#this is too long i tried to cut it shorter im sorry

[wndybyrd]

@heartlcssboy​ :: continued from HERE !

what she loved most about peter was not his face or the way he laughed, or even the magic that took shape everywhere he wandered. to her, he was a book and every page of him that she turned held some new, unexpected twist. it was impossible to decipher the riddle of words that shaped this unreadable boy, making him all the more interesting. yet, no matter the downward spiral his story took her on, she could never bring herself to hate to it, to hate him. this made everything else ( her choler, melancholy, confusion ) all the worse, as if any feeling other than glee should be followed by guilt.

wendy tilted her head ever so slightly, watching from the corners of her peripheral as he inched forward. still, she stayed resolute, refusing to crumble under his grand performance of emotion.     " you've forgotten ? how lucky you are, to forget things so easily. "     ‘YOU MUST REMEMBER', she’d yelled so many times before. her brothers had forgotten everything, as did the ( first ) lost boys. peter, too, would forget things all the time, or at least pretend to. everyone else forgot whilst she was burdened with the blessing of remembrance. it wasn’t fair. even the memories she had been graced to ‘forget’ still lived deep in her mind, shrouded by thin fog. they lived in her bones and were etched into her muscle, never fully gone. never really forgotten.

finally turning, she faced him fully, yet azure irises did not fully meet his of clover green. seeing that sadness swimming in his eyes ( even if it was just a facade ) would be enough, and, just like that, his head would be rested in her lap, the darling’s temper snuffed out. a light hand would smooth over his mess of curls whilst she strung together some stupidly sweet story to make up for such rude behavior. still, sometimes, the girl couldn’t decide if peter enjoyed their conflict as much as he did the pleasantries. even without intention, it seemed too easy to upset him. a fallen tear, an innocent question, an old coat. the boy was a bomb, tick tick ticking away in search of anything to set it off. the eruptions were not cause for fear as much as the underlying certainty ( a voice in the back of her mind, a feeling in the pit of her stomach ) that something worse lurked under the rage. 

“ what did you do ? well, nothing at all. you never do anything wrong, peter. yet, that night, all those apologies . . . so many sorries i couldn't even count. “     softness hardened, honeysuckle words replaced by bitter firmness. his temper need not be tip-toed around, nor was he a child deserving of her coddling. wendy didn’t want to be his mother any longer, the game had tired.     “ tell me, peter, what could you possibly be so sorry for ? “     was it for sending me away, or waiting until i'd become old and boring before coming back, was what she didn’t ask, settling for a bothered sigh.      “ maybe you were sorry for grabbing at me, but, then again, you never actually bothered to apologize for that. "     an accusing finger flicked towards the fading dash that marred red cheeks. in the split second taken to snatch her face, muzzling her mouth and stealing her breath, wendy had been convinced he’d intended to fly them back to london as cruel punishment for acting too grownup, a terror that followed her to this very moment.

" oh, and the gall to dare say that i’m yours ! "     a dry laugh followed the recollection. her apprehension at upsetting him, the fear that he could so swiftly steal everything back, slowly shriveled up. the girl was empowered by righteous anger, something that had been festering in the hollow of her being for months, possibly years.     “ what a mean thing to say ! you can’t just throw me away to the ‘other place’ to then claim me as yours. what about me ? i survived the other place all on my own. not once did i forget neverland but, now, it's like i grew too big to fit here at all. i think i've been so terribly cross at you because, well . . . because you took too long and i grew too big. “    she fought back hot, angry tears. this boy utterly confused her, a quality she’d once found endearing or fascinating. now, it was only cause for upset.     “ i did everything to come back. i was so good, peter ! " 

crawling forward, the girl gingerly took peter’s hands in hers. brushing his knuckles with feathery lightness, outlining their roughness with the soft pads of her fingertips ( wondering how they weren’t littered with scars from his years of play ), she held them close, just over her chest as if he’d reach out and take hold of her heart.     " i'm sorry, too, that i grew up at all. really, truly, i am. i couldn’t help it, but i won’t anymore. not even an inch. "     her smile seemed sweet, but the tenderness did not last. mania made a home in the well of her eyes, as wild as the anxiety rooting itself in her head. her grip tightened with the strength of a starved snake, coiling and entrapping him in her embrace. a grip so tight that, without meaning to, the curves of her nails began to dig deep into his calloused palms.     " but you can’t frighten me into behaving ! i won’t let you. i’m not a child anymore, i can’t be spooked by bogeys or monsters. and i won’t be banished, not again. not ever. "     after that night, the faintest of memories had begun to clear past the fog of her mind. however, she'd decided it was nicer to forget. wendy couldn't remember everything from over the years, but she remembered the feelings, and remembering only hurt.

[miange1]

nfhshdhrv thanos with a male reader who he likes dressing up🤤

like during sex he has all these little outfits saved for him just to fuck him in

can u do it in the form of your head cannons?

THANOS

cross dressing, body type isn't mentioned but reader is shorter than thanos, use of boy(my boy, pretty boy), leaving marks, im hungry, i love jake gyllenhaal, choi su bong can tongue kiss me, sort of black mailing but it's more like a couple type(for example if you don't gimmie a kiss im making you do the laundry.), wrote this in the school bathrooms mb

— at first you thought it was stupid. why would he dress you up like some girl when you weren't one? he made it clear he would only make you wear it if he felt like fucking(which was all the time.)

— he first thought of the idea when you're the one who told him that back in maybe high school, you got dared to wear the female uniform for an entire day or until a teacher told you to take it off and would give you a new one.

"thanos im not wearing that."

"oh come on, please!"

"no."

— it was a school uniform for girls, which was far too skimpy. the tip was cropped almost above your nipples if you moved too much, the skirt enough to cover your dick a bit but it had no issue showing every curve of your ass.

— would purposely embarrass you by staring for way too long before starting anything. if you cross your arms or legs he'd curse at you and tell you to cut that shit out.

"can you hurry up.." your face was burning, eyes averting his gaze as you tried to comply. the both of you knew you were into it, just very embarrassed about it.

"oh pretty boy." he slapped your arms away, gripping your waist and pulling you in closer. his rings pinched your skin.

"if i didn't wanna ruin the fuck outta you, i could stare at your ass all day."

—every single thing would end up with your body twitching, and your hips bucking into nothing once he was done with you. leaves so many marks whether they're scratches, hickeys, bites, it didn't matter.

— pushes you even when you're too tired.

"c'mon, arch that pretty back for me." you'd try your best, but you were so used and stuff that you could barely move on your own.

he shook his head, making a 'tsk, tsk,' with his teeth. "sorry my boy, that won't do." his hand came to the middle of your back, harshly pushing down and making you yelp and wither so your ass could poke up just the way he liked it.

"there we go.." his hands went back to your hips, pulling you back. "wasn't that hard now was it?"

— sometimes he would make you wear that stuff in public. nothing too bad, mainly miniskirts and tight shirts to show off your figure. he had no shame, and would stare at it whenever he pleased.

— most of the time it was willing, other times he'd practically blackmail you.

"this is embarrassing.."

"hey, i asked you and you said you would." you gave him a dirty look, scowling. "no. you said you'd make me cook dinner if i didn't." the man couldn't even cook, so you don't know why you even cared.

— he made a promise to never fuck you in public, he would never do you like that! but that didn't mean he wouldn't rile you up. his hand coming down to graze below your ass when he could, squeezing your thigh a little too close between your legs, and just whispering things he'd do to you in your ear if he could.

— and then he would use his promise to his advantage.

"su-bong, please.." it turned him on when you said his actual name. he didn't know why, he just loved the way you said it especially when you were needy for him like this. "hm? what?" he'd act like he would have no idea what he was doing.

"you know what." your body stuck to his side, arm around his and you were practically grinding on him, but it was barely noticeable to others. "oh, but i have to keep my promise. no can do."

— as much as he'd want to fuck you, he'd want to tease you just as much

[satoruhour]

SL*T HIM OUT !

a/n: sometimes it doesn’t hurt to be more of a freak than ur man is...! im sorry to the babies who voted 4 fluffy sugu. also not tagging bc this intro is alr so damn long 😭

warnings: soooo filthy, lots of dirty talk, freaky!reader, modern au!gojo, online voyeurism / exhibitonism. implied cockwarming, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, light spanking (like once), gojo’s friends listen in, reader calls geto, m! masturbation (gojo), cult leader!geto, public sex (in front of his cult), clit stimulation, exhibitionism, power play (?), pussy slaps, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (geto), exhibtiionism as well, oral (m receiving), handjob, semi-public sex (in a car), cum shot, implied creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, brief daddy kink @ the end (nanami), lie back oral (m receiving, basically an upside down bj lol), deep-throating, face-fucking, fingering, clit stimulation, spitting (in TOJI’s mouth!), cum eating (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

gojo thought his best friend and him were truly nasty people, exchanging videos of fucking their sneaky links, lewd photos of his cock in some chick’s mouth and sharing hookups between themselves several times, but when gojo had gotten together with you, it’s like the only time he’s got one-upped by someone repeatedly.

you, with your bright, blinding smiles and kind disposition being such a filthy slut behind closed doors. gojo can hardly hold in his moans as he tries to focus on the game in front of him, but you decided that cockwarming was too much of a waiting game that you’re disobeying your boyfriend and moving your hips.

“f— fuck, angel, didn’t you p-promise?” he’s already felt your cunt clench around him too many times for him to be saying stupid shit like that and it’s clear he’s not even following his own rules when his hips jerk up from his gaming chair and into your dripping cunt. it’s leaking so much he’s sure he needs to change the covers of it, soaking his cock and balls that there’s a wet patch of your juices under him. 

“you’re moving too, though,” you click your tongue with a grin, not caring about his friends on the game with him as you bounce fully, now. “j-jus’ can’t resist my boyfriend’s fat cock, now, can i?” 

gojo swears lowly at the praise and by now his control over his character in the game is lost to pleasure, too intoxicated with how your cunt squelches around his length and his hands leave his controller to cup your ass. his hips are meeting yours in shorter, desperate thrusts.

“w— wanna call, suguru, baby?” you’re whining into his neck and you can feel the brief nod; he was never opposed to your whorish ways, hearing the receiver pick up almost immediately and geto’s face comes on his display: shocked, half hard already and bothered.

“stretchin’ this pussy out s’much— mmh—” you turn back momentarily to give geto on the video call a drunk smile and a wave, interrupted by gojo’s harsh smack on your ass and a loud moan falls from your lips when he snaps his hips into yours, stark blue eyes trained on your cockdrunk face.

“who’s making you feel this good, slut?”

a hand goes up to squeeze your cheeks together and in gojo’s peripheral vision he can already see geto stroking his cock. his friends are probably disgusting too, muting their mics and jerking off, but a dirty girl like you loves it, don’t you?

“y— you are, ’toru— shit!” sat on gojo’s cock for too long makes you like this: crazed, filthy, and mixed in with geto’s impatient hand on his cock and gojo’s words in your ear? it’s not difficult to cum with “yes, yes, yes”’s leaving your lips, back arching into gojo’s hand as he fucks you like a fleshlight, sloppy thrusts hitting you deeper and deeper in you, you swear you see heaven with tears lining the corner of your eyes when gojo shoots his long awaited cum right into your puffy pussy and gojo’s head dig hards unto his headrest.

but gojo knows you aren’t done, moaning softly into his ears for you to turn him over and ways showing suguru what he can’t have.

“look at how much i’ve bred my pretty girl, suguru,” geto’s eyes stay locked as his best friend tugs his cock out of you, cum spurting out in loads and staining your pussy white that it’s got him reaching his climax with a choked groan, hands squeezing ribbon after ribbon of cum out of his cock and you watch, entranced. gojo swears he feels you clench and he grins. “maybe one day you’ll see your cum seeping out of her, heh.” 

✶ GETO

geto never liked humans — he’s made that much clear when he turned his back on jujutsu high and committed to his cause — but sometimes when pussy’s just too good, he can’t help but fuck it once in a while, or in this case, every day since you loved it.

“this— f-fuck—” geto’s slamming into you from behind, both hands wrapped around your biceps so hard it might as well make marks, but you hardly care when it holds you up so well as you take his throbbing cock repeatedly. your body’s limp, letting him use you in front of his cult.

“this— is how you breed— a cute little human—” suguru struggles to speak through his thrusts, hardly focused on his followers watching with gaping mouths and possibly tents in their pants. gross men, they were, but he doesn’t give one fuck knowing he’s the only one to have your pussy every single time. geto stays hypnotised by your dripping cunt sucking him in, clenching just as you lock eyes with one of his followers. “you could be getting treatment like this but—”

“g-geto-sama— harder, harder!” you whine when he yanks you up and hooks a hand under your knee. it drives him deeper into you easily, large cock reaching all the spots in you that you can feel your knee buckling. don’t worry, geto’s got you perfectly, but he smiles when you’re spreading your legs more.

“but you’re too busy being shitty fucking monkeys.” geto swears into your neck, robes removed hastily so he could have all of you and he switches positions again and carries you with both legs over his arms, shutting your pleas up for his cock by pulling your back against his chest and shoving him back into you from behind with a bit of your help.

you’re spread out like a buffet so nicely now, feet dangling lifelessly like a doll as his hips piston up into you from below and your praise falls from your mind for a moment. “suguru— s’deep, gimme more, please—!”

he doesn’t mind when you’re more than his worshipper in his quarters at night, muttering out a soft yeah? just for you to hear, fingers slapping your clit roughly and you’re jerking roughly, tongue lolling out and eyes rolled to the back of your head. it’s so hot, and suguru’s so strong, holding you up like this.

“this is how real men fuck,” geto declares as dramatically as always, continuing to land smacks on your pussy before you’re tensing up and your head falls on his shoulder, squealing. 

“cumming— sugu! g’nna cum— haah…” geto simply laughs when your body fully surrenders to him and you’re squirting all over the floor, juices littering the tatami mats and onto some of the faces of the followers, convulsing so much around his cock that he’s cumming soon after you, pumping you full just like the many times he’s done to you privately.

you feel him twitch in you and you don’t mind the drool leaving everyone’s mouths at that point, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips as you hear his praise against your lips — “that’s a good whore, taking all my cum like an obedient cum dump.” 

✶ NANAMI

nanami wasn’t aware of your high sex drive when you first dated — so when you’re dragging him past the higher-ups and the many sorcerers into some random limousine and slamming him against the door, he’s pleasantly surprised, although not too pleased at gojo shouting into the open air how yeaaahh! nanami’s getting some toniiighht!

sure, he might’ve been a little held back — he was never one for anything public, but feeling your hand tugging on his to rest between your legs and how your might not have worn underwear tonight, he was thinking he might need to do something about it.

but nanami is usually too afraid, so he willingly lets you pull him instead into one of the random limos outside the fancy gala venue. at this point there’s too many sorcerers at the event that he isn’t even sure who the driver escorted here, but it turns out to be one of tokyo’s, unknown of your current need to have nanami down your throat and up your pussy.

nanami’s cheeks burn when the driver recognises his voice.

“ah! nanami-san, back to jujutsu high?”

all the while, you’re yanking at his pants and pulling st his underwear, him torn between letting you do what you want and having some decorum in front of a junior. but you’re whispering against his half-hard cock, pressing light kisses on his leaking tip that maybe it isn’t so bad succumbing to you sometimes.

“needed your cock since i saw you in this suit, kento— mmfgh—” you’re quick to descend on his dick, not caring if he was still hardening. that was your favourite part, feeling him stretch to his full size while still in your mouth, words a mere whisper that you’re grinning at the possibility of getting caught.

“shit—” nanami groans softly when you bob your head, thankful the partition was slid close and all cars for sorcerers are usually muffled pretty well for confidentiality (gojo requested it, god knows why) — because from here he can hear you slobber over him unforgivingly and noisily, not caring about consequences one bit.

“angel, you gotta be quieter… fuckkk…” you lick a long stripe up his cock, his ears picking up on the way you play with yourself under your dress and nanami scoffs at how much audacity you had, pulling you off immediately and pushing you into the seats.

though, nanami’s streak of confidence is lost once he feels his tip prod at your hole. he can feel you squeeze around him so tightly that you take over, collecting your slick easily by drawing his cockhead along your folds. it’s so disgusting and hot, hearing the slick squelch around before you’re pushing him into you and you’re letting out a drawn out moan.

“kentooo…”

“nanami-san? everything okay?”

you giggle softly, shouting across to the driver, “everything’s well, tsugimo-san!”

“ahh— (y/n)-san, i was unaware you were here too—” hips push back on his cock and nanami bites his lip so hard he tastes copper. you’re so wet you get right in, buried right up to the hilt, hissing softly at the way your ass ripples against him, “boring party huh?”

you laugh, “soooo boring,” it’s disguised as a whine, moving your lower body back on nanami and it’s a wonder he’s able to stay so still in the vehicle — while he’s gotta praise tsugimo for driving so steadily, he thinks it’s because of his fear of getting caught that makes him so still and rigid.

the thrill is unlike any other, though, so he takes the chance, hooking both hands under your neck and pulling.

“sorry to hear that, (y/n)-san! well, rest up back there.” oh, poor tsugimo had no idea you were getting your guts arranged by your lover, head tipped back all the way while your back arches and your moans are shamelessly loud. nanami bullies his cock into you, too in love with your tight, pretty cunt as he tries to keep his grunts to a low.

“c’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” nanami rasps despite the loud pap! pap! pap! of his balls that’s he’s convinced he’s going to get a warning letter tomorrow but at least he’ll have this memory to jerk off to next time: your sweet cunt gushing around him, arousal giving away the racy things you were doing. he can feel his approaching high, the twitching of his cock obvious enough that you notice too until you’re forcing yourself off of him. nanami’s a little disappointed in not being able to paint your insides white but—

you’re skilfull (and excited) by the way you’re manoeuvring yourself onto the carpeted floor of the limo, pushing nanami that he falls back onto the leather seats and both hands wrap around his throbbing cock.

“give me all your cum, kento,” you mumble, the two hands pumping him hastily straight up offensive as you fill the car with the slickest noises. tongue outstretched and your warm, soft hands moving at a steady pace has nanami cumming with a muffled groan and jolting hips, angry tip spurting so much semen into your mouth. your arms never stop, milking him dry as you suckle on his cockhead, slurping up the cum that threatens to spill out.

“mmhh— s’much…” it has your lover panting, watching you smother his seed along the bottom half of your face messily and he thinks maybe, maybe, this could be his second favourite place to cum on.

“...cum. need some more, daddy.”

✶ TOJI

toji chuckles when you beg with another flutter of your eyelashes, simply leaving a soft peck on your lips and he drags you gently — a entire 180 from how how he’s got you on your back now, getting your pulse up from how his cock is past your face and reaches your throat.

“ya sure you want this, baby?”

you roll your eyes, tugging on him and making him let out a soft groan, letting you have your way as you stroke him needily. you’ve been wanting to have him down your throat while on your back for the longest time, wanting to feel that uncomfortable stretch of your jaw and getting his cockhead as deep as you could into your mouth—

you’re already doing your own thing, swirling your tongue around toji’s tip and playing with his balls, before you feel the other pump himself, spitting on his palm to get it wet just a little before easing himself into your throat. the stretch is delicious with how big toji is, seeing himself bulge in your throat by how deep you were taking him.

“oh— s-shit, that’s it. mouth so fuckin’ warm—” you moan around his cock, mouth stuffed full and hands kneading at his thighs that he takes it as the green light to go. it’s slow, at first; he’s afraid to hurt you and yet you’re humming around him, gargling on his dick so dirtily that he can’t help but thrust.

it’s a hundred times better than you going down on him normally, letting him fuck your mouth upside down. toji smiles when you guide his hand to your clit with no problem and as he leans forward he reaches the hilt in you. you whimper around him, the smile spreading into a sick grin as he rubs lazy circles upon your clit.

“m’slutty girl needs it that badly, hm?” toji accentuates each word with slaps against your pussy, already so wet from being in such a provocative position and having your boyfriend’s shaft in your mouth — toji laughs when he inserts his fingers and your hips buck up, while his never falters; he’s always been the best at masking how he felt.

toji moans at the way you gurgle on his cock, slipping out momentarily to let you breathe. it’s nice seeing you so slutted out, drool dripping down your face paired with a grin. you spit on him from below, stroking his cock for a bit before he’s back in your mouth. you clamp down on his fingers when he starts to set an relentless pace, slamming into your mouth while needy moans send vibrations up his body.

“takin’ me like a good lil girl, aren’t ya?” toji swears lowly at the way his fingers disappear into you, both holes of yours filled to the brim. “g’nna cum, doll.”

your forearms close around his thighs, head falling off the edge of the bed as you hollow your cheeks even more and breathe through your nose. his hips are turning sloppy and loose now, losing its pace altogether as he ruts into your warmth.

“take my load down your throat, baby— f-fuck—” it’s abrupt when toji cums, thighs pulled taut under your hands and his hips still. his fingers also lose control, hand cupping your cunt instead as ribbons of his cum flood your throat. you’re swallowing part of it, popping his cock out of your mouth and turning over onto your knees.

the sheer size of toji always excites you, towering over you but you ignore the throb of your pussy to shove your lips onto his, making him taste himself — it’s spit everywhere, leaking from the corners of your mouths and when you pull away there’s a string of saliva connecting the both of you.

you simply thumb his bottom lip, the familiar scar running against the pad of your thumb and toji only slyly smiles, opening his mouth willingly. he’d never let anyone do this, but you gather a glob of saliva and spit it into his mouth, a mixture of cum and drool and toji just fucking loves how lewd you are.

“thanks, mama,” toji lands a playful slap on your ass and you giggle, “doin’ so well, always.”

[munsster]

cropped

A/N: if i had a boyfriend i would simply cut off the bottoms of all of his shirts. it’s not toxic, im just a girl (gif creds: @lomlkeery)

Pairing: Walter “Keys” McKey x GN!Reader

Summary: You convince your easily flustered boyfriend to put on a crop top. 0.7k words

Warnings: a little bit of physical insecurity, fluff, kissing, pet names (sweetheart)

"Keys, get your cute butt out here! I wanna see."

Oh, but he's groaning through the door already. You had burst into the apartment parading an overzised bag full of soft cottons and light denim, dropped it at his feet, and declared you bought him a new outfit. And that he must try it on. You picked it out special for him after all.

"Really? I mean, it fits great, I just..."

You've been pining over his midriff since he yawned one wednesday afternoon, arms stretched high above his head, shirt riding up just enough to expose his navel to your wandering eyes. So, of course, you warmed him up to the idea of shorter shirts. Crop tops, to be specific. You know, like the kind Johnny Depp sports in Nightmare on Elm Street. Or Mark Wahlberg in that cheeky Calvin Klein ad.

Keys wasn't sure for a while, but he noticed the way your face lit up at the mere thought, and figured why the hell not. But now, he's staring down at the crop of this particular top and thinking this whole thing might've been an oversight on his part. The light grey tank is loose around his ribcage, the graphic on the front some generic athletic slogan.

I don't want you to realize you wasted your money on an outfit that's a little lackluster now that I'm wearing it, he thinks. Which is silly, and he knows that you like anything he has on simply because he's the one wearing it. But the thought still creeps in. He startles when you knock on the master bathroom door.

"You okay in there?" you coo, tapping your fingers gently across the wood.

"Yeah," he sighs, "yeah, I'm okay. Just..." Worried he'll disappoint you. Maybe he could try and squeeze through the bathroom window before it's too late.

"Can I come in?"

He gulps, tugging on the droopy waist of the jeans one more time before turning the lock on the door. You gasp.

"Baby, you look..."

Silly?

"Delicious!" you squeal, pawing at his waist and latching your lips onto his neck almost immediately. Your thumbs sink into his sides when you pull away, pupils blown and mouth just barely ajar. "You're a total stud!"

"You think so?" His ego's a little out of wack when you nod wildly.

"Keys, you're so yummy," you tease, "Just like Marky Mark." You grab his hand and tug him into the bedroom, stopping short of the bed, much to his dismay. It gets him all hot and bothered the way you cling to his hips and kiss his cupid's bow. You're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, and you're treating him like he's made of molten gold.

He can barely get a word out without a stutter. God, the way you make him blush should be illegal. He's complete mush in your adoring palms, wishing you'd never take your hands off of him lest he combust. Then, you slip your fingertips just under the waistband of the jeans and he hums.

"Sorry," you snicker, knowing exactly what you're doing to him.

"Shut up," he grumbles.

You draw your hands up the curve of his back, tracing the valley of his spine until he shivers. His cheeks are glowing hot as he pecks wet kisses across your jaw and cheek and forehead. You giggle and drag your nails down to the small of his back with a contented sigh.

"Thank you for trying," you admit. Your head bows low, suddenly shy under all the glory of his honeyed scrutiny.

"What d'you mean? Of course I tried, sweetheart. I'd try anything for you," he says. You pout.

"Mean it?"

"Hell yeah. As long as you ask nice enough," he says, holding your jaw and pressing his soft lips to yours in a chaste kiss. You curl your hand around his wrist like a darling threadsnake kissing his fingertips.

"So much access to your mid section," you say, voice frenzied and eyes wide staring hungrily at his faint happy trail.

"What happened to our anti-objectification economy? What about our morals? Our ethics?" he says. Clearly, he's joking but his doe eyes twinkle dastardly behind his glasses. You wind your arm around his waist and smack his ass.

"What morals?"

"Touché, sweetheart."

masterlist

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

Fights and Disagreements - a lyra and grayson fic

——————————————————————————

disclaimer: it is VERY long. i wanted it to be shorter but it ended up being long like all of my other fics, even longer actually, and im sorry if you wanted a short read. ill try and make shorter fics from now on but i just love writing long pieces of work im sorry 😭😭

LYRA:

Lyra knew the words to describe Grayson. Patient, sweet, and protective, even if others didn’t see it. But at the moment, none of those things applied to him.

A week ago, Lyra had confronted Grayson about the fact that she thought he worked too much and rarely had time to spend on himself, let alone her, and he took her thoughts into consideration. He told her that he would to try to cut back on hours. Well, days went by with no change except for the excuse that “work was busy at the moment”, and Lyra started to get impatient. She’d confronted him again on the 6th day of no change, except with 0% patience and a disturbing amount of pettiness. Long story short, it had ended in a fight.

Lyra rounded the kitchen table and turned away from Grayson, words flying out of her mouth as she threw her hands up in the air.

“No change! That’s what I got from you Grayson! God, could you not be selfish for one fucking day in your life?!” She screamed, whirling around as she did. A flicker of anger entered Graysons usually calm eyes as he paced over to her, his hair messy from the amount of times he had ran his hands through it.

“I’m being fucking selfish? You haven’t even stopped to consider that maybe I’m working this hard because I’m actually fucking busy!” He shouted back. Lyra was taken aback. She had never heard Grayson shout that loud, let alone barely shout, and he didn’t seem to noticed when her back hit the kitchen island. Instead, he walked closer, his chest heaving. “Work has been stressful enough, Lyra, and I don’t need it fucking up my home life too!” With that last sentence, Grayson threw his hands up in the air, and a breath caught in Lyra’s throat as she did something she never thought she’d ever do in Graysons vicinity. She flinched, throwing her arms over her head. Once she realized she’d done it, her eyes widened and she slowly put her arms back to her side. Looking up, she saw Graysons wide eyes and shocked expression, as he’d stopped yelling.

“Lyra-“ He tried to say, guilt etching his features, before Lyra cut him off.

“Get out.” She said, her voice barely a whisper. She didn’t know where out was, but she just wanted him somewhere away from her right now. And she really didn’t want to cry in front of him, or go to sleep in the same bed as him. Grayson stayed silent for a few moments, before speaking again.

“Lyra, what?” He says, his tone confused. He tries to speak again, before Lyra cuts him off again.

“Get. Out.” She said, her voice quiet again but brimming with intensity. Grayson held her gaze for about 5 seconds, a swarm of emotions stuck on his face, before suddenly stomping off. Lyra wouldn’t let a single tear fall until she heard that door close, and once she did, she slid to the floor, sobs racking her chest. Her eyes caught her phone on the island table, and, without thinking, she pulled herself up, and dialed a number. The line was ringing for about 4 seconds, until the girl on the other end of the line picked up.

“Hello?” Avery said. Lyra swallowed, before speaking.

“I changed my mind. I think I will be able to be apart of your girls hang out night.”

GRAYSON:

The only thing that Grayson had on him as he stormed out of the house that he and Lyra had moved into was his phone and car keys, which could only do so much. Anger almost took hold of him, until he had remembered the way Lyra flinched when he raised his arms, and all that anger had been smothered by drowning guilt. Did she think that he would hurt her? Allow himself to lay even a single finger on her? The truth was, Grayson never would. But still, she thought that in a fit of anger, he would. Grayson was disgusted with himself. He tried to think back to the argument, tried to think back to where it all went wrong, but all he could hear was Lyra calling him “fucking selfish”, and that anger rose again.

Grayson pulled open his car door, sat inside, and slammed it shut, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway without thinking of where he was really going. Maybe he could book a hotel. Or just stay at a cafe/restaurant for a bit and figure things out later. But instead, his hand found his phone, and without thinking, he texted the groupchat with him and his brothers in it. No words, but instead, 3 numbers.

911.

LYRA:

When Lyra knocked on the door of Libby’s little house that she and Nash lived in, she knew how she looked. She could barely see herself in the reflection of some of her glass flower pots, and what she saw was a sniffling girl with red eyes and mascara streaks running down her cheeks. When Libby opened the door with Max and Avery by her side, her grin was smothered.

“Lyra..” Libby said, her voice soft. She looked like she was going to continue as she searched Lyra’s face with concern, but Lyra interrupted, wiping her eyes with her hand as she spoke with the most normality she could muster up.

“So, can we watch that movie you guys were talking about?”

Lyra had been watching some random romcom for 20 minutes, meanwhile her mind had been preoccupied on something else. On the fight. She was going to continue to watch-but-not-watch the movie, when Max stood up and paused it.

“OkayIcan’ttakethisanymore.” She rushed out in one breath as she stood up and turned to Lyra, her hands on her hips. “What the fax happened to you?” Lyra looked down when Avery and Libby looked at her expectantly. She could beat around the bush, but she wasn’t in the mood for it.

“I got in a bad fight with Grayson.” Lyra mumbled, wiping her cheeks that still had some mascara smudged on them. She wanted to leave it at that, but the expectant look on the girls’ faces didn’t falter even once.

“And? What did he do?” Avery asked her. Lyra sighed, before explaining what happened start to finish.

“Cheezits, he sucks. Should I punch him in his cheekbones the next time I see him?” Max immediately asked as soon as she stopped explaining. The question was so sudden and unexpected that Lyra choked out a laugh sob, before speaking.

“No need, Max. It’s not all his fault. I mean, I acted rashly and just went straight to screaming but..” Lyra’s brow furrowed as she recalled the fight. “He barely even tried to hear me out. Does he know that I’ve barely even seen him this past month?” Emotion creeped into Lyra’s voice, before she shook her head and picked at her nails. Libby took her hand in hers and smiled at Lyra softly.

“I know that fights with spouses are hard, but I promise you, you will look back on this moment and see something to learn from, even if you weren’t much in the wrong.” Libby said, gently. Lyra smiled softly at her, but her heart still felt heavy. She loved Grayson. So. Damn. Much. And it felt like stabbing pins in her chest to be away from him for this reason. But maybe some space to clear her head was good.

“I actually don’t really want to talk about this,” Lyra said, smiling softly. “But can we continue watching the movie?” Max barely waited for her to finish her sentence before she took off towards the kitchen.

“Snacks time!” She cheered.

GRAYSON:

By the time Grayson had shown up at the front gates of Hawthorne House, all his brothers were there already. He had heard that Nash was staying there because Libby wanted to have a girls night, but Jameson and Xander had probably came in the time it took for him to drive there. Grayson walked in the front gates with an eerily empty feeling inside him to be away from Lyra. Already he could feel a pit in his stomach, just thinking about going home to a possible empty house. To sleeping alone, without her body wrapped around his. What did it matter that he was angry? He hurt her, and in doing so hurt himself too. His thoughts were interrupted by Xander speeding down the halls and hurling himself at Grayson. Luckily they were on carpeted floor, otherwise Grayson would have gotten some sort of head trauma.

“Thereeee is my darlingggg brothe- oh.” Xander said, starting with a yodeling sing-song voice before returning to his normal tone as he studied Grayson’s face. “You’re looking a little rough there, Gray.” A little rough was an understatement. Not only was Grayson working himself to the bone and getting no sleep, which was why he had such vicious under eyes, but he was also exhausted from his fight with Lyra. His hair was a mess, and Grayson was sure he looked like one too.

“Anyways,” Xander said, shaking off the awkwardness of the moment before with a grin. “The festivities are in the Great Room.”

Grayson successfully managed to wipe off the remaining bit of whipped cream on his shoulder, which was caused by Jameson, who was ruthless with the amount of pies he threw, as he raised a brow at Xander.

“Were the pies really necessary, Xan?” Grayson asked him. Xander grinned before nodding, shoving another spoon in his 3rd pie so far. Grayson felt more at ease than he had hours before, but the fight dawned on him again and suddenly the empty feeling came again. Nash leaned forward, capturing Graysons gaze with his own.

“Now it’s time to tell us what’s goin’ on, Gray. You didn’t call this 911 for no reason. Last time you did, it was because you were hurting,” Nash drawled, flicking a speck of whipped cream off his arm before meeting Graysons eyes again. “You hurting again?” Grayson wanted to say no. Wanted to come up with some fake problem. But then the memory of Lyra throwing her arms up over her head hits him again, and, without meaning to, Grayson placed his hands over his face, covering his eyes. It was a pain he’d never experienced before, that kind of heart break where you wish you could go back in time and change your actions. If he shouted less loudly. If he actually took consideration to her words and took a break, even if his job needed him. If he would finally do the right thing. He wanted nothing more than to melt into Lyra’s skin, to hold her soft hair in his hands, to fall asleep with her in his arms.

But some things were easier said than done.

Suddenly, two hands were prying the ones off his face, and Grayson found himself face to face with Jameson.

“What is it? Something to do with Lyra? Did your poor PI finally break and quit?” Jameson asked him, taunting Grayson for the fact that he tended to have 0 patience when it came to Zabrowski. At the mention of Lyra’s name, Grayson lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears from coming. Luckily, he had been able to turn off his ability to cry since he was little, lest the old man saw him.

“So it is Lyra.” Jameson said again, raising a brow. Grayson opened his eyes, looked back up at Jameson, and that’s when the words started flowing out of his mouth.

Grayson closed his mouth, finally done explaining, and his brothers stayed silent for a few moments. That was, until Jameson decided to speak.

“Maybe we should start a go fund me for Lyra.” He said, narrowing his eyes at Grayson. Nash elbowed him and sent him a warning look, before turning to Grayson.

“I’m not gonna lie Gray, you thoroughly fucked up,” Nash drawled, the words still somehow coming out brotherly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t make it right. You can stay for a few hours more, or for the night, whatever pleases ya, but you should get back to try and apologize, even if you weren’t fully in the wrong.” Jameson made a face at that last part.

“So, are we lying to him now?” Jameson said. Nash looked like he was about to throttle him, but Grayson just snorted. Honestly, he needed the humour after this depressingly serious night.

“Ooh!” Xander suddenly butted in, a grin on his face. “If you’re staying the night, then that means we can have a movie marathon!” A ghost of a smile touched Graysons face, but he shook his head.

“I’ll stay for maybe another 30 minutes, but afterwards I should be getting back. I’ve been here for long enough, and I think I’m ready to talk things out with Lyra.” He said. He felt almost giddy at the thought of being able to come face to face with her again, even though she’ll probably hate him for hurting her. Nash nodded, before speaking.

“You do that,” He said, with a smile. “And you have to stay and help us clean up the mess we made with the pies anyway.” Grayson smiled back, his heart feeling significantly lighter.

LYRA:

Lyra said goodbye to the girls before getting in her car and driving off. But then she thought about coming home to an empty house and her heart twinged with sadness again. Would Grayson come home some time in the night? Would he sleep on the couch and be gone in the morning? Or would he stay somewhere else for the night? Lyra didn’t know.

She parked in the driveway of her house, before getting out of the car and unlocking her front door. She stepped inside, listening for any movement or sounds, and felt disappointed when she didn’t hear any. Going to her room, well, hers and Graysons room, she stripped off her clothes and put on her pjs, exhaustion slowing her movements. Going to her vanity, she brushed through her hair, and that’s when she heard it. The front door opening.

Lyra’s heart jolted, both with surprise and excitement to see Grayson again tonight, until she remembered that she was supposed to be mad at him. She sat down at the vanity and took off all her jewelry, ignoring Graysons pursues around the house for her. When he stepped into the bedroom, Lyra had to hold herself back from turning to face him. She just continued to take off her necklaces, taking longer than she should and setting them on her jewelry holder neatly. Grayson just stared at her from behind, before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry.” He said. That almost broke the floodgates, and Lyra had to hold herself back from jumping into his arms and letting him carry her to bed. She needed him to first recognize what he’d done, and then maybe there would be time for jumping in his arms.

“What for?” Lyra said, pettiness and anger tinging her tone. Grayson came beside her chair and knelt to his knees, and although Lyra knew it was so that he could get to her height, there was still a part of her that thought he was getting on his knees to beg. There was still a part of her that felt giddy at the thought.

“I’m sorry for not taking time off from work when you asked. I’m sorry for ignoring your suggestions when you first came to me about them. I’m sorry for ever letting you think I would hurt you. I will never hurt you Lyra, and I will not ever let today happen again.” He said. Lyra froze. She’d expected an apology, but she hadn’t expected… that. The truth was, she didn’t think that Grayson would actually hurt her on purpose. She thought that in a fit of anger, his thrown-in-the-air arms would hit her and he wouldn’t notice. It was what he said that hurt her more. She still didn’t look at him, but finally spoke.

“So, you’ll change?” She asked him.

“Yes.” The words flying off his tongue. Lyra felt satisfied by how fast the answer came. Finally turning to look at him, she raised a brow at him, a mild look of anger still on her face.

“I hope you at least missed me on your workaholic month.” She said, raising a brow at him to answer. He stood straighter, his pupils growing larger once she met his gaze.

“I did.” This answer came just as quick as the last, almost like he had been waiting, dying to finally talk to her. Then, he picked her up off the chair and hugged her, holding her tight in his arms. “So damn much.” Lyra’s heart fluttered as Grayson wrapped his arms around her lower back and held her close, digging his head into the space between her neck and shoulders. Lyra was quick to return the hug, squeezing her eyes shut as she melted onto him, her feet dangling in the air.

Some moments didn’t require any words. Sometimes, all you could do was hold each other and breathe.

——————————————————————————

[boydepartment]

still into you- nishimura riki x reader

a/n: THIS WAS REQUESTED BY ONE OF MY ANONS HERE!

request: now months later reader's in the practice room, late at night on the floor, catching their breath while the music plays in the background softly. it was then when Ni-Ki slams open the door not expecting anyone to be there and their eyes meet through the reflection of the mirror dance rooms have

warnings- none tbh :3 just both of them being goofy

wc- 300-400

MASTERLIST

sprawling out on the practice room floor was like clockwork to you. especially after a long day of dancing and cardio.

it helped to keep you distracted too, your work was everything to you. it helped fill a void that you didn’t even want to think about right now.

you stretched out hearing a couple pops, laughing to yourself before flipping on your stomach to go on your phone.

frowning when you turned it on it was a wallpaper of you and your ex. you really need to delete it, it was still in the wallpaper album that changes it every hour.

it was just a reminder of the void, you weren’t even mad at him anymore. you missed him and wished you had communicated with him more. it’s one of your biggest regrets…

sighing you opened tiktok so you could have your break. your music from your ipad connected to the speakers playing softly in the background. ironically enough still into you by paramore was playing.

you were about to like a video when the door slammed open, scaring you so bad you jumped back.

“GO AWAY IM ABOUT TO PRACTICE!” the boy laughed before walking in, not even taking in your presence as he was looking down at his phone.

for a split second you took in his appearance now. it changed a lot, he looked like he bulked up, his hair was cut shorter, WAS THAT A TATTOO ON HIS FOREARM?

you blinked and he finally looked up at you, “oh.”

oh? that’s all he was gonna say to you? OH? after months of not talking… OH???

“um.” you quickly got up, grabbing your ipad, phone, and hoodie, “you can have the room haha it’s fine anyways-“

“wait no…” riki quickly ran to the door and blocked it, as you were making a beeline to the exit.

you looked up at him, your stuff pooling out of your hands, “get out of my way!”

“no!”

“what the hell!” you started to laugh, “you can have the practice room! let me go!”

“no!” riki said again, now using his arms and legs to block the door, “please don’t leave i really- i just-“

you set your stuff down by your feet, “you need to what? finally explain yourself, apologize for being a dick?”

riki was about to talk, “i-“ he put his hand up, “yeah…”

“little late for that.” you went to pick up your stuff again and you saw him trying to look through his brain for anything. his body slumping against the door now.

part of you felt kinda bad. the breakup was a little messy, him being busy, him not being able to tell you that he loves you, you both being a little short tempered. it just wasn’t the right time for either of you. you didn’t hold bad blood or anything. it was just awkward

you grabbed your stuff properly this time, “okay, move. it’s not funny or cute anymore.”

“anymore? you thought it was funny and cute before?” he put his hands and legs almost in a starfish position again against the door. grinning with that all too familiar mischievous smile of his.

“riki! i’m serious! i’ve been practicing forever, i smell bad and i need to get food!” you tried to move past him. you couldn’t help the small giggles escaping you.

“no! i can’t! i need to tell you that im in love with you still and im sorry i didn’t say it before because i was scared to!” at this point he was word vomiting.

you looked up at him, “you are?”

riki’s eyes were still closed, he nodded rapidly, the last nod he hit his head against the door. which left you falling over laughing.

riki looked horrified, did he just embarrass himself? what if you had another boyfriend already? or girlfriend? it’s been months.

“you’re so cute.”

oh…

his ears turned bright red as he watched you laughing on the floor. you looked up at him with that same sweet smile you had previous to your breakup. he sat down on the floor in front of you.

“i meant what i said…” he said as your laughter died down and you were left staring at eachother.

you smiled at him again, “i still love you.”

his eyes widened and he smiled back, “you do?”

“yes i do.”

he jumped up and did a little dance before grabbing your hands and lifting you up. hugging you and swinging you around.

“i love you so much i’m sorry i didn’t say it before. i really do love you.” he set you down, “even if you smell bad after practicing.”

you shoved his shoulder and riki laughed, “i’m kidding i’m kidding!”

you hugged him again, your arms shaking around his waist.

“can i come with you to eat dinner then?”

“as my boyfriend or my ex?” you mumbled. you felt his arms hold you back, his chin on your head.

“as your boyfriend obviously… if that’s okay…”

you smiled up at him, “yeah that’s okay, if you’re okay with me being stinky?”

he sighs dramatically and raises his eyebrows, “guess thats okay.”

you both start laughing before getting into a debate on what to eat together.

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

,,Spin The Bottle’’ -M.S

synopsis: You’re at a party with your best friend Nick, and you finally meet his brothers.

warnings: SMUT. alcohol, drugs, strong language.

pairing: switch Matt X switch Layla (female oc.)

Based off the song ‘This Could Be Us’ by Rae Sremmurd, and it is a slow burner😭🫶🏻

— — back to masterlist

‘Spin the bottle

if you the reason why its empty baby,

spin the fucking bottle.’

“C’MON, LAY!!” Nick yelled loudly from the other side of the crowded room. Layla shuffled through the hot room, her shoes sticking on the wooden alcohol covered floor. She tried her best to get by Nick, her best friend, but the crowd of drunk and high kids her age were restricting her. “for fucks sake, Layla.” Nick scoffed as he started through the crowd to get Layla himself.

Once he reached the much shorter girl, he gently grabbed her arm, and pulled her behind him through the crowd to the corner of the room. They both came to a halt, Layla almost running into the red-haired boy in front of her.

“Layla, meet my.. brothers..” Nick said in a disappointed tone.

“don’t say it like that, kid. you act like im a burden!” one of the boys spoke up. he had longer hair, and no tattoos, so using all the context clues from the many stories Nick has told her, this boy was Chris. “Anyways— I’m Chris!” the boy smiled, pulling her into a hug.

The sudden intimate action made the small girl let out a small giggle as she returned the action.

“nice to meet you, Chris. I’m Layla,” she smiled, and pulled away from the hug. A very slightly taller male with shorter brown hair and tattoos like Nicks stepped forwards.

He was more attractive than the other two, in ways she couldn’t understand. His sharp jawline, his defined cheekbones, his bright blue eyes, his slim face shape, the way his brown hair sat perfectly on his face, just barely covering his eyes.

“Hey, um..” the boy started, causing her to snap out of the trance he put her in. “I’m Matt..” he smiled shyly, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

Layla- without thinking- quickly responded with “I know! nice to meet you, Matt!” ‘I know?’ ‘I KNOW.?’ Was she loosing her mind?

Matt chuckled, and Layla shook her head, shamefully shaking the boys hand.

“i- uh.. sorry. Its just, the stories Nick has told me. Not specifically about you of course- but about you and chris and himself so i just assumed since he’s nick, and he’s chris-“ Layla rambled, being cut off when Matt put his hand on her shoulder.

“its okay. i get it.” he whispered.

“sorry.” Layla apologized, and Matt let his hand slowly fall off her shoulder to her hand; intertwining his long fingers with hers.

“its okay.” he smiled. “i understand.”

Layla smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it slip away from hers.

“sorry,” Matt apologized. “I’m not sure why i did that, you just seem.. upset? Not that you look upset or anything! Just that-“

“its okay.” Layla cut him off, and Matt smiled, Layla smiled back. He was right, the party was getting on her nerves, the loud music, the people yelling,, but thats not why she was acting like this. He was.

She could tell he was stressed too, but his stress did probably originate from the party. Not her.

“Hey! Who wants to play spin the bottle?” A random man yelled from off a red solo cup covered table. There were a few cheers, and Layla snapped her head towards Nick. Not for good reasons, though. Nick always wanted to play games at parties, and Layla never did.

Nick tilted his head, and gave her the, ‘you-better-come-play-with-me’ look. She sighed as Nick grabbed her hand, and started leading her through the crowd again.

“wait- you guys are actually playing?” Nicks brother- Chris- asked.

“I guess so-“ She shrugged in response, still getting pulled through the crowd.

Nicks fast maneuvering through the crowd allowed them to be there before majority of the other players were. The two sat down on the ground, criss-cross. Chris emerged out of the crowd to the room, bringing a confused and frightened Matt behind him.

“Chris! Did you really bring him?” Nick scolded Chris, both of the boys knew Matt had social anxiety, and this was NOT going to help.

“Hell yeah! He’ll be fine. He can just.. stand in the corner and not play if he wants. At least I brought him over instead of just leaving him by himself over there!” Chris snapped back, and Layla cut the triplets bickering out of her mind.

Her eyes met with Matt’s, whose were starting to gloss over. Since she had just met him, minutes ago, he has been anxious. His brothers were his guidance, and now with them both fighting in a room full of people wanting to play a game, it was leaving Matt with no one.

“hey, c’mere.” Layla smiled, patting the floor next to her. Chris and Nick both stopped mid-sentence, as Matt actually sat down next to her, in-between Chris and her. “if the bottle points at him, just say its pointing at you,” Layla says pointing at Chris, “so that way he only has to kiss someone when its his turn.”

“What!? But thats chea-“ Chris starts, but Layla cuts him off.

“Chris.”

“But- how come you dont-“ Chris starts again, but this time he was cut off by Nick.

“Chris.” Nick stopped him.

“okay.” Chris nodded.

-

After a few spins, everything has been going according to plan. Chris and Layla were taking turns when the bottle landed on Matt, until it was actually his turn.

“Matt, your turn.” Layla smiled and gestured towards the bottle. Matt spun the bottle quickly, without hesitation, which caught all of them off guard. They all watched anxiously as it spun in circles on the floor, and stopped moving.

Layla.

The crowd erupted in “ooh”s, and Layla’s and Matt’s heads snapped towards each others.

“fuck.” Matt whispered.

Layla shook her head, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to,”

“no- i want to..” Matt mumbled; his hand finding its way to Layla’s jaw. “ready?” he asked. This sudden boldness from Matt was confusing to Layla, but she didn’t mind. She just nodded.

Matt connected their lips, for only a few seconds, before pulling away.

“boo! that was a bad kiss! at least ten se-“ Chris booed, sticking his thumb out.

“CHRIS!” Nick yelled at the younger boy.

“You want us to make out or something?!” Matt whipped around to face Chris, who was nodding eagerly. The crowd, oddly enough, started chanting ‘Matt’

“fuck.” Matt sighed, as he turned back around to face Layla. “are you okay with this..?” he asked her,

“you mean, making out?” she asked confused.

“yeah..” Matt nodded, his eyes meeting hers.

“oh.. yeah. okay.” She nodded, and tried slowing her breathing rate. Matt was definitely attractive, and her type,, but doing this in front of all these people..? As Matt’s hand met her jaw once more, she pulled away, “wait- can we like.. do it in a room? Kinda like seven minutes in heaven!” She suggested.

“um.. yeah, sure. follow me.” the party host nodded, and led Matt and Layla to a room, leaving the ‘ooh’ing crowd behind.

“In heres fine,” the boy opened a door to a fully furnished -and nice- room.

Matt and her walked in, hand in hand, and he closed the door behind them. Matt looked down at her.

“you don’t really wanna do this, do you?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

“no, i do, i swear, just.. maybe not in front of all those people?” She shook her head rapidly.

“yeah, i get it. If damn Chris didn’t bring it up, no one else would’ve.. i swear im gonna beat his ass.” Matt rolled his eyes and crossed his tattooed arms.

Now that no one else was around to distract her, she could really focus on how good he looks. His biceps being perfectly shown by the way he’s standing, his tattoos, his bright blue eyes, his tall and ‘lanky’ stature.

“you okay?” he asked, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows.

“i- uh.. yeah. sorry.” she stuttered. the tilt of his head was enough to make her fold.

Matt unexpectedly made his way slowly over to the bed in the corner of the room, and sat down.

“you wanna do this?” he asked. Matt was much more.. ‘out there’ when he wasn’t in a room crowded with people. Layla nodded, and felt a blush creep onto her cheeks- and she knew why.

Matt patted the spot on the bed next to him, gesturing for Layla to sit there, but her body wouldn’t let her. She sat on Matt’s lap unexpectedly, and straddled him.

Matt’s eyes shot opened and he looked up at her, his hands quickly flying to her waist. what was she doing?

“you wanna make out like this?” Matt suddenly asked, and Layla couldn’t help but nod. Matt let his grip on her waist loosen, and his hands found their way to her back, around her waist. Layla let her hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck. “okay. ready?” he asked, and Layla nodded. Matt closed his eyes, and Layla did the same, and they both leaned in.

Their lips brushed against eachother; and they finally met. Their lips moved in sync, and Matt’s tongue swiped over Layla’s bottom lip. Their tongues fought for dominance, and Matt’s won. His tongue explored her mouth, and their make out became more heated.

Their teeth clashed together as their tongues tangled, neither of them stopping. Without even thinking, Layla rolled her hips against Matt, causing him to gasp and grab her hips tightly again.

“Don’t-“ Matt groaned, Layla immediately stopping.

“Fuck, sorry-“ Layla apologized and started to stand, but Matt quickly pulled her down.

“no, its okay.. just…” Matt sighed, and let his hand fall to Layla’s. He trailed both of their hands up to his crotch, Layla gasped as she felt the growing bulge in his jeans. Matt groaned, and let Layla’s hand go. “t-this is what you do to me..” He moaned, the girl’s eyes growing wide.

“holy shit..” she gasped, “Matt..” her eyes met his, begging and pleading ones. “Do.. do you want me to help..?” she whispered, and Matt waisted no time nodding eagerly.

“fuck, please..” he begged, his head falling back as she pushed the palm of her hand against his boner. “mmh, please,” he whined. Layla smirked, her lips finding his neck.

“Want me to mark you up, Matty? Show everyone how good of a boy you are for me?” She teased, and Matt groaned,

“f-fuck, yes..” he pleaded, not really thinking about the party he was to go back to. Layla’s hands made their way to his chest, as she pushed him back against the bed. She continued to suck and bite on the whining boys neck, and her hands trailed down his sides to his belt loops on his jeans.

Her hands slipped to the button of his blue jeans, brushing against the bulge that was below the cold silver metal.

“Can I-“ Layla started, but Matt cut her off.

“yes, please, yes..” he begged, his hands still on her hips from before. She fiddled with the cold button, and once it came loose, she unzipped the zipper and pulled his pants down slowly, leaving the poor boy in his boxers only.

Layla chuckled as she saw the small wet spot on his red boxers due to his precum, but she couldn’t lie, she was already intimidated by the size even though she couldn’t see it yet.

“Gonna be good for me, Matty?” She asked, as her hands gripped the waistband of his boxers.

“y-yes, i promise.” he nodded, and she placed a kiss on his clothed member before pulling his boxers completely off.

“Holy fuck Matt,” she gasped.

“hm? is it bad-?” Matt asked worriedly.

“no, actually.. its just.. that is supposed to fit in me?” she gestured towards the boys dick.

“well- i-.. not unless you don’t want it to..?” Matt sat up.

“I want-“ Layla was cut off oncemore, but not by Matt this time.

“aye! hurry it up in there! ya fuckin or sum?” a boy yelled into the room from outside the door.

“give us 15!” Matt yelled back.

“15 Matt?” Layla yelled.

“i- uh.. we can just.. i don’t know!” matt stuttered.

“don’t get shy on me now, matt. we have ‘15 minutes’, you wanna do this..?” Layla asked, getting on her knees in front of Matt, becoming eye level with his stomach.

“yes,” matt nodded.

Layla wasted no time spitting on matts cock, giving it a few good tugs, before licking from his base to his tip.

“mmh,” Matt whined. His hands gripped the sheets of the bed, as Layla took his throbbing red tip in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. “A-ah- fuck—“ Matt gasped, one of his hands flying to her, the other tightening on the bedsheets.

Layla bobbed her mouth up and down, hollowing out her cheeks. Spit dripped down her chin and salty unwanted tears rolled down her red cheeks, as she hummed around Matt’s cock, sending vibrations throughout his body.

“h-holy shit— im not g-gonna.. fuck, im not gonna last long-“ Matt whined, Layla popping her head off.

“if i let you cum now, will you still be a good boy and fuck me?” she asked, and matt nodded, his face red and his eyebrows furrowed.

“yes, god, yes..” he agreed, and Layla’s lips met with Matt’s cock again. Her tongue slipped over his slit, before she took his tip in her mouth again. “mmph, f-fuck..” Matt groaned, his head falling back and his legs shaking. “i-im gonna-“ Matt warned, but before he could finish, his cum coated Layla’s mouth.

She pulled off his cock, and swallowed, sticking her tongue out to show she had swallowed.

“good girl..” Matt growled, pulling the girl into his lap, harshly kissing her. His hands found their way under her skirt, tracing gentle patterns across her wet panties.

“M-matt, please..” Layla gasped, her dominance fading quicker and quicker by the second as Matt played with her clit through the thin fabric.

“shh.. hold on, baby..” Matt smirked. Smirked. If Layla wasn’t already drenched, that would’ve done it for her.

“Matt- please, I didn’t tease you,” she pleaded, as his lips found her neck. He placed rough kisses against her soft skin, leaving red- soon to be purple- marks. Matt huffed against her, as he lifted her hips up just enough so he could slip her useless panties off.

“im keeping these.” Matt’s eyes met hers as he tossed the panties by his discarded clothes.

Layla was done waiting. She slipped her own shirt and bra off, starting to pull her skirt down after standing up, before Matt quickly stood up aswell, roughly shoving her down to the bed.

He leaned over her, grabbing her neck,

“Did I give you fucking permission to undress, slut?” Matt growled in her ear, and she shook her head.

“n-no.. I-im sorry-“ Layla apologized, and Matt tore her skirt off of her.

“You’re so fucking lucky we’re at a party and not at my house, because i swear i would’ve just ripped those in half.” Matt’s grip loosened just slightly on her throat, as he tossed her skirt.

Matt used his free hand to slide through her slick folds, slipping his fingers over her entrance a few times, before sticking two in her hole.

“H-holy shit!” Layla gasped as Matt pumped his fingers in and out of her, curling them when his knuckle hit her clit.

“Ya’know, I’d prep ya more, maybe even eat you out, but we only got a few more minutes left, so your gonna have to deal with it. Your safe word is Red, okay” Matt ripped his fingers out of her, causing her to whine.

“O-okay. red.” she repeated, knowing thats what he wanted.

“good girl.” matt nodded, as his hand around her throat tightened, and his other hand came to grab her hip.

He pushed the tip of his cock in slowly, and Layla winced. Matt continued to push into her, before completely bottoming out.

His lips came into contact with her neck again, sucking and biting at the spots that he had not already marked, as he gave her a little bit to adjust to him.

“m-move,” Layla pleaded, trying to sound demanding.

“poor baby..” Matt groaned as he started to thrust into her, his grip on her hip sure to leave bruises. “trying to seem dominant, but your falling apart on my cock..” he tsked, and his speed was relentless.

The way he was speaking to her just kept pushing Layla closer and closer to the edge, her legs starting to shake.

“already close?” Matt shook his head. His hand left her pained hip and made its way to her clit, as he rubbed circles on it.

“H-holy fuck, Matt!” Layla yelled. Thank god the music was blasting, or the people throughout the whole neighborhood probably could’ve heard that.

“shut your damn mouth,” matt growled, his head falling back, his release inching closer as he felt the familiar knot form in his stomach.

The girls legs continued to shake around matt, as she moaned again.

“m-matt, im cumming!”

“fuck, me too..” he huffed, both of them releasing at the same time. Matt’s thrusts slowed down and became more sloppy, as he chased his high. He slowly pulled out, both of them wincing at the loss of the feeling.

Matt didn’t say anything, and he just started to put his clothes back on.

Layla sat up slowly, in confusion, as she cleared her throat.

“hm?” Matt asked, slipping his boxers back on.

“really? your cum is literally dripping out of me, matt, and you dont say anything?” she asked, somewhat offended. she doesnt know why, though. its just a hookup.

“um.. sorry.. i dont really know what to say..” Matt stood up straight, scratching the back of his neck. He refused to make eye contact with her, which was even more odd.

“are you okay..?” she asked.

“yeah. im fine. sorry,” he apologized again, picking up her bra, skirt, and shirt off the ground before handing them back to her, “here. im sorry, im awkward.. i’ve never been that.. intimate?” Matt shrugged, as Layla slipped her clothes back on, after carelessly wiping herself off with the bed sheets. She doubts anyone uses that room ever anyways.

“you mean.. youve never had sex?” Laylas eyes widened, as she attempted to stand but failed, falling back on the bed.

“No no no, not like that. I’ve had sex but not that.. rough..?” Matt squinted, tilting his head. “I dunno. Sorry.” He apologized again, offering her a hand.

“Stop saying sorry.” Layla rolled her eyes, taking his hand.

“sor-..” he stopped himself. “um.. would you wanna maybe.. hangout sometime..?” he asked.

“GUYS. YOUR FIFTEEN IS UP. HURRRY IT THE FUCK UP,” the same person from before pounded on the door, causing both of them to chuckle.

“id love to. wait- shit! our necks!” Layla’s eyes widened.

“eh, it doesn’t matter. they all know we fucked anyways. who sits in a room and makes out for twenty minutes.?” Matt chuckled, admiring his work on the shorter girl’s neck.

“touchè,” Layla shrugged, and Matt grabbed her hand. “your really not gonna give me my panties back?” she asked, and matt nodded.

“nope. they’re in my pocket. you’ll just have to retrieve them next time.” Matt teased, and Layla rolled her eyes.

The two opened the door and walked back to the others, sitting on the floor.

“oh, for fucks sake, they’re back! we only managed to do six whole rounds without-“ Chris started, but stopped when he saw the hickeys on both of their necks. “holy. shit.” He gasped, his mouth falling agape.

Matt and Layla sat down together, still hand-in-hand, as all of the others stared at them.

“we were in there for over fifteen minutes. the fuck did you think we did?” Layla snapped in a joking way.

“if were being honest, we thought you guys were pranking us.. like you didn’t want to play the game or something..” Chris’ shrugged. “but god damn, Matty boy. I really didn’t think you had it in you.” Chris gave his brother a nod of approval and a slap on the shoulder.

“im gonna be sick.” Nick fake gagged.

“oh, shut up, nick!” Matt groaned.

“wait. Why is there HANDPRINTS on her neck, and what the fuck is in your pocket, matt. YOU KINKY MOTHERFUCKER!” Chris yelled as he laughed, Matt’s face going bright red.

-

small A/N: i finished this since i cant sleep. enjoy😋

[rantaroamamifuturegf]

Hello, wonderful person on the internet!

Can I ask for a fic with Fem! Reader who is unusually tall and kabedons Fuyuhiko while being super smug about it?

(If you don't know what kabedon is, below is an example)

Thank you for your time

Loving on you

A/N: This is my first time writing a one-shot!!Well a short one-shot but I'll still writing one, so I hope you enjoy!! Sorry it too so long to get out, I've gotten back into classes and got somewhat busy but I'm still making time to write. Anyways I do hope you enjoy sorry it does suck I tried my best! Reader is a bit feisty and sassy bc I don't like Y/Ns who don't have no back bone and as usual spelling errors. Reader is the same height as Akane, 5'7.

Plot: Hanging out with your short boyfriend during a free period and you both got into a small disagreement and he decides to lighten up the mood a bit.

!!Female Reader!!

Character(s) being used: Fuyuhiko

You and Fuyuhiko have been dating for a while now and you both attend Hopes peak together. But due to your height some people find it funny how Fuyuhiko looks more shorter than he usual does when he stand next to you but he always shuts up the person before they can even finish their sentence about the height difference between the both of you.

Personally Fuyuhiko doesn't really mind the height difference but it is a bit embarrassing whenever your both kissing and he's the one having to look up as you while you look down at him, but of course he has his moments where you're the one flustered instead of him. He gets flustered at times as well but always tries to avoiding bring up those moments

Anyways everyone was pretty aware of both of you guys relationship and Peko swore to protect you as much as she protects Fuyuhiko, but he sometimes buts in and says that she doesn't to protect you when he's going to be the one doing it.

there were a couple of times when you shut him down and told him you can protect yourself but he reminds you that he's a yakuza so dating him can be slightly dangerous for you but you stood ground and brushed off his words. Regardless both you and Fuyuhiko were a good couple lol

But as for right now, it was a free period and the both of you were in an empty classroom talking. Unfornately you both were in a small argument about how Fuyuhiko almost got both him and Peko in danger when he was trying to get rid of one of his family's gang rivals the other night.

"(Name) I'm telling you it's no big deal alright? Both me and Peko are okay and my dad said he will dea-" Before he can finish his sentence you cut him off "It's not about who will deal with the situation or not, it's about how reckless you were being! Like did you ever stop and think 'Hey maybe I should just let my old man deal with this because IM JUST A HIGH SCHOOLER' that is exactly what you should have thought before acting!" You said frowning slightly as your boyfriend took a seat on one of the empty desk in the classroom.

"Listen I get what you're saying but they were on my back alright? I care for both me and Peko's life but they were getting to annoying and they had it coming.." He sighed and looked to the ground and crossed his arms, he did feel slightly guilty for almost putting himself and Peko into danger and making you worry wasn't making feel any less guilty but he would be lying if you lecturing him like a child didn't annoy him, but to avoiding getting the argument even worse he kept his mouth shut.

"Well next time can you try to hold back and think before you act? Jeezs I almost feel bad for Peko for having to deal with you at times." You wanted to face palm at his actions but seeing how he actually did feel guilty over his action, you decided to let him off the hook "But I guess for this time, I'll look past it but don't do it again alright?" You crossed your arms and lean against the wall behind you.

He looked up at you then smiled "Yeah yeah I get your words, just stop lecturing me as if I'm your damn kid" He stood up and walked over to you chuckling lightly "Then stop acting like one-" Before you can even finish your sentence, Fuyuhiko then slammed his hand on the wall behind you and grinned "I said stop trying like one alright? I'm your boyfriend (Name), not a kid".

You didn't know how to respond back as you were caught off guard and flustered by his actions as Fuyuhiko stood his ground, despite the obvious height difference knowing that he was able to still make you flustered and embarrassed did make him feel smug.

"Fuyuhiko.." You paused and looked as your smug looking boyfriend as he grin grew slightly as he waited for you to continue "You're just so cute at times" You smiled and hugged him as it was now his turn to be flustered as he blushed slightly then hugged you back "Seriously, You can't just say shit like that out of nowhere...it's ridiculous" "Then don't act all big like that out of nowhere" You giggled as he just scoffed at your words and enjoyed this small moment between the both of you.

The bell did ring signaling that the free period was over, you better not go trying anyone about the cute moment you just spent with your boyfriend or else he'll seriously be even more embarrassed and slightly annoyed.

Hope you enjoy - Manji

[yinora-evergreen]

HIII BABES i saw u write for spn so here's a req if ur willing !!

can i have a sam x genderfluid reader (or nonbinary is fine !) where reader saves sam from a monster attack and ends up tagging along w him and dean, during which sam kind of follows them around and admires them a lot ??

thanksss xx and hope ur enjoying the show

a/n: SURE THING BABE!! im actually so excited because this is my very first supernatural request, so thats really cool! i love the username btw, and the banner thing on your profile, really mixing my hyperfixations there! (dead boy detectives + supernatural) if you want another part, or another prompt whatsoever just request!

pairing: Sam Winchester x genderfluid!hunter!reader, platonic!Dean Winchester x reader, set with season 2 in mind (Dean doesn't have a deal yet)

note: i am not personally genderfluid, so im sorry if there are any inaccuracies, i tried my best with the knowledge i have. reader rides a purple motorcycle, Dean and reader are little shits to eachother but we love it here. reader is a badass because i said so. reader knows about Dean and Sam because of Bobby. reader is mentioned to wear eyeliner once. reader likes metallica (same)

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

it started with a simple case, it was a quick vamp nest, in and out.

what they hadn't thought of, was the fact that maybe, maybe, the kind woman who was hitting on both of them at the bar at an ungodly hour might've been a vamp too, and perhaps wanted to get rid of them, keep them away from her oh-so-lovely nest.

so here they are, tied up, gagged with a cloth, vamps practically circling them.

Sam could count 4 in sight, and atleast three taking naps a few feet away.

while Sam racks his mind for a solution, Dean can't help but shoot a wink to the vampire who hit on them at the bar a few hours ago, trying to act as chill as he can.

suddenly, all four of the circling vampires look up at the sound of a motercycle, and before they know it one comes crashing through the wooden wall, a guy with a helmet, you, being on top of it.

you jump off the motorcycle, letting it crash right into two vampires and lodging them against the opposite wall while you take out your machete, slashing at the other two, cutting their heads off with great skill.

next, the three napping vampires wake up, and immediately fling themselves at you.

you avoid them, dodging as if its a walk in the park, and cut off their head too.

for a second, you forget about the last two vamps, who are now free from your motorcycle, and charging at you.

one of them manages to knick your arm, leaving a small cut, and the other just completely misses, her leg having been crushed from the crash.

you handle them both pretty well, slashing at them and effectively killing them.

you take off your helmet, letting out a relieved sigh.

"damn, it better not be broken too bad" you mumble as you walk over and set your motorcycle upright again.

you hear muffled... something, coming from one of the guys tied to the pole, and see them both looking at you.

"oh, right, people" you mumble, taking a few long strides to get to them, first removing the cloth from their mouth and then the rope from their hands.

"you two good?" you ask, helping them up.

"how the fuck did you do that?" the shorter one asks, running a hand through his short hair.

"lets see, training, training, practice, did i mention training?" you say sarcastically, earning a chuckle from the tall one.

"hey, that was pretty cool, im taking it you're a hunter? we are too, im Sam and this is my brother Dean" he says with a smile, it reminds you of a golden retriever.

"wait, your last name doesn't happen to be Winchester, right?" you reply with a small smile of your own.

"its nice to meet you, i'm [name], i heard of you two from Bobby"

"well, your motorcycle seems pretty fucked, one of its tires is going empty and there's a piece hanging loose" Dean comments, dusting off his hands.

"oh for fuck's sake, i just got it fixed!" you groan in annoyance.

"oh, you can tag along with us if you want, we got a motel nearby" Sam offers sweetly, earning an elbow in the ribs from Dean.

"thanks, but i'm good, i got a motel room nearby too, infact, it wouldn't surprise me if we got the same one. Sunshine's Seashell Motel?" Sam looks surprised, Dean just looks annoyed.

"right, great, we'll see you tomorrow, maybe" Dean comments, before grabbing Sam's arm and practically dragging him away.

you smile to yourself, shaking your head before walking out aswell, going back to the motel.

the next morning, you put on a tanktop and some comfy jeans, matched with a flannel. you walk out, hair loose and some eyeliner on.

you walk out front to bring back your key, a duffelbag over your shoulder. you thank the worker behind the desk, and hear mumbling behind you.

you turn to the sound, and see Sam and Dean standing there, Dean making a face while Sam seems to talk wide eyed.

"im telling you Dean, that's the guy who saved our asses last night!"

"bullshit! thats just some girl in a flannel who looks like him, im sure of it!"

you smile, and decide to walk over to them. "hey boys! rested up from the whole thing yesterday?" you can't help but grin at Dean's flabbergasted face.

"im sorry, but i could swear you were a guy last night" Dean says, looking very confused.

"i was" you say cassually, walking along with them as they exit the motel and walk to their car, which you can't help but admire.

"what?" Dean looks even more confused, and Sam speaks up.

"genderfluid, Dean, she's genderfluid" Sam looks almost interested in you, but you shrug it off for admiration or something.

"atleast, i think thats it, right?" you nod, coming to a stop as Dean just shakes his head in disbelief and gets into the drivers seat, dumping his bag in the back, and Sam is about to go into the passengers seat before he looks at you.

"you wanna come with us? we're going to Bobby's, and im guessing your motorcycle isnt in a driving state." he smiles kindly at you, and you can swear he checks you out with his eyes before you shake it off.

"yeah, that'd be great, actually, thanks" you get in the back of the car, a grumbled scoff coming from Dean.

the moment he turns on the car, metallica 'sad but true' comes blasting throught the speakers, and you bob your head along the beat.

"ah, i see you actually have style! you know what, you can drive with us whenever you want" Dean says with a shit eating grin, earning and eyeroll from Sam.

"right, so she likes your music, and suddenly its all fine?" he scoffs and looks out of the window.

you can't stop the fluttering feeling in your chest.

maybe, for once, hunting can bring you something good, something better than just saving people.

maybe it can bring you your best ally you'll ever gain.

maybe it'll grant you a lover.

little do you know, that Sam is looking at you through the mirror, admiration apparent in his gaze, and he looks away again. he looks at Dean, who gives him a knowing look.

his brother is down bad already.

[ohbo-ohno]

.. that purge playlist screenshot got me thinking..

the annual purge has started. Soap is confident in himself, staying alive tonight. Locked up in his home, which is out of the way and secured properly(he’s an explosives expert, what did you expect?), so, yeah! He’s making it through. He already does enough killing in his job, he doesn’t want to spend leave doing what he’s no doubt gonna do when he gets back.

all’s well, it’s late, and Soap’s getting ready to head off to bed in his basement. Simple, easy, super secure. He’d hear anyone trying to get in, and his weapons are right at his side! An easy night! .. right?

it’s late. Or early? It’s still dark out when he jolts awake to a crash. Did- did something just break? Where was it? He climbed out of his little makeshift bed, grabbing his gun, just in case.

goes upstairs, there’s nothing there.. musta been a ‘coon! Yeah.

except, it wasn’t. When Soap gets back down into the basement after doing a quick patrol of the house, someone’s down there. A big hulking someone who looks.. familiar.

before he can put his finger on it, that big someone lunges for him, pulling Soap’s back against his big chest as he wraps his hands wrap around his throat, cutting off his air.

that’s when it hits him. That smell. That’s Ghost’s cologne!

uhhh the brainworms stopped brainworming so blah blah Soap wakes up, groggy and chained to a bed. Not his own. Tries to look around, all he sees is the large bed he’s laying on in a dark room. maybe an hour or so later, someone comes down into the room. Ghost. Mmmmakes a comment about how Soap was out longer than he thought he would be, how he should have closed the door behind him going back down into his basement, uhhhhahhdsh yeah

(this is really fucking long I’m so sorry feel free to ignore I JUST HAD TO GET THIS OUT sorry if you don’t want long things like this sent into your inbox 😭😭)

-👑

that purge playlist is because im writing a ghoap x reader purge au (that i hope to have finished today) for the love of my life lumi

there's soooo much you can do with a purge au!!! you could have ghost use soap as basically a hunting dog, dragging victims to his master for him to kill. you could have reader as a bonkers insane murderer who ghoap become obsessed with after see her kill someone. you could have poor ol' johnny get taken and kidnapped :/

i loooooove your idea, and i'll add a tiny little layer to it if you don't mind:

maybe johnny's a barista and ghost is one of his regulars. he comes in at the same time everyday (not super weird at a coffee shop) and always waits in johnny's line, even if the other line is shorter. he's intense and creepy as hell, barely ever speaking - as soon as johnny figured out his regular order, he stopped speaking at all. he gives johnny heebie-jeebies, but he tips like $20 every day, so whatever

except the day of the purge, he finally speaks. says something super generic like "goin' out tonight?" and johnny gives back an easy answer (no, i'm no fool, smth like that), and ghost says "good. make sure you don't leave your place. never know who you might run into out there."

which like. creepy, but no creepier than ghost (which is the name he always gives, and there's no way it's his actual name yeah?) has ever been. johnny brushes it off, forgets it by lunch

and of course, simon is very glad to see his boy listened to him when he stops by his apartment that night and sees he's locked in. too bad he couldn't afford a better security system

[lightfeltmemories]

hello!! <333

(sorry for poor grammar or language mistakes, english is not my first language😭😭) (also this is my first time requesting something, AND I'M NOT A MINOR, i turned 19 a month ago <33)

your writing is AMAZINGGG AGHHHH

nah but srsly the way you write the characters is sooo realistic, i hate fanfiction where the characters are written totally different from how they actually are, but the way you write the characters IS SO CANONNN

i'm already in love with ur blog🆘

sooo ummm im requesting for non-con w feitan🙏

anyways ily pls be healthy

aww, thank you so much! i do get a bit insecure about how i potray characters and this just made my evening! and sadly, you didn't provide a storyline, you know, specifically what you wanted to happen aside from the non con (how they meet, whether the reader is apart of the troupe or not etc etc) so i decided to make my own storyline so i hope this is nice! also, because it's easier to write imo the reader is afab with she/her pronouns.

BUNNY.

feitan x female!reader | nsfw

tags: there is a bit of chrollo x reader however it's still mainly feitan x reader, reader insert goes by the name "bunny" to avoid using things such as y/n not to mention it's a lot easier to memorize,

tw's: heavy non-con (obviously), blood, slight gore, torture usual feitan shit, reader pisses herself (thought it would be interesting to add), dacryphilia, anal

notes: this took a lot longer than expected, i'm not the most proud of this piece so sorry if it's not ground breaking or the most descriptive literally ever, this will also be posted on my ao3

w; 4,227

minors, ageless or blank blogs do not interact

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

"let me go! let me the fuck go!"

she yelled as the restraints on her arms and legs were tightly bound to the seat beneath her, she tried biting at anyone who dared to touch her.

in front of her was the dead body of her last comrade, his face was unrecognizable due to how much blood covered it, cuts and bruises everywhere on his body and all 10 fingernails were peeled off, scattered on the floor.

it was something she was used to seeing, she had saw peoples guts spilled out of their stomach, she had seen peoples heads ripped off of their necks..

but what it's someone she had known for so long in the same fate.. she can't help but feel uneasy.

her captors didn't seem even the slightest bit fazed by her behavior, it's like they're used to people acting this way.

one of them was taller, he lacked eyebrows is a notable feature of his, and the shorter one was pale, with messy black hair, the bottom half of his face was covered by what appears to be some type of scarf.

"she's a feisty one, how do you plan on breaking her?" the blonde said, who she later learned that his name was phinks, and the other's feitan.

"i have something new in mind." is all feitan said.

"alright, i'll leave it to you." phinks takes his leave, all she could do is wonder what he plans on doing to her, she heard that he tortures people, so, she expects to come out with scars.

but little did she know, she was in for something pretty different.

feitan steps closer to her, softly placing his rough, cold hands on her soft cheek, she flinches at the touch, making him pull his hand back at her action.

he stares at her, watches as she tries to break the restraints, only bruising her arms and legs.

"you're too weak." he said.

"either shut up or get me out of here!" she gathers enough saliva and ejects it to his face, spitting on him.

he goes to pull out something, a cloth, to wipe away the spit at his face.

"pathetic little girl.." he walks closer, bending down to her level to admire her features, but all it appears is him staring at her, blankly.

no wonder they call you bunny..

----

there were 15 people apart of a gang, dealing with drugs, getting into fights with other gangs, and other things of the sort, it was dangerous work.

it was all started less than 15 years ago by a man, a 19 year old boy named adrian, who had joined a gang in order to protect his sister from other gangs, the area they lived in was ridden with poverty and crime, murders, rapes and kidnappings happened what seemed like almost every day, anyone was at risk no matter the age or gender.

and throughout the course of these 15 years the crime started to drop, all because of this gang, but after the leader died due to unknown circumstances, most likely murdered, adrian became the leader, and things changed,

adrian became the thing he swore to protect his sister from.

but his sister, now an adult, had gone down her own path of crime, she became more ruthless than that of her brother, at first not wanting her to join, he thought that she would be useful in a way, so, she became the first female member.

because of her cute appearance, they referred to her as "bunny," she may be cute but she's anything but, her face and clothes covered in blood and guts, an arsenal of weapons at her disposal, and, a master manipulator, often times used to "seduce" men into gaining information, but she would never actually sleep with any of them.

things started to take a strange turn when another gang had gotten involved.

the phantom troupe.

how this all started was that the spiders leader, chrollo, had gotten himself involved with bunny, she had to admit, he was a fine, handsome man, he spoke in a way bunny had never even heard of.

for their first "date," he took her to a nice, upscale restaurant, the food was expensive, something bunny may not ever afford, however, it was delectable.

the two of them never actually suspected one another to be apart of any type of gang.. or did they?

things didn't turn out well for obvious reasons, chrollo was using her to get closer to their boss, because apparently, he had something valuable, the details were vague, not even bunny was aware of what the hell was going on, and now her and the rest of the gang were dragged into it, because her boss, no, her brother, had owed someone something.

and it may possibly lead to his death.

when bunny found out, she was pissed, her brother had stolen from the spiders, and now they were after them.

what the hell was bunny going to do against the spiders, she's smart enough to know that she is no match, and that it's sudden death for her if they ever manage to put their anger towards her.

or was it?

bunny was not weak, she was one of the few apart of the gang that used nen, she rarely used it unless it calls for desperate measures, but, her ability consisted of her being able to manipulate her opponents to see their fears.

and she might have to use it against a few members.

but it didn't work.

she was still defeated.

she was the one left standing after the gang, her family, all fell beneath her, at the hands of the phantom troupe.

her brother, adrian, holds his broken, bloodied arm as he limps over to her.

"b-bunny.... get out of here.. you're no match for them... just ru-"

he was cut off with a sword stabbing through his chest, blood staining the concrete floors as she succumbs to his death, the sword is pulled away and his lifeless body falls to the floor.

the one who killed him appears to be a samurai.

bunny felt what appears to be fear for the first time in her adult life, she couldn't move, she just froze..

she shakes at the sight of him, as he slowly moves forward.

she was going to die, there was no doubt about it.

she closes her eyes, preparing for the same fate, but that's not what happened, she's still alive.

"kill everyone else, except for bunny" were the orders given by chrollo according to one of the members; nobunaga, that same samurai that killed her brother.

but why? why was she spared? did chrollo see something in her? was she useful?

"feitan, do whatever you want with her, but don't hurt her too much, and don't spill too much blood."

---

and now were here, she stares into the dark purple eyes of her captor, he steps back from her face.

"what the hell are you doing to do to me?" she asked, she knew now that trying to fight back was useless, the restraints were on far to tightly.

he didn't answer, but goes on to pick up something on a nearby table; a small blade.

she was going to be tortured the same way he was.

he walks to her slowly, pointing the blade at the top of her shirt, slowly lowering the blade down, towards the end of her torso, making a clean slice, the shirt falls apart, revealing her breasts covered by her bra.

at the sight of the medium sized breasts, feitan feels his pants growing tighter, hidden cock twitching at the sight of not only her angered, yet scared expression, but how her breasts sit perfectly up.

but he wanted to drag this on further.

and with one quick slash, the bra is now cut in half, too, her breasts fall out from the now useless bra, revealing only a small bit of her areola whilst the rest is covered by the bra cusps.

now going down to her pants, with the same blade, it cuts smoothly away, slowly revealing her underwear, she didn't want to make any sudden movements, as he might cut her skin if he does.

the pants were now cut in half, her clothes were ripped in half to reveal the most intimate parts of her.

feitan goes on to untie the restraints.

"any sudden movements, and i'll kill you." he said lowly.

it was useless to fight back now, she got the hint on what he was planning on doing, he wanted to break her in another way, not in the usual torture way.

but by fucking her, whether she wanted it or not.

the restraints were removed, but before she could even think about moving, the blade was held to her neck, so close that it poked her, but not enough to draw blood.

"on your knees."

slowly dropping to the floor to get on her knees, she listens to every command he orders.

"remove your clothes."

she removes her shirt, bra, shoes, pants and underwear, she's naked, while he remains fully clothed, looking down at her pathetic frame, she could've sword a small chuckle was heard from him.

this guy was menacing.

he starts to shuffle with his pants, pulling them down only to reveal his leaking cock.

for his small size, it was just slightly above average, but enough to do something without causing any pain.

it was hard as a brick, was he turned on by her suffering.

he grabs the back of her head, and pushes her head towards his cock, forcing her lips to part around the head, he pushes himself down her throat, making her gag, pulling out with a single strip of saliva trailing it.

"a stupid bitch you are, can't even take my cock down your throat."

she wanted to punch his head off right then and there, clutching her fists as his cock re enters her mouth, but he didn't push all the way to her throat, going slow as he pulls and pushes in and out of her mouth.

she felt small drips of his precum touch her tongue, feitan pulled at her hair to remove her from his cock again, and pushes her face to his balls, forcing her to smell them, for a minute she realizes what he's trying to do, she pulls out her tongue out to lick the base of his cock.

"good girl." he tells her. "now you try on your own."

he officially removes his hand from her hair completely, he now expects her to suck his cock on her own.

she wraps her hand around his cock and begins to pump back and forth as her mouth follows behind, the pace gradually grows faster, the sounds of her soft moans and saliva begin to fill a part of the room.

his hand returns to the back of her head while his other goes to remove her hand that is pumping away at his cock, only wanting her mouth, helping her move at the pace he wants her, he moves his hips back and fourth a little faster than her, every time the tip touches the back of her throat she gags, rejecting him.

he wants to bypass her gag reflex, not caring at all for her gags.

"thats right, choke on it.." he says to himself, he sees the tears forming in the corner of her eyes, enjoying the sight of her wet eyes, because he's the one thats causing it.

a girl who came in oh so mighty and oh so tough, is now slowly but surly falling apart at his hands, he is slowly undoing her, and he loves it.

he can't help but go just a bit deeper, to her her lips touch the small amounts of pubic hair he has, she squeezes her eyes shut as she tries not to gag, a grin creeps up from behind his scarf, she's trying oh so hard.

"poor bunny, is my cock too much for you?" he mocks. "don't worry, it'll all be over soon.."

he pushes as far as he can, her cute, soft, delicate features will soon be covered in his semen, pulling away from her mouth to pump away at his cock, shooting out small amounts before more and more cover her face, shooing away at her hair, mouth and cheeks, and once he was done, he lets go of her now messy hair, viewing what he had done.

she uses her index finger to remove some of it from her face.

"taste it." he commands her.

looking down at the substance, the blade returns to her face, reminding her that he can and will kill her if she doesn't obey.

her tongue grazes the liquid, before sticking her whole finger in her mouth, tasting the salty, murky substance.

"not so bad, right?"

"i guess not." she responds.

"bend over on the table, over there." he commands again.

she stands up to walk over to the table, despite for how long she had been sitting on her legs making them a bit weak, she bends over on the table, sticking her ass forward for him to see.

viewing her ass, feitan grazes his hand over one of her cheeks, giving it a good hard slap, making her jump, and tighten her legs shut.

after seeing her reaction, he had gotten an idea.

feitan walks to a part of the room she couldn't see in her peripheral vision, before returning mere seconds later with something long and lanky in his hands.

was that.... a belt? or a whip? or maybe a mixture of the two.

after he managed to make it over to her, the leather piece of whatever-the-hell-it-was softly grazes the other cheek, before a hard, painful slap hits her, making her throw her head back, and borderline scream in pain.

"that was 1, out of 10."

just 10 more to go, hopefully he doesn't raise the number... hopefully.

another smack, this time on her left check.

"2."

and another on her right.

"3."

and another, on her left.

"4."

but he stopped, for a short moment, he see's her trembling, her legs especially, her cheeks were red, she gripped the end of the table, tears welling up in her eyes, she tried not to give him what he wanted, she tried not to sob.

but something else came out as well.

she feels herself let loose, as warm liquid falls to the floor.

feitan watched as she, quite frankly, pissed herself.

and we didn't even get to number 5.

feitan shakes his head in disappointment. "how old are you?"

"what?"

"i said how old are you?"

"uh... 23?"

......

"i'll raise the number to 23."

"damnit." she said to herself, why did she have to piss herself? she couldn't have just held it in a little longer?

"but i'll be nice this time and start from 5.. you were good up until then... you count this time."

he resumes, this time again on her left, and waits for her response.

"if you don't respond, we'll have to start over."

"5..." she stutters out, through her tears, she couldn't help it, he was hitting her so hard, and it hurts.. so fucking bad.

on her right cheek.

"6..."

she let out a few quiet sobs, not even close to the last 2 digits.

on her left cheek.

"7..."

her tears started to stain the table, she wept, and screamed at each smack.

on her right cheek.

"8..."

it kept going on, and on, and on, until she finally reached 23, she felt like she would almost pass out by the amount of pain she had to endure, not even period cramps were this bad, and that was saying a lot.

her pussy still moist from her piss, feitan had gotten an idea, but for him, it was still far too early for it.

he flips her on her back, getting a good view of her, her clit was peaking through the lips.

normally, he wouldn't care much for the pleasure of the person he's sleeping with, it was all to chase his own pleasure, however.. something came to him.

just fucking her senseless won't do for now, he wanted to see her completely undone, of course he was halfway there, she still looked at him with hatred and disgust.

but he wanted to hear her moan, to at least hear her beg for more of him.

and he knew exactly what to do.

using his middle and index finger, he pushes her lips apart, revealing her clitoris in all its glory, it sits unbothered and for now untouched.

for now.

he starts off with soft, teasing touches, in the most sensitive areas.

for her, it wasn't painful, no, it was pleasurable.

he wanted her to feel pleasure, all to boost his ego.

that he'll for sure break her.

she tries not to make any sound, its easy, but she can't lay here and lie by saying it didn't feel good, it did, in fact, it felt amazing.

especially when he goes on to remove his scarf, revealing his face entirely, she doesn't know if its because of what he's doing, but he isn't all that bad looking.

he pulls out his tongue to softly lap at her sensitive clit, her legs twitch at the sensation and she throws her head back, damn, it really did feel good.

she couldn't help but let out at least a couple cute soft moans, but, he heard them, continuing to lick away, he pressed his lips against it to suck, making her, unknowingly, slip out a groan, urging him to continue.

his plan was working, she was moaning for him to continue, just to take things to the next level, he sticks two fingers inside of her gaping, wet entrance, curling his fingers to find that spot.

and once he did, her reaction did not disappoint.

"f-fei!"

he didn't stop, but continued doing the thing that made her yell out his name.

music to his ears.

"f-fuck..." she gasped as she felt herself already nearing her orgasm.

but he felt her start to tense up, and he backed away, watching her, watching him.

she looked at him as if he was crazy, she could see the amused smile on his face as he watched her look up at him, her face once again showed those soft features of hers.

"... just like a bunny." he whispered to her.

she scoffs, looking away from him, getting a chuckle out of him, he could see how embarrassed she was, but he'll make sure to wipe that off her face again.

he debated on it, but, he decided to remove his cloak, revealing his fit body, he could tell by the way she looked at her, she was surprised he hid all of that underneath him.

she didn't know how or what to feel.. no.. she can't grow attracted to her captor, no... no...

quickly looking away from him, he starts to put his cock near her entrance.

"whats wrong?" he asks her.

she looks back up again.

"fuck.. he's so...." in her head, an eternal conflict, but for sure, her body would show it.

feitan looks down to see her producing the lube for him.. "it seems like your body is telling me what you think..." slowly pushing in his tip, then forwarding a little more, watching her reaction, she looks in anticipation as she teasingly enters her.

until he reaches it, making her tense up, curling her toes.

"don't be shy.. let me know how good it feels.." he starts to slowly back in, and back out, softly making contact with her sweet spot.

her breathing became manual, as she watches his thick, yet averagely long cock appears then disappear inside her, using his thumb to play with her swollen, needy clit once more.

she bites her lip to keep shut, she saw how he reacted when she moaned, she wanted to make him work for it.

"playing that game, are we?" he asks her.

"yeah, i guess we a-AH!"

he uses his index and middle finger to pinch her clit, making her yelp.

"there it is.." he said to himself, he thrusts faster, hitting her spot each second, her breathing started to get heavier, and vocal.

she couldn't help but let a few moans slip out as he played with her clit, while pounding away inside of her.

he hasn't even been in for less than 5 minutes and she already feels herself reaching her end, squeezing tight on his cock.

"f-fuck... fe-f-..."

"say it, my whole name.."

"f-f-fei...feitan... please..."

"please what?"

"please... make me cum..."

feitan lets out a short laugh, seeing her beg underneath him, seeing her spirit is fully broken.

the sight itself makes him want to cum.

he pulls out from her, making her whine for more, but he had gotten an idea, he observes her body, figuring out how this plan will go.

he wants to try something different.

flipping her over on her stomach, he parts her cheeks to view the second, more tighter yet often forbidden hole.

she looks back to view what he was trying to do, and realizes that he wanted to fuck her ass.

she wasn't ready.

"w-wait! i don't take it up there!"

feitan shoots a glare at her, making her relax.

he gathers some of her slick and coats it on both her ass and his cock, before pressing his tip against the hole, but she tightens it.

"relax." he tells her.

"i'm trying.. but.." she tries to unclench, but every time his tip presses it makes her tense up again.

feitan slowly sticks a finger inside to get her used to it, pushing it back and forth.

she tightly grips the table once again as even his finger was too big for her, she didn't want to clench since it would make it even more uncomfortable for her.

but, feitan was feitan, he didn't necessarily care, if anything he wanted to see how she would react to his cock pounding at her ass, he easily slides in with the help of lube; created by her.

she borderline screams out, as he was only halfway inside of her, the new, uncomfortable feeling was too much for her to handle.

"what happened to the bunny before?" feitan was at this point in all the way.

she couldn't answer, at this point, he got what he wanted, just by her being here, he already won.

because of how tight she was, he wasn't able to move as freely as he would if he was inside of her pussy, and even with the use of her slick it was still a bit dry.

grabbing her still bruised cheeks, the sensation still stung, but not as bad as before.

hell, now he was in the position of trying to keep his moans hidden, though not the easiest to move around in, the tightness was it's positive, without the wetness of her pussy.

her ass clapped against him as he thrusted in her, despite how red it is, he couldn't help but deliver a hard slap, making her yelp in pain, her head was thrown back, and feitan catched a few locks of her hair, and starts to pound away, seeing she starts to loosen up just a tiny bit, getting used to his size.

"so.... tight..." he says under his breath, to her it was only mumbles, they didn't even sound like moans.

he tried not to cum so quickly, especially since chrollo had told him not to cum inside of her.

"oh.. oh shit.." she moans softly as he holds on to her hips to keep her steady, noticing how fast he was thrusting; he was getting closer.

and closer.

and closer.

until he swiftly pulls out, and shoots ropes of his semen onto her ass, and lower back, hearing him groan as he pumps his cock.

she was worn out, laying on the table as if it was a bed, she didn't move, staring in the far distance of her long dead comrade.

"what happens now?" she manages to get out, tiredly.

feitan was too busy putting his clothes back on, as if he never even took them off, did he hear her question or was he ignoring her? who knows.

footsteps could be heard in the distance, and then the door opens.

that same blonde guy from earlier.

"so, how'd it go?" phinks asked.

"she gave in pretty easily." feitan replied.

"thought so, those types always do." phinks jokes, followed by a short laugh. "hope you didn't catch feelings or anything, you know what chrollo plans with her, right?"

"no, actually." feitan replied.

phinks looks back at her, still passed out on the table, he walks over to get a closer view. "damn, you sure you didn't kill her? or drug her?" he sounded a bit concerned.

"nope." feitans short response. "she's probably just tired."

"i guess so." phinks takes a look over at her ass, bruised.

the two men talk and converse, but she was too knocked out of it to really pay attention.

she didn't know what she had in store.

[xoxiu]

twinkle - ot7 x reader

chapter 08

table of contents

masterlist

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summary: she had just wanted attention, that’s why she kept texting the strange number, updating him on everything in her life. little did she know how dangerous this relationship actually was. it had been jimin’s idea to kidnap the girl, but the ability to travel across the world to actually do it had been all hoseok’s doing. convenient how some things work, right? they knew that they were destined to have their baby with them, whether she wanted it or not.

tags/warnings: kidnapping, forced age regression, spanking, noncon, mafia au, drug use, stockholm syndrome, caregiver!bts, little!reader, nonsexual, diapers, panic attacks, fluff and angst, sickfic, referenced child abuse, unrequited love

a/n: i wrote this fic in 2018 on ao3 and wattpad, but im putting it here for archival reasons ♡

The end of the day was drawing near, and Jin was too anxious to properly function. Everyone except Jin, Yoongi, and Namjoon were called in for a drug exchange involving a very unpredictable client who had a tendency to skip out on his payments. Not long after that, Ophelia started to gain confidence, considering that the majority of her captors were now gone. She became much more stubborn to the point where she even ended up punching Namjoon in the nose.

"We have to drug her again, Jin," Namjoon said, talking quietly so the child in question wouldn't be able to hear them. She was currently in time-out, sitting in the corner of the kitchen where she was previously this morning. 

"No, I don't want to," Jin replied, running a hand through his hair. "I want her to have at least the freedom of movement. She can relax more that way."

The couple turned around to look at Ophelia, who was quietly sitting with her head leaning against the wall. Jin would most likely have to put her to bed soon after her time in the corner was done- it was long past her bedtime. Jin sighed before speaking again.

"She hasn't eaten at all today, Joon. Nor has she used her diaper or taken-"

"Shh," Namjoon cut him off, "Don't stress about that. Give it time- it's only been a day."

Checking that 10 minutes has passed (and also that it was half past 11, they'd really better get Ophelia to bed soon), Namjoon approached the sleepy girl in the corner and gently picked her up. "Can you say sorry for hurting Appa?"

Silence.

Namjoon only sighed before looking towards Seokjin, but still speaking to Ophelia. "I bet you're hungry, baby. Do you want Eomma or Appa to feed you?"

Silence yet again. 

"Come here, sweetie. Eomma will get you ready for bed while Appa makes you a bottle." Jin took Ophelia from Namjoon and slowly rocked her and hummed a song. Poor thing was too tired to give her usual fuss at being held.

Ophelia was dozed off when Jin entered the nursery, so changing her into her pajamas was much easier than changing her out of them earlier that day. He currently had her on his lap, rocking back and forth in the rocking chair next to her crib. The door opened and Jin expected his boyfriend to enter with the bottle so he could finally put Ophelia to sleep, but Yoongi walked in instead.

"She's finally calmed down?" He cooed, running his hand through the mess of pink hair. Seokjin hummed in agreement, bouncing the girl on his lap slightly to ensure she doesn't fall into a deep sleep just yet.

"She was calm most of the afternoon, only a little fuss before bedtime," Seokjin raised an eyebrow at the shorter blond, "Of course, you would've known that if you left your computer."

"Hey," Yoongi tried defending himself, "I'm the only one here that works 24/7. Give me a break." Seokjin rolled his eyes right as Namjoon walked into the room.

"I'm going to take a shower and head to bed," Namjoon said, handing the bottle over to Jin, "She doesn't have to drink it all- she's pretty tired out." Namjoon bent down to press a kiss to the top of Ophelia's head and then one to Jin's lips before leaving the room. Right before he left, he turned to Yoongi, "You should get some sleep, too. You and Tae are going to be the only ones home in the morning, and you're not sleeping in until noon and leaving Taehyung alone with Ophelia the entire time."

Yoongi followed Namjoon out of the nursery with an "Alright, I'll wake up at eleven," which promptly got him a playful smack on the head from the younger. Seokjin chuckled softly before placing his attention back on Ophelia. 

"Daddy's silly, isn't he?" Jin bounced her again, resulting in a whine from Ophelia who only wanted to sleep. Jin cooed at the sleepy girl, giving a kiss to her head as well. "You can sleep after your bottle, okay, bug?"

Once the bottle in question was brought to Ophelia's attention, she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, wanting anything but the bottle near her lips. In her weak and tired state, Jin was easily able to move her hand back down to her lap. "None of that, baby," Jin whispered as he put the nipple between Ophelia's lips, facing only minimal resistance.

Frustrated tears formed in the corners of her eyes; Ophelia just wanted to sleep and have this nightmare end already. Her stomach sabotaged her, and soon she found herself frantically drinking the vanilla flavored milk. Jin's hand not holding the bottle started stroking Ophelia's hair, making Ophelia tense up slightly.

After a few more minutes the bottle was empty, and Ophelia was back on the brink of sleep. Jin continued to gently rock back and forth before placing her in the crib, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

Taehyung was too excited to sleep. He woke up at 5 in the morning hoping that Ophelia would be awake only to have his hopes crushed when he saw her still fast asleep on the baby monitor. For the next two hours, Taehyung went back and forth from trying to sleep to checking the monitor.

By 7, everyone except Yoongi and Taehyung had left for work. Taehyung took this as the perfect opportunity to wake Ophelia up and get her ready for the fun day the two of them had ahead of them. Entering the nursery, he almost had a heart attack at the sight of Ophelia cuddled in her blankets with her stuffies surrounding her, dressed in a brown bear footed onesie. It got rather cold that night, but Ophelia looked warm and cozy under her pile of blankets. 

"Baby," Taehyung cooed, "It's time to wake up." He picked up the sleepy girl with a smile while Ophelia whined, wanting to go back to sleep. Before she could fully wake up, Taehyung quickly changed her diaper and put her in day clothes- a yellow and red striped shirt and overalls. 

"You are so cute!" Taehyung squealed, covering Ophelia's face with kisses. When he pulled back, he was met with an angry scowl, which he still thought was adorable.

Taehyung picked Ophelia back up, and immediately Ophelia dug her sharp nails into his arms. "Ow!" Taehyung let out an overexaggerated hiss of pain, "Lia! That hurts!" When Ophelia refused to stop the assault, Taehyung placed her back in the crib. Looking down at his arm, he noticed blood was starting the form on the crescent-shaped scars. Ophelia, however, showed no remorse, and laid herself back down and wrapped a blanket around herself. 

"That wasn't very nice, baby," Taehyung said, bending down to make eye contact with the girl. "Say you're sorry and then we can go eat some yummy pancakes."

Ophelia was quiet for a moment, carefully observing Taehyung's face. She could apologize and get on with her day, but that was the last thing she wanted. 

"Fuck off."

Taehyung sighed, desperately wanting her to apologize so nothing would escalate. "Do I have to go wake up Daddy? He won't be too happy to hear that his little girl is being bratty so early in the morning."

"Fuck off." Ophelia rolled facing away from Taehyung now, further swaddling herself in the pink blanket. She no longer cared about how 'Daddy' felt.

Without a word, Taehyung left the nursery. He didn't plan on waking up Yoongi- he wasn't that stupid- but instead wanted Ophelia to sit and calm herself down. He went downstairs and sat on the couch, playing games on his phone to pass the time. A door slamming upstairs caught his attention, and he immediately ran back up the stairs. 

The first thing he saw was the door to the nursery wide open, and Tae started to panic. Just to make sure, he quickly checked to confirm whether or not Ophelia had left the room. The crib was empty, and there was no sign of the girl. 

Taehyung began checking every room upstairs but still couldn't find Ophelia. The only room he hadn't checked was Yoongi and Jimin's room, but the chances of her being in there were slim since Yoongi still resided in there. Just to make sure, Taehyung tried turning the knob, only to find it locked. 

The door to the library opened, and Taehyung saw a flash of pink hair fly down the stairs. Taehyung was certain he looked in there- how could he not have seen her? After a moment of confusion, the taller man ran after her until she locked herself in the bathroom.

Tae kept pulling at the handle in hopes it would magically open, and loudly cursed when it wouldn't budge. "Lia," he pleaded, resting his forehead on the door, "Please open up." He could hear through the door Ophelia's shuddering breaths, indicating she was crying. 

On the other side of the door, Ophelia curled herself into a ball in the corner of the large bathroom. She honestly didn't know what happened in the past half hour, but the more she dwelled on the threat of 'Daddy' dealing with her behavior, the more she remembered the last time he had dealt with it as well. She tried her best to convince herself it was all a sick joke, but then remembered how much it had hurt, and how embarrassing it was, and how much she just wanted to go home. 

The feeling in her legs had thankfully returned enough for her to run for her life basically, and explore the house she was imprisoned in just enough to find an exit or hiding place. Thankfully she was small, so she could fit almost anywhere. It was a surprise, however, when Taehyung had walked right past her hiding under the computer desk as if he wasn't actually looking for her. 

Once the knocking and talking outside the bathroom stopped, Ophelia didn't know whether to stop panicking or panic even harder. Her brain just felt so overwhelmed, and her tears had a mind of their own at this point. 

Even though she hated it, Ophelia wanted to be back home. She would take the insults and beer bottles thrown at her over whatever her current situation was any day. Although she often cried and complained over having to play mom over Rose, she missed how the baby would calm down whenever she so much as heard Ophelia's voice. She was essentially that baby's whole world, and now she was gone. Ophelia couldn't imagine how Rose was currently being treated, but only hoped that her brother had the sense to take her and leave the house immediately. Ophelia felt guilty for leaving them to fend for themselves.

Taehyung had given up trying to get Ophelia to open the door herself, and resorted to calling Seokjin to see what he should do. 

"Calm down, Taehyung-ah," Seokjin said, trying to calm down the panicking man, "Go get Yoongi and see what he can do. I'll try to be home by noon."

Taking Seokjin's advice, Taehyung went to wake Yoongi up. After knocking, the still half-asleep man opened the door with a glare, almost daring Taehyung to say something.

"Hyung, Ophelia locked herself in the bathroom and I don't know-" Yoongi cut him off with a groan, saying he'd be down in a minute. 

Taehyung went back to sit in front of the bathroom door, feeling like a failure. 

Taehyung still felt dejected even after Yoongi had pried the door open. He felt more pain than Ophelia did as he heard the loud spanks from inside the bathroom, tearing up himself as her cries echoed throughout the house. 

Yoongi still had her in his arms as he made her bottle, gently shushing her when her sobs started to increase. Since her punishment had ended a while ago, Taehyung knew the sobs now were from whatever was going through the little's head. Taehyung hesitantly entered the kitchen, and Ophelia briefly looked up at him from where she was previously hiding her face in Yoongi's shoulder. When her puffy red eyes still glassy with tears met his own, he almost wanted to break down crying. 

Turning around, Yoongi noticed Taehyung's discomfort and concern over the little in his arms. "She's fine, Tae." He confirmed, rubbing her back soothingly. "My little one's always calm and well-behaved after a spanking, isn't she?" Ophelia let out a cough in return. Taehyung was concerned she'd make herself sick from crying so much. 

"Does she... need anything?" 

Yoongi hummed in thought, bouncing Ophelia in his arms when she started fussing slightly. "Maybe her pacifier will settle her a bit after her bottle." 

Taehyung walked away to retrieve the item, with the older man adding on as he left, "Make sure you grab the strap as well."

[wuahae]

haaaiiii im back :3 Ready to get stuffed!

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.) 

HE IS SOOOOSDFMSDFMSDFLDFK

Here, the streets are lined with dense cherry plum trees, wine-stained and fragrant. They frame driftwood-paneled shop windows housing kitschy art galleries, mom-and-pop bakeries, and patioed bistros with striped awnings. 

unfortunately you know my struggle with descriptions intimately well so as per course i Will always give you your flowers when you just casually cook up imagery like this... your brain is so big.. imagination so wide.

“I was busy, cricket.” He holds up a copy of Complete Advanced Piano Solos and wrinkles his nose. He's hoping you’d laugh with him about it, but you’ve already moved on, now fixated on the shining columns of electric guitars. “I wanted to ask about, you know, all the new stuff going on.” 

this makes me sooo like. clutches throat. like the love is so clearly there but there is just so many things in the past and in between and in the future that neither of you know how to navigate the new relationship... jeonghan who just wants his little sister back and yn who just wants her big brother to be the way he Used to but neither of you are the same version of yourselves that you miss... ohhh......

The arranged marriage I'm doing for you? I split my heart open for you, and that’s the thanks I get? 

ouu....... well its true .!

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

B-B-B-B-BUSINESS PROPOSAL?!?!?!?!!

A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air. 

OHHHHHH MY GOD............. i need him bad........ also the subtle changing.. Yeah. also the fact that you bought the guitar for him is so fucking cute like. UGHHHH they're learning to love each other.

“Have you ever been in love before?” 

josh initiating the heart-to-heart...

There is an impossible hollowness inside you. You imagine Joshua, twenty-one and bright-eyed at Cambridge, hiding beneath the arch of the cobblestone bridge, the long one behind the quad, to carve hearts into the limestone. There's a girl wrapped in his jacket, her laughter like bells. She draws him close, runs a delicate hand through his hair, a shorter cut, more sporty than it is now. The night is still just as kind, forgiving, as it is now, and the moon still round like a young pearl.  / “Because it would mean that it didn’t end in vain. That it wasn’t really my fault.” 

FUCK.......... fuck...... joshua......... also just to talk about this scene Here i just. really like this scene. like ik i said the piano scene is my fav but This scene is honestly tied as my fav i think you perfected the quaintness and like. fond somberness. so well. the quiet speech, the long silences filled by narration, short sentences that almost seem like they're overstepping but theyre Not.. not when they're being said into the open quiet air like this. not when theyre being said to each other... FUCK!!! i Am a visual reader you know this and when i tell you i can picture this scene perfectly in my head. i think i said this before in my First review but you really have a way of forming sentences that make my brain chew on the cadence... very satisfying. i love this scene a lot. i love josh and yn a lot.

It’s getting cold, the twilight breeze now coming in from the sea. A silence, now sticky, caustic, settles between the two of you. The thought of Joshua, hopelessly in love, a line you hadn’t even dared to cross, seems to wind itself deep into your neurons. 

like this is so good... winds itself deep into your neurons...... dawg you are winding THIS into my neurons. also idk. i like how it paints a softer image of joshua that yn would never have imagined before,,, i love when onions peel back more layers!! also the kiss that undos all the other ones. like its the first time because it is.. the first time they mean it. 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Kinda, you had replied noncommittally. All Jeonghan did lately was start his sentences with remember, like he wanted you to forget who he was now.

MAN. MAN!!!! they just make me soooo sad and tender i love sibling duos so bad...

Like all of your great ideas, it began in the back of a car. 

PLAY THROAT GOAT BY KIM PETRAS HELL YEAH

Now things are more confusing than late-stage Grey’s Anatomy, but good luck explaining that over the phone.

HELPWMEMSFDLKDFSFD

Under the cornflower sky of a near-autumn, the forest seems endless. A flock of geese split the sky in two; a warm breeze haunts the canopy, scattering the afternoon light. The dirt under you is soft, peaty from the morning rain. The hoofbeats are silent today.  Jeonghan’s horse slows so that you ride side-by-side. 

leaning back in my rocking chair with a cup of tea in my hand and a throw blanket over my lap... how nice...

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “But the rest—definitely my fault. I made myself busy because I felt like I had to.”  You’re growing to really hate that word. Jeonghan had to grow up, Joshua had to break up with his first love, you had to learn to pick up all the pieces of both of these things and try to fit them back into your life.  “You didn’t even look back.”  “I was scared, cricket. That if I kept looking back, I wouldn't be able to go forward. And I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I did. I think there was a happy middle somewhere, I just couldn’t find it.” 

reading this section with a perpetual ☹️ look on my face... whyyy do i feel like crying MSDFMSDFLKS they make me so tender... siblings can just be so personal. i didn't want to leave you behind but i did... but he's staying for good now. he missed home (you) too much. FUCK! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 also its like therapy for yn idk.. to not be cast aside, to not be forgotten, to be Seen again... man....

“I think the only dancing I know how to do is half drunk in the dark. Can’t exactly throw it back on you in front of God and country.”  Joshua grins, a big one, and you, traitorously, feel your cheeks get prickly.  “I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases.  “And country’s already seen it all.”  “They should consider themselves very lucky, then.” His eyes meet yours, lit by the scattered light of the chandelier. “It's my turn to ask you to let me lead.” 

he is just SO charming... also things falling into place when you kiss him again. BABY YOU'RE IN LOOOVEEEE

 “I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.” 

SHOCKED PIKACHU..... the devastating L word....

Saying it is like getting peeled back, terrible layer by layer, like you wrapped a hand around your heart and ripped it out your chest. And yet you’re glowing, newly-bitten with something that feels like freedom.   “I thought you said I was perfect,” Joshua says, the pink of his lips already unraveling into a smile. This one, you think, finally reaches his eyes.  “Shush, you—” And amongst a chorus of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (which would be, quite frankly, humiliating in any other scenario), you finally give in to your adoring public, and kiss. 

HUUUUUUUU THEYRE SOOOOO CUTE.... YN FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!! i love to see my yns happy i really do... the smile finally reaching josh's eyes too oh my god... YOUR HONOR THEYRE IN LOVE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.” 

GOD HES SO LAAAMEEEMDFSJLSDFKM

He produces a small box. It’s different from the first one, the one he used all those months ago when nothing mattered. Inside it, a new ring, something far simpler and more beautiful. Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.”  And you say yes, for the very first time.

a simpler ring this time.. one that suits you so much better than the glitz and glam of the last one.. something even more beautiful because its Him and its You, actually this time. FUCK!!!!! YOU SAY YES FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME............ OH MY GOD.

ok concluding thoughts. i'm trying to sort my thoughts out cause they're all in a jumble rn but What good writing. What splendid fic. i'm sure this has been said a million times over but i will keep saying it a billion times more but your writing is so Real to me! i feel like everything you put on (metaphorical) paper always adds Something to the fic, whether that be a hidden meaning or atmosphere or just being the Funniest person alive but its always such a treat to read your fic and i will always mean that !! onto thoughts about hte actual fic... i do love paralleling mcs you know this but i love how the entire fic is so centered around yn and like. how she learns to be #Herself, not just someone her parents want or someone her parents Don't want... the plotline with jeonghan is SO good like i think it adds so much to her character arc and personalizes her to the reader so much... like i feel like she's just perpetually hurt the majority of the fic and just hides it well and i don't think you could have gotten that across as well if you didn't have jeonghan in the fic! like genuinely his sections were some of my favorites to read just because of the history between them. tfw u haunt the narrative and ur not even dead...

also JOSHHHHH........ i love how you make him insufferable and lame at the same time HAHAHA the scene with him talking about his first love and how it ended.. how he doesn't want everything to be in vain... GUN to my mouth i started dry heaving... idk i think you made him so raw in the best ways and just so Relatable like he felt so real to me . but to be fair All the characters feel so real to me but i think that is just a testament to how wonderful and solid of a writer you are :]

side mention to jihoon. love him bad. the side characters added so much to the humor to the fic tbh like the worldbuilding was immaculate it felt like acros and cotria were real places. or at least as real as they can get as fake vaguely european nations in romcoms can get HAHAHA i love how they have their own distinct characteristics and how yn and joshua are clearly Products of that environment... Yeah!

also i really like the themes of this fic like maybe it hits home for me but like. the notion that growing up and Duty doesn't always have to be bad... duty is what you make of it! jeonghan who doesn't go sneaking out to trashy parties anymore and learns golf even though he hates it golf and doesn't complain about his sweaty hands or sleeping on airplanes but Also the jeonghan that likes meeting people and travelling and Helping people; josh who still lost his first love but still manages to find another in you, who chooses You again even after he doesn't need to anymore, who learns to play guitar over piano after all this time; and you, who doesn't really go out to parties and advertise yourself as the resident party princess anymore but you find yourself still in acros, in love, a ring on your finger that is simpler, cleaner, more suitable, more beautiful than the one that was chosen for you at first, and you find yourself Choosing josh too... duty and responsibility and even though it isn't what you would have wanted at first, finding the joy in the little things too... finding the things you can choose for yourself .

im genuinely soooo honored to have been here since the beginning and to see it through all the rough drafts and edits and silly text messages about you crashing out... a special thank you for you moving to gdocs for me HDSFJLFSDK and again i'm sorry i took so long and i told you this but im very scared this review is #Lackluster and unfunny and is me just. Repeating things you typed back at you HELP like i Swear i had very Real and Insightful things to say the first time i read this but then i think as the months went on my brain deteriorated and here i am... i wish i could articulate all the ways this fic is so good and scratches the itch in my brain but do NAWTTT take my smoothing brain as an indication that this fic was anything but extraordinary im so serious... you continue to blow yourself out of the water every time Thank you for trusting me to brainstorm and beta for you!!!! it is always my pleasure to get the #lilyexclusive I LOVE YOU 🫵 LILY HUSBANDHOSHI! (joshi? we'll see when april rolls around again...)

title: royally screwed [m]

pairing: joshua x f!reader

wc: 30.8k in total; part 1: 15.4k, part 2: 15.4k summary: between remembering last night’s party and pleasing your unrelenting family, you think being a princess is hard enough. then you’re thrust into an arranged marriage to royal darling joshua hong—straight-laced, infuriatingly obedient, and everything you’re not. pretending to be the perfect couple? impossible.   notes: romcom + smut (part 2), modern royalty!au in which yn is the princess of cotria/joshua the prince of acros (both fictional), enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, quarterlife crisis/coming of age, very very slow burn. lots of swearing, lots of alcohol, lots of feelings. [read part 1 here!] (please)

You decide June looks good on Acros. Unlike in Cotria, now sure to be perspiring with tourists, the downtown here is comfortable, inviting, even. At home, you’d be shoulder-to-shoulder with three other people right now. 

This is one of the things you like about this country: it seems to be intentionally idyllic. It’s becoming more clear to you that Joshua’s parents weren’t actually in need of anything from you other than a status boost. You suppose they’re learning the hard way what exactly that comes with.

Jeonghan’s car, or rather, the car Jeonghan happens to be in (he couldn’t drive his way out of a paper bag, try as he might), pulls up to the curb. He’s fresh off a stint of good press, meaning months of speeches, ribbon cutting, and run-ins with parliament and journalists and business moguls all vying for a bite of a future king. You’d add yourself to that list, but you know you’re at the back of the line—you practically live there now, but you’re not sure if things could have happened any other way. 

You watch him step out of the van, never windblown even though he likely just got off a flight. Always with a smile, too, one tired but recognizable, so different from the plasticky ones he wears on TV. 

The first thing he does when he gets out is throw his arms open for a bear hug. “Hey, cricket,” he says, voice wrought with jet-lag. “Missed you.” 

“Glad you had time for one more stop,” you murmur, squeezed into the million-thread count of his shirt. 

“I always have time for you,” he replies, which is decidedly untrue, but you don’t have it in you to say that. All you do lately is get into arguments, and you’re not looking to add your brother to your hit list. 

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.) 

The second thing he does is push the brim of your baseball cap down.

“The paps,” he warns, as if they were the boogeyman.  

“If they can’t recognize us, they need to get better at their job.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “For God’s sake, Jeonghan, we’re all wearing matching hats.” 

No, you are not kidding. Jeonghan, blue, you, red, and Jihoon, green, a la The Powerpuff Girls, which was a joke you made about six years ago and could not let go of. 

“Whatever,” he laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be showing me around? This is your domain now.” 

“Don’t get excited. I just got here.” 

“What do you need to go shopping for, anyway?” he asks, now walking side-by-side with you. 

“I ask that question every day,” Jihoon replies, glancing at Jeonghan as if to say Women, right?, save for the fact that the both of them have exactly zero game. 

“Somi’s birthday!” you exclaim, two ticks too loudly. “Stuff, I dunno. Just trying to get used to this place.” 

“This isn’t exactly Rodeo Drive, you know.” 

That, Jeonghan is right about. You’re sure there must be a shopping district somewhere in Acros, but definitely not here. Here, the streets are lined with dense cherry plum trees, wine-stained and fragrant. They frame driftwood-paneled shop windows housing kitschy art galleries, mom-and-pop bakeries, and patioed bistros with striped awnings. 

An elderly couple passes you. They smile and wave, visible even under the shade of their parasol, either blissfully unaware of your status or too wise to care. 

“I know,” you waver. “Whatever. I'll just get Yunjin to find me something for the party.” 

Your eye wanders to the jaunty facade of a music store. The sign flaunts handmade, cursive letters with a curly treble clef in the lacquer of old paint. In Cotria, the same sign would be neon, Hollywood-esque, vain. 

“Party?” 

“Let's go there,” you interrupt, hoping to run your big mouth over with some more talking. Of course Jeonghan wouldn’t be cool with any party, nonetheless the one Somi was planning on throwing, but, either by habit or wishful thinking, the news just tumbled right out of you. 

“Party?” Jeonghan repeats. He trails close after you, hoping to grab the door before you can. Such is what he had been taught, after all, which came more naturally than navigating big-brotherhood. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon shrugs, and opens the door before the both of you get there. You’ve trained him well. 

“It’s a small thing,” you tell him. “Close friends only.” It’s not technically a lie—small is relative, and it’s not your fault Somi has two hundred-some close friends.

Inside, you notice the shop is bigger than it looks from the outside. In the front, their nicest pianos: the glossy Yamahas, the baby grands. a lone drum set, on sale, the hi-hat sparkling under the LED lights. And finally, guitars hung from the wall like posters, some lime green and child-sized, others sanded down so the mahogany glows. 

“You already know what I’m going to say,” Jeonghan says, the lilt of his voice verging on not-so-casual. 

“Then don’t say it,” you reply flatly. “You went to those parties too, by the way.” 

“Used to, but—” Jeonghan sighs because he’s beat, and he knows it. 

You absentmindedly flip through a book of sheet music—Alfred's Essentials of Music Theory. behind it, 40 Taylor Swift Songs for Piano. 

“You’ve been good, I hope?” you cut in. “Not too tired?” 

“No,” Jeonghan says.  “I've been great. You?” 

You can’t read his expression. Old Jeonghan would tell you that he’s ready for a nap, that he hates sleeping on airplanes, that his hands still get sweaty when he gets in front of a crowd and the camera flash hurts his eyes. New Jeonghan never complains, either because of some drastic change in his character or because he feels like he can no longer complain to you. Both hurt your feelings in equal measures.

“I called, you know.” 

“I was busy, cricket.” He holds up a copy of Complete Advanced Piano Solos and wrinkles his nose. He's hoping you’d laugh with him about it, but you’ve already moved on, now fixated on the shining columns of electric guitars. “I wanted to ask about, you know, all the new stuff going on.” 

“You mean my arranged marriage?” The words feel stiff in your mouth. 

The arranged marriage I'm doing for you? I split my heart open for you, and that’s the thanks I get? 

You avoid Jihoon’s tentative glare to look at your noodled reflection in the polish of a red Fender. You think of Joshua, of a corny rendition of Here Comes The Sun and a pick between his teeth, cradling a guitar held by a linty, ten dollar strap. 

Then you think of what he said on that piano bench—that somehow he could have prevented this. Actually, this might have been all your fault. One too many shots, and you ended up setting feminism back five centuries. 

“Y-yeah.” You watch Jeonghan’s silhouette appear behind yours. “Has it been okay, at least?” 

Okay is a complicated word to use. It’s hard to say, even for you. 

It would certainly be TMI to tell Jeonghan that you’ve been kissing a lot more often. First it was under the flimsy guise of practice—We have to be ready for our dinner tomorrow, Joshua had said, to which you readily agreed. You couldn’t be the unwilling victim of another headline like KISS OR MISS! It would be terrible for your ego, even more so than your public image. 

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

You really only liked each other past 9 PM—you still couldn’t quite manage to get through a conversation like normal people. At this point, you had a 50/50 split in terms of who would cast the first terrible stone of petty disagreement. The only thing we have going for us is a dubious physical attraction, seemed like way more of a mouthful than okay, though. 

“Yeah, it’s been okay.” You look around. There's a decent amount of mediocre acoustic guitars on the back wall, more than enough to scratch the itch of someone too afraid to defile something more honorable. “Hey, don’t wait up for me. I think i might buy something.” 

—

[august 10, 2:57 pm; a dress fitting. 

In the ten-foot mirror of the boutique dressing room, you watch Yunjin yank the ties of your corset into a punishing knot. Your mother watches behind you, perched on the chaise. 

“Regal and radiant,” she reads aloud, the shiny cover of a magazine between her hands. “Finally, some good news.” 

“About you and Joshua?” Yunjin asks. 

“Ye–ow!” you wince. “Yeah. We went out to dinner yesterday.” 

The dinner: an exhausting, stuffy affair at an Italian restaurant with two Michelin stars. You came in a nice dress, Joshua in slacks and his best button-up. Smile, wave, a kiss on the cheek. You fed him a spoonful of dessert, a stiff, too-sweet panna cotta. It was either raspberry or strawberry—you were too distracted to really notice. Instead, you’d been practicing the steps, the motions of a true love. 

Should we hold hands over the table? Joshua had asked. 

I don't think we have to. Your hand had curled over the napkin on your lap, as if the thought of his touch physically stung. 

“This is a nice color,” your mother interrupts. She pinches the fabric of the skirt up at your waist, watching the way it bunches over your hips. “It's suitable.” 

Suitable. Right. The dress for your engagement ball, suitable. Just like you, newly suited for the engagement. 

You watch your image in the mirror. It’s taller, more regal, likely the product of Yunjin squeezing all the air out of you, Or worse, the penetrating gaze of your mother over the top of the tabloid.

You blink hard; you waver. ]

[august 20, 10:13 pm; a quiet return to acros after a day at the beach with somi and soonyoung. 

The castle sleeps, warm under the soft glow of candlelight on marble. You pad through the halls, carefully, as to avoid waking the entire country with the thwacks of your still-wet sandals. Hopefully Joshua is sleeping. He'd certainly ask questions, either about if bikini tops really need all that padding or what the SPF of your sunscreen was. 

You approach your room, where the lamplight from the cracked door oozes into the hallway. There's a determined rustling noise coming from the interior. Incriminating. Holding your breath, you cast a long glance into the thin slice of bedroom you can see from where you’re standing. 

There sits Joshua, cross-legged on the bed. Between his legs, the guitar you bought him. It must have finally shipped. He’s tied the gift ribbon it came with to the guitar strap, a woven linen with an offensively bright jacquard pattern. 

A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air. 

God, what a dork, you think. But you don’t walk away.] 

– 

From the garden, the Acrosian moon renders the city blue, like ink from a spilled well. 

It’s quiet out here, you notice. The forest spills into the sky, and the scent of roses lies heavy on your skin. You’re seated on the bench beneath the sculpted gazebo, a worthy centerpiece, and you revel in the coolness of the granite, the bated still of the air. You like this garden better than the one at home, although it’s entirely possible that you’ve been conditioned into hating all topiaries, no thanks to your parents. 

It's only when you hear the quiet click of footsteps behind you that you realize you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been outside. You’re now able to tell them apart–these, Joshua’s, steady and purposeful, sound like they have a heartbeat. 

You don’t turn around to greet him. “So you finally had enough, huh?” you ask instead, sliding to the left so he can sit beside you. 

“How'd you know?” he chuckles. 

“I'd like to think I know at least a little about you.” 

“I appreciate it,” is his reply, surprisingly warm.

Just a few hours earlier, your parents had come to visit. They cooed and giggled and connived alongside Joshua’s parents before launching into a very long, very serious discussion about your engagement ball. You’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff, the small stuff being the color of the napkins, the members of the string quartet, the hors d'oeuvres. But then it got weird: the symbolism of the color of your nail polish, which journalists were allowed to watch you make out, when and how Jeonghan was supposed to announce his presence during all of this. 

Then things got critical, which really sucked. No one was safe this time, not even Joshua. You lasted about an hour, Joshua about forty-five minutes more. You wonder what his breaking point was. Maybe it was his mother finally telling him off for having more than three buttons undone whenever he wore a dress shirt. 

In the silence, you feel an inexplicable peace. Maybe this is the only time you can get along; underneath the same moon, the same stars, the divide doesn’t feel quite as wide. You let your mind clear, first, past the fog of Somi’s birthday bash, glittery and blinding in your mind’s eye, past Jeonghan’s tired shoulders in the music store, past all the magazine covers and photo ops. The heavy reality feels heavier in your stomach, but you’re no longer as scared, although resignation looks like acceptance when you whittle it close enough to the bone. 

“Have you ever been in love before?” 

Joshua’s voice is so low, it takes you by surprise. You look to your side and see his eyes, shaded by the long curl of his lashes, trained on the sky, his expression unreadable. There’s a piercing sincerity to it, one you haven’t seen before. 

“No,” you reply, the answer coming to you faster than any regret ever could. “How could i?” 

“So all the boyfriends before, just…?” he trails off. He's referencing the magazines, all the covers with full size photos of you and the model of the month holding hands by the riviera, sharing a martini, kissing outside a nightclub. There are too many to remember, but you’re surprised he’s aware of any at all. 

“It was just stupid fun. I dunno. We hung out, had sex, whatever. It was never serious. I didn't tell them about anything at all; I was okay with them not really knowing me, at least, not as anything other than a party girl, the runaway princess, etcetera. We didn’t owe each other anything.” 

“Sounds lonely.” 

“Sometimes,” you answer. “But it was fun. I don't regret it. I just never saw room for them in all of this.” 

Joshua hums, low and deep. 

“And you?” you ask, incredulous. “In love?” 

“In university,” he says after a brief pause. “There was a girl. I think I loved her more than I had ever loved anything else before.” 

“What? Who?” you interrupt. “Do I know her?” 

“No.” Then, a quiet chuckle. “No one did. She was a civilian, a normal girl. She wanted to be a biologist, I think. it was either that, or a nurse. We snuck around a lot. Probably more than you did.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” 

“I told her I'd marry her. I thought if I wanted it enough, it would happen. I'd go to my parents, profess my love, and all our rules would fall away somehow. Just like that.” 

Suddenly, it feels like there is a gaping wound in your chest. Every new word seems to draw the bloody edges of your skin further apart. 

“Well, they didn’t,” Joshua continues. “I broke her heart. and I learned that all of this would never go away. Not for love, not for anything.” 

There is an impossible hollowness inside you. You imagine Joshua, twenty-one and bright-eyed at Cambridge, hiding beneath the arch of the cobblestone bridge, the long one behind the quad, to carve hearts into the limestone. There's a girl wrapped in his jacket, her laughter like bells. She draws him close, runs a delicate hand through his hair, a shorter cut, more sporty than it is now. The night is still just as kind, forgiving, as it is now, and the moon still round like a young pearl. 

“And that’s why you’re…you know.” You pause. The words all feel stuck to the roof of your mouth. “You like the rules.” 

“Because it would mean that it didn’t end in vain. That it wasn’t really my fault.” 

“You don’t want to mess up again. I get it.” 

“Yeah.” 

You notice your arms are touching, that they have been touching. Somehow, you don’t want to move away. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask.

“Not sure.” Joshua sighs, having fully abandoned the filter he normally speaks to you through. “I don't think we’re so different. I don't know. It feels good to tell someone.” 

“Do you still love her?” 

“No. I don't think I can.” 

“I'm sorry,” you swallow, feeling the familiar lump in your throat. 

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

It’s getting cold, the twilight breeze now coming in from the sea. A silence, now sticky, caustic, settles between the two of you. The thought of Joshua, hopelessly in love, a line you hadn’t even dared to cross, seems to wind itself deep into your neurons. 

“No really,” you insist. “I'm sorry. I gave you a hard time—no, I've been giving you a hard time. I didn't know.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“What?” 

“Be nice to me. No one’s watching.” 

“I know,” you say, a foolish conviction rising in your stomach. You almost feel silly, juvenile, for never really baring your heart like how he had. You’re not sure which was worse. 

You turn to look at him, really look at him. He's framed by the haze of the violets, the gentle curtain of the willows. 

“Says the real you?” Joshua asks.

“Yup,” you laugh. “Usually is. You probably get the worst of it, to be honest.” 

“She’s not so bad.” He returns your gaze; it’s honest, unsearching. “According to the real me, by the way.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

There are no words left. In fact, nothing quite says more than the way you now sit together, hands close enough to touch, without quarrel, complaint, or a yearning to prove yourself to some invisible standard. Instead, you enjoy the quiet calm, the way it drapes itself across the garden, the city, the quick of your heart. Now that you think about it, it’s the first time you’ve been able to do this without feeling like you were putting on a show.

This time, you think it’s real when you lean against his shoulder, and he leans back, chasing your warmth.

And it certainly seems to stay real when your hands find each other. You realize he does it the same way every time—the gentle skim of his fingertips down your hand before your palms meet, gently, forthright. 

And it’s here, in the uncertain glow of the summer moon, where you think you’re the closest to ever knowing just what Joshua had been talking about earlier. 

His hand curls around your cheek, holding you, wanting to see you clearer still, and he kisses you. It's not the practiced motion of an ill-conceived love, nor a hungry, blind stumble in your unlit bedroom. No, this time, it's as if you are being drawn back, wonderfully, slowly. Joshua kisses you as if it's the first time, as if to undo all the other times.

And somehow, almost by magic, the fountain song and the phantom photographers, the parents and the press, the world and everything in it, finally draw quiet. 

–

“So,” Jihoon says, reloading his pistol. “You ok? Don’t you hate the range?” 

You push your earmuffs aside to hear him better. “What?” 

“I said, don’t you hate the range?” 

“Well,” you balk. Jihoon puts the gun down and leans against the booth, looking at you from behind the glare of his safety glasses. Behind him is the paper target of a man with five bullet holes through his head. “I think I've gotten used to it.” 

This is all true—you did hate the range, but it’s where you can always count on finding Jihoon on a Sunday afternoon. Better people went to church, but Jihoon preferred to terrorize the poor center circle of a bullseye. 

“Hm.” He picks up the pistol again, stares down its iron sights. “Somi need anything for her birthday?” 

“She needs a new man,” you reply, and Jihoon laughs. 

Bang. Bang. 

“But, no, I'm getting her that vintage Cartier watch she’s been wanting forever. They were auctioning it off in Paris.” 

“Right, since it’s time for her to get a new boyfriend,” Jihoon deadpans, although he can’t quite get it out before he chuckles. “What about Soonyoung?” 

“They cannot get together. You’re just being messy.” 

“Sure, I'm the messy one. Didn’t they sleep together?” 

“That was, like, two years ago. Drunk.” 

Bang. Then a click–the clip’s empty. “By the way—you decided if you’re going to Cotria this weekend? Jeonghan will be back again, you know.” 

You pause, watching Jihoon reload the magazine, shiny bullet by bullet. You definitely know Jeonghan’s coming home—minus all the time you spend on Find My Friends, you were always acutely aware of when he was in town. The real question is if you wanted to see him again. Usually, you’d count down the days, make plans at all your favorite restaurants, buy a bottle of cheap wine to split over a shitty Godzilla movie. That was when you still talked. 

The last time you saw him was when he visited you in Acros. After the music store, you milled around a couple shops, walked through an art gallery. (Remember when you got lost at the Prado? he had asked. You were staring at that painting with all the butts. 

Kinda, you had replied noncommittally. All Jeonghan did lately was start his sentences with remember, like he wanted you to forget who he was now.) 

“I dunno,” is what you land on. “I'm busy.” 

“Well, Jeonghan asked me.” Jihoon takes down his old target and sets up a fresh one, another formless, black silhouette. 

“Asked you what?”

“If I could ask you to come.” 

“Does Josh know?” 

“He actually already helped with arrangements for you to go back,” Jihoon replies, palming the gun again. “He said only if you wanted to, though.” 

The tightness in your chest seems to coil over itself once more. Joshua had asked you about Jeonghan over breakfast one morning, before handing you a coffee and a croissant to soften the blow. You had been talking a lot more lately, which, somehow, you didn’t mind. If he wasn’t making fun of you, he was actually a decent listener. 

You watch Jihoon steady his arms. 

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

–

Like all of your great ideas, it began in the back of a car. 

Surprising, maybe. Accidental? Never. 

You’re getting ahead of yourself, though. It really started earlier tonight, at the charity event you attended with Joshua. 

Lesser beings would blame the wine, a cheap chardonnay only fit for sorority girls on a Friday night. Naturally, you and Joshua were responsible for downing about half the bottle—a fun amount, you’d like to say, although you admit you were surprised at your date’s ability to hold his alcohol. 

You, however, can peg the real culprit: a reasonably slutty dress, removed from the annals of Somi’s closet, back when she was less of a Paris Hilton and more of a Princess Diana. 

The evidence: damning. As you were getting ready—Can you zip me up? you had asked Joshua, fiddling with the rollers in your hair, already a generous ten minutes late. Then the slow, lingering skim of his touch, molasses up the hollow of your spine. At dinner, a warm hand on your knee. You didn’t hang around much longer after that, but walking to the car was a wondrous excuse for the flat of his palm to find the small of your back, fondly, comfortably, as if you had known each other for years. 

Since you had spoken in the garden, certainly you had acted like more of a couple. It came more naturally, likely due to the fact that you had no idea if you were actually a couple or not. You suppose it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. Well—sort of.

Now, you’re just being obtuse. What you’re really trying to do is explain how your hand found its way down Joshua’s pants in the back of your limousine. And still, found is too generous of a word. But you digress. 

The short version: you kissed Joshua. Jihoon parked the car out back, you had gotten tired of Joshua glancing at you through the side of his eyes, and you kissed him. Regrettably, this hasn’t gotten boring yet. You enjoy the way he searches for your touch, the part of his soft lips. 

Sometime between the third and the tenth time your tongue found its way into Joshua’s mouth, Jihoon removed himself from the situation—he was always good at that part. Two wandering hands later, your palm skimmed over the front of Joshua’s slacks. No big deal, except he was half-hard and he moaned in your mouth like he was doing the ad-libs in a Cupcakke song. 

“Whoops,” you had babbled. This whole night, you’d been searching for the brakes on the clown car winding through the horny fog of your horrible, vexed mind. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Joshua replied just as quickly, the words seeming to slip back down his throat. 

Then you had stared at each other and blinked, hard, as if that would erase the fact that, one, the prince of Acros had just cursed approximately half an centimeter from your face, and two, you’d now crossed a bridge that could not be uncrossed. 

You could no longer lie to yourself about the fact that you are hopelessly attracted to Joshua. You don’t even know if you want to lie anymore. You still thought of the time you ran into him, birthday suit and all, all those weeks ago in the bathroom. And, yes, you had wondered how big he was, although you blame Somi for planting that evil idea in you. 

Hence, with God as your witness (since Jihoon was no longer there), you had said, “I can help, you know. If you want.” 

You didn’t expect Joshua to nod so quickly. Then again, you now know yourself to be a poor judge of most things, especially ones relating to whatever this is. 

“Do you want to?” he had asked, eyes fogged over. 

“Yes. really.” Then you stopped. “Is this your first—”

“No. Does it really seem like it?” 

Okay. You’ll have to unpack that later. 

So, finally, here you are. Somewhere along the line, your shame had fallen to the wayside, and a new desire now rocks you. 

“Could’ve just asked earlier,” you tease, thumbing the buckle of Joshua’s belt. 

“Should’ve known you’re not one for subtlety,” he laughs softly, his eyes fixed on how you undo the clasp. It’s a silly comment, but all the blood still rushes to your cheeks at the idea of him wanting you not just now, but all night. “Next time.” 

“Really now.” The button at his waistband proves difficult with your new nails, so you instead sit your hand on the tent in his pants, palm him over the fabric. “You’d let me do this in the washroom of a charity ball?”

Delightfully, you watch him squirm. He doesn’t fight you, instead, uses his hands to bring you closer so you can feel his voice on your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he replies. 

“His highness,” you say before returning to the wretched button, “Fooling around at a formal event? Scandalous.” 

“Says the walking scandal,” Joshua laughs again, nipping at your earlobe. Then a sigh, breathy and tortured, as you finally peel back his slacks. 

“Isn’t this about the time where you be quiet and let me do my thing?”

“Is that an order?” 

“Yeah, since you seem to like them so much.” 

He opens his mouth to complain, but you’ve beaten him to the punch. Skin meets skin; you watch his eyes flutter shut, the slow fall of his shoulders as he exhales. 

Fuck, you think to yourself. If that’s all it takes for him to get hard— you force the thought back to where it came from. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Already, you’re reveling in the lewd image before you: the nation’s darling prince, legs spread and slack-jawed in the back of a limo, dizzy at the thought of a pretty girl playing with his cock. 

Your hand wraps around his length, pulls it out of his briefs. Feeling the weight, heavy and warm on your palm, makes your skin prickle. He is big, but even if he wasn’t, the way he gasps into your ear when you start pumping him is enough to satisfy. 

You start slow, just to be a little mean. He's longer than you expected, you realize. A turn of the wrist at the base, a little more pressure, and you hear him groan, loudly, shamelessly, as he tips his head back. 

“Feels good?” you ask, voice lower than a whisper. You know it does—you’re not inexperienced by any stretch of the imagination, but something about turning the prince into putty makes the months of horrible foreplay worth it. 

“Yeah,” he says, part sigh. “Really good.” 

“Good.” Then you hold out your palm in front of his mouth. You tell yourself it’s a litmus test for his freak-o-meter, but there’s a part of you that wants to make this the best handjob of his short, unexciting life. 

First, he looks at you, wide eyes unblinking. There's already a flush, pretty and pink, across his cheeks, the column of his neck. Then, it clicks. He spits into your hand, and you watch it trail down the plush curve of his lips, his chin, the ridge of his adam’s apple. The color spreads to his ears; his mouth twists shyly. Oh, he looks perfect, maybe even more than perfect like this. 

As if drawn by a magnet, you kiss him, and your hand finds his cock again. The friction alone draws out a low whine from Joshua’s chest, enough for you to feel the sound on your own tongue. Emboldened, you pump faster, harder, loving the way his hips kick up to meet your touch. 

Still, he gives no indication that he’s close. Something tells you he has more stamina than you think, which surprises you. Thirty minutes ago, you thought he was a virgin. 

“Josh?” you murmur, your lips brushing over his. “Wanna taste you.” 

He meets your gaze, expression unreadable. You think maybe you’re moving too fast, that you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, until you feel the shadow of his hand move, first on your waist, then up the back of your neck. He gathers your hair in one hand, easily, as if he’s done this many a time before, and you get the message. 

You wet your lips, swollen at this point, and bow your head. You’re running on something crazier than adrenaline at this point—even seeing the bead of precum at his tip is making your jaw feel heavy. 

The first taste, always thrilling, sends sparks to your cunt. You seal your lips around his cockhead, feeling its weight on your greedy tongue, and he pulls your hair just enough to make you moan. 

“Were you thinking about doing this all night?” Joshua asks, voice deceptively innocent. 

You can’t answer. You don’t want to. He tastes good, he even fucking smells good, and you want him bad. Instead, you take him to the base, feel him bump against your palate as you try not to gag. You can’t fit him all the way, so your hands make up the slack. He's even bigger fully hard, and already, you feel the ache in your cheeks, your temples. 

“Fuck, you must have been.” A groan, low and slutty. “Doing so good for me.”

You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or if this is his version of dirty talk, but it’s working. His hand is gentle, restrained behind you, letting you lead. The worse part of you wonders what it would take for him to break, but that’s a project for another time. 

Honestly, he doesn’t need to do much—again and again, you chase the feeling of his cock deep in your throat, enough to bruise. You don’t even care if you gag around him; when you do, he pulls your hair back, just enough to make your scalp prickle wonderfully, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you like it. 

You feel heady with arousal. You start to wonder how he is in bed, if he’d hold your hair like that, run his mouth like he is now. He's vocal, more than anyone else you’ve been with, and every little noise goes straight to your core, makes your thighs squeeze together pathetically. By now, you’re sure you’ve ruined this set of panties. 

“ ‘m close,” he says between breaths. “You don’t have to—” 

Stupid, stupid boy, you think. You don’t think you’ve wanted to do anything more. So instead of answering, you look up at him, eyes big and watery, and you suck hard. with your tongue nestled underneath his cockhead, right by the vein, it’s almost too easy. 

He groans, loud, satisfied, and you feel his release fill your mouth. Even after swallowing, it’s enough to run down your chin, get your makeup all smudged, and you like it. If you weren’t in trouble already, you are now. 

“Ah, I made you a mess,” Joshua says, gravelly and intimate. With one hand, he takes the handkerchief out of his suit jacket and cradles your jaw with the other. “Hold still.” 

“You,” you manage after clearing your throat. “You don’t have to sacrifice your pocket square.” 

“Yes, I do,” he chuckles. He wipes the corners of your mouth, your aching chin, and it almost makes you cry. “You literally gave me head in the back of a car. The pocket square can go.” 

He draws you up to his chest so you can rest your head on him. There’s a warm, melty feeling between your ribs, minus what you had just swallowed. Inexplicably, even as the horny fog clears from your brain, you still want to be close, closer than close and then closer still. 

“Head? I don’t like hearing you use normal people slang.” You pout, and you feel his laugh radiate from beneath his skin. “Good head, at least?” 

“Oh, please. Better than good,” he answers. “You’re perfect. perfect.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you start. Then he shuts you up with his mouth over yours, and you forget to think about liking him, loving him, or marrying him—this, you think you can do. 

—

“We’re in Barcelona!” 

You’re greeted by a pocket sized Somi and Soonyoung as they grin at you from your phone screen. They look to be on the balcony of a hotel suite, both wearing their matching silk robes. 

“Wow,” you reply. “And where was my invite?” 

“We did invite you, bitch,” Somi says, pulling down her sunglasses to look at you. “You said you were busy.” 

“Well, I mean…” you uncap a bottle of nail polish. “That's not untrue.”

“The ocean needs you,” Soonyoung whines, clutching his chest. “We need you.” 

“I'm sorry! Josh and I have been doing engagement stuff.” 

“Josh? Since when were you on a nickname basis?” 

“Whatever,” you interrupt. “What are you guys gonna do today?” 

“Beach,” Soonyoung responds brightly, with Somi’s Don’t let her change the subject! loud in the background. 

To be honest, you don’t even know the answer to her question. It just sort of happened, which seems to be the new normal for you. You’re also trying to pull apart last night–the freak-o-meter test came back inconclusive, and, for some reason, Joshua fell asleep with his arm over your middle. (Actually, you can think of a few reasons why he did that, but you’re not really sure how to feel about any of them.) 

“Ugh, I miss you guys.” You wipe at your pinkie toe, having smudged the polish beyond repair. “Drink a little extra sangria for me. And by little, I mean a lot.”  

“You’re still coming to Somi’s birthday, right?” Soonyoung asks.

“Yes, of course she is,” Somi replies. “Unless you can’t. Which I totally understand.”

“I still can,” you lie. “It just has to be more low-key than usual.” 

“No paparazzi,” Somi says. “And I'll tell everyone to keep you on the down low. Super duper down low.” 

“No way.” Damn, you curse to yourself—you keep screwing up painting your big toe. “Seriously?”

“Anything for my queen,” she giggles. “Pitbull is also confirmed, by the way. Secret Pitbull now.” 

“Good, because that’s the only reason I’m coming.” 

“Boo, you whore.” Somi wrinkles her nose at you playfully. (Is she being serious? Soonyoung asks in the background.) “Also, I'm still waiting for my update on the whole prince thing. I've been very patient.”

“No updates. Nothing to report,” you insist. Frustratingly, your cheeks are hot, like you’re in secondary school all over again. 

“You fucked him, huh?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Halfway. Maybe.” 

The combined sound of Somi and Soonyoung’s gasps rips apart your phone speakers, and you draw in a big breath. I did it for the plot doesn’t quite seem like the right justification, not like it used to be. The plot never used to involve the M word, love, or any sort of feelings at all. Now things are more confusing than late-stage Grey’s Anatomy, but good luck explaining that over the phone.

“So you do like him,” Soonyoung says, saucer eyes sparkly on-screen.

“I don't know,” you answer. It’s true, you don’t. To you, like was flirting over text and french kissing. Paradoxically, you had told Joshua all of that, and he still decided to do whatever he did to you on the ledge of the fountain all those days ago. It felt like he ate the heart right out of your chest. Then you had to go and suck his dick, which never made anything less complicated. 

“Oh please. Look at you,” Somi laughs. “Yeah, you do.” 

Fuck. You’ve smudged all the polish off your big toe again. 

– 

Not much surprises you these days, but you can’t say you were expecting to see your riding boots to be the first thing you see when you arrive home in Cotria. 

The second thing you see is Jeonghan, smiling at you in his big, stupid riding helmet, camo-printed because he bought it when he was 15 and his head never grew much bigger since. 

“For old times sake?” He then holds your own helmet up by the straps, and whatever twinge of annoyance you had felt earlier makes way for something softer, more forgiving. “Everything's set up outside.” 

It doesn’t take you much time to take him up on the offer. If anything, a long ride usually solves all your problems, and you definitely have problems that need solving. 

You saddle up in the stables, wordlessly, moved by habit. It seems to be the same for Jeonghan, too. Even Peanut acts like it hasn’t been years since he’s seen him, and he noses at the box of sugar cubes like he always does. Then again, horses don’t hold grudges, at least, not like you do. Even Joshua seemed more optimistic about this encounter than you did. 

“So you're back back,” you say, hooking your feet in the stirrups. “Or do you have more jet-setting to do?” 

“Back back,” Jeonghan replies. “Missed home too much.” 

He cocks his head towards the old riding trail, the one that loops the long way through the woods. The gesture is but a formality—it’s the only path you ever take. Still, you follow behind his horse, watching the beige swoosh of Peanut’s tail the same way you did when you were a little girl and things were far simpler than they are now. 

Under the cornflower sky of a near-autumn, the forest seems endless. A flock of geese split the sky in two; a warm breeze haunts the canopy, scattering the afternoon light. The dirt under you is soft, peaty from the morning rain. The hoofbeats are silent today. 

Jeonghan’s horse slows so that you ride side-by-side. 

“Hey, cricket?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I…” Jeonghan clears his throat and pauses, quite unlike him. “I wanted to come out here to talk.” 

“Everything ok?” 

“Yeah, I…” Another pause. “I know things haven’t felt normal between us. For me, at least.” 

You almost drop the reins. A strange, floating feeling is set off in your body, like a flare. 

“Yeah,” you reply. “I was kinda hoping you would say that.” 

“I'm sorry.” A hard swallow. “I haven't really been the best brother, have I?” 

“Well, not…not really.” Quickly, frenetically, words bob up in the back of your mouth like you’re playing whack-a-mole. You had been waiting for this conversation to happen for so long, you realized you hadn’t planned much further than that. “It felt like you’d changed. A lot.” 

The wind feels like ribbons around you. You sway back and forth on Astrid, as if on a boat. 

“Was it the birthday party thing?” you ask. “I didn’t mean for it to…you know.” 

“Actually, that was my fault.” Jeonghan smiles bitterly. “I shouldn't have let Mom and Dad run me over like that. You should’ve been there. It was never really the same without you.” 

“Well, I should've come,” you admit. “So we both fucked up.” 

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “But the rest—definitely my fault. I made myself busy because I felt like I had to.” 

You’re growing to really hate that word. Jeonghan had to grow up, Joshua had to break up with his first love, you had to learn to pick up all the pieces of both of these things and try to fit them back into your life. 

“You didn’t even look back.” 

“I was scared, cricket. That if I kept looking back, I wouldn't be able to go forward. And I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I did. I think there was a happy middle somewhere, I just couldn’t find it.” 

“Jeonghan, you’re not really making sense right now,” you say, flattened, and he laughs. 

“I don't even know what I'm saying. I think I'm trying to say that I just want you to be happy. And that I'm sorry.” 

You bite your lip, as if to distract yourself from the strange pressure in your throat. You think you want to cry, but you’re not sure.

“But are you happy?” you ask. “With the coronation and everything? Did you even want this?” 

“I am, believe it or not. I know you don’t, but I'm not lying. Somewhere along the line, I started liking all of the talking, the traveling, the interviews. I like that I can help people. Some of it sucks, but not all of it.” He laughs, finally one that sounds like something you can remember. “Not everything you have to do is bad.” 

“Jeonghan, I'm getting married because of you. Because of this,” you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “I don't know how to do this. Any of this, not like you, not like Mom, or anyone.” 

This, in fact, does make Jeonghan stop. He stills and falls silent. At once, it seems the forest goes quiet too. 

“Don’t get married, then.” You don’t respond, so he says it again. “You don’t have to go through with it. Not for my sake, at least.” 

“What?” 

“I've been thinking about it ever since it happened. I can talk to everyone. You’d rather not be with the guy, right?”

Your tongue freezes in your mouth. You thought you had an answer, but it refuses to come out. 

“I have a duty to protect you, too. I’ll be fine with or without the press.” 

“Jeonghan,” you say quietly. Many moons ago, you would have laughed at the word duty, but instead, your stomach turns over and over and over. “You don’t have to.” 

“I want to,” is his simple answer. “I want to because I care about you. We can figure out the rest.” 

Something in your bones feels heavy. You’d also been waiting to hear those words, but it didn’t feel as freeing as you thought it would. You think about Joshua, his books and his perfectly placed bookmarks, his dumb dad jokes, the way he reaches for your hand, fingertips before palm. 

“Can I think about it?” 

“Of course. The engagement ball is probably happening either way, but it’s no big deal. Bigger engagements have been called off in far worse circumstances.” 

You’re having trouble believing him, but you have no other choice. Your life would certainly get a lot easier if everything were to just end. No more press releases, scripts, or awkward pictures. And no more worrying about if you could go out on the weekends or just how much of yourself to give up to make things work. 

“There's no rush.” He turns to look at you with the same wild shine in his eyes that you’d grown to miss so much. “Truce?”

That, somehow, you’re much happier to hear. You thought you’d be angrier than this, feel the usual metal-red of your gut, but all that’s left is a sobering feeling of relief, of home. At last, things feel close to normal. 

“Truce.” 

So you ride and ride, but a decision doesn’t come to you as easily as you thought. The sunset breaks; the word duty clings to you, unshakable, unrelenting. 

—

Somehow, you have gone full circle: at the end of a long day, you find yourself back at the piano, much like you did when you were seven, and the only thing you could do right was play Hot Cross Buns. 

Joshua had bought an unreasonable amount of music books, half guitar for him, half piano for you. You’d forgotten just how much you had liked playing until that night, many nights ago, when you and he had first muddled through that duet. 

Yesterday, you and your parents had tea at the waterfront before you had left the country. You were still undecided on the engagement; frustratingly, the needle hadn’t moved much in either direction since Jeonghan had raised his proposal to you. 

Congratulations, your mother had told you, right over her cup of oolong. 

For what? 

You’ve risen to the occasion. You’ve grown up. 

To you, this was not a compliment. You didn’t know what it was. You had twisted the ring on your finger, back and forth, a habit you picked up after all the time you spent wearing it. You wondered if somewhere, you had become exactly like Jeonghan, molded and spun into someone unrecognizable. Maybe that was why Joshua finally seemed to like you.

Have you practiced for your first dance? your father asked, and you no longer had time to worry about the state of your personality—you had other fires to put out. 

Really, that’s why you’re at the piano today. You thought you could play the damn tune and somehow remember all the ballroom dancing lessons you had taken when you were younger. Unsurprisingly, it hasn’t worked yet. 

There’s a knock at the doorframe. “Come in,” you say, already knowing that it’s Joshua. No one else does that; Jihoon barges in and just starts talking, and you can hear Joshua’s parents from a mile away because of all the jewelry they have on. 

“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” Joshua says. He leans against the frame of the piano, already dressed down for the night. 

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just magically hoping that I remember how to ballroom dance.” 

“Well, first things first, you can’t dance sitting down.” He chuckles, and you pull your lips tight. 

“I'm serious, Josh,” you whine. 

“You really don’t remember?” He gives you one of those looks, one that you’re quite used to now, with the judgmental wrinkle of the brow. “Didn’t you take lessons?” 

“Yeah, like…fifty million years ago.” 

“I couldn’t tell,” he says, grinning something foolish. “You don’t look a day over fifty.” Then he offers you his hand, which you take, and he easily pulls you from the bench. 

“Flattered,” you say, unable to push down the corners of your smile. “You gonna teach this senior citizen a few moves?” 

“Perhaps, as my good deed for the day.” He holds your hand, still firmly in his, and slides it up his arm to rest on his bicep. “Left hand here,” he tells you. 

“Are you flirting with me?” 

“Not yet,” Joshua laughs. “The ballroom hold ring a bell?” His other hand finds your free one, and you interlace fingers simply, easily. Then, the warmth of a hand between your shoulder blades, one that draws you to his chest. 

“I think the only dancing I know how to do is half drunk in the dark. Can’t exactly throw it back on you in front of God and country.” 

Joshua grins, a big one, and you, traitorously, feel your cheeks get prickly. 

“I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases. 

“And country’s already seen it all.” 

“They should consider themselves very lucky, then.” His eyes meet yours, lit by the scattered light of the chandelier. “It's my turn to ask you to let me lead.” 

“Fine,” you pout, noticing that familiar warmth in your stomach. 

Joshua begins to count your steps off (one, two, three—ow, that’s my foot! —sorry!). He’s patient with you, more patient than you think you deserve. His hand seems to slot perfectly into the curve of your back; his gaze settles onto you in a way that makes your chest feel heavy, molten. 

“For someone who goes out so much, you have a terrible sense of rhythm,” Joshua says, teasing. 

“Hey,” you object. “Maybe I just have a bad teacher.” 

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” 

“Well, I'm not about to blame Britney Spears.” 

Joshua laughs, and the sound is so close to you, you can feel it on your skin. 

“I still think it’s the student’s fault.” 

“Me?!” Perfectly timed, your sock-clad feet collide (yours, striped and fuzzy, his, plain white). “Impossible.” 

“Too distracting,” he murmurs, and you notice how unfairly pretty his eyes are. “You bump into me, criticize me, you look at me like that…”

You feel dizzy. You don’t know what Joshua’s doing to you, but it’s mean. Your face is warm, and normally you’d blame it all on the alcohol but you haven’t had any. Worst of all, the soft part of you, the lizard-brained, impulsive part, can’t stop thinking about his lips and how they would feel on yours.

It’s a thought you don’t let linger, much like all of the other half-thoughts you have, and you kiss him, as if it was a reprieve from the terrible, horrible way he’s making you feel. (It isn’t.) 

“You talk too much,” you tell Joshua, right against his lips. “Not enough teaching.” 

“I'm putting you in remediation.” 

“Devastating.” 

“And giving you homework.” 

“Whatever shall I do?” 

Joshua answers that question for you. He kisses you, once, twice, still not enough, and, somehow, things feel more simple than they ever had before. 

—

Jihoon’s eyes are dark, dagger-sharp in the rearview mirror. 

“We’re coming up,” he says. “A few minutes out.” 

“I know,” you answer. Yunjin was successful, almost too successful, in her task of finding you an appropriately revealing dress for a newly engaged twenty-something at the party of the year. The filmy silk stretches around your thighs; the cowl neck flirts with the neckline of the bikini top you have on underneath. 

You look good, probably better than how you’ve looked in months. And yet, for some reason, you don’t feel good, at least, not how you’d thought you’d feel on the way to the only event you’d been looking forward to this year.

Somi’s gift rattles in your lap. It’s covered in this loud, hot pink wrapping paper unbecoming of something you had spent years tracking down on the antiques circuit. Normally, you’d have a laugh with Jihoon about it, maybe take some selfies in the car, but instead, you find yourself spinning your ring around your finger like you always seem to do these days.

You think of Jeonghan, of Joshua. Of course, what you do or don’t do on your best friend’s birthday is none of their business (although, very inconveniently, Jeonghan did have some event this weekend, and Joshua was traveling). But still, you think of the boldface headlines, the whispering gossip forums, the washed-out image of you in your little dress on the cover of a cheap magazine. This wasn’t exactly a tame party, and things weren’t just about you anymore, not like they used to be. 

Marking your arrival isn’t the GPS nor Jihoon, rather, it’s the firefly buzz of the cameras outside your limo as it’s forced to come to a stop. You squint, trying to see past the tint of your windows, and see Somi, radiant in her birthday tiara, as she pushes through the crowd. Behind her is the villa she rented, illuminated by pink and gold strobe lights. 

You crack open the car door and are met with a stifling deluge of camera flashes. Music pulses through the air, enough to feel beneath your heels. 

“Who's my favorite princess?” Somi exclaims, throwing her arms open. “You made it! you look hot.” 

“Not as hot as the birthday girl,” you reply, and you let her squeeze the air out of you in a wonderful, bone-crushing hug. “What's with all the cameras?” 

“Professional photographers. Just wanted something to remember the night by, because we are blacking out.” She giggles, already tipsy. “Come, come, we’re doing shots inside.” 

“Without me?” 

“We’ll catch you up.” 

Somi drags you by the hand through the sea of people, and you watch the cameras follow as they always do. She leads you up the stairs, underneath the towering balloon display, and into the foyer, already darkened, lit only by a disco ball chandelier and the neon backlights. 

You spot Soonyoung by a champagne tower that seems twice his size, as promised. He's in a leather jacket, no shirt under, and you watch his eyes light up as they meet yours. 

“A shot for her highness,” he shouts over the music. 

“I thought this was champagne.” 

“Tequila's close enough.” He laughs, eyes upturned, bright like gemstones. 

The first shot goes down easy. it always does. So does the second, unsurprisingly. Around the third is when Somi tells you that the strippers are coming in an hour. (—Strippers?! —Not everyone has a fiancé, you know.) 

And, just like that, you’re back to the beginning. It’s hard to think over the ridiculously good Kesha mix the DJ is playing, but, terribly, you think you’re starting to understand what Jeonghan was talking about. You’re still not sure how you feel about duty, responsibility, sacrifice, those heavy words that feel impossibly heavier in your mouth, but all you know is that, as much fun as you’re having now, it comes at a fair price. 

Somi told you nothing, no compromising pictures, no drama, would reach the press, but, as hard as she may try, you feel like enough people have laid eyes on you already that someone was bound to hear something. If not now, then definitely in a few hours when everyone’s on at least two and a half substances, and all bets are off.

Briefly, you recall your appearance at the derby, the memory like a shard of glass. You had stood guileless next to Joshua, tripping over your words because you hadn’t cared enough to read the damn briefing, and he had covered it up with a dad joke or two. Coming up with those abominations must have been hard enough for someone whose first book was the Oxford Dictionary, but you don’t even think God and all his angels could cover up this. More than that, the thought of everyone having to try anyway makes your gut twist. 

Someone tells you to smile for a selfie. You recognize her, but you don’t remember her name (Amelia or Alicia, one of Somi’s friend of a friends. On second glance, there are definitely more than 200 people here). Let's dance! another voice shouts in your ear. 

Your head hurts. You hate the idea that Jeonghan might be a little right, but you hate even more that you’re starting to agree with him. Maybe you need another shot. 

“Your gift,” you say, fighting over the chorus of Your Love Is My Drug. “Somi!” 

“Oh my god, you did not!” she squeals. She clasps her hands over yours, wrapped around the box, and draws them to her. “Let me take it to the table. I’ll meet you by the pool—oh, oh, there’s a hot dog stand out there too!”

“Actually,” you start. You’re not that drunk, not yet, but now you think you can feel the ground start to sway under you. it wouldn’t be too far a stretch to say that in half an hour, after a little time at the bar, you’d probably be spending the night, no question. “I think I have to run.”

“Aw, really?” Somi tilts her head and squints, as if trying to read your mind. 

“I am so sorry,” you tell her, as sincerely as one can over a pop song from the 2000s. “Swear I'll make it up to you.” 

“Life stuff, right?” 

“Yeah.”  

“It's ok,” she says. “Really really. Go home, figure your shit out, and we can have our own party.” 

She holds your joined hands to her heart. Whatever look you gave her, she believed. That, or she knows you better than you think. 

So you leave. The car ride home is silent. Jihoon doesn’t ask questions, and you can still hear the sound of the music ringing in your ears, on and on and on. 

– 

You think the worst thing you’ve ever woken up to was the Crazy Frog ringtone of one of the guys you had slept with during university. 

The second worst has got to be five voice memos and three consecutive missed Facetime calls from Somi, which is the first thing you see upon opening your eyes. 

“Oh fuck,” you murmur, still coming to. Your bed is empty, but you see Joshua's suitcase in the corner of the room. He must have come home early this morning, while you were still sleeping. 

You crack open your text messages. 

–OH MY GOD.

–I AM SO SO SORRY. 

–someone must have gotten paid off for last night’s pictures…i had no idea i swear 

Then a voice memo. Then another voice memo. then a PopCrave Twitter screenshot: YOU CAN TAKE THE PRINCESS OUT OF THE PARTY–OR CAN YOU? followed by the worst, most incriminating photo of you and Soonyoung, arms linked, throwing back a shot. 

“No, no, no, no.” You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the stone-cold drop of your heart to your feet. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

Shit. You have to find Joshua and make it right. 

Somehow, you thought it wouldn’t matter, that you didn’t care what did or didn’t get out as long as you were able to have a good time—you desperately search for that same feeling, knowing that it’s long, long gone. You don’t even think you truly ever believed that. 

You race down the palace hallways, ones that feel far more familiar than the rigid bastions they were when you first got here, but it’s Joshua who finds you before you find him. Or rather, it’s his voice you hear, trickling out from behind the library door. 

Suddenly, you’re five again, and you’re spying on Jeonghan talking to your parents. You peek through the crack of the doorframe. As Somi would say, nightmare blunt rotation: there stands Joshua, surrounded by both sets of parents, and no one looks happy. 

“We knew it,” another voice says—your mother. “We’re sorry, but we said this would happen.” 

“It’s no matter. There’s nothing left to do but call the engagement off.” 

The room goes quiet. You notice your hands are shaking. Your face feels numb.  

“You’re right. I don't think anyone’s getting what they want out of this, anyway.” 

“We’ll cancel the ball. There’s no way around it. Likely a relief, right, Joshua?” 

The moment seems to squirm, suspended in time. This is what you were waiting for, right? Your parents were right—no one wanted this anyway. You certainly didn’t, and now you get your get out of jail free card. On top of that, you get to hear what you’d been expecting all along—that Joshua never liked you, that this was fun and all, but he’s ready to stop playing pretend. 

“I…I disagree.” You freeze. “She's my fiancée. I made a commitment to her, and I'm not going to walk away.” 

“Joshua, my dear, this arrangement was never going to work. You can be honest.” 

This is the part where Joshua nods, does his perfectly symmetric smile, and agrees. This is what he does, what he’s been doing since forever. The story always ends the same way. That was the point. 

Instead: “I am being honest. Since when was it illegal to go to your best friend’s birthday party? I don't care what the rest of the world has to say. She’s not who they, or you, think she is.” Through the door-gap, you watch the pursed, resolute draw of Joshua’s lips. “You didn’t even invite her here to talk about her own engagement. You never once gave her a chance.” 

A stunned silence falls over the room. 

 “I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.” 

Your hand flies over your mouth, and something twists deep in you, like you’re drowning from the inside out. You can’t, won’t, believe what you just heard. That somehow, beyond all the fighting, the quiet nights, the snide remarks and the fake smiles, that Joshua loved you? Loved? Enough to say all that to the people that ruled his life with an iron fist? None of this made sense, but nothing’s made sense since you got here. 

The room erupts into noise, peals of voices all colliding into each other, and you do what you do best—you leave. 

—

No one talks about that morning. You don’t even think anyone knows you were there—part of you wishes that you actually weren’t, so you didn’t have all this on your mind. (Joshua, later that day: I got you something from Seoul. From his suitcase, a bottle of soju. Just kidding. Then a jade bracelet, so vibrant it looked like the ocean.) No one talked about Somi, and no one talked about the party. 

In fact, everyone had just rolled on as usual, all the way to the end of the week, the day of your engagement ball. Even you did. The word love felt so big, so burdensome, when Joshua had said it to his parents, but you didn't mind it on you.

The lingering touches, late night talks, tea made the way you like—nothing really had changed much since shit hit the fan, but now you knew that was the label. You guess that when you told Joshua you had never been in love before, you were really telling the truth. Either that, or he was just saying whatever the hell he needed to stop your engagement from imploding. 

Still, you found yourself still reaching for him. There was an unfamiliar comfort about his nearness. You woke up this morning cradled to his side, and, for once, it wasn’t a scene you wanted to erase. 

Now, your hairstylist hoses your blowout down with hairspray. You’d spent the better part of this morning sitting in different chairs, hair, makeup, nails. A part of you waits for the other shoe to drop: Joshua’s mother would waltz in and tell you, Surprise! You’re a single woman again, just as you should be. 

It never happens. You’re wrapped in various mists and creams and powders, all the while fielding all the same questions about the ball (—Excited for tonight? Yeah, of course. —How does it feel being the surprise couple of the year? Surprising.)

It’s not until Yunjin comes in, wheeling in your giant, sparkly engagement gown, all Italian lace and satin brocade, that things feel real. 

The dress itself is beautiful, a pale champagne number, gathered at the waist with a smattering of crystals down the train. Earlier, when you’d first tried it on, it looked like a costume fit for the girl playing wife. It was another smothering thing that hung on you, just like everything else in your life. 

Today, you watch your form tall in the mirror. You meet her eyes, her uncertain mouth. It’s you, for sure, but there’s a stillness about you that you can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe Joshua’s demeanor was contagious. 

Yunjin laces your bodice up, careful eyelet by eyelet—“You’re nervous, huh?” 

“Is it really that obvious?” 

She laughs. “Breathe. You’re not getting married. Not yet, at least.”

“Yunjin, isn’t it weird that no one has talked to me about Somi’s birthday? Everyone on the planet saw the leaks.” 

“Maybe they finally learned to stop giving a shit. You looked hot, you had a good time, end of story. It’s not like anyone died.” 

True. She grabs your shoulders and looks at you through the reflection of the mirror. 

“Smile. Enjoy yourself. You look so, so beautiful.” You take a deep, soaking breath. You think about Joshua and all the sharp edges of his voice when he said he loved you. You had argued with him a lot, and you had never heard him like that. “You want this, right?” 

Well, when she puts it like that? Yeah, you do. You think you really do. 

—

The Great Hall is unrecognizable when you stand before it; the pink and white zinnias have been replaced by bouquets of calla lily and eucalyptus, the arched ceilings, once cold and imposing, now are bathed in the buttery, warm glow of candlelight. And the too-big space, usually empty, is now filled with partygoers, radiant in their best dress. 

You stand at the top of the grand staircase. A thrill, anxious and skittering, runs up your bones. You’re reminded of your last big public showing at the derby, of the sea of microphones and the eye of the camera and the crowd, all staring you down. 

You run through the cruel motions. First, a curtesy, so slow you think the audience can see you tremble. Then you take the first step down the stairs, and you watch them turn to you like the tanned halo-faces of sunflowers. 

There, in the center of the crowd stands Joshua, unwavering. He's wearing a deep blue tuxedo, unfairly flattering (though, the lone curl of hair falling into his eyes is strong competition). Meeting his gaze, you watch the corners of his mouth fold up in a way that reminds you to breathe. In, out. You’ve got this. 

Every step, you feel like you’re learning to walk for the first time, like you've lost your sea legs. Amongst the guests, you spot Jeonghan, next to him Jihoon. Then back to Joshua, like your eyes can’t stay away. He shoots you a covert thumbs up—you’d expect nothing less from the corniest man on Earth—but, nonetheless, it makes the long walk to the center of the room feel much shorter, despite the torture devices on your feet (Louboutins, not broken in).

One, two steps, and you’re face to face with your fiancé. Your heart is still racing, thrumming against the cage of your bodice like it's trying to escape. You’re sure the whole congregation could hear it if not for the quartet that’s come to life, now playing the opening notes of Blue Danube. 

Yes, that’s right, you tell yourself. You still have to dance in front of the whole fucking country. 

Before you crash out and make this a national emergency, you feel the warmth of Joshua’s touch. Fingertips before palm, always the same, he finds your hand, like he manages to do every single time. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, low enough for only you to hear. And for the first time, you believe him. 

—

Really, you could have gotten away with saying nothing. It would be much easier, to be honest. 

The ball had gone off without a hitch so far. The music was good, the food even better, and your parents were somehow silenced, instead opting to dance among the crowd like they were young again. Still, you can’t seem to put your mind at ease. With everything that had happened this week, Jeonghan’s offer only seemed to weigh heavier, more urgently upon you. And of course, there was the matter of Joshua choosing to opt into your engagement, against all odds. 

You realize you had gotten quite good at running away from things—your family, your responsibilities, the media, even Joshua—not knowing how to bear the weight of an impossible duty. Actually, you thought it was a royal failing until you had seen Joshua in the library that morning, jaw set, unbending. 

“Hey, Josh?” you ask, with a few bats of the eyelashes to soften the blow. 

He tilts his head in that way he does, and his gaze softens. Damn you, you think. Trying to distract me with those horrible, pretty eyes.  

“Can we talk about Sunday?” 

“What about Sunday?” He still looks confused, and you know the look well enough at this point to know he’s not faking it. 

“Um…Sunday morning. After the party,” you say slowly, as if giving yourself time to back out, just in case. “I heard you talking with our parents.” 

In an instant, his expression changes, and his eyebrows roll into their usual furrow. You feel his hand falter behind your shoulder blades. 

“Oh,” Joshua’s voice drops. “That.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, realizing all you do is apologize. “It was supposed to be a small thing, no cameras, I barely even stayed—.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Joshua interrupts. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” 

“I-I know,” you fib. The thing about pretending is that you’ve both become so good at it that you have trouble believing him. “It’s just that I also heard what…what you said.” 

Somehow, the wrinkle between his brows grows deeper. 

“I said a lot of things that morning.” 

You press your lips thin, feeling what you’re about to say ball up on your tongue. Easily, you could change the subject; you didn’t have to know anything, really, you could stay silent and let the world work around you, just as you had been taught. But you watch the soft twist of Joshua’s gaze, how he studies your expression, and you know you can’t go back to how things used to be. 

“You said you…” You take a hard swallow. All the blood in your body only wants to exist in the apples of your cheeks, away from your brain where you need it most. “You loved me.” 

At once, the world spins off-axis. You feel the anxious flutter of Joshua’s heart under your palm, and your own stomach flips in its cage. The L word coming out of your mouth seems ten-thousand times more ridiculous than anything he could say, probably because you can’t remember the last time you actually said it and it came out all wrong. 

He must feel the same way. For once, he can’t meet your eyes. His mouth opens and then closes, as if hoping to delete what you had just said. Maybe you would just keep dancing, beat by beat, and this would all go away.

Silly girl, you think, traitorously. Pick a damn side. Either he likes you or he doesn’t. The problem is that, somehow, both options hurt your feelings. 

“I mean, I totally get it if you just said it to keep up the act,” you cut in. “There are a lot of reasons why this is a good idea.” 

“The act?” 

“Well, yeah,” you reply. “Isn’t that what this is? Haven’t we just been lying to everyone? To ourselves?” 

Joshua’s hand at your waist stiffens before he draws you closer to him. You expect him to roll his eyes, do one of those exaggerated sighs that he does when you’re being difficult. 

Instead he leans in, close enough for you to feel his voice against your skin. 

“Do you think I was lying back there? Or now?” 

Your heart lurches. 

“I—no, but.” You pause. Every single coherent thought you’ve ever had scatters to the wind. “Well.” 

“Because i’m not,” Joshua says, this time, more softly. “Not about this. Or us.” 

“But how? Why?” You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your chest swell in a way it never has before. “You’re perfect, and I'm…I’m me.” 

“That’s why,” he answers, simply. “You’re smart, funny, honest—sometimes too honest, even. You reminded me there was a better version of me that I had left behind. One that wasn’t perfect, but was happy.” 

He holds you in his gaze the same way he did in the garden, carved by moonlight. An impossible warmth fills your skin; at once, it feels like, in your vision, there is only him, like you're in a cartoon. 

“At the same time, I understand if—” Joshua starts. 

“I feel the same,” you blurt out. “I…I don’t know what this is, and I don’t think I ever really did, but I want to try.” 

You watch the surprise write itself all over his doe eyes, his unfairly rounded cheeks. From by the hors d'oeuvres, nosy Jeonghan peeks over the shoulder of another guest, already familiar with your lack of volume control. You watch him grin something stupid, triumphant. 

“You’re uptight, judgmental, and you make the worst jokes. But I…I think I might be falling for you too.” 

Saying it is like getting peeled back, terrible layer by layer, like you wrapped a hand around your heart and ripped it out your chest. And yet you’re glowing, newly-bitten with something that feels like freedom.  

“I thought you said I was perfect,” Joshua says, the pink of his lips already unraveling into a smile. This one, you think, finally reaches his eyes. 

“Shush, you—” And amongst a chorus of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (which would be, quite frankly, humiliating in any other scenario), you finally give in to your adoring public, and kiss. 

—

The walk back to your bedroom is a blur. All you remember are hands—hands on the small of your back, hands riding up the length of your thigh, hands in your hair, pulling at your roots. You remember hands, and the taste of Joshua’s mouth. 

It’s a walk you are not proud of, one that you’re glad happened in the dark, with all the guests gone home. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” Joshua says, pressed to the hollow of your neck as you fumble with the handle of the door to your room. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you. No one could.” 

Then his lips on yours, before you finally remember how to open a door. 

“Fuck, Josh,” you breathe between kisses, stumbling backwards until your back hits the vanity. “Need you, need you so bad.” 

He bites your lip, lets you sigh into his mouth. 

“Dress, off,” you tell him, and you lean forward on the table. Obediently, Joshua gets to work. His touch feels fiery, electric on your skin. 

In the mirror, you’re able to see the damage: your lipstick, smudged beyond repair, your blown-out pupils under your heavy lashes. There’s a hickey on your collarbone. 

“Now you have me wishing you'd wear one of those party dresses,” Joshua murmurs, still working at the lacing at your waist. “Far easier to take off.” 

“Really. The same ones that got me in big trouble with you lot?"

"For what it's worth," he replies, before kissing the back of your neck, then the ticklish space under your ear to make you laugh. "I always liked you in those. Even before we met." 

"No way." He’s finished with the lacing; your dress falls to your feet in a glorious heap of silk and lace, leaving you in your slip. Another kiss to your jaw, your cheek. "You hated them." 

"I almost bought a copy of Insider, the one with the cover of you in the black dress with the long sleeves." 

"Shut up," you laugh again, somewhere in between kisses. He’s talking about Soonyoung's new year's eve party, a few years back. You were getting out the back of a cab, alcohol-flushed and on a phone call with God knows who. "I still have it, you know. I could wear it for you one of these days." 

"Don't tempt me." Joshua kneels, bending down to undo your heels. You feel him press his lips to the back of your knee, your thigh. “Friday. Dinner?” 

“Done.” 

Then he stands back to full height and leans into you, just so you can feel him. Like clockwork, your skin prickles wonderfully even just thinking about blowing him in the back of the limo, that night he had held you down on his cock. 

Joshua must see how you squeeze your legs together. He pushes your slip up over the curve of your ass; you feel the rough of his hands over your skin, over the flimsy lace you have on for underwear. Then, before you can say a word, he pulls the waistband back, meanly, enough to tug on the hood of your clit, and lets it snap back against your skin. 

“Oh, fuck,” you keen. You had no idea you were so sensitive, but Joshua’s foreplay game was way better than you thought. “Please, Shua.” 

“Oh? So you like when I'm a little mean?” 

You watch your face in the mirror flush pink, your bitten lips fall open in surprise. He pulls tight on your panties again, loving how your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Maybe.” You pause, humiliated. Fuck it, the cat’s already out of the bag. “Yeah.” 

Joshua’s hands are warm, so warm, when they peel the fabric down your trembling thighs. 

“Legs apart, darling,” he tells you, mouth pressed to your shoulder. “So you like to boss me around the castle, but now you want me to tell you what to do? Is that so?” 

Before you can answer, you feel a finger along the seam of your cunt. You can’t see Joshua’s face in the mirror, but you can sure see yours, and you hate how even the smallest of touches has you drooling. Then a touch to your swollen clit, just rough enough to draw a gasp from you. 

 “I-it’s different,” you protest. Two fingers now, both rolling your clit under them. A whimper tumbles out of your chest, and your hips seem to be moving on their own accord. “Didn’t know you had…experience.” 

“Still not sure what made you think otherwise.” A quiet chuckle, then the slow, agonizing push of one of his fingers inside you. “Fuck, you love that, huh? Soaking my hand.”

“Yeah…” The vanity table suddenly feels too crowded to support the weight of your body, especially like this, as Joshua continues to work your clit with his other digit. Feeling your body surge again with heat, you push aside your makeup bag, all your stupid little bottles, so you can prop yourself up on your arms.

Another finger, and your legs are shaking. Quickly, he seems to have figured out how to hit your g-spot every time, every pump of his hand knocking into you just the way you like.  

“I think it was how annoying you were that did you in,” you finally answer, trying your best to put up a fair fight. “Kinda detracts from your sex appeal.” 

“Annoying?” Joshua asks, right up against the shell of your ear. like this, you can see him in the mirror, and it almost sends you over. the dark hair in his face, the insatiable look in his eyes. Then a third finger, and your eyes roll back. “Am I annoying you? Doesn’t really seem like it.” 

Your body answers for you. You feel yourself tighten around his fingers, fuck, you’re so close, you feel your head start to spin. You watch your reflection shake her head, glassy-eyed and dumb. 

He laughs cruelly. His free hand reaches up to find your tits, and, over the slip, he grabs one, rough like he’s a meaner man, like he’s slutting you out. 

At once, you feel the lightning heat of your release. You cry out, airy and high-pitched, and feel your body rock against Joshua’s as he pins you between himself and the vanity. 

“There you go,” he murmurs. His hand slows, letting you ride out your high, before he pulls out. “Wanted to do this ever since I kissed you that night.” 

“Which night?” you ask, catching your breath. A kiss to your shoulder blade, the nape of your neck. 

“The night you taught me to kiss. Or rather, tried to.” 

Ah, yes. The night you told him what Shark Tale was, and the night you made out for so long, you felt it on your lips in the morning. Dumb fucking Joshua, stupid and in love. The affection that surges through your body makes you mad. 

“You needed lessons.” 

“Not really, don’t you think?” 

“Bed. You’re talking too much,” you insist, turning around to see him. “Also, you’re wearing too much.” 

“Back to arguing with me, I see. Can’t stay away.” Joshua’s shit-eating grin prompts you to yank his tie impatiently, shutting him up. It comes off easily, just as his belt and the waistband of his slacks. (You weren’t about to let them best you a second time).

“Maybe ‘cause you find a way to be difficult about everything.” You wrinkle your nose, and Joshua’s grin only grows wider. “Don’t make me give you another order,” you warn, fully aware that since you guys got here, it’d been him doing the orders. 

You pull your slip over your head, now only in your bra, and lay back in the bed. You think of all the sleepless nights, then the ones spent talking, the ones in his arms. To think they would all culminate to this, to you now watching Joshua undo button by button with a desire unlike any other you’ve felt—it would almost be unbelievable if you weren’t doing it right now.

Like a striptease, you watch his chest peek out between the linen of his shirt. He's wearing a necklace today, one that settles meanly between his pecs. As he moves lower, you can’t help but notice the outline of his cock in his briefs, the spot of precum on the fabric. 

Traitorously, you feel your mouth water. The shirt comes off, and your lungs fill with another shaky breath. 

You know you’re both letting your freak flag fly (one of you more surprising than the other) but it’s in this moment, caught in the lamplight, that you realize how much things have really changed. Still, you’re not able to tell Joshua that this is the first time you’re sleeping with someone you might be in the L word with, but you think he sees it too, or at least, reads the look on your face. 

You feel the dip of the bed underneath as he joins you.

“Are you ok? That wasn’t too much, right?” 

“No, it was…it was good. really good,” you admit, feeling your face heat up again. “I just…I dunno. I like you a lot, that’s all.” 

“Hm?” 

“I—” you stutter, and your mouth freezes up again. “I said I like you a lot.” 

“Sorry, I just wanted to hear you say it twice.” He sees the dismay on your face and smiles. “Hm…I like you an adequate amount. On a good day.” 

Against your will, you crack the fattest smile you think your body is capable of. “You are the worst. The absolute worst, and I still want you to fuck me.” 

Upon hearing this, Joshua does not waste time. That he does—it isn’t long before he has your knees hiked to your chest, cock between your pussy lips. 

“Say you want it,” he whispers. You feel the cold kiss of his chain on your chest, the slick rock of his length between your legs. He's so hard, so big, your cunt already aches at the thought of it. 

“Want it.” Your voice comes out small, breathy. You would fight back, but you’re realizing you quite like this side of him. “Please.” 

When the head of his cock presses into you, there is no hiding. Already, you moan, sweet and loud, feeling the familiar pressure in your gut. 

“K-keep going,” you babble. Fuck, he barely fit in your mouth and now he’s stuffing your cunt. You wrench your eyes shut, listening to him talk you through it (—Look at you taking me so well. Feels good, huh? You’re so beautiful. Honestly, it’s a miracle Joshua’s ex never had a royal baby with how much they must have fucked.) 

Your second orgasm comes quickly, not long after Joshua bottoms out. He groans right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and it’s the best noise you think you’ve heard in your life. 

The third comes slowly, more intensely. With your knees to your chest, you think you can feel Joshua all the way in your stomach. Every stroke fucks the sound out of you, his cockhead right up against your g-spot as he fills you again and again. Sometime between orgasm two and three, he’s pulled your tits out from your bra, left marks across your chest. 

“Want you to touch yourself,” he tells you, voice low.

Mindlessly, you listen. One hand finds your nipple, the other your clit, and you let yourself get lost in the feeling. 

“F-feels good, Shua.” He enters you again, all the way, and the pleasure is white-hot. “O-oh, fuck,” you warble. 

“You’re so good at listening to me, you should do it all the time,” he murmurs. “There you go. Take it, take it, just like that. This must be what I have to do to get you to be nice, hm?” 

All you can do is stare up at him, positively fucked dumb, and take it, just as he told you to. One, two strokes, and you feel yourself get impossibly tight; “Fill me, need it, need it,” you whine, delirious. Everything from the look in his eyes, the flushed sweat over his brow, his collarbones to the way his expression responds with every word you say, makes you wonder why you wasted time fucking anyone else.

When he comes, he bites your shoulder, hard, and it’s what you need to follow soon after. You feel so fucking full, so satisfied, you think you could die happy here. 

Joshua flops down on the bed next to you, boneless. You think he’s about to say something akin to that you should have put a towel down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls your body to him, lets you feel the warmth of his skin play against yours. 

He’s murmuring wonderful things to you, which you would gladly reciprocate if words weren’t coming to you one letter a minute. It’s not your fault though—you need to recover physically, emotionally, spiritually after getting the soul fucked out of you.

Then, “Me or you shower first?”

You groan as a response. 

“I’m serious.” 

“Together?” you offer weakly. 

“Fair chance we won’t just be showering then.” 

“Oh nooo.” 

That’s all Joshua needs to whisk you to the bathroom, where, indeed, he seems to be right yet again. 

—

The spring morning washes over Acros like a second skin. The birdsong rouses you; through the curtains comes sunlight from the garden, spackled on the wall as if spots on a doe. 

It’s been almost a year since your parents had told you that you were marrying Joshua Hong, prince of Acros. Six months since he had told you he had loved you. Two months since you and Jeonghan had pulled off your first joint production at the youth theater (a roaring success). One month since you were fully, fully moved in, Astrid and Jihoon included. 

After your engagement ball, you and Joshua had agreed to take it slow, as slow as two people who had very publicly announced their wedding could. But still, somehow your parents, both sets, could tolerate the two of you wanting to do things the right way. Perhaps they were still shocked things worked out as well as they did. 

“Morning,” you call out. The bed beside you is cold. “Josh?” 

You’re surprised he’s up. Last night, he went out with you, Somi, and Soonyoung. Somehow, he had drunk enough to get up and solo karaoke a Whitney Houston song, although you’re suspecting the alcohol was just a cover for his true intentions. 

Then you look out the window. You spot Joshua, seated on the bench overlooking the garden. This time of year, the roses are in full bloom, their bright heads reaching for the sky in brilliant red and gold. 

When you go to join him outside, he’s no longer at the bench. You actually don’t know where the fuck he went, but it’s no matter. Here, you’re able to appreciate the beauty of the season, the rolling green of the country you’re now calling home. 

It was also here where you had your first real conversation with Joshua without fighting, funnily enough. Now, you’d say the both of you were more agreeable, but that’d be a lie—somehow, you think you actually enjoy bickering with him, but that’s a conversation for another day. 

Behind you, someone (Joshua) clears his throat. 

“Now, what are you—” you say, spinning around. It was too damn early for games, but Joshua had no shortage of bad ideas. 

It’s then that you see Joshua behind you, on one knee. His smile tells you everything you have to know, and every thought in your mind freezes in an instant. 

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.” 

You stand there, immovable. Of course you had to be in your pajamas (his shirt and boxers, really), no makeup, hair untouched. And yet, you can’t imagine anything more perfect. 

“You drive me crazy,” Joshua continues. “In every way possible. I can't imagine life without your laugh, or your thinking face, or how you always need to have an answer for everything.” 

He produces a small box. It’s different from the first one, the one he used all those months ago when nothing mattered. Inside it, a new ring, something far simpler and more beautiful.

Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.” 

And you say yes, for the very first time.

[END]

[amhrosina]

I'm With You (Always) - Frank Castle x Reader

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: This one ended up being a tad shorter than most of my other fics, but I felt like it told the story I was trying to tell. I didn’t want to drag it out if it wasn’t necessary. I hope you enjoy! Thanks for requesting, nonnie! <3

Request: Omg your fics always HIT 🫶🏻💀 I feel like there’s a bunch of fics of Frank comforting the reader, but none really of the opposite. Could you do something like that? I mean mans been through the mf WRINGER

Summary: On the 5th anniversary of Maria’s death, Frank grapples with the guilt of loving someone else (i.e., you) for the first time since her death.

(Warnings: it’s angsty as hell (sorry not sorry), cursing, frank is way too hard on himself, frank castle needs a hug!, reader comforts frank, all im asking marvel is for them to make him happy!!!!!!, references to what happened to Maria and the kids) 

Frank knew he should call you. It was the least he could do, considering the shit you’ve put up with for the past ten months. He’d put you through hell, showing up on your doorstep at all hours of the night, bleeding and in serious need of medical attention. It was something you handled with grace, even though he was undeserving of your gentle nature.  

He was a moody, cut-throat bastard, and you both knew it. He was emotionally withdrawn, irritable, and had very little trust left in him to give. But you never minded, and he spent most of his time with you perplexed at your ability to forgive and forget so easily.  

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he knew it was you calling without having to look. You had called him this morning, too, and left a short voice message about how you’d be free this evening, if he wanted to see you. The serene warmth in your voice had caused his chest to ache, an all too familiar feeling when it came to you.  

Of course, he wanted to see you. He always did, even when he was being the angry bastard version of himself that he hated so much. Your tone, so doubtful and hesitant, fueled a heavy rage in Frank’s heart, and he cursed himself for being the cause of it. He should fucking answer the phone.  

He watched as the screen faded to black. He hadn’t moved from his unrelaxed position on the floor, and he’d just ignored you, again. He shoved his face into his palms, running his fingers through his hair and tugging it in a motion fueled completely by anger. Anger wasn’t foreign to Frank – he'd had his fair share of things to be angry at – but this type of anger, the one caused completely by his own actions, was new to him.  

You didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you, and he was actively fucking it up more as the night went on. Despair weighed heavy on his heart, and he wanted so badly to explain it to you – beg you for your forgiveness and apologize for being a broken man who still loved his wife, even years after her death. But the date on the calendar had paralyzed him, and he hadn’t moved from his hunched position in eight long hours. 

Five years. It had been five years since his family had been taken from him, and he was still just as broken as he was the day it happened. You knew, of course, that his family had been murdered in cold blood, right in front of him, but he’d never told you the details, and you never asked. You had no idea that today would push Frank beyond his boundaries, like it did every year, completely shutting down his ability to function. 

Frank used to let the rage consume him, let it burn through him until all he could see was red, but he had personally killed every fucker involved in the plot to murder his family, and once that rage had sputtered out, he was left with nothing but a massive, aching hole in his chest. 

This year felt a little different, if he really thought about it. The patch you’d begun mending in his heart was present, a gentle reminder that someone, somewhere cared for him deeply. But as hard as he tried to pick up the phone and call you, he couldn’t find it within himself to do it. Every time his thoughts drifted, and he ended up thinking about you, a pang of betrayal would wind its way through his chest until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Would Maria be okay with this? Would she like you? Would the kids? It all felt very surreal to Frank, so he did what every other jarhead had been trained to do and shut it all down until the numbness finally overpowered the ache.  

His phone flashed with a notification, and he glanced over, expecting it to be a text from you, angry and done with whatever this thing was between the two of you, but it wasn’t. Of course, it wasn’t. It was you, and your kindness would always win when pinned against your anger. It was a simple message, one that Frank couldn’t figure out how to feel about.  

‘I’m coming over, and I’m bringing you dinner. I won’t stay, unless you want me to.’ 

Clearly you were aware something was going on with him, and his heart ached at the thought of you worriedly walking through Hell’s Kitchen to come to his aid. He thought about leaving, going out and walking around until he was sure you wouldn’t be here when he got back. You shouldn’t see him like this, so beaten down by life that he could barely move. He could text you, tell you to turn around and go home. Maybe you’d be so put off by his rude behavior that you would turn around without a second thought. 

Frank didn’t do any of those things though. Maybe he needed a lot of things, or maybe he didn’t, he didn’t know, but more than anything, he knew he needed love, and he would be a fool to turn down what you were trying so hard to offer him. He slowly picked up his phone and typed out a short response. 

‘Okay.’ 

- 

You stared at the door for three long minutes before you finally reached forward and knocked. The adrenaline that had been coursing through your veins earlier had caused you to rush into this plan, and now you were second guessing the bold text you’d sent Frank. Was it too much? Too harsh for him on a day when he deserved the utmost softness?  

His rapid response had fueled your hurried haze, and you had picked up your already-brisk pace, only stopping to rethink your plan when you arrived on his doorstep. You could take the coward’s way out – leave the bag of takeout food on his front steps and bolt before he opened the door – but something about that felt inherently wrong. 

The squeal of the floorboards on the other side of the door sounded, a precaution Frank had purposely installed to make him aware of anybody entering his home, and you tightened your grip on the bag. You didn’t know which Frank would be on the other side of the door, but you were determined to at least give him something to eat. 

The door swung open, revealing an incredibly disheveled looking Frank. The red sting of his eyes was immediately noticeable, and your heart broke looking at him. You wanted to hug him, kiss him, anything to remind him that you loved him, but you didn’t know how he’d react to physical affection on a day like this. A day of mourning, of loss, of immense and immeasurable grief.  

He glanced down at the food in your hands, and you stiffened at the thought of him taking the food and shutting the door in your face. You had given him that option, but the last thing you wanted to do was abandon Frank on the rare occasion when he needed someone else to lean on.  

“Hi.” You mumbled, raising your hand in an awkward wave. “I brought you food.”  

“Hi. Thank you.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, and your heart broke just a little bit more hearing the sorrow in it. He opened the door wider. An invitation beckoning you to come inside.  

You stepped through the doorway, awkwardly shuffling your feet as Frank closed the door and deadbolted it behind you. No one said anything for a moment. You didn’t know how to comfort this level of grief, but you’d always been taught to make yourself present in a grieving person’s life, so you ignored the awkward silence and tried to act like this was a normal interaction between you and Frank.  

“Have you eaten?” You asked, lifting the bag of food for emphasis.  

Frank shook his head. You turned, setting off towards the kitchen to unload the food. You’d gone a little overboard, probably, but you didn’t know what type of food he would want, so you got a little bit of everything. When Frank saw the spread of cuisines you had laid out on the counter, his eyes widened.  

“Did you stop at every restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen?” He raised an eyebrow at you, and you quickly turned away, unsure if you should feel ashamed under his gaze.  

“It’s,” you paused, trying to figure out what to say, “comfort food. I just didn’t know which kind was your comfort.” You shrugged, looking over the array of food in front of you. 

He shifted beside you, and you suddenly became aware of his hand on the small of your back. He pressed a long kiss against your temple and grabbed the box of Thai food closest to him. His affection eased some of the tension in your shoulders, and you leaned against the counter with him as he dug into his food.  

“Should I... I mean do you want me to...” your question trailed off as you motioned towards the door. 

He glanced between the door and your hand, still hung in the air in an awkward pointing position, and shook his head.  

“Stay.” He murmured, and added, after a pause, “Please.” 

Frank Castle didn’t beg, but you could’ve sworn that it sounded like he was pleading with you. Stay. Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone with my demons. You nodded and began to put the extra food in his refrigerator as he devoured his meal.  

The silence between the two of you was no longer awkward, now that Frank had made it clear that he wanted you to be here. As you finished organizing the contents of his fridge, he moved across the kitchen, grasping your hand between his and fiddling with your fingers. 

“How did you know?” He asked, eyes cast downward where your hands met.  

“About today?” You leaned into his hold, pressing your knuckles against his hard abdomen. He nodded, the only response he could give you at the moment. 

“I had a funny feeling when I woke up this morning, and then I hadn’t heard from you all day, so when Karen asked me how you were holding up, I sort of put the pieces together myself. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” 

He shook his head, bringing the tips of your fingers to his lips.  

“I don’t know what to say.” He murmured against your fingertips. You reached forward, cupping his cheek with your free hand.  

“You don’t have to say anything, Frank. I’m with you no matter what, okay? Whatever that means for you.” 

He nodded and leaned into your palm, closing his eyes.  

“I will always love Maria.” He mumbled, tears threatening to spill behind his closed eyelids. “But I love you, too. And, after Maria, I didn’t know I was still capable of that until I met you. Is that enough for you? To share me with someone who’s de-,” He stumbled over the word, clearing his throat, “Who’s dead?”  

You’d never heard Frank speak so plainly about Maria before, and the ache cascading from him was a palpable feeling. You held back your tears as you pressed your other hand to his face.  

“Frank, she was your wife, and she was taken from you. Of course, you still love her. I wouldn’t expect anything different.” You pressed your forehead against his, fully leaning into his warmth. “You’re always enough.” 

Your final statement had Frank collapsing against you, pulling you into a tight hug. His body shook with sobs against yours, and you clung to him like you would a life raft in the middle of the ocean.  

“I love you.” His voice was a muffled whisper against your shoulder. You lightly ran your fingers along the nape of his neck. 

“I love you too, Frankie.”  

“Thank you for coming over, baby.” 

“I’ll always come for you, Frank.”  

It was a promise you knew you would never break, and you’d spend your life proving it to him if need be. Frank would always be hurting, even in the good moments, and you were determined to show him a love deeply enough to help remind him during those times that he was cared about and loved, flaws and all.  

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @deliciousfestsalad @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08

[renyanchan]

TWISTED WONDERLAND HEIGHT CHARTS (STAFF + STUDENTS)

more info + full res below the cut :,)

EDIT: Hello! I’ve completely remade the height chart and its better quality and in high order! You can find the full res here. And you can find more notes about this particular height chart below!

Below you can also find the staff and individual dorms!

Any striked out text below was in reference to the original image.

sooo, i tried to combine screenshots of the original height chart i made so i can post it here, not sure if tumblr is going to absolutely destroy the quality or not (if it does, i’ll probably edit this with a link to imgur or smth, sorry if you cant read it hgfdh) 

EDIT: I’ve updated it with Malleus’s correct height! Sorry about you malleus simps thinking he was like 8 foot lmfao

anyway i’ve got a little bit to say about this since,,, this was a mess to make (also im sure someones probably done this already, but i havent seen one yet)

This was a personal project of mine and I wasn’t originally going to post it, but I felt like it would be useful to some people,, please lmk if I messed anything up or made any mistakes because I 100% did not do this perfectly.

You’re welcome to reference all you want, but please don’t reupload it anywhere without my permission since i took way too long making this ;v;(referencing it in other posts or linking to it is fine!)

It should be obvious, but these are just the official sprites from the game and I did not draw them.

THE HEIGHT CHART

(In regards to the way I measured) Grim and all the Savanaclaw boys are measured by the top of their heads, NOT by the tip of their ears/horns. The official heights don’t specify what they measured to so I decided measuring by the top of their heads like the rest of the students makes sense. These ones are pretty much the only characters I had problems calculating their height with.

However, this makes me run into a problem such as Grim looks abnormally tall/large, but that’s probably because he’s got a chunkier body type. (we love you bby,,)

All characters are lined up by their heels, with the exception of Ortho. I measured him by the bottom of his foot because he’s a robot, and I’d imagine the platform-looking bits of his feet are connected. I believe Ortho also canonically floats slightly off the ground, but I didn’t bother accounting for that since,, I’m measuring the length of his body in comparison.

The original models are not perfectly accurate height-wise to each other, so I had to resize them. Proportions also may look slightly off because of that.

Heights are not pixel perfect, and may be slightly off.

Malleus has the tallest listed height (202cm) and that includes his horns. As such, Malleus is 193cm without his horns. Of course, proportions aren’t perfect so he looks a bit off.

INDIVIDUAL DORMS + STAFF

FULL RES: Heartslabyul / Savanaclaw / Octavinelle / Scarabia / Pomefiore / Ignihyde / Diasomnia / Staff

MY THOUGHTS

Dear lord why do you have to be wearing a hat rook

malleus is (no longer) absolutely massive

azul is so tiny??? (in comparison to the tweels at least lmfao, silver is also pretty small too but with malleus next to him ig thats not surprising)

this took way too long to make because i ended up realizing i calculated every single character’s heights incorrectly and made them significantly shorter than i meant so I had to go back and resize everyone lmfao (the heights should be correct now tho!!)

POST-EDITS (Theres going to be a lot of these,,)

There’s a typo on Silver’s height. It say’s 5′2, but he’s actually 5′9 jgfd

Malleus’s height actually includes his horns,, according to the official guidebook, malleus is 193cm without his horns. He’s pretty much the exact same height as Jack. (thanks to @/pocasu for letting me know ^^) (to be completely honest i thought it was extremely absurd that he was 6′7 without his horns but i had no frame of reference fghdgf) (EDIT: i’ve fixed his height!! For reference, Malleus is 202cm including his horns!)

Completely updated and remade the height chart! She’s pretty now haha. Thanks for the overwhelming support on this, it was fun to make and I appreciate those pointing out any mistakes i made!

[havensins]

Hey so I read ur description, and I saw u were black! So… you don’t need to write this but, maybe Steve Rogers x male reader headcannons with a guy who is a poc? Like how Steve expresses how he wants to learn about the readers culture?

steve rogers x poc!male reader

cw . sfw, mentions of eating, very vague descriptions of culture & racism (very very slight & non violent)

note . i tried to make this as inclusive and racially ambiguous as possible (while making it exclusive that the reader is poc) so i hope you enjoy! since im black, there are a few headcanons geared toward black readers, just a heads up! <3 these are gonna be short since i want it to be geared specifically towards poc readers😭

steve is in love.

interracial dating was a little frowned upon, although he didn’t think like the racist bastards of his time

the moment he saw you in the compound, he was enthralled.

(if you have locs) he was drawn to the way they framed your face, or when you had them all put up, he thought you were so handsome

otherwise- he loves your curls, no matter what hair type you have, he loves the way your curls shake and bounce

he was comfortable around you, he wasn’t nervous as he would be around others he found attractive

you made him feel comfortable to laugh and joke around you freely without him having to overthink his words

absolutely adores your cooking man. cooking soul food or food from your culture would have him hooked

no more letting the other avengers cook for him bc he loves your cooking too much

he would STEP behind you man, whenever someone so much as looked at you wrong ro made a slick comment, best believe he’d be ready to tussle

whether it was backhanded compliments, racism, homophobia, etc. he’d most definitely be confrontational

he really wants to learn how to do your hair and take care of it since sometimes you didn’t feel like it or were too tired after a mission

and so you taught him

so now, you have your own personal stylist, and steve never complains about it because he loves spending time with you anyway

helping him learn to braid your hair for the first time was adorable, having yo help him get out all the small tangles and what not

instead of wash day being gruesome and long, with steve, you cut the process down to about 3-4 hours

he’s super delicate with you too, such a giant man and yet he treats you like glass

if you work alongside him (saving lives yk) he’s more focused on you being okay than anything

i have been hoarding this in my drafts for nearly a month, i have nothing left to add and it’s time to let it go 😭 sorry this is shorter than what i’d normally write <\3