#smells of sexism to me sorry not sorry just let the girl be

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fifteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: ANGST... that's about the only major warning I can think of

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Jurian and Vassa took the attic and became scarce, but when night and day slid into one another you still heard her painful screams, muffled as they were by the magic that encased their room. It was a feeling more than anything else. A tension that gripped the House until it seemed to be sobbing. At sunrise and sunset without fail, Vassa’s body broke and rearranged itself, flesh turning to feathers and feathers to flesh. Before it had been a painless process where her body came and went in its various forms, but no longer. Now she felt everything alongside an itch deep within her bones that couldn’t be satiated by food or drink or anything else. 

Go to the lake! Her body screamed. Go to Koschei! And then punished her when she didn’t comply. Like a beast had sunk its claws into her flesh, its waiting mouth only inches away from snapping. To stay away was a slow, agonizing march to death. To move close would be swift, but final, and somehow Vassa knew that if she gave into Koschei’s call, she would be lost forever.

You lingered at the base of the attic's staircase, your bare feet sinking into the soft rug until the sounds of cracking bones finally ceased. Three pairs of feet shuffled above your head and you heard Jurian’s faint whispers like a gentle push of air. When the door opened and Lucien emerged, you saw Vassa crumpled on the floor, now a bone-thin woman with dull, coppery hair and skin ravaged by scratches and pockmarks. 

“Shhhh. It’s ok.” Jurian whispered, encasing her in his arms. 

“I can’t,” her voice trembled. “It hurts. I-I-I’m burning.” 

“Y/n?” Lucien frowned. The door slammed shut with a bang and you jumped backwards. You clutched a velvet pouch close to your chest and then slowly held it out to Lucien. 

“It’s for Vassa,” you explained, trying to keep your eyes on his mismatched ones — one russet as river stones, one gold like the sun. He opened the bag and stared in confusion at the fine, white powder within, giving it a tentative sniff. “Morphine. Humans use it for pain.” 

“I know of it.” Lucien’s frown deepened. “They get addicted. Take too much and they die.” 

“She’s already addicted. That’s what’s happening isn’t it? Koschei’s drawing his power away to get her to return to the lake and every day that passes she’s dying.” Lucien tightened his fists around the bag, still skeptical. Vassa had endured enough. He didn’t want to have her endure this either. “The bag is enchanted and will never allow her to draw too much. Just enough to calm her hunger. If we’re lucky it might help her sleep too.” 

Lucien stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists from around the gold drawstring, waiting for Vassa’s cries to cease. But they never did. And there you were standing in front of him, unwavering and expectant. There was a glimmer of stubbornness in your gaze. A sign of the hours you’d spent researching Vassa’s condition and acquiring the strange human drug, and your disapproval if Lucien didn’t accept it. 

“Thank you, Y/n,” he whispered, “But please go. Vassa hates for anyone to see her like this. Even Jurian and I.” 

You swallowed thickly and nodded, disappearing down the stairs as quickly as you could. The next morning when the sun rose over the mountains and Vassa changed, you heard only the House’s usual breathings. 

The House buckled under the weight of the Inner Circle’s secrets and the sheer volume of history that had occurred within its walls and between its occupants. It utilized its magic in clever ways — your door opened with a creak that wasn’t there before so that Azriel would always hear your comings and goings. Lucien would suddenly find his door locked and the curtains drawn on the days when Helion made surprise visits to see Y/n. Nyx would find himself ushered around by a broomstick that swatted his ankles when the adults were discussing private matters. It was all a great deal of work. 

So it was a relief when Rhys and Feyre quietly moved their children to the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian, and when Mor and Emerie took the final steps in emptying their rooms and went to hide out in their city apartment. It was even more of a relief when Helion returned to the Day Court, but not before throwing a heavy threat in Azriel’s face that if he should ever hurt his daughter again in any way, shape, or form, he’d strip the wings off his back. 

Meals at the House were tense, quiet affairs, something not even Feyre, Elain, and Nesta’s sisterly conversations or Cassian’s light-hearted humor could ease. Elain stayed close to Lucien’s side, one hand always on his arm or resting against his back or brushing against his, but that didn’t erase what the Blood Duel had done to his trust in Elain. He was kind, but guarded, especially when Azriel was in the room. But it was more than she could ask for because it was more than she’d ever given him in the beginning. 

You and Azriel were worse off.

You were speaking once more, but your words were always laced with a bit of apprehension and Azriel’s were always filled with sorrowful hope. Conversations were dull, short, and didn’t even begin to brush the surface of all the things you should have been talking about. You were terrified not of the Shadowsinger, but of his opinion of you. Did he want you so he could fix you? So that he could feel needed? So that you could be another one in a list of females he burned through? 

It never truly seemed like that was the case, but you also didn’t trust yourself when it came to your emotions. You had told him once that you couldn’t imagine having a love like Feyre and Rhysand’s, or Nesta and Cassian’s, and you still meant it. You were a matchstick and he was flint, and you didn’t know what would happen to you after he had lit you aflame. For all you knew, you were already burning and this wonderful thing you’d had with Azriel would live and die with nothing more than the memory of an embrace in Rhysand’s office to show for it. 

But oh how you ached to touch him again. To hold him like you had before and to have him return the gesture just as strongly. 

You stiffened when Azriel’s hand brushed your arm, warmth bursting out from the point of contact. 

“I’m sorry.” Azriel whispered, and he was talking about more than the wine he spilled when he reached over the table.

You spared him a glance, the first real look you’d given him in two weeks. The flagon slipped from his hands, and if it weren’t for his shadows catching it an inch above the floor, the room would have been doused in burgundy red. 

“Does Lucien know?” 

Rhysand looked up from his papers. Missives from the Darkbringer army and Illyrian troops up north clogged his desk, all begrudgingly accepting his orders to prepare for what could amount to another lengthy war. Letters thrown back and forth between the seven courts added to the chaos, all of them war-weary and desperate for a path that wouldn’t lead to bloodshed. 

You took up the center of his room and stood so quietly he hadn’t even noticed you until you spoke. It had been eating away at you for days since Lucien’s arrival. Every time you two saw one another or spoke, you tried to scrounge for clues that would reveal whether he knew he was Helion’s son and whether he might suspect you were Helion’s daughter as well. The other members of the Inner Circle had been tight-lipped about that secret, a skill you now knew they all possessed with alarming dexterity. 

“Does Lucien know he’s Helion’s son?”

Rhysand slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples with one careful hand. Finally he said, “Yes.” 

The answer knocked the breath from your lungs. You’d been expecting the opposite. “Does he… does he know about me?” 

Rhys sighed and shook his head. You didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. 

“How long has he known?” 

“Six years. Feyre was the one to tell him. She was actually the first of us to recognize the similarity, believe it or not. But then, no one ever dared to give weight to the rumors surrounding Helion and Aurelia Vanserra while Beron was alive.”

You rocked back and forth on your feet, breath shaking as it entered your body. “Six years. Six years and you never thought to tell Helion that he has a son? I thought you two were friends?”

Rhysand tensed. “I’m Lucien’s friend as well and he begged us to never speak of it - to live as though we’d never learned that secret. And I keep my secrets. We all do.” 

“You and your family have made that very clear in the time that I’ve been here.” 

“If you mean Azriel—”

“Don’t play dumb, Rhys, you know I’m talking about him.” Tears pricked at your eyes, adding to the humiliation that had coated you like a film ever since you’d seen his memories about Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. “I don’t—” You swallowed thickly, “I can imagine how you must have all been whispering behind my back about Azriel and I. How you must have found it so pathetic the way he charmed me when I was really his fourth choice.”

“That’s not true.” Was what Rhysand was going to say. But he didn’t need to. Azriel said it for him. 

Your face lost all color, any bravado melting away at the feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles like ribbons of silk. You could feel him in the room and that quiet darkness he carried around with him as inherently as if it were stitched onto his body. 

Azriel was shaking. Shaking. With anger, turmoil, or grief — you couldn’t name it. All you knew is that one moment you were standing in Rhysand’s office, all velvet upholstery and suave, expensive taste, and the next you were in Azriel’s room. 

Everything smelled like mountain air. Maybe it was the gothic windows that stretched into the vaulted ceilings, stained glass opening out onto a personal balcony with deep blue curtains fluttering in the breeze. But you were sure that even with the windows barred it would smell the same. It would smell like Azriel. If you threw open his wardrobe you’d come face to face with a wall of black. Lots and lots of black. Black suits he hardly ever wore. Black fighting leathers. Black leather jackets for everyday. Black trousers. Black boots on the floor. Very practical. Very Azriel. 

If you dug through his dresser drawers you’d find black boxers and socks to match and no shortage of knives and daggers hidden behind wooden planks or in leather sleeves nailed to the bottom of his desk. But at first glance you only saw three weapons in plain view — Truth Teller, blade down and stuck in the wood grain of his desk beside a pile of reports, and two obsidian blades hanging from the wall beside his midnight blue bed in the shape of an “x.” 

The smell — Azriel’s smell — calmed you, at least up to the point where you turned to find him standing less than six inches away, hazel eyes boring into yours. Then your pulse skyrocketed. You were certain that if he only looked down to your heart he’d see it pounding against your chest like a drum skin ready to burst. 

“That’s not true,” he repeated earnestly. “And don’t you dare believe it. Not even for a second.” 

His eyes jumped back and forth between yours and before he could stop himself, his hands were grasping yours in a gentle hold. The leather gloves were soft and supple beneath your fingertips. You wanted to rip them off so you could feel his scarred hands again. 

“You weren’t meant to hear that,” you whispered, suddenly feeling small. That angry humiliation went up in a puff of smoke and left you shy and uncertain. 

Azriel gripped your hands a little tighter and you watched as tendrils of shadow worked their way up your arms and got lost in your hair. “But I did,” he said breathlessly, “And I need you to know that it’s not true.” 

“Azriel—”

“I know—” he was shaking his head, “I know what Helion said and I won’t lie and tell you that I’m perfect or that I’ve made any smart decisions about love in the past — I’ve not make a single one — but… but Y/n you’re not a fourth choice. You’re not something broken that I’m trying to fix or some fantasy I’ve fallen for.”

His hands shook and despite the gloves his hands still felt sticky and wet. Slick with your blood. The burning scent of iron in his nose.

“You’re the most real thing in the world to me. You’re—” You’re my mate. The words crawled up his throat like acid and it just felt wrong. He would say those words to you. He would. But not now. Not like this. He came up with something else. “Y/n, please tell me you believe me. Please.”

And there you were. Falling all over again. Burning like a matchstick on fire. The flames slowly eating away at you bit by bit. You wondered what would happen when you finally hit the ground, or when you ran out of length. Would he still hold you like this? Would you still feel real to him? 

“How am I meant to know, Azriel?” 

You’d always been good at books. You knew the ways in which these stories worked where the themes and plot points had been preordained and written with the purpose of being tied up in a neat package by the final page. People were very different. They were unpredictable and chaotic and they could lie through the skin of their teeth and believe they were telling the truth. And that was the problem wasn’t it? Because you still believed every word that came out of Azriel’s mouth, and his hands still felt like they were keeping you tethered to this earth when sometimes your powers and the memories that came with them made you feel like a whisper on the wind. Weightless and at the mercy of something you couldn’t control. 

“You can trust me. You can know for yourself.” 

He pressed your hand against his cheek and you wanted to cry at the faint pricks of stubble beneath your skin and the sharp curve of his jaw. 

He wanted you to use your power on him. He wanted you to learn all the ways he wanted you. All the ways he loved you.  

But you couldn’t do it. 

Azriel panicked when you remained silent, staring at him and at his hands like you were frightened. All at once he was back on the streets of Velaris, cobblestones shaving away at the skin of his palms as he dragged his way up to you inch by bloody inch, fighting against a body that was too broken to move. 

He couldn’t remember what it felt like when he’d stabbed you through the chest and dropped you on the street. Everything between the moment he saw Andrian’s clear-cut eyes to the moment he saw Rhysand’s horrified gaze was fuzzy and dark. But that made it worse because now in his nightmares he could imagine all the ways he’d hurt you, each version teeming with the same level of horror and possibility as the previous one. 

He let you go and hated himself when you stepped back, your hand slipping away. 

“I won’t… I won’t hurt you again, Y/n. I swear on my life. I’ll-I’ll make a bargain, I don’t care. I would sooner die than let something like that happen again.” 

I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.

“Y/n, please.”

 I am not broken. But I am afraid. 

You fled from his bedroom. 

The air had a bite to it now with winter descending. The snow line on the mountains dipped lower and lower each day, creeping like ivy down a brick wall. 

Elain never wore gloves. Not when she was gardening. It was something she and Ione had in common. She liked the feeling of her strong hands, the callouses on her palms and fingers that she’d earned all on her own. She grunted, slamming her shovel into the soil and feeling the microscopic chips of ice give way when she kicked down on the blade. It was too late in the season to be planting tulip bulbs. If she’d been in Velaris she would have done this four weeks ago. But it was alright with her. She knew the value of hard work, and she had enough hope for the future to believe that even though she was late, she’d have something beautiful to call hers come springtime. 

“It’s time for that conversation I was telling you about,” she said cryptically, as was her way. 

Lucien dropped the final basket beside where Elain now knelt in the dirt, her pale pink dress dirtied and littered with her own handprints. The brown bulbs rolled around like oversized chestnuts, the kind that he’d be roasting over a fire right now if he were still in Autumn Court. Instead he was here, lingering in a Court that had never felt like home. Then again… he’d never felt at home in Autumn, Spring, or the Human Lands either. 

He straightened up and wiped his hands clean on his trousers, golden and russet eyes trailing over the River House’s grounds for this mysterious person he was meant to speak to.

There. 

The faint swishing of black robes behind a dark green topiary tree. He should have known Elain had been talking about you. 

You cracked your knuckles and rehearsed the words you’d scribbled out earlier that day and then set to fire in a maddening loop. You’d been restless with the truth of Lucien’s parentage and you couldn’t believe that the others had held their tongues so readily. As it was, without Azriel’s company to help quiet your mind, you’d dug into this new piece of information like a starving animal and couldn’t let go.

Was this a good time to tell him? Would there ever be a good time to tell him? You had no idea. 

Somewhere in the attic, you knew Vassa was itching to take to the skies like the burning comet she was. Every night she shivered in Jurian’s arms, the morphine barely able to take the edge off the humming in her bones, and every morning she let him lock her away in her cage. It was getting worse and worse trying to keep her from succumbing to Koschei’s influence. Even now you thought you could hear her keen cries whistling from the attic like ten thousand arrows launched into the air. 

Somewhere else, in a secret, hidden place you knew nothing about, Andrian had finally been imprisoned. Andrian with his bent neck and silver, candy-floss hair and bloody little hands. 

You shivered and jumped back five feet when Lucien called your name, kind eyes narrowed in concern. His shirt was loose and open and the sweat on his body rose like mist off his skin. He was his mother’s son first, Helion’s child second, and fire still ran through his veins. The chill did not touch him. 

He tipped his head to the side, red hair spilling out from the messy way he’d tied it up and away from his face. A brutal scar ran through his eye like a fissure, starting at the center of his brow before clawing its way down his jaw like a lightning strike frozen in time. But for all the cruelty he’d been dealt with in life, his eyes were gentle, even the mechanical one that whirred and flashed in the sun. 

They were even kinder when he looked at you. You with your inquisitive gaze and curious nature, like a stray cat that couldn’t help but linger too long at doorways. One foot inside, one foot ready to run and hide. He’d caught you watching him at dinners, and he’d catch himself staring when you walked around the house with a book in your hand, so utterly absorbed that you would bump against doorways and bang your hips against sharp corners. 

“Elain told me about you. Did you know that?” 

You blinked in surprise. “What did she say?”

“Elain… Elain doesn’t always speak clearly. Much of what comes out of her mouth can feel eerie or discomforting. But, she told me before we left for the Night Court that I would be happy I came. That I would never regret the things I learned on my trip.” He tilted his head even further, looking more and more like a fox with each turn of his face. “And she mentioned a bird. A bird with ink-tipped wings and eyes like a crow.” 

You flexed your fingers, well aware that the tips were smudged with ink, the nails bitten down to the quick. 

“Someone clever and cautious who’d been hidden away their whole life and needed to see the sun.” 

You felt stripped bare. That strange vulnerability that comes with being summed up in so few words had you feeling airy. Like one sentence could be enough to carry the weight of the three centuries you’d lived and never buckle. 

“I know you’re Helion’s son. I recognized it the moment I saw you.” 

Lucien stepped back, scarlet brows shooting up into his hair with alarm.

You hesitated, then continued on cautiously. “I recognized it because I would know my father’s face anywhere.” 

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

I KNOW IT'S A CLIFFHANGER ENDING BUT I NEEDED TO BREAK EVERYTHING INTO CHAPTERS SOMEWHERE AND I'M GOING TO TRY AND GET CHAPTER 16 UP BY WEDNESDAY SO I DON'T LEAVE Y'ALL HANGING FOR TOO LONG. HAVE MERCY!!!

The good news is that Chapter 16 is already mostly written, I just need to edit it all to make sure things flow smoothly. Also, LUCIEN KNOWS NOW AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Sorry for the Azriel angst... but it's delicious, no?

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 3

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,990, Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Sexism, Arguing, Man trying to get with reader.

A/N: AAAHHHH PART 3?!!? Guys this is so much fun for me and I'm so glad you guys are having fun too. Is it weird that I feel like we are doing this together? Also guys just to warn you... we are getting a little angsty,,, a little violent... So if you are not into it, comment and I will give you the general plot of this chapter if it become too much! Anyway please enjoy, love you guys so much! And if I forgot to add you to the taglist I am so sorry! Just lemme know and I'll amend it! And if you need to see the other parts, click the tag with the title of the series, and it should have all the parts together! Ok I’m done!

The home of Alfie Solomons was the quintessential diorama of an old man's bachelor pad. Despite the anxious and angsty attempts by his elderly maid Sarah, the home still carried the air of a man who not only preferred to be left alone, but also had no plans of adding anyone into his inner sanctum. There was paper and documents strewn about, half read books piled by his favorite chair, a hosting bar cart that was looking more ancient than him, and a massive dog making his home on the floor in front of the roaring fire. Alfie silently thanked Sarah for her efforts. Sarah was the best housekeeper he could have ever asked for, she was essentially silent, and did not scold him for the ever present animal pen he kept. Then only things she asked for was to be paid on time, for her Sabbath to be uninterrupted, and to be warned ahead of time if there was to be company. Luckily, he never had to concern her with the last item.

With a grunt he landed on his favorite chair, studying the unused love seat and the matching chair to his that sat across from him. It was a set that was meant to host, that was meant to have visitors and entertain. He had no idea why he bought them, they looked exactly as they did when he bought them three years ago. Untouched. And yet he couldn't help but imagine you sitting so prettily on the chair beside him. With every inhale he could smell the lingering scent of you on his jacket lapel. Clean, like plain soap and fresh air. A kiss of lavender oil that washed over him as you flipped your hair out of your face. He could see so clearly you laughing at his jokes, pouring out tea for you and him, rubbing Cyrils face and giggling at Alfie's gruffness. He could see you darning a small sock...

With a groan Alfie rubbed the visions out of his eyes like a dream. Because that's what it was isn't it? A stupid stupid dream. You were so... fresh and sweet and... frustrating and loud and obnoxious and such a know it all and... beautiful and kind and smart and...

Alfie huffed and got up to beg for sleep in his room, but his head on the pillow only ran through these reveries even more. You were much to young. 10 years his junior at least. You were pure and kind, and he was a bad man. It was an unequal yoke to carry. He had killed people in the war and at home. He had manipulated and schemed to get this. And you deserved more. You deserved a good man, a softer man. Someone who lived a quiet life and could give you a life above board, where you never had to look over your shoulder. Someone who was gentle and wouldn't argue with you, would just treat you like the Queen of Sheba. That is what you deserved. Not some old gangster with a bad back and dozens of men plotting his demise. With a sigh he resolved his promise. He would take care of you as long as you let him. Protect you from all the mess and nonsense of this job, and let you be the girl you are. And when it was time to let you go... he'd let you go. He could protect you and honor you ask long as you'd let him, but when the right man came along, he’d let you leave, knowing that you were safe. And with a sigh he rolled over, letting himself sleep for a few hours, his mind slipping off into a world where you maybe chose him, and made that other chair your favorite.

Across Camden you had just finished explaining to your mother that your very kind boss had just brought you home after a late night in the office. You had to assure her that you were safe and that he was very respectable, that no danger was present. Though the constant worrying and fussing irritated you sometimes, she was a good woman, a good mother, who just wanted the best for her oldest child.

Your mother and father got married incredibly young, and were forced to become acquainted with the world and it’s imbalances even earlier. Where you still got to be young and childless and educated, your mother at your age had already had you, and was working in the family tailors shop full time. The day you realized your mother could scarcely write her name, you heard your mother sobbing to your father late in the evening. It was then that you resolved to do your best in everything, making sure your mothers sacrifices weren’t in vain. And if it took a little white lie to keep her from having a heart attack? Well… it would be worth it.

“Ah I just don’t know darling, that seems awfully forward don’t you think? I don’t even remember your father being alone with me ever until our wedding night? Are we sure he is a good man? Do you have anything with you in your purse darling?”

“Mama I promise you everything is fine. I think his insistence in NOT letting me walk home is evidence enough yes?”

Your mother fiddled with the end of her long braid, a habit indicating her anxiety, a motion you know well, “Mmm I suppose… but darling I just worry. Young women now… very very independent and it is good but… oh I just don’t want you to be taken advantage of darling. Will you take a weapon or something with you?”

You laughed, and maybe you shouldn’t laugh at your own mother. But… oh it is your mother!!! The sweet woman that she was! Who refused to go to sleep without a candle, and forbid your father from cleaning his gun around her, and dropped many a plate due to loud noises… what does she know about a weapon!! “Mama what weapon?! Shall I bring a hand gun to work? Mama none of us know how to use a gun, except Papa and Eli! I’m ok I promise! My boss is not a dangerous man!”

From her place in the kitchen cabinet you heard her speak, “Oh hush! Of course not a gun!! You are absolutely ridiculous. No just take this pocket knife ok? Oh please don’t look so disturbed! It is in good condition and your father got it for me when he would have to work late at the tailors! Will just put it in your work bag please? For your poor mother? If you love me you’ll do it!”

With a laugh and a kiss on her soft cheek you affirmed her, “Of course mama, I could never refuse your gifts. Now now mama don’t be cross i am not teasing! Just promise me you don’t worry about me anymore! I am a grown woman and I am very capable of taking care of things. I learned from the best yeah?”

You mother nodded and kissed your cheek back, patting your head, “Yes yes. Well thank you my love. Now I’m off to bed, and you should too. Sleep well my darling.”

As you prepared for bed you felt a heaviness in the pit of your stomach. What would your mother say when she found out you had been lying to her? What if she did find out? What if she sees you with Alfie in the street? No no it wasn’t possible. Your mother hadn’t left this side of Camden in a decade, and she hates going farther than two blocks. No no it’s fine. You’re fine. And technically, it wasn’t a complete lie! No Alfie was honorable! And he was sweet! And he was handsome… and kind…. and smart… and rugged… if he weren’t a gangster you would’ve probably been matched with him… to be his wife.. No no! No what a childish fantasy. Those are the thoughts of a love struck child. He was your boss and that was it! So what if he was handsome? You were his secretary and that was it! And if he somehow decided to… promote you… you allowed a giggle to leave your chest as you blew out the lamp next to you. Tomorrow is another day.

Soon you developed a routine with Alfie, and the next few months seemed to fly like a wonderful dream. During the week you woke up, making yourself and Alfie lunch for day. The walk to the bakery was typically a lovely and brisk one, with the rising sun being your partner.

Upon arriving at the office, you make quick work of saying hello to the regular faces, and sneaking a sweet treat to Ollie. You set the kettle on, making sure a nice hot cup is ready for you and Alfie upon his arrival. A healthy amount of milk and sugar for you. Almost no milk for Alfie, but extra sugar. Then the daily schedule needs to be attended to. After working with Alfie for a few months you’ve developed a system of who gets what treatment. Some names get tea and a pleasant seat. Some get very bitter tea and must stand the entire time while they wait. Some get absolutely nothing, and are made to stand with their back to Alfie’s door, wondering how they will be summoned. Shot or call. During the meetings you take copious notes. Partially to make sure you don’t miss anything that Alfie will need to call upon later, partially to make visitors nervous about what is being recorded. You had become quite the necessary tool for Alfie. You added a certain glamour and class to the office. A sort of authority in the way you walked that continued to make weak men sweat in the office. Alfie’s favorite part of these meetings was having you re-read what was said, noticing that you added a certain something to keep the pressure on the other party. You were proving yourself an absolute natural.

It was during a day like this when Alfie came back from a ‘social visit’ with a big smile on his face, “Shalom treacle!! Get your coat darling we’re going out!”

You looked up from the calendar you were organizing, “Shalom Alfie, what do you mean we are going out? You have an appointment at 2, and you need to look at the numbers from last week and-“

“Hush woman, fuck the meeting I said we are going out.”

He grabbed your long coat from the hook, and held it open for you to put it on, “Now my love we have very special things today. You remember the gaming club Tommy mentioned? Well he found a place right? And today we are going to look at it and get a price for it.”

As you put your arms through the sleeves, and grabbed your scarf from Alfie you can’t help but question, “But what does this have to do with me? Why do you want me there?”

Alfie then finished his dressing of you by handing you your bag and offering you his arm, “What does this have to do with you? What does this have to do with you? Have I heard that right? Well my dear you put the fear of the devil himself into men like no other. Make them piss themselves. No no don’t laugh treacle it’s true! I need you to strike fear in the hearts of these sinners and help me find the holes. Think you can do it darling?”

The way he smiled at you… it made you want to do anything and everything for him. You smiled and nodded, “Let’s get on with it then.”

Alfie smiled even greater at the small smirk that played on your beautiful lips. He loved it when you worked with him like this. You walked arm and arm, laughing and carrying on like mischievous children ready to prank their teacher. You arrive at the possible location still laughing when you meet Thomas Shelby, and two other men, who you can only assume are the other Shelby brothers that you’ve heard so much about. Your eyes meet with Tommy’s, and you feel your stomach drop at the wink he gives you before walking toward you and Alfie. “Alfie, glad you could make it, “ he stoops down to grab your hand and kiss it, “Good to see you again darling. Let me introduce you to my brothers.”

You’re introduced to both Arthur and John. Your eyes soften at both their faces. John’s eyes show a soft mirth, a sweetness of a young man who still has so much to learn, much like Eli. Arthur… just looking at him your heart is heavy. You don’t know anything about him but his eyes look sad, and there is a weight to his shoulders that make you already feel quite sorry for him.

It takes about three flights of stairs to reach the top floor of the building. It's musty, clearly has not been used for some time, there are cobwebs and piles of dust over every counter, and the once white cloths covering the tables are now a dingy gray. Your wide eyes look up and around the space, clutching your notepad and pen to your chest, "What did this place used to be?"

Tommy answered, "It was once a bar, a little club run by some young idiot who thought he knew his way around this business. Couldn't make it past a year. Now.... it's been sitting vacant. Waiting for us."

You stray from Alfie's side, making notes of everything that would need to be done, "What all is included in the sale?"

"Everything. Tables, counters, fixtures, chairs. All for a reasonable price if you ask me."

"Mmmm Alfie will be the judge of that I think. Alfie, the wall paper will need to be redone yes? I think a richer color on the walls."

Alfie looked at Tommy and smiled, "Yes you're quite right treacle. A wine red yeah? Something indicative of the debauchery of such a hell hole."

"Mmm yes. Tommy, John, Arthur... how stable is this bar counter? How much would it cost to replace it?"

And so went the rest of the afternoon. You milling around the space making notes and sketches, and supplementing with the comments of the men in the room, who may or may not have been following you like ducklings. John and Arthur pulled curtains to let light in, and frankly John was more than willing to do what it took to gain a pleased smile from you. Once adequate notes had been taken, everyone sat around a table, waiting for the agent to come by and agree to a price.

During this part of the meeting, you tended to hold your tongue, only responding to when Alfie asked you to ‘refresh’ his memory on a particular point. It was these parts of the meetings that you could really see Alfie work his magic. Tommy Shelby and Alfie Solomons couldn’t be more different. Where Tommy was smooth and steady in tone, Alfie was a hurricane. A bear of a man who ripped things to shreds. Though on the surface it looked as though Alfie was merely destroying and rebuilding on a whim, there was a method. Study his opponent, memorize the motions and responses to his moves, and utilize it against them. Use previous information to flip and return on his enemy. It was a studied craft. Something you knew that had worked on for a long time. It was an art piece, and with every wink he threw your way, it was clear it was not just an act, but a piece of him. He was a gangster, through and through.

Soon enough, a deal was reached, and a plan was set in place for renovations to start the very next day. And in accordance with their 50/50 split, equal men of Shelby’s and Solomons’ men would be taking part in the work. All the men shook hands, you nodded and smiled at the Shelbys, quick to rebuff Tommy’s offer to take your hand again. Alfie seemed to be in a particularly good mood, and as you walked out of the building, he looked at you and said, “Oi... you hungry?"

You stopped and peered up in his eyes that were partially obscured by the wide brim of his hat, "Mr. Solomons are you asking me to dinner?"

He rolled his eyes, "Oh goodness... see this is why you can never be nice right? Because there you go... being cheeky with me... can never be a yes or no with you yeah? It's always got to be something with you innit? I mean - "

"Alfie Alfie! Yes I am hungry! Now take me to dinner and buy me a drink yeah?" You laughed at his blustering and grabbed his arm, making him meet your eyes, he huffed in response but couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"Buy you a drink yeah buy you a drink! Buy you a hobby so you stop harassing old men. I mean don't you have anything better to do than just be mean to your old boss?"

You laughed as you both walked away down the street, "What do you mean a hobby? My whole life now is just doing your bidding isn't it? And someone must keep you humble, all that business makes your head explode."

You let Alfie lead you to a clandestine pub a few blocks away, shrouded by family businesses and laughing people. As soon as Alfie walked in, the wait staff scurried around, clearing a table in the corner for both you and Alfie. Soon enough you had been given food and drink, and you felt increasingly more relaxed in your seat, facing away from the door opposite of Alfie. You allowed yourself to day dream in the comfortable silence you occupied. It didn't feel like dinner with your boss. It felt like dinner with a friend. Dinner with more than a friend. You imagined about what it would be like with Alfie all the time. To spend the afternoon with him walking through town, enjoying the sun and the conversation. To be taken to dinner with him, meet with friends and repeating faces. To be taken back home with him... sit in front of his fire... to fall asleep with him...

"Hello... treacle??" You're knocked out of your reverie with Alfie's bejeweled fingers waving in front of your face.

"Oh my gosh Alfie I'm so sorry! Yes whats wrong?"

Alfie laughed heartily head thrown back, "Goodness darling your mind must've been in fucking Timbuktu! I was asking if you wanted another drink?"

You felt the heat flush to your ears and cheeks and chuckled in your embarassment, "Oh my goodness I'm so embarrassed. No no I'm fine Alfie thank you. You go, I'll keep our table."

Alfie nodded and went to the bar to grab another glass of Rum. You proceeded to look around the cozy pub when a man slid into Alfie's seat. "Well hello beautiful. Mind if I sit here?"

Your eyes rushed to him. Young. Could be handsome if he cared to bathe and wash the stink of liquor off of him and change his shirt. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was sweaty. Stupid. Clearly so. "I'm sorry but you must be mistaking me for someone else. I'm here with my boss and you are sitting in his seat."

He sneered and winked at you, "Oh I saw the old man alright. Solomons yeah, I know him. I'm not too worried about the old man darling. Why don't you come sit with me yeah? I promise I am much more pleasant company."

The irritation was brewing in your stomach, but in truth you didn't want to cause a scene, "If you know Mr. Solomons then you either have a death wish or you are stupid. Please leave and get away from me. Mr. Solomons will not be happy to see you in his seat."

"You calling me stupid?"

"I am. You are clearly an imbecile, and a drunk one at that, now if you excuse me."

You proceeded to get up to find Alfie, when the man stood up and grabbed your arm, "You dumb bitch, how dare you get up. I'm trying to be nice to you!"

The table fell over with a clatter, and you began to scream, "Get off of me!!"

Before you could say another word Alfie came through wretching the man's hand off your arm, squeezing the man's neck."Now you listen to me right? You apologize to the young lady right now."

The young man's face began to slowly turn red, but he managed to splutter out, "Or what? You're gonna hit me with your cane?"

Alfie only seemed to squeeze tighter, and you saw something in Alfie's eyes that you've never seen before. It scared you. "No... no no... this is what's going to happen. If you don't apologize to the sweet young lady here. I will kill you. If you do apologize, I will not kill you. Now I think... I think that is a pretty generous offer yeah? And little man... I think you know who I am. And I think you know that killing little vermin like you doesn't bother me the least bit yeah? So what will it be? Quickly now!"

Without Alfie letting go, the slowly purpling face gasped out, "I'm sorry. I'm so... sorry ma'am."

You nodded back, feeling bile rise in your throat. Alfie dropped the man unceremoniously on the floor with a crack of the table. Without looking away from the gasping man he yelled to seemingly no one and everyone, "OUT!"

Every patron but you and the owner scrambled out with out a second thought. The bar owner locked the door and went to the back, and you felt your pulse quicken ringing in your ears. The sick in your stomach swirling. Alfie circled the still gasping man, who had bruises blooming on his throat, "Now... who taught you to grab women like that eh? Who said that was ok?"

The man didn't respond, and in anger Alfie kicked him right in the ribs. You screamed behind your hands as you heard the sickening thud and crack. Alfie grabbed the man by the collar and shoved him against the wall, 'WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU THINK YOU CAN GRAB MY SECRETARY! YOU CAN GRAB MY GUEST?"

The young man began to sob, begging, and saying he was sorry. Alfie only continued, "Oh you crying now yeah? I thought you said you knew about me and weren't scared. That's why you thought you could harass my sweet secretary yeah? Well let me get you better acquainted."

With that, you saw the Mad Baker of Camden for the first time. Beating and beating and beating the man in front of you. Blood coating the knuckles of Alfie, as the young man's face proceeded to take the most brutal beating of it's life. You tried to stay quiet but it became too much, "ALFIE ENOUGH! It's enough Alfie!"

He paused, fist mid air as the man quivered underneath him. Alfie turned to you, "Enough? It's enough?? This man touched you without your permission and this is enough?!"

"You're going to kill him Alfie! Please enough!"

"I determine when it's enough!"

And he went back to punching him, growing more and more wrathful. And it became too much when the groans stopped, but the punches didn't. All you could do was scream at Alfie and weep. When Alfie finally finished and was heaving, you shoved a napkin in Alfie's hand and left without a word.

You began walking down the street, the tears streaming down your face. You didn't want anyone to see you crying, and the slowly setting sun aided. It was going to be an hour walk home. Your feet will hurt by the end of the night. But you didn't care. You needed the walk. You needed the air. You needed the scent of blood out of your nose and the sight of Alfie out of your mind. You had walked for who knows how long when you heard Alfie's voice yelling over the sound of a car, "Get in the car NOW!"

You looked over your shoulder, Alfie was yelling your name out the window of the car, with Ollie driving. You turned your head back and kept walking forward. You kept hearing Alfie curse, yelling your name, "Stop being a child and get in. DO AS I SAY NOW!"

"OR WHAT? YOU'LL BEAT ME WITHIN AN INCH OF MY LIFE??"

You tried to keep walking, but in a dangerous move the car sped and swerved in front of you, blocking your walk. You gasped as Alfie got out of the car, with a red stained, jeweled finger in your face, "Listen to me... you stop this act. You get in the car right now. You can be angry at me all you want but listen to me... you do not walk home alone. You work for me, you don't walk alone at night. Now. Get. In. The. Fucking. Car."

Tears were still streaming down your face, and you were so so angry with him, but you didn't have a choice. And your feet were hurting. With a huff you walk in the car, not letting him hold the door open for you. You sat in your seat, nodding at a very embarrassed looking Ollie. As soon as Alfie sat next to you, you stared out the window, looking at all the apartments whose occupants were definitely not listening in to your argument. You sat in silence for a few moments, but you couldn't hold it in any longer, "That was too far Alfie."

"I decide what is too far."

"You could have killed him."

"And the world would be better for it."

"You cannot treat people like that Alfie. He was just a child."

"A child who definitely would have hurt another woman in the future, he needed to learn a lesson."

You turned to him then, "Oh and that's how people are taught then yeah? Beating them to a bloody pulp any time they make you upset?"

He leaned in to your face, getting dangerously quiet, "This is my life darling. This is what you signed up for."

You scoffed, "I did not sign up to be a witness to you being a beast! This is not a way to live! This is heinous! You don't have a right to treat people this way!"

You didn't realize your volume, or the way your heart was racing. You were heaving, tears streaming down your face. His eyes... fixated on you. There was rage but you knew it wasn't at you, "I have every right darling. This is the life that has been given to me. Everything that I have, everything that I can give to you, Ollie, and the rest of the men in that distillery, is because of what I do. This world that we live in darling? You think that's fair? Nah... that ain't fair. If you want anything in this life... you need to take it. Grab it with both hands and never let go and never let anyone else take it. This is the way this world works beloved. This. This is what you signed up for. Now either grow up... or don't come back to the office."

You breath stopped. You didn't even consider that option. You felt more tears fall as you turn to face the window again. The rest of the car ride was in agonizing silence. You hated every minute. Alfie made no noise except a huff. After an infinity, you finally reached your home before you could move Alfie put his hand out, "Don't get up yet."

He grumbled as he got out of the car, looked around at both ends of the street, and then went to your door, opening it and helping you out. You refused to meet his eyes but you took his hand. You also let him walk you to the door, and as you reached for the door, you hear him cough and say, "I want you back at the office treacle alright? Course I do. But you really need to decide whether you can handle this. I hate seeing you upset I do darling. But this is who I am. This is the business. Now you need to decide if you can do it. Alright?"

You nodded your head limply. He just patted your head, feeling sick in his stomach, "Alright then. I'll know your answer if I don't see you tomorrow. Good night sweet heart."

"Goodnight Alfie." You whispered, turning your back quickly to run upstairs. Alfie would drive home in complete silence that night, agonizing about what would happen.

You ran past your whole family gathered around mending the laundry in the sitting room. You refused to tell you mother what happened, and didn't let Eli in your room. When your younger sister asked you what was wrong, you just cried in her chubby baby arms, while she patted your head with her child palms. You cried in your pillow, reliving the vision you saw, wondering what to do. You didn't want to see that kind of violence, you had never seen anything like that. But you loved this job. You loved your freedom. You loved spending time in the office, laughing with Alfie and meeting new people. You tossed and turned all night, but sleep would not take you. It was well past midnight when you finally felt the exhaustion of the day creep its' fingers over your eyes.

And then you smelled the smoke.

Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia

[00angelyoon]

-⟡ sort of like romeo and juliet ?

(a teaser)

sorry I didn’t kiss you, i wanted to though ?

⟡ synopsis: “you love me?” you questioned “i’d be insane not to.” he replies confidently “why?” you mumble “don’t you want a perfect quiet housewife.” he chuckles softly “I don’t, i want you.”

⟡ featuring: chwe hansol x journalist afab reader

⟡ warnings: fingering, begging, praise kink i think, kind of public sex, soft dom vernon, sub reader, (angst, sexism and misogyny not in this teaser) kissing, swearing, petnames (pretty, pretty girl, good girl, sweetie and sweetheart), this fic takes place in the 70’s, big dick energy from hansol and intentional lowercase.

⟡ tags: coworkers to lovers, seventies, smut, fluff, angst, non idol au (18+).

⟡ notes: i really love this theme, saw this pic of hansol and i just clicked, i really didn’t want to say bridal style. 🫶🫶🫶

mdni!

“hansol we can’t do this here.” you pull out of the sloppy kiss, you were sharing with hansol a line of saliva connected both your lips. everyone left the office a while ago but you and hansol had to finish an article together, you were from the journaling department, hansol was from the marketing department, he was supposed to help you get people to read your article but that man was so much of an endearing airhead you guys ended up drinking wine and making out after he confessed his crush on you, your not complaining though.

he was carrying you bridal style in his lean arms. he brought you to his office “there’s no security cameras in this room.” you joined your lips with him again. he smelled like coffee brewing in the morning, he tasted like the cheap red wine you both were drinking, he was so fucking enchanting.

he placed you on the desk. “you’re sure.” you questioned “you’re sure, that no one will see us.” he chuckled softly “i’m sure.” he pulled up your skirt to your hips, he pecked your lips one more time gently. he pulled off your soaked panties revealing your glistening folds, “oh pretty.” hansol whispered into your gummy walls, the praise sent blood to your head, “hansol please.” he hummed in response. he brought two of his fingers to your mouth, “open your mouth.” he commands, you open your mouth for him, he circles his fingers around your mouth “good girl.”, he took his fingers out of your mouth and moved in between your thighs.

hansol then kisses your upper thigh, “so pretty even down here.” he compliments. “hansol please.” you mumbled underneath your breath “please what?” hansol moved up to your face, “please what pretty girl.” he pushed one of his fingers up your entrance, you screamed out in pleasure “hansol.” you stutter, you don’t know if it was the pleasure you were experiencing or was it the two glasses of wine you drank, you weren’t sure.

“again.” he added his other finger “please what sweetie.” he pumped his fingers in you, you let out a soft moan “hansol, please fuck me.” you grabbed his shoulder “please.” you whispered in his ears. he laughed softly “i was planning on doing that sweetheart.”

-⟡ sort of like romeo and juliet ?

(a teaser)

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.11 i feel so high school

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 11/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.1k

a/n. hi friends! omg this chapter took me forever to finish even though i had 90% of it done for sooooo long. i just had a lot of self doubt for it :'') i have said this before n i'll say it again my mind is a prison smhhh. ANYWAYS i had the song "so high school" off of taylor swift's ttpd album (sped up ver.) on BLAST while writing this chap so if you wanna experience what i experienced while i wrote this chapter i highly recommend listening to it too lol it's pretty much this chapter's anthem hahah. hope you enjoy and i'll see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or errors im sorry im just a girl

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

It’s a sunny Thursday afternoon, sun beating down on your skin from where you walk on sidewalk that's damp from sprinkler spray, although you’re not sure as to why, because the path leading to the host house is adorned with artificial turf all around that glitters with a wetness it didn’t need. The weather is getting hotter these days, and seemed to have flipped suddenly from gloomy overcast into full blown spring-time heat that has a thin layer of sweat sheening over your skin. Thank God for Mina, who convinced you to switch out of the jeans you were planning to wear in favor of something shorter and lighter, otherwise you would’ve been toasted. Although her true desire was for you to just “wear something cuter”, like the thin slip dress you’ve got on right now. 

The smell of barbeque smoke fills the air, and you see Mina in your periphery put a hand over her stomach.

“God, I’m so hungry,” she says as you two continue to walk up the sidewalk. Plastic pink flamingos line up on dirt, like arrowheads leading you towards suburban paradise. When there’s loud boombox music playing openly into the air, and sounds of people whoo!!-ing to pair, you know you’re close by. 

There’s a guy standing at the white picket fence entrance that leads into the backyard court, and he’s super familiar in the face. You recognize him as that guy you shared a couple shots of tequila with at that SAE party a while back, but his name fails to come to memory. He’s checking people’s phones and letting them in.

“Hey, Mina,” he greets her with familiarity, likely since Mina’s been to more SAE events than you have, given her and Todo are inseparable these days. His eyes flicker to you, widened and he greets you by name too, and now you feel awful that you don’t remember his. But he’s got one of those tacky corporate My name is… stickers plastered across his chest with the name Ryota scribbled across it, along with a drawing of a penis in a different colored marker, which you can only assume someone else drew on there and Ryota was simply Too Lazy To Care. 

He scans Mina’s phone first and then moves to scan yours, but not without letting out a huh noise and then you’re asking him what?

“Oh, nothing,” he says, “it’s just, in my four years of pledging for SAE I don’t think I’ve ever seen Satoru actually use one of his plus ones.”

You blink at him, feeling a twinge of heat in your cheeks. You’re dying to know more info about that, but he reaches over behind the fence gate to release the lock and then he opens it, gesturing for the two of you to head inside before he’s helping the people behind you.

The backyard is huge, it’s own concrete jungle with a tile-parameterized pool off to the left equipped with a jacuzzi in the corner, and only a couple of insane people choose to sit in that hot water while most of the rest are relaxing in the pool. Off to the right is the barbeque grill space, with SAE frat brothers distanced at stations as they yell things to one another like Hey, where’s the medium rare steak I asked for a half hour ago?!?!? and it’s fookin’ raw!!! like they’re on an episode of Hell’s Kitchen, but there’s a growing line of people standing eager with paper plates in their hands ready for lunch, so maybe the pressure was indeed on. 

Your eyes take in more as you step inside. There’s fake sandy gravel arranged near the pool over plastic tarps, which you’re assuming are stretched across for easy clean-up, and it doesn’t take you long to realize that this was a tropical-themed barbeque event. A makeshift bar is tucked over in the back at the outdoor kitchen counter, some beachside-mimicking establishment with seashells hanging and surfboards leaning as the guy shaking drinks has blackout shades on and is entirely too engrossed in his role. They’ve even got a little corner over where the concrete meets brick seating in a little closed off garden where there’s a projector screen set up and people are screaming, controllers in hand, while making enemies over a game of mario kart. 

You and Mina walk by two guys talking, a conversation that goes like—

frat bro 1: imma take your mom’s virginity bro

frat bro 2: she’s not a virgin bro. she gave birth to me 

frat bro 1: but bro. you don’t know that.

frat bro 2: …..you’re right bro…..i don’t….bro……..

–and then you hear Mina say “I’m already losing brain cells here.”

“Hey!!” you hear a familiar voice yell, your head turning in the direction of it, and you see Geto storming across the hot concrete towards the pool and he loses one of his flip flops in the process then steps barefoot on painful fake sandy gravel and he cusses under his breath before hopping over to the aqua-colored tile surrounding the water. “NO FOOD IN THE POOL!!! C’mon guys, how many times do I have to say it?!?!” 

You take a few cautious steps towards him because he looks like he’s on edge, well, literally, he’s balancing on the pool’s edge, but when he makes eye contact with you he looks pleasantly surprised. 

“Oh! Hey, y/n,” he approaches you, “and Mina. It’s nice you guys came.”

You give a little wave and Mina does too.

“I think Satoru’s somewhere out back getting supplies,” he tells you with a point over his shoulder and he deftly ducks his head under when he sees a pool ball flying his way in his periphery before it falls to your feet. You pick it up and throw it back to the outstretched arms in the water. 

“Oh, thanks,” you respond. “How’s it going? You look stressed.”

He sighs and you see he’s got a lot more hair falling over his forehead than what usually escapes his tight bun. “It’s going–...fine. Our social chair has been out this past week so I’ve been in charge of making sure things go smoothly today.” 

“Ohhh,” you and Mina acknowledge in unison.

You get some weird spidey sense, perhaps it’s your keen way of just knowing, or maybe you and him are cosmically connected by now, but you can just sense that Gojo’s near. You raise yourself a little on your tiptoes to peer past Geto’s shoulder, and sure enough, you see Gojo approaching with boxes of stuff in his arms. Geto becomes aware of your line of sight, and then he’s turning around to face him too.

“Hey,” he says, “why’re you carrying a box of condoms?”

“Huh?” Gojo says with a tilt of his head before he looks down at the stuff he's piled up, “oh, I dunno, Hide said he needed ‘em for something. But it’s Hide, so it’s definitely not for sex.”

There’s another man that lightly jogs up to Gojo, and you notice he’s got barbeque grease stains all over the front of his shirt and on his cheek too, as well as a cafeteria lunch lady hair net over his head. “Oh awesome, thanks man, needed these.” He takes the box of condoms from the top of the pile in Gojo’s arms, “we ran out of gloves.”

“Ohhh,” Geto says, with a few slow nods of understanding, before the realization flashes across his face, “........WAIT, WHAT?”

There’s some absurd conversation that breaks out between Hide and Geto, and then a loud thud startles you when Gojo drops everything he was carrying to approach you. You take in the entirety of his appearance– black shorts that hem at the rounds of his knees, a loose sleeveless shirt that shows off the flexed muscles of his arms a little too fucking much for your sanity’s sake, and he’s got his hair peaking out underneath a snapback he’s pulled on over his head. He looks so insanely fratty and douchey and the way he’s got his arms spread open as he gets into your space with that where my hug at? look on his face before he dips his head down to kiss you has you shoving him away by a palm pushing under his chin until now he’s just staring up at blue sky.

“Um, excuse you,” you say, “why are you greeting me like you’re my man.”

He groans and grabs your wrist to pull your hand away from his chin. “For fucks sake, let me be your man. We’re already dating in my head anyway.”

There’s another guy that approaches the group forming here, and he crouches down to open up the cardboard boxes Gojo abandoned on the floor. “Who the fuck was responsible for defrosting these hot dogs?! They’re solid as rock!!” 

Geto sighs, rubbing an exhausted hand across his face. “Oh, uh, Mina, y/n, this is Hide, and this is Sota,” he gestures to the two of them, “our other two housemates.”

The four of you exchange pleasantries and then Todo suddenly comes up behind Gojo, slinging his arm around him, before grabbing Mina’s hand from afar and placing a wet, sloppy kiss to the back of it. 

“My lady,” he says, retreating his arm from Gojo to fully step into Mina’s space, “shall we?”

She looks at you in courtesy, and you nod in approval, and then the two skip off together towards the pool. There’s shouting from the barbeque station and Hide and Sota make haste to get over there to put out a grill fire that their neglect was most likely the cause of.

“Um, where’s the restroom?” you ask, turning your head around to look. You just now notice there’s a pool house stretching across most of the courtyard with floor to ceiling sliding glass doors, past the arch that connects the main house to the garage. 

“You can try the one downstairs in the house,” Geto says, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Uh, I wouldn’t,” Gojo interjects, “unless you wanna be traumatized by the sight of a girl swallowing Choso whole while he’s seated on the toilet.”

Your nose curls up so high you can see it between your eyes. “No thanks,” you say.

Gojo grabs your hand, and he’s tugging you across the concrete. You’re still in sensory overload over all the stimuli around you, but your head is vaguely registering the fact that people are staring at you. Some with curiosity, others with studying eyes, some turned away, some turned towards, yet eyes still watching and you remember Ryota’s words from earlier about the history of Gojo’s never-used invites. The attention is a little nerve-wracking, but Gojo squeezes your hand twice as if he knows what you’re thinking right now, and the gesture puts you at ease. It’s been a week since the embarrassing and frightening intervention you had with Kai last week, and it’s sad to say, but Gojo and the other guys on the soccer team that helped you out that night are pretty much the only men you feel truly comfortable around right now. 

Gojo walks you to the pool house, and he points towards the inside to where the restroom is, and you thank him before hurrying in. You didn’t even need to pee, it’s just become some weird ritual for you to check in with yourself in front of a bathroom mirror at social events as you needlessly fix barely smudged mascara and smooth down the fabric of your clothing. 

Just have fun, is what you tell yourself in the mirror. There’s a sad sinking feeling underneath your rib cage when you realize you’re graduating in less than two months. Going to classes, doing assignments, having coffee dates with friends, organizing stuff for clubs, going to social events, just being an undergrad student who has all the fear in the world and no care for it, all the little things that have become a part of your life and have given you purpose, it’s all going to be gone soon, and you’ll have to fill the time and space with new things that give you purpose. Things that you want to carry with you into your adult life. Your actual adult life. Out in the “real world”, or whatever. And while the thought is scary, you also remind yourself that you’ve still got time left to just enjoy your college experience for what it is. You take some deep breaths, of which somehow make you a little more nervous than before, but it’s fine. You swallow the feeling. 

Gojo’s still standing outside the pool house where you left him, except he’s leaned back against the exterior and talking to a few of his frat brothers. 

“Hi,” you approach, sparing a small smile to the people he’s talking to just to be polite, but you’re not interested in any introduction. Your finger pokes Gojo’s elbow, and he leans himself off the wall, says some words of see ya around to the group and then he’s grabbing your hand again to lead you towards a different area of the backyard. The makeshift beachside bar.

He greets the guy behind the bartop with a solid grab of his hand and then he leans over the counter on one elbow, eyes on you. “Want something to drink?” he asks.

Your eyes squint to take in the writing scribbled across the blackboard hung up behind the counter. “Oh, no way,” you say when you realize the drinks are named after the players on the soccer team, albeit with cheeky twists on their names, all in anticipation of tomorrow’s win.

There’s a grin on Gojo’s face, “you should get mine.”

“What is yours?” you ask.

“Uh, I actually have no clue,” he confesses as he scratches his cheek and glances at the bartender, and now you’re both just waiting for an answer.

The guy pushes his blackout shades up his nose, and his skin is tan like he really did just come here from the beach. “Somethin’ like a blue lagoon, sweetheart. Blended,” he says, and you realize he’s most definitely too old to be a college student.

“Oh god,” you say, “is it gonna give me a brain freeze.”

The bartender gives you a nod to humor you but mixes it up for you anyway, then slides the drink across to you. It's chilly in your hand but it’s a welcome feeling under the heat of the sun. 

“Hey!! You guys,” Mina approaches with Todo tugged along by the hand, and her hair and clothes are soaking wet. “Can you count which one of us can hold our breath underwater the longest?? Please??”

You see Gojo reach behind the bar counter for a chilled long neck beer that he cracks open with the edge of the counter. “Sure,” he says, “You’d probably win, though. Better lung capacity. Todo’s been vaping since he learned how to spell. So, for, like, three years now.”

You can tell Todo’s already had a few drinks with the way he saunters over to Gojo, then slaps his back so harshly that it has him choking on the gulp of beer he just took.

“What the fuck–” Gojo sputters.

“Satoru here is going to be best man at our wedding someday, babe,” Todo slurs, “since he brought the two of us together.”

Gojo wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes, all me,” he affirms and you roll your eyes, “I’m like that one angel with the love arrows. I forget the name.”

“Anteros,” you joke.

“Yes, that.”

“N-No–...cupid. It’s cupid.”

“Oh?” 

“My lady,” Todo slurs as he approaches Mina, “shall we go for another swim?”

You watch as Todo doesn’t even give her time to respond before he’s throwing her back into the pool, and you flinch as droplets of water from the splash threaten to graze you. You turn back to the bar counter and sip your drink through your straw, then look at Gojo who’s just staring at you.

“What?” you ask once you take your lips off the straw.

“Nothing. It looks like they’re having fun,” he says, peering off into the pool.

You glance over your shoulder at the water, “that’s true. I’m gonna be honest, it’s an odd match, but surprisingly it works. Like beauty and the beast.”

“What would we be?” he asks.

“Lady and the tramp.”

“Okay. I would find that insulting…….but I actually really like that movie so it’s fine.”

“Mm,” you smile at him mid sip, already halfway done with your drink with the prospect of brain freeze on the horizon. 

He’s grabbing your hand again, and you realize this entire afternoon might just be him taking you wherever he wants you while you essentially turn your brain off. But those eyes are on you again, peering ones that are intrigued by the way Gojo doesn’t seem to want to leave your side all day, like he’s usually everywhere else all at once, and was until you showed up, and now you’ve got all his attention and apparently that was some anomaly. 

People seem to want to say hi to him wherever he goes, or catch up with him about something or the other for conversations they’ve seemingly put pins in, you’ve noticed most guys that had no shame in eyeing you when you first walked in are now too scared to even look at you now that you’re in his presence, and perhaps the most jarring observation of yours is how many girls are just shamelessly and borderline seductively staring at him despite the fact that he’s in your presence.

He stops suddenly to turn around and face you, and you almost crash right into him.

“Wanna go inside?” he asks as he holds a hand above his eyes for shade, “the sun’s kinda harsh out here.”

“Oh no,” you comment sarcastically, eyes flicking up to the snapback he was wearing, “if only you had something on your head that could block the sun.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “if only.” And then he’s grabbing your hand again to lead you back to what you realize is the poolhouse. 

But then the two of you are stopped by a group of guys and girls, and suddenly, you realize that there are also a lot of eyes on you that are jealous. 

“Hey, do you guys wanna join us? We’re about to play power hour by the pool,” one of the guys says, gaze on Gojo before it drifts slowly to you in inclusion. 

There’s a girl standing next to him with her eyes flitting back and forth between you and Gojo before she gives you one look down your form, and then glances off towards the pool with disinterest. You blink at her, not proud of the assumptive what’s her problem? thought that flashes through your head but, seriously, what’s her fucking problem?

She’s twirling her hair and blinking up at Gojo before he finally responds to his frat brother with— “Oh, uh, nah. We’re good.” Like he wouldn’t trade two minutes alone with you on a couch tucked away inside the pool house with minimal decency for any amount of winning-at-public-drinking-game glory.

And that’s exactly where he leads you. A couch, tucked away inside the pool house, with minimal decency. He sets his bottle of beer down on the small table by the arm rest before he slumps down onto the couch, sunk in with hardly any give to the cushions, and he’s manspread to the moon as per usual as he pulls you to him with his hand holding your fingers until you’re standing in between his legs. Your knees bend to press into the sofa, and he lifts your hand into the air, holding it curled like you’re a lady in the mid eighteenth century and he’s about to kiss the back of your hand, except he’s just holding it that way to guide you into your seat. A more suitable action, at least. Modern and sleazy.

Your right knee is first to press into the cushion next to his thigh, and then your left knee follows until you’re hovered above him in a straddle. Then he settles you into the warmth of his lap with an urging hand on the small of your back, and you’re akin to the way he slides you up to above his groin once you’re sat. 

“You don’t want to get in the water?” he asks as his hand finds the bare skin of your thigh to caress while the other still lingers low on your back.

You can’t help but smooth your hands down his chest, and you swear he looks like he’s been made light headed by the action. “No. I didn’t know there was a pool here. Didn’t dress for the occasion.”

His eyes flick down to watch his own hand slide up your thigh until the fabric of your dress falls over his knuckles. You look down too, and maybe you’re vain for it but you’re a little obsessed with the way you look sitting in his lap. 

He seems to share the sentiment, considering he’s still hooked on the sight when he speaks. “The occasion of getting wet?”

“Mhm.”

Now he looks at you. “Weeeell sometimes you’ve gotta get a little wet to have a good time.”

“What are you getting at?” You place your hands on top of his shoulders and feel the rise of the blades when he shrugs. 

“Just some philosophy for ya. General wisdom. Tenets of life.”

“Ooo, big words there, did you learn them yesterday?”

“Don’t be sassy with me. It’ll get you into trouble.”

He brings his bottle of beer to his lips, loosely held in his hand with his head facing off to the side slightly so he can still maintain eye contact with you as he tips it back. Your eyes are immediately on his lips and fixated on the way his jaw is slack almost lazily, barely enough to let the amber liquid enter his mouth. 

His brow raises at how attentive you are to the sight, and he tips the bottle your way with a want some? look on his face, and in the beat too long that you take to answer, he’s already settled the cold glass rim on your bottom lip, a drop of bitter coating your tongue. Your chin tips up in silent permission for him to give you a decent swig of it, and the eye contact you give him as you take it is something sultry that makes him swallow hard, which you witness in the roll of the muscles of his neck. A droplet makes its way down your chin, and his thumb swipes it off for you, then he presses his thumb to your lips for you to lick.

Listen, he’s hot enough when you’re sober, but with drink in your veins, you’re worried you might fuck him hard enough not even your birth control could save you from what you’d coax from him. Alcohol is a hell of a drug, but so is his undivided attention.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask with a tremble in your voice when you feel his hands slide to hold your hips and his eyes look cloudy with something you can’t discern. 

“You. I’m thinking about you. Duh.”

“But what about me?” 

“Whatever the song just said.”

“I don’t even know this song.”

“You’d be a pretty bad stripper, then.”

Your skin feels seared inside out from how his eyes seem to undress you, and it doesn’t help that he’s way too hot blooded underneath you, running warm against your body’s attempts to keep its cool.

He slides you back a little, to where you’re not sitting right over his crotch anymore. 

You hold a tiny twist of your hair between your forefinger and your thumb to distract from his intense eye contact, in favor of inspecting for split ends. “Can I ask you something?” you say.

“Anything.”

“What was the bet?”

“Huh?” 

Your eyes flicker to his briefly, just for the duration that you speak. “You mentioned that the reason you messaged me those couple of months ago,” you start, “was because you lost some bet with Todo, and you had to help him get with Mina after that. What was the bet?”

“Just some stupid fantasy football thing,” he says. You tilt your head at him and briefly consider feigning interest in fantasy football, but you’re not that down bad. “I’m really glad though,” he continues, “since I got to meet you because of it.” Then he’s drinking from the bottle again. This time, you grab it from him once he’s done to consume some for yourself.

“What did you think of me when you first saw me?” you ask, the questions like an impulse you can’t control, and you swipe a drop of beer from your chin with the back of your hand.

He takes the bottle from your hand once you’re done swapping spit on it then sets it down on the table again, and there’s a moment of surprise on his face when he registers it’s a lot lighter than when you took it from him. And then his thumbs are back to rubbing those dizzying circles on your hips through the taut fabric of your dress, touch grazing up the curve of your waist when he feels like it. “Cute,” he says, first and foremost, “sorta wide-eyed and a little lost. Not the type to put casual sex on the table in the way that I thought you would.” 

“That’s a little insulting.”

His brow furrows for a moment before he sighs. “Your head’s a very pretty yet very strange thing.”

“Do I not seem promiscuous?” you ask, not even sure why you’re offended by it, “I can be–” you catch the slurring of your words, “I can be chill, and the type to have casual sex. No strings attached girl. I could be that if I wanted to.” 

“Maybe,” he says, a slight tilt to his head as he looks at you with something you’d describe as adoration, “but not for me.” And then suddenly his features turn sharp again. “Oh, and not for any other guy, either.”

You roll your eyes at his latter statement and ignore it. “But wasn’t that what you wanted from the beginning,” you say with a hic and a finger lightly grazing down his chest which he tucks his chin to watch, and you clarify when you realize you’ve lost him, “Casual.”

He senses you’re playing a game now, of cat and mouse, or just-tell-me-what-I-wanna-hear-already.

“At the beginning, sure. But not so much anymore.” And he ends it there.

You raise an eyebrow. 

He sighs. “I need you to know that I’m not great with words.”

“Neither am I,” you say, just to feel similar to him somehow.

“I disagree,” he states, like he sees right through it, and he leans away from you to lay back, hands leaving your hips to set his elbows up on the couch, open for proper conversation all of a sudden. “You’re good with words.”

You pinch the fabric of his shirt in a fidget, and raise an eyebrow at him in question.

“I don’t know,” he tries to elaborate, “you just know what you want and you ask for it. I don’t always know what I want from people, so I hardly ask for much.”

You release your grip of his shirt. He sulks about it. “I can recall you asking me to call you daddy once. Weirdo.”

“Wow. I open up to you and then you kink shame me.”

You giggle a little, because he’s funny sometimes, and he’s showing you his appreciation for the sound of your laughter in the air by giving you a playful pinch to the plush of your thigh. 

“Sorry,” you drawl, “it was on my mind. Because of–” you point to the ceiling, “because of what the song just said.”

He laughs. “You’re not into it though? The– uh, you know what I mean.” Evading the word like he’s preserving propriety for now.

“I don’t hate it for other people…not really trying to yuck anyone’s yum here, but my, um, my real dad’s not around anymore so it’s just a little,” you pause, feeling awkward, “weird for me I think.”

“Oh,” his brow furrows, like he’s glad he preserved that propriety from earlier, “my bad. If it’s any consolation, I was half joking.”

“Half is good enough for me,” you tell him, in a voice a little higher pitched than your usual, and you hold his face still by the jaw before leaning forward on foreign instinct to kiss him but you stop yourself right before you do. Eyes on your lips now, he leans forward to seal what you teased but you’re only stopping him as well by the heel of your hand pressed to his sternum.

He remains close though, gaze still fixated on the light tuck of your bottom lip under your front teeth, and when his eyes flicker up to yours again, they’re wild and dark.

“I like this weird thing we’re doing,” he exhales, sorta husky, “where you won’t let me kiss you. It’s hot.”

“Ok,” you say, with a small shrug as you push him away until he’s leaned all the way back onto the couch again, “I’ll keep it up forever then.”

He can’t help the groan that leaves him as he tips his head back in agony. “I’d die. I’d literally fucking die.”

You roll your eyes at the drama. “Isn’t this nice though? No kissing means more talking.”

“Yes, because talking is exactly what I wanna be doing with you while you’re sitting in my lap.”

Your shoulders drop in a bit of a sulk, and his eyes soften at the sight.

“I do,” he starts as he leans forward before pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth, dangerously close to breaking rules, but he needed to kiss your pout away somehow, “really love talking to you, though.”

You can’t think of anything clever to retort with, so you wear your heart on your sleeve. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m pretty sure I could recite everything you’ve ever said to me off the top of my head, and that’s given the fact I’ve got the memory of a goldfish on any good day, so,” he says as he tucks strands of your hair behind your ear. It’s a messy tuck, one you have to fix yourself anyway, and when your fingers brush against his from the redundant movement, he holds your hand, “but yeah, sure, I’m just saying it.”

He pulls your hand from where it’s near your ear, and interlocks his fingers with yours in that intimate way that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s the texture of his callouses against the back of your hand, rough on his fingertips yet soothing over your skin, and it reminds you of when he held your hand in that hotel room. From the look in his eyes, you can tell he’s thinking of it too.

The memory is intense, and it has you shifting your weight a little in his lap, until you accidentally rub your panties right over his crotch and a soft gasp leaves your lips when you realize that he’s hard underneath you. 

The motion gets a groan out of him as he tilts his head back and his hands grip tight on your hips to keep you there.

“Hey. No. I didn’t mean to do that. Don’t get aroused,” you squeak out. The ribbed expanse of his neck as he’s leaned back makes you want to kiss him at the taut skin, right near the vein that’s tense down from behind his ear to his collarbone.

He tips his head back down to level his gaze with yours. “It’s way too late for that.”

You struggle a little against his grip, and the sensation of his erection held snug against your clothed heat sends a pleasureful ache to your lower tummy. “Y-You’re just gonna suffer, then.”

“Yes. Which is a pattern with you. But I kinda like it.”

“Mm. Your head’s a very strange thing.”

“My head? Baby, my head hasn’t done any of the thinking since I saw you in this dress.”

You feel like you’re on fire. “You’re such a whore today.”

“Can’t a dude just chill on a couch with the girl he likes. Jesus.”

You know he's said it already, so it's no secret, but him calling you the girl he likes makes your head spin hazy in a way you wish it wouldn't. Because half of your heart is telling you it's the bare minimum you'd want, while the other half is telling you it's all you'll ever need to hear from him for the rest of your life. 

He’s bouncing one of his legs up and down in relief of some of the self restraint he’s exercising right now, and it’s making you sway a little in his lap while he admires you.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs with a shake of his head, like it’s torture for him in the best way possible, and then his nose nuzzles under your jaw, right where you sprayed your perfume. You shiver when he presses a kiss there. “Pretty girl.” 

You lightly push his shoulder with the heel of your palm so that he pulls away to look at you, and a few shy flutters of your eyes tell him people might see us, to which his eyes say don’t care as he tilts his hips up towards yours. 

Most guys would match the tempo of the music with a slow grind like this, but of course he makes his own. One he settles you into with guiding hands on your hips, the way he wants it. One that makes your hand shoot out to grip his shoulder for purchase when your hips start to move on their own from the feeling of him hard and hot and excited underneath you, until he's got you unsure of whose idea this was in the first place. 

“Fuck,” he exhales with a slack jaw, all air and no tone, when you rock your hips forward and he leans back on the couch as he starts to grind up against you as well, firm and flush, and you’re satisfied by the loss of his composure. 

You’re sure you’re nothing but sopping, unadulterated wet between your legs, and if the fabric over his crotch was any shade of black lighter, he’d be able to see the mess you’re making on him. It’s a shame. Or maybe you’re glad he’s unaware. Unless—

“I can feel how wet you are,” he tells you, sounding like he’s out of breath from the sensation alone as his finger hooks the hem of your dress up just enough to eye the sight of where you’re sat on him, “if you’re gonna play hard to get, you’ve gotta learn to control your arousal a bit better than this.”

“Oh,” you squeak out, his words having the opposite effect, and you squirm when you say, “y–...you’re one to talk.”

“I’m not trying to hide how much I want you right now,” he says, and he proves it by holding your clothed arousal flush against his heavy erection to where you can feel it twitch with need underneath layers of impossibly taut fabric, and he caves into a harsh jut of his hips upwards, bumping against your clit and when you gasp then lean into his chest with your chin tipping up to the ceiling, he kisses your neck where your hair is stuck to the sweat at your nape. 

It's true, if actions could speak, his say I wanna fuck you senseless right now. And the way you can practically feel his cock ache as he’s rolling his hips up into you tells you he's about two seconds of resolve away from fucking you senseless right now. But he also knows that it's a game, and for a moment you forgot how good he is at winning those things.

You halt movement for a second, and his fingers press into the plush of your ass to get you to keep going with it, but you don’t. “What are we doing. Dry humping on a couch like we're high schoolers.”

He makes a point to teasingly poke you under your ribcage, and you flinch then swat his hand away. "Just seeing how far you'll let me take you without letting me kiss you."

"What if all the way?"

"All the way without getting to kiss you? I couldn't even imagine that." He pauses in thought. "No, wait, yes I can." He pauses in thought again. "Holy fuck, can we?"

"Do yourself a favor and stop thinking."

He purses his lips in a pout, his leg that’s been bouncing up and down picking up in vigor, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s genuinely starting to lose his sanity, or if it’s because he wants to see your tits jiggle with the motion, but maybe the latter since he dips his head down to kiss right above the neckline of your dress, where the softness of your breast starts. It’s a light kiss, more of a brush of his lips, and he breathes in the scent of your skin like it’s a drug. “How do you always smell so nice?” he mumbles against you, “drives me insane.”

His palm smooths up the side of your waist before he tucks his thumb under your breast while his other fingers wrap your ribcage, and his teeth catch the lace of your dress to tug down, revealing more of your soft sweat slicked skin and his gaze flicks up to meet yours in teasing eye contact.

God, just one touch between your thighs would reveal how flush your panties are stuck to your pussy by the embarrassing amount of arousal, entirely disproportionate to the minimal amount of obscenity it took from him to get you there. And the lewd sight of him tugging at the neckline of your dress with his canines makes you wonder if his teeth would be enough to peel the soaked and skin-flush cloth of your panties off of you, or if his hands would have to get involved. 

Like he reads your mind, his other hand comes between your thighs and he brushes two of his fingers over your clothed clit, light pressure placed like he’s just playing with you, yet it’s somehow enough to where your hand shoots out to grab his forearm with nails digging into his skin.

His teeth release the lace of your neckline when you writhe in his hold and he moves his lips to your ear. “Too much?” he murmurs.

“Mm,” you hum, hard to think when he’s drawing circles over you now and you can feel the wetness dripping out of you. His middle finger slides to the place where it soaks your panties, prodding slightly, the only thing keeping him from fingering you right now being the flimsy cotton fabric.

There’s a brief silence around you as music abruptly stops, lasting for maybe three seconds before it resumes, like someone was fumbling to change the song out in the courtyard, and it’s barely sobering enough for you to remember that the two of you are still in potential eyesights of other people and your cheeks flush as you pull his hand out from between your thighs. 

"Are—” you gasp a little, “are you excited for tomorrow?" you ask in an aim to distract as you guide his hand back to your waist.

"Huh?" he huffs, tearing his eyes away from your cleavage to look at your face, his features twisting into confusion and some sort of frustration too. Sexual, most likely. His leg is bouncing again.

You blink at him, alcohol from earlier starting to get to your head. "The big game tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah, very," he mindlessly kisses your cheek, "excited."

"You know," you start, arms sliding past his shoulders and loosely locking behind his neck so you can lean off to the side in a dizziness that he keeps you from falling from by both hands holding onto your waist, “I used to–" you can't even finish your sentence without preemptively giggling because you can already imagine how he'll react, "I used to play soccer when I was younger. When I was a young one. In my youth.”

He scoffs in disbelief, and he’s poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek with some boyish interest in his eyes and you can tell he thinks you’re just fucking with him. “Yeaahhh right.”

You, and the alcohol, tell him, “No really, I did!!”

You think you’ve lost balance when you fall more to the side than you intended, but then you realize he’s just shifting you to lay on your back and now he’s hovering over you on the couch. His toned arms frame the sight you’re looking up at as you blink slowly to admire his face, and then your wrists that are still crossed behind his neck are tugging down because you need him a little closer. 

He comes down onto one elbow, sunk into the cushion for leverage, and his other forearm slides under your waist. The fabric of your dress has fallen to your hips to expose the skin of your thigh as you press it against the side of his hip.

“Alright. What position did you play then?”

Fuck. In fairness, you would’ve remembered all things better if the ethanol wasn’t metabolizing in your veins.

“I was,” you look past him to the ceiling briefly, “the…fielder.”

“The fielder?”

“Something like that.”

“Uh, like a midfielder?”

“No, no, not mid,” you pout with a shake of your head, “above average.” 

He snorts. “I don’t think you’ve played a single day in your life.”

“I did,” it comes off as a bit of a whine, because you’re frustrated he doesn’t believe you, “I remember once in a middle school match I was playing defense and this girl elbowed me in the boob and I called her a bitch and the referee told me I couldn’t play for the rest of the game. So I called him a bitch too.”

His grin is wide like he’s proud of you for it. “Atta girllll,” he drawls, a curl to his tongue to fight the slur of his own words, and he lifts your butt up with one cupped hand underneath it until your hips are pressed against his again, and you loosely wrap your legs around him, too enveloped with delirium to care about anything else anymore. He resists the urge of rutting his hips into yours for the better part of half a second. You stifle your moan with a purse of your lips.

“I’m. A little bit.” You say between a hiccup.

“A little bit what?”

“Little bit tipsy.”

“From what? The beer?”

Another hic. “I think so.”

“You’re so cute it’s honestly killing me.”

You bring your hands up to hold his face, one thumb caressing his cheek, and he lowers his head down to rest his forehead against yours, then you’re both looking into each other's eyes for what feels like forever. Your pinky can feel his pulse thrumming fast under his jaw, his eyes so soft and sweet and serene you didn’t even know it was possible for anyone to look at you with that much adoration. Like you’re the only thing that matters. 

Your head tilts up, a few flutters of your lashes as you lick your lips and succeed in drawing his gaze to them when he realizes you’re finally giving him the permission. You tuck your bottom lip under your front teeth, suddenly shy in anticipation, and his thumb pulls it out from under and presses into the softness of it, and both of your chests are rising in slow rhythm with one another when he finally dips his head down to–

“Yo! Satoru,” a loud voice calls out in interruption from the glass sliding doors of the pool house. You turn your head towards the source and feel Gojo’s hand possessively pull the fabric of your dress up your thigh to preserve your modesty. You see one of his frat brothers standing in the frame holding up a pair of metal tongs, clacking them in the air to get his attention. “It’s your turn to grill, man.”

You turn your head from his frat brother back to Gojo and watch as he blinks blankly off into the distance, the two of you clearly pulled out of the feverish trance you were just relishing in, and then you see Gojo wave a dismissive hand in the air as if to say yeah, yeah, okay, gimme a sec which is somehow convincing enough to get his frat brother to head back to the barbecue stand. 

Gojo snakes his arm around your waist and lifts you up with him, sitting and sinking back into the cushion of the couch and you wobble a little from the dizziness of suddenly being upright as he pulls you into his lap again. His eyes are darting across the features of your face while he has a small tug of a pout to his lips. 

“Okay. Well. It seems I have to feed the masses, so.”

“So?” you prod him to finish.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Then go.”

“I will,” he says. 

You try your best to hide the sulk that weighs on your shoulders, because you don’t want him to go, and when you study his face, you notice his expression relaxes a little and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards slightly into some sort of smirk. Like he’s caught on that you’re still on the edge of what could’ve been a kiss, and he’s satisfied that you’re the one craving it now. 

You dislike the loss of power over him, and you roll your hips once over his crotch to find that he’s still hard underneath you and he sucks a harsh breath through his teeth before a low growl leaves his lips, and then he’s softly glaring at you. 

“Maybe meditate,” you say to him, “for the boner to go away.”

He snorts, and you blush when you realize it’s because you made it sound more like an infomercial rather than something sexy and minxy and alluring like you were going for, but he still kisses your cheek regardless before he slides you off of him. And you realize you almost like these chaste kisses more than anything else. “It’s fine,” he says, “like I said, I’ve gotten used to it with you.”

His words make you briefly wonder how many boners you’ve given him, and then you realize you’d really rather not know. Although it would probably be strangely endearing to know. But still. For some reason. You’d really rather not know. Or maybe you would?…Now you feel like you’re the one that needs to meditate. 

He gets up off the couch with an exhale of a grunt leaving him, the couch adjusting so harshly to his lack of body weight that the springs bounce you up and down once or twice from the motion, and you’re sitting on your heels from where you look up at him, seemingly still as a statue like you’re not going anywhere. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Come get some food, yeah?”

“Mhm. In a sec.”

He hesitates for a second like he wants to ask a question, or maybe multiple, but he just lightly shrugs, gaze lingering on you for a short second before he turns on his heel to head out of the pool house and out towards the barbecue station. The second he’s far away enough for you, you let out the almost crestfallen sigh you were holding in before plopping down onto your back onto the cushions.

And here you were, laying on a couch staring up at the pool house ceiling, occupying yourself with the study of a dusty cobweb across the wooden pillar high into the structure, so you don't have to think about the way you've been left high and dry. Why do people say high and dry? If anything, you’re high and soaked. Well, you suppose for men it’d be high and dry. But the phrase should be bisexual at the very least. Er– unisex? …gender inclusive?

You realize you’re still a little tipsy. 

Gojo's words from earlier linger, "Weeeell sometimes you’ve gotta get a little wet to have a good time." Okay, well, you would’ve chosen pool wet instead of left-here-an-aroused-mess wet if you had any clue what your options were beforehand. 

Your head lifts up off the cushions until you're seated straight, tilting your head side to side as you peer off into the courtyard, still a little dizzy from the buzz, and you grab Gojo's now flat abandoned beer to finish the rest of it off in one fell swoop before you stand up and head towards the courtyard.

You stop in the broad door frame of sliding glass doors of the pool house, arms crossing as you take in the sight of people all around you. Holding their breath underwater, sprawled on lawn chairs while eating hot dogs, oaky smoke slightly fogging and burning the clarity of your vision as your eyes settle over at the barbeque station. Plastic tablecloths cling to white fold-out tables with custom print for SAE and UTOKYO's D1 SOCCER publicity arranged in amateur graphic design fashion, and you see Gojo standing at the grill flipping the meat he was making work to cook. There's a line developing, and you realize it's lunch time. Hide's taking special orders at the line, chatting up some girls who you're pretty sure you've seen in sorority Instagram pages, and you watch as Hide throws a pointing thumb behind him towards Gojo, and then a trio of those girls split from the line to make their way over to him at the grill.

You squint your eyes to focus your vision, and you realize one of the girls is the one from earlier that was looking you up and down and sideways before batting her eyelashes at Gojo when you were standing right next to him.

The trio exchange a brief word to one another before that girl taps on Gojo's shoulder. Whatever conversation he was having with one of his frat brothers is interrupted when he turns to look at her. You see that signature clueless "huh?" look on his face, and she's pointing at the grill. Oh, special instructions, you can practically hear the thought that flashes through his head, but you feel uneasy. When there's music this loud, and you want a guy to lean in closer to you, then you talk real quiet, right? It’s a trick as old as time. And that's exactly what happens in front of you, when he leans down because he can't hear her purposefully hushed words, and then the girl wastes no time in wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down towards her and—

Your heart drops to the ground at the same time your mouth falls open when you see her kiss him, glossy lips sickeningly sweetly pressed against his mouth, and the pure hurt that spreads through you is fully sobering to say the least.

Shock is the only expression you can see on his face from here, and he's quick to pull away, but god, it was still tough as hell to witness. His lips read "what the fuck?" as he confronts the action, before his gaze immediately darts towards the poolhouse and he makes eye contact with you, panicked worry written all over his face, and you roll your eyes before storming off across the courtyard towards the main house. There are eyes on you paired with hushed whispers of gossip but you just can’t bring yourself to care with the way your stomach feels like it’s been flipped upside down like you’re about to straight up puke right now, and you barely register bumping your shoulder into Geto and Nanami before they call out your name behind you with a few words of concern, and then you hear Gojo’s voice calling out to you too, but you continue to hurriedly push on until you disappear into the main house, around the corner, down a slim hallway, and barely make it into a tiny little walk-in coat closet when you feel a warm hand wrap around your wrist. 

"Hey– y/n, wait—" you hear Gojo desperately stutter behind you, stopping you. You turn on your heel to face him, and you see he’s breathing heavy, brows tightly furrowed, mouth slightly open from the way he was raggedly exhaling in the clear sheer panic rushing through his veins only proven by the guilty look on his face, but there's only the image of another girl's lips on his still present in your memory. It's not the first time you've seen him kiss someone else, but after all this time and everything that’s happened since then, this felt so much worse. If there was one thing about jealousy, it's that it’s enough to make all feelings you have for someone surface in a way that's so overbearingly powerful, so insanely potent and borderline physically debilitating that it makes you feel sick to the stomach, and that's why there's a prick of tears in your eyes when you make eye contact with him. It's a primal, possessive thing ringing in your head when you look at him that just screams mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. You can be pissed off all you want later, but right now you need to get the sensation of another woman’s lips off of him.

Your fists ball the fabric of his shirt, and you pull him to you so hard the momentum has your back slamming into the surface behind you and you kiss him, hard, it's messy, honestly you could've chipped a tooth if he hadn’t braced his hands on the wall behind you before his lips crash onto yours, and his surprise only lasts a hesitant second before he's hungrily kissing you back.

There's just the sound of the two of you exhaling together in feverish unison with the kiss as his hands are quick to cup under your ass and he lifts you up, pressing your clothed heat flush to the front of his groin as his hips pin yours to the wall. Your arms wrap around his neck, skin tickled by the short hair at his undercut, and the moan that escapes you when you wrap your legs around him and feel his bulge pressed against the thin cotton of your panties is muffled by him in harmony with his groan, pure expressions of all the pent-up arousal felt in the way he kisses you like he’s worried it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. 

His teeth nip at your bottom lip, and you gasp before he deepens the kiss, but the prickle of tears in the corners of your eyes when you shut them tight makes you pull away from the kiss completely.

You’re both panting heavily, looking at each other in close proximity under the dark lighting of the closet. You wrap your arms around his neck a little tighter, and you’re not sure if you want his lips on you again or if you don’t want to see him for an entire week. His eyes are dark, low, and set on your lips, which you’re sure are puffed and glossy and look like nothing but pure sex to him right now, and he leans in to kiss you again but you turn your face away from him at the last second and his lips make contact with your cheek instead. He’s confused for a moment, kiss limp as he looks at the side of your face in his periphery before pulling away slightly, and the second kiss he places on your cheek is softer, intentional, an apology, a sorry, a guilt-ridden affection like he knows you’re hurt and it’s killing him. You feel the plush of your cheek squish up to your cheekbone from the gesture, and the feeling has you blinking away tears for some reason. 

“Let-...” you say, catching your breath and tucking your chin under when his lips graze your temple, then your hand pushes him away weakly by his shoulder. “Satoru, let me down.”

An expression of hurt flashes across his face before his palms hesitantly slide down the underside of your thighs until you’re gently eased back onto your feet and you tuck your disheveled hair behind your ears, to gain poise, before you blink a few times then look up at him with so much uncertainty. 

“I don’t know–” he starts, already sounding flustered with panic, “what the fuck happened back there, I don’t even know who that was. I wasn’t trying to– I didn’t– it wasn’t— “

You could finish his sentences for him in your head, but you just watch him trip over his own words. You suppose the fact he was so desperate to vindicate himself to you right now was the only thing keeping you sane from the realization of a truth you’ve been evading this whole time, which was that if you were to date Gojo, you’d constantly be competing for the right to be by his side. Luckily enough, the two of you were graduating soon from all the fraternity & sorority space, but even then, you realize that no matter where he goes, he will always have pretty women that look at him, and want him, and want to be with him, without any regard for anything besides the pure desire to have him, whether he’s taken or not. He’s going to be a pro soccer player someday, with millions of fans, and although he’s never done anything to make you doubt he’d be loyal to you, there’s just no way you could escape the sinking feeling in your chest that tells you you’ll never be the best thing. There will always be a better best thing, and you’ll only have his attention for so long before he finds it. 

“I’m,” you choke out, feeling rawness in your throat that makes it difficult to speak, “I’m not feeling well, I’m just gonna go—”

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to him, harsh, your head thwacking against his chest as he wraps his arms around you and you can physically feel your heart ache at the familiarity of his scent surrounding you. 

“I’m sorry. I…I won’t let that happen again. I’ll never talk to another girl ever again. I won’t look at another girl again. Hell, I won’t even exist around other girls ever again, uh, I’ll wear an invisible cloak, a hazmat suit, change my identity, move to a different country, in fact, I don’t even know what other girls are, no clue, seriously. I just—fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say right now, I’m just— I’m just so sorry.”

You purse your lips together, unsure of how you went from being on the verge of tears two seconds ago to trying to stifle laughter from how stupid he sounds, but you wrap your arms around his waist as he continues to spew utter nonsense as he commits to an almost maniacal and impossible level of fidelity to you. Here he was, manwhore of the school, tripping over his words to confess undying loyalty to you like you’re domesticating some wild beast no one’s ever dreamed of conquering from natural habitat. 

“I just want—” you hear him rambling, the rumbling of his words felt on your cheek as you press it against his chest. He wraps his arms around you tighter, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. “I just want you.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest, and you feel a single tear drip from your eyelashes and soak through the cotton of his shirt, tiny enough to where he doesn’t notice, and you shove your face further into his chest so it stays that way. You wonder if one day you’ll be able to truly believe his words. And you curse yourself for not being brave enough to. 

You two stand in an embrace for a solid ten seconds before the knot in your throat is loose enough to speak. 

“It’s not your fault,” you muffle into his chest, “she kissed you out of nowhere. The bitch.”

You feel him stiffen a little in surprise over your profanity. “Damn. Didn’t believe you when you said you called that girl who elbowed you in the boob at a soccer game a bitch when you were younger, but I kinda believe you now.”

“It’s my favorite cuss word.”

“I can see that. You’re free to call me a bitch any time, by the way.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re stupid.”

He tucks your head under his chin in a nuzzle, and you count every beat of his heart. “Are you mad at me?”

You give serious thought to his question. “Mm. No. I’m mad at the girl who kissed you.”

When he only hums above you, you pull your head away and look up at him.

“Seriously. It’s not right. And you’re allowed to be angry about it too,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head.

“She’s a random person who kissed you out of nowhere, like you’re just some piece of meat to toy with. It’s wrong. You’re a human being, not an object to lust over.”

His eyes widen slightly, and your heart sinks a little when you see he’s confused and trying to genuinely process your words, like it’s something no one’s ever told him before. Like it’s happened in the past too, and he was never taught to believe that it was wrong, just because he’s attractive and popular, like that somehow meant he’s just supposed to take all the glory with no complaint or preservation of his own person. 

You shift on your feet a little, releasing your hold of him and he releases his embrace of you as well, and from the way he’s darting his eyes across your face and the wall behind you and occasionally towards the ceiling, like you’ve just put some epiphany in his head that’s being processed in the brain behind his rapid blinking, you realize he probably needs a second to process what you’ve just said. You move past him but not without a comforting squeeze of his bicep in the process. There's a sound that leaves his throat, something undecipherable, like he was just filling the air with some response that’s now lost, but for the most part he just watches you leave with those same wide eyes.

You get back out into the courtyard, a slow exhale leaving you as you brace yourself for the eyes of all the onlookers, and though most of them are just curious over the girl that Gojo Satoru just chased after in front of all his frat bros and harem of sorority girls, you can’t help but feel like some of them are judging and hateful and jealous too. But anger beats out all of your emotions of worry or embarrassment, and when you see the girl that kissed him still lingering over at the barbecue station, glaring daggers at you, you match it with a glare of your own. 

You walk up to her, and you see she expects you to say something, like she’s prepared for a cat fight as if it’s all she’s ever known, but instead you just calmly look over her towards the barbecue station, push past her with a harsh bump of your shoulder against hers, knocking her off balance as she gasps offendedly at your choice to ignore her, but that’s exactly what burns people like her the most. The feeling of realizing their fuckassery is insignificant and boring and not even worth the energy of reprimanding. 

One of the frat bros at the grill cautiously hands you a plate of ribs.

“Um. You didn’t use condoms to serve these, right?” you ask as you take it from him.

“N-No,” he stutters, “…why? I-Is that a request?”

“No, no, no. You’re good.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 11]

a/n. hiiiii thank u sm for tuning into another chapter of Edging With Plot!! 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼😍😍😍 (haha just kidding. sorta) hope you enjoyed readinggg n apologies for the wait for this chapter. honestly writing the little scene on the poolhouse couch was a lot of fun tbh i got such young puppy love vibes while writing their dialogue pls guys i think they’re fallng in loooovvee :(( sobs. lil kickoff couple sorry if the chapter ends kinda abruptly haha i am sooooo unbelievably jaded rn after four weeks of traveling i couldn’t think of any other way to end it since the last part was the only scene i had left to write lol. on that note, i will be a little mia next couple days as we’re doing the long haul stretch drive home and i’ll be driving for most of it so :’’) i won’t be able to respond to replies or asks for this chapter right away like i usually am able to but i can’t wait to interact w you all once i’m back home very soon <3 so much love from me as always!! hope you’re all taking care and having a nice summer. remember to stay hydrated :) - ellie 💕

➸ take me to chapter twelve!

additional notes. please do not ask me for updates or when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

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[taglist is closed]

[purpleyoonn]

Petrichor Preview 1

P E T R I C H O R

Petrichor /ˈpeˌtrīkôr/  (noun)

“a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.”

Summary: You had been working at Bangtan Corporation for almost two years now, and not once have you ever laid eyes on your bosses. That was, until you met them when out with some of your coworkers. Now, you almost wish you hadn’t. Almost.

Pairing: CEO BTS x Chubby MC

Genre: werewolf au, ceo au, soulmate, polyamory relationship, angst, fluff, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics

Warnings: smut, violence, mentions of knotting, heats, ruts, workplace discrimination, fat phobia, sexism, insecurities,

Some warnings may be added to the beginning of individual chapters.

Masterlist // Taglist 

Coming Saturday April 23rd: 5pm PST

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

“Sir, I am here for a work party, I am not interested in you and would appreciate it if you would leave me alone.” You finally say, the urge to walk away from the bar evident as the man just scoffs at you, suddenly very angry.

“Look, you fat bitch. I was trying to take pity on you, alone at the bar. I could have any girl in here that I wanted. There is no need to be so stuck up and prissy looking like that.” He spits, gesturing to your body, causing you to flinch away from him.

“Hey man, leave the girl alone before I call security to escort your ass out of here!” You vaguely hear the bartender yell, too focused on the man’s eyes changing colors, showing you that his wolf was close to the surface.

“No. I think I’m going to teach this bitch a lesson on being grateful.” He spoke, stepping closer to your body as you try to move away from him. Your fear almost palpable as you back away from the man and into the chest of another, their arms quickly wrapping themselves around you to keep you from falling. 

“Hyunwoo, I’ve already told you that you are not welcome back into my club.” The man snaps his fingers, security quickly moving to the scene and grabbing onto the man, Hyunwoo’s arms. You watch as they drag him away, his eyes never leaving yours. After he was gone, you turn around to thank the person who helped you.

“Thank you so much for your help. I really appreciate it Mr.,” You pause, unsure of the man’s name.

“It’s not problem miss. My name is Lee Jungho. I hope he didn’t touch you at all.” He questions, looking at your arms and face, trying to determine if you hold any injuries.

“No. No. He didn’t get the chance. Truly, I appreciate your help.” You thank him again before beginning to walk back to your table.

“Please, wait. Let me introduce you to my friends. This is Park Jimin and Jung Hoseok. They are two of the CEO’s of Bangtan Corporation.” He gestures to the two men sitting next to him, their eyes solely locked on your own, watching your every movement. You bow at the presence of your bosses, a little starstruck by how attractive they are, and taken back by their intense stare as you move closer to greet them.

“It is nice to meet you, Sir’s. I am actually here with my coworkers and supervisor. We work under the International Affairs division of Bangtan Corporation and are having our annual floor party tonight.” You respond, watching as the men’s eyes widen at your words. You see their change in posture before you step back.

“Oh wow! What a coincidence! Some of your employees are here!” Mr. Jungho exclaims, clapping his hands together.

“Yeah, what a coincidence.” You look over to see Mr. Park speak, his voice low as he continues to stare you down. You shuffle on your feet, feeling a little uncomfortable at your boss’s intense gaze.

“I’m sorry but I must be getting back to my friends. It was very nice to meet you all.” You speak, bowing slightly to your bosses, and making your exit. You feel their gaze the entire time as you make your way back to the table, your water long forgotten. 

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 || (very dark) 70s!Bucky x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: he tried to be sympathetic to your cause, he really did, but he couldn’t just let you get away with disrespecting him like that.  

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: smut (noncon, plus breeding kink and tons of degradation, like very heavy degradation, and multiple orgasms/overstimulation), misogyny, a bit of dumbification, housewife kink, ‘sir’ kink (brief), choking, implied anal, spitting (not on the reader, unfortunately lmao), quite a bit more than period-typical sexism, awful awful awful this fic is absolutely awful

                            Brooklyn, 1970.

Bucky’s mornings were sacred.  He had his rituals: showering, cooking breakfast, reading the paper and having his first drink and cigarette of the day, all before he left for work.

But throughout this entire week, his mornings had been ruined by the stupid fucking protest in the park just outside his window.  And to think he’d actually paid more for an apartment with a view of the park— he hadn’t realized then that the “view” was gonna be a bunch of hippies creating awful music and an unbearable smell that left his whole apartment reeking of reefer if he dared to open his window.

Attempting to ignore it for a week only made him more resentful with each passing day.  Each time he figured the crowd would surely leave soon or at least be quiet for the night, they seemed to somehow get louder just to spite him.

He probably should've waited until he was a bit less agitated to go down and try to bargain with you, but he stormed down there instead and tapped you on the shoulder when his presence alone wasn't enough to distract you from your incessant chanting.

“Would you consider being quiet?" he asked firmly.  "I have to work in the morning and—”

“We won’t be quiet until women have equal treatment under the eyes of society and the law,” you interrupted to explain condescendingly, shocking him with your icy tone.  He could hardly believe your attitude, in fact he couldn’t remember any woman speaking to him that way in his life: so far, he wasn’t enjoying it.

“I just thought you could be a little more respectful,” Bucky shot back, even more stern.  “You’re not making anyone wanna support your movement by acting entitled and inconveniencing everyone.”

“I’m sorry the revolution is inconvenient for you,” you replied, but it didn’t sound much like an apology. 

He wanted to say more but you blew him off and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him confused and irritated and livid.  Up until now he had been quietly skeptical about all this talk of liberation but now he saw it for the poison it really was.  A girl like you— who could've been a real looker with some willingness to try and a better attitude— talking to a man like him with so much hate and over what, a polite request?

This could not be tolerated; he couldn't let you get away with acting like that.  And lucky for you, he was exactly the guy you needed to teach you your lesson.

The good thing about hippies high on shrooms is they aren’t the most observant.  When he returned to the demonstration area the next night, he was able to grab you roughly and pull you back from the crowd with almost no trouble at all, dragging you into an empty alley and clamping his hand down over your mouth as your eyes went wide and your throat vibrated with silent screams.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed against your ear, “whatcha fightin’ for?”

He liked the way it felt to have you squirming against his grasp, using all your strength and not even getting close to escaping.  

“How does it feel to know I can do anything I want to you?” he growled against your ear.  “C’mon, sweetheart, can’t you put up a better fight than that?  I thought you believed in equality… you should be able to get away if you’re as strong as I am.”

He felt your warm tears trailing down around his fingers which held your face tightly, the struggle of your limbs slowing and weakening slightly.  His cock was already getting hard as he imagined the moment you would finally give in.

“You remember me, don’t you?  You didn’t need to be so rude, darlin’.  You could’ve just been nice and none of this would be happening.”

Your elbow shot back into his ribs and he exhaled sharply but didn't let go, grabbing your wrists and holding your arms to your chest as he pinned you to the wall.

"Oh, that's not gonna work, babydoll.  I'm so much stronger and bigger than you, all you're gonna do is make me angrier.  Is that what you want, sweetheart?  To make me angry?" he asked mockingly, leaning in to lick the shell of your ear as you tried to turn away.  “Pretty girl like you would make a great wife, why would you want anything else?”

Ignoring your struggle, he reached into your shirt and purred as he groped your chest, your nipples hardening when he pinched them.  “Maybe I can get behind this bra-burning thing if it means having easier access to your tits all the time,” he grinned.  “How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when I can see them through your shirt?  Shouldn’t be showing ‘em off if you don’t want any attention.”

As fun as it was to play with your tits, he had bigger plans, so he reached lower to start tugging down your jeans, your legs uselessly kicking as he exposed your ass and thighs.

His cock was already rock hard as he hastily opened his fly and pulled it out with one hand, leaning back to spit on it quickly.  He spread the fluid with a few strokes over his length, figuring it would be enough to get inside you even if he didn’t really care if he hurt you.  

Your eyes went wide and your head bucked wildly as he poked the head of it against your opening, your body fighting a little harder once again.  The irony of that, though, was that you were already plenty wet in spite of what he had expected; it was so much funnier to watch you struggle now that he knew you were not-so-secretly enjoying it.

“Don’t be so dramatic," he chuckled darkly, "I bet you can take a cock real easy since you believe in all this ‘free love’ bullshit.”

He groaned as he pushed into you, impressed by how tight you were— so tight that it made his cock throb right away, your walls pulsing and rippling around him as he filled you to the brim.

“Oh fuck, there you go…” he hissed, smiling as you sobbed harder and struggled a bit more before finally relaxing into his tight embrace.  "You're gonna take it all, baby, every fuckin' inch of me."

A hard sob choked out of you every time he slammed himself to the end of you; he could feel the hatred radiating from you, the way you would kill him in a moment if only you weren't so weak.  But he could feel your reluctant acceptance, too, and the way it was slowly turning into euphoria— you were finally starting to like how it felt to be helpless to him, it was obvious with the way your pussy gave him such a warm and willing welcome while your pretty tits got even harder.

You clearly wanted to hate him, but your body knew better.

"You think I'm a sexist pig, I'm sure," he chuckled, "but I'm really not— I love women!  And you know what I love most?  Huh?"

He felt you nervously shake your head behind his hand and he laughed.

"I love the way you get so dumb when you get a cock in you.  All those useless little thoughts leaving your head when you're finally getting fucked right."

Your cries got louder even though they were still muffled by his hand, your sweet little pussy giving him a squeeze of encouragement.

"It's okay to like it, babydoll, it's what you were meant for.  Made to be my brainless fucktoy… born to serve me," he growled.  “You really should learn to appreciate," he grunted between brutal thrusts, "that your only purpose is to keep my dinner hot and my cock warm.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and he felt your walls bear down on him tightly, wetness seeping down around him.

"Oh fuck, are you coming?  Shit," he moaned.  "Looks like you really needed to be put in your place, just needed to be used... god, you made a fuckin' mess, too, you soaked my cock…"

Your little hands tightened into fists, pushing against where his arm held them back, but he stayed steady as he pumped into you, letting himself get a bit lost in the feeling of you while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

It felt so damn good to have a cunt coming around him, but it was even better knowing that you were fighting it and still couldn’t stop it, completely helpless to how good he was making you feel.

You almost screamed under his hand when he reached down to quickly rub your clit, your back arching to try to run away from his touch; poor thing, you were so sensitive it probably hurt you, but he was having too much fun watching you realize you were going to come again.

"Yeah, gimme another one, slut," he grinned, your legs quivering as waves of slick coated him and started to even drip down your legs.  "Can't stop coming like the dirty whore you are, huh?  Bet nobody's made you come like this before— cause nobody's given it to you right.  Nobody's shown ya what it's supposed to be like when a man takes you and makes you his."

From the way you moaned softly, teary eyes fluttering shut, he knew you liked the sound of that.

"Yeah, wanna be mine, baby?  Wanna be my little slut?  Or do you want me to pump this pussy full and leave you here on the ground for any other man that comes by to use you if he needs?"

You groaned softly, a weak little noise, and he felt his cock flex; as much as he wanted this to last as long as possible, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“M’close, honey,” he breathed.  “I’m gonna come.”

He laughed breathlessly when you shut your eyes, like you were trying to go somewhere else in your mind, trying to pretend this wasn’t real.  But it was real, and he wasn’t going to let you forget that.  He was elated to make your nightmares come true.

"I sure wouldn't mind pulling out and covering that pretty face you've got,” he hissed.  “It'd be funny to see you go back to your little march and show them how owned you are.  But not today, babydoll, I think there's only one way you're gonna learn your lesson."

Another muffled gurgle from you, and this time it didn’t even sound like protest.  Maybe you were just too tired for that at this point, but it gave him hope that you could finally behave.

"I'm gonna take my hand away from your mouth and you're gonna beg me to come inside you, is that clear?" he grunted, feeling you nod vigorously.  "You're not gonna scream are you?"

You shook your head, and he slowly pulled his hand from your mouth as you gasped for air.  "Please— come in me," you panted.

"Address me as 'sir'," he instructed.

"Please, sir, I— I want you to come," you whined.

He chuckled right against your ear, feeling you shiver in his grasp.  "Honey, I don't give a fuck what you want."

To think you ever resisted your natural desire for submission was absurd now, considering the way that statement made you openly moan, your walls fluttering around him.

“Gonna fill you so fuckin’ deep you’ll never get it outta you, sweetheart.”

One more orgasm washed over you, making him laugh darkly while he watched you bite your lip to attempt to stay quiet; but that was impossible once he fucked you harder just to spite you, having to hold you tight to make sure he got as deep in you as possible.  Your whole body shook as he slammed into you, and he laughed at how dumb and helpless you looked.

"Bet you're on those new birth control pills," he grimaced.  They really weren’t that new, but he still hadn’t gotten used to them.  "Makes me sick to think you're letting a perfectly good womb go to waste.  Betcha want me to breed you nice and deep, yeah?  Wanna get knocked up?  You don't even care that I'm a stranger, you wanna get your pussy filled by any random man's come so you can have any random man's baby, ain't that right?"

At first he had worried that you would scream or cry for help, but now his concern was more that your moans would be too loud and somebody would catch the two of you in this alley.  Even if it was obvious now that you wanted it, public indecency was still a crime.

Good thing he had a new way to shut you up: his hand tight around your throat, silencing your sobs to blessed silence.  It was so hot to have you entirely at his mercy like that, to feel your pulse beneath his fingers, that he couldn’t stop himself from speeding up his thrusts suddenly.

"Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasped, “fuck, y-you… little whore…”

He had a habit of running his mouth when he was right on the edge, and the way your pussy was milking him for all he was worth made him spit out whatever filth he could think of.  

“Stupid fuckin' bitch," he mumbled under his breath as he fucked you as fast and rough as he could, chasing his high with no regard for your pleasure or your pain.  "Dumb whore, fuck, you stupid— ah, shit— stupid fucking cunt!"

He cried out as he filled you, groaning loudly with every pump of his seed into your waiting body.  Only when he was sure every drop was inside you did he release his grip on your neck, a loud gasp coming first before a few coughs and chokes that only made his cock harder despite having just filled you.

You started to struggle again, and he couldn’t believe it— after everything, did you still not know your place?

There wasn’t much time to relax and enjoy the afterglow when you were already trying to get away, and so he had to hold you tight again while he smiled exhaustedly.

“N-no,” you stammered, and he covered your mouth again as he pulled your head back to rest on his shoulder.  Clearly he hadn’t done enough yet to fuck that word out of you.

“Where ya goin’, sweetheart?” he panted against your ear, still catching his breath, his chest covered in a thin layer of sweat where it was exposed by his shirt.  “You’ve still got another hole to fill.”

[sharkbait77]

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter One: The Season Begins

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Despondency, depressive undertones, death of a parent, grief, unsolicited advances, age old sexism, strained parent relationship, nosy neighbors, food, lmk if I missed any pls!

W/C: 3.2k

A/N: And here we go! The first chapter! Welcome & thank you for tuning in, it means the world, truly! As I mentioned before, this story may not be the best for some, so please heed the warnings & proceed with caution. The sadness will not consistently be in each chapter, that much I promise, but we have to get through it right away so we can understand our dear Reader’s mindset as of right now. NO EZRA YET, SORRY! And like I said before, this is probably not totally historically accurate, so take everything with a grain of salt pleeease. Other than that, enjoy!

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @barbossa2319 @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @ezrasbirdie @danniburgh @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @meesterblack @amandalovess @hunterofartem1s @pedro4ever @mishasminion360

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Chapter Two

~APRIL FIFTEENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Your eyes flutter open on instinct as the sun rises against the pale blue of the sky, its ochre rays peering from behind the grassy hills and across the wheat fields while waking the birds. They start their day with a song, shaking their feathers and stretching their wings as they merrily fly through the air in search of their morning meal. The hens that found solace in their coops from the stark chill of night chatter amongst themselves as they roam around their pen and the lone rooster releases its shrill call, a signal for the day to begin. Beat you again, you think.

The sun rises a little higher now, the bright of day in full effect as it fills your room with its intense luminosity. You lie in bed a moment longer, watching the dust mites float through the air and dance in front of your nose with each exhale of breath you release. Signs of life all around you, from the dew drops that formed on your window in the early morning to the muscles within your very skin twitching as you climb out of bed. Every little thing teasing and taunting you of significance, of meaning just on the horizon, yet so far out of your reach.

This is your life. Each and every morning, day, and night is as repetitive as the last. Wake up before the rooster crows and stare into the minute cracks rippling through the ceiling, envious of the pollen that manages to escape through and longing for you to shrink microscopic enough to hide away as well. Fill your basin with cold water you had gathered the night before to wash yourself quickly before your father wakes. Clothe yourself in your underdress, long sleeved, blue work dress layered on top with the sleeves rolled up, an apron cinched at your waist, and dirty and worn, black boots laced up tight enough to prevent you from minding the ache they feel as the day progresses.

You look at your reflection in the hazy mirror as you braid your hair; the drabness of the glass only accentuates exactly how you perceive yourself. The girl staring back at you was but a shell of the one you knew before. Before, when you still had ambitions that would have led you far from this town. To a place you could live anew. Now, just an empty being as one day fades into the next. Eyes that no longer gleam, hair that no longer shines, skin that no longer glows.

You had given up long ago of any hope and dream of something more, surrendering to the bleakness and repetitiveness of this life when your mother passed. A promise on her death bed to help care for your father any way he needs. And this is what he needs. You, here on the farm, helping tend to the chickens and the cows and the small shop he owned in town. The one your mother ran that was unceremoniously thrust onto your lap. The organ within your chest beats solely to pump the blood through your veins and keep you breathing, if only for the promise you made to your mother.

You fasten the gold chain around your neck, a locket with a faded photograph of your mother hidden within hanging to your breast. You tuck it into your blouse to keep her close to your heart and head down the ladder, stepping lightly as to not awaken Pa any earlier than necessary. Your Pa, an old man now with hair white as snow, only having turned the shade since Ma left.

Wrinkles crease deeper into his skin and the bags under his eyes droop slightly to his cheeks now on his once chiseled face. His strength has dwindled within the last year, and with no other siblings to share the burden of the farm, you knew you could not leave your Pa to deal with it by himself. So your own dreams and goals were swiftly thrown into the dirt to be rained on and turned to mush, impossible to be picked up again.

As you finish grounding the coffee beans and throw them into the pot of already boiling water resting on the range, Pa begins to stir and soon after wakes up, the aroma of caffeine acting as his own signal to wake. Leaving the house to give your father privacy to dress, you head to the hen coop to gather a few eggs for breakfast.

You take a deep breath of the crisp morning air, the smell of apple trees at the front of the house, then the smell of grass with fresh dew, to the smell of hay and chicken feed as you get closer to the pen they are corralled in. As you head back into the house, Pa is already seated at the small, round table with his tin of coffee.

“Good morning, Pa,” you greet softly.

“Good morning daughter. Thank you for the coffee.”

“Grace to our health, Pa,” you say, as you always do when he gives you his thanks.

Financially, you and Pa were well off enough; you still couldn’t afford luxuries like sugar, but you were able to live comfortably with only the necessities and the occasional new pair of boots. You were grateful to have the farm and the shop, both reliable sources of income for your small family, and you were blessed that Pa was still able to work the fields, but you know as time passes and his joints weaken, you would then need to take over the labor. There was truly no path for you to leave this life.

The older women around town had begun to whisper about you, not necessarily trying to keep their gossip from reaching your ears. They were just as bad as the hens that cluck around their pen all day. A never ending chatter of you being stuck in the house or the farm or the shop, working as an old maid for the rest of your life.

You’re still fairly young, just over two decades of life in you; sure, the girls you once played in the streams with as children were all married women now and on their third, fourth, fifth child, but you didn’t feel the desire to find a husband just to bend to the simple mold of life this society has cast. If you were to still have any control of your life, it would, at the least, be that.

You crack the eggs into the beaten and tired pan over the range, letting them cook to completion before removing and plating them, along with a roll of bread and the butter you had just churned the day prior. You walk over to Pa and place his portion down before working on your own. Pa sends up a quick prayer and starts to eat. His prayers turned to letters to Ma, but he never failed to speak them before every meal or before bed, sometimes even when a sudden abundance of eggs were laid or vegetables had sprouted during the night.

“The season is nigh for corn and potatoes,” Pa mumbles and you feel your heart sink to your feet.

You had forgotten about the season, when Ma and Pa would work the fields together endlessly, sweating through their work attire to be washed every evening. You still feel the creak in your elbows to this day. It is the busiest season, bringing in the most coinage for the year, but now that it was only you two, you worry about juggling between the shop and the farm.

“Pa, how will we manage?” You voice your concern. Pa takes a deep breath.

“You will hang a notice in the shop when you go today,” he says matter of factly. “Ask Mr. Williams if you are able to hang one on his window at the post as well.”

“And what shall it say?”

“‘Seasonal laborer wanted – will provide lodging with pay’.”

“Where will he stay?” You inquire.

“The barn; we will provide him blankets and he will be free to use our wash basins when needed and we will offer him meals.”

“It will be a lot of money expended, Pa; will we be all right?” You ask as you sit at the table with your plate and coffee tin.

“We will make do, daughter,” he says, the finality in his voice signaling for this conversation to cease. “We will not be able to pay handsomely or feed him much, but we require the extra hand if we are to pass the season.”

“Yes, Pa.”

You lower your head and eat your eggs in silence. You don’t pray anymore, not necessarily feeling the need since your Ma was taken, as well as your aspirations. Pa finishes his coffee, leaving the dishes in the wash basin and grabbing his hat, walking outside into the fields to begin preparations for the season. You sigh; the tears that have long hidden in your ducts refuse to spill out to bless you with relief.

The last time you properly cried was for Ma; every day you feel them there, the pressure building in the corners of your eyes, but nothing ever falls. A mind trick, you suppose, to force you to focus on the more important things. You don’t have the time to spare to release them; your mind and body are now slaves to the farm and the shop.

After your breakfast, you walk to the wash basin with your dishes, hand pumping the water from the pipe just off the side and using the homemade lye soap you learned to make from your mother. Once the dishes are washed, dried, and put away, you walk over to the black safe in the corner of the room, turning the dial to its correct numbers and pulling out the metal lockbox from the inside.

It carried within it the sales ledger for the shop and the velvet bag for the coins. Pa empties the bag every day as he looks over the ledger, placing the coins into another metal box that only he has the key to. He gives you coin anytime you ask, as long as it is needed for the shop or food for the house and, occasionally, on special days.

You pick it up and take it with you to the front door, pulling your bonnet and fabric bag from the hook they hung on. You stick the lockbox inside your bag, as well as the key assigned to it, and head outside. Pa is already far into the fields, hacking away at the dirt and smoothing it out for the new growth. You don’t bother saying goodbye; he knows where you’ll be. Where you’ll always be.

Living alone with Pa became quite challenging, you were disheartened to learn. You’ve always had a loving bond with him since you were a child; maybe he expected the same from you as he did from Ma, but he still managed to make his lessons on the farm enjoyable, doting upon you as any loving father would. Now? The anguish you both have felt since losing the feathery soft and caring love of your mother strained the relationship between you two.

What was once a thick belt of leather that connected you now pulled further and further apart until it became as frail as rubber, threatening to snap at a moment’s notice. You love your Pa; of course you do, and you know he loves you too. If only you could grieve together.

Upon entering the town, the people are going about their normal routines. The baker stacking the fresh loaves of bread in his window, the shoe shiners along the streets working tediously on men’s boots, the hens clucking – the older women gossiping away passionately about whomever they desire. As long as it isn’t you today.

You reach the shop, key in hand as you unlock the brass keyhole and turn the knob, the small bell dinging above you as you enter. You flip the sign in the window from the side that reads ‘Closed’ to the side that reads ‘Open’ and you pull back the shut curtains, allowing the light of day to flow into the small room.

Heading back to behind the counter, you remove the lockbox from your bag and set it on the shelf underneath in its usual resting place. You barely have a moment to remove your bonnet when the bell dings and you look up to greet the person who has walked in. Wonderful.

“Hello, my sweet,” the man husks and you find it difficult to choke back the bile rising in your throat.

“Hello Silas,” you say flatly. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Darlin’, you know exactly how you may be of service to me.”

Silas Taylor, a boorish man of thirty-eight years, has desperately been attempting to attract your affection for the past two years. He had the decency to respect you and Pa after your mother passed, halting his advances for all of one week. Considering his age, he did not show any signs of maturing, both in his looks and his brain. One might even label him handsome, were he not such a crude and overbearing personality.

Ma and Pa had bid you to consider his proposal, but in time came to understand he was not the best man you could have as a husband. Pa despises Silas, has even told him so to his face, yet it did not cause Silas to stray from pursuing you. Disrespectful, despicable, a generally awful person, Silas is.

Why he had you locked on to his sights, you weren’t sure. You never gave him the opportunity to court; staying cordial as to not make an outright enemy of him, yes, but never once have you made it apparent you enjoyed his attention. Nevertheless, he continued.

“Silas, please. I must ask you to leave my shop if you are not interested in a purchase,” you implore, hoping he will understand your position and take his leave.

“But, little one, I am very interested in a purchase. What must I do to make you my wife?” He grins, as charming as the manure out in the fields. In a flash, your vision goes red as you replay his statement in your mind.

“I am not for sale, Silas. That is the most offensive remark you have said to me yet,” you declare harshly, the acidic bile in your stomach turning into a burning rage.

“There must be something that can be done, my sweet. You name it; the most lavish jewels and dresses your pretty, little mind can dream of,” he presses on with a smile only found on masks to scare the children with.

‘Pretty’ and ‘little’, amongst his unwelcome endearments, are the words to send your mind into a downward spiral to declarations that you’d rather not say unless you were alone, lest he take offense and decide to wreak havoc on you and Pa. You put your foot down and grab his arm roughly, pulling him with you to the front door. He only laughs at the scene unfolding, rather pleased with himself that he’s ruffled your feathers so.

“Silas, I am no longer asking. Please leave,” you say as plainly as you can, doing your best to keep the tremble of anger out of your voice.

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles satirically. “Until our next meeting, my love.”

He pulls your hand to his lips, his strength surpassing yours and his thick, wiry mustache rubs harshly against the tender skin of your hand. You furl your lip and flare your nostrils, unable to contain the look of disgust on your face as he glares at you perversely with his black eyes. You tug your hand away and the bristly hair under his villainous nose scrapes you with the motion.

You stand with your jaw clenched and hands balled up in tight fists at your sides, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palm as you watch him walk away, leaving puffs of dirt trailing behind with each cocksure step he takes. If you were to only be allowed one person to despise in your lifetime, it would be Silas Taylor.

“Dear, are you well?”

A gentle, aged voice calls out to you from behind. You whip around quickly, your skirts twirling as you face the elderly woman that has hailed you.

“Mrs. Williams,” you greet, willing your fury from the unpleasant interaction to rest for the time being.

“Was that Silas Taylor you were speaking with?” She asks.

“Yes,” you exhale. “Yes, it was.”

“He’s a quite handsome lad, dear. It is known all over town how you have bewitched him. Why do you not accept his proposal?”

Adelaide Williams; the sweetest among the hens, but still a hen nonetheless. You sigh deeply to yourself, deciding not to engage in the conversation with the one woman who treats you with any shred of respect and kindness, even if her ideals still match those with the others in town.

“Mrs. Williams, while I have you in my presence, may I ask a favor?” You appeal.

“Why, of course, my dear!” She smiles, all thoughts of your personal affairs exiting her imagination.

“Do you suppose it would be alright to leave a notice at the post office? We are asking for help on the farm for the season.”

“Yes, dear, it’s quite alright,” she smiles, her wrinkly skin creasing along her cheeks and eyes.

“Thank you; will you wait a moment while I draft it?”

She nods and follows you inside the shop, slow in her old age. You quickly grab a sheet of paper and a fountain pen, inscribing the words your Pa informed you to write in large enough letters.

“I imagine this season will be most difficult without your mother. I am so very sorry, dear,” Mrs. Williams says as you write and your hand quakes slightly at her comment. “How have you and your father been managing?” Cluck, cluck, cluck.

“Not without difficulty, Mrs. Williams, but we manage nonetheless,” you say courteously, not wanting to relay any information that could be the next piece of news to travel through the grapevine. You finish the notice and hand it to her.

“Shall I direct him here or to the farm?” She inquires as she reads the note, perhaps looking for anything contradicting what you already stated would be written.

“The farm, more suitably, so he can speak directly to my father,” you reply. “Many thanks to you and Mr. Williams,” you end with a sweet smile.

“No thanks are required, my dear. Anything to help you and your father. Your mother was a wonderful being. I was proud to have known her.”

Another quake. You nod politely, letting her hold your forearm as you walk to the front door. The bell dings as it opens and you watch her while she walks down the wooden pathway to the post office. Once you’re sure she’s well on her way, you turn back inside and draft another notice for the shop window before you begin arranging the merchandise for the day, taking inventory of goods that are depleting, and checking order forms belonging to families around town for produce off your farm.

A most provincial and forlorn life, indeed, that you will have to bear until the end of your time here on Earth.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Chapter Two

[darthwheezely]

grande - g.w.

Summary: George meets a mighty adorable barista in the new cafe on Diagon Alley and the man just can’t help himself... based off the song Coffee Girl by Johnny Socko! Sorry this took me absolute ages (9 days oops) to get out, guys :/

Warnings: DIABETIC FLUFF STUPID AMOUNTS OF CARDIAC ARREST INDUCING FLUFF UWU,mentions of sexism, Fred being Fred, cussing probably, alludes to sex, PG/PG-13

taglist or people that might like this but idk: @theweasleyslut @kitwalker02 @loony-loopy-lupinn @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @thehufflepuffwife @monoscandal @lupinsclassroom @whiz-bangs78 @vogueweasley @rogueweasleys @band--psycho @lumosandnoxwriting @oh-for-merlins-sake @amxrtentias @virgohufflepuff @vivianweasley

George Weasley didn’t sleep. This had long been the habit of his ever since he and his parents had discovered that his elder twin Fred had been an avid sleepwalker by age 4, then became a (minor) party animal in his Hogwarts days, and finally when he became the co-owner of one of the Wizard World’s most successful entrepreneurs and business owners.

The man hadn’t slept in about 18 years give or take. And days like this reminded him of it constantly.

It was a Saturday, the first of the month, and to boot, it was about to be Christmas in a little over a week. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was packed with everyone from couples window shopping, children in desperate need of fun now that school was out, parents trying to keep them in line, and even some old lady named Ethel (who swore she was part Veela, and therefore Fred couldn’t “escape her girlish charm.”)

“Ethel, you have an absolutely ravishing day, and don’t even worry about that moisturizer it’d be a waste of product on a natural beauty like you” Fred winked and kissed the old lady’s hand, George watching from the top of the steps rolling his eyes.

“Oh, Freddie, you know how to keep a lady young, don’t you? Oh - goodbye, Georgie! Have a good rest of your day boys!” She waved majestically to the younger twin on the stairs and he bowed royally in response.

“Bye, Ethel!” They both called as she exited the building, the bells flurrying in her wake.

“Georgie, mate, hate to say it but you are being uncharacteristically quiet and it’s making me uncharacteristically uncomfortable.” Fred said bounding up the stairs to meet him, chuckling briefly.

“Freddie, mate, hate to say it but I’ve had absolutely no sleep as of late and it’s getting to me. But I’ll be back up to my usual antics in no time.” He padded down the stairs, winking at a couple young ladies ogling him, sending them into a fit of giggles. Fred sat down on the middle step eyeing his brother carefully. It didn’t take a genius to see George wasn’t holding on much longer, the dark circles littering his eyes and the way he mussed up his already purposely messy hair just...didn’t comfort his older twin at all.

“George.” Fred sighed, George looking back at him, confused. He took his hands away from the merchandise Wonder Witch he’d been rearranging and gave him full attention.

“Take your lunch break early. And longer if possible.”

“Pffft, why would I do that when I have women to woo and boxes to juggle?”

“George.”

“Fred.”

“Stop, I mean it. You look half dead as it is, just go take a nap or get an espresso from the cafe down the aisle or something that reinforces the idea that yes, you are a human being and no, not a zombie.” Fred crossed his arms feeling suddenly a lot like Molly and dropped the cross. George pretended to ponder this tapping his chin, rather finding the mature brother role reversal funny as hell.

“Oh, alright, but can I still be a zombie when I get back?”

Fred hit him with a folder and sent him on his way.

-•-•-

You had just finished the lunch rush, finally being able to calm down and not have to worry about making one more goddamn Butterbeer Latte for at least another 20 or so minutes...until there’d be another rush. You grabbed a lemon scone, took off your apron and sat against the back counter. You inhaled the citrus scent, it was always something that you loved to savor, and took a bite.

The holidays for the Merlin’s Mochas, the cafe, had been absolutely atrocious so far. All you had for customers were angry businessmen, bratty kids and their upper class parents who let them run around the already small place being rude to everyone, your boss Lionel who had an affinity for calling every woman who worked there a “bitch” (...ok lionel) and to top it all off: you’d been pulling 9 hour days every day except sundays. Needless to say: you kind of super hated your job.

You had just finished your scone when you heard the door chime signal a customer, immediately wiping your hands on your jeans and restrapping your apron.

“Hi how can I-“ oh Jesus this is the hottest man I have ever seen. He was easily no older than 23, fiery red hair, a perfectly tailored striped terracotta suit, green tie, and the most gorgeous doe brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“How can you...?”

“Help you, ohmygod, I am so sorry I’m super-“

“Tired? Yeah me too...interesting how similar we are this early in the game hmm?” He winked at you and your knees felt too weak. No he was just a stupid hot customer that also was really hot and also? Was super hot. No worries, Y/N, just don’t die by 22 okay thanks.

“Very funny...wait are you-“ your finger led from him to the statue outside Wizard Wheezes, realizing a simple oh shit

“Yeah, that would be me. Or my twin Fred but we never really decided, that’s why he kind of looks like both of us mixed. Although we’re twins so we basically look the same anyway. I mean because were identical. Twins, yeah.” George, what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you sweating? She’s just a simply beautiful girl in a simply maddeningly purple coffee shop can you please breathe and not make yourself look stupid-

“Oh, wow! I’ve never met a twin before - not like twins are anomalies or anything it’s just so crazy. Science. Science is crazy” You closed your eyes and took a breath

“We should probably start over shouldn’t we?” You wrinkled your nose.

“That sounds much more redeeming than anything we both were about to say” George breathed out laughing softly, rubbing his hand through his hair.

“I’m George. Weasley. Like I said, I work at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, the shop over there, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place before...or you for that matter, I never forget a beautiful young woman.” He said smoothly, his heart steadily subsiding - something about you had the power to not only make him scared out of his mind, but also totally at ease.

You returned the smile, warmly, the blood rushing to your cheeks at his compliment and sticking your tongue to your teeth. “Well, George Weasley, of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes I’m Y/N Y/L/N. And yeah, we’re new around here,” you leaned further onto the counter, realizing, albeit a moment too late that your eye level was directly with his abs now, and although he was wearing a suit...you could definitely tell they were there.

“We erm, just opened three months ago. It’s honestly a bit of a time to work here.”

“Oh and why is that?”

“Well, nothing like a blatant sexist to run an entirely female employed establishment and weird stuffy rich people.” Your eyes widened suddenly, and you felt like you had said far too much far too soon. But he gasp-laughed - laugh that ended as soon as it began and burst into a smile...like you had shared a secret with him.

“What the hell is he doing here then? Got a boy’s club to run in a purple coffee shop?”

“I mean you never really know these days, George, imposters are among us at every moment” you purred and pushed off the counter, meaning it as a joke but George’s heart screamed when he heard your name. As you moved to the other edge of the counter, he followed you.

“What a resourceful and cruel young woman, I am starting to like you, Miss Y/L/N.” He clucked. “And do you think of me like you think of Mr. I-Hate-Women-That’s-Why-I-Hire-Them?” He got inches from your face, smelling the coffee beans and vanilla extract that riddled your skin.

“Hmm...Mr. Weasley, I’m not so sure.” You coyly stepped away from him and took long strides to the far end of the coffee bar by the wall. George immediately felt a pit of flirtatious butterflies and (arousal?) something more in his stomach, jaw dropped, he followed you again. He pressed his hands to the counter in front of you.

“Well, how can I convince you?” He asked rather quickly.

“Hmm...” you leaned forward like he did before and his breath hitched in his throat “...let’s get you a cuppa first.”

-•-

“Wait, okay let me get this straight-“

“Yes?”

“You have 6 other siblings.”

“Yes.”

“...because your mom wanted a girl?”

“That-that would in fact be true, yes.”

You thought for a moment.

“So you’re telling me after she made it through you two-“

“-she still wanted to have more of us, believe me, it races through my mind daily.” He nodded vehemently laughing with you. You two had taken to the empty cafe at a table nestled in the corner, him sitting in a chair across from you on a bench. You had both been cracking each other up with stories from your childhoods, like how you both had managed to never know of the other’s existence until now.

He’d discovered that you had transferred from Hogwarts to Beauxbatons early on in your fourth year. You, a Hufflepuff, loved the quiet and soft landscape of the French school. You both had absolutely no idea the other existed. How? The world may never know.

He was brash. You were careful.

He was already flying when you were just feeling comfortable learning how to walk.

But you sat there with him for the better amount of an hour and a half, laughing and interrupting each other with memories of the school years you had, some weird and strange, and especially during fourth year, hard for George to talk about.

Ginny, his baby sister, had almost died. And as he said to you in a candid and highly vulnerable state: he blamed himself for almost letting her go to this day.

“I...I really do believe it was my fault.”

“George, it couldn’t have been your fault. Hogwarts is a big freaking death trap - you and I both know that,” you had said with an exasperated laugh, eager to make him feel better in any facet.

“Yeah, but...I’m her big brother. Yes, she has five other older brothers but...we were supposed to protect her.” He swallowed and blinked back tears. “It was her first year, for Christ’s sake, and I paid about as much attention to her as a doorknob would.” He had rolled his jaw and taken a gulp of his gingerbread latte (you had said it was your favorite, and he was loathe to try anything else) and you had softly draped your hand on top of his.

“If she’s as kind and loving and funny as you, I’d love to meet her.” You quipped, a small smile growing on your face in effort to soothe. He had smiled back at you, turning your hand over in his and drawing his digits lazily over your palm.

“Funny, because I was thinking the same thing.”

-•-

He had told you to close your eyes, that much had been true.

See, his coffee had started to get cold. So, like if you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll have to have some milk-

If you give a George a latte he will have to not only have another one, but also feel the strenuous need to show off for you and take you to his place of work. Naturally. And it was so lucky that by the time he’d proposed you leave, he even helped you clean and lock up afterwards.

Truthfully, it almost scared you how much he had seemed to care.

“Alright, Y/N, darling, I’m going to release my hands on the count of three, yeah?”

“Perfect, Georgie” you giggled. You’d legitimately only knew him for so long, but you just...you trusted him. He grinned widely, his strong hands only applying a slight amount of pressure as not to hurt you.

“Alright, then. 1. 2-“ he took his hands off your eyes and watched you adjust not only to light, but to your surroundings as well.

“3.” He breathed out taking in the way you smiled like a teenager, face alight with pure inundating wonder. You squealed and started to run around the store.

“Look at these! Pygmy Puffs - ugh they’re so adorable look at this one! Oh, oh - ‘Fizzing Whizbees’ - these look absolutely wicked! And Per- ‘Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder’?” You picked up the glittery stone in your hand, and heard a smooth voice perk up behind you.

“A real money spinner, that one.” You turned around and there was a man that looked absolutely identical to George, although entirely different in the same way.

“Handy if you need to make a quick getaway,” you heard George on the other side of you. He smiled warmly down at you, nodding his head up to look at the twin across from him.

“Y/N, this is my-“

“-older, much more attractive and fiscally responsible brother.” He winked and you blushed almost immediately. “Fred. Weasley.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Georgie has told me a lot about you and the shop - absolutely marvelous this place is, I cant believe you two created so much in such a short span of time. Brilliant it all is, really!” George had started to flush, rubbing his jaw to seemingly take the red away from his striking face. Fred, upon hearing the genuine warmth from your voice and the unmistakable use of “Georgie” had a small, but highly distinct aha moment:

“Well, we couldn’t have done it all on our own, one of our best friends helped us out a good lot. But thank you, really...it means so much when other people see how much we do and-” he looked directly at George.

“-acknowledge the things we love, right George?”

“Absolutely, Frederick.” Fred had given him the look that seemed to imply: “please, God, make a damn move.”

“Well, Y/N, I’m going to be off and woo some ladies, have a biscuit and do some paperwork” he smiled wide when you giggled, already enjoying your company.

“But I hope to see you again, very soon, yeah? Please stop by whenever you can, we’re alwYs just down the street.”

“Freddie, for your company, I’m not so sure, I’m still deciding.” You quipped. Fred laughed heartily at that and looked at George.

“Georgie, I like this one.” George looked at you and winked.

“Me, too Freddie, me too.” You leaned back on your heels as Fred padded back up the stairs to the flat, now completely alone with George. You threw your arms behind you back and forth and took a long stride to George.

“So...what are you those?” You nodded up to the array of pink bubbles in a clam shape in the corner. He hummed and reached to grab your hand.

“Love potions - c-can I show you?” He raised an eyebrow slightly, but he felt his whole body turn to mush when you accepted his hand and nodded slowly. As he walked with you, you memorized the feeling of his callouses and veins, the way your hand curled deliberately in his.

You wanted to make sure if it was the last time you felt something like that, you had that memory with you for a while.

“Essentially, if you give these to a person they will temporarily have feelings of love and attraction for you. Depending of course on the dosage you use and the weight of the person in question.” He explained. You watched the way his suit jacket pulled taut against his back muscles and instinctively wanted to honestly just take the whole thing off-

“Hmm...I don’t know about these, Georgie.” You hummed mischievously. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

He scoffed placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Am i being questioned in my own establishment, Miss Y/L/N?”

You rolled your eyes and hit his arm, bowing slightly at him. “Well, do forgive my feminine insolence, Mr. Weasley, it’s not often I meet such bewitching mad scientists like you.” You watched his face grow blank for a moment at your compliment and immediately wanted to throw up.

“George, I’m really sorry, I know we just became friends-“

“Do you mean it?” He took a step towards you. You swallowed finding again his perfect milk chocolate eyes. You nodded.

“Hell yeah I did, you’re smart...and wicked hot” you both laughed at that. He took another step, the distance being unbearably harder to live in as his digits found a piece of hair and wound it behind your ear.

“Well, darling, the feeling is quite mutual.” He said quietly, taking in the whole of your face. He wanted to crash his lips onto every possible nook and crevice of your face, collide with you entirely.

“We’re going to have to do something about that, then, aren’t we?” You gently nudged his nose with yours and wrapped your arms around his neck, his strong and powerful arms pulling you to him gently. He wanted you to feel him not to break under his embrace. He leaned down and brushed his lips up to yours, feeling you whine and let out a minuscule sound.

“Got you making noises for me already and haven’t even kissed you yet, hmm?”

Your eyes fluttered close and one of your legs made it’s way in between his, snapping any chance at loose air between you two out of the way.

“Please, Weasley, pants a bit small for you?”

“Keep talking like that and they might, yeah.” You two laughed softly and with a final look to your lips he closed the last gap.

His mouth was perfect. His lips ghosted over yours one last time before wrapping every part of himself onto your frame, your lips entangled in each other like you’d never be able to taste him again.

But it was loving and slow and sweet. He tasted like gingerbread lattes and pastries and cinnamon and licking into his mouth you could feel the spice. He moaned lightly into your mouth, sending your knees buckling. He dipped you slightly, a hand traveling to your lower back to keep you steady, and his other hand coming up to nestle under the nape of your hair. Your hands caressed his face, his chest, needless to say? You wanted them everywhere. You wanted him everywhere.

The kiss broke and you and George were left breathless in each other’s hold, your foreheads pressed together as he kept you slightly dipped.

“Y/N, I’m feeling a bit tired” he quipped hoarsely, pressing a brief kiss to your lips and onto your neck. You hummed satisfactorily.

“Georgie, you’re gonna need another latte aren’t you?” You set multiple chaste kisses to his lips and cheeks, feeling him rumble with a small giggle. He caught your mouth with his and you moaned slightly.

“I’m gonna need a whole pot, to drink you in, love.”

[bangtangalicious]

the glow up | kth (4)

pairing: taehyung x reader

summary: after going off to college, you & your best friend committed to working out. a year later, the results show, and you cant wait for your hot hometown friends to see you. now all you wanna do is wild out and have lots of sex, and enjoy it without feeling insecure

genre: smut, childhoodfriends!au weightloss!au (is that a thing) friends-to-lovers!au

word count: 2.2k

warnings: tittie sucking, fingering (dubcon bc jungkook is an ass), misogyny/sexism, public sex (locker room), creampie, unprotected sex, slight slut shaming, body image issues (please remember that there is no ideal body type and every body is beautiful)

part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7                                                    masterlist

“Hey y/n” You were startled at his use of your name as opposed to his endearing princess. He was dressed nicely in a black hoodie with his glasses on, but his expression was tense.

“Tae” You acknowledge him as you got into the passenger seat. You really really liked his car now. “Listen, you don’t have to be sorry about anything”

“No, I really do though. I could have just shut up and let you and Jimin have your happy ending” He huffed, “We both know it’ll ultimately work out that way anyway, I just added drama and I’m sorry”

You wondered exactly when Taehyung got so mature, or if he had always been this way and you just never noticed.

“Anyways…I hope its okay, but I invited Hobi and Jungkook to lunch with us” Your face dropped slightly, and he noticed. You hated that he was being awkward. You wanted to feel all the amazing things you had the other day all over again. Taehyung was a drug. You had a hit and now you wanted more.

“Tae…” You whispered, grabbing his hand and bringing it to your chest. His jaw clenched as he made contact with your heaving breast. “Please” You made pleading eyes at him allowing him to squeeze your tit slowly.

“Hood of the car. Now” He exhaled sternly. You did ask requested, finding yourself in a similar position, back over the headlights, legs wide open, licking your lips in anticipation.

“Sit up” He ordered as he pulled you towards him so that he was standing in between your legs. He pulled down your shirt color until he had access to your clothed breast, moving your bra cup aside and allowing his mouth to trail kisses from your neck—“Mmm you smell good”—to your collar—finally kissing your nipple.

He looked up at you with lust shot eyes as he flicked his tongue across before enveloping it into his mouth. He sucked like a baby, moaning into you, the vibrations from his deep voice stimulating you even more. It was a sigh to behold, as he gripped your hips to hold you against him and sucked you.

You cried out, breathing heavily with the way his tongue was splashing around in circles causing waves of heat to come over you. You liked the ways his lips felt around your nipple, and the way his tongue drew circles around it-you took note. So I’m into this. Huh. You were very aware of how damp your underwear was getting, as yoou ran hyour hands through his hair, clenching as you tilted your head back and moaned.

“You’re fucking delicious princess” He remarked, breaking away finally to admire how he had made you swollen. He ran his thumb over his work, giving one last pinch, making you squirm before he fixed your clothing, “But…we’ll have time for this later. Let’s get going” His eyes had a playful glimmer as he winked at you, riled up and unsatisfied.

Fucking tease.

You arrived at a small urban cafe in the more happening part of town. Hobi and Jungkook were already at a table outside, with tall mimosas in front of them. Jungkook had on flashy sunglasses but lowered them as he saw you approaching, giving you a flirty look and smirking slightly as he watched you walk. Taehyung pulled a chair out for you and you took a seat by Jungkook after giving Hobi a quick back hug.

“Cute outfit y/n. I love the baggy look” Hobi commented. Your face reddened, realizing it was probably really obvious you were wearing Jimin’s clothes.

“She looks hot as fuck.” Jungkook thirsted, shamelessly glancing at your breasts were faintly imprinting against the fabric. He downed the last of his drink.

As you guys shared a meal, you enjoyed conversing openly with Hobi and Jungkook about their sex lives. You appreciated how open and candid they were as you continued to attempt to understand your own desires more.

“Y/n how does it feel to be part of that crowd now” Hobi asked. You tilted your head in confusion. “You know...now that you’re the sexiest girl in town I bet everyone’s been making moves.”

“Yeah I’ve definitely been getting a lot more attention from guys. Shows how fucking shallow half of them are”

“You girls are all hoes though so it doesn’t really matter. Why else would you try so hard to look sexy, yanno? Like I could be hooking up with the same girl and no one else but I still wouldn’t date her because she’s probably gonna dip for the next best dick she can get.” Jungkook added. Taehyung rolled his eyes and kicked him under the table “Hey, I’m just being honest. Why else would you go through a glow up phase? We all did it at some point, we were like yeah I wanna get laid so I better bulk up”

“No Jungkook that’s what you did” Hobi chuckled. “Hot girls aren’t all hoes, and hot guys aren’t just hot so they can get laid. I don’t agree with that. But I do think that everyone needs to fuck around a bit before they settle into a serious relationship or anything. I think it’s healthy when people go around for a bit and then finally are like, yeah okay I’ve seen what’s out there so I can say for certain what I want” Hobi commented, changing the topic. He delved into some details of a recent relationship of his but unfortunately his words did not register with you as you suddenly felt a hand slipping under the waistline of your sweats.

You knew it had to be Jungkook, Taehyung would never touch you without asking. You mouth formed an O as his hand traced along your aroused folds, still wet from Taehyung’s quick tit suck earlier. You gulped, straining to keep your mouth shut as Hobi continued on. You glanced at Taehyung who was observing you very carefully, clearly aware of what was likely going on.

Jungkook slid a finger into your cunt and it sucked it in welcomingly. You bit your lip as he slowly retracted it, allowing you to hear the faint squelching of your tender muscle. 

He repeated his motions, causing you to move forward until you were barely hanging on the edge of the chair. You gripped the table tightly, knuckles whitening with the pressure. You wouldn’t dare look at Jungkook, knowing that seeing his face would probably send you over the edge.

He pumped his fingers in and out and you couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of dread and enjoyment. Yes you were horny, Taehyung had ensured that, so being fingered felt great. But a ball turned in your stomach at the unwanted intrusion from your friend. Were these guys really like this to all the “attractive” girls they hang out with? Do they just constantly flirt and grope them? Ugh.

Taehyung pursed his lips tightly before he finally snapped. “Fucking Christ, just go ahead and fuck right here why don’t you” He folded his arms over his chest, shooting both of you a disappointed glare.

Jungkook slowly pulled his finger out of you and put it straight into his mouth,  and you finally made eye contact with him as he licked your arousal off of himself. 

“Y/n we’re leaving. God Jungkook did you even get consent you prick?” Taehyung spat at him. You got up and Jungkook slapped your ass playfully.

“She’s one of the hot girls now, might as well treat her like one. Text me babe” He sent an air kiss your way and you shuddered slightly. Taehyung gently took your wrist and led you away.

It was later that evening. Your heart was pounding, and a slight sense of dizziness overcame you as you sped the treadmill up even faster. Taehyung had agreed to accompany you to the gym and you had been sprinting as fast as you could for almost half an hour trying to blow off steam from the events that had happened at lunch. 

Jungkook’s words stuck with you, and in a fucked up way you felt like he was trying to prove a point. You felt the air in your lungs escape as your chest tightened. You were overdoing it. You knew that, but you wanted to feel numb. Wanted to feel the bliss of the aftermath of a super intense workout.

Your mind wandered to the biggest issue on your plate. Jimin. You wanted more than anything to go to him. To tell him what happened and get his advice. But you messed that up, and now you were no longer sure if it was worth messing it up. You had never been so conflicted in your life. Your bones screamed at you that your pace was getting too much, pain shooting up to your knees as you pounded your feet with every step. 

Talk about running away from your problems.

“Y/n!” Taehyung came over from where he had been doing weights and turned off the treadmill, bringing you to a rapid halt. You panted, sweat soaking you head to toe. Taehyung grabbed your arm to help you stay standing as you began to sway side to side with lightheadedness. You could see black spots paint your vision. He wrapped his arm around you and helped you walk into the locker room where luckily there was no one.

“I don’t wanna feel it Tae…I don’t wanna feel anything. This is all too much. I am so fucking confused. I miss Jimin, and what Jungkook did today I…” You held back a sob, “He’s right. This is what I want isn’t it? So why do I hate it so much. All you guys do whatever you want to these girls you usually get with and sexualize them so much and I’m just not used to it but that’s what I wanted right?”

Taehyung sighed, stroking your back, “Look princess…Jungkook and I aren’t the greatest people. After getting to college, you know how it is, we kinda all became fuckboys. The people we hang out with literally breathe to get off. Everyone fucks everyone else. And I’m no saint at all. I fuck around even more than Jungkook does, albeit I’m a bit more respectful about it, but it’s all the same game to us. I understand that this is all new for you but…I just want you to know that for me, I’m not treating you any differently because of this weight loss thing. I promise. They way I fuck you, the way I treat you…I would have done it just the same a year ago.”

“You say that but”

“I’ve wanted to have sex with you for years okay. I knew you before all of this fucking hook-up culture. I wanted you because I liked you. I still like you, even though we rarely see each other anymore. Not just because of your body. It happened now because you initiated it. I don’t know how else to get it through your head. And by God, what the fuck were you just doing? Were you trying to make yourself pass out? Why would you run that fast?”

“I just needed to relieve some stress okay”

“Then let me help you” His voice was husky and low. Time slowed down as Taehyung carefully leaned closer to you. He trailed his fingers down your sides and around the waist of your shorts, tugging the fabric ever so subtly. He remained still, breathing heavily with a heartbeat drowning out everything. “You can say no. Any time. Even if you realize later that you don’t want to do this anymore you can stop me. I won’t ever get mad and I won’t ever judge you” His voice was quivering before he grabbed your waist and pressed himself up close to you. “Do you want this princess? Can I take care of you?”

You nodded your head as Taehyung leaned down and kissed you while gently pushing you back against the lockers. He quickly pulled off your tanktop, not minding the sweat as he inhaled sharply. He lifted you so you could wrap your legs around him and began to slowly rock his body against yours.

He moaned into you mouth as he felt the impact of your bodies colliding. He spread your legs out wider and began to grind against you faster. You held back screams as he grabbed your breasts. Taehyung licked his lips and kissed you harshly, biting down your lips before mumbling “You’re so fucking hot princess”

“Taehyung” You finally moaned, giving him all the motivation he needed to grind faster. He slipped his hands under your sports bra and began to caress you. You cursed in pleasure.

Suddenly the two of you heard footsteps coming into the locker room. Taehyung allowed you to slide down as he quickly backed away. He took your hand and led you to a far corner of the room before sitting on the locker room bench and pulling your body down on his lap. You looked at him with concern, but Taehyung ignored it completely.

“Tae...you make me feel so fucking good”

“Yeah?” He grinned

“Aren’t we going to get caught?”

“I don’t care” He quickly tugged down your shorts as well as his own revealing his thick cock, with precum budding furiously at the tip, aching to be released. He helped you lower yourself onto him before he gripped your hips and began bouncing you up and down his length.

“Scream my name” He demanded, whispering darkly into your ear “you’re doing so good”

You whimpered, “Taehyung” you cried out as you felt yourself peaking, “Taehyung oh my god don’t stop,” You begged. He was shaking you so violently that you finally were pushed over the edge. 

You screamed his name louder than you meant to, feeling Taehyung smile against your neck. He let you get up off of him while he fixed his shorts. He was still aroused, but he didn’t mind. He just wanted you to feel good.

“Is everything okay we heard screaming?” One of the gym staff members walked in just as you had managed to get decent.

“Yes sir, everything is fine! She just saw a spider, poor thing” Taehyung pulled you back into him so you could feel his still hard cock against your asscheek  as the staff member nodded and left.

You waited until the footsteps seemed more far off. You turned around and couldn’t suppress your big smile as you made eye contact with Taehyung, who also grinned widely. He grabbed your waist and began to undress you again quickly.

“Hey that’s not fair. I wanna see your shirt off too” You pouted. Taehyung smirked, obeying you and pulling it off effortlessly. You traced the muscles on his chest that formed a perfect 11.

“Like what you see?”

“Jimin has a six pack soooo” You teased as you tugged on his waistline, helping him slide off his shorts again. Your eyes scanned him as he became naked and you licked your lips, “Yeah…” You met his eyes and giggled, “I like what I see”

“Yeah you better” He teased before attacking you with kisses again.

Taehyung slid back inside of your tight pussy while maintaining eye contact with you. He began sucking your neck playfully. He watched you carefully as he began to move in and out of you slowly, picking up the pace as he saw your positive reaction. Taehyung nuzzled his face into your breasts. 

“You’ve been waiting for this all day haven’t you” You teased.

“Yeah and what if I have” His voice was raspy, full of lust. The sound send chills down your spine and turned you on more. Taehyung could tell. “Oh you like that huh?” He continued to talk in that voice, grinning as he trailed kisses back up to your mouth.

Taehyung shifted you so your back was on the bench. He spread your legs and entered you slowly. You tilted your head back and just took it all in. After some pumping Taehyung lowered himself closer to your body and looked at you deeply.

“You close?” You asked him sincerely. Taehyung nodded, moaning slightly into your shoulder. You were unsure what to do to help him at that point, your orgasm earlier leaving you too spent for another one. So you decided to just tease him. “What was it that they say in pornos...oh right. You’re doing so good baby” You felt Taehyung’s hips buckle at your words, “Will you please cum for me? God you’re sooooo hot mmm, just like that” You played your most seductive voice and Taehyung knew you were messing around but it still turned him on. 

He kissed you chastely, hands grabbing your ass tightly as he came. He cursed under his breath & eventually fell into your lap in exhaustion.

<------previous                                                                   next-------->

A/N: im tired man idk

taglist: (lmk if you wanna be added!!) @honeyspillings @hollowtree10

[algumaideia]

The ableism in the Acotar series

I was thinking about all the problematic aspects of the Acotar books, and I realized that they are pretty ableist. I don’t know if someone have already talked about it, but just in case I’ll do it. But before I start, I need to say some things:

1. I haven’t read the series for a while, and I don’t remember some stuff. So, I might write something that is wrong.

2. I’m not disabled myself. This post is based on my research about disabilities and how disabled people are represented in the media. I have a lot of interest in the subject, and I also researched about it because I’m writing a story with several disabled characters. I also did a school project about assistive technologies.

3. English is not my mother language and I’m still learning it. There are gonna be spelling and grammar mistakes. I’m sorry about it, but it is life.

4. I haven’t read the acosf book, so maybe SJM changed the story or some character in this book and therefore my post will be incorrect.

5. Besides the fact that I consider Emerie to be disabled, I won’t talk about her in the post. Because as I said I didn’t read acosf and I think that her appearance in the acofas has the same purpose that the other female Illyrians (since Idk how to write Illyrians this will be write wrong in the entire post, I’m sorry).

6. I forget the name of some characters and I don’t want to search it, so I’ll just give them new names.

Now let’s begin.

I’ll analyze the following characters in this post: Papa Acheron, Lucien, Cassian and Ianthe, the woman from the library and the female Illyrians, the female creature from the forest, the Illyrian soldiers that came back from the war and the girl who couldn’t fly. I think I forgot someone, but patience. In the end of the post I’ll talk about disabilities, ableism and worldbuilding.

I also would like to say that almost all her characters got their disability as a punishment, and the problem with this is that it always links disability with something bad.

Papa Acheron:

As I said Papa Acheron got his disability as a punishment, since he didn’t pay his debts, some people went in this house and broke his leg. I might be wrong, but I think that it didn’t healed well and because of that he has chronic pain. So, to better analyze him I’ll compare him to two other characters with chronic pain, Kaz Brekker and Melissa, one of my main characters.

Papa Acheron became useless after he became disabled. He thought he was useless and by extension Feyre thought it too. I’m not saying that internalized ableism doesn’t exist, but the narrative never calls it out. Feyre accepts this excuse, it is kind of implied that if he weren’t disabled, he would be able to help his family and get money. Now let’s look to Kaz (I haven’t read the second book of the duology, please no spoilers). He accepts his disability, not only that but he uses his cane as one of his symbols. He goes against the idea that a disabled person is stuck with a cane or a wheelchair or whatever. He feels free with his cane. Now, this doesn’t mean that every disabled character needs to feel okay with his disability. My character, Melissa, feels a lot of anger because of her chronic pain. It hurts her, it disrupts her plans, it makes her suffer. However, it didn’t stop her to live her life and she also is not seeking anyone’s pity, which is very different from the Papa Acheron situation. Mel has friends, a social life, she studies, she will have a job, she will date, get married and have children. She doesn’t feel mad because she is disabled, she is also autistic, and she loves that part of herself. What bothers her is that her disability makes her feels a lot of pain. Papa Acheron is just someone to you feel bad and angry about. He doesn’t do anything because he is disabled and believes that this makes his useless and the narrative kind of agrees with him.

Lucien:

Lucien doesn’t have one eye, and that’s what makes him disabled. He became disabled as a punishment for falling in love with a lesser fae and not only that, but he is only without his mechanic/magic eye when he is on his worse. He was without his eye when his family was torturing and banishing him. And then when he was UTM. Again, disability being connected with bad things. Now about his mechanic eye. The first time that Feyre describes his eye she says it is creepy. Which is bad. But also, why it had to be magic and give him the ability to see spells or something like that (this was never brought back btw)? Why can’t he have a normal mechanical eye? Why he needs a mechanical eye? Why does his mechanical eye need to compensate the fact he is disabled? He is as much complete with and without his eye.

Cassin and Ianthe:

I put this two together for one reason, their disabilities were cured. I’ll talk about Cassian first. When they invaded Hybrein (I also don’t know how to write the name of the country) they hurt his wings badly. And considering that to Illyrians the wings are as much a limb as an arm or a leg, he was disabled for a while. (I’m aware that to something be considered a disability it needs to be long lasting. But I think that the fact that it was cured is ableist, if I’m not wrong the text said it was a miracle he was healed.)Then we had Cassian in the floor with his wings all damaged, suffering a lot, what a horrible scene. But don’t worry! The next time he’ll appear completely cured, because being disabled is such a horrible thing and SJM never used deus ex machina to save her characters. So, this injured made him disabled for a while, and it could be interesting. The wings are the Illyrian symbol, the symbol of their toxic masculinity and their sexism. Cassian being disabled because of his wings would make him revalue his culture and his own idea of masculinity and it would be so amazing. But he was cured. I think that this makes Cassian falls in the disabled for one day trope. Just like Ianthe. First the way she became disabled was disgusting. Feyre invading her mind was such a horrible thing to do. I’m not denying that Ianthe is a terrible person/fae but that doesn’t change the fact that it was a horrible scene. I really dislike characters with telepathic powers, because for me their powers are crossing a line. They invade and control someone’s mind. They take off the person free will. They basically turn the person in a robot. If I remember correctly when Feyre made Ianthe broke her hand it was with the purpose to make it useless. And when she appeared again in all her glory she was, surprise, surprise, cured.

The woman from the library and the female Illyrians:

I put they together because their disabilities are used for the same two purposes. The first is that they became disabled as a punishment for being female, and the second it to show how FEMINIST Rhysand is. He isn’t feminist, so all these women suffered for nothing. Again, disability being linked with bad things. The symbol of the female Illyrians suffering is they becoming disabled. NOT GOOD AT ALL. About the woman from the library, she was there to also show how good Feyre is. She is there so we can feel pity of her. She didn’t deserve it.

The female creature who couldn’t see:

My problem with her is that it is implied/said that she has better senses because she is blind. And that’s not how it works?? People just pay more attention in what they hear, touch or smell when they are blind/visually impaired.

The girl who couldn’t fly:

I'm gonna call her Anna. First Anna is like the only character who just have a disability. No trauma, no war, no punishment. She just has. Then she is a great disabled character, right? Wrong. She has inspirational porn written all over her story. She is there to make Feyre feel better about herself and make other abled people/fae feel inspired. She is there so we can say: ohhh poor thing, but at least she overcame her disability and now can fly. So ableist. Anna is also only valued after proving herself useful. That is wrong. Disabled people should be valued because they are people. They don’t need to be amazing in anything to be treated with respect.

The Illyrian soldiers:

My problem with them is how their disability is used to reinforce sexism and make Cassian and Rhysand feel bad. But what about the Illyrian soldiers? How are they feeling? It seems this is not important. They also bother me because of worldbuilding questions.

Disabilities, ableism and worldbuilding:

First, why humans and fae feel the same about disabled people? Feyre has the same opinion the IC have. And the humans and fae were separated for 500 years. This doesn’t make sense. Every court think the same thing about disabled fae? Does something change if the disabled fae is a lesser or a higher fae? It should make a difference. A real world example of how social class affects the way disabled people are treated: the first school for deaf people created only taught children of the nobles.

And why the way people look to disabled fae didn’t change after the war? What about the assistive technology? You know what, it is unrealistic the fact that we don’t have any assistive technology in this world. But this happen in the antient times, how could there be any assistive technology? First, assistive technology is everything that helps a disabled person, a cane, a screen reader, a scooter. Everything can be an assistive technology. Second, assistive technologies exist since the antiente times. One of the oldest prothesis were found in a mummy. There is a painting of Hephaestus using a wheelchair. And considering that this series happens in what was supposed to be the Middle ages, it was supposed to have assistive technologies. Wheelchairs during this time were heavy and the user couldn’t use it by himself, but they existed. There are records of a king using a wheelchair during the middle ages. And I mean with the war something was supposed to change. The first place to blind people in the France was created because 300 soldiers came back from the crusades without their eyes. It was in the century 20 that disabled people started to be more included in the society. And one of the reasons were the soldiers that came back from WW1 and WW2 disabled. Not only that but in war times the technology improves, so a lot of new assistive technologies and materials were created during this time. The first record of guide dogs comes from 1819 in school in Vienna, but it didn’t work. Only after WW1 that guide dogs appeared again. And you know with what purpose? Help veterans that were blind due to the war. Braille was a system used for the French army during battles. Louis Braille only made it simpler. The war should change something.

Why is the world ableist?  The excuse that this is an antient society doesn’t work my friend. The Egypt was a very including country. Blind people could be part of any social class. Dwarfs were part of the society since they had a dwarf god. In antient Japan blind people were expected to be independent. They could work with music, religion, telling stories etc. And the work of telling stories was very important since it made the Japanese tradition to continue. The excuse that this is an antient society is just this, an excuse. Now she could have used to say something. Leigh Bardugo used the ableism of her world to criticize the ableism of our world. I’m doing the same thing with my story. SJM made an ableist world just because.

That was my analysis. I’m sorry this was very long. I know this was a little confusing, but it was very difficult to put all the stuff that was in my mind in text. In my mind everythig made sense, but when I was writing it I realized I wasn’t following a logical argument. If that makes sense. Anyway, thank you for reading it.

If you read the books and realized I wrote something wrong, please tell me. If you are disabled and think I said something offensive, I’d love to hear you. If you are non-disabled and want to comment and give your opinion, feel free. And if you don’t want to comment, don’t do it. You can do whatever you want.

Best regards,

Me.

Ps. This is my first post in Tumblr, so I don’t know if I tagged it right, if you want to help, I would be really grateful.

[electronicgrowth]

Can’t Get Enough Part 3

I can’t get enough of posting this (ahahaha get it?). There’s a little violence in this chapter and a lot of time period standard sexism. Sorry, but it’s the 60′s my friend. 

I was planning on posting this at a later date, but I had an absolute TERRIBLE day yesterday and in the midst of it I was able to smile because of all the love this series is getting. It’s not much but every single like means the world to me. So, without further ado, here’s the next chapter a little early as a thank you for making me smile on a horrible day.

Summary: The two most stubborn people in Knockemstiff, Ohio have eyes for only each other. Lee Bodecker is determined to become the town’s next sheriff. He knows that image is everything. Billie Dechswaan doesn’t care about her image at all. All she wants is to leave Knockemstiff and never come back. But Lee has other plans for her. Both are far too stubborn to give up their own plans. What happens when they can’t get enough of each other?

Word Count: 3.2k

Billie drifted through the rest of the day in a distracted fashion. She helped her mom in the kitchen for a bit, then she was allowed to read her book. Before dinner she decided to go clean up. She fixed her hair nice. She wouldn’t admit it, but she wanted to impress Lee. She fought with herself. She saw her whole future laid out before her. If she stayed in Knockemstiff and married Lee, she knew her life would be good. She knew that deputies made good money, and sheriffs made even better money. They could have a nice house. And all the babies she wanted. The other part of her still wanted adventure. Maybe Lee could be her adventure. She didn’t know anymore. 

Billie’s parents always went to sleep at nine. Billie went up around the same time each night. Unfortunately, she shared a room with Sylvia and Clara. Sylvia was sixteen. So, both her and Billie covered for the other. And Clara stuttered so bad, she couldn’t tell her parents even if she had caught her older sister. Billie told Sylvia she was going out that night, Sylvia smiled. The worst thing about the farm house was that all the children’s bedrooms were upstairs and each floorboard creaked underfoot. Billie carefully avoided the loudest steps as she snuck out of the house at 9:45. Joseph and Thomas were still in the living room, luckily the living room was just outside her parents room. The boys were watching some program on the tv while playing cards. Not paying attention at all. Billie managed to slip out of the back door totally unseen. She ran across the yard and into the woods. Once she was into the woods, she slowed to a quick walk. She felt safe with the trees wrapped around her, hiding her from prying eyes.

She walked until she got to the road where Lee said he’d meet her. He was already there. He was leaned up against the cruiser, smoking a cigarette. She emerged and smiled at him. He was quick to put out the cigarette and open the driver’s side door for her. She slid in, but only just so he could get in. She was pressed up against him. The car roared to life, Lee drove just ten minutes. They drove away from town, he slowed when they drove just barely off the road, down a dirt path. He cut the engine and turned to Billie. 

She pounced on him. Kissing him aggressively as she climbed into his lap, straddling him. The skirt of her dress rucked up in the process. She couldn’t find it in herself to care. Her tongue skated across the roof of Lee’s mouth. His hands were everywhere, her thighs, her breasts, her ass. He couldn’t touch enough of her. She ground down on Lee’s lap, he was hardening under her. She moaned into his mouth. He pulled away, panting against Billie’s lips. 

“Lay back, baby,” Lee grunts. She followed his directions, laying herself across the front seat of his cruiser. He pushed her dress up and pulled her underwear down her legs. She’s exposed to him. He rubs his fingers up and down her slit, wetness leaking out of her. He sinks two fingers into her, pumping in and out of her vigorously. He curls his fingers inside of her. She can barely contain her cries. Her eyes are squeezed shut in ecstasy. 

Lee decided that he wanted to try something new. He kneels on the floor of the car, continuing to fuck her with his fingers. She doesn’t even notice that he’s changed his position. He leans forward and removes his fingers from her. She whines at the loss. But Lee quickly laps at her folds. Billie’s eyes fly open and she sits up in shock. 

“Just relax, baby. Let me make you feel good,” he groans. She lays back down, sounding breathless. Lee continues to lap at her, soon he pushes further in. He sucks her essence from the source like a man dying of thirst. 

“Lee,” she whimpers breathlessly. He grabs her thighs, pulling her closer, humming against her. The vibrations making her even wetter. Lee separates himself from her folds, and licks up to her clit. He spells the alphabet with his tongue and places his fingers back inside her. He moves his fingers almost violently. Billie can’t contain herself much longer, her thighs begin to shake uncontrollably and she gasps for breath. She cums with a strangled cry. Lee lets her ride out the orgasm before removing his fingers from her. She’s panting as she watches him suck her juices from his fingers. 

“You taste so good, baby,” he groans. Billie sits up and kisses Lee. She can taste herself on his tongue and she’s desperate for more. Billie undoes Lee’s belt as they kiss. His cock emerges hard as a rock. She delicately wraps her hand around it, and jerks him back and forth. She’s going slow, painfully slow. 

“Your mouth,” he says. Billie nods and gets down on her knees. She licks up his length multiple times before taking him in her mouth. She bobs her head slowly, Lee looks down and makes eye contact with her. Lee has a unique taste. Despite the fact that she just came, she clenches her thighs as she tastes him. He thinks about fucking her face, but she’s so pretty like this, mouth stuffed with his cock.

“Faster,” he grunts. Billie obliges quickly. Her hands aid her mouth. One hand wraps around his cock, it closely follows her lips, gently twisting. Her other hand fondles his balls. 

“Good girl,” he groans, head leaning back as he closes his eyes. One of his hands rests in her hair. She seems spurred on by his encouragement and she speeds up. 

“That’s it baby. You’re doing such a good job,” he praises. He opens his eyes and looks down at her, “You gonna be this good when you take my cock in your little pussy?” Billie moans around him, a desperate look in her eye. 

“Oh, I bet you are. Gonna let me fuck ya, nice and deep. I’ll ruin you. You’ll never want another man after me,” he snarls, his other hand goes to her hair to hold her in place. He thrusts his hips up and she gags around him. He fucks her mouth as if it were her pussy and cums with a roar. She swallows all of it down, not wasting a drop. Lee pulls out of her mouth and reaches for a handkerchief in his gloves box, he wipes the excess salvia off her chin and neck. 

Billie rejoins him on seat. They both fix their clothes. Lee looks at his watch, it’s only 10:30, they have some time yet. So, he holds her, rubbing a hand up and down her back. Lee would give anything to hold her like this each night. He can tell that Billie is starting to drift and he drives her back to the wooded area near the farmhouse. He kisses her goodnight and sends her on her way. 

Billie sneaks back into the farmhouse with no issue. She sneaks upstairs and changes into a night dress, before crawling into bed. Her parents none the wiser to what she’s been doing. 

Billie and Lee continue on, meeting at least three nights a week. Sometimes they just kiss endlessly. Sometimes they really fool around. Other times they talk. One night Lee brings a blanket and they stargaze for hours. They learn all about each other. But Billie never lets Lee forget that their time together has an expiration date. She reminds him that she’s going to school and nothing can stop her. Lee visits her at the diner at least five days a week. He can chat with other locals when she has to take care of other tables. Billie is thankful for anytime that Lee eats at the diner. The boys her own age leave her alone when he’s there. 

Unfortunately, tonight was not one of those nights. Billie was working the late shift. Some of the boys from her graduating class were hanging around. They were making sexual comments at her and staring. When they finally cleared out she was grateful. Patty told her to hit the road. She promised that she and Peter could lock up. Billie was glad to get off early, she could crawl into bed early that way. She walked out the back door like she did after every shift. 

She doesn’t notice a car full of boys following her. She’s one block away from the diner when the boys park and gather around her. Billie panics. Among them is Ralph. 

“Can I help you boys with something?” She spat. 

“Heard you wouldn’t give it up for poor Ralph here. So, we figured we would help him out,” said one boy, Jay. 

“I don’t give it up for anyone,” Billie said with a roll of her eyes. Just a moment later she was slapped across the face. She’s shocked and that gives the boys a chance to pounce on her. She’s fighting with all she can, but she’s no match for five boys. She kicks anything she can, claws the face in front of her. She doesn’t care. She’s not going down without a fight. She’s screaming as loud as she can. Another boy closes his fist and hits her hard in the stomach. It incapacitates her enough that they slam her on the hood of the car they were in. Each boy holding down an arm or a leg. She’s overwhelmed by the smell of moonshine on them. She doesn’t know how any of them are standing. Ralph smirks down at her, about to get what he always wanted. He tries to kiss her but she bites his tongue. 

“You fucking bitch!” He shouts. He lifts her head and slams it back on the hood several times. Unwillingly, tears stream down her face. She’s sure this is it. She wishes she would have told Lee how much she cared for him. She really wished she would have called Thomas to pick her up. Then, just as she is giving up hope, she sees a flash of blue and red lights. 

“What the hell is going on?” Shouts a familiar voice, Lee. Thank god. He and several other deputies rush to see what’s going on. The boys try and keep calm, they release their grips on her and she slides from the hood of the car to the road. Gravel digs into her exposed thigh but she can’t find the will to move. 

“We’re just joking around,” one claimed. 

“Billie,” Lee said, “What’s going on?” Billie can’t answer, she just sobs. 

“Billie, you have to tell me,” Lee coaxes gently, crouching next to her. 

“They—they grabbed me and they were— they were gonna—“ Billie can’t finish her sentence, she starts to sob even harder. Lee pulls her head to his chest. 

“Arrest them,” he says to the other deputies. Another couple of police cruisers pull up. One by one the boys are cuffed and put into cruisers. They each are trying to talk their way out of it. But the deputies don’t listen. 

“Billie, honey. You need to get up off the road. Can you do that for me?” Lee asked, reaching out a hand for her to grasp. She slowly comes to her feet and Lee really examines her. She’s covered in bruises. Her nose is bleeding, her lip is split. She has cuts all over her hands, suggesting she maybe landed a few punches. 

“Did they— did they touch you— down there?” Lee asked gently. Billie shakes her head. 

“Good, good,” Lee hums, he leans down and picks Billie up, and carries her to her car. 

“I wanna go home,” she begged, between gasps for air. It broke Lee’s heart, but he couldn’t take her home. 

“We have to get your statement at the station,” he said, quietly. Billie silently cried the entire way to the station. She had pressed herself up against the passenger side door, as far away from him as possible. Lee had no idea what to say. When they arrived at the station, he led her inside to his desk. Only then did Billie realize that her work uniform was completely torn. An inappropriate amount of leg was showing and the front of the uniform was torn so much that her bra was peaking out. She felt horribly exposed. Lee made her sit down gently, before turning away. And grabbing his jacket off the back of his desk chair. He helped Billie slide into it. At least that helped her cover a bit. 

“Edna is calling your mama,” he told her, gesturing to the secretary, “But in the meantime, you have to walk me through what happened. We need it for the police report.”

Billie began gasping for air. 

“Shhh, shh. It’s okay, just take a deep breath, hold it for two seconds and slowly blow it out.” Billie did as he said five times. 

“Good,” he murmured, “Now just walk me through it and take as many breaks as you need.” 

“I was walking home from the diner,” her voice was terribly hoarse, “Patty had let me go early because we weren’t busy. I didn’t even see them until it was too late. One of them said something about me giving it up for Ralph. And then they were on me. I—I tried to fight them off, I really did. But there were five of them and I’m just me. They hit me and slammed my head on the car. I-I-I really thought Ralph was going to rape me. They had me pinned to the hood of the car. I didn’t know what to do.” She was sobbing, fighting against her cries to speak. 

Lee nodded as she finished. She didn’t even notice that he’d been quickly writing down all that she said. 

“I’m going to get you some water and a damp cloth for your face,” Lee said before standing up and strutting away from the desk. Billie took her self in. Her knees were bloody and scrapped, gravel stuck into the injuries. She peaked inside the jacket and saw that at least one elbow was in a similar condition. The exposed parts of her chest were bruised. And she didn’t even want the opportunity to look at her face, because if it looked as bad as it felt it was pretty horrible. Lee came back damp cloth in hand. Glass of water in the other. He gently rubbed under her nose, cleaning the blood that had started to dry. She winced as he rubbed the cloth against the cut in her lip. 

He leaned back, once he got her face cleaned up. “Gibson, get me the first aid kit, will ya!” He shouted at a younger deputy. Gibson scurried away in search of the first aid kit. Lee gently brushed the gravel from her knees and elbow when Gibson returned with the kit. Lee rubbed the antibiotic cream over her injuries before finding the largest bandages to cover the abrasions. 

“Thank you,” Billie whispered. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, studying her face. 

“I want to go to bed,” she responded. 

“Don’t worry your mama will be here soon,” he placated. 

“Are they even going to get in any trouble?” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “They got you pretty good. But they’re all from good families.”

“You mean rich families. And my family is just a bunch of poor farmers,” she spat. 

“If it were up to me, they would get thrown in jail,” Lee growled. 

“But it’s not up to you,” Billie nodded. 

“I’m so sorry, sugar,” he murmured. 

“I know.” 

“Billie!” Joy ran into the building in a desperate search for her daughter. Closely following Joy was John. 

“Oh my baby!” Joy gasped. 

“What happened?” John asked gruffly. 

“It seems Billie got attacked by five of the local boys. Ralph Johnson, Jay Smith, Grant Parker, Gideon Cousins, and Jimmy Barrow were the boys we found with her when we pulled up. Four of them were holding her down. It sounds like they were planning on holding her down so Ralph could violate her,” Lee explained. 

“Were you leading that Ralph boy on?” John questioned. 

“No, I went on a date with him back right after graduation. But that’s it,” she answered. 

“Well, you know how boys are honey,” Joy attempted to soothe. 

“Even if I slept with Ralph a month ago, which I didn’t, it still wouldn’t be an excuse for this. All we did was kiss!” Billie yelled. 

“Calm down,” John commanded. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” She maintained. Lee decided to step in to de-escalate the situation. 

“I’m inclined to agree with Billie. It probably has very little to do with her and more to do with the fact that those boys were drinking and she was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Lee conceded, “I’ve already taken Billie’s statement and I think you should get her home. I’ll check in tomorrow.” 

“Thank you Deputy Bodecker,” Joy beams. 

“Just want to make sure that our Billie here is safe,” Lee answered. Billie slips out of Lee’s jacket. 

“Thank you for letting me borrow that. I hope I didn’t bleed on it,” she said quietly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. John and Joy lead Billie out of the station and to their own car. When they’re out of sight Lee marches to the sheriff’s office. 

“You gonna charge those boys?” He asked the sheriff as soon as he entered the office. 

Sheriff Collins sighed. 

“I can charge them with possession of moonshine and third degree assault,” he grunts. 

“Third degree? They weren’t just recklessly messing with her and she got hurt in the process, I would say there is considerable evidence for first degree aggravated here. They may have drunk, but they knew what they were doing,” Lee said in disbelief. 

“Look Bodecker, those boys come from good families. The Dechswaan family is nice. But they’re trash. No money. No real standing,” Collins responded. Lee walked out of the office in disbelief and disgust, slamming the door on his way. He wanted to really go after those boys. He’d seen it before with men like his father, nothing was going to stop them from hurting another girl. But he was at the mercy of the sheriff, and if the sheriff wouldn’t press the appropriate charges there was nothing he could do. 

Joy helped Billie from the car and to the bathtub. She took Billie’s ruined uniform away. 

“I know Lee patched you up at the station, but I want you to really clean the wounds and I’ll get you some fresh bandages. Holler if you need anything,” Joy said from the door. Billie did as her mother said. She cleaned the abrasions. She scrubbed the dirt from her body until her skin was raw. She even washed her hair, it’d gotten dirty in the scuffle. Billie re-bandaged herself and dressed in the clean nightdress her mama had left her. After that Billie crawled into bed and passed out. But even her exhaustion couldn’t keep the nightmares away. 

@greeneyedblondie44 @bxnnywriting

[bonktime]

Weather The Storm

Chapter 2: Hand Over Fist

Ezra (Prospect) x f!reader (no y/n) 1861 Lighthouse au 

Rated: E (just the whole story)

Previous // Masterlist // Next

Art by the incredible @honestly-shite​ I’m so blown away 🥰💘

Summary: Ezra settles into life in the north but he can’t seem to wrap his head around the keeper. As they dance around each other a clash with another local brings some truths into the light.

Warnings: Language, violence, a boat load of sexual tension, a bunch of victorian sexism, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort? (smut will come)

Note: Written in the 3rd person so i guess you could read as oc? but I never name or describe her, except being short. I had loads of fun writing this! Loads of descriptions of the weather because that’s who I am and also touching. Next chapter will probably be a little late but please forgive me!

Wordcount: 3630

~~~~~~~~~

The wind was like nothing else. Four days at sea and Ezra was fairly sure it was making him deaf. It roared and screamed through the wood of the boat like he's never heard. Rattling anything loose and merging with the groans of the beams and the waves into a great cacophony of noise.

There was a knack to sailing in winds so strong, one he was very glad he'd got the hang of previously else he would probably have been tossed overboard that first morning. Even so the violent movement of the ship beneath him had been a surprise. Any time he put anything down he had to keep a close eye or it would end up on the other side of the room. It made sleep exceedingly difficult when being tossed out of the hammock was a possibility, so he was lucky to get a couple of hours between shifts.

The work was hard and one particularly malicious seagull had made off with a biscuit he had been about to take a bite out of, combined with the lack of sleep and the rolling waves, it had made him irritable at best down right foul at worst. Still, the rest of the crew were likable and only jibed in a good humoured way at the newcomer. And, whenever the bite of the cold got too much, he had a new memory to warm him up. Even so as they came into port on that forth morning, he was picturing that warm bed and the flickering firelight. 

On the walk back along the sea something caught his eye. He stopped to pick it up.

 ⧫⧫⧫

Ezra arrived just as the keeper was leaving the lighthouse. She saw him crossing the causeway, as the sun peeked over the horizon, turning the sky every colour from deep blue to the brightest pink. He waved at her as she waited for him to approach, unable to help but admire her. Dressed in blue, she contrasted against the sky and its reflection in the water. She positively shone. As he got close, he smiled.

"It would appear I was wilfully incorrect about something"

"About what?" She cocked her head at him

"There is colour here. But to witness it you must have patience. "

He took a step closer. holding out his hand "I discovered this on my meander back to your charming abode, I believe you would appreciate it." In her hand he gently placed a chunk of sea glass, worn soft by the sands but still bright deep blue. He stayed close as she held it up to let the sun shine through. She could smell the sea on him, salty and something else. Looking up at him she wondered why he had been so thoughtful. "It's beautiful, thank you" he smiled at her, eyes creasing warmly.

 ⧫⧫⧫

A week passed and they talked in the mornings but their days never seemed to line up so they could only see each other for meals. Ezra spent his evenings in the living room, reading by the fire whenever he was home, and his mornings wandering the coast to distract himself from the woman in the water. 

Once on his walk he met the other keeper. The man had looked exhausted as if he was carrying a weight on his shoulders. He didn't say much, just to give his thanks to the other keeper and then he'd hurried away.

Further down the shoreline he liked to watch the market get set up. Watch the women waiting for the fishing boats to get in, preparing to gut and fillet and sell. He chatted to them sometimes, offering a hand carrying out the tables if they needed it. One girl always gave him a cup of tea after, laughing at his jokes and smiling. She was pretty and definitely would have caught his eye before. But now? He was friendly enough, and polite, but just couldn't work out why he was so uninterested. It wasn't like him. She made a nice friend though, and it was pleasant to get to know someone apart from the keeper even if he wasn't staying too long. And even if he didn't know the keeper all that well.

Ezra mentioned a woman he met at the fishery to the keeper. As much as she knew and liked her, it stung in a way the keeper couldn't quite identify. She was kind and soft and pretty and just the opposite of her. All of her hard edges and bitterness and isolation. But she didn't have any good cause or right to feel envious. Still, she thanked him for the warning, should she come across them together at least she wouldn’t be surprised.

 ⧫⧫⧫

There was another week of only seeing each other in the wee hours before both Ezra and the keeper had a shared day off.

He offered to come with her into town and help carry things. Mostly he just wanted her to show him around which she knew but she agreed anyway.

The sun showed itself as they walked together warming their skin. He watched the keeper raise her head to bask in it, smiling as she tried to explain what she needed from town with him interrupting after every item to ask questions.

She was glowing and it was starting to affect Ezra. Her skirt was pinned up a little above her ankles so it didn't dip in the sand and she'd forgone her usual headscarf and shawl to enjoy the sun. She had laughed at him as they'd left, at all his layers, called him a southern pansy. He'd grinned "Not everyone is so accustomed to this frigid weather. The cold bites those who it has not made an acquaintance with. Not unlike a wary dog."

"If you stayed a few winters here and swam in the North Sea you'd end up as hardy as any of us I reckon" he'd just smirked.

 ⧫⧫⧫

The keeper decided Ezra spoke just the way he did just to confuse people. Every time she’d asked him what a word meant he had grinned, but he did explain without condescension. He had spent nearly an hour chatting away to the grocer when she’d gone to the butcher and the baker. Upon asking, it turned out he had been trying to find a fruit he was fond of, but all the frills in his speech had led to a debate between the owners about what he had meant which he had then stayed quiet during just for enjoyment. When she had gone back to find him he was grinning ear to ear as the two men bickered. She had suppressed a laugh and sorted it out quickly before they had gotten even more irked by the outsider. Ezra had seen the laugh in her eyes though.

The final stop was the bookshop. A small place, stacked floor to ceiling and owned by the keeper’s oldest friend. She was sitting outside in the sun and jumped up wrapping the keeper in a warm hug. 

"Lass you work too fucking hard. I haven't seen hide nor hair of you in Christ knows how long!" 

She grinned; the first time Ezra had seen it. He should make her grin more.

"Aye I'm starting to agree, how're the bairns at this rate they'll have grown a foot before I can see them again. Oh, shit sorry.” She gestured to him “This is my lodger Ezra, Ezra this is Amelia."

He wonders vaguely if everyone the keeper knows can give looks that pierce the soul. He gives the shopkeeper a nod and her face breaks into a smile. As they headed into the shop, clouds began to gather overhead.

"Come on pet, I've got something new I just know you'll love."

The shop seemed ready to burst at the seams. Ezra paroused but couldn’t stop himself listening into their conversation.

“How have you been, really? I worry about you all alone up there.” Amelia asked her eyes full of concern. Ezra subtly rounded a bookshelf so he wouldn’t seem nosey.

“I… Well I’ve been worse like. Every day is easier and I’m not alone at the moment as you’ve seen.”

“You seem to collect sailors, you.”

The keeper laughed “I just like the company! And I like being alone the rest of the time as you well know.”

“Oh aye the company. Nothing to do with,” Amelia lowered her voice “I divn’t nah… the roguishly good looks? You always loved a bit of trouble, dafty that you are”

“Hey! He just rents the room, we’re… friends I guess.” Ezra wished he could see her to gage how she really felt.

“Sure you pet.”

 ⧫⧫⧫

20 minutes later they left, a copy of Great Expectations wrapped carefully in tissue paper and stowed at the bottom of her bag, surrounded so it would stay dry should it rain. As they stepped out a woman seized the keeper's arm, she was accompanied by the vicar and glaring viciously. The keeper swallowed and introduced Ezra, he saw how uncomfortable she was, how her mood had changed since just minutes before.

"The ever elusive keeper shows herself yet again" the vicar speaks, face impassive, "I thought you might have died since you don't attend church, perhaps you'd met god's reckoning after… being so loose with your commitments." 

Ezra watches her jaw clench "I have told you before, when I work the night, I cannot attend in the morning."

The other women smirked "Work the night is one way of putting it." She eyed Ezra.

The vicar sighed "It is disappointing you disobey god's will. Your father should have married you off while he had the chance. Then your husband would keep you in line. If he could see you now, he'd be so ashamed"

Ezra froze but before he could react, he saw the rage pass over her face, fiery and passionate. She couldn't help it, she saw red, couldn't stop herself. She punched the vicar square on the nose.

The other woman shrieked. "What is wrong with you? You've hurt him!" Indeed, blood did start to drip out of his nose but he straightened himself up and grabbed the keepers arm pulling her close and raising his fist to strike.

"You're nothing but a worthless little whore. It's no wonder your sailor left as soon as you-" he was cut off by Ezra's fist, catching his jaw and sending him sprawling.

"I will not abide you speaking to the lady in this manner." He shook out his hand, and stepped over him, bending to seize his hair and pressing his blade to his neck "And to strike her?" He scowled down at the man who was opening and shutting his mouth like a fish. "What is that mantra you holy men spout? Turn the other cheek." The keeper's jaw dropped, she had known Ezra was rough around the edges but to strike a man of God, to threaten him, for her?

Against the incoming storm, it was as if he'd grown. Become huge and monstrous and brutal in a way she hadn't seen, a glimpse of what lay beneath all his beautiful words and pleasant disposition. It moved something in the keeper, something dangerous. Not many people would far defend her, let alone in such a way. 

Lightning flashed overhead forking down to meet the sea, in the light she could see the hard glint in his eye, the one he'd worn when they'd first met, even as he smiled. This was a man who had done far worse and all she could feel was grateful. It squeezed around her heart.

"I suspected as much. You must have forgotten yourself for a moment." Ezra stood and pulled the vicar to his feet, squeezing his arm harshly still baring that viscous grin as he pulled him close and murmured "I'd truly hate for you to suffer another grievous lapse in judgement, who knows what may become of you."

The keeper looked at the other woman "Judge not lest ye be judged? You had better pray for forgiveness.” She stepped forwards shoulders back as thunder rumbled around them “There's a storm coming and your husband works the water. I'd hate for the lord to compel me to make an error." The woman gasped at her a cold glare. Ezra looked at the keeper as she straightened out her dress. He could have laughed at her nonchalance, it gave him pause, how he saw her quiet power. She would make quite the foe. She gave Ezra a nod and he took her arm as they walked away.

He can feel how tense she was through her arm, despite her calm demeanour panic and anxiety were coming off her in waves. They walked back along the beach in silence as the heavens opened, pouring rain down around them. Ezra frowned to himself, perhaps with all the flitting around he had forgotten how to behave. Had lost some of himself, every old sin chipping away at his humanity was taking its toll. He'd come here for some fucking quiet, why did he always find trouble, or make it? Perhaps those years… he wasn't good. Punching a priest though? The keeper was a menace.

Half way he stopped turning her to look at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were married?" she looked away from him at the waves. White horses were being blown, throwing spray up into the air.

"I never was. He left before we could."

The rain beating down made it hard to look up at him, it dripped into her eyes and ran down her face like tears. The rain and thunder were near deafening as he looked at her face, saw the pain and the other emotion, the one he can't identify.

"What happened?" He nearly has to shout to be heard over the storm and the waves. Reaching for her, taking her hand and feeling the calluses on her fingers.

"What always happens! I fell in love, and I thought he did too. But after, after we. He did what sailors always do." she threw off his hand and stepped back, the sea lapping at her ankles.

"What is it sailors always do? I do not appreciate you painting us all with such broad strokes." Now he's shouting, a bit out of frustration but mostly to be heard as the wind begins to howl, merging sea spray and rain until the only thing he could see was her.

"He sailed away!" She was suddenly very grateful for the rain; he couldn't see the tears that had rolled down her face. He frowned at her a deep furrow in his brow. "And so, he's right! I am a whore and probably everything else too." She looked wild, wind whipping her skirt to and fro. She glared at him, daring him to judge her. "I was relieved! I didn't want to marry him, he wanted to leave and I didn't. I enjoyed what we did!" She pressed her palm to her forehead. No idea how he would react. "He could’ve said goodbye" she whispered it, let the crash of the waves muffle the sound.

To her surprise he tugged her hand away from her face, looking into her eyes, jaw set, rain plastering his hair to his head.

"Let's go home."

Keeping her hand gently clasped in his he led her along the beach to the island.

 ⧫⧫⧫

Both of them were soaked to the bone by the time they had re-entered the cottage. Ezra could feel the keepers hand trembling in his.

"Go change out of that wet garb, I'll light the blaze in the living room and set the water to boil"

She nodded and entered her room as he did his own. He quickly pulled off his wet clothes and tugged on a fresh shirt surprised to hear her call out to him.

"Ezra, can you help me?"

He entered her room slowly, still only in his long shirt, taking it in. The bed was wide enough for two and had as many blankets as his own, there was a small wardrobe and a chest and a stack of books on a bedside table. On top of which he saw the glass he'd given her, not yet added to the chime in the window.

She was in her corset and chemise, back to him, dripping onto the rag-rug on the floor.

"I can't seem to," she was reaching behind herself. "With it wet and my damn swollen knuckles I can't loosen the tie. Please, can you help?"

He swallowed thickly as she looked back at him then away. Gently he reached for her, big hands and nimble fingers beginning to loosen the knot. "I'll take a look at that hand if you would allow me, check you haven't done any tangible damage." She nodded.

As he finished, he couldn't help brushing his fingers across the bare skin of her shoulder. It was soft and warm under his cold fingers. She stiffened slightly and turned to him, looking up at his face. His frown remained but that steely glint was gone, giving way to wide sad eyes. She looked at his hands, big, strong and bruised. She took one in her own, inspecting the cut across his knuckles.

"You needn't hurt yourself in defence of me, I shouldn't have hit him." She gently rubbed her thumb over the swelling to check her hadn't dislocated anything and tried to ignore how he tensed.

"I could not abide his hurting you, not with his words and certainly not with his fist" he turned her hand mirroring her gesture to feel her knuckles, they were swollen but nothing felt out of place. He kept a hold of her hand as he looked back up at her face.

She looked into his eyes, deep and dark enough to fall into. They stared back into hers without hesitation. She held his hand for just a moment longer before letting go. As she did, he turned and left, closing the door gently behind him.

He didn't give her the chance to thank him.

 ⧫⧫⧫

When she had dressed and headed down stairs, Ezra was pouring tea, he looked up. She was still dishevelled and shivering a little.

"Come on, let's get warmed up"

He led her through to the living room and sat her down on the rug in front of the fire handing her a cup of tea. Sitting down across from her he spoke, his legs brushed hers as he stretched out but he didn’t move away.

"What I cannot apprehend is why you don't want to depart this glacial place. You are not treated compassionately and there are locations all over with preferable climates."

She gave a small smile. "Because I like it here, it isn't perfect but I have my friends and my work and my home and where would I go? How well do you think the world would treat a woman like me?"

He shrugged, "People may surprise you. They have me on many occasions. I even astonish myself sometimes"

"Or they'll behave exactly as they always do. People are predictable like that." She sighed and sipped her tea. The warmth of the fire finally took an effect. "It seems we are at an imbalance. You know plenty about me, although not because I wanted you to. How about you tell me where you got that accent?"

He grinned. "I suppose I can reveal a little information. If only for the sake of equality."

So, he told her. Told her about his home, his mother, about when she passed. How he had to work to survive and found that he didn't get seasick. He picked up words and dialect wherever he went, combining them with his own until he wasn't sure what he used to sound like. She had laughed at him upon learning he wasn't a strong swimmer. 

"I can't believe you haven't been thrown overboard and drowned yet! You're unbelievably lucky!" He'd loved the sound.

He missed out a lot of the more unsavoury details of the work he’d done but the whitewashed version was honest enough. How going back to where he grew up still hurt, he had only visited once. Instead, he travelled, worked, and enjoyed himself.

"I don't know. You said I must be lonely here but you, you travel alone. You can't make good friends, you've no home to return to." She watched his face. "It seems you're far more alone than I am"

His brow furrowed "We can agree to disagree on that."

"And I still don't understand why you're here. Why aren't you somewhere warm?"

He shrugged and avoided the question, "If I wasn't, I would not have had the astounding pleasure of meeting you."

She frowned at how he ignored her question, but brushed it off.

The rain was finally beginning to ease as Ezra dozed off. Sitting on the floor slumped against the chair by the fire. He looked peaceful, no shadows playing behind his eyes, so she didn't wake him. Instead as the sun dipped, she laid a blanket over him and went to light the light.

The winds had made for a tense shift. Always keeping a weather eye on the sea for ships that might have got into trouble but eventually the sun rose and she stopped the clockwork and went back to the cottage.

Ezra had already left to get to The Mistress and she was surprised at the slight sting that they hadn't got to say goodbye. Next time she'll wake him.

She was even more surprised by how much she missed his company.

~~~~~~~~

Glossary

Hand over fist: Going forth rapidly in an endeavour, comes from ‘hand over hand’ when climbing the rigging.

Bairns: Kids, affectionate

Divn’t nah: Don’t know, couldn’t not include this

Dafty: fool, idiot, affectionate

~~~~~~~~

Taglist

Ezra

@fandom-blackhole

WTS

@something-tofightfor

Because I crave validation

@danniburgh

[lizisshortforlizard]

Living Dangerously - Chapter 13

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park novel/Jurassic Park film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Warnings: Alcoholism is a theme in this chapter. Also the 1st part is very dark, it’s a flashback to Lizzy’s difficult childhood. Serious injury (no blood), physical and verbal abuse by a parent. Sexism and racism run rampant.

Word count: ~30.4k (13 Chapters) [incomplete]

Tagging: @howlingmadlady @heresthefanfiction @ocfairygodmother hit me up if you want added to the list

Back from an unplanned hiatus with an EXTREMELY LONG chapter! Also the first part is in Scots dialect, I hope it makes sense!

Read on Ao3

Chapter 12 | Chapter 14

Gold Dust Woman - Fleetwood Mac

Govan, Scotland

1973

“Mam’s on the sauce again.” Isla rolled her eyes at Lizzy while she helped plate up sausage rolls and packets of crisps onto mismatched, chipped crockery. They were both standing in the cramped galley kitchen, jostling for space. “We’re doon a bottle of Buckie, or as she calls it ‘whit the feck are ye lookin’ at?’. She snuck it intae her room.”

“Gie it a rest, would ye?” Lizzy snapped at her younger sister. Her heart sank, hurt that her mother couldn’t even keep it together for a few hours. “It doesnae matter. At least she’ll be oot the way when everwan comes o’er.”

“Is yer da coming?”

Lizzy tried not to look bothered and shrugged. “Ah dinnae ken. Ah hope so.”

“Cannae be a bad thing if Mam’s passed oot when he gets here.” Isla poked an errant cube of cheese back onto a plate with a powder-blue polish tipped finger. “Daft idea, ha’en a pairty, ye eejit.”

“It’s no’ a pairty.” Lizzy insisted. She had turned fifteen that very day. She wanted something more grown-up than just going down to the Clydebank to get mashed with her friends like she usually did.

First, a gathering. Food and drink that she’d spent several months paper round wages on, maybe some board games. Then she would go down to the river with her friends once night fell. She’d invited boys from school too. Lizzy had spent all morning cleaning their dingy ground-floor tenement flat in preparation, but she was worried it wasn’t enough. Poor. They were poor. It was obvious. Even in her best clothes that would soon be hand-me-downs for Isla. Maybe her sister was right. Maybe it was a daft idea.

But all that went out of her head when her friends began to arrive. Lizzy kept glancing at the door to the hallway, keeping half an eye her mother didn’t resurface, and hoping that her father would.

Around four the bell rang and Lizzy leapt up to answer it. She was surprised her mother had even agreed to the party- sorry, gathering, but it was the perfect excuse to see her father on her big day. She’d been praying for ages that she would see him again soon.

Please please please. Let it be him.

“Ah thought ye’d fergotten.” She said shyly once she opened the door.

“How could ah ferget ma wee girl’s birthday?” Her father pulled her in for a hug. “Well, yer no’ sae wee anymair.”

“Are ye’ stoppin’?”

He glanced past her. “I, eh-“

“Mam’s no’ aroond.” Lizzy said tightly, half-lying. It’s was unlikely she’d appear any time soon. “Please.”

Her father nodded. “Aye, just a quick wan then.”

They went straight to the kitchen, Lizzy plucking at her blouse nervously. Her best friend Maisie came bustling in with an empty plate, on the hunt for more sausage rolls.

“Everwan’s haein’ a right laugh. And Connor cannae stop gawkin’ at you, Liz-“ Maisie smiled. “Oh, hi Mr Armstrong.”

“Connor, eh?” Her father raised an eyebrow. “Future son-in-law?”

“He’s no even asked me oot yet Da. An’ keep it doon, or he never will.”

“Aye, right enough. Got something for ye. Open it.”

Wrapped in brown paper that smelled suspiciously like fish and chips, was a sterling silver necklace with the initial L on a thin chain.

So like her father. Intention, flawless. Execution, questionable.

“Oh, that’s bonny!” Maisie said, peering over Lizzy’s shoulder, genuinely impressed.

She could never wear it. She’d have to hide it, or it might mysteriously disappear and return in the form of a shopping bag whose contents would clink together.

“Thanks, Da.” Lizzy’s smile faded. “Did ye nick this?”

“As if I’d dae a thing like that! Nah, I saved up, for ma wee Busy-Lizzy. The best thing I ever made. Happy Birthday he-“

There was a thump and crash as Lizzy’s mother appeared in the kitchen doorway, knocking a picture frame to the floor, clutching an empty bottle.

“Whit the fuck’s aw’ this racket?” She slurred, eyes heavily bloodshot, clothes stained.

Maisie was instantly apologetic. “Sorry, Mrs. McTavish. We’ll try an’ keep it doon.”

Lizzy slowly stepped in front of her father to block him from view, but it was too late. Her mother’s expression darkened worse than winter rainclouds over the shipyards.

“Get oot ma hoose, ye bloody rocket.” She scowled, eyes swimming in and out of focus.

“Nae danger.” Her father replied coldly, apologetically rubbing Lizzy’s hand. “Sorry hen, I’ve been given my marching orders.”

“But ye just got here! It’s bin weeks-“ Lizzy faltered, unsure what to do, but her father slipped past her mother with barely a glance, lucky that he wasn’t clobbered over the head with the bottle.

Maisie pushed Lizzy forwards, whispering. “Go oan efter yer da. Me and Isla’ll tidy up and get ye under the brig later.”

Lizzy nodded gratefully and made to leave.

“The fuck ye think yer’ gaun?” Her mother demanded to know. “Ye cannae leave the kitchen in that state.”

“No’ now, mam.”

“Elizabeth. Yer goin’ naewhere. No’ after lettin’ him in the hoose. Dae ye think ahm simple?”

“Definitely no’. Da, wait-“ Lizzy tried to push past her mother to run after him, already out of the door into the street.

Her mother fumbled and somehow managed to grab her hair, making Lizzy yelp in shock. “If ye leave this hoose, yer no’ comin’ back.” She switched her grip to her daughter’s elbow, still somewhat impressively managing to keep hold of the empty bottle.

Maisie looked horrified. “Uh- Isla, can ye’ come oot here, please…” she called out, backing away against the sink.

“Ooyah bugger, mam-“ Lizzy became frantic, raising her voice, starting to struggle as her mother tightened her death grip on her arm.

“Mrs McTavish, it’s awrite, I’ll sort it oot- just let her-“ Lizzy’s friend tried to defuse the rapidly escalating situation but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Mam, mam, honestly, stop! Mam, you’re twisting my-“ Lizzy hissed loudly, now very afraid.

“Fer Christ’s sake, mam! Stop it, yer hurting her!” Isla came barrelling into the hallway, trying to dodge the bottle their mother violently swung at her as the rest of the house fell into dead silence.

Lizzy made a final attempt to wriggle free but her mother jerked her backwards with seemingly superhuman strength at the exact same moment. There was a gut-wrenching crack as Lizzy’s left shoulder popped out of its socket.

She looked down dumbfounded at the arm that she could no longer seem to control, dangling limp. Then came the pain.

The tiny flat erupted as her friends rallied to help her, more voices shouting, bawling at her incensed mother, begging her to let go. Her younger brothers wailed amongst the commotion, not understanding what was happening.

But the one person Lizzy really wanted to come back and make her mother stop, he didn’t even turn back to look as her screams of agony echoed around the dirty red brick buildings and the all-too-familiar blue flashing lights appeared around the street corner.

By the time the police van pulled up outside, her father was long gone.

***

Sure, I like to live dangerously.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Lizzy replied, sliding her legs out of the Jeep door, ready to hop down. “Here I was, thinking these dinosaurs were easy.”

The faint prickling on her skin was so familiar, the static before lightning strikes. The fear of something lying in wait in the long grass. The narrow choice of staying put or running, knowing that if you chose wrong, you might very well not see the next dawn.

Such had been life in Namibia. God, she really did miss it.

It was hard to get used to the danger being contained behind fences instead constantly watching your back, living and working alongside it. Lizzy had an inkling the other handlers didn’t feel the same way.

But now, down the slope she could see the gate to the tyrannosaur paddock was wide open. Though the enclosure was currently vacant, the sight gave her chills. She felt drawn towards it, her mind wandering off into the gloom beneath the canopy of jungle trees.

She found herself debating: Now, with a tyrannosaur, should I run or stay still?

Lost in thought, she started when Muldoon spoke sharply to her. “Forgetting something?”

She looked around, eyebrow quirked. “Am I?”

“We didn’t get the tranquillisers ready just to take them for a drive.” He tapped the metal doorframe of the Jeep to drive his point home. “Sharper. From now on. Remember.”

“And I need an office. Remember.” Lizzy wagged a finger.

“Hmmm. We’ll see.”

“So, this is for me? People will talk.” Lizzy said dryly as she shouldered one of the tranquilliser guns.

“That one’s for Harding. Take it and a few canisters down the hill to his Jeep, then go and wait with the other handlers.”

“What are we supposed to do?”

“Watch and learn for now. Safety on, yes?”

“Yes. Got it.” Lizzy checked and slammed the Jeep door, starting to walk down the hill, picking her way over tree roots.

“And Armstrong?”

“Yeah?” She turned back, chewing her lip again.

“Don’t tell Baker about this behavioural business. Or anyone. Not yet.”

But I tell Kathy everything. Even if her friend might be put out at Lizzy’s chance to get ahead.

I’ll tell her as soon as I can, it’s only been two weeks. She’ll understand. Maybe I’ll need a research assistant…

“Office.” She said again to cover for her lack of agreement, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She would figure out how to avoid blabbing to Kathy later. “Or at least a desk in yours.”

“Christ, people really will talk then. Card table, out in the hall.”

“Alright, alright, we can share a desk. All you had to do was say so.”

“Even worse. Bamileke table in the cleaning cupboard.”

“Colonel Mustard in the ballroom with the candlestick.”

“Damn woman.” He grumbled with finality.

“There it is.” Lizzy was trying not to laugh. As far as she was concerned, she’d won. “Look, just make sure I have a constant supply of coffee and I’ll sit wherever you like. Deal?”

“Sounds like fun.” The Southern drawl came from over Lizzy’s shoulder. “How do I get in on that?”

She shuddered and turned around. Tom had an infuriating smirk on his face, just daring her to say something provocative in return. She gave him a saccharine smile. “Ah, so nice to see you. Whose arse have you just crawled out of?”

“Never mind me. Where’ve you been?” Tom glanced at Muldoon then back to Lizzy, looking her up and down. He leaned in close, squinting at her face and then tapped the side of his mouth. “You’ve got something, there…”

Lizzy didn’t take the bait, just shot him a look of pure venom and kept a tight grip on the tranquiliser gun.

Tom nodded downwards at her occupied hands. “Know how to handle one of those?”

“Better than you do, I’ll bet.”

“Just to be clear Liz, I’m talking about the gun.”

“So was I.” She ground out each word deliberately.

“C’mon, give it to me. It’s way too heavy for you. You’re so short.”

Lizzy shook her head firmly, scowling at him. “Back off. This is for Gerry.”

The tranquilliser was still empty but she was taking no chances. Anyone with any sense knew to always treat a gun like it’s loaded. Then again, Tom was from Texas.

“Kennedy, pack it in. You can patronise her after the tyrannosaur’s in the paddock, not before.” Muldoon cut them both off, not a moment too soon.

Tom looked very put out, but just shrugged and turned his back. Desperate to have the final word, Lizzy muttered under her breath, not caring if he heard. “Your family tree is a goddamn wreath.”

Muldoon gave her a look that quite plainly said enough and she was forced to hold her tongue. Lizzy took herself off down the hill, marching towards Harding’s Jeep before she did something she regretted.

“Merry Christmas.” She presented the gun to the veterinarian.

“And a Happy New Year. Not every day a pretty girl brings me a weapon with a smile on her face.”

Lizzy had discovered that Gerry was totally harmless, but a recent divorcee and an outrageous flirt.

“Better not get any ideas about making me Sarah’s mother-in-law.” Lizzy stopped to chortle. “But that would really piss her off, so how ‘bout it? I’m sure Simon will understand.”

“Maybe once I’ve finished paying off the second Mrs Harding.”

“I’d like a spring wedding.”

“Sure, sure. You stick around, I might need some help in a while.”

Kathy and Isaac came strolling over to join Lizzy. “She made it!” Kathy slyly observed. “I was this close to calling Ray to go wake you up.”

“A lot happened this afternoon, actually.” Lizzy defended.

“Oh yeah, like what?”

Lizzy fumbled in her shorts pocket and held out Kathy’s new nametag while pointing at her own.

“Shit! Now way! How did you get these?” Kathy had ripped the old one off quick as a flash.

“Told you, a lot happened.” Nearly outed herself, but thought better of it.

Kathy took her arm and turned her to one side for as much privacy as they could manage. “Did you get in trouble? I was late this morning!”

“I definitely got a talking-to.” Lizzy glanced back at Muldoon. “And my head hurts something chronic. I think I’ve had too much coffee.”

Don’t say anything. Not yet.

Shit, I hope she doesn’t find out before then.

Kathy groaned. “At least it was your day off! I really hope I haven’t blown my chances at that promotion.”

“You’ll be fine. It happens. Nobody died.” Lizzy reassured her.

“You wouldn’t think so, the way Mike keeps staring at me, like I’m-“ Kathy spoke low. “-trash.”

A distant rumbling reached them in the forest clearing. Everyone simultaneously ceased talking and cocked their heads. A very large, heavy vehicle, moving slowly closer. Headlights through the trees, the crunch of rocks on the gravel road above.

Eventually, a trailer carrying the prone body of a rather enormous creature lying on its side reversed carefully down the hill.

Every single one of the handlers gasped in awe as the ambiguous outline of the dinosaur came into focus.

“Christ, she’s big. She’s huge. Those teeth.” Lizzy breathed. Much bigger than she was expecting. Had to be approaching fully-grown. “Oh Lord, that smell.”

Having arrived trussed up like a joint of meat from the butcher, once the trailer was backed inside the paddock gate and halted, a veritable army of workmen swarmed the tyrannosaur. The network of straps and iron bars were untangled and the animal was lowered to the ground by crane on a sling large enough to entirely cover Hammond’s bungalow like a Big Top.

Harding moved in to do his necessary health checks, the rest of the staff crowding around the gate to get a better look at the dinosaur, but nobody daring to get closer.

All except for one.

Her hands twitching, desperate to know what dinosaur skin felt like, Lizzy turned to Muldoon. Now or never. “Can I touch her?”

“Any reason in particular?”

Lizzy nodded earnestly. “I’ve just got to. When will I get the chance again?”

Muldoon had a feeling she’d sneak her way over there anyway. At least she’d asked first.

“Don’t see why not. Just don’t go getting attached to the damn thing.”

“As if.” Lizzy scoffed.

“Can I go too?” Kathy asked shyly.

“No.”

“Aweso- hey, what the Hell?”

“I’m pulling your leg, Baker. Go ahead.”

Lizzy smiled to herself as she walked ahead. The conversation continued behind her.

“How about you Harris, are you feeling brave today?”

“I’m fine, thanks. Kathy’s the carnivore girl around here anyway-“

Good lad, Isaac.

Lizzy wrinkled her nose as they got closer. “Phew, she really does reek.”

Kathy shrugged. “She might take first prize for the worst thing I’ve ever smelled. And I’ve been ankle deep in jaguar shit. Luckily I always keep Vaporub on me for such occasions.” The younger woman patted the cargo pocket on her shorts.

Lizzy’s hand was outstretched before she was even aware of it, and came to rest on the warm, dry scales of the tyrannosaur’s shoulder. Not cold like she imagined, given the time of day. Different somehow from the snakes and crocodiles she’d held. Interesting.

Harding appeared from the far side of the animal, stethoscope around his neck, halfway through his medical assessment.

“Sorry, let us know if we’re in the way.” Lizzy apologised.

“You’re both just fine there. In fact-“ He held a small torch out to her. “Check her pupillary response for me, would you? I’ll be waking her up from nap time shortly.”

It took everything Lizzy had not to turn and bolt. She managed to play it cool. “Oh sure, send me down to the end with the teeth. Is my street cred with your daughter at stake by any chance?”

“Very much so.” Harding winked at her. “And it’ll look really good if either of you would be, ah…looking for a promotion, perhaps?”

The two women hesitated, looking at each other expectantly. You go first. No, you go first, I insist.

Muldoon said getting closer was fine, he didn’t say anything about messing around with an eyeball.

Harding smiled reassuringly. “She’s snoring, very deep under. It’s perfectly safe. And believe me when I say you’re being watched, should anything happen.”

Sure enough, the tyrannosaur was inhaling loudly and exhaling with big puffs and snorts. Positively thunderous in comparison to anything, human or otherwise, they’d ever heard before.

“Alrighty then.” Lizzy made up her mind, nodded and grabbed the torch from him. “Give me a hand, K.”

Kathy, who had been staring at the veterinarian with her mouth hanging open, hurried to join her at the business end of the tyrannosaur. “My God. My God. This is so cool.”

“Does it ever get old? Being this close?” Lizzy’s work in the bush had been to simply observe, not to interfere. She tended to do everything she could to avoid close encounters. A rhino or leopard would let you know very quickly that they weren’t at all happy to see you.

“No.” Kathy, who had been up close and personal with big cats for most of her career, shook her head. She had monitored the breathing of powerful, deadly animals while they underwent procedures on the operating table, marvelling at their massive paws which engulfed her small hands, claws as long as her own fingers that could knock her flat in one swipe. “It never gets old.”

Meanwhile, back at the paddock gate, there was a heated debate about who would be munched first. Tom had just placed a rather hefty bet against Lizzy.

“Quiet.” Muldoon cut him off. It looked like Harding had just given the women instructions, what the Hell was he playing at?

He watched Armstrong march without hesitation up to the tyrannosaur’s eye and use both hands to pry the heavy lid open, torch held between her teeth.

Baker was right behind her, totally focused on the dinosaur despite the activity around the gate. She had a firm grip on Armstrong’s belt ready to pull her back out of harm’s way should anything go wrong.

“All good, Liz?”

“She’s fine, Gerry!” Armstrong yelled back from around the torch.

Brilliant.

Really need the pair of them on Carnivores. Look at that.

He already knew that for all of their hard work, unfortunately neither of them would be a Team Leader. They never had a chance. According to Richardson, Baker lacked authority while Armstrong was a loose cannon.

Which was probably code for ‘I don’t know how to handle either of them’.

Muldoon kept his hand hovering over the safety of the tranquilliser gun, ignoring Kennedy and his remarks, just in case.

He still had no doubt that Blacklaw wouldn’t hesitate to hunt him down with a machete if anything happened to Armstrong on his watch.

She’s alright. They, they’re alright. They’re fine, they know what they’re doing. Can hear the damn thing snoring from back here. I’ve got them covered.

Richardson whistled and muttered under his breath. “Never thought I’d admit I was envious of a torch. Using both hands at the same time too, maybe she has got some talent after all.”

Tom sniggered.

“Probably not wise to say that when I’m armed.” Muldoon didn’t quite manage to keep the disapproving edge out of his voice.

“Goodness me, bit extreme. You wouldn’t happen to be feeling territorial over that one, would you?”

“No more than usual.”

Richardson looked sceptical. “Bit young for you, and she wants to be on Herbivores. Not to mention the fiancé situation. Shame.”

“Nothing to do with that.”

“Of course, of course. You’re obligated, although that’s not fooling me. Who let them get so close to the damn animal anyway?”

“I did.”

“Then it’s on you if Elizabeth gets injured. Serve her right, that girl could do with being brought down a peg or three. The black one too. Mistake bringing the pair of them out tonight, they didn’t need to be here.”

The black one. Jesus Christ. It was worse than he thought.

They were standing off to the side. Nobody was looking. Richardson was just asking for a broken nose, talking about Baker like that.

She really reminded him of his daughter, back in Kenya. Same contagious smile with perfect teeth, same mannerisms. If his daughter grew up to be half as put-together and pleasant as Baker was, he’d be happy.

But equally he knew what he’d do if anyone spoke about her that way. They’d be in better shape if they got pummelled into the earth by a buffalo.

“If the men are here, they should be here too. And the women have been far more useful.” He looked pointedly at Kennedy, standing with his hands in his pockets, scuffing his boots back and forward through the dirt.

“If you mean useful as in nice to look at? Though between you and me, I’d like to stick something other than a torch in Elizabeth’s mouth.” Richardson guffawed loudly. “That should shut her up.”

Christ, he definitely didn’t want to think about that at a time like this. Muldoon knew what he was doing, of course, trying to rattle him.

And damn him, it was working.

He tightened his hands on the stock of the tranquilliser to keep them from shaking. God, he needed a drink…

Richardson was still going. “And Elizabeth helped you bring the tranqs down here? On her day off?”

“She wasn’t doing anything else.”

He shook his head. “Careful. You don’t want to be accused of having favourites.”

Meanwhile Kennedy’s practically the son you never had. Muldoon liked Armstrong, but he couldn’t pretend they were already closer than was professional. She was too comfortable. Maybe keep more distance between them in future.

Lizzy had just finished carefully replacing the dinosaur’s eyelid. The tyrannosaur snorted sharply, a blast of pungent steam from her nostrils, causing both women to jump, then laugh and point at the other’s reaction.

“Christ, almost got me!” Lizzy put a hand over her heart. “You know CPR, right?”

“Holy cow.” Kathy choked. “Good thing she didn’t do that when you were elbow deep in her eyeball.”

“There would have been a me-shaped cloud of dust beside you. Gone.”

“Batter-batter-swing, batter. Home run from Armstrong.” Kathy elbowed her gently in the ribs, eyes growing wide as Harding happily brandished a needle with a gauge so large that even an elephant might object to it. “Er, let’s get clear. I don’t like the thought of being stuck by that thing.”

***

All that remained was to wait on the all-clear from the control room that the tyrannosaur was up and about before they retired for the night. Harding was the only person left inside the paddock. Mist was falling heavy, as the clouds rolled in from the sea.

Lizzy wasn’t watching the gate anymore. She was watching Muldoon, a tad uneasily.

He seemed distinctly unhappy, was it something she had done?

Hell, it was normal to be on edge while Gerry was still in there by himself with the dinosaur, but the normally impassive Muldoon was beyond that.

Is he alright? Doesn’t look alright.

Lizzy was standing too far away to sidle over and ask. She clicked her tongue to get his attention.

“You okay?” She mouthed, concern written all over her face.

Tell you later. He didn’t say it but she just knew what he was telling her. Lizzy ran her fingers through her hair and briefly did a thumbs up while her hand was behind her head.

“What the hell is that?” Kathy noticed.

“What was what?”

“That weird silent communication thing you just did with Muldoon. You had a whole conversation without even speaking!” Kathy laughed, only half-joking. “What happened today, girl?”

Don’t tell Baker.

“Like I said, a lot.” Lizzy chose to keep her secret, for now.

Richardson clapped his hands, really a very annoying habit he did whenever he made an announcement. “Right everyone! Let’s get this show on the road!”

Lizzy and Muldoon exchanged another look from opposite ends of the clearing. Each could tell the other was thinking exactly the same thing.

The recumbent tyrannosaur was now starting to grumble and stir, flexing her limbs as Harding slipped outside the paddock gate just before it shut with an electric hiss.

The show.

The whole damn park was one big show.

***

Thanks for reading! I found it upsetting writing the first part, but it’s important to know that Lizzy came from literally nothing, in one of the most poverty-stricken areas of Glasgow in the 1970s.

If any of the Scots dialect didn’t make sense hit me up, I’m Scottish and lived in Glasgow for a while so this is hoo ah tawk.

I also mean no offence to Texans. Lizzy has one or two prejudices of her own, and the first Texan she met didn’t exactly endear himself to her.

[caermis]

❝ The Wish to Return...❞ Pt. 2

(A) Todoroki Shouto X (A)Bakugou Katsuki X Black!Reader X (A)Midoriya Izuku 

✑Characters ⟹(Apex Alpha) Todoroki Shouto ⟹(Alpha)Bakugou Katsuki ⟹(Alpha)Midoriya Izuku

✑Warnings: ⟹Yandere ⟹NSFW ⟹Non-con ⟹Mental/Physiological abuse ⟹Sexism ⟹Gender Norms

✑Prompt/Summary: Three males are dropped off into the middle of nowhere, having no clue what's going on or how long they'll be away. Yet the sweet smell of a woman makes them want to stay.

✑Notes: ⟹No Quirk AU ⟹Y/C/S = Your certain scent ⟹Listen, don't @ me. I’m trying something new with the Omegaverse bear with me pls ⟹Aged up ⟹Some warnings don't apply to this part, but for future parts. The NSFW still applies to this part.

«Pt.1»   «Pt.2»

Part 2: Disapperance 

Gone. 

Like you weren't even there to begin with. 

But the sweet smell of Y/C/S still lingered in the air.

It was upsetting. 

Whoever you are was just begging to be claimed, releasing such a sweet smell in the night alone with no Alpha or scent upon you. It could make one drool at how defenseless you were. The two men stare at where you once stood, inhaling all that they could before your scent was gone forever. They wanted you… no, needed you.

Upon walking back inside, Todoroki immediately headed to his room. Izuku in deep thought as he walked back to his room, only for soft speaking of the Beta and Omega in the kitchen, cleaning up from tonight's dinner. “It smells like Y/C/S or like fresh something. It’s always so potent.” Uraraka giggled happily as she looked up at her friend, his hands deep in dishwater.

“Maybe they're in the town. We can travel down and see.”

“I've already been, but they weren't there. Maybe they're from Haibazia!”

“We can't travel there, especially, with the overrun of Alphas.”

“So then the Festival! Everyone goes.” The two girls chatted to each other excitedly, Izuku pushing away from the back wall and walking to his bedroom. Eavesdropping on people wasn't something he'd like to do, but something he did often.

Haibazia, a much larger and more profitable town, but overrun with Alphas. Muttering all the possibilities, he stopped outside his room. ‘Taking two Alphas there won't do us any good.’ Mentally cursing his friends for their bad attitudes, made traveling much harder. 

That night he couldn't sleep. 

The soft voice whispering into his ear. Random hands running up his body. Like another body was pressed up against and the smell of Y/C/S filling his nose.

Bakugou was the second awake, finding Todoroki sitting at the dinner table rubbing a liquid against his neck. It wasn't odd to see Todoroki awake this early. He ran on his own internal clock, which resulted in him getting up before the sun rose.  “I suggest you wear this too.” Bakugou snatched the bottle and read over it. 

‘Scent Cancellationn.’

He glared and crossed his arms. “I don't need it.” Todoroki glanced at Bakugou, sending a shiver down his spine. Removing his hand over his scent gland, Bakugou slightly flinched at the movement. “I wasn't asking Katsuki. You can’t control yourself, and the last thing I need is for you to ruin my agenda.” 

“Sorry.” Muttering an apology, he applied the scent cancellation, avoiding Todoroki’s stare. He hated himself for easily bending over to Todoroki’s will. If it came down to a physical fight, Bakugou was sure he could win… right? That’s what he was taught to believe. He was above the rest throughout all his school years and a few of his adult life until he met Todoroki Shouto for a modeling gig.

‘Japan’s Hottest Alpha.’ 

A rank 1 through 10. Bakugou had been sure he would easily gain number one place until Todoroki came along and took his spot. Bakugou was enraged and Todoroki wasn't one who flaunted his status as Apex Alpha, well not anymore. He held that above Bakugou’s head, like a sweet treat that Bakugou couldn't earn no matter how good he was in his career. 

One could say that Bakugou was the reason Todoroki flaunted his power.

“Such a tense atmosphere.”

Kirishima tried to lighten the mood as he sat down at the table. “I see Midoriya isn’t awake.” He chuckled, earning a glare from Bakugou. “He has a difficult time waking up.” Midoriya being the type of person he is rather stays up the entire night and sleeps the entire day, until exactly 8:30 AM. No matter how long he stayed up the previous night, let him go to sleep at 8:00 AM, expecting him to be up and active at 8:30 AM.

“Todoroki, so you're an Apex Alpha?”

Rare. Most Alpha’s can go through their entire life without meeting an Apex Alpha. Nodded, he leaned back in his chair, straightening his spine. “My father was also one.” Kirishima’s eyes widen, asking Alpha a bunch of questions. How was your life growing up? Do you have a mate? Todoroki answered each one calmly, the fresh smell of the rain on wood getting stronger. 

“Slow down would you. I'm sure an attractive guy like Todoroki has some pretty little Omega at home.” Denki walked in sitting behind his friend. He was an unclaimed Omega and not on the timid or shy side, due to being around Alphas all the time.

“I don’t. I don’t have any interest in finding one.” Bakugou sneered at his comment, knowing damn well that any Omega Todoroki found interest in, he would scare them away, looking damn well unapproachable. “What about you, Bakubro? Any special Omega at home?”

“Tch. I don't want one.” That was a lie. Due to how Bakugou acted, he attracted Omegas that were overly confident and overly rude. Not to say he didn't want a confident mate, but he didn't need one insulting him constantly as their form of flirting. One asshole in the relationship was enough, and that asshole was going to be him.

“What about Midoriya?”

“He’s far too involved in his work.” Todoroki and Bakugou spoke at the same time. Midoriya easily attracted partners, Omegas to Alphas. He had a soft personality and spoke fondly about the things he liked and grew more confident after their first years at UA. Which drew girls, boys, and in between towards him. Like moths to a flame.

“That’s not true. I have an Omega in mind.” 

Izuku appeared with a soft grin. His eyes flickering over to Todoroki, before taking a seat beside Bakugou and Denki. A possessive growl leaves Todoroki’s mouth, leaving Izuku slightly unfazed.  Another thing pissed off Bakugou.

Deku.

He was an Alpha, a regular Alpha, but could fake it. Appearing as Apex Alpha, when his scent wasn't involved. His acting was so convincing, it even at moments tricked Todoroki. “You can't act all possessive if you haven't even met Omega.”

“Did you both catch a whiff of Y/C/S? We smell them a lot during the week.”

“You know about Y/C/S.” Kirishima nodded. “No one knows their name, well... I think Momo might know.”  Denki nodded and crossed his arms. “They come around here a lot, before disappearing. During the night, the entire driveway has the strongest smell of Y/C/S, but it’s gone in a matter of seconds, but I’ve actually seen her.” 

Denki spoke smugly, earning a playful shove by Kirishima. “What do they look like?” Izuku asked next. “They look like no one from around here. H/C hair that was extremely curly and in an Afro I can't remember her face exactly, ‘cause we only spoke for a small amount of time, but they had warm brown skin. Their voice was soft, with a light accent when pronouncing a few words.”

“Most of the town knows about their existence. I guess only two people had an actual conversation with them. Speak of the devil.” An earthy smell flowed from outside, followed by a soft knock on the front door. “I got it!” Uraraka opened the front door with a smile. 

“Momo!” Greeting the Alpha and allowing her inside. “Any treats for us.” Momo held up a large bag, following Uraraka into the kitchen. “Hopefully we can squeeze information outta Momo today.” Denki snickered, earning a slap on his arm.

Watching the black-haired woman descend the driveway, back to a wagon. Shouto watched in pure silence. Mentally cursing himself for getting distracted. His goal was to find a way home, so why was the appearance of this Omega distracting, There were two things that were going to happen if Todoroki found this Omega, either make them his and his alone or

rip your throat out for wasting his time.

“You sitting there pretending to be the good guy is pissing me off.” Kirishima and Denki both leaving to clean up the garden, leaving Izuku and Bakugou alone. “I'm not doing anything Kacchan.” Izuku leaned back and took another sip of his coffee, staring at Bakugou.

“You plan to fight Todoroki for that Omega. You'll lose.”

“As a person who acts so above everyone, you sure do scare easily.” Over the years, Midoriya graduating as Valedictorian, and going to a prestigious school earning his Masters in Psychology, and becoming one of the world's top researchers. He had become cocky and easily stood up to Kacchan, always seeming to be the peacekeeper. 

“I’m not dumb. I know what I can and can’t beat. Todoroki is one of those things I can't beat. You'll lose.”

“I don't plan to fight.” He was smart, far too smart for his own good.

“Y/N.” A soft voice called out, drawing me in from my imagination. Looking over my shoulder, I straightened my back. “Yes, Sir.” Hearing the soft jingle of chains as I stood, walking towards the man. 

“Seems your midnight walks have drawn attention to the townsfolk. What do you have to say?” His hand tilted my chin, his thumb running over my lips. “Forgive me. I was selfish.” He chuckled and placed a light kiss on my cheek, whispering against my skin.

“Learn to control yourself, or no one will want you.”

«Pt.1»  «Pt.2»

[tae-cup]

Down With The Ship | One

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female!Reader

Summary: Captain Jeon Jungkook; a beautiful mess of blood and gold. His greatest treasure, may also be his greatest downfall.

Genre: Pirate!au

Warnings: Mild mild mild sexism, talks of arranged marriage, people being asses and some people being nice

Rating: T for Teens

A/N: I’m so impatient asdfkhslkfh Cross posted to AO3

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

 Word Count: 8.2k Words

Network Tag: @castlebangtan

Other: Masterlist

Previous (teaser) | Next 

          The ship had been sitting in the harbor for exactly two days, three hours, 30 minutes, and 41 seconds. You timed it, tapping your foot against the tiles of the hallway. The moon was still in the sky and wouldn’t be rising for another three hours. You had three hours to convince the crew of that ship to take you in. Why? Well, you didn’t want to get married, that’s why. 

         The gold band around your ring finger was more of a shackle than any chain or handcuff. You snuck out of the backdoor. It was...easier than you thought it. You wore a pair of baggy pants that you stole from your brother and a nightshirt with the end result being a tragic mess. 

          On your way, you ran into a young guard. His face looked new, so he was likely in training. He looked startled to see you there and you could almost feel the nerves rolling off of him. You smiled and he looked hesitantly from you to the backdoor. 

“Hey aren’t you-?” He started, but you swiftly kneed him where the sun didn't shine and sprinted. He groaned in pain, falling down with a loud thud and probably waking up half the household. You didn’t have much time. 

          The wind ran through your hair as you hurried down the darkened streets. You tried your best to take the back routes, the smell of the sea drawing you nearer. You had always felt a connection to the sea, you couldn’t stay away from it. The crystal waters, the froth of a storm, the salt that tinged the air. You fell in love with it and fell out of love with your home. Ever since...You shook your head, trying to forget the past. 

         Your skin longed for the cool water to lap over it, to caress your body, and take you away from the awful life you had. Well, it wasn’t that awful, but it was certainly no way to live. Yes, you had luxurious items, but that wasn’t what you wished for. Adventure called to you as you neared the docks. The distant shouts of men and the sound of metal clanking against metal invaded your senses. In your hand was a small bag of necessities; a change of clothes, undergarments, a pen, and a notebook of papers. You made your way to the ship you had been watching for the past three days. 

         The ship was tall and proud, the mast reaching high into the sky. The sails were drawn in, the anchor weighing down the wood. The ship looked weathered but sturdy. There was a dim candle flame flickering in the round window of the ship. You took a deep breath and stood outside the hull. The walkway was drawn up so you weren’t left with many options. You checked your watch. You had two hours to sunrise. Two hours until everyone would begin looking for you, maybe less. You looked around the dock, searching for and gathering stones. You took a deep breath, returning to your spot. 

         Five chances. You held the other four rocks in your arm and then with your dominant hand, you gripped one of the stones. You winded up and threw. Clank. It hit the hull. No movement. You sighed and moved to aim for the window. Clank. It missed by a few feet. Three more chances. Your hands clenched and unclenched nervously. You had never been...the most athletic. Clank. Closer. Clank. Right on the money. 

        You held your breath, waiting as the candlelight suddenly disappeared from the window and the small circle popped open. The candle stuck out, now attached to an arm. The dawn was fast arriving, the sky lighting up into a gray sky, the clouds still overcast. 

“Who goes there?” A deep voice barked out. 

“I was wondering if you had any, uh, any openings on your ship for one more?” You called out, your voice traveling easily in the quiet. Upon hearing your voice, the hand withdrew, and instead, a face popped out of the hole. 

“Little girl, do you know who we are?” The man had very defining features, his nose prominent and his lips wide. 

“No, but I really just want to get out of here, you have to let me on.” You could almost hear your mother calling for you. 

“There’s a merchant ship coming in the morning, you can hop on their ship.” You saw him look you over. 

“Achem, sir, you don’t understand I...I need to go now.” 

“You being chased or something?” The man narrowed his eyes. 

“Something like that.” You smiled weakly. 

        Surprisingly, he laughed loudly and disappeared from the window. A few moments later he appeared on deck, a coat hastily thrown on as he lowered the stairs for you. 

“Climb aboard.” He held out his hand and you hurried forward heart pounding. “I’m Taehyung, the gunner on this here crew.” He explained as he redrew the walkway. “Let’s just say this isn’t the first time we’ve helped a runaway.” 

“Thank you.” You said breathlessly. 

“Though, we’ve never helped one quite as pretty as you, maybe Jin?” He seemed to go off into his own tangent. 

“I think you’re very...pretty, sir?” You said awkwardly. 

“I’m glad you think so.” He laughed and slung his arm around your shoulder. “I think you’ll fit in just fine-”

“Kim Taehyung, who the hell is this.” A new voice barked. A tall man appeared from the shadows. 

“Ah, Jungkook, this is…” Taehyung turned to you expectantly. 

“Y/N.” You finished for him, summoning a smile despite wanting to turn around and run. 

        The man, Jungkook, was intimidating, his aura commanding attention. He had inky black hair and even darker eyes. The man looked like he had just gotten out of bed and yet he still looked handsome. 

“Y/N, this is Jungkook, our fearless captain.” Taehyung stood up straighter. 

“Nice to meet you.” You bowed your head. 

“Why are you here?” Jungkook wasted no time. 

“I’m running away.” You were apprehensive to tell him much else. What if he just delivered you back home after hearing your story? Would he think you were a stuck up brat? 

“From who?”

“My mother,” You started, he scoffed. “And an arranged marriage.” You continued quietly, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. The ring on your left finger felt heavier than ever as he scrutinized you. 

“Fine. You can stay, but you need to pull your weight.” He turned on his heel. “Follow me.” 

Taehyung rushed forward, shoving you along as well. 

“Exciting! He’s never this quick in his judgment, though he’s always had a soft spot for young ladies such as yourself.” He whispered. 

“Y/N?!” Your mother’s distinct voice called. “Is that you?!” 

“Shit.” You muttered. Of course, that guard went and tattled on you! What happened to the scout’s honor?  Taehyung turned, along with Jungkook. 

“I suppose that’s your people?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow and walked purposefully past you. He was at the side of the ship in four strides. “Who goes there?”

“Lady Y/LN. I request my daughter to be returned immediately!” Your mother’s shrill voice shot through the harbor. You winced at her tone, eyes meeting Jungkook’s. You begged him not to tell her, but he didn’t seem to register you at all. 

“I’m sorry, we have no woman on this ship, Lady Y/L/N.” Jungkook responded curtly and walked away from the side, ignoring your mother’s protests. You watched him, confusion and shock written on your face. Did he just...defend you? No one had ever done that before, taken your side. It had always been you versus the world. 

“Get ready to set sail. It seems we can’t stay here much longer and Ms. Y/N, I need to speak with you immediately.” Jungkook clasped his hands behind his back, walking forward. 

          You hurried after him, falling into step just a pace or two behind. You weren’t well versed in crew behaviors, but if he was the captain, he was much like a nobleman. And you always had to fall a step behind a nobleman, regardless if you were a man or woman, but especially if you were a woman. 

           There were shouts as Taehyung wrestled his crewmates out of bed. As you sat in, what you assumed to be, Jungkook’s office, you could hear the footsteps of several other people. They all scurried to the demands of a new muffled voice. 

          Jungkook took a seat, propping his legs up on the desk and crossing them. You realized he was, in fact, no nobleman at all. He watched you carefully as you sat across from him. 

“So, you’re going to tell me all about yourself, little miss, and then I’m going to give you two options, got it?” He rested one arm on the back of his chair, the other hanging over the armrest. 

“Right.” You cleared your throat, still trying to take in all that had happened. His eyes appraised you, flickering from your eyes to your lips to your neckline. 

“Well, I’m Y/N, as you know. I ran away because I’m being forced to marry someone I don’t love, simple.” You explained dryly. You flashed your engagement ring and then slid it off, pocketing it. “Haneul isn’t a bad guy, but we don’t mix at all and I don’t think I’d survive a day married to him.” 

“Alright.” That seemed to be a good enough excuse. The captain pursed his lips in thought. “I’ll give you two options. Option one; you join my crew full time. Option two: we drop you off at the next town and you’ll be on your own.” 

“Both sound...not so bad.” You thought for a moment. He seemed amused. You wanted adventure, you didn’t want to be dumped off on your own again. “I’ll join your crew.”

“Do you know who we are?” 

“No, I just saw your ship, and, well, I’ve always loved the sea.” Your eyes went distant as you thought about it. 

       Jungkook smirked, letting out a chuckle of laughter. He took his feet off the desk and leaned on the desk, chin resting on his interlaced fingers. 

“Welcome to the crew of the Bulletproof Boy Scouts.” 

Shit.

           Okay, so jumping aboard the most feared pirate crew of the decade was not the best decision you had ever made. It was right up there with agreeing to an engagement you knew you would never follow through with and stealing your mother’s jewelry. 

“You can’t fish, you can’t wield a sword, and you can’t even cook. So what can you do, little lady.” Jungkook frowned, drumming his fingers impatiently on the desk. 

         The slight swaying of the ship was making you nauseous and it didn’t help that you were below decks and not up above. It felt extremely stuffy, borderline claustrophobic. 

“I can draw. I’ll help you navigate and write out maps.” You cleared your throat, trying to settle your stomach. 

“Hm…” His eyes were cold, calculating, as he seemed to think it over. “I suppose so, but you’ll need to help Jimin with his chores as well.” 

            Jungkook stood and motioned for you to follow him. He opened the wooden door and led you down a series of halls. They were short and thin. Your shoulders almost brushed the sides if you walked straight. You didn’t feel...scared of Jungkook. He was definitely intimidating, but you didn’t fear for your life. You had heard the tales of his crew being merciless and cutthroat, not sparing a single person on a ship if they happened to raid it. 

“There are some things we need to go over.” He stopped and turned to you. 

      You stopped short, trying not to bump into him, but a wave of dizziness washed over you. You were definitely feeling a bit seasick, but you had enough pride not to tell him. 

“Which are?” You stared at him, your expression confused. 

“In order to become a full-fledged crew member, you need to go through our trials.” He explained. 

        You waited for him to continue, your attention still on him. You were very good at following orders, you had been doing so your entire life. Reading social cues and understanding another’s position were all things you had been taught at a young age. It was mostly to prepare you for a valuable suitor, but you never had any intention of following through on that part. 

“The trials are three things that you should be able to get through easily.” The dark-haired male turned back around, beckoning you to follow him. You fell into step once more. He stopped outside of a door. 

“In here are your quarters. Now, before you go in, I’ll tell you about the trials. First, you need to spend a night in the holding cell below deck. Second, eating Jin’s carrot soup. It sounds innocent, but there’s always been something off about it. Third, you need to walk the plank.” 

“Walk the plank?” Your eyebrows shot up. 

         Yes, you could float in the water, even keep yourself upright, but you had never been a strong swimmer.

         “If this is your ploy to get rid of me, it won’t work, captain.” You gave him a mocking salute, before remembering your place. 

He chuckled darkly. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you, Little miss.” You ignored the shiver that rolled down your spine. 

“Y/N.” You interrupted, getting tired of being referred to as ‘Little Miss’. 

“You earn your name here, darling.” He tilted his head and then turned around. “Meet at the jail tonight for your first trial.” He then proceeded to stride into the hallway and disappear around the corner. 

            You sighed and took a glance around the hall. It was completely silent except for the creaks and groans of the ship. You carefully opened the door. Inside, there was a desk pushed to the corner of the right wall. The left wall had a bed and on the wall farthest from you was a small round window. 

          You rushed forward and unlatched the window, letting the night air into your tiny room. You curled your fingers around the cold edge of the window, taking in a deep breath to settle your nerves. You swayed slightly, still trying to get a hang of walking on a ship. Five deep breaths later and you resigned yourself to shut the window. You quite liked the fresh air, but it was starting to get chilly.

            The morning sun had finally graced its golden hue across the shimmering ocean. The waves skipped by, nothing more than a blur as the ship sailed away from the port. You opened your small bag and organized your things. You placed the notebook and pen in the desk drawer and stored your spare change of clothes under the bed. 

           It wasn’t anything too fancy, just a summery yellow dress that you knew would come in handy as it got warmer.  There was a soft knock at the door and you would have missed it if it weren’t for you already standing near the door. 

         You pulled out a string of white lace and tied your hair up with it. Then you shoved the rest of your belongings haphazardly under the bed. 

“Hello? Is our little sea artist in there?” A voice you didn’t recognize called out to you. 

“Yes, coming!” You knocked into the bed frame, hissing and cursing under your breath.

          Being on the ship was already reversing years of properly trained manners. It wasn’t like the principles of dance and etiquette had ever really stuck in your mind anyway. You had only been on the ship known as BTS for about two hours and you had already grown attached.

         You threw open the door, nursing your smarting elbow. A man with broad shoulders and the most perfectly shaped face you had ever seen stood in the doorway. He had an eyebrow raised, his hand frozen mid knock. You cleared your throat awkwardly. 

“I’m sorry have we already met? I’m pretty bad with names.” It was a lie, but to be fair, the morning had been hectic. He just let out a laugh at your antics. 

“No, I don’t believe so. I’m Kim Seokjin, but please, just call me Jin.” He said, dipping his head. 

“Y/N.” You responded in turn and followed his gesture. 

“Nice to meet you! I’m the boatswain here on this fine ship.” He grasped your arm and dragged you above deck. “The Captain asked me to give you a tour and introduce you to our crew.” 

“Oh my god, I’m supposed to eat your soup later.” 

He seemed deeply offended and he crossed his arms. “I don’t know why that’s still on the stupid trials. I don’t add any weird ingredients, it’s just carrot!” 

           Jin was the opposite of any rumors you had heard while Jungkook hit the mark perfectly. The contrast was astonishing.

           The wind whipped around the loose strands of your hair as you stepped into the blinding sunlight. Waves flickered by, splashing harmlessly against the hull. Jin led you over to the bow of the ship where a young man was standing at a large steering wheel. He was accompanied by a shorter man and they were giggling about something. The picture was pretty adorable. 

“Hoseok!” Jin shouted over the wind, pulling you until you were right in front of them. The young man flashed a dazzling smile, handing the wheel over to the man next to him. 

“Hello! I’m Hoseok, everyone just calls me hobi, except for the Captain, but he’s a little grouchy.” The man, Hoseok, winked. You chuckled a little, Jungkook’s scowling face coming to mind. 

“That’s Jimin, he’s the cabin boy and a little shy, but he’s right up there with the best of us.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the man behind him. 

         Hoseok had dark brown hair and chocolate eyes that put you at ease. Jimin had light blonde hair and chubby cheeks. He sent you a shy little wave that made you want to coo. 

“Alright, now get back to work, Hoseok. You can’t trust Jimin with the wheel for too long.” Jin rolled his eyes as Hoseok mumbled something under his breath. Then you were swept away to the other side of the ship. 

          A tall man wearing a loose white top and black pants stood at the railing, clearly deep in thought. Jin cleared his throat loudly, causing the man to startle. He turned around, his mouth open to scold the older man when he noticed you. 

“H-hello.” The man seemed quiet. His voice wasn’t soft-spoken, just a little timid about the words he chose. 

“Aish, snap out of it. Where’s our fearless first mate, yeah?” Jin patted his back hard, making him cough a little. 

“That’s enough! That’s enough! You just startled me.” His voice was husky and low, but not as deep as Taehyung’s. “I’m Namjoon, first mate. You must be the new little miss.” There was a look of disdain in Namjoon’s eyes. “It’s been a while since we’ve had fresh meat.” 

“Ah ha...right.” You subconsciously pulled your hair back tighter. 

“Someone should go wake up Yoongi, he’s probably still sleeping and we need more fish.” Namjoon instructed, his voice firm without a hint of the timidness displayed a few moments prior. You could see why he was the first mate. Even Jin straightened slightly in his presence. 

“Well, looks like there’s no one else around to do it.” The man beside you placed his hands on his hips, a frown was evident. “Come along, missy. You get to have the pleasure of waking him up.”

“I have a bad feeling about this.” You mumbled, following him below deck anyway. 

          You immediately wanted to go back up. Once you had experienced the freedom of standing on the deck, you couldn’t imagine electing to stay below deck for long periods of time. On another note, your parents would never allow you to sleep past 8:00 A.M. Yet another reason you were an opposite to this sleeping man. Jin took a right and stopped outside of a door. 

“I just need to wake him up?” 

“Sh!” He put a finger to his lips, then nodded frantically and pointed towards the door. 

        Then he bolted. He turned the corner, heavy footsteps pounding against the wood floorboards, a creak every now and then. 

        You sighed as you watched him go. You crossed your arms, pondering what to do. Why did no one want to wake this man up? He was probably harmless, but then again, this was the Bulletproof Boy Scouts who were known for being merciless. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck stood tall. He’s standing behind me, isn’t he? 

        You turned around, halting a shriek from exiting your throat as you came face to face with a very pale man. You assumed he was Yoongi. Yoongi had very pale, bleached blonde hair and dark eyes. His face didn’t change when you met his gaze. The only sign he wasn’t a mannequin was his eyes moving to take you in. Then, his lips quirked into a smile. 

“So I see the others didn’t have the balls to wake me up and instead sent the new girl?” He scoffed. “As if that would change anything, anyway, I’m up now so whatever, you’ve done your job. Now shoo.” 

        The interaction ended so quickly you got whiplash. The door shut in your face with a loud slam. 

“Ah, it’s okay, miss, it’s a real skill to wake him up.” Jimin stood at the end of the hallway, a small smile on his face. 

“Oh no, he’s awake, just rude.” You said, emphasizing the last part. 

          You really should be more thankful, but after meeting the crew, they didn’t seem so bad and you felt yourself quickly easing into the groove of things. There was a muffled crash from inside the room and a string of curses made their way through the door. You let out a breath. 

“Anything else I need to do?” You asked, stepping closer. 

           Jimin seemed to ponder this before wildly shaking his head. His lips were pressed together and you weren’t sure if he was shy or staring at you with distaste. Considering his previous actions, you decided on the former. All the men on the ship held an intimidating presence, but Jimin felt timid. His aura was shy and withdrawn, yet he never seemed bothered by teasing. 

“I’m just the cabin boy. If you want a specific job, ask Jungk-I mean the captain.” 

“Right.” You nodded your head. Then the two of you fell silent. 

           You reflected on the men you’d met so far. Hoseok was kind with a warm face and sunny smile, you couldn’t imagine him being as vicious as people claimed. Jimin, who stood before you, had a quiet way about him, but he had the cutest gestures. Jin had a very motherly presence, warm, welcoming, and much like someone who you could depend on. Yoongi, who you’d just met, was, as you called him, rude. He seemed grumpy, a little rough around the edges, but was most likely a good guy. Taehyung was odd. He had this energetic way of conducting himself, yet his personality shifted so drastically when he spoke to Jungkook. 

            Namjoon held a look of disdain in his eyes when you introduced yourself to him. You chalked it up to him being apprehensive about suddenly have a new person on board. Jungkook was quiet and a bit of an enigma, but he always seemed to have a rage simmering just below the surface. His face floated into your mind and you had to stop yourself from blushing at the thought. Jungkook was one of the most handsome and shockingly beautiful men you had met in a long time. Which was saying a lot since you mostly spoke to nobility in your time at home. 

“Right, well,” you stuttered awkwardly. “I guess I should get going.” You brushed past him as you made your way upstairs. He didn’t move, still a little dazed it seemed. 

            The ocean air was a welcome breeze. You made your way to the nearest railing and leaned over the edge, watching the land grow farther away. The winds were in your favor. The day was clear and the sun glinted off the ocean, making it shine like a diamond. Yes, a diamond that you wanted to spend your entire life polishing and sailing over. 

“You might fall in if you lean too far over, little miss.” The unmistakable voice of the captain himself came from your right. You turned to look at him, ponytail flying around your neck as you faced away from the wind. 

“Yeah? And who says I don’t want to?” 

“The little miss has quite the sharp tongue already.” He watched you carefully, his eyes flicking over your body. 

            You knew these men had likely never worked with a woman before, but they all acted like you were the first meal they’d seen in ages. It was as if they’d never even seen a woman and that was factually untrue because Taehyung and Jungkook spoke with your mother. Though, you wouldn’t blame them for mistaking that screeching owl for some animal instead of a noblewoman. 

“Must be the effect of being around you, lover boy.” You said without thinking, then suddenly halted. He raised an eyebrow and then barked out a laugh. 

“You are a funny one, miss.” His eyes crinkled in amusement, his lips curling to show off a bunny smile. You huffed a little and turned back to look at the ocean skidding by. 

“It’s beautiful out here. I thought I’d never see it.” You said after a brief pause. He just nodded, looking out over the deep cerulean blue of the sea. 

“Despite all differences, everyone on this ship shares one thing in common.” He began, taking in a sharp inhale of salty air. “We all hold a deep love for the sea.” 

             The jail door slammed shut, keys locking it into place. It was dark, damp, and cramped down in the holding rooms. They weren’t so much rooms and more like little jail cells, metal bars, and all. You groaned, trying to reason with Taehyung. 

“Taehyung, it’s so cold, could I at least have a blanket?” You pleaded. Sure, you sounded spoiled as fuck, but it was pretty chilly and you were probably going to catch a cold. 

“No can do.” He stated simply, brushing his fingers through his long dirty blonde hair. In his other hand, he swung the keys around on the ring. 

“What if the ship starts sinking, will you just let me drown?”

“The ship won’t sink.” His words did little to ease your worries. 

        Your teachers had always called you a worry wart, impulsive, and you had the habit of then freaking out when those impulsive decisions led to a bad situation. Just like now. You crossed your legs, leaning back against the wooden boards. 

“Are you going to stand there all night?”

“Nope.” Taehyung smiled, or at least you thought he did. It was dark and the candle he held was on its last legs. “When the candle runs out, we switch places.” He explained. “I have the hard job of waiting until you’re asleep.”

“Oh boo hoo, you have to talk to me.” You rolled your eyes. 

         Your tutors would be horrified if they could see you now. There was a steady drip from the ceiling, which you didn’t want to know was from, and the wall you leaned against was slightly damp from the ocean crashing against it. 

On the bright side, the ship was rocking so steadily it was quick to make you drowsy. 

“Goodnight, little miss. Tomorrow I hope to call you Y/N.” 

-

         You came to around midnight. That’s what you thought at least. The jail was pitch black and you couldn’t help the little flutter of panic that crawled up your throat. Then there was a heavy stomping up the stairs that led to the jail and another set of stomping as someone descended. A flicker of light bounced over to you. The pale face illuminated made you wish you had woken up at a different time. Yoongi didn’t seem pleased to be awake either. You warily raked your fingers through your hair. 

“What do you want?” You said, but your words lacked their usual bite. You were tired and the darkness weighing at the edges of your eye was honestly terrifying.  

“Not sure, but I know I don’t want to be here.” Was all he said before falling silent, his eyes watching you like you were prey in the dark. The lull of the ship swept you up in its arms and carried you into dreamland once more. 

-

         The next time you awoke, you assumed it was before the dawn. You were met with a snoozing Jimin, the candle hanging limply out of his hand. The wax dripped steadily onto the floor. 

“Jimin.” You reached through the bars, hand landing on his foot. He jolted awake, rubbing his eyes. 

“Oh no, I fell asleep.” He mumbled, carding his fingers through his hair. 

“It’s fine. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” You smiled sympathetically. 

         Jimin seemed like the type to rethink things a lot, to regret or feel guilt unnecessarily. You were like that in a lot of ways and in all honesty, you saw in him the woman you were trying to break out off. 

          You had been taught all your life to be a simple woman. Simple-minded, not outspoken, and certainly no self-confidence. While you never took the subliminal messaging to heart, you always knew your place in society, and sometimes you could see that messaging shining through.  

          They did this using a lot of guilt. You remembered once asking to play with the boys instead of playing tea party, but the others screamed ‘what would your mother think? Your parents work hard for the money for your pretty dresses only for you to ruin it.’. He had never cared...Your mind drifted back to your guard from a few years ago. 

“Captain will kill me, though.” Jimin took a breath and slapped his cheeks to wake up. 

“My back is so sore.” You groaned, hand going to massage your lower back. 

“The beds upstairs aren’t much better.” The man snorted. “Captain says that it’s a deterrent to slacking off. That doesn’t stop Yoongi, though.” 

You watched him carefully, a small smile on your lips. Jimin came across very meek, but he had survived for a seemingly long time, so he must be strong in some capacity. 

“Tell me about yourself, Jimin.” You kneeled next to the bars, wrapping your cold hands around the metal. 

He tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

“About...myself?” He asked. “Hm, people usually don’t ask me that.” He took a moment to think. His hand patted his non existent facial hair. You waited patiently, it wasn’t like you had anywhere to be. It was sort of calming. 

“Well, when they say you’re not the first runaway they’ve helped, they mean me.”

“You ran away too?”

“Sort of. My father always pushed me to sail the sea, to grow some chest hair.” He scoffed. “That didn’t help much, but at the time BTS was disguised as a simple merchant ship. So I took up a job working as the cabin boy under Jungk-the captain.” He straightened, patting down the front of his t-shirt. 

“I think the captain felt bad for me when he revealed what they actually were, but he didn’t expect me to want to stay. I became a runaway. You and I are both wanted people.” He smiled wistfully at you. “But it’s been years and people stopped searching for a boy from a small town. Actually, we’re going to dock at my hometown, so I’m not allowed to leave. I usually do the supply runs, but people would recognize me.” He explained. 

          You thought over his words. A runaway, huh? You and I are both wanted people. Right, you probably had a bounty on your head, but you didn’t want the journey to end so soon. 

“What is the name of the town?” 

“Krestleven.” His face revealed a pain long hidden away. Your breath halted, the town triggering your hidden memories. 

           He stood against the wall as you surveyed the crowd for a suitable guard. His eyes were as blue as the sky, as deep as the ocean itself. And you found yourself drowning. You pulled yourself from your thoughts.

“Do you miss home?”

           His eyes held a far away look. He seemed frozen, eyes moving slightly as he thought. You wished you could see how his mind worked. Then he looked you in the eyes, his face void of emotion. 

“BTS is my home now.” 

           You stretched out your limbs, releasing a sigh of relief as your bones cracked. It was nice to breathe the fresh air. Down below, you had gotten a tad seasick and nausea wasn’t the best when you were in close quarters with yourself. The day was gray, heavy clouds rolling over the sea like an omen. Hoseok and Jimin looked tense as the ship came into view of the settlement. Jungkook, who stood next to Namjoon at the side, was frowning. 

“Tell Yoongi that Jimin can’t go.”

“It’s been years, Jungkook, they won’t recognize him.” 

“We don’t know that.”

“My word is final, Namjoon.” 

             Namjoon stiffened, gave a curt nod, and strode toward the stairs that led below deck. You hesitantly took a place next to the captain. Unlike the real world, in this fantasy, you had no idea what your place was. You didn’t know what boundaries could be crossed, but one night on the open sea had already opened so many doors for you. The captain barely registered your presence.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked. 

“Well enough.” He said, but the dark circles under his eyes said otherwise. 

You didn’t pry, simply nodding and turning back to watching the land come back into view. 

“I can go.” You stated. His eyes turned to watch the side of your face, but you seemed serious. 

“And why should I let you do that?”

“I’ve actually...I’ve been to Krestleven before.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, we get a lot of our guards from there.” You shrugged. “I picked out a guard a while ago, a personal guard.” You bit your lip. “But he died one night, protecting me, so I tried to avoid going back.” 

             You remembered the screaming, the crying. Days you spent inside, remembering his touch. So you swore to never love again, or that the next person you loved would truly be the one. You could only afford yourself one heartbreak and you planned on throwing yourself deep into it if you were to ever fall in love again. Jungkook seemed to read you well, because he remained silent. He didn’t comment on the noticeable shift in your aura, the slightest tension in your shoulders. 

“You don’t have to go.” He said after a while, his hand suddenly coming up to rest on your shoulder and you tried not to notice the wince on his face when his fingers accidentally brushed the open skin of your neck. It was a touching gesture, the proximity seemingly intimate. You felt your heart flutter, but you pushed it away. 

“No, I want to go.” 

            Krestleven was as beautiful as you remembered it. Despite the cloudy sky, the sea was calm. The mountains in the distance towered over the cold town and all the houses were pushed together like penguins huddling for warmth. You had learned about penguins from one of your tutors. She had been a little...nutty as your mother would have said. She had been very enthusiastic about animals, but you always liked her best. 

            BTS had anchored out a little ways away and Jin took the rowboat with you and Yoongi to shore. Yoongi was quiet company, but Jin explained to you that it was in his nature. A man of few words. He had said. This had earned a glare from the shorter man. 

            Yoongi, being the striker, had extensive knowledge on the plant and marine life in the surrounding area. He claimed he needed to pick up some supplies in the town and then he’d be all set for the next voyage across the sea. 

              Stepping foot onto land was an odd experience after just gaining your sea legs. Your legs wobbled and you almost fell, almost. Yoongi, surprisingly, held out a hand to steady you, but you refused it. He raised an eyebrow, but then just dropped his hand and placed his hands behind his back. 

“You two better behave!” Jin called, crossing his arms. He had to stay and watch the rowboat while you were gone. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him.” You joked. 

             You decided to wear your yellow sundress today. The weather might not be perfect, but you’d fit in more with the crowd if you dressed like a ‘lady’. Here on land, you had to conform. You had to act like a lady and wear pretty dresses to appease the male eye. 

“Over here.” He said gruffly, slipping into the crowd, and you found yourself chasing after him. 

             He was taller than you, but still shorter than most men so you were having trouble seeing him in the crowd. The market was crowded as people tried to get the first batch of goods from each vendor. Low stalls held vendors of all kinds. From jewelry to fish and fine art. 

            You caught a glimpse of his blonde hair every now and then as he easily wove through the crowd. You finally caught up to him at a bait and tackle store. The place had the putrid smell of fish and salt. You scrunched up your nose at the intoxicating scent. 

“Hey, I’m just going to wait outside.” You poked his arm and he gave you a stiff nod of acknowledgement.

          You went to stand outside, enjoying watching the people rush by you. Everyone was in a hurry to be somewhere, but you weren’t. You were completely calm. 

          It all shattered when you spotted a familiar bar across the way. You could still see him leaning against the side, his arms crossed around his chest. You wanted to drown in the depths of his eyes again. You could have sworn you saw him, a twinkle in his eyes as he beckoned you closer. But before you could take the first step, the crowd rushed by and he was gone, just like the wind. 

            You rubbed your eyes, cursing. Now is not the time to be seeing ghosts. There was still that twinge of regret, of melancholy. I should have run away with him the first time he offered. Suddenly, someone bumped into you, flinging you into the rush of traffic. Your breath quickened as you found yourself pushed farther away. You planted your feet into the ground after a while, forcing the crowd to part around you. 

“Y/N?” You whipped around to see a familiar face. It’s the soldier. What did you say? Sorry for kicking you in the balls? Shit, wait, he’s probably here to take you in. So of course you bolted. 

“Y/N! Come back! You’re mother,” He squeezed past the people, huffing out words between breaths as you fled. “Is really,” He reached out for you. “Worried.” He finished finally, his hand grasping your arm tightly. You spun around. 

“What’s your name, soldier?” You said fiercely, your tone like a commander to quell your shaking legs. 

“Myung-Suk.” He answered quickly, dropping your arm like he’d been burned. 

“Good, I’ll remember that.” You narrowed your eyes, trying not to give away the trembling of your hands and the fear in your heart. With freedom comes fear. And suddenly you weren’t so sure you wanted to live life on the run. Wouldn’t that get exhausting? To always have your guard up? 

“Is there a problem?” Yoongi’s low drawl interrupted your thoughts. 

          Myung-Suk eyed the shorter man warily before shaking his head quickly. He backed off and ran. You turned and grabbed Yoongi’s arm, pulling him towards the docks. 

“What’s the rush?” He quirked an eyebrow, but you ignored him. 

          Your breath was labored as you tried to control the panic flooding your system. He dug his heels in, effectively stopping you. Your chest rose and fell, eyes darting from the dock to Yoongi to the market. You were getting paranoid and you swore you kept seeing figures watching you. You swore you kept seeing him. 

“That was Myung-Suk, a guard for my mother.” You said quickly. “They’re probably going to come for us next.” You continued, your breath getting shallower. 

“Woah, woah, take a deep breath.” Yoongi held your arms and took a deep breath to show you. You followed his lead and soon enough your heart rate was calming. 

“Listen, this isn’t the first time we’ve been on the run with a wanted person. We also are smart and strong enough not to get caught. Have some faith in us.” He smiled gently, gracing you with his gummy smile that put you at ease instantly. 

“Alright, I see what you mean.” You murmured. He released your arms and you shivered as the wind blew in. 

“We should probably get going.” The blonde haired man looked at the sky. “It might rain and Jin needs to start making that carrot soup for you.” His voice was gruff, as if he hadn’t used it in a while. 

          You had noticed that he seemed quiet, almost silent, when around the other crew members. You weren’t sure if there was a reason for this, as he seemed very observant and to have strong opinions of his crew; good opinions mostly, but he still never shared them. You studied his side profile as he focused on helping Jin row the boat. 

           He was handsome, quiet, a little too quiet for your tastes. But the silence was nice. 

 “I should’ve known you were going to be trouble.” Jungkook tsked as Jin set the bowl in front of you.

“Now, now, captain, she hasn’t been nearly as much trouble as Jimin was.” Jin chided the younger man. Jimin flushed a bright pink and you sent him a sympathetic look. 

“Yeah, but once again we’re all being forced to eat Jin’s carrot soup.” Taehyung sighed, picking up a spoon. 

“Yah! You don’t have to eat it, Taehyung!” Jin shouted, causing the table to ripple with laughter. Taehyung’s ears burned as Jin continued the rant. 

“Sheesh okay okay I’ll eat it.” Taehyung groaned and took a large spoonful to placate the older man. The others just pushed it around, their gazes moving to you, then Jin, then the soup. 

         You stared at the bowl before you. It looked harmless; a simple chicken broth and carrots floating around. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. 

“What did you put in here?” You asked. 

“Nothing!” Jin cried, taking a big spoonful of soup and then coughing loudly. You turned back to the concoction. The room held their breath when you took a sip. 

“Well?” Jungkook’s lips were twitching into a small smile. 

        It tasted earthy and the carrots added a weird texture. You moved it around your mouth before swallowing. 

“Oh, it’s not too bad-” You started and then it hit you. 

It felt like your mouth was on fire. You gagged, coughing and taking a huge gulp of water. 

“Jin! What the hell did you put in here?!” You choked, fanning your reddening face. Jin huffed and looked away. 

“I didn’t put anything in there.” He crossed his arms like a child. 

“You obviously did! My mouth is on fire.” You gasped, finishing the water. 

          The crew chuckled at your red face. Namjoon, despite having acted so cold to you previously, let a smile slip onto his face. He had dimples that you thought were quite cute. You could feel the captain’s stare piercing your profile so you turned to face him, patting your cheeks in an attempt to cool them down. He had an odd look on his face, his eyes bouncing between you and Namjoon. Then he casually stood. 

“Well, since that is over, I’ll see you nice and early for the last trial.” Jungkook dipped his head and promptly left the room. 

        You pressed your lips together, eyes trailing as he walked away. The group tensed as the door to the galley shut loudly. Then Taehyung started choking on his soup and the atmosphere returned to normal. 

         It was too early to be dragged out of bed and all your limbs were sore from the hard bed in your quarters. The chilly wind made your hair hit your face like a whip. The clouds were still dark and the waves looked choppy. You leaned over the railing. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You called over your shoulder. Jin peered over the side. 

“Yeah, it’ll be a little chilly but I’m sure it’s fine.” He shouted back. 

         Jungkook was holding up a map and pointing out into the distance while muttering something to Namjoon. The first mate nodded, paying close attention to his counterpart. 

“Jin, this might not be the right time to say it but-”

“Little lady, are you ready?” Jungkook barked, his boots thumping loudly against the boards. The words ‘I can’t actually swim very well’ died on your lips. 

        The captain was wearing a loose black top and tight black pants. He wore a black coat that fell to his ankles with golden buttons lining the sides. On his head was a velvet black hate that was embroidered with gold stitching. You caught yourself staring and glanced away. 

“Uh...yeah.” You said quietly, giving a slight nod of your head. 

      He scooted you towards the plank. 

“I said, are you ready?” His voice was loud against the wind. 

“Yes!” You shouted. 

“Louder.” He commanded. 

“Yes, I am, Captain!” You turned to face him, shouting with all your might.

         It sounded more like a scream and oh, how you wanted to scream. You wanted to scream at him to stop calling you little miss. You wanted to scream about your engagement, you wanted to scream until you couldn’t any longer.

         As the wind swept away the words on your lips, there was a freedom to screaming and no one being around to hear. There was a freedom in knowing your loudest thoughts could still be yours and only yours. You took a step back and then hesitated, turning to see the drop below. 

“Then go.” His voice was suddenly low in your ear and you knew he was right behind you. 

“I don’t know-”

        Then there was a hard shove on your back and you lost your footing. 

         You were falling, the wind whipping your hair out of its ponytail, obscuring your vision. All you could see were the faces of your crew members peering at you from the railing, but Jungkook’s smirk was imprinted in your mind. 

           The world rotated as you twisted in the air. Streaks of gray and inky blue. You gasped in a breath, only to lose it as you hit the water. The splash was tiny compared to the unrest of the sea. 

            You could feel yourself getting lost, sinking deeper, the cold seeping into your bones. You could be at peace, resting here. Who knew that such a simple thing, such as stepping off a plank, could give you such a catharsis. No, you need to go back up, breathe, and live. It was a soft hum in the back of your mind, growing bigger as you sunk deeper.

            Then your eyes flew open to see a figure jumping into the water, their dark shadow passing over you. Only then did you want something to live for; for the adventures you were yet to have, for the people you had yet to meet. The shadow reached out for you and pulled you up, yanking you to the surface faster than you thought possible. You gasped for air, breaking the surface. 

The captain’s furious face met your blurry vision. “You idiot, why didn’t you say you couldn’t swim?” 

-

“Why isn’t she resurfacing?” Jungkook gripped the railing.

          A few more moments passed and the crew looked at each other, worry evident. He was angry. Angry you didn’t tell him you couldn’t swim, angry he pushed you, angry he didn’t understand your limits. 

        You had looked so afraid in the last few moments. And he wasn’t one to usually care about pushing too far beyond limits or to really care about anyone. His crew came first and he couldn’t understand if you were a part of that crew yet. Someone inside, he considered you a part of the crew, but you still needed to do the trials, it was tradition. He was frustrated. Why am I feeling this way for some stuck up noble girl?

         Scowling, he shrugged off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, revealing his strong forearms. He threw his coat over Jin’s shoulder, who was still watching the water with worry. The man jumped at the sudden action.

“Captain what are you-CAPTAIN!” Jin rushed forward to see Jungkook clasp his hands above his head and dive right into the frigid waters. 

Taglist: @lovelyseomin​ 

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[yomimio]

The Northern Lion pt3

Warnings: Foul language, violence and sexism (lord Estren is a disgusting being).

-“So it’s true, then? Are you going to the meeting with House Estren?”- inquired Tyrion.

-“It is”- answered (Y/N) while adjusting the shiny dark light armor she used for traveling.

-“I know there’s not convincing you to stay b-“

-“Don’t waste your time, father has agreed to this”- she interrupted  her older brother.

-“Sigh, I know. I was only going to ask for you to be careful. I’ve heard whispers that the head of the house is plotting against us”.

-“But they are sworn to us! They own us loyalty! I’ll go to their keep and reign them back to order if needed be. I’m to be the head of this house in the future, am I not? Then it’ll be beneficial for all of us if they start to show me respect”- she assured, turning around and looking into her brother’s eyes.

-“Just promise me to be careful, yes?”- worried Tyrion, furrowing his eyebrows.

She looked to him, and got down to his height, stretching her hands and taking his.

-“I promise you, brother. But you know, there’s no one that can take me down”- she winked.

Biding her farewells, (Y/N) mounted Noctis and crossed the gates of Casterly Rock towards the lands of House Estren, in Wyndhall.

 -“I fear for her”- Tyrion said looking out of one of the windows of the higher levels of the castle.

-“Don’t. No one will threat the Lannister while our father still lives. She will be fine”- said the blonde figure standing behind him.

-“I hope you’re right for once, Jaime”- he sighed while accepting the goblet of red wine from the tall man.

His hopes were indeed futile. When (Y/N) arrived at the keep she was instantly met with treason. The Estren caught wind that “Tywin’s little girl” was the one sent to handle the matters of their money loans, and that was the last straw. Not only they were opposed to being ruled by a woman, but now this, this vexation! Were they of so little importance to the lions that they sent a woman to handle their business? The Lannister name may had have power in the past, when the Old Lion was still young, when he took down the infamous Castamere House. But now, when the only available heirs were an imp and a woman, it was the time for its fall. So, without a second thought, Lord Regenard Estren took his seven sons and all of his knights, and attacked the Lannister hosts before they could know what was happening.

But to their chagrin, this lion pup was more intelligent than they had given her credit for. She was prepared for a revolt even before she left her home, so her and the knights she had traveled with, were fully armed and ready to fight. The intercepted the enemy’s forces head on, and drove them back towards their castle, some being left behind slaughtered by their blades and crushed under Noctis’ hooves.

The lord was enraged. How could this child beat his seasoned troops? He could barely sit in his armchair without squirming in frustration and shame.

-“My Lord Father. A letter has arrived”- the second son, a burly and brutish man with more muscles than brains, entered the living room, where his father was sat in front of the fire.-“It has the red seal of the lions.”

-“What’s this? Who gave this to you?”.

-“A messenger arrived carrying it. He came from the settlement that the Lannister’s troops have set outside our walls”.

-“The gall of this child!”-he shouted opening the envelope.-“This is outrageous! This bitch is ordering us to surrender and to pledge fealty to her! Over my rotten corpse! I would rather have her bent over and with her skirts over her head!”- the red faced lord hollered and throwing the paper to the blazing fireplace, he called forth one of his own messengers-“you servant! Run to the lion bitch and tell her I’ll will surrender when she comes here and ask me herself, on her knees, and with my cock in her mouth”- he ordered, his spit landing on the face of the poor young man in front of him.

When the news came out of the trembling mouth of the messenger, (Y/N) laughed. If this little lord thought he could treat her like that and get away with it, he had another thing coming his way. After all, it wouldn’t be that much of a loss, it was more like taking out the trash. If a house would not bow before her and her family, well, she would make sure they wouldn’t have legs to stand up against her.

She sent the terrified messenger back with five gold coins for his services and started to put her plan into action.

Everyone has heard about the Rains of Castamere, how her father redirected the river to drown his enemies in their own house. (Y/N) heard it more times than she could count. And funnily enough, even when the song and its meaning gave her the chills when she was little, she could now relate to her father for the first time in her life. So, where Tywin had used water, she would use fire.

The Estren castle was an old one, not very well maintained, the owners preferring to spend their money in more banal pleasures. That meant most of its internal structure was still wood.

(Y/N) sent another letter to the sieged keep, asking for a conference with the lord in order to state the terms of a peace accord. And when the set upon time for their meeting came, when she knew the lord and all his family were together, she sent the Estren soldiers, she had captured in the first attack, in.

Lord Regenard did not suspect a thing, for these soldiers had been stripped of their armors and suited with Lannister’s garbs. Plus, they seemed fat and clumsy, so he dismissed them as harmless, too eager to have a Lannister bow to him. His pride blinded him, and he wasn’t able to notice the burning smell that was starting to come in waves off of the soldiers. Not until one of them fell to the ground engulfed in flames did the lord see through her ruse. It was then when the chaos started.

-“It was an great idea to stuff hay under the soldier’s armors, my Lady”- praised (Y/N)’s captain of the guard.

-“And shoving hot coals between it! Really smart Lady Lannister!”- said her lieutenant.

(Y/N) stood with her officials on the hill in front of the castle, the light of the fire reflecting on her face.

As the inferno raged, the first wave of people fleeing the house, in hopes to escape, started to come out of the gates.

-“Send the troops now”-she commanded, voice monotonous and eyes cold.-“Let’s go!”.

Every person that was able to avoid the flames was intercepted by the lion’s soldiers, with their lady in the front of the battle.

Thus, House Estren was no more. And the Lannister maintained their status, increasing even more the fear that kept the people under their paws. The seven kingdoms were united in fear of Tywin Lannister, and now they would learn to fear his heir.

The songs came not much after. The bards would sing about the downfall of House Estren, burned by the rage of the Black Lion. Such was the name she was given, making reference to the unusual color of the armor she donned.

The songs travelled all over Westeros, spreading whispers and apprehensiveness, announcing a new age of fear under the Lannister. The restlessness reached even the North, where the tunes of the Lady Paramount-to-be ringed in the ears of a young red-haired lord.

(A/N): I don not own any charachters from Game of Thrones. This is just made for fun. I don’t own any image or gif unless I specifically say so. English is not my first language, so sorry about any mistake. Some events may differ drom canon, but since *those two* can do whatever they wnat, ten so can I. :)