#the rating will change to 'mature' next chapter

[itsgeecheebitch]

Until Darkness Descends

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XV

PAIRING: Ardyn x Aera/reader (you are Aera, loosely based off of Aera Mirus Fleuret)

RATING: Teen

SERIES: The Fall Part 1 of 4

CHAPTER: 5

            You leaned against the balcony railing in your guest room and stared at the view. The sleepless city was illuminated by a myriad of colorful lights, flickering and glowing like tiny stars. Meanwhile the night sky remained empty and void. It was as though the celestial beacons were dragged down to Eos, leaving the heavens shrouded in darkness. Only the moon remained. It stood sentinel over the busy city and painted your otherwise dark room in pale milky light. 

           The duffle bag you brought with you was on the bed, still stuffed full with the clothing you had no intention of unpacking. You weren’t going to stay here for long anyway. In fact, you planned to leave tonight. Your duffle bag was ready and you still had the clothes on your back from earlier today. The only thing you needed was a way out. As you stared down at the long stretch of space between your balcony and the ground below, you knew climbing or jumping down was out of the question. 

             Before you could wrack your brain for more ideas, you felt the air shift. “Leaving so soon?” Came a familiar mellifluous voice from behind you. 

         “Uncle Ardyn? What are you doing here?” You asked.

        “Visiting a dear friend, of course.” He answered. “As well as to congratulate you on your new position”

          You frowned. “How do you know about that?” How did he even know you would be in Insomnia? You haven't seen the older man in a few weeks, let alone earlier today. There was no logical explanation for him knowing about the invitation as well as the proposal.

          “I have my ways.” Ardyn answered cryptically. Now that you thought about it, he always knew where to find you and he would always appear at the most opportune moments, usually whenever you needed him or anyone else to talk to. A nagging sense of dread forced the hair at the back of your neck to stand. You trusted uncle Ardyn but something felt off about all of these encounters that you’ve never considered before. But before that nagging feeling could take root, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to relax. This was uncle Ardyn. You have known him since you were five years old. You love him and trust him, sure he is a bit strange and would always appear out of nowhere, but that didn’t mean anything malevolent. Perhaps his magic makes him more intune to your emotions, allowing him to come to your aid whenever you need him. But that still didn’t explain away how he would know where to find you.  “Now, I may not be one to stand on ceremony but such an occasion as this calls for a celebration, don’t you agree?”

        “No…I don’t want to be here.” You answered truthfully. 

         His amber eyes softened. “It's your home you yearn for, isn’t it?”

         You nodded your head when an idea came to you. “Do you think you could take me there?”

          Ardyn hummed at the request. Perhaps this could be an alternative to his original plan. He truly had no real desire to kill you. You were sweet and kind and full of so much life, he wanted to bask in your light for a little while longer. Stealing you away just might be the next best option. He could take you to the heart of the empire, somewhere far away from the chosen king. But what of the gods? Surely they wouldn’t allow you to part from Noctis for long if your presence was truly needed to fulfill the prophecy. 

         He sighed wearily. It was probably inevitable that you would find your way back to Insomnia, back to prince Noctis’ side. The only way to keep that scenario from happening is to kill you.  Ardyn suddenly found his mouth to be too dry. “Of course, my dear.” He said before giving you a smile, one he hoped felt real enough to assuage your inquiring mind as well as silence the doubts within his own. “But before we depart, it would be such a shame to allow this cider to go to waste.”

        “Cider?”

         With a wave of his hand a bottle of apple cider appeared in his grasp, accompanied by two empty golden goblets. “Sparkling apple juice. It is to your liking, yes?”

          You answered yes and Ardyn handed you a cup. The amber liquid bubbled and fizzed as he filled your cup before doing the same to his. He clanked his cup against yours with a gentle, “cheers”, and brought the goblet to his lips. He watched as you mimicked his movements, bringing the cup to your lips. To grant you a peaceful death didn’t take much thought on his part. After finding out your purpose, he plucked a bulb of nightshade from Verstael Besithia’s garden back in Gralea and laced the cider with it. The poison from the plant works swiftly as well as painlessly, easing its victim into a dreamless sleep before gradually killing them in a matter of minutes. 

        You tilted the cup but before Ardyn could witness you consume the poison, he was suddenly plucked out of reality. First there was darkness, impenetrable and all consuming before a deluge of light burst through the dark and bathed his new surroundings in color.  Shades of blue light illuminated the void. There was a smattering of stars here and there where the light didn’t reach and Ardyn knew where he was instantly. How could he possibly forget this wretched place? His eyes scanned the empty space before they fell upon the being whose very presence ignited a raging fire in his core. 

         Ardyn gritted his teeth so hard he thought they would crack. “What is it now?” He hissed. 

         “You know why thou hast been summoned.” The god said, the thunderous boom of his voice echoed across the void. “The child has been chosen to serve an important role in what has been ordained, a role thou is not permitted to disturb.”

          Ardyn scoffed, “I wonder what role that may be. Could it be you’ve misjudged the capabilities of your chosen champion, so much so that you must rely on the aid of a new contender?” 

        “To aid the chosen king in his quest is not her true calling. Her purpose is to thee. She will serve as the catalysis to bring forth your salvation.” Bahamut revealed.

        “My salvation?” Ardyn asked. This felt eerily reminiscent of his previous encounter with the apathetic god. So much so that he could already feel the god's inequitable decree in his bones before the words were even uttered. Just like last time, Ardyn knew Bahamut's words would be life altering, soul crushing, and final. And just like last time Ardyn was prepared to rebel, even if that meant getting tortured by Aera's likeness all over again.

        “Amidst the darkest hour, she shall serve as a beacon of light and drive away the darkness that distorted thy heart.” Bahamut explained. “Once the girl revives the part of thee that remains unmarred by the dark, thou shalt finally be free of the scourge’s influence and power, in time for thy departure from this world. That shall be your salvation.” 

         That flame in Ardyn's core burst into a full blown forest fire, incinerating all rational thought until all he could see was red. He could kill him. His fingernails stabbed into the flesh of his palm with the need to tear into the god until Bahamut was nothing but a bloody disfigured heap of flesh. Ardyn gritted his teeth and this time he was sure they were bleeding. He could honestly laugh at the absurdity of his circumstances, stripped of his calling and condemned to two millennia of suffering, only to be made a sacrificial pawn and ordained to be weakened by a cheap copy of his late wife, all to make the duty of slaying him easier on the chosen king. And Bahamut had the audacity to call this salvation. 

         His eyes narrowed into slits. An inferno resided in his veins, scorching him from the inside out but his anger never wavered. “I have no use for your salva-” His center of gravity collapsed and he was falling through the void. With a violent jolt, he opened his eyes to find himself back inside your guest room. You were still holding the goblet to your lips mid-sip, frozen in time for only a fraction of a second before time resumed and he watched as you gulped down the liquid. You finished with a satisfied "ah" and looked up at him.

         “That was really good.” You said, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. “Are you ready to go now?” Ardyn observed you. Your eyes were sharp with crystal clarity, your hands weren’t clammy or shaking, and you didn’t appear seconds away from collapsing. You were completely fine, as though you didn’t just consume Eos’ most dangerous poison. 

       Ardyn hummed. It seemed you were truly under the gods’ veil of protection. They won’t let any life threatening harm befall you, at least not until the day of reckoning, but no matter. Ardyn knew from experience how easy it is to fall out of the gods’ favor. You won’t be any different, he will make sure of that. 

      “I’m afraid not, my dear.” Ardyn said.

      Your face instantly fell. “B-but you said you would take me!” You whined.

       “That I did, at least during a moment of forgetfulness. The roads are quite perilous after dark. It wouldn’t be wise to spirit you away just yet, not with all daemons prowling about at this late hour.” He said and that seemed to appease you a bit. Your shoulders drooped forward and you fiddled with the empty goblet in your hands but you didn’t complain. 

        You were a sensible girl despite being so young. His Aera was like that too, she was far more reasonable than he was when they were children, much like how you are now. Ardyn had to look away from you. The uncanny similarities between you and her made his heart ache, but those similarities weren't real. You weren’t real. You were just a doppelganger, fashioned by the gods’ with his Aera’s likeness, for the intended purpose of aiding in his destruction. 

        He refused to let those heartless bastards win. Ardyn didn’t care what he must do, he will make you lose the god’s protection even if that means destroying you. 

       “Okay…” You said suddenly, turning towards him with your pinkie finger extended. “But pinkie promise you’ll take me there in the morning.”

       “How about this,” Ardyn started, curling his hand around yours and lowering your pinkie, “give your stay another few days before you make a final decision. If the royal court is not to your liking, then I will personally escort you back to your beloved home.” He promised when the idea came to him. That is exactly what Ardyn should do, must do, destroy you. Break you, turn you into a shell of your former self. The gods’ have no use for a broken tool and will discard you the same as they did to him. 

       You wrinkled your nose before shimmying your hand out of his grasp. “Hmm…promise?” You asked, extending your pinkie once more.

        Ardyn cracked a smile despite himself and curled his pinkie around yours. “Cross my heart and hope to die, or so they say.” But perhaps he doesn’t have to set his plans for you into motion just yet. There will be time in the future after the fall of Insomnia for that. After all, Ardyn doesn’t want the gods to catch wind of his plan and put a stop to it before it could begin. He could use these years to fool the gods, cultivate your trust and adoration for him and make the gods think their plans are unfolding the way they intended for them to. Once the time comes, he will destroy that illusion and show the gods he cannot be so easily manipulated by a mere copy of his late wife. Once you are thoroughly broken and without the gods’ protection, he will kill you. 

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | i. the return

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter rating: Mature [18+ only, minors dni, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), reader is described as curvy & only has one parent--all else is open to interpretation (we are POC friendly over here okay!!), sarah exists but isn't a main part of the story]

summary: now that you've moved on from college, you're ready to start the newest chapter of your life--adulthood. but when you move back home and are swept back into the magnetic pull of your neighbor, Joel, you find that maybe moving on has nothing to do with leaving the past behind and everything to do with embracing it.

wc: <2k

the masterlist | joel’s pov | next chapter

Undergrad had been a thrilling, difficult, eye-opening experience—one that brought you new friends and new love, along with fall-outs and breakups—but now that you’d earned your degree, you were determined to move on to the next stage of your life. 

Step one, move back home until you landed a job. Step two, move the fuck out.  

Step one was currently underway, your dad hauling the contents of your jam-packed tiny sedan into the house you’d lived in for the better half of your life, while you unpacked the last four years into your old bedroom. It seemed tinier than it had four years ago, but perhaps it wasn’t the room that had changed. Perhaps it was simply that you’d outgrown the space. You tried to fit your new life into your old—shoving your clothes from high school into bags to drag down to the thrift store so that you’d have room for the clothes that fit your new, curvier body—and attempted not to mourn the loss of your old self. 

But wouldn’t this always be the case? With each step you took forward, the more distance you’d put between you and your youngest self. Some days, you wished to plant your feet and refuse to move at all, the comfort of the past too soothing and the uncertainty of the future too unsettling. But most days—like today—you forced your eyes to fix on the image of all that could be, of all that you could be, even when it ached to do so. 

“That’s the last of it,” your dad announced with an exhausted sigh, sweat beading down his forehead as he set the last box down in the middle of the room. 

“Thanks,” you managed, your mind busy with planning. It seemed to never stop, the constant sorting out of your situation. You had to plan the new arrangement of your old furniture, which friends and relatives you’d visit first, which jobs you’d apply for, which apartment complex looked the safest, how you’d manage to make rent, and so on, until you had to plan your funeral. What a joy life was. 

“I know you’re probably busy, but I thought it’d be nice if we went out for dinner tonight,” he suggested, likely able to see the nonstop churning of the wheels inside your mind. He was always oddly aware like that. “Beats you having to eat my cooking.”

You let out a chuckle, nodding your head as you allowed yourself to rest from all the organizing and plotting. You set your hands on your hips and turned to give him a small smile and shrug. “Sure.”

“Alright,” he smiled back, something soft and barely there. “Just, uh, pick a place. I can invite Joel and Sarah, if you want. I know they’ve missed you.”

You laughed at the prospect of your gruff neighbor ever missing you. His ten-year-old, Sarah, likely did, the two of you forming almost a sisterly bond over the last two years that you’d known her. You were her babysitter during your summer and winter breaks from college, mostly because you didn’t mind the work and because you lived right next to the Millers. 

But her father? No, he never seemed to care much for you. Or anyone, for that matter. Except Sarah, his brother, Tommy, and your dad. 

“Sure,” you said, the word slowly becoming your new mantra. “I’ll, uh, just finish unpacking and then I’ll get ready.”

“Alright,” he said, taking one last look around the room before moving to the doorway. He stopped, ever the old sentimental bastard, and turned your way. “Good to have you home, kiddo.” 

You gave him another pursed smile and nodded, fighting the urge to tell him that if things worked out in your favor, you wouldn’t be home for long. “Yeah, dad.”

After a much needed shower and a bit of makeup, you nearly felt like yourself again. You wore a pair of denim shorts and a nicer tank top to combat the late summer heat, nothing too scandalous for a family dinner. Your dad drove the two of you to your favorite mexican spot in relative silence, the dull hum of the radio lost to your ears as you watched Austin pass by through the passenger window. 

Joel and Sarah were there when you pulled into the parking lot, the two of them standing in front of their familiar old pick-up. Sarah was wearing a summer dress, her tight curls now in rows of boho-braids. Joel, in a worn-in t-shirt and a pair of jeans, hardly looked much older than he had when you first met him two years ago. At thirty-two, he was handsome, but at thirty-four…well, he was enough to make a girl drool. 

You never liked to admit it to yourself, but you’d always had a bit of a crush on him. Back then, at twenty-two, you assumed it was simply the allure of an older man during a time in which all you wanted was to be a “real adult”. And as the last couple of years went on and the prospect of growing up began to dim, you expected that your little crush would dim along with it. But looking at him now, the only thing time did was make him all the more handsome and desirable. From the way he treated his daughter to the fact that not once during your stint as babysitter did he ever try anything creepy with you, you were forced to believe that he was a stand-up man. And what was more desirable than a good man who looked like that?

Sarah’s squeal pulled you out of your admiration of her father as she ran over to you, hugging your waist. You squeezed her right back, making up for the last five months you spent away at school. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you said, giving her a smile as she pulled away to look up at you. “I like your braids. Did your dad do them?”

She gave you a look that screamed get real. “Please, he can’t even manage a ponytail.”

You laughed, lifting your eyes to meet Joel’s as he stood a few feet away with your father. You were surprised to find him looking at you, though of course he would be, given that out of the four of you here, you were the only one who he didn’t see every single day. Still, the eye contact was enough to get your stomach fluttering with something both anxious and eager. 

“Welcome home,” he said, his voice hitting you just as hard as his gaze. You tried not to react, to behave like you always had before, but now that you were reaching your mid-twenties, had earned your degree, and had experienced your first dry spell in your adult life, it was difficult. Every womanly part of you screamed with the urge to flirt, to put everything you learned at college to work for him. 

“Thanks,” you said instead, trailing your gaze to the restaurant behind him and then to your father. “Should we go inside? It’s hot.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, taking the lead. He and Joel walked in ahead of you and Sarah, her hand in yours, and you tried not to admire the broad expanse of her father’s back as he stood right in front of you in the restaurant lobby, close enough that you could smell the warm spice of his cologne. 

A wild, rogue part of you wanted to reach your hand out and smooth it across the soft cotton, tracing the line of his spine and the curve of his shoulder blades. In fact, the urge was almost unbearable, as if he were a siren and you were a sailor lost in the current. But somehow, you managed to keep your hands to yourself. 

After getting seated by the host, you ordered yourself a giant frozen margarita to take the edge of sitting directly across from Joel off and busied yourself with the chips and salsa. Your dad, meanwhile, seemed completely at ease as he chatted with Joel, filling him in about his plans for building a deck in the backyard of your house. The conversation didn’t interest you or Sarah, the two of you more focused on clearing the first basket of chips so that you could start on the next. 

“So,” Joel said, something in his tone luring your eyes to his. “You interested in babysittin’ over the summer?” 

You shrugged your shoulders, masking your inner beast who felt nothing but disappointed over the fact that even after all the growing up you’d done over the last two years, all he saw you as was a babysitter to his little girl. Some college kid. The daughter of his friend. 

“I’m gonna be busy applying for jobs, but sure,” you said, glancing at Sarah with a smile. “Not gonna pass up a chance to hang with the coolest kid in the neighborhood.”

To your surprise, Joel smiled at the interaction. “Good. She’s been on my ass about askin’ since we heard you were movin’ back home.”

You nodded, smiling as you drank your margarita from a straw. You kept your eyes averted from him for the most part, not trusting yourself to not melt right there in your seat under his gaze, but on a chance glance his way, you caught Joel’s eyes slipping to your mouth as you swiped your tongue over your bottom lip. He seemed to realize what he was doing the exact instant you had and quickly turned away to scan the busy restaurant. 

If your father and Sarah hadn’t been there, you might have tried to be bold about things. Perhaps you’d brush his leg with yours under the table, or maybe you’d simply tell him it was alright to stare if he wanted to—that you didn’t care what he did as long as he kept looking at you with those dark eyes. But as it were, you couldn’t do anything but mourn the loss of his gaze and listen as he began talking to your dad about his own summer project—renovating his master bathroom. 

Thrilling stuff, really.

By the end of dinner, you were more than tipsy and equal parts antsy to get home, or at least to get some space from Joel. You hugged Sarah goodbye with the promise of coming over the next afternoon, ignoring Joel’s attempt at a goodbye in favor of sliding into the passenger seat. Your dad gave him a pat on the shoulder and waved goodbye to Sarah before climbing in beside you with a soft exhale. 

“What’s up with you?” he asked, turning the key in the ignition. 

“Nothing, why?” 

“You’ve been quiet all night,” he said, whipping his head around as he pulled out of the parking spot. “And drunk. Even just now, Joel was trying to say bye, and you blew him off.”

Ironic, that wording. 

“I’m just tired,” you said, shrugging. “It’s been a long day.”

“I can understand that,” he said. “But just…Joel’s had a rough go of it lately, breaking up with that woman he was seeing for a while and having to raise Sarah by himself, so just…take it easy on him.”

The fact that Joel had been dating at all was news to you. Last time you were around, he didn’t seem to have any interest in dating. Sarah said it was because she asked him not to, her parent’s divorce three years ago still too fresh, but perhaps she’d changed her mind in the last few months and he’d gone and found himself a girlfriend. 

Your stomach curdled at the thought. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” you said, picking at the frayed hem of your shorts. “But I’ll make a better effort to be nice.”

“That’s all I ask,” he said, giving you a smile. “And I know you’re tired of hearing it, sweetheart, but I really am glad to have you back. There’s no rush for you to land a job or move out, you know. Just…enjoy the summer. Go make some new friends. Have some fun.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’ll try my best, pops.” 

“I’m gonna be busy with work and seeing Vic, so I won’t be up your ass all summer,” he said, mentioning the girlfriend he went and got himself during the last year of you being off at college—one you still hadn’t met. “Just don’t want you getting lonely by yourself at the house.”

“After sharing an apartment with five people for the last three years, I think a bit of alone time would do me well,” you said, chuckling. “So don’t worry about me. I’ll occupy myself.”

“In that case, would you mind if I went down to San Antonio to see Vic this weekend?” he asked, giving you a hopeful look that he only pulled out when he assumed you’d protest to whatever it was he was asking. But this time, you really didn’t care. You meant what you said about wanting some alone time to decompress and settle in without constantly being asked how you were doing. 

“Go ahead,” you said, giving him a soft, encouraging smile. “I’m just going to be unpacking all weekend anyways.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, dad,” you laughed at the roundness of his eyes, at how concerned he was about you. Eventually, he’d come to know the new you, the person who thrived on independence and didn’t need to have someone around all the time. “I’ll manage to survive on my own for two days, I promise.” 

“Alright, smartass,” he laughed. “Don’t be afraid to shoot me a text if you need me to come back, alright?”

“For the millionth time—okay, dad.”

[deadpool1763492]

A Very Late Road Trip AU Update

Art by @toonzxy

Hello everyone! Yes, it's been quite a while since @toonzxy, @joyfuladorable, and I have posted anything about this AU, but I promise the story is still in the works! To keep you all in the loop, we decided to make a sort of update post for the progress of the story.

Read to the end for a little teaser!

Okay, so, Book 1 is currently at 51k words. I promise I am writing it as quickly as I possibly can, but I had a pretty busy summer and am currently in my senior year of university, so it's safe to say that I don't have too much free time on my hands at the moment. I know we said we'd try to start posting it by July/August, but as of now, I don't think this book will be finished before the end of the year. Once we finish writing it, we still have to go through the entire process of editing the thing, which is a pretty daunting task. At the rate the story is going, Book 1 will probably end up being at least 100k words long.

In other news, toonzy and joyfuladorable are currently in the works of a comic! You all clearly enjoyed the comics released earlier this year, so they've decided to create a comic that will run alongside the fic but will have its own minor changes to the story. It won't be too different, but it'll be just different enough for it to stay entertaining if you want to read them both.

Most of our time has been dedicated to world building, which, admittedly, is taking a lot more time than we thought it would. It's also been a lot of rewriting previous plot points so that the continuity makes sense overall. All three of us REALLY hate plot holes, so there's been quite a bit of compromising on all fronts. All in all, it's been a lot of work for three people who not only have normal adult lives, but also have other projects on our hands that keep grabbing our attention. This has been our top priority though, I promise.

Okay, that's enough of that. You guys wanted some teasers? Here you go:

via @toonzxy

There you go. Two comic panels, the titles for the first four chapters (mostly) and a very random very mature name of a place in Idaho that one of us stumbled upon. Do with that what you will.

Alright, that's all from me! Hopefully, the next update won't be as long of a wait as this one, but I won't make any promises.

Hasta luego true believers

-DP

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (3)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For all chapters, and more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 7 000+

- Previous part: 2

- Next part: 4

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The high table, where King Viserys sat with his family, was a place of warmth and camaraderie, a rare moment where the burdens of the crown seemed distant, and only the joys of family remained.

Viserys looked around the table, his heart swelling with contentment. To his right sat his son, Y/N, the prince who had returned to him after years away, now a man grown, strong and capable. To his left, Rhaenyra, his beloved daughter, her eyes bright with happiness as she conversed with her brother. The sight of his children together, both healthy and whole, filled him with a deep, abiding joy.

"It does my heart good to see you both here," Viserys said, his voice warm and filled with affection. He raised his goblet, smiling at the two of you. "After all these years, to have my family together again… it’s a sight I’ve longed to see."

Rhaenyra turned to her father, her expression softening as she took in the emotion behind his words. "We’ve missed this too, Father," she said sincerely, glancing at you with a smile. "But I’m glad we’re together now. It feels… right."

You nodded in agreement, raising your own goblet in a toast. "To family," you said simply, the words carrying a weight that spoke of all the time spent apart, and the bonds that held strong despite it.

As the feast continued, Rhaenyra leaned closer to you, her voice lowering slightly as she sought to bridge the years that had passed. "It’s been too long since we’ve had a chance to talk like this, brother," she said, her tone laced with a hint of nostalgia. "So much has happened while you were away. I want to hear everything."

You smiled at her eagerness, glad to see that the bond between you had not faded despite the time apart. "I’ll tell you everything you wish to know, Rhaenyra," you replied, your voice filled with warmth. "But first, I’d like to know what you’ve been up to. The last time we flew together, you were still learning to control Syrax. How has she been?"

Rhaenyra’s eyes brightened at the mention of her dragon. "Syrax has grown stronger and more confident with every flight. She’s magnificent, Y/N. You should see her—she’s faster than ever, and she’s developed this incredible grace in the air." She paused, her smile widening as an idea took hold. "In fact, why don’t we go flying tomorrow? It’s been too long since Syrax and Silverwing soared together side by side."

The suggestion made your heart lift with excitement. "I’d love that," you said, the prospect of flying with Rhaenyra again bringing back memories of your youth. "It’s been far too long since I’ve seen Silverwing and Syrax together in the sky."

Rhaenyra beamed at your response, the thought of spending time with you once more clearly bringing her joy. But as she looked at you, her smile faltered slightly, her eyes lingering on your face as if seeing you in a new light. There was something different about you—something she hadn’t noticed until now. The years had changed you, matured you, in ways she hadn’t fully grasped until this moment.

You noticed her gaze, her expression more serious than before, and tilted your head slightly, curious. "Rhaenyra, what is it? You seem… distant all of a sudden."

Rhaenyra blinked, suddenly aware that she had been staring. Her cheeks flushed with warmth, and she quickly averted her gaze, trying to compose herself. "It’s nothing," she said, her voice a little too quick, too light. "I just… I was just thinking about how much you’ve changed. You’re not the boy who left for Dorne all those years ago."

Your brow furrowed slightly, not entirely convinced, but you decided not to press her. There was something in her voice that suggested she wasn’t ready to share what was truly on her mind. Instead, you offered her a reassuring smile. "We’ve all changed, Rhaenyra. But some things remain the same—like our bond. And no matter how much time passes, that will never change."

Rhaenyra looked at you again, her eyes softening at your words. She nodded, her smile returning, though it was tinged with something unspoken. "You’re right," she said softly, her gaze holding yours for a moment longer before she looked away, focusing on her goblet.

Before the conversation could continue, the arrival of another figure drew your attention. Daemon Targaryen, your uncle, made his way to the high table, his presence commanding as always. He wore a satisfied grin, still basking in the glory of the day’s events. He took his seat beside you, his movements fluid and confident, the very image of a warrior-prince.

"Quite the day, wouldn’t you say?" Daemon remarked as he settled into his seat, reaching for a goblet of wine. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at you. "I must say, nephew, you gave me a good run. It’s not every day I find myself facing an opponent with as much skill as you."

You chuckled, the tension from earlier easing as you turned to your uncle. "You fought well, Uncle. I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting that last strike. It caught me off guard."

Daemon’s grin widened, a flash of pride in his eyes. "That’s the trick, isn’t it? Always keep your opponent guessing. But don’t let it trouble you, Y/N. You held your own, and that’s more than most can say."

Viserys, who had been listening to the exchange with a fond smile, leaned in. "It was a fine match, truly. Both of you showed the realm what it means to be a Targaryen. Strength, skill, and honor—those are the qualities that will keep our house strong."

Daemon raised his goblet in a toast, his gaze locking with yours. "To the blood of the dragon," he said, his voice carrying a weight that transcended the casual nature of the feast. "May it continue to burn bright in all of us."

You and Viserys both raised your goblets in response, echoing the toast. "To the blood of the dragon."

As you drank, the warmth of the wine spread through you, mixing with the pride and contentment that filled the evening. 

Rhaenyra, still seated beside you, watched the exchange between you and Daemon with a thoughtful expression.

The feast was in full swing, and the air was filled with the sound of music, laughter, and the clinking of goblets. As the evening progressed, the minstrels struck up a lively tune, signaling the start of the dances. 

You rose from your seat at the high table, casting a glance at your father, King Viserys, who beamed with pride. The weight of the crown seemed lighter on his brow tonight, surrounded as he was by his family and the lords and ladies of the realm. The King nodded at you, his expression encouraging as you prepared to lead the festivities.

Turning to your sister, Rhaenyra, you extended your hand with a warm smile. "Sister, may I have the honor of this first dance?"

Rhaenyra’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling with delight as she placed her hand in yours. "I would be honored, brother."

The two of you moved to the center of the hall, the eyes of the court upon you. The musicians began to play a lilting melody, and you led Rhaenyra into the dance with practiced ease. The two of you moved gracefully across the floor, your steps perfectly in sync, a testament to the connection that had always united you.

As you danced, Rhaenyra looked up at you, her smile softening. "It’s like old times, isn’t it? Before all the responsibilities and distance."

You nodded, guiding her through a turn. "It is. I’ve missed this—missed being with you, Rhaenyra. But I’m glad we have this moment now."

Rhaenyra’s smile widened, a flush of happiness coloring her cheeks. "So am I, brother. So am I."

The dance continued, the two of you drawing the admiration of those watching. There was a natural grace in the way you moved together, a reminder to all present of the strength and unity of House Targaryen. When the dance finally came to an end, the hall erupted in applause, the court celebrating the display of sibling affection.

You bowed to Rhaenyra, and she curtsied in return, both of you sharing a smile that spoke of a thousand unspoken words. Then, as the custom dictated, you began to move through the ranks of ladies awaiting their turn to dance with the prince.

The next lady to take your hand was Lady Elinor, the daughter of Lord Borros Baratheon, followed by Lady Alisanne of House Redwyne. Each dance was executed with the same charm and politeness, your demeanor impeccable as you honored each lady with your attention. You complimented their grace, listened attentively to their polite conversation, and thanked them graciously for the dance before moving on to the next.

Across the hall, Otto Hightower watched the proceedings with sharp eyes. The King was surrounded by a number of lords, each presenting their daughters as potential brides for you or Rhaenyra. Otto’s mind was calculating as he observed the scene, aware that this was a critical moment—one that could shape the future of the realm.

He leaned toward his daughter, Alicent, who sat beside him, her hands folded nervously in her lap. "Alicent," he began, his voice firm but not unkind, "you cannot afford to be passive in this. You see how the other ladies vie for his attention. If you wish to secure his favor, you must act. Do not be timid—assert yourself."

Alicent looked up at her father, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "But, Father…"

Otto’s gaze softened, though the urgency in his tone remained. "Alicent, this is your opportunity. You’ve spent time with the prince; you’re his sister’s confidante. Use that to your advantage. This is not just about you—it’s about our family’s future."

Alicent bit her lip, glancing at you as you moved from one dance partner to the next. She knew her father was right—this was a rare chance, and if she didn’t take it, she might regret it. Gathering her courage, she nodded. "Very well, Father. I’ll do as you say."

Otto gave her an encouraging nod, watching as she rose from her seat. "Good. Remember, Alicent, you are as worthy as any lady here—more so. Make him see that."

Alicent took a deep breath, smoothing her dress as she approached the line of ladies waiting to dance with you. As she neared the front, she gently but firmly edged her way past a few of the ladies, earning a few disapproving glances but no open objections. The music was still playing, and the court’s eyes were focused on you as you finished a dance with Lady Selyse Florent.

As you turned to offer your hand to the next lady, your gaze fell upon Alicent, who had just reached the front of the line. You smiled warmly, recognizing her as Rhaenyra’s closest friend. "Lady Alicent," you said, extending your hand, "would you honor me with this dance?"

Alicent’s heart fluttered as she placed her hand in yours, the warmth of your touch sending a thrill through her. "It would be my pleasure, my prince," she replied, her voice steady despite the nervous excitement she felt.

The two of you moved onto the floor, and as the music played, you led her into the dance with the same grace and charm you had shown the other ladies. Alicent moved with you, her steps light, her movements elegant. She was aware of the eyes on her, the expectations of her father, but in this moment, she tried to focus only on you.

"You dance beautifully, Lady Alicent," you complimented her as you guided her through a turn. "I hope you’ve been enjoying the festivities."

Alicent looked up at you, her eyes meeting yours as she replied. "Thank you, my prince. The feast has been wonderful, and it’s been a joy to see the realm celebrate your return."

You nodded, appreciative of her words. "It’s good to be home. And I’m glad to see Rhaenyra has had you by her side during my absence. She speaks very highly of you."

Alicent’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment, though she maintained her composure. "Rhaenyra is a dear friend. It’s been an honor to be her companion, and I’m grateful for the trust she places in me."

You smiled at her, your tone warm but without any deeper inflection. "She’s fortunate to have a friend like you. I’m glad she’s had someone she can rely on."

Alicent’s heart sank slightly, realizing that while you were charming and polite, there was nothing in your words or demeanor that suggested you viewed her differently from any of the other ladies you had danced with tonight. You treated her with the same respect and kindness, but no more than that. It was clear you saw her as Rhaenyra’s friend—nothing more, nothing less.

As the dance came to an end, you bowed to her, just as you had with the other ladies, and she curtsied in return. "Thank you for the dance, Lady Alicent," you said with a smile. "It was a pleasure."

Alicent returned your smile, though it was tinged with a hint of disappointment. "The pleasure was mine, my prince."

As you turned to seek out your next dance partner, Alicent stepped back, returning to her father’s side. Otto’s expression was unreadable as he watched her approach, though there was a slight tightening of his jaw that she didn’t miss.

"You did well, Alicent," he said quietly, though there was no mistaking the hint of urgency in his voice. "But you must be persistent. The ladies are vying for his attention, and you cannot afford to be outdone."

Alicent nodded, though her heart felt heavy. She knew what was at stake, but the interaction had left her feeling uncertain. Still, she resolved to continue as her father instructed—this was too important to let doubt get in the way.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra had returned to her seat at the high table, watching as you danced with the other ladies. She couldn’t help but feel a small pang of possessiveness, though she knew it was part of your duty as the prince. Still, seeing you give your attention to so many others, even if it was only for a dance, made her all the more determined to hold on to the bond you shared.

As the night wore on, the music and dancing continued, the Great Hall filled with the joyous energy of the feast. 

And as you moved through the dances, your thoughts never strayed far from those you held dear—your father, your sister, and the duty that would one day fall upon your shoulders. But for now, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment, the warmth of the evening, and the knowledge that you were home.

The halls of the Red Keep were quiet as the night deepened, the once lively echoes of the feast now replaced by a serene stillness. The grandeur of the evening had finally come to an end, and you found yourself at last retreating to your chambers, eager for a moment of solitude after the endless social engagements and responsibilities of the day.

As soon as the heavy wooden door to your chambers closed behind you, a sigh escaped your lips, the tension that had built up throughout the evening releasing in that single breath. The weight of the evening—the formalities, the expectations, the constant eyes upon you—felt heavy on your shoulders, and you rolled them back, trying to ease the stiffness that had settled there.

You loosened the collar of your doublet, the intricate embroidery and decorative fastenings that had seemed so necessary in the public eye now feeling suffocating. With deliberate movements, you began to remove the unnecessary pieces—brooches, chains, the heavy belt that had held Blackfyre at your side. Each item dropped onto the nearby table with a soft clink, the sound oddly satisfying as it signaled a return to yourself, to the man beneath the prince’s trappings.

You moved to the small table near the hearth and poured yourself a goblet of wine, the rich red liquid swirling as you filled the cup. Sitting down heavily in the chair beside it, you took a deep sip, savoring the warmth that spread through your chest. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its light casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. The room was a refuge from the demands of the court, but even here, the thoughts of the day lingered in your mind.

Your gaze drifted to Blackfyre, the legendary sword of House Targaryen, which you had placed carefully on the table. The blade seemed to gleam in the firelight, a symbol of the legacy you bore, the expectations that came with being the heir to the Iron Throne. You had wielded it with pride and skill on the battlefield, but here, in the heart of King’s Landing, it served as a reminder of the heavy burden you carried—your father’s hopes and dreams, and the responsibility of living up to them.

The goblet in your hand felt heavier with each passing moment as you stared at the sword. Leading men into battle had been straightforward—challenging, yes, but with a clear purpose, a defined enemy. But here, in the court, the lines were blurred, the enemies often hidden behind smiles and silk. It was a different kind of battle, one that required a different set of skills, and one that left you feeling more drained than any clash of swords.

Just as you were lost in these thoughts, a soft knock sounded at the door, pulling you from your reverie. You straightened slightly, setting the goblet down as Ser Harrold Westerling’s voice called through the door.

"Your Grace, Princess Rhaenyra wishes to see you."

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it, and replied, "Let her in."

The door opened to reveal Rhaenyra, her expression soft and caring as she stepped into the room. She closed the door behind her, her eyes immediately taking in the sight of you. The tension in your posture, the messiness of your attire—things that would have been socially unacceptable in the public eye—were evident to her, but here, in the privacy of your chambers, they were merely signs of your humanity.

"Brother," she said softly, moving to the table where the wine was still waiting. She poured herself a goblet, mirroring your earlier actions, before sitting across from you. She studied you for a moment, her gaze gentle. "You look troubled… and tired."

You met her gaze, a small, weary smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I am tired, Rhaenyra," you admitted, your voice tinged with the exhaustion you felt. "It’s strange, isn’t it? I find it easier to lead men into battle than to sit at court again."

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened with understanding. She had always known the pressures you faced, even if she couldn’t fully share them. "You’ve always managed to do both with such ease, though," she said, her tone both admiring and slightly teasing. "I’ll admit, I envy you for it."

You chuckled, the sound more genuine than you’d felt all evening. "Envy me, do you? I suppose I should take that as a compliment." There was a lightness in your tone, a desire to shake off the weight of your earlier thoughts, at least for a moment.

Rhaenyra’s lips curved into a smile, her own mood lifting at your response. "You should," she replied playfully, raising her goblet in a mock toast. "But only a little."

The two of you shared a laugh, the sound filling the room and banishing some of the lingering shadows. It felt good to laugh, to let go of the tensions that had knotted themselves around you throughout the day. With Rhaenyra, there was no need for pretense, no need to be the perfect prince. She knew you—truly knew you—and that was a comfort you cherished.

Rhaenyra took a sip of her wine, her gaze drifting to the goblet in your hand. "You should ease up on that, you know," she remarked with a hint of amusement. "I don’t want you to be late tomorrow for our flight. Syrax will be most disappointed if Silverwing doesn’t show."

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of flying with Rhaenyra again. "I wouldn’t dream of it," you assured her, setting the goblet down on the table with a playful sigh of resignation. "Besides, I don’t think I could face Syrax’s disappointment—or yours."

Rhaenyra’s smile softened, her gaze holding yours for a moment longer than usual. There was something in her eyes, a mixture of affection and something else, something unspoken that lingered just beneath the surface. But before you could dwell on it, she looked away, taking another sip of her wine as if to mask the brief flicker of vulnerability.

The moment passed, and you leaned back in your chair, feeling more at ease than you had all evening. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the two of you as you continued to talk, the conversation shifting to lighter topics, memories of childhood, and shared dreams of the future.

For a time, the world outside the chamber doors faded away, leaving only the comfort of each other’s company. The burdens of the day, the expectations of the court, the weight of the crown—all of it seemed distant, insignificant compared to moments like this with Rhaenyra.

And as the night wore on, the wine in your goblet forgotten, you found yourself looking forward to the dawn, to the flight that awaited you and Rhaenyra, a reminder that even in the midst of duty and responsibility, there was still room for joy, for the freedom of the skies, and for the love of family.

The morning sun bathed King’s Landing in a warm, golden light as the city came to life with the sounds of merchants setting up their stalls, the chatter of citizens going about their daily routines, and the distant, excited murmurs of those who had caught sight of the royal procession making its way through the streets. From the windows of the small council chambers in the Red Keep, King Viserys I Targaryen stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching as his children were escorted from the courtyard toward the Dragonpit.

Below, you and Rhaenyra rode side by side, your silver-blond hair gleaming in the sunlight, both of you resplendent in your riding attire. The people of the city lined the streets, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of their prince and princess. The sight of the two of you together, united and strong, brought a sense of pride to those who looked upon you. Dragons were a rare sight in the skies above King’s Landing these days, and the promise of seeing two Targaryens take flight was enough to stir excitement in even the most jaded of onlookers.

Viserys smiled faintly, his heart swelling with pride as he watched you and Rhaenyra. The relationship between his children was clear, and it was a source of comfort to him, knowing that you had each other. The realm was a complex and often dangerous place, filled with intrigue and ambition, but seeing you together, strong and united, reassured him that House Targaryen was still a force to be reckoned with.

But even as he watched you ride toward the Dragonpit, his thoughts were troubled. He knew the responsibilities that lay before you, the expectations that came with being the heir to the Iron Throne. And though you had proven yourself time and again, both on the battlefield and in court, he worried about the weight of those expectations, and how they might shape your future.

A soft clearing of the throat behind him pulled Viserys from his thoughts. He turned to see the members of his small council seated around the table, their expressions varying from patient to expectant. Lord Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, was seated closest to Viserys’s chair, his sharp eyes never missing a detail. Next to him was Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Master of Ships, and across the table, Lord Lyonel Strong, the Master of Laws, along with other advisors and councilors.

Viserys sighed inwardly, knowing what was to come. The council had been growing increasingly insistent on matters of marriage and alliances, and he knew today would be no different. Reluctantly, he moved away from the window and took his seat at the head of the table, steeling himself for the discussion ahead.

Otto Hightower was the first to speak, his tone respectful but firm. "Your Grace, while the realm celebrates the return of your son, and we all take joy in the sight of the prince and princess together, there are pressing matters that require your attention."

Viserys nodded, though his thoughts were still partly on the sight of you and Rhaenyra riding through the city. "I understand, Otto. What is it you wish to discuss?"

Otto exchanged a brief glance with the other councilors before continuing. "Your Grace, it has been five years since the passing of Queen Aemma, may she rest in peace. The realm mourned her loss, but as you know, the stability of the crown relies heavily on the strength of its alliances. There are those who believe it would be advantageous for you to consider a second marriage."

Viserys’s expression tightened, the thought of remarrying bringing an ache to his chest. Aemma had been the love of his life, and though he knew the arguments for a second marriage, the idea of taking another wife felt like a betrayal of her memory. "I have not given much thought to that, Otto," Viserys replied, his tone measured. "Aemma’s death is still fresh in my mind."

Lord Corlys leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but insistent. "Your Grace, the realm must be considered. A marriage alliance could strengthen our position, both here and across the Narrow Sea. There are many noble houses who would see a marriage to the crown as a great honor."

Viserys sighed softly, feeling the weight of their words. "And what of my children?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over the council. "Are they also to be offered up in marriage to secure alliances?"

Otto inclined his head, his expression thoughtful. "Your Grace, the prince and princess are of age, and it would be prudent to consider their futures as well. The realm expects it, and it could bring great stability. Have you given thought to any potential matches for Prince Y/N?"

Viserys’s thoughts drifted to you, the son who had just returned to him after years of service on the Dornish border. He knew that you had your own burdens, your own sense of duty, and the thought of placing yet another expectation on your shoulders was not one he relished. "He has only just returned," Viserys said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "I do not wish to burden him with talks of marriage so soon. He deserves some peace after all he has done for the realm."

Lord Lyonel Strong spoke up, his tone careful. "Of course, Your Grace, but the future of the realm is always in need of careful planning. If not now, then soon, these discussions must take place. The prince has proven himself, and there are many who would wish to see him secure the line of succession."

Viserys leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he felt the pressure of the conversation bearing down on him. The future of the realm, the line of succession, the alliances needed to maintain stability—these were all necessary concerns, but at this moment, all he wanted was to enjoy having his children by his side, whole and safe.

Otto watched Viserys closely, sensing his hesitation. "Your Grace," he said gently, "I understand this is difficult, but the realm looks to you for guidance. A second marriage for yourself, and well-considered matches for your children, could bring great strength to the crown. We are here to support you in making the best decisions for the future of House Targaryen."

Viserys exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting back toward the window, though the view of you and Rhaenyra had long since passed. "I know you are right, Otto," he said finally, his voice quieter. "But these are not decisions to be made lightly. I will consider your counsel, but for now, I wish to think on it further."

Otto nodded, recognizing that this was as much as he would get from the king today. "Of course, Your Grace. We are at your service whenever you are ready to discuss these matters further."

Viserys nodded in acknowledgment, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere, his mind lingering on the sight of you and Rhaenyra, and the memories of the family he had lost. The burden of the crown was heavy, but in that moment, all he wanted was to hold on to the peace and joy of having his family together, if only for a little while longer.

The council continued to discuss other matters—trade routes, border disputes, the ever-present issue of the Stepstones—but Viserys’s mind remained partially distant, caught between the responsibilities of the king and the desires of a father who simply wanted to see his children happy.

As the meeting wore on, the weight of their expectations pressed down on him, but Viserys knew that soon enough, he would have to face the decisions that lay ahead—decisions that would shape not just the future of the realm, but the future of his family as well. For now, however, he would hold on to the image of you and Rhaenyra, united and strong, and take comfort in the knowledge that, at least for today, the Targaryen legacy was secure.

The great structure of the Dragonpit loomed before you and Rhaenyra as you arrived, the massive dome a testament to the power and majesty of House Targaryen. The air was filled with excitement, the distant sounds of the city fading away as your focus narrowed to the task at hand—the exhilarating, unmatched thrill of flying with your sister once more. 

The Dragonkeepers, their faces solemn and respectful, approached with measured steps, leading the two magnificent beasts that were the pride of your family. Silverwing, your bondmate and constant companion in battle, shimmered in the morning light, her silver scales catching the sun and gleaming like polished steel. She walked with a powerful grace, her tail sweeping the ground, her golden eyes fixed on you with a deep, knowing intelligence.

Beside her, Syrax moved with equal elegance, her golden scales reflecting the sunlight with a brilliance that was almost blinding. The dragon’s eyes, a molten amber, were locked on Rhaenyra, her bond with the princess evident in the way she seemed to respond to her presence, her great wings flexing with barely contained energy.

Rhaenyra turned to you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Without warning, she playfully shoved you, catching you off guard for a brief moment. "Let’s see if you’re still as fast as you were before you left," she challenged, her voice light with laughter. "First to mount their dragon wins!"

The challenge was made, and with a grin, you quickly regained your balance, your competitive spirit flaring to life. "You’re on," you replied, already moving toward Silverwing with purpose.

Rhaenyra dashed toward Syrax, her laughter ringing out in the open space of the Dragonpit. You matched her pace, the years of camaraderie and friendly rivalry between you fueling your determination. The Dragonkeepers stepped back respectfully, giving you both the space you needed as you raced to your dragons.

Despite Rhaenyra’s head start, you pushed yourself to catch up, your heart pounding with excitement. The familiar sight of Silverwing waiting for you, her eyes fixed on you with unwavering loyalty, spurred you on. With a final burst of speed, you reached her side, your hands gripping the warm, smooth scales of her neck as you hoisted yourself up onto her back.

You secured yourself in the saddle with practiced ease, your hands moving quickly but confidently as you tightened the straps and adjusted the reins. Silverwing rumbled beneath you, her excitement palpable as she sensed the impending flight. You glanced over at Rhaenyra, who was just finishing securing herself atop Syrax, her expression a mixture of concentration and exhilaration.

"Too slow, sister!" you called out teasingly, giving Silverwing an affectionate pat on her neck. "But you can still try to catch up."

Rhaenyra shot you a playful glare, her eyes sparkling with determination. "We’ll see who’s too slow once we’re in the air!" she retorted, giving Syrax a gentle nudge with her heels.

With a powerful beat of her wings, Syrax launched herself into the sky, the force of her takeoff sending a rush of wind through the Dragonpit. Not one to be outdone, you urged Silverwing forward with a command that was more thought than spoken, the bond between you and your dragon allowing for seamless communication.

Silverwing responded instantly, her massive wings unfurling with a whoosh of air as she lifted off the ground. The powerful muscles in her legs propelled her upward, and within moments, you were soaring high above the Dragonpit, the city of King’s Landing sprawling out beneath you like a tapestry of red roofs and winding streets.

The thrill of flight, the sensation of the wind rushing past your face, filled you with a sense of freedom that was unparalleled. The ground fell away beneath you as Silverwing climbed higher, her wings slicing through the air with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic motion. You glanced to your right and saw Rhaenyra flying alongside you, Syrax keeping pace with Silverwing as the two dragons cut through the sky with the ease of creatures born to it.

Rhaenyra turned to you, her expression one of pure joy, her laughter carried away by the wind. "To Dragonstone and back!" she shouted, her voice carrying above the roar of the wind. "Let’s see if you can keep up, brother!"

You grinned, the challenge igniting your competitive spirit once more. "You’re on!" you called back, leaning forward slightly in the saddle to give Silverwing her head.

The two of you streaked across the sky, your dragons racing side by side, their wings creating powerful gusts that rippled through the clouds. The familiar silhouette of Dragonstone, the ancient seat of House Targaryen, loomed in the distance, its jagged peaks rising like the spine of a great beast from the churning waters of Blackwater Bay.

The race was on in earnest now, both of you pushing your dragons to their limits, urging them faster and faster as the landscape below became a blur of green and blue. Silverwing responded to your every command with a fierce determination, her powerful wings propelling you forward at a breathtaking speed.

You stole a glance at Rhaenyra, who was fully focused on the path ahead, her hair whipping wildly in the wind as she urged Syrax on. The bond between you and your sister was clear in these moments—both of you pushing each other, challenging each other, but always with a shared sense of joy and freedom.

As Dragonstone drew nearer, you could feel the anticipation building within you. The jagged cliffs of the island came into sharp relief as you approached, the ancient castle perched atop the volcanic rock like a sentinel watching over the narrow sea. You and Rhaenyra were neck and neck, neither of you willing to give an inch as your dragons roared through the skies.

At the last moment, just as you neared the cliffs of Dragonstone, Rhaenyra pulled ahead, Syrax diving toward the island with a speed that surprised even you. With a whoop of victory, she soared over the castle before banking hard to the left, turning back toward King’s Landing.

"Not bad, sister!" you shouted, laughing as you urged Silverwing to follow. "But it’s not over yet!"

The return journey was just as exhilarating, the two of you racing through the sky with the same fierce determination. The landscape blurred beneath you, the distance between Dragonstone and King’s Landing seeming to shrink as your dragons raced each other, the wind whistling past your ears and the roar of their wings filling the air.

As the Red Keep came into view, the spires of the castle rising above the city, you and Rhaenyra were still neck and neck. The final stretch was upon you, and neither of you were willing to let the other claim victory without a fight.

In the end, it was Rhaenyra who crossed the invisible finish line first, Syrax’s speed proving just enough to edge out Silverwing. You pulled back on the reins, slowing your dragon’s descent as you circled the Dragonpit, both of you breathing hard but grinning widely.

Rhaenyra was already dismounting as you brought Silverwing in to land. She was flushed with excitement, her eyes shining as she looked up at you, still seated on your dragon. "Well, brother," she said breathlessly, "it seems you haven’t lost your touch after all."

You laughed, swinging down from Silverwing’s back and landing lightly beside her. "Nor have you," you replied, giving her a mock bow. "I concede defeat—for today."

Rhaenyra beamed, clearly pleased with her victory. "It was a close race, though," she admitted, her voice full of warmth. "Flying with you again… it’s like nothing has changed."

You nodded, feeling the same sense of contentment. "Nothing ever really does, Rhaenyra. Not when it comes to us."

The two of you shared a smile, the connection between you stronger than ever after the exhilaration of the flight. As the Dragonkeepers approached to tend to Silverwing and Syrax, you both knew that this was more than just a race—it was a reminder of who you were.

The two of you lingered at the Dragonpit longer than necessary, the adrenaline from the race still coursing through your veins. The sun had climbed higher, casting a warm rays over the ancient structure, and the dragons, having been tended to by the Dragonkeepers, were content to rest in their cavernous lairs. You and Rhaenyra began to make your way back toward the exit, but Rhaenyra, her spirits high from the race and the sheer joy of the flight, wasn’t quite ready to let the moment go.

"So," she began, her voice light with teasing, "I won, fair and square. And now you owe me, brother."

You smirked, knowing where this was headed. "Owe you? Is that so? And what exactly do I owe you, Rhaenyra? A rematch, perhaps?"

She laughed, that bright, carefree sound that you hadn’t heard in far too long. "A rematch? I’m not sure you’d want to lose again so soon," she teased, giving you a playful shove as she walked beside you.

You staggered slightly, more for show than from the actual force of her shove, and then, not to be outdone, you gave her a gentle nudge back. "Careful, or you might find yourself the one in need of a rematch," you teased in return.

Rhaenyra grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Is that a challenge, brother?"

"It might be," you replied, leaning into the game. The two of you continued to exchange playful shoves as you made your way down the path, the camaraderie between you as natural as breathing. There was something freeing about it, this moment where you could be yourselves, without the weight of titles and expectations.

But as Rhaenyra moved to push you once more, she misjudged her step, her foot catching on an uneven stone. With a surprised yelp, she stumbled backward, instinctively reaching out to grab hold of you. The force of her pull, combined with the momentum of your playful shoving, sent you both tumbling to the ground, a tangle of limbs and laughter.

You landed heavily on top of her, your arms instinctively bracing yourself so you wouldn’t crush her beneath your weight. The two of you laughed at the absurdity of it all, the sound echoing off the ancient stone walls of the Dragonpit. But then, as the laughter began to die down, the reality of your position started to sink in.

You were close—closer than you had ever been before. The laughter faded into a charged silence, the world around you narrowing to just the two of you. Rhaenyra’s eyes, wide and suddenly serious, stared up at you, her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. Your faces were mere inches apart, and you could feel the warmth of her body beneath yours, the softness of her skin where your hands had landed to catch yourself.

The playful energy that had filled the air only moments ago was gone, replaced by something heavier, more intense. You could feel your muscles tense, your heart pounding in your chest as you became acutely aware of every point of contact between you. There was a heat in the pit of your stomach, something unfamiliar yet undeniable, that made it difficult to think clearly.

Rhaenyra’s breath hitched slightly, her lips parting as if she were about to speak, but no words came. Her gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, the silent question hanging in the air between you. She could feel the warmth rising in her cheeks, in her chest, in places she would never admit out loud. The closeness, the intimacy of the moment, was overwhelming, and she could see in your eyes that you were feeling it too.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved, the tension between you so thick it was almost suffocating. Slowly, almost instinctively, your faces began to draw closer, the distance between your lips narrowing as if pulled together by some unseen force. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the warmth of her breath against your skin, the rapid beat of your heart in your chest, and the undeniable pull that drew you closer.

But just as your lips were about to meet, the moment was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps and a voice calling out from a distance.

"Your Grace! Princess Rhaenyra!" The voice of Ser Harrold Westerling, the ever-dutiful Kingsguard, cut through the charged silence like a blade. He had seen the two of you fall from afar and had rushed over, concern etched on his face. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

The spell was broken. Reality crashed back in with a jarring force as you quickly pushed yourself up, your heart still racing, though now for an entirely different reason. You reached down to help Rhaenyra to her feet, your touch gentle but your movements hurried, as if to dispel any lingering trace of what had just passed between you.

"No, Ser Harrold," you said quickly, trying to steady your voice. "We’re fine. Just a bit of clumsiness, nothing more."

Rhaenyra, her cheeks still flushed and her gaze avoiding yours, nodded in agreement. "Yes, just a small mishap. Nothing to worry about."

Ser Harrold’s brow furrowed in concern, his eyes scanning the two of you for any sign of injury. "I’m glad to hear it, Your Graces. But perhaps it would be best if you returned to the Red Keep now. The court will be expecting you soon."

You nodded, grateful for the excuse to move on from the moment. "Of course, Ser Harrold. We’ll head back now."

With a final glance at you, Rhaenyra adjusted her clothing, trying to regain her composure as the two of you began to walk back toward the Red Keep, Ser Harrold following at a respectful distance. The playful ease that had filled the air earlier was gone, replaced by a charged silence, both of you acutely aware of how close you had come to crossing a line that neither of you fully understood.

As you walked side by side, the warmth of the sun on your backs, the tension between you lingered. The bond between you had always been strong, but now, there was something more—something neither of you had been prepared for, and something that neither of you knew how to address.

For now, you would leave it unspoken, burying the feelings that had surfaced in that brief moment of closeness. But the memory of it, the almost-kiss, would linger in both your minds, a question left unanswered, a path left unexplored.

And as the Red Keep came into view, you couldn’t help but wonder if that moment had changed things between you, in ways neither of you were ready to admit.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter One

Pairings; Rafayel x reader, Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Sylus x reader (Love and Deepspace)

Word count; 4,495 (sorry it's so short, I'll try to post three chapters today)

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rated; 18+ for swearing and some mature themes

Notes; To make things easier to read, I'm going to use emojis for who is texting.

Y/n 🩷

Rafayel 💜

Zayne 💙

Xavier 💛

Sylus ❤️

Hi everyone! This is my first time posting to tumblr so please be gentle with me! If you like this, then let me know! It would be greatly appreciated. My upload schedule will be every weekend (so either fri, sat, or sun!) Also, if the story seems similar, it's going to be verbatim with the story, just with my own embellishments to it. Without further adieu, I hope you enjoy this first chapter.

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Masterlist

A bright light shines within the dark room. There you lay in bed, playing a game on your phone late at night before bed. The soft background music coming from your speaker as the game loads up. You press ‘enter game’ as images of three men make their way across your screen, each one holding a special place in your heart.

Who says you need a real man? Fictional men are where it's at. They can't cheat on you, can't leave you, can't lie to you. It's a lot better than having to stress over a real person and worry if they'll leave you the next day or not. You know from experience, having two boyfriends in the past and neither lasting longer than six months- both breaking off the relationship before an anniversary. Screw men– well, besides the three on your screen right now. They were fine. Oh, and the fourth one being added a month from now.

The game loads in and you get a greeting from one of the men on screen. They take turns showing up in the Destiny Café, each able to say hello every time you log in. It was always sweet to see what they'd say, how they'd react, or any new text messages you'd get from them. You could even change their phone nicknames! You had Xavier, the sweet tired and aloof silvery blonde haired man, saved as Princess since you thought it would be cute. He'd definitely be embarrassed if you called him that. Zayne, the seemingly cold childhood friend and doctor, was saved under Snow Angel; you honestly didn't know what to have his name as that but it would just be amusing to see his reaction to it. Then there's Rafayel, the purple haired sassy and charming painter, who was saved as Nemo- again, very original. But Nemo works nonetheless. As you smile and send your daily stickers to each man to see their reaction, you get a new notification at the top of your screen.

“A new message?” You murmur, noticing that it's contact is unknown. The message was coming from the game. “It must be some new event. Weird…I wonder why there wasn't an update for it?” You back out of your message with Rafayel and click on the new message from the unknown sender.

:’Will you enter the game?’

“That's it?” Your brows furrow and you sit up in your bed, your phone lying in your lap as you scratch your head. “Wait..” You click on the message to reply and your keyboard pops up. “That's…” Usually, to reply in game, you get a choice between a few predetermined answers but for this…You just get to answer how you want to?

’What do you mean?’ You text back before reaching over to put your glasses on. Maybe you should've gone to bed earlier, it kind of feels like you're hallucinating.

You hear the chime of another message rolling in, and you look back down at your phone.

:’Yes or no? Hurry and pick one.’

This time the keyboard doesn't pop up, you only get three options.

ロ Yes

ロ No

And…

ロ Why?

You don't even think twice before pressing why, and the answer comes back quicker than you expect.

:’Please take care of them for me.’

You let out a scoff before running a hand through your hair. This must be some sort of elaborate prank. There's no way this is a part of the game, and even if it were there'd be no explanation for it. Is this the dev's way of getting back at you for sending so many support requests? Before you can think much about it, suddenly you feel more sleepy than before. Your eyes tiredly blink as you try to grab your phone to at least plug it up and get off of the game before you fall asleep, but instead you're lulled to sleep by the soft, melodic tune of Love and Deepspace.

Then a light so bright that it burns your eyes even though they're closed appears. It's hard to even force your eyes open, but when you do, you notice it's a big, deep crimson eye. Similar to the one you'd see in game. Your blood runs cold as you try to look around this unfamiliar area, but all you see is darkness. A dream? Yeah..this must be a dream. Although you've never been able to actively move in a dream before, there's a first for everything!

Right when you finally calm yourself down, you hear it. A loud explosion, the feeling of embers licking at your skin. Your ears are ringing, and you feel a sharp pain on the right side of your face. The darkness fades, and you're left with the blinding light of the sun against your back and your body lying on a pavement. Just lifting your head up to look at your surroundings feels like an extreme workout, everything about your body feels heavy. Sluggish. Though your left eye widens as you realize you're laying in front of a burning building. Something shining in the sunlight catches your eye, and once you grab the object, you find it harder to breathe. It was a dog tag with a charm on it. An apple charm with a star design in the center, and in the center of that was a ruby gemstone. The words ‘When U come back’ were written in cursive on the dog tag.

“No way..” you manage to croak out, the necklace clutched in your hand as you try to push yourself up, but the pounding in your head and the pain coming from your eye are no match, and you end up laying face down on the pavement in front of the burning home until you pass out from the pain.

Being passed out had its perks. You finally had a chance to think and put together a few puzzle pieces before you woke up. So if memory serves, what just happened was your- no, the main character's childhood home just blew up right after her best friend and basically brother Caleb stepped inside and her grandma, who adopted them both, was inside as well. They both died, and supposedly a mafia-like group called Onychinus was behind it because they were tying up loose ends as Grandma was a former researcher and scientist, experimenting on children and modifying them with aether cores. But the main character wasn't badly injured after the explosion, which never made sense honestly. You're that close to a building exploding, and you only get off with trauma and minor scrapes? That doesn't seem right…and honestly, the pain made it feel all the more real. If you were in a dream, that pain most likely would've woken you up.

So coming to terms that you're inside of the game was a bit easier that way. Though the bigger problem lies with your evol. You wouldn't even know the first step to using it, let alone resonating with another person. And firearm training. You've never shot a gun before, but you did take self defense and fighting lessons a few years back, but you can't exactly punch a wanderer. They're durable monsters that can shoot ice or anything at you and, some even have blades for arms…

“Great, it seems like she's waking up now.” You hear the deep, yet cold voice of a man. Then, you hear the higher pitched voice of a woman, “Finally! It's been three days, I just hope she doesn't insist on going back to work..” “She won't, doctor's orders.” The male voice says before you hear a door close.

Your eye slowly opens before you have to squint to adjust it to the bright white lights. A hospital? You try to sit up and the woman next to you rushes to help you. You have to turn your head to look at her since she's on your right side. Your right eye was also bandaged since all you can see is darkness out of it. The first thing you notice is her short bob cut. “Tara?” You say, your voice sounding a bit raspy and you tilt your head to the side. “Thank goodness, Y/n! We thought you'd never wake up.” She seems excited, bubbly and sweet…just like her character in game.

“That's..” Before you can finish your sentence, you start coughing. “Here, let me get you some water!” She hands you a plastic cup and you take a sip before continuing, “I…can't remember much.” You squeeze your hand in a fist, the sound of metal clinking together has you looking down at your hand. “You never let go of that. You've been holding it since..” Tara trails off and you're caught off guard by a sudden surge of emotions. You take a shaky breath as to not start crying, since that would definitely hurt your right eye before you look up at the ceiling. “I don't recall how to use my evol, how to shoot a gun…Can I still even call myself a hunter?”

“Y/n…” Tara sighs before taking your free hand, “Things can always be retaught, we're all just glad you survived. You should be glad to still have both eyes being that close to the explosion!” She smiled at you before handing you your phone. “I can't stay here long, but your phone has been blowing up for the past three days so make sure you check it out.” She pats your hand and stands up. “I'll visit later with a coffee or something for you.”

“The patient is advised to not have anything caffeinated until after being discharged.” A voice comes from the door before he steps inside.

Black hair, glasses, hazel green eyes, tall…

“Doctor Zayne,” I greet him with a small smile, suddenly more nervous and I turn to look at Tara. “I'll see you tomorrow, Tara?”

“Sure! That is, if I don't get a call about a wanderer..Metaflux readings have been crazy as of late, so we've all been pretty busy- but that's not to push you into coming in or anything! Your health matters more to us at UNICORNS so only come back when you're ready.” She says before leaving the room.

“How are you feeling?” Zayne asks as he comes closer, taking a seat where Tara once was. His eyes scan your whole body to make sure you're okay before landing on your face. He leans forward to take the bandage off of your right eye and you wince at how bright the light is for your non-adjusted eye. “It'll probably scar..” he murmurs, presumably to himself.

“I'm..” You trail off, sighing before you decide it's best to tell the doctor the truth. “I'm fine, but I can't remember-”

“Can't remember what?” He cuts you off, almost seeming more worried about just what you can't remember, which makes you laugh a bit. “Calm down, I was getting to that. I can't remember how to use my evol, use my gun, or anything to do with wanderers.” “Hmm..are you sure it won't come back with time?” Zayne seems to have calmed back down as he's now writing everything down on a clipboard. “I'm sure of that.” You clear your throat, looking back down at the necklace in your hand before running your thumb across it.

“I don't mind relearning everything but I won't be as good as I was before, that's for sure.” You lean your head back and Zayne quickly corrects you, gently tilting your chin back down. “If your wound reopens, we'll have to use stitches so be careful.”

“You'll get better at it in no time. Don't forget that I'll help you out.” Zayne says before standing up. You take a glance at the clipboard and it seems like he added ‘post traumatic stress disorder?’ as a note. You guess he assumes your forgetfulness might be caused by that, but you knew otherwise. “I'll leave you so you can check up on your phone.”

With that, the doctor leaves the room and you can finally let out a sigh of relief. It seems he didn't notice anything was off with you. He was honestly the hardest hurdle since he's known the main character for a long time, but you've noticed you tend to act like her to begin with so maybe it wouldn't be as hard as you thought.

You finally decide to put the necklace down on the table next to you, your hand aching from having held it so tightly and grab your phone. There was no code on it so you easy got into it, might as well put a code on it now..and now you go to check your messages. 45 missed calls from Nemo…Nemo? Your brows furrow and you flinch because, of course, that hurts the wound on your face so you quickly straighten your face out. The nicknames are the same as they were in your game. 11 missed calls from Princess, 55 missed messages from Nemo, and 5 missed messages from Princess. Zayne didn't leave any since he works at the hospital… though on the day of the incident, he did leave two missed calls and a reminder of a doctor's appointment.

You decide to check up with Rafayel first since he's a certified drama queen. You don't scroll too far up but the most recent text messages are just him being pouty that his ‘miss bodyguard’ is ignoring him.

🩷 :’Been in the hospital for three days, sorry!’

You decide that's sufficient of an answer before nearly jumping out of your skin as he immediately calls. You laugh before answering the call, being bombarded with questions the moment you press the green button.

“Which hospital, Miss bodyguard? What happened? Are you okay?”

“One question at a time.” You laugh before you start coughing and have to take another sip of water from the plastic cup. Your throat was a bit achy from not being used for three days.

“Which hospital?” Rafayel sticks with his first question, his voice void of his usual playful banter. “Uhm..” you look around for a moment, not exactly remembering the name of the hospital in game before spotting its name on the whiteboard in front of you. “Akso Hospital, room 205.”

“Got it.” Then silence. “Uh…Rafayel?” You say, taking the phone away from your face to notice he had already hung up. You shrug it off before going to your messages with Xavier. Most of the messages were just asking if you wanted to go hunting with him, sending locations, and the most recent one was from a few hours ago with him asking if you were okay.

🩷 :’At the hospital right now, been out for three days! Sorry about that. I might need some help soon though.’

Xavier doesn't immediately call like Rafayel did, instead just exchanges a few texts with you.

💛 :’what happened? are U alright? is it’

🩷 :’Is it what? I'm fine, a bit sore though. I got caught up in an explosion three days ago and have been out since then.’

💛 :’..nevermind that how can U be okay if u were passed out for 3 days? what's the extent of your injuries?’

🩷 :’Just a few bruises, scrapes, a sprained ankle, and…’

💛 :’and what?’

🩷 :’I might have a cool new scar over my eye!’

💛 :’thats not funny..what hospital, i'm coming now.’

You pause your messages, knowing he definitely can't come now if Rafayel is. None of the love interests have ever interacted in the game before, so you're not sure of the consequences just yet.

🩷 :’I'm probably about to sleep again! You can visit tomorrow, the doc gave me some pain medicine that's making me a bit tired and I wanted to talk to you.’

💛 :’alright as long as ur okay. i can wait as long as you need.’

You pout, trying your best not to gush over how sweet Xavier is, and drop your phone as your room door suddenly opens to reveal an exhausted looking, purple haired man. His shirt was haphazardly buttoned, his hair tousled as if he just got out of bed, and panic written all over his face.

“You didn't think to describe the details of your injuries to me?” Are the first words out of his mouth before he shuts the door behind him, walking deeper in the room to grab your plastic cup to drink some water. “You've been out for three days, you shouldn't even be sitting up right now!” He sits down on the chair next to the bed and you reach toward him to try and fix his shirt buttons. The tips of his ears turn red and he pushes backward on the rolling chair. “What're you doing- you're a patient.”

“Your shirt..” You drop your hands into your lap with a small smile.

“Oh-” Rafayel clears his throat, turning the chair to fix his shirt before he rolls the chair back up next to you. With his hand gently cupping the right side of your face, he murmurs, “How did this happen?”

You assume he's probably in shock since you were never scarred like this in any of the past lives you shared with him.

“An explosion from my..” You trail off, lips pressing together in a thin line as you find it hard to say what happened, even though you know they're not your actual family. “..my childhood home. Two casualties.” You finally finish your sentence, not meeting Rafayel's bluish pink eyes as he still cups your cheek.

The silence is almost deafening before Rafayel sighs and drops his hand. “I'm sorry for your loss.” He finally says. “Do you need a hug?”

You quickly shake your head. “If I hug you, I'll cry and I really don't need to..irritate my…” You can't seem to get your words out as your eyes water and no matter how hard you try to stop it, your cheek stings as salty tears run down your still healing wound. Rafayel moves to sit on the side of the bed, guiding your forehead to rest against his shoulder as his arms wrap around you. “We can always get your doctor to fix it, huh? It won't do you any good if you keep your feelings all bottled up now, will it?”

You can't seem to stop crying, even as your breath stutters in your chest and you find it harder to breathe. Sure, you cried when they died while playing but for it to affect you like this? Maybe it's because someone offered to be a shoulder you could lean on.

“Focus on my breathing. Don't hyperventilate on me now, miss bodyguard.” Rafayel murmurs, hand still patting your back as your tears eventually fade and you fall asleep.

Rafayel pulls you back from his shoulder, moving you so you're laid flat on the bed before he grabs a soft tissue to wipe your face, wiping the trail of blood coming from your wound since the salt from your tears irritated it. He then leans forward to kiss your forehead. “I'll see you soon.”

The next time you wake up, your eyes are puffy and your nose is stopped up.

“I see you cried yourself to sleep.” Zayne comments, tilting your head by your chin so he can examine your wound. “You irritated it.” He sighs. “If you don't cry anymore, it'll probably be healed up in two weeks..then you can cry all you want.”

“Well, I'm sorry, I had to cry.” You say with a pout, knowing it's not his fault. “When can I be discharged?”

“After today, your ankle should be better to walk on so tomorrow? But if you want to start work again, I'd say another few weeks.” Zayne finishes writing something down before standing up. “I also did a routine checkup on your heart in case that was the reason you can't use your evol and I don't think that's the case. I believe your evol revolves around your emotions so if you're not confident in it, it won't work.”

“Thank you, Zayne.” You say before taking a sip of the iced coffee that Tara left for you thirty minutes ago. Then you finally shoot Xavier a text to say he's free to come to the hospital whenever he wants, that you'll be discharged tomorrow.

Not even a minute after you sent your message, there was a knock on your door. You look toward the noise before smiling behind your hand. “Come in.”

A silvery blond head pops in from the now opened door before he comes in and shuts the door behind him. “How are you feeling today?” He asks, his soft tired voice sounding a bit more emotional than usual. “Mmh, pretty good. I'd probably feel better if you came a bit closer.” You say, leaning over to pat the chair next to your bed. He quickly comes to sit down, almost as if waiting for the invitation.

“Your eyes are swollen. Did you have a rough sleep last night?”

“No, I..” it's probably best to keep telling the truth for now. “I just cried myself to sleep.” You shrug, trying to play it off as nothing but Xavier isn't falling for it. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“If I cry myself to sleep again, will you hold me?” You ask, raising your left brow before laughing to yourself. “Just thinking about what happened, not being able to save anyone, getting hurt like this…” You feel a hand on top of your own and turn to look at Xavier. “It's not your fault.” He finally says after a moment of silence. A small smile tugging at his lips before he changes the subject, “What is it you wanted to ask me?”

“Oh right!” You sit up before turning your body to face him. “I need you to teach me how to use my gun…and how to fight….aannnd how to use my evol.” You name off each one and tap on your fingers to count them off.

“You..forgot all of that?” His head tilts to the side before he nods his head. “Alright, I can do that. Is there anything else you need?”

“Uh…can you pick me up tomorrow? I don't know where our apartments are…or how to drive my bike either.” You rub the back of your neck and smile sheepishly.

“What else did you forget?” He lets out a small laugh.

“All of Linkon?” You say before adding, “I mean, I remember names but I don't remember where anything is..like Azure Square, UNICORNS HQ, Twinkle Toys, Meow's Café..”

“Don't worry, I'll help with anything I can.” Xavier smiles, his thumb rubbing across the back of your hand.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me.” You smile before looking down at your phone as it buzzes. Rafayel. He's- on his way?

“Actually, could you get me a friend for tomorrow?” You ask, a smile tugging at your lips. “A..friend?” His head tilts to the side until you say, “Can you get me a fox plushie and bring it to me when I'm discharged tomorrow?”

“I-” Xavier laughs before nodding, “Of course I will.” He stands up, looking toward the door. “I'll leave now though, since you seem a bit restless, but I'll make sure you get all the plushies you want.”

Not even five minutes after Xavier leaves, Rafayel is in the room. Almost as if he felt a disturbance in the force that someone was with his lady right now. “Was someone just here?” He asks, trying to act nonchalant as he sits down in the chair.

“No?” You phrase it as a question before you nod your head. “Yeah, the doctor just left. He was upset that I irritated my wound but, at least, I'll be discharged tomorrow! I can't go back to work for another two weeks though.”

“So does that mean my bodyguard is still out of commission?” Rafayel pouts, a hand on his hip. “Well, that's a shame. I had an art expo to go to in a few days and I was wondering if you'd join me.” “Ah…about that,” you clear your throat before telling him all about the troubles with your evol and even not recalling how to use a gun. “Why don't you try resonating now?” He asks, placing his hand on top of yours. “But what do I even do?” You murmur, closing your eyes.

“Do you feel all of that energy coursing through your chest? Try to direct that through your body to your fingers.” Rafayel whispers. “Think of it like paint. If you pour paint on a flat canvas, it spreads all out like crazy. You have to take a paintbrush and direct the paint to where you want it to go. So your evol is the paint and you are the paintbrush.”

That…helps but doesn't help at the same time.

You take a deep breath, trying to silence your mind to be able to focus but it's difficult to have dead silent thoughts. Instead you try to imagine the energy moving from your chest all the way to your hands, which were clasped between Rafayel's much bigger ones. Then, you finally felt it. You were resonati-

You flinch as you’re bombarded with a few blurry memories of your past life with Rafayel; Well, if you didn't know, you would've just been confused but since you played the game, you knew they were of your past lives with him. Though they were blurry, so you didn't catch anything besides a soft ‘my bride’ at the end.

My eyes blink open and you take one hand away from Rafayel to rub your temples. “I think it worked but..” you look at Rafayel, who was uncharacteristically silent. Maybe he saw the same images too?

“Hey, did you see it too?” You ask, which finally gets his attention. “Huh, see what?” He tries to brush it off but you don't let him. “It was kind of blurry but I remember seeing you…in a purple outfit? Oh and you said something at the end.” You tap your bottom lip with your index finger, pretending to try and recall what you saw when, in reality, you only saw a blurry Rafayel. You never saw specific details like that. “You said my bri-”

Rafayel covers your mouth with a hand. “That's enough of that.” His ears were red and he wasn't looking you in the eyes. Then he clears his throat. “Anyway, I'll contact you soon about the expo since you seem to resonate just fine and then maybe I can show you around Linkon City to try and jog your memory.”

He leaves as quickly as he showed up, clearly embarrassed by what you were going to say.

“Cute..” you say to yourself, laughing into your hand before wincing and touching the right side of your face.

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

That's it for the first chapter! Since I wrote this on goggle docs, I wasn't sure just how short the chapters were but they'll get longer as we go on! I have a few chapters piled up so even if I don't write for a few weeks, I'll still be able to post. I'd love any feedback or even any explanations of the features on here to make the reading experience a bit better. I've never posted to Tumblr before so I've been just copying what I see from the tags and word count so I think I've done pretty well for my first time. I would love to learn how to do a masterlist though and also a next button, I guess I just have to link the next chapter on it? I'll have to test it out so please bear with me and I hope you enjoyed- and stick around for the chapters to come! 🩷

[doc-who]

When Green Turns Red

Emily Prentiss/Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Chapters: 4/?

Words: 1745

Categories: Angst, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Eventual Smut

Emily sits in the waiting room, eyes glued to the emergency department doors. She’s chewed her lip raw, and the traces of blood on her tongue match the stains of yours on her clothes. The rest of the team waits around her, silent. Barely a word has been spoken since the paramedics had taken you away in the ambulance.

The clock on the wall seems to tick louder with each passing second, seemingly mocking Emily and her inability to do anything to help you. She buries her head in her hands in an effort to stop the onslaught of images that torment her.

Her thoughts start to spiral, a mixture of guilt and fear. She can’t shake the thought that if she had done something differently, if she hadn’t left you alone that night, you wouldn’t be fighting for your life right now. It’s a weight that threatens to crush her.

The surgeon finally emerges with a look on his face that makes Emily’s heart sink. He beckons the team over, and Emily jumps to her feet. The room feels too small, the air too thick, as he delivers the news. You’re in critical condition. The surgery was successful, but you lost a huge amount of blood, along with sustaining severe head trauma. Emily’s world narrows at the sound of his words. She nods, throat too tight to speak, as the doctor explains your recovery, assuming you’ll pull through.

“When can we see her?” Garcia asks.

“It’ll be a few hours until she can have visitors. Right now we’ve had to put her in a medically induced coma. If the swelling in her brain goes down like we hope, then we should be able to wake her up tomorrow.”

Emily tries to focus on the positives. That they found you, that you’re alive, but she can’t help but think about all the things that could still go wrong. She turns away from the team, knowing the thoughts are clear on her face.

Morgan is the only one to have the courage to approach her. “Emily, she’ll be okay.”

She nods, not trusting her voice. JJ pulls Morgan away for a second, handing him a bag.

“Here, a change of clothes. Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll get us some coffee.”

Emily shakes her head, “I need to be here when she wakes up.”

“Emily, you heard the doctor, it’s going to be a while. Do you really want the first thing she sees being you covered in blood?”

Sighing, she takes the bag from his outstretched hand. She waves off Garcia when she moves to come with her, needing to be alone. Locking the door to the bathroom behind her, she braces herself at the sink, and hangs her head. She hesitates for a moment, not having the nerve to face herself. Taking a deep breath, she looks up, her eyes meeting the strangers in the mirror.

For the first time since she found you, she let’s herself cry.

—

The team had forced Emily to go home, refusing to let her sit in the waiting room all night. She had fought them at first, but she was tired, the weight of the day heavy on her shoulders. They told her she wasn’t any use to you half dead on her feet, and she reluctantly agreed.

Walking into her empty apartment, she’s greeted by Sergio nudging her leg. “Hey buddy,” she whispers, picking him up and holding him to her chest. Burying her face in his fur, she focuses on the rumbling of his purrs.

Not bothering to turn on any lights, she heads straight for the bedroom and puts Sergio down on the bed. Pulling back the covers, she gets underneath them without getting changed and draws the spare pillow towards her.

The scent of your hair lingers on the pillowcase, and she clutches it to her chest. If she closes her eyes she can pretend that you’re next to her. That the scent of your shampoo isn’t just traces of where you used to be. The tears come again, silent and hot, rolling down her cheeks and staining the pillow. She’s not sure how long she has lays there, holding the memory of you close.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day overcomes her. She drifts between fits of sleep and wakefulness. In the brief moments of unconsciousness she relives a slideshow of the worst moments of the past two days - and every time she wakes, she’s hit with the agonizing reality that you’re not here.

—

Morning comes and Emily is surprised she’s slept at all. There’s a brief moment before she’s woken fully, where she’s at peace. Then she remembers and the pain returns. She goes through the motions of her morning routine on autopilot, the sting of the too hot water barely registering as she showers. The sun has barely risen by the time she leaves and the early hour means she’s the first one to arrive at the hospital.

She lingers in the doorway to your room, listening to the beep of the machines that are hooked up to your bruised and broken body. She’s not sure how much time has passed before she hears footsteps approaching. Dragging her eyes away from you, she quietly greets the team, giving an acceptable answer when they ask how she’s doing.

“She should be waking up soon,” JJ says, leaning next to Emily on the other side of the doorway.

A panic starts to build in her chest and she feels the overwhelming urge to run. “I’m going to go get some coffee,” she says suddenly, walking away before they have the chance to reply. She rounds the corner and collapses into the nearest chair. Pressing her palms into her eyes, she tries to calm her breathing. Gradually, the panic starts to recede, and she manages to take in a full breath.

Feeling someone sit down next to her, she lowers her hands from her face. When she sees it’s Morgan she tenses. He sits in silence with her for a moment, waiting to see if she’ll open up without him having to pry. When a few minutes have passed he leans back, assessing her in that particular way he does.

“Why don’t you want to see her, Emily?”

She clenches her jaw at the question, “I have seen her.”

Morgan sighs, “Alright, then. Why don’t you want her to see you?”

Emily stills, before she leans forward and braces herself on her knees. Morgan is patient, letting her organize her thoughts.

Finally, she answers with a shaking voice, “It would be selfish,” she whispers, “for me to be there when she wakes up.”

Morgan looks at her in confusion, “How would that be selfish? If anyone should be there it should be you.”

Emily scoffs, “After what I said to her? What I did? She probably hates me.”

“Emily, you know that’s not true. She doesn’t hate you.”

“If she doesn’t, then she should,” she mumbles to herself.

Morgan sighs in exasperation and stands up, “If you want to sit here and feel sorry for yourself, then fine.”

The mortification of being called out so blatantly renders her speechless. He waits, giving her the chance to defend herself, to get herself together and be there for you. When she doesn’t, the look of disappointment he gives her makes her hang her head in shame.

—

You wake slowly to the sound of beeping. Gradually emerging from sleep, you lay there, bits and pieces of the past few days slowly coming back to you.

“Emily?” You mumble, wincing in pain when you try to move.

“Hey, just relax. You’re in the hospital.” JJ, not Emily. You fight against the heaviness in your eyes, opening them just enough to see her hovering over you.

Clearing your throat, you try to get your thoughts straight. “Where’s Emily?”

JJ looks behind her to the rest of the team and they share a look that makes your heart speed up. The increasing beeps from the monitor draws their attention back to you.

Your voice shakes, “Is she okay?”

JJ sits down on the chair next to your bed, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “She’s fine, I promise.”

Her words provide some reassurance, but you still don’t understand. “Where is she?” Your eyes dart between the team, waiting for an answer.

Morgan steps forward, eyes shifting. “She’s here,” he says quickly, “She just…had some things to deal with.” It’s obvious there’s more he’s not telling you.

Your heart sinks. Of course. Why would Emily be here? She hates you. She said you were a mistake. You turn your head away, trying to hide the tears building in your eyes. You don’t want to be here. You feel exposed and vulnerable now that you’ve realised what happened between you and Emily is common knowledge amongst the team.

“When can I go home?” You whisper.

The team gives you an incredulous look. JJ utters your name in disbelief, “You almost died.”

You nod as much as your aching head allows. You guess you won’t be going home anytime soon. JJ sees that you’re about to break and motions to the team, who all give you a sympathetic look before filing out of the room.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?” JJ asks, voice gentle and unimposing.

You swallow back tears and put on the most convincing smile you can manage, “Nothing, just tired.”

You can see that she doesn’t believe you. “Are you sure?” JJ asks, and you nod.

“I’m fine, really,” you smooth your hands over the rough blanket that covers you, “I think I just need to be alone for a while.”

JJ studies you, trying to discern how you’re really feeling. You try not to squirm under the observation. When she realises she’s not getting anything more out of you, she sighs and gets to her feet.

“I’ll get a doctor to come and check in on you,” she pauses, hovering next to you, “We are all here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, even though you know it’s not completely true. The one person you really need doesn’t want anything to do with you.

You keep yourself composed until JJ is gone, then you let out a sigh of relief. Turning your head into the pillow, you finally allow yourself to feel the absence of Emily.

The tears burn as they fall.

ao3

[luminoustarlight]

As Fate Would Have It | Chapter Two

It's your first day of work at Skywalker Enterprises.

◂ chapter one ▸ chapter three

rating: mature | pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 3.7k | read on ao3

warnings: swearing, age-gaps, sexual fantasies

The moms at St. Lucas Preparatory School are shameless. Single, divorced, and married women (and some men) alike can’t help but hold their breath when Anakin Skywalker steps onto campus. The dads are intimidated by him and the moms… well, let’s just say the moms have less than school appropriate thoughts about the billionaire. 

Anakin detests the end of the year. He hates being involved at the school. He doesn’t want to spend 2 hours of his day off packing meals in a crowded gymnasium with other parents who also don’t want to be there. 

He doesn’t want to make small talk or ask about Luke and Leia’s classmates because frankly, he doesn’t give a crap. The only children he likes are his own and he won’t pretend otherwise. 

“Mr. Skywalker,” Leia’s teacher, Ms. Clark sighs, “you are the only parent in my class who has yet to sign up for a slot at this year's Cranberry Sauce.” Cranberry Sauce is just the name the school gives the Thanksgiving Drive to make it sound more “fun”. 

Anakin gives his children a kiss on their foreheads and sends them through the school gates. Once they’re out of earshot, he addresses Leia’s teacher. “I already wrote a check to buy the damn food. Isn’t that sufficient?” 

“Mr. Skywalker,” Ms. Clark repeats with annoyance. If it were up to her, she’d let Anakin donate all of the money he wants in order to keep him from volunteering at school events. She thinks he’s arrogant, stuck-up, and far too handsome for any man to be. So she decides to loathe him since she can’t fuck him. But Headmaster Franklin is adamant Anakin attends the event. 

“I really insist that you participate for at least an hour at Cranberry Sauce next weekend. It is important for your children to see you involved at the school. At their school.” 

Anakin’s tall and broad stature seems to grow even larger at this statement. How dare this woman insinuate anything about him as a father? 

“You think I’m not involved in my childrens’ lives?” Anakin has just enough self-control not to completely raise his voice at his daughter’s fourth grade teacher. Especially since parents are continuing to drop off their kids. “You think I’m an absent father who gives the school money to compensate for my lack of paternal instincts?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Ms. Clark answers cautiously. “There is no need to make a scene. I have no doubts you are an excellent father, Mr. Skywalker. I don’t think Leia would be the young lady she is if you weren’t. One hour. That's all we ask.” 

Anakin raises an eyebrow. “We?” 

“Oh, um, well-” Ms. Clark stammers. Busted. She sighs with defeat. “Headmaster Franklin would very much like to see you there.”

“I’m sure he would,” Anakin replies smugly. Headmaster Franklin wants him there for publicity. Anakin should be more pissed about that than being accused of not being a present parent, but he’s not. He likes his ego stroked every now and then. “One hour.” 

“Thank you,” Ms. Clark smiles tightly. “Does 10-11 work for you?” 

“Fine,” Anakin waves his hand dismissively as he gets a message on his phone. 

Ben Kenobi 

Your new secretary is here. 

Shit. It’s Anakin’s first day without Dorothy. No wonder the morning has gone the way it has. Between Luke spilling orange juice on his shirt, Leia’s uncooperating French braids, and his conversation with Ms. Clark, Anakin can’t help but fear the change in routine with a new assistant. He types his response. 

Anakin Skywalker

Assistant. Not secretary. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. 

Ben Kenobi 

If you say so. 

Ben Kenobi is Anakin’s closest friend. Some might even call them brothers. Ben is fifteen years older than Anakin, married to the mayor, and enjoys fly fishing on the weekends. He’s also Luke and Leia’s godfather. Should anything happen to Anakin, there is no one else he’d trust to raise and watch over his children than Ben Kenobi. 

And Ben knows better than anyone that Anakin doesn’t like change. He’s been dreading Dorothy’s last day since she told him she was retiring a year ago. How was he going to find someone as good as her? Someone who anticipates his needs before he does? 

That’s why he tasked her with finding her own replacement. He’s just too busy to interview a replacement for Dorothy himself. He wouldn’t know what to look for, anyway. If he doesn’t know what he wants in a woman to date, how is he supposed to know what he wants in a new assistant? 

.

.

. 

“Mr. Skywalker is not in at the moment. Can I take a message?” You’ve uttered that exact sentence at least seven times since you arrived at the office at 8:00 a.m. Now, as it nears 9:00, you expect to see your new boss very soon. 

Each time you hear the elevator ding, you look up with hopefulness at the arrival of the esteemed Anakin Skywalker. What will you say to him? How will you introduce yourself? Will he be nice and welcoming? God, you hope so. You’ve read just about every article, watched every interview, and listened to every podcast he’s done to prepare yourself for the job. The consensus is the same in all of them. 

Anakin Skywalker is generous, he’s polite, and generally gets along with everyone— if you don’t get on his nerves. And, according to Dorothy, he’s a charmer. 

“Yes, absolutely,” you say while taking notes of the message on a legal pad. Your head is down so you don’t notice Anakin walking out of the elevator. He stops 5 steps away from your desk. His ribs feel like they’re collapsing around his lungs because of that voice. Why does he know that voice? 

“I will let Mr. Skywalker know you called as soon as he gets into the office.” You hang up the phone and as you look up, there he is in all of his gorgeous glory. 

You actually have to tell yourself to take a breath because he’s even more handsome in person. Faint lines around his eyes represent years of life he lived before you were born. His dark blonde hair is combed back effortlessly and is it wrong that you want to run your hands through it? Yeah, probably. He’s your boss and over twenty years older than you. 

“It’s-” Anakin can’t even say more than that because holy fuck. Is he dreaming? He squeezes his eyes and then opens them, only to see you now standing with your hand extended to him. “It’s… you.” 

“Um, yes,” you say while awkwardly returning your arm to your side. “I’m Y/N. Your new assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Skywalker.” 

“I- um, yes,” Anakin clears his throat. Christ, that wasn’t even a sentence. “I need to take care of something,” he says on his way towards his office. “I am not to be disturbed until I come out. Do you understand?” 

“Y-yes. Yes, sir,” you barely answer before Anakin’s office door is shut violently. Well, that certainly wasn’t the introduction you were expecting or hoping for. You’re starting to think not meeting him beforehand was a bad idea. It honestly should’ve been a red flag but Dorothy insisted it was fine. 

It doesn’t seem fine. 

And things definitely aren’t fine. For Anakin, that is. To say he’s freaking out is putting it lightly. He paces the length of his office, shoving his fingers through his hair and muttering to himself. “It can’t be. There’s no way it can be her.” 

Maybe he’s hallucinating. Maybe he’s having an incredibly vivid dream where his favorite OnlyFans performer, who he has known as HoneySuckle for the last three years is his new assistant. What did you say your name is? Anakin couldn’t hear you over the erection that was forming in his pants because he knows your voice. He’s cum from your voice alone. He’s cum because of you so, so many times. 

This can’t be happening. 

He’s never seen your entire face but he knows it’s you. He’d recognize your lips in a police lineup. He hears your voice in his wet dreams. He just knows it’s you. 

And the fact that he has a hard-on is a problem. A problem he wishes you could take care of but you can’t because now you work for him and he’s your boss. This is all so, so wrong. 

Anakin doesn’t so much sit on his leather chair as he does collapse into it. This was never supposed to happen. Yes, he has dreamed about meeting you on more than one occasion. He’s thought about telling you who he is during your countless direct messages so many times. He’s thought about using his infinite resources to find out who you really are on more than one occasion.

But he always concluded that it would be so insanely wrong and borderline creepy if he did that. You were always supposed to remain a fantasy. Just a nameless woman on a screen who doesn’t live in the same country, state, or city as him. 

Yet here you are— sitting outside of his office, taking his calls, calling him Mr. Skywalker and being even more beautiful than he could have imagined. 

You are no longer the woman on his tablet spewing filthy words as you make yourself orgasm. You’re tangible. You have a name- although he can’t remember what it is. He replays the interaction over in his head. The feeling he felt when he saw you was reminiscent of seeing his wife walk down the aisle at their wedding. He was a blundering mess then, just as he is a blundering mess now. 

He doesn’t even want to think about your first impression of him. He’s supposed to be Anakin Skywalker for crying out loud! The suave, handsome millionaire who has the ability to make men cower and women fall to their knees. The embarrassment he feels from that interaction is enough to subdue his hard-on. He pours himself a bit of Bourbon, shoots it back like it’s a normal thing to do at 9 in the morning, and prepares to reintroduce himself to you. 

Anakin smooths his hands down his slacks before opening his door. As his eyes are magnetized to you, his heart starts beating irregularly. Get a fucking grip. 

You stand attentively when you notice Anakin walking towards you. Worried you made a terrible impression on him, you wait to speak. But Anakin doesn’t say anything either and now he’s standing in front of your desk, all tall and lean and smelling like Cedar and Whiskey. He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read. Did Dorothy tell him anything about you? Or did he go into this just as blind as you did? 

His eyes seem to dance all over your body which makes you feel like he’s studying you. Or criticizing every single thing about your appearance. From your simple burgundy dress to the pearl studs you bought with some of Skyguy81’s most recent (and overly generous) tip. 

Finally, because his gaze on you was becoming too much to bear, you are the one to talk first. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Skywalker?” 

Yeah, you can remind him of your name for starters. “Do you have messages for me?” is what he asks instead. 

“Yes,” you answer, picking up the pad you’ve been scribbling notes on for the last hour. “Rex sent over the final schematics for the 0525 project that needs your approval by 3 p.m. today in order to begin production. Mayor Kryze’s office called about the upcoming Gala in December and wanted to know if you would be in attendance. And if so, how many tickets should they reserve? Oh, and someone from St. Lucas Preparatory School called to let you know that your son ripped his pants and needs a new pair brought to school because they don’t have any new pants in his size.” 

Anakin taps his index finger on your desk while he listens to you. He barely registers anything you say because it’s really hard to hear your voice without getting aroused. It’s hard even looking at you without automatically picturing you naked. There’s not an inch of your skin he’s never seen. Well, except for the top half of your face which now, of course, he has seen. And God, does he love what you have to offer. 

You’re still relaying messages but suddenly you’re bent over your desk, gripping the edge of it with pale knuckles as Anakin slams into you over, and over, and over. He’s making you yelp his name so loudly the whole building can hear you. 

“Mr. Skywalker?” 

Anakin snaps back into reality where you’re still fully clothed and definitely not moaning his name. “What?” comes out a little harsher than he intended. And he immediately regrets it when he sees you visibly shrink right before him. 

“What- what would you like me to tell the Mayor’s office?” 

Anakin has gone as a bachelor to the last two Christmas Galas. Ben stays close to Satine the whole night and he really doesn’t see the point in asking a woman he has no interest in to be his date. Plus, going alone lets him leave the party with whomever he wants or to call it a night and go home early to watch ELF and drink peppermint cocoa with his kids. 

“Have them put me down for 2.” 

You nod whilst making another note on the pad. “And what about your son’s pants?” 

“Did they say where he ripped them?” 

“Right down the middle,” you answer. 

Anakin shakes his head. “Oh, Luke,” he mutters to himself. “Alright, I’ll go home and get him a new pair.” 

“Icandoit,” rushes out of your mouth. 

“What?” 

“Sorry, my mouth moved faster than my brain,” you reply, hoping Anakin will find it endearing instead of annoying. “I said I can do it. I don’t mind. It’s my job, isn’t it?” 

Anakin opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. Yes, technically it’s your job to do this sort of errand. But Anakin doesn’t want you going to his house alone, sifting through his son’s drawers, and bringing him new pants to his school. 

Primarily because he’d much rather you be in his home under different circumstances. 

“We’ll go together,” Anakin decides against his better judgment. “I’ll drive.”

.

.

.

So, Anakin definitely didn’t think things through when he said he’d drive. 

In what world did he think sharing a close, confined space with you was a good idea? This whole morning has been a cluster-fuck. Honestly. He’s still struggling to wrap his head around who you are. When you announced Squirting for Sky was going to be your last video, he thought what a devastation it would be to not look forward to your videos every week. Who would’ve thought you’d be the one replacing his dear old assistant the very next week? The odds of it all are overwhelming. 

But isn’t this what he’s always wanted? The opportunity to meet you? To know your name and know you personally? Every wish of his has been granted— except for the fact that he is your boss and you are technically his subordinate. He says technically because Dorothy always felt more like family than an employee. 

You could be family. 

You could be so much more than his assistant.

Oh, Jesus Christ, Anakin. Be reasonable. She’s your employee. She’s practically a kid. 

Anakin looks over to you for the first time since getting in the car. You’re pressed against the side of the passenger door, knees angled away from him and arms crossed over your chest. “Are you cold?” 

“Oh,” you say, looking at him with a tentative smile. “A little.” 

“You should’ve said so,” Anakin turns on the heater and your seat warmer. “My kids call seat warmers butt toasters. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty.” 

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. 

There’s an awkward pause as Anakin realizes what he just said. He absolutely cannot think about your butt any longer than he has to because we all know how that will end.

 (A hard cock, in case that wasn’t clear). 

 “I mean, uh- shit,” Anakin briefly closes his eyes to compose himself. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty? 

“Just turn it off yourself if you get too warm.” 

Do you make him nervous? No way. You decide to let it go. “Kids? Plural?” 

“Yeah.” Anakin drapes his right arm over the center console and taps his fingers against the gear shift. Long, dexterous fingers at that. You have to look away before you start thinking about something completely inappropriate of your boss. “I have twins. A boy and a girl. Luke, he’s the silly one. Right now he’s big into archeology. He’s also pretty clumsy, hence the rip in his pants. And Leia, my daughter, she’s far too serious for any 9 year old to be. She says she wants to be a senator when she grows up.” 

This is the longest you’ve been able to look at Anakin without feeling your cheeks burning. Now, they’re just hot because of the heater blasting in your face. “You light up when you talk about them,” you say. “You must love them a lot.” 

“More than anything,” Anakin doesn’t hesitate. “Here we are.” 

You should’ve been paying attention on how to get to his house from the office. Surely, you’ll be running these errands on your own if things go well with your employment. Oh, well. That’s what the Maps is for. 

Anakin’s house is a stunning Eichler. It looks straight out of an Architectural Digest cover. The lawn outside is perfectly cropped and perfectly green but littered with a soccer ball, football, a baseball bat and whiffle balls. You wouldn’t have pegged Anakin for a mid-century modern kind of guy. You would’ve thought he’d opt for an insanely modern, sterile house. 

As you walk through the atrium and into the main body of the house, it’s clear it is a family home. Anakin uses his foot to sweep his kids’ shoes out of the way so you don’t trip over them. “Sorry about the mess.” 

“It’s okay,” you shrug. Anakin’s house isn’t even all that messy. It just looks like a home. There are so many pictures on the walls, it would be impossible to look at all of them in one go. One in particular, though, catches your eye. It’s the largest out of all of them and the only one in black and white. A significantly younger Anakin is at the bedside of who you presume to be his wife with two bundles of babies in their arms. They are both looking down and smiling. His wife was stunning. They definitely made an attractive couple. 

It’s not lost on you that there are no other pictures of Anakin’s kids with their mom. He’s only spoken about his wife’s death in one interview, about a year after her passing. If you remember correctly, she died shortly after the twins were born. 

You can’t imagine the kind of pain and heartache Anakin must have felt losing his wife. You don’t know what it feels like to experience that kind of grief. You want to tell Anakin you’re sorry for his loss, but what good will that do? Is there any consolation in that at all? 

You’re still looking at the photo when Anakin returns from Luke’s room with a new pair of tan pants. You can feel his presence right beside you and the silence is louder than words. 

He shouldn’t have brought you back here. It’s only your first day and you’ve already seen too much of his life. 

“Let’s go,” Anakin orders. You nod without a word and follow him out to the car. 

The tension in the air is palpable on your way to St. Lucas Prep. You feel like you’ve done something wrong by simply stepping foot in Anakin’s house. His whole demeanor shifted when he came back to the front room with Luke’s pants. Does he regret bringing you to the house? If so, why? Dorothy clearly laid out your responsibilities to you. Tending to personal matters at Anakin’s house is part of the job. You are not just a professional assistant, but a personal assistant, too.

You can’t stand not knowing why someone is upset with you. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Anakin’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “No.” 

Wow, how reassuring. “Okay, then why do I feel like I did something to upset you?” 

You’re really pressing your limit with him right now. You’ve only just met 2 hours ago. See, this is why meeting him should’ve been part of the hiring process. You’d be a lot more acquainted with each other than you are right now. 

If only you knew how acquainted Anakin is with you… 

“You didn’t,” is all he says. But with a twitch of his jaw, you still feel like he’s not telling you the truth. 

“Look, Mr. Skywalker,” you begin. “I understand Dorothy meant a great deal to you, and her leaving is going to be an adjustment. But I promise you I am capable of this job. I’m never late, I’m up late all the time so if there was anything you needed, I’d be able to fulfill it. I love kids, I’m a hard worker and I would really appreciate it if you gave me a chance before making any decisions about me.” 

“You’re right,” Anakin says. “I’ll give you a chance.”  But he’s already made up his mind. He doesn’t have to ‘give you a chance’ to know that he wants you. He is crawling out of his skin with how badly he wants you. And he knows it’s wrong, probably immoral, but he really doesn’t care. Because now that you’ve been inside of his home, the boundary that should exist between him as your boss and you as his employee feels impossibly blurry.

◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter three

[dancingtotuyo]

Part III

High Infidelity | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: You and Joel hull the kids to the beach for a much needed vacation. Things begin to change.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: Tommy being a shitty husband & father, Father's day celebration, cursing, consumption of alcohol, emotional affair/cheating, some physical boundaries crossed. Pining

Notes: Y'all know the drill by now, thanks to my loves @janaispunk for beta reading and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading and providing me with some authentic prison information and inspiration, and @saradika-graphics for the dividers!

Words: 5273

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

It’s June before you’re able to escape to the shore. You make it in just over 4 hours. It’s good timing considering the multiple bathroom stops you had to make. It’s a small house that probably hasn’t been renovated since Joel was there as a kid. It sits two blocks off the shore on stilts that make you feel secluded from the people that pass on the quiet street below, and when you stand on the porch, the salty sea breeze caresses your body as you let your eyes close. You can just make out the crash of ocean waves. You can feel the breeze carrying all your cares away.  

Nate and Sarah excitedly explore the inside of the house. Their muted enthusiasm floating through the walls makes you smile. You’re thankful for this, thankful for Joel.  

The sliding door opens and then shuts. You don’t move. It’s Joel. You know the sound of his footsteps, the way he moves through the world by heart. He settles against the railing, arm pressed against yours. 

A smile spreads across your lips as your eyes open, landing on his. He smiles back. “Hard to enjoy the view with your eyes closed, Darlin.” His deep baritone rumbles smoothly. You see it in him too, the way the breeze carries away the wear and worry of the world. 

“It’s peaceful out here.” 

He nods. “Yeah, it is.”

“We should probably get back in there before the kids break something.”

Joel nudges you with his shoulder. “Don’t jinx us like that.”

“Our two? Unsupervised? That’s asking for it.”

“Our two?” A playful glint glimmers in Joel’s deep brown eyes. “My daughter is perfectly well behaved. It’s your little menace that’s the bad influence.”

“Oh my four year old is the bad influence?” You cross your arms, doing your best to keep the smile at bay. 

“For sure- got his dad’s streak for mischief. My Sarah is a perfect angel.” He sticks his tongue out at you. 

You roll your eyes, slapping his shoulder, but you don’t have a good response. He’s not wrong. Nathaniel knows how to get into places he shouldn’t. “I seem to recall an incident involving a ten pound bag of flour that says differently.”

Joel chuckles at the memory. Nathaniel was barely a week old when Sarah shrieked in the kitchen only for you to find her and the kitchen dusted in white powder. You had cried upon seeing it, postpartum hormones raging. Joel had cleaned your entire kitchen top to bottom. 

“She felt so bad for making you cry,” Joel laughs. 

“I think I scared her.”

The door opens again. Sarah and Nathaniel break out, rushing for your legs and begging to go to the beach. 

You spend the next several days lazing on the sand, reading more than you have in years as you soak in the sun. The kids run around chasing seagulls and other creatures. Joel helps them catch waves on boogie boards. You both take them further out to ride the waves. Sarah’s arms clutch around Joel’s neck, and Nathaniel does the same to you. They build sandcastles and Joel digs holes big enough to bury them both. 

At night, the kids are out by 8 o’clock if not earlier allowing you and Joel to sit out on the deck and drink. Your skin is warm from the constant sun. Joel’s cheeks are tinged pink on your third evening, his chest rosier. The salty air works at his hair, bringing out curls. You like this version of him a lot. You like this version of yourself too. 

Your feet sit in his lap as he massages your legs and feet, calves worn out from lugging your belongings across the sand and back. He stares up at the sky, twilight bringing the first few stars with it. You sip your homemade margarita, Joel’s specialty, from a red solo cup. 

“I shoulda brought my guitar. Only thing that could make this moment better,” he says. 

You hum softly, shifting in your chair. “Wouldn’t be able to massage my feet if you had your guitar.”

He laughs, so easy, so relaxed. You can’t remember the last time things felt this good. “Don’t worry, you’d still get your massage.”

“Why didn’t you bring it?” You cock your head to the side. 

“Wouldn’t fit in the car, miss over packer.”

You roll your eyes softly kicking at him. “We’ve used everything I packed. Speaking of which, what do you want for breakfast tomorrow?” You take another sip of your drink. Joel finds a knot in your calf, working it out as you let out a slight hiss. 

Joel shrugs, carefully watching your reactions careful to inflict as little pain as possible. “Ask the kids.”

“It’s Father’s Day.”

“Kids like pancakes.” Joel sips from his own drink before returning to the knot.

“But you don’t.”

“Doesn’t matter what I like, Darlin.”

“Well, it does tomorrow.” You cross your arms. 

Joel sighs rolling his eyes. 

You narrow yours. “Don’t make me force it out of you. You know I will.”

He considers it a minute before deciding it’s a losing battle. “Those omelets you made for my birthday. I really liked those.”

You smile. “I can manage that.”

You sit in bed with Nathaniel the next morning to call Tommy. As early as possible is preferred, not that Tommy will care. He’s been blowing you off more, hardly talking when you call or visit, seemingly uninterested when you talk about Nate. It’s exhausting. You dread it, but you continue anyway. 

It takes a while before Tommy’s voice comes through the speaker. You force an exaggerated smile to your face for Nathaniel’s sake. Daddy is an abstract being to him. “Hey babe. Happy Father’s Day!”

“Oh… that’s today?”

You push back the annoyance rising inside you. “Nate wants to say hello.” You hold the phone up to your four-year-old’s ear.

“Hello?” he says. 

You can barely make Tommy’s pathetic response. He won’t even pretend for Nathaniel and that’s the unbearable part of all this. 

“Happy Day!” Nathaniel says, taking hold of the receiver before he dives into updating his stranger of a father all about their beach vacation. Tommy stays quiet the whole time. 

Rage begins to boil just under the surface. Before it can bubble over, Nathaniel says goodbye, shoving the phone into your chest and dashing out of the room the moment he hears Sarah moving around in the living room. 

“Tommy?”

“Look, I need to go.”

You're not sure what’s worse. The hurt or the anger inside you. “I love you.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you on Friday.”

“Tommy.” It sounds like a scold. That’s exactly what it is.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for your wife and son?”

“You’re the one who called me.”

“Are you actually going to call on Friday? Or am I gonna end up sitting next to the phone all evening?”

You get silence. 

“Tommy?”

“I’ll call.” And then the line goes dead.

You want to scream or yell or cry or all three. You settle for throwing a pillow across the room and giving yourself 5 minutes to cry. There may only be three months of this left, but you’re not sure you’ll actually be talking to your husband at the end of it, not that the two of you do any talking now. 

Wiping your eyes, you make your way to the kitchen to start on Joel’s promised breakfast. Nathaniel and Sarah sit at the table comparing sea shells. “Aunt Bonnie?”

“Yes baby doll?” You smile, kissing her head. 

“Which one would Daddy like on his card?” She points to a collection of about 5 shells. 

“Hmmm,” you crouch down to her level, looking them over. “I think he would like any of them, but this one looks like him.” You point to a blue-grey shell. 

She picks it up, inspecting it carefully. “It does look kinda grumpy like him.”

You laugh. That isn’t what you meant, but she wasn’t wrong. “I’m making omelets. What do y’all want in yours?”

The kids are digging into their breakfast when Joel walks out of his room, arms stretching above his head to reveal a little sliver of his tummy. Sarah quickly shoves her Father’s Day project under some magazines. 

“Look who decided to wake up.” You smile over your shoulder. “Morning sleepy head.”

“One day of the year I get to sleep in.” He mumbles, shooting a teasing glare your way. He clocks your red eyes before you can turn away. 

“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!” Sarah yells, standing on her chair to give Joel a hug. He chuckles, pulling her into his arms, spinning around, and setting her back on the chair with ease. She laughs.

“Thank you, baby girl.”

“Happy Day!” Nathaniel grins at his uncle.

“Father’s Day.” Sarah corrects. Nathaniel simply shrugs like he’d said the correct thing to begin with.

Joel chuckles, kissing his nephew’s cheek. “Thanks, Bud.”

You track his footsteps over to your side of the kitchen as you invest your full attention on the omelet in front of you. You know he caught your tear-stained eyes. “Fresh coffee in the pot,” You say, keeping your voice even. 

You feel his full body heat behind you, a hand falls to your waist as he reaches into the cabinet next to the stove for a coffee mug. Something settles in your stomach. 

“What did my idiot brother do now?” He keeps his voice low so the kids don’t overhear. 

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Darlin.”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Your head snaps toward him. He’s right there, face so close to yours. Always nearby. 

“You sure?”

You bristle a little bit. He drops his hand but stays in your space. “Not right now. We’re celebrating you this morning.” He smiles softly at you. “And I don’t want to burn your omelet, so scram.” You cock your head to the side. 

He waits a second, searching for any signs he’s missing something. When he’s sure he isn’t, he gives you a soft smile and a tender kiss on the forehead, and steps over to the coffee pot, leaving you feeling warm and hazy. 

The kids help clean up after breakfast. Sarah stands on a bench at the sink to wash dishes and Nathaniel waits patiently with a dish towel to dry the lighter dishes. You and Joel sit at the table, second and third cups of coffee in hand as you oversee their efforts. 

“I think I’m going to enjoy this next phase of parenting,” Joel says with a long, content sigh. 

You feel the easiness thrumming in your veins. Why couldn’t life always be this way? “Yeah if my anxiety about broken dishes or wet feet doesn’t get the better of me first.”

He chuckles softly, sipping from his mug as an easy silence falls between you. You watch the kids and Joel watches you. Sun pours through the many windows of the beach house. You’re not ready to leave tomorrow. 

“You wanna talk about it now?”

You sigh. “Not really. We’re supposed to be celebrating you today.”

“I’ll be able to enjoy myself more if I know what’s going on in your head.”

You keep your gaze focused on the kids, rolling the words around in your head. You feel emotionally exhausted by it all and you’re not even through the morning hours yet. 

“Darlin,” Joel kicks at your foot, smile on his face. “C’mon. We can talk about it.”

You set your mug down, turning toward him. “He’s just blowing us off again. I spent more time waiting for him to come to the phone than I did talking to him. He hardly interacted with Nate this morning.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to push away the tears pressing to escape. 

Joel reaches across the table, taking your hand. He runs his thumb over your knuckles. It grazes past your wedding band, almost taunting you now. 

“I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to either of you,” Joel says.

“You’d think I’d stop letting it affect me at some point.”

Joel bites his lip, eyes pinned to your ring finger. “He’s your husband. Needs to start acting like it,” Joel says gruffly. You catch the spark of something in his deep brown eyes, but you don’t have time to place it.

“We’re done!” Sarah exclaims with a proud smile, her shirt soaked through. 

You pull your hand from Joel’s, wrapping it around your warm mug as you laugh. “Thank you for your help. Both of you.” Nathaniel puts the dish towel carefully over the oven handle, shooting you the biggest grin.  

“Can we do presents now?” Sarah asks, curls bouncing with her. 

“Presents?” Joel says. “Y’all didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Don’t be silly, Daddy.” Sarah says, looking to you for permission. 

“I think now is a great time for gifts.”

Both kids run toward their shared room. They had been very excited at the promise of bunk beds. You ease out of your chair. “Not you too.” Joel shakes his head.

You shoot him a wink. “Suck it, Miller.” 

Flashes of your delayed Mother’s Day celebration jump between you. Joel had switched up the weekends and hadn’t been prepared, but had made up for it the following weekend. You hadn’t heard from Tommy. He never even mentioned it. 

You grab the small box from your suitcase, a small white bow tied around it. The four of you settle in the living room. You sit tucked into one end of the sofa while Joel sits at the other end, a bouncing kid on either side of him. 

“Me first!” Sarah says, handing her card and hand-wrapped gift to her father. 

Joel takes care, slowly reading the card out loud. His gift consists of a souvenir snow globe and a puca shell necklace. She picked them out with great care at the beach shop the two of you stopped in yesterday. He oos and awes over both. 

“You should put on the necklace!” Sarah says, standing up on the cushions of the couch.

“Maybe I want to admire it more,” Joel says. 

You bite back a smile. He’s already lost this battle and you both know it. 

“Don’t be silly, Daddy.” She grabs it from his hand, determination, and concentration painted on her face as she wraps it around his neck.

“Yeah, don’t be silly, Daddy.” You tease, shooting him a wink. He pokes his tongue out at you as Sarah almost chokes him in the process of securing the necklace. 

“Not so tight, baby girl.” 

“Oops,” she giggles. “All done.” 

She steps back to admire her handiwork, looking quite pleased. “What do you think, Aunt Bonnie?”

“Beautiful,” You smile, laughter evident in your tone of voice. “You look ready to hit the beach.”

“My turn!” Nathaniel announces, handing Joel a hand-drawn picture depicting their day at the beach yesterday. He goes into great detail describing everything he drew. Joel’s hand rests on Nate’s shoulder blades, head tucked toward him as he takes in everything the boy says with practiced patience and intentionality. 

It strikes something in your heart, a deep longing. That should be Tommy. But it also sends a deep sense of gratitude toward your brother-in-law for picking up where his brother has failed. You swallow back the tears, losing track of how much you’ve had to do that today.

“Thank you, Bud. I love it.” Joel kisses Nathaniel's head. 

“You’re welcome, Daddy.” 

Joel freezes. Ice rushes through your bloodstream. Your eyes meet Joel’s. What do you say to that? Neither of you knows the answer. 

“He’s not your daddy, Nate,” Sarah says, pulling out her older sister voice. “He’s your uncle.” 

“Oh yeah,” Nathaniel shrugs, unbothered by his mishap as he swings his legs back and forth, hitting the couch with his heels as he does.

“Aunt Bonnie, do you have the other gift?” Sarah asks, determined to keep the morning on schedule. 

“Yeah, right here.” You fumble around, finding the box tucked between yourself and the couch. Joel keeps his eyes on you trying to figure out what’s running through your mind, but he can’t. 

Sarah plucks the box from your hands before presenting it to her father. “This is from all three of us.”

She looks very proud of herself. Joel takes it with a smile, eyes flickering back to you briefly. You give him an encouraging nod. 

He loosens the bow, pulling off the top. The kids lean over either side of his body, excited for the reveal even though they’ve both seen it. He pulls it out, inspecting it carefully. A black watch face with silver accents and an olive green watch band. His eyes dart to yours. You smile at him. 

“You’ve been talking about it for years.” You smirk, sipping your coffee. “You were never gonna do it yourself.”

“It’s exactly what I wanted.” He shakes his head, a stunned chuckle shaking his chest. “How’d you know?”

“Found an old picture Tommy had stored away last fall.”

“Look at the back.” Sarah bounces with excitement. 

Joel flips it over. His brows knit together as he catches the inscription. Happy Father’s Day. We love you. Sarah and Nathaniel. 1997.

“Do you like it?” Sarah looks up at him with sparkling excitement. 

“I love it.” He kisses her cheek, thanking both the children. He wraps it around his wrist, buckling it into place. 

“Now you won’t be late anymore,” Sarah says, making you and Joel laugh. 

“We can only hope,” you say. 

Joel looks up at you with one of the most heartfelt smiles you’ve ever seen. His lips move silently. Thank you.

You nod in response. 

You spend the final day of your vacation on the beach until the sun has disappeared. Joel ends up running back to the house to grab the car so your two very tired children don’t melt down. You hurry through bath time, trying to get all the sand from hair and bodies. You’re sure you’ll be finding sand all over your and Joel’s homes for months. 

You provide goodnight hugs and kisses, but Joel takes bedtime duties. You’re cleaning up the kitchen, and packing up pantry items when the first lines of You Are My Sunshine drift out of the kid’s bedroom in Joel’s soft melodies. The kids' sleepy voices talk him into another lullaby and then another before their eyelids slip closed and their breathing evens out. 

The door clicks softly and you’ve already pulled the margarita pitcher and new solo cups. “See they talked you into the whole set list tonight.” You smile, filling the cups with the last of the margaritas. 

“It’s the last night of vacation.” Joel chuckles. He grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and the half-eaten bag of pretzels. “They asked so nicely.”

“And you’re a big softy.” 

You grab both cups, following Joel out to your spot on the deck. It’s cooler tonight, the breeze a bit stronger. You sit across from each other, feet propped in the seat of the other’s chair with the blanket spread across your legs. Joel sets the pretzels right at your knees. 

“Did you enjoy your day?” You ask, sipping on the day-old margarita. It goes down easier tonight, and your cup is filled to the brim.

“It was a good day.” Joel smiles at you, easy and relaxed. The world and your issues feel so far away here despite the day’s earlier events. “Probably the best Father’s Day yet.”

“Oh you mean it beats the raw banana bread from last year?” You’re laughing before the sentence fully leaves your mouth. Joel’s head falls back, chest vibrating with laughter. 

His hair curls more from the salty air and fits him, tanned skin, curly hair, Puca shell necklace and all. You wonder if you look like a similar version of yourself, the relaxed beach version. 

“Sarah trying to choke me with the necklace beats whatever it was you tried to bake last year.”

You stick out your tongue. The pretzel bag rustles as he grabs a handful. You take another drink from your cup. Joel Miller makes a mean margarita. 

“What about you? Did you have a good day then?”

You take an extra second to think about it before nodding. “Yeah. I can’t complain when it comes to well-behaved kids and the beach.”

“Nathaniel calling me dad didn’t throw you off, I hope.”

Your shoulders tense a little bit. “I think I’m the one who should be asking that.” 

“Kinda surprised it hasn’t happened sooner if I’m being honest.” Joel’s pointer finger slides along the lip of his cup before he brings it to his lips. 

You bite your lips, staring at the house across the street. “Same.” 

“Sorry, that was kinda a mood killer.” Joel’s hand rests on your calf. 

“It’s fine. You’re more of a father to him than his real dad.” You try to wave it off, but the facts are reeling in your mind like a movie. “Fuck, you were in the delivery room, and coached his T-ball team, and you’ve tucked him into bed more times than Tommy ever has.” You swipe away the moisture that’s gathered in your eyes, chasing them with another gulp of your drink. 

“Hey… maybe you should slow down there.” Joel leans forward, his feet dropping from your chair as he grabs the solo cup from you and the pretzels tumble to the deck. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” You reach for the cup, but Joel keeps it out of reach, setting it on the ground next to his. 

“I do.” He’s firm with you, grabbing your hands and tucking them between his. You can’t meet his eyes, embarrassment flooding your body. “What's going on in your mind right now?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Darlin,” He tugs gently on your arms. Your feet greet the warm deck as you're forced to sit up straighter. The side of your knee bumps against his. “You can talk to me.”

“I just want to enjoy our last night, Joel.”

“Can’t do that if I’m worried about you.” He tips your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

The street lights flicker off his warm eyes. You feel his touch linger under your chin. Extra warmth gathers in each place he touches. The words bubbling up in you, helpless to stop the thoughts circling in your head for months. 

“I’m not sure my marriage is salvageable. I don’t know if I’ll recognize my husband when he gets out. I don’t think he’s the same person-“ You can’t finish through the choked-out sobs. 

Joel lets out a soft sigh and before you know it, he’s tugging your pliant body into his lap, rubbing your back. He kisses your head. Your head finds the crook of his neck, fingers digging into the back of it. He’s the steady rock he’s always been. It does little to soothe your racing mind. 

You have so many questions and no answers. Tommy’s release from prison always felt like a distant finish line. Now, three months away, it feels like just the start. 

“No matter what, I’ve got you,” Joel says, hand cupping your cheek. “I’m here for you.”

How much longer can you continue to find solace in your brother-in-law's arms? How much longer will Joel play the part Tommy is supposed to? Supporter, parent, partner…

You pull back, fingers still wrapped around his neck. The metal of your wedding ring presses against his skin, but he’s used to feeling it. He doesn’t even think about it anymore. Your forehead nearly touches his. The pools of his deep eyes are endless. They’re different than Tommy’s. You don’t mean to compare, but you like it, soft and inviting after sleeping on rocks for years. You think you catch the hints of desire in them. You’ve forgotten what it feels like to be desired. 

There’s a fight, a push and pull between you. Who’s going to do it. His hot breath fans across your lips. Who’s going to be the one to finally cross the line you’ve been toeing for so long and drag the other one into exile with them? It’s a lush oasis in the middle of the desert you’ve been traveling. One move and you can dip your toe in. 

Joel gives in first, leaning in. Your eyes flutter shut with anticipation, another touch of his breath. His nose nudges against yours. You catch a whiff of the salt on his skin, and then, nothing, a mirage all in your head leaving you stranded in the desert. 

Confusion knits your brow before your eyes are open. Joel is still close, closer than a man that’s not your husband should be, but he feels further away than ever. 

His thumb nudges your bottom lip. He gives a weak smile in an attempt to cover his true emotions. “We can’t…”

He’s right. You hate yourself for getting so carried away. “I know.” 

Your hand drops from his neck. You might be sitting on his lap but he’s never felt farther from you. 

“You should go to bed.”

You think to fight him on it, but you decide not to. You stand up. Joel doesn’t move, thumb playing with the lip of his solo cup. He can’t meet your eyes and it feels like you might be losing him too. 

Before you can think better of it, you lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Your fingers rake through his hair twice over. His eyes close and he lilts into you just the slightest. 

“Thank you, Joel. For everything.”

His Adam’s Apple bobs as you pull away. He keeps his eyes pinned ahead, fingers curling around the red plastic. He’s barely holding on to control. 

“Good night,” he says, voice gruff, never looking away from his fixed point. 

“Goodnight.”

Joel finishes off yours and his margarita before he falls into bed. It’s just enough to keep him buzzed as he runs toward rest. He can’t get the feel of you out of his mind, how close he was to ripping apart his whole family. 

He’s in and out of sleep when the door pops open. He assumes it’s Sarah. She probably had a bad dream, and tosses the corner of the comforter back. Except, the full size mattress dips lower than it should. He reaches out but instead of Sarah’s small frame, he gets a handful of your waist as the smell of you fills his nostrils. In the haze of sleep, Joel opens his eyes just enough to find you facing away from him. 

The bed isn’t big enough for his legs not to tangle with yours, not if he wants restful sleep. Your body doesn’t tense under his touch. You don’t say anything. Neither does he, but your body melts into him until he finds his arm fully around your middle, back flush against his front.

Joel Miller considers himself a good man, but a good man doesn’t yearn for his brother’s wife. A good man doesn’t give into the temptation to have her so close, to be with her so intimately. Tonight, Joel Miller doesn’t worry about being a good man. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but tonight, Joel Miller falls asleep with you in his arms and bed. Tonight, Joel Miller’s deepest desires come true. Just for tonight, he gets to pretend you’re his. 

You wake up to an empty bed like you have since Tommy went to prison, but something feels off about it. A familiar smell lingers under your nose, and unfamiliar warmth fills you even though the sheets are cold.

You let out a soft groan, eyes fluttering open. You stare up at the ceiling, convinced once again that something feels off. You turn to look at the clock on the bed stand but there’s not one there. The walls are a different color and you shoot up as it all comes flooding back. 

You almost kissed Joel last night. The way you tossed and turned before giving into temptation and crawling in beside him. He hadn’t fought you, hadn’t said a word but pulled you flush against him in the bed that was just a bit too small. You’d slept like a baby for the first time in years. 

Joel sits at the table with the kids as they shovel the last of the extra sugary cereal into their mouths. A special vacation treat. You expect Joel to ignore you or at least be standoffish, but he hands you a cup of steaming coffee with the same smile he always does, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes as if nothing happened. 

You offer a smile in response. A silent agreement to never speak on it again.

You’ve been home for a week when it comes, a plain white envelope stuffed with something soft labeled with a return address you’re all too familiar with written in Tommy’s chicken scratch handwriting. 

You wait until Nathaniel is down for the night, but it throws you the whole evening. Letters from Tommy are more rare than phone calls. You’ve received one, maybe two since he was incarcerated. Considering he’d promised to call on after Father’s day and hadn’t, the mysterious letter makes you feel unsettled. What shoes are left to drop?

You run the envelope through your hands, thumb picking at the corner of the seal, uncommitted to actually tearing it open. You’re worried whatever lies within will only hurt you more. You can’t sustain more hurt. 

Finally, you dig into the corner, tearing it open. Your eyebrows knit together. White fabric is neatly folded and tucked within. You pull it out, revealing a square of white fabric, like a bandana unfurls and a note falls to the floor. As you take in the black and white drawing on the fabric, you gasp. It’s a drawing of the picture you keep on your nightstand. The moment Tommy met Nathaniel for the first time. Tommy’s arm is wrapped around you, Nathaniel in his arms with the biggest grin on his face. It’s a moment that’s seared into your memory. Seeing it portrayed like this brings tears to your eyes, the emotions from that day and the last 696 flooding your body. 

Before the tear completely blur your vision, you pick up the note. You can barely make out Tommy’s handwriting when your eyes are clear, but you manage. 

Baby,

You and I both know I didn’t draw this. My cellmate did based on the photo. You probably know that. They call them paños. I’ve seen a lot of the ones guys in here have sent to their girls. They’re pretty cool. 

I’m sorry. I wish I could be better for you and Nathaniel. I love you, Bonnie. 

Tommy. 

Tears stream down your face. Just like that your heart seems to forget the heartache of the last couple years. This proves that your Tommy is still inside him somewhere, fighting to come back to you. You’ll do anything to have your Tommy back. 

It doesn’t matter if you're grasping at threads. Your heart overpowers your mind. You’re determined that you can pull him back by those threads, maybe not now, but once he’s out. Once he’s out, you can bring him back. You’re his Bonnie. He’s your Clyde. You’re tied together. Your heart beats for him, but you don’t catch a piece of your heart breaking off from the rest. That part can't beat for Tommy. It’s attached to someone else. 

Taglist: @pamasaur @alltheotps @rizzraa @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love @justagalwhowrites @pedritosgfreal @mellymbee @sarahhxx03 @lizzie-cakes @sixhours @duckybird101 @anoverwhelmingdin @nervoushottee @caitlynsixxx @kaykay0315 @stevie75 @millercontracting @cals-laundry @jessthebaker @noisynightmarepoetry @vickie5446 @mewantpeepaw

[yoonia]

Ever A Never After: Act 2 (2)

⟶ Chapter Summary | Some say fate can be a cruel thing. Yet you never knew how true it was until fate played a hand in your bad luck. Merely moments before your happily ever after, you are suddenly sent out to a weird place. A different world. You wonder if this is a test from fate to see if you are truly deserving of your happy ending, or if perhaps fate wants to show you something else. Something that fate wishes you to learn before you can finally move on to take the next step towards your happiness.

⟶ Title | Ever a Never After (adaptation from Enchanted movie) ⟶ Pairings | Jungkook x female reader; Seokjin x female reader ⟶ Genre | Strangers to lovers!au, Fairy tale retelling!au, Rom-com ⟶ Word count | 16,755 words ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; slow burn, mentions of curses, black magic, misunderstandings, alcohol mention. ⟶ Author’s note | As you may have heard, I had to take a break due to grief, so this took a while to finish editing. Still roughly edited because I couldn’t postpone posting this part a lot longer, but I hope you can still enjoy this. 

⟶ Story Masterlist: Ever A Never After | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢

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⟶ Special Taglist: Ever A Never After

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 2. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔐𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔠

The first thing you feel when you wake up is the abundance of warmth. 

A similar kind of warmth that usually welcomes you each time you embrace the morning. 

But something is missing. There is no breeze flowing through the window. Not a sound of birds chirping or leaves rustling with the wind. And there is no sound of your grandmother moving downstairs, humming or muttering to herself as she lists the things she needs to do for the day. 

You wish to wake up completely, to see what is wrong. Perhaps the weather is terrible this morning that everything has become so quiet. But your body is weighed down with exhaustion rolling through your body, and your eyes are too heavy for you to open. For the first time, you find no desire to leave your bed, opting to give in to the strong desire to go back to sleep and cuddle deeper into the comforting warmth. 

But then the soreness comes. You can feel it all over you—from your ankles, up to your legs, your back—before the pounding in your head starts. 

“Ow—” You reach up, touching your temple and pressing at the pulsing pain. By moving, you feel the weight of a blanket covering your body and the tight bodice of your dress pressing on your skin. 

You try to stretch, hoping to push away this heavy weariness and force yourself to wake up. Only to find yourself rolling off the bed and falling on the floor with a hard thump. 

“Oh, dear!” 

With a groan, you push yourself up the floor and blink the sleep out of your eyes. And yet, looking around only makes you feel even more confused. 

“Where,” you whisper to yourself as you glance around, “where am I?”

You start to panic. Because this place looks nothing like your bedroom. Pushing away the blanket, you slowly rise to your feet to have a better look around the room. The place that you slept on seems to be the small daybed attached to the window. The curtains are drawn close, but there are still some streaks of sunlight coming through the seams. 

Being so close to the window and covered in a blanket would explain why you were woken up feeling so warm. Looking down, you see yourself in your wedding dress. Seeing how the white has changed colours—something in the mix of grey and muddy beige, thanks to all the dirt, dust, and grime you had gotten on yourself the day before—and the tattered hem looking worse under the lights, everything starts coming back to you again. 

Oh, that’s right, you muse to yourself as you fall back down on the daybed. This is his house. 

Your saviour. 

That was what you called him after he caught you from that replica of the castle. The replica which held no magic at all, unlike the castle which held more magic than you have ever encountered throughout your whole life. You doubt there is even any magic here—perhaps except for the metal carriages that you saw driving down the roads without horses and the lights that came from the buildings and towers you saw last night. 

You look down and wiggle your toes. The pretty heels that you worn for the wedding had been soiled so badly and your ankles were strained with over-tiredness that it took Ah-ri’s help to get it off your feet. Your cheeks grow warm as you recall how the little girl fussed over them, and then how she nearly cried when she saw how swollen your feet had become, making you feel embarrassed just thinking about it.

Accepting your new reality, you look around once again, taking in the room. There is not much furniture placed here, but the bedroom looks luxurious and cosy, and it makes you feel safe. Aside from the daybed, there is a bed right in front of you—which you have apparently missed when you first came into the room. It seems bigger than the bed that you have at home, covered in fresh sheets in the colour of soft pink. The wooden frame and the bedrest are painted white, unlike your bed at home which is made of oak and left without any paint. Two bedside tables are set on either side of the bed, each one adorned with small lamps that were left unlit. You are curious to see their odd shapes, even more so when you realise that they don’t resemble any of the oil lamps you have normally seen at home. 

There are two doors attached to the room. One was the door from which you entered the room, while the other, a much smaller one which is left ajar, shows you the inside of an empty closet. Glancing at the bed, you find a pile of clothes placed on top of it. They are quite strange looking, you realise, as you take a look closer. Not a dress nor a shirt, but two pieces of clothing items that feel soft under the tips of your fingers when you reach out to touch them. 

The change of clothes, you wonder with a smile, recalling what your saviour said about providing you with something to change into once you are out of your ruined dress. I suppose I fell asleep last night before changing.

And your saviour had chosen to let you rest. Could it have been your saviour who left the blanket behind? To keep you warm, perhaps? 

Imagining the kind man who smiled at you warmly last night when he welcomed you into his home makes your heart flutter. The warmth that you felt when you woke up returns, only it feels softer, growing from inside your chest before expanding all over your body. 

Unfolding the clothes, you simply tilt your head, not sure how you are going to change out of this tight dress and into these—confusing-looking pieces of clothing. Thinking about how to get out of the dress only reminds you of the morning when you first had to put it on. You had the help of your grandmother and your little friends to be able to put on this dress properly without ruining the delicate details on the skirt and the trails. 

Sighing to yourself, you decide not to wallow in regret or sadness, and choose to embrace your day instead. 

After laying out the pieces of clothing—the top, the bottom trousers, and the fluffy towel—on the bed, you return to the window, opening the curtains to allow more sunlight in and get a view of the outside world. 

Everything looks different in the morning compared to the night before. The bright, sparkling lights are no longer visible, but there are still colourful ornaments that appear in some places, and you can finally get to see the beach more clearly. Everything aside from the beachside and the ocean looks like nothing more but tiny dots from the distance, but it is such an amazing sight to see, as you don’t normally get to see the widespread ocean and its glowing white sand back home as much as you wanted to. 

The sun is bright and warm, with no trace of the rain which had fallen during the toughest time you had to endure. 

At least the rain was quite refreshing, you wonder as you recall feeling as if everything that was unsettling you the other day—the fear of not being able to return home, feeling lost and powerless after finding yourself stranded in a strange land—all melted the moment you felt the rain drops falling all over you.

You smile at the thought of breathing in the scents of fresh soil and damp leaves that you often find through the forest or drifting into your bedroom after rainfalls, and you cannot help but think about the comfort that you often find from it. 

A spark of idea comes to your mind right away. Maybe if I can just—

Finding the lock on the window, you unlatch it and pry the window open, allowing the morning breeze to come in. You hope that breathing in the fresh air might help you feel more refreshed. But you immediately find that you have made the wrong decision, as taking in a deep breath only causes you to have a coughing fit. 

“Oh, my!” you gasp, taking a step back to get away from the foul air. The air you breathed is too dry, filled with dust and smoke and not a single hint of the fresh air that you would normally enjoy in the morning. It takes a while before you get used to it, before you finally smell the ocean breeze that is beginning to drift in. 

“Well, I suppose things are a bit—different here,” you muse with a sigh, noticing how sparse the trees are around the house.

Furrowing your brows, you notice how restricted it feels to be in your dress, the fabric has been growing heavier as it has gotten dirty, and your body feels to be covered in grime. The warm breeze isn’t helping either, as it only escalates the discomfort that you are feeling. You feel the desire to strip out of the dress to feel better, yet you doubt that you can get out of the dress on your own. 

Once again, your mind wanders to your little friends. Your companions and loyal helpers who would always come to help whenever you are in need. 

“Is there someone you can call—?” 

You recall what your saviour said last night about calling someone from home. You only realise now that you haven’t even tried calling to see if it would work at all. Trying to be positive despite your circumstances, you look up to the sky and wonder if your voice can reach someone from back home—your animal friends from the forest, perhaps—so they will be able to know where you are. 

You have done it once when you sang in the forest one day and birds came to you, answering your call and singing along to your song. 

Won’t it happen again now, if you try it? 

“Maybe if I sing something loud and sincere enough, then the little birds will be able to hear me. Maybe they will hear my call,” you wonder out loud, reassuring yourself before doubt ever has the chance to sink in. “That’s right. Let’s try it. It won’t hurt to try and call them.” 

Taking a deep inhale of breath, avoiding to breathe in the smoke and dust this time, you muster some energy to sing, calling your lovely friends that might be able to help. With your heart beating in your chest, hope blooming, you begin to sing. 

“Good morning, friends, it's a brand new day…

With friends beside us, we’ll find our way…”

Wind blows, warmth filters through the window, the faint sound of the waves reaches you, yet there is nothing else returning your song. 

“Together we’ll share the morning light…

Hand in hand, everything feels right…”

You refuse to give up, believing that all you ever need is patience. Perhaps if your friends won’t be able to hear you, some new friends would, and they can help you find a way to solve your problems, to help you find the way back home. 

“Good morning, good morning, the day’s begun…

Together we’ll shine, our hearts as one…”

The loud sound of a horn from one of those metallic carriages blares through the air, shocking you, sending you falling back to the daybed. Your heart is still racing as you sit there in silence, hearing the faint sound of the carriage driving down the road below. You wait for a moment longer, drowning in silence. 

Then another moment passes, and you still hear no answer to your song. 

“I knew it. Nobody can hear me calling them from here,” you murmur to yourself, having no choice but to accept reality. 

They say magic is so powerful that it can reach anyone no matter the obstacle. But your magic clearly has no power here. Your voice and your song cannot reach anyone—far and near—to give you the answer you need. 

You look up at the sky with despair. A day has passed until you encounter a new morning, and you are still stranded in this strange land. Still with no sign or hope that you might be able to return home. 

Leaning back in the daybed, you rest against the window as any hope you ever had begins to wither. The breath you exhale is soft. Weary. Lonely.

You miss the sounds of the forest—the birdsongs echoing through the thickets welcoming the rise of mornings, the loud chitters coming from your little forest friends as they greet you at the start of the day, the rustling leaves and swaying branches at the first morning breeze, and the soft humming voice of your grandmother as she paces out into the garden to tend to her flowers and crops. 

Here, the sound of waves coming from the fair distance is calming, yet it still feels foreign to your ears. And there are too many other foreign sounds that your mind is having a hard time processing still; the voices from the crowd of people in the streets and the beach not too far away that are too loud this early in the morning; the rumbling sounds of the metal carriages going up and down the cobalt-grey roads, always accompanied by those god-awful sounds of horns blowing through the soiled air. 

A wince comes from you when another sound of a horn blows through the morning from somewhere far away, followed by shouts and bellows of laughter. A reminder of how strange this place is. Thinking about it makes you feel so hollow inside.

You miss your forest friends.

You miss your grandmother.

You miss home.

And when you close your eyes, you realise how much you miss seeing the Prince. And it scares you to realise that you are having a hard time remembering the beautiful smile that he gave you the last time you met.

Shaking your head, you refuse to lose hope. There might still be a chance for you to find your way home, slim though it may seem. 

Opening your eyes, you look out into the distance, at the ocean that is glowing under the sun. In silence, you promise yourself to hold on to the last sliver of hope that you feel as tightly as you can, refusing to give up so easily. 

You promise yourself that you will find a way home. Back home to your family. Back to your Prince. 

To your happily ever after. 

Downstairs, Ah-ri has been humming her own tune as she is helping her father prepare breakfast. At the sound of your voice, she immediately stops—both the singing, and the little hands that have been working to mix the pancake batter—and looks up with a gasp. 

“Did you hear that, Daddy?” She turns to Seokjin, smiling wide. “The Princess is singing.” 

Seokjin stops to listen, and sure enough, he can hear the faint sound of someone singing from upstairs. Creasing his brows, Seokjin quickly recognises it as your voice and begins wondering if this is another quirky thing of yours. To be singing about the morning when you had just woken up. 

Shaking his head, Seokjin silently chastises himself for bringing this upon himself. He only sighs and forces a smile as he turns away from the coffee machine to look at his daughter. “I hear it. Why don’t you stay here and I’ll go check on our guest to see if she’s ready for breakfast?” 

“But I want to see,” Ah-ri complains, pouting. She knows that she can easily melt Seokjin’s heart when she does this, but he forces himself to ignore it for once and shakes his head. 

“You can have her sing for you later,” he convinces Ah-ri and strokes her hair when she begins sulking. “Besides, you have some work to do, don’t you?” He points at the mixing bowl in her hands and says, “Keep mixing the batter so we can have the pancake done soon.”  

“Fine,” she says, huffing. “But remember, you promised.” 

“I promise,” Seokjin says with a chuckle. He playfully ruffles Ah-ri’s hair to tease her before heading up the stairs, following the sound of your voice that is slowly beginning to make him feel warm inside, for reasons he cannot understand. 

Soon, the singing stops. He can faintly hear you murmuring to yourself, and he doesn’t have to see you to know that your singing didn’t help you feel ecstatic about the morning. 

Standing by the door, Seokjin comes to a halt. He suddenly feels hesitant to knock. It doesn’t even matter if this is his home, and you are simply a guest. He can sense that you are having a moment and he hates having to break it. 

But Ah-ri is waiting downstairs, and he knows that she will be hungry soon. And if he wants to hear the full story from you, this will be the right time to pry it out of you. If cannot do it himself, then perhaps Ah-ri would be able to do it later once she sees you. He has noticed how you seem to have a soft spot for his daughter so quickly right after you met her, so he knows that he can put that to his advantage. 

Noticing the silence in the room, Seokjin takes a deep breath, counts to three, and then knocks the door gently. “Hello? Is everything okay?” 

He hears a faint sigh from the other side of the door before your voice is heard. “Yes, everything is fine.” 

Soft, small, and delicate. Seokjin has never heard such a voice, and he never felt such a strong urge to protect and calm someone so badly as he does now upon hearing such a voice. He shakes his head and laughs at himself, wondering how it is possible for him to care for someone so much, when he had just met you. 

Clearing his throat, he calls out when you make no move to open the door for him. “Can I come in?” 

“Oh,” you sound surprised. He hears shuffling voices from the room, followed by a soft thud, just as you answer, “Yes, of course. Please, come on.” 

Seokjin carefully opens the door and finds you sitting—on the floor. The skirt of your dress are outspread around you, making it seem as if you are drowning in the fabric. The flustered look you are showing tells him more than he needs to know.

“Why are you on the floor?” he asks, stiffing a chuckle, picturing how you must have slipped or tripped in your own dress when you tried to open the door for him. 

“Oh, nothing,” you nervously laugh, “Just relaxing and enjoying the morning.” 

“I see,” he says, nodding. His eyes find the pile of clothes he left on the bed. All stretched out over the still made-up bed. “You’ve found the clothes,” he says as he reaches out, offering his hand to help you back up to your feet. You mutter a soft, “Thank you,” before he asks again, “Do you have a problem changing out of that dress?” 

You look startled, and Seokjin cannot resist the smile on his face. “I have a daughter who loves wearing princess dresses every now and then, so I know how hard it is to get out of them. Especially one as intricate as the one you’re wearing.” 

You look away with a shy smile but slowly nod. “Yes, I was, but I think I can figure it out somehow.” Looking down at yourself, at your tattered dress, you visibly grimace. “Forgive me for looking unpresentable, I am not quite myself at the moment.” 

Seokjin nods. “Would you like to take a bath first? Ah-ri and I are preparing breakfast downstairs. It’s our—we always have breakfast together in the morning and I was going to ask you to join us, but you can take your time to clean up first so you’ll feel more comfortable.” 

“Yes, please,” you answer with a relieved sigh. “I can’t even remember the last time I had a proper meal, or have any kind of food at all,” you muse with a chuckle, which only worries Seokjin further. “But I do feel like I must clean up before getting any food. It wouldn’t be proper of me to join you and the little princess if I am in such a mess.” 

Seokjin’s lips curl to a smile. “There’s a joint bathroom in this floor, and it’s small, so you’ll be sharing with my daughter. Is that all right with you?” 

“That would be lovely.” 

Nodding, Seokjin reaches down to help carry your change of clothes for you and guides you out of the bedroom. The bathroom is right across the corridor, lodged between the stairs leading to the upper floor and Ah-ri’s bedroom.

“Here you go,” Seokjin says as he opens the door to the small bathroom, ushering you in. 

He stays at the doorway as you step inside the bathroom, eyes wide as you take a look around. 

As you stand at the center of the room, the bathroom almost looks like a tight squeeze. Your wedding dress and your entire presence taking up the space in Seokjin’s eyes, something that he finds amusing. He follows your gaze, trying to see the room through your eyes.

The light beige coloured tiles on the center wall used to make this room feel vibrant, a vintage look that made it appear fancy in his less than humble home. Against your white dress—despite it being soiled and slightly losing its perfection—the colour on the wall looks muted and dull. 

On your right, stands the narrow shower box. The tainted glass door is fairly new, recently replaced from the old vintage one that came with the house when Seokjin first bought the place. Right next to it is the small, old-fashioned tub, standing on claw feet rising from the floor; the only piece that remained from the place, only because Ah-ri has grown fond of it. 

The size is enough to fit the little girl, hopefully until she is a teenager, but not big enough to fit the entire length of his body. Looking at it now, he worries that it might be a bit too tight fit for you should you need to lie in it to relax. Probably just enough for you to sit in with your knees tucked to your chest, which Seokjin cannot imagine it to be comfortable for you. 

The sink is on your left, standing from one wall to the other. A white porcelain sink over a wooden cabinet, with jars and bottles of beauty products that Ah-ri has always insisted to keep in stock for unexpected guests. Your gaze rises to the mirror above the sink—the circular fixture with a golden frame, one that Seokjin found in a vintage shop to fill the room with—and a sharp gasp leaves your lips. 

“Oh, my,” you cry out, looking pained at the sight of your own reflection. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” 

“I—oh ,dear.” You start to panic and look away. “Forgive me, Sir. I wasn’t aware that I’ve been looking so improper. This is—oh, heavens, how embarrassing.” 

Biting his smile, Seokjin breathes a sigh of relief. He had, for a moment, thought that you may have seen something so awful, or feel pained. It might sound bad to laugh, yet he is thankful that you are simply shocked after looking at what kind of state you have been in. 

“It’s fine. Anyone else would’ve been in the same condition if they had experienced what you’ve been through. You said it yourself that it was a long day yesterday,” Seokjin reassures you, until you visible grow more relax. “Take your time to wash up. I’m sure you’ll feel better once you get all those dirt and grime off your skin.” 

Your eyes follow him as Seokjin moves to place your change of clothes by the sink, before you turn to look at the bathtub across the room. Seeing that you appear wary, Seokjin feels bad. “The bath is small in here, but you can use my bathroom if you want to use it and soak in, it’s in—” 

You cut him with a wave of your hand. “No, that is quite all right. Just as long as I can clean up. I’ve already given you too much trouble, I don’t want to intrude.” Brushing your hands down your skirt, you gently add, “I don’t think it would be proper of me to lie in a bath and soak on my first day, especially when I am to be expected on your breakfast table.” 

“It’s fine, really,” Seokjin says with a smile. “But if you insist, then you can use the shower to wash up for now.” 

“The shower?” You raise your eyebrows, and it takes Seokjin a moment before realising that you may not have a standing shower where you are from. 

“Oh, let me help you,” Seokjin carefully slips inside and opens the shower box. “Here, this is the shower, and you can clean up right here. Let me show you how you can get the water running. I’ve set it up to get the water warm right away, but you can turn it to cold or hot this way,” he says, before he gently explains to you the way to use the shower tap, twisting the tap one way to the other so you can have an idea what to do with it. 

He steps back once he is done so you can slip inside. “You can use the products by the sink if you need to. My daughter always reminds me to stack them up in case her aunts or uncles come by.” 

You turn to the sink table, looking up at the mirror. Though you are no longer looking at yourself with wide, terrified eyes, there is still a strain in your gaze. A weary look that worries Seokjin further. He wishes to take it away, but he knows that this is all that he can do for you to help. 

“This place,” you ask with a soft voice, “This isn’t Andalasia, is it?” Your voice cracks, and Seokjin feels as if there is a crack inside his chest that is forming just as deep as your pain when he hears it. He sees it in your eyes when you look up at him to ask, “What did you call this place again?” 

“LA,” Seokjin says, his voice faltering when he sees the light in your eyes growing dim. Dimmer. With more shadows filling your gaze. “Los Angeles”—he clears his throat—”and to answer your question, no, this isn’t Andalasia, and the place that you’re looking for may not have come from anywhere near where we are.” 

“I see,” you whisper, and Seokjin can almost see some tears forming at the corner of your eyes. He opens his mouth and takes a step forward, falling prey to the urge to comfort you, to calm you, to heal, anything, when Ah-ri’s voice drifts across the house from the kitchen.

“Daddy! The batter is ready,” she shouts from the kitchen downstairs, “should I heat up the pan? Do you want me to start making the pancakes?” 

Seokjin grimaces. You blink, and the shadow of your tears fades when you smile softly at the sound of his little girl. He sighs in relief. 

“I should go and check on her before she burns our breakfast,” Seokjin says with a nervous chuckle, stepping outside of the bathroom. But his footsteps feel heavy, almost as if his own body is fighting against him, refusing to leave you be. “I take it you can deal with everything from here? Or should I get Ah-ri up here to help you get out of that?” 

You look at him for a moment, confused, as if you have no idea what he is talking about—or perhaps you are still stuck in the sad thought bothering you after accepting that you are far from home—until your hands fall on your skirt. “Oh, that’s right,” you softly gasp, a soft giggle slips out of you as you shyly look up to him. “That’s quite all right, I think I should figure this out myself. I shouldn’t trouble you or the little princess for such a small thing. But thank you for offering, and thank you so much for your help.” 

Seokjin nods, lips curling up to a smile, relieved and reassured after hearing the sound of your soft laughter. “Come down the stairs once you’re ready and join us for breakfast.” 

“The princess is taking so long.”  

Ah-ri has been glancing back at the clock for a while now, ever since Seokjin heard the sound of water running from the bathroom upstairs. The little girl has insisted on waiting for you to come down before diving into her meal, yet Seokjin can tell that she is growing impatient. Pouting, Ah-ri crosses her arms over her chest and glares at her father. “Are you sure you did well showing her around the bathroom?”

Surprised, Seokjin starts laughing, which only makes the girl pout even more. Shaking his head, he finds himself amazed at how the girl always acts as if she is older than her age. He cannot help but find this adorable, but he would never dare say it to her face. Not when she’s acting as if she’s taking control. Like an adult would. 

“Of course, I did, sweetheart,” he says, as he crosses his own arms to mimic the little girl, challenging her, “Are you trying to teach your Dad how to treat the guest?” 

“You didn’t even want to take her home last night,” Ah-ri complains, scoffing, “if you did a good job hosting the princess, then why is she not coming down yet? The meal is getting cold, and I want to listen to her stories.” 

Seokjin lets out a chuckle as he points at Ah-ri’s plate which she prepared herself, filled with pancakes and slices of strawberries and honey on top—her favourite meal. “I told you to start eating if you’re hungry. You didn’t have to wait.” 

“But I want to eat with the princess,” the girl whines, and Seokjin has no other choice but to give in.

Seokjin takes another sip of his coffee before rising from his seat, “Why don’t I go up there and see if she’s ready for breakfast?” He picks up an empty plate and hands it over to the girl. “You stay here and plate the food for our special guest, okay?” 

“’Kay!” 

Soon, the sulking girl is busy setting up a plate of breakfast for you, with a wide grin on her face and soft humming of a tune coming out of her lips. It sounds a bit similar to what you were singing earlier when Seokjin heard you got up, and he wonders if it’s something that you or Ah-ri had heard once from one of those Disney remake movies. 

He is halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rings, echoing through his home. 

“Damn it,” he groans. Just who in their right mind would come knocking this early in the morning? He wonders. And on the weekends too? 

Before he gets to turn back and head towards the door, he hears the quick stomping downstairs as Ah-ri runs across the ground floor while shouting loudly, “It’s okay, Daddy. I’ll get it!” 

Seokjin doesn’t respond and continues to walk up the stairs. He notices that the shower has stopped running, but the bathroom door is still closed shut. There is a faint shadow of white mist from the hot shower still slipping out of the bottom of the door, so he knows that you are probably still there. 

He gently knocks just as he hears Ah-ri opening the front door. The muted sound of her voice talking to whoever was on the other side of it fades to the background when he hears soft shuffling sounds coming from inside the bathroom. 

This seems familiar, he wonders to himself as he recalls this morning incident. “______? Are you still in there? Do you need any help?” 

Another shuffling is heard, before your muffled voice calls out. “No, I’m okay. I’ll be right out.” 

The next thing he hears is the sound of your footsteps, and for some reason, he begins expecting the sound of a thud, anything that may indicate you falling. Again. Smiling, he steps back from the door just as it opens and you emerge from the bathroom. 

The mix of floral scent of the shampoo and the bath soap you used hits him straight in the face that he becomes flustered, barely coherent enough to speak. “Hey, how was the shower?” 

Your wide smile appears at the sound of his voice. “Oh, it was marvellous,” you excitedly share as you walk closer to him, “The water felt nice. You have no idea how good it feels to—” 

Just as you are rushing towards him, the length of the sweatpants you are now wearing—one that Seokjin realises to late to be too long for you—stretches down, causing you to trip over when the tips of your toes get stuck on the hem. “Oh, goodness!” 

Out of instinct, Seokjin immediately rushes to catch you, only for him to fall back. The air is kicked out of his chest as he falls on his back, a deep grunt leaves his mouth when he is hit by your body weight when you fall on top of him. 

“I’m so sorry!” you gasp. You try to push yourself up, but Seokjin’s hands find your waist when he feels you falling backward, stopping you before you get hurt. Opening his eyes, he becomes more aware of the situation; how you are now straddling over his stomach, with your legs parted on either side of him; your palms pressing on his chest; your hair falling down, framing your face; his hands resting easily on your waist. 

Something about this situation feels compromising, yet his mind is having trouble processing over the shock that his body grows still. The sound of his rapid heartbeat is so loud, drowning the sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs until someone screams across the hallway.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Seokjin turns his head, and grits his teeth. Standing at the end of the hallway is Kira, his girlfriend who has gone missing for the past 24 hours. Her eyes are glaring, her face growing red with rage, and he knows that he has a lot of explaining to do. 

A lot of it.

You close your eyes, trying to shut everything down. 

And when it doesn’t work, you try to shut your ears. But the noises are too loud. The wall standing between you and the two people shouting at each other in the other room barely helps drown the noises, and your hands aren’t doing much to help either. 

“Princess, are you okay?” 

A small voice tries to pierce through your thoughts, through your senses that are working hard to block the noises. 

There are so many things in this place—this new world—that are completely new to you. So many, that your mind is struggling to protect you from them. You cannot see what is happening in the other room, but the voice of your kind saviour has suddenly changed. He still sounds calm and gentle, but his voice has grown tight and tense, just like one of those times when Poppy got stuck between small branches while she was up to pluck some apples for you and your grandmother.

Annoyance. 

Yes, that was the word that she used to describe it. She said most little animals feel that way when they are in peril, or when a larger animal comes to them bringing danger and instilling fear. 

But the lady who came earlier when you tripped and fell—causing your saviour to fall back when he was trying to catch your fall—reminds you of something else. Her voice is loud, enough to hurt your ears, just like those dark-cloaked figures you saw back when you were a little girl, slipping into the crowd with Nana to watch an incident which happened downtown. You remember watching those figures speaking with loud voices, screaming, as they were dragged in by the Queen’s knights into Castle Andalasia to be punished for eternity. 

“Bad witches hurt your parents. You best stay away from them.” 

A cold shiver runs through your body, just as your mind is shaken by a part of your childhood memory which you had somehow forgotten. You feel like running, only that you have no idea where to run to. 

“Is everything okay, Princess?” Ah-ri asks again, and her small voice finally breaks through to you, shutting everything completely. 

You blink, and all the bad images fade, replaced with the little girl’s pretty face and her wide eyes. “Oh.” A soft gasp leaves your lips, realising too late that you have made the little princess worried about you. After your fall, Seokjin asked you to wait for him in the dining room with Ah-ri while he tends to his guest, yet you have been feeling too disturbed to be speaking to the girl and acting like good company. It makes you feel guilty, so you quickly muster a smile. 

“Yes”—you nervously laugh—”I’m quite all right.” 

Ah-ri looks at you without a word. It is quite obvious that the little girl doesn’t believe you. Her eyes are filled with worry, until realisation seems to dawn on her when the noises echoing through the house begin to subside and she finally understands. Looking over her shoulder, Ah-ri lets out a deep sigh. “Daddy is always mad when Kira is here.” 

Mad? You look at Ah-ri, unable to understand the word. What does that mean? 

But hearing the word only brings up a different memory from when you were little. You can almost hear Nana’s voice from back then, when she apologetically said, “I’m not mad at you, my sweet angel.”

You never understood the expression and what it meant, and you cannot even remember why your grandmother would say something like that. But any thought of the past fades when silence suddenly falls in the house. The air quickly changes when Seokjin and the lady stop talking. It feels peaceful enough to make you feel calmer, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Is Kira a friend?” 

Ah-ri furrows her brows and shakes her head. “She’s not my friend. Daddy calls her ‘a special friend’ but I know that it means she’s his girlfriend, even if he won’t admit it.” 

“A—special friend?” 

The little girl nods. “Yes, that’s what—” 

The sound of footsteps coming closer to the dining room cuts her off. You turn as Seokjin enters the room, the lady—his guest—walking close behind. She is looking down when she enters, partially hiding her face, yet you can still see the frown on her face—a look that makes you feel uncomfortable—which fades the moment she lifts her face. 

“I’m sorry to keep your girls waiting,” Seokjin apologises the moment he arrives. His kind smile remains the same, even when he looks slightly exhausted. “_______, I’m sorry. You must’ve been surprised. This is Kira. She didn’t mean to yell at you earlier.” 

The lady who is with him, Kira, throws a quick glance at Seokjin with a sharp look that brings back a cold shiver on your skin. Worrying that it might frighten Seokjin or the little girl, you immediately rise from your seat and offer your hand to her. Something tells you that you should start apologising so you can fix the situation.  

“Hello, my name is ______. I’m sorry for all of this. I truly never meant to intrude, but I promise I’m not here to cause any trouble,” you nervously explain. Kira doesn’t show much reaction until you carefully add, “Mr. Seokjin here is only helping until I can find my way home. I promise it won’t be long. I do have a wedding to get back to.” 

Kira’s eyes grow wide at the mention of a wedding. She opens her mouth to speak, only to have Ah-ri interrupt her by saying, “_______ is my guest, Aunt Kira.”

The look in Kira’s eyes softens when she looks at Ah-ri, and it remains that way when she looks at you. “Right. That’s fine. Jin explained to me everything and, um—” She turns to Ah-ri. “Ari,” she gently says, with a cooing tone that people normally use to speak to a baby, which draws Ah-ri’s brows to crease deeply. “I’m so sorry I missed your recital yesterday. I came bearing gifts and hoping that maybe I could make it up to you with an ice cream date. What do you say?” 

You look down as Kira reaches out, handing out some gifts which you failed to notice earlier; a small bouquet of white flowers; a small box that carries a sweet scent, like chocolate; and a small bundle wrapped in red paper. Ah-ri looks hesitant and glances at her father before finally accepting the gifts. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs softly as she takes the small trinkets in her tiny hands. “I think I want to stay home with ________,” she says, her eyes flicking towards you. “But thank you for the flowers.” 

Kira looks a bit sad, making you feel even more guilty. Before you can do anything to cheer her up, Seokjin seems to notice and gently rubs Kira’s back. “Why don’t you stay and join us for breakfast?” Seokjin offers her, and for a moment, Kira appears to be considering it. 

“That’s okay. I was actually planning to invite you guys for breakfast, and then get ice cream with Ari later,” Kira explains with a smile. “I was also hoping that you can join me and my friends today. They’ll be around for a few days and I offered them a tour—” 

“That’s so sudden,” Seokjin quickly says, his voice reminds you of the ‘annoyance’ you felt from him earlier. “You can see that I have a guest and it would be hard to find someone to watch Ari so suddenly. On the weekend, no less. You’re not expecting her to join you and your friends, are you?” Seokjin shakes his head. “You should know no by now that making sudden plans like this doesn’t always work.” 

Kira suddenly bursts out laughing. “Don’t hate people for knowing how to have fun,” she teases Seokjin, yet there is something in her voice that makes you tense. It quickly disappears when the lady exhales deeply. “I better go,” she says, turning to Ah-ri. “I’ll see you Monday when I drive you to school?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Ah-ri mutters, barely loud enough for everyone to hear, but it doesn’t seem to matter for Kira as she already has her focus on you. 

“I guess we’ll see each other again?” 

“Oh, yes. Perhaps,” you try to say, only for Kira not to notice as she is already turning on her heels.

“No need to walk me out. I know my way,” she says without looking over her shoulder, and everyone can only look on as she continues making her way to the front door.  

Seokjin shakes his head, again, and you wonder why he keeps looking more and more exhausted as time passes. “I’m sorry for showing you such an unpleasant sight so early in the morning.” He gives you a small smile. “Come, let’s have breakfast. I hope you like pancakes and waffles. Those are Ari’s favourites.” 

You glance at Ah-ri as she finishes putting away the gifts that she received and setting them up on a cabinet nearby. “I’m up for anything that the little princess helped make.” 

Your words seem to cheer the little girl, who immediately takes your hand and starts pulling back to your seat. “Do you like fruit or berries? I asked Daddy to buy some strawberries yesterday, and—”  

Seokjin stands in the hall between the dining room and the foyer, feeling like his entire body, mind, and soul are being split into two. Never before had he ever felt this exhausted. Never once had he ever experienced anything that would make him feel like losing his strength and wishing that he could shut everything down at the same time. 

Not even the long hours he spent working at the firm, either handling tough clients or delving into difficult cases, has ever made him feel so drained.    

He watches Ah-ri pulling you away, back to the dining table. Her cheerful voice as she rambles on about the breakfast that she helped make fills the room, yet his mind keeps replaying the argument he had with Kira just moments ago. 

“Are you fucking cheating on me?” 

Was it really wrong for Seokjin to laugh the moment he heard such an accusation? 

He wanted to remain calm, knowing that there was no point for him to respond with anger. But it was so hard to think clearly when he was still vexed after Kira bailed on them last night.

“Cheating? Me?” he had responded once he pulled Kira away, preventing Ah-ri from hearing her cursing and yelling, something that he already expected Kira would do. And the last thing he wanted was to fight right in front of his little girl and their guest. “That’s rich coming from someone who went missing without any news for the past 24 hours.” 

“Why are you turning this on me?” 

“Where were you?” 

It felt like talking to a wall, or a volcano, he really couldn’t decide which, when his question only led to a more explosive reaction from Kira. It was a miracle that he was able to remain calm through it all. Barely, but at the very least, he was able to keep his voice down. He couldn’t stop the surging anger, however, so his voice remained tense the entire time he kept responding to Kira. 

And the explanation she gave him did nothing to alleviate his exasperation. It only made things worse. 

“Our office is hosting a group of independent artists from Europe, as you very well know—” 

Seokjin didn’t enjoy hearing the mocking tone in her voice. And yes, he very well knew what was going on. He knew that the production house that Kira is working on is currently hosting guests from Europe; stage artists who are performing their work here in LA through the whole season. He knew because Kira wouldn’t stop talking about them ever since they arrived here a month ago. He shouldn’t have been surprised to know that these ‘guests’ of hers would be the reason she was cancelling their plan. 

It wouldn’t be the first. But at least she had always remembered to let him know about it before she did instead of ditching on him and ghosting them the way she did yesterday. 

“They wanted to watch some shows while they’re on cooldown Friday night, so we took them to watch a musical, then we went to watch a live show at the club—”

Seokjin could already tell where this was going before she even continued, “We went drinking after, and one of the artists said he wanted to see other parts of LA, so when Alex”—she mentioned her co-worker, the one that Seokjin has always felt to be some kind of a nuisance—”mentioned that he has a villa on Catalina Island and offered to take everyone there with his boat. We crashed at Alex’s place after and went first thing in the morning. I guess I passed out during the night after drinking, and—”  

Seokjin cannot remember what went through his head at the time other than finding this entire situation ridiculous. 

This? She broke her promise and avoided my calls and messages for this? 

He let out an incredulous laugh instead of yelling back at her, even when he already felt like he was about to explode himself. 

“What? Are you going to accuse me of cheating now? Because if you’re going to—” 

He almost screamed then. But he was so angry that he barely reacted at all. There was a moment when he nearly said that the possibility of her cheating didn’t matter to him. He didn’t even care if she did. Because there was only one thing that mattered to him at that moment. 

“You broke your promise to Ari.” The moment those words were said, Kira’s ire seemed to cool down. As if she finally remembered where she went wrong. 

“At which part during your hosting your guests, getting drunk, agreeing to join them boating and going to the island, and crashing at your friend’s place for the night, did you ever think or remember about the promise you made to me and Ari? By which point did it ever occur to you to call or message us to cancel or at least tell me that you were alive?” Kira said nothing to defend or to explain herself. But at least she had the decency to show a bit of shame. “And you were the one who insisted to try and bond with her before I even agreed to get her involved between us.” 

Just as he was seeing the fight leaving Kira the moment she heard his questions, his own fight declined. 

Thinking about it now, Seokjin realises why he feels so drained. 

Kira has always been more free-spirited than he ever was, and that was what had drawn him to her in the first place. Where Seokjin was meticulous and strict, Kira has always been more spontaneous. She always had new ideas to try, finding new things to do and jump into. Before, Seokjin would always envy her for being able to be so free, when he constantly felt like he was living under a restraint that kept him from enjoying the world. When his reality kept him from enjoying life. 

Being with Kira had taught him how to let loose once in a while, to have fun, to experience something new. And he loved having her in his life for that reason.   

Now, however, her spontaneous acts have become the source of his frustration. This wouldn’t be the first time for her to disappear without news because she decided to go someplace or do something completely unplanned, or for her to change her mind after making a decision, and it has been getting hard for Seokjin to keep up. 

It is beginning to feel as if they are going at a different pace, heading towards different paths, that he is bound to remain at one place while she would go all over the place. 

This was what came across his mind during the fight, when he suddenly realised that things hadn’t been the same between both of them. It hadn’t been for a while, but he was just too stubborn to see it.

“I didn’t—” Seokjin remembers her muttering those words. Only those words. “I’m sorry.” 

“Daddy, your coffee is getting cold, you know.” 

Ah-ri’s voice snaps him out of it. As if he is doused by cool water, the bleakness of the situation is lifted, his mind is cleared, and all he sees is his little girl. To see her smile and laughter, and her wide, glowing eyes as she excitedly explains to you about the food that she prepared for you. She looks proud of herself the moment you praise her for helping in the kitchen, which only pushes her to brag even more.

Seeing this thaws everything inside him; his cold rage, his weariness, and the dreadful conversation which he still needs to have with his wayward partner. 

Chuckling softly, Seokjin shakes everything away, putting the fight, Kira, and the questions he still has about his relationship to the back burner as he joins his little girl and her mysterious princess at the breakfast table before they can start the day. 

Meanwhile, back in Andalasia…

Sir Noah feels uneasy. He hadn’t been truly pleased about this whole conundrum. Hating to be at the center of it, shackled with the secrets that he is required to keep, Sir Noah feels like his entire world is slowly slipping out of his control. 

He debates with his own conscious as he watches Prince Jungkook walking back and forth in the war room. With a gaze so distant, his brows furrowed, and his lips curled to a frown, Prince Jungkook shows him an emotion that is rare for someone like him to display. An emotion much alike to the Queen’s when she is displeased. 

But Sir Noah knows exactly why the Prince is acting in such a way, so he cannot fault him for doing so. 

Prince Jungkook is worrying about the maiden who disappeared. 

All morning, the Prince fusses over not having done everything ‘right’ by the maiden, and has been wondering what may have gotten wrong or if there was a possibility that the maiden has been kidnapped. 

Merely a day has passed since the failed wedding. Yesterday, the Prince had waited for hours at the wedding venue for the maiden, and Sir Noah had to do all he could not to make a slip and reveal the truth. Not even when the Prince had waited until nightfall came and the maiden was still absent from her own wedding. 

“Y-your Highness,” Sir Noah carefully calls out to the Prince. “Please, my Prince. You need to rest.” 

“Rest? How could I possibly rest? My bride has gone missing!” 

Sir Noah winces. The Prince has never once raised his voice at his aides and knights, no matter how frustrated he feels. But now he seems stiff, his voice sounds strained and desperate. It would be lying if Sir Noah try to claim that the guilt isn’t eating him up from the inside. 

He thought the Prince would easily move on. After all, had they not only met each other the day before? Had they not agree to marry only because of the myth, the stories, the tale that was told about princes and damsels and the true love’s kiss? 

The prince could have gotten with anyone he wanted. A princess from the southern island who had once led her tribe to find miracles, for example. Or the ice princess who was known to defeat her own curse up north and fought for her family. Anyone other than the damsel that the Queen had—for some unknown reason—the most disdain towards. 

But Prince Jungkook has only been troubled ever since the maiden disappeared. He has been restless. So much so that the prince is skipping meals and missing his sword fighting practices. Sir Noah isn’t sure if the prince has had the chance to sleep at all ever since the maiden’s sudden disappearance, as many of the guards reported seeing Prince Jungkook walking back and forth between the main castle and the now vacant wedding venue in the gardens. 

Prince Jungkook suddenly comes to a halt. His eyes fall on the map of Andalasia that has been set up on the table standing at the center of the room. For one second, the prince makes no move. He makes no sound, yet his gaze sharpens as if he is thinking deeply, and then something inside him snaps. 

Without a word, Jungkook turns away from the table and marches towards the door. 

“Your Highness, wait! Where are you going?” Sir Noah calls for him as his prince walks out of the war room in quick, long strides. The old royal aide tries to catch up, quickly losing his breath as they reach the corridor on the side of the castle leading towards the courtyard. 

“I need to find her. I must search for her until I find her,” Jungkook insists as he continues walking. Sir Noah has no clue where the prince is heading to, yet the steady footsteps of the prince echoes through the walls with no sign of stopping. 

“Where would you go to look for her? How? You can’t possibly spend the night looking for her out there. The Queen is also expecting you for dinner, and—”  

Jungkook stops and makes a sharp turn to face Sir Noah. “I will search through the entire realm, if I must! And yes, I will not stop even if the sun only comes the next week.” The deep inhale of breath that the prince takes after he speaks feels heavy, and his voice trembles when he speaks again, “What kind of groom or husband would I be if I am not out there looking for my betrothed?” 

The guilt that Sir Noah has felt for the whole day seems to be piercing deeper in his chest. He feels powerless against it, but he knows that he cannot give in and allow the prince to leave the castle. Not if the aide wants to keep his head on his shoulders. “Forgive me for overstepping, Your Highness. But we have sent knights to search through the castle properties, the land, even through the forest to find the maiden, so—” 

Jungkook throws his arms in frustration. “Then do tell, Sir Noah. Where is she now? Why have they not find her yet if they have been searching thoroughly as you said they have?” 

“But my Prince, it has only been a day.” 

Jungkook cuts him off with a scoff. “A day too long. She could be out there, lost, scared. She could be harmed.” Jungkook exhales a deep breath, trying to calm down so he can think. But his mind refuses to think. Too filled with worry about his missing bride. “We don’t even know if she’s been kidnapped. What if she had fallen prey to the wrong kinds of people?” 

“Your Highness, I can assure you—” 

“What? What will you do to assure me?” Jungkook’s voice softens. Though not because he is calmer, only because he is exhausted. “I will not be reassured until I have my bride back.” 

“What if—” Sir Noah tries to speak, hesitant at first, but his need to stop the prince from leaving the castle—from defying the Queen—pushes him to speak his thoughts. “What if the maiden had chosen to run away? Perhaps she had a change of mind. Not even her guests, families, or her little friends ever came to the wedding, so what’s to say that she hadn’t told everyone that she was reconsidering about marrying the Prince—” 

Jungkook marches back to Sir Noah as he hears all this. Then he shows Sir Noah a part of him that he had never once shown before. A side of the prince that had never existed, now unleashed at the accusation thrown against his bride as he reaches out and grabs Sir Noah’s collar and pulls roughly at him. 

“If you claim to know me at all, you would do well not to say such atrocity right at my face, Sir Noah,” he threatens the royal aide, who is now shaking in fear in Jungkook’s hands. “I know that she will never leave without any notice. Not without news. Not like this.” 

“Uh, I—” Sir Noah gasps in his shock, “Y-Your Highness—” 

Realising what he has done, Jungkook quickly releases Sir Noah. The older man stumbles backwards, his legs failing to hold his weight. Prince Jungkook glares at Sir Noah with his jaw clenched, stealing the royal aide’s voice when the sight leaves him completely speechless, overtaken by fear. 

With a deep exhale of breath, Jungkook turns away, dismissing the royal aide without looking over his shoulder. “I need some fresh air. Leave me be. Tell my mother that I won’t be joining her for dinner tonight.” 

“B-but, Your Highness—” Sir Noah tries to stop Prince Jungkook, only to fail, as the prince has already stepped out of the corridor and is now heading towards the courtyard. Sir Noah has no other choice but to give up. “Understood.” 

Sir Noah stays in the side corridor for a moment longer, watching Prince Jungkook walk across the courtyard until he disappears between the tall hedges leading towards the royal garden. Once the prince is out of sight, instead of feeling relieved, the weight of his conscience refuses to go away. 

Shaking his head, Sir Noah turns to make his way to the Queen’s chamber. He needs to report to the Queen about the prince’s reaction and inquire what needs to be done. 

Just as he steps away from the ledge, a tree growing nearby begins to sway. The sound of rustling leaves breaks the silence before falling to the ground. 

Sir Noah looks up to see if there is an animal passing by, disrupting the trees and making the branches shake, only to see the swaying of leaves coming to halt. He can still hear leaves rustling from some other trees nearby and the lower bushes just as the cold breeze of the evening flows around him, making him shiver.

Hmmm, seems like autumn is coming early this time of year, he simply muses, ignoring the sudden disruption. 

As he continues his journey into the main castle, the little shadow that has been hiding behind the swaying leaves begins to move again. The sound of tiny paws scattering across the castle wall can be faintly heard under the sound of the flowing breeze as the shadow begins to race across the garden, chasing the sulking prince. 

The evening breeze welcomes Jungkook as he walks across the courtyard. 

The temperature has dropped significantly the moment the sun is gone, yet Jungkook doesn’t mind it. With his coat hanging somewhere in the war room, he welcomes the cold touching his skin. 

It helps only little to distract himself from the thoughts running through his mind. From the guilt and sorrow that keep clawing at him, and from continuously questioning himself what he could have done differently to prevent this tragedy from happening. 

He has no idea what prompted him to walk out into the dark courtyard. 

Jungkook had only wanted to get away. He needed to clear his thoughts, and—just like the excuse he used to get away from Sir Noah—a breath of fresh air. Perhaps then, he would be able to find some peace of mind and figure out what he needs to do to get his bride back.

And yet, the storm inside his head refuses to settle. 

In fact, it only seems to be escalating. The accusation that Sir Noah has thrown at him is beginning to take root, even if the bigger part of himself is in denial.

Because the maiden, his bride, his princess, would never have run away. He believes so in his heart, as he knows well enough just how much you were looking forward to the big day. Just as much as he was.  

No, she couldn’t have run away. Something foul must have happened. 

This is the thought that has been running through Jungkook’s mind ever since you failed to show up at the wedding venue. No matter how long he waited, and waited, without any sign of you coming through the pathway decorated in scattered white petals and blooming daisies, he still believes that you wouldn’t have left him without any explanation, without news nor a reason. 

Lost in his thoughts and wonderings, Jungkook finds himself walking towards the Annex building right across the courtyard. The building that was supposed to house you and your little friends during the wedding preparation. The building where the palace maids spent hours waiting, hoping to help prepare you for the ceremony, only for you to never arrive. 

Jungkook walks toward the small patch of garden at the side of the building, finding a wooden bench where he can rest. From here, he raises his head, looking over the balcony on the upper floor, where your preparation room is situated. The room is now left unattended and unoccupied, as the only person who was supposed to be using it on the morning of the wedding never came. 

But the bitter thought of your absence isn’t the reason why his chest feels tight as he looks up on the empty balcony. The reason for his pain is his memory, as it takes him back to the night before, to make him think of another balcony that he was looking at before everything fell apart. 

The balcony in front of him looks nothing like the small balcony right outside of your bedroom. As he looks up to the vacant area above his head, the only thing he sees is the modest and quaint balcony at the heart of the Amaranth Forest, with you standing against the bannister as you sang to him a song to celebrate your coming nuptial. 

The cold weather bit into his skin as Jungkook raced through the night, leading his horse through the Amaranth Forest until he finally reached your humble abode. 

Jungkook already knew by then that the castle must have sent news to you and your family about the Queen’s blessing, yet he was still eager to bring the news directly to you. He wanted to share his joy and happiness, the excitement of being able to marry the woman of his dreams, and for the magic of the true love’s kiss that he was about to share with you the next day. 

By the time the prince got to your home, the place was quiet. The only light he could see was coming from your window, where he could hear the soft humming sound of a tune reverberating through the night. 

She is still awake, he pleasantly wondered. 

Jumping off his magnificent horse, Jungkook bent down to pick up a handful of small gravels as a means to grab your attention without unnecessarily alerting anyone else around or mistakenly disturbing someone—namely your grandmother—from slumber. He contemplated for a moment before he began tossing them against your window. One at a time. Until he finally caught your attention. 

“It’s me, Princess,” he called out to you then with a whisper, once he noticed some movements happening from beyond the drawn curtains. 

He saw you peeking from between the curtains, gasping at the sight of him, before the window was unlatched and out you went to the balcony to see him. 

“My Prince,” you greeted him with a gasp, your eyes filled with joy that Jungkook felt the urge to celebrate. 

“I’ve come to see you, Princess,” Jungkook nearly shouted, to which you quickly hushed him to quiet. 

“I know, Your Highness,” you whispered to him then. “But please, keep it down. My grandmother has fallen asleep just moments ago.”

Jungkook nodded and immediately lowered his voice. “Are you busy preparing for tomorrow?” 

Your smile widened, and Jungkook could tell how genuinely happy you were when you said, “Yes, I am.” 

“So the news have come to you about the Queen’s blessing.” 

“That the Queen has approved of our marriage? Yes, it has,” you let him know with a grateful smile. “A royal knight came to us in the afternoon, bringing news of the Queen’s approval and the wedding that has been set to happen tomorrow before noon.” He heard a sigh coming out of your lips. The sound was filled with wonder and disbelief, and it touched him deeply in the chest. “It feels so soon. Even my grandmother was in complete shock.” 

“And how about your grandmother?” Jungkook asked you when he recalled meeting your grandmother earlier that day to ask for her blessing. While your grandmother was surprised to hear his intention of marrying you, she was definitely not expecting to hear the wedding to happen so suddenly. “She hasn’t changed her mind about giving her blessing for us, has she?” 

You quickly began shaking your head, much to his pleasure. “No, she hasn’t. But seeing the royal knight and hearing the good news from Her Majesty the Queen has reassured her. Nana even helped me with the dress until a moment ago when I sent her back to her chambers.” 

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, feeling the excitement and joy of seeing you in a wedding dress so soon. “I cannot wait to see you in your dress.” 

You made a humming sound that Jungkook perceived as a giggle, only that it had a tune to it, as if you were humming a delightful song. “And I cannot wait to wear it for you tomorrow.” 

Silence fell between you as you both relished the moment of joy. 

“This is so romantic. For the prince himself to come and visit me late at night,” you had murmured then with a sigh, and right at that moment, Jungkook had promised himself to never forget the emotions rushing through his chest; the pride and gratitude he felt for being the reason you were smiling; and the excitement he felt for tomorrow. 

“To hear you say such a thing will only pressure me into making sure that tomorrow will be perfect.” 

The soft sound of your laughter made everything brighter for Jungkook. “I know you will make it perfect.” 

“You have such high faith in me, Princess,” Jungkook said, shaking his head. When he looked up, he saw you leaning against the bannister, your chin propped on top of your hands. Tilting your head, you seemed to be deep in thoughts, even when your gaze remained on him. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I’m thinking about”—a dreamy sigh came out of your lips—”our true love’s kiss.” 

“Really, now?” 

“Yes! It’s making me happy that I just want to”—you started clapping your hands—”I just want to sing!”

Seeing your excitement put a smile on Jungkook’s face. “Then sing, Princess. Let me listen to your voice so I can sleep well tonight.” Jungkook laughed as you started dancing on your small balcony, humming softly to a tune and singing joyfully about your true love’s kiss. 

“In the still of the night, when the stars softly shine,

A spell whispers secrets to hearts like mine.”

Your voice was like magic. It touched a deep part of Jungkook which caused him to hum along with your tune as if he knew every rhythm, every beat, every word. 

“Through forests enchanted, where wild roses grow,

You searched for my heart, though the path was unknown.”

As you continued, the forest began to sway. Every rustle of leaves became a rhythm to accompany your song. A music, a tune, to which you kept swaying along as the breeze began flowing around you and Jungkook. 

“Now our worlds collide, in this moment of grace,

One kiss will erase every trace of the maze.

So kiss me, my love, let the story begin.”

Lured by your enchanting voice, Jungkook joined you and began to sing along. 

“True love's kiss, like a spark from the skies,

It awakens the soul, with a tender surprise.

One touch of your lips, and the darkness will part,

For your kiss is the key that unlocks my heart.

True love's kiss, in this moment divine,

Is the magic that says you'll forever be mine.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, drowning the lovely tune that he sang together with you that night before it could lead him into feeling even more despair. Still, he cannot help but hum the tune as he reminisces that wonderful moment he spent with you before he had to race back to the castle and allow you a moment to rest. 

Besides, he had also feared that the magic of your voice would break away his restraint, causing him to leap over to the balcony and give you the kiss that he desperately wanted. One that he dreamed of. When he saw the look in your eyes once the song ended, he knew then that he wouldn’t be able to resist. 

There was a glow in your eyes which caught his attention that night. 

It reminded him of the moonlight, of its magnificent beauty that he had often seen shining through the warm nights of summer. There was a wonderful spark rising in his chest when he saw it in your gaze; the blissful happiness that seemed to be reaching out into his heart and soul. At that moment, Jungkook had imagined seeing the same glow the next day, when he was supposed to take your hand and recite his vows before sharing the true love’s kiss with you. 

He never expected what was supposed to be the happiest day in his life—and yours—would fall apart the way it did. 

All the years he spent training to fight against evil and sharpening his swordsmanship skills seem fruitless now. For years, he had done all he could to make himself worthy of his title as the Crown Prince. From fighting monsters and demons, encountering evil witches and dark mages to prevent them from entering the land and exploiting the people, to winning fights and protecting the people of the kingdom with his sword. But never before had he ever felt so helpless, so powerless, all because he failed to protect the one person who matters to him the most. 

Jungkook is still overcome with regret for not picking you up himself on the morning of the wedding day like he had intended to. If only he hadn’t been so strict in following the old tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding, he would’ve been able to make sure that you would arrive safely at the castle. 

But when Queen Mother had made him promise not to break tradition for the sake of the ceremony, Jungkook never thought to refuse and simply followed everything she taught him to do. He never thought that having faith in the servants and the knights would cause him to lose a bride. 

There has to be a way, he wonders to himself, trying to work his brain into thinking of a solution. There must be some kind of magic that would—

With a jolt, Jungkook rises from the bench when he suddenly realises. Magic is one of the sources of power that exists here in Andalasia. So why hasn’t he thought about using it to find you?  

Jungkook starts pulling at his hair as he thinks this through, realising soon the reason why magic had never been a possibility for him to even consider. 

Jungkook had never been so adept with magic. Not since he was a child. 

Ever since he was a young boy, Jungkook has always been more interested in learning how to fight, how to wield a sword, and to follow the footsteps of the princes written in tale books who protected their princesses and queens with their swords instead of spells. And now, he regrets all the years he could have used to learn magic from the Queen. 

Yes, that’s it, he wonders with a newfound hope. Perhaps Mother will be able to use her magic to help find her. 

With this thought giving him a new sliver of hope, Jungkook starts to make his way back to the main castle and requests a moment with the Queen, to ask her for a favour in finding his missing maiden. Until he hears rough rustling sounds of leaves, causing him to halt. 

This sound has been occupying the garden for a while now, he realises, yet he paid no mind to it, thinking it to be the evening breeze shaking the trees and bushes around him.

But as he looks on towards the nearest rosebush growing alongside the pathway, he notices that the breeze may not be the reason behind these sounds. He takes a step closer, just as the leaves before him are parted, and a small face peeks through the opening. 

“Your Highness?” A small voice speaks, and it takes Jungkook a moment to realise that the face—and the voice—belongs to a squirrel. 

A familiar-looking squirrel. 

“You!” He exclaims when he recognises her. He bends down to his knees, greeting the little thing with a smile. “It’s you! The squirrel who accompanied _______ in the forest. What are you doing here in the dark?” 

The squirrel starts waving her paws frantically. Panic is written on her face as she glances around her. “Sshh—please not so loud, my Prince,” she cautiously begs the prince. “You cannot tell anyone that I am here.” 

“What? But why?” Jungkook asks, “Why are you here?” 

The poor thing looks hesitant for a moment. “My name is Poppy, and yes, I am friends with ______ and we met in Amaranth Forest.” Jungkook still remembers the day quite well and nods as he listens. 

“It’s ______, my Prince. I heard what the other man, that Sir Whatshisname, said”—she says with a growl—”about my dear friend, and you must know that he was undoubtedly mistaken.” The more she speaks, the more the squirrel appears angry. Unwilling to accept the accusations being thrown by Sir Noah about her friend.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook realises the reason why. “Blossom never ran away, my Prince, and I am quite concerned that she might have gotten hurt.”

Jungkook’s eyes grow wide. “What do you mean?” 

A breeze passes through the bushes, rustling leaves and swaying branches cause the squirrel to jump, surprised, until she takes one quick glance around the area and realises that there is no danger coming. But the same cannot be said about your fate. Wherever you might be. 

“She might be in danger as we speak, so we must hurry.” 

Furrowing his brows, Jungkook leans closer to be able to listen more. “What do you know? Tell me everything.”  

Poppy’s eyes burn with tears, overcome with relief. She didn’t expect that Prince Jungkook would be willing to listen to her. But she feels glad that she took the chance. 

After what happened on the day of the wedding, when she and the others were tricked by the vile and queer-looking Sir Whatshisname, Poppy has been wary about trusting anyone from the castle. She was so enraged that she truly believed that the entire royal family and its squires had set up a trap when they first took you into the castle. 

However, in her mission to find out what actually happened and who might have been responsible, Poppy had spent the entire afternoon watching the prince from a distance, and she can now see that his distress upon his failure of finding you seems genuine. 

Surely, the man who seems to have spent his day and night searching for you—and is looking as if he is in dire need of sleep for thinking about you—wouldn’t be the one responsible of your disappearance. 

Looking at the ground around her, Poppy settles on a small fallen branch as a tool to help her describe everything that had happened. Because words from a tiny creature like herself wouldn’t be enough. 

Using the branch, Poppy begins to carve the ground, sketching out images as she relays to the prince all the events she witnessed leading to your disappearance. 

Poppy draws their arrival; with you in your wedding dress arriving in the carriage and your little friends accompanying you; Sir Noah welcoming you at the gate. Then she tells him about Sir Noah separating you from the others, promising to have knights and servants coming to help you prepare, before sending Poppy and the others to the wrong side of the property and kicking everyone out of the castle. 

She hears Jungkook’s breath hitching at this part, a crease forming between his brows, yet Poppy continues. 

When Poppy tells him about the part where she managed to climb up the castle walls to see you standing in front of a fountain, Jungkook’s entire body tenses. “She was at the old fountain?” 

Poppy cocks her heard. “So you know about the fountain, my Prince?”

Jungkook quickly shakes his head. “Surely, I would. The magic fountain had been there for as long as I lived. The water comes out from the massive rock hidden behind the grove of trees growing against the castle walls, it used to cause massive flooding on that part of the castle, yet the water wouldn’t stop flowing. Once it was found that the spring contained magic, the Queen built a fountain around the spring to contain the water,” the prince explains, “But the place is restricted. Only those who are permitted or given the spell to enter through the restriction can find it.” 

Poppy is confused. “Well, Blossom didn’t go there alone. I saw someone with her.” 

“Who was it?” 

Poppy begins to draw the old hag who was there with you. Unfortunately, she only witnessed everything from the distance, so all she can give the prince is the vague description of the old, mysterious hag; with her slightly hunched back, a dirty worn-out cloak that covered her entire body, and the curly strands of silver hair framing her face. 

Poppy also adds the hag’s slightly disfigured face, with her sharp nose and curved lips, and pointed cheeks, yet she cannot recall the eyes, except that they were dark and slightly wicked that they still give her the chills thinking about it now. 

“This is all I can give you, my Prince. I was too far away, so I cannot be sure if I was seeing things right. When I finally reached the fountain, your bride was gone and there was no trace of the old hag anywhere.” 

“How odd,” he muses, almost to himself as he is lost in thoughts. 

“Your Highness? Is there something—”

Poppy’s words are cut off when she hears footsteps coming down the pathway. Prince Jungkook doesn’t notice it yet, but her body is frozen, and the urge to flee the place is clawing at her from within. 

The incident from before, when she was tricked by the prince’s trusted man—Sir Unfriendlylooking—and then kicked out of the castle flashes through her mind that she immediately begins to tremble. 

The prince starts to speak, only to be interrupted by the deep voices of their intruders. 

“Your Highness, are you there?” 

“Prince Jungkook, is everything all right?” 

Poppy’s fear is lifted when she realises that neither of those voices comes from the scary royal aide from before. Yet her body is still tense, and her mind simply goes into a survival mode as she begins to plan out ways to run away. 

As Prince Jungkook recognises the voices of his knights, he rises to his feet to answer them. Immediately, Poppy jumps to grab the hem of his trousers to stop him. “Wait, Your Highness!” 

“What’s wrong? They’re my knights. Are you afraid of them?” 

“I—” She stammers as she clutches the small branch to her chest. “I should probably go. I can’t be seen here by anyone. I had to struggle to find my way into the castle, so they’ll kick me out if they see me, for sure. Please, Your Highness, promise me you’ll look for ________ and bring her home to us.” 

Poppy isn’t sure that the prince is going to let her leave, when he doesn’t say anything. He merely gives her an odd look, as if suddenly feeling suspicious with the way the squirrel is acting. Maybe she shouldn’t worry too much, seeing that whoever is standing on the other side of these bushes may not be connected to the old man that frightens her so. Yet she still cannot risk it. She wouldn’t. 

Thankfully, Prince Jungkook seems to notice her need to flee and think nothing more of it. 

“I still need some more information, and I might need your help,” he simply says to her. “Find me here in the morning. We’ll do well to work together to find your friend Blossom, my bride, but if you must go, then you should go for now and rest. I’ll handle the rest from here.” 

Poppy feels hopeful, but it doesn’t stop her from worrying about the risk that she will have to take for coming back to the castle again. “But, Prince—” 

“Go, I’ll wait for you here. I promise.” 

Something in the prince’s gaze makes her want to believe him. So she does. With a nod, Poppy promises both to herself and the prince that she will come back the moment the sun rises so they could work together to start searching for you. 

Right as the footsteps keep drawing nearer, Poppy slips away between the bushes and back into the night, making her way back home so she can report back to her friends and your grandmother who are waiting for news. 

Jungkook watches the squirrel make her escape through the bushes, and he continues to watch until he sees her faint shadow disappearing up the trees growing near the outer wall of the castle. 

As he watches her go, Jungkook begins to wonder why the squirrel would be so jumpy and tense, only because of the knights coming. He thinks back about her words, but nothing seems to make sense. His eyes find the rough sketches on the ground, and he takes the time to memorise each one of them the best he can.

He doesn’t want to believe that one of the wedding guests has done something foul to harm you and cause you to disappear on the wedding day. He also cannot think of any reason why someone would try to sabotage the royal wedding. 

Prince Jungkook remains silent for a moment as he studies the rough sketch of the person that Poppy claims to have been there with you to look at the fountain. He wonders what might have happened to you next. Surely, if you had simply drowned in the fountain, the knights would have found you when Jungkook ordered them to search through every corner of the castle, leaving not an inch of the property overlooked. 

Unless something else has stopped the knights from getting close to the fountain, or that whoever took you had done their best to hide any clues or trails. 

But why must they lure you to the fountain, risking the possibility of them getting caught, being so close to the wedding venue? 

What could have happened after? 

While Jungkook tries to think of any possible scenario that you may have encountered, the knights emerge through the pathway, coming to a sudden halt as they see their prince standing in the dark, all by himself. 

“Forgive us for interrupting your private time, Your Highness. We were sent by the Queen’s advisor to find you,” one of the knights greets him with a bow.

“That’s quite all right. I am on my way to see the Queen, after all.” 

The knights’ eyes grow wide. “I am afraid the Queen is—” The knights look at each other, looking unsure, which only makes Jungkook believe that there is something more about this whole situation that seems uncanny. That perhaps the squirrel—Poppy—had some real reason why she feared getting caught that she trembled simply for hearing some knights coming to them. 

“Her Majesty has locked herself in her chambers after dinnertime. The Queen’s advisor is currently with Her Majesty for a private discussion about some issues regarding the kingdom, but he had specifically requested that we bring you back before the night grows too late, just to make sure that you are safe.”

Don’t you mean to make sure that I have not—and will not—escaped from the castle unnoticed? 

Jungkook can only wonder about this with disdain, though he has no way of sharing his thoughts out loud. No way of confirming that Sir Noah has probably ordered to keep the prince hostage in his own castle.  

“Is that so?” he asks. Feeling bitter and uneasy, Jungkook takes one last look at the sketch of the possible suspect behind your disappearance, before turning to the knights. “Well then, why don’t you walk me back and inform Sir Noah to send the servants for my dinner.” 

The knights appear to be relieved, as if grateful that the prince agrees to go with them willingly. “Very well, Your Highness.” 

“After you,” Jungkook instructs the guards to walk ahead. As he makes his way to follow the guards, Jungkook steals a glance over his shoulder to make sure that his new little accomplice has managed to escape, completely unnoticed by the guards. Having someone on his side gives him a new hope, reassuring him to try all he might to be able to find you and bring you back home. 

Unlike the garden, where the air is fresh and chilly and the breeze is flowing nicely between the swaying trees, the air in the Queen’s sitting chamber feels hot and stifling. Invisible tension seems to have risen, causing the air in the room to feel dense, so much so that Sir Noah feels as if he is suffocating. 

His royal suit—which he has always felt to be one of the most comfortable suits that he has ever owned—suddenly feels too tight on his skin. He fights the urge to loosen up the tie wrapping around his collar or to open the suit jacket to let some coolness in. He barely has any courage to move at all, when the Queen is in deep concentration as she is working on her magic. 

Standing still in front of the small, black fountain placed at the heart of the chamber—the Queen’s talisman, which instils fear in Sir Noah’s person each time he feels its magic manifesting—Queen Rosalyne chants a few lines of cryptic spells, rousing the surface of the water to bubble and ripple. This remains only for a short moment, until the spell ends. Green mist is formed once the water calms down. 

Immediately, the tension in the air is lifted, and Sir Noah can finally breathe normally again. 

Only the relief doesn’t last. As the Queen finishes with her spell, casting magic across the land for the purpose of the kingdom, she takes a seat on her high-back chair and turns her attention to Sir Noah. 

“What is your business here?” she asks, as she reaches out to pick a decanter and pours an amber liquid drink into her glass. 

“Pardon this humble servant for disturbing you in”—he looks over to the calming fountain, not completely sure what the Queen was actually doing with her magic—”your, um—royal business, my Queen. But it’s Prince Jungkook that I am worried about. The Prince—” He stops to take a deep breath, preparing himself to take a blow as he continues, “His Highness wants to, has been planning and is about to initiate, the search for the maiden. His bride.” 

Queen Rosalyne’s hand comes to a halt, her fingers tightening around the crystal decanter when she hisses, “The Prince wants to do—what?” 

“He, um—Forgive me, Your Majesty, but—” Sir Noah swallows hard to calm his nerves. ”His Highness is planning to look for the maiden. He insists on it.”

The Queen’s jaw clenches, right before she swings her hand down, the decanter hitting the table with a loud thud, causing Sir Noah to jump on his feet. “And where exactly is he planning to look for her?” 

“We, uh—we don’t know yet, but His Highness has been searching through the castle for hints.” Sir Noah speaks while wringing his hands together. “He, uh—he has also been spending the entire afternoon to dusk in the war room, trying to figure out a way to track down his bride.”

Her eyes widening, Queen Rosalyne rises from her seat and turns back to the fountain. She casts a different spell, causing the fading green mist to thicken over the water. But the movement seems too slow, and the Queen grows impatient that she quickly waves her hand over the fountain, cancelling the spell. 

“The spell is too small,” she complains. “This won’t do.” 

She immediately turns, the back of her robe billowing behind her as she rushes out of her chamber. Sir Noah has no idea what to do. His feet don’t seem to want to move, frozen at the sight of the Queen’s anger, until Queen Rosalyne’s voice snaps him out of it when she yells, “What are you doing standing there? Come!” 

Sir Noah quickly follows the Queen, shadowing her close by as she walks out of the castle through the small hidden door right behind the chamber and into the pathway leading to the royal garden. The royal aide continues to look around as he walks right behind the Queen. Seeing nothing but stillness in the garden, he is relieved that he had at least thought of sending out the guards to retrieve the prince when he rushed to see the Queen. 

He can only hope for the guards to make it in time to bring the prince back into the castle so he won’t see them rushing into the garden, nor for him to see where they are heading.  

Just as he expected, Queen Rosalyne makes her way towards the old, magic fountain at the far end of the royal garden. The crystal-like water that never seems to stop falling appears to glow under the moonlight, sparkling like diamond and ice, enthralling to look at, but too dangerous to touch. Under the waterfall, the surface of the pool is calm and steady. The water is so clear that it almost serves as a mirror, reflecting perfectly the night sky, the stars sparkling above his head appear in the water like tiny diamonds scattering all over the dark background. 

Just yesterday, Sir Noah stood here with the Queen. Green mist covered the ground as Queen Rosalyne cast off the spell disguising her looks, and there were ripples spreading through the surface of the water, right where you went under.  

Once again, the Queen begins to chant her spell, drawing more ripples and bubbles on the calm water, rousing her magic until a faint white mist rises from the fountain. 

As the water once again turns calm, the white mist spreads to the corner of the pool, and the Queen’s voice fades to quiet at the end of her spell, Sir Noah knows that the magic has manifested in the fountain. 

Sir Noah takes a hard look at the Queen in her silence. He takes in the grey strands threading her darker hair, the permanent furrow between her brows that seems to have gotten deeper the more she looks on through the fountain. He has no idea what kind of vision the Queen could possibly be seeing from the water spell. 

He wishes that he could see it, but the Queen has gestured for him to stand at a fair distance where he wouldn’t be able to get a clear sight of the divination that the Queen’s spell has summoned. 

Whatever it is, Sir Noah can sense that it will only bring trouble. A part of him wishes that the maiden will be safe, no matter where she has ended up, but there is a bigger part of him that wishes to remain loyal to the Queen. To protect her with all his might and do whatever the Queen needs him to. 

Just the way he has spent many years serving her with everything he has. 

That is why, the moment the Queen speaks, he feels nothing more but pure disappointment when she says, “Leave.” 

Hiding his sullen heart, Sir Noah bows his farewell to the Queen. “Your Majesty.” 

The spell that Queen Rosalyne had cast on this magic fountain was meant to send you away. Far away to the alter-world where you would be lost without any way to return home. 

The alter-world. A world without magic. Sending you away to the alter-world was meant to keep you away from Jungkook. It meant to put you in a place where no magic spells could work to help you find your way home.

The Queen had hoped that sending you off to the land with no magic would weaken you. That it would leave you with no hope, feeling lost and defeated, as you are confined in the other world. For you to be left with no other choice but to carry on with despair, while you are soon forgotten by everyone in Andalasia. 

Forgotten by her son, the Crown Prince. 

Separated by infinite space, the time in the alter-world works differently from how time progresses in Andalasia. It might take time for the prince to forget about you, but surely, with how much faster time progresses in the alter-world, you should have grown weak and miserable. The loss of hope should have broken your soul into pieces, that by the time the prince—if he ever gets to it, and it looks like the prince is already beginning to—manages to find his way to the alter-world to find you, there should be no chance for the two of you to reconcile. 

But why—

“Why does she look happy?” Queen Rosalyne seethes as she continues to watch the vision unfold from one scene to the next. She sees you struggling in the dark for a short time, only for everything to rapidly change, your fate turning around just as your soul only begins crumbling.  

The Queen moves her hand over the pool to get a clearer look at your life in the alter-world, everything that has happened so far after your fall. But the more she sees, the more she feels rage. 

“She’s supposed to be miserable and lost, not having a good time,” she snarls as she watches you sitting at the dinner table instead of stranded at a deserted road or abandoned hill, singing and laughing with a child—a little girl—who is hanging to every word you are saying, and a man sitting on the other end of the table. 

“Has she found another love?”

The Queen had failed to predict such possibilities to happen; either for the prince to be so adamant in finding a way to get to you or the chances that you may have found a replacement for the prince within the timeline that you are gone. 

This cannot happen, the Queen curses and wonders to herself as she paces back and forth around the fountain, thinking deeply about what she must do to change this. I will not allow it. 

If only the circumstances had been different, the Queen would have been elated to think that you have moved on rather quickly from the Crown Prince. That the curse she has cast to send you away has prevented you from sharing your true love’s kiss with Jungkook. 

But the truth is, it wouldn’t matter whether or not Jungkook will be the one sharing your true love’s kiss. 

As told by many tales, the true love’s kiss can break any kind of curse. 

Jungkook can have his kiss with anyone in the kingdom and the Queen will have no problem about it happening. As long as it is not with you. Because your happiness will be the end of everything. 

Your true love’s kiss will break the curse. 

The curse that has been placed ever since a long, long time ago by the evil Queen, and it will change everything should it be broken. Queen Rosalyne will lose everything that she holds dear should that ever happen. She will lose her throne, her kingdom, and everything that she has built for so long. Everything that she has put her heart and soul into, with many sacrifices made along the way.  

“I must stop it,” the Queen vows to herself, knowing what needs to be done. “I must stop her from finding her happily ever after. Before it would be too late.”  

⟶ Author’s Note | Originally commissioned by @pinkbtsarmy | Thank you for reading!

— © Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[emilykaldwen]

High in the Halls

Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (OC) Written for the @hotd-bigbang

Rating: Mature

Summary: Aegon Targaryen, the last true Valyrian Warlord, rattles at the machinations of his mother who tries to play Andal politics when he wants nothing more than to be left alone. A chance meeting of a maiden in distress in the Riverlands changes everything.

AKA the Old Valyria AU!

Notes: This is chapter one! Of what will probably be two chapters? I just didn't have the time to finish this, I'm so sorry.

Art by: @the-common-cowgirl / Beta: @vampire-exgirlfriend

Read on AO3

Author's Note: It's the old Valyria AU I've been hinting at for ages! It was a rough summer y'all, and this thing got finished while I was dying from Bronchitis (but before I got Covid) so I wasn't able to finish it. But this is absolutely a universe I want to have fun in and play with from time to time. I hope you enjoy it with me!

Sunfyre’s scream pierced the air, sending seagulls frantically fleeing from the battlements of Dragonstone, crying out as they took to the sky in an explosion of gray and white. The deep pink frills along the back of the dragon’s neck stood high, his head rearing back, snout vivid and wet with the blood of the sea beast he had dragged ashore for him and little Dreamfyre to feast on. His little sister’s dragon was twice the size of a horse, and the dead beast was at least two of her. The pair of them crouched around the great beast on the black sand beach, the waves crashing and little flits of multi-colored light caught in the air every time they broke against the rock of the harsh inlet.

Syrax hissed in response, her head rearing back in offense at being denied, but she eventually turned away, for Sunfyre was twice her size, and the smaller dragon was no match.

Aegon’s half-sister, on the other hand…

“Where is father?”

Aegon tilted his head, looking over his shoulder to where Rhaenyra, stood in the archway that led down to the stables. Her long, silver hair was tied back in a thick braid that fell to her waist, woven with charms that tinkled when she turned her head. The harshness of the style made her look more like Lord Viserys than her own mother, Lady Aemma, whose features were soft like his own mother.

He stayed silent, dragging his thumbnail along the near imperceptible groove of the stonework he leaned against. Did she think he was a servant? Did she think they were as close as their sire liked to pretend they were?

She arched her brows when he didn’t answer, her black boot tapping on the black stone. Before Aegon could open his mouth, there was movement behind Rhaenyra, heavily accented Valyrian answering for him.

“Helaena had another dream last night.” Lady Alicent met Rhaenyra’s eyes as she approached, silent maidens swathed in red following her. She was father’s second wife, taken in marriage when Lady Aemma could bear no more children. Even after all these years, she wore her long green gowns in the style of the continent: square necked and deep sleeved, a heavy, gold chain looped about her waist, her auburn curls held back a net of onyx and emeralds. Next to Rhaenyra in her dark gray riding leathers chased with crimson, Aegon thought his mother looked like a queen.

Rhaenyra ran her tongue over her teeth behind her lips, nodding curtly, and spun away with a swing of her long hair and vanished into the stronghold, vengeful and beautiful in the low light. Helaena’s dreams had changed fate for their family and Aegon did not know if it were better or worse. Some days, in the black of night, he wished he had gone down with the rest of their people in ash and flame. Others, he relished the freedom from politics that had plagued his earliest years. The fearful whispers of assassins, the way Uncle Daemon raged that they did not need to taint their blood to gain the Hightower gold—these things haunted him.

Mother pursed her lips, watching Lady Rhaenyra leave before her large, dark eyes met his.

“You cannot hide from me forever,” she told him in the common tongue. Aegon scoffed and looked back out at the rocky outcropping below where Sunfyre and Dreamfyre continued to devour the salt beast. He didn’t move as she approached, startling only a little when her hand combed through his shoulder length curls. “We must talk about this.”

“Must we?” he snipped, refusing to look at his mother. He kicked the toe of his boot against the stone and resisted crossing his arms to rest his head against them like a petulant child. Aegon was, in fact, acting a little like a petulant child, but he’d grown exhausted of the conversation that had circled for the past three years. “Go speak with Aemond about it. He’ll be more than glad to cross blades with Daemon and Rhaenyra- ow!”

His mother pinched and pulled at his ear to pull his face towards her and Aegon jerked from her grasp instinctively. Alicent Hightower’s lovely features were severe, delicate brows furrowed, pouty mouth pressed into a firm line.

“You are Viserys’ eldest son.”

“And Valyrian law dictates that Daemon inherits as his dragon is older-”

“Valyria is gone,” Alicent spat, her voice grating like the screech of kitlings or claws against stone. “If by chance you’d forgotten in your cups of strongwine, foolish boy. Valyria is gone, to fire and ash these past three years. Their laws of inheritance do not matter. The custom here, Aegon, is that of the eldest son. Sons before sisters, and all before uncles.”

“Then disown me,” Aegon snapped, pulling from his mother’s grasp before she could claw at him further. “Aemond will become your eldest and he shall eagerly fight with Helaena at his side. She could present it as a vision: Aemond inheriting Dragonstone with their children to carry his legacy on.” He clapped his hands together, smiling, although the gesture held no true joy. His smiles rarely did.

Aemond would relish at the opportunity to prove himself, to be more than what his position allowed him. Ever since their first son, Maelor, had been born, his younger brother had strutted about, speaking of his virility, dangling his son, and then soon after, their daughter, Daenys, in front of their father who so loved his grandchildren. Filling the hole that Rhaenyra left when her new family moved out of the fortress to the island of Driftmark, Viserys had indulged his grandchildren and Helaena was expecting her third soon.

The space between them grew as his mother drew back, her mouth pinched so tight that her lips had gone pale. Aegon loathed the way her gaze scraped at his insides and he resisted wrapping his arms around himself protectively, instead focusing on maintaining his languid, distant posture. To show weakness within the obsidian halls of Dragonstone was to be a death sentence. His mother was not of Old Valyria, but of these strange shores that he was more familiar with than the Freehold. She chafed at the ‘strange customs’, sick at the prospect of her children intermarrying with one another to keep their Valyrian blood pure. She misliked his lack of ambition, or how he preferred to spend his time in the brothel in the little fishing village while Lord Viserys lamented not being able to introduce him to the Ruby Palace and the most divine pleasure slaves the Freehold could have offered.

Lady Aemma misliked his father speaking so, although she was better at hiding her frustrations with her tender, tired smiles. His mother also did not care for the time Aegon spent in Lady Aemma’s solar, where they indulged in honey cakes together and she expected nothing from him, letting him lay his head in her lap while she combed her fingers through his hair when his mother’s anxieties turned her vicious.

If his own mother despised so much of him, then why was she so insistent to have him named heir?

“Aegon.”

He could not bear the anguish in his mother’s voice or on her soft features; the way it coalesced with the frustration like how the blood from the carcass on the beach turned the foaming ocean surf as pink as Sunfyre’s wings. Her shoulders that had bowed in on herself straightened, her breathing evening, and her delicate hands smoothed along the richness of her gown. “We will not indulge in such foolish things,” she said with an abrupt shake of her head. “You will be married at the end of the season.”

It felt like she’d punched him in the throat, the air rushing from him like a wheezing carcass. “I have no sisters to marry,” he rasped out, the blood rushing in his ears. Sunfyre’s call from below was a questioning one, and he saw his dragon lift his bloody face to peer up at him.

“One of the River Kings has need of a son in law,” she explained. “He is well known to our family, with only a daughter and the other river kings are circling. In exchange for you to protect his holding and claim his title upon his death, he will ensure that his armies are yours when the time comes.” She sniffed, twisting the ring on her right hand. “Which will be sooner, I think, than we all expect.”

Well known to their family? The Hightowers. The power that family held was ancient and worthy enough of Valyria, their origins a tightly guarded secret, but his father had said the Hightower blood was a special thing, and how lucky he’d been to snap up the daughter of so much power.

Aegon felt strangled and overheated, a pain coursing through his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “Does he know?” There was something guttural and full of warning running through Aegon’s words, and it vibrated through him. For a moment, he thought he tasted salt and metal, satiating and repugnant along his tongue, and he spat on the ground to rid himself of the taste of his dragon’s kill.

She sniffed again. “He has allowed me freedom to do with my other two children as I please, and Daeron is eager to become a Maester and not claim a dragon for himself. He will serve you well when his education is completed.”

Something cool and wet slapped against Aegon’s cheek and he blinked, tilting his head up as a fine rain began to fall. His mother hurried back inside, arms wrapped around herself, but Aegon ignored her insistent call to follow him. He stood there letting the rain hit his too hot, too tight skin, wondering if it would sizzle the way it sizzled against the dragons. A fine hiss of steam had surrounded Sunfyre as he continued to eat, Dreamfyre tucked beneath his wing, protecting her in the ways that Aegon was unable to protect Helaena himself.

Of course Daeron didn’t want a dragon. He knew nothing else but what he learned of on the ground.

“You’d barter me to some little king for the power of my dragon!” Aegon shouted, his voice heavy with rage, an anger that he’d rarely let loose coming to the forefront like the storm surge. The heat in his throat was a dragon’s flame - he’d spit fire if he could.

Rage was Aemond’s domain, was Rhaenyra’s, was Daemon’s. But Aegon was just as fearsome when he chose to be.

“Aegon-”

“You had no right!” His hands ached for something to throw, to bend and break and shoving over the brazier on his way inside would have to suffice. The coals hissed and bounced along the stone, the metal clanging loudly along the ground. Mother jerked away at the sound like something skittish, a doe perhaps, or a mourning dove, dark eyes wide at the display. Perhaps she did have reasons to mislike him. “You had no fucking right. Daeron, you can barter around, but I, in case you’ve forgotten, am a Warlord. My mount is not some overgrown horse, but fire incarnate, and should I ever so choose, I could turn your precious Oldtown to ash, and the rest of this land if the whim took me.” His nostrils flared as he breathed, wishing he could snag his mother and shake her until sense rattled in her head once more.

But she misliked him enough that he didn’t, the notion settling like a stone in his gut as he skirted her and followed the ghost of his elder sister. Mother shouted his name, but he ignored her, striding down the dim corridors that snaked through the fortress. Torchlight illuminated the slick walls and made the obsidian shine like some living, slimy thing.

Trilling, melodious and haunting, echoed down the corridor, but Aegon could hear the shifting in Sunfyre’s tone. ‘Bite? Attack?’ the sound seemed to question. The Dragonkeepers along the dock gripped their pikes, shouting for Sunfyre to settle, to calm, but the golden dragon would have none of it. He called, concerned, and it grated and echoed along the cave that housed the stable, boiling saliva and blood dripping from his maw and onto the black stone. Another cry shook dust from stone as Sunfyre made as if he were to scramble his bulk up onto the dock. The Dragonkeepers shouted once more, Keeper Arrax looking at him imploringly.

Aegon met his gaze briefly before approaching, tugging his riding gloves on from his pockets. “Lykirī!” he called up to him, but there was little command in the words. Sunfyre rumbled low in his throat, eyes flicking above Aegon and past him for whomever had caused such upset within his rider. It was only as Aegon lifted a hand to his bloody maw to scratch gently along his nostril, did Sunfyre relax, albeit with extreme annoyance at not having anything to attack.

The dragon snorted and settled, lowering himself enough that Aegon could make his way up the curve of his wing to the saddle. There were no words exchanged. None were needed. Him and Sunfyre were as one; the envy of the last Dragonlords.

The further west Aegon flew, the lighter the clouds became. There was something deeper within that, he was sure, and he could only imagine what poetic waxings his father would engage in had Aegon asked. Aemond would huff and let out the most annoyed of sighs and simply say, ‘Clouds move, you nitwit,’ and whatever obscure and esoteric insults from the books in their father’s library.

The breaking of the clouds revealed the lush green of what his mother’s people called the Riverlands. He’d flown over Crackclaw point and up the river that flowed into the Bay of Crabs, the great mountains of the Vale majestic and snow capped in the distance. The rolling green hills and dense forests were cut through with snaking slashes of blue and marked with weirwoods like drops of blood unfolded beneath him, a tapestry of a world he did not understand. His memories of the Freehold were fuzzy. The villa they’d lived in had been large, and he remembered the palanquin draped in the blacks and reds of their house as he made his way to the Dragonmont to claim Sunfyre. And then Helaena’s dreams had entranced their father and here they came.

Dragonstone was more home than Valyria had ever been, but even so, the obsidian fortress in the shadow of the mountain felt like a cage.

Out here above the Riverlands, Aegon breathed in the crisp air, the scent of the storm they’d passed through untainted by the smell of sulfur and salt that permeated the air of his home. These creatures of mud and root were meant to be subjugated. They were unworthy of the gift of flight, Aegon’s blood was a pure, magical thing, not something to be bartered to such a thing.

But his mother was of these people, and he loved his mother. Her blood flowed through him. She was just as fierce as his sister even if she lacked wings. His Uncle Daemon sneered and called him and his siblings half-breeds, shocked that they were able to claim dragons as they did.

Aegon shook his head, damp hair stuck across his forehead, and urged Sunfyre lower to better make out the land before him. Here, he could see the frightened sheep moving in a great herd as the shadow of the winged predator loomed over them. Sunfyre rumbled his desire and he tugged on the reins.

“You’ve had your fill,” he reminded the dragon, and the beast grumbled his annoyance. They swooped lower now, so Aegon could make out the details of the sheep and their startled herders, and hear the distant barking of the herding dogs that accompanied them. Aegon turned south, crossing over the Trident and soon they came upon Castle Derry nestled in the hills. His brow furrowed and he circled about it curiously. Was this where his bride resided? On the shores of the Ruby Ford?

Aegon flew further out still, towards the lush wood, settling his dragon down by a grove of bone white weirwoods, their crimson stained faces bearing witness to his sulking and self-pity. The forest floor was damp and gave beneath his boots as he approached the heart tree. The smell of petrichor clung in the air from the storms that had passed through; the scent of rich earth, of the pine scent of the evergreen trees that hugged the red grove a physical thing.

It was only the red sap that gave the look of bloody tears against the bark. That’s what the maester had said. Helaena, who received dreams from the gods, said they were the tears of those their visions could not help. Even though theirs were Valyrian gods - the fourteen flames that dragons like Syrax and Caraxes and even little Vhagar bore like badges of honor. Aegon had never felt close to the gods of his people, for they were angry beings that threw the Freehold into a melted, smoking husk and destroyed everything that they’d come from. The places in his hazy, childhood memory, the people who had visited, who had bustled in the forum below, were all gone, as were the multitude of dragons that had filled the sky from the other families, not to mention so many along the empire, and the many who had been unclaimed, roosting in the fissures of the volcanos.

Sunfyre rumbled behind him and Aegon waved a hand. “Go on,” he told him, Valyrian words feeling strange to speak in front of the tree. Sunfyre gave him a long look, as if assessing Aegon’s intent before his legs bunched up and he took off with a gust that nearly pushed Aegon from his feet. He ran his fingers through his hair before resting his hand on the pommel of his sword and looking around. Mayhaps he’d go for a swim. Climb a weirwood and fall asleep in the boughs. He could pilfer some clothes and dye his hair and vanish into the mists of the Riverlands, become something new and unseen. He could -

The scream that ripped through the forest was full of terror and anger, the words distant and shrill, but he could just make out the ‘NO!’ through the cacophony. Alarm took over and Aegon’s head whipped around trying to figure out what direction it came from. Another scream for help and he shifted direction, darting through the weirwood grove and bursting into the firs and evergreens of the rest of the forest.

‘Don’t stop screaming,’ he thought to himself, blood pumping in excitement for a fight. A dragonlord’s first weapon was fire and wing. His second was the blade, and Blackfyre hung reassuringly at his side - the gift his father had bestowed upon him on his twenty-second nameday. Next to fucking and drinking, he relished most the clang and scrape of metal against metal.Aemond could roll his eyes at his lack of finesse, but Aegon loved a good fight; blade, teeth, a punch to the face, all were ideal.

He slowed on approach, darting behind the thick trunk of a red oak large enough to seat his whole family for a meal. There were four men just past the trees by the stream, their horses lingering, pawing at the ground, perhaps from Sunfyre’s presence earlier. Three of them wore simple brown tunics and leggings, tabards of black and yellow with a sigil of eerie yellow eyes peering back at him. Aegon knew little of the houses of the area to know which this was. From the finer cut of cloth the fourth man wore, he was their liege. Tall, with dark blonde hair and broad shoulders, the leader of the group was clad in a tunic of black, his tabard half black, half yellow, edged with golden cording.

“Hush now, you’re safe,” he crooned to the hissing, spitting maiden clutched in his arms. She was a slight thing, her kirtle a deep, forest green, the skirt split over a pair of leggings, elegant embroidery visible across her gown. Aegon’s eyes darted around, looking for her horse, but none was to be found. A noble lady from the looks of it, but the oddity of her being alone in the forest was not his priority.

“Let me go!” she snarled, eyes wide and frightened, and she reached up to claw at the man’s face. Her little hand struck true, raking across his handsome features, and he yelled, striking her hard against the face in retaliation and sending her to the ground.

Sunfyre growled low in Aegon’s chest and before the man could reach for her again, he made himself known, unsheathing the Valyrian broadsword idly, clucking his tongue against his teeth.

“Is this how you Westerosi whelps treat your ladies?” he asked, brow furrowed in feigned confusion as his lilac gaze darted from man to man. “I confess, I’ve only been here for a little time, but from what I’ve been taught, there are laws among your people that frown on such things.” A lie of course; he could care less what laws Westeros had, but the woman was distressed, and he was doubtful any of these men owned her. Why he cared about her distress at all was something he would dissect later.

Aegon’s gaze raked over the men before lingering on the maiden still on the ground. The damp of the earth soaked into her skirts, her copper curls a frizz around her soft, tear streaked face. The ring her assailant wore had cut into her mouth, streaks of blood welling up and smeared across her chin. Her eyes met his in that singular moment, so vivid and bright, an endless blue. Aegon forgot to breathe at the sight of that frightened gaze that looked at him so full of terrified hope, his stomach twisting and pulling, wanting to drag him towards her.

How could he deny such a desperate plea? How could he deny her anything when she looked at him like that?

“Be gone with you, stranger,” the leader of this little band sneered, unbothered by the glint of Valyrian steel in the shafts of light that struggled to cut through the trees and clouds above. Aegon’s gaze met his and he smiled, lazy and unbothered. The creak of leather signaled the unsettled movements of his companions.

“Prince Ed,” one of them said, all nervous hesitation that pleased Aegon. “He’s one of them.” Fearful and othering, but he should fear him. Aegon was not some mortal clawed from mud. He was nearly a god himself, and the dragons were of the gods. Sunfyre purred deep in his chest, feeling Aegon’s amusement. He knew the dragon was approaching, and Aegon could buy himself some time and entertainment. Three against one wasn’t terrible odds. He’d been in brawls like that before, but rarely with a blade, and the swordmaster’s cautious words ran in the back of his mind to be cautious of how he picked his fights.

Sunfyre would be there before things got too out of hand.

The prince narrowed his eyes in Aegon’s direction and took in the languid stance and the Valyrian steel blade. There was a flicker of unease on his face before he set his jaw. “Are you sure?” he laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t think they touched the ground, let alone come down from their mountain, too busy fucking their sisters and fathers and probably their dragons.”

There was a nervous titter of laughter from his group and Aegon joined in, his own manic giggling not quite reaching his eyes. He moved deliberately yet continued his easy stance before he stabbed forward, a flash of polished steel to slide across the arm of this prince of mud. Aegon smiled as they shouted and pulled their blades.

“She’s mine now. Be off with you. I would spare her from witnessing your rolling heads.”

The supposed prince spat at Aegon’s feet, drawing his inferior blade. “A daughter of the Riverlands will not be taken by an inbred Valyrian bastard,” he declared with all the mock chivalry and hot air that he’d been blowing. As if Aegon hadn’t just come upon them attacking the maiden. She’d been backing slowly away as Aegon had held their attention but she froze now as the man’s gaze shot at her. “Marvyn, grab her. I’ll slay this imp abandoned by his beast.”

He was brave. Aegon would give this so-called prince that much. Brave and exceedingly stupid, which often went hand in hand; Aegon would know, having been called such by his mother. The clang of steel against steel rang through the clearing and the shriek of the woman joined them as she lobbed a rock at Marvyn in her attempt to evade their reach. His opponent relied on strength, on the advance and powerful swings, and Aegon knew the type. He ducked low and got behind the oaf, kicking the man in the ass and sending him stumbling forward. With the space cleared, Aegon turned and shoved Blackfyre through the back of Martyn and removed the blade without catching any bone. Blood sprayed against the damp earth as he fell to his knees and Aegon spun the blood streaked blade, eyes on the third who had hold of the maiden’s arm, and back to the prince.

Aegon smiled brightly at him, all teeth and mirth and the feral edge of the dragon beneath his skin. “Shame about Martyn,” he said with a pitying shake of his head. “But at least it’s a first course.”

Above, a great, winged shadow appeared, blotting out the watercolor sun and casting them in momentary dim. The gust of wind from Sunfyre’s wings shook the tree, a few small branches falling to the ground from sudden and turbulent wind.

“Prince Edmund,” the other man’s voice cracked with fear, and his wide, sunken eyes focused upon the forest canopy, hand still clutching his sword and the other dropping from the maiden’s arm. Another shriek filled the sky and the trees filled with the frightened lowing of woodland animals fleeing, the birds shaking the remaining branches as they took off.

“Don’t be frightened,” Aegon laughed, shaking the damp curls back from his forehead. “Sunfyre is just having a little fun before he feasts. We’re both rather famished.” He opened his arms wide, the blood dripping from the dark steel of his blade. The clearing was quiet except for the low wheezing of Marvyn’s death rattles. He looked to the frightened man who was backing away before his gaze traveled back to this prince, taut and tense and gripping his useless sword with both hands. “What was it you were saying about inbred Valyrians abandoned by their beasts? There were four of you, weren’t there?” Aegon looked around again, and there was neither hide nor hair of the fourth companion, who seemed to be the only one with good judgment.

Sunfyre’s cry shook the forest once more. The horses had already fled in fear.

“Just leave,” the maiden said, finally finding her voice as she stumbled to her feet, her eyes like blue fire as she glared at the leader of her assailants. “Leave and take the gift of your life.”

She trembled with fear but her fists were curled into her skirt, her shoulders squared as she stared the man down. Her voice lilted, softly and strangely, neither melodic nor grating, but something altogether new to Aegon. The common tongue was not her mother tongue, and it gave a dulcet quality to her tone that those brutes lacked.

Aegon’s smile broadened, his teeth flashing as he looked at the prince. “Begone, you mud stricken thing.”

The two men fled, leaving the corpse of their friend behind, and Aegon watched their figures disappear into the trees. Sunfyre’s melodic trill echoed above and he chuckled, reaching down to wipe his tunic on the corpse of the man he’d stabbed. No need to stain his own clothes with such inferior blood. Sheathing his blade, Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of Viserys, the last Dragonlord of Valyria, straightened before the maiden he’d rescued. He knew she would be in awe of him, perhaps even frightened. That was certainly alright. He would reassure her, comfort her, and promise that he would bring no harm to her.

“My lady,” he said with the utmost courtesy. She stood there, several feet away, her arms wrapped around herself, her brilliant blue eyes wide and wild. There was a gentle, cracking sensation between his ribs as he took her in properly. She was a mess from head to toe, the skirts of her riding clothes soaked and stained. She was slight, shorter than he was, and fear had given her soft features a delicate quality that drew from how pale she was, how stark the blood and dirt looked across her face.

It took everything in him not to just reach for her and lick the blood away from her swollen mouth. To swallow her fearful cries away and replace them with precious little moans. She looked like she would make sweet sounds. The fight had his blood pumping with fever and the thrill of the win only increased the potency. He meant what he said: she was his now. He’d claimed her and sealed it through combat.

“Come,” he said, fingers wrapped around her wrist. Aegon was startled at how fragile the bones felt beneath his touch. He made sure he was gentle with it, not wanting to frighten her further. “We’ll fly back to Dragonstone and you’ll be given all that you desire.” The slap of her little hand against his cheek surprised Aegon more than it hurt, but still he reared back at the sting of it, looking down at the maiden with wide eyes. “I saved you!”

“From men who wanted to steal me to make me a bride against my will! You’re trying to do the same thing!” She yanked at the hold he had on her wrist, but he would not let her go, not now that he had found her.

“I’m not going to make you my bride,” he snapped, bewildered at the very thought of it. “You will be my concubine. Then if you prove yourself, I might wed you.” Bride? What a silly idea these Westerosi had. Not that the idea of tying this girl to him wasn’t appealing. To drag her at the foot of the Dragonmont, to sip wine and taste the blood on her mouth with the blood on his, it was an appealing vision. And it was his own choice, not one where he was sold for his precious dragon and his mother’s clawing attempts to change the succession. If Alicent Hightower wanted him to marry a Westerosi so much, Aegon had found his own choice.

From the furrow on her brow, to the flush that filled her lightly freckled cheeks, it was too late to realize those words would not entice her. A sharp pain radiated from his shin from where she kicked him.

“I will not be your concubine, you stupid dragon whelp.”

“You are precious when so angry,” he giggled with amusement and dodged out of the way of her attempt to rake her nails across his face. Abruptly, he released her, and the girl went stumbling back, breathless. He lifted his hands in surrender before clasping them behind his back. “I won’t touch you-”

“Go raibh maith agat,” she muttered and Aegon blinked.

“Did you sneeze?”

She huffed. “I was saying thank you. I will not have uppity Valyrians accuse me nor my people of being discourteous even as you are high handed.”

Aegon snorted. “It was your Westerosi brethren that sought to kidnap you, if I’m not mistaken.”

Her eyes were nothing short of vivid; such a brilliant, cobalt blue like the endless sky, rimmed red from tears and smudged black from lack of sleep. The softness of her vulnerability at his statement was unmistakable and she did not have a snip or barb for him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and did not meet his gaze. At a loss for words now after she spent so many. Gods, she was a mess. Dirt on her cheek, her soft, molten red hair a mass of curls tied in an unkempt braid. Her wool kirtle was no better, torn along the sleeve and neckline, though it did little to detract from how fine a garment it was—or had been.

The twist of pressure in his chest was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and Aegon did not know where to put it.It snaked through the pulsing arousal through his blood, the aching desire he had for her. “How long have you been out here?” he asked her, voice gentler this time, as if she were a skittish mare.

She desperately looked around, her lower lip trembling before her teeth caught at the ruined flesh. Blood welled up in the wound once more from the broken clot. The desire to lick it rose in him once more. Instead, Aegon tugged his handkerchief from inside his sleeve and handed it to her. The linen was carefully embroidered with golden beetles by Helaena, who’d been bedridden during her last pregnancy.

It hung between them, Aegon’s outstretched hand with the offering. Tear filled eyes met his before flicking down, eyeing his hand with all the wariness of a little rabbit before she whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, just as softly, if a bit ashamed. Aegon looked down at the corpse that still lay near them and he carefully stepped between it and her gaze, gently herding her away from the sight and towards the weirwood grove he’d come from. He let her lead the way, keeping a distance between them, his eyes darting about for either horses or those fools. Sunfyre warbled above them and Aegon knew he was keeping an eye out before the ground shook at the dragon’s landing. The maiden stumbled and Aegon caught her elbow before she could fall.

She did not jerk away from him this time and he did not grab her roughly, the idea of further scaring her making him uncomfortable.

“What is your name?” It was a polite question and one Aegon should have asked her before telling her he was going to carry her off to Dragonstone. No matter; he could make up for it now.

She did not look at him and Aegon noticed how she trembled, likely from the come down after the fight. His own hands were shaking lightly, but he’d been well trained to manage it. He cursed under his breath and looked towards the clearing where Sunfyre landed. There was a cloak in his saddlebag he could give her.

“Abrogail.” Aegon looked at her, dark lashes shading her eyes, her pink tongue darting out enticingly to wet her lips as she dabbed at her mouth. “My name is Abrogail.”

Oh. “That’s… that’s a lovely name. Abrogail.” It even tasted lovely on his tongue. “I’m Aegon. Targaryen. Of House Targaryen.” How foolish he sounded.

Her mouth twitched with a promise of a smile and warmth bloomed in his chest. “I gathered as much… Aegon.” Gods help him, he loved the sound of his name on her tongue. Adjusting his course of action seemed to be working as the tension eased a little in her slim shoulders and her sweet face. The pulse of desire flooded through his veins once more and Aegon exhaled, looking up at the red leaves and white boughs of the weirwoods they had come to. The light was dimming as the clouds grew heavy with moisture and Aegon could smell the oncoming rain; petrichor and ozone and the promising crack of lightning. Could he make it back to Dragonstone to stay the night?

“Are you far from home?” he asked, the words ashen in his mouth. It was the right thing to do, even when all he wanted to do was bundle her up and take her away with him. She was meant to be his now. He had claimed her, won her in combat.

“Not overly far,” she said with a strange tone. Aegon looked down at her. Abrogail’s gaze had darkened, turned inward in her contemplation. “I left for my own reasons… and I find myself without my horse. I am not,” she paused, pushing a finger into his chest with fierce, flashing eyes, a kitten arching her back, “Saying I would come with you as your concubine.” She spat the word out with a wrinkled nose.

Aegon grinned at her, all bright teeth and amusement, a mad sort of giggle spilling from him. “Oh, you’ve made yourself quite clear, my lady. I promise not to make you my concubine, but I can offer you a ride away from here.” ‘To Dragonstone,’ he thought. She was escaping something, she said, and he could provide her anything she could want. All he’d ask for in return was a taste.

Abrogail tilted her head, rosebud mouth pursing in her wariness but the curiosity was easing her features.

Several tastes, perhaps. If she insisted on looking so appetizing.

“Your dragon?” There was a nervousness in her tone, but oh, that curiosity. Aegon nodded and held his hand out to her.

“Come,” he said softly. “You can meet Sunfyre.”

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think! If you're looking for more Aegon and Abby, check out The Maiden and the Drowning Boy! and of course, be sure to check out the other stories being posted for the big bang <3

[larkingame]

hello all! been a moment since we last discussed some things, so I'm coming online to discuss the progress of Larkin's development and make a few announcements :)

over the last ten months, larkin has gone through a lot of changes, some of which I've documented here--but most of it I've kept pretty private. I realized that over the few short years I've been developing the game, I sort of grew an unhealthy dependence on my presence within the 'interactive fiction' community that I really, really needed to take a step back from and break, all in order to ensure that I could enjoy working on what originally started out as a passion project for me.

since july of last year, I've completely reshaped and rewritten how larkin exists as a project, shifted it's genre and started collaborating with a few others to ensure it can be of the highest quality it can possibly be. uptop, i'd like to mention @tapeworrmart who's taken on the immense task of putting together most of the game art for me, @khiita and @ann1a-1 who have both taken on the roles of my editors (and also sounding boards for when I am being absolutely insane) and my production manager phillip, who without his assistance, larkin would barely exist. with that, let's do a progress report. the intended demo of larkin, or what i've taken to calling 'episode one' (yes, i said, 'episode,' more on that in a minute) has stretched to just over 200k words worth of content. it stretches all the way from the earliest versions of larkin's original prologue, to the end of the original chapter two. so far, we've completed 3 out of the intended 20 character portraits, as well as some more art that's slowly been in development.

now, on to the announcements. probably the biggest, and the one I am most ashamed of is--due to the fact that I've been slammed with graduate school work and some other external factors, Larkin as it currently exists is not the best that I think it can be. I'm deeply sorry for this, but I want to ensure that you all are getting the highest quality game you could get from me--and right now, I know it's just not that. Which is why I am unfortunately, pushing the release of the demo back until Friday, June 14th, 2024. Patrons will be granted access to the most recent edit of the demo two weeks earlier on Friday, May 31st 2024. In the meantime, I will be working day and night (quite literally) to get what I'm dropping on you up to par and something that I'm happy with.

To make up for this disappointment, I'm planning on repopulating the blog with a lot of content over the coming months, rewriting new versions of old asks, posting art and short stories.

Next on the agenda and also an equally important announcement. I'm changing the rating of Larkin to Mature or 18+ As I've been writing these past few months, working through a lot of themes and figuring out the story I want to tell, I've found that I think the change in rating is entirely necessary. While I don't think I've ever had that big of a minor fanbase--I think that this is just what I am most comfortable doing. There has consistently grown a little bit more of gore, and trauma exploration, which is the main reason for this change in rating, but, this does allow for the inclusion of something that I've been toying with since the intial release of the game. There is going to be explicit sex scenes in this new version of Larkin--all of which, you the player are able to opt out of, or completely avoid if that's something you want--but I just thought a little announcement would be warranted. This does not mean however, I am comfortable with answering thoroughly explicit asks or getting unsolicited sexual messages. The goal is to keep this game blog mainly tame.

Please respect this boundary of mine.

Third thing to be announced. I've also changed the format in which Larkin will be released. Rather than around the twenty-five chapters in one of a series of 'Books'/'Games', Larkin will be released episodically over four 'seasons' with eight-ten episodes of around 200k-250k words each (though, this is just an early estimate--they could grow longer, as I'm basing this purely off the demo/Episode One)

Finally and a little bit of a fun note: there are now twelve romance options throughout larkin, five male, three female, one non-binary and three gender-selectable. With those upcoming asks, you'll hear more about each in the coming days :)

With all that being said, I wanted to lastly thank all of you for supporting me over the years and putting faith and your interest in this project. truly, the support of all of you means the world to me and I can't wait to share more of larkin with you all.

thank you 💖

[arxims]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 ᴼᴺᴱ

Returning to Seoul was a decision that you finally ended up in , given that it was the place where you spent your past years. Leaving your messed up past behind, you made the conscious choice to return to Seoul in order to breathe new life into your existence. Little did you know that this decision would change your life. For the good or bad. As you reconnected with an old friend from your past, you were introduced to his younger brother, whose presence became far more significant in your life in a twisted way than you thought.

Pairing : jungkook x reader

genre/au : lot of angst, killer!Jungkook, non idol au, smut.

Warnings : graphic depiction of violence and gore, lots of blood, mentions of rape, smut?, sexual activity, toxic Jungkook, walking red flag Jungkook, psychopathy, mentally disturbed characters, suicide, murder, depictions of torture, serial killing, lots of trauma, depression, criminal behavior, ex criminal lawyer Jungkook, murderous tenancies, possible major character death, mentions child abuse and child pornography, extremely graphic torture.

Rating : mature

Word count : 8.5 k

Part 1/?

MASTERLIST

<previous chapter | Next chapter>

“Moonstruck : unable to think or act normally, especially as a result of being in love.”

7 months ago

Returning to Seoul was a straightforward decision for you, given your comfort with the city's atmosphere. Once the conditions were favorable, you were eager to return.

It's been a few years since you last saw him, which was when you left Seoul for a job.

Taehyung, your college senior and the nerdy heartthrob, was once your friend.Those were your mentally healthy years, a phase where you felt free. Your university life represented the last few years where you genuinely felt normal - a calm before the storm. Taehyung was one of the few who made those years memorable and fun.

When you stepped into the random bar you recently discovered, you never expected to see that familiar face again. The moment you saw that boxy smile, you recognized it. He seemed to have the same reaction.Standing in the midst of a crowd, amidst a mix of sweat, smoke, and alcohol, you felt a surge of happiness upon spotting your old friend. It took you a moment to respond with a small wave.

Taehyung battled his way through the crowd, intoxicated with dancing as he approached the woman "(Y/N), Is that you?" he asked, peering at you.

You two had kept in touch after his graduation, but with his hectic career and your college commitments, your communication had gradually faded.The recognition in his eyes was unmistakable, matching the surprise in yours. His boxy smile widened, a hint of nostalgia glistening in his eyes. The memories of your shared past bubbled up to the surface, as vivid as if it were yesterday.

"Taehyung," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the loud music. You blinked back tears, a mixture of joy and the sharp pang of missing the good old days.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" he said, his voice thrumming with warmth. You nodded, unable to voice the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. when life was simpler.

Without hesitation, you enveloped him in a warm embrace, your voice a soft murmur in his ear, "Where were you?"

Taehyung held you close, finding comfort and familiarity in your embrace. He had missed you as well."Let's move over there, I can't hear you clearly," you raised your voice slightly so Taehyung could hear you over the noisy atmosphere, with the bass pounding in your ears. You both settled on bar stools.As you both settled on the bar stools, the world seemed to slow down. The blaring music became a distant hum, and the flickering bar lights seemed less intrusive.

"So, how have you been?" Taehyung asked, turning to face you. His voice was a soothing balm amid the chaos around you. You took a moment to collect your thoughts.

"I'm... I'm doing okay," you replied, forcing a smile. You had so much to say, so many emotions to convey, but you were at a loss for words. The truth was that life hadn't been easy since you left college, and seeing Taehyung again, stirred up a whirlwind of emotions.

Taehyung looked at you, his gaze full of understanding. He reached out to gently squeeze your hand, a silent promise that he was there for you, just like old times.

And in that moment, despite the loud music and the overwhelming crowd, you felt a sense of peace. You were home again, with an old friend who understood you more than anyone else.

"Still slaving away at the same job?" You asked casually, taking a sip of your tequila. He laughed heartily before responding, "Nah, staying put? That's for rookies. I've switched companies, of course." He shook his head in amusement. “It's really great to see you again, Dumb head.”

“Me too” you gave him a genuine smile. The conversation went for a healthy amount of time. You both shared all the years missed out and lost the track of time. “What made you think about moving back?. I thought you hated Seoul”

"Actually, I don't hate it. I just wanted to experience living in another city. Nothing compares to Seoul, I agree. The new company gave me a massive raise. Who would ever turn down such a tempting offer?" you replied, tilting your glass. You

were beginning to feel tipsy, just a little.

"Did you come alone?" he inquired just before ordering another shot. "No, I came with a friend. She was whining that I'm not partying enough.; she probably hooked up with some dude by now. You know how she is." You explained, using a gesture that described craziness. "It's nothing I can't handle."

After draining the shot, you put on a brave face. "Glad you found someone crazy enough to match you."The laughter faded from your face. His words had unintentionally dredged up painful memories. Some memories you despised.

"(Y/N)?" he asked with concern when he noticed you were acting distant. "I swear I'm joking."

"I know... I know," you said with a half genuine smile, trying to mask the turmoil within.

"You haven't changed one bit. Horrible liar and emotionally repressed. So what's up?" he continued, his eyes filled with a mix of worry and familiarity.

"It's nothing, honestly..." you lied, not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

"Right, your favorite line," he said sarcastically, seeing through your facade as always.

"You know I'm here for you, right?" he asked, his voice soft and reassuring, reminding you of the unwavering support he always offered.

"Taehyung, it's okay, really. Just some minor growing pains, you know? Nothing major," you reassured, brushing off the uneasy emotions tied to those haunting memories. The psychiatric ward, the padded cell – distant echoes of the past.

"Do you think your friend might have been kidnapped by now?" Taehyung attempted to inject some levity into the conversation, eager to keep the mood light. It had been four years since he last saw you, and he didn't want the day to end with you feeling down. Taehyung was known for his outgoing and cheerful nature, a true social butterfly who is good at connecting with others.

Despite your efforts to mask it, Taehyung could tell something was weighing on you. It wasn't a simple matter easily forgotten; the shadow of it was written all over your face. The key might lie in his earlier comment, "Glad you found someone as crazy as you." Choosing to set aside that train of thought for the moment, Taehyung tried to support you through whatever was troubling you.

“Oh, no worries about her. she'll pop up bright and early tomorrow after the nasty deed, you know. By the way, you're drinking a lot. Looks like you've upgraded from a casual drinker to a full-blown alcohol enthusiast. And you're driving home with all that liquor in your system?”

“Hey, I'd live around longer to witness your wedding day, (Y/N). I already gave Kook a call , and he's on his way to scoop me up. We can swing by to drop you off since your buddy seems to have her own.. Pleasure” He put on a weird smile and an eyebrow raise. His words are starting to get a bit fuzzy now, probably about an 8 out of 10 on the drunk scale.

"Kook?" Now, that name caught your attention.

"Yeah, my bro," he confirmed.

"You have a brother?" You leaned in, intrigued. You couldn't recall him mentioning a brother before. How did this new information come about?

"Well, not biologically. But emotionally, Jungkook is like my baby bro. Wait, don't you remember? I've brought him up... a few times," he reminded you.

You were never one to hold onto memories well. Back in the day, you'd forget names and facts left and right. "Oh, I must be a bit... tipsy," you chuckled.

A tall, muscular man suddenly appeared, pulling Taehyung's arm to help him stand.

"Come on, Hyung. Let's get you up,"

The sudden appearance startled you a little but, You started checking him out without you knowing that you're creepy staring. At his biceps. He's got this arm full of tattoos that instantly make you think how cool it is. You never had a thing for tattoos and you never knew someone would look hot in tattoos. And it totally amps up his hotness and makes him look even more intimidating. And then, out of the blue, the man locked eyes with you for what feels like forever until Taehyung butted in.

Taehyung called, who is now fully drunk. , "Jungkookie, you're quick! I was hoping for more time. Oh, and (Y/N/N) needs a lift home. She's flying solo tonight. Cool to give her a ride?" And that's when it hits you – this Jungkook guy is the real deal.

Interesting

Jungkook couldn't help but roll his eyes "Sure thing, just don't go all Picasso on my seats," he quipped with a nod.

Having a pretty girl like you along for the ride didn't seem to bother him at all. After all, why not enjoy the company?

Taehyung, with his mischievous grin, assured Jungkook that he wouldn't be puking this time. But let's face it, Taehyung's track record with car sickness wasn't the best. Especially when drunk. Despite his best efforts, he always managed to leave a mess behind, mostly on Jungkook. Jungkook had seen it all with Taehyung, so a little vomit was nothing to be grossed out about. Compared to the things he had done

As the three adults settled into the car, you made sure to leave a quick message for your friend, informing her that you're leaving so she won't freak out. Despite your certainty that your friend might not pay much attention, you knew they were always there for you in their own way. ‘Their own way’.. Your friend's presence was always a delight at gatherings, even though they tended to get easily distracted, especially by the opposite sex, as was the case tonight.

Taehyung dozed off right after Jungkook threw him into the passenger seat, finding comfort in the car seat. Jungkook maintained a slightly more relaxed speed than usual, ensuring a smooth and enjoyable ride for which would not disturb the sleeping Taehyung. Also considering his car sickness. Meanwhile, you gazed out of the window, lowering the glass to let in the cool night breeze that gently tousled your hair. The sensation was relaxing, and you savored the peaceful atmosphere inside the car, interrupted only by the occasional sound of Taehyung's soft snores.

Jungkook made a slight adjustment to the rearview mirror to catch a better glimpse of you seated in the back, who seemed captivated by the nighttime scenery. You appeared so gentle and fragile. His eyes held a hint of desire as he silently observed you through the mirror.

Suddenly breaking the silence, the man in the driver's seat asked, "What's the address?" This unexpected interruption caused you to shift your focus to the driver. You couldn't help but notice his penetrating gaze in the mirror. He didn't come across as very outgoing; rather, he had a reserved demeanor with a touch of intensity and mystery. The look in his eyes spoke volumes, and it compelled you to engage with him further. You had this thing towards danger, mixed with your dumbness in making choices which always leave you in trouble.

You took a few moments to maintain eye contact with him through the rearview mirror before responding."113-5, Geonyeongapateu" rolled off your tongue smoothly.

Your eyes hesitated to look away from his intense gaze. Despite the slightly ominous aura he exuded, you found yourself drawn to the thrill of the unknown.

After a brief staring match, he shifted his focus back to the road ahead. The remainder of the journey passed in silence once more, but this time, a peculiar tension lingered in the air, adding an intriguing twist to the atmosphere.

The car came to a gentle stop right in front of your apartment building. With a graceful movement, you reached for your purse and stepped out of the vehicle. As you prepared to bid farewell, a thought crossed your mind - a cherry on the top. You decided to tap on his side window. He promptly lowered the glass, revealing a mysterious smirk playing on his lips, likely a predator looking at its prey. However, in this scenario, there was no prey in sight.

"Thank you for the ride," you expressed with a matching smirk, hoping to reciprocate the energy. Despite your attempt, his demeanor remained unchanged. He simply acknowledged your gratitude with a nod, almost a nod, before swiftly driving away. It seemed a bit abrupt, not even a simple 'You're welcome' thrown your way.

That moment marked the first meeting , a moment that seemed to be the only one. However, fate had other plans in store. He didn't step foot into your life to just leave randomly; it was his grand entrance into your messed up existence, poised to mess it up even further.

The next day, Taehyung woke up feeling like he had a tiny construction crew working inside his head. No matter how much water he chugged, that pesky headache just wouldn't budge.

He finally made his way to the living room, and The aroma of freshly made tea hit him like a ton of bricks. It was like all his worries melted away in an instant. Taehyung practically sprinted to the kitchen, where he found Jungkook standing there with a mug of tea in hand. “Jungkookie made Tea for his hyungie. How sweet”. He basically snatched the mug from Jungkook, took a sip, and his whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Dude, you've got serious skills in the kitchen," he told Jungkook, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

“Oh please hyung. I'm shy," Jungkook remarked, his eyes rolling in jest. He shared a knowing look with his brother. Taehyung settled into a chair at the kitchen table, where the daily newspaper lay open. The front page prominently displayed the headline 'The Shadow Reaper case: Another dead end.' This ongoing series of tragic events has gripped the city of Seoul, leaving its residents in fear. Despite the relentless efforts of the police, the mysterious perpetrator, dubbed 'Shadow Reaper,' continues to evade capture, leaving authorities and citizens alike puzzled and anxious.’

The mere mention of 'The Shadow Reaper' never failed to send shivers down Taehyung's spine. It was a name that filled him with fear and a tinge of guilt. Each time he caught sight of that name on the TV or in the newspapers, it only served to heighten his anxiety.

Taehyung harbored a deep-seated fear of losing his younger brother, Jungkook, the one and only murderer behind the name 'Shadow Reaper.' And his fear that one day the world will acknowledge the truth feared him to his bones. Whenever Jungkook returned home with blood on his hands, with news of yet another murder attributed to the Reaper, Taehyung couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest. He believed he could have intervened, could have helped Jungkook overcome his struggles and dark thoughts. Instead, he allowed his brother to seek his own form of justice, a decision that weighed heavily on Taehyung's conscience.

Despite the turmoil within him, Taehyung found solace in the fact that the victims of the Shadow Reaper were people who had committed heinous crimes - rapists, sex traffickers, and child abusers. Jungkook took pride in ensuring that those who deserved punishment were held accountable, even if it meant taking matters into his own hands.

In the midst of this complex situation, Taehyung grappled with conflicting emotions, torn between his desire to protect his brother and his own sense of responsibility.

It never failed to amuse Taehyung how Jungkook had managed to carry out those actions without a trace left behind for the authorities to follow, ultimately diverting any suspicion onto Jungkook. The investigation had been ongoing for about three months now, and with the current circumstances, it seemed likely that it would turn into a cold case. Fortunately, Taehyung found solace in the fact that his actions were not harming innocent individuals.

Jungkook, sensing the sudden shift in Taehyung's demeanor, turned to look at him. He noticed Taehyung's gaze fixed on the headline, a mix of anxiety and fear evident in his eyes. "Hyung," Jungkook spoke softly, trying to reassure him, "You don't have to worry about that.

"Jungkookie, I'm feeling anxious. The investigation is really picking up steam. What if... they discover everything?" His voice wavered as he struggled to voice his concerns, the words feeling trapped in his throat.

"Don't worry. Look at this headline. They've hit a dead end now. Hyung, we're safe," Jungkook reassured him, trying to ease his worries.

Taehyung's lips quivered as he questioned, "Why did you have to dump the body in a risky way? You could have done it secretly. Missing persons cases are easier to handle than being suspected of serial killings. I can't bear the thought of losing you, Kookie." Jungkook sensed the pain in Taehyung's voice and paused what he was doing to sit across from him.

"Hyungie, look at me," Jungkook implored, his affection for Taehyung evident in his eyes . "You won't lose me. If you want me to shake off the police tailing me, I'll figure it out. We can make them close the case as a cold one. But I can't promise to stop the killings. But I won't be caught red handed" He took a moment, gazing down at his hands resting on the wooden table. "I'm sorry, Hyungie. I've put you through so much.

"Don't say that, Jungkook," Taehyung gently urged, his voice filled with concern as a silent sob escaped his lips. Taehyung always saw Jungkook as a cherished brother, someone he vowed to protect at all costs. However, there was a lingering guilt in Taehyung's heart for not preventing Jungkook from embracing a path of darkness, allowing him to delve into the realm of killings, nurture his psychopathic tendencies. Despite Taehyung's self-blame, Jungkook firmly believed that his choices were his own burden to bear, not Taehyung's.

"Look, I'd be soo glad if you just ditch all this slaughter. I get it that this hitman job brings in good money, but the toll it takes on you, the countless lives taken... it's so messed up. And I always want you to find a way out of this chaos," Taehyung expressed, his worry evident in his eyes.

"I know, I'll try hyung. I'm too caught up in this web. But trust me. I'm trying" Jungkook reassured Taehyung, placing a comforting hand on his. Deep down, Jungkook grappled with the uncertainty of overcoming his addiction to torture, murder, and gore. Yet he held on to the thought for change somewhere in the corner of his dark heart, if only for the sake of his hyung, the one person who gave him a reason to live.

The one person who he couldn't bear to lose

Jungkook and Taehyung first met at the orphanage. Jungkook's recollections of his life before the orphanage were a little more than nothing, clouded by the tragic events that destroyed his family, which was once cherished with happiness and love. His parents tragically lost their lives at the hands of heartless criminals who invaded their home under the cover of night. His father, was the victim of their brutal attack, endured 18 stab wounds, 11 of which pierced his chest, while the rest inflicted harm on various parts of his abdomen. The attackers completely stole the family's belongings. To compound the horror, they abducted Jungkook's mother, leaving behind a scene of unspeakable violence. When law enforcement arrived, they were met with a horror sight - a 4-year-old Jungkook, lying head injured and bleeding beside his deceased father, his mother nowhere to be found. Tragically, three days later, Jungkook's mother was discovered, a victim of a heinous crime, having suffered a brutal murder and sexual assault by multiple assailants.

The authorities struggled to track down the culprits, ultimately leading to the closure of the case. The injury he sustained had a profound impact on his memory, causing him to forget many cherished moments spent with his parents. However, one memory remained vivid in his mind, clear as daylight - the events of that fateful night. The night his life turned upside down. Despite this recollection, the young four-year-old was left in the dark about the fate of his mother. Those around him were hesitant to disclose the grim truth, as they chose to shield him from the harsh reality by convincing him that the tragic incident was merely an occurrence labeled as a ‘Murder’.

Jungkook was placed in an orphanage due to the absence of suitable relatives to care for him. It was within those walls that he crossed paths with Taehyung, the one person who showed genuine concern for his well-being. Who later became the only guardian figure in Jungkook's life. Even though Jungkook was just two years younger, Taehyung gladly took the role of a protective older brother, shielding Jungkook from the hurtful remarks made by the older children at the orphanage regarding his mother. At that tender age, Jungkook was oblivious to the true nature of those comments until he uncovered the harsh reality himself. The intense fury that surged within him upon this revelation triggered a sinister side of his once innocent heart. A more grotesque side.

Taehyung vividly recalled the moment when 11-year-old Jungkook, fueled by a mix of grief and rage over the disgusting comments made upon his late mother, led into a drastic act - smashing a glass bottle on the head of the offender, Who was the warden of the orphanage himself. The intensity of the situation escalated to a point where Jungkook was accused as a serious threat to the orphanage. In the midst of the situation, Taehyung merely mistook the outrage of the boy as a ‘Hormone induced action’.Despite the shock and fear evoked by Jungkook's behavior, Taehyung's unwavering affection for him endured. Following the incident, Jungkook faced the consequences of his violent outburst, spending a challenging year in a Juvenile Detention Centre. Throughout this period, Taehyung grappled with constant concern for Jungkook's well-being, particularly troubled by the company he was forced to keep - surrounded by peers with criminal inclinations, Who could clearly be the victims of Jungkook's outburst. Or vice versa.

Jungkook was a mere 16 years old when Taehyung celebrated his 18th birthday. It was a significant milestone for Taehyung, who had finally found a place to call home and was preparing to move out. However, Taehyung's heart couldn't bear the thought of leaving his younger brother behind in the confines of the orphanage. Determined to rescue Jungkook from that desolate place, Taehyung made the courageous decision to bring him along on his journey to a brighter future. The way Jungkook's eyes shined that day… It was brighter than their future.

After their departure from Daegu, the brothers started a fresh chapter in Seoul. Taehyung, driven by ambition to provide Jungkook and himself with a peaceful life, prepared for and successfully passed the entrance exams with an outstanding rank. Opting to pursue a degree in Computer Science at the prestigious Seoul National University, Taehyung's decision marked the beginning of a promising academic journey for both him and Jungkook in the bustling city of Seoul. The Seoul where they dreamt to reach one day.

He secured a part-time job to provide for himself and Jungkook. As time passed, Jungkook completed high school and successfully gained admission to Pusan National University. Despite the physical distance, Taehyung couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in Jungkook's academic accomplishments, particularly in earning his degree in criminal law from one of Korea's esteemed universities. By blood they might not be related. But by heart, they were for each other.

Their life seemed to be falling into place seamlessly, with Jungkook graduating, finding a job in a law firm. However, amidst the apparent success, Taehyung failed to detect the subtle signs of an emerging personality disorder in Jungkook. It wasn't until the issue had escalated beyond control that Taehyung realized the fault.

Taehyung was sprawled out on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels as if he had all the time in the world. Meanwhile, Jungkook was tucked away in the corner, engrossed in Taehyung's laptop like it was his own personal playground.

Out of the blue, Jungkook piped up, "Who was that girl?" without even tearing his gaze away from the screen. Taehyung, finally roused from his remote control reverie, shot back, "What girl?"

Jungkook couldn't resist digging for more info about You. It was like watching a detective at work, except with more drama and less Sherlock vibes. Taehyung's teasing was something Jungkook couldn't tolerate. Taehyung went back to casually flipping through channels like he wasn't dying to spill the tea. "An old friend," he said with a chuckle, trying to act all nonchalant.

Jungkook's tone came across as casual, as if he was simply inquiring. However, beneath the surface, his curiosity was piqued, eager to learn more. Yet, the thought of enduring Taehyung's playful taunts all day made him hesitant to delve deeper.

"Ah friend I haven't heard about?" Jungkook finally turned his attention to Taehyung, who was casually lounging on the couch. "How come I never heard about her before?"

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, though he didn't mind the questioning. "Well, I actually met her during my senior year. You see, you were in Busan at that time, so I couldn't really introduce her to you. And after we graduated, we sort of lost touch," he explained, shifting his gaze from the Television to Jungkook , who had the hood of his gray hoodie up.

“ Is that all you wanna know, little shit?” Taehyung laid back on the couch like he owned the place. Well, He mostly does.

"Oh, I'm not 'little,' or ‘Shit’ just so you know," he playfully hissed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Why the sudden interest in (Y/N)?

Don't act like you didn't eye fucked her through the mirror. I was melting between the tension you two had" Taehyung teased, sitting up from the couch. During the car ride, Taehyung had pretended to be asleep at one point, a typical Taehyung move.

With a smirk forming on the younger one's lips "She works at Kang Industries, huh?" Recalling bits and pieces from the previous night, Taehyung struggled to remember everything that had happened, except for the moment he met you and when Jungkook had kindly dropped you off at home.

“Yes. If i remember correctly” Taehyung scratched his head, a little confusion lingering in his statement.

"How did you know? Are you keeping tabs on her online?" Taehyung's question hung in the air without a response. However, he quickly noticed something peculiar. "Hold on a second. Is that my laptop?" The realization dawned on him suddenly, causing a wave of surprise.

"Don't worry, Hyung. I just needed to find some information, that's all," the man reassured him calmly.

"You could have used your own laptop, you know," Taehyung remarked as he made his way over to the man relaxing on the bean bag, taking a seat beside him. "Ah, so you were checking up on her online after all! I had a feeling," Taehyung teased, playfully snapping his fingers in front of Jungkook's face. Jungkook swatted his hand away. "It's probably safer to do that from your account," Jungkook quipped with a smirk. "And by the way, I have some matters to discuss with this 'kitten'."

"Matters? Oh, come on. You mean a hookup," Taehyung remarked with a mischievous glint in his eye as he playfully nudged Jungkook's bicep.

"It intrigued me when she held my gaze for that long. There was an intensity about her, a fierce spark in her eyes. I got this urge to just unleash something within me onto her, and if I get a chance, I won't let it slip away" Jungkook confessed, his grin widening at the wicked notion.

“Don't harm her. She's a delicate person, wears her heart on her sleeve. If you dare to hurt, I'll kill you myself” Taehyung cautioned. To him, this portrayal of your personality was etched in his mind, and it fitted in with the truth. He perceived you as someone with a fragile heart, willing to offer it to anyone in exchange for a few sweetly spoken words.

It was your biggest weakness too. Love. And affection. You would blindly believe anyone who shows you love without even bothering to know whether it is love or they are just taking you for granted. One of the major reasons why your life is as fucked up as it is right now is also the said reason. A heart aching for love. And your naive beliefs

"She's tempting me more than you could imagine, Hyung. The girl is pulling me like a magnet and it hasn't been a whole day. And it's not just about her appearance. Actually it has nothing to do with how she looks. There's something about her that makes me feel completely…what should I say…… captivated," Jungkook mused, reclining as he pondered what exactly set you apart in his eyes. What made him hooked on you so much. Perhaps his inner predator had finally found its perfect prey.

"You're starting to lose it" Taehyung remarked, shaking his head in exasperation. He was done with Jungkook's tendencies. Jungkook was a master at the art of seduction, skilled in sweet talk and manipulation. But he never broke anyone's heart. He always made sure that she. Or sometimes he knows that there's no strings attached. Therefore Taehyung had made peace with Jungkook's flings. His list of body count rivaled his kill count. But Taehyung couldn't stand his reluctance to commit to a woman for something more than sex. But Jungkook's bars were set too high for that. He didn't believe in a constant relationship.

Maybe you unknowingly tugged at the untouched strings of his heart. That's what Taehyung liked to believe. The mere thought of him finding love in someone who truly reciprocates it was the only wish Taehyung wanted to fulfill before his death. The glimmer of interest he noticed in Jungkook's eyes gave a flicker of hope within Taehyung, hinting that perhaps Jungkook might finally feel those feelings, Eventually . Taehyung firmly believed that if you end up to be the one for Jungkook, you'll be the perfect match, capable of showering him with endless love and care, guiding him back to a sense of normalcy. But,

The weight of Jungkook's messed up past proved to be a burden too heavy for anyone to bear, even for someone as compassionate as you.

“But there's more to it than just that. I want her. Maybe just,keep her with me. By my side. I don't know" Jungkook shrugged, looked at Taehyung.

No matter how much time Taehyung spent with Jungkook, He found it difficult to come to terms with Jungkook's more ruthless tendencies.

“Stop looking at me like that, hyung.”

"Oh fuck. late again," you quietly sweared to yourself while briskly walking towards the office. The pencil skirt you were wearing hindered your speed. Just as you were about to reach the office door, a throat clearing sound caught your attention from behind. You recognized the person immediately - Jimin, the CEO's strict personal secretary.

"Late again?" Jimin's voice carried a hint of tease as he stood with his hand on his hip. You turned around slowly to face him, lightly scratching your head.

“ I missed the bus, Again" you gave him a sheepish smile. Jimin, with a cocky raise of his eyebrow, remarked, "Mr. Kang hasn't noticed yet. Unless I decide to report it. Should I?"

"Wait, no, no, no," you quickly responded, feeling the pressure. "One more late complaint and I'm fired. If you want to hang out more with me in the office, then shut your mouth and keep this between us.” You gave him puppy eyes and you knew it was irresistible for Jimin to go against it.

“ Fine” He scoffed ”but no more ‘Being late’ and the lame excuse of missing the bus”

"Wait, boss is here?" You exclaimed, feeling a wave of frustration wash over you at the thought of starting the day with a warning on a bright Monday morning.

"Mr. Hajoon yeah. But let me tell you, dealing with him is like walking on hellfire," Jimin replied sharply, adjusting his round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

“Like I haven't dealt with him”

"By the way, the meeting is scheduled to start at 10 o'clock. It's already nine thirty. Is the presentation all set?" Jimin's playful demeanor suddenly shifted as if someone had flipped his 'Workaholic' switch.

"Yes, captain," You responded confidently.

"And the report?" Jimin inquired.

"That too," You assured him.

You were a lot relieved that you weren't tasked with presenting the presentation. Instead, your responsibility was to prepare the PowerPoint and submit the report. You didn't even know what the point of having you in the meeting was.

The meeting itself was, well, quite dull, as meetings tend to be. It was as boring as one could imagine, to the point where you sometimes felt the urge to bang your head on the table. The room was filled with people who seemed to barely even breathe properly. Meetings like these were undoubtedly the least engaging aspect of your job.

As the meeting progressed, both you and Jimin couldn't help but notice the entrance of a new employee. She was a petite girl, exuding a striking beauty with almond-shaped eyes and full lips. At that moment, you couldn't help but think to yourself, ‘Jimin's got some competition now’.

As you observed Hajoon, it was evident that his attention was fixated on the woman's legs with great eagerness, like a hungry dog spotting a piece of meat after being deprived of food for a month. His desire to catch a glimpse under her skirt seemed so intense that one might think he would be willing to sell his company just for that opportunity. It made you wonder, are all men like this?

It was no mystery where the girl was headed after the meeting; Hajoon always seemed to effortlessly obtain what he desired. Throughout your time at this company, spanning over a month, you had walked into numerous occasions where women were seated on his desk, legs spread open. It has become a familiar sight for you by now. Perhaps it would be best to allow the boss some privacy after this. After all, voyeurism was not something that appealed to you.

Lunch break, the golden hour when you finally get to sneak a peek at your phone amidst the chaos of the day. You casually fish it out of your bag and start strolling towards the canteen. And then, out of the blue, Jimin pops up like a ninja. "Heading to the canteen?" he asks, all nonchalant.

"Yep, I'm starving," you reply, half-jokingly. Your stomach grumbled in response

"Let's roll together then. I'm starving too, could eat an elephant," Jimin quips as you both make your way.

Finding your usual spot in the corner, the one you and Jimin always claim when you're lunch buddies, you placed your orders and waited eagerly. When the food finally arrived, Jimin attacked his meal as if he'd been stranded on a deserted island without a crumb in sight. "Calm down dude. No need to inhale your food," you teased, biting back your laugh.

Between bites of tteokbokki ramen, Jimin manages to mumble, "I live for this stuff." You can't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm, digging into your own bowl of ramen, savoring each bite. It's no wonder Jimin's going at it like there's no tomorrow; this ramen is simply irresistible.

All of a sudden, a gentle ding emanated from your phone, catching your attention. Curious, you glanced at the screen to find a text notification from an anonymous number. This occurrence was strange, considering your limited circle of friends and your reserved nature when it came to making new friends .

Unknown number : Enjoying Your lunch, Angel?

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease at the unexpected message. You side-eye Jimin, who's attacking his food like it owes him money. "Someone texted me,"

"It says 'Enjoy your lunch, angel.' I think someone might be keeping tabs on me." Time to unleash your Sherlock Holmes, Jimin.But nope, he's too busy devouring his meal to care."Don't lose your cool, (Y/N). Maybe it's just an office prankster trying to mess with you," Jimin suggests, nonchalantly. "If this is a joke, someone's gonna pay.

Unknown number: No Angel, This is not a prank.

Then you were 100% sure you were getting stalked

So, you, being the curious cat you are, decide to shoot back a message, asking,

(Y/N) : Then who in the world are you?

And just like that, a quick response pops up.

Unknown number: You'll find out. Just hang tight until you're done with work.

Jimin, in his usual nonchalant manner, lets out a burp in response as you were having your detective moment. "Looks like this person will show themselves after work hours. Hey, Jimin, are you even listening?" you ask.

"Of course, I am. And I could really go for another bowl," Jimin declares with a grin.

As you got the mysterious message and suddenly you're more curious than scared to uncover the identity of this secret sender. And you've always been the cat with curiosity. And it played a major role when it came to errorism.

As soon as the clock hit five, you sprang up from your seat, bid farewell to Jimin and the gang, and sauntered out of the office. Your eyes were on high alert, scanning the area for anyone who might match the description of the elusive messenger. But, no luck. Jimin was right - it was all just a silly prank. You let out a frustrated sigh. Just as you were about to call it a day, a faint whistle caught your attention from behind.

You turned around and there he was, a dude decked out in all black, wearing a black helmet

, casually leaning against his sleek Kawasaki. Even his bike was as dark as night, like he took a dip in a can of black paint along with his ride.

he whips off his helmet, You catch a glimpse of his face and you instinctively blinked your eyes to make sure it's him. No way, "Jung... kook?"

He put on a smirk as he strolls over with the manliest walk you've ever seen. An epitome of masculinity.

"You were the unknown sender?"

"Surprised it wasn't someone else?" he smirks, subtly tilting his head as he stands right in front of you. And hold up, how did you miss that lip ring before?

"Wait a minute, were you stalking me?" you shoot him a narrowed look, trying to meet his gaze.

"Stalking's a bit harsh, Sweetheart. I was just keeping an eye on what's mine," he smirks down at you. She's got some fire in her eyes, and he can't help but feel drawn to her. It's like a spark igniting between them, making things even more interesting. “I was wondering why it took you so long to come”?

“ Come to where?” You raised an eyebrow

“To my life,”

"Seriously, what the fuck?" you exclaimed, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. what's the deal with him?. "Oh, so you know how to swear, huh? Impressive," Jungkook remarked with a smirk, poking his cheek with his tongue.

"Come on, Jungkook. Enough with the pranks," you said, rolling your eyes in exasperation. Just as you were about to storm off, he grabbed your arm firmly. "Hold up, listen to me, Angel," he said, pulling you back to your previous position. .

You couldn't help but wonder what he was up to next. "What now?" you asked, feeling his grip shift from your arm to your cheek. His fingers traced lightly over your skin, and suddenly it dawned on you what he was after. Ah, the classic move.

It was rare for someone to openly display their interest on you or compliment you. Hence It was like finding a unicorn in a sea of horses. You might not be on the cover of a magazine, but you're not blending into the wallpaper either. You're in that spot right in the middle. In the middle of the spectrum

So, it's no surprise that the number of love confessions you've received isn't hitting the double digits. You're not drowning in them, just a handful here and there. And It was your first time when someone openly showed interest and showered you with admiration, And you stood there, basking in the glow of it all, with a little smile creeping onto your face.

He leaned in close, a mischievous grin played on his lips “What about we take a ride around the city? Me and you?”. His voice, deep and smooth, tickled your ear as his warm breath brushed against your cheek. The tension was irresistible. "Don't tell me you don't like motorbike rides." That went smoothly.

You, fired back with a smirk, "I love it."

Jungkook revved up his bike, zoomed down the road at a speed that's definitely not within the legal limit. But you only live once. The rush of the wind, the thrill of the ride - it was like you were leaving a trail of excitement in your wake. With each passing minute, Jungkook pushed the speed even further, and you couldn't help but let out screams of pure exhilaration.

You clinged to Jungkook's waist for dear life, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. It was a choice between holding on tight or risking a tumble, and you were all in. Little did you realize, in your excitement, that your hands were inadvertently giving Jungkook's abs a bit of a massage. And He was totally digging it.

After a heart-pounding ride, Jungkook finally brought the bike to a stop.

You were clinging onto him like a koala, one hand gripping his black shirt tightly. He glanced back at you from his shoulder, catching your breathless state after all the screaming. It had been ages since you had this much fun. It was just fantastic. "You enjoying yourself, Sweetheart?"

You gazed up at him, a small grin forming on your lips as you nodded. "Absolutely awesome," you managed to reply before resting your head on his shoulder. Now that you noticed, he's quite muscular. His shoulder felt like a solid metal pillow.

"Of course you loved it," he chuckled, oozing confidence. You couldn't help but ask, "So, spill it, why were you creeping on me like that?" Your head still resting on his shoulder, you awaited his response. "I thought I already told you. I was just keeping an eye on what's mine," he replied, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Raising your head, you quirked an eyebrow, silently urging him to elaborate. "And what exactly is yours?" you prodded playfully. He avoided your gaze, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Oh, come on, you really want me to spell it out for you?" he teased. "Why did you have to sneak your way into my thoughts that night? You could've just walked away” He played his cards right, knowing all too well how to push your buttons. You watched him intently, a mix of surprise and curiosity written all over your face.” What do you see in me?”

“You think there's nothing to see in you. Which makes you more attractive. Feisty but lacking confidence. I can fix that” He bit his inner cheek as he looked back at her and studied each expression blooming on her face.

“You don't know me Jungkook. You don't know anything” You warned him. Your past was burdening your present and him blindly being interested in you was pointless.

He raised his hand, delicately tracing along her lower lip with his fingertip “I know everything”

“No you don't, there are more which you have no idea abou-”

“About your days in the mental hospital?” He instantly interrupted her “I know that too. I know what you've been through. I know your conditions. And I know that it's weighing you down. You were even reluctant to tell Hyung. But (Y/N). Look at me” you were at a point where resistance was pointless. You looked into his doe eyes, the intensity in his gaze too much to bear.

"Your past does not define you,(Y/N/N)

. It is your present that defines who you are. And I have faith in that," he expressed gently, his gaze returning to study her expressions closely as if searching for a sign of understanding.

"I gotta go home," you stated wearily, feeling utterly drained to the core. The mere thought of revisiting the events of the past was something you wished to avoid. "I can give you a ride. Hop on," he offered, grasping the handlebars of his bike and nodding towards the seat, inviting you to join him.

His Kawasaki came to a smooth stop in front of your apartment building, the engine purring softly as he cut it off. You gracefully hopped off the bike, reaching out to steady yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder. "I... Uh... Thank you for the ride around the city. It's been a while since I had such a good time," you expressed sincerely. However, Jungkook, ever perceptive, was keenly observing your every expression.

"Then we should hang out more often" he suggested, tilting his head slightly as he gazed at you with a newfound intensity. "I'll try" you replied with a tight-lipped smile, nodding in agreement. The idea of spending more time with him was appealing; there was a sense of familiarity that belied the fact that you had only met him a day ago.

"Care for some coffee or are you in a rush?” you managed to ask without stumbling over your words. "I would be delighted, Angel," he responded smoothly. Jungkook was not one to beat around the bush; he knew what he wanted, and he was unapologetically direct about it. The air was charged with anticipation as you both headed inside, ready for a night that promised to be more than just a simple coffee.

You turned the doorknob of the apartment, the hinges creaking softly as you pushed the door open and flicked on the lights. Your taste in interior design was minimalistic, favoring a clean aesthetic with a color scheme of white and gray dominating the space. Jungkook followed behind you, closing the door with a soft click as he entered. His hands casually slipped into his pockets, a gesture that exuded a sense of ease and confidence.

"Let's cut to the chase, angel. We both know it's not just about coffee, is it?" Jungkook's voice was smooth, laced with a hint of mischief as he leaned in slightly, his magnetic presence drawing you closer.

"In a way, no, it's not," you confessed, your mind clouded with desire, unable to resist his charm. Jungkook's smirk widened in triumph, reveling in the thrill of the chase. While he was accustomed to effortlessly winning over women, getting them to the bedroom. But this conquest felt different, more satisfying.

Without hesitation, he gently cupped your cheeks, his lips meeting yours in a swift yet electrifying kiss. A gasp escaped your lips, the intensity of the moment catching you off guard. Despite the whirlwind of sensations, you found yourself leaning into him, surrendering to the intoxicating allure of his touch.

His kiss was nothing short of mesmerizing, each brush of his lips igniting a fire within you, stirring up a potent mix of desire and arousal. The mere contact left you breathless, your body responding eagerly to his every move. As you sensed your panties soaking from the overwhelming pleasure, you couldn't help but feel a wave of heat rush through you, a clear sign of your body's undeniable reaction to his seduction.

In that moment, you realized how much turned on you are. ‘Just from a kiss? Control (Y/N). Well how can I?’

Jungkook's movements were swift and deliberate as he found the sensitive spot on your neck, his lips leaving a trail of his intense passion. With one hand firmly gripping your ass, he held you in the powerful embrace. You were in the grasp of a beast, ready to devour you. As he deftly tugged down the strap of your top, revealing your shoulder, his lips and teeth left a trail of kisses and nibbles along your skin.

Drawing you closer to his strong, muscular body, he wrapped you in a cocoon of his heat and desire, the unmistakable presence of his arousal pressing against you. "Baby, I'm not going anywhere," you managed to whisper, your breath hitching in your chest. Unyielding in his pursuit, he continued his assault with his lips moving from your neck to your shoulder, each touch leaving an imprint on your skin.

He gently tugged at the sheer fabric of your top, a mischievous glint in his eye after playfully teasing you in it. With a swift movement, your bra joined your top on the floor, revealing your form to him. He stood there, taking in the sight before him, finding you perfect. Always. "Such a goddess," he whispered, his words leaving a soft blush on your cheeks. He could kiss those cheeks until his lips hurt, and without hesitation, he pressed his lips against your delicate skin. In that moment of heat and desire, you couldn't help but find his gesture endearing and sweet. Cheek kisses were a rarity for you, a simple act that stirred emotions you had seldom experienced in your 25 years of life.

"Have you done this before, or you want me to go gentle on you?" he inquired gently, pulling back slightly to give you the opportunity to express your desires. What a gentleman. "The choice is yours," you found yourself mesmerized by the warmth of his soft brown eyes, a gaze that could easily captivate anyone. "But I am not inexperienced."

“Then this night is gonna be long. For both of us”

@looneybleus

[athina-blaine]

you can't carry it with you if you want to survive (Nimona 2023) Chapter 2

Summary:

With their Queen deceased, no heirs, their Director terminated, three-quarters of their holy protectors retired, and their walls gone, the kingdom had called upon the scion of Gloreth to lead the way.

-

“The Director lied to you, Ambrosius. She used you and she hurt you. None of that is your fault. Why can’t you see that?”

Ballister reached out his hand, freezing when Ambrosius recoiled.

“I guess I’m just not as forgiving as you are, Bal.”

Rating: Mature Relationships: Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart/Ambrosius Goldenloin, Ambrosius Goldenloin & Nimona Chapters: 2/4 Chapter Word Count: ~6.1k Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Anxiety, Guilt, Self-Neglect, Ergomania, Post-Canon, Established Relationship

Chapter 2

Remember your training. Remember who you are.

We are born to protect this kingdom.

Thankfully, we have a descendant of Gloreth to lead us.

Refilling his glass, Ambrosius reclined in his chair as far back as the wooden frame would allow, running a hand through mussed hair. The office’s temperature had grown intolerable after only a few sips of the dark liquid, and so the top buttons of his uniform lay undone, exposing his throat and sternum. A few more sips, and he imagined he’d be tempted to roll up his sleeves and kick his feet up on the desk, boots and all.

Just considering it sent a roguish thrill coursing through him. Even in solitude, Ambrosius seldom permitted himself to sink into such a state of dishevelment. Every morning he’d stick to his routine—hair styled, face done, freshly shaven—even on rare days when he'd had no obligations but to otherwise laze about his apartment.

Ballister had teased him for this. He’d needle Ambrosius time and again, asking why bother waking up so early to groom himself when Ambrosius had confessed he hated mornings. On one occasion, he even went as far as wrestling an amused Ambrosius back into bed, pleading with him to enjoy a few more hours of sleep for a change.

At the time, Ambrosius had conceded. They’d only been dating a few months at that point, and it had taken embarrassingly little persuasion to convince a smitten Ambrosius to forgo his usual routine and curl back under the cozy covers. The next morning, however, while Ballister still slept, he rose at his usual hour to start on his hair.

It’s just what Ambrosius did. He’d never given it much thought beyond that. He’d developed the habit as early as primary school, recalling with fond warmth the mornings his mother would let him play at her vanity, mimicking her and her serene elegance. Ambrosius had been quick to fall into a morning routine of his own, smoothing out blemishes and tending to his brightened hair.

After all, even as a child, he’d understood the importance of maintaining appearances, even if—

Is something on your mind, Ambrosius?

… I’m fine, Director.

—even if, internally, he felt like his entire world was falling apart.

[Continue on AO3]

[Chapter 1]

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Two

Pairings; All LADS Men x Reader (will be putting "LADS OT4 x reader" in the future)

Word Count; 2,127 (I swear they will get longer)

Themes; Isekai, eventual smut

Rated; 18+ for swearing and some mature themes

Notes; None besides the smut is not near, I regret to inform you all. I have twenty chapters and no smut, however I do have plans for it!

Prev || Next

Masterlist

You woke up bright and early the next day, ready to be discharged from the hospital first thing in the morning. You vaguely knew how the next two months were going to play out; while you did play the game until chapter eight and the next update wasn't for another month, you don't remember anything exactly. Only bits and pieces. You don't know the exact dialogue but you're sure it'll be fine. You've already changed the story enough just by getting a wound on your right eye but hey, at least, you'll look hot with a scar.

Yvonne, who is a receptionist and a nurse, helps you pull out your IV and all of the wires that keep track of your heart. Then, she steps out of the room to allow you to change out of your hospital gown. You put on your casual clothes- a blue turtleneck with a white denim jacket, the turtleneck tucked into your high-waisted dark wash blue jeans, and you put on some combat boots to finish up the look. It was a basic outfit from the game, but it was a cute one nonetheless. You head into the bathroom that was in your room so you can finally catch a glimpse of how you look and to your surprise, you look exactly like yourself. The same hair, the same face, the same blemishes, and the same eyes…save for your right eye being slightly lighter than your original eye colour. Just a drawback of having a scar. Apparently there was no damage to your eye but you'll have to get that checked out with an optometrist. Maybe you'll get some cute glasses, though that would be hard to fight with.

You make sure to grab your phone and put Caleb's necklace in your pocket for safekeeping before you finally leave your hospital room. You head down the elevator and straight to the front desk, where Yvonne was waiting. “Alright, just sign here and you'll be free to go, Y/n.”

You take the pen with your left hand, ready to sign out. “Did the accident make you left-handed?” You turn your head to see Zayne. “Maybe it made me ambidextrous, you never know.” You shoot back, quickly signing out before turning toward him. “Did you need something, doctor Zayne?”

A sigh leaves his lips before he jerks his head toward his office. “A word, please.” Then he turns and walks to his office, not even waiting for you to follow. You groan, grumbling under your breath as you follow behind him. “You tall people have no empathy for anyone shorter than you!”

He grabs something out of the desk drawer and holds it out to you. “Here. This may have some answers you're looking for.”

It's a box with a fingerprint scanner on it.

You recognize this from the game, but you play it off like you're confused. “Was this from grandma?” You ask, using your thumb to unlock it and you spot a letter. “Why didn't she give me this sooner...” You sigh and emotions that didn't quite feel like your own swell up in your chest.

“Wait, does something feel off to you?” You look around, knowing what's going to happen next. Your Hunter's watch goes off as if to say the metaflux readings are rising. A protofield was appearing right here in the office.

“I would listen to the doctor's orders, but it seems like we're going to have to take care of this.” You were nervous but you steel your nerves, hands gripping your twin pistols almost too tightly. “Are you sure you can handle this?” Zayne asks and all you can do is nod before you both enter the swirling, blue vortex.

The portal leads to a beautiful, almost church-like arena. Bright white cobblestone columns with a statue in the back of the room. You take a deep breath before taking a step forward. “This one feels like it's going to be stronger than usual.” You try to sound as calm as possible but the large creature in front of you makes it difficult. You're absolutely right to be terrified, you've never encountered a huge monster before and rightfully assumed you never would. You've never had to use guns and fight, you've definitely never had to fight for your life in fact but you guess there's a first for everything.

You close your eyes as the monster's thundering footsteps draw near, focusing on resonating with Zayne to speed up the process of defeating this thing. Your eyes opening suddenly as you fire off magazines into the large wanderer. Zayne darts around, using his ice evol on the creature as well until you break it's shield. Your aim, while clumsy, doesn't miss the target not once. Especially since the wanderer can't move quickly, it can only swing at whoever is near and throw boulders.

Though you do find it much more difficult to fight without being able to see a health bar.

Eventually the creature goes down and the protofield dissipates, leaving you both in his office as if nothing happened. Though Zayne's right arm is frosted over. Backlash from overusing his evol?

“Zayne, do you need me to-”

“No, I,” He closes his eyes and tries to breathe slowly, stuttered sharp breaths leave his lips before the frost finally goes away. “Here.” He walks over to hand you the box once more and once you grab onto it, he flexes his fingers and moves his wrist around. “Don't forget about your next appointment.”

“Mmh, you'll just remind me the day before, Doctor Zayne.” You hold your hands behind your back as you smile at him. “But I'll get out of your hair for now. Take care of yourself.” You tell him before leaving his office and you notice Xavier dozing off in one of the waiting room chairs.

“Xavier?” You tap his shoulder but he shows no sign of waking up. “Xavi?” You shake his shoulder with a bit more force and he slowly blinks his eyes open, rubbing them with one arm while his other grabs your wrist. “How long have you been here?”

“Only…five minutes?” Xavier yawns, rising up to his feet. “It took you five minutes to fall asleep?” You ask as he gently tugs you outside of the hospital. “It took you five minutes to defeat a wanderer?” He shoots right back and you tilt your head back to groan. “It was awful. I didn't miss any shots but at least I could use my evol.”

“You resonated…with who?” Xavier looks confused, his head tilting to the side as he looks at you. “My ah…friend came by to visit yesterday and helped me relearn how to resonate and I fought the wanderer with my doctor.” You decide to be as vague as possible, unsure what the repercussions would be if they all met just yet.

“You're close enough with your doctor to fight off a wanderer together?”

“Well, he's been by my side for a few years now.” You clear your throat, switching to grab Xavier’s wrist as you tug him forward. “Where'd you put my friend?” You ask, suddenly reminded that you asked for yesterday. “Oh right.” Xavier pulls the plushie out from under his white denim jacket, holding the orange fox with a blue winter coat out toward you. “I got him in one try.”

“Don't lie to me.” You tease, taking the plushie and holding it close to your chest. “It probably took you more than that.” “Well..” Xavier rubs the back of his neck and you walk together, “I tried about ten times before a kid decided to help me out..he got it in one try.” “Ah, so you were trying to take credit from a child!” You laugh before smiling as you look down at your feet. “Still…thank you for listening.”

“Any time.” He smiles right back at you. “We could stop by Meow's Café on the way back to the apartments, I hear we can get three tickets a week to pull for badges if we play three games of kitty cards.” Somehow the game mechanics transferred over to real life surprisingly well.

“Sure, I'll definitely beat you!”

Turns out, you both were bad at the game.

You won once and then both other games ended in a draw. A server walks over to place a chocolate on your table after your three games and you pick it up before you try to bite into it. “Wait.” Xavier puts a hand over your mouth. “That's…not candy.” He struggles to hide his laughter and you bat his hand away from your mouth. “What do you mean?” You pout, turning the chocolate upside-down to see the numbers 450 written on it.

“Did you forget that too? You can turn in your chocolate for clothes here. You also get chocolate from doing the claw machine. Here, I'll give you mine.” He pulls a metal chocolate from his pocket and taps it against yours to transfer his amount to yours. The underside of your chocolate changes to the number 3000. “Ohh that makes sense.” You murmur to yourself. You should've realized since in game, you can transfer chocolates for clothing items, accessories, new chat boxes, and other stuff. “Hmm, let's go use our tokens!”

You grab his wrist and tug Xavier over to the vintage looking badge machines. “So we put the token in here, turn the knob, and…” Out comes a plastic ball with a pin inside. “They're pins, not badges?” You ask, a tad bit confused but Xavier shrugs, “Don't ask me.” You both put the last two tokens in and check out which pins you got.

While Xavier is posting one of the pins on his Moments account, you decide to change your profile picture there. Especially since you've got a scar and everything now. You find some good lighting and pick up one of the café cats before taking a picture and saving it. You set the orange cat back down, scratching it's back before holding your hand out to Xavier. “C'mon, it's getting late. Let's head back to the apartments.”

“So which room is mine again?” You ask as you lean against the wall of the elevator. “It's a floor below mine.” Xavier says as the doors open to the second floor. “I'll show you.”

Once at the door, you use the fingerprint scanner and step inside, taking your shoes off before going any further. “Do you want to come inside and do some resonance training?” You place a hand on your hip as you look at Xavier. “I…guess I could but only for a little while.” Xavier shuts the door behind him, taking his shoes off as well and you both head for the couch. You sit with your leg tucked under your thigh so you can face Xavier, hands clasped between his and you close your eyes.

You've resonated twice already so it shouldn't be too difficult.

You know the resonance is done when you see tiny lights behind your eyelids but before you can open your eyes, you get yet another vision. Similar to what happened with Rafayel.

A sharp gasp slips from your lips and you rest your forehead on Xavier's shoulder as a few images flash through your head.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Xavier gently taps your shoulder a few times as you shake your head to clear your vision. “Did you see it too?” You ask the same question you asked Rafayel and Xavier almost seems even more reluctant to answer.

“I mean I saw us in class together. I'm almost positive I've never seen you in school before.” You murmur before adding, “But the sky I saw was very pretty.”

“The sky?” Xavier seems almost a bit hopeful with his question.

“It was a huge meteor shower…and I recall seeing the tassel. You know? The one on your sword.” Xavier abruptly stands up, turning his head away from you. “It must've been a daydream. I didn't see anything.” He quickly says, blinking a few times before clearing his throat, “Good job resonating. You should be ready for combat sooner than you thought.” He shoots you a smile, “I'll let you know when training starts.”

“Oh…okay. See you later, Xavier!”

The smile you had drops from your lips the moment he leaves and you click your tongue. “Tsk…maybe I was too pushy? Maybe this is why she never talked to them about their past lives..”

You run a hand through your hair as you rise to your feet, you might as well make something to eat before you head off to bed. Rafayel mentioned that art expo would be soon so it should be after your training with Xavier..

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

I think this chapter was so short because I wanted to rush the story a bit- which I am sorry because I do rush a tad just to get where I want to! Anyways, next chapter should hopefully be longer and I'll aim to make my chapters longer in the future. I just get so scared off when I see six pages for one chapter on Google docs because I'm never really sure how long a chapter should be.

Hope you enjoyed this short chapter and I'll post the third one while I figure out how to link the "prev" and "next" buttons!

[ellethespaceunicorn]

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Marked By The Wolf

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors – DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: ~4.8K (ya waited extra-long; ya get an extra-long chapter)

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: It’s the night of the full moon. The plan? Invite Sy over to the cabin to keep an eye on him in case he shifts. WCGW? 

Warnings: verbal fight, angst

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me, guys! And I see y’all reblogging the masterlist for the series. And I thank you so much for keeping this story alive! A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. Cuz ya girl was struggling with this chapter for many moons.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Over the next day or so, you get to know Jace. You’d learned his full first name, but “only ko’u makuahine calls me Jason”. Growing up in Hawaii shaped the man he is today, and he misses home a lot. But with Walter in his pack, and being Faye’s godfather, he’s made his own little family.

For a while, it seems like he may be flirting with you. But that quickly fades into something else. You’re only mildly upset when he refers to you as kaikuahine. Firstly, because you had no idea what it meant. Secondly, because when you found out it meant ‘sister’, you had to remind yourself that you have a perfectly great werewolf boyfriend of your own already.

‘Calm down, girl,’ you thought, thinking of your eager beaver.

Walter notices the way your demeanor changes and takes your hand, leading you upstairs. Your confusion only amuses Jace, who seems to know something you don’t. Once you make it into Walter’s bedroom, you are spun against the door. He attacks your neck, licking and nipping at the sensitive flesh until you tangle your fingers in his chestnut curls. Your mind reels, wondering what’s gotten into him.

And then it hits you.

He’s…jealous!

Oh, this is too good. That’s twice tonight that he’s been struck with jealousy. Earlier with Sy’s thirst trap and now with your flirtatious nature. You are beyond flattered, but you refuse to let this man get too far gone. With your hand in his hair, you tighten your fingers and pry him from your neck.

Once his face is in front of yours, you notice his wild eyes where black replaces blue. He looks ready to eat you, and as much as you would like that, you decide to try and calm the beast within.

“Walter, baby? I need you to calm down for a sec,” you beg, both hands tangling in his hair to soothe his soul, “Come on back to me, baby.”

Blinking once, then twice, his eyes finally focus on you, and the trance is gone. His giant paws rush to your face and then to the tender skin of your neck where his teeth were grazing. He winces when you grimace at the feel of his thumb on your sore flesh.

“Pup, I am so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I was−”

“Jealous?” you supply, already knowing what this was.

“I can’t help it. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. It’s jealousy, sure. But it feels deeper than that. I felt the need to mark you as mine. You’re sort of a natural flirt, you know that?” he probes, a soft smile on his face.

“Well, I mean, I can see that. I guess I’ve never really thought about it. No one has ever brought it up,” you explain, looking back on all the times that men thought you were flirting with them but were just being nice. 

“Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to make sure that Jace knew you were taken. He has an effect on women,” he expresses, “But it seems he only sees you as a sister, so I don’t have to worry about you two riding off into the sunset, now do I?” 

“Wow, that was kinda bitchy. But also, incredibly hot that you thought I could be influenced by another big pretty werewolf,” you tease, leaning up on your tippy toes to place a kiss on the end of his nose before pushing back from the door so you could open it and leave.

“You think he’s pretty?” Walter shouts after you.

You laugh, swiftly jogging down the stairs to find an equally amused Jace sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, perfectly at home.

Trying to keep yourself from feeling embarrassed, you plop down next to him on the couch. While you are snuggling into his side, he chuckles and jokes that you should watch out for “the big, bad wolf”. Just as the words leave his mouth, Walter appears on the other side of you, having leapt over the couch. You’re officially squeezed in between the two large wolves, and you suddenly feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Between the warmth radiating from both men, the way they commented on the Forged in Fire episode playing in the background, and the long day finally catching up with you, you had no choice but to fall asleep. You remember leaning your head against Jace’s beefy shoulder after he splayed both arms along the back of the couch. At some point during the night, you awake to find yourself sprawled across both of their laps. Your head is in Walter’s lap and your blanket-covered feet are shoved under Jace’s thigh.

The television screen asking if you’re still watching illuminates the faces of the snoring wolves at either side of you. Walter’s hand on your shoulder twitches as he feels you shifting. Shuffling your ankles, Jace sleepily readjusts to give you room before lowering his thigh back over your feet. All of this was done while they were asleep as if it was second nature to want to keep you safe and warm.

And you weren’t going to complain about being in a literal wolf pile. Instead, you snuggle into your blanket and let yourself drift off again.

When you awaken, the mid-morning sun is flooding through the windows. You’re still on the couch, but no longer surrounded by your wolf-shaped furnaces. Getting up from the couch, you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and go in search of coffee. 

Shuffling into the kitchen, you brush past where Walter is plating some waffles. You make it to the coffee machine and pour yourself a cup, adding in your sugar and cream and stirring it until it hits that perfect shade. Taking that first sip is nirvana. As the temperature of the hot beverage slides down your throat, you are warmed from the inside out. Now, you can officially say you have woken up.

You turn around to lean against the counter and are surprised to see both wolves looking at you and smiling. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just we were trying to get your attention, but I see Walter was right about you loving java. You have your priorities straight, is all,” Jace winks at you before sipping his coffee.

Walter chuckles and shoves a plateful of waffles, bacon, and eggs to one of the empty seats and nods for you to eat. “Don’t worry, Pup. I think it’s cute that you need your morning fuel before intelligent social interaction.”

“Thanks, Wolfie,” you hum, leaning in to peck him on the cheek before sitting down to tuck into your plate.

“And the nicknames are elevating my sugar levels as we speak,” Jace teases, expertly catching the waffle that Walter throws his way.

“Look, Jace and I have an idea. We just need you to put the pieces in motion,” Walter begins, explaining the plan to you while you eat. You stayed mostly silent, letting him lay everything out.

Jace pops in here and there with a few tweaks when he sees you start to feel a bit overwhelmed, “If at any time you feel uncomfortable, don’t hesitate. We’re there in case anything happens.”

“I guess I have a call to make. Oh, and do you fellas think you can go grocery shopping? I need a few things if I wanna make sure I have enough to feed all of you,” you lament, factoring in that Sy used to eat you out of house and home on multiple occasions. Might as well have too much than too little. You give Wolfie and Jace your shopping list and head upstairs to shower and make a very important phone call.

Early evening rolls in and you are relishing the smell of your pot roast with vegetables simmering as it permeates the first floor of the house. Wolfie has been at your side for most of the afternoon and even now because you’ve been like a chicken with your head cut off, anxious nerves making you fuss over every little thing. 

And he couldn’t blame you for being on high alert. He did ask you to invite over your ex-fiancé during a full moon, under the guise of getting together for a football game, so that he and Jace could find out if Sy is a werewolf. ‘A simple plan,’ said no one in this situation.

Olivia was invited over to help you set up and possibly help you with cooking. But alas, fair Olivia has found her Prince Charming in Jace. And just as Walter said, he does have an effect on women. You have to stop and giggle to yourself as she throws her head back in laughter and touches his arm, her signature move. Great, those two can swoon each other all night while you try and keep the peace between a wolf and a hard place.

The roast was not going to cook any faster with you standing over the crock pot, so you step away from the kitchen and join the others as they sit in the living room. Jace and Liv sit on the couch as Walter sits in one of the loungers. Just as you sit down to rest your bones in the other chair, you notice the guys exchanging a look. 

You hear the rumble of Sy’s old pickup and your heart drops into your stomach. You shoot up from your seat and adjust your turtleneck dress that hugs your body like a glove before walking to the front door. You step outside as Sy is pulling into the driveway. Swallowing your apprehension, you walk across the lawn to meet him. 

Smiling as he exits his truck, Sy wraps you up in a bear hug. When he lifts you off the ground, you squeak, and he just laughs before putting you back down. You get a whiff of him, and you feel an instant urge to bury your nose in his neck, or his perfectly trimmed beard. Fighting that urge, you playfully swat at Sy’s meaty, flannel-clad bicep and try not to stare at his veiny forearms. 

The man always had great arms; you would have complimented him on them once upon a time. But that was a long time ago, and even though you wanted to devour him where he stood, you weren’t about to let him know that. His head was big enough without you adding your horniness to it.

He steps to the truck bed and reaches a hand in to pick up a case of your favorite beer. He seems pretty pleased with himself and not at all nervous about meeting your new boyfriend. You should’ve known better than to think he would miss the opportunity to annoy your current beau.

You lead him inside where he immediately sniffs the air and exclaims, “Oh, my God! Please tell me that is your pot roast.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and nervously reply, “Um, yeah. It’s probably just about done if you want some.”

“If I want some? Of course, it’s my favorite meal,” Sy earnestly comments, and you can’t help but bashfully thank him.

A throat is cleared, and Walter appears at your side, planting a nuzzling kiss on your neck as he snakes an arm around you, making you giggle. 

“Walter, this is Sy. Sy, this is Walter, my boyfriend,” you introduce them, smiling to yourself as they offer a hand for a handshake and exchange pleasantries.

“Pleasure ta meetcha, Walter.” “Likewise, Sy.” 

They were still shaking each other’s hands until you realized they were having a staring contest. 

“Seriously?!” you gripe, equally mad at both of them, “You’re both grown men, right?” You push through their still-joined hands and go into the kitchen.

Olivia rises from the couch and admonishes them as well, “Good going, guys,” as she follows you into the kitchen.

“What?” they say in unison, looking at the only other man in the room. Jace shakes his head, looking between the two of them and taking a pull off his beer.

Walter walks into the kitchen, already apologizing as he approaches where you are sitting at the table. He takes your hand in his and holds it against his chest. It’s less what he says, and more of how he says it. He sounds genuine and he means every word. You peck him on the cheek, forgiving him. Olivia makes sure to tease you about how cute you two are.

Sy saunters in once Walter exits, placing the case of beer on the kitchen counter before opening it, removing two bottles, and handing one to you. Clinking the neck of his bottle against yours, he uncaps his and takes and takes a long pull. Taking a long look at you, he leans back and surveys your level of anger, trying to assess exactly how mad you are.

“Walter seems nice,” he starts in that fatherly tone that always gets a smile out of you. 

You shake your head and laugh despite yourself wanting to be mad at him. “You know, he actually is very nice. Just give him a chance to surprise you before you hate his guts, ok? That’s all I ask.”

“Oh, is that all? Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he grumbles, pouting for a second. “Look, I’ll be on my best behavior like Church on Sunday if I can get some of that pot roast.” He turns those blue topaz eyes on you, and you’re putty in his hands, suddenly wishing Liv wasn’t in the room to watch that little moment. 

You rise from your seat, dishing out some of the roast and potatoes and carrots onto a plate for Sy, and place it in front of him. You light up when he closes his eyes at the first bite. His groan of satisfaction is more than enough to signal that you did a great job. But the pat he gives your knee is so warm and so intimate that your muscles instantly react to his touch, wishing it lingered for a second more.

“Liv, can Sy and I have a second to talk?” you plead, hoping that she would give you some space.

“Sure. I’ll just go back to fawning over Jace. He’s so pretty I wanna cry,” she professes, patting your shoulder as she exits the kitchen.

Your eyes follow Olivia as she leaves, and then they snap back to where Sy is sitting smiling at you. And you know this particular smile well. 

“Sy, why are you smiling at me like that? You said you would be on your best behavior and that smile is not your best behavior,” you sigh, rolling your eyes, “I know that smile got me to do a lot of things back in the day.”

“A lot of fun things come to mind,” he murmurs, bringing his beer up to his lips to drain before rising to get another and lean on the counter, “But that is not why I’m here tonight. Don’t worry, I’m only here to make sure my favorite girl’s being taken care of. I will be a perfect gentleman, even to yer old man.”

Rising from your seat, you finally open your beer and stand next to him. Taking a sip, you bump his shoulder with yours. “One question I have for you. Why did you agree to come over? I mean, you could have hung up the phone or cursed me out when I asked you over to spend time with me. At my boyfriend’s cabin. In the woods. Just saying that now makes me wonder what was going through your head.”

“Not gonna lie, I loved seeing you the other day. Even though you weren’t exactly pleased to see me, you still told me to be careful out there in the woods. Look, I like having you in my life. If that means I have you as a friend, it’s much better than not having you at all,” he confesses, and your world shatters around you when you look up into his eyes and see his sincerity.

You open your mouth to speak but the words won’t take shape and you’re left looking for the answer in his face. The eyes you got lost in a million times before. The lips you kissed every chance you got. Standing this close, you can breathe each other’s breath. If you only stood on your tippy-toes and leaned in, you’d be right−

“Am I interrupting something?” Olivia’s voice snaps you back to reality and you put some space between you and Sy. She walks in between you two to grab another beer. She gives Sy a look before turning her attention to you, “Your boyfriend’s wondering where you are, bee-tee-dubs.” She throws out her arm, gesturing for you to lead the way back to the living room instead of finishing your conversation. You miss her giving Sy another pointed stare before following you out.

The night goes on as planned, at first. You all watch a college football game, Walter’s alma mater vs their rivals, who just happen to be Sy’s alma mater. You and Sy met after college, and he mentioned having played lacrosse, but he’s never shown interest in football. Until tonight, of course.

It’s been a long time since you and Sy spent time together, but you know his temperament. And he’s off. He doesn’t look like himself either, as if he’s covering up something. With the way that Walter and Jace keep sharing looks, you see he is on their radar as well.

Olivia and Jace occupy the two loungers, so you are sitting in between Walter and Sy on the couch. How lucky! You’re in the perfect spot to listen to Sy rooting loudly for his team and making snide comments all because he doesn’t wanna sit next to you and your new boyfriend. 

Walter, on the other hand, is quiet for the most part but trembling with anger. He’s letting Sy get to him, and you can’t stand it anymore. You’re suddenly jealous of Olivia who fell asleep halfway into the game.

You unwrap yourself from around Walter and turn to Sy. “Kitchen. Now.”

He doesn’t answer and mutely follows you, taken aback when you turn on him once you’re both in the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing? You are being such an ass. I’m trying to hold out an olive branch, but you are not meeting me in the middle, Sy,” you snap, feeling like you could spit fire.

“And why did you even invite me? To parade your new man all over me? I thought maybe we could try and be friends, but now I see all you wanna do is remind me that I wasn’t good enough for you,” Sy erupts, his voice booming and full of rage. 

“That’s not fair,” you gasp.

“All’s fair in love, Bug,” he cautions, sweat starting to drip down his forehead, “Look, I’m gonna go before either of us says something we’ll regret.” He turns and storms out of the kitchen before you can step any closer to him, but you are on his tail when he steps out of the front door.

You reach him, putting your hand on his shoulder as you try to stop him. He turns back to you, his eyes closed in a pained expression. His skin is flushed as he rips open his flannel, making it easier for you to see his Adonis belt just above his jeans. The bite mark is nowhere to be seen, having already healed. When he starts to hyperventilate, you try to soothe him by calling his name. Fast as lightning, Walter appears between you and Sy.

“Sy, you have to try and stay calm. You aren’t making this easy on yourself. Let it happen,” Walter holds his hands out, showing he means no harm as he tries to step closer to Sy. Walter starts to shift after removing his sweater and jeans.

“Back off, man,” Sy warns, feeling like he could explode with the heat beneath his skin.

“You can do this, just open your eyes,” Walter replies, before his mouth becomes a snout and talking is impossible.

But when Sy finally opens his eyes, they start to glow. His neck twists at a freakish angle, the sounds of bones crunching has you terrified. Reddish-brown fur sprouts out of his skin as his hands stretch into clawed paws. His confused screams are horrifying. Jace’s booming voice is talking over his cries, talking him through the transformation. 

Doubling over, Sy grunts in agony as he falls on all fours. Letting out a howl, his jeans fall away as he transforms for the first time. You scream, taking a step back when he sniffs the air and he takes one step toward you. 

Sy paces back and forth in front of Walter, seeming to weigh his options. Walter’s wolf form stands an inch or two taller than Sy as he puts distance between you and the new wolf.

Just as the tension is insurmountable, a throat is cleared, and you all look to see Jace standing in the driveway. Nonchalant, but his eyes keenly take in the scene in front of him as he nods at Walter. Olivia is at Jace’s side, dumbfounded by what she is witnessing. When she notices that rumbling sound coming from Jace is him growling, she throws away fear in place of curiosity.

The two wolves are kicking dust up with their feet, squaring off until Jace steps a bit closer to back up his brother. Sy had a chance of maybe beating Walter. But a new wolf up against two bonded brother wolves? No way in hell. 

You step in between the three of them. Holding out your hands, you plead with them not to fight. Walter’s nose nudges at your legs and he huffs in Sy’s face. Walter shifts back, picking up his jeans to put back on, and crossing his arms across his massive chest.

Walter and Jace move closer to Sy as he snarls at them until he sees you, clinging to Olivia. Tears fall from your eyes and something inside of Sy breaks. Looking to you, he can see the fear on your face and you wonder if that is what causes him to want to shift back into human form. The two brothers talk Sy down, telling him how to return to human form.

Once his bones have settled and the whining howls stop, Sy is in the fetal position on the lawn. Shivering, sweaty, and scared. His clothes are ruined, but you think you remember seeing a blanket in the truck bed earlier. You ask Olivia to get the blanket while you caress Sy’s face. 

Once the blanket is around his middle, you accept help from Walter to lift him up. Sy uses his last ounce of energy to push Walter away. 

Coming back to himself, Sy refocuses his anger on Walter. “This has nothing to do with you. Gonna need you to step aside,” Sy fumes, cranky from the changes he doesn’t understand he’s going through.

“That’s just not gonna happen. Maybe if you weren’t trying to move in on what’s mine, I’d be sorry for what I’ve done,” Walter seethes, “After all, I’m the one that bit you.”

You and Sy are both in a state of shock but for different reasons. Sy just found out werewolves are real, and your boyfriend just referred to you as “what’s his'. 

“You did this to me?” Sy’s rage peaks.

“Hey, hey. Focus on my voice, come back. You don’t wanna do this,” you trail off as Sy calms down. 

His irises are back to their brilliant blue and you can see recognition in them. He looks tired, but he is no worse for wear.

“Can we get outta here? Go someplace we can just…talk?” Sy insists.

You think for a second about how pissed you are at Walter for being extremely callous about turning Sy, not to mention talking about you as if you were a piece of property to be owned. You turn to look back at Walter before answering Sy.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you affirm, putting one of Sy’s arms around your neck to help him walk back to his truck. 

You watch Jace stand in front of Walter to stop him from following after you. “Let her cool off, you did just kinda refer to her as ‘what’s mine’, and generally women don’t like that outside of the bedroom.”

Olivia steps over to Walter, putting a hand on his shoulder, her expression calm and collected. “He won’t hurt her. He cares too much about her to do that.”

You get into the driver’s seat after putting Sy in the passenger side, not allowing him to drive. You caution a glance at Walter, instantly regretting looking at his mournful face. Turning the car on, you back out of the driveway and drive out to Sy’s place. 

As you drive there from muscle memory, you look over at Sy now and then. The streetlights of the town dash across his solemn face and bare chest as he sleeps. You almost don’t want to wake him when you make it to his house, he looks so peaceful and not like his life has been turned upside-down. You wake him with the back of your hand smoothing down his face. He grabs it, lost for a moment before he sees your face and where he is.

You help him get inside and suddenly feel exhausted as well. You loiter in the living room while he grabs a glass of water from the kitchen. You didn’t really plan how you were going to get back to Walter’s cabin tonight. And if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t want to go back tonight.

Sy comes back out, gulping down water from his glass while holding the blanket low around his middle. 

“Is it okay if we wait to talk? I’m tired as hell. I’ll take the couch if that’s alright?” You ask, sitting down on the couch and starting to move the pillows.

“You’re not staying out here. You’re sleeping in the bedroom. I’ll take the couch. I’ll grab you something to sleep in,” he rattles on, moving to the bedroom as you stand from the couch and look at your feet.

Sy comes back out to the living room. He’s barefoot, shirtless, and in a pair of grey sweatpants. He just can’t help himself, you think.

“I left you a shirt and some shorts on the bed. Let me know if you need anything, alright?” he advises, using a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the bedroom.

You laugh when you see Sy left you his Mötley Crüe shirt. While putting on the shirt and the boxers, you look at the bed and you know that you don’t want to sleep alone. You don’t care that this will only further complicate your relationship, but you need to not be alone right now. Your bare feet pad across the wood floor as you go back out to the living room. 

Sy hears you and picks his head up to look at you. “You alright, Bug?”

“I don’t wanna sleep alone. I know that’s probably−”

Sy was already up and ushering you back into the bedroom before you could finish your sentence. You pull back the covers so you both can climb in. You enter first and then he slides under the blanket next to you. He lays on his back, you on your side facing away from him. You wiggle your body backward until you come into contact with his warmth. You reach back for his arm and pull it around you.

“Is this okay?” you hesitate, suddenly afraid that you’re asking too much.

“Yeah. S’ok,” he whispers, his breath fanning across your neck. If he notices the shiver that goes down your spine, you’re grateful that he doesn’t mention it.

“Good night, Sy,” you murmur, yawning at the end of your sentence.

“G’night, Bug,” he breathes.

As you drift off to sleep, you think how different you imagined this day ending. You didn’t expect to be in your ex’s arms tonight instead of Walter’s. But you did expect to be in a werewolf’s embrace. Sy’s breath evens out behind you, the rising and falling of his chest against your back is enough to lull you into a peaceful slumber.

To be continued...

A/N: I would love to know what you think of this chapter!

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[cyberpxnk]

'You always look so divine when you cum for Mommy'

Oh, I loved that bit so much!

Can I please request Pt. 3 when they actually have sex?

I just love mommy!hwa so much

thank you mommy | park seonghwa (3/3)

part one part two

♡ pairing: mommy!seonghwa x f!sub reader ♡ chapters: 3 out of 3 ♡ word count: 1.3k ♡ rating: mature/18+ (minors dni) ♡ plot: pwp, smut

♡ synopsis: mommy seonghwa is ready to reward you for all your good doings tonight.

♡ warnings/tags: mommy!seonghwa, dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, pet names, praise, dirty talk, fingering (f! receiving), creampie, unprotected sex

♡ author's note: hello! happy new year! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ long overdue request. here is the finale of the mommy hwa requests.

You're unsure how much time has passed since your last orgasm. Since then, you've been teetering between smalls bouts of slumber and restlessness. The room is bathed in moonlight as you're shifting about the tangle of bed sheets.

From beside you Seonghwa admires your bare form as he idly traces shapes along your navel toward the peaks of your breasts until they trail along your face delicately.

His gentle touches lull you back to sleep, the familiarity of your lover's nimble fingers brushing aside your bangs as you let out a soft exhale.

A low chuckle falls from his lips as he allows you another moment of reprise. He knows you will need it for later as his sexual appetite is yet to be sated.

When you awake next, your eyes shoot open and a surprised gasp is torn from your lips. Your mouth is dry from sleep and you struggle to moan out in surprise, the noise of an unpleasant croak forming instead.

The sound would have embarrassed you if not for the abrupt entry of his lengthy fingers delving past your velvety walls. His thumb is already circling around your clit as he works his digits within you, pumping fast and hurriedly. He has no room for playing around anymore.

"Wake up, doll. Mommy needs you," he croons into your ear as your hips arch off the bed.

"Mmm…" You groan groggily in response, your mind reeling as you're trying to keep up with the pace of his actions.

Though you're barely comprehending his demands, your body responds with an eagerness as you grow wet from his ministrations. With every dip of his fingers, your arousal coats them until they're slick with your juices.

"Mommy?" He shushes you quietly, pressing his mouth to yours as his fingers work faster, scissoring within you as you begin to squirm against his lithe frame.

His hand holds you in place, thumb falling from your clit as his palm replaces the appendage, the skin of his hand meeting your bundle of nerves over and over.

It's obvious you can't keep up as you whine pathetically into his kiss, panting through your drool laden lips while you rut against his hand.

You feel your own heartbeat echoing in your ears, blood thrumming through your veins as his fingers are delving inside you. The world seems to narrow down to just these sensations, two bodies passionate and intertwining.

As Seonghwa pulls away from the kiss, leaving you panting and clinging, he whispers in your ear, "You sound so pretty, doll. I love how needy you are for me. "

With each word, your body tightens, your pussy clenching around his hand in anticipation. The building pressure grows unbearable, and you can feel the climax pooling in your core.

"Mommy," you cry out, "I'm close!"

"Not yet, darling." He feels the change in your body, your muscles tightening and the wetness of your arousal seeping onto his palm. Just as you're about to peak, he removes his digits from you, a desperate and wanton whine ripping from your throat.

Your fingers dig into his skin as your thighs shake, your climax looming closely, the pleasure rising and falling to the rhythm of your heavy breathing.

"It's Mommy's turn," he murmurs lovingly to you, tucking a stray hair behind the shell of your ear.

Your eyes flutter at his words, body tensing with anticipation as realization floods your senses. The tip of his head is pressed against your core, shaft thick against the wetness of your folds. He brushes himself against you, rutting along your clit as he elicits a gasp from you.

His actions urge you, causing your hips to buck with need as you grind against his hard cock. Teasingly the hot skin of his length continues to rub along your pussy, smearing the entirety of his erection with your juices.

"My good girl is so eager for Mommy's cock." Seonghwa's palm rests against your cheek, thumb stroking your lower lip as your mouth falls open in a soft moan.

You plead once more, his name falling from your lips as he presses cock against your slit.

"Mmm." He hums in appreciation at your lewd noises. "Shall I reward you for being so good"

"Y-Yes!" You squirm.

"Yes, what?" His tip delve past your walls, just barely spreading you around him.

"Yes, mommy!"

"So lovely and obedient." He coos as his cock sinks into you, filling your cunt with one fluid motion.

Seonghwa's eyes lock with yours, your eyes barely staying open as he slides deeper into your tight warmth. Your pussy clenches around him, clearly wanting more of his cock, but he holds himself back, teasing both of you with his sweet torment.

As he thrusts languidly within you, you cry out loudly and your back arches off the mattress, trying to meet his thrust with your own movements. He seems both pleased and unapproving of your reaction, his hands gripping both sides of your hips to pin you down as he begins to drill into you.

"My needy darling."

With his cock is buried inside you, he reaches down to tease your clit some more, his fingers gliding over the sensitive nub, driving you closer to the edge each time.

Every flick of his thumb tracing your little button has you keening, your hips bucking against him, seeking the sensation of his hard length. You can't help but moan, your voice hoarse and pleading for more.

"You're so wet, doll," he says, his voice low and full of teasing. "I don't think you can handle it all."

But you know differently. You need him. Your body craves the fullness of his cock as it stretches you.

"No, no… I can handle it! I need your cock, Mommy!"

"Are you sure?" He chuckled lowly, sweeping his hand over your side as your writhe.

You nod your head eagerly, hair bouncing in your face as you plead to him pathetically. He smiles and his hand settles on your side, squeezing reassuringly before he begins to fuck into you.

His pace is swift, deliberate and precise. Each thrust of his hips has you crying out, pounding against your gspot and driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. Long and velvety fingers find your abused clit, pinching and flicking until you're a moaning mess beneath him. His ministrations has your orgasm approaching too quickly, the sensation wracking your body immediately.

"Mommy!" You shout in ecstasy, cunt tightening and spasming around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm.

"That's it, my divine. Come for me." He says between pants, his own peak looming closely as your pussy throbs around his cock.

Seonghwa's eyes roll back with pleasure as he watches your body convulse beneath him, feeling the contractions that ripple through your walls. He thrusts harder and faster, driving himself deeper into you, desperate to reach his own gratification. His balls tighten and his cock swells, ready to spill himself into your womb.

"My darling. Cum for Mommy, let it all go." He grunts, his voice barely audible over the sound of your skin slapping against each other.

Your orgasm peaks, and you gasp for breath as he continues his relentless assault. You reach up, clutching his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin as you whimper into his ear.

"I want to feel you come, Mommy," you breath out, your voice punctuated by gasps. You beg him over and over, chanting his name as your core trembles from the shocks of your orgasm.

He doesn't respond, only grunting in response as he gives several more thrust before his hot seed is flooding within your walls, filling you with his release.

Then he holds you still, the two of you moaning against each other as his arms encircle your body. You're slouched against him, breathing heavily as your nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. The sensation of his cock pumping heavy loads of his essence inside you subsides, leaving you feeling full of him.

It seems like an eternity before he slides of you, his cum slowly seeping out from between your legs as he withdraws just slightly to give you a moment. Seonghwa then cups both your cheeks, looking into your eyes as he presses a soft peck to your forehead.

"What do you say, darling?"

"Thank you, mommy."