#sorry about it but once it entered my mind I couldn't resist

[neverpathia]

you, my good sir, are a gem 💞💞💞 love all your stuff 🩷 any thoughts on how a smittunist meeting/conversation would go if they meet on or after happily ever after?

WAHOO and i know this probably isn't exactly a writing request but here's a funny thing, i actually kind of had a scenario like this in mind, and i was kind of thinking about writing it out and posting it when this ask came in! so i might as well just kill two birds with one stone (heh) and answer this request while writing out that excerpt here mwahah

sigh. have i said that romance wasn't really my thing? perhaps fortunately for you all, I may have lied.

so this came out a little more shippy than intended, and it's a bit long so I'm sorry if it gets boring, and it's kinda ooc but it is what it is I guess

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What had he done wrong?

What had he done wrong? What had he done wrong?

What had he done wrong, what had he done wrong, what had he done wrong what-had-he-done-wrong what-had-he-done-wrong? The finest garments a Princess could ever have been clad in. The most lavish settings a Princess could ever have stepped into. The best meals, the best games, the best of everything that she could ever have asked for. It was perfect. All of it ought to be perfect.

The Smitten had given her everything, but for that, he had been reduced to nothing.

Less than nothing.

Because 'nothing' at least required a 'something' to define it, and she was supposed to be his 'something'. Once upon a time, she had been his 'everything', and she would have remained so for all of eternity. It was their happily ever after. Everything would have been bliss. Perfection. The last chapter of their story; the closure they had been offered once and for all.

But there was the Princess, and there was the rest of them—the rest of him—dancing under the starlit sky he had shunned so. Dirt beneath their feet, grass-blades scraping the skin of their legs.

And here he was, trapped in the cabin. The torches no longer burned and only the dark was left. He, too, was the dark now. He was one with the bleak nothingness inside, left to rot away as they pranced and laughed.

They all no longer required him. Perhaps they never had in the first place.

So he watched them dance as he faded, because it was the only thing left to do. Their movements were graceful, elegant, and so natural. There was something about it that his 'grand paradise' had so plainly lacked. He couldn't comprehend it. It lay beyond raw passion, beyond what he thought was-

"May I have this dance?"

Something, someone had entered the cabin. Someone familiar. Like that other heroic voice, or like the Smitten himself; he was a semi-corporeal shadowy echo floating just as he did. He seemed to know him, though he didn't recall meeting him. This one was wily and devious. He shouldn't have liked him.

Yet he felt inexplicably drawn to him, like they were meant to be one. He could tell that he had been a piece of the Decider, the Hero. They both had. And the Smitten had felt the same pull at the banquets and games, but it had been resisted for all their sakes. How had it not been enough? How had it not been enough?

"Why have you come?" The Smitten's voice, once reserved only for the Princess's ears, came out far too hoarse. "Leave me be. Allow me to decay in solitude."

The other one, the Opportunist, cocked his head. "Hm, no, I don't think so."

Before the Smitten could respond, the Opportunist grabbed his hand and yanked him back onto the grand carpets. He pushed him—pulled him—twirled him around—

"Begone." The Smitten, weakened as he was, could only manage a low angry murmur. "I did this. It was I who failed to cover every eventuality. And she is unhappy. I made her unhappy. I...made...her...unhappy."

"Yes, that's true," said the Opportunist, but he continued with the dance.

Here they were, cavorting about a hollow mimicry of a palace, when at least one of them should have been dancing with the Princess instead. Outside. Where the Smitten had failed to take her; where he could have saved everything.

"So?" Resignation sat heavy, thick and bitter beneath Smitten's tone. He tried to wrench his hands away from his new partner's, but for some reason, he couldn't. "Isn't that what I deserve? Harken, am I not the true villain of this new story? Go forth. Enjoy your happy ending while it lasts."

Opportunist stepped to the side, his fingers still splayed across Smitten's palm as he shrugged with one shoulder. "Well, this ending looks like the Princess and the Decider's. Doesn't have to just be theirs, though. It could be ours too."

"I do not remain one of you any longer," Smitten spat. "For how should I?"

The Opportunist smirked, a horrible mirror of the Smitten's own smile at them from across the table earlier. "But you were! At least I remember you. Besides, this can still be a happy ending for everyone! Including you."

He brought his mouth closer to the Smitten's ear. "Or, forget about you, I'm the one who wants this dance."

Smitten was too tired for rage. "Why?"

"Well, I can't quite put my finger on it myself," Opportunist mused. "But it's like, the Decider and that other one and you and me and the Princess, we're all fragments of the same thing, you know? Except there's two major parts, us and the Princess."

Opportunist paused for a bit, silent in contemplation, but he and Smitten continued to move in tacit harmony.

"There it is," said Opportunist. "Of course I'm drawn to the Princess, we all are. But I feel more drawn to you. Because the Princess and the rest of us, well, the crack between us is too wide and we're too separate. And even if I'd joined their dance, there's still a missing piece somewhere, and I suppose it must be you. But you're a closer thing to me than she is. We fit tighter, better perhaps."

Opportunist bowed forward and Smitten leaned back in response. Their bodies pressed close together: chest against chest, hand clasped in hand, fingers gently intertwining.

"So that's how it is." The Smitten stared into the Opportunist's eyes, but he didn't know how to read them. It all felt so right and it all felt so wrong; it felt so impossible; it felt like something that he should never have been able to feel.

And he couldn't understand it at all.

"How dare you?" Smitten rose, forcing the Opportunist backwards. "How dare you utter such...balderdash?"

"It's just how I felt, since I know you like feelings so much."

"No. This is nonsense! The Princess is the only absolute right. We must be with her, you must be one with her. How could you forgo such a chance? How could you forsake her, how could you choose to stay behind in this wreck and deny your true happy ending, how could you? Do you go against her? Are you mad, are you impertinent? For we have wronged and I may not make right, but you...you. How dare you?"

"How dare me?" This angered the Opportunist. "As if you did anything right! As if you're not the one responsible for her suffering in the first place! We ate and we ate and we ate then we played and we played—do you know how boring it got? How stale? And then it all lost its meaning and everything was just so empty! And you caused it, and you forced her to sit through everything! She was so scared! So before you even think about going all 'oh, how dare you, how dare you,' think about that first."

For a few beats, no one spoke. And still they danced, two shadows, graceful blank silhouettes amidst the vast unlit chambers.

"Alright, I take everything back," said Opportunist. "In the end, you've lost. Look at you. You were so powerful that reality itself bent according to you and your simpy little desires. And now, what are you? An exhausted little thing."

The Opportunist led the dance, steering him this way and that, with but a few flicks of his wrists and turns of his heels. He grinned. "So I'm still a winner, and you're still the loser here."

Smitten glared at him. "Have you no shame?"

"Not one bit, no."

"You have come to gloat, then? To laugh at my fall?"

"Why, yes I have! Can't say I don't enjoy it. See? I've come up on top. Just as I've always wanted."

And the Opportunist did laugh, throwing his head back as he cackled and shook. Amused, he veered aside, dragging the Smitten with him in a circle.

"So that was you," Smitten seethed. "The one who said we could stay in the cabin, she and I. The one who started everything. You caused it. You. You!"

"Yes." Opportunist sighed. "Fine, I admit it. I did something wrong there."

He violently jerked Smitten's arm backwards with his own, as if he wanted to wrench it from its socket.

"But who was the one who ripped our heart out?" demanded Opportunist. "And who made this whole place like this, and did everything he could to keep her unhappy? That definitely wasn't me. No, I think it was—"

"No more, I beseech you." Smitten interrupted. "I..."

He hesitated.

"I did make her unhappy. And right now, she's happier. Without me."

"Of course she is. You brought this loss upon yourself, lover-boy. Now isn't that satisfying."

Smitten didn't speak.

"I do agree with you, to be honest," said Opportunist. "You do deserve this. To fade away alone and unloved."

Smitten looked up at him. "Then why do you still take my hand in yours?"

Opportunist didn't respond either.

And there was another moment of silence. They quietly dared each other to pry apart their hands, to cease this dance, to stop these motions altogether.

But they didn't.

"Something about this still feels whole," said Opportunist. "I'm more complete here. Don't you feel it?"

"I don't know." The Smitten averted his gaze. "Truth be told, I don't know how it's meant to feel. But I think I do."

A few more steps. A few more turns. Pulling together, falling apart, pulling close again.

"This feels more complete," whispered Smitten.

"It does," said Opportunist. "But I still don't like what you did."

"And nor do I," said Smitten. "You vile, scheming wretch."

"You delusional lovesick psycho."

"..."

"...Are you scared to let go too?"

Something grey threatens the edges of their sight. Yet they dance still.

"I am."

Something ancient pulls at them, passes over the walls and floors. Yet they dance still.

"But you know I still can't forgive you, right?"

Something feathered reaches out and away, consuming, morphing, becoming. Yet they dance still.

"I know what I've done. I'm sorry, I truly am."

Something taloned stretches into the long quiet, and a mirror is touched. And the dance ends; still they stand hand in hand.

"I hate you." The Opportunist reaches out and pulls the Smitten into an embrace.

"I hate you." The Smitten reciprocates, resting his head against his shoulder, pulling him in, ever closer.

Shards of broken glass dissipate into oblivion.

[valerileygreen]

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

Join my taglist HERE

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[letmesniffurdaddysfeet]

Forbidden Desires - my boss - Part 1

My boss has always had a certain allure to him. He may not be a model, with his extra pounds and graying beard, but he exudes an aura of masculinity. I try my best to hide any hint of my fantasies, especially since our relationship has been strictly professional and even friendly since I started working here one year ago. He seems to appreciate my work, and I strive to be the model employee. But deep down, I can't help but imagine walking into his office for something other than just dropping off the weekly sales report... His 'daddy bear' demeanor in a suit is incredibly alluring. However, what was once just a fantasy has become slightly more complicated with this upcoming business trip. The news that I would be accompanying the big boss on our company's annual conference in Chicago has stirred up conflicting emotions within me.

As the day of departure approached, I found myself both nervous and excited about the trip. It was a rare opportunity to spend extended time with my boss outside of the office, and I couldn't deny the flutter of anticipation in my stomach. Packing my bags, I tried to push aside any inappropriate thoughts that crept into my mind. This was a business trip, after all.

Arriving at the airport, I spotted him waiting by our gate, looking as handsome and commanding as ever in his tailored suit. He greeted me with a warm smile, and we boarded the plane together. The hours in the air passed quickly with work-related discussions and polite small talk.

As we checked into our hotel in Chicago, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of spending the next few days in such close proximity to him. But as we entered our shared suite, I reminded myself to maintain professionalism at all times.

Little did I know that this business trip would test my resolve in ways … I never could have imagined. The first day of the conference went smoothly, with my boss leading meetings and networking with other professionals in our industry. As we returned to our hotel room that evening, I excused myself to take a quick shower before dinner.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, my body still damp from the shower and wrapped in only a towel, I was shocked to see my boss leaning against the window. He had his back to me as he changed into fresh clothes, but I couldn't help but steal glances at his muscular chest and strong arms.

Feeling my heart racing and heat rising to my cheeks, I quickly looked away, trying to compose myself. But the desire stirring within me was growing stronger by the second.

"Sorry, I thought I would have time to change before you finished your shower," my boss said with a casual smile as he turned to face me. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

Suppressing a shaky smile, I desperately repeated the mantra "Don't get turned on, don't get turned on!" His intense gaze bore into me as he asked if I wanted anything from downstairs. My reply was a stammered mess, trying to mask my embarrassment and will my body not to betray me by getting hard. As he left the room, I exhaled a shaky breath of relief... only to realize my cock was fully erect and pulsating with arousal. Hurriedly grabbing some clean clothes from my suitcase, I caught sight of my boss's socks lying innocently on the corner of the bed. An irresistible impulse took over as I brought them up to my face, burying my nose in their musky scent without a second thought. The rush of pleasure was overwhelming as my penis leaked precum, revealing in the potent masculine aroma emanating from the fabric. I couldn't resist any longer and eagerly tasted the sweat-soaked socks with my tongue, savoring every drop of testosterone-laden essence.

In that moment, I was lost in an intoxicating frenzy of lust and desire. My fingers reached down to my pulsating erection, and I began to stroke myself slowly, relishing the silky texture of the socks against my skin. The sensation of my own arousal mixed with the scent of my boss's sweat filled my mind and body.

images flash through my mind, his smug face at his desk, feet propped up, barking orders for me to serve him.'' Take off my shoes and lick my feet !"

My hands tremble as I grab one of his dirty socks and wrap it around my throbbing cock. With a perverse hunger, I taste the other sock with my tongue, imagining it's his sweaty foot flesh. It all becomes too much and I explode in ecstasy, a guttural moan escaping my lips. But as reality crashes back in, I'm left holding the evidence of my taboo act, consumed by shame and the fear of being caught.

Out of breath and reeling from the intensity of my climax, I quickly wiped the remnants of my release with the damp towel. My heart was pounding, and adrenaline rushed through my veins. I realized that I had no idea what time it was or how long he had been gone. I couldn't shake the guilt or the thrill of the taboo act. The scent of my boss's socks still lingered in the air, a potent reminder of my sinful actions.

As I carefully disposed of the socks, a wave of paranoia washed over me. What if he came back early? Or caught a whiff of the forbidden aroma? My mind raced with hypothetical scenarios, and I knew that I had to find a solution. I couldn't let my feelings for him cloud my judgment or put my job in jeopardy. And yet, the thought of his commanding presence and the pleasure he had given me was too powerful to ignore. My mind was in a constant tug-of-war between my desire and my fear.

In a state of intense confusion, I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood, hoping to clear my head. As I stepped outside, I couldn't help but feel the lingering effects of the intimate encounter with my boss's socks. The air outside felt fresh and invigorating, but all I could think about was the taboo act I had committed.

I aimlessly wandered, trying to distract myself from the overwhelming thoughts. Eventually, I stopped at a coffee shop and returned to my room. And there he was, holding his dirty socks with my cum on them, waiting for me...

[nightwngz]

Oh my beloved, here's a little idea for you!

'Am I the asshole for dating my best friend's ex?' Where Barry absolutely couldn't let slip the opportunity to have Hal's pretty ex for himself, well, she doesn't belong to him anymore right?

Like, he sees that she's so sad because of the breakup and he's just so nice, gentle, kind with her, why not give him a chance? Barry knows that it must sucks to not have someone to kiss :(((

— 𝓔𝐱 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 ✩!!

barry allen x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… Smut. Dirty talk. Fingering, p in v.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . Omg, omg! You practically read my mind because Barry is practically my current obsession. By the way, sorry for the delay, dear, I didn't quite know how to write it. 💗

Barry and Hal have always been best friends. They got along so well that even when you were dating Hal, it never occurred to you that Barry might betray his trust, not even if you suggested it yourself.

And after spending so much time going out with your friend and sharing dinners, lunches, and breakfasts, with a bit of a hangover in between, you started to think that Barry could also become a good friend for you.

Even after you broke up with Hal, Barry continued to stand by your side, supporting and indulging you.

Though you never suspected him of double-dealing, Barry remained neutral about your breakup. It's not that he didn't care about Hal; in fact, he had more than once questioned whether he was doing the wrong thing by approaching you, even after you and Hal had ended things.

But yes, he was a complete asshole for approaching you in the first place, and he was even more of an idiot for falling in love with his friend's girlfriend in the first place.

He had fantasized about Hal's girlfriend countless times, and many of those times he had to restrain the desire to touch himself by thinking of you, so as not to betray him.

But it wasn't until he saw you crying on the floor of your apartment with a bottle of alcohol in your hand that he realized you were no longer his best friend's girlfriend. The relationship had ended, and although you were still dealing with the aftermath of the breakup, there was nothing that alcohol and other distractions couldn't alleviate.

"Hal is my friend, but sometimes he can be a real jerk. Don't worry, if you need to vent, go ahead," he suggested, trying to be friendly.

However, when you took his lips without permission as a means of release, Barry neither objected nor resisted. He thought that given your situation, it must be terrible not to have anyone to kiss.

Sad thoughts about Hal vanished the moment Barry's tongue entered your mouth. Maybe it was just what you needed to forget, since not even he, as your ex's best friend, seemed to care what Hal might think, and even less so did you.

Barry had inevitably thought of Hal. He couldn’t help but remember his friend while his ex-girlfriend’s tongue slid into his mouth and he felt her hips moving until she was straddling his belt. However, he didn’t stop; in fact, the thought that she no longer belonged to him crossed his mind, which only drove him to continue.

It was too late to regret when he felt your hands sliding down his hips, pulling at his clothes. He couldn't resist pushing you onto your back, landing on top of you and pinning your body against the couch.

He kissed you desperately as if you were his last meal, holding you tight with his hands and his tongue on your mouth, exploring every inch of your skin that was still hidden under the fabric he hastily removed.

Even as he slid his fingers aside your underwear, without removing it completely, to enjoy caressing your wet crotch, he smiled. He knew he had what he so desperately wanted, like a whimsical child with his new toy.

"Did Hal miss out on all this? Too bad for him that now I have to take care of this tight pussy." He whispered in your ear with a grin, licking his fingers gently so you could hear the obscene sound close up.

And finally, when he got inside you so deeply that tears welled up in your eyes at the intrusion, you felt completely convinced that you had done the right thing by breaking up with Hal, something that Barry also agreed with. You smiled at the thought that he had taken advantage of the situation and looked at him, convinced that he had orchestrated the whole thing for his own benefit.

"Don't look at me like that, honey. It's not my fault that Hal missed how deliciously tight your pussy feels. . ."

[mazosstuff]

Could you answer a curiosity of mine?

Pairing: Jing Yuan x gn! reader

Cw: none

Word count: 1.0k

Synopsis: You notice something off about your partner's hair, so you point it out and get to spend some quality time with him.

A/n: I finally did it. I completed this fic, and now I can post it! As always, requests are open. Pls check the pinned post!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

It was a day like the others. You were tidying up a little while your partner, Jing Yuan, was taking a shower to clean off all the dirt and sweat he could have on his body since summer was coming up and the days began being hotter and hotter by the minute.

You still couldn't believe you could call the General of the Cloud Knights of the Luofu and one of the Seven Arbiter-Generals your partner.

The relationship was at the first stages, still pretty contained and not much action besides lingering kisses and long nights spent cuddled one against the other.

The Dozing General, after all, hasn't been romantically infatuated with anyone since his teen years.

But, besides that, you two had great chemistry and were a match made in heaven. The frequency of your visits started to piss off Yanqing for how much time and attention you were taking away from his master. He even started joking around with Yunli of how you two should get together.

The two young ones teased the hell out of both of you, but in the end, they've grown to like the idea of you two together.

As you folded and put away the dirty sheets, you went to grab new ones from one of the shelves in the closet that was in the corridor before the main bathroom.

Coincidentally, you both happened to open the doors of the rooms you were in, one to enter, the other to exit the bathroom.

There you saw him. The General, no, Jing Yuan was standing right in front of you. He looked like he had just come out of the shower. His hair was dripping wet. He only had a towel wrapped around his hips to cover his intimates and... he noticed you staring at him.

You quickly averted your gaze and buried your face in the clean bed sheets you had in your hands.

"I'm sooo sorry Jing Yuan! I didn't mean to invade your privacy" you said hurriedly as you got out of that little corridor.

All of the sudden, you felt his hand grabbing your wrist to pull you closer to him.

"H-huh?" You stared at him with a confused and flustered look on your face.

"I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, my dear. I'd just like to ask you if you could help me with drying my hair... it's a really... tiring process, and if I have to be honest, I don't think I have the strength to do it myself." Jing Yuan asked calmly. Did he really not care that there was one single layer of fabric that hanged on his hips for dear life that separated decency and indecency?

You sighed. "Okay... can you at least put something on?"

"Of course, dear" he said with his usual calm smile as he approached the bedroom and changed into his nightrobe.

Once dressed more decently, you invited him to sit with his back on the side of your shared bed. In the meanwhile, you prepared all the tools and products you thought he needed when in reality, he never really cared that much about styling his hair or using products to protect them from heat or being frizzy.

You sat down on the bed behind him and placed yourself with your legs at his sides.

As you combed and dried his hair, you noticed two major elements. You knew his hair was layered and not cut straight... but not like a wolf cut. The complete opposite.

"A-Yuan...?" You called out for his attention.

"Yes?" He answered with a soft and sleepy tone.

"Could you answer a curiosity of mine?"

"Of course. What is it that plagues your mind?"

"Have you ever got an undercut?"

He placed his hand over his face in order to hide the faint blush on his face even if you couldn't see it.

"Yes, I had one. When I was still a teenager, it just so happened that there was a really hot summer and... I gave in. I couldn't resist the heat, and, in the end, I gave myself an undercut. Like I said... dealing with these hair it's really time-consuming." He explained and then lowered his voice when he admitted he couldn't bear the heat of that summer.

"Don't be flustered, I get it. I knew some people that had to do the same thing..." You eased his worries. "And... by the way, have you ever considered having curly hair?"

"Yes. I actually did. But, as you may have figured out, I have little to no time to actually care about what hair type I have"

"That sounds like bullshit to me." You got up from your seat on the bed and indicated the bathroom.

"... is this a cue to go back to the bathroom, dear?" He asked with a smirk on his face.

"We have time now. Go and put your head under the running water. This may take a while"

"Yes, my love" he said as he went back to the bathroom. You were left there with a deep blush on your cheeks.

"Damn you..." you muttered under your breath as you waited a bit to calm down and then went in the bathroom where he was waiting for you with his hair damp.

After a good hour and a half, you made him look in the mirror with his damaged, loose, but still there, curl pattern.

"So... what do you think?"

He looked at himself in the mirror and not only he felt a little boost for his confidence, but he also appreciated the opportunity to spend some quality time with his partner. Doing something that made him leave the general role and indulge in the little things that made life worth living is surely something he doesn't do often.

"It's... really good. I appreciate what you've done for me tonight, dear"

"Don't mention it. I like spending time with you and taking care of you"

He leaned in and left a soft kiss on their lips.

"I look forward for the next time then." He said as soon as his eyes met with yours.

Your cheeks turning red was the last thing you wanted him to see tonight.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always much appreciated. <333

[authorhjk1]

Can you make smut about SANA getting fucked by the CEO of Graff in exchange making her ambassador and giving her jeweleries.

Sana couldn't stop thinking about that one necklace she saw last week. Nothing she did was able to distract her from it. It was weird for her to obsess over something simple like this, but she couldn't help it.

It's unbelievable expensive, which means she could never buy it herself, despite being so successful. And the company wouldn't buy it for her either. Since she isn't the ambassador for Graff, there was no reason for the company to fulfill her wish.

And when she asked to be the ambassador, the company only told her that Graff already has a Korean ambassador. So what could Sana do to get this necklace? And maybe even more?

Ten days later, Sana attended an event, to which the CEO of Graff was going to. That was her chance. She didn't need to put in a lot of effort, apart from being herself. No one could resist her anyways.

And how did she now become the ambassador of Graff? At exactly midnight. When the CEO came all over her face. Sana gasped in disbelief. She didn't expect him to coat her in so much cum. She couldn't even try to swallow half of it.

And now, Sana is lying on her back, getting fucked on one of the counters inside the large kitchen. The chefs all went home already and most of the guests too.

But Sana really wanted that necklace. That's why she is here after all.

"So deep!"

Sana moans loudly as the CEO bottoms out inside of her. Her hair, which her stylist took hours to do, is now sprawled out on the cold surface, partially glazed with a couple of drops of cum.

His hands squeeze her thighs, while Sana holds onto the edge of the counter. She has to force her eyes open, otherwise she wouldn't be able to open them again, once she closes them. His cum would glue them shut.

Sana hisses in pain as he keeps tightening his grip. The thought of giving her body up to be able to wear that necklace made her feel shame at first. But now, she is actually getting off on it.

Sana likes the way he uses her. Like a fleshlight for his pleasure. And she has to take everything, if she wants to be ambassador and wear that one piece of jewelry.

His fingers start to dig into her flesh, almost painfully. The grunts and moans both of them are producing echo through the empty kitchen.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum in you."

Sana lets out a gasp.

Not that she can do anything about it, he made that clear earlier.

Sana feels his warmth fill her body as he finally unloads inside of her. His cum stains her walls, painting them white. He came almost as much as before, now filling her to the brim.

As he pulls out, his cum starts to dribble out of Sana's used pussy. A thought enters her mind. And before she can actually think about it, she parts her cum stained lips.

"What would I need to do for one pair of these earrings your model wore earlier today?"

-----

Sorry for the long wait. I will be catching up with your requests now, which means they should come out one after another over the next weeks. The order on my masterlist is not the release order.

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part one

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee

the song in this chapter is "Second Child, Restless Child" by The Oh Hellos !!

a/n: heyyyy part one here we are!! i was going to post requiem first BUT the second part of btk s2 came out today so i couldn't resist posting this first :) playlist will be up very soon too!! hope you guys enjoy!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

It was muggy outside when Billy tied up his horse, and even hotter inside the saloon when he entered through its creaky swinging doors.

It was his current life as a bit of a lone wolf that brought him to this town he stumbled across by mistake, in search of a place to camp the night or ideally- a warm bed, but unsure if that was in the cards for him tonight, he decided to grab a drink instead.

He could hear the music before he saw the band, considering the whole town had apparently turned up to hear them play. Or, it was a Saturday night and no one had much of a better idea of what to do. He wasn't sure, until over the loud chatter and obnoxious shouts of men at the bar he could make out the sweet, damn close to angelic tones of the lead singer.

She was beyond anything he had ever seen, when he finally got a look at the owner of that beautiful voice, his blue eyes lit up in the dim light of the saloon. He flicked up the brim of his hat to get a better view as he leans back against the wall, absolutely mesmerized by the rapid pace at which the young woman's fingers strum over the strings of her guitar with expert precision.

"They saw trouble in my eyes, they were quick to recognize the devil in me."

With every word she sang, the smile he had to resist threatened to make itself seen. He could see the trouble in her eyes, even as they scanned the room- crinkled from the grin on her cheeks. It took Billy a few moments to even register that she wasn't the only one up on that old wooden stage- she wasn't the only one playing.

It surprised him even more when he tore his eyes off her to actually take notice of her band, that it was comprised almost entirely of children. Other than her and one boy behind her with light hair and hauntingly dark eyes who was dedicated well enough to his bass, none of the others seemed to be over fifteen.

A boy and a girl, who seemed to be just about the same age side by side playing little hip drums, and a blonde girl on a fiddle who appeared to be just a few years younger than the beautiful young woman taking up front and centre.

The smell of cigar smoke hits Billy's nose and brings him back to focus on where he was. He's not the only one watching this performance, as much as he felt the tunnel vision pulling him in on the girl with the skirt that spun almost as prettily as she did while she danced to her own music.

Completely lost in the song and the noises of the bar, she does a spin holding firm onto the guitar slung over her shoulder. Her hair flares out around her the same way her skirt does, and she has to steady herself as she stops, facing the old and abused microphone again to continue with the next verse.

"Can you hear it hanging on the wind? Can you feel it underneath your skin?"

Her eyes lock with Billy's as she looks around, the wide smile on her face hardly faltering even as his heart quits for a moment. She gives the man with striking blue eyes a small nod, not missing a beat of the song she was singing.

She was absolutely breathtaking to him. His eyes were stuck on every movement she made, every note she sang, and every word she uttered. He had seen pretty women before, but there was something about this girl that was different.

He couldn't help but notice how well she carried herself; with such confidence, and there was also a certain charm to her little nod as her eyes met his. The song and dance of the band were captivating, but his eyes were glued to her.

He raised up one eyebrow and gave her a little smile as he tilted his head curiously. Her voice somehow gave him a sense of home he hadn't felt since his ma passed. A sweet comfort he hadn't had in years.

He was being crazy, he knew as much- so he shakes his head of the feeling and peels himself off the wall to head over to the bar.

When the song was done, your chest was rising and falling heavily as you smile out at the crowd, waving to a few people before moving to set your well-loved guitar down.

"That's all we've got for y'all tonight. Thank you for listenin' to us take up your space tonight, but I sure hope at least a couple of y'all enjoyed it." You say into the mic with a smile, letting out a slight laugh as the crowd does with you.

"My name is Y/N and this is the Covey, and on behalf of all of us, have a good night! But not so good you don't make it home safe." You wink, signalling the end of our set and giving a quick bow to the crowd before stepping back to pack up.

Despite the shouts from saloon-goers and the usual sounds of the space echoing through, it seems quieter now to Billy without her beautiful voice, and he watches until her guitar case is closed and she passes it off the stage to her older bandmate who was helping collect the instruments.

As a matter of fact, he was staring into his whiskey and debating on whether or not he should even bother trying to talk to her when he's blessed by hearing her pretty voice again.

"Excuse me, miss!"

She's calling out to the busy bartender, leaning over the wood surface and resting her arm across it in front of her.

Now or never, Billy supposed.

"You've got quite the voice," He comments, voice rich and dripping with his unique mish-mash of accents- never having quite committed to one from moving around so much in his youth. "I'd wager you could melt even the coldest of hearts."

She turns her head to look at him, giving up attracting the attention of the barkeep. Up close, her eyes pull him in deeper.

"I'm Billy." He continues, extending a hand to her. It was out of character for him immediately- to offer up his name to someone he'd just met without them asking, but something about her made him unafraid to do so. Or... it was the unfamiliar jitters of nerves lowering his inhibitions.

A smile tugs at your lips as you quickly look him over, recognizing him as the man who had been leaning against the back wall while you were performing. You give his hand a quick and polite shake before responding.

"Y/N." You introduce yourself with a smile, despite having just done so on stage. "Was your heart cold 'til tonight then, Billy? Is that what I'm hearin'?"

"It was pretty cold." He admits, laughing. "But it seems like I've stumbled across just the fire to warm it up."

He looks you over again subtly, taking in how you still seem almost a little breathless from the performance you had just finished. It's interrupted by you laughing, shoulders shrugging as you adjust your top a bit, rolling up your sleeves.

"That's a good one, I must say." You giggle, shaking your head.

"Thanks, came up with it myself." Billy chuckles, mindlessly tapping at his almost empty glass. He figured he should at least come by it honestly if you were going to pick up on him so quick. "Tell me something, though. You're not from here, are ya? What brought you in? This isn't exactly the centre of the entertainment industry."

You look around at his final statement, nodding a bit in agreement. "Well, we're musicians by trade- travel about as we see fit. We're not really... city folks." You answer, looking back over your shoulder toward your band as they pack up and the kids play around on the stage.

"I hear that." Billy agrees, following your gaze. "Cities are too cramped for me."

"A bit of fresh air is good for the soul." You hum as you watch little Harvey and Josie chase each other around and behind the wooden stage and Max tries to wrangle them up. Business as usual.

Billy smiles as his eyes drift from the kids back over to you, letting your statement settle in before he spoke again. "Could I buy you a drink?"

You turn back to him again and nod, your smile returning in full. "I was waitin' for you to ask." You grin, waving again for the bartender who this time sees you and begins to make her way over.

He's a little shocked by your confidence in eagerly accepting a drink, but it just makes him more intrigued as he tilts his head at you. "Alright, then, darlin', what's your poison?" He asks, sliding over his glass and nodding to the woman running the bar for a refill of his whiskey.

"Water with a shot of warm honey aside, if ya got it." You smile to the bartender instead of answering Billy directly. "Please and thank you."

You had always had men offering to buy you drinks after your little shows, this wasn't anything new, but you always found a little bit of fun in seeing their subtle reactions to you ordering your water. Sometimes disappointment, occasionally even anger- but this Billy was the first one to ever smile.

"Well ain't you a fancy one." He chuckles, a small smirk on his face as his glass slides back to him over the countertop and he takes it with a nod of thank you to the woman behind the bar. "You one of those religious temperance girls?" He asks, purely out of curiosity.

Your nose scrunches up in response to the thought alone and you shake your head. "Nah." You take the cup of water and the shot glass full of warm honey from the bartender and thank her again quietly. "Just a girl who's overindulged herself one too many times."

Billy takes a sip of his whiskey and nods, watching curiously as you take the honey shot and lick the sweet liquid off your lips delicately.

In theory, that sounded so messy- but you handled it with such grace it honestly could have blown his mind. You must do that often.

"A bit of restraint never hurt anyone." He agrees, watching you dip your finger into what honey clung to the inside of the tiny cup and lick it off your finger before taking your first sip of water to rinse it down. "Hell, sometimes I could use more myself."

You shrug and let out a small laugh at his little joke, looking over at him again and smile as the sounds of the bar are swallowed by the invisible bell jar that seems to have engulfed you both.

"You, uh..." Billy speaks again after a moment, shaking his head a bit to clear his mind. "That song, you write it?"

"That I did." You smile proudly, nodding.

"Ah," He nods, spinning the glass on the counter in front of him. "So, I should ask, do you really have the devil in you?"

The reference to your lyrics makes you smile more and you shrug, taking another sip of your water. "I'd sure hope so." You tease. "I sold my soul to him in an even exchange for our music."

"So your voice is the devil's work, hey?" He laughed, sipping at his glass of whiskey once again.

He took a moment to study you, the way you wiped the inside of the shot glass clean with one delicate finger and licked it free of the stickiness. It drove him crazy just to look at you.

He leaned in a little closer as he continued. "Or are you saying that the whole you is the devil's work? Because I'd agree that you're certainly a little bit of trouble. As the song said, of course."

"That's certainly what I've heard." You giggle, shrugging softly as you put the empty shot glass down. "But I promise you I get into no trouble. We keep to ourselves, The Covey and me."

He smiled at you, the hint of mischief that danced in your eyes, that smile on your face sending chills up his spine.

"Well," He says, leaning in close to you, "You know what they say. The best things in life are dangerous. At least, I'm sure I've heard that somewhere." He chuckles a bit and it comes across with a hint of nervousness as he leans back away from you, not wanting to come across as too forward.

"Says the man with a gun on his hip and two in his coat." You say with a small smirk, nodding toward the inside of his jacket where he had hidden weapons.

He chuckled, admiring your perceptiveness.

There was an understanding about you, one that he was coming to enjoy. It was a quality that was hard to put his finger on.

All he knew was what he had at first glance; a gut instinct about you that screamed, "this will be worth it."

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes glued to your own. "You notice everything."

"Trick of the trade." You shrug, bringing your glass up to your lips again and not looking away from him either.

"What trade?" He asks with a slightly confused laugh. "Does singin' come along with a lot of gunfights or..?"

For the first time while interacting with men at these saloons all across the country, you laughed at one of their jokes. For the first time, it was genuine.

It even catches the ears of your band, who give each other confused but knowing looks as Billy's eyes light up with your laughter, knowing he prompted it to fall from your beautiful lips.

"I didn't take you for a funny one, Billy." You admit after a moment, still giggling as your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"You've got a cute laugh," He said honestly, almost without realizing he'd said it out loud.

He sees your band mates in the corner of his eyes, watching the interaction unfolding before them, and smiled just a little more. He wanted the whole damn saloon to see that he was winning you over right in front of their eyes.

"I could have the worst laugh in the world and you'd still compliment it. You can't trust a man who's tryin' to charm your skirts off." You say, laugh devolving into giggles as you tip your glass toward him.

"Oh, and here I thought my intentions were genuine, and not just to get in your skirts," He said, laughing again. "Is that what you think I am, some kind of creepy bastard with ill intentions?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised that when it's falling from his lips- you actually believe the denial.

"Men often lose themselves in pursuit of provisional pleasures." You comment, tilting your head at him. "It makes it hard to tell when once in a blue moon there's one who means what they say."

He was intrigued. Not necessarily by the comment itself, but more by the intelligence behind those pretty eyes of yours.

He was usually able to play these kinds of games easily, but you seemed to see right through them at every turn.

"Fair play." He says, giving you a nod of acknowledgement, "How do I know I'm the first man you've told that exact little poem to?"

"You just have to trust me." You say with a small smile. "If it helps, I wrote every word in those songs you heard earlier. I only speak when I have somethin' to say, and singin' is much of the same. You don't gotta believe me, but I'll tell you now it's not your wisest move to imply you don't think I'm smart enough to own the words I speak."

He couldn't deny that he had a weak spot for pretty, assertive women. But you were sweet, too, covered in it like the honey you just shot back a few minutes ago.

Those words, that tone, spoke volumes to him.

His lips curled up in a grin, and the tone of his voice took on a slightly more flirtatious edge. "I guess I should just count my lucky stars then. You don't happen to write songs about sweet talking men you meet in nowhere towns, do you?"

"Only about how they're venomous without the correct antidote on hand." You say, leaning against the counter and shifting your weight onto one hip.

He chuckles, his eyes glued on yours, not looking away.

God, he was in trouble.

The alcohol was making him cocky, but he couldn't help the way you made him feel. "And what if I came to you, hat in hand, asking for a cure? Begging you for a cure, because I'd been bitten by this sweet speaking cowgirl who's left me weak at the knees?"

"I'd tell you the nearest damn thing to anti-venom is just to run." You advise him, taking another drink before putting the glass down and sliding it across the bar. "And you'll find the real thing in the next dead end town you call a home, and then the cycle begins again."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Damn it, she had him. He couldn't even argue with that one.

He wanted to kiss her so bad right now, respectfully, of course, but he knew he should wait for some kind of signal from her. So instead he played it cool, grinning back at her.

"Okay, okay. What if," He said, watching with a smile as you raised an eyebrow at him over the edge of your glass, waiting for him to continue while you polished off your water. "And I'm just saying hypothetical here, theoretically, if he promised to stay in that next dinky ass town for a month just to see the woman he fell for again?"

"Then that would make you a fool." You answer. "Theoretically, of course." You add with a wink, standing up straight again.

You wanted to stay, to talk until last call and learn all his secrets- but you knew better than to fall for it all.

"Well, it sure was nice to meet you, Billy."

His heart drops at the words and he sighs, his expression softening as he saw you standing up from the bar.

He should keep it casual, he reminded himself. Be nice. Don't mess this up.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, darlin'." He stood up again slowly, his eyes lingering on yours for a few seconds, before he spoke again. "I hope we run into each other again, if only for a moment. Take care of yourself, Miss..."

"I don't doubt we will." You smile, giving him a small punctuating bow as your bandmates wave you back over.

You glance back at him over your shoulder as you walk away, giving him one of your winning smiles before picking up your guitar case and following your friends out the back door.

Billy stood there in the saloon for a few moments, watching you go with a wistful, almost regretful look on his face.

There was something about you that made him want to do stupid things.

"Run after her," his other half shouted. "I don't care if you look like a damn fool."

But he just stood there, like a damn fool, until he finally shook his head and muttered to himself. "Damn it."

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[idkwhatimd0ingatall]

Will Story Event Translation (forgot the name)

// - is an alternate translation T/N: ignore my changing translation style, trying different things out to see what works. Also these translations aren’t accurate so the official translation will most likely be different T/N: Gave up on trying to fix the images

"I want you to kiss me."

The moment I entered the room and pleaded with Will, he gave me exactly what I desired.

After sitting on the bed together, Will traced my palate with his gentle tongue, and my body trembled with joy.

However,

William: ...

Suddenly, Will stopped kissing, and my body, left hanging, throbbed with a sense of longing.

Kate: Will?

William: For someone who pleaded for a kiss with such intensity, you seem distracted, Kate.

Kate: N-no, it's just...

William: Can't focus on kissing me, got some other 'business' on your mind?

Kate: No, it's not that! There's no other business... but...

I hesitated to tell him about the unfortunate incident.

(...Oh, but sooner or later, Will will find out.)

(Given Will's nature, he might already know... maybe he's deliberately asking to hear it from my mouth.)

Above all, because I want to face Will with a free and unburdened heart, I decided to confess today's events.

Kate: Actually...

William: ...'Kissed by a stranger'?

Kate: Yes, on my way back from today's mission, I was confronted... unable to escape it, just once.

The man I encountered on the roadside seemed drunk, persistently bothering me.

No matter how clearly I rejected him, he forcibly took my hand and brought his lips close.

Kate: Harrison and Liam, who came later, managed to drive him away, so there were no further consequences.

Kate: But... I can't forgive myself for allowing anyone other than Will to touch me.

I washed my hands repeatedly when I got home, to the point where my skin felt irritated.

Yet, the disgust from being touched couldn't be completely washed away, tormenting me.

Kate: ...I want to dedicate my life to Will as his servant.

Kate: My body and heart exist for Will alone, and I don't want to surrender them to anyone else. But... I allowed a kiss, and I regret it.

Feeling frustrated with myself, my fingertips trembled as I tightly clenched my fist on my knee.

William: Did you plead for a kiss to forget?

Kate: Yes... I'm sorry. I made you deal with my own issues.

William: No need to apologize. The one at fault is the man who forced himself on you, isn't it?

Will took my hand firmly and laid a kiss on the palm.

(...I heard somewhere that a kiss on the palm is a plea.)

Not something taken by force, but a kiss filled with respect, like showing that I have value worth pleading for. It warmed my heart.

(Even without using the cursed ability, Will's words have a mysterious power.)

(The inability to resist, the discomfort from being touched, all slowly melted away...)

The man who forcibly approached me is the only one at fault, and I finally forgave myself.

Kate: ...Thank you, Will.

William: Just stating the obvious. Now, there's nothing to cloud your mind, right?

Kate: ...Can I ask for a little selfishness?

Kate: I want you to kiss me. Many times, enough to make today's events fade away.

In truth, my heart is already healed with the words Will gave me.

I won't even notice if that man passes by me in the city; Will must understand my inner thoughts.

(So this is just... an invitation, a line used just to kiss my lover.)

William: If you wish, as much as you want.

With a seductive smile, Will embraced me from behind.

Kate: Will...?

In this position, isn’t it difficult for our lips to meet?

I tried to turn around, calling his name in confusion, but

William: Stay like this.

I was restrained, and a kiss was dropped behind my ear.

Will's tongue crawled along the curve, making a wet sound.

Kate: ...Ah, n-no.

William: Kate... don't suppress your voice.

William: After hearing it so many times, there's nothing embarrassing about it now, is there?

Kate: But... to feel so much from just the ear... isn't it strange?

Just being embraced from behind and kissed on the ear, warmth accumulated inside my body.

William: It's not strange. Kate, it's cute how you react so honestly to your feelings.

Will lightly nibbled on my ear, and his tongue slid into my ear canal.

William: Mmm... haah...

Kate: Mm... ah... haah...

Trying to endure the sweet throbbing, I hugged the cushion tightly against my knees.

William: ...Should have changed the position.

Kate: Eh...?

William: If our bodies were facing the other way, you would have clung to me, right?

Kate: Hehe... it's like you're jealous of the cushion.

William: I can get jealous. I can't catch you as softly as a cushion.

// I get jealous too. Softly catching you like a feather is something my body can't do.

As Will joked, I couldn't help but laugh.

(Normally, if someone is jealous, it would be of a person, not a cushion, right?)

(I can't imagine Will being jealous, but that's okay.)

Will's jealousy will probably remain forever unexplored, and that's fine.

As long as we understand that we love each other more than anyone else, there's no need for jealousy.

Releasing the cushion that became the target of jealousy, I faced Will directly.

William: Do you know this saying?

William: A kiss on the hand is a kiss of respect. On the forehead, a kiss of friendship. On the cheek, a kiss of satisfaction.

William: On the lips, a kiss of love. On closed eyes, a kiss of admiration/yearning. On the palm, a kiss of pleading.

William: On the arm and neck, a kiss of desire... any other kiss is considered 'madness,' according to the whims of the poet.

Kate: I heard this in a play once. It was titled 'Kiss,' wasn't it?

Will nodded and pulled me close again.

William: When I remembered this poem, I thought of choosing one and giving it to you, Kate... but I decided against it.

William: Narrowing down my feelings for you to just one is more challenging than any mission.

Kate: ...In that case, give me all of them.

William: Of course. That's the plan.

William: Whether you're ready to accept all those emotions... there's no need to ask.

As if engraving all the emotions into me, Will continued to kiss me following the poem.

Liam: Mission complete! ...Although, we probably didn't need to come. Will pretty much took care of everything.

Harrison: The illegal organization has been completely wiped out. Whether the headcount matches or not, let's count the bodies.

Liam: Okay! 1, 2, 3, 4... 4?

Liam: ...Huh? Hey, Harry, doesn't this guy look familiar from somewhere?

Harrison: Even if you say he looks familiar... His face is all messed up, isn't it impossible to identify him?

Liam: Hmm... this build, the shape of the head, that plain-patterned shirt... I feel like I've seen him somewhere, though...

Liam: ...Ah, got it! This is the guy who was pestering Kate not too long ago!

Liam: You know, grabbed her hand forcibly, made a loud smooching sound, kissed her forcefully!

Harrison: Oh yeah, I remember now. That guy...

Liam: Will, you didn't say anything when you saw the target's information. But did you know about him?

Harrison: Knowing Will, he probably planned this method of killing, right?

The man had used a knife to cut off his own lips, leaving a gruesome sight.

Liam: Kate, you're loved.

Harrison: To speak of love in this situation... not the best sight, I think...

FIN~

[lalune9x]

SCTIR Translation - Chapter 474: The Owner of the Letter (1)

I swallowed back the words, 'I'm sorry for being late. Did you wait long?' The hall was just as dark as it had been before I entered the drawer. But something about the atmosphere was strangely different.

Chapter translation under the cut.

—-

Chapter 474: The Owner of the Letter (1)

I was in exactly the same spot where I had used the drawer. That is, a spot slightly suspended in the air. It wasn't too high, and since I had prepared, I landed lightly. At the same time, I remembered to turn off my Curse Resistance.

My socks, still soaking wet, were now covered in flower petals. White, pink, yellow, light purple, and various other colors—they were scattered all over.

Not whole flowers, just petals.

I swallowed back the words, 'I'm sorry for being late. Did you wait long?' The hall was just as dark as it had been before I entered the drawer. But something about the atmosphere was strangely different. I blinked slowly.

Sung Hyunje was sitting in a chair, leaning back against it. Flower petals were scattered all over his body, and beneath his long, stretched-out legs lay piles of stark green stems stripped bare of all their petals.

It looked like a graveyard of bones. That thought suddenly crossed my mind. The soft, vibrant petals were dispersed in all directions, with only the long stems in piles overlapping here and there. He must have gathered all the flowers that had been decorating the room, as there were more than enough to bury the chair's legs.

"You… must have been very bored."

If he had burned the flowers or smashed the table, that would have been less surprising to me. Even if the entire hotel had been blown away, revealing the blue sky, I might have just rubbed my forehead. Someone suddenly disappearing without a word was more than enough reason to get angry. Maybe even to break some of the surroundings in frustration. But this… this felt like a calm, quiet madness.

I swallowed dryly.

After a brief silence, Sung Hyunje spoke.

"1 hour, 29 minutes, and 51 seconds have passed since Han Yoojin-gun disappeared. And now, precisely an hour and a half."[1]

Click. The cover of the pocket watch in Sung Hyunje's hand snapped shut. He was sitting slightly outside the hall's illuminated area, so I couldn't see his expression clearly. His face was cast in deep shadows.

"Out of sheer boredom, I decided to try flower divination. Fortunately, there were plenty of flowers."

He must have sat there, picking the petals one by one. The chains must have quietly wrapped around the piles of flowers and stacked them at his feet. It would have been better if he'd just destroyed everything. Without fear resistance, I’d probably have goosebumps by now.

"I didn't mean to be late, but an hour and a half isn't that long, is it? And we were playing tag, so you must have guessed that I was hiding on purpose."

I didn't think he would have been worried. When I first disappeared, he must have been surprised, but also found it amusing. But as time dragged on, he must have gotten a bit annoyed.

"Of course."

Sung Hyunje crossed one leg over the other and continued.

"I figured you had gained something new that I wasn't aware of. But the human mind… this brain." He lightly touched his temple with his fingertips. "It likes to imagine things. What if, perhaps, maybe, surely not… and so on. I was once human, after all, so it wasn't an entirely pleasant time."

"I… apologize for that."

"I believe I've told you before—I'm neither accustomed to nor fond of having anything taken from me."[2]

"But it's not even yours."

"Not just objects, but people and relationships can be taken as well. Didn't you once mistakenly think you'd lost your position as your little brother's guardian?"

"…I did lose it. That wasn't a misunderstanding."

"Well. From my perspective, you never lost it once." His pale-colored eyes remained the same, but the corners of his mouth lifted faintly. "And waiting, as it turns out, really doesn't suit my temperament."

Waiting, knowing nothing, unable to do anything—that was what he really didn't like. Although Sung Hyunje's voice was relatively light, I had the sense that he was more displeased than he'd ever been before.

"I've spent years like that. But no matter how much time passes, I've never gotten used to it. It's always infuriating."

Thinking about it that way made me feel even more guilty. I had just assumed that he hated waiting a long time. In any case, since we were supposed to be partners now, it wouldn't do to just suddenly go missing… Though, he had also hidden things from me.

Anyway, I had won, right? But the atmosphere didn't seem right to demand the letter right away.

"Um, I drank a bit, and finished off all of Hyuna-ssi's wine but… would you like a cigarette, at least?"

This was a non-smoking hotel, but still. Sung Hyunje tilted his head slightly and beckoned me with a finger. The gesture was disgustingly arrogant, but just this once, I should bow my head. I took out the cigarette case from my inventory and approached him.

"You're wet," he noted.

"I fell into some water."

"Oh my, and in this chilly weather."

"It was pretty warm there."

I opened the case and pulled out one cigarette, then took out another.

"It's not good for—"

"Secondhand smoke is worse, you know," I cut him off and put the cigarette in his mouth to stop him from nagging.

I couldn't touch these things in front of the kids anyway, and I rarely went anywhere alone these days. Especially recently, with Gyeol trying to stick to me all the time.

Of course, I had no lighter. I was looking around wondering how to light it, when Sung Hyunje picked up a flower that hadn't been torn apart yet. 

Around the full, pale pink bloom—

Crackle.

Electricity sparked. The skillfully ignited flame enveloped the flower. Usually, something so moist wouldn't catch fire so easily.

With the flower in the middle, both cigarettes were lit. This would be the last time; truly the last.

"I received it from the King of the Mist Sea. There's a limit on the number of uses."

I spoke as I watched the smoke curl and dissipate into the air.

Sung Hyunje seemed as if he was only half-listening. The way he held the cigarette between his fingers looked like something the kids should never see. If they tried to imitate him, I'd have to cut them off. Even adults might be tempted to smoke more just watching him. He looked like a high-budget commercial ad.

In the meantime, ash fell from Sung Hyunje's other hand as the fire that had burned down to the end of the flower stem quietly fizzled out. He still didn't seem to be in a good mood.

"…Do you want to go to the aquarium? I'll buy you ice cream, too," I offered.

I wondered why I was trying to comfort him, but it was true that I had been quite late.

"What should I do with Han Yoojin-gun?" Sung Hyunje murmured as if talking to himself.

What do you mean, what should you do?

"Just leave me be. I'll take care of myself. Not everyone will turn out the way you want, you know. Take Director Song, for example."

"I recall a certain someone desperately trying to give him a baby lamb as a gift."

"…No, that was… that was just because I wanted to be of some help. Besides, well, you know about Director Song. What happened before the regression."

I wasn't trying to change someone completely. I just wanted him to take better care of himself. But even if that wasn't possible, I wanted him at least to survive.

"It's not easy to mold someone as you want while respecting them," Sung Hyunje commented.

"Look, the 'respect' part completely disappears if you're doing it 'as you want.' First of all, abandon the idea that you'll lead."

Even among natural born S-ranks, considering he’d lived for so long as a Transcendent-level being—though he’d lost those memories—it was only natural, I supposed. There was no way most people would feel like equals to him. Honestly, him calling me his 'partner' was probably not acknowledgement, but more something he was 'allowing'.

'It would be difficult for someone who's lived like that for hundreds of years to suddenly change.'

It hadn't even been six months, after all.

"Turning a blind eye to danger just to show respect is putting the cart before the horse," he said.

"Well, that's true, but…"

"What if a non-Awakened Park Yerim said she wanted to enter a dungeon?"

"Obviously, I'd stop her," I replied.

And I had also tried to stop an S-rank Yoohyun from entering dungeons. It wasn't that I didn't respect them, but… molding them 'as I want'… Then again, stopping them was an attempt to impose my will on them… It was complicated.

If they were complete strangers, it would be different, but with people around me, especially people I liked, wasn't it nearly impossible to just leave them alone? Even if it was for their sake… hmm. It was still my desire at the end of the day.

After taking a single drag and letting the smoke drift out, Sung Hyunje simply held the cigarette in his hand.

Meanwhile, my cigarette had already burned down quite a bit. As I glanced around, wondering what to do with it, Sung Hyunje held out his palm.

"…Come on."

Surely he wasn't asking me to put out my cigarette there. He was S-rank, so a lit cigarette would be nothing to him, but still I grimaced at the thought and stared at him.

Sung Hyunje reached out and pinched the end of my cigarette to snuff it out. Ash stuck to his pale fingertips. Then, he crushed his own cigarette with his hand. When he opened his fist, there was nothing left but a faint trace of ash.

Right. I could've just put it in my inventory. I followed suit and stored the cigarette butt.

"Let's say it wasn't pleasant, but it was a productive time," Sung Hyunje said lightly.

Productive? What had he been thinking about? He stood up, and the skeletal flower stems lightly brushed against his feet.

"Oh, the flower divination. What was it for?"

I was curious and concerned about what conclusions he had come to during that hour and a half.

Looking down at me, Sung Hyunje's eyes crinkled. "The young lady called."

"What? Yerim called?"

"She said she couldn't reach you and asked if I had broken your phone again. Then she asked me to tell you there's a famous dessert sold at this hotel and that she wanted to have some before leaving. And then…"

And then?

Sung Hyunje's eyes crinkled further as his smile deepened. "I told her Han Yoojin-gun wasn't here."

"T-that's—! You can't do that! So then, what did Yerim say?"

"She asked what I meant, so I told her again, you weren't here. Then she shouted for Han Yoohyun."

Ack, she told Yoohyun? Wait a minute—so the kids now…! 

Sung Hyunje shamelessly continued. "When he asked where his hyung was, I honestly told him I didn't know either, and that Han Yoojin-gun had left this place about twenty minutes prior."

Twenty minutes prior? That was over an hour ago. Of course they'd be in a panic. Sung Hyunje!

"You were unnecessarily honest!"

"I only told the truth."

I quickly took out my phone. It had gotten wet but fortunately was still functioning. Thank god for waterproofing.

"Do you really want to be grabbed by the collar that badly?" I demanded.

"It seems they immediately left to look for you, so they didn't come here."

"Of course, because Chloe—Yoohyun!"

[Hyung!]

Yoohyun picked up almost immediately. There was a slight tremble in his voice.

[Where are you? Are you okay?]

"I'm fine. I'm at the hotel."

[…What?]

"It's true that I disappeared for a bit, but no one kidnapped me or anything. I was in a place kind of like Myungwoo's smithy—the drawer from the King of the Mist Sea."

I could hear him gritting his teeth on the other end, so I quickly added that Sung Hyunje hadn't known either. We didn't need the hotel to go up in flames.

[I thought you were taken while returning to the room alone…]

"You must've been really worried. But there are so many hunters around that it's hard to imagine I'd get kidnapped. Besides, if Sung Hyunje hadn't escorted me back, I would've called you."

There was no way I would've wandered around by myself without Gyeol.

"What's the situation now? You didn't announce to everyone I was kidnapped, right?"

[Of course not. We contacted the Awakened Management Office and the Association to check the airports and track Chloe Alger's movements. Only Director Song Taewon and a handful of people at the Association know.]

"Good job. Come back for now, but just ask Director Song to meet us at the hotel. Leave the Association out of it."

Even if they tried to handle it quietly, the fact that the airports had been checked meant it was unlikely the information hadn't leaked. Since things had already escalated to this point, we might as well make the best of it.

[You're not alone, are you?]

"Nope. The Sesung Guildmaster is right here in front of me."

"Don't worry, young master. I'll take good care of your hyung. You can come at your leisure."

[…I'll leave him to you for now. Hyung, stay put.]

The call ended. I quickly called Yerim next.

[Ajussiii!]

[Daaad!]

Gyeol was on the verge of tears, and Yerim was half-scolding, half-grumbling that they'd been worried sick. Poor kids. It really wasn't a big deal. But wait… Oh no, this meant…

[…Yoojin, you.]

Sure enough, Myungwoo sounded angry. His voice was heavy and intimidating.

[How on earth could you—!]

"No, really, this time nothing happened!"

[We were so worried, Yoojin-ssi. Myungwoo-hyung, please calm down.]

So the two of them were together. Well, even though this time wasn't my fault, I felt guilty since I'd worried them so many times before. I humbly apologized.

Finally, I called Director Song, who sighed heavily as soon as he answered.

"It was really a misunderstanding. I swear."

[At least you're safe. Is Hunter Sung Hyunje beside you?]

"I feel a little sorry for Director Song Taewon," Sung Hyunje said, his tone and expression showing not the slightest bit of remorse.

[Please refrain from making false reports.]

"False? I only spoke the truth. There was merely a slight misunderstanding in the process of the message being relayed."

It was annoying because technically, he wasn't wrong. But thanks to his mischief, Sung Hyunje's mood seemed to have improved a bit.

After finishing my last call, I looked up at him.

"Anyway, I won."

"I concede."

Nodding slightly, Sung Hyunje took out the letter and placed it in my hand. I hoped it wasn't just some trivial content after all this.

---

Footnotes:

[1] It says 1 hr 27 min 51 sec in the e-book but I think it is an error.

[2] The lack of a word in English that captures both "things" and "people" again makes it awkward to translate this without specifying one or the other. In Korean, Sung Hyunje doesn't specify what he doesn't like losing, which is why he then clarifies that it's not just objects but people that can be taken away.

[the-fluff-piece]

Hi, I know you just filled in a request of mine, but I couldn't stop thinking abt this one scene from a book. Basically, it's where fem!reader sits on Ace's, Law, and Monsert Trio's lap while theh feed the fem!reader strawberries dipped in chocolate with whipped cream on top. (Pls. include ace, i'm a major simp for him)

The scene requested is meant like a mindfulness-exercise, so it's a lot about the sensory experience. So this will be 5 Scenes where I try not to be too repetitive about the strawberry and try to bring out what makes each of them unique and lovable. We are directly entering the scene, so don't ask me where the food comes from xD

Also look ar my stories and headcanon master lists

Since it took me AGES here's the first two scenes with extra Ace and I'll post monster three when finished

Here is

An exercise in mindfulness

Part 2 coming soon!

You're having a panic attack, a breakdown, you're hyperventilating and don't know what to do anymore. Good thing your one piece suitor knows how to deal with it

Law

As a doctor, he immediately saw what was going on. The cold sweat on your forehead, the quick breathing, the fear in your eyes. It pained him to see you like that, so his first instinct was to draw you close.

"I'm here baby" He breathed into your hair as his arms wrapped tightly around you. Being held felt good.

He gently lifted your shaking body to sit you down on his lap as he settled on his bed.

"I got you. Concentrate on breathing. That's it, slowly" He guided you to calm down a bit.

He sat with you for a while, just breathing, before reaching over to get something from the nightstand.

"Close your eyes, open your mouth" he ordered in a soft voice and you complied.

"Taste it" something cool and wet touched your tongue. It was sweet and creamy in your mouth.

"Open up and bite down" he said, and you closed your mouth around it and bit down. A stream of sweet and fruity juice filled your mouth, made sweeter by the cream and there were also chunks of something...

"Let it sit in your mouth, taste it" Law said in his soft, deep voice. It was always easy for you to listen to him. His voice was deep and dark, it sounded soft and rich, especially that close to your ear. It was like the chocolate you began to taste as it melted in your mouth and balanced the sourness of the strawberry and the sweet cream with its heavy chocolate flavour.

You swallowed.

"Can you tell me what it is?" you could feel his breath tickle your ear.

"A strawberry? With dark chocolate and cream" you said and felt a soft kiss to your forehead as focus returned to your world. You realised that he was holding your hand in his, fingers threaded, and that he was rocking you back and forth.

You opened your eyes and saw the rest of the strawberry in his long fingers. He dipped it deep in cream once again, getting some on his fingers as well.

When he offered it to you, you took the strawberry in your mouth but couldn't resist to get the cream from his fingers as well. As you kissed it from his fingers, there was a light shiver in his body.

Ace

As your commander, he was responsible for you and your wellbeing. Always there, always an open ear and an easy smile. So when fear clasped its hand around your throat, you ran to him, heaving and babbling nonsense.

"Woah, slow down" He put his hands on your shoulders and made you look at him.

"Did something happen?" He asked, suddenly very serious.

You told him what led to your panic attack. "It's just in my head, I'm so sorry" you gasped for air because you hadn't been breathing right.

Suddenly, Ace put something on your head. In the midst of your attack, you were confused.

"This is now your safety hat" he explained. As you watched his black, messy hair in the wind you realised- your wearing his signature hat now.

"Come here, I know what will calm you down. A little comfort food." He reached for a small Basket and sat cross legged on the floor. You sank to your knees and stayed there, unable to move.

"If you stay like that your knees will hurt" He tugged on your arms to draw you into his lap.

"You know what calmed my baby brother down everytime? Food." He smiled a broad, reassuring smile and gave you a strawberry. You swallowed it almost without chewing.

"Hey! Not so fast, concentrate a bit ok? It'll calm you down" He reached for another.

"Now slowly, one bite. Keep it in your mouth. Notice all those small seeds in its surface? And the texture inside?" His voice was calm, soothing, "very good. Now you can chew and swallow."

You gulped it down, your throat still narrow, but your heart was beating a little calmer.

"You're in luck I planned for some sweet dessert. I've prepared everything! Here's another" this time, he dipped it in cream.

"I like the cream, it somehow makes it more fruity!" He said as he took one himself.

"Not so fast" He reminded you and you concentrated really hard on being slow and patient.

"Good stuff, right?" Another strawberry vanished in his mouth.

"Want another?" He asked.

You nodded and opened your mouth for one more. It was so generously dipped in cream that a drop landed on your chin.

"My bad" Ace said and wiped the cream with his finger and licking it off. He watched you eat and gave you another, with an even bigger crown of cream.

As he moved it to your mouth, a big drop fell, right on your collarbone. You definitely were in the moment now, the cool drop was like a needle on your skin.

"Oopsie" He whispered with a broad smile and trailed his fingers down your collarbone, "I'm so sorry..."

"You don't sound sorry" you chuckled.

"There's that smile again" and gave you a soft kiss.

"You were very brave" He whispered into your ear.

----

I hope the first part was to your liking! If you want something tweaked for the last three let me know ❤️

[msbrownwithacrown]

"I once told you I would fight against tyranny, against that sort of evil. Did you think you were enough to turn me from that?"

-Tamlin

It's interesting to read this line as if it were directed towards Rhys and Feyre's daemarti powers.

At first glance, it reads as: you think my love for you and resentment over what you did to me would turn me into a Traitor?

Now interestingly, as he continues to point out valid points of Rhysand's questionable history, several in the room turn the accusations onto Tamlin.

I wonder if the remark was stated while Tamlin was overpowering Rhys's attempt to mind control him? Whereas, so many in the room weren't as lucky in that moment.

What if from Tamlin's POV, he can feel Rhys &/or Feyre attempting to enter his mind. And that comment: "You think you were enough?" Was basically him saying: "oh you thought you could mind control me right now and say what you want me to say...yeah no."

(You think you can play me like the fiddle 😜) Sorry, I couldn't resist.

Also, note that Tam is eventually rendered silent in this scene, be it during a lewd comment. But, what if an entire struggle was happening during that moment silently between Rhys and Tamlin? And that's why he began snarling at Nesta, making a comment about spoiled goods. Ooc behavior and not how he was talking at the beginning of his monologuing. Perhaps it wasn't Rhys who had taken away Tamlins' ability to speak...but in the internal battle of wills as Tamlin saw he was being forced into say ooc comments and he won the power struggle by abruptly stopping the words he was being forced to say. While Rhys continued to try and make him speak, hence the gaping fish remark. Rhys doesn't even smile at this as a victory. Because perhaps it wasn't.

[mimisempai]

Sheltered

Summary

As the rain begins to fall, Aziraphale worries about Crowley, now that he knows the memories the rain awakens in the demon. But he's about to discover that some good memories are so powerful they can really erase others. 

Notes

Protecting someone isn't always something you do consciously...

Day 9 : Rain

On Ao3

Rating G -  1056 words

Aziraphale was chatting with Maggie about his latest acquisition when, as she mentioned a Shostakovich record collection that had just arrived at the store, the angel's attention was drawn to the rain that had suddenly begun to fall outside. 

It wasn't the fact that he didn't have an umbrella that concerned him, but the recent discovery of Crowley's trauma in relation to the rain. 

They had just returned from the Ritz and had been caught in a downpour. Crowley had then revealed to Aziraphale that the rain reminded him of the day the bookshop burned down, and though Aziraphale had tried to replace that bad memory with a happier one by leading the demon in a dance in the rain, it didn't stop him from worrying now that he knew.

He snapped out of his thoughts, turned back to her and said gently, "Maggie, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I really need to get back to the bookshop. I just remembered something urgent."

But Maggie protested, "Oh, Aziraphale, you can't just leave, you don't have an umbrella and it's not even a light drizzle. By the time you get home you'll be soaked."

Aziraphale, increasingly worried, shook his head, "It doesn't matter, rain never killed anyone."

But Maggie insisted and stopped him, "No, really, Aziraphale, I can't let you go lik-."

Maggie had stopped and was looking behind Aziraphale, smiling. The angel turned to see Crowley outside the window, holding an umbrella.

Maggie said quietly, "Looks like the problem's been solved."

Aziraphale nodded, walked to the door, and left the store. 

"Crowley, my dear, what are you doing here?"

He hooked onto the arm of the demon holding the umbrella above them and they began to walk toward the shop as the demon replied, "When it started raining so heavily, I figured you didn't have an umbrella and wouldn't have much of a chance of getting in by shielding yourself from the rain with a little miracle since it's the middle of the day and there are a lot of people around despite the rain."

Aziraphale moved a little closer to Crowley and said quietly, "Thank you, that's very thoughtful of you."

Crowley made no comment and Aziraphale watched him stealthily until they reached the bookshop, looking for the slightest sign of discomfort on the demon's face.

Once they entered the shop, Aziraphale couldn't resist taking Crowley's hands and asking him gently, "Are you all right?"

Crowley looked at him confused and replied, "Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

Aziraphale replied a little hesitantly, "Well, you know, what you told me the other day about the rain. I realize that a memory of dancing in the rain can't completely erase something so traumatic, so I was worried."

"Oh, that?" Crowley replied before smiling softly and continuing, "Well, Angel, I discovered something today. You're right, the memory of the dance, while pleasant and happy, can't completely erase what the rain triggers in me about the bookshop fire. Feeling that discomfort return when I went out to look for you, I tried to invoke that beautiful memory, but another one came back to me. Just as beautiful, but much deeper, and it enabled me to come and join you without feeling the usual discomfort caused by the rain."

Aziraphale asked in surprise, "Oh, really? And may I ask which one? If you don't mind telling me, of course."

The demon's smile softened even more, if that was possible, then he replied gently, "The one from the first rain, when you protected me with your wing. That memory was so strong that I forgot about the rain and didn't even think about the fire. But you know what, Angel? The best part is, whatever memory helps me get through this moment, you're in it.”

Aziraphale, moved, didn't know what to say when the demon continued, "You know, you keep saying that I was always there to save or protect you, but you, Angel, you gave me hope that day. I was still the demon, the fallen angel, but at that moment on the wall there was someone, you, who even though we were on opposite sides, protected me with his wing while he himself was unprotected. Sheltering me was more important to you than sheltering yourself. You saved me every time we saw each other, you weren't always kind, you often reminded me of my nature. But in spite of that nature, you talked to me, you trusted me completely, you became my friend, saving me again and again. And now you even love me. So, of course, only a memory of you can help me erase a painful one."

He raised the angel's hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to the palm.

Aziraphale replied, his voice slightly tight with emotion, "I know it took me a long time to see that you and I weren't defined by a nature imposed on us, but by what we were inside. But that nature never stopped me from caring for you."

He rose on tiptoe to give Crowley a gentle kiss, then said softly, "I think this weather calls for some cuddling on the sofa accompanied by a nice cup of hot tea, what do you say?"

Crowley laughed softly and replied, "I say bad memories will have a hard time coming back."

Aziraphale gently pushed him toward the sofa and said, "Go sit down and I'll get the tea."

The angel went, humming to himself as the demon watched him fondly. However, he didn't go and sit down on the sofa right away.

Instead, he stood behind Aziraphale's desk and watched the rain pour down outside.

A little later, he was still there and didn't turn around when he heard the angel return.

Aziraphale placed the two steaming mugs on a small table and came to hug Crowley from behind, resting his cheek against his back.

The demon gently placed his hands on the angel's and said softly, "There, like that, you holding me in your arms while it is raining outside, it's like I'm under your wing again."

He turned in the angel's arms and, cupping his face between his hands, kissed him tenderly.

The kiss lingered as the rain fell heavier and heavier outside, but neither angel nor demon noticed.

For they were sheltered in each other's arms.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[thotsforvillainrights]

Hello! I saw that your request box was open, since it’s Christmas could you possibly write a NSFW scenario about Overhaul x numb reader. (The reader has no expression on her face and doesn’t really show emotion) for an Example: out of nowhere she walks into Overhaul’s office in just Christmas wrapping paper and says “come unwrap me” and overhaul is just in shock at her boldness but he is all so turned on by this.

(PLEASE SKIP IF YOUR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THIS TOPIC sorry if this is confusing)

(I was supposed to actually go full fledged into the request and shell out some good smut but ended up somehow tiptoeing through it. I'm so sorry about that! Just got home from spending Christmas with my 2 sides of the family so I'm winding down by working off my feelings from the other day with the asks. Merry Christmas!)

~Christmas Present~

You were numb but he never minded it.

In fact, he was himself the same in a way. When you stop to think about it, Kai was always holding the same stoic expression on his face that you were. Many of the others began to wonder how it was possible you two had found your way to each other in the first place with the way you seemed to interact with each other. Yet and still, he knew you like the back of his hand...

Or so he thought.

You'd never really surprised him an any ways. He always mentioned how much he didn't like surprises to begin with. His disdain for surprise and your comfortableness with keeping things mundane seemed to go hand in hand. Neither of you ever complained about it anyway. In fact, if there ever WAS a problem to come about then the two of you had no issues expressing how you felt and immediately snuffing the problem out. But something in your brain clicked here recently. Maybe it was too much daytime television, or maybe you were being influenced by the recent gossip magazines. Either way, you were starting to wonder if maybe there was something more to this relationship that you could bring out? Don't get me wrong here, the two of you have both expressed your interests with each other both in and out. The longer you've been together, the more pressing some of the conversations had becomes. Turns out he wasn't as much as a mysophobe as either of you previously thought him to be. This was proven true by the way his hand began to wander into yours. Hugging, hand holding, kissing...and soon more began to come about. He figures 'if I'm to do this with anyone, then let it be my Y/N I suppose.' He's given into his urges and you never seemed to complain. However, the same position every time, the same amount and technique applied made you wonder once again if there was something more.

So for the first time in your life, you embraced the ability to surprise. You took some extra time, read some extra articles or blogs, spent more time looking at yourself in the mirror. No you may not have been the most attractive girl/boy/person in the world to few people, but to him you knew he couldn't resist. With all the time you spent adorning yourself in the Christmas themed set, you began to finally feel worry in the pit of your stomach. Perhaps you were venturing too far from your comfort zone? Maybe you in over your head. What if he didn't like it?

Lucky you, oh how lucky.

He'd entered his office and you took a deep breath. He paused and eyed you up and down, waiting for some sort of explanation. No matter how sexy the others made it seem, when the words came from your mouth it would appear they fell as flat as your expression. "Come unwrap me." You were aware of how embarrassing it might come across as, but he'd shown how much he didn't care by the way his eyes were drawn to you. It didn't take long for his hands to reach you, gripping and grasping desperately at any inch of skin he could get his cold digits on. His lips never left your neck for the first half of the night. He was determined to leave it littered in reminders of who exactly you belonged to. Usually he'd be done kissing by now. Usually he'd already entered you and would press into you fervently as he chased his own high. Tonight he spent extra time doing just as you asked, and slowly removing the last bit of covering from your body. His hands were steady, gliding up and down your sides and pinching along your hips before making their way to your nipples to show you some extra attention for once. He'd discovered two things that night:

The first was that it would appear to him he missed out on a lot of nice positions he should've been trying in the first place. now he's got his head screwed on tight and he'd eager to see how many different ways he can have his beloved call out to him in desperation. The second thing was that he was wrong all along...

He loved surprises.

[make-me-imagine]

Truth or Dare: Part Two

(Part One)

Plot: After their game of truth or dare, both Malcolm and Y/n come to terms with their changed feelings. During a ship-wide party, those feelings become less than secret.

Pairing: Malcolm Reed x Gn!Reader (Use of Y/n)

Written for @fandomdancer as a fic commission on my Ko-fi

Warnings: A kiss at the end, but that's it!

A/N: The requested song is linked in the fic at the moment it starts to play.

Words: 2.2k

-

Ever since your game of truth or dare with the others the night before, your mind had been working non-stop. Had these feelings for Malcolm always been there? Had they just been hidden by your friendship with him?

And the one question that seemed to be plaguing you most frequently.

Did he feel the same?

Or was this just some quickly passing crush that would be gone in a weeks time? Part of you hoped so, but another part of you, a curious part, wanted to know what would happen if your feelings were real. And if they were returned.

Jumping slightly as a hand gripped your shoulder, you looked up to see Trip staring at you.

Chuckling he removed his had "Where's your mind at? I was calling you for a good thirty seconds."

Realizing you had been wandering down the hall without paying attention, you chuckled nervously "Sorry, just a bit tired I guess."

"Not too tired I hope? You better show up to the shin-dig tonight."

You smiled and nodded "I will be there"

"Good."

"Did you need something?" You asked, recalling why he had come up to you.

He handed you a PAD "Just for you to check this over."

"Ah, alright, will do."

"Maybe take a nap before the party tonight, ey?" He smiled as he wandered off.

You let out a small sigh, you really needed to get out of your own head. Sighing again, you headed to your room to take a shower. How could you take a nap with your mind so worked up? It's the reason you didn't really sleep in the first place.

---

The ship was still stuck in the storm, and expected to be until the following day. So, after some discussion among the crew, and encouragement from the Captain there was going to be a party tonight. Food, music, dancing. Should be fun. Though, a heavy weight had seemed to find it's way into your chest.

You hadn't seen Malcolm since the previous night except once from a distance. When you saw him, you felt as though your chest was going to explode, so you turned around and avoided him.

You seriously needed to get grip on yourself and figure out your feelings before tonight. Yeah, right.

Malcolm couldn't seem to stop his eyes from wondering around every space he entered, looking for your presence. He had only seen you once earlier in the day walking the opposite way. He had resisted the urge to follow after you, but regretted it when he didn't see you again.

He hoped he would see you tonight at the party. He wanted a moment to be with you, to see just how strong his newfound feelings were.

He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do either way. He had lingering suspicions that maybe you had feelings for him, and he wanted to know for sure. If you did, then perhaps your relationship could become more. And if you didn't, well then, he would hope to remain your friend at least.

Checking the clock, he realized it was about half an hour until the party was going to start. Deciding to go to his room to get ready, he tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach as nervousness filled him.

--- --- ---

As you made your way into the large room, people were mingling and laughing together, as some danced in the center of the room.

The whole party was themed around old Terra traditions. Old music, food, and drinks. A theme you assumed was devised by the Captain and Trip.

You felt a nervous flutter in your chest as you looked around the room, your eyes looking out for one person. As your eyes settled on him, you felt you heart jolt.

Malcolm stood with some others, smiling about something and you felt butterflies shoot through your stomach.

A few days ago you would have gone up to him easily, with no problem. But now, you walked to the other side of the room, unable to even look at him.

You had come to the conclusion that your feelings for Malcolm were real. As much as they seemed to come out of nowhere, you had a feeling they had been simmering for some time.

Finding Hoshi, you stood and talked with her, wondering if you'd get the courage to approach Malcolm soon.

"Hey, look!" Hoshi whispered to you, catching you off guard.

Following her finger, you looked across the room to see Travis dancing with Hannah, grins on both of their faces.

Your thoughts were distracted from Malcolm as you grinned at the sight. It looked like Travis found his courage after all. And, he wouldn't have to eat a whole batch of southern pear salad it seemed.

Malcolm searched the room for you, his eyes scanning fervently. As they finally landed on you, he felt his chest tighten. You had a bright grin on your face that took his breath away, literally.

Following your line of sight, he saw you watching Travis and Hannah. He smiled at the sight as well before he looked back at you.

Feeling a sudden burst of courage, he walked across the room towards you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Y/n."

Your heart leapt at the sudden familiar voice as your eyes darted to Malcolm, who had appeared by your side.

Swallowing the sudden surprise you smiled "Hey Malcolm"

He stared at you for a moment before finally clearing his throat and finding his words "Would you care to dance?"

Your eyes widened slightly at the question as your heart pounded. "Dance?"

You could feel Hoshi look between the two of you and you wondered if maybe she could feel the tension as well.

He nodded with a smile, though you could see something in his gaze. Nervousness?

"Alright." You said softly, your voice much quieter than you meant.

But Malcolm heard you fine and smiled brightly at you "Great, come on."

As he reached down and slid his hand into yours, you felt your breath hitch. After giving Hoshi a parting glance, you followed him to the center of the room, butterflies rampaged through your stomach as his hand left yours before gently landing on your waist, the other moving to your shoulder.

As the two of you began to slowly dance to the music you felt as though you had nothing to say. You had never been so speechless around Malcolm.

The song that had begun playing was new to you and you felt a nervous flutter. You weren't used to old music, and you were afraid you'd embarrass yourself.

Malcolm, seemingly noticing your hesitation smiled softly as he leaned a little closer "Just follow my lead."

You met his eyes and felt a warmth in your chest, your eyes seemed to stay locked forever, before Malcolm began stepping in rhythm to the song. You followed along, constantly reminding yourself to keep breathing.

"Have we ever danced before?" Malcolm asked after a moment of silence.

After you thought on it for a moment you shook your head, starting to feel your self relax in his presence again. "I don't think so."

"Hmm. That's a shame."

You smiled, repressing a chuckle "Yeah it is. If I had known you were a good dancer I may have looked for an excuse."

He grinned at you "I'm not the best, but with the right partner..." He trailed off softly, and you thought you could hear a subtle hinting tone in his voice.

After he twirled you lightly, he brought you closer than you had been before. Your face felt warm, but you tried to stay calm.

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, seemingly second guessing himself.

"What?" You prodded softly.

"I just- was thinking about that game of truth or dare yesterday evening."

Your heart seemed to jolt suddenly as you smiled, laughing softly "Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, it's a shame it ended so early. I never got a chance to ask you a truth."

"Didn't you?"

He shook his head in response "I dared you early on in the game to chug some cider, but that's it."

"Oh yeah. Thanks for that by the way." You said sarcastically earning a laugh. You swallowed, butterflies heavy in your chest, before you spoke again "Well was there something you wanted to ask me?"

He smiled softly, and you could see something shining behind his eyes. You had asked the right question.

"It's not something I thought of during the game, but after."

You rose your brow inquisitively and he chuckle softly before straightened himself up a bit and speaking playfully "Truth or Dare?"

You let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes playfully. The playful part of you wanted to choose dare, but the other part of you, the one that recently discovered your new feelings, wouldn't let you. You had a feeling in your gut, that he felt the same. And that this truth would make it real.

"Truth." You said softly with a smile.

Malcolm seemed to take in a breath before he spoke, his voice soft, only loud enough for you to hear.

"Do you feel the same way about me, as I do about you?"

The over thinker in you wanted to convince you maybe he meant friendship, but you knew that was stupid. He wouldn't ask you that. The only reason he would be asking a question like that, is if this was a confession in itself to you.

'Do you love me as much as I love you?' His inner thoughts spoke, but he reworded it, for fear of the emotion being too strong.

"I think-" you stopped yourself before you started over with a soft nod of your head, your eyes filled with fear, surprise, and joy "Yeah, I do."

Malcolm let out a relieved sigh that seemed to bare a heavy weight he wasn't aware he was holding until it was gone. "Oh thank God."

You couldn't resist the laugh that bubbled out of you, allowing him the relief to laugh as well.

You spoke softly "Can I ask... when did you know?"

Was it as recent as your discovery, did things change for you at the same time?

"Well, I think I always knew, in some way. But, I didn't realize it fully, until last night actually, it was like it suddenly smacked me i-"

"-in the face!" You finished, your face showing your surprise "Me too!"

"Really?"

You nodded fervently and he let out a bewildered laugh. "Wait...so were you actually checking me out when I was doing my pull ups?"

He saw the shock cross your face before you smacked him, making him laugh and mutter out an apology.

"I guess it was good that Trip convinced us to play that stupid game. Who knows how long it would have taken otherwise."

"Shh! Don't say that!" You said, causing him to look around startled.

"What why?"

"You really want Trip to have that over our heads for the rest of our lives?"

Malcolm's eyes widened as the thought "Oh God, definitley not."

You chuckled "So let's maybe keep that under wraps huh?"

He nodded and laughed "Just our little secret then."

--- ---

The rest of the party went well, you and Malcolm only left each other's sides a couple times througout the night. But anytime you'd look to catch his eye, he was often already looking at you.

It wasn't obvious to the others, as far as you could tell, what had happened between the two of you. So it would remain your secret for a while longer.

When most everyone had wondered off to bed, you parted ways with Hoshi and Trip before heading back to your dorm, Malcolm trailing alongside you.

You got to your door a lot faster than you would have preferred, and gave Malcolm a shy yet bright smile.

He grinned at you before he looked around and cleared his throat.

"This may come off a bit fast, and I understand if you say no, but, would you mind if I kissed you goodnight?" His eyes were heavy with nervousness as he asked and you almost reached out and touched his face.

Your heart swelled in your chest as the butterflies returned. You were shocked at the question, but far from displeased by the suggestion.

You smiled, and you were sure you face was flushed as you replied "I wouldn't mind at all."

Smiling, Malcolm slowly inched forward, his lips hesitating just before touching yours, before he kissed you. It was gentle, and only lasted a few seconds, but it was special. You felt a shiver run through your body a you felt a giddiness in your stomach.

When Malcolm pulled away, he kept his face close to yours as he looked into your eyes.

His voice was nearly a whisper when he spoke "I was afraid...that might feel weird, but it was..."

"Perfect?" You asked softly.

He smiled and nodded "Exactly."

You smiled in return as you slowly pulled away from each other. You were sure both of you felt the desire to kiss again, but it was best this night end here, with a perfect ending with a promise for more to come.

"Good night Malcolm" You said after a moment.

He grinned down at you "Goodnight Y/n."

xx End xx

Thank you for reading, and I really hope you liked it!

This was a two-part commission fic, so if anyone is interested in getting one as well, you can find he llink to my ko-fi at the top of the fic.

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

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[enchanted-lightning-aes]

A Stunning Glow

A/N: just a short featuring my sapphic gals from a Blasted Scorn. i've missed this crew a lot. featuring Nishan who's got it bad for Kumari. ^-^ Word Count: 926 T.W/C.W: romance, i guess

***

A pile of books occupied a table, where someone sat behind it. Scanning through pages, taking in the details of their inscription. However, she leaned back as her focus narrowed into a blur.

After slipping her glasses off, she wiped them with a hankercheief. She blinked, readjusting her eyes to the sight around her. Rising from the chair.

Nishan let out a dreamy sigh, sliding a ribbon between the pages. Folding it shut and puts it back on the shelf. She stretched her arms,

During the ship's departure, she busied herself with reading books: none of which had anything to do with her duties.

Usually, she would be in the library, surrounded by maps and books to take notes on. However, she wanted to spend some time on reading stories instead of information. Stories where her imagination would transport her somewhere else. Whether in lands of magic or empires of intrigue, she devoured the words filling up those pages.

A bit too much that she hadn't realized she didn't taken dinner yet. She ought to considering the rest of the crew must have.

Nishan set a foot onto the hallway, wearing her glasses once more.

Her breathing rate elevated as her pulse climbed onto her throat. Her eyes slightly widened at Kumari, who bounced in her movements. She moved back once her mouth slacked a bit.

"Hi there!" She waved, approaching her.

"Oh, hi," Nishan said, her stomach tying itself into fluttering knots. Her lips lifted into a smile. "Weren't you... weren't you with the others earlier?"

Kumari chuckled, nodding. "Yes, but I let them be once they made it clear the game would go longer. And I didn't want to be there for too long."

"Then where... where you're off to?" she asked, trying to not wince.

Around this girl, her ability of speech tended to be faltering. She could be unsure around strangers, opting to not speak much unless neccessary. And with her... she found things that she yearned to tell her, to talk to her about. And yet she couldn't due to how her nerve abandoned her.

A dilemma she couldn't talk about with anyone. Lest she revealed her... situation regarding her... friend. Teammate?

"I was about to go to my room," Kumari replied, hitching her thumb at the other corridor ahead. "What about you?"

"I have been reading stories." She resisted the urge to gulp despite her dry mouth. "I t-thought that a break would be... refreshing."

Kumari grinned, smacking her hands together. "Yay! You're taking a break! It must be good to have rest after several weeks of work. Have you already taken dinner? I haven't seen you at the galley."

The way her bubbly voice could wrap her in it's mirth. Or have blood filling her cheeks.

Someone so friendly and carefree... how lovely. So spirited and... brave in spite of the potential dangers ahead of them. Someone who carried a talent for speaking without hesitation. Everything that sent her heart racing and her mind whirling.

...if she had reasons to be cooped up in her work, it would be this. She could be too fixated on Kumari than she probably had to be.

"I-I hadn't eaten yet. Like for dinner, that is."

"Oh my! You didn't? Let's grab some grub!"

"Wait, you... you want to accompany me?"

Her gut tightened at a sudden frown on her face.

"Sorry, I... of course, I won't if you'd rather be by yourself. You value solitude and all that."

"Well, I don't I'd be b-bothered by some company."

At that, Kumari grinned again and they both proceeded towards the galley. Howls of laughter resounded from the walls. She smiled, shaking her head at the antics they must be getting into. A faint scent of a stew greeted her nose as they entered the dining hall.

She plucked a loaf from a basket, taking a nibble.

"I'll get food for you," Kumari said. "You just take your seat. I'll be back in a jiffy."

With a nod, she ignored a tingle within her chest at the gesture. She walked towards a chair by the candle resting beside an empty spot. The flames glimmered from the pale light above.

Just as her stomach grumbled, Nishan carried a tray and set it in front of her. She lifted the lid with a flourish, bowing.

"Ta-da!" She laughed, gesturing at the bowl of soup.

"Thank you," Nishan murmured, smiling.

Kumari winked, plopping down onto a chair beside her. "You're welcome."

"Um, I-I think you should go. You don't h-have to be here longer than you want to."

"Pfft, I don't have a problem. Besides, I missed having you at dinner, so..."

When Nishan paused on chewing, Kumari bowed her head while her laugh trembled.

Her face illuminated by the candlelight, highlighting a warmth within her brown eyes. Reminding her of a crystal that her father collected once. A tourmaline with it's dark shade similar to a tree's bark. A sight those would be fortunate to have a glimpse of.

Eyes that brown weren't something most poets tend to write about. Yet if she could, she would conjure a poem based on it. Along with the feelings that she kindled in her. She tend to not be eloquent whenever she had to speak. However, on paper... she could find it in herself to be.

Regardless, Nishan did her best in appreciating Kumari whenever she could. However she could.

They both shared a smile while she reveled in a meal, overwhelmed by the vibrant company of an awe-spiring girl.

***