#the rags to riches element?

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (7); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 7.7k+

Chapter Warnings: i'm assuming there are no warnings but if i need to add anything pls do lmk !!

A/N: my fav part about working on this series is having to rewatch the movie repeatedly to make sure i’m capturing its essence just right. at this point, i feel like i could recite every line by heart without even watching it lmao. anywaysss, this series is wrapping up soon, and I’m going to miss it SOOOO MUCH. pls do read this part and let me know your thoughts! <3

part 7

"I don’t want any part of your family." Jungkook announces, his voice sharp. Before you, your mother, or your grandmother can respond, he turns on his heel and strides away.

You gasp softly, a lump forming in your throat as you spin to face your mother and grandmother, your eyes glistening. "Was this really necessary?" you seethe, your voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

Without waiting for a reply, you rush after Jungkook, your heart pounding as panic and hurt collide within you. The music and laughter of the party feel like a cruel backdrop as you weave through the crowd, calling his name.

Jungkook, however, is already far ahead, his chest tight and his breathing ragged as he pushes through the sea of dancing bodies.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back, his mind reeling from everything he’s just heard. The weight of the accusations, the humiliation, the betrayal... it’s all too much. He crashes into shoulders, mumbles hurried apologies, but keeps moving, driven by only one instinct... to escape.

You, meanwhile, search frantically, your eyes darting through the kaleidoscope of lights and people. “Jungkook!” you call out, your voice barely audible over the music.

You somehow manage to spot Taehyung and Miyeon, who are laughing with your cousins, their cheeks flushed from champagne and joy.

"Have you seen Jungkook?" you ask breathlessly, your desperation apparent. They all exchange confused glances, clearly dazed and unaware of the storm brewing inside you. "No, I haven’t..." Taehyung answers, his brows furrowing. "Is everything okay?"

But you’re already stepping away, scanning the room, your pulse quickening with every passing second. You press through the crowd, ignoring the curious looks from partygoers as dread settles deep in your chest. You silently curse yourself for letting him slip away, knowing how deeply this moment must have wounded him.

Jungkook, now outside the hall, stands under the open night sky, his chest heaving as he tries to steady himself. The cool air stings his skin, but it does little to numb the chaos inside him.

For a fleeting moment, he thought he had found a place to belong... someone to belong to. But tonight, the cracks have grown far too wide, and all he can feel is the ache of being an outsider again.

If your mother’s disapproval had ended with him, he could have taken it... he had prepared himself for that. But dragging his only family into it, accusing his mother, the one person who had given up everything for him? That was unbearable.

The words your mother spoke play on a loop in his head, tearing at his composure. His mother... the woman who worked tirelessly, who sacrificed her dreams for his future, who always made sure he had what he needed, no matter how little they had... how could anyone think so little of her?

He clenches his fists, trying to dispel the anger and confusion threatening to consume him.

And yet, there’s a tiny seed of doubt buried beneath the pain, watered by memories of the sudden move to New York. How his mother randomly quit her job in Busan one day and told him to pack up. How she never offered a real explanation, only saying... "It’s for the best."

Jungkook shakes his head, his trust in her unshaken, but his mind remains clouded. He doesn’t know what to think, what to believe. He feels lost, untethered, as though the ground beneath him is crumbling away.

There’s only one place he can think of going right now... away from this party, away from all these people, away from the echoes of your mother’s piercing words, and that’s Yoongi’s place.

The city noise fades into the background as Jungkook walks, his steps heavy and mechanical. The streets of Daegu blur together, unimportant and indistinct, as he trudges forward, his blazer hanging limply from one hand while the other is buried deep in his pocket.

By the time he reaches Yoongi’s estate, his shoulders are slumped, his head bowed, and he looks like a man carrying the weight of the world.

The massive iron gates screech open, revealing the familiar expanse of Yoongi’s mansion. Jungkook steps inside, dragging his feet across the paved path.

The grand doors swing open almost immediately, and Yoongi rushes out to meet him. "Kook!" Yoongi’s voice is filled with concern, and it’s obvious that the guards must have informed him of Jungkook’s unexpected arrival.

As Yoongi jogs towards him, his expression shifts from confusion to alarm. He slows down when he’s just a few steps away, studying Jungkook intently, trying to piece together why his friend is here instead of at the wedding.

But when Yoongi looks into Jungkook’s eyes, he immediately knows better than to ask. The storm of emotions written all over Jungkook’s face... hurt, betrayal, and exhaustion speaks volumes.

Yoongi doesn’t press for answers, doesn’t push him to talk. Instead, he closes the remaining distance and pulls Jungkook into a firm, securing hug.

Jungkook stiffens at first, but then he lets out a shuddering breath, his tension easing just slightly as he leans into the warmth of Yoongi’s embrace. He shuts his eyes tightly, as if holding them closed can stop the emotions threatening to spill over.

//

You click your tongue in frustration, shaking your head as the voicemail drones on again. You lower your phone, staring at the screen, your heart sinking with every passing second.

Taking a shaky breath, you dial his number again, your hands trembling. "Please... please pick up, Kook... please." you mutter, but just like the 36 times before, the call goes unanswered.

Standing just outside the wedding venue, the muffled sounds of the party echo faintly behind you. The heavy bass of the music vibrates through the ground beneath your feet, a constant reminder of the celebration you’re supposed to be a part of.

Yet everything feels distant, blurred, inconsequential. Your mind is consumed by only one thing, only one person... Jungkook. His face. The look in his eyes when your mother and grandmother shattered the fragile sense of belonging he had.

A part of you knew your mother wasn’t exactly thrilled when you brought Jungkook home for the first time. She had always envisioned someone who fit her rigid mold of perfection... someone polished, wealthy, and born into a family with status.

Jungkook, didn’t exactly align with her ideal type for you. But you convinced yourself, naively, that in time she would see what you saw in him. That after witnessing how much you loved him, she would come around.

What you didn't expect was this. This level of cruelty. A literal background check? Digging into his family’s past? And then to humiliate him so mercilessly in the middle of a celebration? The memory of it makes your stomach churn, a fresh wave of guilt crashing over you.

But you don’t care about his past. You never did. Whatever your mother uncovered, whatever reasons she thinks she has to deem him “unworthy”...none of it matters to you. What matters is him... the man you know, the man you love.

You don’t see Jungkook as a blemish on your family’s pristine reputation or a potential "threat" to your social standing.

You see him as the man who stole your heart the day you met him in New York. The dreamy photographer whose eyes light up when he talks about the things he’s passionate about. The man who sees the world through a lens most people couldn’t even imagine.

You love him for his little quirks... for the way he fusses over perfect lighting, the way he scrunches his nose when he’s deep in thought, the way he pouts his lips to hold himself back from crying while you both watch sappy romcoms in his little apartment, the way he makes you feel truly seen. Not as the rich girl born into privilege, but as you. Just you.

And now, you���re terrified you might have lost him. Terrified that the person who made you feel whole might be slipping away because of the very family you’ve tried so hard to reconcile him with.

Your phone screen dims, and you realize with a jolt that your call has ended... voicemail again. Your breath hitches, and your vision blurs as desperation claws at your chest.

A tear trickles down your cheek and all you can think about is where Jungkook's gone, how he is and what's going through his mind.

//

“Kook… you gotta eat something, man.” Yoongi calls gently from the doorway of the guest room, his voice low and laced with concern.

His eyes scan the dimly lit room, landing on Jungkook, who remains curled up under a thick blanket, his back turned to the world. The younger man is a still, silent figure, lost in the folds of the bed.

There’s no response. No shift. No acknowledgment. Just the faint rise and fall of Jungkook’s shoulders as he breathes.

It’s been a full day since Jungkook showed up at Yoongi’s doorstep, looking like a ghost of himself. He hadn’t offered much explanation, but Yoongi didn’t need one. He’d pieced it together soon enough.

“Alright...” Yoongi murmurs, almost to himself, noticing how Jungkook doesn’t so much as flinch. “Maybe later.” He steps back, pulling the door shut and makes his way to the living room.

“He’s still the same.” Yoongi says as he steps into the room, his tone subdued. His gaze shifts to you, perched on the edge of the couch. You’re sitting so still, your hands clasped tightly on your lap, your knuckles pale.

When Yoongi called you earlier in the morning, informing you that Jungkook was at his place, you hadn’t hesitated. You came immediately, in hopes of seeing how Jungkook was doing.

But now, sitting here, your chest aches with a mix of guilt, worry, and helplessness. You’ve already told Yoongi about what happened at the party... how your mother humiliated Jungkook, dredging up his past like it was some dark secret to be weaponized. And now, the image of his face in that moment... hurt, exposed, betrayed, still haunts you.

Every instinct screams at you to go upstairs, to see him, to explain, to apologize. But fear holds you back. What if you make it worse? What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he blames you, even though none of this was your doing?

You force yourself to take a breath, the air shaky as it fills your lungs. “Okay then…” Your voice is quiet, almost trembling, as you stand up from the couch. “I’ll leave now.”

Yoongi watches you with a mix of empathy and reluctance. He doesn’t try to stop you, though you can tell he wishes he could offer some kind of comfort.

You make your way to the front door, your footsteps slow and hesitant. But when you reach the door, you pause, turning to face Yoongi. “He’ll... be okay, right?” you ask, your voice soft, fragile. Your eyes search his, pleading for reassurance you desperately need.

Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line before he offers a small, tentative smile. “Hopefully.” he says gently. “I’ll keep you updated. Don’t worry too much.”

You nod, though his words do little to ease the ache in your chest. Your smile in return is faint, barely there, as you turn and step out to leave

Once you’re gone, Yoongi lingers at the door for a moment, watching your car drive away. Then, with a deep exhale, he retreats upstairs, returning to the guest room. The room is as it was... dim, still, heavy with silence. Jungkook hasn’t moved an inch.

Yoongi approaches the bed, sitting on the edge, careful not to startle him. “Kook...” he begins, his tone soft but steady. “Y/n was here.” That gets a reaction, albeit a subtle one. Jungkook’s shoulders stiffen ever so slightly, but he doesn’t turn around.

“She’s worried about you, you know.” Yoongi says gently, his voice cutting through the thick silence. “Said you haven’t been answering her calls.” He pauses, his eyes fixed on the back of Jungkook’s head, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment. When none comes, he exhales softly. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

Jungkook remains motionless, his eyes locked on the faint glow of light outlining the edges of the curtains. The world outside feels distant, unreachable, like a place he no longer belongs.

He’s seen the missed calls, the messages, each one a silent plea from you. He knows you’re worried, he can feel it even in your absence. But the thought of facing you now feels impossible.

His mind loops through the events of the night before... the way your mother’s biting words had stripped him bare in front of you. The sting of humiliation burns fresh in his memory, each detail sharper than the last. He knows it wasn’t your fault. You had no part in what happened, no idea of your mother’s cruel intentions.

Still, the weight of it all... the shame, the vulnerability, the fear that you might look at him differently now, keeps him rooted to the bed.

He misses you. God, he misses you so much it hurts. He wants nothing more than to bury his face in your shoulder, to let your presence soothe the storm raging inside him. But right now, he feels too raw, too exposed.

Maybe he just needs time. Space.

Yoongi watches him closely, waiting for even the smallest reaction. When it doesn’t come, he lets out another sigh, long and heavy with understanding.

“Alright...” he says softly, standing from the bed. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs, okay?” His voice is calm, reassuring, as if he’s trying to lend Jungkook some of his own strength.

With that, Yoongi turns and walks towards the door, leaving the younger man alone once again. The sound of the door closing echoes faintly, a quiet reminder that the world hasn’t stopped, even if it feels like Jungkook’s has.

//

“He still hasn’t responded?” Taehyung’s voice is tinged with worry. You don’t reply, your gaze fixed on the open window of your bedroom, the soft rustle of curtains doing little to calm the storm inside you.

Miyeon sits beside you, her arm wrapped gently around your shoulders, her thumb tracing slow, soothing circles. She doesn’t say anything... she knows words won’t reach you right now.

Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin stand nearby, their expressions heavy with concern. Seeing you like this... so pale, so fragile, so utterly shattered, breaks their hearts. It’s been three whole days since everything fell apart.

Three days since the party. Three days since you've seen Jungkook. Since your world crumbled.

According to the initial plan, you and Jungkook were supposed to leave Daegu yesterday to board your flight back to New York. However, the unforeseen turn of events derailed everything.

These past three days, you’ve visited Yoongi’s house every day, hoping… praying… to see Jungkook, to catch even a fleeting glimpse of him. But each time, all you’re met with is Yoongi’s somber shake of the head, a silent confirmation that Jungkook doesn’t want to see you.

Your chest aches with a pain so profound it feels etched into the very fabric of your being. You miss him so fucking much but what haunts you the most is the uncertainty. Where does this leave the two of you? Does he want to end things? Does he want to break up?

The mere thought of never seeing him again feels like an unhealing wound, a chasm that devours every sliver of hope. It’s unbearable... the kind of pain that steals your breath and leaves you hollow, trembling, and utterly lost.

Suddenly, you rise from the bed, startling the others.

“Y/n?” Seokjin’s voice is hurried as they all follow your purposeful strides towards the door. “Where are you going?”

You don’t answer. You don’t even glance back. Your steps quicken as you walk past the hallway and descend the grand staircase, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the tense silence of the house. Your eyes dart around until they find her.

Your mother.

She’s seated by the pool in the garden, sipping tea and reading a book as if nothing has happened. As if she hasn’t ripped your life apart with her calculated cruelty.

Something inside you snaps.

You shove the glass door open with a force that makes it clatter, storming out onto the lawn. Your mother looks up, startled by your sudden presence. She carefully sets her teacup down on the table beside her, a composed expression masking the chaos she’s caused.

“Y/n darling—”

“You’re horrible.” you blurt out, cutting her off. Your voice trembles, not with weakness, but with the sheer force of emotions clawing their way to the surface. Her calm demeanor falters, just slightly. “Y/n—”

“Did you really have to go that far?” you demand, your voice rising with each word. “Really, Mama? A background check? Was that necessary?”

The others... Taehyung, Miyeon, Namjoon, and Seokjin exchange uneasy glances. They stand a few steps behind, unsure if they should intervene, but they know better than to stop you now.

“Do you honestly think digging into his past, dredging up something so personal, and throwing it in his face was the answer?” you continue, your voice shaking with anger and heartbreak.

“Did you think that humiliating him, tearing him down in front of me, would make me change my mind? If you did, you’re wrong, Mama. So, so wrong.”

Your mother opens her mouth, but the fury in your eyes silences her.

“I don’t care about his past!” you cry, your voice breaking. “I don’t care about what his mother did or about your stupid obsession with our reputation. I don’t care if you think he’s a ‘threat’ to our image. None of that matters to me! All I care about is him. I love him, Mama. Don't you understand that? I love him more than anything, and I can’t—” Your voice cracks, tears streaming down your face now.

“I can’t imagine a life without him. And you’ve made him feel like he’s nothing. Like he’s not worthy of me. How could you? How could you be so cruel?”

Your mother’s calm facade begins to crumble under the weight of your words, but you don’t stop.

“You’ve destroyed the one thing that made me happy, the one person who truly matters to me. And for what? Your pride? Your precious image?” You shake your head, your voice now quieter but no less intense.

“You didn’t just hurt him, Mama. You hurt me. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.” Your words hang in the air, heavy and final, as you stand there, chest heaving, tears streaming freely down your face.

Your mother looks at you, her expression frozen, as though struck too deeply to formulate a response. She simply stares, her composure faltering under the weight of your outburst.

Behind you, the others remain silent, their own hearts aching at the rawness of your pain. No one moves, no one speaks. They simply bear witness to the moment you finally let it all out... the moment your anguish and love refused to be silenced any longer.

//

Yoongi peeks his head around the door, his gaze landing on Jungkook, who is lying in the same position as always... curled on his side, back facing the door.

It’s been a week now, and nothing has changed. Jungkook remains silent, unresponsive, and withdrawn. At this point, Yoongi is just relieved he’s started eating again, even if it’s only small amounts.

"Hey, Kook..." Yoongi calls out softly, his tone hesitant, careful. He watches as Jungkook’s shoulders tense ever so slightly, a subtle acknowledgment that he’s heard his voice.

But still, Jungkook doesn’t move. His eyes remain fixed on the curtains ahead, their edges glowing faintly in the daylight. He feels like he’s become one with the bed, as though his body has fused with the mattress, drained of all energy, all will to do anything.

Every day, Yoongi tells him you’ve come by to see him, and every day Jungkook reacts the same way... he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t give in. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see you... he does. God, he does.

But the thought of facing you feels like scaling a mountain he’s not ready to climb. The humiliation, the pain, the anger... none of it has faded. He knows it wasn’t your fault, knows you didn’t know what was coming, but even so, the wounds are still too raw.

He knows he’s hurting you by shutting you out. He knows this isn’t the right way to handle things, that his silence is only amplifying the ache for both of you.

Yet he feels paralyzed, trapped in this endless loop of shame and sadness. He’s been telling himself he just needs more time, but deep down, he wonders if any amount of time will be enough to make him feel whole again.

By now, he should’ve been back in New York. His flight was almost a week ago. His work is piling up, responsibilities waiting, but none of it seems to matter.

His body feels heavy, his mind clouded with everything that’s gone wrong. Moving, talking, doing anything... it all feels impossible. The future feels distant, unreachable, while the present keeps pulling him under.

“Someone’s here to see you.” Yoongi says, breaking the silence.

Jungkook sighs deeply, his shoulders slumping further. He doesn’t need to guess who it is. He already knows. And just like every other day this past week, he mutters the same words. “I don’t want to see her.”

“It’s not her.” Yoongi says quickly. Jungkook freezes at that, the words catching him off guard. There’s a brief pause before he slowly turns his head, curiosity breaking through his haze. He shifts slightly on the bed, looking at Yoongi standing by the door.

Yoongi steps aside and pushes the door open wider. Jungkook’s breath catches when he sees who steps into the room. His eyes widen, and he’s off the bed in an instant, his movements uncharacteristically quick.

“Ma!” he exclaims, his voice trembling, filled with surprise and a touch of desperation.

His mother stands there with a soft, understanding smile, her presence warm and familiar, like a balm for his aching soul.

But Jungkook doesn’t smile back. He doesn’t speak again. He simply rushes towards her, crossing the room in a heartbeat, and throws his arms around her.

“Ma.” he whispers again, softer this time, his voice breaking. His arms tighten around her as he buries his face in her shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut. She holds him just as tightly, her hand gently stroking the back of his head.

//

"Here, eat this." Jungkook’s mother says gently, holding a plate of food as she sits on the bed, facing him. Her voice is soft but firm, carrying a motherly authority that Jungkook doesn’t dare defy. She picks up a spoonful of rice, bringing it to his lips.

"How can you go on like this, Kook? Not eating, not taking care of yourself..." She shakes her head softly, a small sigh escaping her.

Jungkook opens his mouth obediently, letting her feed him. He chews mechanically, his gaze fixed on her face. Her expression is calm, unchanging, the same serene smile he’s known all his life.

Her eyes seem to study him with quiet concern, yet there’s an unshakable strength behind them. It’s comforting in a way that almost makes his chest ache more.

It’s been twenty minutes since she walked into his room. Twenty minutes since he buried himself in her arms, his emotions spilling over for the first time in days.

Yet, he hasn’t uttered a word about the storm brewing in his heart. He doesn’t know how she got here, doesn’t know why she’s here. Did Yoongi call her? Does she know what happened? More importantly, does she know what he’s learned about her... about their past?

His thoughts swirl in a relentless loop. He keeps telling himself it can’t be true, that it doesn’t make sense. But the questions claw at him, relentless, demanding answers.

His mother lifts another spoonful to his mouth, and he opens instinctively. He chews slowly, his mind racing as he watches her. She seems... the same. The same gentle demeanor, the same patient smile.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Jungkook speaks, his voice hesitant and shaky. “Ma...”

She hums softly at his voice, acknowledging him but continuing to feed him. He swallows thickly, his throat tight. “I... I need to ask you something...” he says. The words feel heavy, like they’re scraping their way out of his chest. “Y/n’s mother... she told me a few things.”

Her hand pauses for a fraction of a second, the spoon hovering in the air, a few inches away from his mouth. But her expression doesn’t falter. She places the spoon back on the plate and looks at him directly, her calm gaze unwavering. “I know.” she says simply.

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. Of course she knows. She always knows. But it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. He searches her face for a hint of denial, some sign that it’s not what he fears. “If... If you’re wondering if any of it is true...” her voice trails off, and she looks at him with an unspoken apology in her eyes.

His breath catches. He can feel the words coming before she even says them, but he’s still not ready. “They’re all true, Kook.” she says softly, her tone gentle.

Jungkook stares at his mother with wide eyes, the weight of her confession pressing down on him like a heavy storm cloud. His thoughts are a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief, and the depth of her words only leaves him more perplexed.

But before he can even form a coherent question, she continues, her tone soft but firm, as if determined to finally unburden herself after all these years.

“When we were in Busan....” she begins, her gaze drifting towards the window where sunlight filters through the newly drawn curtains, illuminating the room with a brightness Jungkook hadn’t seen in days.

“It was hard, Kook. Being a single mother… it wasn’t easy. People weren’t exactly kind, and landing a decent job was a struggle. But somehow, I managed to secure a position at a respectable company. It felt like a turning point.”

Jungkook listens intently, noticing how her voice wavers slightly. “Life became a little easier after that.” she continues.

“I could give you a proper allowance. I was able to afford your photography courses in high school. I even started saving money... something I never thought I’d be able to do. For the first time, I thought life was finally falling into place.”

She pauses, her lips curling into a bittersweet smile. “And maybe, in hindsight, I got a little greedy. I started thinking... now that we were stable, maybe it was time for me to think about myself for once. To find love again.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows slightly, confusion flickering across his features. She notices but presses on, her voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and regret. “My manager at the time… he was a kind man. At least, I thought he was. I don’t know if he pitied me or if his feelings were genuine, but... one thing led to another, and we fell in love.”

She pauses, exhaling softly. “For a while, everything was perfect. You were thriving in school, my bank account wasn’t empty anymore, and for the first time in years, I felt like a woman again... like someone who was cared for. I even thought about introducing him to you, about telling you that I’d found someone who made me happy.”

Her expression darkens slightly, the corners of her lips twitching downward. “But all of that changed one night. I was working late, staying overtime to finish a project. I stepped out to the coffee room for a quick break, and on my way back, I heard noises coming from one of the conference rooms. It sounded... strange... like someone was yelling.”

Jungkook feels his chest tighten, the anticipation growing as his mother’s voice lowers, tinged with unease. “I got curious and peeked in. What I saw... I still... I still wish I hadn’t. My manager... the man I thought I wanted to build a future with... was berating an employee." she pauses, letting out a soft breath.

"But it wasn’t just yelling. It was violent. He was shoving the employee, slamming papers onto the desk, threatening them. At first, I thought it was a one-off, maybe a moment of stress. But the more I watched, the uglier it got. He was kicking their knees, smacking their face, saying vile things like they were less than human.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides. “Did you... did you saying anything back then?” he asks quietly.

“I should've... but I didn't because honestly, I wasn’t sure what I’d seen... ” she replies, her voice steady but heavy with the weight of the memory. “But something inside me told me it wasn’t an isolated incident. So I started paying attention. Watching him. Watching others in the company. And, Kook... it wasn’t just him.”

Her gaze drops to her hands, now gripping the edge of the plate in her lap. “It was everywhere around the company. Managers and higher-ups abusing their authority, taking advantage of their employees. Screaming at them, humiliating them, even threatening to ruin their careers. And worse... when I started digging deeper, I found financial misconduct, embezzlement, and exploitation.”

Jungkook feels the air grow thick with the gravity of her words. “I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. So, I started collecting evidence... voice recordings, videos, emails. Anything I could use to expose them. And eventually... I did.”

She smiles faintly, but it’s laced with bitterness. “I went to the authorities anonymously and leaked everything. At first, it seemed like justice might prevail. The company took a massive hit, and several higher-ups were investigated. But it didn’t end there.”

“What... what happened?” Jungkook whispers, his voice trembling.

“The company was owned by a powerful, influential family and the scandal bothered them... a lot.” she explains, her tone growing quieter and Jungkook immediately knows who she's referring to.

“It didn’t take the company long to figure out who had leaked the information. And when they did... everything came back to me. The media had a field day. My name was dragged through the mud. People called me unprofessional, accused me of sleeping with my manager to gain favors. They twisted everything to make me look like the villain.”

Her voice cracks slightly, but she takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “I didn’t care about my reputation, Kook. But I cared about you. I was terrified that you’d be dragged into it, that kids at your school would bully you, that your life would change because of my actions. And I couldn’t let that happen. So, with what little savings I had left, I made the decision to leave. To move far away, to a place where I could give you a better future. It was hasty, yes, but looking back... I don’t regret it... at all. I’d do it again to protect you.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens, his chest aching as he watches the quiet strength in his mother’s face. Her sacrifices, her pain... it all begins to make sense, to sink in, piece by piece. “Ma... I didn’t know...” he murmurs, his voice breaking.

“I never wanted you to.” she replies, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “All I ever wanted was for you to have a life free from the burdens I carried. And if I had to do it all over again, Kook, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

Jungkook feels his vision blur with tears, and before he can stop himself, he leans forward, pulling his mother into a tight hug. His arms tremble as they wrap around her, and he buries his face into her shoulder, letting out the sobs he'd been holding back.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Mom." he cries, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His mother strokes his back gently, her touch soothing even as her own tears threaten to spill. "Oh, sweetheart, don’t be sorry." she chuckles, her voice soft yet steady. "You don’t need to apologize for anything."

A few quiet seconds pass. "You know... I really thought she was the one." Jungkook whispers. "But it... it just got too much. I tried so hard to be strong... no matter how much her mother tried to walk all over me." He pulls his mother closer, his grip tightening as his emotions spill over.

"I love her so much, Ma." he cries, burying his face against her shoulder. "But now... I just... I just want to go home." His voice drops to a quiet murmur.

His mother says nothing, holding him still, her presence grounding him as he clings to the one person who has always been there.

They stay like that, wrapped in an embrace that feels timeless. Jungkook feels like a child again, sheltered in the safety of his mother’s arms, a refuge against the storm raging in his heart. The room falls silent except for the soft hum of their breaths, the world outside momentarily forgotten.

Eventually, his mother shifts, gently pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. She cups his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the tears that streak his cheeks. Her lips curve into a soft, loving smile, though her eyes glisten.

"I may not have had much luck in love..." she begins, her tone tender. "But you, Kook… you don’t have to carry that fear. You’re not me."

Jungkook blinks at her, his sniffles the only sound breaking the stillness as she continues. "I know this is a lot to take in. And I know things have unfolded in ways neither of us ever wanted." she says.

"But you’re stronger than you think. And you deserve to let yourself love, even if it feels terrifying." She pauses, letting her words settle. Then, after a moment, she smiles again, her voice soft but purposeful.

"You know… Y/n was the one who called me and brought me here." she reveals. Jungkook’s brows knit in surprise, but he stays silent, his eyes searching hers. "That girl… she cares about you so much, Jungkook. More than I think you even realize."

Her smile falters slightly, replaced by a solemn look. "I know it’s hard." she says. "Facing her, facing everything after what’s happened... it’s not easy. And knowing the challenges her family brings into the picture… it must feel overwhelming."

Jungkook lowers his gaze, his hands curling into fists in his lap. His mother reaches out, gently covering one of his hands with her own, her touch warm and reassuring. "But shutting her out, ignoring her... that will only hurt her." she says. "And it’ll hurt you even more."

Her words feel like a lifeline, cutting through the fog clouding his mind. He looks up at her, his heart aching at the sincerity in her expression. There’s no judgment in her eyes... only love, hope, and unwavering belief in him.

"You don’t have to worry about me anymore." she continues, her voice soft but firm. "I’ll be okay, Kook. I’ve made my peace with the past."

She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "So do what your heart tells you." she whispers, her voice filled with gentle conviction.

"If you still want to go back, I’ll understand. But I still think you should go and talk to her, before we go."

Jungkook closes his eyes, letting her words sink in, and for the first time in days, he feels the faintest flicker of clarity, a spark of hope amid the chaos.

//

The cool evening breeze brushes past your hair as you gaze down at the glimmering water, the rippling reflections of streetlights dancing on the surface of the tranquil sincheon river. The world around you feels quiet, yet your chest churns with restlessness.

Jungkook had finally reached out. He had called. And you had begged him to meet you. You needed to see him because frankly, you were practically unraveling without him.

Now, here you are, waiting by the walking trail that winds along the river. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you lift your gaze up to the sky. The sun has long set, but its remnants linger, smearing the horizon with hues of violet and amber, like a bruise spreading across the heavens.

You're nervous, scared even. You don’t know what you’re going to say or what he might have to tell you. You just hope that his mother, whom you had called in desperation, was able to ease some of the burden you knew he was carrying.

Your mind is a chaotic swirl of emotions, tangled in fear and anticipation but the sound of approaching footsteps halts the train of your thoughts. You whip around, your heart leaping to your throat. And there he is. Your boyfriend.

His presence seems to anchor you and unmoor you at once. Your breath catches as you take in his appearance... he looks drained, exhausted. His eyes are shadowed by evident dark circles, and his shoulders droop with a weariness that tugs painfully at your chest.

All you want to do is pull him close, to hold him, to protect him. Without hesitation, you do just that.

"Baby... oh my god." you breathe out, your voice trembling as you jog up to him. Wrapping your arms around his frame, you cling to him tightly, pressing your face against his chest. His familiar scent, warm and grounding, fills your senses. "I missed you." you whisper.

His arms move just as quickly, circling your waist with the same desperate fervor, holding you as though letting go might shatter him. "I missed you too." he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The warmth of his breath grazes the curve of your neck, and in that moment, something inside you unravels... a knot of fear and longing dissolves into the solace of his embrace.

The world around you melts away, leaving only the sound of the river lapping gently and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

The two of you stay entwined in that embrace and minutes stretch into something timeless, and slowly, reluctantly, you open your eyes and carefully pull away. Your gaze meets his, and the weight of your emotions crashes over you like a tidal wave. Tears spring to your eyes, unbidden.

“Kook... I’m sorry.” you begin, your voice trembling as your lip quivers. “I’m sorry for everything. I don’t know what my mom was thinking—” Your words catch, a sob escaping your chest, breaking through the dam you’ve tried to hold steady.

“Hey...” Jungkook breathes out gently, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His thumbs brush away your tears, though they continue rolling down your cheek. “It’s okay.” he whispers, his voice steady yet tender, a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

But you shake your head, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry for everything, Kook. I really am.” you choke out, your voice cracking under the weight of your regret.

“It’s not your fault.” he murmurs, his dark eyes searching yours, shimmering with his own restrained emotions. “Shhh...” he hushes you, pulling you close again.

His embrace is solid, a haven, and you wonder how someone can carry so much grace. Even now, when he should be the one comforted, he holds you together.

The tears spill freely as you bury yourself in his arms, your body trembling against his. Jungkook’s hands move gently along your back, his touch rhythmic and calming. “This past week... it’s been so hard, Kook. I missed you so much.” you manage between sobs, your voice cracking.

Jungkook feels his heart splintering, guilt threading its way through him. He tightens his hold on you, his own breath hitching as he battles the storm inside. He knows he hurt you by shutting you out, but at the time, it felt like the only way he could cope. He was drowning too.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to see your face. His hand stays warm against your damp cheek, his thumb gliding across the soft curve of your cheekbone.

When your teary eyes lock with his, something magnetic draws you closer. You tilt your head upward, closing your eyes, and press your lips to his in a kiss that feels like both an apology and a plea.

Jungkook responds instantly, his lips meeting yours with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. His hands anchor you in place, one cradling your jaw while the other settles at your waist.

The kiss deepens, raw and full of unspoken emotions, and you can feel in the way his lips move against yours just how much he’s missed you, too.

When he finally pulls back, breathless, his chest rises and falls rapidly. “I’m sorry I shut you out...” he exhales.

You shake your head quickly. “No, Kook. You had every reason to. What my mom did... it was unforgivable. She had no right to come at you like that... and... and disrespect you like that.”

Stepping back slightly, you look up at him, your hands still resting lightly on his chest. “I had no idea she’d been scheming all of this behind my back. When I brought you here, I just... I wanted to introduce you to my family because you’re so important to me. You’re everything to me.” Your voice softens, but your words are laced with an ache that refuses to go away.

“I should’ve seen it coming, though. The first time she was rude to you in the kitchen, I should’ve taken the hint. I should’ve warned her to stay out of this.”

He exhales deeply, the sound heavy with a mix of resignation and lingering pain. Slowly, he moves past you as he edges closer to the riverbank.

"I knew she never liked me..." he starts, his voice low, carrying the weight of a truth he’s held in for too long. "It was so obvious. She didn’t even try to hide it." A humorless chuckle escapes his lips, but it’s laced with pain, not mirth.

You follow him quietly, closing the distance, until you’re standing right next to him. The cold bites at your cheeks, but the ache in his voice hurts even more.

Together, you gaze at the dark river ahead, the water shimmering faintly under the moonlight and the surrounding streetlights.

"A part of me understood her..." he continues, turning his head slightly towards you. His eyes, glistening but guarded, meet yours for a fleeting moment before he looks away. "She had every right to be worried. I mean… I’m dating her daughter. Of course, she’d be protective."

You hold his gaze briefly but remain silent, sensing he needs to say more.

"Maybe she doubted my intentions..." he admits, his tone soft but raw, like he’s peeling back layers of himself for you. "Maybe she thought I could never be good enough for you." His shoulders rise in a small shrug, his expression distant.

"All of that… it’s valid. I could accept it, you know? I would’ve tried. Tried to prove myself to her, even if it felt impossible."

He stops, his jaw tightening as he stares at the water. The moonlight catches on his profile, illuminating the subtle tremor in his lips as he fights to hold himself back from brutally cracking open.

"But when she brought up my mother..." His voice wavers, and he turns his face away, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. "She said she didn’t want to be linked to a family like mine. And that…" He exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the memory. "That broke me."

You feel your chest tighten at his words, your heart aching for the pain he’s trying so hard to contain. He doesn’t need to explain further because you already understand what he's trying to say.

"Kook..." you call out softly, inching closer and placing a gentle hand on his arm. "She was so so wrong... so wrong. And it wasn’t fair to you at all."

He turns his head slightly, his gaze flickering to yours, the sadness in his eyes now tinged with something else... perhaps relief at being seen, or maybe the fact that he can finally open up.

"And I’m done." you say, your voice firmer now, though it still trembles at the edges. "I’m done making excuses for her. For her actions, for the way she treated you, for the way she handled things."

You reach out with your other hand, cupping his jaw and guiding his face towards you. His eyes, meet yours fully now. "Kook..." you whisper, your breath hitching as his name falls from your lips.

"Your past, what your mom did, my reputation… none of that matters to me. It never has, and it never will." Your thumb gently grazes his cheek, and you see the tension in his jaw loosen, ever so slightly. "All that matters to me is you."

His lips part as if to respond, but the words seem to fail him. You press on, your voice shaking with sincerity.

"You matter so much to me..." you confess, your heart pounding as you take another step closer, until there’s no space left between you. "And I’m ready to leave all of this behind... I'm ready to walk out of everything if it means I can be with you. None... of this matters without you."

He looks down at you, his brows furrowing as he tries to process the enormity of your words. His chest rises and falls heavily under your touch, his breath warm against the cool night air.

"Let’s start over." you say, your voice soft but resolute. "Let’s start a new life together in New York... our home. That’s where we belong, Kook. That’s where I belong. With you."

Your words hang in the air, suspended between the two of you, and you can feel the shift in him... his walls crumbling under the weight of what you're saying.

"Let's elope, Kook."

<- part 6 // final ->

series masterlist

taglist: @mirinaeii @taetaecatboy @tsukiesimp @lovingkoalaface @taekrve @jaytheatiny @loverofannabeth @jaerisdiction @whoa-jo @parkinglot-nights @reneeblack6230 @rrosiitas @shellyyy177 @majesticjung-97 @wobblewobble822

[multidimensionalguidance]

Uttara Bhadrapada: Princess Dreams

"Anora" is movie of a young sex worker from Brooklyn, getting her chance at a Cinderella story when she meets and impulsively marries the son of an oligarch.

Mikey Madison, the actress playing as the main protagonist has Sun-Jupiter in UBP (Pisces) and Moon in Punarvasu (Gemini). The "marrying rich" and Cinderella theme trope mentioned by Claire Nakti continues to prove itself.

Of course, it has WAY deeper connections and themes about resilience despite challenges and obstacle. The ways in which our own sense of duty and responsibilities help us refine our selves into almost perfection, but only after we choose to do it feeling humble about it.

"From rags to riches" fits all Saturn nakshatras because this is the natural path and order. All water signs are more likely to attract wealth because Jupiter and Venus exalts in this element. It always comes with struggle, hardships, obstacles though.

What called my attention the most is Saturn ruling over employment, concubines, low-caste women, and the protagonist fitting all the themes. These nakshatras experience harshness from a young age. Yet, their resilience and longevity allows them to be rewarded on the long run.

Either way I’m truly mind blown how this specific nakshatra found in Pisces carries these elements, but extensively how all the other sings (Anuradha and Pushya) do as well.

Please do keep in mind that even though they carry this trope, it doesn't always end up in a happy ending. An easy and out of the top of my head example is Grimes (Sun in UBP) marrying Elon Musk a whole billionaire and even having kids with him, but only to end separated and experiencing the aftermath of this turbulent relationship.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Story Plot

Plot - is what happens in a story.

Every story is made up of both events and characters.

A story happens because a pattern is interrupted.

If you are writing about a day that is like any other day, it is most likely a routine, not a story.

A Strong Plot

Centered on one moment—an interruption of a pattern, a turning point, or an action—that raises a dramatic question, which must be answered throughout the course of the story. This is also known as plot A.

Every element of the plot—each scene, each line—exists in service of answering that question. There are myriad plot devices that can bolster the main story; these are considered subplots.

7 Types of Plots

The nature of the dramatic question informs the plot and what kind of story it will be. Are the characters threatened by something external or internal? What genre will the story be?

Tragedy

Your main character should undergo a major change of fortune — almost always from good to bad, happy to sad.

Tragic characters have to suffer.

Comedy

Even though your characters have defects, their defects should never wind up being painful or destructive.

Comic characters make it through unscathed.

Hero’s Journey

The hero of a story must undergo two things:

Recognition and reversal of a situation.

Something has to happen from the outside that inspires the hero in a way that he/she didn’t realize before.

Then he has to undertake a quest to solve the situation.

Rags to Riches

Remember Cinderella? The classic fairy tale follows a simple rags-to-riches plot:

the protagonist is downtrodden, impoverished, or otherwise struggling, and through a series of events—either magical, like in Cinderella, or more realistic, like in Great Expectations — achieves success.

This type of plot often features a happy ending.

Rebirth

The rebirth style of plot follows a character’s transformation from bad to good.

The character will frequently have a tragic past that informs their current negative view of life, however, a series of events (usually set in motion by the protagonist or a narrator) will help them see the light.

See: Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, or the Beast in Beauty and the Beast.

Overcoming the Monster

Otherwise known as the good versus evil plot, this type of story features a protagonist (good) fighting an antagonist (evil).

The protagonist can be a singular character or a group united in their mission.

The antagonist is generally a big, bad evil (like Darth Vader in Star Wars) who continuously throws obstacles in the protagonist’s way—until the final battle.

Voyage & Return

This plot is a simple point A to point B and back to point A plot.

The protagonist sets off on a journey, only to return to his or her starting point having gained wisdom and experience (and sometimes treasure too).

Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist is a beloved contemporary illustration of this plot.

How to Outline a Story Plot: Three-Act Structure

Beginning

The beginning of your novel has to accomplish a lot.

It must introduce the hero, the villain, and the world of the story, as well as the story’s dramatic question, and it must do this with enough energy to grab your reader’s interest right away.

A prologue can be useful for seizing the reader’s attention.

Middle

Your job during the middle of the story is to make the hero’s quest as difficult as possible so that at every moment it seems less likely that the hero will triumph.

You must raise the stakes along the way and create obstacles of ever-increasing intensity while keeping your eye firmly fixed on your conclusion.

The different plot points can include the basic plot, plus various subplots.

The main plot of a story always has to build up to the resolution.

End

The end of your story answers the dramatic question, which already has your ending hidden within it.

For example, if your question is:

Will Ahab catch the whale?

Then your story’s finale will be the moment when he does.

Often, tension evaporates in the middle of a novel, so it’s a good idea to write your ending first. It may not be perfect, and you can always change it later, but it’s useful to know the climax to which your characters are headed.

Having that destination will help you stay focused during the “middle muddle.”

Freytag’s Pyramid

German novelist Gustav Freytag expanded on Aristotle’s concept of plot by adding 2 additional components to the beginning, middle, and end:

Rising action and falling action.

Freytag’s dramatic arc, also known as Freytag’s Pyramid, includes the following:

Exposition. This is the beginning of the story.

Rising action. Once the story has begun, it is important to create tension by raising the stakes. You must raise the stakes along the way and create obstacles of ever-increasing intensity while keeping your eye firmly fixed on your conclusion.

Climax (middle). The pinnacle of your plot.

Falling action. The falling action occurs after the climax but before the end. Falling action frequently depicts the protagonist dealing with the consequences or fallout of the climax. The falling action is when the protagonist ties up loose ends and heads toward the conclusion. It is also referred to as the denouement.

Resolution. This is the end of the story.

Source ⚜ The 3-Act Structure: History & Elements ⚜ A Guide More References: Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding ⚜ Writing Notes

[itsbensart]

Burnt Out but Not Alone

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Male Reader | Part 2

Summary: Y/N feels overwhelmed by his demanding workload and the pressure of looming deadlines. Despite his exhaustion, he refuses to take a break, even as concern grows from friends like Elphaba—and even the Winkie Prince. When Fiyero sees just how much Y/N is struggling, he offers unexpected help, proving that sometimes, even the most carefree people can provide the support needed during times of stress.

Warnings: Excessive teasing and playful banter, Subtle romantic tension, Themes of academic pressure and burnout, Light physical touches (e.g., arm grabs), Vulnerability in moments of exhaustion, and Heartwarming support from an unexpected ally.

A/N: Y/N is an Architecture Student specializing in Ozian Architecture at Shiz University, known for its demanding curriculum.

Word Count: 1,743 words

The lecture hall buzzed with the soft hum of conversations, the rhythmic tapping of pens against desks, and the occasional shuffle of papers. Y/N sat in the middle row, staring at his open notebook but not truly seeing it. His thoughts were elsewhere, replaying Fiyero’s smug grin and that low, teasing voice that seemed to follow him even now.

“You know what to do if you want to shut me up, doll.”

The memory sent an involuntary flush to his cheeks. He quickly ducked his head, hoping no one noticed. Shaking his head, he tried to dispel the distraction. This was no time to get flustered. An endless list of tasks awaited, and Professor Solennia was already notorious for her high standards.

Y/N’s chosen course, Ozian Architecture, wasn’t for the faint of heart. It was one of the most demanding programs at Shiz University, known for its rigorous workload and the precision it required. Students delved deep into the rich architectural history of Oz—an eclectic mix of styles balancing the grandeur of Emerald City’s gleaming towers with the rustic charm of Munchkinland’s cottages and the imposing, fortress-like structures of Winkie Country.

Today’s lecture focused on the integration of natural and magical elements in building design, a cornerstone of Ozian architecture. The topic would have been fascinating under other circumstances, but Y/N found himself struggling to concentrate. Between looming deadlines and the lingering echoes of Fiyero’s remarks, his mind was a chaotic mess.

Professor Solennia’s voice cut through his thoughts. “As you can see, the inclusion of enchantments in structural integrity was not merely aesthetic but practical. Now, who can tell me how the dragon clock influenced the design of Emerald City’s central spire?”

Y/N froze as the professor’s gaze swept across the room. He usually prided himself on being prepared for questions like this, but today, his mind was blank. He prayed someone else would answer, his heart pounding as he stared down at his notes—frustratingly empty.

By the end of class, as students filed out, Y/N realized just how little he had retained. The weight of his responsibilities crashed back down on him, amplified by the realization that he was now further behind than before.

He decided to head to the university’s library to tackle his pending tasks—especially the scale model due next week. Though he was exhausted, he had no choice. The output would determine whether he passed this semester.

As he walked through the hallway, he almost bumped into Elphaba, who had been waiting for him to catch up. She noticed his drooping posture and the dark circles under his eyes immediately.

"Y/N," she said, her voice softer than usual, "You look like you haven’t slept in days."

Y/N gave a half-hearted shrug, trying to brush her off. "I’m fine, Elphaba. Just... busy, you know? I have a lot to do."

She narrowed her eyes, not buying his response. "It’s more than just being busy. You’re running yourself ragged. You need rest."

"I don’t have time for rest," Y/N replied, his tone more tired than he meant it to be. "There’s too much to do."

Elphaba hesitated for a moment, clearly concerned. "I get it, but this—" she gestured to him, her eyes lingering on his fatigued form, "—isn't sustainable. You’re only going to burn out."

Y/N gave a small, dismissive smile. "I’ll be fine. I just need to get through this week."

Elphaba didn’t look convinced but didn’t press the matter further. "Alright, just don’t overdo it. Take care of yourself, Y/N."

He nodded quickly, not meeting her eyes, and made his way toward the library, eager to escape the conversation.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Fiyero Tigelaar had been wandering the campus, casually searching for his favorite “doll” to tease. His natural charm and carefree demeanor had earned him a reputation for showing up wherever and whenever he pleased, and today was no different.

As he strolled into the library, his piercing eyes immediately spotted Y/N in his corner.

Fiyero smirked. This was too perfect. He sauntered over, his footsteps deliberately light. “There you are. Hiding in the library, huh? Didn’t think this was your kind of hangout spot.” As he slid into a seat beside Y/N, he leaned closer, his voice low enough to only reach him. “Still thinking about me, doll?”

Y/N clenched his jaw, his ears burning as he hissed, “You wish.”

Fiyero chuckled, clearly pleased with the reaction, and leaned back in his chair. “You’re awfully red for someone who’s not thinking about me.”

Y/N barely looked up, his pencil pausing briefly before resuming its work. “Not now, Fiyero. I’m busy.”

The lack of reaction made Fiyero blink in surprise. Usually, his remarks earned him a flushed face or an exasperated retort. Instead, Y/N’s tone was flat, his focus unbroken.

“Busy?” Fiyero peered down at Y/N’s sketches. “What’s got you so tied up? Another one of those fancy projects?”

“Yes,” Y/N responded curtly. “So please, not now, Fiyero.”

Fiyero, however, seemed unbothered. “So, what’s next, doll? More lectures? Or maybe some of that architectural magic you lot are so obsessed with?”

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh, his patience worn thin. “I have too many tasks to finish. Does that answer your question?”

Fiyero tilted his head, studying Y/N’s face with uncharacteristic seriousness. “You look exhausted.”

“Thanks for noticing,” Y/N muttered, packing up his materials before leaving the library, hoping the prince wouldn’t follow him.

At first, Fiyero assumed it was just another one of Y/N’s quirks—being too serious about academics and all—but as the hours turned into days, he couldn’t ignore the change. The playful teasing he usually dished out with ease seemed to fall flat, met with a tired smile or a quiet nod instead of Y/N’s usual fiery retorts. Fiyero had tried to brush it off, but the concern gnawed at him, growing stronger with each passing day.

One afternoon, while they were in the cafeteria, Fiyero noticed Y/N in line. With a tray in hand, Y/N seemed oblivious to his surroundings, swaying slightly from exhaustion. Just as it seemed Y/N might stumble, Fiyero reacted quickly, grabbing him to prevent a fall.

"Alright, doll," he began, keeping his tone light, though concern lingered beneath the surface. "You’ve been looking like you’re one step away from collapsing. What’s going on?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Y/N glanced at him briefly, then lowered his gaze to the ground. "Just… school stuff. You wouldn’t understand."

Fiyero frowned, his usual teasing grin replaced with a concerned expression. "Try me."

Y/N sighed long and heavy, adjusting the strap of his overburdened bag. "There’s just too much. Drafts, models, presentations… I can’t keep up. And Ozian Architecture isn’t an easy course. It feels like I’m drowning, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep my head above water."

Fiyero came to a stop, gently grabbing Y/N’s arm and halting him in his tracks. "Why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Y/N shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "What good would it do? It’s not like anyone can help. This is my workload. My responsibility."

Fiyero didn’t respond immediately, instead narrowing his eyes at Y/N’s exhausted face. "How much have you slept? Or even rested?"

The silence that followed was answer enough.

Fiyero’s usual smirk softened into something more like genuine concern. "Alright, doll. Time to take a break."

"I don’t have time for a break," Y/N snapped, his tone sharper than he intended.

Fiyero stood firm, the command in his voice unmistakable. "Then you don’t have a choice. Let’s go," he said, pulling Y/N toward the courtyard with surprising insistence.

"I’m serious, Fiyero. I have so much to—"

"And I’m serious too," Fiyero interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. "You’re running yourself into the ground, and you know it. If you collapse, you’re not going to finish anything."

Y/N frowned, but the warmth of Fiyero’s hand on his arm and the determination in his eyes made resistance feel futile.

They walked in silence, the noise of the cafeteria fading as they headed for the quieter courtyard. Once there, Fiyero led Y/N to a bench, underneath an oak tree. "Sit," he ordered, dropping his own bag onto the ground.

Too tired to argue, Y/N complied.

For once, Fiyero didn’t joke or tease; instead, he looked thoughtful. After a moment, his gaze sharpened. "Alright, here’s what we’re going to do."

Y/N blinked up at him, still a bit disoriented. "What?"

"I’m going to help you."

Y/N let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "You? Help? No offense, Fiyero, but this isn’t exactly your area of expertise."

Fiyero smirked, though it was softer than usual. "Maybe not. But I can still do something. I’ll carry your books, keep you company during late nights, or even distract you when you’re on the verge of a breakdown."

Sitting beside him, Fiyero leaned back, as if the weight of the world didn’t rest on his shoulders. "Look, I might not understand all your architectural mumbo jumbo, but I can help in other ways. You don’t have to do this alone, doll."

Y/N opened his mouth to respond but paused. The sincerity in Fiyero’s eyes caught him off guard. For the first time in days, a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. "You’re serious?"

"Dead serious," Fiyero replied, his grin widening. "Starting now. So, what’s first on the agenda, Mr. Burnt-Out Architect?"

Y/N hesitated, then admitted, "I have to finish a scale model for tomorrow, and I still need to draft the base plans."

"Easy," Fiyero said, slinging an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. "You draft, I’ll cut and glue. I’m not completely useless, you know."

"You’re really going to help me?" Y/N asked, feeling the weight on his shoulders lighten just a little.

Fiyero chuckled. "What can I say? You’re growing on me. And besides, I can’t have you walking around looking like a zombie. It ruins my fun."

Though exhaustion still pulled at him, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly. "Alright, Tigelaar. Let’s see if you can keep up."

As they made their way toward the studio, Y/N felt a strange warmth spreading through his chest. Maybe, he wouldn’t have to face the chaos alone after all.

And maybe, just maybe, Fiyero Tigelaar was more than just a cocky prince of charm.

To be Continued.....

A/N: Hello! Here’s the second chapter of my series, (I don't have a title yet, so..... yeah). I’m so happy you’re sticking around to see where this story goes—it means a lot!

There’s definitely more drama, love, and emotions coming your way, so keep an eye out for the next chapters. I’d love to hear what you think, feel free to leave a comment. Thanks for reading, and see you in the next one! 😊

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 177 }

the prince and the pauper.

historical romance | fairytale au

prince!jinwoo sung x commoner!fem.reader

you were traveling with your younger brother, trying to survive as you took refuge within the forest after the passing of your parents.

never one to know the joys and luxury of having a stable home with enough riches to keep you and your sibling well-fed, it was a struggle for you to maintain a carefree attitude-

but alas, you had to keep your head held high, for your darling brother was relying on you. since your parents passing, you had to leave them behind, burying them beneath the harsh ground to the best of your abilities while soothing your brother's tears.

despite how hopeless you felt being left alone with such a heavy burden of trying to survive with your brother, you knew that if it wasn't for his presence in your life, then you would have given up and tossed yourself within your parent's graves a long time ago.

all sense of time had become lost on you, with you and your brother continuing to live within the depths of the forest whilst surviving on meager meals of nuts and berries. and moments where you manage to use what little hunting skill you had to bring back a small fowl or a handful of fish were few and far in between.

and during moments when nature's elements were truly testing your chances of survival (from harsh rain that made your ragged clothes dirty and the cold chill that would envelope your form), you felt your sense of confidence dwindling down-

which was what pushes you to your breaking point.

a sense of desperation fills you, and just when you lost all hope, you heard some commotion settled several feet away from you and your brother's current resting spot. the scent of a roaring fire coupled along with some boyish laughter makes your ears perk up in response.

you look back at your brother, seeing him still sleeping peacefully against the tree's trunk, exhausted and completely unaware of the men who set up camp just a mere stone's throw away. he appeared gaunt from the days spent going without food as a wave of love further fills you with a determination.

taking off your dirtied shawl, you place it over your brother and give him a whispered promise of your return. your eyes trail toward the blazing flames and the scent of smoke, padding your bare feet across the dirt path as you made sure to remain hidden within the foliage.

after several seconds spent walking, the sounds of laughter grew even louder as you hid behind a tree, turning your gaze toward the two men that were currently speaking to one another. thanks to the light of the roaring fire, you could see their armors shining from it. you assumed that these two men were knights that had just finished their hunts for the day.

while observing, you take note of one of the knights, noticing his sandy brown hair and boisterous voice that echoes throughout the forest. his armor was bathed in gold and silver, making your eyes water from how gaudy it all appeared. looking away from the talkative knight, you trail your eyes toward his companion-

only to feel your breath get stolen away.

settled directly in front of the bright knight was another young man who appeared to be his exact opposite. whereas the knight with the sandy brown hair was the sun, this other knight was more like the moon. his long, ebony locks of hair seemed to be the same shade as a moonless night, and had it not been for the flames settled directly beside him, you would have missed the startling grey quality of them.

his eyes are like moonlight. you muse to yourself, wondering why you felt a strange sense of familiarity at the mere sight of him.

as you raked through your brain for a viable explanation, you were suddenly brought back to a memory of your parents, back when they were alive and well while you were in your teens as your brother had barely been 5 years old. they spoke about the kindness of the king and queen of ahjin kingdom and had high hopes of moving there to bask in their reign.

they spoke of the prince and princess of the kingdom and how they were achingly beautiful-

and somehow, you just knew that this dark knight was also the crowned prince of ahjin- jinwoo sung.

your breathing becomes labored with anticipation, watching as the golden knight pours what appeared to be sweetened wine within the prince's chalice.

"my prince, are you certain it was a wise choice to leave our steed behind at the castle?" the golden knight asks the prince, earning a rich chuckle from him.

"what's this, jinho? i thought you were much braver than what i assumed. we are not too far away from thy castle, and mother wishes for us to find worthy game for the morrow's feast. i see no issue with leaving our mounts behind to rest. it shall be an easy feat that can be done when dawn arrives."

the sight of prince jinwoo's smile and laughter was enough to make your knees go a little weak in response. never before had you seen such a devastating man. in all of your 20-some years of living, he was by far the most magnificent man you had ever laid eyes on.

forcing yourself to look away from the prince and his knight, you press your back against the hard wood of the tree. you waited for the prince to drain his wine while hearing the other man, jinho, let out a yawn.

"tis best we get some rest, my prince. i can feel the sweet ale coursing through me, and i believe i shall have pleasant dreams tonight."

you listen as the prince hums in agreement, hearing the shuffling and gentle clanks of their armor before retiring back into their makeshift tents for the night. when only the sounds of flickering flames were heard did you finally make your move.

creeping closer to the encampment, you saw two tents, making note of how the one on the right had to have housed the golden knight. snores were heard coming from such a tent as you made your way to the one settled to your left.

holding your breath, you inch inside of the tent to see the dark outline of the prince in a peaceful slumber. he makes no movement, with his long, black hair fanned out beneath him against the dirt ground. a sense of bewilderment fills you at how lackluster his lodging was. you saw no thick blankets made of wolfskin surrounding him, or even a simple pillow filled with feathers. the prince simply lay peacefully with his hands folded across his abdomen, a silk shirt with matching pants covering him as his suit of armor lay in a neat pile next to him.

feeling as though you finally had some luck on your side, you crept closer to his suit of armor and decided to search through it. perhaps he had a piece of jewelry or a gold chain that you could sell for a handsome price?

despite the thought of you stealing something left your stomach in a twist of knots, just the thought of being able to feed you and your brother well with the earnings was enough to push you forward.

just as your hand touched at the gauntlets, you felt a sudden shift in the air before something sharp and cold was pressed against the base of your throat.

"what's this...? a little thief i see."

you were given no time to react, feeling a large hand gripping at the back of your shirt as you were suddenly tossed out into the midst of the campsite. the light blazing from the fire gives you the perfect view of prince jinwoo's handsome face twisted with fury and anger at you.

the sliver tip of his dagger was pressed against your throat, and you were certain that this was how you were to meet your demise. a rightfully furious prince had caught you trying to steal from him, and he was going to show no mercy while cutting off your throat-

yet, oddly enough, such acts of violence never came.

you didn't allow yourself the luxury to breathe, simply staring up at the prince with wide eyes as you saw his expression change from anger to something else entirely- something much softer; something much kinder.

he drops the dagger from your throat, using his large hand to brush back your tangled hair while wiping a bit of the grime seen on your face away. his lips were parted, and just as he leaned down closer to you-

you heard your brother calling out your name.

"DON'T TOUCH MY SISTER!" your eyes go wide as you faced your right, seeing your brother with several rocks within his grasps as he found one to aim at the prince.

you gasp, wishing to tell your brother that you were alright and to not hurt the prince. yet despite how much your brother wished to attack prince jinwoo, an almost amused smile paints his features.

"oh no you don't, little one." the prince's knight, jinho, manages to grab a hold of your brother's collar, nearly ripping apart his paper thin shirt when the prince barks at his knight, "let him go."

jinho's eyes go wide, yet still, he listens to his prince and sets your brother back down on the ground. anxiety and fear were seen painted across your brother's features, and you quickly got off the ground to go to him.

you take your brother within your tight embrace, putting on a brave facade while looking back and forth between jinho and prince jinwoo. neither men looked particularly angry, but you were still running on adrenaline, uncertain of what fate had in store for you.

"my prince, what shall we do with the thieves?"

the prince simply holds out a hand to jinho, meeting you and you brother's gaze with grey eyes that were filled with tranquility. "what are your names?"

swallowing thickly, you relinquish both you and your brother's name, an apology on the tip of your tongue, yet the intensity of prince jinwoo's gaze stops you from speaking any further.

"and just how old are you?"

"i-i believe i am near my twentieth year with my brother being ten years my junior..."

"hn, i see. not much older than me and my own sister."

he snaps his fingers at jinho, "they are coming with us."

your eyes go wide as jinho was heard proclaiming his protests, "surely you cannot be serious my lord! they tried to rob you-"

"i see nothing more than two orphans that are trying to survive." the prince's voice echoes with clarity across the expanse of the forest, the solemn expression within his gaze already making jinho keep his mouth shut.

"we shall take them back with us, and they will become servants for me and jinah respectively."

your mind had gone hazy as your brother clings to you, his eyes appearing wary as the crowned prince of ahjin brings you both back on your feet. a wistful smile paints his handsome features, and you felt the air escaping your lungs in uneven breaths at the sight. "come, the harsh forest is no place for kind souls such as yourselves..."

and with those final words from prince jinwoo, you and your brother returned with him back to his castle, your futures now looking less bleak...

{ ... }

to say you were quite joyful at the fact that ahjin's king and queen were both extremely kind would be an understatement. once jinwoo had allowed you and your brother's dirtied form within the comfort of the castle, he allows you to tell your story to his parents.

after admitting to the king and queen of your own parents' passing due to a sudden illness, their deep gazes were filled with empathy for you and your brother, welcoming you both as part of their staff. as the queen takes you and your brother to the closest washroom, jinwoo was seen speaking to his father in hushed tones.

you and your brother were quickly stripped of your ragged clothes, with the king and queen's own maids placing you both in a wooden bath filled with lukewarm waters. it had been freshly prepared by the queen's gentle demands, and not enough time had passed for the waters to warm up in the fireplace.

but you nor your brother dared to complain after receiving such generosity. as the maids helped you and your brother become cleaner, washing away the dirt and grime that was caked on to your skin while lathering your hair with wonderfully scented soaps that captured the essence of wildflowers growing beneath the summer's sunshine-

you were in absolute heaven.

once you were both completely cleaned, the maids had given you some clothes to wear. you nearly cried upon feeling the soft material covering the expanse of your body, no longer itching as you felt as though you had been reborn once more.

you figured that would be the end of such kindness, with you thanking the king and queen (and their son) for their generosity. however, when the maids lead you to the grand dining hall where several dishes were laid out for you and your brother to indulge in.

your brother, being so young, immediately charges toward the food, biting into the roasted turkey leg while soaking up the soft bread with the juices surrounding it. your own stomach was felt growling in response, but admittedly, you felt overwhelmed with the sheer amount of kindness.

a gentle hand felt against your back forces you to come closer to the dining area, with you looking back to see prince jinwoo smiling down at you. "don't be shy, eat."

he pulls out the chair for you, giving your brother a gentle smile while ruffling his hair. realizing your shocked state, jinwoo grabs what looks like a golden utensil, cutting apart the roasted meat while placing the morsel against your lips.

"say 'ah.'"

heat was felt dyeing your cheeks when you slowly parted your lips for him, your teeth biting down against the savory piece. you had to bite back a moan in response, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

another light chuckle was heard coming from the prince. "is it good?"

"i- yes... it's the most delicious meal i've ever had."

"delicious enough to make you cry?" he notices your tears and gently begins wiping them away with his hand, making a tiny whimper escape from you. unable to speak, you decide to bask in their kindness along with your brother, eating such a filling supper as the prince made sure you both had your fill.

exhaustion was felt coursing through your veins, with your brother letting out a yawn as well. the prince notices how he was nodding off and casually carries him within his arms. you let out a weak protest, reassuring the prince that you could carry him, but he insisted. following close behind him with a look of embarrassment, you notice a light pair of footsteps coming from behind you.

looking back, you see a young girl with light brown hair and matching eyes, calling out to the prince, "big brother, you promised that i would get to play with a new friend soon."

your heart melted at the sight of her cute face and matching voice, seeing the tears fill her vision as a pretty pout paints her lips. prince jinwoo was about to say something to his little sister, but you end up speaking first, kneeling down to her level while reassuring her.

"you will be able to play with a new friend soon. my little brother will happily keep you company. but for now, he needs to rest a bit to regain his strength."

the young princess looks up at you with bright eyes while giving you an eager nod.

and while you spoke to princess jinah, you were unaware of how the prince's gaze was filled with a fondness for you and your kindness, falling for you almost immediately as he vowed to always protect you.

{ ... }

five years has passed since that fateful night, and you were still known as prince jinwoo's sole servant as your brother filled a similar role with princess jinah with little complaint on his end. like jinwoo, the princess kept your brother by her side at all times, and you could see a beautiful friendship blossoming between them as they kept each other company while growing up together.

and while they grew closer, so did you and prince jinwoo-

but in your case, it was a bit more unfortunate, for with each day that passes, you found yourself falling deeply in love with the prince.

despite your best efforts to keep yourself from falling for such an amazing man, you truly could not help it. for not falling for him was as difficult as climbing up a steep mountain, leaving your hands bloodied and bruised as you willed your heart to not yearn for him-

it was so easy, so incredibly easy, to follow your heart and ignore the rationalities of your mind. you knew of the great difference in statuses between you and prince jinwoo.

whereas prince jinwoo was heir to a throne- whose future was basked in brightness as he was meant to marry a princess from a neighboring kingdom, you were just a mere servant meant to obey him for the rest of your life.

after all, prince jinwoo had graciously saved you and your brother from an ill-known fate. had you tried to live off the forest any longer, you were certain that you would have both met your demise due to how difficult it was to survive all alone during such a harsh period of your lives.

however, the prince's kindness only served as a double-edged sword to you, making you fall completely and utterly in love with him. even if it took you a herculean effort to keep your feelings from coming forth from your perfectly parted lips, you had to swallow back such desires, remaining miserable as talk of his marriage to a beautiful princess with golden hair and grey eyes echoed across the castle of ahjin kingdom.

such news put you in a bit of a depressive slump, with your steps losing its bounce as you followed prince jinwoo dutifully from behind. he had woken up before the sun, taking brisk steps towards his father's study when he stops. turning around, he faces you while calling out your name.

you shiver upon hearing it, basking in the way jinwoo's voice spoke the syllables that made up your name with such warmth that it made your heart ache.

"yes, my prince?"

he shakes his head, tilting his lips up in a wry smile when he takes a strand of your hair with his hand. your eyes go wide, seeing this as evident as one of the ways to express his gratitude for you. he admires your hair for a few more beats before pressing a kiss against the strands. "go on and help with the cooks in the kitchen. i have something dire i wish to discuss with my father, and i will join you shortly."

never one to disobey your beloved prince, you simply give him a smile and a curtsy, excusing yourself before heading toward the kitchen. you greet the other servants along the way, catching bits and pieces of their gossip.

"did you hear? prince jinwoo wishes to call off his long engagement to princess hae-in."

you did a double take, nearly running into the wall when a powerful hand stops you. "ah, my dear, just who i wished to see."

you look forward to see an old man with grey hair and deep set eyes the color of a forest. he was the head cook for the royal family as he takes a hold of your shoulders and leads you into the kitchen, "i would like your help in preparing tonight's supper. if you could be so kind as to help everyone cut up the vegetables for the stew while baking fresh rolls."

your mind was racing, and you did your best to complete each task in the kitchen with a steady hand. yet the words of gossip refused to leave the confines of your mind, and you kept going back to those lingering words.

jinwoo wishes to call off the engagement with the princess? but why? she's a renown beauty... she would have been fit to be his wife...

your heart was pounding as you slowly began to organize each freshly cut vegetables into their own separate piles. as you mulled over the words, a strange sense of hope begins to fill you.

perhaps, he didn't wish to take a wife after all... he would remain single-

and you could remain by his side as his sole servant.

despite how much you knew that such rumors could end up being false, you could not stop yourself from smiling so freely. if such rumors ended up being true-

then you could forever remain by prince jinwoo's side.

before you could help the cooks add the vegetables into the large cauldron, a familiar pair of arms wrapped around your front prevents you from moving forward. you look back to see your prince gazing fondly at you, letting out a dramatic sigh as he takes you away from the kitchen.

"i feel weary and tired after discussing important matters with my father. please, prepare a bath for me and wipe the sweat away from my brow."

your heart begins to race at the thought of preparing a bath for prince jinwoo. it was true that you had prepared thousands upon thousands of baths for your prince-

however, this would be the first time he had ever asked you to stay.

shaking your head to prevent any impure thoughts from entering them, you give your prince a nod along with your words of affirmation, "y-yes, of course, my prince."

jinwoo simply hums, placing a hand behind your back as he leads you to one of the many washrooms his castle held. with graceful steps, you enter the room and expertly lit a fire within the fireplace, moving the bathtub a bit closer to the flames before going towards one of the walls.

the king had expertly hired several masons to build his castle in the most convenient way possible. you no longer had to fetch buckets upon buckets of water from the well outside of the castle as now the waters flowed into the castle. each washroom had a stone trough filled with water, and whether such a convenient invention was man-made or made through magical means, you couldn't say for sure.

all you knew was that this was simply one of the many things that made your life a bit easier.

so you spent several minutes going back and forth, filling the wooden bathtub to the brim with as much water you could manage until prince jinwoo stops you. with your back turned to him, you dropped the wooden pail back within the water filled trough, only facing him when he calls out your name.

upon hearing a tiny splash!, you had to bite back a gasp, seeing prince jinwoo's toned chest submerged within the waters as it fell back into the cobblestone floors. he lets out a purr upon feeling the waters against his skin all while beckoning you to come closer to him.

"grab that cloth while taking off your garments, my darling."

you swore that you felt your heart pounding against the confines of your throat just then, leaving you breathless when you shakily ask him, "but, why would you ever need me to take off my garments, prince jinwoo?"

he rolls his eyes, gaze darkening just the tiniest bit when he tells you huskily, "how else is my darling girl going to get into this tub to wash every inch of me?"

the hesitation and shyness was evident in your gaze and heated face, with jinwoo breaking out into a smile. "come now, you have never denied me before. are you truly denying me right now?"

letting out a shaky sigh, you even out your breath before dropping the fabric of your clothes, leaving you completely bare for your prince. with the cloth in hand, you were ready to climb into the tub had it not been for jinwoo's large hands coming around your waist, using his strength to pick you up as you entered the tub with him.

the waters splashed violently around you with your added weight, making the heat dye your cheeks even more. your lips were parted, being met with prince jinwoo's amused gaze as he lay back against the tub.

"go on, wash your prince." he tells you with a sigh, closing his eyes as he waited for you to go on with your duties.

your heart was practically a mess by now, racing so badly that it made your hands tremble in response. you place the cloth within the bathwater before gently working on cleansing jinwoo's body. his skin remained so perfect and clear, leaving you mesmerized as you could feel his powerful body pressing against your softer frame.

when the tip of your cloth touches at the corner of his lips, you were struck with a sudden urge to kiss them; to finally feel such soft fullness against your very own lips. yet somehow, even despite the situation you found yourself in (completely naked with your prince's godlike body settled beneath the waters with you), you manage to reign in your desires and ask him.

"is it true?"

jinwoo hums once more before opening an eye to look at you, "is what true, my dear?"

you look away from him, feeling jinwoo slowly wrapping his arms around your naked back when you blurt out to him, "that you called off your engagement to princess hae-in."

you felt your prince stiffen in response momentarily to the question before visibly relaxing. he proceeds to run his hands up and down your bare back before taking you within his powerful embrace.

left gaping and filled with anticipation, you felt jinwoo press a kiss against your cheek, never once straying too far from your skin as he finds your ear to whisper against them, "why yes, it is completely and utterly true. and do you know why i called off such a pointless engagement?"

you clench your eyes shut, feeling your hands become fists against jinwoo's chest, "w-why did you call it off."

a gasp was felt escaping from you when he bites down against the shell of your ear, "because a certain thief stole my heart one night five years ago; a beautiful thief that tried to rob me, but ended up obtaining my complete and utter devotion in return."

your eyes go wide when prince jinwoo suddenly surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that takes your very breath away. due to your inexperience, you kissed him back shyly, earning a smile from him.

he playfully licks at the front of your lips before moving away from you. with grey eyes shining with mirth and adoration for you, he runs a hand across your damp hair. "the moment i first saw you, seeing your steadfast gaze on me despite how i had my dagger pressed dangerously close to your throat, i knew that i had to keep you- that i had to have you."

your mind was spinning now. was this really happening? had your life truly turned into this fairytale that you did not wish to awaken from?

"oh, jinwoo...! i-i loved you, too! ever since i was subjected to your unconditional kindness, i knew that i would forever be devoted to you!"

you fall against him, allowing jinwoo to wrap his arms protectively around your frame, "i thought it would be enough to serve you for the rest of my life, b-but to actually have you as my lover, it has been my greatest dream...!"

jinwoo chuckles once more, placing a hand beneath your chin as his gaze burns a bright silver hue for you, "oh, my darling love, the dream has only just begun. for you will not simply be my lover, but my future queen and wife as well. i have made sure to claim you and you alone for that title."

your gasp was quickly swallowed by another one of jinwoo's kisses, with you practically melting against him as you both made a never-ending oath to each other-

that no matter what the future may bring, you shall always remain by his side; a devoted queen that lives to serve and love her beloved king.

a.n. - omggggg this is so self indulgent! i recently began reading a historical romance trilogy, and became so infatuated with the storytelling and writing that i had to write something for jinwoo due to my inspired state! 😭😭😭😭 my desire to write always comes to me in the dead of night, so this will definitely be posted when it's early morning where i live. this is currently unedited, but i hope you readers enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[oharacest]

Now that the honeymoon phase for my hyperfixation with Gladiator II ended I can talk about what I disliked about the movie, specially compared to the first one. These are loose thoughts btw.

To me, it felt too... hopeful? And I feel like that rags to riches, good guy wins in the end thing doesn't go well with a movie about the Roman Empire, considering the way it crashed and burned.

I feel like Macrinus should've "won", since that's what happened irl, and it would be an interesting shift of expectations. If he had won we'd also get a neat segue into any possible sequels of spin offs with Elagabalus (I imagine a flamboyant empress/emperor with genderqueer elements could make for good television)

I also wished we has seen more of the twins mother, even a passing comment of her being away or something would be enough.

And finally, I've seen people complaining about how disjointed the first movie feels to the second one, and I agree. I think there's untapped potential in exploring what happened between movies, like a miniseries exploring the year of the five emperors and the Severan dynasty.

[wickedwitchofthegalaxy]

☞︎𝑅𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒: 𝒮𝒶𝓁𝓋𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃☜

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: 𝑨𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏(𝑳𝒂𝒕𝒆𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒔)𝑿 𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: NSFW 18+, Minors DNI, Power imbalance, Emotional manipulation, Toxic dynamics, Praise kink, Dream state, Fantasy Elements, Obsession, Dirty Talking

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 2K

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: In the chaos of the Clone Wars, Anakin Skywalker fights for survival in the treacherous Outer Rim while yearning for a mysterious woman who haunts his dreams.

𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I’ve had this idea tucked away and thought it was time to see how y’all liked it. Please don’t hesitate to comment and tell me your opinion, I love hearing from ya’ll! Banners by @cafekitsune !

𝐸𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎 🖤

The world in front of him was not fully there, and yet it was more real than the waking world at times. The air hummed, thick and languid, settling like a fine mist, and he breathed it in, tasting something metallic, like the aftermath of a lightning strike. Somewhere far off, the muffled clink of armor against stone echoed, but it didn’t matter. His focus was here, on her.

Anakin had given up on trying to figure out why this woman kept showing up every night, different but the same; he simply allowed himself the nightly escape from the ragging war in the waking world and reveled in her presence. She stood a few paces away, her figure barely discernible at first, like a mirage rippling against the backdrop of stone walls that blurred in and out of focus. He squinted, trying to sharpen the image, but the dream was slippery, as they always were. One moment everything was too far, too blurry to make out; the next it was crystal clear.

He blinked, trying to push through the fog in his mind, but the moment he blinked, the dream shifted again. It always did. Reality was unstable here, folding in on itself. Still, some things remained constant—the shape of her lips, the curve of her neck beneath the edge of her collar, the way her eyes caught his. She always came into full focus; even as the world around them shifted endlessly, it just took time. Eventually, Anakin would notice everything in these dreams, the minutiae of her carved into his mind, details he would remember; details that would gnaw at him when he woke.

The scent of her reached him first—delicate and light but there—something floral, with a hint of antiseptic, of blood and metal. She shouldn’t smell real, but she did. Her redolence struck him sharply, imprinting in the crooks of his brain. She wore the medic’s uniform tonight, the sterile white of her tunic a sharp contrast to the dark, swirling surroundings.

His fingers threaded through her hair, feeling the soft weight of it before tucking a luscious lock back onto her shoulder. He lingered on the sight, a familiar yet private indulgence, as if this small action—this intimate placement—was a ritual all his own. He had grown used to her, used to the way she would appear, and yet each time was new. Familiar, but never predictable. She didn’t just intrigue him; she wholly disarmed him.

“You’re still here.” Her mouth upturned, lines etching the corners of her mouth, unguarded. The woman’s voice was like a balm and a bandage all at once—soothing but binding. It was strange how he never knew what she would say next, but every time her silky voice would rush into his mind, bypassing her nubile lips altogether, it felt right. Each time it came, it felt like the answer to a question he hadn’t known to ask, a need so deep it scraped against his ribs and burrowed into the marks, making a home in his bone marrow that he welcomed.

His gaze lowered to her lips, just as he felt the warmth radiating from her, the heat making the dream feel far too real, too sharp. He could now discern the tiniest bead of moisture where her lower lip kissed her upper, her mouth slightly parted, inviting without even knowing it.

“Am I? Are you?” His deep voice, a rich timbre, rolled into her mind and seemed to echo through the very fabric of the dream. His hand moved without prompt, his fingertips tracing over where his eyes refused to lift from. He tilted his head down, effectively giving no room for either one to breathe without the other inhaling the same air.

“Got something you want to say, Master Jedi?”

The woman asked, her eyebrows arched in a challenging spark as her own hands met his shoulders, massaging before wrapping them around his neck. A subtle pressure that made him shudder. There were no words for the way she fit against him, no easy description for the way her existence swallowed the void in his chest and filled it with something volatile: desire.

He wanted her more than he wanted answers. The ongoing conflict in the Outer Rim had drained him, left him empty, and here she was, filling the hollow spaces with something raw, something invigoratingly ambrosial. The painstaking memories of battle were always there, in the background, even in this dream. The low rumble of explosions, the flicker of distant fire, but here, with her, it softened into a dull hum. He should be thanking her, not questioning her.

Three things happened at once, almost too quickly and flawlessly for either of them not to be on a first-name basis: one, he clasped his lips to hers so fast both air and thought left the two. The ferocity of his kiss matched the way he fought in battle—unrelenting, reckless, like the galaxy itself could fall apart around him, and he wouldn’t care as long as she stayed here, in his arms. Two, his voice swam into her pretty little head and sang to her, “I can’t stop.” His words were thick, soothingly blanketing her mind like warm honey. Three, the world around them converged; the sound of battle that always lurked in the background faded into silence, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a cover of their shared breath and the push and pull of their bodies.

She gasped into his mouth, a sound that sent a flow of satisfaction through him. His need for her had become its own kind of war, and he was losing. He always lost with her. He had tried hard at the beginning of these estranged dreams to not give into this lustful temptation, but the second time she appeared, dressed in the most beautiful diamond crested dress he’d ever seen with a literal glow surrounding her, he didn’t ask another question about who, why, or how. He didn’t care too.

“You don’t have to,” she would say as her hands frantically tugged and clutched on his clothes. His control, once something he prided himself on, disintegrated under her touch. I don’t have to. He repeated it like a mantra, letting the weight of his exhaustion melt away. His hands roamed over her body with a kind of reverence; his lips dragged across her neck, tasting her skin like it could erase the brutality, the guilt, and the anger inside him. And it did, she did.

Her clothes vanished like they were never meant to be there in the first place. He barely remembered undoing them. His mind was a frenzy; it felt too real. She felt too real. Yet as his mind reeled to catch up with this dream, he was never more certain that she was his. Real or not, he knew it from the way her nails dug into his shoulders, burrowing deep into his skin as if to say, I’m home. Her body moved against his, fluid and feverish, like she was just as desperate. But something about it felt wrong. Not her—no her he craved. But the sense of inevitability that came with each caress of flesh, like he was bound to her in a way that went beyond lust.

It terrified him.

"You shouldn’t fight so hard." Her voice sang as their bodies moved with such familiarity it seemed rehearsed. Her hands flush around his cheeks, their tongues glide and his hands lift her off her feet only for her back to meet the dark floor of the dreamworld beneath them. His breath rarely stuttered; he was rarely ever surprised, yet his inhale halted and seized as his cock brushed over her warm embrace.

“I fight everything.” He would reply as his tongue left hers and made haste to her neck. If he could drown himself in the feelings that burst through him when he bit and licked on her neck, he wouldn’t for a second think of breathing oxygen ever again. “But I don’t want to fight you.”

His hands mapped out every curve and rise of her body before reaching her thighs, lifting and wrapping them around his waist. His lips trailed down her chest, his body following the movement, dragging against her until every atom felt like it was on fire. The softest whimper erupted in the space between them, the sound coming from her actual mouth. Her body bucked against him, her thighs wrapping tighter around him. Anakin’s head lifted up, and as rehearsed, his cock slid into her heat, and she met him halfway, with a ferocity that bordered on worship.

The friction between them settles every waning nerve in his body.

This, this is what he wanted. What he needed in order to exist in this painstaking world. Her warmth was unlike any other; the way she clinched onto his dick like it was her only lifeline, she was meant for him—possibly even made for him. This was most certainly his brain finding a way to cope with all the gore and disappointment of this never ending battle he was fighting. It was an escape; a gift from the universe. There’s no questions to be asked or answers for him to find—no, not when she felt like this.

Anakin’s hips snapped forward with a force that rocked them both; his hands gripped her thighs tighter, and he pulled her legs higher, shifting her angle until he was buried so deep inside her that he swore he could feel her heartbeat. She was perfect, and he couldn’t get enough. Her fingers tangled into his hair and guided his lips back to hers as his voice rumbled blissfully into her mind.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

He pushed her thighs higher by placing his hands on the bottom side of her legs, her body pliant and twisting beneath his, his vision blurred. Her body not only molded to his needs, but it responded so deliciously to every roll of his hips; the sensation drove him wild.

“You’re saving me.”

His hips slammed forward again, harder and deeper than before—an unyielding rhythm that could only be interpreted as devotion made flesh. Her body moved under him like water, limber, and fluid, while his seemed to mirror an erratic heartbeat of a star on the brink of collapse. He wanted to lose himself in her, to forget the war, the pain; forget everything but the feeling of her wrapped around him.

Both of their moans and grunts were unconfined; the lustrous noises echoed and mingled into a dissonant harmony in the dreamscape from their lips, clouding around them like a giant shield that protected and anchored them. Their bodies moved as if in some feverish dance while their pleasures fled from swollen lips. Her fingers slip down to grip his wrists as he presses her thighs higher—another silent invitation he couldn’t deny.

His voice rose to a reverent murmur as they swam into her mind, the words laden with sacred awe as he held her gaze.“Thank you,” Both words flood into her with a shuddering exhale as his forehead presses against hers. His words were raw, fractured, and as his lips brush her ear, the words carelessly fall out again, slipping between telepathic and audible, a quiet chant that fueled the rhythm of his hips—“thank you, thank you, thank you,” —but just as his grip tightened, as if to pull her deeper into the dream, he felt the world shifting. He sank himself into her, bound, locked, but just as the world around them pulsed, she faded, the dream slipping from his grasp. The warmth of her thighs beneath his palms was gone; her slick womb no longer encompassed him; only the vows of his gratitude remained, echoing.

And with a sudden inhale, you’re awake. Sweat beads along your skin, your heart racing as you sit in the darkness. His voice is a haunting presence in the quiet of your room, as real as the air you’re gasping for, as vivid as the pulse still drumming through you—and yet, not real at all.

[normal-paldean-student]

Muse Mixup Madness—March 1, 2024

(If you don't know what this is, see this post)

welcome back to the second round of muse mixup madness! the first time around went great, and i'm hoping to see people have just as much fun with this one!

starting this month, i'm going to begin marking prompts as high or low fantasy. low fantasy prompts should be compatible with any blog canon, while high fantasy ones might inherently involve things that more grounded blogs might prefer to avoid, like eebydeebies, sapient pokémon, hybrids, or crossovers. there will always be at least one low fantasy prompt.

(note! these labels are completely arbitrary, and there are no rules in muse mixup madness. if you're a low fantasy blog and some interpretation of a high fantasy prompt appeals to you, go for it.)

with that out of the way, let's get into this month's prompts!

1. The Road Not Taken (low fantasy)

Everyone has had decisions to make in life, some of them more impactful than others. With this prompt, you'll be looking into what may have happened if your muse chose to pursue a different path in life from the one they did.

2. Rags to Riches/Riches to Rags (low fantasy)

A character's socioeconomic status growing up has a huge impact on how they interact with the world and the person they become. If your character's family was richer or poorer, how would that affect them?

3. Another World (high fantasy)

If your character was a Faller originating from somewhere other than the Pokémon multiverse, where would they be from? What would they be like? If your character is already a Faller, explore who they'd be if they'd been a Pokémon character from the beginning.

(For a lower fantasy take on this one, you can remove the crossover element and focus on the effects of being or not being a more canon-compliant Faller.)

4. I've Got a Type (high-ish fantasy)

Does anyone else remember typed humans? They were a minor character trend around a year ago before they died out, and now with hybrids around they've been more or less forgotten. I liked them though, so this prompt is for an AU where your character is one of them! If they already have a type due to being a Pokémon or hybrid, give them something unconventional for their species instead.

5. Bonded Rivals (high fantasy, requires partner)

Maybe it's coincidence that your character and your partner's keep meeting, or maybe it's fate pulling them to each other with some sort of invisible (or visible) tether. But whatever the reason, and whatever the level of supernatural involvement, every time they see each other there's some level of fighting or competition involved. After a point, they do have to have built up a mutual respect through that... right?

(Or in other words, this one's a soulmate AU, but for rivalry instead of romance. You can sprinkle in any trappings of that you like, or keep it wholly mundane for a more low-fantasy take if you prefer.)

a little note on that last one—it's entirely possible it appeals to you, but you don't have anyone to do it with. if that's the case, you can make an open invitation post on your blog or use the notes of this post to coordinate.

and once again, for my records, please answer the poll! again, it's not binding, this is just so i can gauge popularity for the prompts.

(also, please reblog this post when you see it instead of just scheduling it for day of so more people have a chance to see it while there's still time to prepare)

[kashilascorner]

To Dumas, at least in The Count of Monte Cristo, class is a pantomime (a really expensive one) and status is a somewhat elusive force. To him distinction as Bourdieu puts it does not quite exist which I think is absolutely fascinating. All you need is money, but sometimes you don't even need that.

The novel is plentiful with characters intruding and altering the high class, often being quite on par with old money people. This is probably indicative of Dumas living in a time of deep and rapid historical change and probably a society with significant class mobility (at least compared to other time periods), and a notably porous high-class because otherwise these plots would be far too unbelievable. Dumas and his crew have an eye for detail though and make efforts to tie in even the more fantastical elements of the plot, with the at least partial exception of the orientalist element. It strikes me that the fluidity and relative malleability of class structures at the time must have seemed plausible to his contemporaries.

On the other hand, I can't think right now of a modern piece of media that has so much cross-class movement across different subplots, characters and moments in time. Rags-to-riches stories tend to focus on a single individual or maybe family/group of friends. In TCOMC however, multiple characters radically change their status throughout the novel, the most obvious being the Count himself and Mercedes and Fernando but there is also Danglars and his wife, Benedetto/Cavalcanti, Abbé Faria, Bertuccio, the Morrels, Caderousse, Haydée (though she differs significantly from the rest as she does not so much lose her status in terms of actual lifestyle as her literal freedom)... Much of the major cast goes through a status/class transformation either upward, downward, or both, in a way that has to do mostly, but not only with their money or lack thereof

[joesalw]

All of Taylor's albums were tailored to the most popular aesthetic at the time. She didn't make shit popular, she just adapted. Especially when she made the transition into pop music.

True. She's currently jumping fences with rep as well. Making it out to be a goth punk moment and using trendy words like 'female rage'. The album has the most romantic songs she's ever written. C'mon now. The whole record is electropop with some R&B elements thrown into the mix.

She portrays 'Lover' as her social justice warrior era. 'If I was a man, then I'd be the man'. Yeah, we've seen it Taylor. Miss 'me becoming a billionaire is good for the world because I'm a woman'. She makes herself out to be this 'feminist girl's girl' when in reality it couldn't be further from the truth. She's not a feminist and she doesn't want to be the woman that's advocating for women's rights and leads the path for the future generation of women. She wants to be the man at the top. Her motto is literally 'gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, greenhouse gases'.

Another thing is her queer allyship. She's mentioned it when and only when it was profitable to her. During her tour she hadn't said a thing when the number of states signed anti-trans bills and the state of Tennessee where she says she lives *according to her own documentary* banned drag. I don't think she said anything about the anti-abortion legislation either. Her activist era started and ended in 2019.

Don't get me started on her position regarding the BLM movement. She only posted something because her own fans started calling her out and then declared that she's 'ferociously anti-racist'. She positioned herself as an advocate *by herself* and then immediately dipped when it stopped being as profitable. If you don't want to be dragged for your silence about social and political crises, don't proclaim yourself as an activist. Simple as that.

I've also seen the video on Youtube about TS being a narcissist (someone posted it on your blog earlier I think). And the guy in the video brought up her guitar teacher. So I looked him up and found an article where he talks about his experience with the Swifts which he got sued for later. According to the man, Taylor's mother was interested in him teaching her daughter how to play country music and was just a stage mom in general. And TS says that she'd been begging her parents to allow her learn how to play guitar and that she's self-taught. She wants her success story to be a rags to riches so bad I can't even.

She's a woman with an extremely fragile ego where millions of people could be praising her and a single negative comment would set her off. She can't handle any form of criticism, break ups or inconveniences like a grown woman simply because she doesn't have enough emotional intelligence to do so. Her being surrounded by yes men also doesn't help the situation. If i were her, I'd rather invest in a good therapist rather than 2 PJs. She drowns herself in work and relationships so she doesn't have time to go inwards and sit with her thoughts.

I kinda feel bad for her, honestly. She's been in the industry since she was 15 and her success was almost immediate. She doesn't know what the world's like because she's been sheltered her whole life and then had other people do things for her. I don't think she has many real friends as well. By real I mean people who aren't afraid to tell you the truth and are able to call you out in your face. Instead she has a bunch of people who appease her afraid of pissing her off and ending up on her bad side and as a result her vanity grows and she completely loses any sort of perspective whether in her friendships, romantic relationships or maybe even her own family.

I also wonder what she thinks about her fandom pirating her concert film instead of paying to rent it. I sort of hope that her fans are starting to wake up to her conning schemes. I mean, you've already made a shit ton of money from the theatre release, why charging 20$ more to RENT IT?Not even buy it. Or is it another narrative about how 'no one can own my work but me'?

This woman sells well but her cultural impact is almost nonexistent. She hadn't done any good for the world causes or inspired several generations of performers like Michael Jackson has with his philanthropic endeavors and incredible performing skills. The artists like Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, Bruno Mars, Justin Timberlake (bleh) and The Weeknd were hugely influenced by MJ. These artist create their own unique legacy and impact on their communities. Especially the ladies. Gaga's been an avid LGBT+ advocate since the beginning of her career and created a foundation that focuses on issues like self-confidence, well-being, anti-bullying, mentoring and career development. She also participated in anti HIV and AIDS campaigns, spoke against immigration laws in the US, contributed to 2011's earthquake and tsunami relief campaign in Japan. Beyoncé's a huge advocate for the black community and black women especially which always finds its way in her work and visual art in particular. She's been platforming black culture and history for her whole career (2016 Superbowl and Coachella performance are the brightest examples of black american culture and releasing her Lion King album to showcase African artists' excellence). She also has a foundation where she provides black youth scholarships, clean water for communities abroad and housing to families in need in her home state.

What exactly makes Taylor Swift's cultural impact? Thousands of tons CO2 emissions? Music labels putting a clause in the contract so the artists can't re-record their material for 10 years now instead of 5? Making several versions of the same CD or vinyl so the sales are bigger? Mind you, that's all excessive plastic and paper. Some countries and US states are banning gas stoves. Her position regarding artists being paid during the early days of streaming (when the platforms were launching with a free period tial) was right but no one really benefited from it but her. She was shitting on Apple Music, then they offered her money, filmed an ad and released her 1989 Tour DVD exclusively on their platform. She shat on Spotify, then when LWYMMD came out, she was all over their biggest playlists all of a sudden and recorded Spotify Singles later on. Spotify's always promoted her every release like a motherfucker shoving her in every corner of the platform. Especially for the past 3 years. She doesn't have any memorable outfits or unique style to be called a fashion icon either. She's not a trailblazer she thinks she is. She is only popular because a lot of people *mostly ww* who peaked in high school see themselves in her. She's average in everything she does, her writing topes are also the same (only now she started using compound or uncommonly used words to mask it) but she's extremely commercially successful so that those people can see themselves in her. She doesn't have unique music style or chameleon-like discography like Gaga, Bey, MJ, Madonna, Shakira, Kelly Clarkson, Miley Cyrus or Nelly Furtado. She doesn't have a unique singing voice like Bjork, David Bowie, Freddie Mercury, Janis Joplin, MJ or Bob Dylan. She's no instrument prodigy either. And swifties say that 'Michael couldn't play any instruments'. Well, he was an exceptional beatboxer. She can strum 4 guitar chords and play basic piano, that's it. She doesn't have an outstanding dancing and/or vocal skill.

What is she gonna be remembered for? Her numerous relationships with famous men? While that might be misogynistic or sexist to some degree, she's the one who makes her relationships the centre of her music and public persona and brings them up even 10 years after they ended. Her public feuds with men and women that she can't get over years after? This woman is certainly can hold a grudge and is extremely vindictive. The leader of a parasocial cult that blindly defends her bigotry? I believe so. I don't think I've ever seen a fandom as toxic and as hive-minded as swifties. And again, it's Taylor's own creation. She's the one that constantly says 'look closely for the easter eggs' in her content making her fans theorize on every aspect of her life, or 'if you're very loyal I might invite you to MY HOUSE and you can listen to the new album early, we'll take pics and I'll bake you some cookies'. Of course they'll follow your any order. I'm glad I escaped.

Oof, I'll stop here. That's a very long one already

sorry hehe

.

[ashen-char]

i hc the nora thing because out of nowhere i called her nora instead of ani and stopped dead in my tracks like "wait a minute ✋🤨.... it's kinda cuuute 🥹". later on i thought it could be something that anora let's only one person call her and if someone else tries to call her that she gives them the side eye.

oh her exes are all over the map! ivan is the first big man-baby who never got told no she dated, i think she's used to dating people more like her, more confident and who are willing to face the consequences of their actions.

i don't really see ani dating anyone (beside ivan) who don't have the guts and maturity to face their consequences, i just know she can't stand people like that and rolls her eyes at them!

also i don't think she dated anyone who's a romantic, there was love in her relationships (at least some of them had love), but never that love she used to dream about when she was a little kid! she thought she could have that with ivan but then reality slapped her across the face and she started to give up on finding that kinda of love.

her only letting reader call her nora ugh what if i dissolve into goo that's so cute 😭

oh absolutely on that romantic thing. an interesting aspect of ani's character (have to paraphrase here) is that she believes fairytales can come true, believes in true love, but she's not naïve. using fairy tale rather than a romcom rly puts in that it's a childish hope almost. specifically of a love that saves the day, saves her, if you think of most fairy tales and how romances go down in them

and while ivan definitely brought that suddenness and element of "saving" in a rags to riches way, he lacks a lot of the aspects of being a fairytale prince/love interest. idk if you've seen the clip where ivan yells at hotel staff as a joke but that really irked me. the chivalry, the being dependable, being there when ani Actually needs saving? that's all reader. i totally see reader being a romantic, fulfilling the role ani needs in her life, being that person she can rely on. r would do stuff that ani would call cheesy but then think about it for days after. she'd brag about it to all her friends and realise that it meant more than even the ring she was bragging so much about.

(i suppose i'll have to see how well igor fulfils that role of being there for her, and how reader x ani's dynamic will be different from that. i suppose reader's presence is more wanted by ani, since they're close friends, so there's elements of reliance even before ivan takes off)

[bookcub]

I took a class on storytelling and wanted to share one of the written versions of the stories I adapted. This is called 'The World's Beauty' and the version of the story I adapted from can be found in The Golden Maiden and other folk tales and fairy stories told in Armenia collected and adapted by A. K. Seklemian. Mine is a feminist retelling so I changed some aspects but tried to keep the major elements just give them women more agency. (Also, the city names are from the older version of the story so they are not currently updated, they are the names from 1898 not 2024).

There once was a woman who lived in Bagdad with her son. One day, her husband fell ill and believed he would die so he asked her and their son to his bed. He told them he wanted to leave his business to their son. To his wife, he said, “If our son should lose our great fortune, tell him the secrets to my wealth.”  He died later in the night. 

Her son left with forty camel-loads of merchandise, and set out for the city of Erzerum. Months later, he returned with no camels, no merchandise, wearing only rags. The woman ushered him in urging to hear what happened to him.

“Well,” he said. “I went to Tiflis, where I heard about the King’s daughter, World's Beauty. She charges men 40 gold crowns a day to stare at her through a partition.”

“Oh no," the woman thinks. 

“So I went to see her. . . and I instantly fell in love with her!! I went back day after day until I had exhausted my wealth and 40 camel loads of merchandise. And when I had no more, I was forced to beg my way home.”

The woman was confused and outraged. Her son spent 40 camel-loads of merchandise to gaze upon a woman every day. Although, she thought, it must be a profitable business. But why must her fool for a son go back every day? 

“So what about the secret to father's wealth? He said if I lost all the money, you were to show them to me.” Her son looked expectantly at her. 

Despite the woman's anger, she didn’t want to dishonor her husband's last wish. She told him she would give it to him as long as he wouldn't go back to Tiflis, to which he agreed. So she brought out the first secret and explained that it was a purse that if one added 40 pieces of copper to it, the next day they will become gold. After 3 years, the purse changes the gold in the purse into copper. 

“We will be rich forever,” her son said. And with that, he prepared for his journey, setting off early the next morning with new camels and merchandise. 

Another few months passed, and her son showed back up on her doorstep with no camels, no merchandise, and no purse. 

“Did you go back to Tiflis?” The woman asked in a tired tone. 

He gave an ashamed yes. 

“She noticed I came back after I was there a week. She invited me to dinner! She told me she loved me and she would marry me if I told her the secret to my wealth! I showed her the purse and explained how it worked. And then she gave me poisonous wine and I fell asleep, and when I woke up I discovered she stole my purse and had me thrown out on the streets.” 

The woman shook her head. “I didn't think I had to explain that the purse should be kept a secret,” she said in exasperation. 

“I promise I will not go to Tiflis again if you give me another of Father's secrets,” her son pleaded. 

Now the woman thought about this through the night and in the morning told him if he were to lose this second gift, he would not receive the third gift. And he agreed. So she gave him a magic cap that allowed its wearer to see others without being seen by anyone else. 

So her son went off with another camel and a few months later came back with no camel and no cap. 

He explained that he of course went to Tiflis again and snuck into the World's Beauty's house and spied on her with the cap. 

“She quickly realized she was being watched and guessed it was me! She called out my name, saying she had not been able to stop thinking of me since I left and if I revealed myself, we could be married. So I took off my cap to reveal myself and she tore the cap out of my hands and demanded I be thrown on the road outside of Tiflis, banned from reentry into the city!!” 

And then he begged and pleaded for the third gift. And the woman thought and thought and eventually made a decision. She brought out apples, the size of her son's head. She told him the apples would change his shape, and without asking any questions, he quickly devoured one. 

And then promptly turned into a donkey. 

These had been her secret, not her husband's and with that she pulled out his final gift, a horn that when blown, an army would appear, so large that it covered the mountains.  When blown from the other end, it would vanish instantly.  

She set off to Tiflis with the horn and her son as a donkey. When she approached, she blew the horn, summoning the army. There was panic in the city and the king sent a messenger. The woman explained who she was and that she wanted the purse and the cap her son had lost. The World's Beauty came to negotiate and they agreed she would give back the purse and cap and keep the 40 camel loads her son had willingly paid, as long as the son stayed a donkey and never returned to Tiflis. 

And so the woman summoned her army away and went back to Bagdad with her purse, her cap, her horn and her ass of a son. 

Three apples fell from Heaven: one for me, one for the storyteller, and one for those who entertained the story. 

[rowlight]

read this post for more context if you'd like, then come back here

lawmane in canon timeline is genuinely abhorrent, so let's talk about it (and as an aside, yeah, toxic ships can be fine. that's not the problem. the fact is that this seems like it's well over the line being a passably toxic ship in fiction. because this ship is almost never treated as even remotely toxic, and instead, any negative elements are swept under the rug to make way for silly emo funtime adventures, almost never bothering to even so much as ACKNOWLEDGE any of this. it's treated like nothing at all happened, and in so doing, is condoning some really disturbing shit, especially in a setting with a power imbalance this horrendously steep.)

L's torture of misa was fucking life ruining. let us get that straight. what he did was beyond anything light has ever done to traumatize misa. in any world where misa is not objectified to the point of being legitimately brainless, that is permanently and irrevocably scarring for life. at most, only 48 hours of sensory deprivation can have lasting, permanent influences on your cognitive ability and mental health. and those are usually in situations where the participants can actually, you know, fucking move! can see! but 52 motherfucking days? with how misa was held? fucking 52? oh fucking boy. the brain damage from that would be obscene.

and hell, even if he hadn't tortured her in such a way, even if he just put her in the same confinement as light, even if that time was somehow reduced to just a few weeks or a few days or whatever, that's still absurd. in what world is a man who locks you up, when you have zero control or influence or power over him whatsoever to combat this, when you feel nothing from this incarceration but fear and a longing for death, someone you could ever be in a relationship with? in what world is that okay? unless we're doing a full rewrite of death note here, unless you objectify misa so thoroughly that she becomes nothing more than an item to be placed into a seriously horrifying dynamic, when is that ever okay?

not to mention that she already had preexisting trauma from past stalkers, almost being murdered herself. (and her parents being murdered! gosh!) that would have made this all the more terrifying. L was no more than a fucking stalker to her, and even in the hell he placed her in, would he appeal a single of her pleas to move, to just fucking feel anything, to have even a second's release from being devoid of all stimuli? would he allow her fucking anything, any comfort at all, from being forced to stand and hold her head up high as a metal blindfold braced her head tight, as belts pulled taught to draw up the rags around her crotch? no. he's a fucking genius, right? could he not have figured out something harmless that could have been of literally any consolation to the fact that she was nothing but literal scum of the earth to him, of absolutely no interest beyond what she could offer the investigation, and that he was nothing but the devil himself to her? lol no, his ass could not give less of a shit.

oh yeah, sure, he had his reasons! the investigation, "duhhhh!" he's the world's greatest detective, after all, and "sacrifices must be made!" but none of that changes that he still fucking did the shit that he did, he still tortured her for an excruciating amount of time in one of the worst ways fucking conceivable, and that cannot be changed. that is not something that can be moved past. him having reasons to deprive her of her of her very will to live, once so rich and filled with her hope in a future with light that she gave up half her once-increased lifespan for him, are not excuses!—and, even then, could he have simply said one kind word to her that wasn't barking for her to reveal information that, for a good deal of time, was completely outside of her knowledge? that wasn't fucking forcing her to stay alive after an active suicide attempt?

get that in your head. she tried to fucking kill herself. and L had to get someone in there to manhandle her so she physically could not end her own life. and without the sweet relief of death, what hope even fucking was there?

did L give a shit about any of this? no, he's an immature bitch, just like light. and sure, he has arguable reasons for being that way, but does that mean he's gonna change at the drop of a hat, that he's suddenly going to just adore her and be a great boyfriend or whatever, and that you should be defending him at every opportunity just to somehow make this pairing okay? also no. did he ever give a shit about her? fuck no. even in whatever baffling universe where he somehow decided to try his goddamn best to be a good partner, any relationship those two could ever have would be irrevocably scarred and toxic.

remember that misa has literally zero fucking power over him; she is in his absolute control at every single point, and he will torture her to the brink of suicide only to toy with her life in his hands, even as she begs and please for him to just put her out of her misery. she is genuinely nothing but a doll to him, completely devoid of any dignity or respect or fucking anything that would give her a thread of autonomy in even a platonic relationship. and even if that utterly obscene and disgusting power imbalance shifted, what's done is fucking done, and what was done was fucking horrific. sure, light traumatized her. L ruined her fucking existence. and to both of them, she is absolutely nothing beyond an object, a plaything to be tossed around and manipulated and fucking tortured until she breaks—but oh, she's not allowed to break! she was written by vapid misogynist, legendary piece of shit, and overall horrendous writer tsugumi ohba, whose work we should be thinking critically about at every turn!

the only way she is even ever friendly with L in canon is because she is indeed dehumanized to the point of being nothing but an object for the male gaze, and for ohba to project his stupid "endearing perv" trope onto L that he uses for his self-insert character in bakuman!

so should you give a shit about any of this? the fact that misa must be turned into nothing but an objectively brainless entity—to do nothing but serve the whims of the men around her—for lawmane to ever be "feasible" within any timeline where this shit happens? is justification of absolutely horrific torture, being driven to suicide and being forcibly kept alive, one of the most egregious + constant power imbalances conceivable, and necessary female objectification worth the silly emo x goth model ship headcanons? answer that one yourself.

larger post on this coming soon maybe???? thank you for your help @niightniines and @undergoing-mitosis featured in the screenshots here and others in my server

ending this post w the fact that i don't hold personal animosity for anybody who ships this, ESPECIALLY if you're a minor. understand that we (me and nines) are speaking to the fandom as a whole when we discuss these issues. this is not a personal attack on any one lawmane shipper.

[valentinoappreciator]

Hazbin Hotel / Helluva Boss fic masterlist

I know that literally NO ONE has asked, but here's a masterlist of the Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss fics + drabbles I've written so far c: I'll try to update it as more fics / drabbles see the light of day!

All of the links leads to AO3, and (almost) everything is rated E for EXPLICIT!

UPDATED 20 / 12 / 2024

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

Hazbin Hotel fics

There's a First Time for Everything (Vox x Alastor) (NOT EXPLICIT!!! a shocker, i know) (first time ice skating, kissing, tooth-rotting fluff, implied Valastor and staticmoth and all of them together) (2.8k words)

A Prize Grander Than Life (Valentino x gender neutral reader) (consensual, shoe / boot worship, blowjob, verbal humiliation) (2.5k words)

You Are Special (to me) (Vox x female OC) (consensual, wire play, dirty talk, vaginal sex, soft Vox) (7k words)

Sinful Habits (Vox x Valentino) (mildly dubious consent, snuff, rape, AU of an AU) (3.3k words)

From Rags To Riches (Valentino x Vox) (trans!VoxVal, consensual, first time cunnilingus, mentioned / referenced rape, soft Vox, soft Valentino) (7.6k words)

Una Hermosa Noche (Valentino x female reader) (dub-con, cannibalism, graphic violence, love confessions, soft Valentino) (4.6k words)

Rotten Apples For A Rotten Basket (Vox x Valentino) (consensual, first time bottoming, bottom Vox, top Valentino, daddy kink) (8.3k words)

Tonight I'm Saying Goodbye Valentino (Vox x female OC) (consensual, implied / referenced non-con, implied / referenced abuse, soft Vox, Vox is not a jerk in this one, semi AU?, Vox and Angel get along well) (17k words) (WORK IN PROGRESS)

Gagged and Chained (Valentino and Vox x female reader) (mildly dubious consent, erotic electrostimulation, threesome (FMM), daddy kink, gags, restraints, a side dish of Vox x Val) (3.8k words)

Blood and Bandages (Valentino x female OC (not mine, but used with permission)) (graphic depictions of violence, self harm, suicide attempt, blood play, unconscious sex, semi-soft Valentino, hopeful ending) (2.5k words)

Waterboarded by Your Pimp (Valentino x female reader) (extremely dubious consent, drowning / waterboarding, snuff film) (1.5k words)

A Butterfly And A Bat Walk Into A Bar... (Valentino x female OCs) (cannibalism, blood and gore, sort of threesome (FFM)) (2450 words)

As the sun sets on your mortal, the moon will shine on your afterlife (Valentino x female OC) (non-con / non-con elements, drug use, fat shaming, forced prostitution, happy ending) (19k words) (WORK IN PROGRESS)

A Shocking Outcome (Valentino and Vox x female reader; Vox x Val) (consensual, hypnotism, multiple orgasms, boss / employee relationship) (3k words)

What's Another Inch Moved If It's With You? (Valentino and Alastor x female OC) (consensual, cannibalism, threesome (FMM), knife play, deranged Valentino and Alastor) (5.8k words)

Step And Spit On Me (Valentino x female reader) (consensual, trampling, being spat on) (1.5k words)

Out of the ashes; into the fire (Valentino x female reader) (non-con, aphrodisiacs) (4.3k words)

Hazbin Hotel drabbles

Drabble 1 - Squirting (Valentino x female reader) (squirting) (1k words)

Drabble 2 - Cockwarming (Valentino x female reader) (cockwarming) (2.2k words)

Drabble 3 - Clitoris piercing (Valentino x female reader) (genital piercings) (2.1k words)

Helluva Boss fics

Would You Spare Me A Glance Tonight? (Blitzo x Moxxie) (use of safeword, panic attack, daddy kink, light Dom / sub, anal sex, a side dish of Millie / Moxxie) (10.2k words) (could maybe use a 2nd chapter? I'll think about it!)

[absurdthirst]

Pink Powder & Diamonds {Ezra x F!Reader|

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: Disabilities, missing extremities, sex pollen, dub con-ish, masturbations, inability to cum, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

Comments: Ezra comes back to the Green to harvest the Queen's lair with a new partner, you. When a mishap causes you to have to scavenge a filter off one of the bodies from his last trip to this cursed moon, it has startling results.

A/N: Dedicated to the lovely @pedropascalsx who had this amazing idea!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| Masterlist || Ezra (Prospect) MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The Green. You have heard the tales of the moon that is equal parts perilous and lucrative. If you were strong enough, smart enough and lucky enough - you could strike it rich. If you weren’t - the bodies of those that went before you littered the mossy floors of the forests and rotted away under the toxic atmosphere. Looking over from your chair, you watch him. His face is grim and you don’t miss the beads of sweat that break out on his forehead. Ever talkative Ezra has grown more and more quiet as the moon grows larger in your viewport. A beeping captures your attention and you look down at the instrument panel of your ship - ragged and beaten - but sturdy. “Time to atmosphere - two minutes.” You tell him as you silence the alarm and recheck your trajectory. 

Ezra grunts in response, anxious to get back to the Green that has haunted him since he escaped it the first time with Cee. She is thriving, escaping to enjoy a quiet life pursuing education but the pennies of disability benefits Ezra received were not enough to provide for his…more indulgent expenses, and he decided to return to the Green and seek the fortune that slipped through his fingers. Now that he is sporting one less limb due to darling Cee, he decided to enlist the help of a less experienced yet enthusiastic helper: you. 

He had met you during a bar crawl one night, drowning his sorrow and spending the credits he had been granted, and he found out that you are a fellow prospector. Something he did not believe due to your kindness, the sweet smile. You clearly hadn’t seen the harshness of the elements like he had. When you told him of your search for the queen’s lair, it was kismet. He needed a helper and you needed someone who knew where the lair resided. Ezra remains quiet, preparing himself for the terrain that awaits you both. Unforgiving and harsh, he knows you will need to use every ounce of strength to survive. He just needs to survive a second time. “Come on little lady, let’s get this tin can on the ground.”

Landing is always tricky, requiring your full attention and skills. Biting your lip, you ignore the alarms, watching your panel and adjusting the controls. Ezra had mapped out a landing sight before you had ever left, he didn’t want to be too close to the Queen’s lair, something about a man in pink powder and bodies. He had been pretty drunk that night and you just decided to accept it. “Breaking atmo.” You call out, watching as the flames give way to clear sky, the emerald green of the landscape below you dazzling.

Ezra grips the seat with his one hand, anxiety threatening to overwhelm him as you land expertly on the spot he had pre-planned and he looks over at you, a grin on his face as the dust settles. “Let’s go get our fortune, little lady.” He winks at you, suddenly confident.

You don’t mention how long it takes Ezra to get suited up. It’s a sore spot, considering the empty sleeve where his right arm used to be. He tries to hide it, but the extremely close quarters of your ship have let you witness his grunts and muffled curses as he tries to take care of simple tasks and sometimes fails. Still, you don’t offer. You don’t want to be snapped at like he had the first and only time you offered. Your tool kit is collected and rolled into your pack and you check your comms. “Are you ready?” You ask quietly, watching him fiddle with his helmet.

Ezra grits his teeth, swallowing down the retort that you don’t deserve. It’s not your fault that he’s slower, his missing appendage has him struggling with the suit he hasn’t worn since leaving the Green. “I’m practically vibrating with readiness, little lady. Shall we embark on the hazy mistress known as the Green?”

You hum your agreement and the hiss of the door sounds slightly ominous. Depressurizing the ship and opening up the door to the wonders of the Green outside. You step out first, lowering the stairs and concentrate on your much heavier pack while Ezra comes down. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want you coddling him. “So we will camp near the Queen’s lair?” You had thought it off that he did not want to land the ship right near the site for easy storage of the Aurelac that was to make both of you ‘rich beyond your wildest dreams’ according to Ezra.

Ezra didn’t want the ship to be too close to the lair, in case Kevva decided to grant him even more misfortune and decree that the pink monster from his prior excavation would reemerge and finish the job. He wanted to protect you as much as he yearned for the aurelac. “Make haste little lady, we need to set up camp and get ourselves situated before the darkness arrives.”

“How long were you here?” You ask as you start out from the ship, taking in the area and noticing some abandoned equipment. “The last time.” It’s a story he had told but you weren’t sure of the timelines. 

“Far too long, little lady. My time on this forsaken moon was something I would rather forget considering the consequences of my time here. I am back, however, to finish what was started. I have a vendetta against this Kevva cursed moon and I swear by her name that I will retrieve what is rightfully mine.”

You fall silent as you follow him. Obviously unsure of what to talk about and you don’t want him to be upset. This was too important to squabble and have a falling out before you are back on the Pug. The Queen’s lair is fabled, a deposit so rich that you could relax for the rest of your life, maybe go to a planet where the air is fresh and soil clean to live. Buy land. It is a heady dream and you want it to become reality, but first you have to harvest aurelac. A lot of it.

Ezra retraces the fateful steps he had taken with Cee to the place that held a greater fortune than most would see in their lifetimes. He’s hungry for it, greedy for it. He deserves it after the sacrifices he had made. He finally approaches the camp where those bastards had attempted to kill himself and the little bird. “There she is…the queen’s lair.” He announces once he has found the location, thankfully devoid of any other prospectors.

Your eyes widen at the expanse of the pit. You see at least fifty aurelac pods, unmolested and waiting to be harvested. There is evidence of work, tools scattered and you see a body on one side. This is where Ezra had his last stand from what you understand. “Holy shit.” You whimper. “Kevva praised.”

“It’s the Mecca of aurelac, little lady.” Ezra grins, so excited that everything is where it was when he made a mad dash to escape this moon the first time. “Shall we begin our endeavor? There is lots to excavate.” He grunts as he sets his pack down, kicking the remains of the bastard who tried to rat him out.

You giggle, nearly ecstatic at the sight of the digsite that he had brought you too. It was true. Every single rambling tale that he had told you about the Queen’s lair was true. You had believed him because of Cee mostly, the holo chat with the younger girl confirming that if he was lying, it was a practiced one. But right here before your eyes was the proof that he hadn’t been deceiving you. “I’ll set up our tent first.” You shrug out of your pack and set it down with a loud thump. “That way we can get out of our suits soon.” 

Ezra nods, despite his anxiety to get started as soon as possible, and he feels guilty for not being able to assist you in the erection of the tent. The expedition would be over prior to the tent being set up. “I shall endeavor to prepare our tools for the harvest, little lady.” He announces, watching you start to bend over and open the pack. He’d be blind to not see how beautiful you are, even in that suit.

It takes longer than you wanted it to. The thick fabric is cumbersome and you need to make sure that it is completely sealed properly. The toxicity of the moon needs to be filtered out through the little pump that will recycle the air inside and keep the two of you safe while you are out of your suits. Which will only be when you are finished for the day and wish to get sleep. You plan on harvesting this prize as quickly as you can before anyone can come across you. You hear Ezra curse in your ear but you don’t look over, busy with your own tasks until you finally close the last heavy seam with the velcro flap. “It’s done.” You pant, standing straight with a groan and stepping back to admire your handiwork. 

“Good girl.” Ezra praises, feeling guilty once again for not assisting you with such a difficult task. He knows how heavy those tents are but he’d be more of a burden than a help. “Shall we begin? There is much to harvest and I wish for us to get a head start before any unwanted guests arrive to distract us.”

You sigh quietly, wishing you could take a break, but you understand his need for haste. Instead of arguing, you move over the tools that Ezra has set out as well as he could. “I will harvest a few sacs before I cut them open.” You decide as you pick up the bottle of brine and a knife before you turn towards Ezra. “Does that sound okay?”

“Sounds like a plan, little lady. I am in your hands. It’s a good thing you aren’t in mine…less than capable with one hand and a downtrodden disposition.” He grunts, shifting to get into the pit to assist you as best as he is able to.

Biting your lip, you approach the first pod that you come to. The bulbous dome indicates there is a sac underneath its membrane. It will be easier to work in a grid, to methodically work through the field and pluck every aurelac stone you can from this deposit. Looking up at Ezra, you grin when he nods encouragingly at you and proceed to slice into the first one. 

Ezra watches you work, your deft fingers expertly removing the gem from the sac. “Kevva. You are blessed, little lady. Truly, you are performing this task with more expertise than I could only dream of.” He admits, shifting closer to continue watching you until you hand him the stone and he deposits it safely in the briefcase you’d brought along.

You hum, brow knitted together and bite your lip while you carefully extract the next stone. One wrong move would waste the entire thing. Ruin the pull and you are greedy enough that you want them all. Every single gem in the Queen’s lair is coming back to the Pug with you. 

You’re incredible. Deftly working to extract the precious gems and Ezra feels terrible that he can’t help you. There’s days of work ahead of you and all he can do is guide and assist you with ramblings from his previous time on the Green. When the sun starts to set, it’s time to retire and Ezra is certain that you are exhausted. “We cannot be exposed in the darkness, little lady. The Saters will surely discover our presence and will take the opportunity to pounce once we are shrouded in darkness, we will resume our excavation tomorrow.”

You nod, looking at the deposit longingly but you don’t argue. “Okay.” You start to pack away your tools, knowing you can do it much more efficiently than Ezra can. He closes the case and locks it with a passcode that both of you know. It was one thing you had insisted on, transparency. You weren’t going to get screwed over and one armed or not - Ezra could manage a backstab if he was inclined to. “It will be good to get out of the suit and to eat.” You offer as you climb out of the pit. 

“Precisely, let’s relax. Kevva knows you need it after such an arduous day. You’ve truly been Kevva sent, little lady. I would have never endured such a journey without your abilities. I shall thank you once our expedition has come to a close but for now, I wish for you to know of my appreciation.” Ezra professes. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You pant, picking up your tools and throwing them back in your bag to haul over to the tent. It wasn’t far away, just at the edge of the trees Ezra told you that they had used for cover when escaping the Mercs. It would be dark enough that if anyone stumbled upon the Queen’s lair, they wouldn’t see your tent or vice versa. “You’ve changed my life too. Now I just want some food.” 

Ezra smiles, keeping his eyes forward as he carries the briefcase while you carry the tools. "Nutribar will have to suffice, however, I do have a tipple of brandy if you are interested in something to help you relax after such an arduous day. You tell me, little lady, what you want, and I shall endeavor to do everything in my power to ensure you have what you desire."

You chuckle at his grandiose comment. “You have a special stash of supplies hidden somewhere?” You tease as you come to the tent and walk around Ezra to unzip it to allow both of you to enter. The rattle of the scrubber is soothing and you cannot wait to get out of the suit. While it was safer, the suit is hot and you want to cool down. 

“Only a flask.” He chuckles, groaning as he removes his helmet after you secure the flap to block out the fumes outside. He grunts as he tries to strip out of the suit with one hand. It’s a struggle but he manages without your help. He rejects help whenever he can, pride making him stubborn. “Sometimes, after a hard day, even a swig is the most relaxing indulgence.”

“Mhm.” You could think of a few other things that were also relaxing indulgences but you don’t bring them up. Even though the older man was exceedingly handsome, he had not once made an overture. You glance back at that small tuft of blonde hair and wish you could play with it. Or trace the silvery scar on his left cheek. Instead, you remove your own helmet with a groan and start to strip off your suit to hang up after you set down your pack of tools. 

Ezra’s struggles continue and he tries to hang up his helmet when he loses his balance. “Shit!” He yells, stumbling backwards to the heap of his suit and he hears something crack as his foot lands haphazardly on something. “Fuck!” He tosses the helmet down and kneels on the floor, panicking because he knows what that sound was. “Kevva forgive me! Fuck!” He growls, holding up the remains of his crushed filter.

Shit….Your eyes widen when you see the filter is damaged beyond repair. It had been expensive to gather supplies and fuel for this trip so you had both agreed that you would forego spares. Ezra looks furious. “It’s - we’ll figure it out.” You tell him, your mind racing as you think about how you could possibly make this work. “Maybe we can scavenge for a filter?” 

Ezra shakes his head, “no. No. The Saters…they would kill me if they saw me again. We can’t risk it. Fuck!” He growls, tossing the useless filter across the tent. “I don’t - shit. I don’t know what to do.”

You reach out and touch his hand. “I will go check the bodies.” You tell him suddenly. “Check their filters, maybe one will work for your suit?” You know Ezra has a dark past with the bodies that were scattered around the dig site and you’re sure he doesn’t want to come face to face with their remains. 

Ezra knows he has to let you do that but he’s worried about you going out there. “Take your thrower. We won’t take any chances.” He is grateful the sun is just setting and he hopes you make haste to return to the tent. “Go now, little lady, before the darkness shrouds the forest.”

Hurrying back into your suit, you are trying to assure him that you will be alright. “I will check the one that is closest to the tent first.” You promise as you seal your suit and reach for your helmet. “If there isn’t a good one I will go to the next until I find what you need.” 

“Be careful. If you perish, we are both damned to decay on this Kevva forsaken moon.” He warns, feeling even guiltier for leaving you to go out there alone. “Fuck!” He rubs his cheek after you leave the safety of the tent, counting the seconds until you come back.

Your breathing seems to echo in your helmet as you turn on the light next to your ear, keeping your eyes moving from the ground in front of you to the surrounding woods. Looking for dangers, some other floater wandering or those Sater than Ezra was worried about meeting. Running towards the dig site and the first body you had seen. Nearly tripping over it in the dark when you finally reach the face down body, you reach down and roll it over, nearly gagging when you see the decomposing face in the shield. She’s pink. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the unnatural hue to her skin but you try not to think about it as you prop the slightly squishy body on its side, trying not to think of the human soup in the suit and start to unhook the hoses and filter from the suit. It would have to work, as much as you shudder. Ezra is depending on it. 

Ezra is anxious, tapping his knees as he sits on the bunk and waits for your return. He is worried about you, wishing he didn’t have his disability so he could’ve avoided this entire situation to begin with. He sighs, watching the flap of the tent and trying to listen for you over the roar of the scrubber. “Come on little lady.” He orders, rubbing his hand on his thigh.

It’s more difficult to get back to the tent. You hear something and quickly shut off your light, couching in the darkness as you open channels and try to control your breathing. Listening for anyone talking but there is nothing but the stillness of the Green. He hadn’t told you how uneasy the quiet would become. Finally, you creep out of your little spot and stand up, deciding that you would make your way back to the tent in the dark just in case. 

When the flap opens, Ezra exhales in relief before he remembers and holds his breath, waiting for you to seal the tent and the scrubber to work its magic on the potent air. “Did you get one?” He asks, a little impatient but this is the difference between life and death for him.

Immediately unsealing your helmet, you gasp, nodding quickly and holding up the hoses and the filter that had been hanging off the body. “I got it.” You pant out. Your nerves are on high alert and even though you have been walking, it feels like you’ve run for hours. “It- It should work.” 

Ezra grins, “Kevva, you’re incredible, little lady. I need - let me see if it works now before we settle in for the night.” He suggests, reaching for his suit and helmet, he doesn’t bother dressing in the suit, only attaching the filter and hoses to the clothing before he places the helmet on his head and switches the filter on. “It works!” His voice is slightly muffled since you have taken your own helmet off and aren’t on the comms. It works for a few moments until a pink dust sputters through the filter and fills his helmet, making Ezra cough. “Kevva. What in tarnation is that?” He chokes, inhaling more of the dust.

Shaking your head, you frown. “I - she was covered in it when I- when I rolled her over.” You murmur. “It has to be some kind of additive she put in her filter? Maybe some kind of drug.” You shrug slightly and start to strip out of your suit once more. Eager to relax now that Ezra has another filter and you can sleep since you had been too excited the night before. 

Ezra coughs again but removes the helmet, hoping he can let the filter run to get rid of that powder shit. When you both get into your respective cots, he’s sweating and his cock…Kevva, it’s hard as steel. He pants, wondering what was in that powder and he glances over to see you’re asleep. Good, it was a long day for you. He reaches into his pants, wrapping his fingers around his cock and groaning softly at the slight respite he discovers.

The next morning, you slowly blink as your alarm goes off. You had heard Ezra grunting and shifting on his cot last night. It seems like he hadn’t slept well, maybe because of his unease with being back on the Green. You don’t know, sitting up and rubbing your eyes before you look over at where he is still laying. 

Ezra barely slept, his body almost throbbing as much as his cock and no matter how much jerking off he did, he couldn’t cum. He tried, fuck he tried, but he just couldn’t do it. Nothing seemed to tip him over the edge, not evening when he thought of you. He grunts as he sits up, cock still aching with need that hasn’t been fulfilled.

“Ez.” You gape at him in shock. “You look unwell.” You murmur, shifting off your cot to move over to him but he waves you away. “I- I don’t think you should come out to the sight this morning. You look like you didn’t sleep at all. Why don’t you stay and rest for a bit while I get started?” You offer, knowing that he would be dangerous if he tries to help while he is in such a state. 

“I can’t. I require a distraction from this - this fever. Let me - I will accompany you. I shall enjoy the walk, perhaps it will allow me to be rid of this - this minor inconvenience.” He shifts off of the bed, knowing it’s unavoidable that you would see his hard cock.

When he stands, your eyes widen for a moment before you avert your gaze. It is obvious and you cannot help but bite your lip, your cunt clenching at the thought of the tent you had seen in the sweats he wears under his suit. He was obviously in need of release and you wonder if he had been unable to take care of himself or if he was simply trying to ignore it. “I will get suited up then.” You announce cheerfully. 

Your cheery disposition has Ezra’s cock twitching and his entire being annoyed. He can’t believe you’re so chipper when he is in agony, his cock aching with need that he can’t seem to fulfill no matter how many times he jerks his cock. Giving up in the end when it became too sore and his wrist began to ache. The satisfaction never the same since he was forced to use his left hand. Still, he soldiers on, getting dressed and then changing into his newly modified suit.

It takes long minutes until he is ready, and you ignore his curses as he struggles into his suit. You know he doesn’t want help and he seems to be in a mood so you quietly eat a nutribar. He finally gets his suit hooked up and you reach for one of the pouches of liquified foods. “Do you want me to hook you up, or are you not hungry?” 

“Not hungry.” He growls, irritated from both lack of sleep and his current predicament. He sighs, adjusts the suit before he places the helmet on his head. “Let’s just go get the harvest. I want to get off of this damn moon as soon as feasibly possible.” He is harsh but fuck, he’s exhausted. When he turns on the filter once you’re outside the tent, the pink dust starts to fill his helmet again.

You walk to the dig sight quietly, unsure of why Ezra’s mood has changed so drastically. Hoping that it is just the lack of sleep or being uncomfortable, you decide the best thing you can do is to work hard to harvest as many of the gems as possible.

Ezra is struggling to walk considering the sizable erection he’s sporting, and he is grumpy. Unable to talk as the pink dust continues spurting into his helmet. Eventually, he can’t continue walking, folding over as his heart pounds in his chest.

Hearing him grunt rather loudly, you turn around to find him doubled over. “Ezra!” It’s alarming, making you spin on your heel and rush back towards him. He should have stayed in the tent, but you have no idea what is wrong with him, worried that the Green is affecting him to the point where it’s manifesting physically. “What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t - little lady, I cannot burden you with the current issue my body is experiencing. It would not be fair. It appears that the pink powder has - has acted as some kind of aphrodisiac and therefore I am - fuck - hard as a rock.”

Shocked, you glance down at his crotch, even though the suit would hide his predicament. “I- okay.” You shake your head, feeling guilty because you are the one that had brought him the filter. “You need to get back to the tent. You can- you work out your stress and I will harvest the gems alone to give you privacy.” 

Ezra shakes his head, “I can’t leave you alone to harvest. It’s too dangerous.” 

You scoff, “Ezra, with all due respect, you couldn’t protect me in that state. You need to go back to the tent and deal with it.” 

Ezra wants to scream, he has this opportunity to make the most money he’s ever known and he can’t do it because his cock is hard. “Fuck. Fine. Fine. I will go back.” He pants after the pain sears through him once more.

You watch him turn and stumble back towards the tent, sighing softly before you resume your own trek to the sight. Yes, it will be more perilous with just yourself out there, especially since you could not see anyone approaching, but it cannot be helped. You will harvest as much as you can today and hopefully it will give Ezra time to work out the lust that is swimming in his veins. Ignoring the way that your cunt clenches at the thought of him jerking off, you huff at yourself. He doesn’t want your help with his issues. 

Ezra stumbles back to the tent, ripping off his suit, and when he’s in his tatty pants and shirt, he rips those off, his skin overheating. “Fuck. Fuck!” He growls, desperate to shove his pants down so he can pull his hard cock out. Wrapping his fingers around his length, he jerks himself off but he can’t seem to get himself to completion.

You are there for hours. Carefully cutting the sacks out of the ground and slicing them open. Knowing that you are making the both of you richer with every gem you carefully put into the case. Stopping to scan the area before continuing to stay as safe as you can. You wonder how Ezra is doing and decide that as soon as you fill this case you will head back to check on him. 

Ezra groans, sweat now dripping down his cheek as he lets go of his cock. “Fucking - Kevva you forsake me even jerking off my cock?” He growls, frustrated beyond all means. He can’t seem to cum. Nothing will alleviate the aching in his groin and he is exhausted, his wrist aches from overuse. He is still lost in the haze of lust and nothing will satiate it.

Packing up the case carefully, you leave the site and head back to the campsite. Hoping that Ezra has worked his issues out and is resting now. You click the comms when you are in sight of the tent, but you don’t hear him respond. There is no way for you to call out, so you simply unzip the tent and give him a moment before you throw the flap open and enter.

When you enter the tent, Ezra doesn’t even have the ability to look at you. He doesn’t have anything in his mind except trying to stop this ache. After you walk in, he can’t even muster any embarrassment, need just overtaking his body while he tries to jerk himself off again.

You bite your lip, trying to avoid looking over at him to give him a modicum of privacy. “No luck working it out of your system?” You ask after you pull your helmet off. You hear him now, the frantic near groaning in pain as he pants our rhythmically.

Ezra shakes his head, frantic and in near agony. “Fuck little lady. I just - nothing seems to work. My hand - it’s useless.” He groans, sweat dripping down his chest since he abandoned all of his clothes.

You have heard that sentiment from him several times after learning that his loss of limb is recent. “You have not cum at all?” You ask and Ezra growls. 

“No!” His frustration is evident and you bite your lip, the sound of him jerking his cock makes your stomach flip and your own heart speeds up in your chest. 

“What do you need?” You venture softly. 

Ezra doesn’t want to ask but honestly, at this stage, he has no choice. He chokes, feeling guiltier than ever before as his dark eyes focus on you. “Can you- little lady, what I require is beyond what I could request of you but I need your touch. Please.” He begs, body almost shaking with need.

Surprised that he has actually voiced it, you nod. It’s not like you would detest touching him. In fact,  you will enjoy being able to touch him like you wish. “Let me get out of my suit.” You murmur, starting to pull it off quickly and stripping down to your base layers. Ezra is practically whimpering, his hand still working over his cock even though you can see he is not finding any pleasure in it. After pausing for a moment, you pull your shirt over your head to reveal your unbound breasts and push your leggings down so you are as bare as he is. 

“Fuck little lady. You didn’t -” His protest of you stripping down dies on his lips when you reach out and replace his hand on his cock, your fingers wrapping around the throbbing length. “Kevva.” He hisses, “are you sure?”

You snort, wondering why he would think you would have your hand wrapped around his cock if you were not sure. “I will not mind touching you.” You admit, flustering slightly when you pump him. HIs cock is nearly raw, dry and you know it has to hurt. You keep your grip light, making him whimper and roll his hips forward but you step closer and sink down to your knees in front of him on his cot, leaning forward and taking the head into your mouth. 

“Kevva!” Ezra yelps, eyes widening as he looks down at you. His hand grabs the back of your head, not moving you but the feel of your wet, hot mouth on the head of his cock feels better than anything he has felt from his own hand for hours.

Humming, you grin as your tongue presses against the head and you love the salty little spurt of pre-cum that coats your tongue. You want to help him, he’s sweating and shaking, nearly at his breaking point. You would have come back soon if you had known he was suffering. Taking him deeper, you make it wet. Opening your mouth more and letting the saliva coat him generously before your lips slide back over the velvety skin of his cock. 

Ezra pants, eyes closing before he forces himself to look at you. You look gorgeous, practically angelic as you take his cock into your mouth over and over again. “Fuck. Sweet girl. I can’t - it’s too much. I’m going to cum.” He warns you, allowing you time to pull off of him.

You don’t pull away. You can tell he has not cum in this entire time he has been in agony. You keep the pressure, the suction of your mouth constant, reaching out and fondling his full and taunt balls in your hands. Willing him to fall over the edge for you. 

The cry that escapes Ezra’s lips is loud and full of relief. “Fuck!” He yelps, his fingers gripping your head as his cock pulses in your mouth. He groans, watching you as you swallow every drop that escapes his cock. He’s lost in the haze of pleasure, his entire body taunt and he groans your name.

He’s still hard when you pull off of him, but it might just be because he has been without release for so long. You hum, wiping your jaw where your split had rolled down your chin and grin up at him. “Better?” You ask, willing to let him rest if he was satisfied. It’s been a long day for him.

The brief moment of reprieve has Ezra slumping over, until the heat and the ache returns tenfold. “Shit. No. No, little lady. It appears that my - my damnation shall continue. I need - fuck - I need more.” He reaches down to grip his cock again, whining at the roughness of his hand compared to your velvet tongue.

You bite your lip, watching him slowly jerk himself off and grimacing in pain. “Do you want my mouth again?” You ask, feeling the slickness between your thighs and it drips down to the tent floor, soaking into the fabric. “Or do you want to fuck me?” 

Ezra’s eyes widen, “I don’t - I can’t - I’m - fuck little lady. Do not dare to bait me with such pretty invitations and then withdraw them once it becomes a reality. I desperately want to push inside what is undoubtedly one of the sweetest pussies I’ve ever had the pleasure of fucking but only - only - if you allow me. If you do not fear that you will regret letting me into your body.”

Standing, you take his hand, pulling it away from his cock. Sliding it between your thighs and guiding him to your soaked folds. “This is what sucking your cock does to me, Ezra.” You admit with a small moan of pleasure at his touch. “I have- have been wanting to touch you and have you touch me.” 

Ezra’s eyes widen and his fingers slide through your folds, rubbing your clit. He groans, unable to believe you’re so wet. He knows you didn’t inhale the pink powder so this is all you. “Fuck baby. You want - Kevva - sit on my cock. Please.” He begs, wanting to be inside of you. 

Moaning when he pulls his fingers away and slides them into his mouth to taste your essence, you push him back into the cot gently. It would make sense for you to ride him, especially since he is still throbbing and leaking against his stomach. “I’ll sit on your cock.” You coo as you straddle him. “Imagined you filling me up, stretching me out in this beautiful, thick cock.” You wrap your hand around his length so you can position him at your entrance and start to slowly sink down on him.

The whine that escapes his lips is pathetic but he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed when your hot, silky cunt grips his throbbing cock. “Kevva have mercy.” He gasps, his hand gripping your hip. He can’t believe you are doing this for him and it has him on the edge of cumming already but he tries to hold off.

He’s gorgeous as he furrows his brow. You can feel the way that he is bracing his feet on the end of the cot and tensing under you. Instead of lifting off him, you circle your hips and grind down onto him, moaning quietly. “Feels so good.” You murmur. “I have an implant, want you to fill me up.”

Your permission has him on the edge and his chest heaves as he looks up at you. His hand sliding up your side until he cups your breast, pinching your nipple while your walls flutter around him. “Shit. You feel - you feel like what I have always envisioned nirvana - not that I would ever reach such a place - would feel like.”

You smile slightly, eyes closed while you continue to grind down on him. “Same.” You whimper when the head of his cock pushes deliciously against your back wall, pulsing harshly. “You fill me up so perfectly.” You rock back slightly, bracing yourself on his thighs and start to slowly roll your hips. Hoping he doesn’t mind the less than frantic pace while you get used to him. He’s thick and wonderful and you know you will ache after this.

The feel of your hot, wet cunt around his cock proves to be too much. With a hiss, he rocks up into you and paints your walls with his hot seed. “Shittttt.” He groans, feeling another slight moment of respite. “Shit I - i apologize little lady for the lack of warning.” He pants, thighs shaking beneath you as his cock throbs but remains hard as steel inside of you.

You give a small chuckle and lean forward to caress his chest. “Don’t worry about it.” You press your lips to his. “You do what you need to work this out of your system. At least you are cumming now.” He’s still hard, so you start to move again, feeling like he’s not done quite yet. The slick spurts of cum start to push out of you around his cock and slide down to pool at his groin.

Ezra’s hand grips your hip, wanting you to move a little faster, and he wants you to cum too so his hand shifts to find your clit. His dark eyes look up at you, so incredibly ethereal as you move on his cock, working yourself on his length as his cum drips down onto his skin but he doesn’t care, too focused on you.

“Oh, oh fuck.” You whimper when his thumb starts to rub your clit, pressing perfectly and haphazardly against your sensitive flesh. Giving him what he wants by starting to move faster, rocking back and forth on his cock and sitting straighter so he plunges deeper into your cunt. “Oh fuck.”

Ezra hisses when your walls grip him as you start to ride him, his thumb urgently pressing against your clit. He wants you to cum for him before he fills you again. The need still surges through him but he desperately wants you to cum first. “So fucking beautiful. Like an angel Kevva herself sent to me for salvation from the burning.

You love the flowery words, making your stomach clench and you whimper again as your eyes close. “Gonna take care of you.” You promise. “Don’t- don’t want you to hurt. Want you to feel good.” One hand slides up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between your fingers and your walls flutter again. “So close. Keep- keep rubbing.” You beg, needing to cum.

Ezra obeys eagerly, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit and sweat drips down his neck, landing on the bunk below. Each roll of your hips has him groaning your name as he gets closer to his own high, but he wants to watch you fall over the edge. “Cum for me, little lady.” He orders, voice raspy and throat dry.

That voice, that is what throws you over the edge. The normally drawn out cadence that sounds like syrup is rough and makes your entire body respond to his command. Throwing your head back,  you feel your cunt lock down around his cock as you cry out. The heated rush of pleasure melting through your veins and soaking his length in a wet gush. 

“Fuckkkkk.” Ezra groans, loving how you soak him and the look on your face as you cum. Mouth open as you toss your head back in pleasure. He’s addicted, fuck, he’s addicted. He continues rubbing your clit despite you stilling, thighs shaking as you straddle him, and he groans your name again. “Fuck.” He wishes he could turn you over, fuck you hard into the bunk, but he doesn’t have that ability anymore. “Hands. Get on your hands and knees.” He orders.

His fingers still move, overstimulating you while your body jerks and shakes on top of him, trying to continue moving. “Oh Kevva.” You pant, collapsing against his chest for a moment and his hand is trapped between you. “Give me- it’s been a long time since I’ve- since I’ve cum because of someone else.” You admit. “I’ll move again in a second.”

Ezra allows you the moment to relax despite the ache in his groin. Your comfort is of the utmost importance to him despite the pain he is experiencing from the drug still pulsing in his system. "Take your time, little lady." He sighs, rubbing your back with his hand after freeing it from between your bodies.

You can feel that he is still hard, the slight rolls of his hips not escaping your blissful state. Figuring that he is still in pain and needs to cum again, you sit up and kiss his lips. “Take what you need, Ez.” You murmur softly, “don’t worry if I cum again. Use me to deal with the pain.” 

His responding groan is strangled and he hisses when you shift away from him, making him sit up while you settle into your hands and knees. “Fuck. You are gorgeous.” He hisses, slapping your ass with his hand. He grips his cock with his hand, shuffling forward until he can position his cock at your entrance. He hisses with relief when he pushes deep inside of you, your hot, wet cunt enveloping him. “Fuck little lady. So - so awe inspiring. I could ramble off lines of poetry about this pussy but I’d much rather fuck it.”

Moaning in agreement, you rock back against him. Dropping down to your elbows so you can let him take control, press you down or move you as he needs to. “It’s so good, want you to - to fuck me like you imagined.” You pant. “Before this. I know you wanted to. I wanted to fuck you too.” 

Ezra hisses at the way your walls flutter around him as he pushes deeper into you. The way your cunt grips his cock makes him breathless and he growls, gripping your hip to give himself a moment. When he has his balance, he starts to rock his hips, pushing deep before he pulls out of you. He pushes deeper each time, his pace is slow but deliberate and he kisses your spine.

If you had expected him to be fucking into you fast and furiously, you were mistaken. Moaning softly,  you stretch your spine out, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin. “Ezra, how are you feeling?” You pant quietly, wanting to make sure he is not in any pain. 

“Good. Still - still fucking burning but you feel so good baby. So fucking good around my cock. I can’t wait to feel you cum around me again and again and again. You’re like the sweetest cavern and I cannot wait to sample your honey.” His words are scrambled but he’s so lost in how you feel.

You let him keep the pace that seems to be best for him. Knowing that he wouldn’t make himself hurt. “Whatever you want.” You promise him. “I’m here. You’re going to rest and tomorrow we will harvest more aurelac.”

Grunts escape his lips and he rocks into you with hard but precise thrusts despite the heat still surging through him. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hip. “Fuck. Want to see you dripping with diamonds while you take my cock. Want to see you drip your juices onto a fucking gem and then I want to fuck you while we lay on a beach on some planet somewhere, just enjoying life. No more bullshit. No more running or prospecting.”

Your brow shoots up in surprise but you moan at the idea. It’s heady, thinking about never worrying again and just being able to live and relax. “You gonna fuck me every day?” You pant out. “Getting addicted to your cock.”

“Kevva.” Ezra hisses, “if I had my way, you’d sit on my cock all day. We’d only move for bodily functions and we would indulge. Laze around and do everything we - we want. I’d indulge your every desire. Whatever my little lady requires.” He pants, lost in the fantasy of being buried inside of you like this every day.

You know that he is lost in a haze of drugged sex and pleasure from being buried in your body while he works through it. It wouldn’t be fair to hold him to it when this is over, but you moan at the idea, not opposed to it at all. When he gathers all his riches, he will not need you but he will leave you available to do what you wish by yourself. You rock back and clench around him, indulging in the vision of having a partner - him - for just a moment while you go what you wish. “So good.” You whine, closing your eyes while his cock hits something amazing. 

Kissing your back, Ezra bends over you, his chest pressed against your back as he rocks his hips. “So good, my gem. Fuck - so good. Feel so good. So much better than my hand.” He hisses, rocking into you a little faster as his next high builds up.

You hum, feeling his cock start to push into you faster, collapsing down onto your cheek on the cot and moaning when the change of angle feels amazing. “You - you look so good.” You pant out. “Hard and lusty with you-your cock in your hand.”

“You are - you are created by Aphrodite herself.” He groans, rocking deep and hard as he seeks his next orgasm. “Fuck. This tight little cunt is gonna make me cum.” He hisses, his hips slamming against your ass as he picks up his pace.

“Good.” You whimper, closing your eyes as he rocks you forward on the bed. York fingers twist in his blanket and you can feel the cum and arousal sliding down your lips and dripping onto the cot. “Want you to feel good.”

Ezra hisses, his cock pulsing as he pushes deep before he paints your walls with more hot seed, pushing it out with every rock of his hips and he groans out as the pleasure takes over from the pain, the heady lust relieved for a few special moments as his cock pulses.

The chances that Ezra is done are probably fifty-fifty, but you let him collapse on top of you and pant, his lips pressing against your back. Humming, you smile at how exhausted he sounds and you wonder if this is why he had such a bad night. He had tried the filter before going to bed to see if it worked. “I wonder what is in that filter?”

Pulling out of you, Ezra kisses down your spine until he can shuffle off of the bed. He kisses your thigh and before you can gasp, he slides his tongue through your cum slick folds, not caring around his own taste but he wants you to cum once more as a thank you to helping him. “Fuck.” He groans, sliding his tongue through your folds.

“Ezraaaa.” You moan, eyes closing and shudder. “You need to rest if you are done.” 

“Not until you cum.” He growls, nose pressing against your clit as his tongue sliding into your folds with a hum of delight. The urgency has passed and he wants to thank you for helping him through such a dire situation. “Little lady,” He smacks his lips together, “I want you to cum on my tongue.”

It’s decadent, bordering obscene to lay here with your ass up while Ezra licks through your folds. Making you clench slightly when his aquiline nose presses against your puckered hold and his moan vibrates against your clit. “Oh fuck.” You grip the edges of the cot and your toes curl. “Love that mouth. Your voice- tongue.” You whimper

Ezra is eager to please, lapping a little more at your cunt, sucking on your clit and his hand caresses your side, wanting to make you feel as good as you made him feel when he was buried in your cunt.

It doesn’t take you long. The fact that you’ve been fucking for hours have you primed for another orgasm. Instead of screaming through your, it slowly overtakes your system, making you shudder and cry out a garbled whine of his name.

Ezra feels your entire body shake and he grips your hip, keeping you close while his tongue slides through your folds, flicking over your clit until your hips jerk away from him. He groans, kissing your ass cheek before he playfully bites it. “Fuck little lady, that was - so fucking delicious. Glad the incessant torture of the powder has subsided.”

You lift your head and smirk, shifting so he can lay down beside you. “Now you can rest.” When he is on his back, you turn over and caress his cheek. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“Kevva, I’m starving…and thirsty.” He admits, knowing that it’s been a while since he last ate and the energy he’s used to jerk off and fuck you. He’s starting to realize that he wants to do it again, minus the pink powder. He wants you.

Kissing him gently, you nod. “Rest.” You urge him, “I will get you some water and something to eat.” Standing on shaky legs, you stumble over to the pack that contains your nurtibars and some water for him. You bring them over along with a pack of the sani-wipes so that you can clean both of you up.

Ezra flops down onto the bed, his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat that accumulated there. He rests his head on the pillow, exhaling in relief that the burn of the powder has finally left his body. “I cannot verbalize the extent of my gratitude to you, little lady, for seeing me through such a trial.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you to die of misery.” You open the bottle for him, not giving him the chance to argue that he can do it and hand it to him while you open up his nutri-bar. He needs to rest and you don’t want to watch him struggle when you can help. “Death by lack of orgasm.”

Ezra grunts as he sits up, bracing himself on his arm before he is balanced and can drink the water from the bottle. He snorts, “fuck. That’s a shit way to go. I can only spend the rest of my days telling you how sincerely grateful I am for you allowing me the chance to seek relief in your body.”

You smirk and put the bar down beside him and open the wipes. He had filled you up several times, your cum and his crusted on the inside of your thighs. Your lips are tender from fucking for so long but it’s a pleasant type of burn. “Ez, you would have done the same for me, I know you would have.” You shoot him a grin. “Besides, I had the best orgasms I’ve had in cycles.”

Ezra smirks, pleased that you enjoyed it. “My cock is available for any pleasure you seek, little lady.” His face grows serious, “I meant what I said…I want to spend a luxurious life with you.” He murmurs, watching you with a smile as you clean up.

After you clean up, you pull another wipe out and come over to Ezra. He had spent a day sweating and agonizing over his inability to cum. Being careful of his presumably raw cock, you start cleaning him up as well. “First we need to finish harvesting the aurelac and then we can decide where we want to idle away our time and fortunes.” You promise, leaning in and giving him a tender kiss. “Together.”

With a soft smile, Ezra pulls you down onto him with his arm, “together, little lady. Let’s get some rest and tomorrow I will assist you with getting rich beyond our wildest dreams. I just need to flush that damn filter. Bastard powder nearly killed me. I’m a fragile being.” He chuckles, kissing your neck.

Snuggling into him, you wrap your arm around his waist and lean your head on his shoulder. Exhausted from the day harvesting gemstones and then fucking, you close your eyes. “Strong enough to survive the Green, Ezra.” You whisper. “And this time when you leave, you will have a ship full of riches.”

“I think I have discovered the greatest treasure on the Green. You, my little lady, make me the richest man in the entire universe. I wish to keep you by my side until I draw my last breath. Now, let’s test and tomorrow, we will harvest the Queen’s Lair and escape from this Kevva cursed moon.”

****

The tranquil waters lap against the crystal white sands on Armethia, the dual suns bright in the sky. There’s no one around you, just the way you enjoy it. 

After getting back to the Pug, you discovered the price of aurelac had tripled, making the Queen’s lair even more profitable. Some, of course, had been sent to Cee, to provide for her while she is in school and whatever she chooses to do. After some convincing, you had talked Ezra into being fitted with a synthetic arm, making him feel better and right now those arms are wrapped around you, his cock buried deep inside you.

Ezra groans, kissing your neck as you rock your hips to meet his thrusts. "Fuck, little lady. You are exquisite. I am a lucky son of a bitch. You're all mine. My diamond." He murmurs, kissing along your jaw and the diamonds around your neck sparkle in the sunlight streaming into your room.

You hum, turning your head to smile down at him, caressing his cheek and pressing your lips to his while both of you continue to languidly fuck each other. Passion has been constant since that day on the Green with the pink powder, never fading away and the love between you has grown as you have journeyed to where you are right now. “All yours.” You promise, grinding down onto him. “Yours and yours alone.”

Ezra knows he may have only been seeking the Queen’s Lair but in the end, he is rich beyond his wildest dreams. Forget the credits from the aurelac, he has you. For that, he will forever thank Kevva for his fortune. You are the most incredible creature and he is lucky to call you his. He will never step foot on the Green again but it has given him the family he secretly yearned for with Cee and you. His family and his fortune…may Kevva bless him until the day he dies. Hopefully buried inside of the woman he loves.

[nicomoon69]

ignore the slight style inconsistencies, I am tired :3

oc lore dump under cut!!

little background:

the isolated area in which these characters live is about the size of Eurasia. there’s five main islands with littler ones mostly near the bigger islands. two islands belong to the humans and two belong to the elves with the last island being mostly neutral.

there’s been a war going on between the humans and elves for as long as anyone can remember. while they may not be actively fighting there’s a lot of hostility and distrust. no one exactly knows how it started.

elves are split up into two sub races: Sylvestrean elves and Mageian elves. elves specialized in their own type of magic over a long period of time, creating the difference between the sub races. Sylvestrean elves are in touch with nature, their powers based on the elements and all that is living. Mageian elves focus on more abstract magic, usually a something that enhances a skill and is something that they’ve developed and passed down through their family.

regardless of sub race, elves have an increased life expectancy compared to humans and age slower. they worship the moon goddess Ela and worship of any other god is a punishable offense. while they aren’t as developed technically compared to humans especially the Mageian elves are catching up. most of the elven states/countries/regions are ruled by nobility.

humans despite being one race are much more of a mixed bag than elves. some humans live like they’re form medieval times, but on the other end of the spectrum there’s human who live in a sort of steam punk society. they also have no innate magical abilities but can practice magic through other means and are thereby also not limited to one thing. this however is generally frowned upon and will even get you a prison sentence in some places.

humans generally live a way shorter life than elves. they worship the sun god Sol, though there’s also some that will pray to Ela since laws surrounding religion are less strict. humans have all sorts of governments, there is no one way to do it. due to that humans are far less united than elves.

Lavern Levesque (they/he, 24)

pirate captain of ship the Levesque (though if you ask anyone in their crew they’ll tell you he’s usually too busy tinkering to care about what direction they’re sailing). former trust fund baby (parents were no1 wine exporters in the nation) but after their entire family got burnt to a crisp in a fire that may or may not have been caused by the mafia they’ve been homeless and on the run. at some point in his homelessness career he and the rag tag group of friends he collected over the years stole the Levesque from some poor chap who was doing business. that was when Lavern Levesque was truly born. ever since he’s been busy scamming the rich and robbing the snobbiest they can find. (they’re also in a committed relationship with the daughter of one of the people he tried to scam- oops??)

Ida (she/her, 26)

formerly part of the mafia (that’s gonna be a real awkward conversation with Lavern at some point) and currently on the run. with little options she’s been doing a lot of physical labor for whoever will hire her which finally led her to the Levedque. due to the captain’s lack of involvement with hiring she didn’t know who she was going to work under, which led to an uncomfortable realization. ever since she’s been hiding her past and trying to get over her middle child related trauma (imagine having 8 siblings and you’re exactly in the middle, yeesh) as well as living with the guilt that she was in fact a part of the reason Lavern’s family is dead.

Hedvig (they/it, ??)

not much too say about their past since they suffer from heavy memory loss and barely remember their name. it has a suspicious amount of buried combat knowledge though and magic that lets them shape whatever they want into any form as long as the matter is non-living. was found by Eleanor (she’ll pop up later) on her parent’s ship and immediately left a bad impression by being scarred, wet and not speaking the common language.

Finn (he/they/she, 16-18)

he’s honestly just a poor little guy. he was the product of an affair between a human and an elf, which since a young age put a huge target on his back. despite trying to hide it Finn could never fit in with his peers or even his family. his step father resented him and his mother wasn’t in a position to defend him. this all reached its boiling point when he was about eleven years old and was put on a ship to another island. unfortunately, his ship got caught in a storm and he washed up on the shore of a dangerous island. ever since he’s been stuck, the island’s forest having all sorts of dangers. he’s seen countless people wash up, attempt to leave or get resources and get killed by the island’s mysterious forces. his survival has relied solely on what has washed up and what little he could find.

Elanor Sylvian (she/they, 32)

part of the royal Sylvestrean family, she’s the eldest daughter of the king and queen. she was raised to be the next queen, not exactly having a childhood or many friends. as ruler she would’ve been responsible for making sure the nobles under her were doing their jobs well. she set out with her parents to a meeting between nobles which was when she found Hedvig on the ship. due to her having studied many languages she luckily could understand Hedvig, who only spoke in a which was thought to be extinct Mageian dialect.