabbing your hands to wrap them around his torso and pulling you flush against him.

you try to ignore the fluttering you feel in places you definitely shouldn’t be feeling them as your chest presses into his strong, broad back. the thrum of his motorcycle comes to life, vibrations making your thighs clench and your arms tighten around his lithe waist. you only hope you can keep yourself together for the whole ride, and that the heavy rain is enough to cover up the view of the clinic’s security cameras as heeseung drives the two of you off into the night.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

when heeseung brings you home you’re rushing to get off, your very inappropriate feelings only growing during the ride— and seeing him on his motorcycle in leather gloves and a helmet doesn’t help at all. especially with how hotly he puts back on his jacket that you hastily return to him, along with his backpack.

you give him a very quick thank you, wishing him a good night before running into your house and hoping he just thinks you're in a hurry to get out of the rain.

you’re ashamed, mentally scolding yourself as you try not to slip and fall in your heels. heeseung is completely innocent in this situation, it’s you who’s the problem. you’re the one getting all hot and bothered when he was just trying to be a decent guy and give you a ride home. he can’t help if he’s hot and attractive and the growl of his motorcycle made the heartbeat between your legs worse.

god, are you that desperate? you must really need to get out of the house more and get laid.

shutting the front door behind you, you toe off your slippery wet heels, leaving them messily by the door before going to your bedroom to take off your drenched clothes and change into more comfortable attire.

you simply put on some underwear and a baby tee, nothing underneath, before going downstairs to make yourself something to eat. your plan for the night is to have dinner, maybe…relieve yourself— and then go to sleep.

the slightly obnoxious yellow tint of your motion sensor light at your front door remains on, shining through the door’s window and casting the entryway in an unpleasant glow. so you walk over and flip the switch off.

“oh…” you whisper, accidentally putting yourself in complete darkness as you realize you didn’t turn on any lights in your hurry to take off your wet clothes from earlier.

blindly sliding your hands across the wall, you try to find the light switch for your kitchen when you trip over something, sending you to fall on the hardwood floor.

“fuck, what the hell?” you say to yourself, annoyed as you try to untangle your foot from whatever you can feel wrapped around it. you have a thought to pull out your phone and use the flashlight, but you left your phone upstairs. you guess that’s what happens when you don’t wear pants and thus curse yourself to have no pockets.

it’s a struggle when you can’t see, but you eventually free yourself and stand up, taking careful steps forward until you meet another wall. your hands finally brush over a light switch and you flip it on, your kitchen illuminating a second later.

…it’s a black backpack.

you almost don’t spot it as it sits in the shadows, but as you step closer, you’re sure now. what you tripped over looks just like heeseung’s backpack, its contents spilling out from the inside thanks to you tripping over it and getting the strap wrapped around your foot.

any doubt of the bag actually belonging to the man vanishes when you see the notebook sitting atop all the rest of the clutter, its cream cover slightly browned and scuffed— probably due to him carrying it wherever he goes.

your brows furrow in confusion as you crouch to your knees. you could have sworn you took off the backpack and handed it to heeseung, but in your hurry to escape you must have forgotten to?

moving to pick up the random items that are scattered on the floor and put it back inside the bag (a package of gum, a couple pens, a pocket knife), the notebook is jostled and slides across the floor, its pages falling open.

you move to grab it, still on your knees as you loom above the notebook. you really do try not to look at the words on the paper— but it’s filled with them, every page packed with as many as heeseung could fit on the page. you’re unable to look away.

what’s written…isn’t what you were expecting— or, you don’t know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. page after page of diary logs, dated with the time, all describing…watching someone. what starts out as cute sentiments turn more predatory and carnal as the days go by.

your heart stops when you get to the most recent entry.

its labeled with today's date.

‘you’re always so coy, doctor. sometimes i think i know exactly what you’re thinking, and then you react in a way i don’t expect.

it’s driving me a little crazy wondering what’s going on in your head. it makes me want to crack it open...god, see what you do to me, baby? you’re making me sick in the head. it’s all your fault.

but i don’t want to stop. i want to keep going. i want to hear you beg for more until you’re begging me to stop.

i have a feeling you’ll like it.’

you jump at how hard you slam the journal shut, goosebumps all over your flesh as heat encompasses your face. but it’s not from arousal— it’s fear.

your mind flashes memories too fast for you to keep up with. all your sessions, all those little moments you thought were your own misunderstandings— were they premeditated? did he plan this all along?

wait— when heeseung picked you up….you didn’t even tell him your address. you were so distracted that you didn’t even think to tell him where you live.

and he didn’t need it. he drove you right to your house immediately, like he’s drove that route a hundred times…

you feel the sudden urge to throw up but you suppress it, getting up from the floor to run upstairs and get your phone—

but you run right into the hard chest of someone instead, their strong arms wrapping around your body tightly. you’re horrified, because even without looking you know exactly who it is.

“heeseung?”

“aw, don’t cry, baby. surely you knew this was coming?” heeseung coos, the comforting quality he tries to portray in his voice only making you feel like you’re going to gag. his thumb brushes over your cheek, attempting to wipe a tear away, but they only continue to roll down more rapidly at his touch.

walking you backwards, heeseung shuffles the two of you over to his backpack that still lays sprawled out on the floor.

grabbing your wrists, he turns you around and joins them together behind your back. you turn your head, watching as he bends down and pulls out the pocket knife you noticed earlier. then he reaches in deeper, rustling around until he pulls out a small coil of rope that you evidently missed.

you don’t even try to hold down the sob that rips out of your mouth, almost beginning to hyperventilate as you struggle to accept that this is happening to you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“heeseung, please.” you cry, looking up at him despite your vision blurred by tears. “you don’t have to do this.”

“it’s just a precaution, y/n.” the man reasons easily, and you can tell by his assured voice that he doesn’t see how incredibly horrible this is— demented. he’s about to commit a tragedy to you, and he doesn’t even get it.

“besides.” he whispers against the back of your neck as he ties the rope around your wrists, tight enough to chafe. “i’ve seen the stuff you watch. i know you like being tied up.”

your throat quivers, brain too much of a mess to even process that he’s just confessed to secretly watching you look at porn and masturbating at some point. shaking your head desperately, your eyes squeeze shut in anguish as pleading words tumble out of your mouth. “no, no. not like this— not like this, heeseung. please!”

“be quiet,” he warns between gritted teeth, leaning over you to make sure you see his face. “drop the act, y/n.”

you hear the click of his pocket knife opening, heeseung raising the blade to cut the excess rope off from the tight knot he’s made. once he’s finished he pushes you by your restraint to the kitchen table, roughly pressing you over it. you suddenly wish you had chosen to wear pants, at least then it would take him a bit longer to expose you.

the sound of ripping fabric and your whimpered cries are the only thing that’s heard as heeseung cuts your t-shirt right down the middle, yanking the article off of you.

you don’t move— other than your uncontrollable trembling as you stay bent over the table, too scared and weak from emotions to try and run away.

heeseung is taking off his pants— you recognize the unmistakable sound of his zipper being pulled down, but you can’t bear to look. you keep your cheek pressed to the cold wood of the table, eyes staring unfocused at nothing.

“be the good girl i know you are, baby.” heeseung says, arousal evident in his tone. “i bet you're soaking your little panties, hm?”

you feel his fingers press firmly against your clothed clit, rubbing up and down just slightly too hard. you whimper, attempting to get rid of his touch by squeezing your legs shut. it’s futile of course, and only proves to anger heeseung. he growls and pries your legs open with his strong hands, slapping your pussy hard enough that it has you letting out a yelped scream.

“i don’t want to, y/n, but if i have to hurt you i will.”

heeseung gets on his knees to be eye level with your cunt, leaning forward and ghosting his teeth over your thinly covered lips. your breath comes out trembled and the man groans. you’re not sure if the action is a threat or a promise, but you really don’t want to find out.

a slow stripe is abruptly being licked up your pussy, catching you off guard as you start to close your legs again on instinct— but luckily you stop yourself in time before you piss off heeseung even more.

you decide in this moment you need to actually listen to at least a part of heeseung’s words— be a good girl, then maybe you can manage to make it out of this.

heeseung’s wet mouth is suctioned to your clothed cunt, sucking and drooling all over you as he teases himself with the faint taste of your slick that you can’t control is becoming more apparent. heeseung’s eager tongue and shameless mouth work on your clit, nose nudging at your entrance as he moans and sighs his hot breath all over your pussy.

finally he’s pulling off your panties with his teeth, groaning when he’s blessed with the sight or your glistening cunt.

“shit. such a perfect pussy.” he marvels, running two fingers between your lips, causing you to flinch and squirm against the rope. you clench your jaw until it aches, wanting so badly to beg him to stop, but you’re too afraid to, not when his sharp teeth are so close to the most sensitive part of your body. heeseung takes his now thoroughly slicked up fingers to circle them around your hole, leaning down to take your cunt in his mouth.

his drawn out, guttural groan has you clenching as shame burns your face, a whimper releasing from your mouth as heeseung starts to suckle at your clit and prod you with his tongue. one finger dips just the fingertip inside you before removing it to massage over your entrance again, applying a bit more pressure.

your body starts to react in ways you can’t control and you pray heeseung doesn’t notice, but you’re pretty sure he does— because when you feel your hole clench again he’s moaning out, sucking and licking your pussy with more vigor as he pushes his entire finger inside your entrance.

your moan comes out forcefully as you try your best to swallow it down, sounding almost pained as heeseung starts moving his finger inside of you.

“fuck, you’re so warm inside, sweetheart.” heeseung mutters, attaching right back onto your pussy after.

his second finger is shoved inside way too suddenly, turning harsh as his appendages fuck in and out of you in a way that makes it feel like you’re going to bruise from the inside.

“ah— ow, heeseung. please.” you beg, face pinching in pain. “it hurts.”

“you’re mine to explore, baby. wanna touch all of you. just bare it.”

tears spring in your eyes at his callous, selfish words. heeseung continues his merciless treatment before disconnecting from your cunt to watch how your hole takes him.

he spits on it, making you simmer in humiliation before cold panic washes over your body as you feel a third finger prodding the outside of your entrance.

“no, no. hee— heeseungie, can’t.”

“shhh, don’t worry, baby. just need to stretch you out for my cock, yeah? that’ll be the good part for you, me fucking this tight little pussy.”

three fingers now delve in and out of your hole, and to make it all worse, heeseung is curving his fingers just right— making you feel confused from the mix of pain and pleasure as you feel your pussy drip against your will.

heeseung laughs, seeming to have caught sight of it. “i knew you had to be a whore. who else would wear such tight, short skirts to work?”

you sob as you feel yourself clench around his fingers, thick and burning as they stretch out your ring.

“just walking around with a nasty little cunt that’s dying to be split open, huh? don’t worry, baby. i know what you want. i’ll give it to you real good.”

all too quickly for your brain to wrap around, heeseung pulls his fingers out and your pussy is being stuffed to the absolute brim with his fat cock. the length and girth is way too much— way more than you could have ever imagined.

you cry out like a wild animal as heeseung starts pounding into your pussy mercilessly, forcing you to take it. you’re pretty sure your wrists are going to start bleeding with how much you pull against the rope, but that’s the least of your concerns.

“oh fuck, hee— heeseung!”

it takes you a moment to realize that’s your voice, your cries sounding more like sounds of…arousal.

and you start to question yourself, why do you sound so turned on, like a porn star getting dicked down— when you feel so scared?

“shit— disgusting slut. such a dirty pussy. you deserve to get fucked until you’re raw and ruined.”

you moan. you’re sure you hear it. and it only makes heeseung go rougher, balls slapping against your wet skin that your juices run down from. the zipper and button of heeseungs pants that aren’t even fully pulled down bruise into your skin with every unforgiving thrust, the man literally not holding an ounce of his power back as he fucks you as hard as he can.

his fat cock forces you to submit, for your cunt to take all of it.

your body starts to convulse in the overwhelming sensations of pleasure and fear, your moans starting to crack from your overused throat.

“fuck— fuck!”

“i could get you fired.” heeseung grits between bared teeth, hands squeezing into the flesh of your hips, wanting to leave a bruise behind each finger. “i could tell them that you tried to come onto me during an appointment, that you coerced me. they’d probably get rid of you just for the accusation alone.”

heeseung wraps an aggressive hand around your throat, squeezing and cutting off your airway as his other hand yanks mercilessly at your hair, lifting your head off the table.

“so be a good slut and let me fuck and abuse this pussy whenever i want, yeah?”

your mouth stretches open, an almost silent rasp the only thing coming out from your lack of oxygen as your eyes roll back and you're squirting all over his fat cock.

you feel like you’re dying and exiting your body, the white of your eyes surely showing as you feel pain in the back of your head. fluids rush down your legs and heeseung’s pelvis as his hot load taints the inside of your walls forever.

“we’re not so different, yeah?” heeseung sounds totally unhinged, voice cracked and breathy. “you like to look inside people's minds, y/n. and i want to be inside your guts.”

heeseung finally releases your hair and neck, but his cock never stops impaling your cunt over and over, his over production of cum leaking out of your reddened hole to drip onto the floor, joining the rest of your fluids. you choke around your spit, desperately trying to get just a single breath of air. you have a horrible, dark, heavy pit inside your stomach— one that makes you feel like you’ll be stuck here forever. with heeseung’s cock buried deep inside your assaulted womb.

NOTE: this a nod to ‘inside your mind’ by the 1975, btw. honestly i really hate this…but oh well, at least i persevered?? first and last time writing straight up non-con tho lol.

[ellecdc]

I will bite (lol mating bite)

Remus with a best friend!reader who thinks her feelings for him are unrequited

his alpha presentation clicks in when she first presents as an omega - he immediately realizes they’re mates and is delighted, she doesn’t know he likes her and is freaking out that he’s going to feel trapped

🫣.......... okay twist my arm why don't you ;) jk - this theme/trope has been a bit of a brainworm/hyperfixation for me for a few weeks so thank you for indulging me, and sorry to my readers who this might not be their taste! but I definitely had fun with it so you may have to brace yourselves for more of it from me lol

Remus Lupin x best friend!reader who presents as an omega [3.5k words]

p1 // p2

CW: fem!reader, a/b/o dynamics and omegaverse, very soft a/b/o descriptions, SFW [nothing explicit or sexual in this fic], first a/b/o fic I've written so I'm truly just dipping my toes in lol, feelings of unrequited love [but its actually requited]

Loving Remus came as naturally as breathing to you; every inhale was the sweet smell of chocolate, warm sweaters, and worn books, and every exhale was a quiet whisper of “I love you” that you prayed to every deity he couldn’t hear.

Loving Remus was natural, but it was also harrowing; no one chooses to experience unrequited love, it’s simply one of those things that happens upon you. 

But no matter how painful the fact that your feelings weren’t reciprocated was, the wholehearted comfort that being around Remus brought you was almost worth the heartache. 

There was something in your soul that relaxed the second Remus was near; your entire being unclenched, knowing you were somehow safer, somehow more sound now that he was here.

And you hoped that, if nothing else, you provided the same for him. 

The two of you had been friends for years; becoming fast friends in first year over your shared love of muggle literature and the fact that the two of you were a touch more shy than your respective peers. 

The friendship never dimmed over time - if anything, it only became stronger with every passing year. No matter how mischievous his new friends were or how much trouble he got into with them around, no matter how many school yard crushes left either of you melancholy, no matter how many failed papers or late night study sessions that turned into heated spats because the two of you were far too overtired to handle anything maturely, and no matter how the moons came and went that effectively waxed and waned the Remus you knew in much the same way, the friendship had weathered it all.

It was one of your greatest possessions - this friendship you shared with Remus - and one of your proudest accomplishments.

And you weren’t going to let a silly crush (or, in your case, your gut-wrenching and undying devotion) ruin it. 

Which is how you found yourself walking up the steps to James and Lily’s flat for your surprise party, preparing yourself to be surprised because Sirius insisted they throw you one but Remus knew you hated surprises and had warned you about it prior to your arrival. 

You were admittedly not feeling up to a party - the telltale tickle in your throat warning you of an impending cold - though you were sure you wouldn’t have felt quite up to a party whether you were poorly or not. Parties were never quite your thing; you loved your friends, and you loved spending time with them, but that many of them in one place at one time and all for you felt a little bit like torture. 

But you knocked on the door which was flung open before your hand even made its second knock and there was a sea of people cheering “happy birthday!” but your eyes - of course - found Remus first, and suddenly, you didn’t think this was torture. Suddenly this was heaven. 

“Wha- you guys!” You started, smiling as James gave you a bone crushing hug, eyes never leaving Remus’. 

“Surprise!” Lily giggled as she elbowed James out of the way to give you her own hug. “Were you surprised?”

“What do you mean ‘were you surprised’? I still am!” You agreed quickly, embracing Sirius who was next in line.

“Moony told you, didn’t he?” He murmured quietly into your hair, causing you to snort. 

“Am I that bad an actor?” You asked him quietly, causing him to chuckle as he rubbed his hand up and down your back. 

“No,” He answered quickly, “but he is just that soft on you.” 

You hardly had a moment to consider what Sirius had said when Marlene was yanking you from his grasp to pepper your face in kisses as he shook his head over at his friend and started giving him shit for ruining the surprise. 

After greeting every guest in attendance, you finally made it to Remus who wasted no time in pulling you into his chest.

“Happy birthday, dove.” He murmured into your hair; and you had sort of wished that the only plan you had for the rest of the night was to stay within his warm embrace. 

“Sorry for getting you into trouble with Sirius.” You murmured back into his chest, delighting in the rumble of his laugh you elicited.

“Worth it; couldn’t handle you being miffed with me all night for not warning you.”

You - regretfully - pulled away to shoot him a bemused expression. “I could never spend an entire night miffed with you, Moons.” 

Remus hummed noncommittally as he scanned your face. “Any amount of time would have been too much for me- hey, are you feeling okay?” 

His face took on a concerned form that you found him too pretty to wear, and you suddenly felt bone-deep distress at having caused it.

“Why? I’m fine; do I not look fine?” You asked worriedly, bringing a hand up to your own face which was perhaps warm, but you weren’t feeling clammy. 

The corner of his mouth twitched, though the furrow between his brows was ever present. “You look perfect, as usual, just… are you feeling alright?” 

You let out a sigh, looking anywhere but his piercing gaze. “I think I’ve got a cold coming on, I’ll be alright though.” 

His mouth pinched worriedly as he ducked trying to get you to make eye contact with him. “We don’t have to stay long then, yeah?”

You snorted as you gave him an unimpressed look. “We don’t have to stay long at the party for me that was thrown in part by you?”

“Right.” He agreed readily.

“I’ll be fine, Rem.” You assured him, patting his hand placatingly. “It’s my party, I can sniffle if I want to.”

And though he didn’t seem particularly convinced, he let you go when Sirius and Marlene announced that it was time to dance. 

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You were taking a breather in the small kitchen of James and Lily’s flat when you started to feel slightly worse.

The tickle in your throat had officially turned into an ache in your chest, and your head was pounding - be that from the music, the dancing, the drinks, or whatever flu you were coming down with, you couldn’t be certain. 

But you found yourself feeling better as you let your head fall back against the cool wall; your hair falling away from your neck and allowing the air circulating the room to hit your overly hot neck and chest.

Maybe you should try to leave early?

“I’ll check.” You heard Remus announce; your face breaking out into a grin on its own accord as he came around the corner.

“Y/N.” He breathed out. “Are you alright?” He asked, standing in front of you with that damned furrow in his brow again.

“I’m alright.” Now, was left unsaid, but something in the tilting of his head alerted you to the fact that he heard it anyway. 

“What’s gotten into you, hm?” He asked slowly; words stilted as his eyes darted across your face, mostly speaking to himself as he searched your form for answers. 

“Did you find her?” James called out, causing Remus’ neck to crane as he peered around the door frame; and that’s when it hit you.

Chocolate, warm sweaters, and worn books.

Remus.

His scent. 

Your head fell forward as you took a deeper breath, and the remnants of whatever cold you were catching dissipated.

And the whole evening clicked into place; the discomfort, his incessant worry and focus on you, you felt better for a moment because he was near - not because you took a moment to breathe, he could tell you were…

Oh god.

“Y/N.” He said again, alerting you to the fact that he was now standing rigidly still and staring at you imploringly. “What-”

“This can’t be happening…” You whispered, eyes glued to the point just under Remus’ jaw that was so disturbingly close yet somehow not nearly close enough. 

“Are- are you…” Remus started, his gaze settling somewhere near your shoulder as he leaned closer to you and took a deep breath through his nose.

As if you scalded him, he went flying backwards from your being - his back making contact with the fridge so violently that it sent magnets flying.

Fuck, fuck! Fuck, he was going to hate you, now, surely? He hated you.

He hated you because he wanted you, but he only wanted you because you were fucking presenting - why? Why now? Why today? Why to him?

He’s never wanted you before; and now he would only want you because he was - what was very clear now - an Alpha and you were, apparently, an Omega.

Fuck.

“Fuck.” You hissed as you pushed the heels of your palms into your eyes until you could see stars.

“Dove-”

“No!” You shouted, pulling your hands away to see him having frozen in reaching out to you, now lifting his hands as if fending off a wild animal.

“Fuck, I need air.” You blurted, and you took off out the front door. 

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The evening air did little to quell your nerves and nausea over the events of the night. 

To present, tonight out of all nights, in a tiny flat with nowhere to run without causing a scene.

Not to mention the precariousness of your relationship with Remus that you valued over everything was now hanging by a thread. 

“You couldn’t have found us a more comfortable place to sit, gorgeous?” You heard Sirius drawl as he (loudly) took a seat on the curb beside you.

“I’m terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you so, Sirius.” You responded dryly. 

“You ought to be.” He continued. “This is not how I wanted to spend your birthday party.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You scoffed, elbowing him in the side causing him to sway as if you’d put any real force behind it. 

“If you fuck on, you get better results.”

You snorted. “Yeah, and if you fuck around you’ll find out.”

“Mmm, saucy, I like where this is going.”

“Padfoot.” You begged miserably, and he let out a relenting sigh before he pulled you roughly into his side, leaving his arm draped over you as you laid your head on his shoulder. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sitting on a curb outside.” You answered, earning you a pinch in the side.

“I can see that; I mean, what are you doing out here by yourself? Why aren’t you inside with your man?”

“Stop it, Sirius.” You spat, hastily sitting up and wiping angrily at your face.

“Merlin, you both really are that thick, aren’t you?” He muttered, searching your face like it would somehow answer his question.

“If you’re out here to make fun of me, you can go back inside. I’m humiliated enough.”

Sirius shook his head sadly. “I don’t understand why the two of you are making this harder than it needs to be; you’re both clearly mad for each other, you’re out here feeling sorry for yourself because you think he doesn’t want you, he’s in there feeling sorry for himself because he doesn’t think you want him.”

“He doesn’t want me, Sirius. We’ve always only been friends.”

“But you want him?” He asked then, causing you to put your head in your hands.

“Sirius, please, don’t-”

“Do you want him?” He asked again, more forceful this time. “Simple question, Y/N, yes or no.”

“Yes!” You let out with a sob. “Yes! I’ve always wanted him! I’ve- fuck, I’ve been mad about him for years and… yes. Yes, I want him.” The end of your sentence trailing off as you picked angrily at your nail beds.

Sirius seemed to steal himself for a moment, nodding his head as he sucked in a breath.

“I started calling him Moony before I ever knew of his lycanthropy.” He admitted then; and though you weren’t looking in his direction, you could feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of your head. 

Sirius let that sit in the air before he got up and stood in front of you, forcing you to look up at him. 

“I called him that because of the way he was always mooning after you.”

“Then why’d he freak? Why’d he rip away from me like that?” You asked - voice disturbingly small as you looked up at one of your oldest friends.

“Why’d you run?”

You let out a sigh and looked at the streetlights across the street instead of admitting “because I’m a coward”. 

“I can’t lose him, Pads. I-” Stopping as a painful shiver shook your frame - the cold taking over again now that you had some distance from your…

From Remus.

But Sirius didn’t rush you, he just continued standing in front of you as you struggled to find the words. 

“I can’t lose him.” You settled on. 

“Then don’t.” He said, toeing your shoe with his. 

“It’s not that simple.” You argued.

“It can be.” A voice sounded from behind you but a moment before you smelled him. 

And though the rational part of your brain wanted to brace yourself, the rest of your body immediately softened in his presence. 

“Well I’m going to go back in and enjoy the kick ass party I threw, so, if the two of you don’t mind…” Sirius said haughtily, shooting you a wink so that you knew it was all in jest and clapping Remus on the back before disappearing back into the building. 

You listened as Remus lowered himself onto the curb beside you; guilt flooding through you at the way his joints cracked audibly and at the fact that he seemed to be leaving quite a bit of distance between the two of you that he wouldn’t have even just a few hours ago. 

“Are you okay?” He started, and you fought the urge to scoff.

No, you thought petulantly, not only do I feel like shit, I’m also at risk of losing the thing that means the most to me.

“I’m fine.” You responded shortly, fixated on the skin surrounding your fingernails as you refused to look in his direction. “You alright?”

“No.” Remus answered quickly, and you did look up at that.

He was staring at you imploringly, his brows furrowed both with sympathy and perhaps a little bit of frustration. 

“Why’d you run?” He asked then.

“I-” you started, though you weren’t exactly sure anymore. “You…you seemed so startled, I… I thought you were upset.”

He seemed to pause as he considered your response; this sort of caution not usual for the two of you this far into your friendship. 

“I had just found out that the girl of my dreams was an Omega, and when she was clearly distraught, I was caught leaning in to get a better sniff.” He deadpanned, shaking his head at himself as he looked out across the street. “I startled because I was certain I was going to startle you.”

“I- you’re not? Startled, that is.”

His brows furrowed slightly as he shook his head, turning back to look at you. “Why would I be?”

“But…we’ve never been…more than friends; I didn’t want that to change now, just because you felt it had to.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He responded simply, and for reasons you weren’t willing to think on right now, that sentiment caused something very unpleasant to churn in your gut. 

“Nothing would have to change; you could still be you and I could just be me, and that would be fine. Is that what you want?” 

He held your gaze defiantly as you gaped at him. “I- but,”

“Is that what you want, dove?” He asked again, a slight force in his tone this time as he turned his body towards yours and his eyes flit down to your lips. “Because it is taking everything in my power not to claim you as my own right here, right now. I have wanted this for so long; so I ask you again, is that what you want? For nothing to change?”

“No.” You blurted quickly. 

“No?”

“No.” You whispered, shaking your head as you turned your body to face him too. “No, no. I want you, I need you-”

“Now? You want and need me now, or-”

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you since fourth year, Remus. Since I figured out why I hated Emmeline Vance so much.” You practically sobbed.

“Why?” He asked softly, looking like his lip wanted to tip up into a smile though he was dutiful of your current upset. “Because she fancied me?”

“Because you fancied her.” You corrected miserably. Remus finally brought his hand up to cup your cheek at that, and you hardly had a moment to feel embarrassed at the way you quickly turned your head into his wrist so you could get a better smell of him.

“My poor, sweet girl.” He cooed softly, a sympathetic sound emanating from the back of his throat at the sound that his phrase elicited from you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please.” You whispered, no longer trying to withhold the desperation from your voice as you kept your nose pressed to the inside of his wrist and your eyes screwed shut.

“Okay.” He whispered back, even though he had no idea what you were begging him for - you supposed it didn’t matter; he didn’t seem particularly inclined to deny you anything you wanted right now. 

“Rem-”

“I know.”

“Please.”

“I’m right here, dove.” He whispered, pulling you towards him by your hand as you followed all too willingly. “I’m right here.” He whispered again, nose brushing yours before you closed the distance between the two of you.

The sound of the traffic faded away, as did the tarmac beneath you and the air around you; you seemed to be floating in a vast expanse that contained nothing but you and Remus.

You took a moment to mentally kick yourself as you deepened the kiss - nipping at his lower lip and causing him to smile before granting you access - that you could have been, should have been, doing this for years. 

“Ugh, fuck.” Remus muttered as he broke the kiss and rested his head against yours, seeming truly distraught at having to interrupt.

You didn’t even have a chance to ask what was wrong before you heard cheering from above you.

“Fucking finally!” James shouted as he pulled the tab of a party popper, showering the street below his balcony with multicoloured  confetti. 

“Pay up bitches; I told you this was the year.” Lily continued, holding her hand out expectantly as Marlene begrudgingly placed a few galleons into her friend's hand. 

“Oi!” Remus shouted at the group, a protective arm snaking around your middle as he held you closer to him as if he was worried you’d simply float away, “You better pay Pads his fair share then!”

You snorted and shoved your face into Remus’ neck - hiding your face as a ploy to get closer to him without it being nearly close enough. 

Remus chuckled as your friends filed back into the apartment and the world returned to its normal volume, bringing his free hand up to knead at your scalp in a way that made you want to purr like a sodding cat. 

“Fuck.” He breathed out, looking down at you with an expression nothing short of worship.

“You okay?” You asked then, bringing one hand up to draw a line down the bridge of his nose, simply because you could now.

“I’m perfect, you’re perfect.” Remus pressed, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss before he pressed his nose against the spot on your neck just past your jaw.

You instinctually let your head fall back; his hand tightening in your hair as he let out a sound halfway between a laugh and growl.

“Don’t sodding do that.” He scolded you playfully. 

“What?” You asked - half innocently half abashedly. 

“Submit to me, you minx.” He explained, booping you on the nose for extra effect. “Let me at least take you out on a date, first.”

A date, you echoed in your head; you had spent a lot of time daydreaming as a girl about what your first date with Remus would look like. You’d always imagined spending the day in Hogsmeade buying sweets and gobstones and books and quills before heading back up to the castle.

This was turning out way better already, though.

“So long as I don’t have to share you with James.” You joked, peering over Remus’ shoulder where you could see James peeking through the curtains before a flash of a camera went off.

“Hm…I’m not sure I can promise that for the first date, but definitely for the second.” 

“Deal.” You agreed readily, because really, you’d have Remus just about anyway you could have him. 

And you were simply overjoyed to know that he apparently felt the same.

[httpsserene]

Jealous sex with Charles 🤩

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐜𝐥. 𝟏𝟔

summary: there’s no reason for charles to be jealous of men who are stupid enough to think they have a chance with you. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. jealous sex. tennis. monte carlo masters winner stefanos tsitsipas used as a plot device. porn with a side of plot. mildly possesive!charles leclerc. jealousy. reader’s kindness is misunderstood for flirting. no infidelity. vaginal sex. unprotected sex(don’t do that!). fingering. missionary & cowgirl. rough(ish?) sex. the clothes stay on. uhm, reader gets railed stupid, lowkey. cumplay (i’m so sorry). pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bpoc!reader word count: 2.8k words.

from serene: surprised i finished this when i said i would. to make a long story short, i’m breaking up with my boyfriend 🤪✌🏽ANYWAYS, i listened to the beauty behind the madness and my dear melancholy albums by the weekend to lock in the smexxy vibes. idk if it worked, it took me two days to write less than 3k words 🙂 y’all lmk if you think the wait was worth it, and enjoy reading lovelies x

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The car ride home was quiet. You figured it was post-tennis exhaustion keeping your boyfriend quiet; the entire match was viewed with the Monte Carlo sun radiating down on the stands. Secondarily, the silence could’ve been induced by a little social exhaustion even though Charles thrives in crowds—the two of you spent a couple of hours before the match chatting to anyone who approached him, which felt like every person at the event had to have his attention for a brief moment. Then after the match, the two of you spent another hour speaking with the Master’s Winner, Stefanos, and the Prince, before you were able to take your exit.

So, you attributed his low energy to being sun-tired and talked-out. In retrospect, you should’ve known that it was more than fatigue from how Charles failed to put his hand on your thigh as he drove, and how he sat through slow-crawling traffic without ever moving to turn on music or talk. Your weariness prevented you from prodding further when the Monegasque responded with a nearly inaudible hum when asked if he was tired—the lack of presence in his answer felt like confirmation.

Yet, you realize it wasn’t an answer at all when you entered your home.

Your comments and questions about the match and dinner plans were met with one-word answers and off-timed hums of indifference in response. It’s not until the two of you are in your bedroom getting unready that Charles speaks more than a single word.

“Stefanos was nice, wasn’t he?” 

You pause in your action of taking off an earring, a puzzled tilt to your brow at the odd tone his words took, eyes examining him in the reflection of your vanity’s mirror. He stares down at his forearm as he unclasps his watch, his expression unreadable from his side profile. 

“Yes…he was,” you answer slowly, your confusion growing as you see Charles’ jaw clench, “I didn’t imagine him to be so, normal, I guess? After winning the Monte Carlo Masters, of all things. And, he’s done it three times! I mean, that’s incredible, no? For him to be so friendly and relaxed after was nice, I think.”

You rambled endlessly, the feeling that you’ve talked yourself into a corner flaring at the base of your skull. Charles turned to face you fully, shrugging his suit jacket off and calmly placing it on top of the dresser, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt before he leaned to rest against the furniture as well.

“Ah,” the hair on the nape of your neck rises at the sound, you continue to remove your necklaces with hesitant fingers, “Did he charm you into being your favorite tennis player today, mon amour?”

A humorous scoff escapes your lips, “You know I’m not a fan of tennis. But, if there happens to be a match playing within my view, and he’s playing, I suppose I would want him to win. I wouldn’t say I was ‘charmed,’ I just think he’s a nice man.”

“I think you were too nice to him.”

You slowly place your diamond-studded, golden tennis chain away before your eyes flicker back to meet Charles’ in the reflection of the mirror. You raise a brow, unsure how to respond to his statement. Intelligently, you’ve deduced that he’s jealous, which is odd—considering he’s Charles Leclerc, the prettiest, sweetest, and kindest man on the face of the Earth, in your humble opinion. Stefanos doesn’t hold a candle compared to your boyfriend. Your fingers struggle to undo the clasp of your final necklace; the gold, diamond-paved, Cartier necklace with Charles’ name carved on the back—it was expensive enough that he refused to tell you the price when he gifted it, only saying that “the cost was nothing compared to the love he has for you,” the smooth-talker.

“Arrête,” he speaks firmly, pushing off the dresser and making his way towards you, his dress shoes clicking on the floor sending your heartbeat racing. He stops mere centimeters behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back.

“Leave it on,” he murmurs, darkened eyes running over your form in the mirror indulgently. 

You do as he says, arms shakily lowering to rest at your sides, fingers tugging at the hem of your sundress as your heart skips and body flushes with heat. The Monegasque reaches around you to center the necklace on your clavicle, the sensation of his fingertips barely ghosting across your brown skin has your mouth parting with an inaudible gasp.

“If only he knew that you wear my name locked around your neck,” the brunette pondered aloud, “Maybe then he would remember that your pretty eyes, sweet giggles, and flirty words are for me—since you seemed to forget.”

“I was not f-flirting with him!” You stutter over the word as if it were an insult.

“You were not,” Charles sounds like he agrees, “But, you know very well that people mistake your kindness as more than that. It’s happened before, no?”

It has happened before. More than you can count. The number of men who mistake politeness and your overall niceness for interest is frightening; you don’t want anybody but Charles.

“What was I supposed to say to Stefanos? Nothing? Should I have just ignored him? And stood at your side quietly like I was just there for decoration?” Your tone peaks with annoyance, heated at the idea of being reduced to an accessory.

“No,” his voice cuts through your train of thought, “You should’ve agreed with me when I mentioned we needed to leave after he said ‘the only thing he’s missing to celebrate is a beautiful woman’ as he stared directly at you—instead of forcing me to stay for another twenty minutes to talk.”

Your mouth drops open disbelievingly, a scoff following a few moments later when you slowly realize that Stefanos wasn’t interested in being set up with one of your friends as he asked. You should’ve known when he asked if you had a twin sister he could meet.

“Okay, in hindsight, I can see that he was flirting,” you clarify, “But, I definitely was not. You know in that entire conversation, I was just being polite—and I made you stay for longer because the Prince wanted to talk to you. Not because I was entertaining a man who doesn’t respect my relationship with you!”

“You were being polite when he kissed your hand?”

“Yes! I thought that was just him laying it on thick?”

“He’s not royalty,” Charles snorts, “The only person allowed to put their lips on you is me.”

“You keep talking about who’s ‘allowed’ to do anything to me and you’ll very quickly find out that I’m ‘allowed’ to reconsider this relationship if you continue speaking about me as if you own me.”

“I don’t own you,” Charles pauses, and a smile spreads across his lips, dimples deepening in his cheeks, nearly forcing you to forget your previous statement as you admire them in the vanity mirror, “But—you own me.”

You turn around quickly at the words, breath stuttering at the lack of space between you two. Tilting your head upwards, you examine your boyfriend’s face with narrowed eyes and cheeks burning so hot the red flush is apparent. His smile has softened to a smirk, his eyebrows laced with a smug undertone, his pupils blown wide enough for you to have to focus to see the green ring around them. You languidly raise a hand to trace a finger across the edge of his jawline, then cupping your hand along the side of his face, gently resting your thumb in the indent of his dimple. Your chest tightens when Charles leans into your palm, slowly shifting to press a kiss on your wrist before nudging you back to holding his face.

Sighing gently, you shake your head, “What do you want from me?”

“Je veux que tu me laisses baiser ma jalousie sur toi, s'il te plaît.”

“S-say it slower please,” you request meekly, “I think I heard you wrong.”

“I want you to let me fuck my jealousy out,” Charles emphasizes each word slowly, his tone becoming teasing as he sees you fluster with each added syllable, “Ple–”

Your lips meet his desperately, your other hand flying upwards to grasp at his shoulder when you feel his laughter through the kiss. You’re sure his amusement is multiplied as you try to dominate the kiss, even as you rise on the tips of your toes and arch your body towards his. Needily, you whine into his mouth as he refuses to meet your rushed rhythm, digging your nails into the meat of his broad shoulders to convey your urgency.

The Monegasques’ hold on your waist turns rough and you pull backward with a gasp when he pinches the skin of your arm. You glower at him in displeasure but it’s quick to fade as he guides you back to his lips with a heavy hand on the nape of your neck. His thumb and pointer finger are weighted from their position at the base of your skull, directing the tilt and movement of your head as he licks into your mouth and bruises your swollen lips further with pressure and stings of teeth.

He walks himself backward, one hand firm on your hip to guide you with him, the other rucking up the skirt of your sundress and sliding underneath to tug your panties down your legs with ease. You kick the fabric off your ankles distractedly, falling to straddle Charles’ lap as soon as he sits on the edge of the bed. His hand slips between the cradle of your thighs, cupping along your warmth and toying within your folds.

“Wet for me already,” he discovers delightedly, breaking the kiss to suck a mark into the sensitive skin behind your left ear and peppering more nips and teases of teeth down the stretch of your neck. Hisses of pleasure slip from your parted lips and you slant your hips forward to guide Charles’ fingers inside. You exhale breathily at the slide of a single finger in your cunt, rolling down onto his hand when you deem his pace too slow.

“Another, please,” you beg, moaning throatily when your boyfriend fulfills your plea without hesitation.

Two fingers turn into three, and three fingers turn into Charles flipping you over and pushing you into the bed so he can hover over you. With rushed hands, you both shove the zipper of his slacks and the hem of his briefs low for him to slip his cock out and press into you. The brunette shudders as he sinks within your depths, falling to his elbows, your moans and gasps of breath spilling into the same pocket of air when his hips rest against the back of your thighs. 

“M-move, please, Cha,” you cry, knees pressing into his sides and body rolling upwards to get a glimpse of friction during his stillness.

Charles drops his head to quiet you with a chaste kiss before matching the rhythm of your rocking hips, his rumbling groans quieted by your lips. He holds himself steady on one arm while he uses the other to reach above your head and drag a pillow downwards, tapping your ass briefly to wordlessly command you into rising upwards as he slips the cushion underneath you. As soon as the pillow is properly positioned, Charles’ slow grinds are exchanged for slamming thrusts, sharp flares of pain-dipped pleasure shooting up your spine and tightening the knot in your navel. Your breath is lost quickly and you struggle to recover, eyes screwing shut and exhales of expletives and whimpers of encouragement are all you can offer.

The Monegasque roughly slides his hand down your leg and grasps you by the ankle digging into the small of his back to keep him close, moving it to rest over his shoulder, and letting his hand fall to squeeze at your thigh for purchase as the change of position tightens the fluttering channel of your cunt around him. This angle feels like he’s digging deeper inside you; one of your hands scrambling to drag your nails down his toned back while the other fists in his hair as you shriek high-pitched into the heated air between your bodies.

“All mine,” you can feel the possessive lilt to his tone rumble through the thin skin of your throat as he sucks along the rapid beat of your pulse. Your nails decorate his back with red scores and it has Charles biting out sharp putain’s and rabbiting his cock into you forcefully, yet remaining conscious enough to realign his thrusts as he bullies his way inside of you to pound against your g-spot. His leaned forward position stretches the limits of your comfortable flexibility, but it allows his pelvis to barely scrape against your clit, sending a wave of overstimulating pleasure to your brain, your eyes rolling as the sensation knocks any form of rational thought from your brain.

He pauses to tug the front of your dress down, the hem tucked under the spill of your breasts. His fingers flick teasingly over a pebbled nipple while he folds himself lower to drag his tongue against the other and nip small marks around your areola. You fight against the assault on your chest; arching your back towards and away from him—chasing and running away from the pleasure simultaneously, yet you continue to grind onto his cock.

“Charles, f-fuck, lemme–uhuh—lemme ride ‘ou,” you whine out incoherently, pushing at his shoulder with a closed fist, hoping he’ll understand your slurred words as your tongue begins to feel heavy.

Your boyfriend pulls away from your breasts in question, panting roughly as he stares up at you to see a pure look of want in your dampened eyes,  lashes clumped together and brown skin flushing deeper when the eye contact is held unendingly. You know that Charles debated denying your request, or at least thought about making you beg for it, but he decides to kneel and drag you upwards into his lap without a fight. He allows you a brief respite to adjust your legs and anchor your arms over his shoulders, then tightens the hold of his hands on your waist, fingertips sure to leave indents as he assists your first upward motion, before solidly dragging you back down. 

The strength you regained in your legs from the short break disappears, knees weakening and body slumping into Charles’ chest, your head drooping to rest in the crook of his neck. 

Charles steadies your head and tilts you back gently, checking in, “Is this too much, mon amour? We can stop.”

“No,” you murmur, “You fucked the feeling out of my legs, Cha.”

He laughs warmly, situating his hands on your ass to direct your motions, the tone of his voice light as he coos, “‘s okay, mon coeur—I’ll do all the work.”

You brush your nose along his, moaning softly at the sweetened drag of his cock. Charles chases your bitten lips, groaning lowly as he deepens his thrusts, fingers dipping to circle your clit—always ensuring your release is prioritized. Your thighs begin to shake and his thrusts skip beats as he begins to near the precipice as well. Shuddering, you gasp into his mouth, attempting to alert him to your nearing orgasm but you’re unable to speak the words.

“It’s okay, mon amour,” your boyfriend soothes, “Cum for me—I’ve got you.”

“yesyesyes,” you babble mindlessly, Charles continuing to pound into you, not slowing the search for his release now that you’re orgasm is imminent. A few well-angled jabs of your g-spot and you’re gone; release frying your nerve endings and vision blurring as your boyfriend continues to ride your high to its very end. 

The Monegasque pulls out the moment your hips fight his hold, dropping his hand drenched with your pleasure from your clit to grab his cock, and with one stroke, he spills. Charles paints your navel and inner thighs white with whimpering moans, and lilted French. He milks himself into over-sensitivity, only stopping when the orgasmic relief shifts into pain. He kisses you on the cheek as he drags a finger through his cum pooled between your thighs. His hand rises to your mouth and he hums approvingly as your lips part and suckle his spend clean off.  

“Hm,” Charles sounds, staring down at the claim he’s spilled, his free hand rubbing his cum along your navel, “All mine.”

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