#tagging everyone who i know has read the book (or has at least made edits of it)

[hwaightme]

Avaritia

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

⚫ pairing: ceo/sugar daddy!hongjoong x assistant/afab!reader ⚫ genre: smut... just smut really ⚫ summary: everything has a price, but sugar makes this truth so much sweeter. no matter what he says, hongjoong will buy that new purse for you, will flaunt you in front of his business partners, and will make sure you know you are his. ⚫ wordcount: 8.3k ⚫ warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, tried to edit - lost it - bon appetit, language, teasing, on a flight, a lot of money, wealth, first world, brand name dropping harder than San in the logs, hj is a sweetheart, mc is needy but in denial, full avarice mode lmk if anything else, nsfw tags and playlist rec under the cut ⚫ taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo ⚫ network tags: @k-labels @ateezlovenet @kflixnet ⚫ a/n: Sometimes, I am calm. Other times (read 'all the time) I am getting wrecked by everyone in ATEEZ. Here is what Balmain Joong did to me. Any comments, reblogs much loved; we spiraled into madness (hail sucrose pop, glucose father joong lol)

⚫ nsfw tags: daddy/baby girl dynamic, sugar daddy, reader is a 'doll', soft dom!hj (literally cannot stay mad at mc), overstimulation (seriously what is hj doing to mc...), fingering, mile high club, blowjob, deepthroating, dacryphilia, possessiveness, dirty talk, sex on a desk, unprotected sex (wrap that before you tap that) ⚫ playlist recs: Five Star Hotels by RAYE | Sugar Daddy by Qveen Herby | SAD GIRLZ LUV MONEY Remix by Amaarae | Greed by Shreea Kaul | Mile High by Salina Killa | Do I Move You? by Nina Simone | Money Power Glory by Lana Del Rey

Why was it that when real business was being discussed, the location of choice was always the most extravagant, exotic, luxurious oasis? Everything about the resort screamed unaffordable. 'Exclusive' written in blood on the pristine white sands, only to be washed away by azure blue waves to colour sea foam you could swear was whipped up in a divine patisserie. A perverse flavour inaccessible to the majority but driving the decisions that ruled the world. It was challenging to not become partial to the taboo indulgence when it was handed to you on a silver platter together with a tailor-made career. Anyone would need to acclimatise to what most considered a distant fantasy, but a few flights on a private jet later did wonders in curing the delirium of the average and introducing an insatiable materialism.

Thus, you were not particularly bothered when your boss requested you book another retreat to a private resort in the middle of the ocean - considering the business's cash flow and offshore 'pocket money', this was not too different from your routine trip to the cafe down the street to get his 'coffee' - more sugar than caffeine but this was a secret that you were to keep to the grave; it was written in small print on your contract. It was easy to book when you just needed to send out a few messages to staff and drop a name to any external service people at the right time. Their reaction, stuttering and need for clarification never failed to be amusing; even the most outrageous demands gained appeal once the won, euro, dollars, whatever they wanted from the global wallet, began to stack up. Green bills, green trees - in a twisted way, these boys who liked to play the role of the all-seeing and all mighty were farmers too. And fruits of their labour were always the sweetest.

Sure, you worked hard and had your own path that you could have followed. Even had a degree to prove that you had at least an ounce of dedication. But what would it give you, in fact, what did it give you before your renaissance? Crumbs. Sheer crumbs, student debt and a chronic migraine. But as it turned out, a couple hundred k did wonders when it came to personal health and wellbeing. And on top of that, the myriad of other benefits that your current lifestyle had, had the ability to crush any argument and accusation hurled in your direction, of which you had many. You had figured out soon enough that diamonds were your real best friend, while those who you had considered your ride or die evaporated as soon as they saw you wearing designer. And that had been when the best you could ask for was old collections, and widely available products. You were not lonely. You had too many hats to wear, and a very demanding man, by the name of Kim Hongjoong, to entertain. And one who currently had his eyebrows furrowed, a couple of unruly strands of hair perking up out of his otherwise slick business ‘do, glasses barely holding onto the tip of his beautifully sculpted nose, and was leafing through the papers he had asked you to prepare for the duration of the flight.

For the CEO of a global company, and the heir to an even larger network, he sure as hell was incredibly young. You did not envy his turmoil and exposure to stress one bit, almost feeling sorry and in part guilty, since percentages of his spendings were technically lost on you. There had even been instances when you found yourself sat in a dark room, laptop screen aglow and on a blank page, with you wondering how one crafted a resignation paper. But once you and Hongjoong could have even a couple of moments alone, when he would ravish you, make and call you his and reveal to you all the things he had planned that could not be reflected on his calendar, that document would be promptly deleted and recycle bin emptied. Your ‘relationship’ had been this way since the one meeting, in his main office, on a bright and early morning.

He had called you up into his office and simply told you that he had another ‘job opportunity’ for you. At that point you had been desperate, with financial problems endlessly piling up, from debt to your family’s hospital fees to bailing your estranged brother out of prison. And to make things unethical – Hongjoong had known this. He had done his research – more specifically, he had asked some colleagues in his company, ones who you would never suspect, to snoop around and find out more about you. And as it turned out, you were the perfect candidate for ‘being treated right’ by him, while bearing the title and carrying out the formal façade of secretary and personal assistant duties. In his practice, as well as his father’s and partners’, this was probably the most stable relationship they would ever get in life, so might as well be picky.

Initially, you had simply become a receiver of gifts. Pretending like this was Hongjoong’s love language, you were touched and did not think much of it. Maybe through these purchases he was moving money in ways it should not be moved, but you could not care less – not your problem, not your area of expertise, you had the outcome, and the outcome was something like a crocodile leather bag or a dress fresh off the runway. Hongjoong had insisted on picking every single item out for you, letting his controlling executive side win over. He had explained that you had to look like ‘the prettiest doll in the world’ for him, and for that he needed to check for quality. After a couple of months, however, such sugary sweet presents had been reserved for special occasions, and for the rest, money was wired directly to a new, account, a platinum card he had opened for you and given you. To just step into the consultation room with his portfolio manager and private banking consultant had felt like you were cheating existence. You had been a lowly assistant to an assistant before. And now, decked out in Dior, were sat beside one of the most influential men in the modern era of this industry, letting him hand you eye-watering sums as if it was a couple of coins for a pack of gum.

Now, well, now you were conflicted. As months had turned into a year and were now approaching the two-year mark if you could remember correctly, your ‘relationship’ had started to feel more and more like a real one. Hongjoong had caught himself divulging details of experiences that he had never spoken about with anyone before. And nowadays, when you had sex, it felt less like a mindless fuck and more like making love, with the man expressing more than he ever could with every hot touch, press of his lips to yours, even his lustful intensity had gained a new colour. You could feel that he was confused, but would not dare let go of you – you knew that he put your name down on some very important documents, after all. As such, it was a rare but unbelievable pleasure to push Hongjoong’s buttons and get him all riled up for you, just so he could expel that pressure and that tension from a busy work day out on you. You were that caring of a personal assistant. And wanted him to keep on talking. Keep on telling you his deepest darkest secrets. You wanted to be a part of him, the hedonistic side, the one that seized the day and knew how to enjoy the earthly realm without counting and fighting.

For the flight to the resort and extended series of meetings with key business partners, you had chosen to wear an outfit that you knew Hongjoong was unravelled by. It was a black and white Prada poplin mini dress that did wonders to accentuate your curves and edges, and was paired with some classic, black leather, So Kate Louboutin heels and gold accessories to match the dainty little buttons on the dress. Really, this was dress number two since the last one had been quite literally torn off you by none other than your boss, but he did not want to ruin the night and as such, had promised to contact the house of fashion itself to get an exact replica of the limited edition garment. And this man kept his promises. But right now, even though you were sat in the private office in his jet, with the bodyguards safely outside, lounging and doing whatever bodyguards did to occupy themselves, he was not paying attention to you at all. Only winding himself up more with those compiled quarterly reports that you were now regretting having finalised them and bringing them at all. What was the worst that you would have gotten had you not done the task? A spanking? Oh, how scary… you have had it rougher on a casual and uneventful day. Now you needed to get creative to get his attention, and being needy would not do. So very slowly, gazing out of the window at the clouds your were drifting past, you crossed your legs, revealing the legendary red bottoms of the heels you were wearing, and reached for the notebook and pen that were just peeking out of your handbag. Unbeknownst to you, you already had his attention with your abrupt change of pattern. Normally you would be on your phone, or typing away on your laptop, even remaining idle would be more characteristic, so Hongjoong’s interest was piqued by the little planner that contained all your thoughts and actions. He slouched back in his seat, and raised he papers a little higher, so that he could steal glances at you more discreetly.

You were paying no mind to what your boss was up to, preoccupied by the cream pages and the visualisation of the figure in front of you, but in your mind. Sometimes, when work was slow, you had taken to doodling random people around the office, as well as sketching out a variety of landscapes that took your fancy. Though the main subject was always Hongjoong. You had gotten quite good at picturing his facial features and depicting them even in a few lines, catching his micro expressions and shift in body language. There were also a couple of drawings you had done with him as a live model, though he was asleep and in the nude, so no one was ever going to know about that – you had stashed them away in a safe hidden behind the drawers of your desk. It only made sense that he was in most of your drawings: after all, he was the man who had bestowed upon you such unimaginable riches and a quality of life so drastically improved, that you had no choice but to worship him. He had made you who you were now. A shining diamond.

And this shining diamond was a little too bright for him to keep on focusing on the profit and loss analysis. After about ten minutes of frustrating silence, he dropped the papers onto the table in front of him and leaned to put his elbows on its edge. You had still not raised your eyes at him – something that you normally did nearly on instinct since you were so in tune with his gestures, which made Hongjoong inhale aggressively. His previously neutral expression had turned into a scowl as he raised an eyebrow and gave you a onceover. His precious doll was up to something.

“What are you doing?” though the question was simple, his voice was dangerously low. But you could not be threatened by a good time. You kept your eyes trained on the page as your hand moved methodically to hatching the shadows of his, as of not too long ago, brilliant blond locks, ones you adored to run your hands through whenever you had the chance. Which was a rare occurrence outside of the ‘bedroom’, but still.

“Just noting some things down, Mister Kim.” Though he had insisted that you call him Hongjoong when you two were alone, it had been a challenging transition to get used to. But at least it gave you ample opportunity for… discouraging him further. He liked for everything to run like a well-oiled machine, with his eyes reading a business strategy in anything and anyone. You had no doubt that that was how he was scrutinising you now. Equal parts assessing the attitude and doting on you.

He was a sweetheart treating his favourite toy. Talking competitive analysis and takeovers in the morning, and clinking glasses with you at an exclusive Michelin star restaurant in the evening. And to think that you were the only one, aside from his family, who got to see more than one side of him was an intriguing notion. Actually, scratch that. Certain things you were sure to be the only one taking care of. Take his nasty habit of overworking, which you had called out even if it was just you feeling bored: all work and no play made Hongjoong a dull boy, and thus, less likely to compensate for your presently aimless sitting around.

“By colouring the entire page? Not good to lie to me, you know that.” Of course. When it came to matters of business, for example, this man had ears everywhere, had infiltrated every other competitor and had become a spider in the corporate world. He would probably find out someone was cheating on their spouse sooner than the spouse themselves. When it came to you, however, he did not have your intricate neural network mapped out just yet. He could only fluff up his feathers and put on airs.

“It is only ink, Mister Kim. And surely the ink to paper ratio is not more than the balance sheet on page twenty seven.” You purposefully moved away from his interrogation, subliminally reprimanding him from stopping his concentration. The ghost of a smirk was gracing your lips, hidden by hair that had fallen to perfectly frame your delicate facial features. Hongjoong still had not corrected you on using his ‘work title’.

“I should ask you to start drawing the spreadsheets out by hand then.”

“Maybe next time, as a special treat. In the meantime, we have what we have and must settle for it.” A lot more standoffish than usual, you were brushing your boss off as you continued the sketch. He could not exactly reprimand you, however. You were right in the fact that his suggestion was nothing more than white noise.

“Settle for less, Y/N?” the question rang loudly in your ears and translated itself to a reminder to know your place fairly quickly. You could imagine Hongjoong’s raised eyebrow and playful grin. In addition to him hinting at your arrangements, he switched to calling out your first name. Promising.

There was a customary mention of money and class even when it was not the main topic of conversation. Really, it was what had brought you two together, or rather the stark difference between what you and him had, respectively. Hongjoong enjoyed having financial control over you and ended up dangling it above your head in the form of his not so subtle first-world conduct. You preferred to imagine that it was him wrapping you up in the softest, silkiest Chanel ribbon, like the one you had seen in adverts and on the packaging that, alone, could have probably provided you with enough food to last a week in your life before.

It was not that Hongjoong did not try to ‘stay humble’. Based on your observations, out of all his financial peers, company clients and members of the executive board, he was probably the least likely to boast about the figures that his numerous bank accounts contained. It was possible that when the strings of digits began to look more like a phone number, one grew more tranquil. Money spoke louder than words. But you knew how to make Hongjoong get vocal. Or so you thought.

“More is never enough.”

“Having more takes a lot of work and being on your best behaviour, Y/N.” he may not know all of your thoughts and reasoning but knew that you got extra charming when you became needy. Trying so hard to get his attention that you would invest all your efforts into it. It was only fair after how much he had invested in you.

The Tiffany & Co necklace on your neck that he traced with his gaze was nothing more than a collar, a leash tethering you to him. An Elsa Peretti piece, a golden snake which had cost Hongjoong just under thirty million Korean won, was perhaps the best way to symbolise the chokehold you were beginning to have on him. You were there in business, there in pleasure, and he was contemplating preventing you from taking holidays unless they somehow involved him. It would be easy – just block all of your cards and you would come crawling. He was greedy for your reactions. The way your lip would curl when he would put somebody back in their place during a conference or a meeting. How you enjoyed it when he praised you for completing the challenging, soul-draining tasks that never ceased to pile up – he had never failed to continue scrutinising you through the glass walls of his office as you excitedly returned to your desk, a soft smile always on your face. How you were completely at his mercy when he wanted to give you an extra special present. He loved how the jewellery he had gifted you or sponsored for you to buy rocked back and forth as he took his time to take you apart. Piece by piece. His priceless game.

Hongjoong smoothed his lapels and adjusted his cotton jacket that he had bought in the colour warm khaki, tightening the knot of the wrap belt. Smugly, he took note of how your pretty, made up lips parted. What were you imagining he was doing now? He was not going to care, at least not right away. He demonstratively picked up the reports again, flipping through the bounded pages on autopilot as, what he could only decipher to be a disappointed gasp, reached his ears. It was a relief that the paper hid his growing smirk. Mister Kim was work-mode Hongjoong, after all. What did you expect?

Ignored and rejected, so be it. You knew this interaction well enough to be able to count, down to the minute, when Hongjoong would crack, or you would crack and still come sauntering over. He liked to be needed – the main reason why he had agreed to become the heir to the corporation in the first place, more than you liked to be needy. But sometimes, you were a little too impatient for your own liking – probably a side effect of having been transferred to a silver spoon lifestyle after experiencing hardship after hardship. As such, the dynamic between you and Hongjoong was a constant battle. You could almost taste his pride as he inspected the figures you had compiled for him, a lazy hand moving to adjust the collar of his white turtleneck. Through fluttering eyelashes, you feasted on the dangerously handsome man, determining that he really did look astonishingly captivating in Balmain.

It was frustrating, this ongoing game that you two played and would not quit despite the effect that it very obviously had on all parties involved, but much like with the drugs that made the occasional special appearance in the closed VIP-only events, it was too addictive. Even now, you knew that you should not pay attention to Hongjoong, but your eyes were not obeying you in the slightest. Over the time you had come to intimately know this man, if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that he had an aura. An enigmatic charm, a magnetism that was so subtle to anyone who you now had the ability and first world clarity of deeming 'average' was unlikely to detect. However, before you knew it, upon locking eyes with Hongjoong, listening to his dulcet tone that would turn to orchestrate the music in your mind, you began to fall hard and fast into the abyss that was his power and control, trapped and even if you wanted out, forgetting the words. Once you fell in, the only words that mattered were the ones that he deemed to be so, and they were so heavily contextual and dependent on his mood that, usually, you did not dare oppose it.

It was fascinating to you how time seemed to pass differently when there was a price associated with it. Be it Hongjoong's net worth or what he was wiring into your accounts, it did not matter. What mattered was the bills that bound you together like the lace of your lingerie, one which was growing tighter around your body by the second as you kept on openly devouring Hongjoong with each shameless gaze, the thoughts cropping up because of the ghost of a smirk that he was wearing only fanning the flame. He was illegal. In all senses. No man should have the right to have such an influence over you as he did, and yet here you were. Working the role of his personal toy, so dedicated that you were on the verge of begging for him to play with you. You needed him. As much as you hated to admit it, since you still did want to retain at least a tiny portion of independence, this man had given you more than what you could ever wish for. Riches, connections, diamonds, sex. And you could not get enough, happily driven to madness by the immense pleasure of being a capricious diva with infantile demands for all the world's sweetness. Or, as your brother had put it, perhaps out of a sick gratitude to you for helping him getting at least a part of his life back on track, before you blocked him for good, you were getting off on being a pampered, prissy sugar baby. Though you saw no issue with simply doing what you were good at, and you still completed your regular duties as a personal assistant. It was just that your 'personal' was a little different from the commonly accepted corporate average. And the business that you carried out in the after hours was not just classified – when you had been faced with the decision of whether to agree to enter such a relationship with Hongjoong or not, you had naively placed your life at stake. That was the level at which you had to operate. But the thrill that it gave you, more than justified it.

Your internal clock was ticking away like a time bomb as you grew more and more frustrated, while Hongjoong, in a manner not too far from that of a cat’s, gave a soft yawn and made himself more comfortable in his chair, spreading his legs further apart under his desk and leaning back to continue his reading. Deciding that he had enough of having to repeatedly push his glasses up, he decisively took them off, and slowly folded them together, holding one of the temple tips very lightly with his lips. In a graceful motion, Hongjoong set them down to his right, beside a couple of pens. You recalled speaking with the designer over the phone, ordering for them to be customised and getting shipped over from the US in record time, and while you were not exactly sure as to why they were so important, the key stakeholders in the company had raved about them on multiple occasions, much to your boss’s delight.

You could feel that he was well aware of your present sensations, and purposefully was not acting on them, just to see you squirm. This was only making you more fixated on getting his attention, which you tried to do by letting out another soft sigh, quickly realising that if you were to get anything out of him, you had to be more rash, and act on instinct. In other words, act out of line. Taking the moment he dived back into the report as an opportunity, you rose from the couch, and slipped out of your high heels while keeping your eyes trained on your boss. A barely noticeable twitch of the eyebrow and you were struggling to fight off a smirk, feeling every bit seductive even though it was most probably a vision of your own design. But a little confidence did not hurt.

This time, you did not make a sound as you slowly moved towards Hongjoong’s desk in a straight line, using your strength to keep your adrenaline-ruined breathing as level as physically possible, and your steps measured out as the plane rumbled beneath you. Head and body in the clouds. All because of the heavenly ruin who was paying no mind to how you rested the tips of your fingers on the edge of the desk, before lowering yourself onto your knees and dropping into a languid crawl. As you inched past his lacquered black boots, and soon found yourself right between his legs, you could see Hongjoong stiffen, but resist the urge of responding to your bold movements. This only played to your advantage, as you let your hands rest on his denim-clad thighs before snaking up to tug on his coat’s belt, loosening it until the material gave way and exposed the waistline of his jeans.

Even as you, with practiced, methodical motions, undid his jeans, he did not spare you as much as a pat on the top of your head, like he usually did when you were being his ‘good girl’. The only sign he gave of his awareness of you was the obviously hardening member that your hands purposefully grazed as you attempted to pull the denim a little further down to give you better access. When the jeans, or rather, their wearer, did not budge to allow you to take them off, you growled in annoyance and gave up trying to be gentle, instead wanting nothing more but attention, not from Mister Kim, not from your boss, but from Hongjoong. From Joongie. From your one and only daddy.

Said man was resisting every urge to yank you from under the desk and to punish you for being such a vixen, but it was clear to him that his disregard of your efforts might just be more painful – a realisation that did little to subdue his arousal. It made him acutely aware of your nimble hand finding the cut in his Armani briefs, and pulling out his erection, giving it a few pumps at the base with your fingers. The sudden caress had made him buck his hips forward, encouraging you to continue admiring his length and running your fingers up and down, not a single bit escaping your touch. He gripped the papers in his hands until they began to get crumpled at the edges, and eventually dropped them to lean back and get a view of the scene unfolding at his feet. All just to catch you as you licked your lips, revealing a thick coating of spit, moved towards his dick, and while keeping it steady with one hand, ran your wet tongue from the base to the very tip, parting with a lewd twirl over the head. Hongjoong bit back a hiss as he locked eyes with yours, half-lidded – you knew all his sensitivities, his pressure points and guilty pleasures, and that was infinitely dangerous for a man like him to share, it only made you more attractive. You had memorised him as if he was your assignment. Your most important test and duty. Never leaving your mind and driving you to insanity as you drifted from wave to wave of uncontrollable desire for him, and him alone. You were his. And you looked so pretty, a queen all made up and dressed in gorgeous rare pieces, kneeling before him and taking in his member between your soft lips. Deeper. Deeper, until he could feel your hot inner cheeks, the back of your tongue and how a rumble emanated from you as you hummed in satisfaction, the vibration forcing Hongjoong to tilt his head back and sigh.

You were greedy for Hongjoong, moving yourself at a slow pace to take in as much of him as you could, hands finding themselves clinging onto the legs of his jeans for support, and to allow you to try your best and continue devour him without his guidance. As you moved away for a couple of seconds to catch your breath, a salacious pop announcing the temporary loss of contact, you noticed a string of what you could only guess to be your saliva, mixed with his pre-cum hanging between his member and your progressively more swollen lips. Once again, you took the throbbing member in your hand and were about to resume its worship, when a strong grip of your hair, nails momentarily sinking into your scalp, alerted you and made your gaze shoot upwards. The sight made you cower, though the thrilling trepidation fuelled your yearning for the glowering man.

There was a demonic quality in how he stared down at you, every bit of the expression demeaning you and demanding your ruin. You knew you had overstepped by disobeying him and taking intimate matters into your own hands, but who could blame you when he was so breath-taking when wearing his favourite brand? When you lowered your eyes he tugged on your locks, sneering.

“Baby girl could not even wait until we landed, huh?” his dulcet tone dropped into a rough drawl as he could feel your breaths washing over the tip of his sensitive dick that was begging for you to finish what you had started.

“I couldn’t.” you purred, batting your eyelashes.

“And so, you resort to being naughty? Do you think that is the right thing to do, especially when I say that I am working, hm?” he was hooking the answers out of you, one of his eyebrows twitching in surprise as you did not respond immediately. He tightened his hold and made your head fall further back so that you were completely face to face, his member pressing against your cheek.

“It isn’t, daddy, but I couldn’t help myself. You just looked so pretty that I could not resist.”

“And I think you are being incredibly selfish, Y/N. Spinning these tales just so you can satisfy yourself.”

“No daddy, I want to make you feel good!” you insisted, a whine escaping you as you could feel your core beginning to grow warmer with the progressing conversation. Pressing your thighs tightly together, you relished at the friction, and bit your lower lip.

“Is that so?” he mused out loud, waiting for your to attempt to utter even a single word more.

“Yes Da-mmfph!” taking the chance, he pushed you right in, his member hitting the back of your throat, the impact making tears spring up. As you struggled against him, he held you in place and watched as you tried to adjust to him. Just as unexpectedly, he yanked you back, leaving your lips to kiss his tip, only to drag you down once more and thrust his hips once, twice against you until he could see the wetness in your eyes building until it was about to spill over.

“You said you wanted to make daddy feel good, yes?” he asked, lust clouding his brain as you mumbled utter nonsense, mouth pacified by the hard erection, “then do exactly as I say, baby girl.”

This was exactly what you missed. Hongjoong coaxing every unholy state out of you, sin setting you ablaze as you began to fail in registering the nuances of this demeanour, tears that were on the verge of rolling down your cheeks blurring your vision. This was how you pinched yourself for grounding, to assure that the lifestyle you had, the gifts which you had been bestowed with were all real and all yours. You did not search for forgiveness when the forbidden fruit was so damn sweet. So, you let yourself be used like an expensive escort by him, comforted by the thought that even though he could definitely afford having anyone else, he had selected you. And let you stick by him for almost two years. A true sweetheart who knew how to treat his girl right. You moaned into the pressure as the low grunts you elicited from Hongjoong let to the climbing of heat in your core. With the abuse of your throat becoming a rhythmic orchestration, you grew brave enough to improvise, and hollowed out your cheeks.

"Ah... fuck, baby girl..." the airy proclamation escaped him as your teeth just barely grazed his member, and he could feel his high building at an accelerated pace. He resisted your bobbing to catch a few seconds' break by pressing you to his hips, barely giving you a chance to breathe. But he knew you would take it. You always did.

Hongjoong's ragged breathing was sending you into overdrive, and you shut your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the lewd music. Barely audible over the jet engines, the loss of control was his primary expression of gratitude. The illusion that he was not, in certain senses, under your heel rapidly evaporated when the adrenaline shot him through the heart, and his frontal lobe shut down to give up the reins to carnal pleasure. Once the barriers disappeared, his one desire and need were clear. You. The one thing in his life that he would never be able to truly own, and as you unwounded him, he comprehended with an unprecedented lucidity. That was why, as you sensed his hold on you loosen and his orgasm inching closer than ever, and were about to give him the sweet release, Hongjoong snapped back to consciousness and nearly ripped you away from himself, your head barely missing the drawers under the desk.

With flushed cheeks and an adorable, innocent pout, you looked up at him, dribble accumulated at the corners of your mouth. He fell for this face every time. Your glistening eyes studying him as you appeared disappointed that you could not get daddy to cum, afraid that you made him mad. That you did something wrong. Oh, how far from the truth this was. Even though you had acted selfishly, and approached him on your own accord, nothing about you could be anything less than right. Right just for him. It was as if the heavens themselves had moulded you to fit him like a glove. Body and soul. And he will be a fool if he did not indulge in that every opportunity he had.

Taking both your hands in his, Hongjoong helped you up from under his desk, careful to not damage your dress - not that he cared for the price, but it was not particularly enjoyable contemplating the conversation you might have to have with dry cleaning. Or with the designers. Again. It was troublesome striking deals with strangers to keep their mouths shut. He rolled back on his chair, taking in your trembling form. Holding your legs together you were fighting your ache for stimulation, knowing full well that your panties were already ruined with your slick and were only serving as a fabric made for rubbing your sensitive clit. Every breath, every sigh from Hongjoong as he took off his jacket and carefully hanged it on the back of his chair, then fully undid his jeans and pushed down his underwear, was a reason for you to start begging. Couldn't he see how anxious for touch his little toy was? Evidently not, for Hongjoong took his sweet time with removing your dress, every button like a special prize that he wanted to cherish, while you were growing hazy as he peppered kiss after kiss with every new inch of exposed skin, crouching down to let the sensation build lower, feeding the knot in your stomach. His pecks stopped just about when he reached your navel and with a lazy smile on his face, he stood up to gaze into your soul with an unbelievable intensity. Hands running up your body, Hongjoong slid the magnificent article off you, hastily draping it over one of the chair's arm rests and not once glancing away from his favourite sight, a sultry oasis, within reach, and so beautifully hungry for him. He stopped your arms from resting on his sweater, muttering that you would mar it with your lusty filth, and rushed to take it off and throw it behind him. Then, there was no barrier for him anymore, and in one motion, his pelvis was against yours, member resting against your black lace-clad heat, and hands kneading your ass, moving closer and closer until they began to toy with the g-string the action turning to torture as he purposefully made the material dig into your pussy, enjoying how you threw your head back and bit back a groan.

"Please daddy, I need you..." you whispered as he increased the friction and proceeded to move his dick in and out between your full, closed thighs, teasing your erect nub until you writhed to seek even more proximity. This, however, earned you a sharp smack on your ass, the lack of anticipation making it sting. Hongjoong did not give you time to recover as he let the pins and needles work their magic and elevate your reception of his steady thrusts. You tried to grab onto him, the table, anything, but as soon as your fingers touched Hongjoong's chest, another hit echoed in your ears, eliciting a frustrated moan.

"You want to... make... daddy really happy and cum... right?" He panted, his nails digging into your flesh so violently that you could not help but wonder if Hongjoong was going to draw blood, but that brief musing only elevated your pleasure. “Then, you are going to be my pretty little fuck doll… understood?” there was only one right answer to the question, and you were not about to get on Hongjoong’s bad side by being a brat. You were too fazed to put up a fight, and merely mumbled a soundless:

“Yes… daddy…”

Hongjoong leaned closer to you, until his forehead was almost touching yours, and moved to wipe some of the lipstick and remnants of his precum from your lips with his thumb, while his other hand hooked the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down to reveal your wet core. You wriggled to let them fall and kicked them away with an impatient foot, earning a chuckle.

“So eager, baby girl… I almost want to forgive you for not listening to me. I just said you are to be a doll,” he peered into your eyes, his breath hot on your mouth as he ran his fingers between your folds, covering them in your slick. It was adorable how you tried your best to keep up appearances even now, even when you had signed yourself away to be what effectively was his servant. You trembled as the cool metal of the ring on his index finger hit your clit, and exhaled shallowly as he played with you, “and dolls don’t move, do they? Can you do that?”

As he asked, his fingers curled into your pussy, while a thumb traced rhythmic circles over the nub, the sensation electric, building your high. The lasciviousness flashing in your pupils as your eyes rolled back was a cry to Hongjoong’s darkness. Hands suspended in mid-air, you did not dare act out nor attempt to navigate the intimate act, submitting to your boss, your daddy. Letting him take care of you. As he sped up, watching your face contort as you battled the approaching climax, Hongjoong found you endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching as a soft, radiant smile surfaced. He could never stay cruel with you for too long. He was giving you more than you could ask for, and yet, he still wanted to give you more. Everything would not be enough.

“Oh, my baby girl, are you close?” he inquired, cooing as your breathing quickened in response to his accelerated pumps into your wetness, wild from the addictive sound it produced. “Fine, you can hold onto me, Y/N, daddy will take care of you,” you did not need to be told twice, falling into him as your orgasm was imminent, “doing so well for me, baby girl…” he whispered into your ear, kissing the lobe and pulling you into an embrace as he felt your high wash over you, your sex pulsing around him and muscles contracting uncontrollably. Brushing your hair back, petting it a couple of times before settling on having a hand rest between your shoulder blades, he praised you. But did not stop. Greed went both ways.

Your prior filters completely broken, you moaned and whined as you kept on unravelling, Hongjoong’s fingers abusing your overstimulated cunt. With his toned body, and your ass pressed against the edge of the desk serving as your only support, you draped your arms over his shoulders and wrapped yourself around his neck, rationality leaving with every tremor. As you could feel another scalding fire building in your abdomen, just before the release Hongjoong removed his hand and instead took to gliding his dick against your pussy lips. With the sensation being too much, you yelped and sank into an orgasm, sweet nectar dripping onto, and coating his cock.

“Such a good girl for me, well done… Come on my dick baby girl.”

You were not sure when, due to the fog that enveloped your fucked out mind, but Hongjoong had made you lie on your back on his wooden desk, surrounded by the financial reports he could not be bothered to clear. He wanted you now, and that meant no pauses. Without as much as a warning, the blonde gave you one final teasing flick with his tip before bottoming out, the fullness making you gasp. Your walls were still clenching around him from your climax, which made Hongjoong growl as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs further apart.

“So perfect for me, Y/N… only mine…”

He mercilessly pounded into you, chasing his own high while you were seeing stars. When you were like this, under him, hair cascading onto and off the mahogany, knuckles turning white as your grasped onto the desk as he thrusted, you were the closest thing to heaven that he could believe in. In a world that was drenched in materialistic attraction, sabotage in the name of another stack, and human lives turning into corporate statistics to improve key performance indicators, this was an ethereal madness that unlocked a primal bliss, untainted by present crises. The sweetest distraction, you took him so well that he liked to pretend that you had been made just for this. Just to become his possession. His gorgeous doll.

With you, Hongjoong had begun to see purpose in his riches, being able to play dress up with you, making the office a private cat walk as you strutted in the latest collections and custom made pieces. Gucci, Versace, Prada… it did not matter to him so long as you were wearing it with the intentions of impressing him, seducing him, and only him. He was fully aware that, technically, you could be dating someone else alongside your so-called partnership with Hongjoong. As a sugar baby you could even have another ‘sponsor’ out there somewhere. Another person to make you cum, to provide you with a sensual paradise. But the notion sent him into an inexplicable rage as soon as he entertained it, and as such, he preferred to isolate visions of you from the rest of the world. In turn, this manifested itself into his real life attempts to do the same. Longer hours spent after work, an unspoken rule that the assistant should not leave until the boss does. Michelin star restaurants and exclusive rooftop bars to lure you into being in his company. And of course, sex. Or making love. However, one wished to call it when the lines began to get blurry. But Hongjoong could not care less. You made him comfortable. You were his, you had to be, otherwise what did the two years mean?

Skin against skin, breath joining breath, sight clouding, going dark. Hongjoong rolled his hips, and lowered himself to a stance where he was hovering directly above you, his piercing gaze not once leaving you. Getting drunk off every moan and gasp that he was the cause of, he relished in the feeling of your pussy taking him so well, the orgasm that he had not allowed you to ride out still making your walls clench repeatedly around his dick, pleading for his intimate, salacious demise. His thrusts got deeper as he slowed the pace, progressively losing his senses to the speeding high.

“Mm… baby girl you are… fucking priceless…” he uttered, words broken apart by each time he bottomed out in you, his balls pressing against your wetness as you could only let out a series of mewls in response, thoughts unintelligible as the repeated hits to your g-spot brought you closer and closer to total destruction.

“Daddy… please, I’m-”

“Going to cum?” he finished your sentence as your try at speaking was interrupted by a wave of pleasure, mixing with the tension from before and making the tears spring up once again. You were a wreck, impaled by Hongjoong’s member as he returned to standing up in front of the desk, thrusts rapid, sharp and finally making a droplet roll down from the corner of your eye. You yelped:

“Hongjoong… ah this is…”

“Is it too much baby girl?” he asked, without any intention to stop as he could sense himself faltering at keeping up the act for any longer. His own climax was within reach, and he was not one to deny himself any pleasures.

“No, daddy, feels…. So ah… yes…” you mumbled, at least you thought you did, but could not confirm for certain.

“Pretty girl crying for me…  so cute.” Praises spilled out of him as he groaned into the tightness, and, unsteady, removed himself from your cunt, letting out a low moan as rivulets of cum shoot out from his cock and onto your stomach.

The viscous white fluid decorating you was more than what he could ever hope for. The final marking that you were his to use, you were there to serve him, and he would never get enough. A light shake in his thighs forced him to seek balance in having a hand on either side of you, while his pulsing dick rubbed against your inner thigh.

“So pretty, Y/N. Just for me.” He stated, more to himself, and lowered himself further to give you a soft peck on the lips, which quickly deepened as you responded with an elated sigh. In these moments, you wondered if it was money that you were doing this for.

As he moved away, and with practiced motions began to clean you up with some tissues which you had in your bag, you regained full ability of inhale… count… exhale, and in the clarity, drifted to a post-coital contemplation. Hongjoong knew how to make you do what he wanted you to do. But did he know you? Could he confidently paint the portrait of your desires beyond financial and sexual gain? A man made of sugar, with an alluring physique and a kindness which he showed only to you, but should he be your only one? This thought had been plaguing you ever since last month. An unexpected, shattering appearance of a business card, that was now hidden behind a card you rarely used in your wallet, with gold embossed lettering and an otherwise minimalist design. Tasteful, exclusive, expensive. When you checked the names of those attending the meet on the island, the object had grown considerably heavier, weighing onto your consciousness. Discreetly given to you amidst a kiss of the hand and the reception of a smouldering gaze, it served a similar purpose to a number at an auction. The person whose name the card bore had announced himself as a bidder for your attention and services, a bidder astronomically higher than Kim Hongjoong, at that. It was tempting. Very tempting. And you knew that the conversation would occur at some point during your stay, seeing as even in the business setting, the man would undoubtedly be sat across from you, and would stare you down, right to the avarice festering in your heart wrapped up in designer. But you were caught in a dilemma.

Your eyes travelled back to the graceful form tending to you, forgetting about himself, at least until his baby girl was well cared for. A sweet angel, his face finally rid of tenseness and agitation as his entire focus was on your body, on you. The one who, unknowingly to himself, had shown you unprecedented vulnerability and, endearingly, trusted you much more than he ever should have. A man who walked on people and money, yet wanted a woman who could play with his heart.

It was not that simple anymore, was it? After so many doses, could you give this up? Give up and betray Hongjoong in search for a stronger hit?

What was it that you were truly greedy for?

[sun13koi]

another vent uh it’s nothing major so I’ll put the cws I think might be needed just in case. No tags this time.

Cws for possible mentions of yelling, self expression suppression, mockery, copying, etc

In my family, it’s like I can’t do anything without a shitty half baked copy of it coming from my brother. TV shows? He has to watch them too. Friends who are at least twice his age? Too bad, his friends too in his opinion. Not even the stuff most kids find weird- therian masks and quadrobics? He’ll look like shit doing both, and won’t stop bragging about it. It feels like a mockery to my life, every time he copies me. He’s even flirted with my fucking boyfriend, who’s twice his age??? Wtf???

So as you may know, I got converse the other day. Y’know, the shoes that are popular because of art, embroidery, beads, and painting on them? That I bought specifically to do these things? My mom called it ‘ruining’ them. Like what? I’m sorry? First of all, I didn’t even do it on the fabric part of the shoe that would make it unable to be worn with the supplies I own. I painted on the white bits and the bottom. Also- I painted things that express ME. I painted trans flags, the paw lines on the top, theradelta(◯⃤), quotes, etc to express MYSELF- what I like, what makes up me, and what COMFORTS ME- and she called it ruining them. Now sure, If it were any other kind of shoe, if I hadn’t mentioned it before hand several times, if I hadn’t asked for permission, etc- I could see how it would VAGUELY be seen as that. But come on. This just felt like you were saying that my personality, beliefs, and lifestyle ruined me as a person, despite all of them being harmless. And to make matters worse, she’s even more upset because my brother who has NO sense of ‘just bc they did it doesn’t mean I have to’, decided to draw blobs that I can’t even recognize as things on his brand new Nikes.

Mine cost 20 and were an after thought. His cost 50, and he got two pairs. But when I craft on the thing I got to craft on, it’s RUINING them. Heh. Thanks, mom.

and if it were just this, I might have been a little upset, but this isn’t the first time, hence the examples I gave previously

and now despite me already doing all the research, she’s not letting me get a binder either. Even though we have a place that would give them out for FREE with CORRECT SIZING. I really don’t want to sound like a brat or picky. But is it just me, or does this feel really suppressing? I felt lucky I could get a camp halfblood shirt without her reading g every single Pjo book first.

In summery, my mom just indirectly called my self expression a waste of time, effort, and a pair of shoes, my brother can’t form an original idea and it’s made me possessive over everything and everyone I love, and I don’t know what to do <3

If you read this, uh… thanks. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to listen to this shit

and if you’re my online dad uhhh sorry for not just ranting to you like usual I don’t wanna ruin your ren faire day

EDIT: here are some photos of the ‘ruined’ converse. It doesn’t matter what she thinks since they make me extremely happy, but I just think it adds to the overall madness I feel like she has

There are lyrics from the moon will sing on the front but I couldn’t get a good photo. Everything involved I did myself and is incredibly personal to me, and I was so proud of how they turned out. I also TAUGHT MYSELF how to lace on the beads without tutorials. So yeah. Thanks for encouraging my creativity and expression, mom.

[randomseacucumber]

So, because I am very excited to finally read Wind and Truth, I have decided that I will be doing reaction posts as I read. Each post will cover each 'day' in the book, plus the corresponding interludes. Obviously, this will not be spoiler-free, and spoilers for other books in the Cosmere may also appear. All reactions will be under a cut. I'll also be tagging these posts with #Ivy reads Wind and Truth, so if you don't want to see them, just filter that out.

Anyway...

Wind and Truth reactions: Day 1

Prologue

This is the only part of the book that was released as a preview that I've actually read, but that was, like, three years ago, so I don't remember much, and I'm sure edits have been made since then

Anyway, Gavilar is an idiot

I really should have re-read the rest of the series prior to this book's release, or at least watched some recap videos, but here we are anyway

One thing that stands out to me is that Sanderson's writing is a bit...immature? I've read almost all of his stuff, but for some reason, this is really the first time I've noticed this. It doesn't both me that much, though

Okay, so Axindweth worked for Gavilar. I remember being pretty curious about her in Oathbringer (?)

Navani deserves better

~It was Kelsier all along~

RIP Gavilar, you deserved it

I don't have a ton else to say about the prologue, especially since I've had a chance to process its contents before, but it's certainly interesting

Chapter 1

Kaladin!!!

I remember seeing people speculating that Syladin would become canon, based on the way Syl is being described, and I do hope that won't happen. Kaladin is a character that I've never felt the need to ship with anyone, but if I had to choose a ship for him, I'd go with Shakadolin. Of course, I do adore his dynamic with Syl, but I've always seen them more as a QPR than anything else. Obviously, no shade to anyone who does ship them, but I personally just hope that doesn't happen. Anyway, though, I'm not sure it will, based on the descriptions of Syl? I just think that she likes to play dress-up

Also, I completely forgot that Sanderson refuses to write curse words! Honestly, it's kind of charming

Shallan!!! (Gives her a hug)

Chapter 2

Oroden is adorable! I'm so happy that Kaladin has him

Okay, some interesting stuff about Urithiru

Nooo, not another poop joke!

I do quite like Kaladin's family <3

The wind is talking to Kaladin??? That's new

Okay, yeah, there is definitely emphasis on Syl looking older (sigh)

With the way everything is being framed...I'm scared for Kaladin

Chapter 3

The excerpts before each chapter are certainly interesting. I wonder who's writing them...

Maya!!!

Wit!!!

I love the Ghostbloods, but I cannot fucking take them seriously

Wait, who is Ba-Ado-Mishram again??

Oh, okay

Chapter 4

Kaladin learning to play the flute?? I love this

Hmm, interesting about the Wandersail

Okay, so we're just accepting that the Wind is talking to Kaladin, despite the Wind as a conscious entity not being something previously established?

The discussion of the Passions is really interesting. I'm not familiar enough with Mormonism to know how Sanderson might feel about the idea of salvation through works, but this discussion feels as if it's criticizing the idea. And honestly, it reflects some of how I feel about faith in general

The talk of hope makes me think of Kelsier

Wit is right! Sazed IS among the best!!!

Kaladin the therapist confirmed

The use of the word therapist does make me wonder about linguistics some, though. Is Wit using the same word he heard on another planet, or is he somehow translating it into the language of Roshar? How does that work?

Chapter 5

From page 54: "For her, it was the day when a set of parents had, for the first time, wanted her." I'm not crying, you're crying

Chapter 6

Szeth being unintentionally hilarious

Oh, the thing about the ancient snow is so neat!

I do feel like a lot of the dialogue here is somewhat unnatural. Everyone is talking like a therapist

I don't like the thing about Kaladin being in line for the throne. He's a good leader, but I really don't want to see him as a king. It just doesn't really fit for his character

Chapter 7

Adolin in the bestest boy. He better not die

Oh shit

Chapter 8

Yay, Nightblood!

Lift better get some page time

The rock in Kaladin's pocket...I wonder if Oroden put it there

Oh, good for Dabbid!

What did I just say about Adolin???

Chapter 9

The Knights of Wind and Truth excerpts are still befuddling...my best guess is that Sigzil is writing them

Okay, thank god Adolin is okay

You go, Shallan!!

Chapter 10

A pack human?? Syl, I love you

Sanderson's sense of humor can be so cringe, but in a way that's charming

Kaladin going off of this woman seems a bit out of character, but okay

Chapter 11

Hmm, Ba-Ado-Mishram seems interesting...

Adolin really is the bestest boy <3

I love the art at the end of the chapter. Of course Adolin makes friend with a spren horse

Chapter 12

Okay, yeah, I do think Sigzil must be writing these excerpts

Rlain!

Oh my god, the part with the tattoo!

Chapter 13

I'm still super curious about Sja-anat

Duel-wielding Shallan would be awesome

I am really, really scared for Kaladin

Interlude 1

Felt?? You were a Ghostblood all along??

RIP Kalak, I guess

Interlude 2

THIS is why Taravangian is one of the most fascinating villains I have ever encountered

Day 1 was definitely interesting, and I'm very much curious to see how things continue...

[solitaryandwandering]

✨2023: A Summary✨

Post your most popular and/or favorite edit/gifset/analysis for each month (it’s okay to skip months!)

Tagged by @telomeke (here). I hope those deadlines have been treating you well!

I have like, no original posts but I was kinda curious to see what was most popular, and I am procrastinating doing my dishes so. Here's another heinously-late post from meee!

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✨JANUARY 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST - The first tag game of the year. Actually, reading this back was kinda fun. I do love the Disco Elysium fanfic I shout-out here.

FAVORITE POST - N/A

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✨MARCH 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST - Another tag game. I was just starting to slowly talk to people here, and being tagged in Tumblr games was legitimately so morale-boosting. Thank you @waitmyturtles for always being so kind and inclusive. <3

FAVORITE POST - N/A

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✨APRIL 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST - N/A

FAVORITE POST - Actually has zero notes, but it's a watchlist tag! Keep Your Hands off Eizouken! did end up being a 10/10, and I did end up watching the entirety of A Shoulder to Cry On. Why? No clue.

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✨JULY 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST - My list of favorite Thai QLs!! I spent so much time on this post, I'm very happy it's the most popular of the month. I'm particularly proud of naming the dinner scene in Lovely Writer as one of my favorites. Still stands, unlike my selections for "most anticipated" series.

FAVORITE POST - I like my list of favorite television series, haha. I've been rewatching season 1 of Gravity Falls recently and that's on the list!

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✨AUGUST 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST - A "get to know me" tag game, wherein I largely lament the lack of glasses (unfortunately also marking a decline in my remaining vision).

FAVORITE POST - A reply to an ask from @dnana-2809-blog about my favorite forms of media, which sent me down a very nostalgic spiral inclusive of some of my favorite books, movies, and films.

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✨SEPTEMBER 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST - Another ask game, which I also did to procrastinate on important tasks. I did end up watching The Eighth Sense, which turned out to be one of my favorites of last year!

FAVORITE POST - N/A

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✨OCTOBER 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST - Yet another tag game, this one asking me to put my Spotify On Repeat playlist on shuffle and report back the results. Mine were interesting, to say the least.

FAVORITE POST - An ask by @wen-kexing-apologist that pressed me to name 5 things that made me happy, which came to me in the midst of a supremely bad mental health day. It was a sorely needed exercise.

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✨NOVEMBER 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST - This was the month of my La Pluie watch-along, so my most popular post is my watch of episode 6 (when Tai and Patts first attempt to defuse some of their sexual tension).

FAVORITE POST - I have two I really like, though my absolute favorite has to be the one which chronicles the absolute unhinged watching experience of episode 10 (with THAT fight):

I'm also proud of everything I wrote about the use of deafness as symbolism in episode 5 (which ended up aligning with @shortpplfedup's connection to the apostate/true believer theme!)

To see all my posts in my La Pluie watch-along (which I rated a "9/10, two thumbs up, singing in the rain") and read other fantastic meta, see @lurkingshan's round-up here.

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✨DECEMBER 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST - Ended the year with the "decorate my tree" tag, and I am still so thankful to everyone who took the time to leave me a message!!

FAVORITE POST - N/A

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P.S. This site (JetBlackCode) is super-helpful in searching for and filtering your posts.

No tags, enjoy 2024!

[readnburied]

Drunk Book Tag

So it’s time for another book tag. I found this book tag over on ZeeZeewithBooks’ blog who found it on MilliebotReads blog. The tag was originally created by booktubers Chelsea and Julie from ChelseaDolling Reads and Pages and Pens respectively. And without any further ado, here’s my take on the Drunk Book Tag. 

Wine Coolers: You’re 16 and you finally managed to sneak one of your Mom’s Smirnoff Ices. What is one of your most guilty pleasure reads? 

We all know the answer to this. And that is Escape by Nenia Campbell. I love the entire series but if I have to pick a single book I’ll pick Escape from the series. Also, a good dark romance is a guilty pleasure for me. 

Beer: You’ve made it to college and are hosting your first kegger! Pick your favorite new-adult or college-aged book. 

For this prompt I’ll go with All’s Well by Mona Awad. I love all her books which I’ve read so far but I especially loved the weirdness of this book. 

Tequila: You partied too hard last night and drank a little too much Jose Cuervo. What’s a book you never want to see again? (Or your least favorite book)

I had to think about this for quite a while because I don’t normally despise books, but I ended up going with The Vampire Diaries by L. J. Smith because I can’t stand those book (s) and have no desire to see them anywhere.

Beer Bong: What’s a book you read super fast? 

For this I’ll go with Oblivion by Kelly Creagh which is the last book in the Nevermore trilogy. I waited for the book to come out for a really long time and when it eventually did, I couldn’t help but devour it. 

Spring Break: You’ve thrown your inhibitions to the wind and end up having a sexy night you’ll never forget. What is your favorite smutty read? 

I will choose Even If It Hurts by Sam Mariano. I enjoyed the dark romance and the morally gray hero. I had a really good time reading this book and I wish I can read this book for the first time all over again. 

Screwdriver: What is the most twisted book you’ve ever read? 

This is an easy one and that is Insidious by Aleatha Romig. I still have a hard time thinking that the character actually did what she did and the ending still leaves me with goosebumps every time I think about it. 

Long Island Iced Tea: The melting pot of alcoholic beverages. What is one of your favorite diverse reads? 

For this prompt I will go with Her Majesty’s Royal Coven by Juno Dawson. I loved the story and the cast and how diversity is such a core aspect of it. I really enjoyed reading it. 

Sex on the Beach: A drink that’s great in theory but wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. What is a book that just didn’t live up to the hype? 

This was a little tricky because I’m not much for hype books, and even if I read them I read them after the hype has died down. But I ended up choosing Emily Wilde’s Encyclopedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett. And it’s mainly because I didn’t enjoy the genre as such. 

Wine: You’ve just gone through a rough breakup, so you can park yourself in bed with your favorite bottle of wine, some ice cream, and a bucket for your tears. Name a book that made you cry out all your feels. 

It took me a while to get an answer for this but I choose Reason to Breathe by Rebecca Donovan. This entire series had me bawling like a baby because of everything the protagonist goes through. 

Strip Club: Your favorite naked hardback. 

For this I will go with the Fairy Loot edition of Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead. I love the entire series and the hardbacks are just stunning. 

So this is it. This is my version of the Drunk Book Tag. I tag everyone who comes across this post and I hope you enjoy doing this tag as much as I did. 

[msfbgraves]

Tag Game

Got tagged by @amorphousgenderlesscryptid and @puella-peanut in two tag games with some overlapping questions, so I am sharing the two. Thank you and excuse the delay; the reasons I take very long to answer tag games is that I almost exclusively use Tumblr on mobile and that isn't ideal for things like this. But I enjoy them so I've started up the laptop!

First ever ship: I was so conventional when I first started shipping at thirteen or so. I took the ships that were given me and what fodder the magazines would give me to indulge them with. I never even considered alternatives, honestly, we had dial-up internet that was hella expensive to use, what was I going to do, read fanfic and explain the bill? Yeah, no. So my first ship was: Romeo & Juliet, from the Baz Luhrmann movie. "My only love sprung from my only hate", gah, in English I did not understand even with the subtitles, which I also didn't understand, it was deliciously complicated, which I had no idea would become something I am attracted to.

Last song: It's All Coming Back to Me Now, Celine Dion

Last film: Knives Out, to better appreciate the Glass Onion on my dash. Good film that took an hour to get interesting to me, so if not for Tumblr, I would have stopped. That one's on you.

Currently watching: I'd watch Slow Horses series 2, if getting a better vpn to pirate with wasn't still on my to do list.

Currently consuming: Tea, I think it is ceylon?

Currently craving: I just ate, so not food, though, very deep, direction in my life.

Currently reading: A backlog of so many Saturday editions of De Volkskrant newspaper. You do learn new things, although why people need a 5 page article to come to the conclusion that young people without prospects, going to underfunded schools, living in bad houses and getting discriminated every time they are trying to get out of these conditions are gasp more prone to radicalisation and the violence that comes with it is, I mean - sometimes I really feel that people are emotional morons. How is this possibly news. Everyone who cares even a little must sense this, if they haven't yet had it confirmed? The Science page is cool though, if hard for me to get through, I understand so little of it. Also the book tips.

3 ships

Cherik

Underrated little thing I love about sweet Cherik: they're so European! I can lampoon all my German and British relatives through them, indulge writing a little German that is critically not about Germany (because I do not live there, actually). Why are there no Dutch mutants, though. Really why. I need to write somebody from either the Holland region who feels right at home with the supposedly rude New Yorkers or someone from Twente who is critically out of their depth in America and curls up with Kurt to watch football although Kurt is German and that has some trauma attached but at least they know at what time you are supposed to serve coffee, and not that Starbucks stuff. (Which is not to say many people from Twente would not love city life. Yet, people who stay to make a life in Twente often do so because metropolitan life is the antithesis of what they value and enjoy).

Silverusso

I started 2022 with the words "Hold up, new fucked up ship just dropped!" It has been a ride, and it introduced me to the potentially even more fucked up - though I do hope for everyone involved never actually realised! - 'ship' that is Cuba and his Teddy Bear. But oh, Terry. I am just so incredibly in awe of how he came to Cobra Kai and made everything about it fit him. If you know how much of the OG cast struggles with the writers' takes on the material, and not only did Thomas make the evolution of Terry from TKK3 to Cobra Kai seamless, Silverusso gives Cobra Kai, and especially Daniel in Cobra Kai, the hook to even make sense: Daniel/Amanda, Daniel's visceral reaction to Cobra Kai, Daniel's darker side (always on display), and of course Ralph has played that since the beginning but you need a knowledge of Terry to completely see what they have been building up to. And then of course the rapport between the Cobra Husbands, giving Marty a new angle as Kreese. Thank you, thank you Sir!

Gradence

Can be this:

Or this:

Even murkier than Silverusso when I want darkness and messed up dynamics, but gives you licence to go adorable with them without the danger of oocness because you have complete freedom to decide who the character of Percival Graves actually is. The only one we spend time with in the movie, after all, is his impersonator. Also, no new canon to mess things up anymore, which is great for me as I lack the ability to ignore canon. It always has to come back into my fic some way, which is very bothersome when, again, the canon writers do not actually care about anything but status and money.

[infiniteglitterfall]

Okay, EVERYONE, listen.

This feels like roughly the one hundredth time that I've seen someone on this earth complain about the antisemitism on Wikipedia. And I need us all to understand just one thing:

WE ARE WIKIPEDIA!!!!!!!!

Every single one of us has just as much power to edit that freaking page and put in the information from the Holocaust Encyclopedia as whoever fucked it up did.

You don't even need to make a Wikipedia account.

(But it's easier to keep track of what you change, and discuss changes with people, if you do.)

You can add anything you can back up with a citation.

(You can, in fact, also add things you CAN'T back up with a citation. As I'm sure we've all noticed. And I might as well point out here that you can ALSO add things you can't back up, and put in citations that DO NOT BACK UP WHAT YOU SAID.

You shouldn't. And hopefully, people like me will notice and change it. But you CAN.

My point here is actually that when you're doing research about something important and complicated, you should always click through to see what the source cited really says.

Because frequently, someone will be wrong about either what they're writing, or whether their source backs it up. This happens in academic papers too. Critical thinking is hard.)

You write whatever you want. You type the period. Then you type in your citation.

Under the cut, I'll show you how. It's really easy. Or you can use Wikipedia's guide!

It even lets you preview your changes before you finish, so you know if you're making a mess.

And there's a place where you can briefly explain why you're editing it. Like "adding details about Nazi connections," or "correcting punctuation."

And yes. Not all of us can edit every article on Wikipedia; "controversial" topics are frequently locked so that only "extended-confirmed" editors can change them. (Which just means "people who are logged in and have made at least 500 edits.")

But you can join in the discussions on those articles.

And on Wikipedia, "they're too Zionist!" is not an acceptable argument.

Sometimes people "watch" an article to get notified when it changes. (You can do this too!)

Sometimes they do that so they can revert the exact kind of change you're there to make.

But they have to put in a reason for reverting it. Which means you can also change it back, argue them out of it, or make changes to make it work. (example under the cut!)

The way you add a citation/reference looks like html gibberish salad. But it basically goes:

put in a tag that says "ref," so it automatically gets added to the list of references cited at the bottom of the Wikipedia page;

put in "cite" and what you're citing, like a book, a video, a website, a journal. Getting the type right doesn't really seem to be a big deal. In this case, you want to put "web."

And then there are a fuckton of different things you can add, which get separated by pipes. Pipes are that long vertical line that's probably above your enter key: |

You need the URL. That's... kind of all you need.

pro tip: going back in to add more details to the citation later counts as more edits!

Even though you only NEEEEED the URL, it's really good to add other details like the title of the page (if there is one), the publisher (Holocaust Encyclopedia), the day you looked at it (because websites can change over time), and it's especially nice to go dig up an archived version of the site and the date of the archive. Because links break.

oh yeah and my favorite thing to add: a quote from your source, so that people don't have to click through to verify what it says! this can be a great way to add more information that seems too long for the Wikipedia article.

So, broken up with lots of space for easier reading, it looks like this. We'll pretend we're doing one on Heinrich Himmler, because I have no idea who anon was looking at:

<ref> {{cite web | url = https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/heinrich-himmler | access-date = November 19, 2024}} </ref>

That's a very short "I just found this url, today" version. Here's a more thorough citation:

<ref>{{cite web | url = https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/heinrich-himmler | access-date = November 19, 2024 | publisher = Holocaust Encyclopedia | title = Heinrich Himmler | archive-url = https://web.archive.org/web/20241008214021/https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/heinrich-himmler | archive-date = October 8, 2024 | quote = As Reichsführer SS, Himmler received authority directly from Hitler to carry out ideological policies that the laws of the state might not permit. This ideologically rooted “Führer authority” enabled authorization of indefinite incarceration and mass murder.}}</ref>

I bet someone out there even knows of a website where you can paste in the url you're citing, and get all that code automatically generated for you.

Oh - here's my example of getting into a silly debate about something that should be cut and dried, and changing shit to make it work!

I came across the page for GUPS, the General Union of Palestinian Students. It made the ludicrous statement that the group OFFICIALLY started in the 1950s, but had been around since the 1920s.

I was like: ok, there's no place that says this other than their cited source, a now-gone website for the San Francisco State University chapter of GUPS. There were no universities in Palestine in the 1920s. This is clearly not true.

I took that part out. Someone REVERTED IT, and told me that all I'd proven was that it wasn't logical, not that the citation was wrong!

We argued back and forth a bit. I ended up finding a fuckton of Arabic-language sources with more information, and showing that none of them talked about it starting in the 1920s. This person said, "no, that source says it started in the 1950s, and evolved from this other group that started in the same Egyptian university, which had started in the 1920s! It never said that it had started in PALESTINE in the '20s!"

I haven't even dealt with that one yet lmao. Normally, I would probably just demand a source that showed the original group had started in the 1920s, and then maybe change it to like "it evolved from this other non-palestinian student group that started in 192X."

But the thing is... while I was doing all this digging, I found soooo much information about how GUPS was connected to the PLO. How it had become a part of the PLO when the PLO was an active terrorist organization. All kinds of crap.

And you can fucking bet that all of it is going into the article.

This thing is going to end up being a detailed piece about every terrible thing GUPS and the PLO have ever done.

It's going to be beautiful. And nobody will ever be able to argue that any of it is incorrect. It will go from "this is a normal club that goes sooo far back, it's considered the first Palestinian group ever" to "this is a normal terrorist club that was rooted in the movement to terrorize Jews, like in the 30s when X happened, like in the late 30s when Y happened, like this series of PLO massacres in this decade, like--"

went to wikipedia to fact check somethings about a guy from ww2 era history and it had been edited beyond belief to erase this person's connections with nazi germany. the second google result is the holocaust encyclopedia page all about his horrible crimes in the nazi regime. but on wikipeida, his description is vague and mild and barely mentions it. it's so worrying. I hate it. what happens when gen z only reads wikipedia pages and denounces any sources that are "too zionist" like a holocaust museum's encyclopedia? thank g-d for jewish historians, what would we do without them, but i'm so so scared that our history is going to be rewritten because no one will listen to us on our own history.

.

[seidenbros]

hi, how are You? I really like your writting, i'm new here and this is My first request ever and i think you're the right person to ask this to lol. I can't stop thinking about cheeky Eddie Munson having a crush on his substitute teacher who graduated back in 84' (i think he was supossed to graduate that year too) and listening to Van Halen's "hot for teacher" and thinking about her or he sings it to her in front of everyone when she goes to the hideout idk have fun with i trust You. Thanks<3

Hello my love 💚 I feel flatteres that you're sending me your first request, that's also why I wrote it today to not let you wait any longer (I'm slower with requests at the moment due to a new job and now being sick). I loved this the moment I read it, and this has so much potential! For more parts, but I tried to put as much in this as I could for now. I really hope you like it and thanks for trusting me with this 💚

Requests are open | prompt lists for inspiration | Stranger Things Masterlist

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader (Substitute Teacher) Word count: 5278 Warning/Tags: mutual pining, fluff, maybe a little angst, teacher-student-realtionship (not completely), first kiss, Jane Austen and The Hobbit references (let me know if I missed anything)

Read on AO3

Hot for Teacher

Coming back to Hawkins High was strange. Strange in a good way, because you weren’t back here because of something you’d done or because you had to go back to school. No, you were here because you were going to work here as a substitute teacher. You’d finished your courses for the semester, had handed your essays in, and had gone home for Christmas - and now you were staying for the rest of the school year. Your work at school counted for that semester, because you needed to get some experience actually working as a teacher. That meant that you’d be working alongside some of your old teachers, but you’d also chip in in case someone got sick - and you were watching over the students in detention.

Setting foot back into your old school after one and a half years was exhilarating. You knew most of the teachers, and some of the students as well, since you’d tutored them, so you were excited to see them, see how they were doing. What you didn’t expect to see, though, was a familiar face that had sat next to you in English, one of the courses he actually had attended, because books were something Eddie Munson loved. Maybe not exactly the ones you’d had to read in school, but some of them at least, and you distinctly remembered him reciting something from Hamlet standing on top of the table in the cafeteria.God, you’d had the biggest crush on him, but had never said a word to anyone. Because as much as he was a sweetheart towards you, always greeting you with a smile, he was also intimidating in a way you couldn’t describe. Not scary or anything, just… a little unapproachable. You’d talked about stuff during class, had shared some book recommendations, but he’d still always seemed so in his own world, that you hadn’t thought you’d fit into this world. You’d taken what you’d been able to get, the casual conversations, the books you��d swapped before the last summer you’d spent at home. You still had that book, had kept it as a memory and also as a lucky charm. It was an edition of Tolkien’s The Hobbit with notes and thoughts Eddie had written on the pages. He’d gotten your copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice with notes as well, because he hadn’t wanted to read it at first. But you’d made a deal, that you’d read The Hobbit if he gave Austen a chance. It had just been a funny little deal you’d made, but it still made you smile. Before the summer was over, you’d met again for a brief moment, and when you’d wanted to give the book back to him, he’d told you to keep it. Something to remember him by.

You could still feel the butterflies when you remembered the look on his face. That had been that moment, the time when you could have been able to tell him just how you’d felt about him, but to what avail? You were just leaving for university and he was still staying in Hawkins, because he had to repeat the year. You’d always thought that it must have been for the best, but you’d never forgotten about him.

And now, he sat in your English class at the back of the room, scribbling something down, and all the butterflies you’d thought had vanished in that time, were back suddenly, making your head spin. Having him around would make working here a lot more difficult.

~~~

School had just started again after Christmas break, so Eddie thought that he could at least try to attend every class. After all, he wanted to finally graduate this year, and even though he’d been through the courses twice, there were still some alterations here and there, especially when it came to English. Last year, they’d read pretty much the same books as the year before, just one had been different, but this year, it had already started out differently, and it was intriguing for Eddie. That’s why he was here, because he wanted to know what they would continue with.

“Alright, some of you might remember her, because she was a student here up until two years ago when she graduated. She’s gonna work with me a little bit, and she’ll work here as a substitute teacher. Please welcome Miss Y/L/N.”

“Hi! It’s nice to be back, and I do remember some faces!”

When Eddie heard your voice, he immediately looked up, because he knew that voice, remembered it, because it had appeared in his dreams more often than he’d like to admit. And there you were, all smiles just like he remembered you. Your hair looked different, but apart from that, you were still the same beautiful girl he remembered - or should he say woman?

God, he’d had the biggest crush on you, but had never really said anything, because he’d been too shy. Sure, he’d talked to you, and he’d probably had the opportunity when you’d talked about your favourite books, but he hadn’t gotten the words out. By now, he was a bit more confident than he’d been two years ago. But he still remembered everything - and he still kept your book on his nightstand to read a few pages now and then. And while he wondered, if you still had his book, you held exactly that one up to the class. His mind was reeling. This almost felt like a dream, but he was pretty sure that he’d gotten out of bed this morning. He pinched his own thigh beneath the table, the slight pain all too real, so he knew that he hadn’t conjured you up in his dreams once again.

“I know what you’re thinking… The Hobbit is a children’s book and it is. At least, it was written for children, and you can see that very clearly in the onomatopoeia Tolkien uses.” Confused noises were heard through the room, but Eddie just had to smirk. You’d really chosen the book he’d given you as the one to work on with the class, and you’d clearly gotten to the bottom of said book, otherwise you wouldn’t have said what you’d just said.

“What’s that mean?” One of the other students asked.

“It means that he describes sounds, so instead of writing that the doorbell rang or something, he writes that it made dingdongelingdang.” Eddie was surprised with himself that he’d spoken up, when he usually tried to lay low and just make it through the day. The others seemed surprised as well, but you smiled. Because you knew that he’d get what you were talking about.

“Mr Munson is right.” Eddie cringed a little, you calling him that so foreign to his ears that it sounded rather strange, but he’d probably have to get used to that. “That’s what we’ll be looking at. Recurring themes as well as the quest plot. I won’t say anything more about this, maybe you can find out what I mean until next time.”

Oh, Eddie already knew what you were talking about, but then again, he was more than familiar with the book. But he was pretty certain that he’d have a hard time concentrating with you in the room, because he already felt the longing he’d pushed down years ago return.

When the lesson was over and everyone filed out of the room, Eddie stayed back. You saw him out of the corner of your eyes, had to bite your lip when he approached the teacher’s desk, your supervisor already gone, so you two were alone.

“So… you’re back at Hawkins High,” Eddie said, pushing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He looked so much like a little school boy when he stood like that, that it was almost comical.

“Yeah, and you’re still here.” There was no accusation in your words, just curiosity. You knew how clever he was, he just lost focus sometimes way too quickly. It had been like that two years ago, and was probably the same now.

“Yeah…” Eddie didn’t really want to talk about it, because there was not a lot to say. “I see you kept the book.” That was a much safer topic for him, for both of you.

“Of course I did!” Had he really thought that you’d get rid of it? Maybe even throw it away? You couldn’t tell him how much that book meant to you, especially not considering that you were his teacher now. “It’s inspired me a lot, otherwise I wouldn’t have chosen it for the class.”

“I’ve still got yours as well.”

“You did?” You hated the way your heart picked up its pace at his words, because a tiny part of you believed that he’d kept it to remember you by, just like you’d done with his book.

“Sure did. Still read it every now and then. I never told you, but I actually really enjoyed it, and all your little notes.”

“Miss Y/L/N?”

Glad for the interruption because it kept you from giggling like a teenager, you looked up at your supervisor and nodded. They were waiting for you, you knew that, but… with Eddie around, you kind of forgot about that.

“I’ll be right there.”

He nodded and turned back around to leave. Your eyes landed on Eddie again, on the smile on his lips, on the curls that framed his face perfectly, but you made the mistake of looking into his deep brown eyes that you could get lost in. Quickly, you shook your head.

“I hope I’ll see you around in my class then,” you said with a smile as you took your bag and headed for the door.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Eddie called after you, his words turning that smile into a big grin.

~~~

“Have you seen the new substitute teacher?” Gareth asked once they were sitting at their table in the cafeteria. Of course that had to be the topic. They’d already talked about how their holidays had been, but your arrival at the school was their topic number one.

“Yeah, she used to be my tutor.” Jeff took a bite from his sandwich as he leaned back.

“Heard she’s talking about the Hobbit in your class?” Dustin asked, his eyes set on Eddie, because that was a topic they both obsessed over. Lord of the Rings even more, but The Hobbit was always worth talking about as well.

“Yeah…” Eddie leaned back, grabbing a handful of pretzels to shove them in his mouth. “Guess who gave her that book.”

“No way!” Dustin’s eyes widened, curiosity shining in them. “Were you two…” He made a gesture with his hands that made the others chuckle.

“No!” The finality in his words made their chuckles die down, but Eddie sighed. “Well… I’d say we bonded over books but nothing ever happened. Once I’d nearly worked up the courage… she was gone. Or as good as gone. Whatever.” He sighed once more, because he still wondered what could have happened if he’d only had the courage to ask you out, even before you’d graduated. But it didn’t change anything, did it? In the end, he wouldn’t have wanted to hold you back anyway.

“But you did like her…?” Gareth inquired, because now, he was curious.

“I guess.” It wasn’t exactly something Eddie wanted to talk about. He’d already said enough, and he knew that some of the guys would probably tease him about it, so it was better to not get into more detail. He diverted the topic to the next Dungeons and Dragons campaign, because he knew that they would all get excited about this and probably forget all about you in the meantime.

All of them did, except for Dustin, who stayed back for a moment when everyone else left for class.

“Just so you know… Miss Y/L/N ist also watching over detention.” The grin on Dustin’s lips told its own story, and Eddie couldn’t deny that his words made him get a couple of ideas. Not that he wanted to get stuck in detention, but with you there… it was probably worth it.

~~~

Your first days passed by rather pleasantly, and you were enjoying yourself. Most of the students were eager to learn, were participating in your classes, or they at least had the decency to not disturb you. Maybe, because you’d been one of them not long ago. It didn’t matter in the end because you were just glad that it was like this. And so far, you hadn’t had to watch over detention. Today was the first day, but you could use that time to get some reading of your own done, or look through the tests you’d been given.

What you didn’t expect, was one Eddie Munson sitting on top of the table when you entered the classroom. Your steps faltered, but you caught yourself again. It was one thing to see him in class with other people around, but a different one when you were here alone for a whole hour. Because you knew that it was just one student. Eddie Munson. Next time, you should make them give you a list so that you were prepared for what was to come.

“Mr Munson! What brings you here?” You put down your bag on the desk, busying yourself with a bunch of papers.

“I’ll never get used to you calling me that,” Eddie said with a chuckle before he leaned against the desk. “Do you really wanna know?”

“Probably not.” You couldn’t help but laugh. There were a couple of reasons you could think of, but in the end, it didn’t really matter.

“Anything I can help you with?” He leaned over the desk to get a glimpse at what you were getting out of your bag. When you looked up, your faces were so close that you could feel his breath tickle your cheek, and you suddenly straightened up.

“No, I… I think I’ll just do all that later and read a little bit. Do you have any homework you need to get done? Could use the time right now.” You took a step back from the desk, smoothed your plaid skirt down and quickly took the book out of your bag.

“Nope. No homework. Maybe you could read to me?” Eddie kept his eyes on you but walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. He enjoyed seeing you get so flustered, because it meant that he definitely had some kind of effect on you. He was a little bolder now than he’d been back then, but he needed to find out what you thought, how you felt, before he came right out and told you what he was thinking about, how he’d been feeling for you, because these feelings had come back with a bang.

“You want me to read Persuasion to you?” A look of surprise crossed your face as you turned the book over to show it to him. Another Austen book, you’d read it a couple of times before, but you wanted to start your year with a re-read of her books

“You know, I’m normally the storyteller, so it’s nice for a change. Totally fine if you don’t want to.” Eddie leaned back, his eyes still fixed on you. You remembered that he played D&D, that he was the Dungeon Master and came up with the campaigns, and while you weren’t into that game yourself, you certainly knew what it was about.

“No, it’s alright. I just haven’t read out loud in a while.” And it made you nervous to read to him. The whole class? No problem. But just to Eddie? That was different, even though you didn’t like to admit it to yourself. But he still had the same effect on you that he’d had back then, could still make you nervous when he winked at you or even just looked at you a moment too long. But you were his teacher now, so that was a completely different situation.

You sat down in your chair and opened the book. Another look at Eddie before you started reading it out loud. Your heartbeat slowed down the longer you read, and you began to enjoy yourself. Eddie just sat there, watching you, listening to you. It was the best thing he’d experienced this week. Sure, Wayne had read to him a couple of times when he’d been younger, but nobody did that anymore when you were an adult. So it was extremely soothing for him to listen to you.

“A man does not recover-” you started only to be interrupted by Eddie.

“- From such devotion of the heart to such a woman! He ought not; he does not.” Eddie sighed as he got up from his chair and walked over to you again.

“You… You’ve read Persuasion?” Genuinely surprised, you got up from your chair as well and put the book down.

“Not only Persuasion. After I was finished with Pride and Prejudice, you had me intrigued, so I read Austen’s other books as well. Find out what makes you tick, because I always saw you with an Austen book around.” Eddie stopped right in front of you.

“You did?” You hated how high pitched your voice sounded, but you couldn’t deny the way he made your heart race, his mere presence made your skin tingle. You knew that you should step back, but you were frozen in place.

“Mhm… Always wanted to ask you out, but I was always too nervous. Too shy.”

“You? Shy?”

His fingertips danced across your cheek, your eyes fluttered shut, and you leaned into that touch.

“Worked past that as it seems.” Eddie’s chuckle made you open your eyes again, and when you saw him leaning in, you finally snapped back. Taking a step back, you ran both of your hands over your face and through your hair.

“This is not a good idea,” you said weakly, reaching for the book to put it back in your bag. You had to get away from here, away from him. Technically, you were the same age, but you were still in a position of power as his teacher - even if you weren’t a real teacher yet, you were still the one teaching him.

“Why not? I mean… nobody had to know about this. It’s not like we could have had something before you started here as a teacher.” He was right, yes, but you didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. Eddie wanted to graduate this year, and you were not going to fuck this up for him.

“Eddie, this could get you expelled and I could lose this job.”

“Then tell me that you don’t feel the same way I do, and I’ll leave you alone.” His words were soft, his hand reaching out for yours. He was asking the impossible from you, because you couldn’t lie to him.

“Go home Eddie. Detention is over.” You pulled your hand free from his, took your bag, and practically ran out of the room and out of the building, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. You should have lied to him, should have told him that you didn’t have any feelings for him, but one look in his honest eyes and you hadn’t been able to tell a lie.

~~~

The next few days were rather uneventful, but you couldn’t help looking at Eddie - and found him staring back most of the time. You exchanged looks all of the time, but he didn’t show up in detention anymore, so that was good for you. With someone else around, it was always alright, you just couldn’t be trusted when you were around him alone.

Tonight, you wanted a little relief, so you went to the Hideout with one of your old friends. Sandy was still living in Hawkins, and you’d met up during the holidays, and even now, you were spending your time together. You’d told her about what had happened - or nearly happened -  with Eddie. She’d known about your crush even back when you’d still been in school, so that story had gotten her all giddy. She’d told you back then to tell him, to go out with him, do something at least, but even her words hadn’t changed anything in your behaviour. Known now that Eddie had the hots for you made her want to lock you two up in a room together.

“Sandy, we can’t do anything about this!” you said to her once again while getting ready to go out.

“I know, I know, it’s inappropriate, but you’re not even a real teacher!”

“Thank you…” You rolled your eyes before you applied some lipstick and fluffed up your hair a bit more.

“You know what I mean. And Eddie is technically not a student anymore. Only on paper.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem!” You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. You had no idea how you were supposed to get through the rest of the year with him constantly there - because unlike two years ago, it almost seemed like he went to every class now.

“You could keep it a secret!”

“Yeah, but then you know, the Hellfire Boys will know as well, and only one has to spill the beans and everything’s screwed. Who will trust me with their children when they know that I had something going on with a student?” A question you didn’t need an answer for, so you kept on talking. “Let’s just… forget about it for tonight, okay? I just want to have a drink, enjoy some music, and then get some well deserved sleep.”

“Alright.” Sandy squeezed your shoulder. She never meant any harm, only wanted what was best for you, but sometimes that wasn’t exactly the very best thing.

The Hideout wasn’t exactly packed, but there were still enough people, so that it took some time for you to get your drinks, but once you had them, you could find a spot from where you could see the stage. When you saw the band’s banner on stage, though, you nearly choked on your drink.

“Are you kidding me?” You turned to Sandy, a look of bewilderment on your face.

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Corroded Coffin are playing tonight! You could have told me that!”

“So?” She looked at you until something in her brain clicked. “Oh fuck! Y/N, I really didn’t think about that! Shit!”

“Fancy seeing you here!” His voice send shivers down your spine immediately, you didn’t even have to see him. Now, it was too late to just turn around and leave, because he knew that you were here.

“Hey Eddie…” You turned around to face him, trying your best to smile at him.

“Oh, so it’s Eddie now?”

“Want me to call you Mr Munson?”

“Ahh that hurts me.” He put a hand over his heart and stumbled back a little, making you chuckle. Always the drama-king.

“You remember Sandy?” You tried to divert his attention to your friend, but they just nodded at each other.

“Sure so, she comes here quite often.”

“There’s not exactly a lot of places to go in Hawkins.”

“You got a point.” Eddie laughed before he looked at you again. He reached for your hand and you let him take it, didn’t pull back this time. “Got a special song for you, so I hope you’re staying?”

“Of course we are!” Sandy said over your shoulder winking at Eddie, while you held your breath. You couldn’t answer, didn’t even have to right now.

“Good. You’ll know the song when you hear it.” He raised your joined hands to his lips to brush a kiss across your knuckles, before he turned around to get back to the stage to finish setting up.

“So… and you’re telling me you want to resist that charme?”

“I have to try at least.” You heaved a sigh before you raised your glass to your lips, and drained it in one go. You had to, though you knew that he really made it hard for you to resist him.

~~~

Eddie was nervous because of you. They’d been practising Van Halen’s Hot for Teacher pretty much ever since you’d appeared at the school, they’d pretty much perfected it, but you being here made him nervous as fuck. He knew what he was doing, they all did, but he still missed the first note of their first song because his eyes were glued to you.

Somehow, he made it through their show, and even managed to look at other people apart from you, but in the end, his eyes always found you again. Your smile encouraged him, so when they started the last song, his eyes never wavered from your figure.

“I’ve got it bad, so bad, I’m hot for teacher,” he sang, and he could swear that he saw your eyes widening at that. You knew the song, of course you did, but Eddie singing this song for you made you tingle in all the right places. For a moment, you were able to forget that this could not happen, too blissed out on the feeling he gave you by singing this song for you.

Still, once it was over, you felt your chest tighten, all of it suddenly too much, the room too hot, and so you turned to Sandy.

“I’m gonna get some fresh air. Need to clear my head a little.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be back in a minute.” You gave her a smile before you headed out the back door. The cold January air hitting your face, making you aware that you’d forgotten your jacket inside. It didn’t really matter because you were just out here for a moment. There were some other people around the corner talking loudly, so you weren’t completely alone, but you were still able to clear your head. At least until you heard the door behind you and saw Eddie walk up to you when you turned around.

“You okay?” He asked, brows drawn together, because he was worried about you.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Just a little hot in there.”

“And now you’re freezing out here?” He couldn’t help but smile as he ran his fingertips along your arm, making you aware of the goosebumps that were there due to the low temperatures, but were only getting worse when he was touching you like this.

“Here…” Eddie shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders, leaving him in a black shirt. His hair was damp with sweat, the curls clinging to his forehead.

“No, Eddie… What about you?” You looked at him through your lashed, already feeling your heart begin to race again, the butterflies turning into a whole tornado in your stomach by being so close to him.

“Oh, I know a way or two to get warm.” His voice dropped to a low rumble in his chest, and you could feel his eyes on your lips. That was the moment when you should pull back, put some distance between you, but you couldn’t. You were frozen in place, stuck in this moment with him, and you couldn’t tear yourself away from him - because you didn’t want to. Instead, when he pinched your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, you leaned into him to meet him halfway. Still, when his lips met yours, it felt like electricity suddenly ran through your whole body, down to your toes, into every fibre of your body.

Your fingers curled against his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt when he angled his head to deepen the kiss. His hand slipped from your chin to the back of your neck, tilting your head to his pleasing so that your lips opened up beneath him and he could slip his tongue past them to taste your mouth. He wrapped his free arm around you to pull you closer.

You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth, because it felt so good, he felt so good and tasted even sweeter. When he eventually pulled back, he left you breathless, longing for more, and your head felt almost empty. It was perfect.

You blinked your eyes open, slowly letting go of his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your hands, that was beating as fast as your own.

“You believe me now that I’m serious about this? About you?” Eddie cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone, eyes fixed on yours, trying to convey that he was absolutely sincere in his intentions.

“That’s not it, Eds…” The fog in your head slowly cleared, and you started to realise what had just happened. Panic started rising in your chest and you quickly broke the embrace, took a step back from him.

“Here we go..” Eddie mumbled, cursing himself for believing just for a moment that this could have a good ending, that you could commit to him. In a way, he understood you, but his longing for you overshadowed all his rational thinking.

“We can’t do this! This…” You shook your head, licking your slightly swollen lips that bore witness to what had just happened. “We cannot happen. We have to forget about this.”

“So, you’re not even giving this a chance?”

“That’s not it, Eddie, I already told you!” Oh, you wanted to give it a chance, give him a chance, because that kiss had already sent you to heaven. “But we can’t! This cannot happen again. Not as long as I’m your teacher!” 

At that, Eddie’s ears perked up. “So… once you’re not my teacher anymore… we do have a chance, right?” “What?”

“That’s what you said, didn’t you?”

“I mean… yes. But I’ll be here for the rest of the year.”

“And I’ll graduate then. So I won’t be your student no matter what happens.”

“Well… that might be true, but…”

“Alright. Just can’t promise you that I won’t try now and then.” The way Eddie smirked at you made you press your legs together. He really had an effect on you that nobody else ever had.

“Just… this cannot happen again.”

“Okay.”

“Do you hear me, Mr Munson?”

“I do.” But the grin on his face told you that he wasn’t exactly listening to what you were saying. This wasn’t going to be easy at all.

“Good.” There was no use in trying to talk to him right now. Not when his eyes roamed your body again and his hands reached for yours. But this time, your head was clear enough to pull back from him, put some distance between you. “Thank you for this.” You took off his jacket and handed it back to him, before you slowly back up towards the door again. “I’ll see you in class.”

“Have a good night Miss Y/L/N.” Eddie said with a wink, arms crossed over his chest, while his eyes dropped to the swell of your butt when you turned around to open the door.

That was really going to be a long couple of months until the school year was over, and as much as you just wanted to forget about it, you knew that what had just happened would fuel a lot of dreams. At least, you could talk to Sandy about it, because she knew what had happened the moment she saw you come back through the door. Eddie would be your downfall, you were sure of that.

Tag-list: @violetpenguinkris @tellhound @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @spideyanakin-interacts @bellamy-barnes @beepisbeep @snapefiction @hardysbitch @give-em-hellfire @sadbitchfangirl @ravenclawkimmi @lacrymosa-24 @ruinedbythehobbit @samlealea @hacker-ghost @kirsteng42 @princesseddie @anaisweird @harringtonfan4 @ethereal27cereal @theywitchsblog 

Let me know (send me a message) if you want to be on one of my tag-lists. I have one for the Promises Series, Eddie x Reader, Steddie and Steve x Reader 💚

[yr-obedt-cicero]

What is your opinion of the Ron Chernow book on Hamilton? I'm reading it now and it's informative but I don't know how I feel about it yet and we're already almost at Hamilton's wedding. Thoughts?

Oh boy, that book...

Honestly, I hate it but I also quite appreciate it. It's one of the only Hamilton biographies that goes so in-depth about Hamilton's life, and almost covers everything. Like, it's the size of a Bible for a reason and I really did enjoy the background checks on all the figures that were brought up (Like especially Faucette, or Maria). But also it's entirely bias, and filled with inaccuracies. I haven't read the book in a year, and no longer have it in my possession but here are a few things I remember that I hated about it;

Rambling — oh God, does Chernow have a tendency to go on and on and on. He often repeats the same thing several times throughout the book, especially in regards to praising figures in the book, but I'll talk about that and his glorification a bit later. I completely understand the habit to ramble on, but there is the opportunity to edit over your work. I swear after Hamilton did anything, Chernow would copy and paste the same sentence about how “hAMilTOn WAs JUst sUch aN InsPiRaTiOn wIth hIS iRrepresSiBLe pAsSiON aS An ImMiGrANt” I get it. I know. I would go on about how rising from your poor status wasn't anything new or unheard of, but I'll spare that for today.

Glorification — Chernow has a terrible case of glorifying the historical figures mentioned in the book, mainly Hamilton - as he is the protagonist, I suppose - but also Washington. He paints everyone else that is featured as these evil, big, bad villains that are just out to ruin poor, innocent Hamilton's life. And that if Hamilton did anything wrong; it was obviously all their faults and they somehow influenced him into this terrible decision. Chernow glosses over so many times Hamilton ruined other's lives, and throughout it portrays him as this inspiring hero.

Misogyny — you'll notice pretty quickly on; Chernow portrays all the women in the book as pathetic, (Or evil if they ever wronged Hamilton). He does a great injustice to Maria Reynolds, and makes out the affair to be all her and her husband's malicious influence. Because poor Hammy Ham, and not the oppressed woman getting abused by her husband, right? He even has the audacity to frame Elizabeth as a villain throughput a lot of it as well, claiming she wasn't doing her “wifely duties” and drove him to commit the affair (Jesus Christ). It's worse than the portrayal of these women in the musical.

Homophobia — Chernow quite often dismisses the homoerotic undertones throughout Hamilton's life. I'm not saying he has to do an essay on the plausablity of Troup and Hamilton having something more than friendship, but man, you could at least say anything but “lol but they were very no homo”. But the case that pisses me off the most is the complete dismissive attitude towards Laurens's and Hamilton's relationship. Chernow only scaps the surface of their relationship by quoting the April 1779 letter, and then shrugs it off and says that men just had those flowery - platonic apparently - sext letters during those days. Oh, but don't worry, he can dedicate half a chapter in regards to how true the debunked Angelica+Hamilton love affair was.

Inaccuracies — I don't know what I was expecting from a guy who has a very questionable education, but Chernow makes many inaccuracies throughout the book. I can't name them all off the top of my head but; he claims Jefferson said nothing on Hamilton's death when he did, he got Hamilton's children baptism dates wrong, made the same stupid mistake of calling William's portrait as actually Philip's, and misinterpretades many letters. If you want more on the subject, @runawayforthesummer literally has a tag called “Chernow was wrong”. And speaking of villianizing, I urge you to read about Burr outside of Chernow because that is the worst portrayal you'll read him as. Chernow made up this whole betrayal backstory for Burr and Hamilton, when they were actually never friends, or anything beyond acquaintances or political rivals.

Chernow isn't a historian — he's a journalist and a biographer. But biographer doesn't necessarily mean he has taken any studying in regards to being a historian. I'm not staying if you didn't go to college for a four year institution, that you're immediately unqualified to write a biography. But. You should take some initiative to get some education in that matter. Because we have things like this where Chernow makes glaring mistakes.

Phew, okay, that's a rundown of everything I found wrong with it. I'm sure I'm missing other things, but these were the major issues in my opinion. I mean, if you've gotten that far in the book, might as well finish it. Just remember to do your own research, and fact check before you take someone else's claim on something. Once again, Chernow's biography has some good aspects, like how detailed it is. Just remember his major flaws with it too.

[horsedadgeralt]

and nothing comes close to the way that i want you

@luteandsword asked for Yennskier + “touching foreheads”, “running fingers through hair”, “hiding face in neck” and “caressing the other's hand”. I included at least 3 out of those and hope you enjoy this — I had a blast writing it and made myself very soft editing it.

One of the things Yennefer misses most at Kaer Morhen is bathing. Jaskier attempts to change that.

wc: 2.3k cw: none-descriptive nudity tags: teens and up, pining, first kiss, fluff, post season 2

read it also on ao3!

Yennefer has always loved bathing.

As a child, sleeping and living with the pigs, a bath meant an escape, a treat. It meant washing away all the gunk and muck, even if she was always the last to be allowed in the tub, the water long turned cold and grey. It was a rare occasion, but a cherished one each time.

And in the summer, when the sun was piping hot and the ground was so dry that every step would whirl up a storm of dust, she would sneak away to the nearby river as often as she could. Always at noon when everyone was inside, resting, no pair of eyes to judge and mock her. Just her and the water on her skin — floating, feeling free, a moment of bliss.

Later, at Aretuza, the springs became her safe haven, her fortress inside the fortress. When everything became too much, she would retreat, lay on her back inside the water and stare at the ceiling, dream of the woman she wanted to become.

Yes, Yennefer has always loved bathing.

It provides her comfort, allows her to turn off her thoughts and just… relax — something she can’t do at Kaer Morhen.

The castle itself is surprisingly warm, even now during winter: there are fires lit everywhere and furs spread across benches and chairs so that no one has to be cold. But still, there’s no comfort — for her at least.

Yennefer knows that she’s not welcome, not after everything that has happened. She is a guest, yes, but there is hostility rather than hospitality. She knows that she is only allowed to stay because Ciri needs her help, needs to be trained in ways that Geralt can’t provide — and because she adores that brilliant young woman, she’s still here.

The one thing that does bring her some comfort is that Jaskier is still here, too. She isn’t really certain why, he could leave at any moment, disappear back into his life as a celebrity in Oxenfurt — she wouldn’t blame him, feeling the tension that arises every time he and Geralt are in the same room.

But he doesn’t, and she’s thankful for that. It makes her feel less alone, less hated — it’s nice to have someone to talk to at the end of the day, after training and dinner when the only noise that can be heard is the crackling of wood in the fireplace.

It becomes their ritual to meet in the library. At first, they just sit next to each other, Yennefer reading whatever book she could grab and Jaskier scribbling down new lines for a song in his notebook. But soon, a “What are you reading?” turns into a “How are you, really?” and an “I’m so glad you’re here, I think I would go mad otherwise”.

With Jaskier, she feels like she has an ally, the only adult in the entire place who actually seems happy to be spending time with her. It feels good, and more often than not their evening conversations turn into late-night ones.

It is during one of those that she mentions how she would kill for a bath like in Aretuza. “I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but the water is always just a bit too cold here… I’m always in a rush to get out of the tub.”

Jaskier laughs in response, and Yennefer can’t help but notice how stunning he looks with the orange hues of the fire next to them reflecting in his eyes.

Oh.

It’s… unexpected. It’s new, different. For now, she doesn’t say anything, instead just staring at the bard as he tells her a story about a particularly eventful night back in Oxenfurt, arms flailing and eyes wide. She could listen to him talk for days on end, and Yennefer knows she’s screwed.

It is that night that Jaskier decides to escort her to her room, placing his hand on hers as he wishes her goodnight. “Sleep well, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He is long gone when Yennefer is still standing there, her heart galloping in her chest.

The night after that, Jaskier does the same thing — manoeuvres them through the castle’s hallways to her door and bids her goodnight before turning around and walking away, a slight swing to his steps. “Stay,” Yennefer wants to say, and leave she lets him.

Night after night after night.

It is a particularly hard day when Yennefer decides that just once, she won’t go to the library after dinner. Training has been hard, Ciri’s attempt at opening a portal sending everyone in her close vicinity flying into the dirt, and Yennefer can feel all the muck stuck to her hair and skin. All she wants is to rinse herself off with a bucket of water and then go to bed — she’s certain that Jaskier doesn’t want to see her like this, anyhow. It’s better this way.

She is just about to undress when there’s a knock at her door, and Yennefer lets out a groan. A snarky comment already on her tongue as she’s opening the door, she stops dead in her tracks when he sees Jaskier.

“What do you want?” she asks him, unable to hide the fatigue in her voice. How often she has wished he’d show up at her door, but not now, not tonight.

“I was waiting for you in the library but you didn’t show up, so I wanted to check to see if you’re alright.”

“Oh. How… thoughtful of you. I’m fine, Jaskier, thanks for asking. I’m just tired, it’s been a long day. Goodnight.” Just as she’s about to close the door again, there’s a hand grabbing her by the wrist.

She flinches, and the hand is gone again. “I’m so sorry, I— I know you don’t like being touched there.” He looks like a beaten puppy and she shakes her head dismissively, signalling that it’s okay, that she’s fine.

“I wouldn’t disturb you if I didn’t have a good reason, but… I have a surprise for you.”

Yennefer tries her hardest to ignore the ringing in her ears and the throbbing in her wrists. Her skin is healed, yes. But underneath that, underneath all the grime and dirt lie wounds that are still bleeding. She’s too tired to be angry though, and how could she ever be when he’s looking at her like that.

“A surprise?”

“Follow me.” She sighs. “Please.”

And so she does, tailing behind Jaskier as he leads the way, turning left and right and left again until they’re in front of—

“Isn’t this your room?” Panic rises inside of her, panic of what’s waiting inside, of whether yet another man is going to try and take advantage of her. But this isn’t just another man. This is Jaskier, his presence alone already reassuring her, and suddenly her heart is beating fast for a different reason.

Jaskier doesn’t respond to her question, instead just pushes open the door and steps aside, inviting her to enter. She does, and immediately she is surrounded by lavender and chamomile.

The bard’s room isn’t big, a bed with books scattered all over it crammed into one corner and a table with two chairs in the other, but it is apparently big enough for a bathtub. It is standing next to the fireplace, the steam rising from the water barely visible in the low light.

“I don’t understand—” she begins, but Jaskier interrupts her. “You said you would kill for a good bath. Now I didn’t murder anyone to get the water hot, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless, especially after today.”

Oh how she wants to kiss him, wants to cross the distance between them and reach out. Jaskier seesher, and for the first time in a long time, Yennefer wants to be seen.

Just then, the bard turns around to leave her to it, like he does every night.

“Stay,” she says, not letting him.

He stops and turns around, and Yennefer crosses. Step after step after step, until she is standing in front of him, until she can feel his warmth.

“Stay,” she says and brushes her hand against his, the contact sending sparks through her body. She’s on fire, trembling almost, and yet she has never felt so grounded. “Will you wash my hair?”

It’s an invitation, as innocent as it can be. Because this isn’t about nudity. It’s about trust, about being vulnerable and letting yourself fall. She hopes Jaskier will catch her, and then she turns around and strips out of her dress and smallclothes, letting them fall to the ground before getting into the tub.

It is heavenly, the temperate at that perfect sweet spot of just hot enough that it takes some getting used to. Yennefer lets out a sigh and sinks in completely, dipping her head underneath the surface. For a moment, the world is muffled. For a moment, she’s floating.

When she comes back up, she can already feel the tense muscles in her body relaxing. The silence is interrupted by a soft voice asking her a question.

“May I?”

She knows he’s sitting behind her, heard the scratching of the chair against the floor, and so she simply closes her eyes and leans back, trusts.

She can hear him take a shaky breath and then gentle fingers start lathering her hair with soap. He’s so careful, so tender, making sure not to tug too hard and at the same time making sure he gets every spot.

He starts at her roots, one hand placed on her forehead to shield her eyes from any splatters of soapy water, rubbing the bar of soap on her scalp in circular motions. It is heavenly and Yennefer can’t help but let out a sigh, sinking a bit deeper into the water.

Soon after he moves onto the lengths of her hair, using gentle strokes to remove even the last piece of dirt and mud.

Then, a quiet request: “Lean forward but tilt your head backwards, will you?”

Yennefer does as she is told, pulling herself into a seated position using the sides of the tub. Her eyes are still closed. She doesn’t need to see what’s going on. The man currently filling a small bucket with more water, its splatter audible behind her, has got her. Whatever this is, whatever it could turn into — she’s thankful for him either way.

Jaskier shuffles around the room for a bit longer before he’s back, before his hand is back on her forehead and he starts rinsing out the soap. The water is the perfect temperature and Yennefer feels a smile tugging at her lips.

As the dirt is washed away, so is the last bit of tension in her body. If she wasn’t already sitting she knows her knees would be giving in right about now.

Then the hand on her forehead is gone and she bats her eyelashes open, needing a moment to get used to the low light of the room again. When she does, she sees Jaskier standing next to the tub, looking at her.

If it was any other man, she would be scrambling for a towel right about now and yelling all sorts of curses, both of the profane and magic kind, at him. Right now though, she wants anything but a towel.

“Come closer,” she whispers and he does, crouching down so that they’re at eye level. His arms are propped up on the edge of the tub and as she lifts her hand out of the water to cover his, the only thing she can focus on is how close they are, how he’s looking at her, seeing her.

Neither of them says a word as she shifts forward a bit more until their foreheads are touching, and that, combined with the feeling of Jaskier’s hand in hers is enough to send Yennefer spiralling. If only he knew what he was doing to her. Part of her hopes he never finds out, part of her wants nothing more than to see it being used against her.

They stay like that for a moment, breathing each other in, enjoying the closeness. Jaskier’s lips are slightly parted and he lets out a shaky exhale. How reassuring that he seems to be just as nervous as she is, just as afraid of what this could be.

Finally, though, Yennefer can’t wait any longer, can’t waste another second not kissing this handsome man.

When she does, closes the distance between them and brushes her lips on his, her heart nearly stops. It is tender, almost chaste, and she’s still holding back because what if he rejects her, what if he doesn’t want her after all—

The power with which Jaskier kisses her back proves otherwise though, and then she’s no longer holding back. She runs her tongue over his upper lip and explores, deepens the kiss and wants, needs more. A hand wanders to the back of his head and grabs a fistful of hair, and the moan that follows is music in Yennefer’s ears.

When she finally pulls back to look at him, really look at him, both gasping for air, she almost has to laugh. It’s ridiculous, really — Jaskier fully clothed and her in the tub, naked and dripping wet. But it doesn’t feel weird. All Yennefer feels is safe, protected.

She knows she’s staring and she knows that Jaskier doesn’t mind. Because he is looking right back at her, and the fire that reflects in his eyes reminds her of how it all started. He is oh so beautiful, and when she tells him just that he laughs and looks down, trying and failing to hide the blush appearing on his cheeks.

His nose crinkles in a way that makes him look younger, almost as young as he was when they first met. How much has changed since then. How much they have changed since then.

When his gaze meets hers again, he flashes her a real smile.

“Kiss me again,” he says, leaning in to let her kiss that stupid grin off his face. Hands start to wander and then there is more water outside the tub than in it.

Yennefer has always loved bathing. And now, she is going to love it even more.

tagging @cthulhusteve and @herostag​ ✨

[alarkling]

                  That's how you get deathless, volchitsa. Walk the same tale over and over, until you wear a groove in the world, until even if you vanished, the tale would keep turning, keep playing, like a phonograph, and you'd have to get up again, even with a bullet through your eye, to play your part and say your lines.

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

~~~

It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again. 

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance. 

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him. 

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.

[leahblackk]

Lies pt.3

(The gif is not mine. Whoever made this thank you so much and I’m sorry)

Summary: After Y/n is kidnapped Spencer needs to find her before it is too late, but this makes Spencer being put into a very familiar position.

Type: Angst.

Alright people, finally we have the last part of lies and I have to thank all of you for the support and for being so patient with me. I am so sorry for taking so long, and I am sorry for what you will read. I might or might not have cried while I was writing it and editing it. And this fucking thing is so longgg so i am sorry. It took 16 pages like what???

With so much love and pain, Leah.

If you haven't read the first and second part here are the links. 

And if you can read this while listening to Moonlight by future Islands it will be perfect because I was definitely listening to it while I wrote this.

People who asked me to tag them: @rexorangecouny, @b-a-utiful, @measure-in-pain, @jemimah-b99, @brod16​ 

Y/n and Spencer have never been apart from each other. There was something that made the two young doctors crave each other. There was a connection with so much chemistry, with so much love and appreciation. The love they felt for each other wasn't like the others, and they never felt that way with anyone. After all, they belong together because they fit together. Because they were meant to be.

One of their first dates was to watch stars while they made a picnic. Spencer remembers the way her hair was being softly moved by the cold wind of that night. The moon wasn't complete because that way, they could see the stars better. The constellations were connected in the way they were, how the sky was being decorated by the little space things we call stars.

Spencer remembers very vividly how she always talks about astronomy and how the sky and space made her feel.

And that night, the stars were out. Spencer wishes she could be there with him to tell him facts about astronomy even though Spencer already knew all those facts. Still, in the way she narrates it, how she talks so happily, how she moves her hands, and how her eyes are sparkly and lighter than the stars itself make everything better. It was better to hear and learn those facts from her than in a boring book he could finish in less than an hour.

But she wasn't with him. He didn't even know where she was, but when he was out there watching the stars while hot, painful tears were streaming down his face. The universe was the only one who could know how he felt because the universe himself was the one that made them be together. Or well, that's what Spencer liked to think.

But certainly, the night sky wasn't that beautiful now she wasn't there. The night was colder, and he felt alone, empty. The stars seem dull in his eyes. The universe and astronomy weren't that beautiful anymore because the only stars Spencer wanted to watch were her eyes.

And then and there, Spencer made a promise. If he didn't find Y/n, he would never look at the night sky ever again. He won't even going to talk about astronomy in his life because that was her thing, and Spencer didn't want to take that away from her, but if he did find her, he would look at the stars every night before he goes to sleep. He would talk about astronomy, but only to her. He would thank the universe for the rest of his life. He would read all the facts so he can tell her because she always wanted to learn. She always asked Spencer about astronomy.

Spencer wanted his universe again.

He was so stuck in his mind. His eidetic memory wasn't a blessing at that moment. So he didn't hear his friend Derek Morgan approaching him.

He stood beside him. The doctor wasn't looking at his friend. He was looking up.

"Did you know space is complete silence? Some people might think it has a specific type of sound. But is silent." He murmurs while Morgan looks at him in confusion.

"No, I didn't know." He was going to encourage his friends, but the young doctor interrupted him.

"Did you know that on mars, the sunset is blue? I think it's something interesting."

"Kid…"

"Did you know that the name milky way galaxy has something to do with Greek mythology and Hercules? It says that Hera was nursing Hercules while she was asleep, and then when she woke up and pulled away, her breast milk spilled across the heavens. But in Greek mythology, Hera didn't like Hercules because it wasn't her son. Y/n told me that."

"Spencer, I think that's pretty interesting, but-"

"Did you know that-"

"Spencer!"

"What?" Spencer finally looked at his friend with tears in his eyes.

"We are going to find her. I promise."

"Are we? I mean, it's been an hour, twenty minutes, and three seconds since she was kidnapped, and we don't even have a clue where she is. Do you think we are gonna find her, or you just say it because you know this is all my fault, and if I didn’t kiss Cat, she wouldn't be kidnapped?"

Morgan sighed and hugged Spencer. The young doctor was known because he didn't like physical contact, but at that moment, he needed it. "This is not your fault. None of this is your fault, and we both knew you had to kiss her. You err was not telling her why you did it, but you will."

"I tried Morgan," Spencer cried. "I tried, but she wouldn't listen to me. Why didn't she listen to me? I love her. I love her more than anything. I can't lose her. I can't."

"You won't, kid. You won't."

And there, Spencer cried in Morgan's shoulder.

 Twenty minutes after, Spencer tried to help the team in everything he could, but sometimes he would space out, thinking in those moments where Y/n would bring him back to reality by holding his knee. He looked down and put his own hand in his knee, trying to remember what it felt when it was her the one doing it.

"Go ahead, Garcia," Morgan said. There weren't pet names anymore. No one was in good humor to flirt. Even Penelope, her best friend, was missing, and his lack of pet names, cocky and sarcastic answers was showing. She didn't smile, but everyone knew something was wrong besides their current situation.

"A-A video has been sent to- to Spencer. It is Y/n" Penelope tried to talk. Her eyes were red, meaning she was crying.

Everyone looks at Spencer. "Show us." He said.

"Right away."

Everyone looked at the screen in front of them, waiting anxiously for the video. Spencer knew it wasn't a good one.  The video started with a woman in front of the camera not giving a chance to see what was being her but apparently it was a chair.

The woman was trying to get a good angle, and when she made it, she started to walk away from the camera, not losing her view—everyone gasped except Spencer and Hotch, who already had their suspicions. The woman was Cat Adams.

"Hiya Spencie, sadly, I don't get to see you, but at least you can see me," she greeted. "I found someone outside of your office, and it was easy to catch her, and you thought she was smart."

Cat stepped aside, leaving Y/n in everyone's view. She had some minor bruises in her temple, and her lip was bleeding, meaning she had to fight for her life. She was awake, but she was looking at anything more than the floor. Her wrists were tied in the back of the chair, so were her ankles.

Spencer looked carefully at her, looking for lethal injuries, and when he didn't find them, he felt relieved. He looked at her face, and his heart hurt at the view, but even at that moment, he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world to him, she always has been, and she will always be.

"Look at the front Y/n," Cat said. She didn't do what she wanted, so Cat walked where she was and grabbed her chin, moving it to the camera. Spencer watched her eyes, empty, without light he always liked and red, she had been crying. Those pretty eyes weren't looking at him. Those eyes he loved so much were lost, and Spencer thought it was his fault. He believed it was his fault. "Say hi to Spencer," Cat demanded. Y/n didn't listen to her. "I said to say hi to Spencer," she slapped her cheek, making Spencer's tears finally drop, and a few of the team as well. But even though Y/n didn't say anything. "So, someone has decided to be a little brat. You like brats, Spencer?" Cat asked.

Cat disappeared from the view just leaving Y/n there. She exhaled and looked at the camera. She moved her head to the left, trying to escape from the camera view. Adams came back with something the team wouldn't recognize. She smiled and lit it, the tip of the strange object lit up like a small candle, and put it in Y/n's arm, inside of her arm. She gasped and sobbed. She was trying to be strong, strong for them. "You decided to be a brat and don't do what I say, so this is your punishment."

When she didn't receive any painful reaction from the young agent, she put the object away, watching the slight burning she left in Y/n's arm. "Now, I think we can negotiate with your little friends, don't you think?" She looked at her, but she didn't respond. "Alright, crime fighters, this is what I want. The little bitch here aka Spencer's girlfriend, or should I say ex? Did you break up with Spencer Y/n? After you saw how he kissed me, did he kiss you in the same way? I bet he didn't." Y/n remained silent. "When I talk to you, you will answer me," Cat slapped Y/n’s cheek. She looked at Cat with anger this time.

"How far did you go with your obsession for him? If I wanted to be with you, we would have, but he didn't, did he? So you had to plan and do all of this so you can have all the attention and recognition you didn't have as a child, isn't it? How pathetic you are." Y/n finally talk.

"You don't talk to me like that." Cat slapped Y/n cheek with so much strength that it made Y/n spit blood. And then she looked at Cat again and chuckled.

"You wanted me to talk."

Cat ignored her words, being annoyed by them. She looked at the camera and smiled. "How I was saying, what I want is to Spencer to come. You can bring your team I don’t care, besides I want to all of them watch the show, but you had to enter the building alone, and you can’t do dirty tricks or anything like trying to get the FBI inside because I had cameras everywhere and if I see someone else trying to be inside I will kill her. All of you can watch everything from outside, that's actually the plan, and then maybe I can give you back your little girlfriend. You have to enter with any guns, with anything. Just you, and maybe without clothes, only if you want," Cat smirked and then began to walk close to the camera. "You know the rules, but the question if you dare to play the game Spencie. I see you soon." She winked and took the camera, and the video stopped.

Everyone stayed silent.

"Oh! She sent an address." Penelope knowledge.

"How did she escape?" JJ asked.

"That's what I like to know. Care to explain, Strauss?" Hotch talked, wapping the few tears in his eyes when he saw Erin Strauss walk to the BAU.

"Don't talk to me like that, Aaron. This is not my fault."

"Then who is? One of our agents is being there torture, and you didn't even have the decency to say that maniac escape from prison?"

"I didn't want to alarm the team. She killed a few cops on her way out, but apparently, she had everything planned for weeks."

"Obviously, she had," Rossi said. "Remember when you bring Aaron down because you said he wasn't doing a good job? What is this, then? Are you doing a good job, Erin?"

"This is not my fault, and you know it. I have the power to fire you both for being so unrespectful," Erin attacked.

"Oh yeah? Please do it. I really don't care, Erin. Fire me if you want, but I promise you that I will end you if something happens to her. I actually would like to know what your superiors would think about Erin Strauss. The section chief let a criminal escape and then don't say anything about it.”

"Guys, thank you, Hotch and Rossi, but I don't think how this can help to rescue her, and my girlfriend is out there being tortured by a psychopath, and I really don't think that fighting will help."

"Reid, it's right, we can discuss this later. Right now, we need to think about how we can act," Erin proposed.

"There's any other way than me going," Spencer said with confidence.

"No! Of course, no, that's the worst plan, Spence. I don't think it would work. She's crazy, remember? She would kill you and-" JJ started.

"JJ, she's my girlfriend, and she's suffering, and it's probably my fault."

"It's not," Hotch said. "We will act, and we will find her, I promise you. Besides, she's really strong."

Spencer nodded. She is strong.

She is strong.

He repeated like a mantra to try to calm his nerves.

She is strong.

. . .

 Y/n could see everything so dark and tried to see where she was. She wasn't where Cat left her first when she recorded that video and probably sent it to her friends. She was worried, and not because of her life but for Spencer’s.

She knew he would appear at any moment with the team's approval or not. He was like that. He would give anything for her, even his life, just to save her, and at any other time, that would be comforting, but at that moment, that wasn't good. Her anxiety was all over her body, she could feel the blood in her mouth after the slap Cat gave her, and she could feel the injuries where Cat burned her, she could feel the tight hold in her hands and ankles, she was worried about the team, she was concerned about Spencer, she was concerned about Diana. And last, she was concerned about her life.

Was her life going to end?

Why wasn't that worried about her life? She was sick and concerned about everyone around her but her. Why wasn't she worried? Did she didn't care if her life ends at that moment?

She was confused, concerned, and full of anxiety. She was hurt. She wanted to get out there and never come back.

Cat interrupted her thoughts when she came in. With a black chair and put it in front of her. Cat looked at her and smiled. "Don't worry. I won't kill you even if I want to. I made a promise with Spencie, and besides, if I kill you right now, the show wouldn't be that fun, don't you think? " She walked and sat in front of Y/n. "You know, I always felt that you and Spencer needed couples therapy, you didn't trust in him, and he didn't communicate with you, and you didn't tell him the truth, but maybe when he comes, we can discuss that," and then she left leaving the young doctor confused.

. . .

 Spencer enters the building. Of course, he did. He wasn't going to leave her girlfriend in the hands of that woman even if she didn't want to see him after what he did. And he knows that if she didn't look at him while he was in there, he wouldn't be mad about it. He deserves it, after all.

He was worried. A man he didn't know was escorting him where he was supposed to be. And he was nervous, of course, he was. Her mom was with Penelope, he didn't tell her what happened because he loved Y/n so much that she would feel bad, and Spencer didn't want that.

The man stopped in front of a black door and then left him there, alone. Spencer felt confused, looking everywhere to see what was happening, but then the door got open, letting him see Cat, and he looked inside of the room trying to find Y/n, but Cat blocked his view. "Don't be rude, Spencer, here you follow my rules, and my first rule is to cover your eyes," Cat smiled while she showed him a black tie. Spencer took it, and he put it in his eyes.

Cat took his arm and guided him where she wanted him to be, in a chair in front of Y/n, who also was covered, she tied his ankles to the chair. The room was empty, only with the three people there and two chairs and a table in Spencer’s left. It was dark and cold. The two doctors were anxious. She knew he was there, she could sense his perfume, and Spencer knew she was there because he could feel her in the same way he always perceives her when she came into a room.

Spencer wanted to see her and Y/n deep down. Her soul wanted to see him as well.

Cat took the tie off Spencer's eyes first, and at that moment, his eyes, for instinct, looked for hers. Those beautiful eyes he was craving for, those who were his strength and debility.

He finds them blind on a black tie like his. But there was her, with her hands free in her lap, but her ankles tied in the chair. Her lip was bleeding, and he could see some minor injuries in her temple, the burning in her arm. There she was.

Cat walked to her and took the tie out of her eyes, they were closed, and then she opened them looking for something that Spencer didn't know what it was, she wasn't looking at him yet, but he was craving for it.

Her eyes were red from the crying and how tired she was. Spencer promised that when they get back home, she will sleep for three days straight to recover. She was so beautiful. She was everything Spencer ever wanted and more, and she was his love. The small light of the room, making her look like an angel. His angel.

Y/n finally looked at him, she was scared of what might happen with him, but she was glad to see him even if she was scared of it, even if she didn't know if she really wanted to, but there he was. Looking straight at her, looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him, at that moment, or maybe she has always been, and she never knew.

But his brown hazel eyes were so comforting. That was what she needed to feel strong, to feel free? His lips were highly red, so his eyes, he has been crying, and she could tell. She wonders if she might have something to do it.

She feels baffled, but she sees him, and that was what she needed, even if she says otherwise.

"All right, I guess it is time to begin," Cat starts talking. The surprise was that at that moment, they forgot they weren't alone. "First, don't you think this feels familiar. Don't you get some kind of dejá vú Spencie? This doesn't bring you memories for a certain brown hair girl?" Cat starts passing around the small room.

"I don't know what does that have something to do with all of this," Spencer says, not taking his gaze out of Y/n, but she does. She looks at the floor and his heartaches. She isn't looking at him.

"Oh, Spence, it has all to do with. Did you know that your little girlfriend here felt threatened by her?"

Spencer looks at her, trying to understand or see some kind of emotion in her, trying to find the truth, but she doesn't let him.

"Is that true?" Spencer asks with fear of what the answer might be.

Y/n doesn't respond.

"He's talking to you, sweetheart," Cat says.

"Is not that I felt threatened by her," She says, and Spencer's breathing contains because he is hearing her voice, her sweet voice, "is because I never thought- I felt like I wasn't what she was for him, for you," she looks at him this time, "she was practically your first love, and I came later. Sometimes you have this person in your life, and it is the first time you feel this way. You don't want it to end. And sometimes you feel like you're not good enough even when they say you are, mostly if they loved someone with their entire heart like you did with-with Maeve."

Spencer's face softens by her words. She felt like this, and he never knew.

"But-"Spencer says but is interrupted by Cat.

"Oh no, you are not going to say anything, and all the bullshit we all have heard. I want you to tell her the reason why you kissed me, "she smiles.

"It was because she told me that if I didn't kiss her, she would make your life miserable, and I couldn't stand that. I am so sorry."

"Yeah, but look, I did otherwise. I just have to say that I really loved that kiss. Don't you want to give me another one?" she got closer to him.

"Cat, I don't think-"He says.

"What I told you about rules?" She says and walks to a table and brings a knife with her. "You will listen and do what I say, or bad things will happen," Cat walks to Y/n and puts the knife in her arm.

"Wait! Please don't hurt her. I will do what you want."

She looks at him and smiles, "Good boy."

Cat gets closer to Spencer and sits in his lap. She looks at Y/n first and winks at her, then takes Spencer’s face in her hands and kisses him, but this time Spencer doesn't close his eyes, doesn't even touch her. He is looking at Y/n, trying to apologize with his eyes. She looks the other way while a tear escapes from her eyes.

"Mhm, I bet you enjoy those kisses Y/n. But you need to learn how to share with the class." She gets up and claps her hands together, "Now this night is getting boring. Ugh, I guess it is time to decide whom I will kill," She takes a gun out of her back and points it to Spencer and then to Y/n.

"You said you wouldn't hurt her, "He says.

"I said I wouldn't kill her if you come in, and I didn't. But now you are here. I can do whatever the hell I want, and I want you alive, so the only option is her," She points to her.

"Kill me instead. She doesn't have the fault I didn't end it up with you. It's me who you should be angry with, not her! The only bad thing she ever did was love me."

"I know, Spencer, But I see it in this way. Do you remember all those pretty and lovely letters I wrote you, Y/n? When I said, he didn't love you because he loved Maeve first, and well we all saw how that ended it, but then he found me, and because he couldn't have me, he chose you. You never loved her truly, Spencer, if you think about it. She is just a replacement. And besides, I am mad at you, of course. But I will prefer to see you suffering every day of your life for not choosing me. That is the worst punishment."

“But you should kill me instead, she doesn’t have anything to do with this,”

“I can’t believe you actually prefer to die. But you are right, you have all the fault, because of what you did to me and all the things I did for you and you never accept me. I guess the only way we can fix that is taking something you care about,” she points to Y/n.

Then suddenly they heard a loud noise they couldn't figure out what it was, but Cat was concerned. "What was that? I swear to god it is one of your agents. I will kill you both, "Cat shouts.

"No, it is me. Come look at this Cat, it is urgent," The man said. The man who was with her in all of that, the one who help to bring Y/n. Her brother.

"I will come back soon. You can't escape here, and I will be on the other side of the door. Besides that, we have cameras, so you two will wait until I come back."

Cat leaves, and silence remains in the room.

"Angel, look at me," Spencer says, but she doesn't look at him, "Y/n please," He begs and then she looks at him. "It doesn't matter what she says, or what she is trying to make you believe or what she said to you before, but I do love you so so much. With my entire heart and soul, you are everything and much more to me. I love you so much. And I am so sorry for what you have been through because of me, and I am sorry I didn't realize the way you felt about Maeve. I did love her I am not gonna lie, but what I felt for her wasn't real love, and what I feel for you is much deeper, and you are everything I ever wanted and If someone ever tells me that I can change what happened to her I wouldn't because of what happened I get to know you and love you, and I don't regret anything. You are my universe, and please believe when I say you are everything to me. " Spencer was desperate to let her know what he truly felt.

And then the door got wide open, and it wasn't Cat on the other side or her brother. It was Hotch. Y/n started crying softly when she saw him. There he was. He approached her while Morgan and Prentiss entered the room to help Spencer.

Hotch hugged her, and she cried on his shoulder. "You are okay. Everything is okay now. You will be home soon," he says while he unties her ankles without breaking the hug.

"Thank you, Hotch."

"You don't have to thank me, that's what family is for," Hotch says while he let her free. With tears in his eyes, Prentiss was full of worries that faded away when she saw her and hugged her.

"Oh my god, Y/n, please never do this to us ever again. I was so worried."

"I’m sorry," she chuckles, and Prentiss does the same.

Then Morgan hugged her, crying as well. "We are so glad you are okay. You don't have any idea how worried we were and Penelope, oh my god," He says.

Y/n chuckle and smile. "What happened to Cat and the other man?" She asks.

"We entered the back door, there weren't any cameras, and then we got him before he said anything, we made him call Cat, and we got her as well. They are with the police right now, and you won't see them ever again." She nods.

Spencer looks at her, and Y/n looks at him, but he knew she needed to be checked out for her injuries, so he doesn't say anything yet.

They walked her outside, and JJ and Rossi hugged her, leaving her without air, but happy to see her family again.

. . .

After they checked her and see her injuries, they drive back to Quantico. Spencer was dying inside. He didn't know the next chapter in their life, he didn't want to lose her, but he did understand if she didn't want to be with him.

Everyone greet her, happy to see her again. She couldn’t see Diana because she will be worried about her injuries, Y/n cried with Penelope, but she was happy. Those were happy tears. She was finally in home.

And then she walked outside being called by the sky, looking at the stars. The same ones he was looking at hours before. It was three Am, and he was tired. He walked where she was, looking at the stars and then at her.

"I think we need to talk," he says, playing with his fingers.

"Yeah, I think we do." He looks at her.

"Y/n I want to start saying that I am really sorry. For everything, and I understand if you don't want to be with me anymore, I don't know if we are together right now, you know? You kinda broke up with me," he chuckles, and she does as well. Good sign, Spencer thinks.

"I think we can try, you know? I understand why you did what you did, but it doesn't ease the fact you didn't tell me," Y/n signs. Of course she wanted him back, after all. But she was concerned about their communication skills, not only Spencer’s but hers.

"I know, but I will make it up to you, and I can work that out. Please.” Spencer takes her cold hands into his, giving small kisses to them.

"We need to try the communication, but it can work," Spencer smiles and hugs her.

She hid her face in his neck, and he does the same. He felt like home, he felt like everything was okay, and it was now. She stepped back, but then she hugs him, this time putting her head in his chest.

She looks at the stars, but he's looking at her. She looks at him, smiling. "Why are you not looking at the stars? It is a beautiful night."

He smiles at her, "Because you are the only star I want to look at."

She smiled at him and hid her blushed face from him. He smiles and hugs her tight.

Even though they had an awful night, she still looks at the stars at the end of the day.

At that moment, without them knowing, they made a promise to all the stars in the night sky. At that moment, when they were the only ones in the world.

They enjoy each other warmth, the one they have been craving for, the one that keeps them in their track, with the promise they will try one more time, and maybe a happy ending with love and pride.

Finally everything will be okay, because they were together like the stars in the night sky who were looking at them with pride and love, to always and forever to the end of the world.

[issaxcharlie]

Owen hosts Couple tag

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Artist Fem Reader

Summary: We play pretend world guys✨ (I missed them, I’m SoRryyyy.) So, Charlie wants some reassurance after starting to prepare his proposal to Y/N and makes this “genius” plan with Owen to find her answers without being suspicious. (She totally knows tho) also a lot of friendship fighting between Owen and Y/N because I had to, I made myself laugh a lot so I’ll hope at least makes you smile🤧🤣Anyways, have fun!

This is also my weird and nonsense way of doing sweet @marvel-ousnesss request of the we play pretend couple to do a couple buzzfeed quiz 💖

The blonde takes a deep breath before picking up his phone and heading to the living room, where his couple of friends and roommates are on the couch. Charlie is lying down watching television and Y/N is lying on top of him with her face snuggled into his neck, he hugging her around the waist while gently running his fingers down her skin.

The plan was simple, to help Charlie plan the perfect proposal and give him an idea of what she expects from her wedding, they were doing a “Couple tag” video. That way the questions wouldn’t be as suspicious. Of course, there are easier ways but we are talking about Charlie. They convinced Kenny to call her and tell her that it was to promote the second season that is currently being filmed, and she agreed.

Charlie mentioned many times that someone else had to ask her the questions because she reads her boyfriend like an open book, so his improvisation had to be perfect to keep his best friend’s clever girlfriend out of the hook.

He decided to start the live from his room so as not to give the singer the opportunity to think much about it, so he sits in the living room and focuses the image on his friends who are not affected in the least by their positions. After all, everyone already knows that they are a couple and that they live together.

“Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L! And yes, that sexy, beautiful, adorable and talented man is my boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie.” He blushes as the memory of their first night back as a couple invades the mind of the Canadian, who had his girlfriend in exactly this position when she was, as she said, 'practicing' her introduction. Sadly, this time it will not end like that night because his best friend and about 500,000 people are watching.

“Welcome to my first edition of the Couple tag everyone! Here's my first guest couple, I know it’s not much, but I promise to find someone worthwhile next time, this is just for practice." Charlie laughs but looks nervous. Instead, his girlfriend sits down and rolls her eyes.

"I can't believe you chose him over a puppy or a hamster." The girl says to her boyfriend while laughing at her friend's offended reaction.

“I'm going to write that down in my long enemies list, but for now I have a live to lead. Okay guys, so basically I will ask them questions and I will also choose who answers them because I’m the only one hot enough to call the shots here."

She laughs and sticks out her tongue. Charlie sits down too and she takes his hand to fiddle with it. She keeps arguing for a few minutes with Owen but shows no signs of not wanting to play the game so he starts before she regrets it.

“Okay, first one is for Charlie. How did you guys met? This is actually a good one because a lot of the fans think you met on set and are like this really intense couple who started to date the very first week without even knowing each other’s last names.”

They both start laughing at the comment. The truth is that they have seen multiple posts and comments online from people judging their relationship and how fast they were going, especially when they did that last interview together and Y/N said that Charlie was taking his sweet time to ask for marriage, since for the fans they only have one year and months of knowing each other.

“We have known each other since forever. Our moms were best friends and we were born only a few weeks apart so we've always been together. We grew up as best friends and were dating before Y/N moved to New York to play Daniela on Stardust." Charlie tries to shake off the memory of the last tearful kiss before Y/N got on the plane. Hopefully he’ll never have to part from her for so long again. Sometimes he can't even understand how he managed to get through those 5 years.

"So no, we don't know each other for just one year, but 22." She adds, kissing his nose.

"Y/N, honey. I didn't ask you, don't be rude and wait for your turn." Owen says teasingly, the girl laughs and throws a pillow at him.

“Okay, rude again. Y/N, What is the first thing that he ever gave you?”

“Oh my, this beautiful valentines card! We were like eight I think. The paper is red, and it is filled with gold and silver glitter stars. Inside is a big star that has written in the middle, “My bright star, happy valentine’s day. I love you. And a lot of doodles of my favorite things, like my guitar, a microphone, chocolate, and a little Charlie. Just adorable, I still have it and to date it is one of my favorite gifts.”

The emotion with which she responds makes Charlie's heart melt. That was the first time he called her bright star, and he kept saying it to her during every audition, every performance, every practice. The exact reason not even she knows, but maybe one of these days he'll tell her.

“Rude and a liar. The 22-year-old Charlie's handwriting is horrible, the 8-year-old Charlie handwriting could only be close to a squiggle, nothing more. Oh, and probably only you had the ability to read it. I very much doubt that was beautiful."

She opens her mouth in surprise and wrinkles her nose, feigning annoyance. “I liked you more when you had a crush on me. You were nicer.”

Owen's eyes widen and he turns to see Charlie looking for help but he just starts laughing. “Wh- What are you talking about, mean girl?”

“Oh c’mon, you totally did, Ohio.” She smiles at the camara while showing a superiority face.

“Really? I already told you a thousand times, I'm from Oklahoma. But hey, how funny, forget about Stardust and audition for Funny Girl!”

“Jokes on you, I would nail Fanny Brice.”

“Man, defend my honor!”

“Bro, I can’t. You totally did, I even got worried for a second there.” It is incredible to think about how their friendship has grown and matured over time. They went from Owen fangirling every time he saw her to being really good friends. All these fights are more of a show than anything else, the truth is that when nobody is recording they tend to be very cool around each other and the three of them have quite a pleasant dynamic now that they are living together for the show.

“I won, Idaho. Now, please continue.”

“Well, my friends embarrassed me on my own live. I can already imagine the headlines tomorrow. Anyways, Charlie, Would you let yourself in danger to save her?”

Charlie starts laughing as he drops his head on the girl's shoulder. "I think she's not going to let me lie, I always have and will continue to do so. For me it's always her safety first."

"Which has given me more than a scare but he's so freakin stubborn." She adds while looking stressed and Owen can't help but imagine all the situations Charlie must have put himself in before.

“I prefer you scared than in danger, beautiful.” He grins and kiss her lips, her facial expresions relaxing at his touch.

“Gross. Y/N, do you prefer a small wedding or a big wedding?” She can feel Charlie tense at the question, so she leans her body back to support it against him and give him a lowkey reassurance.

“I hadn't really thought about it, but I know that my almost mother-in-law has been planning it all her life so you should check with her.”

His mom. Y/N is right, as always. His mom is their biggest shipper and the wedding is probably something she’ll want to be an importart part of, maybe way more than with his brothers since she adores the girl as much as her own kids, and the fact that his girlfriend is even more aware of that fact than him makes him smile.

“Do you love it when someone refers you as ‘her boyfriend’?”

“Always. Especially if it's her. She has that little knack of saying it whenever she can and it’s the most adorable thing in the world.”

“Oh I thought she was just showing it off to me because she was intimidated by our chemistry. I don't feel so special anymore.” Charlie chuckles and sends a secret air kiss to his friend, who just smirks and fakes to blush.

“How would you handle it if you thought another man was hitting on her?” Owen asks the guitarist raising an eyebrow.

“She usually takes care of that situations, her method is to take me by the shirt and kiss me hard on the lips. I’m never going to complain about that.” Charlie says smirking and blushing.

“We are a celebrity couple, for better or for worse. I’m not having him in a fight when I can just kiss that beautiful lips and solve the problem.” Charlie smiles as he wraps his girlfriend in his arms, so she can't see his face with the next question.

“What do you dream of your marriage? Mmm, let’s go with Y/N.”

“Anything will be perfect if I spend it with the man of my life. My Char is my everything and my biggest dream is to live my whole life laughing by his side.” Owen pretends to vomit as Charlie fills her with kisses under the ear, clearly moved by her answer.

“Let’s get to someting less cheesy because I really can’t with you both anymore. Has anyone ever tried to break your relationship?”

Charlie rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment. “Yes. We were like seventeen, and this guy from hockey had this big crush on her, so he tried to flirt with her many times even though everyone knew she was my girlfriend, until one day that he made her too uncomfortable and things escalated between him and me. Luckily my brothers intervened before something else happened because he was much bigger than me. I would have totally lost.” He chuckles while his girlfriend turns to see his face and gives him another sweet kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Yes guys, they are this annoying all the time. How do I survive? A lot of yoga. Next question, If three guys are standing, and you have been blindfolded, then how would you recognize him? Guys we actually did this like three days ago on set.”

“It was awesome! We put my bandana on her eyes and since it had my smell she couldn't be guided by that to choose.” Charlie explains excited.

“We got the three of us, first Jeremy then Charlie and then me in front of her, then she began to lightly touch Jer's hand. Then she went to Charlie's, it didn't take her a minute to recognize him and she took him from the hair and draw him to her lips, it was actually a pretty smooth and risky move, I’ll give you a point for that, prodigy brat.”

“Char's body inadvertently reacts to mine. It was pretty easy to tell the difference, especially after touching Jeremy's hand.” She turns her head to give Charlie a soft kiss on the lips and then Owen starts laughing like crazy and telling her to come see a specific comment.

She gets up and goes to sit next to him, Owen changes the camera so that now they are the ones in the image and she begins to read aloud. “Charlie I could give you my... Oh my god!” Owen continues laughing, resting his head on his friend who simply watches the screen in shock.

“Thank god Charlie doesn’t know how to read.” Owen, who was just recovering from his giggling fit, laughs again as Charlie giggles and sticks his tongue out at his girlfriend.

"Who needs to read when you look this hot with sleeveless shirts." He jokes while winking at his partner, which seems to melt in front of the camera that is still pointing directly at her.

“The man has a point. Okay, Y/N move your ass back there I’m still in charge of this show. Would you prefer a silver or gold ring?”

She makes sure to move off the screen and sticks her middlefinger at Owen before heading back to her place with her boyfriend. “Good and really random question.” She smirks, not making contact with her boyfriend. “I don't have a preference, but I would love Char to design it. Obviously with the correct guidance, but yeah he choosing every detail and then explaining to me why he choose it would be the dream.”

Charlie smiles. He was already imagining something like this after so many years of gifting and has already been visiting the jewelry store several times to make sure he designed the perfect ring for his girl, a slight feeling of pride filling him.

“Which series does she thinks resembles your relationship?”

“She loves Boy Meets World and see a lot of us in Cory and Topanga. I can totally see it too, after all they too have known each other their whole lives and have a bond as strong as ours.”

“Well that explains why she’s always telling me ‘Life is though, get a helmet’ instead of actually help me.” She grins at the memory of Charlie’s last prank on Owen a couple of days ago, it was really good since she secretly helped him plan it.

“Man, It wasn’t personal. I do the same with Char. I’m not going to be known for being the one ruining prank war. Take it to the end of the road, if you need me to take you idiots out of jail I totally will... eventually.”

“My girl, everyone. Isn’t she awesome?” He watches her adoringly and she blushes in response, buring her head on his neck.

“She always has this enormous energy and personality but all it takes is for you to see her for her to melt, that’s... kind of cute actually. Okay next question Stardust, What about If Charlie tells you to marry him tomorrow?”

For the thousandth time that night Y/N can feel Charlie stressing out. The fact that he planned together with Owen and Kenny all of this just to make sure he was on the same page with her is the most adorable thing in the world.

“I’m pretty sure he knows I would always say yes. He could have gotten on a plane when we were 18 and told me ‘I don't want to be without you, let's get married.’ And I would have said yes. He’s my person, I have nothing to think about, I have always known it’s him."

Now it's Charlie's turn to melt, and Owen himself can't help but smile.

Charlie's confidence in what he has planned is higher than ever, and the day when he can finally make it official is near. He has been dreaming of this day with his Y/N for years and he will finally get it.

“Well guys, that was it, give it up to my favorite couple of dumbasses and please stop asking obvious questions. Will I be Y/N’s maid of honor? Of course I will. Oh, and tune in next week to see me becoming Kenny’s new favorite after I challenge Y/N in a dance duel with I got the music. Golden star is GOING DOWN."

Thank you for reading✨

NEXT PART HERE

Taglist: @writerinlearning, @ghostofmgg @strangerthanfanfiction713, @thebloodthirstyvampress @kinda-really-lost, @kcd15, @magnet-girl, @aliandthephantoms, @stxrkspidey, @pinkrockstar19, @s0uz4s, @shycupcakealissa @cookiebuba, @fangirlangioma, @sageellsworth05, @twist3dtinkerbell, @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve, @caitsymichelle13 , @ifilwtmfc, @luckylouiebug, @bibliophilewednesday, @totomoshi, @siennanoelle01, @lunashadow6955, @bookfrog247, @morganayennefertyrell, @kiss-themoongoodbye, @rachelle3musicals, @imsydneywalker, @really-dont-forget-it @agentstarkid @talksoprettyjjx @kaitieskidmore1 @lukeys-giggle @katie-navarro @crybabyddl @cocopuffs0211 @marvel-ousnesss @blackhood5sos @dpaccione @tuttigunner

[axwalker]

CREEP 3: You're just like an angel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection. 

MASTERLIST HERE

In this chapter: Lexie gets to know more about the boy hiding behind the monster. 

A/N: This is Lexie’s POV. We’ll be in Drake’s head in the following chapter. 

A/N 2: Thank you to my beautiful prereader @burnsoslow​

Your suggestions made all the difference! LOVE YOUU ❤️

A/N 3: Thank you to @mskaneko​ for the edit that closes this fic. It’s gorgeous! I love youu ❤️

Words: 5,108 🙈

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying. 

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love. 

This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS --As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!

LEXIE

Watching Drake put my duffel bag on the back of his motorcycle, my pulse is getting out of control on my neck. This is happening. I’m leaving home. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. And Drake Walker, my tormentor, is helping me. He actually defended me. The fact that I’m being helped by the person who called me a future trophy wife this morning makes this moment even more surreal. He’s had this tormented expression on his face for the last half an hour that’s stupidly making me want to hug him or make him feel better. For what, though? I don’t know. I don’t owe him anything, and still, I have this pressing need to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him everything will be okay. 

When it comes to Drake, my emotions have never been truly logical. One second I hate him, and the next, I’m whispering his name in the darkness of my room, my fingers sawing against the wet cotton of my panties. My feelings for him are incredibly confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my unstable world, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I wanted, he would “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that deep, hoarse tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my covers to an orgasm. I’m having those particularly sexual thoughts when he looks over at me, and I don’t quite manage to hide my lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he fixes on my mouth, my breasts. I’m a real hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted. It’s always there in the rise and fall of his chest, the clicking of his jaw. The tenting of his jeans. How many times have I turned in class and—avoiding his gaze—locked eyes with his jeans instead? At least that’s one thing us poor fuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck.

 Well, if I thought sympathy was a strange emotion regarding this boy, jealousy is even more confusing. Why should I care that he’s been with other girls? Obviously, he must have been with hundreds of girls to get good at sex. It’s none of my business, is it? I’m almost rid of him. And I don’t want to be jealous. Still, when he holds out his hand to help me onto the bike, I ignore it with a raise of my chin and climb on myself. You’re almost rid of him, Lexie. Get a ride and say goodbye. Unfortunately, I may have been a little overenthusiastic in asking to be taken to a motel. I’ve never been to one, but I know a credit card is required—and I don’t have one of those. Nor do I have enough cash in my wallet for more than one night. I need to figure out an alternative plan fast. Still looking damned tortured, Drake places his helmet on my head and gently buckles the chinstrap. Swallowing loud enough to hear over the passing cars. Helmetless, he brings the engine to life, the vibration so exhilarating; I wrap my arms around his middle on reflex.

I can feel taking a deep breath. “Lexie…” He can’t see me, so I give in to the impulse to press my cheek to his leather jacket, absorbing the warmth and his smell, earthy and so masculine. 

“Yes?” Drake clears his throat, his voice even more profound. “My dad left me a cabin a few towns over. Near Portavira lake.” He pauses. “It’s very rustic, but I’ve been fixing it, so it’s clean, and it has a bed and some supplies. I could take you there. You’d be safe.” 

It’s dangerous to start accepting more favors from him, but what choice do I have? My father made sure that I’m helpless. He did it with my mother and now me. Isolated us from everyone who might be a friend. I’ll accept his offer, but only because here and now, I promise myself I’ll find a way to help myself in the future. To leave my father and his house of horrors in the past. Maybe it can’t be done entirely alone. Maybe accepting help is the only option. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting the way he treated me. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I also hate him. He’s made my life miserable for two years and I won’t let him --or myself, forget that. Maybe he’s hiding right now but I know Drake--as my father, has a monster underneath. His monster might not slap me or make me bleed but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Poisonous words can hurt as much as one well-delivered blow.  

“Okay,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.” I’ll accept his help for now and leave as soon as I can. 

He responds by turning on the engine of the bike again. That’s when I hear my father yelling my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back, and he’s limping, blood coming out his nose. 

“Alexis Jade O’Brien! You get your ass back here right now, or you’ll never be allowed back! You’ll be dead to me!” 

He has to be joking; he’s been dead to me since the first time he hit me. I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion I have. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever. 

“Good girl,” Drake murmurs a second before driving away. I don’t look back a single time. We drive for half an hour. After twenty minutes on the highway, the trees grow denser and denser, the road deserted. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, which comforts me when I should be worried. Shouldn’t I? I can’t allow the last two years of em2otional battle to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Drake to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow tired against his strong back, his woody and manly scent lulling me, encouraging the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him might be easier said than done. Especially when we arrive at the cabin, and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest like I’m made of crystal, a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m breaking his heart. 

“There is a shower inside,” he says quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath. “…the blood off.” The sun sets as we stand there. It’s nothing like the light of the night we kissed. This time it's brighter, more intense. It must be the higher elevation. 

“You’re not hurting anywhere else?” 

“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Drake?” 

“What’s wrong?” He fights through a humorless laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. “Where do I start? Most urgent is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone, and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Lexie, but please don’t ask me to go.” 

He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s OK to go back to his trailer. There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move will be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Drake is around, looking at me like that. “Drake…”

 “It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to be cut off. Fuck, I know that. Believe me when I say I hate myself right now, but if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—” 

I shake my head. Nothing can make up for the two years I spent loving him while he tortured me. There will be nothing between us. 

“I understand.” His fingers rake his hair one last time. “You can go in the cabin. I’ll sleep outside; that way, I’ll be sure your—father won’t be back.”

Despite myself and my better judgment, I worry about him. “Outside? It’s cold and dark; I can go to a motel.” At least for one night, I’ll figure out what I’ll do after tomorrow. 

“No way. Look, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Just go inside and try to rest; I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

Used to what? Sleeping outside? “Isn’t there a couch or something?”

He shakes his head. “The cabin was in ruins until six months ago when I started working on it. There’s only one bed, but there’s a rug next to the fireplace. Please don’t leave. I—I need to know you’re safe.” 

I know Drake would never abuse me physically. I might be naïve, but I just know he would never do it. And as much as it’s difficult for me to understand why I feel safe with him here. Still, I have to be smart, my instincts tell me to trust him, but my instincts have been wrong about him before. 

“Does the room lock?”

“It does with a bolt that can’t be opened from outside. But you’re safe with me, Lexie. I swear.”

It’s his miserable look that makes me decide. “Okay, if it locks, I can stay here.”

We go inside, and he leads me to his room. When my bag hits the floor next to his bed, I get even more nervous. I just left everything I know behind me and have no idea what’s coming next. School will be over in a few weeks, but I can graduate earlier, thanks to my credits. I’ll need a job, save some money, get an apartment and apply for college in Cordonia. It’s overwhelming. 

I don’t want to cry in front of Drake. I don’t want to show him I feel weak, sad, and pathetic, but something inside of me suddenly breaks, and before I can’t do anything to stop it, I’m sobbing.

Drake is sitting on the bed in a second, and he’s pulling me into his lap, trying to calm me down. “Shh Lexie, it’s okay. Cry all you need to. I’m here. It’s okay,” he repeats in a litany as he rubs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, then my nose. Why do I feel so safe with him? Why, after everything he put me through, do I want to be here with him more than anywhere else? 

“Let it all out, Lex. You’re so strong, baby.” He takes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to gently clean my tears. The piece of fabric seems so incongruous in his rough hands that I can’t help but smile a little. 

“Is this yours?”

He shrugs. “My dad collected them. After he died, my mom gave all his stuff away. This handkerchief is the only thing I have left of him. And this cabin.”

“I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiles. “Ruin it? Impossible. If anything, now it's even more special to me.” 

The softness in his eyes looks so sincere it scares the hell out of me. I can’t let myself forget who Drake really is. I stand up from his lap and put my bag on the bed. 

“I’m really tired; I’d better go to bed.” 

“Okay … can I just look at your wounds?” he asks as he inspects my face. “You have some nasty cuts,” he adds, his fist clenching. 

When I nod, he takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. The room is as simple and modest as expected. Block walls, no tiles on the floor, no curtain on the shower, and an old toilet. A million years away from the white marble bathrooms in my house. 

He follows my gaze and blushes. “I’m sorry. This is not what you’re used to. I—uhm, I’m slowly putting it together when I have time and some money. I’m good with my hands.” I look at said hands, and there’s no doubt he’s good with them. They look big and calloused. Capable and rough but so gentle with me. I want them all around my body. As if he had listened to my silent demand, he grabs me by my waist and sits me on the counter next to the sink. My legs part on instinct, and he puts himself between them. We don’t talk for two long minutes until he opens the faucet and wets a towel. 

“I just got the water running this week; Come on.” Gently --almost reverently, he washes and cleans every cut, every injury. Softly he brushes his thumbs over my face. He doesn’t speak as he does, but there’s a tension between us. A raw feeling that has always been there. 

“Tell me about yourself,” I blurt out, desperate to break the moment. 

“There’s not much to say. Sorry, Lexie!” he exclaims when I wince. “Does this hurt?”

“A little. I. need a distraction. Why do you live alone? I know your dad is –uhm, gone, but where’s your mom?”

“Gone too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Drake.”

“Don’t be. She was a bitch. She died in a car accident two years ago. She was living in Texas back then.”

“I don’t get it. Two years ago, you were here in Cordonia.” 

“Yeah, she left me after my dad died. Took my sister and left me here. Reminded her too much of my dad, she said.” 

I remember Jackson Walker. Everyone in Portavira does. He was Liam’s dad's bodyguard and died protecting him. But that was five years ago. If his mom left just after his passing, that means Drake has been living by himself since he’s thirteen years old. It can’t be.

Drake turns around and opens a box in the corner of the room. When he turns back, he’s holding a Band-Aid. 

“I keep these around. Construction can get nasty sometimes. Come here, Lex.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands while he cleans a cut next to my eyebrow. His touch is leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I hate to be this affected by him.  

I clear my throat to avoid the embarrassment of talking in a squeaky voice. “So, who were you living with?”

“No one. My aunt got custody when my mom left, but her husband didn’t want kids. He made her choose between him or me, so I’ve been living on my own since I’m thirteen.” My heart breaks then. Not only at the fact that he had to live by himself when he was still a child, but at the way he says it. Matter-of-factly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world that his mother, his aunt, and his uncle abandoned him. As horrible as my dad is, I’ve never had to fend for myself. And my mom loved me so much. If cancer hadn’t taken her away, she’d be here fighting for me. Drake has no one. I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. “Hey! Don’t cry, Lexie,” his thumb moves from my eyebrow to my cheek as he wipes the tears off my face. ”I prefer to live by myself than go to a foster house. And Leona checks on me now and then.”

“If your mom died, where’s your sister?”

He takes a deep breath but doesn’t pronounce a single word for a few minutes. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Savvy was with my mom in the car. She died too.” 

I want to say something. Anything. But I can’t. Nothing seems like enough. Sorry is such an empty word—a stupid cliché. I’m horrified at my own muteness, so I do the only thing I can think of. I hug him. At first, he just stands there, his arms hanging at his sides. But soon, I can feel him giving in, his heart beating hard against my chest. He encircles his arms around me, wrapping me in the tightest hug possible. I don’t know who’s comforting whom anymore. I only know that I love being here, and I hope it’s giving him a little solace, this hug.

 It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive or even forget what he put me through, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain alone. 

“I’ll be outside, Lexie,” he says when he finally lets me go. “If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me, okay?”

“Wait!’ I yell, so he turns around. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he hesitates as if he’s going to add something important. “Good night, Lexie.” 

“Wait,” I feel my cheeks redden just thinking about what I’m about to propose. “You can sleep here, I-I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he says, a determined look on his face. “I would never hurt you that way, and you have no idea how much I regret how I’ve treated you in the past. But I’ll be okay sleeping outside. I know you’ll feel better sleeping here by yourself.” 

I can’t deny that. I meant what I said about trusting him not to hurt me, but I can’t forget what he did either. “At least take this pillow and the blanket. I’ll manage with the pillow and the cover left.” He hesitates, so I insist. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

After taking them and giving me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the room. I lie on his bed, incapable of sleeping. The pain in his eyes when he told me about his little sister haunts me all night long. 

The following day I toss around in bed, confused and angry at myself. I can’t have feelings for Drake Walker. I can’t forget the insults or the anger in his eyes, the hurt that his words caused me every -single time. I just can’t. I hate what happened to him. I genuinely do, but iI have to think about myself. Denying that I’m attracted to him would be preposterous. Our chemistry is strong and undeniable, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps I just need one night with him, so I can move on with my life. Get him out of my system.

When I finally leave the bed, I find a note under my door: Went to buy some groceries, be back soon. DW

I go to the room where I assume he’s going to build the kitchen. For now, there’s only a more-than-a-few-years-old microwave and a cooler. I open the cabinets, but there’s barely anything there. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I feel my heart slamming in my chest; if it’s my father, I have no means of defending myself. I’m about to escape through the back door when a woman’s voice starts yelling.

“Open up, Drake. I’m not in the mood today.” 

I open the door because the voice sounds familiar. I recognize Leona, the principal’s assistant. And I know she’s related to Drake.

Leona arches an eyebrow when she sees me. “Ms. O’Brien, what on earth are you in my nephew’s cabin? Does your father even know where you are?”

“I’m 18. I don’t have to tell my father where I am.” I answer in a much bolder tone than I feel.

She shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Well, I brought this to my nephew. Tell him I want those signed by next week. We’re not going to lose thousands of euros because of some dumb nostalgia.”

She hands me a big manila folder, I take it, but she doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’re the one who can convince him.”

“Convince him about what?”

“His father Jackson left him this piece of land, but it isn’t worth a dime without cattle or money to invest in it. But, a couple of months ago a big company approached us, they wanted to build a landfill here. Drake refuses to sell. He thinks he’s going to honor his dead father by rebuilding this old piece of crap, but he will never have the money to do it.” 

“Never.” The deep voice that comes from the entrance startles us both. “This was my dad’s dream. He wanted a ranch, and one day this place will be one,” Drake says, “I told you already, Leona. I won’t sell; I don’t care how much they’re offering you to convince me.”

“I’ve never denied that they’re offering me a commission for the sale, Drake. But I still think it’s the best move for you.” Leona leaves the papers on the table, turns and leaves the cabin. 

“You love this land?” I’m genuinely curious. 

He slowly nods. “It’s all I have left of my dad. He’s the only person that ever gave two damns about me.”

“That says more about your family than about you, Drake.”

He looks directly at me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine for a long minute. I want to get closer to him, to touch him. Not only to offer some comfort but because my body reacts to him in the wildest way. Just standing next to him in the kitchen, I feel my heart beating faster, my hands trembling harder, my sex getting wetter. The response he gets from me is maddening. And it’s making me insane. There’s no freaking way in hell; I’m going to have feelings for Drake Walker.

“I- I need to take a shower. I’ll eat later.” Without giving him any time to respond, I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I open the shower and get inside, desperate for some release, anything that’ll take my mind off him. His stupid perfect smirk and deep eyes. That voice of his, intense, soft, and deep at the same time. Those big hands, calloused and capable. Hands that I just know would know precisely how to touch me. Before I realize it, I’m coming as quietly as I can. Sadly, my relief only lasts a few minutes, my body needs him --Drake Walker, and no substitute would do. 

When I come out, he’s waiting for me with a hot cup of coffee and a couple of white chocolate-strawberry muffins---my favorite kind. 

We eat in silence, but I don’t feel the weight of it as I usually do. Ours is a companionable silence. 

After breakfast, we decide to take a hike next to the lake. A bit of exercise and the lake’s breathtaking landscape might be exactly what I need to stop thinking about my father and the confusing feelings I have for Drake. 

“I think I need a job. Do you know how I can get one?” I hate that I’m so spoiled, but I’ve never lifted a finger in my life. I have no idea how I can get a job. 

“Uhm sure. Here in Portavira?”

“Actually, I was thinking of moving to Cordonia city after graduation. “Drake stops walking for a second. “It’s too late to enroll for next semester, but I can get a job and start college next year.”

He finally starts walking again and nods slowly. “What do you want to do?” 

I blush. My dreams don’t include being famous or rich. All I want is a good, quiet life. Falling in love, having a family. Doing a job I’d enjoy and traveling as much as possible -even if it’s on a low budget. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

Drake looks at me. “I swear I won’t, Lexie. There’s nothing you can say that I’ll find dumb. It’s just not possible.”

“I love books. They offer you new worlds. They allow you to escape and be someone else for a few pages. You can never be alone when you’re reading a book. I’d love to have a job where I would be surrounded by books. Maybe become a librarian and then open a bookstore one day.”

Drake nods but doesn’t reply. I knew he would find my dream stupid.

“I know it’s not much-“

He stands in front of me and tilts my chin until our eyes meet. “It’s amazing, Lexie. I was just thinking how great you’d be at it. Remember the top 5 assignment for Mr. Daniels?”

Of course, I do. Mr. Daniels, our English teacher, asked us to make a list of our five favorite books and recommend them to the class. 

I nod. “Yeah”

“Well, I read all the books on your list. I checked them out of the school’s library and fuck, I loved them all. Especially the one from that Krakauer guy.”

“Into the Wild?”

“Yep. I really enjoyed it. The way that guy Christopher reinvented himself spoke to me.” He holds my gaze. “You’d be an awesome librarian, Lex. You would also be an amazing writer. I remember that short story you wrote for Mr. Daniel’s class. The one about the lonely girl and how she traveled through time with her mind. You have no idea how much I loved it.”

I can’t believe he remembers that story. We had that assignment more than a year ago. “I’ve always wanted to write, but my dad thinks my stories aren’t good enough.”

“Your father is a dick. Your stories are amazing.” 

He looks at me in a way that makes my knees weak. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, so I feel it again. The connection with him. The desire. Maybe the only way this would go away is if I give in to it. 

“There is something you can do for me,” I say, surprising myself. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Drake. 

And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get you out of my system.” 

He stands still as a statue. “What?” 

“Get yourself out of my system.” It starts to rain, and it makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years, you provoked me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes a frantic sound, his eyes slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands that night in my garden. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…” 

Drake falls toward me a step, clutching the center of his chest. “Lexie—” 

“Please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Drake? So I can get on with my life knowing fantasy was way better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat closes. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” As we walk, I can see the mixture of devastation and hope in his eyes. 

“And what if reality lives up to the fantasy?” 

“It won’t,” I say fast, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly live up to it. And yet I suck in a nervous breath when he crosses the divide between us, every cell in my body craving him. Fight or flight. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from wounded animal to determined predator, the rain causing his dark hair to hang low over one eye, dripping, his hands ready at his sides. 

“Are you so sure, Lexie?” 

Damn my hesitation. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll prove me right in one night. I can move forward without feeling like I’m leaving something behind.” 

“What if your fantasies come true tonight? Could we ever move forward as…as an us?”

 I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. “There can never be an us, Drake. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll never change my mind about that.” I shake my head. “How can you think I would?” 

“Maybe I think if I want it hard enough, it’ll come true.” 

“It won’t,” I whisper, starting to ask myself if I’m making a mistake. Opening myself up for even more heartache and pinning for this man than I’ve already lived through. It feels like a lifetime’s worth. “One n-night.” 

“No backing out from this point on?” My heart beats urgently. 

“No backing out.” 

He’s silent so long; I’m not sure he’s going to respond. And then, all at once, he reaches me in two strides and scoops me up into his arms. I realize he’s going to bring me into the cabin, “I’ve been studying you for years, Lexie O’Brien. I’ve been hanging on to your every sigh, every expression, and mood. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.” We reach the house in a matter of minutes, and he doesn’t stop; he just keeps going until we’re in his room. And oh God, I have made a severe miscalculation. Because Drake’s showing me exactly what’s always been in my heart and mind when I thought of us together, it’s my fantasy come to life, the two of us wrapped in the arms of the other. And as he turns me, urging my legs around his waist, his ravenous mouth bearing down on mine, I realize I might never recover from this. 

[walkerismychoice]

Queen of My Heart - Chapter 38 (The End!)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake X MC, Liam X Olivia, Hana X OC Lydia

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The show comes to and end, and Riley contemplates her future

Author’s Note: I can’t believe I’ve finally brought this series to an end. There was quite a long time I thought I may never finish. I want to thank all the readers and friends who’ve read and encouraged me along the way. I want to especially thank @debramcg1106 as of late for helping me work through the ending and pushing me to finish it out. This is the technical end of the story, but I do have an epilogue planned as well.

Tag List: @khakie4 @dreadpirateemma @ritachacha @blackcoffee85 @choices-fanatic @boneandfur @butindeed @simplyaiden-blog @bobasheebaby @traeumerinsworld @theroyalweisme @umccall71 @lizeboredom @debramcg1106 @enmchoices @withice @viktoriapetit @mfackenthal @drakesfiance @drakelover78 @speedyoperarascalparty @silviasutton1989 @krisnicjack @devineinterventions2 @choiceswreckedme @notoriouscs @blackcatkita @hamalu @akrenich @drakewalkerfantasy @jamielea81 @andy-loves-corgis @jlouise88 @jovialyouthmusic @sleepwalkingelite @i-miss-trr @dragonball-luver @gkittylove99 @lovingchoices14

Word Count: 2230

Queen of My Heart Chapter Index

Due to everything that transpired, filming of the finale was delayed two weeks. Riley was grateful for the time and hardly left Drake’s side during his recovery. He was sent back to the palace after a couple days, and Riley had to convince him that whiskey was not a suitable replacement for the antibiotics and pain medication the doctor prescribed. Reluctantly he obliged. He worked with physical therapy, and by the end of those two weeks, you’d have hardly known he’d been injured at all.

Olivia was salty her ball had been ruined, but the production staff made up for it, giving her and Liam an overnight filmed at Olivia’s northern Lythikos retreat. She was still worried the country would favor Riley with Liam, but Kat assured Olivia between her heroic actions, personal growth, and some favorable editing, it would be hard for most people not to be on her side.

As for Madeleine, it was still unclear if she would be charged criminally or would be incompetent to stand trial due to her mental health, but either way, she wouldn’t be a danger to anyone for quite some time. It was questionable if Jo’s involvement in the whole thing broke any laws. She wasn’t Cordonian, so she couldn’t be charged with treason for skirting security and endangering the life of the crown prince, but authorities were looking to see if there was anything they could make stick. At the very least she was blacklisted and would never work in television again.

So finally, on a calm, clear, day, there was only one obstacle left. Riley met with Liam, adorned in a stunning, body-hugging, Swarovski crystal filled dress, to put on the performance of a lifetime and act as if he’d shattered her heart. Of course, it wasn’t that easy. There were a couple of takes where neither of them could keep a straight face followed few that were unbelievably dramatic, but ultimately Riley was able to tap into her vulnerability and the tragedy she had faced to bring genuine emotion and tears to light. It didn’t matter that it was unrelated to what was happening in the scene, it was real. Kat said it was perfect, and Liam was free to propose to Olivia.

-----

Now that all is said and done, who will Liam choose to be his future Queen? Will it be the fierce Duchess Olivia, or the plucky newcomer Riley? Stay tuned for the finale of Queen of My Heart.”

Maxwell draped his arm around Riley’s shoulder. “What do you think, sis? How did I do on my television debut.”

Maxwell, Bertrand, Savannah, Hannah, Lydia, Liam, Olivia, Riley, and Drake were all huddled in the palace screening room to watch the finale as it aired.

Just about anyone would have been an improvement over Chad,” Riley teased, ”but the squid suit was definitely a nice touch. Your delivery was great, but did you have to call me plucky?”

“You know I had to play it cool,” Maxwell explained. “Plucky is good, but not over the top. Don’t want anyone thinking I’m playing favorites because you’re my sister.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “The suggested ‘noble newcomer’ would have been sufficient.”

“It was a stylistic choice.” Maxwell made a gesture with his hand indicating a mock hair flip.

"Ugh, enough about Maxwell," Olivia groaned. "I'm ready to get to the good part. Can we just fast-forward through any mushy Liam and Riley stuff? Nobody needs to see that."

"I second that." Drake raised his hand in rare agreement with Olivia.

Liam just shook his head. "I know nobody watches live network television anymore, so you must have forgotten how this works. There's no fast-forwarding. Not even through commercials."

"That's fine with me." Lydia chimed in. "More time for making out."

"Lydia!" Hannah's cheeks turned a deep shade of pink.

Lydia pecked her on the lips. "Sorry babe. You're just too damn cute when you blush."

Hannah remained quiet but her smile gave her away. Lydia, with her outgoing, bold, and slightly unpredictable personality, was the perfect complement to Hannah being so shy, proper, and focused. They brought out the best in each other, and the difference in Hannah between when Riley met her until now was night and day.

The friends watched the show and Riley only cringed at herself in a few places, which was much less than she thought she would. Things did get a bit awkward during the montage of kissing scenes between Riley and Liam, and Maxwell and Bertrand made a show of covering their eyes for the steamier parts. They all laughed inappropriately when Liam dumped Riley since they knew it wasn't real. And then finally when Liam proposed to Olivia, everyone cheered.

Riley thought of her friends and family at home. She pictured aunt Susan, Sarah, and Daniel all rooting for her and how disappointed they must have been that she "lost." She couldn't wait to tell them, however, she hadn't lost at all.

"Wow, Livvy." Drake quipped, bringing Riley out of her deep thoughts. "How much did you have to pay them to give you such a flattering edit?"

Olivia threw a pillow at his head which he deftly dodged. "Fuck off, Walker. You were so desperate to get on the show, you leapt in front of a bullet."

"Now, now children." Liam said in a mock scolding tone. "Let's all play nice."

"Yes, father," Drake and Olivia replied in unison, causing laughter to erupt around the room.

Riley still didn't have all the answers about what her future would hold, but she had found her people. Where she was in that moment was where she needed to be.

Savannah yawned. "It's getting late. We should probably go and relieve the sitter." Riley hasn't wanted to pry into Savannah and Bertrand's relationship, but they were working together to parent Bartie and things seemed to be falling into place for them.

"Yes, yes." Bertrand agreed. "Time is money!"

"Oh my god, Bertrand." Savannah rolled her eyes. "Life isn't all about money."

"She’s right." Maxwell propped his arm on Savannah's shoulder. "Besides, now that the show is over, we'll be getting some money, and Kat said if viewers responded well to me, they would probably offer to extend my contract in the franchise. By the looks of these tweets, I'm going to be rolling in dough. 'That Maxwell guy is so hot...ridiculously funny...just what the show needed.' Should I read more?

"Please no." Bertrand groaned. "We can talk finances later. Goodnight, all."

As the rest of the crowd dwindled, Liam asked Drake and Riley to stay behind. He kissed Olivia and promised to join her when the conversation was through.

"So what's up?" Drake got right to the point once only the three of them remained.

Liam cleared his throat. "Well as you know, I highly value your loyalty to the crown."

"Heh." Drake let out a terse laugh. "I don't really give a fuck about the crown, but I do care about you."

"In any case, you take your job very seriously and I could see you as head of the guard one day, once Bastien retires." Liam paused before continuing. "However, I do have another proposition for you."

Drake raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Go on."

"How would you like to be the head of Valtoria?" Liam asked expectantly.

Drake' eyes narrowed in contemplation. "I thought Valtoria was unoccupied. Is there a new Duke or Duchess there now that needs a security detail?"

"No, no." Liam laughed. "Well, there could be. That's what I'm trying to ask you. I would like to give Valtoria to you."

"No fucking way. You have to be kidding me. Did you sign up for some royal version of a prank show now?" Drake scanned the room as if searching for hidden cameras.

"I'm serious, Drake. I think you would make a fantastic duke."

Drake scoffed. "I'm a commoner who despises most nobles and everything the monarchy stands for."

"That's exactly why you'd be perfect for the role." Liam explained. "Cordonia needs a fresh perspective - someone who can resonate with the people the monarchy serves. Just think, you could have a real voice in creating change. I don't want to rule like my father has and his father before. I want the people to have the representation they deserve, and you are a key to that."

Drake sighed deeply. "I don't know Li. Even if I could do this - if I wanted to - what makes me worthy? What's everyone going to say when they find out you gave an average dude the title of Duke just because he's your best friend?"

"I'll tell them that Drake Walker is anything but average. He's smart, capable, and fiercely loyal. He's saved my life more times than I count and has more integrity than anyone I know. Public policy can be learned, but these qualities cannot be taught. He may not be noble by blood, but he is my family, and he belongs."

'Wow, Liam." Drake ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to say."

"You're quiet over there." Liam directed at Riley. "What do you think?"

"Me?!" Riley had been as shocked by this as Drake, and she didn't know what to think. This was about Drake, not her. Did her opinion really matter? "I, uh.... think this is really Drake's decision."

Drake took Riley's hands in his. "But it's yours too. I mean, if we are going to be together..."

"Oh, well..." How was Riley supposed to help Drake decide such a life altering thing when she didn't even have her own life sorted out?

Drake didn't leave her fumbling for too long. "Liam, I really don't know if either of use is equipped to answer this question right now. It's a very generous offer, and the fact that I'm not totally shutting you down for suggesting such a ridiculous thing as me being a Duke should tell you I'm genuinely willing to entertain the idea."

Liam chuckled. "I completely understand. This life is new to both of you in different ways, and to navigate a new relationship on top of all that is a lot to ask. I'm in no hurry to fill the vacancy. Consider it an open-ended invitation. I trust that you'll be ready to make your decision long before the public pressures me into making a new appointment."

"Thanks, Liam." Drake gave him hug and patted him on the back. "Now get back to your fiancé before she blames me for keeping you too long."

-----

Back in her palace guestroom, Riley nestled into Drake, her head resting on his chest. "It's been quite a night, huh?

"You could say that again." Drake pulled her tighter against him.

"I kind of feel like we're moving so fast, we're skipping steps - like we're being asked to decide the rest of our lives before we even know what we want to do tomorrow." Riley knew nobody was outright asking for an immediate decision, but she felt the weight of everyone's expectations. Whether she stayed in Cordonia or went back home, she'd probably be disappointing someone.

"Who says we have to?" Drake asked. "You heard Liam. He doesn't need an answer right away. I Know you haven't decided what you want, and I sure as hell don't know what I'm going to do yet. Why don't we take some time together to just...be. Do normal couple things and see where the relationship takes us."

"Normal couple things... I mean I don't know how I can go back to my normal peasant life after attending weekly balls dressed in couture gowns," Riley teased, "but I think I could make that sacrifice for you, my commoner boyfriend."

"Hey, watch who you are calling commoner." Drake pinned Riley down and tickled her sides until she begged him to stop, and he collapsed beside her again. "I just may outrank you soon if I so choose."

Riley laced her fingers through Drake's. "It's crazy to think how our lives have changed in a few short months. I don't think I could have made it through all of this without you, and not just because you kept literally saving my life."

"You may not have taken a bullet for me, but you've saved me too. For once in my life, I see multiple paths with meaning and purpose. I've seen so much of myself reflected in you, but it id the version of me I want to be, not the one I was. You've shown me trials and hardships don't have to make you bitter, and that you don't have to fit the cookie cutter mold to find your place here... Oh, God, listen to me. What have you done to me Bennett?" Drake shuddered in mock disgust.

Riley softly pressed her lips to his and pulled back with a smirk. "I don't think I can take all the credit, or the blame as you might put it. But enough talk about the future. You said we should focus on the now, and right now all I need is you."

"Well then, your wish is my command." Drake pulled Riley tight to him and then they lost themselves in each other, completely unencumbered by any decisions about their future. Those could wait for another day.