#so they studied every visible detail of someone's body and decided that it happened to look like the body of a teacher at their kid's school

[beautifulscreaminglady]

Those people who report teachers for being on OnlyFans make me think of that post that's like "I saw her at the devil's sacrament. well what were you doing at the devil's sacrament?"

[writing-by-stormy]

Using Other Creative Mediums to Improve your Writing

(Obligatory do not plagiarize disclaimer!! Inspiration is good, copying is just lazy)

Recently I’ve been trying to improve my writing, primarily my descriptions of things like setting and body language, and a lot of writing cheat sheets and advice just wasn’t cutting it. It wasn’t bad—and actually gave me a place to start—but I felt like something was missing. However while practicing I was hit with an idea and it actually helped me quite a lot so I hope someone finds some use it in too :]

Here’s some ideas I came up with, however this is by no means an exhaustive list and honestly it’s up to you to decide what is and isn’t helpful for you, as everyone thinks and creates differently.

1. Photography/Art

This is the one I started off with. I’m a very visual person and was really struggling with setting a tone when it came to the descriptions of my settings. I could technically paint the picture but not well, and it would really slow down the story rather than adding to it as intended. This is where artwork and photography came in, I realized that (at least from how I approach it) the ways an artist conveys mood, tone, and meaning wasn’t all that different than how I was trying to. They were creating a literal visual representation of an image they saw, and I was trying to get others to imagine what I was imagining. So I compiled a collection of photos and artwork that really resonated with me and started studying exactly why. Here’s some things I did that I found useful:

Compiling images based off subject and/or setting (I.e. forests, the ocean, desert, etc.) and comparing and contrasting them. If all your images are of a river, then what common themes do they share? What’s different? What’s the difference between a tranquil river and a harsh, dangerous one (outside of just the obvious). How do different things in the environment contribute to or take away from the focus that you’ve placed on the river? Do any of them have a different mood? Create a different atmosphere? Are there any you like more and why?

Compiling images based off mood/themes. This one really helped me notice the subtle details that contributed to tone such as how vast or crowded a scene is, where the photographer/artist chooses to emphasize, etc. when it comes to this you could compare and contrast too, or if you want something more challenging you could try listing what every detail contributes to the overall image, as well as what (if anything) could’ve been left out without changing much.

pretending you had the power to change their appearance. say you’re working with a picture of a lake, what would change if you wanted to add an island in it? Would the island be the new focus or not? How much detail could you add before it became over saturated? How much could you remove before it became uninteresting? If the picture was taken during the day, how would the way you describe/imagine it change during the night?

Writing down the context you get from the image, as well as trying to imagine your own. Say you’re working with the image of a gorgeous meadow, and in the background are some awe inspiring mountains. Can you tell based off the image whether it’s remote or not? If it is, what about the setting changes? Is it harder to reach? Are the trails and roads overgrown, barely visible, or so old and rocky cars can’t pass over them? How far would you say civilization is? What would bring someone there? What might happen if there was a sudden influx of people in the area, would it be overrun with tourism? Would they establish a settlement and if so what resources would they have? Is the remoteness part of what makes it beautiful—like a nice vacation from society—or does it create a feeling of isolation?

2. TV Shows/Movies/Animation

There’s a few more options for this category considering it in and of itself is a form of creative writing. Honestly there’s endless inspiration to be found in your favorite shows and movies, so in turn there’s endless opportunities for learning from them. Here’s just a few I came up with

Writing dialogue. Does your character have to small talk their way out of an awkward situation but you’re struggling to convey the discomfort? Do you want to write an inspiring monologue but aren’t sure how to go about it? Want to give characters a distinct voice and speech patterns but can’t think up your own? Luckily there’s nearly endless scenes to use as a reference for your dialogue difficulties!

Learning about body language/character quirks/behavior. This is what I like most about shows and movies, because every single thing about how a character acts is unique to them. You can read all the lists you want but its different when you get to watch how it actually looks on a person.

Watch something you don’t like and make a list of reasons why you don’t like it as well as what you’d change about it if you were one of the people writing/producing it. Anything from the delivery of lines to the way the camera is angled could provide insight into what elements of a story you value the most.

Getting to see character traits in the flesh. This is especially helpful for certain characteristics that a lot of writers tend to get wrong, such as charisma, being humorous, manipulative, etc. It can be helpful to study these traits and read up about them on your own, especially if that’s how you absorb your information, but a persons personality affects the way they move through the world and interact with others, and sometimes it can help to witness this for yourself.

Chose a detail to change, and brainstorm the ways it would change the story. If the heroes mother never dies, would he have the motivation to leave the house? If the protagonist didn’t have their sidekick(s), would they come out on top as often as they do? If they weren’t bound by their love for their childhood sweetheart, how much sooner would they have left to pursue their dreams? What if the main trio grew up in the city rather than a small town, would their struggles be different?

Other/Miscellaneous:

also known as the ideas that don’t fit into the other categories, fit into more than one, or that I struggled to come up with enough ideas to make them categories of their own.

You can compare and contrast the ways stories have been adapted across different mediums. Things such as the anime adaptation of your favorite manga, the live action version of an animated movie, etc.

Compare and contrast different interpretations of the same trope or story (Ex: different Mentor characters or different adaptations of Beauty and the Beast)

Listen to a fiction/anthology/storytelling podcast and pay attention to the ways they establish a scene solely through audio and dialogue

Watch a live performance and pay attention to the use of props, costumes, and actions to tell a story

Play a video game and think about how you’d go about describing it, as well as how context changes the way you’d go about that. How would you describe Minecraft as your setting? If your main character wasn’t from that blocky world what would they focus on the most? Alternatively, if they were from Minecraft how would you go about describing things that would seem odd to us but not to them? Would the graphics and mechanics of the game reflect over into that reality too?

Happy writing, I hope there was something of value to be gained from this and that you have a lovely day/night <3

[geminigirl0298]

The Course Of True Love

Relationship: Loki Odinson x Original Female Character

Summary: Loki Odinson never expected to see his mother hurrying down a hall with a smart-mouthed, soot-covered figure who was supposedly the princess of Vanaheim. He never expected her to stay more than a week, much less an entire century, and he surely did not expect their initial animosity to morph into the fluttering, tickling feeling he got in his stomach every time she was near.

Word Count: 5.3 k

A/N: The angst, phew!

Warnings: Smut, 18+, loss of virginity, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, cursing, inappropriate language

Previous Chapter Masterlist

CHAPTER 14

The first thing Loki registered was the stickiness coating his lower body. It was warm-damp to the point of discomfort- and the familiar feeling of satisfaction coursing through his veins drummed up a sense of confusion. His puzzlement only grew when he noticed Sigrid laying beneath his sweating body. “Sigrid?”

“Yes?” A dreamy tone floated to his ears. She was looking up at him like she was a woman anew and he a dashing suitor making a play for her hand.

“What did I do?” Her face dropped.

“C-come again?”

Loki studied her with critical eyes. The last thing he remembered was her hands on his body; the way they moved up his arms and down his chest. How fearless she was in touching his damned skin, not even worried about possible burns, then she was finally, finally, kissing him, and—Loki sprang out of bed. He tumbled backwards and landed in a heap on the carpeted floor.

“Loki!” Sigrid scrambled off the bed. She knelt in front of him like a hunter approaching a wild deer. “Are you okay?”

c

“Sigrid, I am so sorry.” Images of what he had done to her flashed though his mind. Flipping her on to bed, attacking her neck, sliding his fingers into her. Dry humping her as though she were some common whore.

“Sorry for what?” she murmured. Her eyes darted to his bed and back. “For what just happened? Loki, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes I do!” He stressed. “Sigrid, look at your neck!” He gestured to the smooth expanse of visible skin over the neckline of her golden-yellow gown. It was mottled with reddish marks that would soon purple into bruises. Even her lips were swollen and raw, hair a mess and falling out of its binds. “It looks like someone tried to strangle you!”

“You’re overreacting,” she told him, though her hand moved to her neck. “I can cover this up easily, it will pose no issue.”

“That’s not the point, Sigrid.” Loki rose to his feet. The elastic pants he wore stuck to his crotch in a slimy way. “The point is I took advantage of you.”

“Took advant— Ha!” The laugh did not sound intentional, rather incredulous, as though she could not believe what he was saying. “Loki, you did not take advantage of me. I would have stopped you if that was the case.”

“And how can you be sure I would have?” he questioned. “I’m not used to that blasted form. It has a mind if its own!” And a very dominant one at that. Sigrid had stirred something deep and primal within the beast that scared even Loki. He was not sure exactly how much control over himself he would have should his Jotunheim form resurface around her again.

“Loki, I think you’re blowing this out of proportion,” Sigrid told him. Her voice was still guarded as though she were on a hunt. “You would never commit such an atrocity on anyone, much less me. Give yourself more credit than that.”

“I know perfectly well what I am capable of. This other body, with that domineering spirit and growling voice—��

“What voice?” Sigrid cocked her head to the side. She looked as though she were putting two and two together. After studying her face, Loki decided against going into detail.

“It’s nothing.” He rolled his neck in a clockwise position. His usual black and green outfit appeared over his body. The horror of what he had just done had settled into the pit of his stomach. Guilt and shame burned its way up his throat like a bilious upchuck and he needed to get out. He needed to not be in front of Sigrid with her earnest, forgiving eyes that were bursting with the need to engulf him in a hug. “I have to go.”

“No, wait,” she grabbed ahold of his sleeve, “don’t go.” Those chocolate brown eyes that he loved so much froze him in place. They were begging him not to leave while their relationship was in such a precarious place. “We need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he told her. He reached out and deftly removed her hand from his sleeve. “I cannot control when this form comes out, and it is even more clear that it cannot control itself around you. Until I learn to do that—”

“You’ll what? Stay away from me?” Sigrid interjected. Her displeasure with his decision shone through in her body language.

“Yes,” Loki replied. “If that’s what it takes. Until then, I will not come near you again.”

ooOOo

Loki made himself scarce following their little tryst. True to his word, he had not touched her since that day, but she did not expect him to cut off all contact indefinitely. It had been five days since their fight, two since she had even seen him, and Sigrid felt lost like never before.

Her attachment to Loki was not one she thought unhealthy. In many ways she would say he was the only relationship she never had to worry about. Lately, however, all these new revelations and feelings had made their way into her body and mind and she felt like she would never be whole again without Loki by her side.

“Daughter?” Sigrid lifted her head. Her father, whom she had been in a meeting with for the past hour, was leaning towards her in concern. “Are you well? This is the third time I’ve called your name.”

The left side of her mouth lifted in apology. “Sorry, papa.”

“It’s fine.” He gestured to the many rolls and scrolls of paper littering the desk. “Money matters are boring, I know. Valhalla knows I prefer when Gri handles these things. She’s so much better at it.”

“Where is she today?” Sigrid had not seen the motherly blonde in her usual seat amongst her father’s advisors during the meeting. She also did not miss the casual way her father referred to her.

“Gri had some business to attend. I did not ask what.” He took his seat at the head of the table where Sigrid sat at his right side. “Before you go, there’s one more thing I’d like to discuss.”

“Without the advisors?” Sigrid was puzzled. “Would it not have been better to do this before you dismissed them?” Her father waved off her concern.

“This does not concern them.”

“Okay.” The solemnity of her father’s mood knocked all thoughts of Loki out of her head. Whatever he had to talk to her about must be of the utmost importance to change his entire demeanor. “I want to talk to you about Loki.” Sigrid blanched.

“What about Loki?” She hoped the strain in her voice did not register.

“We had a little chat before the joust,” her father said. “Has he spoken to you about this?”

Sigrid frowned. She had noticed them talking before the festivities began but she assumed it was about the competition. Even so, the last thing on her and Loki’s mind following the joust had very little to do with her father. “He has not. I’ve been very busy these past few days, though, so that’s probably why.” It was painful how terrible of a liar she was. Had Loki been here to witness it his teasing would be merciless.

Her father nodded. “Well maybe that was for the best.” He leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful glance at her. “How close would you say you and Loki are?”

“Very,” the answer came out without a second thought. Even in the midst of their friendship sabbatical, Loki was still one of the most important parts of her life. “But you already know this, papa. Is there a reason you’re asking?”

“There is.” He paused then, for dramatic effect or to gauge her reaction, she could not tell. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the topic of your marriage, throwing it around with my advisors—”

Sigrid groaned, “Papa…”

“No, wait,” he held up a finger, “just listen. I think you’ll be pleased with the outcome.” Sigrid folded her hands in her lap. She reminded herself that her father was on her side and zipped her lips together while he finished. “Before I continue, I must know this; is it marriage on the whole that you are opposed too or is it just the thought of being married to Leif?”

Sigrid squirmed in her seat. She crossed her legs, uncrossed them, then crossed them again. “I would like to be married someday,” she began carefully, “and maybe if I loved Leif then I would not mind marrying him to secure the throne. But if it’s up to me— as I’m hoping it will be after my birthday— I’d have to decline. I will not subject myself to a loveless marriage.” It might have been her imagination, but she swore her father looked relieved.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” he said, “because I have another route in mind. If not Leif, and if the council decides they want you to marry, what about someone else?”

“There is no one else,” Sigrid told him, even as a name popped into her head.

“Really?” The king’s eyebrows rose. “Not even Loki?”

Sigrid’s eyebrows knit. “What about Loki?”

“What if I told you that he was my first choice?”

“Your first choice for what?” Sigrid felt like she was missing a very relevant detail to this conversation.

“To be your husband,” her father clarified. “Loki was my first choice to be your husband.”

Sigrid went limp in her chair. Her hands fell at her sides. “I…”. It was no big secret that her father was fond of Loki. Ever since the first time he ran into the teenaged boy on his first visit to Asgard, he had been amused by the boy’s behaviour. Over the years that amusement had grown into a mutual respect and real love for the trickster that Sigrid was overjoyed to see.

Still, she had never expected her father to make such a suggestion. Early on in her growing years, when Loki was dating Fjor and she felt little pangs of jealousy in her chest when the two would embrace, the thought crossed her mind that maybe her father would suggest a union between the two. That thought had vanished when, century after century, it was not spoken of. “That’s ridiculous, papa. Loki has no desire to marry me.”

The king’s mouth twitched. “Is that so? Because that’s not what he told me.”

“What?” Her mind ran over their interactions from the previous week. “This makes no sense. Loki has never said anything of the sort to me.”

“He has to me. When I brought up the topic, the boy all but begged me to recant my approval of Leif and direct it towards him instead. I’d think that’s proof enough of his intentions.”

Blood rushed in Sigrid’s ears. Her heart beat picked up at a thunderous rate that made her feel faint and ready to run a marathon and the same time. Loki wanted to marry her. Loki wanted to marry her. “Is that even possible?” she found herself asking. The words floated around her head as though they came from someone else’s mouth. “For me to marry Loki? He’s a prince of his own realm.”

“But not the heir apparent,” her father amended. “I’m looking for a union for you, not a future king in his own right who would put his realm before yours.”

“That’s why you never suggested it be Thor.” It was all starting to make sense. Unions between crown princes and princesses were not an uncommon occurrence. In fact, it had been a rumour for quite some time that her father may just marry her to the elder Odinson like so many kings before him. Sigrid was relieved every year this never came to pass.

“That, and Thor is like a brother to you. I would think marrying him would be quite the challenge, since you would have to overcome the semblance of a sibling relationship.”

“Let’s get back to Loki,” Sigrid said. “You’re telling me that if I wanted too, I could marry him? Just like that?” Her father nodded. “And your advisors would have no problem?”

“Well, Odin would have to agree first, which may be difficult considering he declined the first time—”

“The first time?” Sigrid repeated. “You mean to tell me that an offer was made on my behalf and neither Loki nor I knew about it?” A sheepish looked overtook her father’s features. “Why didn’t you tell me this?” It was clear now why Odin would not have said yes, but she was sure Frigga would have had she known.

Her father raised his hands in surrender. “To be fair I thought Loki did know. It never occurred to me that Odin would keep this from his son. I assumed it was because he wanted Thor to be the first to wed.” Sigrid bit her tongue. If only her father knew.

“I must find Loki.” She rose from her seat. “I must discuss this with him.”

“That you should.” The amused smile on her father’s face drew a blush from her. Was her eagerness showing that much?

“Thank you, papa.” She leaned down to give him a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

ooOOoo

Sigrid left the meeting in higher spirits than when she arrived. It was the first bit of hope she had in days, and it was intoxicating to say the least. Not only did Loki want to marry her, but he had all but begged her father to make it possible for him to do so. Fight or not, those kinds of feelings did not just disappear. There was, she knew, still a part of Loki that wished to be her husband. All she had to do was find a way to talk to him about it.

This was easier said than done. Loki’s stubbornness applied to the simplest of things. He was like a mule past its prime that refused to listen to its master lest a whip come into play. Sigrid would have to catch him at just the right time to broach the topic. She was sure that with a little firmness she could make him listen to her.

“You!” Sigrid paused. The rough shout caught her well off guard, and she turned her neck to see who could possibly be addressing her with such distaste. Lord Bjorn was stumbling towards her. His carrot-coloured hair was disarrayed with sweat and there was a silver flask in his scarred hand. Sigrid tensed up as the rotund man neared her.

“Good morning, Lord Bjorn. We missed you at the meeting today.”

“I was busy.” The alcohol on his breath knocked her a few steps back.

“I can see that.” Something in her tone must have offset the man, seeing as he narrowed his eyes at her. Thick brows drew together like a fluffy caterpillar upon the bark of a tree.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me, princess?”

A disarming smile made its way onto her face. She had seen what this man was capable of. If he could attempt to injure Loki in front of his king, there was no telling what he might do to her. So, instead of telling him that he smelled like a horse’s ass and it would behoove him to get out of her face, she said, “Of course not. I simply noticed your absence and could not help but wonder if your input would have been helpful. We were discussing the opening of more shelters for orphaned children—”

“Pfft! This again?” Lord Bjorn tipped his flask all the way back into his mouth, tapping the bottom to get out all the dregs. After a thick swallow, he turned a leering, dark gaze on Sigrid. “I would think the king would direct his efforts to more worthy causes.”

“The children of Vanaheim are not worthy enough for you?” She raised a brow of disapproval. It was an expression she had seen Frigga give her sons countless times when growing up and learning how to behave in public. Sigrid prided herself on never having been on the receiving end of one.

“Children can do nothing,” Lord Bjorn sneered. His tone was abound with vitriol. “They are needy plagues that beg and cry and depend entirely too much on parentage.”

Sigrid could hardly believe her ears. Was this man so horrible that his detestation extended to innocent children? “They are children,” she stressed. “What else are they supposed to do besides expect to be protected? We owe them that and much more. They are the future, after all.”

Lord Bjorn gave a mighty roll of his eyes. “The future. Your mother used to talk the same. You two think very much alike.”

Sigrid tensed. “My mother was a wise woman—”

“Your mother was a foolish woman! A silly mortal who happened to catch the eye of the king. How weak can one man be to allow himself to be caught up by something as silly as a Midgardian woman?”

“Lord Bjorn, I suggest you choose your next words carefully.” Sigrid’s nails had begun to dig into her palm. The man before her was a drunken, idiotic pig. She knew she should not let him get to her, but the mention of her mother in such a derogatory way made her blood boil with rage. It filled her with the urge to drag him to one of the glass windows and push him over the sill.

“Choose my words carefully?” he repeated. “Do you think I am afraid of you? Look at you!” His brows flew up. “Such a curvy little thing. So soft, like your mother. I hated her. At the very least you could have looked like your father—like a realVanir, but no! Even your looks betray your tainted blood. The low down, unmannerly—Ugh!”

Sigrid did not know what happened. One minute Lord Bjorn was raging at her, face like a beet and spittle flying. Her blood began to pound in her ears. The edges of her vision turned red. Her hand lifted of its own accord, and judging by the pain in her thumb and knuckles, she socked him right in the mouth.

He reeled back, one hand on his bleeding lip. The flask clattered to the floor. His face was half mad and half surprised. A little part of Sigrid wanted to laugh. She had never before been prone to violence. Thoughts of hurting people, maybe, but she never acted on them before today.

“You WENCH!” A bruising grip encased her wrist. Lord Bjorn yanked her towards him with such force it drew a yelp from her lips. “You little bitch! Do you have any idea what you have just done! Do you know who I am? I—”

She smelled him before she saw him. The sharp, ever-present scent of cinnamon and spice that clung to his clothes and lingered on her pillow for days after he had stayed the night. It was a scent she had grown so used to that it was impossible to mistake. So when a flash of green slammed into the man so hard that he released Sigrid’s aching wrist, she was not at all shocked to see Loki appear before her.

“Did you think I was joking about cutting your tongue out?” he spat. “How dare you not only speak to the princess in that manner, but put your disgusting hands on her as well? Shall I cut them off too?” Loki took a step towards the man. His back was to her, protecting her from Bjorn and any more acts of violence that he may throw her way. “Shall I?”

“You and your magic,” Lord Bjorn gritted out. Loki’s seidr had knocked him onto the marbled floor. He propped himself on one knee, rising to his feet with an unsteady gait as he glared at the trickster and his companion. “I’ve heard you only use it to make up for your lack of physical skill. Drop it and fight me like a man.”

Loki reached down and grabbed a hold of the lord’s neck. He yanked him to his feet— an impressive sight even with the godly strength Loki possessed considering the size of the man— and brought his face but an inch away from Bjorn’s. “A man?” Loki questioned. “If you are a man then that word has truly fallen from grace. Apologize to the princess at once.”

Even in the grasp of a God, face turning blue from lack of oxygen, Lord Bjorn still found the audacity to choke out a little, “No.”

“Loki, it’s fine.” Sigrid placed an arm on his bicep. He flinched, not enough for Lord Bjorn to see, but her hyper awareness of his being would not let it go unnoticed. “I care not for his apology. It would not be sincere anyways.”

“He put his hands on you,” Loki murmured. Though his eyes were still on Bjorn, his words were directed at her. “He touched you. He must learn his place.”

Sigrid eyed the sweaty, purpling face of the lord. “I think between the right hook from me and the near strangulation from you, he knows it now. Is that right, Lord Bjorn?” The man, sneering and glaring, managed a small nod.

“Fine,” Loki released the man’s neck enough for him to get some air. “If I see you so much as lookat the princess again, I’ll peel the skin from the bones with that same magic you hold in such low regard. Now get out of my sight!”

Lord Bjorn left, though not without a few glances over his shoulder. It spoke to Sigrid of a battle lost but a war open for the taking, and she knew this would not be her last altercation with him. Still, there was one good thing that came from it: Loki’s intervention. There was no way he had just happened upon the scene. He had definitely been keeping an eye on her since their last meeting.

“Let me see,” Loki said. Sigrid’s face contorted in question. “Your wrist,” he clarified with a point of his index finger. She looked to see a dark, handprint shaped bruise forming at the junction between her forearm and hand. Loki waved a hand over it and the bruises faded into fair skin, taking the beginnings of some nagging pain with it.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For this, and for my neck.” Sigrid had awakened the morning after her and Loki’s tryst expecting to see a neck full of darkened hickeys. Instead, she was met with skin that looked as untouched as the day she was born. She knew by that, and the white tulips on her pillow and carpeting her floor, that Loki had made a visit to her room while she was sleeping.

“Yes well, I wouldn’t want to give anyone reason to talk.” He folded his arms behind his back, taking on a formal posture that was reserved for events and meetings. “I would hate for my actions to cause you any trouble.”

And just like that, Sigrid was annoyed all over again. “Would you please stop acting like I’m this naïve little girl who does not know the ways of men? It’s insulting.”

Loki’s eyes widened. It was clear the intent of his words had not been translated. “I meant no disrespect,” he told her, “I just meant—”

“I know what you meant, Loki,” Sigrid sighed. “You said as much after the joust and I honestly don’t want to hear it again. When will you understand that you did not take advantage of me? I was a willing participant as much as you were.”

Loki’s mouth thinned into a line. “You don’t understand,” he said. “My Jotunn side was in control. It made me do things that I…” he trailed off, gaze dropping to his feet. Sigrid lifted a brow as she watched him struggle not to lie to her.

“Things that you what?” Her hands moved to her hips. “That you didn’t want to do? The tub and the carriage would prove that as a lie, so please don’t even try to say it.”

“So what do you want me to say?” Loki hissed. “Because nothing I tell you seems to be satisfactory.”

Sigrid leaned in closer to him. “I want you to admit that your Jotunn side was not controlling you! As a matter of fact, I think it freed you to do what you were always afraid to do!”

Loki lifted a brow. “And what was I always afraid to do?”

“Me!” she exclaimed, then shut her mouth when he realized what she had said. “You know what I mean,” she mumbled. Sigrid knew her face had turned as red as a tomato. “I know you told my father you would marry me before the joust. He spoke to me about it just now.”

If Loki was shocked by her words, he hid it well. His face remained neutral save for a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she folded her arms across her chest. “That is so, and I would assume that a man who has expressed interest in becoming my husband would also be interested in partaking in pleasures of the flesh. Do not, then, presume to make me believe your Jotunn form was the onlyreason for what happened between us. I deserve more than that.”

Loki was silent for a long time after she finished speaking. No emotions crossed his face. The only clue that he was battling internally was the storm raging in his eyes. It was one of the first times in her life that Sigrid could not guess what he was thinking, and it was maddening to no end. “You’re right,” he said finally. “You’re absolutely right.”

Her shoulders lifted. “I am?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “You do deserve better.” Now they fell.

“Loki—”

“You deserve better than a man who plays games and spouts rhetoric and needs a wholly other form to release his inhibitions. I’ve danced around the topic of us for our entire lives and squandered all opportunities to set the record straight in lieu of pretty words and teasing touches. That is not what you deserve. So perhaps,” Loki took a deep breath, “perhaps I was too hasty in agreeing to a union.”

Sigrid felt as though she had been slapped. “You don’t mean that.” An unyielding pressure built at the back of her eyes. “You cannot mean that.”

“I am not good for you,” he told her softly. “Everything I am, everything I do causes ruin.”

“Why are you saying this?” she wanted to know. “You have always been good for me, and I you.”

“Have I?” he questioned. “Been good for you? ‘Good’ is not exactly the most pressing adjective used to describe me. You have a huge heart and a forgiving nature and I love those things about you, but I have benefitted from them for too long. I have taken for granted that you would just fall into my lap instead of taking action, and now I wonder if it’s because there is another who would be a better match for you.”

“Who?” Sigrid asked. “Do you mean Leif?” She threw her hands up. “Loki, I do not want him. I want you. Why are you pretending that you don’t want me too?”

“I am not pretending.” His hand came up to her cheek, hovering hesitantly in the air, then resting against the skin. It was the first time in days that she had felt his touch. “I do want you. Sigrid, I want you so much that the thought of not having you makes my heart ache.”

“Then what is the problem?” Her voice was choked with tears. Loki’s eyes had long filled with them, and they were threatening to fall. “What’s the problem? Marry me. Marry me and let us be happy.”

“The problem is I have suffocated you,” he told her. “I have been possessive of you all the while engaging with lovers and antagonizing any that dared to come near you. You’ve not been afforded a fair chance at love with me constantly by your side.”

“I like you by my side,” she told him. He gave her a weak smile. Her lip was trembling with the effort it took to keep from crying.

“Darling, I would spend eternity by your side if I thought myself worthy of it.. The fact is I have been quite selfish with you. Monopolizing your time and gatekeeping which man comes near you, and you,” he let his thumb stroke her face, “have never once complained. You have always forgiven my transgressions and I can no longer keep toying with you the way that I am.”

“So what does this mean for us? For our friendship?” Loki’s face mirrored her inner turmoil.

“I cannot continue a friendship with you,” he told her, “and I can stay here no longer.”

“What?” She felt her heart clench. “You’re leaving? But tomorrow is my birthday!” Not only was it her birthday, but Loki had agreed to be her escort for the party. Surely, he would not leave her high and dry the day before.

“The day after,” he clarified. “I’ll speak to your father and tell him I was mistaken about the union. I’ll apologize as much as I can because I know how hard he must have tried to make this happen. My return to Asgard will soon follow.”

“And what about me?” she whispered.

A helpless gaze slid onto Loki’s face. “You… stay here. This is your home. You become married and ascend to queen and rule this realm as I have always known you would.” As though it were an afterthought, he quickly said, “I’ll still escort you to the party. I made a promise to you, I know that.”

It was in that moment Sigrid learned what a broken heart felt like. She had heard so many people speak of it before but always thought the saying silly. The heart was a muscular organ that beat blood to the body. How could emotions break it? And yet hers felt like it had cracked in half. That must be it, she decided. The force of the sadness she felt must have been so strong that it split her heart in two and the blood must be filling her chest. What else would be the cause of the pain and pressure that had exploded there?

“Don’t bother,” she told him. “I’ll ask Leif to escort me. It’s what you want, isn’t it?” The hurt look on his face gave her a sick sense of satisfaction. Part of her rejoiced in it, while the other part was furious. Loki had all but given her his blessing to engage with another man, namely Leif. How dare he be upset that she was doing just that?

“Yes, well,” his hand dropped from her face. “We royals do not always get the privilege of following our hearts, do we?” She bit her lip as the words she had used on him what seemed like a lifetime ago were thrown in her face. “I suppose we just do the best we can, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her. “Get some sleep tonight. I don’t want you looking tired before your big day.”

This time, when he disappeared in a cloud of green, Sigrid closed her eyes so she would not have to see him leave.

Chapter 15

Taglist: @sharris8 @howdidurhammergrowchris @delightfulheartdream @queen-of-mischief @thelittlepoetprincess @cosplayingwitch @itsmeempar @theiamischief @huntress-artemiss @janetsnakehole02 @mischief2sarawr @speedy-object-dream @thedistractedagglomeration

[siriusmydeer]

my pretty witch

james potter x fem!reader

summary: james shows you how beautiful your body is.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: soft dom!james, sub!reader, fingering, fem!receiving oral, body insecurities, self doubt, missionary, penetration, marking, daddy kink, kissing, praise, mentions of sickness, wolfstar mention <3

note; requested.

the birds were singing, the sun was glowing, it was the most memorable saturday of the spring season.

students were speaking amongst themselves as the birds were increasingly chirping and the glinting sun that was only visible hanging planet in the sky that was emitting shimmering rays upon the two girls sitting amongst themselves. the faint gust of wind peering as subtle background noise whilst the rest of the courtyard was trifling around on the weekend.

“'m not sure lils, i just feel— it’s hard to explain.” you began to explain with an expression of embarrassment starting to linger on your face, a simple yet prying conversation amongst the ginger whilst you both sat upon the fresh-cut grass upon the millions of acres that belonged to hogwarts.

students of hogwarts were fairly spaced out upon the yard, as well as corridors and the library with madame pince no doubt hurrying them away to keep the tranquility rather in unbroken, as it was one of the first warm days for weather since the scotland air was filled with ivory flecks that completely covered the viridescent grounds.

almost no gryffindor peers around only the two of you insight. james, remus, peter, and sirius had all made their way closer to the quidditch pitch the minute they left breakfast; mainly so james could practice alongside sirius, and they could prance around the pitch on their brooms like first years who had just learned how to fly, as remus and peter watched. mainly peter, remus had cracked open his most latest read as soon as he sat upon the stands whilst faintly blushing from time to time at sirius’ winks and irritatingly pleasant wolf whistles.

what you hadn’t known was james leaving his mates with each other slightly earlier than expected in a quest for his girlfriend.

he had a glistering grin formed on his lips after catching sight of you speaking amongst lily. he was ready to parade over to you and boast about his newest quidditch tricks he had learned whilst sitting upon your lap ruining the serene aura that swarmed around your conversation with the ginger.

the deviant sun flickered delicate rays over your figure, to james you were effortlessly gleaming in the golden hues that radiated upon your skin.

his girl.

how could someone be so utterly beautiful?

the only thing diminishing his smile from the apex of his lips was when he was close enough to catch wind of your conversation with the gryffindor.

“i don't want him to think ‘m disgusting or anything! i just— i have stretch marks and stuff. i don't wanna be unappealing or something.” you whined following a groan whilst tilting your head back, covering your eyes at the slowly sinking sun radiating into your irises.

lily gaped at you befuddled before speaking, “but i mean, you’ve had sex before—” she spoke rather boisterously, you rapidly took the palm of your hand, clutching it over her mouth before she removed it and continued speaking, “and he's never been ‘disgusted’ or anything prior.” she finished in a whisper at your widen eyes; your face contorting into fear, afraid someone had heard what she said.

“’m just nervous that just because he doesn't express anything, doesn't mean he doesn't think it.” you chewed heavily at the skin of your peeling lips before applying a fresh layer of chapstick to the chapped cushions.

the awareness of your pending stress began to become overwhelming in your veins as you expressed your concerns to lily.

the bespectacled boy less than ten feet away from you tremendously creased his features in bewilderment, his face almost permanently contorting into a grueling grimace. did he ever do anything to make you think you were undesirable to him? you were quite literally an angelic essence that roamed the acres of hogwart’s at every waking moment of the day, it was like he had won the lottery, (something muggle-like you had mentioned to him) when you had agreed to go on a date with him.

and now you suspected something he couldn't even imagine in a nightmare.

he stayed a moment longer, listening to you drone on upon the fact he might've found you horrid or repelling. his psyche opting to trudge back to the gryffindor towers where he had originally planned to meet with you after your meet-up with lily.

what decision could've reveled in your mind to decide that he might've thought grueling thoughts on the certain aspects of your psychical appearance that he particularly found beautiful. your personality was captivating, of course. but that didn't mean he wouldn't bore his eyes into your figure trying to memorize every micro-detail of you and your features. any juncture of time he had with you he would spend adorning every aspect of you, when you happen to be separated he would spend his mind fulfilling images of you.

there wasn't one moment where he wasn't thinking of you.

and there wasn't one singular nanosecond he didn't think you weren't a goddess walking the earth.

even before you had brushed your teeth on particularly rough mornings before classes when the mangled tuffs of your hair that clung to your roots before brushing it, even when you were blowing your nose and heaving the tissues onto the ground when you were adamantly sick and you couldn't even whiff the most pungent scents; you were angelic.

so how in merlins name would you think so negatively of yourself?

james proceeded to haul his legs in pacing motions across the floor whilst he awaited your presence in the vermillion stricken common room. his thoughts overwhelming him on the mere thought of you and your psyche negatively impacting every nook and cranny of your mind-- which he would opt to remove any moment he got the chance to.

at the tumble of his limbs moving around the common room he heard a similar pair of footsteps enter the common room, “you alright, love?” you inquired gently, your figure tremendously slouched and drowsy after being in overwhelming embarrassment, the quick spin of his figure catching your attention.

“should i not have—” you initiated to speak again, your words almost completely disorganized, speaking first rather than overthinking your words at his slight apprehensive behaviors since you had arrived mere seconds ago.

“i love you,” he began, now walking over to your tense figure, “and you're my person,” said james in a rapid pace, the words of his tongue rolling off haphazardly. you began to crease your eyebrows confusedly at his confession, his hands deciding to sit on both sides of your fragile jaw that began to clench in the encasement of his palms.

you were adamantly confused at where his arbitrary confession had sprouted from, and the intentions behind it.

“’m quite aware, yes?” you sighed in the duration of your sentence recalling the conversation over your appearance with lily just a few minutes ago, now defiantly looking at your shoes before speaking again. “why the sudden confession, james?” you inquired again, this time sorrowfully.

“’m not an eavesdropper or anything,” he began to defend himself, seeing your eyes hastily peer ascent to him along with the widening of your eyes, “but, i— i heard what you said to lily.” he finished his sentence wistfully. you respired heavily for a moment, your hands now clutching onto his that remained laid onto your complexion.

“just, i dunno. ignore my thoughts, they’re stupid.”

his eyes proceeded to widen at your request. his reaction to being adamantly confused was contorted in the features of his face like he had been peering over the defense against the dark arts section on an O.W.L.S exam after not studying for a week.

“i could never just ignore you. i care about what you think, m’love.” he dragged the pad of his thumb against the dermis of your cheek, feeling the broad flush of your skin begin to warm the velvet palms of hands. “i just— i can't explain it.”

there was a detrimental feeling pooling in your mind at the feeling of embarrassment beginning to tinge your cheeks. you felt as if you were in the middle of a school audition and suddenly forgot all of your lines, the insistent feeling of unworthiness popping up in your mind every couple of minutes like a menace throughout your life.

“c’mon, darling,” he whispered whilst beckoning you, removing his hands that were clutched onto the apple of your cheeks now sliding his digits through your own. the balmy feeling of his palm radiating into yours was the only steady grasp you had while he had led you into his empty dormitory.

his emotions continued to display as unknown whilst he sat upon the vermillion knit comforter that laid quite messily upon his bed. his legs began to open whilst he brought your body between them. his palms making a heavy grip upon the curvature of your waist, and his thumb now stroking the cotton material that adorned your figure. his thumb gliding down to the hem, suddenly feeling the warm flush of your skin melding into his own.

“let me make you feel good.” james began to plead, his face quirking into a mild pout. your mind reflecting on your insecurities for a moment, the ripples in your skin, the vergetures tissue that was rooted upon your flesh, but as of right now that was now to be the least of your concerns that ventured in your mind.

the pads of his calloused palm lingered to the planes of your lower back to the swell of your bottom, his hands palming at the denim material while he awaited your answer; you merely nodded your head, his grin increasingly growing whilst his grip managed to maneuver you hurriedly onto the middle of his bed. your legs slightly fumbling before your spine was adjacent to his mattress.

his lip was now faintly tucked under the cushion of his lip while his athletic form began to hover over your body. the ivory white top you were dressed in was now being pulled down to the point of the exposure of your brassiere, and the dewy kisses emitting from his lips were now faintly pressed against the mantle of your skin.

his fingers feebly started to grasp at the flimsy material of your top before raising it over the undulating form of your body, his hand flinging the pallid fabric onto the mahogany wood of his dormitory. james had now buried his head between your supple mounds that laid gracefully on your chest, his swirling tendrils of brunet tickled at the planes of your jugular.

he felt the slight respire hitching in your chest while lips suckled at the skin that guarded your sternum, the slight blossoming hue rested in the juncture of your chest whilst his lips proceeded to move around your midriff.

the silk tresses of his brunet tuffs faintly titillated at your abdomen as the sponges of his kisses landed directly on the lower regions of your abdomen. his lips continuing to suction recurrent markings till the fluorescent blooms of umber and vermillion spilled delicately onto the searing flesh of your midriff.

his cerulean eyes peeled off of the buckle from your jeans, his eyes now sauntering out your face, and your arms now balancing yourself so you can gape into his eyes. he tilted his head in question, emitting a second nod of confirmation from you. taking it upon himself to rid of your clothing from your legs, leaving his hand traveling into the flimsy sheet of scarlet lace you had been clad in.

his finger swirled upon the swollen button once, releasing an enclosed gasp from your lungs that had been held in your trachea. his hands grasping upon the tight material and removing it from your body before looking at the sopping folds of your cunt.

once, twice, three times, he glided his fingers through your arousal effortlessly before attaching his lips to the swelled nub, proceeding to suckle like a babe. his tongue exploring your cunt whilst your wavering moans were transferring through the air. he began to maneuver your legs to balance on the bend of his shoulders whilst your pending moans lay enticingly in the air; your feeble digits feeling the strain of his tuffs in the clutch of your fingers at his arousing stimulation.

his ring and middle finger began to prod at your entrance before sliding into the depths of your aching cunt nimbly. his tongue stretched upon the crevices of your cunt while it collected your sickly nectar on the tip of his tongue, his face now buried in your cunt.

the unyielding quiver in your legs around his head was only steely increasing as he etched you closer and closer upon release. the bubbling moans exuding from your throat only increasing his current pride at your pleasureful noises making him grin into your cunt until you were pleading out to him, rather desperately.

“daddy, please. can i cum?”

“since you asked so nicely.” he retorted to your question enticingly. removing his mouth as his fingers recurrently impelled in the silken encasement of your cunt until your legs were trembling over his shoulders, and your mind had finally bleared out from the explosive butterflies that now lingered in your belly.

he caught sight of a few unwavering mauve lines that retracted in the inside flesh of your thighs, pressing a few absentminded kisses to them before his body began to hover over your own.

the bespectacled boy had now removed the indigo shirt from his body, his abdomen and rippling muscles were now in desolate from your slightly fatigued eyes. his body now recurrently hovering over your heaving one. his thumb swiped against your cheek once before his eyes came in the direct view of your churning abdomen.

he lowered his face till his nose was slightly smeared against your rib cage and his lips came in direct contact with the mauve and pallid lines you had been so doggedly insecure about.

his hands now placed on the curvature of your waist, admiring the stripes that now defined your midsection. tracing the small lines on the left, on the right, then craning his neck under your thighs so he could press a few absentminded kisses to the swell of your bum.

when he had returned from your underside, now catching your lips in a kiss. the hues of orange and red now bleeding into the atmosphere of the room, the sun slowly setting in the underworld amongst the other planets whilst he removed the remaining articles of clothing that had lingered on your figures.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into the junction of your neck, landing directly on your pulse point that had been unwaveringly erratic. “astonishingly beautiful, my angel.” he crooned into the curvature of your neck whilst his lips moved to the crease of your jaw.

his hands delicately were fixed on the apex of your thighs, the limbs hanging closely on the burly muscles of his waist. “please, daddy. need you so bad.” you began to mewl while his cock had nudged faintly at your thigh.

at your words, james leisurely filled you to the brim with his cock until the happy trail sprouted ascent his lower abdomen was now pressed against your hips in a minuscule grinding-like motion.

his forearms now embedding into the mattress beside your hair that was cascading around your face similar to a halo that an angel wore proudly, his hips continuously grinding against your hips whilst your ankles were brought into a tight lock on the lower curvature of his spine.

“my pretty girl.”

the motions of his thrusts were steady and protracted. the movements drawing out your orgasms substantially, rather than the feeling of intense euphoric elation, it’s rather prolonged and comforting in the small snap of a coil that trembled in your belly.

the searing flush of your skin colliding with one another whilst his mouth had now been placed upon your own once more. your arms now resting on the nape of his neck, the minuscule scratch, and tug of your fingers bringing him to center of the actions he was trying to exhibit towards you.

his love, his adoration, his appreciation.

the small kisses he left on your hairline whilst he was etched closer, and closer upon his release until the splintering clench in his belly had profusely slackened . “you’re so captivating.” he crooned amid your kiss after separating his lips from yours for a moment.

the meld of his skin against your own was enticing and inviting. his tongue swept into your mouth to envelop the feeling of you just a little more before the ropes of his release had seeped into the depths of your cunt; only deepening the liplock whilst his prick had remained inside of you.

it wasn't a long duration of time before james quickly scrambled away to dress you in his freshly cleaned vermillion and umber quidditch jumper and a pair of his boxer shorts, quickly cuddling close to your side whilst placing a few last kisses to your forehead before he had changed into a pair of sweatpants himself and beckoned you to lay on his chest.

“you m’dear, are, completely, and irrevocably bewitching. my pretty witch.”

taglist: @miss-starkov @ronbrokemyheart @aricela @inglourious-imagines @moonyinthelight @bikinibottomspeach @myalo-vasano-psixis @i-love-scott-mccall @kirascottage @five-cups-of-coffee @myloveforluna @abbott27 @hufflepuffsfordraco @slytherclawbitch @ggmniy @90steaology

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 21

TW: None

Words Count: 4.3k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 22

You wake up feeling sore all over your body. From top to bottom- it just feels painful. Even opening your eyes seems like a difficult task. But you somehow did.

It takes a while for you to adjust your vision although it is very dim in the room. The next thing you notice is cold fingers wrapped against yours when you try to move yours. That’s when you tilt your head very slightly and glance down to see your husband fast asleep, his free hand beneath his head as a pillow.

You want to call out to him but realize you don’t have a voice. So you result to moving your fingers several times to wake him up.

His eyebrows gather in a frown before he finally opens his eyes. When he lifts his gaze to look at you, he blinks several times.

“Y/N…?” He asks, as if unsure whether you’re really awake. Then he blinks again rapidly before leaning forward and caressing your cheeks with his fingers. “Oh God, oh God you’re really awake.”

You could almost swear that his eyes glisten a little. “You’re fine.. you’re fine..” he says repetitively as his fingers gently squeeze yours.

“W.. water..” you manage to choke out.

Jimin lifts himself immediately and quickly fetches a glass of water. You try to sit up but ends up letting out a whimper when jarring pain shoots across your shoulder.

“No, wait..” he reaches forward like he’s going to embrace you and it’s embarrassing how you feel your heartbeat starts to pick up quickly. He helps you sit up gently and arranges the pillow behind your back for you to lean back comfortably. Then he helps you to drink from your glass.

You let out a long breath once you’re finally done and your throat doesn’t burn so much. You look at your husband and he just shifts uncomfortably.

“You’re so pale.” He says and watch your face registers surprise.

“How- how long have I been out?”

“Almost a week.” He says with a clench in his jaw. Then he reaches forward again, fingers reaching up to lightly push several strands of hair behind your ear. His face is so near and your heart starts beating wildly against your ribs before suddenly the image of him carving your brother’s face and shooting him without mercy comes into your mind. Almost automatically, you jerk away from him. The whole thing had been so traumatising and you’re still very terrified of him.

He flinches when he sees you pull away from his touch like a burn. His expression hard. Then he sighs and pulls back from touching you.

Unconsciously, you pull your blanket tighter. “W-what happened to me?”

He hesitates before answering. “Someone tried to shoot me but missed and the bullet hit you instead. It grazed your shoulder.”

You touch your bandaged shoulder mindlessly. All images of the night in the warehouse then comes hitting you like a truck and suddenly it’s all too overwhelming. Your fingers grip your blanket a little too harshly. “Y- you didn’t have to kill him.” You say softly.

His expression turns furious instantly. “I did. Fullstop. And if it were to happen again, I’d do it all over again.”

You flinch at his words.

“Fuck. I’m- I’m sorry, I- I can’t let him go. Not after what he did to you.” He says softly.

You swallow thickly.

“I.. thank you for saving me..”

He lets out a sigh. “I.. just couldn’t bear the thought of you.. lying there.. you really scared me back there.”

Your gaze softens. “That’s what you do for love. Get hurt for them.. Instead of them.” The words are out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

He looks at you in horror and you bite your lip while muttering sorry.

“No that’s not it… I..” he sigh. You watch his pained expression as he carefully chooses his words. “When we were back there.. and when those bastards touch you.. I was in rage. I.. I wanna tear them apart, limb to limb.”

“You care for me.” You say quietly. You know for a fact that he does. In his own twisted way.

He looks straight at you. “I do.”

For the first time since you wake up, you feel like crying.

“Y/N.” He calls. His expression serious and you find yourself immersed in his piercing stare. You swallow as you look at him expectantly. “Let’s.. start over. Do you want to.. start over.. with me?” He asks and it’s the first time you’ve seen him look so unsure of himself.

You continue to stare at him. A thousand words crossing through your mind but none comes out of your lips.

He swallows. “I.. I care about you. A lot. And I don’t know if this feeling is love or.. not.. but I’m gonna try.. for us.”

Is it weird that you just somehow know Jimin cares for you before he even says it out loud? It’s a foreign feeling for him but you know it better.

But for now, it’s good enough. It’s all that you could ever want. For him to open up and let you in.

Because you want to fill him with warmth and embrace every part of him.

You feel a tear dropping.

“So.. what do you say?”

And suddenly your tears turn into sobs as you frantically nod. His eyes glisten when he sees you breaking into tears and he instinctively leans forward, pulling you gently into a hug. His lips find your forehead and he kisses it tenderly.

“I’m so sorry for everything..” he says softly.

And for a long moment, he just lets you cry on his shoulders.

The doctor comes to check up on you, explains to you of all the side effects you might be having, gives plenty of lectures to your husband and you find it funny how he just sit through it like an adolescent child being told off. Later that evening, you sit in silence as you watch your husband brings you a tray of chicken porridge. You’ve fallen asleep after crying so hard and only wakes up now with your stomach grumbling.

Jimin feeds you the porridge and brings you water every now and then and you just sit in silence as you study his face.

It’s very weird to have him tending to you like this. Like he didn’t just make a killing spree which includes your own brother and the memory makes you recoil. You try to take the spoon saying you’ll feed yourself only to earn a glare from your husband.

When you’re done, he cleans it up and comes back to sit on the chair beside your bed. His fingers find you immediately and you find it weird how it feels so right and natural against yours when in fact you didn’t have much memory of holding his hands.

Unconsciously, your fingers reach to your neck to find your ring and you feel your heart dropping when you realize it’s not there. Jimin sees the look of panic in your face.

“What’s wrong?”

“My- my necklace. Oh my god, my ring-”

His shoulders visibly relax. “Ssh.. relax. It’s in a safe place.” He squeezes your fingers.

And that’s when you notice he doesn’t wear his as well and your look of terror reappear in a speed of light. He’s always worn his ring and you wonder if something went wrong. “Jimin you- you‘re not wearing your ring too oh God- oh God we’re- we’re still married right? Y-you didn’t divorce me or something right??” You ask frantically in utter panic.

He just chuckles. “Relax Y/N.. shh.. I was gonna wait till you’re better but at this rate I think you might die from heart attack. Of course we’re still married, you idiot. I.. I just thought that the rings.. is like the worse part of our marriage.. and they’re all just bad memories for you.. and I want to make it all better for you, so I plan to get new ones and wanted to keep it a secret.. but I guess it’s no longer a secret.” He grins.

You swallow as your fingers play with his, tracing the slight mark left by the ring on his fourth finger. “I… I like the rings.. it means you’re taken..”

He grins even wickedly. “Don’t worry. No one has come for my hand in marriage in the span of two days I don’t wear my ring.” He winks.

He freaking winks.

You blush crazily.

Silence settles again between the two of you before you speak up.

“I.. thought you didn’t care about me..” you say quietly.

“Is that why you went out without security??” He bursts out.

You slowly nod.

“Do you know how fucking stupid that is?” He snaps and you flinch. “Damn it, if you’d just told me.. I would’ve.. given you time.. or space from me or whatever you want. But you decided to escape security, pack your bags and leaves a stupid fucking note saying you’re sorry without any sort of explanation and then just disappears. Did you have a death wish or something??”

You blanch at his words and looks down immediately. It’s not even two hours before he says he’s trying to fix ‘us’ yet he’s here scolding you like you’re a child. “I’m sorry..”

He shuts his eyes for a moment and when they reopen he looks at you softly. “Fuck, I’m sorry for yelling too.”

You swallow bitterly. “I.. Jimin.. if we’re going to do this.. I just want you to know that I can’t share you.. I mean- I won’t.”

He stills for a few moments, just processing your words. Perhaps wondering where this is all coming from. Then he rolls his eyes. “Baby, I just talked about us.”

His term of endearment make your heart skips a beat but you still couldn’t shake the thought that has been haunting your mind. “What about Clara Kim?”

To his credit, he bursts out laughing. “You’re in a coma for almost a week and yet you still can’t forget about her huh?” He says, wiping a nonexistent tear of mirth from his eyes.

You still stare back at him, looking serious.

He realizes you aren’t laughing and just smiles as he takes your hand, wrapping it gently. “No, I’m not hooking up with her. I mean, long time ago yes,” you narrow your eyes, “sorry- but not anymore. I’ve been faithful since I married you. I didn’t sleep with her or anyone for that matter.”

You couldn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach but you still wouldn’t let it go. “Then who’s she?”

“She’s just one of the dealer in my illegal business. You.. don’t wanna know the details they’re.. dangerous.” He gives a plastic smile. “But she’s out now. I cut all sorts of business with her and she’s gone missing too.”

“Missing?”

His jaw tightens. “Because she knows I’d cut her alive if I find her.”

You blanch. Your husband really likes.. cutting people.. a lot.

“I- fuck, damn it. I’m sorry. You should probably rest before I make it worse.” He smiles apologetically.

You take a deep breath, not ready to let it go just yet.

“I- I’ve seen you.. and her in the office.”

“Oh she can be tempting.” He smirks. “Particularly when I don’t agree with her on certain things. But no- I told you I never touch anyone after I married you.”

O.. kay. You can live with that.

“I’ve said horrible things to you..” He starts.

“You did.” You respond almost immediately. All memories of him throwing words like you’re nothing to him comes flashing.

He bit back his words and perhaps wants to defend himself but thinks better of it. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Why.. why didn’t you leave me..? Even when I was so mean to you..”

You just give him a soft smile before reaching to touch his hand. “You told me before.. that I would leave this marriage if I know the reason behind it.. but I know you.. I don’t know why but it just felt like I know you, not the outer appearance you put on. But you on the inside, the beautiful and kind and the attentive man I fell for. You’ve always shut people out.. including me as well.. but I just.. I just want to show you that there are people who cares for you.. that I’m never gonna leave no matter what. Because.. I love you..”

The look he gives you when you utter those words makes you wonder if his heart is skipping a beat too. He smiles at you fondly. “So what do you say?” He suddenly asks.

“Hm?”

He brings your hand to his lips and then he kisses your knuckles. “Say yes..? To this new journey with me..?”

You want to say yes. You really want to.

But there’s something heavy in your heart and it’s something that you just can’t shake off immediately. “I.. I don’t know..” you say after a while, giving up on finding the right words. “You still scare me.. a lot..”

“I understand.” He says quietly.

“Can we.. can we take it slow..?”

He looks at you for a moment and then smiles softly as he nods. “Okay. I’m not gonna rush you into anything.”

You nod as well. “Thank you.. and I’m sorry..”

He quickly shakes his head. “Don’t be.” Is all he says.

For the next few weeks, Jimin takes care of you at the hospital. It’s awkward and you feel it and you know he feels it too. It’s the way your eyes would meet when he hands you something because it isn’t something he usually do. He never does that- he never takes care of anyone, period.

It also doesn’t help how your heart races every time he comes near. Intentionally or unintentionally. And you think for the most part Jimin does things intentionally just to see you all flustered and flushed crimson.

For example, today- is one of the days you wish Jimin is the cold guy you know and not this- flirty Jimin. He walks out of the bathroom, freshly showered. He’d been practically living at the hospital with you, and it’s comfortable enough since he’d so conveniently transferred you to VIP suite room and the room is almost as big as the one you shared with him at home with a King sized bed which he could sleep into with you but he insists to sleep on the massage chair beside the bed or sometimes the couch at the near end of the room because he’s scared he might accidentally hurt you as well as personal bathroom, mini fridge and a small closet.

You gulp and silently curses your rapid pulse because your husband’s not even naked for you to react this way.

He’s just half naked.

He walks out with only his pyjama bottom, his hair still wet from the shower and you feel like salivating over his toned body. His back is vast, almost like you can lay a canvas and draw on it without a problem, and it comes down into a very muscled structure, and on each side of his waist, a V line so deeply engraved looking like a sin on plate as if it’s been carved by the sex God himself. You briefly wonder what kind of exercise he has to do to make those Adonis belt.

He turns around and you look like a deer caught in headlights and you quickly look down while clearing your throat. For a fleeting second though, you think you see his smirk but it’s gone too fast.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to eat now?” He asks, face seemingly too innocent.

You suddenly don’t feel hungry anymore. Not for food, anyway. So you shake your head. “I- I’m just gonna lie down.” Or more like, calm your freaking heart down.

“You sure? You okay? Do you want me to call the doctor? It’s about time he comes anyway-“

You’re about to say no when there’s a knock on the door. And as if he’d been summoned, Doctor Lee appears in the doorway with two others behind him. Jimin lets him in immediately while he puts on his shirt. Thank God all of them are male.

“Evening, Mrs. Park.” The doctor greets you and you just smile at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

He eyes the device to your right as he reads your chart. “Your heartbeat seems quicker than normal. Are you feeling alright? Any dizziness or particular pain you’re experiencing?”

You’re pretty sure your face is flaming red now. Jimin looking as if he’s trying to hold his laugh, his shoulders silently vibrating.

“No, no nothing. I’m fine.” You say quickly.

“I’ve looked into your charts and your recent CT scan is fine. I’ll consult with orthopaedic specialist and if everything’s fine, you should be good to be discharged this weekend. You’re very lucky the bullet just grazed your shoulder, otherwise you might’ve caused your husband to become a widower.”

Jimin hisses upon hearing that.

“I wouldn’t say lucky.” You mutter under your breath.

“It’s not a serious wound but you still need some serious recovery. You’re not allowed to do anything heavy. You still suffer from injury around your throat. Any sorts of pain, please inform me immediately.”

You just silently nod. The doctors are about to leave when Jimin calls for Doctor Lee.

“Doctor, can I have a second?” When the doctor nods, he follows him outside. What kind of question does he have that he cannot ask in front of you? You frown.

When he comes in, he sits on the chair beside you and you look at him suspiciously.

“What did you ask the doctor?”

He just gives a sly grin. “I think you don’t wanna know.”

You narrow your eyes and is about to push him for answer when he leans so close to you, and all words slip back down your throat. Your breath hitches when he hovers like he’s about to kiss you.

“You don’t look so pale anymore.” He suddenly says.

What?

He leans backward again making you all confused. His eyes suddenly darts toward your heart rate monitor and your eyes follow his gaze.

And your worst case scenario repeats; the monitor giving away your spiking heart rate.

And your husband finds amusement in confirming the fact that he caused it.

He smiles a little too widely. “Perhaps you shouldn’t really be discharged that quickly.”

“Shut up.” You glare at him and quickly hide yourself under the blanket.

The next morning, you tell the nurse to get you off the machine. She agrees to it, much to your husband’s rolling of eyes.

While you’re in the hospital, Jimin’s group of friends also come to visit.

That morning, Jimin’s spoon-feeding you a bowl of noodle although you resisted at first, only to earn a piercing glare from your husband when there’s a rapid knock on the door. Whoever it is, or are outside doesn’t seem to mind about an invitation because a second later, they barge in with total chaos. The room is instantly filled with large bouquets of flowers and fruits basket.

“God, it smells like newlyweds all over again!” Someone shouts in the midst of all the conversations erupting at the same time.

“Y/N how are you?!” Jungkook asks and doesn’t hesitate to pull you into an embrace, making you wince a little. Jimin pulls him off you instantly.

“Careful, brat.” He glares at the younger boy.

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “Oops, sorry sorry.” He smiles apologetically at you and you just smile back kindly at him.

“How are you feeling Y/N?” Jin asks, he’s already peeling off an apple for you.

“I’m feeling okay. You don’t have to do that Jin.”

He flashes a sweet smile. “Nah, this is nothing.”

“I’m really glad you’re getting better Y/N.” Namjoon says and smiles his dimpled smile.

“Jimin was really beside himself while you’re unconscious.” Hoseok chirps in.

“Yeah, saying something like being stupid or something..” Jungkook says and everybody else laughs while your husband yells at him.

“Shut up, brat.”

Then they each starts a conversation of their own with each other. Your husband discussing some things with Taehyung.

“Did you bring the files I asked for?” Your husband says.

Taehyung nods. “I’ve asked most of them to prepare written reports but there’s some that you might still have to come to the office to look at yourself.”

Jimin just nods.

“You’re planning to work from home for long?” Taehyung asks, tone is slightly hushed, perhaps not wanting you to hear yet you can still hear them.

Jimin glances at you slightly and you quickly pretend to be so interested in Jungkook’s story who’s sitting beside you, talking animatedly.

“I have to take care of my wife.” He says quietly and your heart swells from hearing that.

“Are you.. okay now with Jimin hyung?” Jungkook suddenly asks quietly beside you, taking you off guard.

You frown slightly. You remember Jimin saying only Taehyung knows about the reality of your marriage with him.

“We all know about it now. Jimin hyung himself told us all about it while you were unconscious for days.” He says.

Jin sits on the edge of your bed and hands you a slice of apple he cut and you nod at him gratefully. “Don’t blame him. I think.. he just wants the best for you that’s why he seeks us for some advice.”

You slowly nod. “He’s.. making an effort.”

Hoseok then suddenly comes to join the conversation as well. He softly calls for your name. “And we’re sorry about having you to watch all those.. you know.. back in the warehouse.”

You flinch a little. They all seem really nice, friendly and harmless. But the fact that they are a group of mafias, has more experience of killing people than you’ll ever know makes you shudder. You don’t do well with violence.

“Yeah Jimin’s too caught up in the moment. He should’ve not let you see that.” Jin says kindly.

“Or perhaps someone should’ve covered her eyes better.” Hoseok says, side eyeing Jungkook, making him puff in irritation.

“Oh come on, that’s not fair. Blame Jimin hyung for not controlling himself. He’s the stupid one.” He complains.

“Who’s the stupid one?” Jimin asks, nearing where the conversation is coming from. He takes his seat on your left and Jungkook immediately shuts his mouth.

“So, when can you be discharged?” Hoseok asks.

“If everything’s okay, this weekend.” You smile at him.

“But you still can’t do anything heavy right? A gunshot is still a gunshot.” Jin says.

You nod.

Jungkook smirks. “Huh. No sex for Jimin hyung then.” He says and you choke on the apple you’re eating and cough too much. Everyone looks at Jungkook first then you then Jimin then anywhere else and there’s suddenly an awkward tension in the room and you hope the ground would swallow you whole at that moment.

“It’s okay. There’s plenty other ways.” Jimin says suddenly and your eyes widen. He did not just say that!

“What the fuck hyung! So gross!” Jungkook says while the others are desperately trying to hold their laugh.

You’re thankful you’re now off the heartbeat monitor because if all these happens while you’re attached to the machine.. the doctor would probably come running.

The guys bring you so much laughter but now that they had left, you feel the soreness down to your toes. It’s late evening and you just want to lie back down but you also feel dirty since you haven’t showered or change your clothes.

You’re still in sitting position, your back against the pillows and you unconsciously moan when your head hit the pillow behind, eyes shut.

You could almost drift to sleep immediately if your entire body doesn’t suddenly become alarmed when you feel a hand coming up to your rib where the hospital gown’s knot is situated. One simple act of untying the knot and you’d be naked from top to bottom because you’re completely bare on the inside.

Your hand reaches out to grip his immediately, stopping his act. He seems surprised for a moment but immediately relaxes. “You need to change clothes and bathe.”

“You.. are not going to undress me. Or bathe me.” You say in all seriousness.

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve seen more than this.” He snorts and you flush all shades of red.

You try to say no to him changing your cloths or bathing you but he’s very adamant about it and you sigh in surrender. And it’s more likely because you’re already worn out and couldn’t take off your cloth on your own.

If your naked body somehow affects him, he surely does a good job hiding it. Perhaps your pride is bruised, a little.

All he does is just gentle and tenderness as he wipes your whole body with wet towel and you almost buckle in full embarrassment. Once the whole tedious process is done, he guides you to your bed, tucking you in as his body is flush against yours. His embrace is so warm against your cold blanket and you almost shut your eyes from the warmth.

He starts to pull away once you’re tucked in bed but you grip his arm tight before he could go away, eyes already fluttered close. He seems unsure at first but then decides to just hug you till you’re sound asleep. So he lets your head fall across his chest and silently prays you don’t hear his rapid heartbeat.

You lean close to him, as if pulled by his smell. You’ve always liked his smell and it’s your most favourite smell in the world.

You thought you only said it your mind but little did you know, you muttered it under your breath and Jimin being a few centimetres away catches on it, making his lips quirk up in a fond smile. His head dips down slightly and softly presses his lips against the crown of your head.

You fall asleep in his arms like that.

A/N: Weeee hope you guys like the chapter <3 4.3k words phew- that's a bit long but uhhh not gonna apologize xD see you guys in the next chap! ;) p/s i hope yall are ready for jimin's change in behaviour hewhewhew

Buy me a coffee here!

Link to Chapter 22

Posted on 210519 9:00PM

[yinses]

meticulously

| you just needed him to do this one thing … then you wouldn’t ask for anything more | sukuna ryomen rating: 18+

a/n: we only accept au sukuna in this nandos. my second longest work to date and its sukuna.

maybe it was because you were tired of hearing it all.

about how you were such a good girl. so ambitious and focused on your studies. they made it seems so honorable that you were willing to put boys on the back burner in order to achieve your goals.

as if you had a choice.

as if you weren’t a timid little thing who incidentally teased the edges of something before falling back the recesses of your comfort zone. how many apps had you applied for only to waste the time of yourself and others. those sites were never meant to find true love- just conveniently hook ups to release pent up stress.

and you had a lot of it.

so maybe that's why you decided that it was okay to have a little more to drink tonight- to wander further from your friends into the wilderness. you could have one day to make a bad decision and face the consequences for it.

clubs were never your thing which was likely another reason why you were in this drought.

it wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, as old habits die hard. every so often you were approached with promises of drinks and suggestive conversation. and each one you shied away from and earned a scoff before they already started in pursuit of their next challenge.

it was possible that you were doing it wrong. you lacked the confidence to just ask for what you wanted, mostly because you didn’t know.  play coy, they told you, make them do the work for you.

so you find yourself on the dance floor instead with a new strategy. lost among the masses with the bass thrumming in your veins. here there would be no room for talk.

it only takes one song for you to feel him behind you. he doesn’t whisper sweet things in your ear. instead, his hands start at your hips, just a brush of touch to see how you react. when you don’t move away, he pulls you close and moves your hips in slow circles.

you’re immediately attracted to his confidence. in the way he guides your hand upward, instead of lower, encouraging your hand to grip at the short of his hair. the angle it provides is an open invitation for him to begin placing open mouthed kisses up the length of your neck. when he reaches your ear he pauses, and you hear the dark timber of his voice.

“i saw you turning away all those little boys earlier. what are you looking for, kitten?”

kitten. you shiver at the name.  main characters in novels always turned into a giddy mess over the pet name, losing themselves to the velvety whispered promises and underlying possession. the name brought more of a thrill than anything else; to know that he had been watching you in the distance.

you fight the urge to turn, wanting to stay in the moment for as long as you could. for some reason, like this, you think you could become the person he thinks you are. someone who knows what she wants and doesn’t accept anything less. back at the bar, men asked you too many questions and allowed the opportunity for your insecurities to bleed through.

like this, you only needed to admit one thing.

“i want you.”

its stupid and reckless. he could be a list of anything dangerous yet you advanced him to the top of the list. it was too early to tell but you hope he could be the one. then all of of the little details wouldn’t matter. you were here to lose your first time, not remember it.

you don’t expect him to use the grip on your hips to turn you, the sudden shift and lingering alcohol leaving you disoriented for a moment.

he was tall, though you had judged so from the reach it took to curl your fingers into his nape. the hair you had been blindly acquainted with turned out to be an unusual pale shade of pink. but it worked for him, and the interesting accompaniment of vermillion eyes. you were just starting to account the black lines of dark ink peeking from under his sleeve when his voice drew your attention back to his face.

his grin was telling. he wanted you to take him in because he knew you’d like what you saw. he doesn’t even need to ask. it was too early to tell if he was calling your bluff or enabling it.

he brings his mouth down to hover above yours, lips brushing as he speaks,”so your place or mine?”

this is what you needed, no thoughts beyond what your bodies could offer. this was the man who would take your virginity.

the first sign of hesitance you show is when offering your home. it was close enough to the campus and your neighbors would hear your scream if your ignorance turned out to be your undoing. he agrees, naturally, because why would he turn down a willing lay?

your fingers fumble quickly and shakily as you quickly text your friends that you’re bringing someone back. the answers vary from concern, to disbelief, to excitement and back to apprehension. ultimately, your roommates agree to leave the apartment to you for the night but vow to turn up first thing in the morning.

all the while, his hand is at the small of your back as he guides you towards the entrance. the icy cold air that hits you when you step outside is unkind to the thin sheen of sweat you’d accumulated. the price paid to look good rarely came cheap. the heat radiating from behind you was less of a comfort and more of a reminder as you shift from foot to foot in wait for a taxi.

“ names’ sukuna.”

it came as a jest rather than to inform. the way your eyes widen in realization proving that you’d skimmed over that step unintentionally. the men prior had offered it up without prompting as if it as their key trait in the introductions. while you’d grinded on this man for nearly two songs and hadn’t even thought to ask.

you stumble over your own name and his grin widens further.

he leans close enough for your visible breaths to mingle.

“you’re so fucking cute, kitten. i can’t wait to unwrap you.” 

and then he was kissing you senseless.

he tastes of whiskey and menthol, a savory smokiness that would be a lingering flavor for hours to come. there was a unique sense of excitement that came from kissing a stranger. the anxiousness blurred the lines between your thoughts and emotions. his tongue met yours and swept it into a fast, claiming pace.

just when your hands rose to find purchase on his shirt, the incoming headlights fanned against your joined bodies. sukuna, the apparent level-headed one, pulled away for you.

“don’t worry, we’ll have plenty to explore soon.”

sukuna surprisingly does not encroach on your space in the back of the taxi. his arm rests comfortably along the back of your seat, but his fingers don't chase the easy access to the back of your neck there. it makes you annoyingly anxious as your knee jumps in place. you refrain from looking at him in the corner of your eye already knowing what awaits you on his lips.

the remainder of the drive is short and uneventful.it takes less than ten minutes between the club and the arrival at your front door. you impress yourself with the lack of tremors as you fit your key into the door and welcome you into your home.

the light from the kitchen highlights only what you need to make it to your bedroom without injury. too many had happened before that became habitual prior to any night out.

there is a rattle in your spine as you carefully pull one shoe off than the other. its an action that you take your time with as you gather your thoughts. when you look back at him, he hasn’t wandered a step from the entrance, though his gaze travels where the light allows. at the feel of your gaze he cocks a brow,”i’m waiting on you kitten.”

right.

this was happening.

you’d made it this far.

tilting your head, you lead him to your bedroom without another word. you’re thankful that your widow sits in view of the night sky, taking the place of any artificial light you might have to provide.

every muscle is as stiff as a board as you toss your shoes into a corner. your mouth opens to stupidly point out that this is your room.

sukuna laughs, because why wouldn’t he after learning the mysterious vixen not only had a name but was a timid little thing. still he didn’t cater to your anxiety nor did he allow it to slow his pace.

his arms flex as he reaches behind himself to pull at his shirt from the tag. you’d caught glimpses of his tattoos in the darkness of the club without really looking, but you haven't been able to connect the lines of a pseudo sleeve. the double bands circle both wrists and biceps with encompassing circles swirling around his shoulders. it was a simple yet uniform pattern. you could just see the beginning of another figure curing from behind his neck as well.

“i’m starting to think that i should just be flattered when you get quiet like that.”

his hand makes itself home again at your waist as he walks you backwards until the edge of your bed knocks against the back of your knees. sukuna keeps you from falling back while his fingers go to curl at the hem of your dress.

“it’s only fair,” he says in your ear, as if the removal of his shirt was any kind of equivalence.

he helps you along the way, or maybe makes it worse as he starts to kiss your neck. his hands slide along every new available inch of skin from your thighs to your navel. he shamelessly cups your bra, squeezing the mounds in appreciation.

sukuna pulls away to rid you of the dress entirely. before you can adjust to the loss, he leans back in to unhook your bra as an afterthought.

he grins when you immediately bring your arms over your exposed chest,”don’t be shy. this is what you wanted, right?”

you don’t miss the implied probe behind the tease. it's faint but it’s comforting to know he’s still seeking consent and it eases a bit of your anxiety.

it makes you pliant enough for him to cup the backs of your thighs and lie you back against the sheets. though the moment your bare skin comes in contact with the sheets with his broad form hovering over you, all the brief conviction shrivels up.

your hands curl into the bedding for leverage when his weight is suddenly there to ease you back down. his arms slip around you to anchor you in place, pinning you under the hard warmth of his chest. his lips meet your ear, tongue sliding along the shell,” these mixed signals are going to get old real quick, kitten. “

there is a warning there but you don’t know what exactly it alludes too. how could you when you’d invited a complete stranger into your home.

but sukuna seems to know what to look for, eyes carefully watching the way you shy away from his touch yet draw yourself back on your own. he’s attune to the push and pull, seeming to understand the paradoxical conundrum that you’d drug him into.

you can just barely catch the cut of his smile in the darkness,”are you a virgin, kitten?” he asks, voice light and cool.

the way his body is keeping you in place makes it impossible for you to curl in on yourself, your embarrassment left on display.

“oh baby, if you let me, i’ll take good care of you.”

and how could you not agree to that?

he swallows your affirmation, tongue pushing into your mouth and making you groan.

“ ‘m gonna make you feel so good.”

his hands slide between the apex of your thighs to cup you, digits gliding along your covered slit. two fingers from his other hand press against the aperture of your mouth with the single command to suck.

you only hesitate briefly, tongue flicking out to taste the salt from his fingers. his impatience grows in the moment, idly feeding you a few inches until your lips hollow to stop him before he can reach the back of your throat. it feels more like a sloppy mess than anything remotely sexy as you drool around him, sucking harder to contain the wetness.

but sukuna seems to eat up the attention, idly thrusting in and out when he can. “you’re such a good learner,” he praises with hoarseness.

a garbled squeak manages to leave you as the elastic of your panties is pulled from your hips. you can feel the stick trail connecting you to the fabric, but seeing it is a whole new wave of mortification.

sukuna is able to tug them down to your ankles before your legs can lock up. “don’t be shy. i love filthy girls like you.“ your nerves jump to attention when he presses his thumb against your throbbing clit. “i can work with this.”

you gasp, lips losing their grip on his fingers, as you press your head back against the pillow. heat rises in the low of your stomach, a sensation that you’d never been able to achieve on your own. he starts with a single digit, easily making its way through your passage with the slick provided. his fingers crook in search of an ideal angle, making a sound of encouraging praise when you keen and rock your hips down for more.

your lashes flutter with the effort of keeping them open as he manipulates friction against your sex.without warning, he adds a second finger in alongside the first,”kitten you have no idea how happy i am that you grinded back against me on that dance floor.” the introduction allows for a scissoring action as he tests the stretch of your walls.

you’re happy to have the flat to yourself as the next whimper shatters your coherency, snapping any restraint that you had on your volume. sukuna chuckles at your cry, flexing his touch to reach new depths.

“i really wanted to see what you could do with your mouth but i don’t think i can wait.”

he gives one last swipe against the tackly mess before he fumbles with his belt. you don’t get offended when he only drops his pants far enough to free his cock. its distracting enough watching him stroke himself idly to fullness. sukuna harbors no shame as he cants his hips, fucking into the tight circle of his fist.

he pulls his wet fingers from your lips and you swallow around the absence.

you’re immediately grateful when he pulls out a condom, uncaring when the empty foil packet gets lost on your floor.

sukuna can feel the tightness as he palms your hip and positions himself at the stretch of your entrance.

“don’t go getting all nervous on me. i went through such a great deal to prepare you for this.”

his hand slides past your naval to grip your breast, rolling the hardening peak with his thumb. the lack of attention they’d received thus far acts as enticing interference.

he still doesn’t go for the unanticipated approach, keeping you vaguely aware by running the head of his cock up and down your dripping cunt.

it’s still easier said than done as all the reddit and gossip forums come reeling back the the forefront. you hadn’t even thought to get a towel, what if there was a lot of blood- too much? should you have gotten painkillers ?

above you sukuna tsks and you jolt from the sharp pain of him cruelly pinching your nipple. when you go to protest, he merely gives you a look, holding your gaze while his head drops take the abused bud into his mouth.

when he gives a particularly hard suck you know what’s coming as his hips roll up against you.

he’s big. of course he’s big given that he’s your first and all that you’ve had prior to your own fingers are his. sukuna expresses a show of kindness that you weren’t expecting with the initial push, as he uses his grip to ease himself in slowly.

it still burns; the uncomfortable stretch as he drags the friction of his cock past the slick barrier. but its not thee sharp punch you were expecting even before the base meets your pelvis. your hand darts up to smack against the hard flat of his stomach to stop him there but the centimeters separating you were barely negligible.

his mouth pops off of your breast with a wet sound as you pant, squeezing experimentally around the width of him. it was more manageable than you were anticipating, and you adjust your hips in another trial. the movement pulls a sharp hiss from his lips and his fingers clamp down tighter at the curve of your waist.

his vermillion eyes are no longer slits of concentration, now blown wide to contain the depth of lust simmering there. there is a shudder a he holds himself back from fucking into you. “if you’re done playing, i’d like to fuck you now.”

instinct drives you to reach around him, nails gripping traction around his shoulder blades as he grates his hips. the motion starts the first thrusts of many as sukuna introduces you to the truest definition of fucking.

its gradual, the way he picks up speed, introducing each part of you to himself before overpowering the nerves with a firmer touch.you should be embarrassed by the broken sounds leaving your mouth, but you can hardly remember your own name let alone decency.

sukuna on the other hand, relishes in the way he fucks you stupid, taking each bite of your nail and shattered speech with pride. “you have the prettiest fucking mouth for a virgin.”

it was impossible to accept the praise with the way he was knocking the sense from you with each thrust. he made it feel so good. all of it. from the inclination to the way he filled you up.

he continues to slam inside, breathing barely affected by the effort of pulling you apart at the seams. god he just doesn’t shut up. and you don’t want him too. they way he can make you hang from each word. 

you don’t know how he can handle words with all the smugness oozing from is lips, “i know you wouldn’t know the difference. but they’re typically so quiet- biting their lip and shit as if they’d scare away their own orgasm.”

“but not you baby. you fucking speak to me.” its not the kind of praise you were expecting but you latch on to it anyway. his arm comes around your waist and brings you forward to pin against his frame.

you don't know what possesses you to do so, mayve its the new proximity,  but your hands cup his face and bring his lips to meet yours. sukuna doesn't fight the action but his attention is elsewhere as your head bobs with the effort of keeping your mouths attached. ultimately it's the sharpness of your teeth against his bottom lip that prompts him to participate.

his tongue shoves past your lips to twist with yours. then he angles his hips just so and you sob. its an epiphany for you but its exactly what sukuna was looking for as he aims there again, and again, abusing that little patch of tissue that makes you witness nirvana.

sukuna drops a hand between your bodies to pass a thumb over your clit. he smirks when you jolt, still managing a perfect enunciation of your name even as his hips lose rhythm.

“all i need you to do tonight is come. can you do that for me, kitten?”

and you can, even without his instruction as your legs come up to squeeze around him despite the tremors. hot pleasure radiates up your spine from the source, washing over you in waves as you spill around him. it feels incredible to finally be able to let go. fuck, you don’t know if anything else will be like this first time. but you’re damn sure not going to forget it anytime soon.

even as your body falls pliant, sukuna keeps the pace as he chases his own release. the beginnings of bruises protest at your hips as he pounds a fragment tempo until he stills. the groan he lets out nearly brings you to a second orgasm as the sound shakes your body.

you’re thankful that he has enough energy to unhinge your legs from his hips, laughing to himself at the little trembles they give off. the act of him leaving you is a strange sensation to describe. despite the beating it took, your cunt still tries to hold him in.

it naturally earns you a crass comment as he uses the edge of your comforter to wipe himself down,”kitten, i don’t think you could handle another round of me.” you don't want to think about where he tossed the condom, just hoping that it was within the vicinity of the trashcan. but that was something future you would have to worry about.

you don’t offer him a place to stay and he doesn’t give you the opportunity to do so.

present you was starting to learn a new type of soreness as you gathered your legs against your chest and bring the blankets around your body. there wasn’t much of a delay as sukuna got dressed, tracing back his steps easily to his discarded shirt and tucking himself away long the way.

when he looks back at you, you must look like a child snuggled away for the night.

his looks at you with silent consideration. it was finally time to conduct the awkward ‘thank yous’ before the two of you parted ways forever. but at least it wasn’t you taking the walk of shame. though you don’t think it will be sukuna either with the swagger still linger in his step. 

it’s the blatant admission that you weren’t expecting, “ i like you. so i’ll leave my number for another time.”

that is not how a one night stand should end.

sukuna assumes you can’t handle the basic technological skill of adding his contact to your phone and proceeds to write it instead on the planner board posted by the door. it’s written so big you can just make out the numbers from the bed.

“be sure to call when you think you can handle me at my best.”

you wait, listening for the front door to click shut in his departure before you fall back against your bed. you should really be changing the sheets but you cant bring yourself to do more than roll onto your side.

you did it.

finally experienced all the gossip and jazz everyone talked out. 

and now you could focus and get back on track.

without prompt, your gaze drifted over to the dry erase board. sukuna had completely disregarded the individual squares dedicated to different days and messily scrawled his information between two weeks. it was a direct representation of the chaotic energy he gave off.

you would just clean it up in the morning along with any other remnants of this night.

...

or perhaps you could save as a sort of emergency contact.

you’d just discovered a new source of therapy after all. 

[imhereformr]

"Tell me why you did it" "Because I'm in love with you"

I had a prompt request for this an eternity ago (sorry...) but I think I deleted the ask 😬 Here's the prompt anyways.

It made no sense to her. One minute she’d been staring down Lord Darkar with the most courage she could muster – thankfully her stubbornness helped her there – and having death threatened. Next thing she knew, there was a body between her and the skeleton-man (could he be considered a man?). A loud no had echoed through the cavernous space accompanied by a flash of magenta-topped blue. She’d been so stunned by the action that it took her a moment to register why the voice was so familiar.

Riven.

He’d jumped in front of her.  

He’d saved her life.  

He’d risked his.

For her. 

After that, everything was a blur. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d been aware that the Trix had shown up and helped them. She knew that that distraction had broken Darkar’s spell; the one that had kept her, and her friends frozen in place; the one Riven had somehow broken through to save her. She knew that thanks to that distraction Brandon and Helia had managed to get to Riven and bandage him up, bringing an end to the blood that she swore – though her memory may be faulty – was spilling endlessly out of Riven’s abdomen and temple. All those details had barely managed to make a scratch in her mind – as if they were happening somewhere else to someone else - as she stared at his closed eyes begging the gods – any gods - to let her see that violet she loved so much; that violet that had tinted her dreams since she’d met him.  

Nothing. At least not between the brief moment when he’d flickered into consciousness after she reached him and called out to him and when he’d woken for an even briefer moment on the flight back to Red Fountain.  

Musa knew that, in some twisted series of events, it was thanks to the Trix that Riven was still alive. She refused to acknowledge it, though; refused to acknowledge that it was thanks to them that she’d been able to spend every free moment by his side as he recovered. Not that there were many of those, or, at least, as many as she’d like. Apparently helping to save the entire universe didn’t count as a valid reason to miss finals in Griselda’s mind so Musa made her to way to Red Fountain’s infirmary every day after classes. She’d spent so much time there that she was on a first name basis with the nurses; they even let her use their coffee machine now so she wouldn’t have to go down to the cafeteria to get some. She’d set herself up on the empty bed across the room with her books sprawled out in front of her, trying - and mostly failing - to study. She knew she wouldn’t fail any of her classes – she had nearly perfect grades in all of them – but she wasn’t too keen on failing her finals considering they were worth a quarter of her final grade. It didn’t matter how much she forced herself though because her eyes always seemed to wander away from the books over to Riven.  

Musa arrived at Red Fountain today with a bag full of books that she intended to get through. Three classes to study for and just under five hours to study. She needed to get through the books or else she’d be kicking herself tomorrow when she was trying to take those exams. Whose bright idea had it been to schedule three exams in one day anyways?  

He slept through the first few days; she’d expected that. What she hadn’t expected was for him to sleep through the entire first week and a half after the mission. According to the nurses, he had woken up a few times but mostly when no one was there. Timmy had spoken to him once, albeit very briefly. Musa hated the thought of Riven waking up to an empty hospital room. He deserved to know that his friends were checking on him; that they cared. That she cared. That his friends were checking on him. When she’d arrived yesterday, Brandon was set up in the room with a set of weights (the nurses had complained but Brandon shrugged them off). Sky and Timmy had been there the day before that and Tecna and Flora had accompanied her the day before that.  

She strode into the infirmary, greeting Doris, the nurse at the front desk, with a nod. Musa was vaguely aware that the nurse tried to tell her something, but she had headphones on and too much on her mind, so the movement of the nurse's lips only registered after she’d passed the desk. Upon turning to question what she’d wanted to say, Musa found that Doris had had her attention diverted by a phone call, so she shrugged it off and continued to Riven’s room. Her bag slid off her shoulder, dropping to the floor a mere inch from her toes when she entered his room.  

It was empty.  

Nobody hanging around in case Riven woke; nobody on the bed; no book or flowers (courtesy of Flora) on the bedside table; nothing. The bathroom door was wide open, revealing a pristine shower, sink and toilet. No Riven. Musa poked her head out of the room, checking the number beside the door. Twenty-one: she had the right room. Where was he?

“He was discharged about two hours ago” Doris, a sweet older woman with greying brown hair and bright green eyes, informed her, coming up behind the fairy.  

“B-but he’s barely woken up in the last week?” Musa managed to stammer as she turned to face the woman. Doris shrugged. Apparently Riven had woken up late last night – just before midnight, two hours after she’d left to make Alfea’s ten PM weekday curfew – and stayed awake all night. When the doctor had checked him that morning, his vitals were good and Riven was in functional condition. “We knew him already; he spent enough time in here last year after all the fights he got in-” Fucking Riven “-so the doctor agreed to let him go as long as he promised to come in everyday for a checkup and to take it easy for a bit.”

No. She would go back to Alfea. She needed to study. If she went to see him now she’d be too tempted to demand answers and that would lead to her getting absolutely zero studying done. But then again... if she went back to Alfea to study she’d never be able to focus knowing that he was awake and she could be talking to him.

Take it easy? The man had jumped in front of a death blow without a second thought, and they expected him to take it easy? He clearly had no sense of self-preservation! “Oh... okay, thanks” Musa mumbled, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder as she walked away. She stood outside the main infirmary door watching blankly as students in unnecessarily tight blue uniforms walked past her. What now? She hadn’t ever considered the possibility of showing up with him gone. Did she just go back to Alfea? Find Riven? And say what? What the fuck were you thinking? Why would you do something so reckless? So stupid? So... so... so... romantic???  

“Musa?! Hi” Helia gasped, opening the door before she could knock. Musa lowered her arm, grasping at her bag’s strap tightly. “Looking for Riven?”

Musa was surprised to find that she’d started moving, and that her absentminded walking had led her right to dorm 307 – the guys’ dorm. Her subconscious had decided for her: she would go see him. Musa raised her arm to knock, but she hesitated. What if he thought it was weird that she’d shown up right after his discharge from the infirmary? Or that he was freaked out by the thought of her being by his side every day? No, he’d risked his life for her. He’d be happy that she was there with him. …That you’ll come back, you’ll come back... to me. That’s what he’d said before their groups had split at the cave entrance; he would be happy to see her. She’d knock. Just one deep breath and...

Musa nodded dumbly. She didn’t know why she’d suddenly lost the ability to speak; it wasn’t as if the entirety of Magix wasn’t aware of her feelings for the angry specialist at this point. They’d already gone on a date for crying out loud.  Her eyes had drifted down to the dark brown sketch pad in Helia’s hand as she nodded, but she forced them back up to meet his. “Yeah... Is he here?”

“No. I think he’s in the back courtyard.” Musa thanked Helia and began to make her way back down the corridor. She turned to ask Helia if Riven had said anything about, well, anything, but her in particular, but the artist was already halfway down the hall in the opposite direction. Not that it mattered; Riven wasn’t the kind to talk about stuff and the odds of him feeling particularly chatty when he was in pain were not good. Logically Musa knew that the odds of him explaining why he’d jumped to her were minimal too, but she needed to ask anyways.  

Her pace sped up to just short of running as she made her way down to the back courtyard. Red Fountain’s new building had three courtyards. The most magnificent one, the front courtyard, was at the top of the school overlooking the forest with the city of Magix visible in the distance of the Southern side. The central one was halfway down the building inside the four gushing waterfalls and contained nothing but training fields. The back courtyard was at the base of the building at ground level. It was made up of the ruins of the old Red Fountain and where the students mostly hung out when they stayed on campus. What could be salvaged of the old brick building had been turned into courtyard décor – picnic tables, benches, stools – and, most notably, the large wall that ran along the edge of the forest. Tecna had questioned if the wall was structurally sound when they’d first seen it, but Sky assured them it was.  

When she made it to the crowded yard, her pace slowed a bit. She wasn’t worried about missing him – there was no doubt in her mind she’d be able to pick him out in a crowd – but she didn’t want to appear like she’d been searching for him frantically when she did find him. She took a quick look through the crowded parts, opting instead to search the more secluded areas thoroughly. She knew Riven; he wouldn’t want to be in the packed areas.  

She found him in the front corner closest to the forest, next to one of the gates that led to one of the many footpaths that meandered through Gloomy Wood. He was seated atop the wall, leaning back on the arch of the gate. Musa’s eyes flitted to the open iron gate, wondering what the purpose of the gate was if they were just going to leave it open. Then, just as quickly as her eyes had traveled to the gate, they were back on him. It seemed natural at this point to be watching him if he was in the vicinity. No matter how hard she tried not to spend all her time admiring and observing him, she seemed to be eternally doomed to have her eyes find him. It wasn’t her fault he was so fucking beautiful. Especially right now, sitting there with the back of his head leaning against the wall and his eyes closed. His arms rested on his stomach where he’d been hit – she could see the bandage poking out under his shirt – and one leg propped up while the other dangled off the wall. He looked so comfortable and peaceful. It was unfathomable how easily he made her stomach do flips, it –

Wait a minute.  

What the fuck was he doing on top of the wall? There was no way to get up there except to boost yourself up. That wasn’t ‘taking it easy’.  

“Hi” she said loudly, butterflies having turned to annoyance. It was bad enough that he’d risked his life jumping in front of her, did he also have to risk worsening his injuries?!

Riven’s eyes snapped open and when he looked at her, it was obvious he hadn’t been expecting to see her. Their eyes met briefly as he stuttered out a M-Musa… Hi. He lowered his leg, trying to hide the way he flinched in pain at the movement. Musa dropped her bag and stepped forward to help him as he slid himself down, but he brushed her off. Stubborn ass.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine, you know, considering…” he shrugged, motioning towards his abdomen.

“Right…” Musa fiddled with her ring – a cheap mood ring she and Bloom had gotten at the fair a few months back – as she tried to formulate a coherent thought or sentence. How was it that she still found herself stupidly tongue-tied around him? He knew how she felt; she knew he felt the same. They’d already kissed and gone on a date. They would’ve gone on another already if fucking fake Avalon hadn’t kidnapped Bloom. Logically, there was no reason for her brain to turn to mush anymore.  

Her eyes snapped up to Riven’s face. The bandage that had been around his head wasn’t there anymore, leaving the scar and bruising on his temple visible. His mouth was drawn as his eyes raked over her. He was assessing her; she could see his mind working as his eyes roamed over every visible inch of skin. “How are you?”  

“Good. Completely unharmed... thanks to you.” You fucking moron. He should know by now that her fairy form offers her an extra layer of protection that non-magical beings don’t have. He should know that the skimpy outfit is deceptive.  

He brushed it off. Riven. The cocky asshole. He brushed it off. Like risking your life – quite literally almost sacrificing it – was nothing more than passing the salt at the dinner table. “Really. Thank you. You didn’t-“

And he laughed at Timmy for being nervous around Tecna. What a goof. “I’ve been here everyday…”

“It’s nothing. Not for…” Riven trailed off. She wished he would finish the sentence, but she knew where it was going. You. Not for you. Would it kill him to give her any sort of sign of liking her? She knew he did, but was it really so hard for him to say: It’s no big deal, Musa. I’d do anything for you. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting to, um, see you h-here…”

If she could burn the memory in her mind and pull it out whenever she felt down, that would be the most incredible thing. The way his eyes widened in surprise only to soften drastically a few seconds later. The small smile that played on his lips that he tried – and failed – to suppress. The redness in his cheeks. He was perfect. “Oh?”

“I wanted to know you were… okay.” Gods, the way he was looking at her made Musa want to close the space between them and never let him go. But she needed to know. It would eat at her until she had an answer, so she dove. “Why’d you do it?”

“Huh?” He cocked his brow curiously. He couldn’t possibly be that daft? What could she possibly be asking about besides him using his body as a shield?  

“Why’d you jump in front of me?” she demanded, her patience already starting to thin.  

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does! Riven, you could have died! You…” almost did. Musa stopped herself from saying it aloud. She didn’t know if Riven knew he’d been on the brink of death and, frankly, she didn’t want to think about that. One of the advantages – and occasional disadvantages – of having sound-based powers was that her hearing was so much stronger than the average person’s; she could hear the faintest of sounds with enough concentration. Like a heartbeat. Like his. Loud and erratic at this moment, but faint and barely existent after he’d fallen. Musa had no idea how he’d survived, only that somewhere in the background the spell that had been put on Bloom went away, there’d been a bright glowing light in Musa’s peripheral vision and then Riven’s heart had started to gain strength.  

“So could you. Just let it go, Musa” he bit back. The fucking goddamn stubborn asshole.  

“No! I need to know.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Riven started to walk away from her, but she was determined not to let him. She would have her answer. She needed her answer. Maybe that made her as stubborn as him – no, it definitely did – but she was known for being stubborn and she was fine with that. Musa stepped in front of him, blocking him from the path that would lead back to the courtyard.

“It does matter!”

“No.”

“Yes, Riven. We... I...” Her voice started to break and it took a few seconds before she managed to finish the sentence. Musa would usually do everything she could to avoid someone knowing how sensitive and emotional she really was, but frankly, she was past caring now. Riven had already seen her break before anyways. And she wanted him to know how much she cared and how worried she’d been. “I could’ve lost you.”

“Well, you didn’t” he dismissed with a shrug. There was no way he could be so careless with his life. It infuriated her to think that being moments away from death was something he took so nonchalantly.

“But I could have!”

“But you didn’t so it doesn’t matter.”

“Why are you being so fucking stubborn? I just want to know why you thought that jumping in front of me was-”

“Musa! For fuck’s sake. Just drop it” Riven snapped. She’d never had him snap at her before – Stella, Brandon, Sky (multiple times), even Timmy once. Never her. His snapping didn’t scare her, but rather fueled her and made her more determined to get an answer.

“No! Just fucking tell me instead of shutting me out. You risked your life for me. Why? I need to know; I deserve to know. You have no idea how much knowing that you could’ve died for me has been eating at me. How much-”  

“It’s because I’m in love with you!” Riven’s eyes went wide as soon as the words slipped out. He opened his mouth to speak - to backtrack or explain – but no words came out. Musa was so surprised by the outburst – and more specifically, it’s content – that she had to take a step back to steady herself. Her jaw dropped and she tried to form a coherent thought, but she couldn’t.

He loves her.  

He’s in love with her.  

Riven is in love with her.  

“I... I have to go.” Riven took off through the gate at much faster speed than she’d anticipated from someone who’d been seriously injured not even two weeks ago. Musa allowed herself a few seconds to blink away the residual shock, something that she regretted once she realised that he was out of her line of sight by the time her head was clear.  

“Fuck” she muttered before taking off after him. She followed the path for a few hundred meters before deciding that she wasn’t going to find him on foot; that, knowing Riven, he’d probably strayed off the path specifically to make it harder for her to find him.  

Ignoring her frustrations with Riven and his inability to face any potentially emotional or uncomfortable moments, Musa took to the skies. She forced herself to focus on what he had said – even if it had been blurted out. I’m in love with you. The butterflies in her stomach still fluttered to life every time she thought about it – and she’d been replaying the moment in her mind the entire time she’d been walking.  

It shouldn’t have surprised her that she found him sitting at their spot. A small clearing in the middle of the forest – about a half hour walk from both Alfea and Red Fountain – with a ledge that overlooked the lake. Musa had found it last year after a fight with Stella that had resulted in her storming away. Riven had known about it for years before, using it as sanctuary anytime he needed peace for most of his teen years, if not all, she wasn’t entirely sure. They’d met here multiple times over the last year. Most of the time it hadn’t been on purpose, they’d just both happened to need space from the people around them. And what better way to be away from others than together.  

Musa landed behind him as quietly as she could. She wanted a few seconds to admire him. She wanted to admire the broadness of his shoulders and the sculpt of his body. The way his maroon hair slicked back and the baby hairs tickled the nape of his neck. She admired his high cheekbones and angular chin. Finally, his soft, full lips. Gods, she wanted to kiss those lips so badly.  

The lips of the man that loves her.  

“Riven…” Musa stepped forward tentatively, changing out of her fairy form and back into the loose black pants and baggy cropped red t-shirt she’d thrown on haphazardly that morning. She saw the way his shoulders tensed, but he didn’t answer so she sped up. When she reached him, she sat in front of him, folding her legs under her. “Riven?”

His hands were balled into fists that he tapped on the ground nervously as he refused to meet her eyes. Musa reached her hands out and grabbed his, forcing them open so that they would hold hers back. She requested that he look at her. When he didn’t, she pulled her hand out of his grip – he’d been surprisingly quick to take her hand given how adamant he was about avoiding her gaze – and gently turned his head to look at her. “Look at me, Riven” she said in a forceful voice that denied the gentility of her touch.

“I-“ he started.

“I love you, too.”  

“Really?” The surprise in his voice nearly broke her heart. She knew Riven came with a whole slew of issues, but she was still surprised that cocky, arrogant Riven didn’t deem himself worthy of being loved. But regardless of what he thought, he was loved.

By her.  

She loved him.  

She was in love with him.

“Gods help me, yes, really. I love you.” Saying it felt like a weight lifted off her shoulders. She’d been in love with him for so long now and, until recently, she never thought she’d get to tell him. Part of her wanted to the moment they first kissed in the Wildlands, but she knew how comfortable he was with emotion – that was, not at all – and she didn’t want to scare him away so she said nothing.  

Riven’s hand pulled away from hers and he brought it up to touch her cheek. He’d given her no sign of relationship – they had to be in one now, right? – in public, so she was always surprised when he was soft in private. Especially the first kiss – after she’d confessed her feelings for him in what, she was willing to admit, was probably the worst timed confession ever – when they were packing up their stuff on the beach. She’d pulled him aside, driven to talk to him about the confession by Brandon’s silent nagging, but realised when she had him in front of her that no words would explain her feelings properly, and it certainly wasn’t the right moment for a song. So, she kissed him. He responded positively, so she took that as her sign to pull him in more. The kiss was wonderful, but more so was the way everything about him softened – his eyes, his touch, his posture, everything. Like he had so much love to give, he just needed someone willing to receive it.  

This time was different. Riven was the one to initiate; he was the one to use his hand to bring her head forward. There were no words to describe the way she lit up when they kissed – her lips, her mind, her heart, body and soul; all of her felt like it was coming to life after an eternity of nothingness.  

The hand on her cheek slid into her hair, deepening the kiss. Riven’s other hand slid out of hers and landed on the small of her back. With very little effort on his part, he pulled her more and more into him until she was straddling his lap and pressed up against him. Musa brought her hands up to rest on his chest, sliding one of them up to wrap her arm around his neck and pull him closer, if it was even possible.  

When they pulled apart for air, Musa rested her forehead against Riven’s. Violet met blue in the sweetest gaze. Musa offered Riven a gentle, sincere smile that he returned, making her heart turn to love-struck mush. They stayed like that for a few minutes until he spoke.  

“Did you mean it?” he whispered so low that she almost missed it.  

“I do. I love you, Riven.” Musa planted a kiss on his forehead that made him smile even wider. His arm moved down her body to wrap around her waist so that she was fully locked into his embrace. Riven had never looked so genuinely happy and at-ease in the two years she’d known him and it warmed her to know she was the one that made him feel like that. His forehead and eyes found hers once more as he whispered: “I love you, Musa.”

[marvelyhp]

Still you | chapter II

Chapter II: The comeback

Synopsis: Y/n decides to help the Avengers despite their betrayal two years prior and her life makes a big shift once again.

Pairing: Y/n x Bucky Barnes and some Y/n x Sam Wilson

Word count: 5,997

warnings: cussing, some fluff

note: I know I took so long but I had writer's block. then, I got covid and I felt too awful to write. But I'm okay now so this is what I could come up with. Not my greatest stuff. the tag list is open :)

Side note: I would really appreciate hearing from you and your thoughts!

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

We managed to lower two floors without raising suspicion or making too much noise. At least, James and I were pretty silent, whispering if needed. But of course, Stark always had to open his damn mouth. He had been talking all the way —pretty loudly too— and he just did it again.

“Where’s the grandpa with the bad luck of having you as a tenant?” The man didn’t know the meaning of whispering. Or maybe he did. He just wanted to make my life more complex than it was. I looked frantically behind me, praying he had not seen me sneaking out. At the sight of no one, a breath of relief exploded out of me. But it didn’t last long, irritation quickly dampening my already poor mood.

“Shut the hell up!” I hissed. My patience with the insufferable man wearing thin.

“Oh, relax. If he sees us, we’ll knock him out and blame you.” He mocked, a chuckle erupting throughout the hall and following the stairlike a draft of wind. My blood started to boil inside my veins and I felt the heat spread from head to toes. I was afraid to be reaching my tipping point already because this was nothing. Two years out of practice left me hypersensitive to his shit. I wondered how long I would be able to stand the insufferable mortal and regret hit me like a ton of bricks.

“He is a good man, Stark. We will not knock him out.” I whispered as I pressed myself against the wall. Twisting my head around the corner at the end of the hall, I sneaked a glance at the stairs and the visible space from the top. “Watch your step here. His room is right underneath the stairs. We don’t want to wake him up.

I walked forward, pressing my foot in the first step, praying the creak of the old wood would keep quiet today as it did some nights. At least that’s what I hoped but it wasn’t what happened. A groan broke the silence in the room and I knew that if he was awake, he definitely heard it. I waited a couple of seconds, alert to any noise. When nothing came, I advanced four more steps. I focused on the one shadow dancing in the wall and relief swept through me. He wasn’t awake.

I turned, thinking the guys were still up. However, I let out a gasp when Bucky’s face came into view, mere inches away from mine. Thanks to the startle, the foot I had dangerously close to the edge slipped.

My heart stopped as I thought about the fall and the inevitable bone-crushing pain that would come after it. The stairs were pretty high and even though they were wood, it was quite sharp. Splinters roamed everywhere. I waited for the pain and the strenuous sound. It was phenomenal, the first time I saw the team in two years and I would meet them in a body bag with a broken neck.

However, it never came.

When I opened my eyes, blue electric eyes stared back at me. Our faces were inches away from each other. A hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him to hold me from falling. I was hyper-aware of our breaths clashing against each other, making the most sinful of sounds. Our lips were separated by a small space, too close for my brain to catch up quickly. I noticed how his lips roamed my face, stopping at my lips slightly parted by the surprise. His eyes held a fervent fire and my breath quickened once I felt the inevitable rush of warmth roaring my body.

Coughing slightly, I took a step backward, stepping out of his grasp. I forgot all about the landlord as I scolded myself. The man looked at me and there I was getting flushed like a raging hormonal teenager. I looked at everything but Bucky’s face, why I knew still had his eyes on me except now his jaw was firmly set. I wanted to ask him what was going on inside his head but a hovering shadow at the top of the stairs captured my attention.

“What are you still doing up there?'' The man looked utterly confused standing at the top of the stairs surrounded by darkness. I wondered if it had to do with what he just witnessed.

“You care about that grandpa, don’t you?” His expression was one of disbelief. His body wasn’t moving as if in shock or trying to process the information he thought was correct. And it was, but he didn’t have to know.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, unaffected.

“Of course you do. You care about the landlord.”

I whirled around as fast as I could with the incident earlier present in my head as a gruff voice filled the room. A short, stubby old man stood at the foot of the stair dressed in a white t-shirt and some basketball shorts. The ends of his hair stood up as if held by a string and maneuvered by a child. His narrowed black eyes stared back at us. His lips pressed in a thin line.

“Of course, she does, kid. Why shouldn't she?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. I followed the movement of the milk dancing in the glass on his right hand. I felt proud of the English I had taught him and how-- as much as I didn't want this to happen-- useful it would be. I looked back at Stark to find him gaping like a fish. Little croaks came from his throat but no coherent words came from him. It was the first time I had seen Stark speechless. “I’m an incredible landlord if I say so myself.”

He was.

I cursed inwardly. There were things I didn't want everyone to know. To a certain extent, I wasn’t ready for the team, for Stark, to find out that I wasn’t the monster he expected me to be. I wasn’t ready for him to look at me differently. Andrei had the power to change our whole dynamic.

It wasn’t that Andrei and I shared anything about life. Or at least I didn’t. Andrei liked to talk, to share his life with me, and try to make me talk. He said I was too reserved. I remember that day like it was yesterday.

It had been a warm evening. I could see the sun filtering through the windows. Shining onto the top of the show top and illuminating the cottage-like bakery. The dough in my hands stuck to my skin, lumps of a uniformed cream mass suffocating the fingers. The powdered white dust sat beside me and I felt irritated. I hadn’t thought about pouring it on the mixture before I touched it. ‘I was out of my element here’ I thought as I reached for the flour.

Andrei’s baker had abruptly called five minutes before work notifying him he couldn’t work his shift. His grandmother had fallen down the stairs and fractured her hip, hence his lack of concern for Andrei. He was the only living relative she had so it fell upon him to look after her. One missed shift would turn into dozens. The bakery was small and hidden in a remote part of Romania. The clientèle was not much besides those living in the small town from years ago, or even since they were born.

Everyone in town knew each other. When I arrived I had my doubts about staying in this place because of that same reason. I would be the talk for weeks and I couldn’t risk so many people questioning my presence. Except, I was lucky.

One evening, I sat in a small and dark corner of a bar near the outskirts of the town where it was most probable to see an outsider. Two men sat a couple of feet away from me, talking fairly loudly. Out of boredom and desire to know the people I might have been seeing every day, I heard and studied their moments. Taking notes about their behaviors and storing them far into the file I had on humanity. Their voices were cheery as they ate pastries that I was sure to not be from the small bar.

“This is so good! I can’t believe I haven't tasted a pastry this good since I left,” he moaned loudly in reaction to the puff on his hand. The crumbly dessert spilling powdered sugar all over his dark gray pants. “Andrei hasn’t lost his touch.”

“Who is this Andrei you talk so highly of?” The older male asked the seemingly young partner. The man wore an expensive suit, not one that could be found here and from what I gathered from their conversation, he had not grown up here. But his friend did. What he said next grabbed my attention the most.

“His bakery is pretty hidden in the town. Someone that didn’t know the road would not find him. He used to be a criminal, on the run and all that. But since he got out of prison he became a baker. the man sure has a gift. I don’t even know why he went to jail, because the man is a sweetheart. I think he was just dealt a bad hand.” The man kept munching on his pastry as he talked. The vowels all merging to create a soundless blob. I swore he said more but that was all I could understand and by the face of his friend, he understood less.

“It’s such a small town. Why was it never known?”

“I don’t know. Rumor has it that he was born here but left, something to do with his family. He came back years later, on the run from some people. People we assumed to be the police. Of course, the police followed his trail and eventually found him here. Two years later. He hid pretty well if, you asked me. He treats people with respect but he never talks about himself. He has always been reserved when it comes to his life, only telling small details that lead to nothing. You know, not enough to form a life picture…”

Before he finished talking, I was out of my seat, walking towards the pair. I plastered an innocent look on my face, one I had studied and perfected many times since coming to earth. I relaxed my posture, knowing I had been tense and tucked since I entered this town. I still can’t believe I was social before. Nobody would believe that if I told them now.

“Hey, those pastries look marvelous!” I said in a cheery voice when I reached the pair. Both of their heads whipped towards my direction, curiosity written in their faces. I could hear the questions in their head about me and where I came from and what I looked for in town. Typical gossiping mortals. I wanted to cut the tie between our heads, feeling bad about corrupting the men’s thoughts. But I couldn’t, not until I had what I wanted. “Do you know where could I find them?”

“Sure thing. What’s your name, sweet thing?” Sweet thing, that’s funny. If he had been into the American news he would not say that.

“Calypso. Do you know where the place is? Can you explain it to me?” I said, trying to hide the hurry in my voice. His thoughts were front seat in my mind, not wanting to miss a thing.

“So eager.” He chuckled. Instead of the route, I was expecting, he thought about my naked form and countless sexual images began replaying. I resisted the urge to impale his backside, taking a deep breath and counting to ten. I played his game. I battered my eyelashes and looked at him from hooded eyes. I bit my lip gently and walked closer. Sneaking a glance at his friend, I noticed he was no longer looking at us. He seemed uncomfortable and had turned to his coffee and pastries. I wish I had a coffee to turn to.

“Maybe you could take me there. If you remember the way, of course.” He smirked and grabbed the jacket slung over the wooden chair he sat on. His friend looked at us, startled as if he wasn’t expecting my response. However, the joy of his friend would be short-lived. Images of the way to the small bakery filled my head and I smirked. Before he could take my hand to guide me to his car I asked for the restroom.

As soon as I came in, my eyes searched for some window I could use to leave unnoticed. And I found it in the corner of the bathroom beside one of the huge black and white mirrors. I locked the door and hurried to open the window, sliding through the door. The darkness of the night didn’t face me but my alert was high. Everybody could hide in the dark. My heart rocked against my chest as I saw the same guy from early waiting beside his car. I hurried along the alleyway, pulling my hood up and hiding my hair, disappearing into the dark.

“Calypso, boy for you.” I was brought from my memories by the rough voice of Andrei. Whoever didn’t spend much time with him would think he was mad all the time thanks to his voice and forever furrowed white bushy eyebrows. I matched the furrowing of his eyebrows when he mentioned a boy. I had been careful enough to not get attached or get anyone attached to myself so the mention of another human being besides Andrei spooked me.

Suddenly, the thought of agents looking for me or the usual threats I had filled me with panic. I heard the thunderous beat of my heart. The tremble of my hands disrupted the beautiful form of the pastry in my hands. quickly cleaning and taking away the apron full of white dust, I walked to the front of the door.

A dark-haired man in his early twenties stood next to the door with a blue box in his hands. A white shimmering ribbon adorned the delicate box, wrapping silkily around it to form a well-done bow. The chiseled bone structure of his profile caught my breath as he looked to the small, underpopulated plaza in the corner of the rondure. The curvature of his roman nose and the thin shape of his lips sticking in his profile.

I saw him regularly at the small bakery. His usual was a Papanaşia with a black strong coffee. He left three dollars on the tip jar three times a week and I noticed if he was overly happy, he would leave a fiver regardless of the day or how many days he had tipped. I had seen him mad twice in the store. Seemingly, he was one of those guys that harbored every trouble inside in a chaotic turmoil. I knew because I had invaded his mind one of those times. Curiosity had gotten the best of me, knowing he was always the type of guy that carried the sun on his shoulder. Every time he caught my attention, I tried to remind myself that he could’ve been an agent sent by Hydra to kill me or worse, kidnap me.

“Hello. What can I help you with?” I said, confidence laced in my voice. The confidence I did not expect to have. His head whipped towards me. A smile broke on his face at the sight of me. I saw the fidgeting of the box in his hands and the sudden bobbing of his knee. He didn’t appear to be harboring any secrets, or at least not deadly ones.

“Hey. I know this will probably look very weird to you but I’ve been watch- I mean not watching but I just- I,” His stammering caused a giggle to leave my lips involuntarily. My hand immediately flew to my lips, hiding the smile corrupting my face. He lowered his face but not before giving me one of those smiles that could light up a world. God, I felt sappy. He looked at me once again. “I don’t know how to do this. I definitely didn’t think it through.” He chuckled. One of his hands came up to brush his face while shaking it, side to side. I could tell he was nervous, maybe more that I initially had been.

Seeing him stammer was the cutest thing I had seen since the little green and purple flowers that grew back home and surrounded our palace. So, I decided to help him a bit. “You could start with your name,” I said, trying to not smile too much. Agent, agent, agent…

“God, you probably should’ve done that first. Nice one.” He said, more to himself than for me to hear it. “I’m Razvan. It's lovely to finally meet you.” I shook his hand. It was rough yet soft with elongated fingers caressing my own small and thin one.

“Calypso.”

“What I meant to say, you know, before I shot myself in the foot was that you caught my eye since I first saw you. Now, I swear I'm not stalking you because it could be easy to think after the horrible introduction I just did. But, yeah, I would like to get to know you, if that’s okay with you.”

I did think about it. I swear I did. I thought about how he could be linked to Hydra and if you searched on the deepest paranoid corner, the Avengers. I thought he could’ve been just a random murderer whose floor I had shaken. My voice of reason said no. and with the saddest feeling settling my stomach, I told him what I thought. Or tried to.

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t. You seem like the loveliest person b-but I…” For some reason, I couldn’t just say no. “Can I think about this?” That was the only thing that came out of my mouth while I tried to get the words ‘go away and ‘don’t speak to me’ out of my mouth. His smile faded a bit, but even then he tried to keep his positivity and bright personality on. I could feel the waves of disappointment once I started speaking but hope soon came flooding back.

“Sure. I'm a complete stranger coming here every day just to see you. I can see how that’s alarming. take your time.” He shook his head as if realizing what he had just said. He chuckled and I tried to give him a small smile. Before I could turn away and leave, I felt him touch my elbow. I jumped back.

His brows furrowed quickly. “Forgive me. This is for you. And please accept it.” I thought about refusing but this would only prolong this meeting, pushing me to accept a company I wasn't ready for. I took the small box, my hand already trying to open the shimmering blue box. “No, please. Open it later, more calmly and everything and you can tell me whenever you’re ready if you like it.” I gave him a smile, which he returned brightly before diving back inside the back of the store.

Once inside, I undid the delicate ribbon, watching it dissolve like seafoam by the lovely blue water. The glistening gold chain with a tiny, colorful Koi fish rested in the center of the box. My heart swelled and I felt a way I hadn’t felt since Bucky. He remembered what I had told him that first, and the only time we had talked before today.

The voice of Andrei brought me out of my stupor with a jump. A hand traveled to grasp my heart while the other held the box tightly.

“Razvan is nice guy.” His voice was gruff and deep like it had been since I had met him. He walked behind me and grabbed a pack of flour to dump beside me. I looked towards the other and realized I was running out of it.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes. Comes every day for two years. Great boy.”

When I didn’t say anything, he stopped cutting open the pack of flour and turned to look at me. “You too reserved. Not want to end like Andrei alone. Give guy chance.” That was all he said before he left. A tall wrinkly woman with short red hair calling out for him.

The last thing I thought that day after he left drove me to the same road he had set me on. I didn’t want to end alone or die alone for that matter. But what was I to do if everyone thought I was a selfish monster who just wanted to kill and bring chaos? The only person who didn’t feel that particular way was the same man I was leaving without saying goodbye.

Stark seemed to have gathered his words together because he suddenly began spewing some shit on Andrei. shit, he didn’t like it.

“The girl is no selfish girl. Only a fool like yourself would think so. Only a blind man would propose such a thing.” His brows were furrowed but Otherwise, he was calmly standing at the bottom of the stairs sipping his milk. He seemed like he would continue but I made sure to stop him

“Andrei, no.”

“I see. She holds you hostage and controls you, doesn’t she?” Stark countered, a smirk settling in his features. I pinched my nose, sighing loudly.

“You have to leave with this buffoon?” I walked down to his side, muttering an annoyed yes. “I’m sadder for you than him.” A chuckle escaped him as he hugged my shoulders with one arm. I tried to push him away but found no will to do so. I would miss Andrei. He felt like the father I never had. Worry settled in my stomach knowing I had been here and I would no longer be if anything happened to him. I hugged him back, despite my better judgment and the four pairs of eyes staring back at me.

“Don’t forget about me, violet. Nor dear Razvan.’ He told me after letting me go. I nodded before calling back to my two companions. Stark came down, slowly walked to the front door. Bucky at his heels. They both turned. Bucky’s face had some sort of emotion I couldn't decipher. I thought I could, but I doubt he would feel happy about finding someone genuine to spend my days with.

Stark, on the other hand, looked at Andrei as if he had grown an extra head.

“I’m confused. Aren’t you supposed to be dying at her touch or something? Are you sure she didn’t threaten you to act this way?” The funny thing was, he sounded genuinely confused. The skepticism in his voice hurt my feelings but the mere fact it was stark made me forget quickly. He was an insensitive prick with a personal vendetta.

“Take this fool away before I turn him into a human pastry,” Andrei commented. I walked towards them, chuckling. “Ai grijă, violet aprins.” Take care, fiery violet. The elder said before we shut the door behind us. my heart swelled at his words. I knew I would long for those quiet evenings where it would rain and we would sit down in the living room with a book, quietly enjoying our presence. We laughed and made new and invented pastries in the kitchen for days, always looking for new and innovative flavors. I would miss the man that had treated me like his daughter.

“Take care, Pop.” I whispered to myself. Not thinking a long-haired blue-eyed soldier would hear.

And just like that, we disappeared quietly into the night and I said goodbye to one of the most important people in my life.

James let me know they came in the Quinjet, that enormous thing I had refused to sit on two years ago. the walk was not far from where we were and we found it in a while.

The Quinjet was hidden behind one of the buildings next to the bakery. the gigantic thing sleeping while we arrived to climb up. clint stood outside, his arms crossed. that man always looked like he was in a power pose.

“Romania? What is it with chased people and Romania?” Confusion and genuine interest were written all over his face.

Barton had always been a friend before I knew the truth. Nat told me she had told him in a drunken stupor. he tried to talk to her about telling me but she didn’t listen. I didn’t hold it against him because I knew he wasn’t actively participating but he didn’t do anything either.

I shrugged. “It’s a good hiding place. too many criminals organizations for you to matter. nobody cares who the hell you are as long as you keep quiet.”

“Good shadow place.” Bucky added as he tried to help me get in the Quinjet. I ignored his hand, focusing on Clint’s face.

“Exactly.” My response was clipped. if he was fishing for a normal conversation he was in for a treat.

After a while, we took off. My legs became restless as I sat in front of Stark and Bucky while Clint piloted the flying thing. boredom pushed me to get up from my seat and walk towards the front of the Quinjet. that, and Straks glare along with the awkwardness of Bucky’s movements.

Clint’s focused face came into view as I sat beside him. silence engulfed the both of us before he broke the silence with some words I didn’t expect.

“We missed you.” it was a quiet remark but full of shocking force. I just sat there, wide-eyed looking towards the already clearing sky. I looked towards him and forced myself to respond. a scoff came out of me, causing Clint to look rapidly towards me.

“You have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. Nat was pretty shaken up when you left. we looked for you everywhere and decided you didn’t want to be found. that you needed some time. it took you longer than we thought.”

“You didn’t find me because you didn’t look. You don’t have to lie to me, Barton.” I said, masking the hurt I felt with anger. why keep lying to me? I knew they didn’t care sop they didn’t need to act as they did.

“What? we did loo-” He never finished his sentence since Stark’s voice boomed around the small space. he came to let us know where would land soon as if we didn’t know already. Clint was the pilot, it was impossible for us to not know. suspicion arose in my chest but I soon forgot it when I saw the massive compound below us.

✹✹✹ I would be lying if I said my stomach wasn’t fluttering and my hands trembled slightly. I subtly rubbed my hands in my jeans, hoping to get some moisture away. But, there was something else bothering me. It had been there for a little while. The emptiness in my chest divided in two, as though… I don’t even know. The doors slid with a swift sound and my heart rate hit new floors.

I tried to avoid showing any emotion I felt. Seeing them surrounding the long table, all in their daily clothing made it hard to remember. I couldn’t show the happiness of seeing them all right after two years. Nor could I show the excitement deep in my bones seeing Wanda’s face. I couldn’t forget the damage (situation) those high-held beings made to my heart.

I looked at them with a mask of indifference firmly placed.

Wanda was the first to step forwards, as I knew she would. I didn’t expect her to but a part of me screamed how she had been the only real friend through the year I spent in this cage. I resisted the urge to hug her, touch her, and receive the reassurance I so deeply wanted.

“I thought- we thought you were dead.” The revelation shocked me. It felt as though they couldn’t believe I was alive. But I was. The question was… why did they think so?

“Nop. Still kicking.” I replied.

“Unfortunately.” I heard Stark mutter under his breath. I rolled my eyes and resisted the urge to kick him. I could make him feel a true kick in his brain. And his ass, too.

“Y/n!” A high-pitched voice came from the corner next to me. The smiley face of Pepper Potts came rushing towards me, engulfing me in a hug. My nerve endings shot and I prayed my instinctive responses wouldn’t go through. Fortunately for me, they didn’t. Before I could even think to hold her back—which I wouldn’t have done anyway— she stepped back. Smile intact and a gleam in her eyes capable of illuminating the whole room.

“Jesus. You’ve changed so much!” Her hands settled on my shoulder, holding softly and slightly shaking my shocked frame. “I missed you.” Her vice took a sweet edge and her head lolled to the side. Her eyes scrutinized me with the look of a mother who had just seen her child after a hard year abroad. I resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably out of her grasp. I wasn’t used to this.

“Honey, leave the feral alien alone.” Tony’s voice reached my ears. “We have important matters to discuss.”

“God, Tony. Give us a break. We haven’t seen the kid in two years.” Natasha’s ______ filled the room as I saw her taking steps towards me. I noticed there were no relaxed steps but tense and wary. Her eyes held a sort of apology mixed with caution.

I just stared. Deep inside I didn’t know how to react to someone I hadn’t seen in a long time, someone who betrayed me gets closer. Her body language told me she was sorry but still cautious of my reaction but I didn’t know if I should forgive her. Her right hand stretched towards my frame. I shifted uncomfortably in place, moving slightly away from her.

I saw her eyes roam my body, noticing the discomfort. She came to a halt three feet away from me. Her lips were pursed as she let her head drop for a second. She recovered quickly, extending her same hand towards me, this time to shake my hand.

“It’s good to have you back, Y/n.”

I took her hand in mine, shaking firmly. I nodded my head towards her. My lips pursed. The movement of Wanda’s body caught my eye. She stepped closer to me, her hands nervously trembling beside her big, red jumper.

“Can I hug you?” Hearing those words coming out of her froze the ongoing flow of blood through my veins. I was shocked, to say the least. I bet I looked like a gaping fish as an incomprehensible string of detached words escaped my lips. Everyone else seemed as surprised as I was. For completely different reasons I would bet. As Stark had said, they thought I was a free being.

She waited patiently, probably aware of the shock and ongoing battle I had inside me. She was the only one aware of my thoughts about showing anything besides contempt. And she knew why. But I sent it all to hell and for once, I did what I wanted to do. I nodded.

Her smile was worth enough as she moved quickly towards me, as though worried I would change my opinion. Her thin arms wrapped around my neck, my lack of height apparent as my 5’1 ass reached her shoulders. I resisted the urge to cry as I wrapped my arms around her back, relishing in a familiar face that didn’t hate my only existence.

“I missed you.” It was a whisper, only for me to hear. A small smile escaped my lips as hope blossomed in my chest. Hope that maybe I wasn’t a lost cause. Hope that maybe someday I could have a family.

“I did too, Red.” I murmured back. Careful to not raise my voice as I didn’t want anyone to know anything. I felt oddly vulnerable to be hugging someone let alone hugging someone in front of seven people. I noticed Vision staring and I gave him a subtle nod, a small smile creeping upon my lips. He nodded back with that usual blank expression not in compass with the feelings he harbored. After some time, I let her go before Stark had another remark to make.

I noticed Steve leaning against a far-away table, maybe ten feet away from where I was. His head lowered, eyes on the ground. His arms surrounded his build, hugging himself with a heavy frown on his face. He didn’t want to look towards me and I thought I knew why. He was ashamed of what he did. He was guilty anyway you looked at it. He was guided by Bucky to do everything. He followed the man despite knowing it was wrong. Not because your friend tells you to throw yourself out the window means you’ll do it. He knew full well what was wrong and right. He knew Barnes' proposal was as low as a man could get.

If he didn’t apologize and acknowledge what he did, he was dead to me. I mean, he had tried to apologize that day, but I was devastated and no words came through my anger.

There were a few handshakes and subtle nods here and there before I noticed a presence missing. I looked around for the usual big man with an overinflated sense of heroism but didn’t find him. He was big enough for anyone to spot him. I felt a pang in my chest and a tingle at the back of my head and I knew something was wrong. The air shifted and my hands started trembling slightly.

“Where’s my brother?” I asked, my voice slightly shaky. I tried to compose myself, knowing he had to be alright or I would’ve felt something.

“We don’t know. We couldn’t get a hold of him.” Natasha replied. I noticed the subtle worry etched in her face lines.

Suddenly, I understood that emptiness inside me. That swirling emotion unlatched to an earthy body. One of the connectors inside of me, besides bucky’s, was empty. It didn’t have any energy to connect to.

No.

No.

No.

I didn’t realize I began hyperventilating while the word repeated itself over and over in my head. My chest rose and fell quickly while the air got caught in my throat. My hand shot out to grasp anything in reach I could hold myself up with.

“Y/n?! What’s wrong?” Wanda was the first to step forward and grab my elbow. Her soft touch didn't completely register in my sensory sense. The only thing in my mind was the heavy colorless fog swirling around in my insides.

The worst part was, I didn’t know which of my brothers it belonged to. I thought about them and how long it had been since I had seen them. Since I had been with them.

“Can you all excuse me?” I pulled myself together and without waiting for a response, I hurried across the room. I thought about the me that they just saw but somewhere deep down, I didn’t care.

I hurried, passing Steve's body. This time, he looked intently at me. I didn’t expect him to stand up and grab my shoulders. By this point, my vision was blurry and I tried hard to reconnect with the missing life essence.

“Y/n, I-”

“Can we do this later, Rogers?” I spat, cutting him off before getting my elbow out of his grasp. I left, shuddering and feeling a wave of anger rising in my chest.

What a good way to make a comeback.

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[todrokishoto]

late night conversations | shouto todoroki

summary: excitement leads to insomnia and insomnia leads to a conversation with mr. shouto todoroki

warning(s): mentions of fighting and poor half and half’s childhood. slight angst

a/n: ok but this is not where i was expecting this to go. it was supposed to be about something else lmao but enjoy ig 

your undeniable fatigue was overwhelming, but you were still unable to succumb to the sleep you so desperately needed. not yet, anyway. your body, albeit drained from the physical training performed today during class, was buzzing. 

demanding training was nothing new to class 1-a, and each and everyone of you were progressing with each round of drills the teachers would throw at you. add academic studies into the mix as well and you have the perfect recipe for exhaustion. 

your door slipped shut behind you, the excitement coursing through your veins making it impossible to remain in bed. the hardwood floor was cold underneath your bare feet, but you didn’t feel like going back to fetch your slippers. 

during class with mr. aizawa, you were finally able to nail the ultimate move you had been working on for the past couple of weeks. not only did it feel amazing to execute it flawlessly after so much practice, but it had scored you the victory in the fight against ururaka.

the auburn-haired girl had learned a lot during her internship and had put up more of a fight than you expected. you had seen her go up against some of your other classmates, but experiencing it in person was definitely something else. 

the ding of the elevator echoed, the doors moving apart, as you arrived on the first floor. thank goodness there were no rooms on this floor because you swore the sound would have been loud enough to wake someone up. 

fiddling with your phone, you moved mindlessly, trying to ignore the aches moving throughout your body. you weren’t entirely sure what you planned to do, to be quite honest, but anything seemed like a better idea than being stuck in your bedroom. 

most of your classmates were sleeping, you assumed, or at the very least tucked into bed. the unusual silence of the student dorms didn’t necessarily surprise you but it did make you feel slightly uneasy. it felt foreign. 

so when your name was called, you couldn’t contain the small yelp that escaped you. your phone collided with the floor, the sound once again echoing around the (almost) empty common room, and you winced. with a flick of the wrist, your quirk brought your phone back into your hand and you glanced up to inspect who else was awake at this hour. 

“shouto?” 

his bicolored hair fell into his eyes as he nodded. it was obvious the boy needed a haircut soon but you didn’t dare comment on it. instead, you swallowed the remainder of your shock and made your way over to the sofa he was seated on. 

“what are you doing up?” you questioned quietly, hoping you weren’t prying too much. 

“couldn’t sleep. my thoughts are a little overwhelming at the moment.”

you nodded, your lips pursing together as you tried to wrack your brain for an appropriate response. the two of you had shared a handful of conversations but he was always so formal, making it hard to decipher his true feelings about you. if anyone were to ask if you were friends, you had no idea what to say. 

he spoke first, “sorry for scaring you, by the way.”

“it’s all good,” you assured quickly, the corner of your lips twitching with hints of embarrassment. “i, uh, just didn’t expect anyone else to be awake. i can leave. if, uh, you know, you want me to.”

he shook his head, strands of red and white mixing together. he didn’t verbally protest but scooted over slightly, leaving more room on the couch for you to sit. you accepted his silent offer, not saying anything either, as you lowered yourself onto the sofa. 

the silence continued. you were itching to break it, each second passing making you feel more and more on edge. shouto didn’t make a move to talk like he had previously and you found yourself wondering if it was due to his preoccupied mind or an inability to find the right words. maybe he had just invited you to sit out of common courtesy, secretly hoping you’d decline. 

“great job—”

“so, how did—”

a smile tugged on your lips as his bicolored eyes widened slightly. you nodded, waiting for him to continue his sentence. he remained quiet for a brief moment and you wondered if he suddenly regretted what he was about to say.

“i just wanted to congratulate you on your win against uraraka. you did a great job,” he praised, his words being nothing but earnest. 

“thank you. i didn’t know you were, uh, watching,” you admitted. why were you suddenly feeling self-conscious about him watching you fight? most of your classmates had, so why was he different?

he nodded. “kirishima was able to knock me outside the ring, so i had some time to watch you both.”

“kirishima? really? i mean— he’s my friend and i love him, but he beat you? really?” 

his eyes closed momentarily as his left hand came up to his face. his fingers traced the scar framing his eye, seemingly subconsciously. you felt rude for watching him so intently but you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the contrast of his bright blue orb compared to the red mark. 

only when his eyes met yours did you realize that you had been caught staring. you averted your gaze immediately. you desperately wanted the conversation to continue and you were inwardly scolding yourself when he spoke again.

“he made a comment and i got distracted, so he had an opening. he did put up a pretty good fight before that, though,” he recalled, his gaze flickering toward his hands now clasped in his lap. “i keep getting distracted when my past or family is mentioned, which is starting to mess with my focus and training.” 

you swallowed, your chest swelling with pride. out of all people, shouto todoroki had decided to confide in you. while you knew a lot about him, his family and his past, most of the information came from your other classmates or rumors. he, himself, had never really seemed interested in sharing those details with you and you refused to pry. 

“what did he say? i’ll beat his ass.”

a laugh. you hoped the surprise you felt wasn’t physically visible. his laughter was rarely shared and you could probably count on one hand how many times you had heard it. you decided right then and there that you would give anything to hear it again and again. 

“just something about my left side matching him. you know, with the red all? it was mindless, really. no need to give him a beating on my behalf. he apologized after,” he assured. “i just... i hate that no matter what i do, my father and the family name still has this affect on me.”

his brain was reeling. you could practically see the gears turning and his internal conflict was essentially radiating from his body. eager to offer advice, you had to bite your bottom lip to keep quiet. you wanted to give him some time with his thoughts. you had interrupted him earlier, after all. 

you knew about his complicated family dynamic. he inspired you, honestly. despite everything he had experienced so far in his young life, he was still able to be one of the top students. he was still able to get up in the morning and go about his day. other people weren’t that strong. 

“i’m going to speak freely for a moment, if you don’t mind,” he didn’t object, so you continued. “no matter how much you wish he wasn’t, endeavor will always be your father. there’s not a single person who wouldn’t agree that your childhood was horrible, but you can’t change what happened.”

he listened, almost clinging to every word, desperate for validation. so you kept going,

“what i’m trying to say is that you’ve come so far. when school started, you were so reserved, obsessing over how your family name defined you. now, i see you laughing with iida and deku during lunch. you use your left side with, what seems like, no hesitation. children can’t choose their parents. you just need to keep proving that you’re better. that you’re able to come out on top. but you have to do it for you.”

you weren’t sure if your words had efficiently conveyed what you truly wanted to say. there was so much more you wanted to tell him. you wanted to praise him, encourage him, let him know that while you two weren’t the closest - you would always be there for him. 

but as he remained quiet, you couldn’t help but worry that you had crossed a line. that was it. if your relationship could be considered friendship in the first place, you had definitely ruined it now. each second of silence ensuing was like a stab to your heart, which was already thumping from nervousness, mind you. 

“thank you,” it was no louder than a whisper but you heard it clear as day. “i needed— thank you.” 

the double-quirked boy wasn’t one to openly show his feelings. everyone knew this. whether he was angry, sad or happy, his face always appeared to successfully hide it. so you pretended not to notice the tears welling up in his eyes, offering him a smile instead. 

once again, there was a silence engulfing the two of you. this one, though, wasn’t thick and awkward. it was welcome and comfortable. the kind of silence that happens between best friends and neither one of them mind. 

you were the one to break it, albeit involuntarily. you know how bodies do things that you don’t necessarily want them do? yeah, well your body did just that. shouto’s bicolored eyes met with yours as a violent shiver coursed through you. was it really that cold? 

he seemed to study you briefly before holding out his arm and angling his body slightly toward you. you weren’t sure if he was just that oblivious or if he was being bold. this time, it was your mind going into overdrive. it seemed innocent enough but you still felt hesitant to accept his offer. 

before you were able to either accept or decline, his arm had wrapped around your shoulders. with a gentle tug, you practically fell into his embrace, immediately feeling the warmth from his skin. your tense muscles relaxed and you let his heat melt away your worries. 

“my left side’s not all bad, i guess,” he mused and you swore you could hear a smirk. your face was pressed into his chest, making it impossible for you to check. 

instead, you readjusted your arm, placing it on his abdomen. he tensed up ever-so-slightly when you did, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt, but neither of you commented on it. his chest continuously rose and fell with each breath, creating a rather comforting rhythm. 

“so, what did you think about my fight? did i impress mr. shouto todoroki?”

yet another laugh escaped him, his chest rumbling underneath you. you swore it was one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard and it was easily becoming one of your favorites. you would, without hesitation, fight anyone who dared take it away from him. 

he began telling you about what he had noticed during your fight and you listened. you knew he was giving honest advice, and honestly, you could probably use the pointers but you found yourself more captivated by his voice than anything else. had it always been this smooth? 

your conversations continued. they were random and sometimes one-sided, and you had no idea how they lasted but you didn’t want them to stop. he didn’t either, it seemed, occasionally bringing up new topics himself. they continued long into the night, you were sure. 

and, eventually, fatigue caught up to the both of you. the conversations more and more scarce. his breathing growing more and more shallow, barely moving underneath you. your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. 

neither one of you retreated to your respective bedrooms. neither one of you moved; your bodies just melting together like missing puzzle pieces finally finding each other. and neither one of you heard the snickers and camera shutters from your classmates in the morning. 

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 13k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fxf smut, sub!reader, dom!hoseok, dom!bee, shibari/bondage, sex swing, fingering, safewording situation, aftercare, exhibition, voyeurism

A/N: chapters may not come every week, but i am continuing to post them now xx i appreciate your patience

DAY TWENTY-TWO

Normally, getting a text at ass o’clock in the morning would annoy Hoseok. Normally, he’d deny the offer to get out of the warmth of his bed and go down and have ‘a chat’ with someone at ass o’clock in the morning -

But then again, his bed is a little too warm with an extra body in it. Perhaps going downstairs is the better option. He rolls over gingerly, glaring at the man in bed beside him, separated by a wall of spare pillows. His blue hair doesn’t seem as harsh in the dim pre-dawn light, and his lips are plumper than ever, slightly pouted in his sleep. He looks peaceful, no lines on his face even though he’d gone to bed wearing makeup. One tiny hand rests propped underneath his face, making his cheek bulge, and the other clutches intermittently at the duvet, like he’s caught up in a dream. Park Jimin looks so content and angelic in his sleep. Hoseok narrows his eyes. Little shit.

It’s easy enough to get dressed and ready without disturbing the sleeping demon. Well - truthfully, he’s just shrugged on a hoodie over his sleep shirt and sweatpants to make them look less like pyjamas, but still.

By the time he gets downstairs, grimacing at the sharp lights of the kitchen, Namjoon is practically chewing a hole through the lid of a plastic bottle, gnawing at it with eyes rounded with worry.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Hoseok rushes forward, gently tugging the half-empty bottle out from between the younger man’s teeth, giving him a soft but reproachful look. “What’s going on, buddy?”

Namjoon startles with the sudden motion, eyes blinking slowly in a way that speaks to a lack of sleep the night before. “Oh good, you came,” he mutters absentmindedly, “I’m kinda freaking out.”

Hoseok’s brow pinches with concern. “I did notice that. You seemed pretty carefree yesterday; what’s changed?”

The academic bites his lip. “Sunmi was talking to me. Did you know basically everyone else is in a relationship?”

Whatever Hoseok was anticipating, it certainly wasn’t that. “Huh?”

Namjoon nods, frantic. “Y/n got together with Jimin and Tae, but now they’re kind of not? - I don’t know, Sunmi wasn’t that bothered about the details - and then Yoongi and Jin had their thing, obviously, but now Jungkook has a thing with Yoongi, and Tae and Jungkook have been fooling around too, and it’s like we’re the only ones left out. I didn’t even realise it, but we’re the leftovers, Hobi-hyung.”

Even as that comment sends a dagger right through him, Hoseok keeps his face neutral. “I’m sure that’s not the case, Namjoon. Nobody’s trying to leave us out.”

“I know that,” Namjoon replies quickly, an earnest nod, “it’s just that- Well, I want that, Hobi-hyung. I want to sneak around, I want to hold hands, I want to feel what it’s like. It’s not that I’m annoyed at the others, it’s just… it’s highlighted yet another area that I’m a total virgin in. I’m sick of always feeling behind on these things. I’m sick of it never being me.”

Hoseok swallows, reaching around to pat Namjoon on the back in what he hopes his a comforting gesture. This wasn’t as straightforward as aftercare; Namjoon was seriously hurting. “Listen, Joon, if you want to get into a relationship of any sort with them, you need to talk to them directly-”

“But I don’t,” the academic cuts off, looking more vulnerable than ever. In plaid pyjamas and round glasses with lenses thicker than the frames, hair still mussed up from restlessness, he looks totally lost. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship. It’s like… I wouldn’t write an essay and hand it in straight away, you know? I’d write an outline, and then a draft, and I’d use the draft to make edits and write a second draft, and eventually I’d write the final product and submit it. Do you get it?”

Hoseok presses his lips together. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Namjoon bites down hard on his lip, making the flesh go white, and bloom red when he lets go to speak. “Hobi-hyung,” he begins slowly, “are you interested in any of the people here romantically? Are you wanting to get into a relationship like that?”

Fear shoots through Hoseok instinctively, but it’s soothed by the reassurance, it’s Namjoon. He can be honest with Namjoon. “No,” he admits, waiting for his face to fall.

Instead, the opposite happens. Namjoon’s brows smoothen with visible relief. “I want you to be my first draft, hyung.”

Hoseok tilts his head. “Now would be a great time for you to explain the metaphor, Joonie.”

Namjoon sucks in a deep breath and slips off his glasses, blinking owlishly like being a little blind is preferable before he speaks. “I want to pretend to date you, just for a bit. Just to see what it’s like. It can be a trial run, we’ll stop whenever we want. But you’re the only one in this house I trust like that.” He pauses, fingers twitching where they rest clasped in his lap. “Feel free to say no, though.”

Perhaps Hoseok’s mind is a little slow from waking up, but he barely comprehends the implications of what Namjoon is telling him. “You felt left out when the others were trying to have secret relationships or sneak around the rest of us… so you want to… pretend to do that?”

“Well- no, we wouldn’t have to hide it,” Namjoon says slowly, fingers reaching for the water bottle. Hoseok lets him have it, but watches out to make sure he doesn’t begin gnawing on the lid again. “I just think it would be nice to be the one doing couple stuff for once, don’t you think?”

Upon hearing these words, Hoseok begins to feel his very bones shake. It’s the uncontrollable trembling that seems to pass over him every time he gets close to breaking the seal - close to coming out. As always, he has a choice. It only takes one more look at the openness on Namjoon’s face to decide. “Joonie, I’m aromantic.”

Namjoon sucks in a silent breath of surprise. “Huh? Really?”

Now that it’s out there, the silence feels so much more deafening. “Yeah.” He doesn’t know what to say. Should he explain himself, apologise, give excuses-?

“That doesn’t change my opinion of you, you know that, right?”

Hoseok blinks. Namjoon seems more awake now, more alert and calm. “I- What do you mean?”

“You’re my best friend on this show,” Namjoon admits shyly, “you’ve taught me a lot, and I feel so safe with you. I didn’t come to you because I thought you’d want to actually date, so please don’t think I’m going to feel disappointed. It’s really special that you felt comfortable enough to- oof!”

Before Namjoon finishes, Hoseok is barrelling him over in a tight hug. Namjoon’s arms bracket around him, and the dom could just about purr with the warm fuzzy happiness that bubbles in his chest. “Oh, Joonie! You’re my best friend here too!”

Namjoon hugs him tighter now. “I’m so glad, hyung,” he murmurs softly.

Not wanting to leave this embrace, Hoseok lets his eyes slip closed and rests his chin on Namjoon’s shoulder. “I think fake-dating sounds kinda fun, by the way. We can take the b out of bromance. I wanna see how the others react.”

Just as the breathy sound of Namjoon’s gleeful laughter light his ears, a darker, more bemused chuckle drowns it out.

“Fake dating, huh?” a voice drawls, causing the two of them to jump apart like they’d been stung. “As if things couldn’t get any cheesier around here.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes, looking even more disheveled than when Hoseok first saw him. “Yoongi?”

Hoseok swallows as the raven-haired, cat-eyed beauty standing across from them scowls. “Not quite, buddy.”

The academic fumbles for his glasses and slips them on, gasping as Min Yoonji comes into perfect focus. “Oh! Uh, good morning! You can ignore what you just saw and heard.”

“Absolutely not,” she counters easily, sitting gracefully on a stool at the breakfast bar. Far more awake and presentable than the two of them, she looks sleek and fashionable in a pale silver blouse, black sash tied around the collar, and sleek black pants. Her eyes rake over the two of them, mouth turned down in a frown. “No one would believe it,” she says finally.

“Excuse me?” Hoseok questions, feeling distinctly like a petri dish being studied by a disdainful scientist. He spares a glance at Namjoon, who shifts uncomfortably and fiddles with his pyjama sleeves.

Yoonji just shrugs like it’s obvious. “If you told them now that you’re dating, they’d assume it was a joke. You need to set it up, build a narrative,” she explains. “How about this? I’ll spread a rumour that I saw the two of you making out down here, then you lay down some clues like sneaking off together or fucking each other with your eyes over the dinner table, and boom, everyone will think you’re boning. Bonus points if you can get someone else in on it.”

The two stay silent for a few seconds before they realise Yoonji is waiting for an answer. “Uh,” Hoseok states eloquently.

“Thank you?” Namjoon questions.

Yoonji huffs, eyes rolling skywards. “You two are hopeless. I’ll do what I can, but it’s going to cost you.”

“Are we- what- is this a deal? Are you negotiating with us?” Namjoon stammers, taking his glasses off to clean the lenses with the edge of his shirt even though they were fine before.

“There is no negotiation,” she explains. “I’ll keep your secret and help you. In return, you need to send me a text the second Yoongi tries to put the moves on anyone so I can get the fuck out of the house. I’m not asking for much, but it is very important to me.”

The absurdity of the situation dawns upon Hoseok suddenly, and an unstoppable grin stretches across his face. “It was never about helping us, was it? You just wanna make sure you don’t accidentally walk in on your brother getting railed.”

Yoonji grimaces sharply, shaking her head like she’s trying to dispel the thought. “If you aren’t interested in the deal, I’ll find someone else to blackmail, simple as that.”

“We can do it!” Namjoon volunteers, straightening his back.

Hoseok quickly nods in agreement, watching Yoonji’s shoulders dip in relief. “Sounds fair,” he summarises, “but we’ll need your phone number to do that.”

Yoonji does an almost perfect job of masking her pleased smile with a pointed glare. “Give me your phones, then.”

--

By the time everyone is seated (bar Yoonji, who has apparently taken over her brother’s room to watch Netflix while the rest of you talk ‘business’) and Sejin walks in, you’ve made your decision.

Unlike the first week, the individual doesn’t know in advance, and it’s this guilt that makes you stubbornly avoid eye contact with them all.

Taehyung had also been given the pass to not join the meeting, but he’d shown up anyway for morale. Or, rather, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly and taking a nap on your shoulder. You couldn’t deny it was comforting to feel his body heat, albeit unconscious.

Yoongi sits on the other side of Taehyung, luckily not pressuring you into conversation, and the two other couches are making conversation amongst themselves when Sejin cuts them short to start the meeting.

“Thank you for being punctual, everyone!” he begins cheerily. Perching on the edge of the coffee table, he rubs his palms together. “It’s time again for the elimination vote. Before I ask Y/n to make her decision, the current six Gentlemen have the chance to defend their position in the game. Starting from the left with you; Namjoon.”

Fuck. Now is the point where you can no longer avoid eye contact with everyone. Leaning into Taehyung’s embrace a little more - the sleeping boy grumbling as you shift beneath him - you look up tentatively towards Namjoon.

He looks a little nervous, but no more than he usually gets in these meetings anyway. Hoseok’s hand rests on the back of the couch behind the academic, who seems perfectly comfortable in the crook of Hoseok’s arm. “Y/n,” he begins, clearing his throat with a brief smile, “I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent with you so much, this past week especially. I know I still have some catching up to do when it comes to prowess in the bedroom, but I feel myself improving and once again I’m asking you to be patient with me, and keep me in the game a little longer so that I can do better next week, and the week after that.” He does a cute little nod when he’s finished, cheeks slightly pink.

Hoseok sighs out dramatically when his turn is signified, not shifting from his position. “I’m not above bribery, Y/n. If you keep me in this competition, I’ll take you to my workplace tonight and we can have a good time. If you vote me out, our little excursion will be to the worst Italian restaurant in Gangnam and order a margarita pizza with no cheese or sauce, extra anchovies and pineapple. And we won’t leave until you eat at least your half of the pizza.” He narrows his eyes at you, playful even in the face of elimination. “Are you willing to take that risk?”

You let out a genuine chuckle, shoulders jerking with the force of it. Roused from sleep by your movements, Tae pouts and rubs at his eyes. Even with his hair sticking up at odd angles, he looks so gorgeous that it takes your breath away. As he sits up and adjusts his position, leaning with his back against your side and tugging your arm over him like it’s a blanket, you can’t help but feel a pang of regret for voting him out so soon when you like him so much.

You bite down hard on your tongue, wincing at the pain. Would you come to regret the decision you’re making this morning, too?

Jin is next, and your heart thumps a little faster when you meet his gentle gaze. “I don’t have a lot to say,” he admits slowly, “at least, nothing that I haven’t already said to you. Spending time with you in any context is the highlight of my week, and I sorely hope that I don’t lose you just yet.”

That’s it for the couch to the left of you. Relieved nobody is expecting you to actually respond to these, you give Jin a tight smile and turn to Yoongi, staring at him over Taehyung’s bedhead.

Yoongi shrugs. “Y/n, I think you and I make a really good team. We’re compatible sexually, we get along well outside of that, and I know that you see it too. I’m pretty confident that I’m not the one going home this week.” You let out a light scoff at his faux air of certainty.

Finally, Jimin and Jungkook remain on the last couch. Jungkook is closer to you, so he’s next in line. The bright red streaks of his hair have faded a little, more rosy than before. It makes him look even softer as he sits cross-legged on the couch, the long sleeves of his baggy black shirt tangled up in his lap. He looks genuinely worried, unable to front a smile to you. “Um, I would-” He breaks off suddenly as his nose twitches. “I’d be really sad if you eliminated me,” he confesses in a small voice. “I don’t wanna guilt trip, but, um, I really wanna stay in.”

Your heart aches at the way he drops his chin and stares at the carpet blankly. Beside him, Jimin looks equally pained, and his voice is softer than usual when he speaks up.

“In terms of defending my place in the game,” Jimin says slowly, “I can promise that I’ll keep things different and exciting every week for you and that things will be a lot more fun if you keep me in.” He eyes crinkle fondly. “But I trust your decision either way.”

You suck in an unsteady breath. With everyone’s petitions complete, there’s nothing standing between you and the decision you have to make. Though his words cut right to you, the person you’d chosen earlier hasn’t changed.

Sejin clears his throat after giving you a moment to think. “Who are you choosing to eliminate this week, Y/n? As per the current rules, they’ll be removed from the competition, but allowed to remain in the house on the grounds that they do not initiate any sexual contact with you.”

Making like Jungkook, you lower your gaze to the floor. “First of all,” you start, hating the way your voice sounds so small, “you’re all amazing. Just like last week, there’s no- there’s no easy choice. No matter who I choose it’s going to suck for us both, and I’m sorry about that.”

You pause for a moment, trying to think of the right way to phrase your thoughts. “I’m choosing this person because I think that while the sex has been, um, really good-” it’s futile to fight the blush on your cheeks but you duck your head lower anyway, “-it’s maybe not as exciting week to week as some of the other guys.” The eyes on you feel like redhot pressure points, and you try and loosen the tightness in your chest. “And if I’m totally honest, I think- I really like this person, but I think I’d feel a little more comfortable being able to explore that without the pressures of the competition.”

It’s the least you can do to lift your gaze up and to the left, giving him the dignity of a proper sendoff. “I’m sorry, Jin, it’s you this week.”

Perhaps the worst part of this morning is that Jin seems genuinely caught off-guard.

Or perhaps the worst part is the way his face falls into something grave and icy, standing up so abruptly that Hoseok recoils beside him.

Your heart sinks, your voice drowned out by Sejin’s even as you call out the same name.

“Jin,” Sejin commands, “you have to come back to- Jin!”

Though he was already halfway to the front door, Jin stiffly turns around and waits in the doorway. His eyes actively avoid you, glaring at the wall. Sejin excuses himself and takes him aside to give him the instructions on how to proceed.

It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over you, pooling in your stomach, and you fight the tears that prick your eyes as Tae wriggles around beside you, pulling you into a hug.

You feel fingers card through your hair, even as his two hands stroke your back and hold you close. Glancing up, you’re met with the sight of Yoongi’s face, pained with sympathy, as he gently pats your cheek and continues to brush your hair.

“He hates me,” you murmur miserably.

Yoongi doesn’t contradict you, just letting out a sad sigh. “He’s upset,” he admits, “but he’s a strong guy. He’ll move past it.”

You protest weakly as Taehyung coos softly and pulls you closer, practically tugging you onto his lap so your legs hang over one side and your torso is snug in his embrace. The guilt is far worse this week than it was last time. It constricts your lungs, your veins, makes you feel weak with dread. “He likes me. He likes me and I did that to him.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we all like you,” Yoongi says, his hand falling to cup yours, swirling lazy circles on the skin of your palm.

“Not like that,” you counter, “not like Jin does.”

For a moment it seems like Yoongi is going to disagree with that, but he drops it, squeezing your hand and standing up. “I’m going to make us something to eat. Maybe a hot stew would cheer everyone up a little bit.”

The chances are low, you think, but you would never turn down his food. “Sejin still hasn’t assigned the new prompts and told us about the new week, though,” you point out, glancing over to the two men still in the doorway. Even seeing Jin for a second jolts you like an electric shock, so you turn and bundle your face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, feeling the soft fibres of his box-knit cardigan against your chin.

“Then Sejin can make himself useful and chop some vegetables while he does it,” Yoongi counters with a pompous sniff as he leaves, and in spite of your own misery, a chuckle overcomes you at the thought of it.

“There’s that smile,” Taehyung croons, a finger tipping your chin up. His eyes are two brown pools of comfort that you can’t help but get lost in. “Jin will survive. I did!”

You straighten up once you hear the sound of shoes approaching again, smile dropping. But this time Sejin stands alone.

“Yoongi, out of the kitchen, please,” the producer sighs.

With one foot hovering over the border where carpet meets tile, Yoongi freezes. “I’ll make you an extra serving,” he bargains, “you can even pick the meat.”

“Out of the kitchen,” Sejin repeats in a stern voice, “can we have at least some decorum during the meeting?”

“But I’m hungry,” he defends. Sejin doesn’t reply, simply flattening his gaze. As everyone waits, Yoongi slinks back like a sulking cat, perching on the edge of the couch beside you and Taehyung with his arms crossed in defiance. “Do I get to pick out the prompts again?”

“No. Let’s get started, please.” Taking a breath so deep it lifts his shoulders, Sejin calms himself and clears his throat, standing in front of the seven of you. “The theme of this week is Limited Edition. I’ve got five prompts here; come up in any order.”

Taehyung slides you off his lap so smoothly that you barely notice it’s happened before he’s standing up with a stretch, waltzing towards Sejin’s outstretched hand.

Sejin realises at the last minute and tugs his hand back the second Taehyung’s fingers brush one of the slips of paper. “Taehyung, you know you can’t take a prompt. Sit down.”

Without pause, Taehyung spins on his foot, strolling right back to your couch as if nothing was amiss. “Worth a shot,” he mutters when he sits back down beside you. You know this is just his attempt at cheering you up, but that doesn’t make it work any less. Tucking your arm around his, you lean into him and watch as the first actual contestant takes his prompt.

It’s Yoongi up first, clearly wanting to expedite the process as much as possible, but when he snatches the topmost fold of paper, the text written inside gives him pause. His brows furrow, then lift in realisation, before he collapses back beside you, drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch thoughtfully.

Jimin is next, selecting the next one in the splayed-out pile. His head cocks to the side, turning to Yoongi with a curious look. “Oh,” he comments mildly.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees, and Hoseok, who’d previously been stunned into silence with Jin’s sudden mood change, springs up with a huff.

“What is this oohing and aahing all about,” he grumbles, quickly picking a prompt and holding it close to his chest like he’s worried someone will peek. The second he looks at his, however, his face falls. He tries to recover with a light laugh, but you don’t miss the way he eyes the remaining slips in Sejin’s hand like he longs to trade his in.

He sits down though, patting Namjoon’s thigh to get him to go up. Oddly enough, Namjoon also looks stricken when he reads his prompt, showing it to Hoseok with a nervous gnawing of his lip.

Jungkook is the last one left, and at this point you’re uncontrollably curious but also wary about what these prompts could contain. Interestingly, though, Jungkook doesn’t seem disappointed or worried, but instead scrunches his nose and giggles at the prompt, tucking it into his pocket before joining Jimin and poking his side until the older man shows him his prompt, snickering even more at the sight of it.

“Alright,” Sejin starts, cutting off your train of thought, “now that we’ve finished that, the last point of discussion is the Bangasm Bomb. This week, the special challenge is called Viewer’s Choice. Each day, there will be a random poll taken on the official Bangasm twitter. It will correspond to each prompt, and the next morning, one of you will get a text. That means you have to complete your prompt that day, using the winning vote of the poll. If you fail to include this aspect, you’ll fail overall even if you successfully completed the actual prompt. Make sense?”

Jungkook stares blankly. “Could we have an example?”

Sejin shrugs. “The first poll was posted at 10am this morning. The four options are: standing, lying down, sitting and kneeling. Whichever position wins the poll must be included in the scene tomorrow. If, tomorrow morning, you get a text from me with one of these options, that means you need to complete your prompt that day using the winning option of the poll.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says slowly, mulling it over, “yeah, I get it now. So we don’t get to choose when we go?”

“Not this week, no,” Sejin explains, and then clears his throat. “Well, then. That’s all from me! I need to go make sure Seokjin is behaving.”

The mention of the recently-eliminated member sobers everyone up. Yoongi returns to the kitchen with less vigor than before, Hoseok joins him to make himself a drink, Jungkook comes over to the couch with you and Taehyung and wedges himself between the two of you, so sullen he doesn’t even speak.

In the end, the seven of you decide to eat lunch in front of the television, putting on a mindless sitcom that nobody really focuses on. Yoonji comes down once Yoongi texts her for lunch, and she sits on the floor with her bowl propped up on the coffee table.

Time passes, and Jin doesn’t return inside.

For a while, there’s an unspoken assumption that he’s still in the confessional shed with Sejin doing his exit interview, but once Jimin pokes his head out the front door and sees the producer working away in the production van, that idea is shattered.

“He’s okay, right?” Taehyung asks abruptly as a laugh track echoes hollowly around the room.

No one needs to ask who he is. Yoongi shrugs. “He’s an adult,” he offers, but the glint of concern is as much alight in his eyes as anyone else’s.

The thought only sustains peace amongst you for so long. Jungkook is glum, Hoseok looks anxious, Namjoon grows restless and begins chewing the end of one of his chopsticks. Even Yoonji has her brows furrowed, jaw tense.

Eventually, your worry overcomes you, and you grab the remote and mute the TV, pitching the room into silence. “I’m going to find him,” you announce.

“Y/n…” Yoongi says reluctantly, but your mind is made.

Not bothering with shoes, you unlock the front door again and slip outside, immediately turning the perimeter to go look for the missing gentleman.

Half-expecting him to be sulking in the confessional booth still, a strike of alarm thuds in your chest to find it empty. You inspect the poolside, the patio and outdoor dining area, but Seokjin’s nowhere to be found.

It’s just as you’re about to give up and return inside that you spot him.

Barely more than a smudge in the distance, you see his tall figure sitting, hunched up, on the very outskirts of the gravel path. He picks up pieces of rock, throws them half-heartedly, and he’s so far away that you can’t even hear them clatter. You recoil at the lonely sight, fighting the urge to run to him.

When you return inside, all eyes are on you. “He’s right on the edge of the property,” you explain miserably, “as far away from me as he can get.”

“Oh, Y/n,” Jimin says softly, eyes brimming with sympathy. From the silence around the room, there’s not much else to say.

You bite your lip. “He probably doesn’t want to talk to me, but can someone please go get him before it gets dark? I’m going to my room for a bit.”

Nobody protests, and you heave yourself up the stairs. By the time you flop onto the bed in your room, door locked behind you, you feel heavier than solid stone.

You’re too distressed to sleep, but guilt pulls at your limbs and leaves you unable to get out of bed for the rest of the day.

--

By the time you’re called down to go on your excursion with Hoseok, part of you wants to cancel and wallow in your self-pity a little longer. But Hoseok had clearly been looking forward to it so much, and you can’t deny the allure of escaping the Villa, even if only for a few hours.

Hoseok beams at you warmly as he greets you at the car idling outside. With his hair fluffy over his brow but his clothes sleek black, he’s like an enticing halfway point between Hoseok and Master. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting his clear skin in a rich orange glow. “Ready?”

You return his smile, albeit with a little less vigor. “Let’s get out of here.” When the two of you get inside the car and it pulls down the driveway, there’s no lone figure throwing stones on the perimeter of the property. Your heart tugs in a way you can’t quite articulate.

Though you try not to, it’s impossible not to mentally take stock and compare this experience to your previous nights out. Far more than Jimin and Yoongi, Hoseok keeps you talking. Whether it’s him trying to keep you distracted, or just his natural brand of social vibrance, there isn’t a quiet moment.

It isn’t until the car has wound its way deep into the city that Hoseok gently clears his throat, cutting off his own spiel about his favourite brand of bucket hats. “It seems we’ve reached a crossroads,” he announces meaningfully.

You frown as you glance between the seats and out the front window. “That’s a roundabout, Hoseok.”

His eyes shift. “Metaphorically.”

“And what might this metaphorical crossroads entail?” you ask teasingly, a smile curling your lips.

Hoseok stays uncharacteristically sober, leaning towards you as the car creeps forward in the blocked-up after-work traffic. “Our location, princess,” he says softly.

“I thought we were going to your work?” you respond in confusion.

“At the moment we are,” Hoseok replies. “But there’s a cinema just down the road, several great food places, even this fancy smoothie shop that lets you pick your own ingredients.”

“Okay…” The rhythmic click of the turning light echoes through the backseat, making you feel entranced as you watch Hoseok’s eyes warm, focused on you. “Do you not want to go to your work?”

“This is about you now,” he corrects in a kind but firm voice. “Do you want to go to the Red Room and play?”

“Yes,” you say instinctively, but the dom just shakes his head.

“No,” he states unflinchingly, “I need you to think about it longer than that. Do you feel emotionally, mentally, and physically in a position to do a scene tonight?”

You suck in a breath slowly, taking the time to run over them one by one. Physically was the easiest one. Your sex drive was quickly reconfiguring the longer you spent on the show, and even just a day without any action at all was making you feel a little restless and unsatisfied. Emotionally and mentally gave you pause.

How can you untangle those two when your mind and your heart feel knotted together inside you? Whenever one lights up, the other just reflects it. The moment you think of Jin, guilt overcomes you, but that just sparks your desire to flood yourself with distractions and escapism. But then the thought of being out here, enjoying yourself while he’s still stuck in the Villa, probably seething in hurt or rage or betrayal… The guilt just flares even colder in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you admit after a moment of silence. Hoseok hums once, inviting you to speak further. “I really want to. But I don’t know if I should. I just want to forget about everything, but maybe that’s a bad reason.” You blow out a deep breath, cheeks puffing up. “I don’t know; you’re the BDSM expert. Is it okay if I do it to just distract myself?”

Hoseok stays silent for a moment, eyes roaming over you like he’s searching for something. “That depends,” he answers finally. “If it’s a recurring problem in your life, and you use BDSM as a coping mechanism, then that can be unhealthy. Just like drinks or drugs. But at the same time, it’s very common that BDSM is a way of emotional or mental release. Office workers who feel like they’re working the same 9 to 5 every day with no power might want to feel like they have control and excitement in one area of their lives. Maybe CEOs or lawyers or doctors or parents might want to go to a BDSM club and submit so they finally can release the burden of expectation. To have someone else take care of them and make the decisions for a few hours.”

The dom sighs out slowly, eyes softening in empathy. “Y/n, you know that I can’t tell you whether it’s okay or not. I can’t consent on your behalf. You need to decide for yourself if you’re using this as a release, or as a dependent coping mechanism. Do you understand?”

You nod silently, not trusting your voice for a moment. Though he can’t decide for you, his explanation brings a clarity that strikes deeper than you originally intended. “I want to feel taken care of,” you offer up, voice thin like blown glass as your eyes prickle. “I just want to feel good for tonight, Hobi.”

Hoseok nods with a reassuring smile, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Then I have another question, princess,” he starts. “You said you were wanting to forget about everything. Would you enjoy your time more if you played with someone else?”

You’re tugged out of your brief lapse of emotional vulnerability by the statement, cocking your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Hoseok’s lip twitches as his eyes brighten a little. “Mistress Bee has an opening that she kept just for you,” he reveals in a honeyed drawl, “if you want to use it. Her and I spoke about it earlier. If you’re anything like me, the constant presence of cameras and the whole competition can start to weigh pretty heavily. I think it might be good for you to let yourself be separate from it entirely for a while. Have some fun for fun’s sake. What do you think?”

The idea is something you’d never considered, yet you can’t deny there’s something incredibly appealing about cutting your ties - even just for an evening - and not having to worry about anything to do with the show. But still, you hesitate. “Where would you be?”

Hoseok shrugs easily. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. I could sit near the two of you, or just hang around in the main den so I’m out of sight but still not far. And if you really want some distance, I might just go next door and make myself a custom smoothie. Either way, I’m happy.”

You startle when the car suddenly halts, a jerky job of parking down a side street. You’re here. A strange feeling of urgency overtakes you, like he’ll leave any second. You reach out and clutch at his shirt, feeling the press of buttons against your palm. “I want you to stay,” you say in a rush, knuckles going white.

“I’m here,” Hoseok soothes with warm eyes, unhooking your fingers from his shirt one at a time, before squeezing your hand and resting it back in your lap. “I’ll stay, princess.”

Outside, the air is still warm with the remnants of the set sun, even as lamp posts cast white pools of light onto the pavement. On one side of the car - as it reverses painfully slowly back onto the main street - you can spot the smoothie shop Hoseok was talking about, but on the far side is a Daiso store, and on your side, just in front of you, is the entrance to a cinema complex.

You pause, frowning in confusion, but before you can turn to ask Hoseok, his hand is already on the small of your back, leading you towards the cinema.

“We’re downstairs,” the dom explains, pointing out a sign you’d missed that displays the now-familiar logo of two Rs back to back, beside the B that indicates it’s located in the basement. As he leads you past the small foyer of the cinema and down a set of modest hardwood stairs, his voice lowers. “Although all the walls and ceilings are soundproof, having a bass-boosted movie blasting above you certainly helps drown out the rest of the noise. Gives us a bit more privacy.”

“Clever,” you comment absentmindedly, but your attention has already been caught by the sight that greets you below.

The moment you round the final corner of the narrow stairs, it’s like an entirely different world. Without any natural light, the entryway you step onto is lit mostly with wall sconces, though there’s strip lighting along the very edges of the hallway that glow an ominous red.

In front of you is a roughly oval room. In the centre, a woman with a shaved head and long acrylic nails taps away at a monitor, glancing back and forth from the screen to a large black book just beside it. She glances up when you step down, smirking at Hoseok with clear recognition.

Flanking the outskirts of the room are two bulky bodyguards, and you don’t even notice them until they relax and give him a nod. They seem to protect not only the receptionist but three sets of doors as well.

On the left is a locked door marked with letters engraved onto the wood itself reading STAFF. On the far right, the almost identical door there has no lock, and displays instead CHANGING ROOMS. In the middle, directly behind the desk, are two massive doors with iron handles curved in the shape of flicking devil’s tails, complete with the pointed tips. Instead of any words, each door just has one of the Rs of the logo. Then again, it doesn’t really surprise you that there wasn’t any explicit title or description visible. This was a place that you only went to if you knew where you were going.

“I thought you were taking time off, Sir?” the woman asks in a teasing lilt. She’s almost intimidatingly gorgeous, and you fight the urge to shift closer to Hoseok’s side. Her eyes shift to you nonetheless and her grin widens. “Yet here you are, bearing a gift.”

“Not for sharing, I’m afraid,” Hoseok deflects, and it takes you off-guard to hear the audible difference in his voice compared to what you’re used to. He’s not fully in Master mode, but the bubbly ball of energy has been replaced by the suave charisma of someone who knows he commands the attention of any room. Just as you glance up at him, he looks down with crinkled eyes and lifts the hand on your back up into your hair, not quite tugging, but keeping it there for a moment before he lets his fingers slip through your locks again. He holds your eyes a second longer before turning back to the receptionist. “Red cuffs will do, Sim.”

With a sigh, the receptionist acquiesces, a small silver piercing just below her bottom lip glinting as she shifts and reaches into a drawer at the desk, producing a pair of cuffs that look exactly the same as the ones Hoseok had used on you a few days ago.

She stretches them out towards you, but Hoseok intercepts and chooses to put them on you himself. Though they come connected together by the chain, he unclips and pockets it once the leather is snug around your wrists, leaving you claimed but still free to move. The meaning of the red trim still makes you shiver when you run your fingertips over it, and the sight makes Sim chuckle.

“First time here?” You aren’t sure if the cat-eyed beauty in front of you is asking you directly or Hoseok on your behalf, but you nod anyway. She hums, closing the drawer and pulling a sheet of paper out of another one and placing it on the desktop. “Just because you’re coming in attached to the Big Man doesn’t mean you get to skip the rules. Read them over and sign anywhere on the page to show you’ve understood. And I’ll need to see some ID, verify your age and all that.”

Fumbling to pull your ID out of your wallet, you hand it over and take the photocopy and the outstretched pen from her in turn, scanning the numbered list of rules. There aren’t any surprises, luckily; it reiterates the cuff colouring, safeword systems and staff on site, as well as emergency exits and procedures. There are places to buy drinks and snacks inside, but only spectators can consume alcohol.

“There’s a station for toy rental inside,” Sim explains, handing you back your ID after noting down your details, “with its own set of rules and everything, but I’m sure your Master here will be using his own stash. Our staff wear black clothes with red logos and arm bands, you can’t miss ‘em. Just sign if you’re good, and you two can go on through.”

Hoseok waits while you read, sharing some smalltalk with the two bodyguards in the meantime. Once you sign off and hand the items back to Sim, who dutifully stamps the sheet and files it away, your dom turns to you with a pleased grin. “Shall we?”

The moment Hoseok wraps his slender fingers around those devil tail door handles and pushes them inwards, sound fills the room, no longer held at bay by the seal of soundproofing. Chatter, laughter, the general hum of crowds - they all fill the space around moans and cries and cracks of whips, every possible noise you’d heard on a porn video or experienced over the past three weeks.

It was debauchery in every sense of the word, and Hoseok slipped into the thick of it like a duck in water.

With a single finger hooked onto one of your cuffs by the silver loop, he pulls you in with him, letting you soak in your surroundings as he leads you.

Though you didn’t really have any clear expectations, you’re shocked by the sheer amount of people inside, all gasping at Hoseok and parting in front of him like an adoring sea. The first area is relatively cosy, clearly just meant for socialising.

Couches surround the edges of the room, except for a small bar manned by two insanely hot guys. One effortlessly shakes up a drink, biceps pumping with the motion, and the other chats up a middle-aged woman who appears to flirt back, ignoring the older man kneeling at her feet with a pleading look in his eyes.

They fall out of your sight quickly as you move through a doorway, the sound dropping off just as suddenly. It’s not quite silence that greets you in the next room, however. Just about bumping into a row of occupied seats, Hoseok adjusts your direction so that you move around the back of the room, but that doesn’t stop you from glancing towards the front, where a whimpering girl is strapped to what looks like a medieval set of pillocks by the neck and wrists, her face wet with tears but alight with ecstasy as a gloved man demonstrates to a rapt audience how to fit an entire fist inside her.

Your eyes widen at how openly they display the obscene act. Then again, how is it any different from what you’d been doing in the Villa? Whether it was an audience at home watching through a screen, you’d still let yourself be viewed in much the same way. As Hoseok keeps you stumbling down the back of the room and out a different doorway, you think more about what being that girl on the stage might feel like.

Moving so quickly through the seemingly endless basement, you’re startled when suddenly you’re jolted to a stop in front of an elevator. Hoseok punches in a code that has to be at least seven or so digits on a little keypad beside the doors, before pressing the down arrow.

“Where are we going?” you question, voice still hushed as if you were in the theater.

“Bee’s office,” Hoseok answers simply, but the realisation that you’re about to play with the gorgeous spitfire - with Hoseok watching, no less - fills you with a restless arousal. “She doesn’t know whether you chose to even come here tonight or not, let alone play with her. We’re going to give her a little surprise, princess. I guess I did come bearing a gift after all.”

Once the lift arrives, he steps inside smoothly, no longer holding onto your cuffs. You jump inside, watching him select B2 off the limited selection of floors. “This used to be a carpark,” Hoseok explains casually as you’re slowly lowered down. “But when it got bought by the cinema, they didn’t really need it, so they leased the first below-ground floor to us for a pretty low price. We originally just kept this lift for wheelchair access, but once we got bigger and expanded a little, we decided to move our offices downstairs for an extra layer of privacy.”

The elevator chimes, opening its doors to reveal a hallway similar in appearance to the entrance foyer you first walked into. “But we aren’t going to your office?” you ask, curiosity making your skin itch as he walks right past a door with the letter H on a placard beside the knob.

“Not this time, princess.” Hoseok halts again, and you catch sight of a new door, this one with a B. Spinning on his heel, your dom turns to you and pats your cheeks with a grin, lowering his voice conspiriatorially. “If you’re Bee’s present, we better wrap you up nice, hm?”

Things start to feel distinctly more real when Hoseok undresses you right in that very corridor. You can’t help but worry that somebody could come down in the elevator at any moment, or the service stairs behind you. Watching you squirm with a barely-contained grin, Hoseok does nothing to assuage those fears.

He allows you to keep on your panties, kicking the rest of your clothes to the side and slipping off his own jacket to lay over your shoulders. Though it’s a little big on you, it’s laughably inadequate in covering you up, made of some less-than-opaque black fabric that betrays everything below down to the moles and freckles on your skin. Hoseok looks somehow even more intimidating without the piece on, a fitted tank top exposing his taut shoulders and modestly sculpted arms.

“Knock, princess,” Hoseok instructs, not without the warm hint of fondness that colours his voice.

You do so with a shaky hand - shivering partly from excitement and partly from the chill of air conditioning that fills the hallway.

“I’m busy!” a muffled voice calls out brightly, making Hoseok tut with a rueful smile.

He leans in so that his cheek almost brushes the hard wood. “Do you want to be busier?”

A pause, then footsteps drawing closer.

Before the door even opens fully, Bee is cooing loudly on the other side, clapping her hands in clear joy. “I knew it! Come in, come in!”

Her bubbly personality is at odds with the glossy red latex that covers her body, heels clicking with every skipped step back into her office. Bee waves you in first, letting you enter before you hear her voice lower, asking for permission to touch.

“She’s all yours, feel free to play with her to your heart’s desire,” Hoseok explains easily, making arousal pool between your legs, “the red is for you and me tonight.”

“Splendid,” Bee chirps from behind you, and you jump when you suddenly feel fingers brushing up your spine, even through the thin fabric of Hoseok’s jacket. “Take a seat, chickie, let’s talk.”

In her office, the Mistress shows that same duality of a cheery personality with her dominance. A large corner desk sits in the corner, with a small board of polaroids pinned to the wall and a little terracotta pot of violets and a spray bottle of water just beside it. A small cup with various items of stationery is complete with a tall pen with a fluffy pink pompom on the end, and even from what you can glimpse, it looks like her screensaver on her computer is some stylised LINE friends character.

Yet move your eyes anywhere else in the room, and you see a metal cage in one corner, a flogger hanging from a clothes peg behind the door, various fixtures on the walls, ceiling and furniture that speak of restraint and punishment.

As you perch delicately on a lowset sofa across from her desk, you wonder if Hoseok’s office is much the same. It certainly looks like Bee would take in subs here to play with her, judging by the equipment. Had Hoseok spent evenings with submissive women and men in his office, making them kneel and beg and serve?

The thought stirs something inside you, and for a moment you think it’s jealousy. But then Hoseok beams at you with a salacious wink, settling onto the corner of Bee’s desk, and you realise that it’s less envy and more the feeling like there were parts of him you were missing out on. That there was still so much you had to discover of him, to experience with him.

You wonder if he’ll let you come back to see him here one day, after all this is over.

Suddenly, your view of him is obstructed by the deep red of Bee’s corset and latex pants, her hands on her hips. “You’re looking a little too much at him and not enough at me, chickie,” she croons, almost conspiriatorially as you crane your neck to meet her gaze. She tilts her head, lips curled. “Do we have to send him out?”

You shake your head adamantly, unable to stop your eyes from quickly darting behind her.

She chuckles. “Cute. So soft for her Master.” Your head feels hazy as she slips her fingers into your hair, stroking your head fondly. “I think your Master is soft on you too, baby.”

Without much fanfare, Bee swivels and sits herself down beside you, so close your shoulders and thighs press together. You suck in a breath at the closeness, but the domme just gets closer, flicking your hair over your shoulder and rubbing at the nape of your neck as she watches you intently.

“Did Hobi give you the full tour?” she asks in a low voice, the slight graze of her fingernails making you shiver. “What was your favourite room so far, I wonder?”

You go to shrug, put on the spot so suddenly, but before you can Hoseok pipes up. “The theater,” he states without room for disagreement.

At the thought of the room, you feel desire swim within you. The image of that girl, so vulnerable as a room of at least thirty strangers watched her, analysed her, enjoyed her pleasure just as much as she did. That image hadn’t really left your head since the moment you saw it. Before you even realised it yourself, Hoseok had known. Something about that made you dizzy with your want for him.

But tonight was about Bee, about the intoxicating feeling of being so close to a beautiful, powerful woman. The lady herself hums, pleased. “The theater,” she repeats in a low voice. “Do you like watching, baby?”

“She’s on a porn show,” Hoseok butts in again, his eyes like pointed furnaces on you, wetting his lips between words, “give her more credit than that.”

This time, Bee straightens up and narrows her eyes at the man across from you. “You can stop answering on her behalf, Hoseok, or I’ll put you out myself. You said I get to play with her tonight.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he retorts in a slightly sarcastic, petulant tone, but shoves his hands in his pockets and presses his lips together anyway.

Bee turns back to you, letting her fingers tuck beneath the collar of Hoseok’s jacket so that her palm rests against your bare back. Stroking slowly, she smiles, her eyes glittering. “We can play on the big stage if you want, baby. Would you like that?”

The opportunity, a little bit frightening but mostly extremely arousing, makes you squeeze your thighs together with a hard swallow. “Yes, please,” you mumble in a small voice.

Her smile widens, caramel skin positively glowing in the warm light of her office. “Perfect,” she drawls happily, before standing up, back arching slightly as she stretches. “Then there are a few rules you need to know before I take you out there.”

The two dominants share a look, Hoseok lifting his brow at something written on Bee’s face. “Really?” he questions in surprise, chuckling reluctantly. “You’re going all out, huh?”

Even as confusion overtakes you, you watch in rapt curiosity as Bee shrugs, slipping past him to open a tall, skinny cabinet just behind her desk. There’s a large, dark brown coat there, but her hand delves deeper, pulling out a thin yet tough-looking strand of nylon rope, a suggestive deep red almost the same shade as her bodice.

“I dyed these myself,” Bee explains, her voice light and warm like honey. You watch as she lets the length pass over her palm loosely. “I don’t know if Hoseok told you, but rope bondage is my specialty. If you wear this, everyone out there will know you belong to me.”

You bite your lip, heart racing as she slips off Hoseok’s jacket, chucking it towards him without a glance as she keeps her focus on you. Her eyes gleam as she slips the rope around your back, beginning to loop and fold it. “What are the rules?” you ask, voice already airy with the arousal that peaks your nipples and sends shivers down your spine with every drag of the rope.

If it was possible, Bee appears to have even more subdued prowess with ropes than Hoseok does, her fingers nimble and practiced, moving so quickly that it leaves lines of hot friction against your skin. “The rules?” she repeats casually. “Well, the first one is that I expect you to address me by my proper title. Do you know what that is?”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you nod. “Mistress,” you croak out, almost stuttering on the word that feels so unfamiliar on your tongue. Your cheeks heat up, embarrassment only heightened by how close she stands to you, flooding your senses.

“That’s right, chickie,” she praises, tugging the rope suddenly, making sure there’s no give as your bare chest is yanked forward. Satisfied, she tucks the ends in neatly and places her hands on your waist, taking in her work. It’s a basic chest harness, like one you remember Hoseok putting you in, but there’s beautiful flair all over, with arches and keyholes and braids that slip between your breasts, along your spine, shoulders and ribs. Almost like a bralette, the main difference being that your breasts themselves are fully exposed to her - and Hoseok’s - roving gaze.

“Now,” she continues, “rule two. You don’t have permission to speak unless I ask you a question. I used the limit sheet for you that’s on the Bangasm website, but if there are any changes throughout the scene, the only words you can say at any time are your safewords. I’m sure you’re familiar with it, but here at Red we use the stoplight system. Is that clear?”

It’s easier to say the second time. “Yes, mistress.” Still, the excitement low in your belly just grows with the way she nods in approval. Your desire to please sets in quickly, and the rope on your chest and the leather around your wrists feel like a promise of what’s to come if you continue to please her.

Jerking her head to indicate that Hoseok should open the door for her, Bee turns to you and hooks a finger under a strand of the rope, just under your breast. “And the final rule is more important since this is my first time playing with you. If something feels good, you thank me for it. Like this.”

Before you can even process it, lips softer than silk press against yours, chaste but unforgiving as you’re pinned in place by the harness in her grip. She smells sweet, slightly floral like gardenia or jasmine, and she tastes like strawberry chapstick.

When Bee finally pulls away, your head feels hazy, on a lag. Your lips still tingle from the missing contact, but you let out a dreamy, “thank you, Mistress,” without even thinking.

She grins at your reaction and turns towards the door, pulling you behind her with that finger caught on the rope. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve had a sweet girl like you to play with,” she croons back at you, before patting Hoseok on the chest with her free hand. “Thank you for the gift, Hobi.”

There’s a strangely smug feeling inside you as Bee leads you out of the office, back into the chill hallway and up the elevator. Hoseok trails behind, and some part of you is thriving in that feeling of being the focus of his and her attention. And even as you’re led back into the theatre, going right through the middle of the seats before veering off to the right to go behind the wings, the eyes on you feel electric.

Just like that woman that was on the stage earlier - it now sits empty in an interlude, the audience chatting amongst themselves - you feel like a pillar of desire, a pretty thing for everyone to look at, but only for a few to touch. The red cuffs and red rope lift you higher into that headspace, submissive yet superior in a way.

The attention of those strangers is addictive, and any uncertainty disappears with the need for them to replace those brief glances of curiosity with full stares, the kind of intense focus that you’d only receive by being out on that stage.

There are a fair amount of people backstage. At least three or four people in black shirts with STAFF printed in glossy block letters flitter around, chatting to the others or checking equipment. The lady from earlier is still behind there, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, like one you’d see in a sick bay in high school. A large man, beefy like a body builder, tenderly hugs her from behind as they sit on a couch, and takes a bottle of lemonade from a staff member, gently encouraging her to drink.

You hear Bee catching the attention of a staff member holding a clipboard, chatting to him, but your attention is caught by the woman. Her face is glistening with tears, sweat and even some drool, and she looks exhausted yet elated, giggling weakly when her dom pats her clean with a paper towel. With a kind of delicate care and patience that seems at odds with his rather aggressive appearance, his lips move close by her ear, words just meant to be shared between the two of them.

When you did intense scenes with the guys, did you look like that? The thought sticks in your mind as Bee’s bright voice remains in the background. There was something so loving and meaningful about the connection that you felt to the guys after a scene like that, and the couple in front of you seems like a physical representation of that emotion.

Suddenly, pain spikes in your chest at the reminder that you’ll never have that connection with Jin again, that every week you’d have less and less moments like those. And instead of cherishing them, you were here, about to do a scene with a near stranger, in front of actual strangers.

Suddenly, your original idea of escaping the Villa doesn’t seem to be as appealing.

Glancing up, that pain turns to alarm as there’s a missing presence around you. Bee is finishing her conversation, waving away the staff member before turning to you, but the two of you stand alone.

“Mistress,” you offer up, biting harshly on your tongue when you realise belatedly you’re breaking her second rule already, “where is Hoseok?”

Before she can furrow her brows for your disobedience, they knit together instead in concern. “He’s getting a good seat in the audience, chickie. Were you not paying attention?”

Your cheeks heat, and you apologise in a rush, letting your eyes dart over to the post-scene couple one last time. She’s fallen asleep, his chin propped up gently on the crown of your head, and you feel like you’re intruding by observing them any longer.

Bee notes your distraction, but just sends you a bemused smile and grasps your chin so that you’re forced to face her. “We’re going to go on now,” she enunciates clearly, and the reminder of reality clears your mind a little, “I’m due to teach a demonstration on bondage, are you okay with that? It’s nothing too intense.”

You nod quickly. Perhaps there was something wrong with you, or perhaps you were just kinkier than you thought, but in your experience, being tied up or tied down felt calming and grounding in a way that you think is necessary given the whole new world of live exhibition that you’re about to undertake. “I’m okay with it, Mistress.”

“Good. Keep our rules in mind, chickie; let’s go have fun.”

For some reason, applause is not something you’d considered, expected or prepared for. Your cheeks heat the moment you step out, lights so bright that the audience is swimming silhouettes, and are met with passionate clapping.

Though you know it’s for Bee - she drinks it in with a proud beam, totally in her element on stage - it’s an audible reminder of the attention on you right now. If your panties weren’t soaked through before, you can definitely feel wetness on your thighs now.

“Thank you, thank you, it’s good to be back up here!” she cheers out, and you jump when her voice reverberates. The sound carries in here so well that just a speaking voice seems to fill the room. You wonder if later on, your own moans will surround you in much the same way.

Bee lets go of her grip on your harness and ducks her head in, quickly instructing you to kneel in a ‘comfortable way’. You’re surprised when the stage floor is solid, yet not as painful as you’d expect on your bare knees. You adjust a bit so that the pressure is off your kneecaps and ankles, and look up at the domme, listening to her spiel.

“Welcome back to our Red Members, and welcome for the first time for any newcomers. My name is Mistress Bee, I’m the resident bondage, suspension and shibari expert here.” She pauses while a few scattered claps ring out, and you preen when she shifts to the side, stroking the top of your head as she continues. “Last week I did a demonstration with the lovely Mikey on some common suspension ties. From week to week, I want to teach you all the ins and outs of suspension, because it’s a very rewarding craft for the dom and the sub, but it’s also pretty complex. So before we get into off-ground suspension, this week I want to show you my favourite intermediate step: sex swings.”

Your heart thuds, glancing up so quickly that her hand falls over your forehead and eyes, but she just smiles placidly down at you and pinches your cheeks playfully, making a few of the audience members chuckle.

“I have a pretty little chickie here with me today to help me out. Seems like she didn’t guess what we were playing with today, huh?”

Unsure whether it’s rhetoric or not, you carefully mutter a, “no, Mistress.”

“It’s a fun surprise, then,” she quips, before turning back to the audience. With slow, clicking steps, she makes her way to the side of the stage you’d come from, gesturing to a couple staff members.

Your mouth goes dry as a industrial-looking metal post gets lowered from the ceiling, running parallel to the ground, but taller than your arms could reach standing up when it groans to a stop. Two guys rush on stage with a black pile of leather and metal, connecting the chains to the metal pole in two different places. The major component is a flat piece of stiff fabric, clearly meant for your body, with two leather loops on one side to prop up your legs. With the way they’ve hooked it up, you’ll be side-on to the audience.

“Sex swings seem a little cheesy,” Bee begins, and you jump when her voice comes from behind you, varnished nails running over the bare skin of your upper shoulders. “But they’re actually a really good stepping stone for suspension. The dom gets used to maneuvering someone else that’s off the ground, and the sub can experience what it’s like not having their weight supported by the floor at all. They’re also far more cost-effective than good quality suspension gear.”

As Bee explains, your eyes wince against the lights, trying to make out the blurred lines of people in the audience. Hoseok was in there, right now, watching you. But you couldn’t see him. Your heart beats a little harder in alarm, but you force yourself to keep in the scene, wanting to make the most of this unique experience.

The jingle of metal echoes through the modest theater as Bee checks the stability of the sex swing, and soon enough she’s instructing you to stand up and come stand in front of it. You do so as quickly as possible without running over, so excited about being put up in the swing for her to play with that you can barely stand still.

“Let’s get these panties off first,” she decides, hooking in a finger and snapping the waistband against your hip to make you jump. You push them down before you can secondguess it, and just like that, you’re naked in front of a room full of strangers.

Getting up into the swing would be a little awkward normally, but Bee’s unending charisma and charm makes it feel easy. She holds it steady while you do a little jump to rest your ass onto the flat bed, then gets you to lie down, praising you warmly even as she gives professional advice to the audience.

Lying down is okay - your head hangs a little off the edge, so that your vision is upside down and your neck is arched, but the fabric is surprisingly comfortable so it’s no imposition - but one she slips those loops past your feet, resting them in the crooks of your knees, everything suddenly feels very real.

This is exposure in a very different sense. There’s not much give in the chains for safety, but it means that your thighs are spread wide open with no way to cover yourself.

Bee’s rapport with the crowd watching is a steady stream of reassurance, but by the time she lifts your wrists, using the clips on the chain and the loops on your cuffs to bind them straight up, leaving you entirely vulnerable, your chest begins to heave, breaths quick and shallow.

“Still with me, chickie?” Bee questions, and you let out a choked moan when she circles round to your top half, cupping your breasts and rolling your nipples between her fingers softly, the contact grounding you. “Give me a colour.”

Remembering Hoseok’s advice, you pause and take a moment to really think it over. “Green, Mistress,” you decide, trembling when she rewards you by sliding her hand down your chest and stomach, two fingers dipping lower to feel how wet you are, stroking your clit. Your back arches, thighs tense, but there’s nowhere you can go to escape the pleasure she gives you. “Th-thank you, Mistress.”

Leaning over you, patting your cheek fondly, Bee beams down at you. “Good girl,” she praises warmly, before glancing out towards the audience. “So well-behaved, isn’t she? Should I give her a quick reward before we continue?”

Your eyes slip shut in bliss as you hear the audience cheer and clap in your favour, imagining one of them to be Hoseok, watching you from below.

After hearing out the crowd, Bee adjusts her position so that instead of up by your head, she’s between your legs, that hand still lazily rubbing over you as the other grips your waist. “Alright, I won’t argue with that,” the domme quips teasingly, and chuckles as you go rigid suddenly when those two fingers plunge inside of you, crooking up to massage your walls.

There’s nothing you can to do move towards or away the touch. The swing has you completely at her mercy, and that just makes every stroke that much more overwhelming. Bee fucks you on her fingers with a swift, unforgiving pace, and you whine as the obscene wet noise echoes throughout the room.

You feel dirty; dripping on stage as your fists wrap around the chains and your pussy tightens around her. But the taboo and debauchery just turns you on more, and the moment she increases to three fingers, you no longer try to hold back or muffle yourself. A loud cry spills from your lips as she presses against your g-spot, and her gleeful chuckle arouses you even more.

The knowledge that an entire roomful of people are watching you is so hot that you feel electric, but it’s the reminder that Hoseok is somewhere amongst them that sends you over the edge. You spasm in the swing as you cum, hard, and Bee doesn’t let up for a moment, taking advantage of your restraints to continue to fuck you through your orgasm, her other hand joining to rub roughly at your clit to make you sob in oversensitivity. It’s not until your toes and fingers tingle with the force of it that she finally slows down, taking her hands off you with a cheery sigh of exertion.

“Thank you, Mistress,” you try to say, though it probably comes out slurred or garbled. You shiver as aftershocks periodically thrum through your veins, making your muscles twitch, and your eyes slip open to the feeling of Bee pressing a chaste kiss of approval to the back of your hand, still bound to the chain.

“Now,” she says, still a little breathless, “onto the main event. One of the more difficult things of…”

Though you try and stay alert, your body is exhausted and satisfied, and the suspension just makes you feel even more floaty than you normally would after a good orgasm. Your mind flits in and out, and you feel at peace until you hear the echoing click click of heels on hard floor, and see the blurry figure of Bee disappearing backstage.

Alarm flares red inside you, making your heart beat overtime and your nerves screech. You wriggle your arms and legs, but there’s no give, and even as you crane your neck to the side, the stage lights prevent you from being able to find your dom in the audience.

There’s no use in trying to stay calm. Even as that clicking returns, Bee already returning to you, you feel unsafe and anxious, the safeword on your tongue.

But it’s not the safeword that comes out when you find your voice. “H-hobi,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as panic flares in your chest.

Before his name has even fully left your lips, there are hands on your shoulder, rough with callouses. There’s the familiar musk that grounds you, and the heat of a body that cradles your head and presses his lips to your temple, cooing sweet nothings to calm you.

Bee’s voice floats around you, apologising profusely not only to you but to the audience too, but as you open your eyes and see Hoseok, his eyes brimming with concern, you burst into tears of pure relief, wishing you could reach out to him.

Like he knows your needs without you even articulating them, he unclips your wrist cuffs from the chains one at a time, slowly helping you sit up as Bee’s hands are on your legs, taking off the loops that had held them spread open earlier.

The moment you’re up, you fall into Hoseok like he’s a lifeline, clinging to him as your tears wet his sleeveless shirt. His skin is hot against yours, and his chest seems to rise and fall faster than normal as he holds you tightly, stroking your hair.

“I’m here,” he chants over and over, the words like liquid comfort cocooning you. The audience slips away, even Bee taking orders from Hoseok on what to go get is tuned out as you lean into that feeling of security that Hoseok’s embrace gives you.

At one point, he wants to move you offstage for some privacy, but your legs won’t stop shaking. Without a word of complaint, he’s lifting you up with one arm under your ass and the other around your back, guiding you to wrap your arms and legs around him.

It’s all too easy to burrow your face into the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent, your heart rate slowing from the spike of adrenaline. By the time his weight shifts, and you feel the smooth, cool leather of a couch beneath you, exhaustion has seeped into your very bones. You barely have enough energy to focus back on his voice, but you force yourself to, blinking blearily as he cups your cheek and meets your gaze.

“I think I know what happened there, what spooked you,” Hoseok says slowly, his eyes deadly serious even as his fingers gently stroke your jaw. “Did you not like not being able to see or touch either of us?” You manage to nod weakly, and Hoseok’s brows furrow in internal guilt. “I’m so sorry,” he apologises hoarsely, “I should’ve warned her before, I should’ve been closer-”

He breaks off as Bee rushes over, face pinched, and hands Hoseok a folded up blanket. The feeling of the soft, yet slightly weighted fabric covering your naked skin feels like heaven, and it calms you just that little bit more.

Hoseok meets your gaze again. “Bee wants to chat to you, princess, to say sorry. Do you want to see her now or talk with her later?”

You feel guilty for saying it, but you just want to selfishly indulge in Hoseok now, no one else. “Later,” you admit, and the domme nods in solemn understanding, bowing her head at the two of you before departing.

“What do you need, Y/n?” Hoseok asks, in a voice so low it could be a whisper. You blink at him, at the deep concern on his face. “What can I do to make you feel okay? To feel safe and calm?”

You know the answer. It’s not something you’d admit normally, not something you’d request were you not feeling so terribly adrift and in need of comfort. You fist your hands in his shirt - wrists still adorned in red cuffs that said you were his - and wet your lips. “Kiss me?”

He pauses long enough that you think he may deny you, but then you feel his chest rumble with the words, “just this once,” before he dips his head and kisses you, slowly and carefully, like you might break. Your heart swells with every slight movement of his lips, but they’re gone all too soon, replaced by your own fingers as you touch your lips in wonder. “Better?” he asks in a strained voice, still stroking your back through the blanket.

“Better,” you reply, though already you miss his lips on yours. But feeling his arms around you, and his heart beat against your ear when you lie down is good enough for you, enough for now.

[the-huntress]

Little Moth - Chapter 4 - As The Snow Fell

[Thank you so much to everyone that has read, liked and re-blogged the chapters and master list of my fanfic so far, I really appreciate all the support!]

Masterlist

Y/N Protagonist, female. Reader X Karl Heisenberg. [18+]

Summary: You’ve barely even set foot into the village and have already had a taste of the unusual residents and otherworldly beings. Is there anyone that you can trust?

Trigger Warnings: Threat, theft.

Soundscape Ambience Suggestions:

Medieval Ruins Ambience

Quiet Tavern Ambience

[Photos are my own]

You woke with a start, the white canvas of the morning sky blinding you as a crow cawed from above. You cast you gaze about bleary eyed, taking in your surroundings. You were back at your camp, but mightily dishevelled, half your clothes on, half off, and various parts exposed to the elements. The last embers of the fire burned, soft wafts of smoke dying down.

What the hell happened last night? You wondered, casting your thoughts back and rubbing your face, feeling almost as if you had a hangover. Fixing your clothes, you turned your attention to your equipment and the camp. Anything that wasn’t necessary to have on you today you bagged back up into your luggage bag and pushed into the hollow of the tree that you had camped against; mostly some clothing, sleeping bag, tarpaulin… you paused as you got to the bow that the Duke had gifted to you, eyeing it up. As much as you felt safer with it, today you would have to try to be inconspicuous, and this weapon was not going to help with that. You stuffed it hastily as far bag into the hollow as you could, hooking it on a knot on the inside of the tree so that it hung safely, completely out of view, and then threw leaves over the bag.

The distance seemed shorter this time going towards the cliff edge that overlooked the village. You took out your binoculars from a pouch on your hip and got down onto your stomach to scout the area. From where you were you could easily see the castle with its spiky turrets in the distance, slightly shrouded by a fine mist at this hour. If it weren’t for the whole situation that you were in and the very obvious unease that this place was already causing you, you’d have maybe even called this gothic monster ‘beautiful’. Leading up to it were many small houses, each made slightly differently to the next, but somehow all similar. Some with thatched roofs, some tile, some metal. You were only at the brink of this village, but you could sense poverty from here, being used to living in a modern world and never feeling like you’d had to struggle too much for food or material needs. Your eyes were drawn to a route that should give you access easily into the village by way of going behind some of the closer buildings, and with a quick sweep, checking that no one was currently about, you decided to go now.

The village had a spattering of snow, less than a foot for sure, and for the most part it had been trodden down and thinned. Coming up to the first house you crouched down behind a small brick wall, which looked as though it had started to tumble over. Again, you couldn’t see anyone here, but you could definitely hear livestock; a pig and maybe some chickens. Peering over the top of the wall towards the house you noticed a washing line, its contents bouncing slowly in the slight breeze. There were yellowed white briefs, a petty coat, bonnets, a dress made out of material that looked itchier than it looked practical, and also a hooded cloak. You pondered for a moment if taking an entire line of clothes to disguise yourself was a good idea or not and then decided against it; you whipped the cloak down, it being very dull and drab in both colour and fabric, with no distinguishing features, and threw the large hood up over your head. It was big enough even to hide your eyes, the swells of fabric wrapping around your arms and body, providing more warmth as well as what you hoped would deter anyone from making too much notice of you. Your boots and trousers were visible, from the knee down, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Nearing the centre, you started to hear the sounds you’d expect to hear in a small village like this. The day was light enough to see everything clearly; a statue of a lady holding a sword and shield. Something about it sent a shiver down your back. It wasn’t that it looked creepy, it just felt… familiar somehow. This looked as though it was perhaps the centre of the village; a woman sat on a bench knitting, a couple of children played with a stick and hoop. That felt weird too. It was the turn of the millennium, and yet here children were playing with really outdated toys. A little way up you could see a hill rising with some gravestones dotted here and there to the left of it. Already you could feel the eyes of the children staring at you and the quiet clacking of the knitting needles had stopped. Keeping your head down, you carried on walking, your feet choosing to take you up the small hill, past the gravestones. You passed a strange wooden shine on your right, not daring to turn your head to look at the details right now, for you’d hoped that they people here might assume that you were one of them thus letting you become invisible. You’d had undercover jobs before that you’d excelled at, but things felt very different here. Every step you took made the feeling of foreboding grow stronger in you. Up ahead was a door depicting two characters, one looked like a woman, the other, you weren’t too sure, but it looked sturdy and as though it might lead to the great castle, so that didn’t seem like you’d be unnoticed if you tried that door. To the right a long alley way, but it looked to lead away from the village, and to the right again the iron gates into the grounds of a small church, with a bubble of people emerging from its doors now. Yes, you had to lay low and try not to turn heads, but you also needed information, maybe if you passed through this crowd as if you were going somewhere you could eavesdrop some clues.

You made your way over and saw a man dressed like a vicar of sorts standing at the church doors while the villagers left, his hands raised in the air and a grin on his face. His eyes were eerily shadowed with darkness, but this didn’t seem to deter his congregation.

“Thank you for coming to today’s assembly to pay our respects to our beloved saviour, Mother Miranda. Volunteers and the Heretic’s Judgement are to be held tomorrow at Mother’s church.”

Just then you accidentally bumped right into someone emerging from the crowd, the impact making you both exhaled audibly, and the villager dropping their item to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, are you ok?” You asked, seeing her face as she looked up to see whom she had bumped into. You mentally kicked yourself for being automatically nicely mannered when you could have just trundled past. Instead, you stopped to pick up what you saw now to be a small bouquet of flowers, seeing her smiling at you as you handed them to her.

“Oh yes, I’m quite alright.” She said warmly. She looked to be in her forties with grey blue eyes, mousy brown hair and bangs. “Are you?”

You were taken aback for a moment; you didn’t expect anyone to ask how you were. In all honesty you’d been better. “No damage done.” You smiled, making sure to pull the cloak over any item of clothing that might give you away for being from further afield than the next village or so. The church doors had closed, and the rest of the crowd had now disbanded into the rest of the village.

“You look to me like you could do with a hot meal and a warm bath. If you beg my pardon for saying so.” She took a step back and extended her hand. “I’m Luiza by the way.”

“Y/N.” You replied, shaking it. Is this a good idea? You asked yourself, but you couldn’t help but trust the woman.

“I was just about to lay these down in the cemetery, if you’d like to join me Y/N.” Luiza offered, indicating to the small bouquet. There was a look in her eyes, like she was trying to tell you something.

“Yes of course.”

The two of you made your way a little past the church and through some more iron gates, this time into a space that was on a slight slope with a couple of crypts and tombs. Checking around her to make sure that no one else was around, Luiza turned her eyes back to you slowly.

“You’re not from here.” She stated. You swallowed.

“No, I’m from the next town over, I’m passing through to –“

“Please. You’re not from here, your accent, your boots… but your eyes, your eyes are what really gave it away. If you’d ever lived near here, you’d never have the damn nerve to even come.” She waved a hand in the air, and yet looked remorsefully subdued. You didn’t quite know what to say.

You looked down to the ground, shame seeping in as if from the snow at your feet.

“I’m searching for a friend.” You said solemnly. “He’s here somewhere, at least, I think. I think that he came here on a lead; whether he’s here to help someone or it’s to do with something that concerns us… I’m not sure. But he’s been gone a while now, and I’d like to get him back home.” Saying it made it all the more real, and you could feel your throat growing tight. The whole time that you’d been speaking Luiza had listened intently, yet her face remained soft. Something twinkled in her pale eyes, a knowing.

“Do you have a picture, of your friend?” She asked.

“Yes.” You unzipped the RPD bag hanging at your side and carefully pulled the photo from the wallet inside. “His name is Leon, Leon Kennedy.” Luiza took the photo into her own hand carefully, studying it and then handed it back.

“You should come over for some dinner tonight Y/N. See that gate over there?” She pointed back towards the church but the opposite side from which you’d entered. “Through that gate, turn left and all the way up the hill. My husband and I are having goulash tonight, if that might tempt you.”

“With dumplings?”

“I can do them if you’d like.” She smiled, turning away to face a small gravestone. “Come after nightfall but be careful on your way.”

“I will.” You started heading back towards the church and then turned to ask, “Who is it? That you’re visiting I mean.”

“My daughter.” She replied.

You left Luiza at her daughter’s grave and felt your stomach rumble. The last 24 hours had been gruelling on your body, you were cramping with no pain relief, nor for your knee, which was already aching, a reminder of the stress you’d put it through the day before fighting that… beast, and then you remembered; the dream… what had happened? That was the same beast as the one you’d slain. But what, you’d resurrected it? You wondered what it meant, and then you started to recall what had happened after. Your cheeks burned red in an instant, spreading over your neck and ears. Confusion ultimately taking over. Well at least I’m warm now, you sneered at yourself, and then felt another rumble. I need food.

Luiza seemed like she could be a good ally to have here, and something told you that she recognised that picture of Leon; even if she was the only person that would help you out you felt happy that you had at least something potentially to go on. You headed back into the centre of the village, with the intention of heading back to your camp for another preserved snack and then it hit you; the smell of eggs and bacon. It was drifting up from somewhere a little way past the statue to the left and you followed it around without a care.

“The Fat Goose” The sign read above the door. It looked to be a small inn of sorts with a few townsfolk coming in and out, and in seemingly good spirits. You made sure that your hood was pulled back up over your eyes and made your way in. It was like many other humble pubs that you’d frequented here and there, mostly when visiting back home in England. A long bar at the back of the room, a door leading somewhere at the back, and the clientele sat hunched over round tables upon stools, leaning close to the fire, or shouting above one another at the bar itself. It wasn’t the busiest, but it seemed to be where the majority of the village had decided to spend their day if they did not have work to be done. You could see a couple of the villagers did indeed have meals here of all sorts; chicken, bread, cheese, and most importantly eggs and bacon. You could feel yourself salivating.

Keeping your head low you approached the barkeep, the Lei ready in your hand, and slid it across the surface towards him. “Eggs, bacon and ale, thank you.” You pushed your coin over to him. You’d been lucky, upon meeting the Duke he’d brought up local currency and exchanged what you’d made the mistake of purchasing at the airport.

The barkeeper was quietly suspicious, evident in the way that he eyed you up, taking a moment to pause cleaning the tankard in his hands to take the money and gave a nod back.

“We’ll bring it over to yer table.” He said, turning back to what he was doing. You chanced a glance around the room and decided to take a seat at a vacant table by the window. It felt like a safe spot; you could see the door and the bar, but you were also tucked into a corner out of the way, the only light cast by the fire on the other side of the room and a couple of candles over head in brackets.

The ale was with you in no time at all. You’d never actually drank ale before and weren’t expecting it to be the tastiest of drinks, but there wasn’t much choice here. The eggs and bacon shortly followed, filling the room with a smell that made you stomach growl again.

The door flew open and you suddenly noticed the difference between the warmth of the inn with the bite of the outside air. The chill swept into the pub with the figures of two men, both tall and brawny, but one much larger than the other. They seemed to be deep in conversation but trying to keep their voices to a murmur that they could only hear between themselves.

They were dressed similarly; the taller man’s clothes had more of a darker and subdued palette. He had a head of grey hair, and a beard to match, a broad forehead, kind eyes and a nose which looked as though it had been broken at least once. The shorter of the two, but by no means lacking in height had a similar long coat but in more earthy tones. His face was hidden by a dark brown leather hat of sorts, well-worn with a mess of dark hair streaked with grey. The other patrons went quiet as the men entered and then began nodding at them, some even tilting a hat, before going back to their business.

Something began stirring in your stomach and you looked down at your food, maybe the eggs were off? You looked up again, unconscious of being unable to stop watching them, or more specifically, the man with the hat. He definitely felt your gaze right at that moment as he slowly turned his face over his right shoulder to look at you from behind dark, circular shades hiding his eyes from view. Time seemed to stop. He was really looking, and you felt as though you were tumbling backwards down through the biggest chasm carved into the stars.

“Oh boy.” You breathed as the man suddenly turned his head back to reply to something that his towering friend had said, who in turn, then noticed you, glancing over his friend’s head. The feeling in your stomach had grown so intense that it felt as though it had now pummelled its way into your chest too. This felt like danger and sickness all wrapped into one. You had half a mind to leave now, but you knew that not only would that rouse more suspicion, you just also didn’t want to.

“Urias, Karl.” The bartender came over to the two men at the bar, “What can I get you?”

Sometime later a beautiful, red haired girl came to take your plate away. Despite being so hungry when you first came into the establishment, once the men had entered, you’d felt so nauseous that you’d barely been able to manage another bite. You tried to channel your thoughts, calm the storm in your stomach and ease your breathing. You were getting there, managing to ground yourself, but every few minutes your eyes were drawn back to that man, was he Urias or was he Karl? Which name suited him most? Urias sounded strong and noble, well he certainly looked strong. He pulled out a cigar and lit it, suddenly emitting raucous laughter from something that his friend said which shocked you out of your trance; and then he fell silent, starring at the other man so intensely that it scared you.

“You’re fucking kidding me?” He asked. The pub fell silent. You were so focused on the scene, as was everyone else that you neglected to notice the way your tankard had started to slowly drift up into the air along with everyone else’s.

“I’m sorry my friend, I am not. I am going to marry her.”

“God fucking damnit Urias!” He bellowed, slamming a fist down on the bar. Everything fell with a bang, ale sloshing over the tables and with that he stormed out of the pub. Urias rubbed a giant hand over his face, the skin gathering in mounds between each finger. The bartender brought over a new tankard, about three times the size of the regular ones and let it thud down in front of Urias.

“On the house, chief.”

Urias took it in his man-paw and without hesitation turned towards you, walking over.

“Are you going to tell me who you are then, fabled traveller. I can tell you come from very far away.” He sounded like how you imagined a talking bear to sound, deep and rumbly. He had a big, square chin, his jaw jutted out slightly, strong teeth, big lips and kind eyes. He poured a little of the ale from his giant vessel into your own, indicating for you to stay put. No one else in the pub seemed to be paying attention, at least not with their eyes, this man must have some hold or power over them.

“My name is Y/N, and I am looking for my friend.” You told him truthfully, face down, but eyes looking up at him. You were scared, for sure, but you wouldn’t let it show. You were here for a reason, you’d come this far, you weren’t going to leave without Leon, and you meant it. You slid the photo across the table to him and he took it tenderly, bringing it closer to his face, all that way up to take a look. He tilted his head to the side.

“Have you spoken to anyone else?” He asked, eyes flitting between you and the photo.

“One other.” You replied, not mentioning who.

“Y/A my name is Urias, as you might have heard my friend eloquently let the world know earlier. I am the chief of this village. My brother and I-“ He paused and looked down at his hands. “My brother and I came from a mountain clan, our blood line has been chief there for generations, but we wanted to see more of the world and make our mark, learn trades and earn our keep. We came to this village when we were both merely men grown, that was a long time ago now.” He had a faraway look in his eyes, turning now to look out of the window, it was already beginning to grow dark and a drift of snow had begun to descend once more. “We climbed the ranks here, doing what we could to help protect the village and its population…” He paused again in thought. “To help, however we could. It’s just me now, but I still want that, I still want to do what’s right for my people”

He took a deep drink from the tankard, which now that you were looking at it closely, looked more like a small barrel with a makeshift handle.

“Y/N I will help you however I can, but please understand this; this is no normal village, there are things at work here even I can’t quite explain. Tensions are very high, and an outsider coming in looking for a missing friend,” He tilted his head and gave a small chuckle, “Well, that’s not going to go down so well with some of the villagers, and especially not with the higher ups.”

“You mean Mother Miranda?” You asked bluntly. He swung his head to look you dead in the eyes.

“How do you know her name?”

“I did my research before I came; I don’t know much about her Urias, but I have a bad feeling about her.” Your cheeks burned from being so forward.

He laughed again, “You’re not the only one.” He muttered, casting you a careful sideways glance, taking you in some more. He looked like he was pondering or considering something. “There are a seldom few here that you can trust, so be careful. You can find me at my house, some of the folk they call it ‘the chief’s hut’, or else I’ll likely be here, at least for now.” His mind seemed to trail off somewhere else.

Noticing that night had indeed now fallen you bid your farewell and shook the giant’s paw and made your way outside into the chill of night, thankful for the stolen cloak wrapped around your frame.

You started around the side of the pub, back towards the route that would take you directly to Luiza’s house when something wrapped around your throat and shoved you against the wall. The breath was choked out of you upon impact and your hood fell, your hair falling down in-front of your eyes as you blinked them open, trying to see what had happened. Pain started spreading in your body; the cuts on your torso, your knee blazed and the cramps starting up again like knives. The thing around your throat was a hand, larger than your own but not huge, nails digging into your flesh.

You tried to say something, a warning a threat, but whoever it was, was closing your throat.

“Don’t pretend I didn’t see you making eyes at me in there darling,” A man’s voice drooled. “We don’t see tourists all too often around here, but I’m sure an outsider like you will be carrying something of value.”

You didn’t recognise the face in front of you at all. A man in his twenties, maybe, fairly non-descript with short mousey brown hair and some stubble. He absolutely reeked of alcohol. Your right hand shot instinctively towards your knife and he twisted your wrist anti-clockwise immediately disarming you, shoving you back against the wall with the force of his body and then reaching for any other weapons. Of course, he found the pistols, kicking one aside and holding the other to your temple.

“These will bring me a pretty Lei or two, I’m sure the Duke would be happy to pay me handsomely. What other souvenirs have you got under that cloak of yours?”

You scrabbled against his hands, trying to execute the self-defence you’d been taught for situations such as these. You tried to get to his weak points; wrist, elbow, knee, balls, but he had you at his mercy. The number of tight spots and situations you’d come up against in your time and you couldn’t do a damn thing if someone had you pinned when their strength was greater than your own. Your hands gripped against his arm, legs kicking.

“Hand it over and I won’t hurt you. Much.” He pressed the cold of your pistol harshly into the skin under your chin.

“No!” You rasped, suddenly being thrown down for a second but caught by something before you hit the ground. Strong, hot arms held you up from falling.

You dared to open your eyes, looking over the arm at the man’s fate. He was sprawled on the ground, blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

“Get the fuck out of here.” A voice rumbled from above you. You looked up. It was Karl. You winced again and the younger man tore off into the darkness without looking back. Your body trembled from pain, cold and something else.

You looked up again. Although you still couldn’t see his eyes you could see some sort of unearthly glow behind the glasses. His skin looked fairly tanned, smooth but worn, tired maybe, and small scars scattered here and there. You were still in his arms, entranced, and so warm.

“Thank you.” You breathed. He swallowed hard and blinked, turning his face away from you, he let his arms drop now that you were on your feet, but you were still close against his body, which now felt so tense. Was he shaking?

“Go.” He exhaled. You faltered, putting a hand to his arm, he flinched, his breathing deepened. “Please.” He shut his eyes. What was this man fighting?

You gulped, stepping back, not understanding, pulling your cloak around you, and stooping to retrieve your weapons.

“Karl, Y/N what’s going on?” Urias lurched out of the pub doors, “What was that commotion?”

A couple of moments passed where you were staring at Urias, holding your cloak to you and expecting Karl to answer, but nothing happened. You turned around to look at Karl, but he wasn’t there.

Urias offered to escort you himself to Luiza’s from there. You told him what happened and although he was furious at what had happened, swearing he’d try to find the culprit and have them punished; he did not seem surprised by Karl’s sudden disappearance. To say you were shaken up was an understatement, but you at least felt safer being with this humungous man of the mountains as you made your way through the snowy night.

Song Suggestion: ‘Stumble and Pain’ by Joseph Arthur

[nanasparadise]

“Dream Invader” Yan! Abbacchio x gender-neutral reader (Soulmate AU)

Hello everyone! I hope you are doing fine. I don’t know if you have read my previous post, that talks about a dream I had, but I decided to turn some elements of it into this piece of writing. This fanfiction is set in the soulmate universe. I really hope you enjoy it, because I decided to write this instead of studying for my French essay I have tomorrow (please wish me luck, God knows I need it) :D. And for the requests: I haven’t forgotten you, please remain patient. T-T I’ll write my last test on Thursday, after that I have holidays, so I’ll definitely catch up on them!! Thank you for sticking around. <3

Summary: Your soulmate keeps visiting you in your dreams, but you don’t feel comfortable around them…

TW: noncon touching, toxic relationship, angst, reader gets hurt physically, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

 I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

 Word count: 2626

It had happened yet again. You had dreamt again of this man, one of many countless dreams. Breathing heavily, you abruptly opened your eyes and wiped away the sweat that was accumulating on your forehead with the back of your hand. “Does that really mean…?”, you mumbled softly. Most people would be happy to find out they had a soulmate and finally had met them. But most people’s match certainly wasn’t someone, who conveyed a deep obsession and possessiveness towards their beloved. Still mentally in your dream, your body started to tremble slightly. What were you going to do now? At first, you had brushed off the dreams, convincing yourself that they didn’t mean anything. But you knew the gist of it. You knew that when a certain person kept infiltrating your dreams, that they were your soulmate.

Sighing deeply, you turned around in your bed, your left cheek resting on the soft pillow. The clock on your bedside table revealed that it was 4:30 a.m. You certainly couldn’t fall asleep again, but it was still too early to wake up for work. So you remained there in the quiet, your shallow breaths being the only sound in the dark room. Despite your efforts, your racing thoughts kept returning to your dream. “Who is this man?”, you whispered as you looked down on your fingers, which seemed to still hurt.

 Every time he had shown up, he had never revealed his name to you, wanting to keep it to himself. “I‘ll tell it to you once we see us in real life, amore”, he had told you, a certain spark igniting his admittedly gorgeous yellow and purple eyes. Truth be told, your soulmate was nothing short of beautiful. Long white hair with a purple hue graced his stoic face. His athletic body was adorned with a dark bodysuit, accentuating his muscles. All in all, he reminded you of a vengeful Greek god, breathtaking but dangerous. Dangerous… You began to feel threatened by the presence of your mysterious dream visiter. Since he had never offered you his name, you hadn’t given him yours either, sensing there might be something off about him.

 Still, he had found it out. This night in your dream, you two had been on the flower field you had met for the first time. You had felt dizzy, as if your head had been caught in the clouds. This light atmosphere had convinced you that this had been truly a dream, since a sense of haziness always accompanied your nocturnal adventures. The summer sun had been setting, turning the sky into a colourful spectacle of orange and pink. This would have been a picturesque and maybe even romantic moment if it hadn’t been for the feeling of dread building in your stomach. A small smile had formed on his purple lips when he had perceived your form. Quietly, nearly inaudibly, the stranger had murmured your name into the warm summer breeze: “Y/N.” Immediately, goosebumps had formed on your arms. 

“How do you know my name?”, you had replied, visibly shaken. Had he somehow managed to get some information on you? 

“It’s such a fitting name”, he had mused contemplatively, ignoring your question. “Y/N…” His unique eyes had been fixed on you the whole time, analysing every detail of your face. Fear had started to take over your body. The slight shivers had transformed into noticeable trembling. Your breath had shortened as you had desperately searched for a way to get out of that dream. 

„Why are you doing this?”, you had shouted out, panic manifesting in your voice. “Why do you keep entering my dreams, just to behave like a creep? How should I trust you when you don’t even tell me anything about yourself, yet you somehow know my personal information?” The man in front of you had sighed at your outburst. Sparks of sympathy had danced in his eyes, making them appear even brighter. Slowly, he had reached for your hands, holding them in his larger ones. You had tried to pull off from his grasp, but your fighting had been futile against his stronger form. So you had been forced to remain there, listening to the dream man’s words. 

“I know this is confusing for you,” he had said while rubbing circles on the back of your hands with his thumbs, “but I can’t give you any information yet, my job makes it hard. I need to see you in real life and I promise, I’ll tell you everything then.” Tears had pricked in your eyes, clouding your vision. Why had he assumed you two would meet? The thought of the stranger knowing your address had turned your initial dread into hot anger. No matter if he was your soulmate, you were still your own, independent person! He couldn’t just stalk you, talk to you as if you were a couple and leave you in the dark about his own identity. The dream man still had held your hands, expecting some kind of reaction from you. 

“No”, you had simply answered, refusing to meet his intense gaze. 

“No what?”, he had replied, impatience swinging in his voice. He had been in your dreams endless times, reassuring you of his love and loyalty for you. Why hadn’t you been reciprocating his feelings? He was your soulmate after all! 

“No,” you had repeated while your eyebrows had furrowed, illustrating your resistance,”we’re not going to see each other.” The grip on your hands had suddenly become stronger and hurtful, nearly crushing your fingers. For a second time, you had tried to take away your hands from him but without success. The stranger’s orbs had fixated you, darkness swirling in the iris of the same colour as the flowers on the field. Terror had made itself visible again in your body and mind, amplified by the man’s sombre look on his handsome face. Yes, he looked just like a statue of Ares, so enchanting and yet so enraged. And dangerous… 

“So you don’t want to meet your soulmate?”, he had stated calmy, which only had increased your anxiety. 

“Please, let go, you’re hurting me”, you had pleaded despairingly. The man had squeezed harshly one last time your hands before he had eventually released them. Protectively, you had cradled them against your chest, trying to soothe the pain by softly rubbing your fingers. “What kind of person would do this to their soulmate?” you had thought in disgust and fear. Hesitantly, you had looked up to him, his face remaining a stoic façade. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Y/N”, the dream man had said coolly. The fact that he had addressed you with your name again had put you in a state of fear once more. Nevertheless,  you had gathered all your courage to reply to him. 

“No, I don’t. Someone who hurts and stalks me can’t be my soulmate, no matter if they enter my dreams. And even if you are, I still don’t want to be with you. Please, I’m begging you to respect and accept that.” 

The Italian – you had guessed that this was probably his nationality since he called you Italian pet names –  man’s gaze had immediately softened at your words. He had known he’d got carried away with his rage. Of course, your words had pained him more than any weapons ever could, but he had to be patient with you. He could only imagine how he had come across to you, especially now that he had hurt you. No, he couldn’t pain a loved one again, not you… 

“I’m sorry, cuore mio,” he had said remorsefully, regret manifesting itself, “I really shouldn‘t have hurt you. I promise it won’t happen again. I just want to see you, really see you, and hold you in my arms. I know, I might not be the best man to have existed.” His face had abruptly twisted into a pained grimace. This had been the first time he had ever been that sincere to you. Your feelings had begun to transform into a mix of sympathy, fear and confusion. He had really appeared to feel bad about his actions, maybe he had lived through a trauma to react that way? Your pondering had quickly come to a halt. No, you really couldn’t start to show empathy for the man. After all, he had stalked you, hurt you, crossed too many lines. Nonetheless, your dream invader had kept up with his speech. “I don’t know if I deserve your love, but I really want to believe in it. You are my soulmate and I am yours, we can make it work out if we try. Please, give me a chance and I will do everything in my power to show you I am worthy of you. Just don’t reject me already.” He had paused for a moment, a slight tremble in his voice making itself visible. You had stared at him with big eyes, not knowing what to do or how to feel about this situation. “I’ll be truthful with you. I’ll tell you everything you want to hear.” The man had tried to grasp your hands again but had immediately stopped when he had seen, how you had flinched away. His lips had formed into a thin, bitter line while seeing your reaction. Was he a monster? “I see that my words don’t seem to get through you” he said stoically. “I’ll show you what I mean, that might help. We’ll be seeing each other soon enough.” His last sentence had sent you a cold shiver down your spine. You had had the feeling that he hadn’t referred to another dream… An expression of horror had slowly crept on your face.

“What do you mean?”, you had blurted out loudly, “you mean in our dreams, right? You don’t know where I live, do you?” But the stranger had cruelly decided to stay silent, staring at you ominously instead. Suddenly, the light atmosphere around you had changed. Heaviness had taken over you, the scenic landscape had turned black as you had woken up.

 You took another look at your clock. 5:15 a.m. Did you really spend so much time recalling that dream? Deciding that you already wasted too many thoughts on that man, you stood up from your bed and took a shower, even if it still was early. “Some distraction will do me good”, you sighed, exhaustion manifesting in your voice. Your dreams involving the stranger were always so vivid that the next morning you woke up completely tired and drained. As you entered the shower and felt the warm water hitting your skin, you finally managed to relax a little, even if that tiny voice of fear kept reminding you of the dream man’s words…

 Weeks had passed since your last encounter in the dream world with your so called soulmate. A sense of hope blossomed in your chest. Maybe he had finally come to his senses and realised that it would be best to leave you alone? That was at least what your friends had told you. They had reassured you that it happened often, that your soulmate could be invasive, they had heard that before from other acquaintances. But in those cases, it had always ended well, none of the people had been harmed. You had chosen to blindly accept that explanation. Truth be told, you did need comfort right now. Because, what your friends didn’t know was, that you felt a pair of eyes burning holes into your back every time you left your home. Yet, you never saw the person behind the gaze. Foolishly, you clung onto the sense of security your friends provided you with, even if it was but wishful thinking…

 As you returned home one evening after your work, you already perceived intuitively that something was wrong. Why was there a light on? You always did turn them off… Cautiously, you entered your bedroom, as that was where the light source came from, with your phone in your hand with the emergency number already typed in. Your palms grew sweaty and your breath heavy as fear flooded through your veins. Only now, you thought that you should have maybe taken a knife from the kitchen as protection. But alas, it was already too late. When you saw the person sitting on your bed, you were surprised to see a familiar face.

The man from your dreams quickly stood up when he glanced at your form. His eyes first landed on your horrified face, then on your phone. Without a second thought, you quickly tapped on the call button and placed the device next to your ear. The man knew exactly who you were planning on phoning. “Please, take the phone away Y/N, I’m not going to harm you”, he said lowly. Even though he promised to not hurt you, his dark expression on his face made you think otherwise. Of course you weren’t going to hang up now. You heard the Italian sigh at your act of defiance. After the second beep sound, a voice appeared on the line. 

“How can I help you?”, the person on the other side of the phone asked politely. Before you could reply, an to you invisible force ripped the device out of your grasp and slammed it onto your wall. The screen of your smartphone turned black and cracked into thousand pieces. With eyes as big as saucers you stared incredulously at it. 

“I’m sorry for that”, the man simply uttered. Though you couldn’t hear a hint of actual remorse in his voice. “I’m gonna buy you a new one.” 

“What do you want?”, you managed to voice, “I thought you had left me in peace.” 

“I’ve told you at our last encounter that we would see each other again, fiore mio”, the man replied with softness. “I can’t believe you’re really here physically”, he kept on musing in a dreamy tone, eyes lighting up. He took a few steps towards you, a hand reaching out to you. You instinctively took a few steps back until your back hit the door. 

“Please, don’t come near me”, you begged, feeling completely helpless and exposed. 

“It’s fine Y/N, really. I promised I’d you show that I won’t ever hurt you again.” He was now in front of you, your faces so close, you could feel his breath fan over your nose. Tears welled up in your eyes and threatened to stream over your face. What were you going to do now? You were scared to react in a sudden way, scared it would trigger the Italian and his dangerous invisible force. Gently, the man shushed you and placed a hand on your cheek.  A calloused thumb brushed away the tears that had finally escaped. “I know that I have done bad things in the past,” he whispered quietly to you, “but I, Leone Abbacchio, swear I will fix it. I will be a better person for you, Y/N.” Your eyes widened at the revelation of his name. Abbacchio basked in your innocent reaction. He took a mental note to replay it with Moody Blues later. While one hand kept caressing your cheek, the other one grabbed into his pocket to take out a yellow flower, matching perfectly with the man’s eyes. Your gaze fell upon the plant, recognising it from the flower field of your dreams. Abbacchio softly tucked it behind your left ear while admiring your face. You hiccupped anxiously at his obsessive staring. “We will have a beautiful future ahead of us, I’ll make sure of it” the Italian murmured in your ear. 

“After all, we are soulmates.”

[hopeamarsu]

Of potions and myths - Chapter 4

William “Ironhead” Miller x f!reader

Word count 3,6k

Warnings: Some insecurities, some angst, a lot of talking

A/N: We finally meet the elders and start to get into the bottom of what is happening. Basically a lot of talking happens. 

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Six new people step inside Pope’s living room, making it feel very crowded. You watch them silently as they approach you, the hand on your hip tightening as the room settles. The connection feels frantic now, bouncing between your bodies as it tries to make sense of your emotions. He’s nervous, just like you are, you realize as you catalogue them. It feels daunting to come to this conclusion about the man who has kept a level head so far and has been a rock of calmness for you.   

“Hmm… I sense a power in this room.” One of the elders speaks in a low tone. He steps closer to you, cocking his head to the side as his honey-brown eyes search for your soul inside. You refuse to back down, no matter how scared you are, and face him. 

Will grips you tighter, his own eyes flashing to red quickly as the man comes closer and closer, until you are practically nose to nose. A warning growl rumbles out of his chest, but the elder only chuckles in response. He raises a hand to place it on Will’s shoulder and it looks like the Captain barely keeps himself in check and doesn’t bite the offending weight off. 

“Calm down, William. I mean your mate no harm.”

Mate? What mate? 

“What do you mean, mate?” Will asks, echoing your thoughts. The elder chuckles again before stepping back a little, releasing his hand on Will’s shoulder, and you can see the tension in his back muscles ease minutely. It’s still there, brimming under the surface, but now that the man has backed up, it’s easier to breathe.

From the corner of your eye, you see Pope, Frankie and Benny move closer to you, flanking your sides in support. This time Will doesn’t growl when Benny brushes your shoulder quickly with his own and you file the information for later investigation.

“I can feel the mating bond between you two. It’s very unusual that it’s even here, the bond hasn’t been recorded in centuries.” He muses and the others murmur something amongst themselves. They seem to converse in broken words and sentences, leaving you and Will and his brothers out of it.   

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” You finally pipe up, growing more confused by the minute. Another elder steps forward and gestures for all to sit. “My apologies, my child. You are not one of us and this is something many of us have forgotten also since it’s been buried for so long.” She has a sweet voice, soft and calming. You feel somewhat better as she takes the lead.  

“Please sit down. I will answer any questions you have, if you answer ours in return.” 

You follow her words, pulling Will with you to the loveseat. Benny takes the armrest closest to you and Frankie the other, Pope choosing to remain standing behind you. Despite any worries or hesitations they might have of you, they will stand by their brother it seems and it warms you from inside out. 

“Many centuries ago, the bond was a way of finding out the most compatible companion. A mate.” She begins.

”An unmated wolf would feel a pull, a connection, with the one best suited for them. The connection would grow over time, sometimes manifesting in the physical appearance of colored tendrils until a bond was fully formed. Mated couples often reported being able to feel extreme emotions from one another and if and when the other half of a mated pair died, the other never took another.”

So far you can tick off every box from the list. You chance a look at Will, but he’s looking intently at the elder speaking. As the crowd remains silent, she continues. 

“But as the bond was so rare in the first place, it slowly became rarer and rarer as time went on and wolves stopped looking for the clues, finding alternative means of securing a partner. I think the last recorded bond between two people is over 300 years old. And it’s never been recorded between creatures either.”

She glances in your direction, her eyes knowing something that you don’t. You cock an eyebrow at her choice of words, but choose not to comment. Will also remains silent, not divulging your status which you are grateful of as the elder continues. 

“The only thing that remains is that once a wolf has a partner, a mate, it is for life. Santiago, you are familiar with the wows of our clan when someone chooses a partner. Tenebo te in corde meo usque in sempiternum. Tu solus. The bond is where they originate from.” (I will hold you forever in my heart. Only you.)

You recognize the words to be Latin, though some of the meaning is lost on you. Judging by the sharp intakes of breaths from all the men around you, they are valued highly. 

The elder isn’t finished yet though. Her eyes slowly turn yellow as she regards you. “How did this originate? How long have you felt this between you?” She asks gently.

“We met last night,” You tell her and witness several raised eyebrows as the timeframe registers. “He saved me from an, let’s call it an unfortunate event, and when we spoke outside, I started to feel this pull towards him. It’s hard to resist it and it grows as we become closer.” 

“Closer?” 

“For example, when we touch, skin on skin, there are these golden and silver tendrils all over our bodies.” 

To demonstrate, Will traces your forearm with his finger and everyone in the room watches as a silver line appears, followed by a golden one. They dance and glow on your skin before disappearing after he lifts his finger off, fading away slowly. “The longer and more, uh, intimate the touch, the more vibrant the colors are. And the longer they stay visible.”

Pope coughs behind you and Frankie snickers at the words, but a sharp look from Will shuts both men up quickly. The elders seem nonplussed at the information, almost as if they were expecting it, and the man who previously studied you leans forward. 

He starts firing off questions, about the intensity of the colors, the pattern and how long the tendrils stay on the skin after the touch ends and if you have any other symptoms. You and Will both try to answer as best as you can, with Benny piping up when it comes to the length of time but a lot of it is still shrouded in mystery.

It feels almost like an inquisition as the rest of the elders join in on the questions. You lose track of how many you answer and you can feel Will feel the same, the irritation running off him in waves. You talk about your past, your studies and your work, the emotions that have transferred over, how it affects you when the emotions hit you. You describe the dizziness, the magnetic pull, the happiness in the hum as you are close.

Will talks about his desire to protect, the warmth of the tendrils as they move on his body and the hunger that makes his wolf crawl and pounce in his chest, wanting to be let loose. He describes the anger he felt at the pub when he understood what would happen and the physical pull he felt to stay outside of your door and the worry he felt as your knees buckled when the wave of his emotions hit you. 

When they are finally out of questions, you feel like slumping back to the couch in exhaustion. It’s almost like you’ve just ran a marathon and recited your entire dissertation at the same time. Benny hands you a bottle of water from the kitchen which you chug down eagerly, your throat parched. From the corner of your eye, you see Will do the same, emptying half of the bottle in a few gulps. 

But there is something inside you, a question that burns in your mind that is begging to be let out. You turn towards the woman. “You spoke of the bond being between two wolves. But I am not a wolf, nor is anyone in my family. Actually, I’m nothing at all, just a mundane. Why has the bond decided to connect us?” Beside you, Will lets out a huff of disapproval, clearly disagreeing with your notion that you are nothing, but you ignore it now. You can grapple over details later. 

“It’s a very good question, my child. But clearly the bond knows more than what we do now. The connection has always been rare and not all wolves experience it. So it’s not to say other creatures, or even mundanes such as you, experience it too but in a very rare form.” She looks at her peers, something flashing in her eyes before continuing hesitantly.

“Maybe…”

Will intejects quickly. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you need to try and complete the bond to see what happens. If it takes or if it was only a false alarm.” She offers finally, after a long moment of silence. You feel like the wind is knocked out of you. It sounds very ominous and there is even a chance that all this is for nothing? Your shock must show in your face, because she is hasty to continue. 

“We are walking on uncharted territory here, so we don’t exactly know what is going to come once the attempt to complete the bond is made. So I would advise you to think carefully if you want to proceed with this. Once the decision is made, you would complete it here, within our pack grounds for safety.”

You mull over her words, trying to organize your thoughts. You feel Will reach out to you, surely with questions of his own but your next one slips out before you can fully comprehend the possible damage they might do.

“And should we want to break this connection?”

Your words hang in the air but it feels like a bomb has gone off. You feel Benny turn to look at you, his eyes burning on your face, and Pope lets out an involuntary sound of protest. The elders all look at you in surprise and you can feel your ears buzzing with static as they register what you just asked. 

You start to open your mouth to explain you only want to know the options available but the body next to you jumping to his feet and stomping out of the house stops that in its tracks. You all watch as the broad shoulders disappear outside the house and a door slams in its wake.

You wince and hunch your own shoulders forward as you wish you’d stayed silent, maybe bought in your stones to help. You could really use a little extra now that the three men turn to look at you with disapproval. 

Will doesn’t look at anyone as he rushes out, feeling the tightness in his chest spread rapidly. He can hardly breathe properly and as he leans over the terrace railing, he can feel the agitation of his wolf as the animal weeps and howls inside him. 

He doesn’t see it but he knows that his eyes are flashing rapidly and he can feel the need to shift, to run and be alone in the woods. It itches under his skin, clawing out to change skin into fur and fingers into paws. He paces the porch, opening and closing his fists to stop himself from shifting in broad daylight.  

Is he alone with his thoughts, his dreams, his hopes? Surely he must, because you can so easily ask about breaking the bond. Like this isn’t it for you like it is for him. 

He knows it’s crazy to feel this way, to want something so big and grand after such a short time. He can’t help himself though and his wolf agrees; he’s fallen in love and he’s not going to change his mind. 

It feels so different compared to all the times he’s had a girlfriend. Even the one time he had a fiancée, someone he thought he was ready to commit to, even then it didn’t feel like this. The burst of warmth he feels whenever you look at him, the undeniable pull he has when you aren’t touching each other and the mere idea that you don’t want this leaving a gaping wound on his heart. It has taken over him completely and he has willingly surrendered to it.

He thinks about his former lover, wincing at the final memory in the parking lot of Publix after the altercation, trying to find differences between that relationship and what is budding here. 

Had the bond been there even then? Was that the reason his fiancée left, why he couldn’t calm himself down in her presence? Why she had to jump on his back and still it wasn’t enough to break his grip? Was he not damaged goods and a complete failure in love after all? Or worse yet, was he because it seemed so easy for you to talk about breaking the connection?   

A soft tap on his shoulder makes him whirl around and face Frankie, who looks sheepish at being sent over to check on him. 

“You good?” The other man winces when the words leave his lips, he can clearly tell from the agitated look Will is sporting that the blond man is definitely not good. He just shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, gazing off somewhere behind Frankie’s shoulder. Slowly Will gathers his thoughts, using the skills taught to him to place all his worries into tiny little compartments in his mind. He lets out a breath and counts them for later, before turning to his brother. 

“Not really. Did the elders give out the instructions to break the bond yet?” 

He sounds defeated even to his own ears but there’s nothing to be done about it now. Despite the want and need and desire to go all the way, whatever the completion of the bond means, if you won’t do it, neither will he. He won’t force it, never can and never will, and he will respect your decision. 

“No. The elders are talking with one another now, gathering all the needed information so you can talk with your mate and make a choice. You know the question needed to be asked, deep down.”

“Yeah.” Frankie is right, Will admits to himself. The logical side of him wins out, but the sting of rejection is still there. 

“At this point we don’t even know what it will take for you to try and complete it. But you acting like this, all out of character, doesn’t do any good. Your mate is just as distressed as you are about this, possibly even more considering this is all so new and unexpected, and I can smell the conflicted emotions on both of you. Find out the options, talk it out, make a decision together. It’s the only way any of this can work.”  

“Mmmmm.”

“You know I’m right, hermano.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Fish, it won’t do you any good.” Will smirks as he claps his brother on the back and the other man only grins wolfishly in return before guiding them back in. 

You sit and wait quietly inside, shoulders tight, mulling over your own thoughts. You wish you were with your books in your tiny cupboard of an office back at the museum, helping the elders figure it all out but you suspect that something this intimate would’ve been recorded into writing. 

What does it take to complete a bond? You shift through your mind, trying to think of bonding spells but most of the ones you know only bind two inanimate objects to one another or help with the natural bond created in nature. Nothing about two humans, mythicals or not, connecting on a level deeper than normal. .

But would you want to break it or complete it? That is the million dollar question. Both surely have their risks but ultimately it is about if you want him in your life and if he has those same feelings. And your feelings are all jumbled up and you can’t help but to wonder if they are real or a byproduct of the connection.

As the two men return to the room and take their places, it feels icy cold when Will doesn’t touch you, choosing to sit as far as possible from you. You want to reach out, explain yourself and your thoughts, talk to him freely but he refuses to glance at you, keeping his head high and aimed forward. You are resigned back to silence as you wait for the elders to return with more news. 

The only sound is the ticking clock on the wall as all of you are wrapped in your minds. It ticks forwards slowly but surely and as the hour chimes a change, one of the elders return into the room. He isn’t the one from before, but a short and stocky man with a gentle expression on his face and keen eyes, something that distantly reminds you of Pope. He faces your group huddled in the loveseat and behind it. 

“May I speak to William and his mate alone?” He asks, aiming his words to Will’s brothers. They all nod and vacate the room with touches of support for him. Benny twists his body to hug Will, his eyes flashing blue again. He gives you a look, something that is hard to decipher, as he mumbles something into the older man’s ear before releasing him. 

You both want to know what he said but also not. It can’t have been too good if his eyes changed. You have come to the conclusion the shift in color is triggered by something, maybe emotional triggers or more. Yet another thing you don’t understand yet, you think dejected. 

Once the room is empty, the man sits in the armchair. He seems to ponder his words carefully, trying to decide the best course of action and you wait, holding your breath. The silence grates your nerves. If only you had your stones with you, but you hadn’t thought to pick them up. Usually you didn’t need them unless there was a special occasion and the whirlwind of the morning had swept you away. So you can only mumble out a small calming spell and hope for a placebo effect.

“We have a tentative idea of what the completion of the bond is. There are some details that are missing, but we are in talks with the other packs to fill them out. We also have an idea on how to proceed should you want to break it. But I must warn you, going down that road will be complicated and painful as it requires separating your souls and making sure they never reach out to one another again.”

The elder pauses, his eyes turning calculating. He looks at Will first and the man faces him head-on, the soldier inside him coming to life as he shuts down his emotions. His jaw is tight and his shoulders set, the air around him still. 

You watch the transformation and when it clicks, it chills you to the bone. You are no longer in the presence of Will, but with Captain William Miller of the Delta Force. A man or wolf no more, but a war machine, with a single thought in his mind; to complete the mission. There are no if’s or but’s, he will take the instruction and decision and execute it to perfection. 

The elder turns to look at you, his eyes searching for something in you. Whether he finds it or not, you cannot tell, but the elder breaks the connection after a while and turns away from you.

“To break it, you’ll each drink a potion every night for seven nights and on the eighth, you will perform a ritual to separate your souls from one another. After it is done, you’ll be escorted home and you can never return here. William, you will be escorted home also, but you cannot return to the places you’ve been together. For the rest of your lives, you’ll need to take extreme care not to bump into one another as it will be most painful if you do.”

He pauses as he lets the words sink in, watching with interest as the soldier listening to orders doesn’t flinch but you do, your eyes once again betraying the worry inside you. 

“Should you want to complete it, you would need to make your souls bare and intertwine them to one another. This can be achieved by giving into these urges you feel.”

“Urges?” Will speaks finally, the word coming out clipped and void of emotion. You wince internally, but try to keep your face blank so as to not alarm anyone. If this is going where you think it is going, the next words will confirm your theory that sprung up in your mind as soon as the elder mentioned souls.

“You will need to be intimate with one another. As in have sex. And he will have to bite you as you reach an orgasm. This will bind you to one another for as long as you live.” 

The shock on your face is clearly written as you fully understand the words and the meaning behind them. Wait, what? He’s going to bite you?

*

Of potions and myths taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess @luxmundee @innerpaperexpertcloud

Everything taglist (I fully understand if you want to skip this one, please let me know and I’ll remove you!) @clydesducktape @wayward-rose @themuseic @miraclesabound @clydesfavoritegirl @a-true-janian-reply  @10blurredsmoke10  @caillea @mariesackler @princessxkenobi​

[srivsblk]

strange theories to keep the boys away | george weasley;

summary: after you created a “strange theory” to find a date for the Yule Ball and have fun, George Weasley, your best friend Ron’s brother, is sure that he’s the right guy;

warnings: —;

—

“What are you doing?” asked Ron Weasley sitting right in front of me.

The library had never been this noisy. All the students arrived with the intention of studying for those few subjects in which the professors continued to give homework and inevitably ended up talking about the Yule Ball.

“What do you mean what am I doing?” I asked looking at him confused. “Studying.”

“Well, everyone is talking about the Yule Ball,” Ron shrugged while Harry sat next to him. “You probably already have a date.”

I sighed and placed the quill on the table, paying my attention to Ron. “Actually, no,” I said observing Ron's expression, which went from calm to shock. “Oh, don’t look at me like that!”

“You- You don’t have a date!” Ron exclaimed wide-eyed pointing at me. “How?”

“High expectations regarding boys, I guess,” I shrugged looking around the room. “I mean, it's not like nobody asked me.”

“Did you know it?” I heard Ron asking Harry in a whisper receiving a simple ‘no’ as an answer.

“Have you seen Hermione, by any chance?” I asked frowning and still looking around. “I thought she was with you two.”

Harry shrugged. “Actually, we thought she was with you.”

I nodded with my brows furrowed and realized that Hermione was probably somewhere around the castle talking about her beloved S.P.E.W. Although Hermione remained my best friend and the only one I could talk to about women's issues, lately I found myself spending more time with Harry and Ron. And when I needed Hermione, I went to the library hoping to find her and sometimes failing. For this reason, I had now spent so much time in the library and alone that I had finished my homework and devoted myself to taking notes on future topics.

“How much time did you spend in the library?” asked Ron observing the open page of the Potions book in front of me. “I'm pretty sure Snape hasn't explained those things yet!”

“Well, long enough to be able to say I’m ahead of the schedule.”

“Ahead?” Ron said shocked. “Blimey, Y/N, either Hermione has infected you or you are terribly bored!”

“Thanks, Ron, coming from you it's a real compliment!” I said sarcastically. “And how's the date you don't have because you're too chicken to ask someone to come to the Yule Ball with you?”

Ron, visibly offended in his pride, was about to argue but was suddenly cut off.

“Yes, Ron! How's your date?”

Turning slightly I noticed that Fred and George Weasley were behind me and had probably overheard the last part of the conversation. Being one of Ron's best friends and having spent a lot of time at his home, seeing Fred and George was nothing new. In fact, in the last year I was sometimes surprised not to see them more often, but Ron kept repeating that they had become suspicious since we arrived at Hogwarts. As Fred sat on my left and George on my right, Ron rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I thought you two were busy.” Ron muttered looking between the twins.

“Exactly,” Fred said smirking. “We were.”

“But a little break doesn't kill anyone,” continued George who was mirroring his brother’s expression. Meanwhile, Harry had a smirk on his face and was exchanging amused glances with me.

“Oh, me and my date are perfectly fine,” Ron said with a forced smile, “but let’s talk about Y/N who still doesn't have a date!”

I looked at him tilting my head confused. “I think you didn't listen to me, Ronald,” I sighed. “It was a choice!”

“I can’t believe you,” Ron said shaking his head. “Nobody goes alone to the Yule Ball by choice!”

“What do you mean?” asked Fred curious.

I sighed and turned to Fred explaining myself. “Someone has already asked me to go to the Yule Ball with them and I refused saying I already had a date.” I calmly said before glancing at Ron who was shaking his head. “However, it's a good choice I've made this past week and I have no second thoughts.”

“I still don't understand it!” groaned Ron frustrated. “From what other guys say you are one of the prettiest girls at Hogwarts and even Malfoy would not care about your house and social status to go to the Yule Ball with you. You're wasting your luck, Y/N!”

“What is your choice based on?” asked Harry over Ron’s muttered words.

I looked at him and noticed that he was genuinely curious and so I started telling him what I kept telling myself every day. “The guys who asked me to go to the Yule Ball with them were from Durmstrang. I have nothing against them but... I mean, I didn't know them enough! You know how sad it is to go to the Yule Ball with one of them and spend a boring evening or discover that maybe they are like Karkaroff! I have decided that I will go with a person with whom I know I can have a pleasant evening. Besides, I'm not afraid to go alone.”

I caught my breath after my words and took the time to observe the reactions of the other boys. Harry struggled to understand my reasoning, but Ron had given up as soon as he heard the news and was waiting with his arms folded for a reaction as exaggerated as his. Fred, however, looked at me confused and George, who had listened carefully to my words, was thinking hard about something.

After twenty seconds of pure silence, Ron decided to interrupt the confusion. “Blimey, Y/N, there is no need to make up strange theories to keep the boys away.”

Ron's words sparked a deep rage that caused my body temperature to rise dramatically. My cheeks were probably tinged red with anger because I noticed Harry looking at me worriedly as if I was going to explode. Ron, however, did not notice the effect of his words. He had behaved like this with Harry before the first task, with Hermione more than once and now with me too. I had enough. With all the anger still inside, I got up from my chair causing a noise that attracted the attention of some people in the room and quickly collected my books. I took the bag and looking at Ron with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, I left. At that moment even Hagrid could have mistaken me for an angry dragon. Keep the boys away. How dare he? He knew me well and I would have accepted such words coming from Pansy Parkinson or Draco Malfoy, but not from Ronald Weasley. Was he jealous? Well, it wasn't my fault that he hadn't found the courage to ask Hermione to be his date! Yet it was not a plausible enough excuse to blame me for not accepting two proposals!

“Y/N!” I heard a voice calling me, which made me turn around and stop.

George Weasley had probably run from the library to follow me and was slightly out of breath. His hair slightly longer than last year was disheveled due to running. His bag was about to fall off his shoulder and there was a slight flush on his cheeks. After waiting for him to say something, I looked at him confused.

“What is it, George?” I asked in a kinder tone, regretting the brusque behavior of before. “Listen, if it’s about Ron-”

“Ron?” he asked frowning. “No, nothing about Ron, love! I just had to ask you something.”

I shrugged. “Go on, then.”

He looked around and was struggling to find the right words, but nonetheless he took a deep breath and became serious. “You and I. The Yule Ball. Together.”

George tried not to show his insecurity and was waiting for an answer from me, but he probably noticed my confusion because soon after he started to move his mouth looking for the right words, perhaps afraid of having said something wrong.

“Are you asking me to be your date, George?” I asked slowly understanding.

“Only if you want to!” he said hopeful adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “And don't think it's pity or something. I want to take you to the Yule Ball.”

I watched George closely and noticed small details that I had always overlooked in recent years. George had become a handsome boy and his fame as a prankster had made him known throughout the school. But I only knew him as Ron's brother who had always been nice to me, even defending me from some bad Slytherin pranks. “Yes,” I said satisfied of my choice. “I'll go to the Yule Ball with you!”

The expression on George's face went from nervous to relieved and enthusiastic in less than a second. He kissed me on the cheek and ran away screaming through the halls as if he had won an important Quidditch match. The place where George left the kiss on my cheek was warm and when I touched it I suddenly smiled. Then I turned and continued walking - this time more slowly and cheerfully - towards the common room.

What happened in the following days was a succession of events and voices that created a sort of pause between the moment when George had asked me to go to the Yule Ball and the evening that everyone was waiting for.

Although Hermione was shocked when I told her that same evening that I had accepted George's proposal, she told me that she should actually have foreseen it. However, she told me that I hadn't chosen badly since at least with George I was sure I could have fun. As for her date, Hermione had finally told me that she had agreed to go with Victor Krum and that he wasn't as bad as everyone thought. George, on the other hand, kept an impassive attitude when he met me with Harry and Ron. He had only told Fred and Lee Jordan that I was his date, as only Ginny and Hermione had heard from me. Harry and Ron had not suspected anything, although they had known that I had finally found a date. Apparently, neither Ron nor I wanted to resume that discussion because he was merely commenting on the Yule Ball matters with Harry. Just a few days before the event, I discovered that my two best friends were planning to bring the Patil twins to the Yule Ball. I thought it was a choice to save themselves from the inevitable loneliness, but I never told them. Hermione still didn't talk about her date in front of Ron and she preferred to avoid any conversation about the Ball.

“Who is he?” asked Ron two days before the Yule Ball while playing chess with Harry.

I sighed closing the book I was reading and looked at him. “No need to keep asking, Ron! You'll see him in two days.”

However, even though I kept refusing, Ron was so curious about my date's name that he repeated the names of all male Hogwarts students from our year and up. Still, it was interesting how he skipped his twin brothers, probably sure that neither George nor Fred saw me as a real girl.

On Christmas day, just after waking up and opening the presents, Hermione and I met Harry and Ron and went to breakfast together. Although the general excitement for the Yule Ball, we decided to spend the morning in the Gryffindor tower, where everyone enjoyed their presents, then returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch. The afternoon passed quickly between walks on the grounds of Hogwarts and snow fights. Hermione and I watched Harry and the other Weasleys having snow fights, while Hermione occasionally sneaked a glance at the smiles George and I exchanged. Around five, Hermione checked the time and took my arm as she rose from the ground. Apparently it was already late and we had to get ready for the evening.

“What, you need three hours?” said Ron, looking at Hermione incredulously, and being hit by George with a snowball. “Who’re you two going with?” he yelled after me and Hermione, but she just waved while I smiled at George and shook my head. Then we disappeared up the stone steps into the castle.

It had taken three hours to prepare both me and Hermione. She had been having some problems with her bushy hair as I kept pacing the room, trying not to panic. Hermione, as soon as she noticed my nervousness, tried to calm me down ("Oh, George is a great guy, Y/N! You'll definitely have fun.") and she helped me put on my dress. Looking in the mirror I had never felt this way. Suddenly, Christmas at Hogwarts took on another meaning. I looked at Hermione smiling and we finally headed for the Great Hall.

Arriving at the Great Hall Hermione left me with a hug and walked over to Krum. I peered around looking for George or at least Harry and Ron so as not to feel completely alone. Finally, after a few moments, I found George talking animatedly with Fred, who had a splendid Angelina beside him. As I walked towards them, Angelina said something to George making him turn in my direction and he finally noticed me. My smile widened further and I saw it was the same for George. He walked away from Fred and Angelina and arrived in front of me.

“You’re-” George couldn’t find the words while looking at me. “Merlin, Y/N, you’re wonderful!”

“You're not bad too, George!” I smiled taking his arm. “I've spent the last three hours preparing myself and I'm not going to lie, I'm nervous.”

“Well, no need to be nervous, love,” said George smirking. “It will be an unforgettable evening, trust me!”

“Oh, I trust you,” I said looking around. “Why are they all looking in our direction?”

George shrugged smirking. “Actually, they’re looking at me. They always do like this when they see me, don't worry!”

I laughed and held his arm tighter. “For a moment I had forgotten that you are the funny one.”

“Never forget that, love,” said George closer to my ear as we entered the Great Hall.

I noticed that Harry was nervous next to one of the Patil twins and Hermione was talking to Krum smiling. Many people needed more than a glance to recognize Hermione Granger, but I smiled at her as she did the same when she noticed me not far from her.

The first part of the evening passed quickly between laughter and an exquisite dinner. Fred kept throwing jokes at Angelina who pretended to be angry for a while and then laughed with the others. George and I had relaxed so much that being this close after a while felt more natural. He kept one arm on my chair and I squeezed his hand when he complimented me. When dinner was over and the Champions started dancing with their dates, George kept holding my hand before smiling at me and taking me to the dance floor. We may not have been the best dancers, but dancing with George just made me happy. After more dances together, George and I walked off the dance floor laughing and, noticing Harry and Ron near a table, we walked over to them.

“Why aren’t you two dancing?” I asked frowning and still holding George’s hand.

“We’re bored.” Ron muttered looking between me and George and trying to change the topic. “So you two-”

“What?” I asked curious.

“Nothing,” shrugged Ron sighing. “I didn't know you had a crush on George. That’s all.”

“I-” I tried to find the right words but felt my cheeks flush. “What are you talking about?”

“And you, George,” Ron said narrowing his eyes at George. “I didn't know you were interested in my best friend! Because that's what Y/N is, a sort of sister.”

As my cheeks became more and more red, I felt George boil in anger beside me at Ron's tone. “Well, Ron, maybe she is your sister, but not mine.”

“Whatever,” mumbled Ron sulky. “However, you remain two traitors. You haven't even told me anything about it.”

Harry stood next to Ron watching the scene. He was too smart to criticize us and agree with Ron, but he was too afraid of losing his best friend again to go against him. So I realized that Ron's only intention was to ruin the evening for all his best friends just because he didn't get what he wanted so much.

“You know, I had enough, Ron,” I said firmly looking at him. “Just because you can't have the best night of your life because of your bad mood doesn't mean you have to ruin my night too! For once I'm having fun and you ruin everything. I can’t accept it, I'm sorry.”

I walked away from my two friends and George with my heart pounding with anger. I didn't want to ruin anyone's evening, so my goal was to go outside and get some air and then find George and continue the wonderful evening. I noticed that the air outside was too cold for how I was dressed, so I sat on a sheltered bench observing the people around me. I recognized a fifth year girl walking with a boy from Durmstrang, and a seventh year couple sitting on a bench not far from me.

“Excuse me, is this seat occupied?” asked someone and turning around I found George smirking. As soon as I shook my head, George sat down beside me.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled feeling guilty. “I had a wonderful evening with you and I feel I ruined it by talking to Ron.”

George slightly smiled and took my hand in his. “If anything you made this evening better by silencing Ron in less than two minutes!”

I laughed and looked at him. “Still, I’m sorry.”

“Well, no,” said George frowning. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“For what?”

“You deserve someone like Diggory or Krum, and instead you end up with George Weasley, the prankster,” George shrugged looking down.

“I like George Weasley,” I smiled holding his hand. “I don't think I would have had more fun with Diggory or Krum tonight. Or any other night.”

George looked at me smirking. “So did you have fun?”

I laughed nodding. The couple of seventh year students looked at us for a second before turning around. “I had a wonderful evening and you, George,” I pointed a finger towards him. “you were wonderful.”

George stared at me without saying anything for a few seconds. He had a satisfied smile on his face and his eyes were moving from my eyes to my lips. Suddenly he brought his face close to mine and kissed me. It was a small kiss and it didn't last long. But it had stayed on my lips like a tattoo on someone's skin. A golden but small tattoo. I noticed that George's cheeks had turned red to his ears covered in long hair and he seemed eager to have a reaction from me. But all I did was get closer and kiss him more deeply than before. It didn't matter if it was cold and winter or if anyone could see George and Y/N kissing in the courtyard. It was something I wanted to do instinctively when I never did anything instinctively. After years of rational choices, kissing George Weasley was instinctive.

“Do you want to go back to the Great Hall?” George asked after the kiss. “Let's dance a little more and then I'll take you back to the common room.”

I nodded standing up still holding his hand. “What a night,” I said smiling and shaking my head.

“And you haven't seen anything yet, love,” said George walking and hugging me. “George Weasley can do better! Ask me for the moon and I'll bring you the entire galaxy. We still have time, after all!”

And that was true. We still had time. We were young and free and at the start of something which we would later call love. But in that moment it was still too soon. Two young students not knowing what is that feeling when you hang from the lips of the person you like and wait for their proposal or opinion, when you think that no sad moment can ever get over this happy moment. Because that person is your happy moment. And George Weasley became all of my moments.

[twiistedgalaxies]

Three Times Jaskier Didn’t Seem Quite Human

(And one time Geralt asked too many questions.)

      “Jaskier isn’t human,” Yennefer stated bluntly, swishing a wine glass in her right hand.

      Geralt blinked, “What?”  This gave Yennefer pause. She knew that her on and off again lover was oblivious, but she hadn’t realized it was quite to this extent. Jaskier gave her a pained, pleading look from the other end of the table. She ignored him.

      “You seriously haven’t noticed?” she continued with a huff.

      “...No?” Geralt’s brows furrowed together in confusion. The nerve of these idiots. Yennefer had half a mind to just state the obvious, to keep these two from continuing to dance around the subject, possibly until the end of time.

      But it was much more fun to gently direct Geralt to the answer and watch his bard squirm. Yennefer took a sip of her wine, mentally cursing her high alcohol tolerance, “You’ve been travelling with the man for decades,” Geralt’s face was blank, the puzzle pieces not fitting into place, “He hasn’t aged, Geralt.”

      “That doesn’t mean anything,” he protested, though from the way his eyes shifted towards his companion he was clearly thinking it over. If they were not at such a high profile party Yennefer would have strangled him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but it was at that exact moment that Jaskier decided to pick up his lute and perform for the crowd - granted, it was what he had been invited to do, but Yennefer sent him a withering glare anyways. She was met with a cheeky wink. Oh if looks could kill. 

      “I could prove it to you, you know? A few well placed detection spells and-”

      Geralt shook his head, “He’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

      “You two are hopeless,” Yennefer sighed.

-@~*^*~@-

      It had been after a particularly difficult hunt, when Jaskier had to dress his companion’s wounds for the umpteenth time. Geralt sat upon a stool in the center of their tiny room at the inn. He looked more irritated than usual as Jaskier gave him what was essentially a sponge bath around where a kikimore had stabbed his shoulder with one of it’s spindly arms. Jaskier winced, it was too close to important organs for comfort. Humming as he worked, Jaskier tried to stitch shut what he could and thoroughly bandage the rest. The wolf medallion on Geralt’s chest thrummed contentedly each time the bard’s delicate hands drew near.

      “Where did you learn?” he asked suddenly, his gruff voice cutting through the peaceful quiet.

      “Hm?” Jaskier hummed, ignoring the Witcher’s grunt of pain as he applied one of his many salves to his shoulder, “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, dear.”

      “The salves, the stitching, all of it,” Jaskier raised an eyebrow at that, but Geralt continued, “It’s a very odd skill for a bard to have.”

      A laugh, Geralt had to bite back a hiss as Jaskier’s touches grew less gentle. He clearly wanted him to drop it. “What? Do you think that I was helpless before you came along with your bulging muscles and witchery glares?”

      The witcher shook his head, silver hair sending droplets of water in the air, “No it’s not that,” the bard had certainly proved capable and skilled many times over, “It’s just, were you a healer before you became a bard?”

      Jaskier froze, seemingly caught in a memory, “Something like that,” he began to bandage Geralt’s shoulder, “This kikimore did quite the number on you, didn’t it?”

      Geralt gave him a look of disbelief because obviously.

      “Come on, come on, give me the details, I can’t write my ballads off of just grunts and intrusive questions now can I?”

-@~*^*~@-

      Jaskier had tagged along on what was supposed to be a minor contract. Nilfgaard had stormed a small town, leaving destruction and countless corpses in their wake. Corpses that were perfect for every Alghoul in a three mile radius. 

      He and Geralt were engaged in their usual banter (which consisted mostly of Jaskier rambling about whatever was on his mind, punctuated with the occasional grunt from his witcher), when a sudden, piercing screech rang through the air. It was high pitched, shrill, and caused Jaskier to clutch his head as he let out a groan of pain. 

      Meanwhile, Geralt immediately leapt into action, drawing his silver sword as a pack of the necrophages surrounded them. He was able to take out several, his sword and the ghouls creating a smooth, gory dance. It all seemed to be going well before an Alghoul caught Geralt off guard, leaping onto his back while extending its spines. This sent Geralt off balance, and he was quickly overwhelmed. His sword got knocked out of his hands in the scuffle and he thought that this, however stupid it may be, would be what would kill him. 

      A cry of rage. Slashing, tearing. Suddenly the weight that was dragging Geralt to the ground grew lighter. He felt something wet and sticky. Geralt looked up to see Jaskier standing over him, holding Geralt’s silver sword, out of breath, and covered in Alghoul viscera.

      The bard looked down at himself, annoyance on his admittedly handsome features, “That was my favorite tunic too!” The tunic in question, once baby blue (like his eyes which were now flashing gold, what the fuck?) was now stained red and black. Jaskier brushed a bit of entrails off his shoulder, visibly disgusted.

      “Huh?” Geralt said, intelligently.

-@~*^*~@-

      The pair was making their way north, Jaskier strumming on his lute and Geralt sat atop Roach. The dirt road was a tunnel bordered by a wall of towering trees, whose orange and red canopies blocked out the sun, casting the duo in dappled shade. 

      Jaskier strummed a few chords in the major key, before he spoke, “Geralt, are you doing alright?” His face was soft and forget-me-not eyes distant like they often grew when he was lost in thought. Geralt shot him a confused look. “It’s just that, you’ve seemed rather distracted lately.”

      “Hm?”

      “I,” Jaskier sighed, collecting himself, “It’s just with the kikimore and the alghouls, and just last week when you forgot your potions in Roach’s saddlebags. I’ve never seen you get like this before, what’s going on?”

      “It’s nothing.” Geralt replied, gaze sliding to anywhere but his bard.

      Jaskier reached up, intertwining his lithe fingers with Geralt’s own, “I’m worried about you, Love.”

      Geralt huffed, he could never resist the man’s pouting lips and puppy-dog eyes, “Yen and I had a conversation at that party a few months ago.”

      He felt the bard tense, “Is that so?” There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. Jaskier must have realized Geralt, man of few words that he is, wasn’t going to elaborate any further, so he spoke, “What did you two talk about?”

      “She said you aren’t human and I just thought about it more and… it makes too much sense,” Geralt began, feeling awkward as he tried to find the words to explain, “The way you don’t age, your medical knowledge (even of witcher potions!), how you know your way around a sword and how your eyes gleamed-”

      “Geralt, as you know I have an impeccable skincare routine and-”

      He frowned, “Don’t give me that shit, bard.”

      Jaskier sighed, “You really want to know?” A nod. “Okay, well, here goes nothing.” The bard let go of the witcher’s hand, and pulled off a golden ring that, now that Geralt thought about it, he had never seen the man without. A shimmer fell over the bard’s body, like a statue being unveiled. The first thing Geralt noticed was his eyes, they were a sickening, piercing yellow. His face was marred by countless scars, from claws, burns, knives, and magic. Jaskier’s build underneath the glamour more closely resembled Geralt’s, though he retained his shorter stature. The bard smiled sardonically at the witcher’s shocked expression, “Like what you see?”

      Geralt’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, “How?”

      “You’d probably know me better as Julian,” Jaskier’s eyes got that distant look to them again, his face was downcast, an unusual expression for someone who typically embodied sunshine, “I was in the Griffin school, before we were attacked,” a joyless laugh, “I had never wanted to be a witcher, ya know? Wasn’t cut out for it. But my father, Viscount Pankratz himself, couldn’t pay a witcher for his contract, so he offered me up instead. I failed as a noble, so maybe I wouldn’t fail as a witcher. He was wrong, of course, I spent most of my time writing poems instead of studying Signs. Singing instead of sparring. After the trials I spent a few years on the path before I grew sick of it and returned to Kaer Seren.”

      Geralt hummed, encouraging Jaskier to continue.

      “I was made to look after the students, I had to patch up their wounds and keep them from blowing themselves up with alchemy. I loved the little rascals, which is why..” Jaskier trailed off, fingers tracing the grooves in his lute.

      “It’s okay,” Geralt said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

      He shook his head hurriedly, “No, no I want to, I have to,” his voice cracked, “I left after the trials killed them. All of them. I couldn’t bear to be a part of it. A part of everything. So I ran, like a coward,” He spat out that last word like a curse.

      The pair stopped. Geralt placed his gloved hand on the bard’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection and reassurance.

      “Eventually, I found a mage and spent my life’s savings on a well-made glamour and the lute the elves at Posada so lovingly destroyed. It wasn’t until I had graduated from Oxenfurt that I found out what happened in Kaer Seren.”

      “Why didn’t you tell me?” Geralt asked, his voice gentle.

      Jaskier’s face flushed red with shame, “I was afraid. Afraid of what you would think of me. That you’d hate me.”

      Geralt frowned, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

      At that, Jaskier laughed, “Just look at me! I’m an ugly fuck-up.”

      “No,” Geralt said resolutely.

      “Huh?”

      “I said no. Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? Made long nights on the path easier to bear? I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you,” Geralt continued, looking Jaskier directly in the eyes. He didn’t reply to that, just slipped his ring back on and hugged his arms to his chest.

      The rest of the day’s journey was spent in silence.

A/N:  I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment, I love hearing feedback. I had one hell of a time writing this, I originally had only written the first scene, and it took a few months for my single window's screensaver brain cell to finally hit a corner and figure out how to continue and finish the story.

Ao3

[youwontlikethisblog]

Betty! My Betty.

Two post in a day, or window of twenty four hours!

Finally we make it to the day of the new collection launch.

Now in the previous post I wrote I made note that we had established that Armando trusted, unwavering, Betty. He knew of her fidelity and trusted her for it.

He questioned her but, by the time she leaves he quits his show of being mad at her and asked Mario what he thought of what she had said.

Now I want to add some points here that discribe and prove my theory that Armando was already having feelings outside of work related feelings towards Betty.

1) When Mario tells Armando that Marcela has no idea who she's talking to we know he means that Betty is the owner of Eco Moda, therefore she shouldn't be yelling at her but Armando thinks otherwise as he tells him "I know! She's my guardian angel!" which once more proves that Armando wasn't mistrusting of Betty and his concern was with how Betty treats him and how she is with him, unconditional.

2) When Mario starts with his paranoia again Armando defends her, defends his trust, and lets us all know that he would never doubt Betty nor her unconditionality and fidelity.

3) That day Armando behaved differently towards Betty.

We've all at some point in middle or high school gone to google and searched "how to tell that he likes me." and the very obvious answers in every post is that he finds excuses to be near you, finds excuses to touch you, blah blah blah, and very cliché this begins to happen. I already had my theory that as the show progressed to this point of the story that Armando found excuses to touch Betty such as when he starts to rub her shoulders as he is telling her that he's very aware of her loyalty and all she does for him, hugging her, to then asking her to stay in meetings, being confused when she doesn't sit next to him whereas before Betty could sit anywhere in the meeting room that wasn't near him (don't quote me on this I didn't pay much attention to the first few episodes because I was zoned out most of the time)and he didn't care. During the business with Macro Textil he was leaning towards her as they discussed with Ms. Colombia and the guy incharge of sells. Which I already talked about this in another post as well where he finally stops having all eyes on Ms. Colombia and is absorbed by Betty.

At the meeting the day before the launch Armando pulls a chair for Betty and tells her to sit by him and when she goes to sit he pulls his chair closer to her and leans towards her, when he usually is always leaning to his right, he now leans towards his left, where Betty is. That's not the only noticeable change. When Marcela starts yelling and insulting Betty, Armando visibly looks ticked off until he finally raises his voice at her and then adjusted his tone and talked to her calmly. Then later that night when Marcela and him are together discussing Claudia, Armando tells her that he can't do anything because Hugo will throw a fit, then Marcela decides to let her vandetta with Claudia go and asks for another head, to which Armando says anyone's head.

Remember how I said that Armando is really dumb with feelings and that when he has them he blurts them out unthinkably and then proceeds to correct himself?

Here Marcela gives him the ultimatum; Claudia's head or Betty's head.

Armando pulls away from her and says no, to which Marcela asks "You can't do it or you don't want to?" and he says "I don't want to- I can't." and he looks bothered by the idea of it. Like a kid told to share his toys with someone. We then see him feeling guilty over Betty being the owner of Eco Moda because Marcela is saying that she's gotta run everything by Betty.

The last point was a long one :)

Armando still yells at Betty and he still is a crappy boss but the last two days he has blended and blurred the lines so much while Betty has remained a good employee and kept boundaries with him.

Now this is the scene we've all been waiting for.

Armando finds out that Nicolas is Betty's "platonic love".

The day starts off with Marcela going to yell at Betty, as one does, and Armando seems bothered by it, while before it did bother him it wasn't much where he interacted or reacted to it. As he said he knew Betty could handle of them[Paty and Marcela].

Now one could simply say "But this is all because of Eco Moda and Betty is the owner now and he doesn't want her to turn against them."

Had that been the intention of the writer we wouldn't had gotten any of the previous details mentioned in the previous post. We wouldn't be seeing the subtle change, the blending of their personal lives, the obvious act of defending Betty against Mario's paranoia and the obvious stupidity of Armando towards his feelings.

Remember! Armando wasn't paranoid and he sure as hell wasn't questioning Betty's loyalty to him.

So if he isn't having those feelings? Why does he all of a sudden run to her aid against Marcela? Why does he not only defend his decision to hiring Betty as he did in the past but Betty's role and job in Eco Moda?

Here's the thing we all need to understand Armando is somewhat smart in his line of work. He knows how to manipulate, convince, and make deals. He is a very mechanical guy. Women enter him through his eyes. We've seen him be a womanizer and seggs is the way to his heart. Which is exactly why he was so stupid and clueless about his feelings towards Betty because unlike all the other woman, Betty didn't enter him through the eyes or sex. She did through action and personality and it all comes crashing down in this very scene. However, Armando is very stupid and I mean colossally stupid when it comes to feelings. He is a mechanical man, even in his relationship with Marcela, his parents, his best friend, his lovers, and he isn't fazed by people's emotions. He is uncomfortable with them and as a person who happens to be the same, when it comes to recognizing feelings and defining them as what they are it's really hard to do that when you spend your time avoiding and running away from any feeling and it can take months for someone to identify those feelings. Which is why the subtle changes and his reaction to this news leaves him uncomfortable, confused, and most of all scared and he tries to justify and identify these feelings as other things. Once again I talk from personal experience.

The writing from the previous episodes is meant to bring all of this together. Scenes that we might asume had nothing to do with the romance between B and A all of a sudden hold a lot of weight here. For example the scene when Sofia cries over her husband's lover working there, it shows Armando visibly uncomfortable as he turns to Betty's office and looks like he wants to stand up and leave the room when he sees her crying. However the last time Betty cried in front of him without her even asking or making any insinuation of it, Armando goes to hug her so he can comfort her. Mariana once said that he could watch someone cry and be unfazed by it but we had two more incidents previous to that that show us little by little how he begins to change for Betty. If they weren't important than we wouldn't had gotten them.

Bertha burst into his office with a smile on her face. Armando is as normal and typical as always, Betty enters the room and hands him the paperwork for him to sign.

That's when Bertha mentions that "Your love, your boyfriend, Nicolas Mora just called you!" and we get a close up of Armando's face(they wouldn't have shown us this if it weren't important). His eyes are focused on Betty, brows narrow, lips on a line and nostrils flared, meaning my boy is mad. When Betty asks if he signed the papers, without breaking eye contact with her, with a very serious and dead tone he tells her he did and hands them to her.

Skip a scene ahead we then see Armando exiting Betty's office, head down, shaking his head, looking confused and angry. When Mario walks in he asks if something happened and Armando nods, goes back into her office, steps back out and leans against the door frame, wrapping his arms around himself which is something people do to self sooth and he proceeds to tell Mario that something very grave has happened. Mario's facial expression shows worry.

Now let's go back to the episode when Betty gave Armando the papers that showed that Eco Moda was now under seizure for the debt they had with Terra Moda, how his voice was during that, which was somber. We know it hurt him to see that and that it was a hard thing to accept as he studied that most of the scene. Here in this scene he has the exact same tone of voice, somber, which means he is truly bothered and sad over Betty having a boyfriend.

Mario then proceeds to laugh and joke about it. Armando angrily tells him that the monstrete that he is making fun of is the owner of Eco Moda now and then his voice changes to say "She has a boyfriend." to which Mario again proceeds to make fun of. We see Armando's body language, he turns his back for a brief second, he doesn't look at Mario or make eye contact while he is making those jokes and for a split second we see a confused look on his face.

What does this mean? Armando sudden change of heart and his frustration towards the news aren't solely based on Eco Moda for what he continues to make apparent and continues to repeat is that Betty has a boyfriend because that's what he is hung up about.

I'm sorry I keep saying let's go back to a post or episode but this all comes imploding here, now, to prove the theory. Remember how I mentioned that Armando seemed unbothered by Nicolas and even defended him against Mario and his paranoia?

When Mario asks who the unfortunate person was Armando does as he does best, react emotionally.

All of a sudden Armando is furious as he refers to Nicolas. All of a sudden the person who he himself said was trustworthy, who he assured Mario was someone Betty collaborates with becomes an idiot and an object of disdain to Armando.

While Mario seems more concerned over the company and who the owner is; Armando seems more concerned over the fact that Nicolas is Betty's boyfriend.

He then proceeds to tell Mario how he found out and he tells it like he were telling him something traumatic, he is stuttering every few words, pacing, talking fast, unable to sit for more than a second and mocking, something we later see as a jealousy act of his, and gets angry( he makes it more dramatic by saying that Bertha said Nicolas was Betty's eternal love, her lover) when he gets to the point of the story that they talked about Betty's boyfriend in front of him which lets us know he felt it was disrespectful for Betty to do that.

What kind of boss thinks it's disrespectful for their employee to have a boyfriend and talk about it in front of them?

One that likes you and thinks there's something special going on between you two.

My theory is that Armando wasn't in love with Betty at this point but he was mixing up his feelings because he liked her and felt possessive over her. He felt that Betty's unconditionality, fidelity, loyalty, and faithfulness was all towards him and that made him feel special(when Betty was offered that commission by RagTela when she confessed it to Armando he went to her and told her he was glad he was a part of such an important test in her life which feeds the idea that he felt special to her) because of course, the "ugly" girl would never have a boyfriend to give all that to and he felt special to be the one to receive that from her without Betty asking for anything in return. Those exact qualities were the things that lead Armando to even have feelings for her(that he's not aware of) and all of a sudden there's someone who could be receiving those exact same qualities of Betty's and more which makes him react the way he does.

In his own words what offended him most (which means he was offended by Betty and Bertha talking about her personal love life in front of him) was that Betty didn't say anything about it.

Why is that?

Up to this point we've seen Armando slowly blur the lines of personal and work with Betty. Little by little we see him let his guard down, expressing his inner thoughts and feelings regarding his biggest burden and how it'll affect him. Betty knows him very well and he is very well aware of that as he tells her that he knows she understands more than anyone what he's doing while Armando barely knows anything about her. He knows she's got ethics, morals, and principles she sticks by. He knows her family and how humble and moral they are. He knows the most important parts of her character that makes her a trustworthy employee but he knows nothing about Betty's personal life like Betty does his.

In his own words again he says "I don't know, I don't know why she didn't confide in me. Me who has been very special to her-" please, let me bring you back to the past. In a post I mentioned that every time Betty gave him more of herself her rewarded her by doing the same in return. For example, when Betty showed loyalty to him he became more kind to her. When Betty showed unconditionality he showed loyalty. We begin to see a pattern of behavior. Whilst Betty's affection is shown through means of work and being respectful and having boundaries with him and living off her daydreams, Armando's is different. His affection is shown by blurring the lines between personal and work. By giving more of himself to her in an emotional sense.

He then concludes to say "This hurts me a lot, listen to me Calderon, I don't like this at all." Mario's perspective is that Amranod is worried for the same thing he is: Eco Moda. However Armando is on a different solar system as Mario tells him they should have investigated her more and again Armando goes to defend her. Saying that she is unconditional and has always been loyal to him. That he knows her perfectly, wouldn't you say this contradicts the plan?

"How the hell was I supposed to imagine that Betty! My Betty... would have a boyfriend?"

Armando then gives way to paranoia saying that Betty's personal life is deeply entwined with his, the companies, and his family's personal lives. Which means that Mario's seed of paranoia has now began to flourish in Armando and it shows his confusion. One moment he is defending Betty, the next he is questioning her. One second he is sure of her loyalty and the next he is worried about her having Eco Moda.

This is when the roles switch. In the previous days and scenes when Mario was paranoid Armando truthfully defended Betty and her loyalty. He was so sure of it but why does her having a boyfriend change that? Because Armando felt betrayed by Betty. He felt that she should have told him this. In other words Armando feels bamboozled because he isn't Betty's special man and now instead of Mario being the paranoid one he is the one to remind Armando that Betty is trustworthy. He tells him that Betty says "He's important for the company." and that the fact he's her boyfriend doesn't change anything he then proceeds to ask "Or what? You jealous?" and Armando laughs.

Notice his body language? He's biting his thumb nail, eyebrows arched and eyes worried. Yes, he is paranoid but he's also now struggling with the feelings that are left behind from the revelation that Betty has a boyfriend.

This will be part 1 of the next couple of episodes to break down Armando's inner struggle and why he is so stupid.

I need to get some rest lol