#southern lullaby

[mintywolf]

Rest

(Alternate version)

[lgbtqreads]

Fave Five: Southern Gothic Fiction

Something Kindred by Ciera Burch (YA) Summer Sons by Lee Mandelo Cicadas Sing of Summer Graves and The Pecan Children by Quinn Connor Catfish Lullaby by AC Wise Such Pretty Flowers by K.L. Cerra

[pirate-of-the-southern-isles]

Bu hu hu

They are coming for you

I can see

Three pirates on the ocean

The first one lost his eye

The second lost her sense

The third one will show no remorse

https://youtu.be/ooQPUYCOp00?si=LdV2A6FLY9BsMQs9

So let me introduce:

Captain Bernard Svöluson and his ship, "Bad Coin"

Bernard's eyes, altough in two different colors, are totally ok. He just wears the eyepatch when he's expecting to board someone - he likes to have one eye used to the darkness of ship's storage.

Captain Layla Rogers and her ship, "Morning Star":

Layla is probably the most stable mentally of them all. Don't know what it tells about the rest, but that's true. She is just happy.

I also drew her from some reference but I totally forgot where it is, lol

And as per "The Black Ship" and captain Hans Westergaard...

...oh, he will feel remorse alright.

(Really, I heard "remorse", no "emotions" in this song, c'mon, am I this deaf)

[thinkingnot]

thinking about the dumpling making song my dad used to sing on occasions to get me out of bed (the heaviest sleeper ever ^ me) :D

thinking about that song that i really liked my mom sung as a lullaby to sleep when i was a tiny kid and also whenever im sick when i was younger, the song is a funeral’s song and has been removed from the curriculum to teach young kids these days 😔

ITS A GOOD SONG OKAY

[seonghwaddict]

to taint your soul — choi san

in which apparently even the daughter of an exorcist is not safe from the corruption of an incubus.

incubus!choi san x exorcist’s daughter!fem!reader. genre. smut, angst, southern gothic vibes. warnings. barely any plot, religious themes, religious guilt, swearing, explicit sexual content mdni, corruption, loss of virginity, masturbation (f.), referenced dacryphilia, fingering, referenced oral (f.), manhandling?, multiple orgasms, rough and gentle, big dick!san, creampie, marking, nicknames (angel, pretty girl, sweet girl, sweetheart). wc. 7.3k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i should do more mythological characters!ateez cuz i enjoyed writing this and the lamb and the wolf. the demonology book/text here is partially from The Encylopedia of Demons and Demonology by Rosemary Ellen Guiley, but i made up some parts for the sake of the story. THIS FIC DOES NOT REPRESENT ANY OF MY OPINIONS AND I DO NOT INTEND TO OFFEND ANYONE.

listening to. burning desire, lana del rey // gibson girl, ethel cain // lilies, ethel cain & mercy necromancy // ptolemaea, ethel cain // heaven, taemin

masterlist.

you were cursed from the moment you were born.

the idea of being cursed or haunted by anything isn’t one you think about often, considering yourself protected by your father’s profession. at least one dusty bible on every bookshelf in the colonial monstrosity that is your home and crucifixes hung all around, it seems to be common sense that an exorcist’s home would be the safest place to hide from the dark.

unaware of it all, you used to let yourself be tucked into your lace-trimmed bedsheets as he pulled you to sleep with stories. tales of fallen angels and possessed souls became the lullabies of your childhood. admittedly, you were quite terrified of it all, but as you grew older and wiser, you realised there was no way they could get to you. but really, it was wishful thinking.

you weren’t aware of who your father used to be, nor were you aware of the debt he owed to a particular demon.

the dreams started the night after your twentieth birthday, vivid and unsettling. a man haunted them, equally as terrifying as he was handsome. tall and clad in dark silks, his whispered words and hungry eyes intrigued you. his touch, though a figment of your imagination, sent shivers down your spine, foreign yet infinitely alluring. you’d wake up with a jolt, panting, flushed cheeks and tingling skin as the dream stuck to you like cobwebs. your father passed the repeated dreams off as nightmares and you failed to notice the flash of fear cross his features.

one night, however, you were changing in your room. dimly illuminated by multiple candles you set around since you didn’t like how bright the large chandelier was, you held a dress in each of your hands, standing in front of the mirror as you held the clothing to your body in an attempt to figure out what to wear. you didn’t notice at first, but a figure lurked in the shadows of the bedroom. you didn’t notice the shift in the atmosphere or the flicker of the candles.

but soon, a soft sigh sounded through the room, so soft it could’ve been mistake for a whistling breeze outside your window. goosebumps prickled at your skin as you tensed, refusing to move at the oddly human sound. staring at yourself in the mirror intently, you caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the reflection of your mirror. your breath hitched as you fixed your eyes on him, afraid that if you blinked, he’d disappear.

you watched him. watched him take slow steps towards you as he smirked at the sight of your wide, fearful yet infinitely pure and innocent eyes. you convinced yourself you were hallucinating, the disturbingly realistic sounds of his footsteps as much of a figment of imagination as his being. but as he stood right behind you, a coldness swept over your skin and you flinched as his breath fanned against your bare shoulder. whipping around in surprise, you yelped softly at the sensation. but he was gone, and you were alone. breath erratic and eyes stinging, you scrambled to move a wooden cross stand from the top of your dresser to your bedside table.

after that you grew paranoid, always looking over your shoulder, sleeping with at least two safe and reliable candles lit. each time you walked through the hallways of your own home, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at the portraits lining the dark walls as you thought they were watching you. the tiniest of sounds made you flinch and break a sweat, squeezing your eyes shut and muttering prayers, only to find out the sound came from either of your parents.

the constant state of fear and anxiety left you tired, deciding if your father wasn’t going to do anything about it, you would. on quiet feet, you crept through the halls at noon (you were too scared to go to that room at night), a rosary wrapped around your hand with a dainty little cross hanging from your clenched palm.

you father really was a well-known exorcist, often to go on trips within and beyond the country to treat what doctors couldn’t; demonic possessions. as a symbol of his successes and a means to prevent others from coming in contact with whatever a demon may have attached itself to, he brought home trophies and locked them in a little storage room in the basement. of course, he took many precautions—crucifixes all over the inside and outside, sprinkles of holy water here and there, he’d have your local priest come over and bless the area himself. despite all this, you never once stepped in, partially because your father advised you not to, mostly because you were completely and utterly terrified.

as you descended the creaking wooden stairs, a chill ran through you, the hairs at your nape standing in alert. maybe you were scaring yourself more than the room scared you. the dust tickled your nostrils, making you force down a sneeze as you cleared your throat. the wooden floorboards extended into a narrow hallway, lined by cobblestone walls. you rarely came down, in fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you were there, the surroundings seeming so foreign. there were only two doors, one leading to a storage closet and the other to a slightly scarier storage closet.

you stared up at the ominous door, standing tall and intimidating, a golden cross embossed right in the centra, doorknob dark and rusted. with shaky hands, you fished a copper from the hidden pocket of your plaid gown. it half-hearted a few sloppy attempts until you got the key in, squeezing your eyes shut as you force yourself to finally turn it.

another chill ran through your body as you push the door open weakly, cracking an eye open to look inside. had you come at night, you wouldn’t have been able to see anything, the only source of light being an elongated shirt window lining the top of the right wall, an inch below the ceiling. three shelves. one on the right, one of the left, and one down the middle of the room. the middle and left one were lined with various objects. you walked between them, looking but not daring to touch. the objects were quite diverse, you realised. dolls, clocks, little statues.

you took your time to get to the shelf you needed. along with these objects, you father also locked away any books he had that were related to demons in any way. most of them were confiscated from cults, some of their were from his personal collection. he claimed they were to protect you, and you didn’t completely disbelieve him. taking a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh, looking at all the titles. your fingertips ran over their leather bound spines, feeling the wrinkles and grooves. you knew there would be a lot, but as you looked upon the entire shelf, you estimated a good hundred-fifty books.

he organised them by categories. summoning, excommunication, identifying. identifying. that’s what you needed. you took a closer look at the section, nervousness fading briefly to be replaced by a faint taste of hope.

the encyclopaedia of demons and demonology.

deciding there had to be something in there, you pulled it out. the book itself was simple, bound in black leather. the cover was nothing special, just the title and author. by the looks of it, you’d be here for a while, seemingly at least three hundred pages long. you looked around the dark room, a small wooden desk was tucked into the corner though not a chair in sight. with a soft sigh, you walked over on weak knees, apprehensive about what you’d find in the book.

despite your father’s profession and all the bedtime stories, you never came in contact with demons or the spirit world. setting the book on the desk, you opened it to the index, having to squint to make out the text. but the next time you lifted your eyes off the page, a brass candle holder was tucked into the corner of the table.

you blinked. there was no way that was there before, but maybe you had just missed it. the pale yellow candle stood half melted, the hardened wax forming veins that ran down the sides and pooled in the brass bowl.

you held your breath momentarily before beginning to read through the a to z list of demons and other dark entities and their descriptions. you only skimmed, lingering on any that mentioned appearing in nightmares only to dismiss them when the rest of their descriptions didn’t match with your experience. surprised by just how much there was to read, you felt just a little curious, occasionally stopping to read extracts that had piqued your interest. it wasn’t until you got all the way to section i where something actually seemed to be helpful.

‘incubus—a lewd male demon who pursues women for sex. the incubus and his female counterpart, the succubus, visit women and men in their sleep, lie and press heavily upon them, and seduce them.’

you nearly missed it, continuing your skimming until the description registered, scrambling to turn back the page and reread it.

“oh.” you breathed at the realisation. that seemed to be the most accurate thus far, your finger tracing over the name as you furrowed your eyebrows and continued reading. the next paragraphs detailed how they’re conjured and where the name came from. you read some more.

‘incubi are especially attracted to women with beautiful hair, young virgins, chaste widows, and all “devout” females. nuns are among the most vulnerable and could be molested in the confessional as well as in bed. while the majority of women are forced into sex by the incubi, some of them submit willingly and even enjoy the act. it once was a common belief that women were more likely than men to be the sexual victims of demons, because women were inferior to men and less able to resist temptation.

incubi have enormous phalluses that—’

slamming the book shut, your eyes widened and a deep blush settled over your features, just staring at the cover for a moment as you collected yourself from the sudden vulgarity of the writing. after a moment, you cleared your throat and reopened the page, strategically skipping over the next paragraphs that detailed accounts of intercourse with such a demon.

‘an incubus may form attachments to those whose minds are occupied with dark and inherently sexual desires, those that are impure. one also can be summoned for coital gratifications, or a deal in which one’s first born is ommonly offered to repay their sevices (see: dealing with the demons, page 218).’

but that couldn’t be right. you always made sure to be a good girl, always helped at home. you volunteered to read to children at a local orphanage, always helped with charities and donations, always assisted people where you knew you could, stayed soft spoken and always began your requests with please and ended them with thank you. you kept to yourself most of the time, would never dare to raise your voice at anyone, never had any romantic interest, let alone sexual ones.

admittedly, the dreams involving the man— the demon had you waking up with an uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs. but before that, you never indulged. after that, you never indulged either, instead jumping from your bed and taking an ice could bath to calm yourself from the strange feeling. the temptations were always there and were always strong, but your want to be immaculate was stronger. to be free of sin.

a deal in which one’s first born is offered.

it seemed impossible, almost. you knew your father was a righteous man and your mother a pure woman. but where your mother happily shared stories of her childhood as heart-warming anecdotes, your father only dropped tidbits of his memories despite considering you two to be extremely close. you always chalked it up to him being a little boring or generally not very open. but maybe there was more to it…

“there you go, sweetheart.”

you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice, pushing the book away from you as you turned around a little too quickly, your knee knocking against the edge of the table.

there he stood, barely illuminated by the singular window as he took slow steps towards you much like the other day.

“so, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”

each time he took a step, his muscles visible through the loose black silk, you inched away until the top of your thigh hit the wooden table, your hands bracing themselves on it to keep you from collapsing in fear. the closer he got, the more you realised just how attractive he was. broad-shouldered and radiating confidence, his feline eyes roamed over your figure. depite wearing a white gown that reached all the way down to your ankles, you felt so exposed.

tongue swiping along his bottom lip, drawing your attention to the action. he towered over you, making you feel weak and small as he trapped you against the table. your heart pounded against your ribcage and you feared it would break free and fall into his hands, unsure if the warmth on your cheeks and ump in your throat came from how utterly petrified you were or the way his breath fanned over your face like a whisper.

“your dearest father isn’t who he says he is,” he pouted mockingly, coming to a stop inches in front of you, letting his gaze settle on your quivering lips for a moment, “and me? well, you know what i am. and you also know we can have lots of fun if you allow it.”

your lips parted to speak but no words came out, instead opting to press them into a thin line and squeezing your eyes shut as you shook your head. you weren’t completely sure why you wer shaking your head, but if it would stop the incubus from tainting you, it was worth a try.

“don’t kid yourself, princess. i can smell how wet you are.” as if to emphasise his point, he inhaled deeply, leaning forward to ghost his nose over the slope of your neck without touching you.

it wasn’t until he said it that you notice you had been squeezing your thighs together, feeling warm all over and you stomach twisted in knots at the sound of his deep voice. something ached in your lower regions, but you tried your hardest to resist the thoughts.

but a little voice in the back of your head urged you to tilt your head back, to give him permission, to let his hands explore your untouched body. maybe just this once you could allow yourself to give in, to let your knees go weak and worry about begging for forgiveness later.

“all you have to do is drop the rosary.”

you gripped it tighter at the reminder of the protective object tangled between your fingers, fighting to keep your sanity intact. your breath hitched as you felt one of his fingers run along the beads, not daring to come close to the little silver cross or your skin.

“c’mon, pretty girl. drop it,” you heard the smirk in his voice, “let it go and i’ll take good care of you, i can make you feel things you’ve never thought of… i can make you feel alive, wouldn’t you love that? don’t you want to feel the desire? taste the lust?”

“n-no,” you gasped finally, finding your words, “it’s not right.“

he laughed, a low rumble from his chest, “i promise you’ll love being ruined by me,” he said, withdrawing his hand from yours, “i swear to all your precious little holy symbols, i know i can get you to want me.”

he moved closer and for a maddening moment you thought he was going to kiss you. faintly, you wanted him to. to feel the push of his lips against yours, to let his hands snake around your waist or grip your hips to pull you closer. there’s a ring on his index finger, you noticed, silvery and sharp, a symbol you didn’t recognise yet imagine him pressing it against your throat, branding your neck anew until it’s red and faithful. and maybe you crave for him to undo all the things in you that are holy.

“just drop it, pretty,” his breath teased your lips and you almost leaned forward in curiosity, wanting to see how just one kiss would feel, “i know you’re a good girl.”

those words. they’re almost enough for you to give in. how did he know those would strike a nerve, hit you where he knew it would work? not only did all your efforts ultimately lead to the same goal—purity, goodness—but you couldn’t deny the satisfaction you felt from reassurance. if you were an animal, you’d strive to be the priest’s favourite sacrificial lamb. to hold so very still and to bleed so prettily when the knife final comes down, to be reborn and be chosen all over again.

“don’t you get it?” he whispered, “i live inside you the same way you’re bound to live inside me. we’re a moebius strip, a never ending cycle of a snake eating it’s own tail. maybe it will end in destruction, but that’s your dear father’s doing. mutually assured destruction, maybe; you say yes, i’ll ruin you for everyone else, blacken the wool of your fur coat. you say no to me, i will suffer the consequences of not fulfilling a deal. you wouldn’t want someone to suffer because of you, hm?”

your grip on the rosary loosened and let your eyes finally flutter open. from this proximity, you could see every detail of his face and the image seared into your mind.

something in his eyes darkened as his lips curled, a playful smile, a predatory grin. the way he looked at you made you want to combust into flames, to fall to your knees, you skin rubbed raw on the ground as you beg him to make you feel.

“you don’t look so innocent anymore, you know? you’re docile and sweet, yes, but you’re not as pure as you think you are, there’s a little dirt in your pristine heart, a little lustful stain you can’t erase.”

“y-you’re wrong!” you protested, trying to convince yourself he was lying, “i’m good and i’ve always been good and i always will be good and i will not for the devil’s influence.”

“oh, but i’m not,” he pouted mockingly, moving his head back just an inch, looking down at you, “you’re practically shaking, so close to giving in… you’re the most pious girl here, yet you’re so close to sin, so close to me.”

you opened your mouth to continue your protests but flinched as you heard familiar heavy footsteps, looking up at the little window to see the familiar boots of your father about to enter the house after a long day of work. he was out, casting out malicious spirits and demons, and here you were, about to let one deflower you. the realisation seemingly made you come back to your senses, clenching the roary in your hand once more and looking for a way past him.

but… what would you even do afterwards? confront your father, the town’s devout exorcist, for making deals with the incubus in front of you? would he call you crazy, deny everything and treat you like just another one of his clients?

the footsteps were now above you, you could faintly hear him saying something to your mother though you couldn’t quite make out what it was. you’d never been as afraid of anything as you were of your own father, standing right above you, acting like he hadn’t damned you from the day you were conceived.

as if he could read your thoughts, could sense your panic that was completely unrelated to him, the incubus stepped back. his face was unreadable as his glazed over eyes fixated on you.

“don’t worry, sweet girl, i can wait. the longer you resist, the better it’ll feel when you finally surrender,” he gave you a small smile, different from the previous grins and smirks, as he nodded towards the window, “go.”

you could’ve run away the moment he stepped back, yet you didn’t move until he gave you the permission. you didn’t dwell on that fact as you slipped past him and reached up, shaky hands undoing the latch and opening outwards. you attempted to climb up, your arms burning as you tried lifting yourself, only to give up, panting softly from the effort.

“let me help you.” his voice offered, prompting you to look back at him. the seductive glint in his eyes was no longer there, taking a small step forward. “just… put it down, i promise i’ll help you and leave.”

you stared at him for a long moment. there was something so different in the way he looked at you now, suddenly soft and with good intentions. the voice of your father calling your name snapped you out of your stupor, nodding hurridely as you placed the rosary on the grass outside carefully before turning to look at him.

he gestured for you to turn away, your hands finding your hips as you did. the contact made you breath hitched, despite your layers of clothing between your curves and his hands, your stomach tickled with swarming butterflies as he lifted you up. the heat of his body behind yours distracted you for a moment, taken aback at how real he felt, how human he felt, even as he lifted you with ease.

you braced your forearms on the ground, pulling yourself up the rest of the way as he spoke.

“whisper my name three times, and i’ll be summoned wherever you are, ready to fulfill your needs.”

you stayed quiet for a moment, just sitting on the ground as you looked down at him, now able to see his full face clearning from his proximity to the window. “what’s your name?”

“san,” he smiled, “choi san.”

you loked away, up at your house as your father’s concerned voice called out your name again. “i should get going, but–,” you looked down to thank him, only to find an empty room and a sealed window. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, voiced trailing off, “thank you…”

the first time you touched yourself, it was san you were thinking about.

late at night, your parents fast asleep, a storm ragin outside, but all you could do was think about him. you tried, you really did. you tried to go back in the house and pretend everything was fine, that you had just been on a walk and your flushed face was from the excercise. secretely, all you could think about was him. how you wanted him to show up again—wanted him to make your breath hitch and your heart jump. wanted him to soothe whatever it was that ached inside you; the burn in the pit of your stomach, the spot where your waist met your hips, but most of all between your legs, were it had never ached like this before.

you excused yourself from dinner earlier, went to bed, and tried so desperately to fall asleep. whether it was to forget about it all, or to meet him in your dreams again, you couldn’t tell. you really tried, but haunting thoughts of how his hands held onto you rolled into your mind with images of all the things he could do to you. the raspy lilt of his voice, sometimes soft, sometimes commanding in a way that made your limbs feel like jello at the mere thought of it. his sharp eyes and sharp jaw and such tempting lips. he could have a kind face if he wanted to, yet his toned body, visible and obvious despite trying to hide behind his clothing, screamed sex appeal.

flashes from your previous dreams raced through your mind too. fragments of images where you could feel his hands all over you, his dark hair sticking to his sweat forehead, eyes rolled back from the pleasure he gave himself while you were forced to watch. you never quite gave in in the dreams either.

you tossed and turned in your bed, thighs pressed together so tight you worried you’d have long bruises down your inner thighs the next morning. the new feeling felt much too large for your fragile mind, overwhelming you, making your loose clothes feel suffocating. it wouldn’t leave you alone, wouldn’t let you sleep. mostly because you didn’t want to give the feeling a name, you refused to speak its name, even in your mind, even if it could identify this feeling.

pent-up and strained, coiled into yourself in a foetal position, you could only roll onto your back and let your hand trail down your body, hiking up the long skirt of your nightgown before letting your fingers dip between your thighs, spread at the knees. you let out a shaky gasp as you felt the wetness pooled beneath your undergarments, clamping your other hand over your lips. after feeling around experimentally, your fingers found a quick pace, rubbing over your clit, more desperate than they had ever been. your hand muffled your gasped out moans and whimpers, tears pricking at your eyes—partly from the guilt, mostly from the pleasure. you felt your heart beat all over your body, most of all right below your moistened fingertips.

shaky breaths and muffled needy cries were covered by both your hand and the storm outside your window. if hurts a little, your clit swelling as more and more slick coats it and the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. but you don’t mind the pain, you think you deserve it, because after all, it’s forbidden and it’s not supposed to feel good. san is not supposed to make you feel so good. a demon was the one thing that wasn’t supposed to be on your mind, especially not in this way.

the thought of him made your hand move faster and suddenly your breath was stuttering and your core pulse as you finish quickly, biting down on your lip, hard enough to cut through the skin, to muffle your cries. when you came down from your high, you lay there for a few moments longer, heart racing as you glance at the door to make sure it was still closed. and when you realised what you had just done, shame clouded your lungs as you slipped your fingers out of your panties and raised them to your face.

your hands came away sticky. transparents webs of your pleasure linking your index and middle fingers together as you stared in horror before finally collecting yourself and jumping from your bed to scrub the sin from your hands in your bathroom.

you scrubbed until your fingers turned red and your palms raw, losing sensation from the ice cold water, the guilt sinking deeper and deeper the longer you took to cleanse your body. you hadn’t noticed the tears running down your cheeks until you stared at yourself in the mirror, sniffling and glossy-eyed. your body might be clean, but were you? if you wanted to be immaculate, how could you let yourself do such a thing?

it was his fault, really. him and his midnight eyes and electric touches and words that would drive you to madness, damnation.

you changed your panties and nightgown, burying them in your laundry basket as if you were burying the evidence of a crime. once done, you wanted nothing more than to sink into your bed and fall asleep. but as you stared at what you once thought was comforting, you could only think about your soft whimpers and shaking thighs. so you stripped your bed naked to decorate it anew with clean sheets and blankets and pillows, shoving the previous ones under your bed before finally falling into a deep sleep.

shame followed you like a pest for the next days, unable to properly smile because all you could think about was what you had done. and what you wanted to do. a heavy melancholy washed over you in these days, confining yourself to your room when ou didn’t have to come down for meals. if your parents picked up on it, they didn’t say anything. maybe they knew. what if they know?

maybe they didn’t say anything because they knew about san. perhaps they thought it was fate, that you would give in sooner or later. despite cracking a bit, you stood by your conviction that you wouldn’t, no matter what, summon him.

but… was he really so bad? had you not seen a moment of softness when he helped you? demons were, after all, fallen angels. could it really be so impossible he still had a sprinkle of previous angeilc qualities? silently, you were thankful he hadn’t showed up on his own again. if he did, you were afraid you’d throw away all sense of faith and throw yourself into his arms, let him kiss you and lick you and suck you and bite you and everything in between.

despite all this, despite not wanting to summon him, you couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling weighing you down with each step. it had been there before—before whatever happened in the basement—dragging your seemingly heavy limbs through vacant hallways. but when he touched you, when his fingertips brushed against yours as he touched the shiny black beads of your rosary even though he didn’t mean to, when his hands lifted you into the air and helped you escape, the way he talked to you, his words and tone, that unsettling feeling had been lifted off your shoulders.

you noticed, for a brief moment, when you spent that short amount of time with him, you had no desire to think of god or rules or expectations. even if it was for a split second, it happened, and perhaps that what terrified you the most. just wanted to be, something you hadn’t been allowed for so long.

so when your parents said they’d be out late for some dinner you had no interest in attending, you paced around your room, deep in thought as your typical long nightgown tickled your ankles. millions of thoughts raced through your kind but, at the core, they were all the same. san, san, san. you felt like he had attached himself to your very soul, and you’re not quite sure how it happened.

without thinking, you stopped your pacing, glancing at the crucifix on your bedside table, a reminder. you couldn’t take it anymore, reaching out to take the wooden symbol and hide it in your closet. was it really wrong if it was still there, only trapped behind the wooden double doors, nestled between your skirts and shirts and gowns and gowns? out of sight, you felt less bad about what you were going to do.

your eyes squeezed shut and you did as he told you to, lips parting to whisper his name thrice. almost instantly, a gust of wind blew through your room and you knew there was someone else there with you. your eyes remained shut until you heard footsteps stalking towards you, his familiar voice filling the eerie silence of the room.

“hello, angel,” he grinned, borderline menacing, as he backed you up against your dresser. much like before, you were trapped, the back of your thighs pressed against the wood. only this time, you weren’t afraid, “i knew you’d give in sooner rather than later.”

you didn’t reply, didn’t know how to reply, only breathing shallowly, fingers curling into the edge of your dresser as you glanced from his eyes to his lips repeatedly.

“you need to give me permission, you know,” he chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “there are rules for deals such as these.”

“please.” you breathed, somewhere between a whisper and a needy whine as your round eyes looked up at him so desperately.

as soon as the word left you, his lips were on yours. hungry, devouring you, sucking on your bottom lip like it’s a candy as you can’t help but melt and whimper against him. his hand found your cheek, the touch surprisingly soft compared to the madness of his kisses. your heart rattled against your ribcage like a bird wanting to escape its confines. his saccharine saliva seeped into your mouth as his tongue broke past your lips, running over your teeth and the roof of your mouth as you let him do whatever he wanted.

his hands are all over you and yours are all over him, grabbing at each other because there was no way to get any closer like this. your thoughts, unlike before, are completely quiet, head empty and drunk on the sloppy kisses, mouthfuls of teeth clashing against each other. he was supposed to be gentle, he wanted to be gentle, yet now you’re pressed against the dresser and he’s kissing you hard.

it was wrong, but it felt too good. that was clear from the moment your kisses turn open-mouthed, lips clinging and tongues dancing. you shivered as both his hands held you by your hips once more, lifting you to sit on the edge of the oak furniture, caressing your hips bones through the thin fabric of your dress.

your hands rug at his shirt lightly, a silent plea for him to remove it, wanting to see and feel every inch of his divine body. he complies, separating his lips from your to reach over his shoulder and grip the silky shirt from the back, pulling it over his head, tossing it aside. your hands explore his naked torso, fingernails scratching along his skin as he loses himself in the taste of your kisses.

his hands dragged the long skirt of your gown up your legs, fingers ghosting over the supple skin of your calves and thighs before letting the cloth bunch up at your hips, winding your legs around his waist before lifting you off the dresser. you cling to him the way the thought of him cling to you for so long before this as he carries you. he lays you down gently, your head spinning as he kneeled on the edge of your bed and leaned over you, moving his lips from yours to mouth at your neck.

his hot breaths dance along your skin, across your collarbone, neck, pressing wet kisses down to the fabric covering your chest. you gasped softly as he brushed his teeth against your skin, a reminded that he could really break you if he wanted, but the feel of his lips against the curve of your neck, testing out the waters of your shoulder, made the intimidating thought vanish.

he teases the skin just above your neckline with nibbles that have you throwing your head back with soft whimpers, only encouraging him as his left hand kept one of your legs hitched up against his hips and his right undid the ribbons at the back of your dress. the fabric loosens and slips around, one sleeve falling over your shoulder slightly as he sat you up a little and pulled the dress over your head, discarding it and leaving you in your white ruffled bra and panties.

you’re dizzy, delirious with thirst—for his touch, his kisses, for everything his sharp lips could give you, for him to relieve the ache between your legs. you shiver as you’re left bare, nipples peaking through your bra, undergarments barely hiding your most precious parts. you try covering yourself with shaking arms, despite the little fabric still be there, but his hands move them aside, pulling them to rest on his bare chest. his eyelids flutter for a moment at the contact, your hands so much colder than his.

he leans back to look at your, hand at your back winding around to massage a handful of one breast, watching your breath hitch. “such a pretty girl, and all for me.”

“san…” you whimper aimlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“such an angel,” he teases again, thumb circling over your clothed nipple lightly, grinning at how helpless you looked, “supposedly protected by your father, by god, yet here you are, practically begging for a demon to fuck you.”

he presses himself closer and you can feel the thick and heavy weight of his cock smudge against your core, gasping softly as you eyes roll back, his tip prodding against the fabric covering your sensitive clit. his name falls from your lips once again, like a softly uttered prayer as you back arches. he takes the opportunity to undo the clasp of your bra, slipping the item off you before continuing to tease your perked nipples, leaning down to lick and suck at them as his hips grind against yours. you weren’t sure when he took off his pants, but you didn’t quite care, not when his impressive girth covered your core so well. sometimes the tip would dip into your entrance before leaving just as quickly, your toes curling as it stretched you and your panties.

he moans into your neck, grinding against you at just the right pace, his precum smearing all over you already-drenched panties. the feeling of his tip prodding at you clit so continuously makes you come quickly, and much harder than the other night when you touched yourself. you writhe beneath him, shaking and crying out his name as your back arches from the bed.

“hm, you’re so much prettier like this, angel, succumbing and throwing away any desire of virtue,” he mutters against your jaw, having sucked dark marks onto the skin right below it, his deep melodic voice.

angel. the way he calls you that makes you shiver. how could he do that? call you an angel while plucking out the feathers of the wings you’d once had?

when he enters you, it’s slow and deliberate, leaning down to whisper into your ear as he presses your hands into the white mattress—”heaven itself could not make you feel like this.”

“i’ve never… you know…” you had admitted shyly once you came down from the first orgasm he coaxed out of you.

he only chuckled, caressing your cheek. “i know. virgins always smell the sweetest.”

you pleaded for him to be gentle, and how could he say no when you were begging so prettily? now his length is barely halfway inside you and you’re already shaking, drenched and deprived pussy squeezing him tightly as he swallows down your broken moans, holding back him own. you feel abnormally good to him, unable to remember the last time he fucked such a perfect pussy.

as he reaches previously untouched parts of you, his tip brushes against a spongey little area that has you clenching, your breath hitching followed by a gasped moan as you come again. stars flood your vision, feeling like your body was on fire as your hands tightened under his. his tongue licks up every one of your sounds, smothering you as he pulled back a bit to press against the spot some more.

your moans soon turn into soft whines, twitching from overstimulation before he fially continues to enter you. it’s a tight fit, but he bottoms out eventually.

“fuck- you take me so well, you’re so perfect.” he groans, looking down at where he can see his tip bulging through your stomach.

you never imagined just how full you would feel, the stretch burning yet somehow still pleasurable as you squirm beneath him. he doesn’t wait, retracting and fucking into you slowly, letting you feel every curve and vein of his perfect cock.

he loses track, but he thinks he’s made you finish 4 times already. he’s not surprised, virginity leaves most people sensitive, and the fact he’s been teasing you in and out of your dreams for months likely didn’t help. san revels in it though, basks in the sounds you try to hold back so desperately. he isn’t lying when he says you’re pretty, hypnotised by your face contorted in pleasure and your body, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. they somehow still have an innocent glint in them, even as he manoeuvres you into different positions before finally easing you into your back once more.

you arousal is smeared all over yourself and him and the bedsheets. clear and sticky, glistening in the candlelight. at some point he slipped out of you to lean down and have a taste, groaning as you mewed above him. when his teeth grazed your abuser clit, you finish once again and a moment later he’s back inside you.

eventually, his hips stutter and a newfound pace takes over. “shit, angel, i’m gonna fill you up so good. would you like that?”

you can only nod frantically, brain turned to mush, jaw dropped to let out your lazy whimpers. you’ve lost track of everything but him; his touch, his voice, his influence. if you parents walked in or he disappeared, you’d only be able to lay there, completely helpless.

he never really stops, taking his time to worship your tight hole, knowing he’ll only be able to stop when he comes. though, by the looks of it, it’ll be sooner rather than later.

his groans and moans sound blissful in your ears, holding your name between his teeth with a low whimper. he spills his tick warm cum into you, the new sensation making you shake and squirm as you feel your insides being filled. another orgasm washed over you, though a little weaker, drunk on his scent and his saliva and him him him.

he kisses you, bruisingly, slipping out of yoh and letting you feel his seed seep out of your hole and run down your thighs, pussy coated in milky white. he slumps against you, detaching his lips from yours to gaze down at your barely open eyes.

it’s tiring, you can’t deny that, but it just feels so good. all your disgusting, fucked up thoughts were because of him. and now your most intimate parts will always be tainted by his hands. he calls you ‘good girl,’ yet you know you’ll never be good again.

choi san: voice like silk, touch like satin, incubus, demon. you’d think demons kill people, but your purity was his only homicide. he murdered your virginity. murderer.

but you do wish for him to kiss you again.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

fic taglist. @ta3baee @juyofans @sourkimchi @desirehorizon @revepixy @yungilia @cntlyv @mcendpoet @kimseungminsprincess @cookiechristie @bluesunpurplestar1117 @vnessalau @k1ttym0nkey @kyeomooniee @aarzoo-2 @pinkgirly-18-blog @yourfatherlucifer @puddingjongho @futuresoffantasies @reallywingedland @spenceatiny18 @im-def-not-ok @hwapou @a1sh1teruu @lover-ofallthingspretty @arabelleum @hoshiseon @guggu6gvai @seongsbf @honggatito @deltamoon666 @yunhoszn @1-800-fuccthisshit

[sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan]

Yor's Hometown and Westalis

Yor mentioned that she's from a place in Ostania called Eastern Nielsberg.

Obviously, I thought it was on the Eastern part of Ostania as well. But then we get this statement from her from the recent update, Chapter 92.

She's from the South part of Ostania-A Southern folk.

And how did I dare forgot, the dish that she can make without messing up was even named Southern Stew.

Why is this important? Because Mr. Green said this specific information on Chapter 39 about Southern Folks from Ostania.

Southern Folks have a code for defecting to the West which might indicate that they're the ones who usually do this.

Then I remembered this Twiyor moment from Chapter 35

Yor knows a lullaby from Loid's childhood that was always sung to him by his mother. How could Yor know that same exact lullaby?

I don't think I remember Yor mentioning Westalis neither in speech or thought (correct me if I'm wrong pls). Though that doesn't mean that she wasn't aware of the existence of it. But I don't think she, herself, would try or have tried defecting to Westalis. And she's too young and too focused on taking care of her brother to even consider this.

But how about her family? Her parents? Their relatives? Why did Yuri and her are left alone when their parents died? What happened to their grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles? Where were they and why didn't they took them in? Did they perhaps defect to the West and Yor's family remained on Ostania? We can't be sure since we only know a little about Yor's backstory and her entire family background.

But even in Loid's backstory, when he was talking to the croquette lady, she mentioned that she was part Ostanian herself and she has a family in the East even though she's residing in West. Meaning, there could also be people from Ostania that has Westalian relatives. Yor's family could have Westalian background or someone in their family tree is and who knows, her family may have actually some sort of connection with Loid's family in Luwen.

I actually don't know where I was going with this or if this even make sense or plot relevant but I can't help but be intrigued by this.

[moeswriting]

mine | 1. wondering why we bother with love

pairing: young!no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

chapter summary: a regular day at work turns into the beginning of something joel never thought would happen to him again.

chapter warnings: joel is 22 and reader is 20, mentions of a bad marriage and teenage pregnancy, reader is described a small amount (has hair, able-bodied, wears feminine clothing, is going to school for secondary english education, has a heavily-detailed background), joel being the single dad™, southern banter and teasing, fluff, joel being a flirt, baby sarah being her dad's favorite, if i missed anything let me know

word count: 3.6k (future chapters will be longer)

a/n: good lord, this got some attention!!! i'm so fucking grateful for it. really excited for you guys to read this. hope you like it. lemme know what you think. any reblogs and likes are appreciated <3

series masterlist | next chapter ->

read this chapter on ao3

You were in college, working part-time waiting tables

Left a small town, never looked back

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin'

Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

✦ ✦ ✦

October 1994

At seventeen-years-old, Joel Miller found out that his girlfriend was pregnant. It was startling and overbearing and horrifying and it made him want to scream at the sky, at God or whatever was up there and curse them for fucking up his life. He told Amanda that he was there for her, would do anything for her, but he was scared shitless.

At eighteen, he was holding a baby in the hospital with a ring on his left hand and thanking whatever was up there for bringing him a healthy baby girl to hold for the rest of his life. Maybe it was too soon, but as soon as he laid eyes on her, he knew. He knew he would love Sarah for the rest of his life and even beyond that. But, Amanda held her for a second and gave her back to him. He knew that she resented him– could tell by the way she fidgeted with the ring on her finger, pulling it off and then putting it back on, scowling at it when she thought he wasn’t looking. They moved into a small apartment near the college campus in Austin right before the baby was born. He could tell she hated that too. He knew he could grin and bear it, as long as Sarah got to have two parents.

At twenty, he came home from his job at the small diner across the street to their small apartment where his little girl was crying in her crib and a note sat on the counter that read, “I’m just not built to be a mother or a wife, Joel.” All of her things were gone. It was like she’d never been there at all.

That night, he held Sarah in his arms and cried. He watched her big, curious eyes as his tears ran down her face and soaked into her pink pajamas. He thinks maybe she knew what was going on– the toddler was always more ahead than he ever was. It only took a day for her to start begging for her mother, sobbing in Joel’s arms as he held her tight to his chest, hushing in her ear, trying to sing any lullaby he could think of. It took her two months to stop bringing her up at all.

By twenty-two, he’s a fully-functioning single dad. He has a stable job at the diner and does some contracting with his brother on the side. His mom helps him watch Sarah while he’s working– shows him pictures of her on her digital camera she insists on bringing with her everywhere when he gets back from work. There’s a wall in his kitchen dedicated to his favorites. He never stops thanking her for everything she does for him.

Sarah is growing beautifully. Her curly hair is a mess, but he’s trying his best to learn how to do it right. Amanda had always done it before– pigtails and braids perfectly set on her tiny head. But he finds that her thick hair is hard to tame on his own. He takes her to the salon downtown for them to do her braids whenever he can afford it. Her big brown eyes could make him do anything– she knows just how to work him with her wet, puppy dog stare and pouty lips. She’s up to his knees now. Everytime he comes home from work, she’ll run to him and crash into his calves and he can’t help but smile everytime she does it.

She’s his world, his everything.

It’s a Sunday morning. He always works Sunday mornings because the church crowd always tips well and today is no different. Sweat is dripping down his back from running around, and his brain feels like it’s split in half with all the orders stuffed in his head. The diner’s small enough that he’s only one of two servers working, despite how ridiculously busy it is, but he doesn’t mind. He can’t mind, really.

“Donald! Where’s my pancakes?”

The owner of the establishment’s balding head peaks out of the kitchen, as he yells back at him, “In your ass, Miller!”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans, pushing an order sheet back into the kitchen for Donald to grab, “Hurry it up, please. Mr. Cassini is starting to get hangry again.”

Donald laughs boisterously, “Oh, that old man is always angry!”

Joel waves him off, “Just do it, Don.”

“No problem, kid!”

He turns around and there’s a new patron sitting at one of his tables. A woman, body guarded, eyes on alert, evaluating the diner for the closest exits. You look scared, but only in the way that prey does when it knows it’s safe– waiting for the next predator to flash its teeth at your trembling form. Your hair is wet, as well as the tops of your shoulders, which are tucked into a large hoodie that swallows you. He didn’t realize it was raining. Your sneaker-clad feet are tucked under your legs, criss-cross-applesauce on the soft leather of the booth beneath you.

You’re beautiful.

Tapping his pencil against his order pad, he approaches you carefully. You look like you’ll run for the hills if he takes you by surprise. But, his tapping seems to alert you of his presence, as your head turns towards him. You watch him with a discerning look and fold your hands on your lap.

He pulls out the Southern charm his momma taught him, smile and all, hoping it might ease your cautiousness, “Hello, ma’am. Can I get you something to drink?”

You look surprised– eyebrows raised and eyes wide, like you didn’t expect him to talk. It’s odd, he thinks.

“Oh– uh–” you look down to the menu he placed in front of you upon his approach– “Iced tea?”

Just from your voice alone– and piled onto the fact that he knows everyone around here, and he’s damn sure he’s never seen a woman as pretty as you before– he knows you aren’t from around here. He has the sudden and all-consuming need to know everything about you. Why are you here? Who the hell are you?

“You need a lemon with that, sweetheart?” He can’t keep his eyes off you.

“Oh, no, no. Sugar is good enough for me.” As if to prove your point, you pull a couple packets of Sweet ‘N Low out of the small container at the end of the table and toss them next to the menu splayed out in front of you.

“Alright, darlin’. One iced tea comin’ up.” He pulls out a wink for you and walks away. He isn’t prepared to see the aftermath of his overconfidence. He really hopes you don’t run.

And he finds that you haven’t when he comes back with your iced tea in his hand. He places it down in front of you with a, Here you go, hon, and asks if you want anything to eat, and you decline. He rushes to get to his other customers. Tips are more important than the beautiful woman, he has to tell himself, but he finds that his eyes drift to you as you dump three pink packets of the sweetener into your tea and swirl it around. He shakes his head in amusement when you pull a book out of the backpack sitting next to you and start to read.

✦ ✦ ✦

When he comes back to check on you again, you’ve downed your glass of tea and you’re squinting your eyes as you write on the page of the book in front of you, underlining a passage you determine is worthy of note, not once, not twice, but three times. He thinks he sees the words ‘idealized love’ as he pours more tea from the pitcher he brought with him into your plastic cup.

“Whatcha readin’?”

Your eyes don’t even leave the page, pencil doesn’t cease writing as you reply, “The Great Gatsby.”

“Huh. Read that in high school. Kinda sad, ain’t it?”

You place your pencil down in the crease of your paperback, still reading, “I suppose so.”

It’s gone quiet in the diner now that the Church crowd has left, the sound of the jukebox in the corner the only background noise remaining. Only people here now are you and Mr. Cassini, but he’s preoccupied with Doreen, the other waitress on duty today. They’re flirting in the way that old people do, with shy smiles and boisterous laughter. He thinks he can take a quick break.

He sits down on the booth across from you and you look up at him for the first time since he came back to fill your tea.

“What’re you doing,” you ask– not in anger or annoyance, but just genuine confusion.

“Sittin’. This book for pleasure or school?”

You seem to accept his presence here with you as your new, temporary situation and put your bookmark– a pressed leaf– back in your book and close it shut. “School.”

He hums, disappointment dripping down his back, “You in high school then?”

Your eyebrows furrow before you seem to realize where he is drawing his conclusion from, “Oh! No, no. I’m studying to be an English teacher. We’re supposed to read this and come up with a fake lesson plan.”

Relief replaces the disappointment just as quickly as it had come.

“Huh. Interesting.”

You shrug, “I’d like to think so.”

He shuffles in his seat, pressing the cold leather against his sweltering back. “So, what– you gonna be a high school teacher?”

“I’m trying to. It’s hard work.” You pull out a few more packets of sweetener and pour them into your new cup of tea. He tries his best not to smile, but he can feel the corners of his lips pulling at his skin.

“Hard work is good for the soul– shows you got guts. That’s what my momma always says, anyways.”

You grin, “She sounds real smart, your mamma.” He hears you emulating his accent, teasing him for being so incredibly cliché, but he’s so focused on your blinding smile that he can’t even fight back.

“She is. She’s the best I could ask for.”

“Good. Everyone deserves a good mom,” you say, your smile almost turns sad as you say it. He wants to grab your face and beg you to tell him why what you said makes you sad, where’s your good mom that you deserve?

“Joel Miller, what are you doin’, sittin’ down? Get your ass up and clean some tables,” Donald yells from across the diner. Joel doesn’t even flinch– used to his sour attitude from almost four years of working here. But he watches you flinch, eyes going wide. You look warily over to Donald, assessing the situation, before you look back over to him.

You clear your throat, “It seems like you need to be getting to work, Joel Miller.”

You're teasing him again, but he can tell you’re nervous. He smiles, trying to calm your nerves as much as he can, and he thinks it works as he watches your shoulders relax slightly.

He chuckles, muttering to you conspiratorially, “Bitter old man, can’t see I’m trying to get myself a date over here.”

Your eyes flick down to your book and back up to him. Biting your lip, trying to suppress the smile he can see taking over your face, you reply, “Get back to work.”

“Alright, alright, sugar. I’m going,” he concedes, hands flying up in surrender.

The grin finally takes over your lips again and he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful– besides his own baby girl’s smile. 

A name falls from your upturned lips.

“Huh?”

You laugh, opening your book back up and pulling yourself back into the story, “My name, Joel Miller.”

He repeats it back to you. It tastes like honey and sweetener on his tongue.

He wonders what you would taste like on his tongue.

“I’m getting off in 30 minutes.” An invitation.

You look back up at him. “Well, then, I guess I got another thirty minutes to read before you’re bothering me again.” You accept.

“I suppose you do.” He turns back to the counter and walks away. He can feel the pull to go back to you, to indulge himself in you further, but he needs the money and the extra $3 for the next thirty minutes could be the difference between his baby girl getting a full meal or not, and Donald has a nasty habit of not paying the full amount if he ain’t working, so he picks up a rag and gets back to work.

✦ ✦ ✦

Thirty minutes later, he’s pulling off his apron and bounding out of the backroom towards the table you’ve made a home of. He finds that you’ve packed up your things into your lavender bookbag, like you’re ready for whatever he throws at you– to go wherever he’s going to take you.

He wastes no time; he doesn’t want to be here anymore. “You wanna go on a walk?”

You nod your head eagerly. It seems you’re in agreement.

The pavement is a dark gray beneath your purple sneakers and his steel-toed boots, a pair his momma gave him for his 18th birthday. They’re good for work– sturdy, not too sweaty or uncomfortable. He wears them everyday. He wonders if you like cowboy boots, hopes you don’t find them tacky.

It’s still light out, around six in the afternoon. It stopped raining an hour ago, but the humidity still lies heavy in the air as the two of you make your way outside. It’s hot, but only in the way that Texas is in the middle of October. It’s comforting, like laying in front of a fire on a cold day.

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets. He wants to take your hand, can feel his fingers twitching with the exertion of forcing himself to stop. You don’t even know him– he doesn’t want to scare you off yet.

You look to him for directions and he tilts his head forward and down the street, starting your walk at a slow, but steady, pace.

Austin is busy this time of year, what with all the college students a month or so into their return for the fall semester. The bars they pass are full of drunk students on  full-weekend benders and loud music. Stupid decisions and disco lighting. Sometimes he’s glad he was able to avoid all that. Sometimes he misses having the option of making mistakes.

He clears his throat, “Where you from, darlin’?”

You smile, kicking a rock with the edge of your sneaker, “Oh, is it that obvious that I’m not a Texas girl?”

If the lack of the local accent and not recognizing you wasn’t enough, the way you held yourself would be the obvious give away to him– nervous, on-guard. He finds that people around here aren’t scared of being too loud or in the way of anyone or anything. It was plain to him that you couldn’t stand the idea of getting in anyone’s way.

“Kinda,” he chuckles.

You hesitate, looking away from him and to the uneven sidewalk below you both, like you’re trying to decide if you should lie to him or not.

“Seattle.”

That takes him by surprise, but he hopes it doesn’t show too much. What in the hell were you doing all the way down here?

So many questions left unanswered in the aftermath of you.

“Woah– long way from home, aren’t we?”

Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah— yeah, I am.”

Home, family seem to be sore topics for you. He makes a note to avoid it.

“Never been to Seattle. In fact, I’ve never left Texas.”

Your eyebrows lift. “Really? Washington’s beautiful.”

“Lotsa rain, I hear.”

You let out a breath of amusement, “You hear correctly. It's one of the only things I miss about it. Texas isn’t exactly known for its rain.”

He snorts, “No, it ain’t. But, you got yourself some today. Bet that was nice.”

You nod. It’s a few moments of comfortable silence before you speak again.

“You from around here?”

He nods once, pushing his hands even further into his pockets in embarrassment, “Lived in Austin my whole life.”

“Joel Miller, you’ve gotta get out of Texas,” you laugh.

You’re beautiful when you laugh. Your smile lights up your whole face like the sun as you throw your head back towards the dreary sky, eyes crinkled by the pull of your cheeks.

He sighs lightly, “Yeah, ‘spose I do.”

You seem to realize something as you do a quick scan of your surroundings before you look back at him with narrowed eyes and a playful smirk.

“Miller, where are we going,” you draw out.

“Nowhere,” he mimics your drawn out syllables, “Just walkin’.”

You hum, “Hm, and I don’t suppose that nowhere is in the general direction of my college campus and that you may be ‘just walkin’ ‘ me to my dorm like the Southern gentleman you are?”

He chuckles, bashfully scratching the back of his neck, “Maybe.”

You pause, look him up and down, and then sigh, “Thank you, Joel.”

“It’s no problem, sugar.”

He lets you take the lead now that you’re approaching the campus, slowing his steps so he could keep up with you. You scrunch your eyebrows at the ground below you and pucker your lips, opening your mouth and then closing it again. When Sarah does that, he calls her ‘fishy’. He desperately wants to tell you about her, but he finds himself once again fighting the urge so he doesn’t scare you off. Not yet, he tells himself.

You look up at him again, eyes wide and biting your bottom lip, “Why do you keep calling me that?”

He’s staring. He knows he’s staring at your mouth, but he can’t help it. They’re like a siren song he can’t resist. He can’t think straight when you’re next to him. 

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts like an Etch-A-Sketch, “What?”

“‘Sugar’. Why do you keep calling me that?” You glance over at him, but quickly look back at the ground when you catch him staring at you. He can tell you’re flustered.

“Oh, well, I watched you pour three packets of sweetener in your tea like a maniac. So, I figured that was an appropriate nickname.”

You scoff, throwing your hands up in the air, a grin growing on your face, “Hey, that is a very appropriate amount of sweetener, thank you very much! I thought you Southerners adored your sweet tea.”

“Darlin’, if all us ‘Southerners’ drank three packets of sweetener with our iced tea, we would all be dying at a very young age.”

“Well then, I’ll die a very sugar-high and happy, young woman.”

He laughs– one of those real laughs that only his family can bring out of him. He can’t remember the last time he laughed like this in public.

“Y’know, if you’re gonna die young, sugar, I don’t know if it’s such a good idea that I do what I was about to do.”

You stop in front of the tall brick building in front of you, clicking your heels together, and playfully furrow your eyebrows again. You’ve reached your destination. This is goodbye. He doesn’t want it to be.

“And what were you about to do, Joel Miller?”

“Ask you on a date,” he smiles and you smirk, “But… if you’re planning on an early demise, darlin’, I don’t wanna get my heart broken.”

“And if I promised to cut back?” You’re approaching him quietly– two feet turning into almost chest-to-chest in a few agonizing seconds.

“Then, I’ll have to take you out to make sure you keep your promise– now, won’t I?”

He watches from the corner of his eye as you pull a piece of paper out of your hoodie pocket and stuff it in his own. The soft, fleeting feeling of your hand brushing his makes a shiver run down his spine. Your hand quickly retreats.

You look up at him with mischief in your eyes, “I guess you will.”

Before he can even blink or think or process, you're kissing his cheek with a tenderness he hasn’t felt in years– eyes closed and big grin plastered on your face. He knows he’s blushing; the heat is crawling up his face ruthlessly.

You pull away and start to walk toward your building. He lifts a hand to his face in hopes that you left something there, evidence that you were real, evidence that what just happened wasn’t a figment of his imagination. But all he can feel is his own stubble. He hopes it didn’t hurt your lips. Maybe he should shave when he gets home.

“Call me, Joel Miller,” you shout over your shoulder, grinning brightly.

“How,” he shouts back.

“Look in your pocket!” You point to your own in emphasis.

His eyebrows pull together as he pulls the paper out of his pocket and reads it. Ten digits sitting pretty in red at the top with your name sitting on the bottom, a heart colored in with purple highlighter drawn next to it.

He goes to tell you thank you, or declare something he’s not even sure of himself, but when he looks back up to the doors of your building, you’re gone. The only evidence that you were ever real sits in his hands like a promise.

He rushes home before his mom starts to worry about where he went. He can’t wait to tell her all about you.

series masterlist | masterlist of all masterlists 🌼 | eras masterlist 🌻

[spoopydeboop]

Hello, and welcome to…

Pointless Palia Head-Cannons!

This is a segment where my hyper-focused and obsessive brain will shower you all with all of the pointless very important head-cannons I have about the MMO Palia and its many NPCs!

Today’s topic is:

Which Palia NPCs can sing well and which ones simply cannot carry a tune?

Now, in the words of the famous Italian plumber, “Here we go!” (List below the cut!)

NPCs are listed in alphabetical order.

• Ashura - Absolutely yes, but in a very deep, sea-shanty / Gaelic tune way. He’s not the most technically sound, but his voice is very gruff and soothing. Absolutely sang his son lullabies every night.

• Auni - No, I’m sorry. Convinced that he cannot carry a tune AT ALL but thinks he can. Sings loudly with zero inhibition whatsoever. Gotta give him credit there!

• Badruu - We know this man was in a traveling Bard group, so he’s musically inclined for sure. I feel like he would have been killer backup and filler vocals and he can harmonize beautifully.

• Caleri - Doesn’t believe in fun, jovial activities like singing. (Elouisa informs you later that her sister can in fact not carry a tune at all.)

• Chayne - Absolutely. He’s naturally musically inclined, but part of his spiritual training involved learning to lead chants and hymns. Bass level vocals, v soothing.

• Delaila - Not at all. Where do you think Auni gets it? Part of what entranced her about Badruu in the beginning was his musical abilities. She’ll still sing along with a group and put her all into it though!

• Einar - The concept of producing a vocal stimulation to create a pleasing melodic sound is lost to the robot. But if it’s your Oneness, he respects it.

• Elouisa - Cannot sing, but definitely played clarinet in high school and was first chair!

• Eshe - No way. Cruella de Vil type vibes. She definitely was classically trained on the piano, but doesn’t often exercise the skill.

• Hassain - Can absolutely carry a tune and harmonize well! Definitely low baritone or higher bass in range. Can harmonize with higher ranges very well!

• Hekla - Her Jina often sings to herself as she works, but the ability and desire to produce a series of melodies is not within her rune programming.

• Hodari - Not the biggest fan of singing, but has a decent voice that comes off pleasantly gruff and southern. I imagine if Pedro Pascal’s ‘Joel’ from The Last of Us sang a slower, more reserved tune. (My other example was the dad cow from Back at the Barnyard that sings “I Won’t Back Down”… Let me know if that woulda been better or worse.)

• Jel - Definitely took vocal lessons with his sisters. Has a very pleasant and airy singing voice that is very technically sound.

• Jina - Doesn’t really sing much except for to herself. Massive stage fright on this one! Hekla says that her Jina seems happy when she sings, and that’s what matters.

• Kenji - Honestly? 100%, yes. Maybe like a broadway or an operatic voice. Doesn’t sing much but I imagine it would sound really jolly if he was a jollier guy.

• Kenyatta - YES! Doesn’t sing because she thinks it’s ‘lame’ (she gives me massive ‘too cool for school’ vibes) but has a delightful and powerful singing voice (kinda like the wolf Porsha Crystal played by Halsey in Sing 2.)

• Nai’O - Yes absolutely. Got his talent from his dad! He’s very shy when put on the spot though, so he doesn’t sing in front of people often — mostly when he works in the field with his animals by himself.

• Najuma - Not at all! But it’s okay because Najuma has zero desire to, haha. Kid is happy to be tinkering!

• Reth - On god, YES. Man has a beautiful and casual singing voice with a little rasp around the edges. Sings to himself while he cooks or gets really focused on something. I’m thinking “Feelin’ Good” by Michael Bublé, but maybe bit more rough around the edges.

• Sifuu - Not much of a singer, but I know our Muscle Mommy definitely has a few war chants or something up her sleeve! Lady can keep a beat for sure.

• Tamala - Thinks she can, but makes it way too sultry. You heard me. There’s such a thing as too much!

• Tish - Yes! Absolutely. She seems like she would 100% have like a Mandy Moore or Kristen Bell vibe. Very Disney Princess-esque!

• Zeki - Okay, honestly I think yes — but not in a conventional way. Kind of like Ashura; I think he would be great at singing like traditional Grimalkin shanties or folk-songs. Not very practiced, but he’s got spirit!

OKAY FINALLY DONE! I plan to do a lot more of these! Let me know if you have any suggestions!

[weirdnotal]

My Accent headcannons for the lu chain (and etc):

Time: was taught hylian by trees???? Almost has no tone/infliction in voice (he's working on it)

Malon: Tennessee accent all the way, with that nice hook at the end too (non southerners imagine dolly parton)

Lullaby: very formal proper hylian, dignitary style

Warriors: British military like he's reading from a manual

Sheik: I don't know much about her but the sheikah definitely take inspiration from Japan

Twilight: Appalachian accent as thick as raw honey (non appalachians have yall ever heard of one looking it up)

Midna: try 'n' convince me she don't have a loud ass Louisiana accent (non southerners go watch princess and the frog) (this is totally not for my Midna is African American agenda)

Dusk: real formal like n all that

Sky: That's a Midwesterner (he genuinely tried to get Wild and Rulie to eat jello salad once)

Sun: completely Midwestern

Groose: spends a lot of time around the other two^ but his parents are Gerudo (Arabic/middle eastern)

Four: the minish have always reminded me of the Icelandic tales of little elves

Dot: same formal accent, maybe more like Four's

Age/Cal(calamity): very formal british accent almost royal but also uses some Korean (Zora) words

Mipha: Korean accent (thicker than Sidon's)

Fauna: royal and tight lipped british

Wild: used to be more British (kinghts!), but now is more southern cause twilight has corrupted him

Flora: much more informal than the other zeldas

Legend: Scottish accent, but he usually hides it really well, so you can't really tell at all unless he's mad or tired

Fable: Scottish asf (non Scottish people imagine Merida)

Ravio: fairly normal, but if provoked, he will speak like an Italian mobster wife until he gets his way

Hyrule: Rulie is Irish or Welsh all the way (especially with half fae/fey Hyrule)

Dawn: pretty similar to Hyrule

Aurora: transatlantic accent!!!!!

Spirit: he's always reminded me of Hugo Cabret, so cockney british accent it is (this grates on War's patience)

Phantom: can be formal if she has to but usually just sticks with cockney as well

Wind: Okay look, I love scottish pirate Wind, but I raise you patois or creole pirate Wind

Tetra: Wind's accent but double the amount and also the volume she says it at

[chaotic-starlight24]

Dallas Winston General Headcanons

This is the last part of the Dallas headcanons :) Please check out Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 of his backstory!

Sorry if anything is ooc! Warnings: Mentions of trauma, death, description of grief

He brags about his many scars from dangerous games. For example, he prides himself in the game where you try to get the knife between all of your fingers.

He genuinely likes a lot of movies. He just doesn’t show it. Also, most of the new movies don’t have anything interesting to them so he just looks at girls or talks to Johnny/Pony. But he will shut up and be glued to the screen when the theater or drive-in is replaying James Dean movies. He will literally shush Ponyboy, he just really likes James Dean. (He probably had a Rebel Without a Cause jacket made for him by Mrs. Curtis)

His aforementioned Norwegian mother (part 1) taught him the Hardanger Fiddle (When he was like 7) It was one of the very few bonding activities he had with her. He still has his original fiddle and while traveling around, a mother in Memphis fixed it for him after he ran an errand for her. He doesn’t play it much but he does sometimes sit alone at Buck’s and play melodies he remembers. He doesn’t like playing it around many people because playing takes a lot of energetic movements. The gang has heard him before but only like once.

His father and him had one or two bonding activities like once a week or so, mainly knife throwing. So Dally has great aim with just about any object. He would also occasionally try to play poker with him. But this did not happen very often since both parents were alcoholics and everything and his father was an especially angry one.

He needs a lot of time to wrap his mind around a lot of concepts, but once he has it down he's amazing at it! (Hardanger fiddle, stealing, knife throwing)

At the Curtis parent funeral he held himself together pretty well. He pretended to not be quite as bothered and used the excuse that he had seen worse things and that he was mainly concerned for the brothers. But when he got to Buck's he sobbed quietly for hours and didn't come out for a while. That was when he really did become a very cold person. He never opened his heart to anyone new after that. He started to believe that he couldn’t care about anyone because he was the curse that caused them to die. If it wasn’t for the gang he probably would have left Tulsa.

His mom was one of nine siblings so Dally has a lot of cousins. He saw several of them frequently and was especially friends with one named Joel. They mainly conversed through letters as his cousin lived in Windrixville. They always had a plan to meet up together and maybe fix up the abandoned church and make it into a hangout. His mother wasn’t particularly focused on teaching him much about their culture so he learned some things from his cousins. He still remembers bits and pieces of the language and pronounces names with a Norwegian accent every so often.

He always keeps his jacket on in the summer unless going swimming. He says it’s to look tuff but it’s actually because he gets eaten alive by mosquitos or sunburned to the fact he’s neon red.

His oldest sister, Elizabeth in English spelling, would sing him Scandinavian lullabies to help him fall asleep at night and he still finds himself humming the tunes when doing busywork. (Examples if you want to listen: Vargsången, Trollsmor Vaggvisa, Klatremus’ Voggevisa)

He lost his New York accent but sometimes he pronounces words with a really thick one. He doesn’t really have a southern accent either but overall it’s kind of a mix between them. “C’mon upstays, Johnny.” “Huh?” “I mean upstairs.”

He really likes bread. Noone really knows why either. But his problem is he doesn’t really like the store bought bread. In his words, “It’s just unnatural how long it stays good, man.” So he swipes a lot from bakeries. Mrs. Curtis also taught him how to make it but he doesn’t often because he thinks it’s weird he knows how. Also no one should trust him with an oven. But sometimes Soda will come home to Dally just munching on a loaf fresh from their oven. 

But bouncing off that, he will eat just about any other food no matter how old it is. Maybe it’s because he’s always hungry. Maybe his immune system is that strong. No one really knows. Darry once found him munching on a block of cheese that had some mold and just threw it out the window. Dally was very upset because “He was really hungry!”. He also says that he doesn’t like things going to waste. 

It’s a surprise if he doesn’t end a sentence with man or kid. It’s just what everyone gets called. Except Mrs. Curtis. He called her man once and was promptly given the “glare of disapproval”. Safe to say he never did it again. (Everyone laughed afterward, don’t worry.)

The main reason he dated Sylvia so many times was because he wanted a relationship where he actually loved the person. He had so many meaningless ones that lasted a week at most. Both of them were not particularly healthy to each other since Dally was never in a proper relationship and Sylvia took advantage of him. But both of them had their flaws ofc.

I mentioned in Part 2 that Dallas went through a really big tornado while in Indiana, and you know he ended up in OKLAHOMA. Which is known for its large amounts of tornadoes. Because of this fear that he ended up having, he became really sensitive to thunderstorms. The rest of the gang is always relaxed when listening to the rain and thunder, but Dally will grip Johnny’s arm so hard he almost loses circulation. The gang caught on rather quickly and tried their best to calm him down. Mrs. Curtis and Two-Bit were the best at this and would just talk to him as if nothing was happening outside. Dally always tries to act super tough during storms and manages to keep his calm but there’s been several times where a crack of thunder will shake the house and he will legit scream. Whenever there is a tornado warning or anything he will sit in the closet and use the excuse that he’s just tired and it’s loud outside. 

His rings and necklace are his prized possessions. His necklace and 2 of his rings are from Snake Eyes (Part 1 goes more into detail) and the rest are ones he has collected throughout his travels.

Thank you guys for reading through my super large amount of headcanons :) Ponyboy and Darry are next but might not have as large of an amount of stuff!

[lleldey]

Love Is a Game: For Foolish Girls’ and Devils’ Plays

Chapter 2: Love Is a Game: For Political Enemies

Word Count: ~ 10.7k+

Description: They say love is a game for fools; but how can you win a game, you never wished to be a part of?

We were always friends – or rather, two neighbouring countries king’s children, who were forced to be friendly with one and other, to avoid further war between our lands.

But somewhere in the space of time and laughs, the line between friends and politics disappeared;

Warning for the chapter: mentions of war, jealousy, angst, verbal fights, this is a yandere story, please keep that in mind. If any is missed, please tell me, so I can add them!  

Warnings for the series: mentions of war, yandere themes, blackmail, verbal fights, 18+, smut, blood, more will be added with time

!In no way of shape and form do I think this is how Jungkook acts in real life, this is pure work of fiction, so if you choose to read it, please keep that in mind!

The life of a princess. Smile, wave, never express your opinions, and smile once more for good measure.

Three actions that perfectly describes your past weeks. Now, that you’re officially the future Queen, you expected to be given more tasks, responsibilities, but in turn you were given more headaches.

You look over the scenery, wild forest stretches for miles, and sweet birds chirp their lullabies, you breathe in the fresh air. Three and a half weeks on the road, travelling from country to country, you relinquish the small stop, having the ability to stretch your muscles after days in the carriage.

Footsteps quickly approach you, and you turn to see Anthony, your assistant, nervously shuffle from foot to foot and deeply bow. His behavior slowly distinguishes your bead of hope, but still you hold on to what’s left of it, and ask “Any letters?”

The words leave your mouth in a hurry, and you wince from the pain in your cheeks; smiling for weeks on end has its consequences, now it not only feels as if you’re eating glass shards whenever you smile, but the sharp pain has managed to creep in whenever you open your mouth to speak. Muscle overstimulation, doctor said, but unfortunately that doesn’t stop your duties.

You sigh as he shakes his head. Three and a half weeks, and not a single word from him, you guess you deserve it, but now, when you’re more confused than ever, you need his support. Anthony takes a step forwards, and pulls an envelope from his jacket pocket, “But, Your Grace, there is another letter from Prince Jeon”

You carefully assess the outstretched letter, as if it will bite you if you move any closer. After the eventful conversation with your father, the Grand Tour was brought forward, and you left the following day. It wasn’t your choice, father’s trusted advisor, Felix, announced the news, and somehow you didn’t find a single bone in your body to repel against it.

You left in a hurry, mind occupied with thousand what ifs, and didn’t find the time, or rather want, to properly farewell Jungkook. He managed to grab a hold of you, just as you were about to aboard the carriage.

You still remember his confused gaze, trying to grab a hold of your coat, as you shied away from his touch with the excuse everyone was waiting on you. He must be confused, but then again, so are you. And you might be petty, but as of right now, you can’t seem to find anyone else to blame but him.

You look up at Anthony, “How long ‘till we arrive at Southern Andevia?” Anthony clumsily looks at his watch, and mutters “If we travel steadily, we might arrive before the nightfall.”

You hum, that should be in around four hours. You take a look at the carriage, and already dread to go back into the claustrophobic space, but you soothe yourself with the idea, that in less than a week you’ll be back in your bed.

“All right then, we should head off, no point wasting time.” You announce and grab the letter from Anthony’s hands. You tap the carriages door, and within a minute, you take off. A look to the back window makes you chuckle, how every worker stumbles upon their feet to quickly get into the cars.

How lucky they are, what wouldn’t you do to relax against the leather seats, but instead you have to represent the crown. You must shine, and be noticeable, smile and represent the title, even if your muscles scream in pain.

You put Jungkooks letter next to the other ones, ten to be precise. It is a mystery how he manages to track you down; each letter reaches you, and somehow, he manages to even call you.

How that is possible you don’t have a clue, as the phones were present only in some of the destinations, but unbeknownst to that, he not only knew where to find you, but also when. Your schedule was all over the place, and still he knew when you’d be by the reach. You guess being the prince has its own advantages.

On the other hand, father has managed to evade every possibility of contacting you, you’ve sent out at least 7 letters, and called him at every stop possible. But somehow no letter has gotten back to you, and even more so handy, he has been out of the palace every time you tried to call him.

You understand his disappointment in you, he has the validation to be angry, but what are you supposed to do? He prohibited any kind of contact with Jeons, but now he expects you to visit their Kingdom. Now, when you’ve met the tip of the iceberg of what they’re planning. How are you supposed to handle that?

You shake your head with a sigh and grab another sheet of paper. He can try and ignore you, but it doesn’t mean that you’ll let him do so in peace.

You feel foolish writing the letter, you know that with each one you seem more and more desperate, but what other choice do you have? You write the same message over and over, trying your hardest to not mention Jungkook or the documents, as to not anger him more.

Pen lingers before the paper, as you try to devise how to end the letter. Apparently nice doesn’t work, so you might as well be direct.

 I understand Your hurt, but unless Your desired outspring is to see our Kingdom in ruins, You must guide me. There are three nightfall’s before I depart on my journey to Kingdom of Bellum Sanguini, and I am sure King Jeon will not hassle if You take my position.

 You ponder of adding more, but is there any point if there’s no guarantee he will answer this time? So, you quickly sign off, and remind yourself to give the letter to Anthony first chance you get.

Three nightfall’s before you’re met with Jungkook and his father. Three nightfall’s for you to figure out a plan of action. You tear open the latest letter, to check if Jungkook’s attitude has changed. You notice how each letter gradually got shorter.

The first letter was long, two pages to be precise, and now you’ve somehow stepped onto the dangerous road. You’re met with three words, no more and no less. See you soon, greets you, and you know he is mad.

Perhaps damaging the only stable relationship with Jeons was the worst-case scenario, but you’ve no clue how else you could’ve handled the situation. Father prohibited any sort of contact with him, but you must admit, even if he didn’t, you’d still have no clue how to act.

Confronting him would be a sign of aggression and lying simply wouldn’t work. He knows you, perhaps better than you do yourself, and if you’d spit out a lie, he’d bite through it faster than the speed of light.

It’s pointless, there’s no right answer. You sigh and pick up the list of things you must go over with Namjoon, you might as well do at least this one thing right. After a while, words start to blend together, and with the last conscious thought you close the curtains before allowing the mental exhaustion to lull you to mindless dreams.

You wake as the carriage slowly comes to a stop. You open the curtains and see Namjoon’s white mansion in front of you. It’s definitely not a castle, but then again, he’s not a King. The exterior walls are decorated with Baroque elements, and you see Namjoon walking down the stairs with a big smile.

You pat your hair down and try to wake yourself from the sleep. The carriages door opens, and you quickly gather the papers together, before you step outside.

Namjoon comes towards you with outstretched arms, and lightly bows; you breathe a sigh of relief, as he kisses your hand in greetings. You try to smile in return, but judging by his laughter, you’re sure that the face you managed to pull, must remind more of a grimace, than a smile.

“Let me guess, muscle overstimulation?” he asks with his never dying smile, and you only grumble in dissatisfaction. “Oh, those good old days, what wouldn’t I do to go back.” Namjoon guides you to the manor, but before you step in, you hand Anthony the letter, and watch how he steps into a car and drives off.

“Well, as of right now, I’d do close to anything to fall into my own bed.” Namjoon only shakes his head and leads you throughout the bright halls. It’s as if the house is always full of daylight, no matter if the sky has fallen dark, the lights and bright walls shimmer, as if rays of sunlight cherish it.

“Believe me when I say, worst is yet to come, so I’d suggest you cherish it.” You look at him with a disapproving gaze, “Afterwards, you’ll start to make decisions, and you’ll see how the smiles of your people slowly start to fade. So, yes, cherish it, as it won’t last.”

You hum lost in your thoughts, a sense of truth clouds his words, and perhaps all of the mess Jungkook threw you in, won’t last. You hope that the media sees you as a shiny, new jewel needed to dissect only for now, and perhaps that was father’s plan all along. To divert the media from both of you, till they follow the next new trend, and leave your name free from the drama.

You stop in front of a door, and Namjoon turns towards you, “If you’re anything like me, then exhaustion must cripple your nerves. Get some rest, tomorrow will surely be eventful.”

You’re thankful for his consideration and caress his arm in gratitude. No words are exchanged, as you step into your temporary room. The bed looks so inviting, and you don’t waste any time removing your clothes, and climbing in it.

Before you close your eyes, you notice the telephone on the bedside table. Mindlessly you grab it, and with bated breath wait for the line to go through. A soft-spoken woman answers, probably one of the maids, and you ask her to redirect you to your father.

But of course, the answer doesn’t differ, “Pardon me, Your Grace, but The King has retired for the night,” you close your eyes and sigh, of course he has, “Would you like me to awaken him-” you hear her voice shake, and quickly interrupt her,

“No, no, but please do tell him to call me first thing in the morning.” You hear her stutter some more, but at this point you can’t be bothered, and put the telephone down.

You feel tears well up in the corner of your eye; this is not how you expected everything to go. Suddenly father hates you, all that everyone associates you with is Jungkook, your only task is to smile and learn some pointless cards of what each leader likes, so there’s no awkward pauses, as well as political phrases you have to mention. Phrases that you’re too dumb to even fully understand.

But worst of all, you’ve no one to talk to.

You try to calm your breath and get yourself together. Sleep seems as the only escape you’ll be given any time soon, so with a shaking breath you close your eyes and imagine simpler times. It seems unfair how life manages to turn 180 and you’ve no control of it.

Jeon Jungkook, the root of your problems. But also, your friend. You desperately want to scream and curse him, yet at the same time hide in his embrace, and cry out all of your fears and hurt. How can you cherish someone with all of your heart yet blame them for burning the ground you walk on.

Quickly you realize that there’s no space for emotions or problems within your duties. You must get up and smile, as if the world spins in perfect circles. Millions of people depend on you, and if they sense that something is amiss, your problems quickly become their own.

The only problem lies in the fact, that your duties aren’t nine-to-five, rather, they never stop. The only time when you’re truly free, is when you’re alone. And the thought disturbs your mental peace further, because when you’re lost within you, sitting alone with your thoughts only pushes you further in.

So, fake it till you make it quickly becomes your moto. It’s not hard to greet the maids with a smile, when you convince yourself that everything is indeed all right. To a certain degree life seems simpler when you walk around with no care in the world.

Memorizing the dreadful phrases seems even fun, and you feel a sense of lightness as you step into the dining area, cheerfully greeting the owner of the manor himself.

“Someone’s woken up refreshed” Namjoon notes as he watches you over the newspaper. You step closer to the table, and notice newspapers spread all over the table. One piques your interest, as you recognize it to be your Kingdoms national ‘paper, and on the front your father visiting a local school. Apparently, he has enough time for that.

You move your attention to Namjoon, and sit in front of him, “Indeed, I thought over your words last night, and concluded that I might as well enjoy the time before everyone hates me”

Namjoon lightly tsks, and you stop a servant, before they start to plate your food. You select your breakfast dish and sit back, might as well rip the band aid off quickly, “Your country exports gas, if I’m not mistaken?”

He puts the newspaper down and hums in agreement before he digs in his own plate, “My Kingdom would like to draw an agreement to start importing it from your country.” Namjoon stops eating and looks at you with a complatating gaze, silence slowly overtakes the room, and you start eating, while awaiting his response.  

“Isn’t your supplier the Jeon Kingdom?” now is your turn to hum, if you’re completely honest, you’re not sure, but at this moment you guess, that he probably knows more, so you roll with it.

“Think of it as diversifying.” You point at him with your fork. The man picks at his food and continues, now in a lighter tone, “We do use natural gas, so it would be better for your country.”

You nod your head, trying to follow his words, “It would be great business, and in the end both of us would be winners,” Namjoon crosses his arms, as he munches on a pickle, “Have your representatives send us the contract, it will take time, but I don’t see any obstacles getting in the way.”

You sigh in relief, and mentally tick off one of the points. You raise your orange juice glass, and cinque it with Namjoon’s, and the conversation falls into mindless chats, as you enjoy your breakfast.

“What’s today’s agenda?”

“We’ll visit the center, and the Monument of Freedom. So, prepare yourself for couple of smiles and hand shaking.” You hum in acknowledgment, there will probably be quite a bit of paparazzies, and subconsciously you start massaging your cheeks. Thankfully the pain isn’t unbearable today.

A servant comes up to Namjoon, and whispers something in his ear, you watch in wonder how Namjoon straightens his back and professionally responded, “Of course, tell him I’ll join him in my office in five.”

Both of you watch how the servant sprinted out of the dining area, and Namjoon turns towards you with a smile, “Hope you don’t mind if we have additional company” you smile back and shake your head, wondering if Namjoons father decided to join you, you haven’t seen him in a while.

“Of course not, additional company is always welcomed” Namjoons winning smile and small tutt makes you respond with a raised eyebrow, “And here I was, hoping, that my company is all you needed”

You giggle at his words, his proud smirk only furthering your laughter. Namjoons presence gives you a sense of carefree safety, which God knows you missed out on during the last couple of weeks. You sit back and as you’re ready to respond, the door opens once more, but the awaited maid is replaced by a dark silhouette, one with whom you’re awfully familiar with.

Your body feels frozen, and you watch in shock how Jungkook strikes in with the maid nervously following behind. Your eyes meet, and the light tilt of his head combined with his clenched jaw makes you slide deeper into the chair.

Namjoon rises sharply from the chair to greet him, but you can’t take your gaze away from him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Jungkook reluctantly looks at Namjoon and nods his head when he bows to him.

“Prince Jungkook, pleasure to see you” they shake hands, and Jungkook only hums before his gaze glides back to you. You take a deep breathe and stand up. Act normal, he’s your friend, everything is alright.

“Prince Jungkook” You smile (or rather grimace) and put out your hand for a handshake. He gazes at it with furrowed brows and takes it in his own. “Reagan” he firmly says and kisses your knuckles. Startled, you quickly take it back, and awkwardly cough and look at Namjoon.

He watches the interaction with clear confusion etched across his face. You feel Jungkooks eyes burning daggers in your head, as if mentally screaming and demanding you to look at him. The situation is saved by Namjoon, as he coughs and asks, “I expected to meet you in my office?”

You nod your head along his words, like your life depended on it, and hear Jungkook speak, “Pardon me, didn’t want to disturb your breakfast, so decided to join you.” You still feel his gaze on the side of your face.

You take this as your que and quickly interrupt before Namjoon manages to respond, “Perfect, we just finished, and I should go ahead and get ready for my busy day” you put pressure on the word, to make sure he doesn’t get any funny ideas.

You excuse yourself and mutter to Namjoon to meet you in an hour and quickly leave the room. You manage to breath a sigh of relief and walk towards your room. Jungkook completely caught you off-guard, you had been preparing yourself for the unavoidable meeting, but now that he’s here, your heart beats faster in nervousness.

Now his last letter makes sense, you only wish he would’ve explained just how soon you were to meet. The thought lays heavy in your head, and now you think over every possibility and option, cursing your past self, for ignoring him.

You’ll have to act as normal as possible, while at the same time keeping space from him. Is that even possible? You open your rooms door, only to be met with Anthony in the middle of it. Once he noted you, he stood tall and proudly bowed down to you.

You look at him with a questioning gaze, and ask, “Anthony, I don’t recall calling for you?” he only steps closer to you, and for a second you swear, you see his upper lip tremble along with his mustache. “Your Grace, I just wanted to say there’s not any letters from Kingdom of Otium Lepor.”

You sigh at the revelation, now even if he does suddenly change his mind, there’s no guarantee you’ll get the message in time. “Any calls?” you ask with the last reminding hope, only for it to distinguish when Anthony shakes his head.

You don’t wait for him to continue and raise your hand, “You’re dismissed.”

The maids helped you to get ready, while all you could think of is what to say to him. He would probably understand if you said that you were busy and tired, right? But then again, it sounds like bulshit even to you. Even more so, if he was at father’s palace when you started sending letters, it would look really bad.

The wintertime was coming, and you’re thankful for the wool dress that keeps your body warm. You wait for Namjoon at the entrance of the manor, and enjoy the mix of orange and red leaves, and the delicate sun rays, that caress your skin.

You hear muffled sounds behind you, and you turn, expecting to see Namjoon, only for him to be accompanied by the one you’re trying to avoid. “Oh, Reagan!” Namjoon hurries his steps towards you, “Prince Jungkook will accompany us today, as it would improve our nations relationship.”

You look at him lip tight and nod your head. Wonder whose idea might that be. “Alright then, you should head off first, I’ll follow closely behind.” Namjoon interrupts, “Follow?”

You look at him chin held high and confidence oozing from your body, “Yes, it would be improper for an unwed lady to arrive in the same carriage with two men”

Jungkook slowly shakes his head and his tongue rolls against his cheek, “Because we don’t act like children anymore, right?”

Now, what’s that supposed to mean?

You tilt your head with squinted eyes, and step aside so they could move past you. Perhaps he doesn’t say much, but still, it’s more than enough to leave the memo behind. You watch how their carriage drives off, and slowly step into your own.

If beforehand you comforted yourself with the idea that within a mere week everything would be over, now the glooming week seems like an eternity.

You look out the window, and wave to Namjoon’s people, who await you on the streets. You sigh a breath of relief, seeing how everyone smiles, and children jump up and down, trying to get a better sight of you.

The action calms you, somehow his country remind you of your own, previous weeks engraving how happy your own people are, singing songs, throwing flowers, and welcoming you with open arms.

Carriage stops and the door opens, you climb down and feel the wave of cheers embrace you. You find Namjoon and move towards him, all while smiling and waving to the crowd. Flowers are thrown from left to right and over your head, the occasional flashes of cameras paint your vision bright.

Your try to widen your smile once you’re in front of Namjoon, both of your turning to the crowd and waiving politely. Discreetly you try to find Jungkook, only for him to be as stoic and cold as possible couple of meters away from you.

You see him move closer to you, and unnoticeably move to the other side of Namjoon, so he would have no other choice but to walk next to him. Namjoon leans down to your ears, and instantly couple more flashes blind you, “We’ll walk to the monument, it’s not too far.”

You nod, all while continuously waiving. The streets even remind you of your home, the exterior, and warm colors making you feel safe and secure.

The crowd seemingly follows you, and you find yourself in front of the monument. It truly looks the same as the one in your Kingdom, the proud memorial was built decades ago, in most of the countries that suffered greatly from the war, symbolic reminder of the united pain and suffering, as well as what could’ve been. You look towards Anthony, and he brings you a bouquet of flowers which you rest near the monument.

A silence takes over the space, as you bow your head and think over the painful past. Even the crowd goes silent for the minute, only occasional flash going off. You feel Namjoon moving, and mindlessly follow him towards the microphone, and stay put by him, as he addresses the crowd,

“Today we welcome our allies and friends into our country,” you smile, as the crowd cheers, “and I am truly honored to guest Prince Jungkook and Princess Reagan and show them around our proud country.”

“It is the will of God, that now, decades later, we are able to stand by one another, and relish the strength that comes with union. Let’s welcome our friends, and build our future stronger, together.” Crowd claps profusely at his words, and you smile in regards, when you hear your name chanted.

The tree of your move closer for a picture, and the cameras goes off, when you’re in touching distance one to another. As you’re about to move further, you hear the crowd shouting more prominently, and you train your ears to listen in with a confused smile.

Soon the crowd chants in unison, and you shudder a breath, once you realize what they’re saying. Frozen you watch how Jungkook comes closer to you, to comply their wishes. Your smile is stretched on your face, and you hope they don’t pick up on how tense is your body.

You look towards Namjoon in search for help, but he steps away for Jungkook to come closer to you. Mentally you curse, this is the last thing you needed; you feel Jungkooks hand around your middle, and flashes overwhelm your vision.

You feel lightheaded, the force of the cameras and shouts hurting your brain. This must be why father denied any contact with Jungkook – that’s the only thing everyone can focus on, your mission, or your lone existence completely forgotten. Now it’s just ‘you and Jungkook’, and ‘we’. Banners which previously you didn’t mind, whereas now thread lightly against.

Father will receive the photos best case tomorrow morning; at this point you’re just waiting for him to disown you. He’s already ignoring you as it is, and now he’ll think you consciously go against his will.

His hand around your waist doesn’t comfort you as it once did, now it feels more like a stake driven into the ground. Even worse so, you know how improper his actions are, he’s not supposed to touch you, you’re in public, yet once again – rules don’t include him, right?

You detach yourself from him after a couple of seconds, and quickly go back to Namjoon, asking him to move forwards.

The whole day is spent like this, Jungkook trying to catch a hold of you, using publics demand as his motive, whereas you run around in circles, trying to distance yourself yet seem busy. Crowd is your biggest lifeboat, you cling to them, shake their hands, and accept flowers.

Meanwhile the people don’t seem like your saving grace no longer, almost all of the questions thrown at you center around the same thing, and you train your hearing to figure out if he receives the same attention.

But you’re soon perplexed, when you see him not interacting with the crowd, simply walking in the middle of the street, occasionally waiving. No smile, no pleasantries, just him in his usual public persona, walking, arms crossed over his back.

The streets are livelier than ever, autumns wind unnoticeable, as the sun paints the pathways golden. You wonder if your people would act the same, touring your own Kingdom, you didn’t manage to converse with them, only waiving from the carriage and talking with the city’s government.

So, when the carriage finally stops at the manor, you don’t even feel the hurt of your cheeks, the mental overstimulation left your body lifeless.

You hear the door open, but you can’t make your muscles moves, the dark of your closed eyes being more welcoming. Tomorrow you’ll be departing to his Kingdom, and if you’re being honest, at this point you’re truly scared. The looming threat overhead, father’s anger, everyone’s attention, and Jungkooks intrusive presence. Not even to mention that this is the first time anyone has been invited to travel to their Kingdom in decades.

The pressure is sizzling, and you open your eyes only when someone coughs at the door. The poor doorman probably thought that you were asleep. You exist all while apologizing and climb up the stairs. The hours of walking around in shoes now paying back, the heels of your feet aching with each step.

You walk in and move towards your room; you’re stopped by a shout of your name behind you. You turn and watch how Namjoon lightly jogs towards you, “Princess” he repeats one more time, as he stops next to you.

You smile at him expectantly, awaiting his next words, “I was wondering if you’d like to dine with me” you start to deny his offer, the day exhausted you, and the thought of lying in the bed seemed far more appealing.

Namjoon quickly shakes his head, and lightly taps his forehead, “Let me rephrase that,” he starts, “You seem exhausted, perhaps you’d like to share a cup of wine and relax?” The hopeful glaze in his eyes made it hard to refuse, and even more so, a glass of wine does sound appealing.

You pursue your lips, and try to keep your face as serious as possible, “Are you saying I look bad, Mr. Kim?”

In silent glee you watch the stressed look over his face, how he stutters and franticly moves his hands while trying to gather his thoughts.

You intertwine your hands and tiredly chuckle, extinguishing his doubt, “It would be a shame to refuse a cup of wine.”

The smile that blooms across Namjoons face makes you giggle, and you shove his arm, asking him to show you the direction. The whole way Namjoon keeps pouting about your antiques, apparently you almost gave the poor man a heart attack.

You walk to a more secluded part of his manor, the baroque elements on the walls slowly disappearing, but they are replaced with modern artworks. You carefully assess the artworks as you slowly pass by them, some of the artists you recognize.

Namjoon notices the drift in your attention, and bashfully rans his finger through his hair, “You could say that this is somewhat my personal space,” you simply hum in approval, not taking your gaze away from the paintings, until you’re forced to.

Namjoon guides you to left, and for a second you stand and take in the view. The room is sort of a veranda, glass walls overlooking the dark garden with candles lining against them. The space isn’t grandeur, but it makes it feel homey.

Dark wooden bookcases against the walls, and plush couches filled with pillows and blankets. You move towards them and notice the vine and plate of cheese and grapes on the coffee table. You take a set on the couch and sink into the velvety material; Namjoon sits next to you.

“I tend to come here after a stressful day, it’s secluded and gives time to relax and think.” You hum and take the glass Namjoon fills for you. “I can imagine, was the veranda here before you moved in?” you can’t envisage that; the interior so drastic from the rest of the house, wooden floors and ceilings, a sort of a room from a fairytale.

“No, no, I built it after father left the manor. The house seemed like another workspace.” That is indeed true, even for you your palace is overwhelming at times, and a safe space is vital, even if it’s your garden with chickens.

“How is it, walking in the footprints of your father? Does it not overwhelm you?” you turn towards him, the thought has occupied your mind for a while, finding yourself in similar positions. At the end of the day, his father was the president for years before Namjoon, like some sort of family title passed through generations.

“At first it was overwhelming, I didn’t know what to do, and felt like I was disappointing everyone, especially after my father” you hum, and subconsciously tuck your feet under the dress, relaxing against the couch, now fully facing him.

“But then I started to get the hang of it, it’s not too challenging, but you do have to be on your vits, and public’s opinion can’t influence your decision making too much.” You nod and think over how successful he has been at his role.

Kim family now is valued close to your equal, rulers think highly of them, and their two cents are always taken into consideration. A valuable alliance indeed.

“I hope you’re right; I have been at my duties only for couple of weeks, and already feel like I’m falling under every criteria possible.” You swirl the wine around in your glass and hear a distant hum from Namjoon.

“Is that why you’re stressed?” you move your head left to right, not sure which answer to commit to. “Partly, yes. Seems like every decision I make couldn’t possibly be worse.”

Namjoon opens his mouth lost in thought, as if thinking over his next words, “Today at the center,” he carefully starts, “I noted some tension between you and Prince Jeon.” He looks up at you, and you quickly move your gaze down, “Might that be one of the reasons why?”

You sigh. Guess it’s unavoidable that he noticed something, after all you did spend the whole day together.

“You could say so” is all you manage to mumble, the whole situation too hard to explain, even less so, when you know you shouldn’t enclose any details.

Namjoon runs his hand through his hair, and lightly chuckles, “I expected to be the third wheel as always, but today you were basically glued to my side the whole day.” You groan at how obvious your actions were and hide your face in your hands.

“Please don’t mention that” Namjoon continues to chuckle at your behavior, and pats your head to calm you, “No worries, I enjoyed the company.”

Comfortable silence takes over the space, and you munch on a piece of cheese while looking at the garden. His previous words swim in your mind, and you wonder if public noticed that as well.

“Reagan,” Namjoon starts, and you turn your head in surprise. Both of you stare at each other with widened eyes, until Namjoon clears his throat, “I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries-” Now it’s your turn to cut him off, “I don’t mind, just a bit unexpected is all.” You smile and watch how his face lights up as well.

Not many people called you by your birth name, to be fair you can think of only three – parents and Jungkook. But then again, it was a long time coming, you and Namjoon have been friends since childhood.

You smile as he repeats your name once more, the word sounds nice rolling from his tongue, “I wanted to apologize for inviting Jungkook with us, I didn’t fully know the situation, but I could’ve gathered just by the morning alone.”

You shake your head, it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know and even more so – he’s a ruler, and that should be his priority, establishing good relationship with the threatening countries should be his priority.

But you have to admit, it feels nice for someone to be so thoughtful.

“On that note, I thought he was supposed to visit you in a month...?” your statement is more like a question, you quite visibly remember how he spoke of that at your celebration.

Namjoon simply shrugs his shoulders, the same question lingering in his eyes, “Not sure myself, we received the letter only previous night, so it wasn’t preplanned.” That reminds you how Jungkook always knew your schedule even as children, and a lingering thought enters your mind – did he do so to specifically meet you?

“I do have to admit though,” Namjoon fills both of your cups once more, “Secretly, I’m glad you’re here with me. I almost had a heart attack when I was left with him alone.” Laugh escapes you as you imagine the scene, Namjoon clumsily trying to stutter a sentence, while Jungkook stares him down with utter disinterest. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Oh, I believe that. He can be very intimidating when he wishes to.” You giggle and sip your wine, “I guess being the scary princes only friend isn’t an easy job” Namjoon murmurs and you’re close to rolling your eyes.

“If you only knew,” you look at him and the agonizing month almost spills from your lips. The atmosphere, him, everything seems so cozy and safe; and the heavy burden on your shoulders suddenly seems overpowering.

Perhaps he’d understand, not as your political alliance, but as your friend. A friend, something you’ve missed most of all. And the truth slowly spills, “We didn’t necessarily fight,” Namjoon leans in closer, certainly interested “I received some information, of what he’s been doing behind my back, and-”

You hear the door open behind you, and you watch how the name of the hour walks in. He stops by the door, and takes the scene in. With a raised eyebrow he walks closer to you, and his gaze drifts towards the table, the open wine bottle and snacks staring daggers right back at him.

You feel his gaze on you, and you don’t have a heart to look back. Uncomfortable, you change your position, and sit straight, quickly finding your shoes on the floor. “Maids said I could find you here. Am I disrupting something?” he asks Namjoon, yet you can’t stop the feeling he’s addressing you.

The heavy burden seeps back under your skin, and you understand how wrong the situation at hand may look. You wince at the thought, he has never liked Namjoon, and here he’s caught you both in space that may as well look romantic – oblivious to the fact that most of the conversation centered around him.

You feel ashamed, and you’re not even sure why, perhaps it’s his gaze, that feels threatening and accusing, or perhaps you’re projecting your own feelings. You and Jungkook are platonic, both of you agreed on that, and yet, something feels drastically different.

Namjoon shifts besides you, and you steal a glance at him, lost of any words. He seems to understand the situation well as he meets you gaze with a faux smile, “Not at all, we were just discussing some future plans and alliances.”

He’s trying to safe the predicament, and you’re thankful, but Jungkooks darkening tone screams that he doesn’t believe a word coming out of Namjoon’s mouth.

“Like?” only one word, but the emotion behind it so powerful. You’re not sure if Namjoon notices, but you sure do; you naturally notice the changes in his mood, something you’ve picked up on during all these years.

But nonetheless, Namjoon responds positively, “Well, we’re planning on starting to import gas from my country, a great opportunity for both of us!” He smiles at you, and you try to grin back. But deep down you prepare for Jungkooks berating questions, Namjoon truly tried, but somehow, he manages to make the situation worse.

You sense the doom coming over and feel as its now the best time to leave. You get up, only to be blocked by Jungkooks body, him standing right in front of you, preventing the only possibility of exit.

“Why would you do that? You’ve Jeon energy. If you need more, that’s of no problem” his energy feels heavy, and you cough, trying to signal for him to move. But he doesn’t do so, and you look at him slightly irritated. He sure does know how to tickle your nerves.

The irritation swells, as you look directly in his eyes, and say your previously practiced answer, “Diversifying” but his challenging gaze spurs a sense of defiance in you; why exactly is he challenging you? Both today at the center and now, making sure you can’t escape his presence no matter how hard you try.

“Even more so, every contract has it’s end, so there shouldn’t be any problem with that” you can’t help but bite back, give him the option, and he’ll fine how to get under your nerves. Even now, he doesn’t say anything, but his lone presence ticks you.

The clenched jaw and scrunched eyes just waiting for what you’ve to say, and he knows he manages to irk you, you even think he enjoys it, as his eyes glaze with a sense of mocking delight.

You push past him, and move towards the door, only stopping when he speaks over his shoulders, “Then let me recommend you take another look at the agreement”

Your eyebrow ticks, and you slowly move around to assess his words, his tone doesn’t feel threatening, nothing about him seems dangerous, but could it be possible that his humorous tone hides more menace?

Two can play this game, if he wants to ridicule you, you’ll make sure his delight doesn’t last long; he’s not the only one who knows how to get under one’s skin.

So, you put on the best smile you can gather, and walk towards them, close enough for your dress to graze his skin before you move towards Namjoon, who, bare his soul, looks extremely concerned and alarmed.

“Namjoon,” you sweetly sing along his name, “it was truly a pleasure to spend so much time together,” you pat his shoulder, and smile, “thank you for organizing this beautiful getaway, we most certainly should repeat it first thing I return from Jeon Kingdom.”

You hum once Namjoon takes your hand in his and lightly caresses, “Reagan” is all he manages to mutter in silent agreement. You train your ears to hear Jungkook behind you, but he doesn’t move a single muscle, only calculates your words and movements.

You detach your hands and turn around, and with high ignorance look at Jungkook, and enjoy how his face has contoured into a blank space. “Prince Jungkook” mockingly you incline your head, resembling the smallest bit of a bow, and stride right past him towards the door.

You don’t stop to hear what they’re saying, just stride as fast as you can to your room, praying to God you won’t get lost in these halls. The momentum of pride has extinguished, and now you hurry your steps and mentally hit your head against the wall.

Truthfully this is the last thing you needed, you promised to be civil, to try and act clueless of the documents father gave you, Jungkooks letters and the night you shared. But here you are, acting like a child. You’ll have to spend days with him, with no way of refusal. Yet still you manage to make everything worse.

Once you see the door to your bedroom, a sigh of relief escapes you, and with your one last braincell, you stop and look at the guard by your door, “Do not let anyone in, I don’t want to be disturbed till the morning.”

He doesn’t respond just bows his head, and you quickly shut the door. You move to the vanity to get ready for the night and drag your hands over your face. This is a mess, why did your father let you do this all on your own.

You swear Jungkook brings out the worst in you, how he manages to make you feel like the most loved girl one second, and the next bring your blood to boil, is out of your hands. You can’t figure it out, and now you stare in the mirror and swear, usually you don’t act like this. You don’t let your emotions get the best of you, but then why can’t you manage to do anything but let your emotions guide you?

You look tired, and are those small wrinkles decorating your forehead? Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised, you’ve frowned more during the past weeks than you’ve in your whole life.

You massage a cream on your face and mourn the next couple of days; you’ll be forced to be in the same space as Jungkook for days on end, and on top of all – you’ll have to be at your best behavior.

If there’s one thing that father made you know, is that this visit is crucial, and no mistakes will be forgiven. The nightgown falls on your shoulders, and you’re ready to climb in the bed, till you hear commotion outside of the door.

It’s him, you distinctly hear Jungkooks voice, and by the sounds of it, the guard is blocking him from barging into your room. You thank yourself for asking the guard to not let anyone in and try to move as silently as possible towards the bed, making sure to overstep any creaking board.

You throw the blanket over yourself, it certainly has been longer than a minute, and yet you still hear Jungkooks voice loud and clear. You close your eyes and hope that the guard doesn’t fall under the pressure, you know how pursuing Jungkook can be when he wishes to.

Jungkook curses and you hear a bang against the door. You close your eyes trying to forget about everything, and silence falls over the space. Your knuckles grow stiff over the blanket, and you’re not sure if the silence unnerves you even more.

The night passes swiftly, you feel as if you haven’t slept more than 30 minutes before maids come to wake you up. You’re lost in your thoughts as they braid your hair and help to dress you. It will be a long road and the knowledge calms you, hopefully by then you’ll manage to get yourself together and figure out a strategy.

You walk down the hall and feel another body accompanying you. You turn your head to see Jungkook walking next to you, and sigh, first thing in the morning, but you still don’t have any peace from him.

“Jungkook” curtly you acknowledge him without stopping. His hand grabs yours and pulls you to a stop, annoyed you look up at him. His face isn’t colored in anger like it was yesterday, but you wait for him to start the same song all over again.

But it doesn’t come, rather he looks at you confused, and with uncertainty asks, “Reagan, what is going on?” Sincerity clouds his words, and for a second you feel a sense of pity, yesterdays threatening tone is gone, but it doesn’t change his previous motives.

“You tell me,” You mutter with a hard gaze, “What was that yesterday? Storming in and threatening around? Almost barging into my room like a mad man?” you try to keep your voice down, and discreetly look around if no one hears you, but still, you can’t help but bite each word out, yesterday’s anger still present.

He looks at you and ticks his head, “What else was I supposed to do? You completely shut me out and out of a sudden you’re on romantic engagements with Kim” he pauses and searches your eyes for an answer.

He opens his mouth to continue, but you cut him off, “What did you expect me to do? If I wanted to speak with you, I would’ve answered. But that of course doesn’t suit you, as ‘no’ doesn’t exist in your books, right?” you quote your fingers with a humorless laugh, and watch how his blank expression slowly turns red.

“So, suddenly it’s my fault? You decide to ignore me, might I add without a reason, and I’m at-”, you don’t let him finish the sentence, “You know I have my reasons, stop acting clueless, it doesn’t work with me.”

“Like what?” you manage to bite your tongue before you spill the conversation with father, and massage your temples, “Exactly, nothing. And here you are, putting blame on me for reaching out.”

“Reaching out?” astonished you look at him, “Since when reaching out is banging at my door and following me?” he starts to speak, but you can’t find a reason to listen, “So, that is the problem? Me wanting to figure out why you can’t do as much as look at me?”

“You don’t listen. I can, but I don’t want to” you feel your heartbeat in your ears, and your hands shake from the excessive emotions pouring out. “But you do want to look in Kims eyes, hm?” you see a vein popping out on his forehead.

“Don’t involve him in this” Jungkooks antics tickle your nerves, and call it what you want, but you won’t let him slander Namjoon. “Such a defender. I thought I made it clear to not mingle with white noise.”

“He’s my friend” you bite back, only for Jungkook to smirk back, “Is he now? Couple of weeks ago you couldn’t take your eyes off of me, even when he chased after your attention” he presses his fingers on your jaw, and you shake off his touch.

“Don’t bring that up” defensively you respond, and the dark shadows dance further across his face, “So, the night you oh, so passionately spent entangled in my arms is suddenly reduced to ‘that’?”

You cut him off with fire behind your words, “The night where we were drunk and acted childish” Jungkook only laughs at your rebuttal, “Childish? What do you call this then?” you gasp and shove his shoulders, but he’s not finished, and you feel your ears burn “’Cause I know very well you enjoyed every second of it.”

“Childish is you running around and enjoying watching me suffer because of your actions” you point your finger at him and feel your shoulders aggressively moving up and down. No longer you care if you’re shouting, too immersed in the conversation.

“Suffer? Enlighten me, how exactly do you suffer because of me? All that I’ve ever done is help-” you flail your hand around, “You never help anyone. All that you think about is yourself-”

“Myself?” Jungkook raises his voice, “Yes! Admit it, you’re delighted that all anyone associates me with is you”

“You’re reaching. Perhaps stop pointing the finger at anything else than truth. We slept together, both of us enjoyed it. Why so suddenly it became a problem?”

Too immersed in the shouting, and cutting one another off, you didn’t realize presence besides you. Only when the said person awkwardly coughs, both of you jerk your heads to the culprit.

Anthony stands very uncomfortable before you, and before he manages to utter a word, Jungkook harshly says, “Leave.” He turns back to you, and you feel your body physically shake from all the rage inside of you, “Don’t speak to him like that” you shove your finger in his chest.

“Oh, I’ll speak however I wish to” you huff and turn your gaze back to Anthony, who scrambles to quickly bow and stutter out, “Princess, an unexpected visit from palace has arrived”

You turn your body towards him, and rush closer while rapidly asking, “Did father come?” You don’t await the answer and rush down the hall, internally jumping in relief that father finally listened to your pleas.

You made up your mind, if it comes to it, you’ll beg father to take your place. You don’t want to take a step into Jungkooks Kingdom, especially after the last 10 minutes. Your steps falter, and silently you curse that you didn’t await Anthony to finish his sentence.

You’ve no clue where to go, and distinctly you hear steps somewhere behind you, but as you turn no one is there. You train your ears, and follow the sounds from somewhere else, rushing as quick as you can till you see servants gathering around in the hall.

But your relief is short-lived. The person before you isn’t father, and your shoulders sink once you realize who it is. Felix, father’s advisor. Also, the person who can’t look you in the eye without a scoff to his face.

You clear your voice and straighten your back, trying to forget the disappointment of your father not being here. You paint a smile on your face and move closer to him.

The man has always disliked you for reasons unbeknownst to you, even now it’s obvious. The second you’re in his vision, the pleasant smile on his face wears off, and a frown overtakes his aged facial features.

“Mr. Lancaster. Pleasure of you to join us.” You smile to your best ability and note how he curtly bows his head. You turn to acknowledge Namjoon, who by the looks of it welcomed the sudden visitor.

“Princess, might we talk in private?” Felix’s gruff voice addresses you, and you curtly nod, and step aside to follow his steps. Before you manage to exit the hall, you find Jungkook and Anthony in front of you.

Curiously you watch how Felix’s face sours even further, if you thought you had a problem with displaying your emotions, then you were welcomed by an awakening. You watch how both men assess one another, both looking equally surprised by others presence.

“Prince” is all that Felix mutters and with the same curt bow moves right pass them. Your gaze meets Jungkooks for a second, and you think he notices how uneasy you feel, as his eyes soften a tiny bit.

But you have no time to overthink him, as you move fast to catch up with Felix. The man makes you feel like you’re under inspection, the way he grumbles to himself with every step, and shakes his head only makes you feel more uneasy.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps, the air around you tense, filled with the occasional thud of his cane and grumbles. The bright hallway seems suffocating, as you ponder over the silence that has fallen between you.  

You try to remember that between you two, you’re in command, and he’s just one of your subjects. But his history in politics and close relations with your father makes you feel severely outranked.

“How was your journey, Mr. Lancaster? Did father send you?” you try to break the ice, but no intelligible response awaits you, he simply continues to grumble to himself.

You try to swallow down the light disrespect, but you already wish for the conversation to be over with before it has even started. Felix turns into one of the rooms, and you follow him. It’s some kind of a small library, the room no bigger than a storage, and yet the walls filled with books.

You turn to Felix and watch how he starts to speak but stops himself; he walks back to the door, and yanks it open, looking from side to side. Confusion doesn’t fully reach how you feel, is he checking if someone’s listening in?

Satisfied he closes the door and doesn’t wait a second before he starts berating you, “You foolish girl”, taken aback you stare at him as he throws venom in your face, “you not only compromise the safety of our Kingdom, but are careless enough to sit in your offence” his tone shakes you, and for a second you wonder who’s the ruler here.

“Such recklessness I have never before experienced!” he continues to reprimand you, and you feel defensive, how can he talk to you like that? He’s not your father, and for the matter of fact you’re his superior.

“I’m careless?” you close to shout while pointing at yourself, “I am not the one who sticks their head in ground because they’re offended!” the man in front of you lets out the most disgusting laugh, cackling as he loses his breath.

“Is that the case princess? Because if it were true, I wouldn’t be here.” He grumbles and you wonder if a person is capable of scrunching their face more than this man. “You’re a child, who’s playing with fire, thinking they’re God.”

You shake your head in disbelief, where all of this is coming from, you’re clueless. He has insulted you more than anyone beforehand, and you feel the previous spark of anger delight you once more.

“Says the man, who can’t see when to step down. Prime minister for 20 years, yet unelected three times in a row. Hanging on a loose threat by my father’s side, who’s too kind to let you run back on the streets.” You watch how he’s taken aback, and for a second feel triumphal, finally the crude man takes a second to overthink his next words.

“Just like I said,” he points his cane at you, “clueless child who’s fully unequipped for the role.”

You stare him down and mutter, “I would be very careful of your next words, sir.” He shakes his head, and you clench your jaw, “Would you disagree? Is this a way a princess presents herself?”

“If I’m so unprepared why didn’t father take my place?” Felix shakes his head, as if the man’s too stunned at your stupidity to respond, “If you took your time to answer one of the letters, then perhaps he would be here indeed.”

You stare in shock before a loud unhumorous laugh escapes you, “I wrote him letters almost every day, not to mention calling. You cannot punish me for his ignorance.”

“What?” he turns to you with an agape mouth, “You’ve sent him letters?” you curtly nod, “Almost every day, and might I say, without a response.”

You watch how Felix falls under panic, and you stand back unsure of what to do, “We have a snitch,” he walks around while shaking his head, “You said you called?” slowly you nod, unsure of what to do.

“They must be in the castle” he grumbles under breath, and carefully ask, “Perhaps it would be better if father takes my place?” to which Felix dismisses you with his hand, “That’s what they want. For both lawful rulers to abandon their Kingdom. To attack at the weakest link.”

“Well, what do I do?” now feeding off of his own panic, you quickly ask, “We do” Felix points at himself, “You follow my command, you don’t speak first, only assess your opponent. Not a single excessive movement, and not a word out of what’s planned.”

“And most importantly, your relations with Prince Jeon must be ideal. As of now, he’s our only option.” You stare at him confused, couple of weeks ago they said you can’t be anywhere near the man, and now you have to play the perfect friend?

“He may be the reason we’re in this situation, but he holds the power over the troops. Play the part, but don’t fall under devils’ cards.” You tick your head overthinking previous events, perhaps he’s a bit too late with that suggestion.

“That may be impossible” you mutter, but Felix cuts you off, “Make it possible.”

Right about now you question all of your decisions in life, just 10 minutes ago you were busy screaming your head off one at another, and now, you have to be the perfect friend. Is that even possible? You can’t (even more so don’t want to) walk up to him and act as if nothing happened, neither of you will let it fly.

Both of you are too stubborn and petty. But as petty as he is, he’s not dumb. And unfortunately, you can’t take back what you said, you meant every word. But now you have to find a way to make the past disappear, if you might add, a task that’s way over your head.

And the possibility of someone masking themselves as your shadow makes the back of the hair on your neck stand; you push your fingers through your hair and mentally cry, what are you supposed to do now? “Well, what is our plan of action, how are we to discover who’s the traitor?” you let the words silently fall past your lips.

Felix only shakes his head, and looks at his watch, “As of now, we’re to return to the carriage, and act clueless. We’ve run out of time. You are the face of the crown. When you step out of this room, you’re a monarch, and not an inept child.”

You shake your head at his words, “I’m sure King Jeon will overlook if we’re couple of minutes late. This is crucial.” The memory of all the letters you sent creeps over your mind, and although you don’t remember word for word what you’ve written, you truly hope that whatever it was, was as vague as possible.

“Jeons don’t forget things; they keep it as secret to use it later on.” He taps his watch one more time, “and you must be brilliant. Neither ordinary, nor extraordinary. Blend in, but don’t fade out.”

You nod your head, and silently follow Felix to the main hall. Your maids stand there already prepared for the journey. You nod your head once they start to bow and move down the stairs towards the carriage.

You guess you’ll be stuck with Felix for the next 8 hours, but perhaps that’s good, you can think of a strategy, right? That is, if you don’t scratch his eyes out.

The walk down the stone staircase is puzzling, the afterthought of someone spying on you leaves your senses on guard; every noise seems doubled and every action ambiguous. You look over the workers that stand in a neat line at the bottom and think, could they be hiding in plain sight?

You move closer to Felix, questions storming in your mind, but you’re crestfallen, as he puts up his hand and murmurs “not here”, and silently follow his actions, like a child abiding an order.

But you try to look up the sky, and convince yourself, that your pounding heart is not due to fear and uncertainty, but rather due to the bloodline you carry with each of your breath. For a second you pretend to be back in the ballroom, remember the power you carried and the heads that bowed down to you.

The power you felt surging, like a revival of the truth. You repeat it long enough, to believe it yourself, and the confident woman sears through your bones, and the cracks in your armor shine through only when they crack you open.

You near the carriage, and smile as Namjoon ever so gentlemanly opens the door for you. Felix stops a couple of steps behind you, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to properly farewell your friend.

“It was a pleasure to see you, Reagan” Namjoon smiles, and you grab his reached-out palm, and softly whisper, so the stray ears don’t hear, “Likewise”

“But don’t get too comfortable without me here, if I remember correctly, the wine bottle did remain unfinished.” You point out with a light chuckle, soon accompanied by Namjoons own.

“Rest assured that it will patiently await you.” Peaceful moment is broken when you hear a cough behind you, reminding of the shortage in time. Namjoon understands as well, and backs away, his smile still present.

With one last look you’re ready to climb in the carriage, but a silhouette quickly entangles in your vision. You watch how Jungkook climbs down the stairs, and how the servants’ part their way, with their heads lowered to the ground.

For some incomprehensible reason, you feel your gut wrenching in anger, and a sad afterthought comes to you, that you never felt this way about him. Whereas now your body expresses its disdain, even if you try to fool your mind of everything that transcribed.

You let your eyes follow his movements, till he stops at the carriage next to your own. He turns his head, and your eyes meet. His gaze is vacant, blank of any emotions except the ever so tamed sparkle in them.

But he doesn’t give you the time of day, and swiftly climbs into the carriage. You chew on your lip and replicate his movement; you find yourself once again trapped in the vehicle, and don’t know if you should be happy or annoyed, when Felix sits in front of you.

No words are exchanged as the carriage starts moving, you wave your last goodbye to Namjoon, and mourn how the golden streets become blander.

You rest your head against the window and try and concentrate on Felix’s words. But all you manage to do is watch how life turns grey the closer you’re to the Jeons Kingdom.

You promise yourself that everything will be alright. And prepare yourself for the next chapter of this insidious game; you won’t be a pawn in no ones game.

~

Hi! This chapter is split in half, so more action will be seen in the next one, although I do have to say, that gleaming lights and soft caresses are more or less done...

But I wanted to get this out before university piles up, as I know how frustrating the wait for a next chapter can be

Now, what’s the deal with Jungkooks Kingdom? Why rulers stray clear from it? Baby JK did say that he doesn’t want OC to see it, but what has changed now? And who might be the informant, or is there even one?

Loads of questions, but I guess you’ll have to stick around to find out...

Thank you for reading!

[manicplank]

hi it's me again i hope u don't mind me asking another thingy,,, how well does the pizza tower cast sing? :)

You can send in as many as you want to, I don't mind!

How well do they sing?

Peppino: Surprisingly sings very well. He can sing in both an Italian and an American accent. He sings opera quite wonderfully. However, if he's drunk, he sings pretty sloppily.

Gustavo: He's okay, but he can't hit very high notes. He sometimes hums to himself when working around the pizzeria. He also sings silly little nonsense songs to Brick. "Who's a good rat? You's a good rat! Who's a good ratty rat, ratty pat pat!"

Mr. Stick: Not good. His voice is very nasally and slightly annoying. He thinks he's a great singer, though.

Pepperman: He has an unusually beautiful, deep voice. He sometimes sings while he makes art. He doesn't believe anyone when they tell him he's a good singer.

The Vigilante: He makes a good country singer since he has such a thick southern accent. He doesn't sing often, though. He might drunkenly sing with others in the saloon sometimes.

The Noise: An incredible singer despite his nasally and annoying voice. It's like a night and day difference between his singing voice and his "character" voice. His actual voice isn't too horrible either. He sometimes sings to himself when he's busy doing something.

Noisette: Another incredible singer. She'll never in a million years believe it, though. She thinks she sounds like a dying goat. When no one is around, she'll sing or hum to herself. She sings with Noise sometimes, too.

Fake Peppino: He can't sing. In fact, he doesn't know what singing even is. He does enjoy when other people sing to him. When he would get super upset while he was young, Pizzahead would sing soft lullabies to him. If you sing to him, he will either dance or curl up and sleep.

Pizzahead: He has a wonderful Frank Sinatra like singing voice and is quite skilled. He knows it, too. He doesn't sing very often, though. He used to perform in Pizzaboy's PizzPizza until the place got shut down for "mysterious reasons." After that, he stopped singing.

Pillar John: He has a wonderful, deep voice. It's amazing to hear him sing. He almost never does it. He knows he's good at singing, but he's pretty shy about it.

Gerome: He's another pretty good singer. He doesn't sing very often. He might whistle a tune or two while he mops his life away. But no one in the tower (other than John) has ever heard his singing voice.

[no-see-um-incorrect]

I need a favor to ask of y’all

If a MR. Southern drawl Samuel Collins, 

We’re to sing a song to his partner in order to make them feel better/calm down (almost like a lullaby)

What song would it be? 

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

⛰️ Whiskey Lullaby

Whiskey Lullaby: You have been blasted by the past. The childhood best friend of the Miller brothers, you will soon have to deal with the reasons for the explosive argument that split you and Ben all those years ago in high school. Fists fly and you finally learn the reason for your emotional pain: Ben Miller is an idiot.

Warning: Angst, Language, Explicit Material (Unprotected Sex is a No No).

To Note: Ben Miller x NAMED!Female!Reader, Inspired by the song ‘Whiskey Lullaby’ by Brad Paisley, No Infidelity they’re just idiots.

Word Count: ~8.1k

You had been best friends with the Miller boys since you and Benny had been in diapers, and up until high school, you had been inseparable. It was a brother/sister type of thing that everyone in the town ran with because you seemed to be the happiest kids on the planet. But then Will went off to the army and a little thing called puberty hit one summer before high school got back into session, and you and Benny had gotten into a massive fight.

Call it what you will, teenagers just being teenagers, puberty highs, it had only taken one hormone fueled fight for you to go your separate ways. You didn’t even remember why you had fought. You only remember the crushing heartbreak and miserable defeat of over a decades worth of friendship. Ben Miller had long since left you life and you had done your best to try and not think about him since.

Which was hard because the little charm bracelet he and Will had gotten you on your sixteenth birthday still hung from your wrist… but you had done it. You had made it all these years without completely breaking down over a boy. You had even gotten yourself out of the small Colorado town you grew up in. So why were you thinking about Benjamin Miller right now?

8:00pm Ben Miller vs. Erik Romero

How many men you knew that had the name Ben Miller? One, and you were fairly certain it was the Ben Miller you hadn’t seen since early high school days.

 “Viv!” Elaine shouted, drawing your attention away from the two names. “Are you coming or not!? Deanna said she was going to find space for us but it’s filling up fast!”

“No need to get your thong in a twist,” You huffed, moving your heel clad feet over to your impatient friend. “I don’t even know why you want me to go to this fight. It’s just men beating each other up, what’s so great about it?”

Elaine rolled her eyes and grabbed your wrist with her fingers, tugging you after her as she dove into the growing crowd.

“Deanna’s boyfriend is fighting tonight at nine, she wants us to support him and we are good friends so we are here… plus the bar across the street gets filled pretty quickly with hot guys afterward.” Elaine explained. “And since you are still single, you might as well come and see if you can hook a hot guy or two.”

“I have zero interest in any of the guys in this town, Elaine, you have known that for years.” You said, edging around a couple decked out in leather.

“What are you talking about, Viv, we just moved back here… You haven’t had the time to check any of the guys out. What is wrong with your southern charm?”

“I’m from Colorado.” You stated as the announcer started speaking and the crowd’s cheers intensified.

“From Red Feather Lakes, Colorado,” This was going to be a slap in the face, you just knew it. Your eyes flickered to the entryway where the fighters emerged before shooting right back to the ring. “Standing six foot three, weighing in at 195 pounds, I bring you… Ben Miller!”

Rock music started playing, and forcing your eyes away from the wired fence in front of you, you looked at Ben. You don’t think your brain had quite caught up to what the announcer had said because your eyes nearly bulged at how tall Ben had become. He was over six foot, and not by a slim margin.

Benjamin Miller had grown to be a giant. 

While Deanna and Elise gushed over both Ben and the other fighter as they got ready for their match, your stomach twisted and a bitter taste settled in the back of your throat. Even after all these years, and misplaced teenage anger, old feelings surfaced. Worst timing ever.

The match started and with it, the bloody noses and red faces came, making you wince every time Ben’s opponent landed a hit in. But with each hit he took, Ben hit back, harder. You had heard that he had gone into the military, following his brothers footsteps. The military had taught him well.

He was going at a pretty even pace, listening to what William was shouting from the other side of the cage. You had finally gotten desensitized to the sounds of the punches and was staring into the cage with an unimpressed look on your face. Your initial shock was over, now you were questioning if men really beat each up for a living. Apparently they did.

While the two duked it out in the cage, you could have sworn Will’s eyes connected with yours from across the cage. But he couldn’t have recognized you, could he? It had been years since you had last seen each other.

The Miller boys were seriously fucking with your brain, and you didn’t like it.

“Better make mine a double,” You told Deanna. She was getting the first round of shots, and as a woman who traditionally didn’t do shots, asking for a double was trouble. But after a night of being under the scrutiny of Will, and the brief but most definitely eye contact, moment you had with Ben, you were feeling the need for alcohol.

So while you tried not to wallow in self misery, you listened to Elise talk about her latest sexcapade with a man named Renaldo. In all honesty, you were trying to pay attention, but the most you did was rest your chin in your hand and blankly stare at her while she rambled on.

“So when Jessica called with news, I just…” Deanna came back over with the drinks, and set two shot glasses in front of you. She shimmied her way into the booth next to you and you each picked up and shot.

“Alright, to Elise’s Renaldo, hope that Vivian’s sex life turns around soon, and Tanks hot ass!” Deanna crowed. The three of you clicked your drinks together and knocked back the shots. The alcohol burned its way down your throat, and with a grimace, you set the little glass back on the counter top.

“Whoo! Let’s get this party started!” Elise sang out. Hopefully the alcohol that you had just knocked back would soon help the growing headache you could feel. While Elise and Deanna giggled and gossiped their way through the first hour of the night, you were content to sit there and stew in old memories.

“Ooh! Hotties at one o’clock! There’s a whole group of them!” Deanna chirped next to you. Feeling inclined to lift your gaze to whoever she had spotted. Three men all crowded around the same table, talking with each other… and you knew one of them, and where Will went, Benny always followed. Which meant he was floating around here somewhere… Now was a good time for your second shot…

Grumbling to yourself, your hand reached for the shot you had left waiting an hour ago and you quickly knocked it back.

“Planning on making a move?” Deanna asked, wiggling her eyebrows at you. “Cause I could’ve sworn I caught them looking over here a few times. We have some attention!”

“No,” You said sternly, rubbing your forehead. “Don’t even think about it, Deanna. I did not come here looking for anyone and I am not interested in one night stands or hook ups.”

“It’s called living, Vivian, you should try it some time.” You rolled your eyes at her and turned your gaze to the dance floor where Elise was shimmying with who had to be Renaldo. At least she looked like she was having fun.

“That reminds me, how did you end up dating someone named Tank?” You asked loudly over the music. Deanna waved her hand at you while sipping her latest drink.

“It’s a nickname!” She responded loudly. “He was in the army, you know how those things go!”

No, you did not, but you nodded in agreement anyway. Stirring the melting ice in your ice water, you took a big gulp of it. You never were a fan of alcohol, and certainly didn’t like the effects of it. Hangovers were a bitch and college was a lesson well learned.

“So how serious are they?” You questioned Deanna. “Because the drama I’ve heard through the vine hasn’t been good… and what is it even like dating an MMA fighter?”

“Summer fling?”

“It’s November, Deanna.” You reminded her while tapping your heel on the floor.

“So a Winter fling then, who cares, she’s having fun and that’s what matters.”

“Do you really want to deal with a heart broken Elise at the end of this? Because after her last break, I know for a fact it is going to be a nightmare!” Deanna was waving you off again. There was no point in arguing with her about flings so you let it drop. Picking up your water, you drank the rest of it before gesturing to the back of the bar. “I’m going to go to the bathroom, don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”

“I make no promises” Deanna sang. You slipped from the booth, shouldering your purse and keeping it close to your body, you headed for the back of the bar. You had to weave around half drunk patrons and party goers from the MMA matches, and dodge wandering hands from men and woman a like who had one too many drinks already.

“This is exactly why I don’t go to these things.” You muttered while slapping a set of hands away from your ass. Just because your ass looked good in these black jeans, does not mean that the goods were open to touch. Managing to make it to the quieter back, you flittered your into the woman’s bathroom.

It was mostly empty and after you had relieved your bladder, you had space to sidle on up to the counter in front of mirror to wash your hands and redo the red lipstick you had smeared since lunch. Leaning forwards, you untwisted the lipstick tube and reapplied the intense red lipstick.

It had been a bitch to keep your white blouse clean and free of any color, so the fact that you had made it all the way to this hour with it still nice and white was pretty impressive if you must say. Your choice in a black and white outfit this morning hadn’t been planned, but it sure made for an interesting day at the office. You had been dodging pens, flying coffee, and whiteboard markers all day.

At least you looked good in black jeans and a white blouse, no need to run home and change before getting dragged to the MMA matches. You tucked the lipstick back into your purse and took one last look at your makeup from this morning. Other than your lipstick getting smudged off throughout the day, it had survived quite well.

Now you just needed to survive a night at a bar, and hopefully come out with minimal staining on your shirt.

Your heels clicked on the tile as you headed back to the door, and emerging from the woman’s bathroom, you were blasted with the latest song playing over the radio.

“Hey there Vivian! Didn’t know you liked to party!” Your eye twitched as you came to a stop and turned partway on your heel.

“Hi, Glenn,” You said, trying not to sound annoyed by his mere presence. The older man from work came slinking over, beer bottle in his hand. He had a bad habit of flirting with any female he came across and you had the unfortunate circumstance of having an office near his.

“What brings you by?” Glenn asked, leaning against the wall.

“I’m with Deanna and Elise, they convinced me to go to the MMA matches tonight.” You explained shortly, hoping that you could cut this off as quickly as possible.

“MMA, living on the wild side, Vivian,” Glenn said while wiggling his eyebrows. “How bout I buy you a drink? You look like you aren’t having any fun.”

“I think I’ve had enough to drink tonight, but thank you for the offer,” You told him, turning back to the main room.

“Come on, Viv, I won’t talk about work, promise!”

“My answer is no, Glenn, I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.” You took two steps toward the table only to be stopped by a harsh grip on your wrist. Your head snapped around so fast you might have given yourself whiplash as your eyes landed on the meaty fingers holding your wrist captive.

“One drink, don’t tell me you won’t even have one drink.” Glenn huffed. Your gaze narrowed and you tugged at your wrist. He gripped it tighter.

“I said no, Glenn.” You repeated evenly. “Now let me go, and leave me be before you do something you’re going to regret.”

He snorted.

“Are you threatening me?” His grip tightened to the point where you felt pain, that was crossing a line and you were only going to give him one last chance to leave.

“No, I’m telling you that you need to remove your hand from my wrist and leave me alone.” Your even tone only seemed to piss him off more, because a few seconds after you had spoken and his intoxicated brain registered what you had said, he was giving your wrist a hard squeeze. 

Pulling your right hand back, your fingers curled into a fist and you were throwing it forward, nailing Glenn right in the nose. Your wrist was released and he fell straight back onto his ass, dropping his beer and clutching at his now bleeding nose.

“You fucking broke my nose!” Glenn howled, trying to stem the blood dripping between his fingers. It had gotten quiet, the music blaring throughout the bar, but you were more concerned about getting your point across than onlookers.

“Stop bitching, your nose is fine,” You said as you shook your hand out, your knuckles stinging slightly. “That was a warning, Glenn. Don’t push me, because next time? I will break your nose.”

Glenn scrambled to his feet, spitting out curses. His hate filled eyes glared at you as he went to hurry past you, slamming his shoulder into yours as he went. He muttered one last insult before disappearing into the crowd.

“Fucking prude bitch.” Childish name calling. You had hurt his pride and certainly made a fool of him in front of the entire bar. But hopefully he got your point loud and clear.

“Glad to see you didn’t forget how to throw a punch.” Your head twisted to see Will leaning against the end of the bar.

“William,” You greeted before looking down your red knuckles. It had been ages since you had done any boxing, and your knuckles had gone soft.

“William? You only call me that when I’ve pissed you off.” Rolling your eyes, you set your eyes on his. “What’ve I done this time?”

“Hi Will,” You said, readjusting your greeting. “Is that better?”

“Yeah, you still sound pissed off at me and I haven’t seen you since I shipped out.” He said while crossing his arms across his wide chest. You stared at each other for a few seconds more. Will nodded his chin at you. “Why’d you drop off the end of the earth, Viv? You and Benny were inseparable, but then I hear that you two got into a fight and stopped talking. Over a decade is an awfully long time to ignore your other half.”

“He’s not my other half,” You huffed underneath your breath. Will snorted in disagreement.

“Yeah, he is. Don’t argue with me, Vivian, I just want to know what happened.”

���We got into an argument, didn’t speak for the rest of high school. Benny went chasing after you. I got out of Colorado and moved on.” Will had his eyebrow up at you. You sighed and rolled your eyes, pinching your forehead. “I can’t even remember why we were arguing.”

“It was probably over something stupid, like your boyfriend.” You let out a chuckle and shook your head. “Come on, Vivian, my friends have been nagging me since they found out about you, put me out of my misery?”

“Since when do you need to be put out of your misery?” You asked him, your eyebrow popping up.

“I’ll buy you a beer, and don’t refuse, after that punch you deserve one.”

“As long as you’re paying.” You replied, your lips twitching. Will ordered a beer and handed you the bottle before leading you over to his friends. Walking up to them, you eyed Will. “Are all of your friends freakishly big?”

“You’re just tiny, Viv, this is Santiago Garcia or Pope, and Fransisco Morales better known as Catfish,” Will said, gesturing to the two men. “Guys, this is Vivian, my best friend, so stop giving me shit about her.”

“Vivian with the badass punch…” Pope spoke before grinning. “Who taught you how to punch like that?”

“Benny and I did,” Will answered with a wide smile. “Spent an entire summer teaching Viv how to box. Seems it finally came in handy.”

“Glenn flirts with anything that has tits,” You huffed before taking a drink of your beer. “It was only a matter of time before I had to knock him on his ass.”

“So how do you know our boys? Will won’t tell us anything.” Catfish asked, fishing for information. You and Will exchanged looks.

“We were neighbors in Colorado,” You answered. “Been best friends with the Miller brothers since I was in diapers.”

“So why did you split then? You aren’t completely cut off in the army.” Your beer bottle paused on its way to your lips and you found yourself staring off into space, your mind reliving the verbal clash you and Benny had. It was the last time either of you spoke to each other.

“Ben and I got into an explosive argument early on in high school.” You said softly, looking down at your fingers gripping the beer bottle. “It was probably over something stupid like my then boyfriend. Benny never liked any of the boys I dated. Didn’t speak to each other for the rest of school, and haven’t spoken since then.”

“Of course he didn’t like any of your boyfriends,” Will huffed out. “He wanted you all to himself.”

“Hmm,” You sounded, drumming your fingernails on glass. There was no way Benny had ever liked you like that. Not once had he ever indicated that he liked you more than as his best friend. There was also no point in trying to get your hopes up. “If that’s what you want to believe.”

“You think I’m lying, Viv?” Will asked, raising his eyebrow at you. “I know my brother.”

“So do I, Will.” You reminded him. “That’s why I stopped dating.”

“Oh no, you’re much too lovely to be alone, Chiquita.” Pope stated. You shrugged at him.

“It’s easier, can’t get hurt if you don’t get attached.”

“You ever tried drinking your problems away? I know your mother was an alcoholic and that is the last thing I want to see you turn into.” Will asked, concern now on his face. You looked to him and shook your head.

“Getting drunk never chased the tears or memories away, so why bother?” You said before giggling. “My friends like to joke that I’m emotionally constipated. That’s probably true.”

“You are not emotionally constipated, Viv.”

“We’ll agree to disagree,” You said, shrugging before setting your empty beer bottle down. “Haven’t had a relationship since high school and my friends tell me that I need to loosen up, get laid or something along the lines. Hence why they brought me along tonight.”

“You gonna hook up with anyone then? You’ve been getting looks all night, even I know you grew up beautiful, kid.”

“Not a kid anymore, Willy,” You snipped back at him, poking fun at him by using your childhood nickname. He winced at the leering looks from Pope and Catfish. “And no, not my thing. I’m just here to make sure my friends get their Uber without killing themselves. Which reminds me…” You looked down at your watch. “I’ve got to pack those two up, they’ve got a work event tomorrow at twelve.” 

“Work on the weekend?” Pope asked, his eyebrow rising.

“They are in the marketing department.” You explained as you re-shouldered your purse and checked that you had everything. “Weekend gigs are their thing.”

Heading over to the two giggling and clearly drunk woman, you checked their phones and saw that the pre ordered Ubers were less than a minute away.

“Alright, time to go,” You announced, steering them towards the bar doors. Deanna was controllable, Elise, however, was slinging her arm around your neck.

“Viv! You seriously need to find a hot man to date! Haven’t you been single long enough!” She practically shouted in your ear.

“No need to shout, Elise, I can hear you perfectly fine.” You told her while holding the door open for her. “Now, you see that red car? That’s your Uber, she’ll take you home.”

Elise tottered towards the red car while you turned back to Deanna.

“Viv, Viv we haven’t paid our tab,” She slurred, lurching slightly.

“I’m covering it, don’t worry about.” You told her. “Just go home and get some rest, okay?”

Deanna bobbed her head before looking around with wide eyes. When she was drunk, she wasn’t as hard to handle as Elise, which made it far easier to get her home.

“Which—which one is mine?”

“The silver one,” You pointed out, directing her to the next car waiting. “I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

With both Deanna and Elise shipped off to their homes, you went back to the bar and paid for the tab. It wasn’t that bad since the two were more interested in dancing with hot men. Everything had been paid for, and you had left nothing behind, so you started for the doors.

“Hey Viv,” You briefly paused and looked back at the corner the three men were tucked away in. “You gonna leave me your number so we don’t go another ten plus years without talking?”

You studied Will for a moment before pressing your lips together and looking down at your feet. Giving him your number, that meant Benny might have access to it, which meant you might have another explosive fight… which you wouldn’t be able to take.

“I think it might be best if I didn’t, I’d like to leave on good terms.” You spoke out slowly. “It was nice to see you again Will, I’ll see you around.”

You headed for the doors, pulling out your phone to check to see if any remaining Uber’s were in the area.

The three men watched as you quietly left the bar, a cloud of sadness and repression hanging over her head.

“I swear to God if you don’t go after her, Benny, I will.” Pope spoke up, shooting his sulky friend, who had spent the night in a dark corner of the bar, a look. Benny, who had admittedly hidden himself away just so he could watch you relax for the night, rubbed his aching face in indecisiveness.

“Ben,” Will spoke up. “Either you go after her now, or you lose her forever.”

Benny shot his brother a look before lurching to his feet.

“She might break my nose for this.” Benny huffed as he quickly passed his brother and friends.

Squinting at your phone in the darkness of night, you ignored the little dribbles of rain from the skies. All the Uber’s seemed to be in use right now… you could probably go and check Lyft, see anyone is out an about there. Just as you opened the Lyft app, you heard the bar door open and the crunch of gravel. You already knew who it was.

“Seriously Will,” You spoke up before turning halfway around. “I told you that I—“

That wasn’t Will.

Your heart fluttered nervously in your chest while your red lips trembled slightly. You pressed them together to stop their shaking.

“Benny,” You greeted in a whisper.

“Hi Vivian,” Benny responded. “Noticed you didn’t give Will your number, you mad at him too?”

“Mad?” You repeated in question. Letting out a wilted chuckle, you shook your head. “No, not mad, never was, except maybe for like an hour after that conversation.”

“Yeah, but you still stayed away.”

“So did you,” You countered. You were at an impasse once again, and the moody dark skies overhead were only getting worse, the rain drops increasing their pace. “Truth be told, Benny, I can’t even remember why we had that explosive argument. I’m assuming it probably had to do with one of my boyfriends.”

“Probably, I hated all of them.” Benny snorted, shrugging his broad shoulders.

“Which I never understood, Benny, it’s not like they treated me badly,” You said while waving your hand. You really never could figure out why he hated them so much, all your boyfriends had been nice enough and your break ups didn’t hurt nearly as much as when you and Benny had fought and broken your friendship.

“I know, I was a dick and I can’t take that back.” He explained, rubbing jaw. “So if you wanna break my nose, go ahead. I just don’t wanna lose you again.”

Lose me?

“Benny, why did you hate them?” His grey eyes stared into yours like that of a puppy. A six foot three, giant puppy.

“I hated them because I love you, and not like a sister.” Benny admitted. “Fell in love when you drop kicked the older Seamus twin for yanking on Marcie Blake’s pig tails and got suspended. You are a hard girl to forget, Vivian.”

Benny… was in love with you.

You were marching right up to him, and for the second time that night, your fist was flying. Your knuckles stung as they connected with Benny’s jaw, and while his head snapped to the side and he took a step back, you waved out your now really hurting hand, cursing a blue streak.

“I deserved that.” Benny said while wrinkling his nose and tenderly touching it.

“You are the biggest idiot in the world, Benjamin Miller!” You hissed at him, clutching your pulsating hand to your chest. “I’ve loved you since kindergarten, you idiot!”

“What?” Benny asked dumbly, which for a man who had taken all AP courses and was a pretty much a genius, was surprising. Usually he was quick to the draw with his words. Grabbing the front of his KISS shirt with your non injured hand, you yanked the giant down to your level.

“I’ve. Loved. You. Since. Kindergarten. You. Idiot!” You shouted at him, enunciating each word. You then jabbed your finger at the windows of the bar. “Even Will knows!”

“Okay, I’m an idiot, and I forgiven?” He questioned, his grey eyes boring into yours. He certainly had mastered the puppy eyed look in the last decade because you caved instantly beneath his pleading gaze. Your anger melted like ice cream in one hundred degree weather.

“Benny, I forgave you years ago.” You whispered breathlessly.

“Thank fuck,” Benny breathed out before raising his hands and sliding his fingers across your cheeks. His fingers dug into your loose bun and with the skies quickly opening up to a typical Florida storm, Benny pulled your face up and smashed his lips against yours.

Your eyes were instantly falling shut while Benny’s hot lips kissed you with the intention of making up all those years you had missed. His mouth was just as commanding as his gaze and his body pressed against yours seared through your rain soaked blouse. Fingers that had been grasping at fabric loosened and without direction traveled up until you had them sinking into his hair.

Even with Benny towering over you with all his threatening muscles, you never felt safer than you did right now in his arms. You always felt safe with him, that hadn’t changed one bit. He released his hold in your hair and ran his hands down your back, quickly hoisted your body off the ground and further against his chest. Water was collecting your eyelashes and running off the ends, but even with all the rain pouring down Benny wasn’t deterred in the slightest.

He let out a sigh.

“I really wanna keep kissing you, but your shirt is completely see through now and the guys are watching.” Benny mumbled against your lips, moving his own to press a kiss on your nose. You let out small giggle.

“Jealous that they might get a view of the goods?” You countered.

“Fuck yes.” He huffed back. “You’re for my eyes, and my eyes only, Viv.”

“Well I don’t have a shirt to change into and I took a cab here…”

“My place…?” Benny offered.

“Only if you want.” He snorted and dropped you back to your feet before carefully spinning you around and leading you towards the parked cars.

“Yes, I want.” Benny’s muttered words brought a smile to your lips and while he made sure that you were completely hidden by his figure, his hand reached for yours and your fingers tangled together. He led you to his truck and leading you to the passengers side, helped you up into the cab before quickly skirting around the front and getting into the drivers side.

Benny turned the car on and got the heat blasting before reaching around the back of his seat and grabbing a hoodie.

“Put this on.” Your eyebrow popped up at his three worded demand, but you did as he asked because you were cold and wet. But rather than put it on over your wet blouse, your hands reached down for the hem of your soaked white shirt and you pulled it over your head. Benny’s eyes widened as he watched every movement you made, and dropping your wet shirt to the floor, you pulled the soft and warm sweatshirt over your bra.

“Happy?” You asked. Benny blinked at you.

“Damn you look hot wearing my sweatshirt.” Your eyebrow popped up in confusion.

“How? I’m completely covered…” Benny shrugged his shoulders with side grin.

“You don’t have to be showing the goods to be hot, Vivian.” That was… surprisingly mature. Your lips curved upwards into a gentle smile as you propped your elbow on the window and leaned your head into your palm. While Benny started driving, you took a moment to study him. Or at least studied the features you could see in the dark.

He had grown up, but he hadn’t changed, not one little bit. He still had that lovable smile and those glittering eyes filled with mischief. Did his hugs still feel just as safe and comforting as they had in middle school? Would time with him still feel just as effortless as it had when you were kids?

“I can tell you’re thinking hard.” Benny said, glancing at you.

“Just wondering if your hugs would still feel just as safe and comforting as I remember them being. I’ve missed the feeling.” You answered quietly. Benny didn’t automatically respond to your words.

“Fuckkkkkk, babe,” Benny finally sighed out, his fingers wrapping around the steering wheel in a tighter grip. “You are killing me…”

“How?” You asked. Benny came to a stop at a red light and looked at you.

“It is taking all of my will power not to pull over, drag you onto my lap, and hug you right now. If I could keep you in my arms for every second of the day, I would.” You stared at each other until the glow of red turned green, and Benny continued driving. “You can have all the fucking hugs you want, Vivian.”

“Careful, I might exploit that.”

“You won’t hear me complaining.”

It had been a mad dash from where Benny parked to his apartment, and even then you still had gotten soaked with rain by the time the two of you got to the safety of his apartment. Your hair had become wet again and your shivers more pronounced.

“Where did my Colorado girl go?” Benny teased, water dripping from his hair. You sent him a playful glare. “Kidding, come ere’.”

You stepped up to Benny and he reached for the hem of the rain soaked sweatshirt you wore. He pulled it up over your body, leaving you shivering in your bra, before reaching for his own shirt. Benny’s KISS shirt was off his body and thrown to the side, and before you knew it he had his muscular arms wrapped around your body and was tugging against his chest.

A sated moan left your lips the moment his incredibly warm skin touched your chilled one, and you were immediately leaning into his embrace, your own arms reaching up to wrap your own arms around his waist.

“Ohmygod, you’re so warm,” You sighed out, pressing your face into his chest. “That is so unfair.”

“How?” Benny chuckled, his face nuzzling the crown of your hair. “I get to have you this close, seems pretty fair to me.” 

Snorting at him, you shifted your head so your cheek was pressed over the skin covering his heart. It still felt like a dream that he was right here with his arms around your body.

“Next time the two of us get into a fight, can we please just sit down like responsible adults and talk about it?” You asked hoarsely. “Because I can’t go through another decade without you.”

“Promise, but I have a feeling Will would kick my ass if I ever hurt you again.” Giggling, you pulled back and settled your hand on his cheek.

“Good, it’s painful fighting with my best friend.” You said softly while running your thumb along his jaw line. Benny stared down at you with an infectious look of adoration and self-content that made your heart swell with warmth.

“Can I kiss you again?” Your heart, which was already dripping, completely melted.

“You don’t need to ask to kiss me, Benny,” You told him.

“I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have.” Benny said with an indiscernible look in his eye.

“What will upset me is you not kissing me,” You retorted, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Well, I can’t have that,” He breathed out, sliding a hand up your side to take your face in hand. He was then swooping in to capture your mouth once more as you giggled. Benny’s mouth was instantly searching for that silent intimacy which burned like wild fire.

Even as your own fingers reached up and tangled in his hair, curling around the strands, you could feel Benny’s wide grin against your lips and the happiness that exuded from every pore in his body.  God this man was adorable, a certified puppy.

With Benny’s hand pressing into your back, you felt his fingers softly tailing over your muscles and tracing your spine. Shuddering in his arms from both the feel of his mouth and his touch you would have completely melted if there hadn’t been a crack of thunder that rattled your bones. While you jumped in place, startled by the sudden noise, the lights in Benny’s apartment flickered and turned off.

Benny groaned against your lips before leaning his head back with a sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He complained, letting out most dramatic moan you had ever heard. Laughing, you stroked your fingers down his jaw.

“This happen a lot?” You asked, giving Benny a soft, reassuring smile.

“On occasion,” Benny huffed out, his annoyance still clear on his face despite the lack of light. “Manager has been telling us that they’ll get the wires fixed but in reality he’s just bull shitting us tenants into freezing our asses off during the winter.”

“Think positively, Ben,” You reminded him with a teasing grin. “It means you get to keep me warm with your body heat.” 

He blinked down at you for a moment. Then a sly smirk was stretching across his lips.

“You’re a naughty woman, Vivian.” Benny said as your grin turned devious.

“Naughty woman is also cold,” You ever so helpfully added.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

For a six foot three man build of solid muscle, he sure moved silently and quickly. You were lifted up against his chest and Benny was swiftly moving through his apartment. You didn’t know how he could see through the darkness, but he made it to his bedroom without trouble and deposited you on his bed.

You let out another laugh before finding it smothered by his hungry lips. While your hands held his face and your fingers slowly slipped into his hair, your lips eagerly fed Benny’s ravenous ones. His hands slipped down your naked sides and then fingers loped in the belt loops of your jeans. Benny unapologetically jerked on the belt loops, lifting your hips up so your waists clashed together.

Your lips separated as you softly groaned and pressed your head back into bedsheets. Good lord this man felt divine and you both still had pants on. Benny let out a chuckle, dipping his head down and running his sinful lips along your neck, his fingers slowly stroking the skin just above your jeans.

“Benny,” You moaned out, dragging one of your hands through his fluffy locks and down his neck. “Stop teasing,”

Teeth scraped against your neck and hot breath tickled your chilled skin while Benny’s mouth made sure every inch of your neck got a taste of his teasing. You squirmed beneath him, your body arching into his while your fingers dug into the planes of his shoulders.

“D’you know how many years I’ve been dreamin’ about this? About you?” Benny murmured, running his lips along your collar bone. “M’ bein’ thorough.”

“Thorough my ass,” You huffed out. “You can pick me apart later. Right now I am so wet I feel like I need to scream, fix that before I fix it myself.”

Benny paused for a second and looked you in the eye, his eyebrow raised. You gave him a look that only made the smirk on his face widen. But Benny didn’t leave you hanging and pulled back, his fingers slipping down your body to the buttons of your jeans. Your eyes remained connected with his as he unbuttoned your jeans and as Benny started pulling them down your legs, you lifted your hips.

As the black jeans were pulled from your legs, you wiggled your ankles in his grasp, loving the way his hands felt against your skin. With your jeans dropped to the floor, Benny started working on his own to which you happily enjoyed watching every little movement. Your eyes watched his hands push his jeans down his hips and as Benny kicked his jeans to the side you raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘continue’. Benny, being the teasing ass he was, took his sweet damn time and when he was finally naked you could have sworn you started drooling.

But your view disappeared quickly as Benny was back on you, tugging on your own underwear. You didn’t even have time to feel self conscious about your body because Benny had your underwear off your body and disappearing faster than you could blink. At least the power was out which meant he could only see so much. While your skin prickled from the cold air, Benny dipped down and pressed his lips against your knee and then up your inner thigh as he traveled his way up your body.

Benny’s nose brushed across your pelvic bone and you twitched in place while letting out a small squeal when he lazily flicked his tongue threw your folds.

“Benny!” You gasped out, your back arching off the bed for a moment. Benny let out a chuckle and pressed one last sweltering kiss to your hip before moving on. His eyes met yours once more.

“Come on, Viv, I just wanted a taste.” Benny teased, swiping his tongue across his lower lip. You didn’t even have time to be flustered because Benny’s hands slipped around your sides and unhooked your bra. You were completely naked in seconds and Benny’s mouth was back on yours. You were melting like Icarus’s wings beneath sinfully addictive lips and yet you couldn’t help but fly closer to the sun.

Your hands slipped across Benny’s shoulders and you tugged him closer. Benny’s own hands started running across your body, exploring the curves and dips until you were shivering in anticipation rather than chill.

“Would you fuck me already?” You huffed out against his lips. Benny’s lips curved against mine and his hands slipped across your skin until he was gripping your hips.

“Pushy, pushy,” Benny teased you and you scowled at him, but your scowl didn’t stay on your face for long. With a few quick shifts of your bodies, Benny was sliding himself into you all too easily. The breath rushed out of your body in seconds as your body took every single inch Benny had to offer all to easily. His hands slid upwards once more, so slowly in fact that a small whine slipped from your lips. Benny was quick to remedy by cupping the side of your face and sealing his mouth back over yours.

You were happy to return the nips and tugs, chasing after Benny’s kisses with sharp ones of your own. Your bodies seemed to melt together and that heat you so wanted now burned in your body, rather than against your skin. Benny’s lips finally separated from your lips and trailed down your neck, he reached your chest and sealed his lips over a nipple. You gasped and grabbed fistfuls of his hair.

Benny’s mouth was torture and between his hot lips and his cock repeatedly thrusting into your body, you were quickly squirming beneath Benny’s body. You hadn’t been lying when you said you were wet and Benny was taking care of your need more than adequately. Sliding your fingers through his hair, you shifted a hand down his neck and began digging your nails into his back.

You were probably leaving marks, but then again, Benny was leaving marks on your breasts like a man on a mission to stake his territory. You jerked in place again, this time feeling electricity fire through your veins when Benny managed to hit a spot within you that made your back arch straight off the bed. Breathing heavily and knowing you were close to the pleasure you both wanted, you pushed Benny’s further against your skin and closed your eyes.

You listened to the sounds coming from him and only felt yourself becoming more alive from them. Benny let out a groan, shifting his head so his lips were now pressed against your neck. Benny’s thrusts started to falter and with one final one that you felt straight to your spine, you both passed and groaned in an ecstasy of shivers and warmth.

Benny’s body partially slumped against yours and you began stroking your fingers through his hair, out of breath. Despite the cold temperature of the room, you felt like you were sweltering from the inside out.

“Vivian,” Benny groaned against your neck. “Why do you have to be so fuckin’ perfect?”

You snorted at his words.

“I’d argue with you but I’m really tired at the moment.” Benny hummed against your skin.

“Tired? Well you better rest up sweetheart because I am only just getting started.” You moan at the thought because if Benny was thinking what you were pretty sure he was thinking, you were in for a long night.

Last night had been equal parts over-whelming and satisfying. You weren’t sure how many rounds you and Benny had partook, but by the end you were exhausted and content to fall asleep in his arms. Which you had. Come morning you found yourself tucked away in his bed, by yourself. At some point you were vaguely aware of Benny getting up and tucking the blankets around your body to save off the chill.

No you were on your back staring at the ceiling and trying to decide if you wanted to get out of your little bubble of heat for the heavenly scent of freshly brewed coffee. Worth it. Sighing out, you dragged the covers away from your body and moved yourself into a sitting position. Looking down at yourself, you didn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed by the number of marks on your skin from Benny’s mouth. He was possessive by nature.

Standing up, you found that Benny had picked up your discarded clothes and neatly folded and placed them on his dresser. The first thing you did was pull on your underwear, but that was the extend of your clothing you bothered to wear. No, you wanted to stay comfortable so you raided Benny’s dresser until you found a nice soft shirt you could wear. You pulled the shirt on over your head and ventured out of the bedroom to get a cup of coffee.

Benny’s apartment wasn’t large and it was easy to find the kitchen, so while you made a bee line for the coffee maker and started fixing yourself a mug, you started picking up on the fact that there were voices coming from the living room. At least you recognized the voices from last night.

Stirring in the creamer into your coffee, you walked from the kitchen to the living room entrance and leaned against the wall. Will, Pope, and Catfish were over, and no doubt giving Benny shit just because that’s what military men did to each other.

“No, that’s—“ Benny sighed from where he sat on his couch, rubbing his chin.

“She flat out punched you in the face, man.” Catfish snorted while shaking his head. “Was that before or after you cleared things with her?”

“Before,” You spoke up before Benny could respond. Four heads swirled you way and you couldn’t help but enjoy the way eyes bulged out of their sockets. Catfish at least pulled down his hat while his cheeks turned red. Flickering your eyes to Will you saw him with his eyes closed and knew he was probably counting to ten in his head. Pope was just blatantly staring.

“Vivian,” Benny groaned out.  You held up your free hand as you took a sip of your coffee.

“I’m gonna stop you there, Ben,” You told him before addressing the others. You gestured to your face. “The amount of fucks I currently give about my current state of dress is at zero, we can further address it after I’ve had my coffee.”

“I knew I liked her when I met her,” Catfish mumbled, keeping his gaze glued to the floor. Pope let out a snort and then grinned, slapping Benny on the shoulder from where he sat adjacent to him in the lounge chair.

“You know how to pick em’, Benny.” Benny sighed before holding out a hand. You walked over and plopped yourself across his lap, careful not to spill any of your coffee. While sipped your coffee and leaned against Benny’s chest, he placed a hand on your thigh and started stroking your skin with his thumb.

“I’m going to assume you two made up and everything is okay?” Will asked, rubbing his forehead. You and Benny glanced at each other.

“Well considering that Benny now knows he’s been an idiot, yes, I think so.” You stated, giggling slightly as Benny gave your neck a little bite at your jab. You huffed. “Don’t bite me! You know I am right, Benjamin Miller!”

Benny sighed into your neck and you took that as a sign of defeat and smiled before reaching up with your free hand and patted his hair.

“Now that-that is clear, I think I’d like to get to know your friends a little better.”

“You’ll have no arguments there, they haven’t shut up about you since they arrived.” Benny said, continuing to trail his fingers over your leg. Your eyebrow popped up and with a smile, you wrapped your arm around his neck, turning back to the two men, eager to get to know them.

Date Published: 7/3/22

Last Edit: 7/3/22

[scytheaudio]

hi! i want to start listening to your audios and i don’t know where to start so i was wondering if you could recommend what to start with

Of course.

What are you into?

Lullaby is a great starter for the creapier more unhindged stuff. It is also connected to the Alpha Claw world which is another recommendation.

Yandere Siren is a solid series to start with as it isn't as complex and can be enjoyed alone without the pressure of following all the other stuff...same with SuperVillain, if you want a cocky magical southern brit teasing you.

A lot of my worlds and stories do connect, but they can be enjoyed alone, and maybe if you enjoy on series, you'll be tempted to listen to the other stuff after ☺️

[annymation]

1.) It would be so wholesome if the other wishing stars in the sky are happy to see and watch Aster living his happiest as a human. They are still his family no matter what, right?

Aster could be dancing, singing, making new friends, discovering new things, start a family and they all couldn’t help but shine brighter to see him happier than they’ve ever seen him in the sky.

And Aster doesn’t forget them back either. As much as he could, he sits by the wishing tree and talks to them about LITERALLY everything. Even if he couldn’t hear them talk back to him anymore, it doesn’t matter.

He and Asha love to stargaze as Aster keeps sharing everything in his excited state to the other stars above. Meanwhile, Asha just listens and watches him fondly, adding in some details to his stories every now and then. And it almost seems like they answer back through their twinkling in the sky.

(Bonus points if they continue to do this with their future daughter, Evangeline. The little kid’s eyes would be sparkling brighter than the galaxy in awe)

I’d be happy to see this as a short writing prompt if you want to use this idea! 💖💖

2.) Another headcanon I like to have is that the songs “When you wish upon a Star” and “A Wish worth Making” becomes Evangeline’s lullabies.

It’s like Asha is passing on the songs of her father’s and Sabino’s X333

YEEEESSS YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT!!! YOU UNDERSTAND THEIR VIBES SO WELL!!!

I'll write a little scene with them and little Evangeline star gazing, and Aster telling her about the stars

Asha and Aster are laying down on the grass with little 5 year old Evangeline between them, Aster is pointing up to them

"And that one is the southern cross constellation, see those 4? They're called Gacrux, Crusis, Acrux and Mimosa, we were close friends actually, they were some of the few stars that understood my fascination with earth, they even placed themselves in that formation to help people find their way" He explains

"Find their way how?" Evangeline asks curious

"They're like a compass" Asha says "They show where's North, West, East and South, helping people know where to go" Evangeline looks up in awe and Asha hugs her closer "So whenever you're lost dear, just remember, you just have to look up at the stars to guide you."

Aster has a cheeky smile as he sing songs "And throw caution to every warning sign?"

Asha looks at her husband confused "What?"

"... Is that not how the lyrics goes?" He asks genuinely

"Heheh no cariño, it was "For I know they can send me a sign", what you said didn't even make sense hahah" Asha laughs, Evangeline is distracted still admiring the stars while her parents talk

"Well it has been years since I've last heard that song heheh"

End scene :3

2) Headcanon approved, and may I add "At All Cost" to the list.