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whytheylosttheirminds · 3 days ago

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haunted - r.c.

house arrest!Rafe Cameron x mysterious neighbor!reader one-shot (5.4k words)

content: angst, smut, references to dark pasts, mentions of obsession (mild), oral (f), unprotected p-in-v, 18+ minors do not interact

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

That first night, the summer air was so thick you could drown in it. You could taste the salty sea on your tongue as you took a deep breath, bracing your hands on the high lip of the brick wall. You’d only get one shot at the jump, too much noise would draw the neighbors’ attention. You checked your phone once again, 9:09 pm, late enough to cover you in darkness, but not late enough to ensure the neighborhood was asleep. Stealth was your only option. Squaring your shoulders, you stuffed your phone back in your bag and launched it over the wall, listening for the soft thud in the grass that meant there was truly no backing down now.

Little spurs of pain pinched your ankles when you landed on the other side, but you’d made it, unscathed aside from the torn skin on your palms from the wall’s unforgiving stone. The hard part was over, now you froze with uncertainty, you hadn’t planned to make it this far.

The house stood mighty under the bright light of the moon. This was the first time you saw it in its grand entirety, the view from your window across the street revealing only the white siding and a few shuttered windows. You’d watched for a few days - no cars came or went, the small windows you could see from your own were never opened, no lights turned on and off beyond their panes.

The few neighbors you’d talked to since your mysterious sudden arrival got cagey when the topic came up, a seemingly unspoken rule that this was the one house off limits for their ever turning rumor mill. Though the shifty glances and wrung hands at the mention of it hinted at something sinister lying behind this ancient brick wall, something dangerous. The risk was too alluring, and you were too bored, trapped in your cookie cutter McMansion with your father, a man who never understood you, and a twisted past you were running from even when you were standing still.

Now, on the other side of the alluring border, was the first time in months you didn’t feel trapped. Your heart raced as you looked around the massive yard, no lights in the windows confirming your theory that the house was abandoned. A chill shot through you despite the record high July temperatures, something so haunting about this storied land, and so forbidden. I should not be here, you thought as your feet carried you further into the trespassed property. This was the most alive you’d felt since you arrived on this island a few weeks ago, your sordid past nipping at your heels. For the first time since the incident, your mind wasn’t consumed with it, with the horrible memories, the regrets, the what-ifs. Here inside the gates of Tannyhill you were an outlaw, so far from what you have done and even farther from what you should be doing.

Euphoria swept over you, the most heady high. An almost manic laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it. You reveled in the electric feeling as you padded through the grass back to the wall. You’d only made it a few steps toward the house, but you knew you’d be back, finally finding something to make your heart race, something to come back to, something to live for.

After that night, the empty house became your obsession. All day, every day you thought about the sprawling property, the grand pillars and white walls that housed a thousand mysteries. While the sun was up, you dreamt of what you might find when you finally found a way inside, and as soon as it set, you were creeping back over that wall, making it a few steps further each time.

Finally, after two weeks of dreaming, trapped inside the house across the street that would never be your home, fighting with the father that would never be your family, you knew it was time. Tonight, you’d go farther than you ever had, touch the walls of that ancient house, the promise of the thrill almost as heady and dizzying as the moment itself.

Climbing over that wall was muscle memory at this point, the calluses on your hands proof you’d formed an addiction you were nowhere near kicking. After the trek through the tall, unkempt grass you’d walked fifteen times now, you made it to the stone walkway you’d yet to touch. Without stopping to think, to second guess, you sprinted over the stones, rounding the corner of the house for the first time, stopping in your tracks at the beauty the backyard held.

The moon reflected off the water, rippling from the slight breeze, calling to you. Perfect. You’d go for a swim in the pool that wasn’t yours, maybe even find a little rock and break a window, sneak into this haunted house, anything to keep feeling the rush that had brought your body back to life the second you stepped foot on this forbidden land.

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

Rafe saw you the very first night. For six months now, he’d spent every waking minute pacing these empty halls, wishing for a hit of something, anything, to make the silence less deafening. The only noises keeping him company on these endless nights were the sound of his own erratic voice and the occasional beep of the monitor strapped tight around left ankle.

They’d gotten him for the drugs, but he knew what they were really trying to uncover, the secrets he kept buried so deep even he forgot about them sometimes. His sentence was two years house arrest, every movement monitored, all substances strictly forbidden.

It only took a few days for the loneliness to become crippling. Over and over, he imagined turning the corner and seeing someone standing in the hall, someone he knew, someone he didn’t, anyone, to talk to, to make him feel like he wasn’t going completely insane.

Then a soft thud in the distance, followed closely by another, the second slightly louder. Any noise out of place immediately perked his ears, far too familiar with the creaks and groans of this old mansion to miss even the quietest of disturbances. Maybe the thuds could have been something innocuous, a branch breaking or wind whipping against the walls. What came after, however, was unmistakable.

The soft, sweet melody of a woman’s laugh floated across the night air and in through an open window. The sound was so welcome and warm as it washed over Rafe, the purity of it washing him clean, illuminating the world around him. Suddenly, in the midst of his darkest hour, a bright light had appeared before him, calling him home.

His days quickly became consumed by thoughts of you. He spent his hours watching the sun journey across the sky, east to west, willing it to set faster and bring you to him. All he knew of you was your moonlit silhouette, coming to him every night like the sweetest dream. Each time the sun set and you appeared, you got closer and closer to him. The hesitancy in your steps was maddening, but he couldn’t go to you, the risk of scaring you off was far too great, your nightly visits the only thing keeping him earthside.

And then, on the fifteenth night, when he thought for sure you’d never come to him, never cross the rest of the distance that kept you apart, you broke into a run, disappearing around the side of the house and out of view. He ran from window to window, looking down from the second floor trying to find you. His panting breaths and pounding heartbeat were the only things he could hear, until, so miraculously he wondered if he imagined it, a splash and that same angelic laugh, so beautiful and melodic that his whole world shook. Risks be damned, there was no holding himself back, feet moving of their own accord as he ran down the spiral staircase, toward you.

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

You stripped your clothes under the cover of darkness, toeing the edge of the water as a test, gasping at the sharp chill. Despite the hot summer day, the water was ice cold, only adding to its alluring mysticism. There would be no easing in, your stomach twisting in anticipation as you stood in only your bra and underwear at the edge, a deep breath, a bend in your knees and - SPLASH.

Your heart nearly stopped as the water engulfed you, your hair whipping around you as you shot back up to the surface. Every cell in your body was buzzing with excitement, and just like that first night you couldn’t hold back the wild laugh that spilled from your lips. You could not believe what you were doing, so reckless and wrong, and yet so right.

Each stroke tearing through the water's surface, you swam with abandon, feet kicking up big splashes and the sound of ragged, desperate breaths filling the night air every time you craned your neck for a gulp of air. The more you swam, the more you forgot. Forgot that you were breaking the law, forgot that you were not supposed to be here, forgot about the events that led you to this island, that tore the life you knew from you in one fell swoop. You didn’t know what you’d do next, how you’d sneak into your house without water dripping everywhere, how you’d ever move on from this incredible feeling, but you didn’t care, you just kept swimming.

Arm swinging through the air, you took what must’ve been your hundredth stroke, twisting your head to the side to grab a breath, eyes just barely catching the dark, towering silhouette of a figure at the edge of the pool.

You shot up so fast the splash of water threatened to fill your lungs and pull you back under. Your shoulders shivered as you stood in the chilly water, blinking fast to clear your vision as your brain tried to catch up to what your eyes were seeing.

You hadn’t imagined it. He stood tall and stoic at the edge of the pool, hands in his pockets, shoulders broad enough to partially block the glow of the moon.

Something in you knew that he was dangerous, goosebumps dancing across your dripping skin, warning you “go, flee, run now.” But you didn’t move, frozen in the water as he looked down at you with the slightest tilt of his head. Darkness covered his features, only the light of the stars reflecting off his sharp jawline and high cheekbones.

He was a total stranger, his presence a threat that should be terrifying you, and yet in the same way that you knew after the first time you’d jumped the wall that you’d keep coming back to this place, you knew that you couldn’t run from him, that you didn’t want to. Drawn to him in a way that stole your breath, you moved forward, the slightest imperceptible step, and yet you knew he could feel it too, the magnetic pull between souls that made escaping him impossible. Maybe it was a dream, or maybe you had drowned and fallen into some dark, twisted underworld, this man your own personal devil. But if he was your damnation, you wanted to fall right to the seventh circle.

For what felt like hours, neither one of you spoke. Only the gentle lap of the water against the tile edge of the pool filled the air between you - the Caught and the Capturer sizing each other up in the darkness.

Then, with no urgency, no threat or accusation against the trespasser standing half naked in his pool, the man turned on his heel and headed toward the house, pausing at the threshold of the grand sliding glass door to mutter over his shoulder, “come in,” and after a moment’s pause and some internal battle, “please.”

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

Rafe turned when he sensed you hesitating outside the sliding door, his anxiety over finally seeing you up close frustrating him as he flicked on the lights in the house. When he turned, seeing you illuminated by light for the first time, everything softened, the sight of you dripping and shivering on the stone patio making his heart ache.

He looked around desperately for something to offer you, no towels or blankets available in the grand dining room he was standing in. He tore the jacket from around his shoulders, handing it to you with shaky hands. It wasn’t enough, but he needed to stop your lips from turning purple, needed, in some terrifying, primal way, to protect you.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered, eyes wide and hand trembling as you took the jacket from him hesitantly.

The realization hit him like a bullet to the chest: you were scared of him. Then a second shot, right to the gut: you were right to be.

The hands that held out this peace offering weren’t clean. Maybe you’d heard the stories about him, maybe you weren’t as enchanted by him as he was by you. He prayed you didn't know who he was, the rumors that came with the mention of his name. But then, why did you keep coming back? He needed to know, the question leaving his lips before he could stop it.

“Why are you here?”

His voice was rough from lack of use, harsher than he wanted it to be, causing you to take a hesitant step back.

“I shouldn’t be.”

You backed away slowly, making panic rise in his chest, a terrible sense that his salvation was slipping through his fingers. He stepped towards you, the movement too fast and frightening, unable to control himself, as always.

“I’m sorry,” he tried to say, but it was too late, you were already gone, flying across the grass from the pool’s edge.

All that remained to prove you were ever even there was the puddle where you’d stood outside the door. By morning, it’d be dry, and he’d be wondering if he hallucinated the whole thing.

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

Waking in a cold sweat, you grabbed at his sweatshirt like you were trying to ensure it was still wrapped around you, for what reason you weren’t sure. It was the third night you’d slept in it, not crossing the wall again since the night you’d met him. Your body shook with chills, a dull ache everywhere as though you were in withdrawal.

You tried to tell yourself it was done, you’d been caught and your little excursions over the wall had to stop. The house wasn’t empty as you’d assumed, and it would be insane to get near him again. He couldn’t possibly be trustworthy, his voice deep and menacing, a wildfire in his eyes that clearly held a history. His hair was long and unkempt like the grass outside his house, unruly and overgrown in a way that did not match the grandeur and luxury of the home he never seemed to leave. Something about it, about him, wasn’t right, and you knew if you got too close to the flame, you’d get burned.

Still, your thoughts always found their way back to him. And in your sleep, he appeared in every dream, those same ocean blue eyes tearing through you like he could see to your soul.

Rising from your sweat soaked sheets, you padded the worn path from your bed to the window, the creaks in the floor familiar as you spent so many hours perched in that spot watching his house. This time, for the first time since you'd started surveying the house weeks ago, the lights in the windows were on. Your heart caught in your throat when you saw a shadowy figure walk past, then again, the man from the pool pacing back and forth.

You wondered if his thoughts were as consumed with you as yours were of him. Then, as if he could hear your thoughts, he looked up, eyes meeting yours across the distance.

You knew which spots on the stairs squeaked, avoiding them as you snuck out, past your father asleep on the couch, across the street towards the house that haunted you, toward him.

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

The splash was loud on purpose, intended to catch his attention. You waited in the water with baited breath until, gloriously, he appeared through the sliding doors, standing in the same spot he had been a few nights ago, looking down at you with the same curious glare.

Slowly, your eyes ever trained on him, you swam to the edge, climbing out of the water so you could stand in front of him, chest to chest. Finally seeing him up close, your heart fluttered at his striking features, jaw locked tight as he stared down at you.

You shouldn’t reach up and touch his face, but you did. You shouldn’t whisper quietly, “what’s your name?” but you did. You shouldn’t follow him as he turned and walked back into the grand dining room, but you did.

Not answering your question, not saying anything, he turned toward you once you were standing inside, eyes darting around the luxurious space, taking in it’s beauty before landing back on him. You didn’t know his name, you didn’t really need to. There was only one thing you needed to know, the thing that had kept you up at night, the thing that both kept you away and pulled you helplessly toward him.

“Are you dangerous?”

His eyes answered you before his words could, a flash of recognition and regret behind his blue irises preceding his nod and broken-throated, “yes.”

“You could hurt me, then?”

“Yes,” less hesitancy this time, an edge of warning in his tone, as he stepped closer to you, his large, intimidating frame invading your space and making your breath catch in your throat.

You didn’t back away, skin igniting, a rush of need and pure lust overtaking your body as he crept closer. The certainty in his voice left no doubt, if he wanted to, he could hurt you right here and now and there’s nothing you could do to protect yourself. And yet his touch was light when it ghosted over your lips, pads of his fingers rough against the soft skin as he traced the shape of your mouth.

“Are you going to?”

Sparks flew between you as his touch became firmer, hand cradling your head. His answer like gasoline to the flickering flame, a fire neither of you would walk away from unburnt flared to life with one word.

“Never.”

Before you could think, you shot up on your toes, fingers digging into his shoulders as your lips crashed into his, an involuntary groan ripped from his chest and transferred into yours through the connection of your open mouths.

He grabbed your waist, his grip bruising, flex of his muscles animalistic as he lifted you off your feet, planting you firmly on the edge of the dining room table.

Still kissing him, your teeth and tongues devouring each other, your hands dropped to his waist, fingers pulling at the leather of his belt. He was quick to stop you, fingers easily wrapping around your wrists, a reminder that physically, you were completely at his mercy, nothing stopping him from overpowering you. And yet, his touch was gentle as he pulled your hands away from him, dragging your arms up and guiding you onto your back, hands pinned above your head.

Leaning over you, his eyes roamed your face and body, spread out on the cold oak table like his last supper. Your bra and underwear still wet from the pool soaked through his shirt as you arched your back, unable to resist the urge to press up into him, to feel his warm, strong body fully against yours.

Rafe’s eyes closed tight, nostrils flailing as he willed himself not to take you the way you were inviting him to. You didn’t understand his hesitation, mistaking it for rejection, cowering underneath him.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered, almost to yourself.

His eyes flew open, searching yours with panic, terrified by the thought of finally having you so close only to lose you. The thought was too painful, he was in far too deep to let you go now.

“Please, stay. Let me- I, I can take care of you,” his lips attached to your neck, sucking down like he was trying to make you understand how desperate he was. “Let me make you feel good.”

You gasped when his eyes suddenly shot back up to yours. They seemed darker somehow, pupils blown wide, the crease in his forehead a pleading request. Unable to stop yourself, just as frenzied as he seemed to be, you nodded rapidly, all at once agreeing, demanding, and begging.

His lips were back on you immediately, dragging down the skin of your neck to your chest, which was rising and falling with pants as your heart threatened to pound right through it. He paused every so often to nip, painting over every bite mark with a drag of his tongue. When his searching lips reached the valley between your breasts, you pulled the straps of your thin bra down your shoulders, brushing the material down to reveal yourself to him.

“God,” he moaned out, breathing warmly against you as he steeled himself, dragging his tongue over one of your breasts to your hardened nippled, closing his lips around it and sucking once before pulling back to whisper, “so beautiful, my angel.’

His words were confusingly intimate for a man you were meeting for the second time, and yet his apparent adoration of you was intoxicating, your hands flying to his hair, tugging at the roots to express what words couldn’t.

“From the second I saw you climb over my wall, I knew I needed to have you,” he confessed against your goosebump-ridden skin.

Your eyes shot open, lifting your head off the table as much as his controlling stance would allow you.

“You saw me? The first time?”

Rafe nodded, shifting to pull your other nipple in his mouth, pulling a whimper from your lips.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

He paused his work on your skin to lift his gaze to yours, a sheepish look in his eye as he confessed, “I didn’t want to scare you away.”

You traced your fingers along his jaw, eyes tender as you promised him, “you couldn’t.”

The assurance in your voice emboldened him, his eyes flaring once more before he shifted himself down, his tongue running a wet line along your stomach as he lowered himself. You writhed helplessly underneath him, lifting your hips once he got to the waistband of your panties to grant him access, which he took happily, dragging the lacy material down to reveal you to him fully.

Glistening for him under the sparkling chandelier’s light, you opened your legs wider, mesmerized by the hunger in his eyes as he took you in.

Rafe placed an exploratory kiss on your inner thigh, his lips featherlight. He couldn’t suppress the upward twitch of his lips when he observed the way you flinched in anticipation, thighs pulling together slightly, already over sensitive from the build up.

“Don’t run from me now,” he growled, another kiss closer to your heat as his hands pulled your legs back apart, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your flesh to reassure you.

“Don’t make me wait,” you demanded, an edge to your voice he hadn’t heard yet, making you even more alluring to him, a feat he didn’t think possible.

Obediently, his thumbs slid closer to your wetness, opening you fully to him, after months of forced sobriety, he felt drunk on you. No further delay, he licked a gentle, testing stripe between your folds, pausing just before reaching your clit, his cheek resting on the inside of your thigh as he steadied himself, trying to keep from losing himself completely.

“So fucking perfect,” he hummed against you, diving in again once he’d gotten his bearings.

When the tip of his tongue finally swept over your throbbing clit, you cried out, body rising from the tabletop helplessly.

“God, yes, I needed this, I needed you so badly,” you babbled mindlessly, hands flying back to his hair, pulling harder than before and causing him to groan against you, thrilled that he’d found the right spot to make you crazy.

“I know, I know, me too,” he cooed against you, words muffled by his frenzied consumption of you.

Unleashed by the sounds of your moans, the tension in his muscles melted away as Rafe ate you out in the way he really wanted to. Messy, teeth and tongue working in tandem, curled fingers stretching you open and exploring you with reverence. The was no self-control left in your body as you wriggled and writhed on the hard table, nerve endings on fire, mind fogged over with the most addictive pleasure.

The light from the dusty chandelier above you was low, but the white behind your closed eyelids was blinding, like some heavenly glow was burning through you from the inside out. For a moment, you forgot where you were, everything that led you here and the consequences that were sure to come. All you knew was him as he unlocked something within you that you didn’t know existed.

Soon you were close, the coil in your stomach wound so tight you were almost frightened of what would happen when it inevitably snapped. You needed him, closer, deeper, with you, in you.

“Wait wait wait,” you pleaded, pushing on his shoulders to guide his mouth off of you as you sat up on the table.

Brows furrowed, he pulled back but kept his eyes trained to you, his mouth, soaked with you, hung open as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Wh-” he began to question, but your hands shot the hem of his shirt, bunching it up to pull it over his shoulders.

He helped you undress him, arms flexing as he tore the fabric up and over his head. You eyes danced over his bare torso once he was shirtless before you.

“Holy fuck,” you meant to just think it, but you might’ve accidentally said it outloud.

Either way, Rafe was too focused to notice, needing to be back on you, but stopped by your outstretched arms as you reached between your bodies again, fingers aiming for his belt again. He stepped back before you could unbuckle him, his left leg swinging back further than his right, like you’d hurt it somehow.

He avoided your searching gaze, wiping his face with the back of his hand before running his fingers through his hair in frustration, eyeing your legs dangling off the end of the table, your vulnerable position in front of him cracking his defense, your next words the nail in the coffin to his dwindling restraint.

“Please, I…I need you,” you whispered.

“You don’t even know me,” he retorted.

Eyes finally meeting yours, you shared a look more meaningful than any words you could exchange. There was a connection between you so far beyond knowing the details of each other’s lives, and a shared need that couldn’t be ignored any longer.

Rafe’s hands landed on either side of your face, inadvertently squeezing too hard as he crashed his lips back to yours. This time, he let your hands wander down and undo the button of his slacks. Once he was free of the fabric between you, pulling his pants and boxers down just far enough to free himself, he brought his throbbing cock to your entrance.

Pulling back just an inch from your lips, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, flushed with your need for him, and tucked it behind your ear.

“Are you sure, angel?”

You would never be able to explain it, but you were more sure of this than anything in your life.

“Please.”

Sinking deep with one stroke, you cried broken moans into each other’s open mouths as he finally gave you what you needed. One arm behind you for support, one slung tight around his shoulders, you met each of his thrusts with a cry of pleasure.

Forehead pressed to yours, he looked so deeply into your eyes as he fucked you, mouth agape in awe as he watched you take him so perfectly.

Emboldened by your vulnerable state, you decided to push the issue, “please, I need to know your name.”

Either he was too distracted to care or you’d gained his trust, because he didn’t pause for a second before answering, “it's Rafe.”

Your lips turned in slow smile at the sound of his name, quietly echoing his confession with your own name, a sound that made him close his eyes and smile before leaning in and moaning your name into your ear. Over and over he whispered your name like a chant you knew you’d play over and over in your mind until it was cemented there permanently.

He knew you loved the sound by the way you clenched around him helplessly when he said it. His hands clutched your hips hard, leaving bruises behind as he picked up his movements. Your head fell back as your legs began to shake, fingernails leaving marks in his shoulders. He took advantage of your exposed neck to find the same spot he’d attached to earlier, sucking between whispers as he brought you closer and closer to the release you were chasing.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me? You’re all I think about, all I can focus on. You’re driving me insane.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. By the sound of it, he’d been as haunted by you as you were by him. You didn’t understand this madness, the almost cosmic connection between you. It was like some dark magic pulling you together, this meeting of your bodies and souls inevitable, despite being total strangers. The power of the connection, the feeling of him filling you so completely, the low growl of his voice, the strength of his shoulders beneath your grasp, it was all too much.

“Rafe, I’m - oh fuck! Rafe!”

You came with a shriek, tears slipping free and falling down your face as you pulsed around him, a euphoric feeling you’d never experienced in your life washing over you, all at once terrifying and perfect. He felt it too, you could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice as he lost himself and spilled inside you, his whole body shuddering against you, forcing you to lay back on the table under the weight of him.

The panic set in immediately. He whispered your name as he peppered exhausted kissed against your chest, and your eyes flew open, the aftershocks of your high wearing off like you’d just woken up from a long slumber.

You didn’t know this man, who was again chanting your name like a prayer, you didn't know why he was stuck in this house alone, you didn’t even know his last name. How could you be so reckless? He told you he was dangerous and you’d begged him to take you. It was the behavior of someone who’d completely lost their mind.

When he stood, you slipped from the table quickly, gathering your clothes and pulling them on haphazardly without words. Rafe just watched you as he pulled his own clothes back on, worry in his eyes at the way you were avoiding him, keeping your body shielding from his as you quickly covered up.

“Are you o-”

“I have to go,” you didn’t even spare him a glance as you fled back across the threshold and ran out into the darkness.

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

This time, he did what he wished he had done the last time, chasing after you as you ran. You were faster than he expected, expertly navigating the overgrown jungle that had become his yard. He reached the wall, stopping himself with a painful clash of his hands against the stone before he ran straight into it. Tall enough to watch you land on the other side and sprint across the road, his eyes went wide when he realized where you were going.

All this time, while he sat inside and dreamt of you, imagining all of the places you could be during the agonizingly long days without you, you were just across the street.

Your house couldn’t have been more than a few yards from his own property line. And yet, as the monitor on his ankle reminded him with a series of warning beeps, you were unreachable. White knuckles clutched the wall as his greatest fear swept over him: that he may never be able to reach you again.

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

a/n: I'm so deeply rusty but this really helped me get the wheels turning, sorry if it's not my best! I missed dark, brooding rafeypoo! thanks for reading!

reminder, writers live off reblogs, don't forget to feed your faves! <3

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chknbzkt · 1 year ago

Text

FINALLYYY FIRST CELESTIAL IVE BEEN CHOMPING AT THE BIT TO SHOW THIS-

And a mix of various sketches and drafts!!!

Psst down here v

Since the horrific murder of a nobleman has put many people in the kingdom’s walls off the idea of letting dragons in their midst for the time being, Sundrop’s continued employ under the king as a personal jester and informant has many under the impression that the dragon himself may have had something to do with it, and that his influence is corrupting the monarch in question.

Sundrop, however, thinks the people can believe whatever they want.

While his position gives him plenty of wiggle room to lavish himself with as much luxury as he desires, truthfully he’d much rather be outside the kingdom walls than in them. No, his heart lies with the wilds of Hyde’s Crossing’s ancient forests. His hoard isn’t even as extensive as it should be, consisting of a few plushies, puzzles, and children’s toys here and there, it’s oddly… empty?

So as much as he… appreciates the fluidity, he spends most of his time trying to keep his distance from Farqur Kingdom as often as possible. Before he has to return.

When he isn’t on his perch at the king’s beck and call, he’s running into random adventurers and the odd monster hunter left and right as he continues to peruse the wilds and stir up mischief as per usual. Most of them have been called to action as of late due to the influx of shades razing settlements to the ground when they’ve been left unchecked for far too long, rising to the challenge in the hopes of scoring money to keep themselves afloat.

There have been a few stinkers regarding interactions here and there, but making new friends is still endlessly fulfilling and entertaining on the occasion that they’ll let him get close enough to actually mingle with them proper. He’s content to share stories of his findings and across the land, landmarks, places of interest, the best places to sun oneself and the loveliest fishing spots!!! This boy loves to know people and be known!!!

He never sticks around long enough to say goodbye however. Always leaves in Farqur’s general direction in a big hurry at odd beats in the conversation. Odd fellow. And he never actually clocked where his companion was from, so the chances of them meeting again are slim…

He seems very flighty for someone so pleasant…

#bzkt barf #fnaf smaugust #fnaf sun #dragon au #dca fandom #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb au #fnaf daycare attendant #art #artistsontumblr

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altuspavus · 1 year ago

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@whalefelled

"How do you like snow without liking everything terrible which it brings alongside it, hm?" Dorian teases in response. It's an easy back-and-forth to fall into, it's always so surprisingly easy to fall into any conversation with Bull, he's found. Less surprising as time goes on, even. He can feel Bull's gaze upon him and preens, just a bit. Even swathed in so many layers as he might be, even ridiculous as he knows he must look, a man can appreciate being appreciated.

"Mmmm, Maker, don't say such things and tempt me, Bull," Dorian chastises. But oh he's right, it would be lovely. "Do those even exist so far south as we are?" Worldly, Bull had called himself earlier. The mage presumes, should anyone know, it would have to be him. Or, perhaps, any random Fereldan, but he has no reason nor want to ask them when Bull exists as a much more enjoyable option. Perhaps he asks for unspoken greedy reasons, such as spending time with Bull somewhere nice, somewhere away from the pressures of assisting in saving the world and all of the terrible things that go along with it.

altuspavus:

Dorian’s face scrunches up nearly immediately at the qunari’s comment. Liking snow, what a concept. How… terrible. Dorian could never. He shakes his head and snuggles down further into his coat and blanket cocoon. Bull could take all of this blighted snow, if it meant he’d never deal with it again.

❝ Antivans are a lot to deal with, though rather talented at the production of brandy and the…. wielding of needles for the purposes of aesthetics. ❞ Dorian laughs to himself. He had gotten the majority of his piercings in Antiva, since there was a difference in skill between them and the rest of the world. ❝ You’ve just said you enjoy snow. Surely this is perfect for you, ‘lucky’, as it were. ❞ Bull having to put up with Dorain’s complaints, however? Certainly not as lucky.

“I like snow, I don’t like my nipples freezing off… or the chafing–” Bull muses. Bull takes a quick stock of the other’s piercings, humming in appreciation, at least Dorian knew where the superior craftsmanship laid in that case. With a little click of his tongue, Bull leaned back into the warmth of the fire a moment and away from Dorian.

“What I’d really like, is a nice hot spring.” he mused with a teasing lilt to his voice. It’d been a long while since he’d indulged in one, but he imagines the wonders it’d do after spending the past few days in the fucking snowy wasteland here.

#responds to a thread THREE YEARS LATER LIKE A NORMAL PERSON #where's that 15 minutes late with starbucks meme that's me replying to this. i just. bull and dori are sweethearts forever and always #and this was buried in my drafts so. Gotta.#it's so old that I can't trim the replies #dorian soft for bull nothing is new under the sun #whalefelled #{ you'd be surprised at the credit my tongue gets. } — [ v: main ]#{ and everything was perfectly serene until they disturbed the ancient altar. } — [ queue ]

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strawberryjimin13 · 6 months ago

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VEIL OF DECEIT | KTHᝰ.ᐟ

— Synopsis: In the gloomy village of Briarfield, an annual ritual demands the sacrifice of an innocent girl to the devil. When Y/N is chosen as the next offering, she discovers the dark truth behind the tradition—a hoax engineered by the corrupted noblemen.

— Pairing: Merchant!Taehyung x Apprentice Healer!reader

— Genre: Fantasy, one-shot, angst, fluff, eventual smut

— Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), obsessive behaviour (not from tae), attempted sexual assault (not tae! None of the bad warnings are for him tbh), mentions of satanic rituals and sacrificing, stalker behaviour, misogyny, objectification of women, eventual smut, p in v, unprotected sex (this is like magical medieval times lol BUT BE SAFE), praise kink, orgasms (f/m), creampie(?), age gap (reader is 20, Tae is 26), creepy old man behaviour (💀)

— Word Count: 17.9k

— A/N: This is not the most polished work I’m aware. The story contains flaws but I had a dream (plot) and a word document 😭 also this was my first time writing smut, can you tell? Maybe I should have made Tae the evil one 🤔Once again feedback would be appreciated!

— English is not my first language so l apologise in advance for any mistakes or typos!

There once existed the kingdom named Aetherfall, the kingdom of light and splendour. Aetherfall was a kingdom unlike any other, a shining jewel set amidst towering mountains and rolling hills. The city, nestled in the heart of the kingdom, was a sight to behold—an architectural masterpiece where elegance met strength, and ancient magic wove through every stone and street. From afar, Aetherfall appeared like a golden crown atop the earth, its walls gleaming under the light of the sun, and at night, shimmering under the glow of thousands of lanterns.

The heart of the kingdom was its biggest city, Starhill labelled as the city of dreams that every person wanted to visit. Among the large kingdom laid a forgotten place at the outskirts. The village of Briarfield. It hardly harboured a population of a thousand people due to the village’s reputation.

The village of Briarfield was cursed. Or so the stories went, whispered from one frightened villager to the next, as the ever-present fog curled around their feet like ghostly tendrils. It wasn’t just the heavy mist that clung to the cracked, cobblestone streets, or the way the sun seemed to forsake the village, trapped behind thick clouds of grey. No, Briarfield bore the weight of far darker rumours: that its prosperity was built upon the blood of innocent girls, sacrificed each year to appease the devil that lurked beneath its shadowy veneer.

In the dim light of early evening, the village lay sprawled at the foot of the mountains, with its decrepit houses leaning together as if they were all that held each other up. Blackened thatched roofs and crooked chimneys poked into the gloom like skeletal fingers. The streets, winding like a serpent through the maze of wooden huts, were damp from the constant drizzle that hung in the air.

Few travellers came near it, deterred by tales of malevolent spirits and dark rituals. The villagers kept to themselves, huddled in their homes, wary of outsiders and of the secrets that their village held.

And in one of those homes, you dreamed of escape. The cottage was warm but filled with a sombre air. You sat at the table, absently tracing patterns in the worn cloth of the tablecloth. Your mother moved quietly around the kitchen; her movements automatic as she prepared the evening meal.

As the silence grew heavier, you spoke, your voice breaking the quiet. "Mother, why did you and Father never leave the village? I’ve dreamed of leaving for as long as I can remember. Why didn’t you ever want to go?"

Your mother paused, her back turned to you. The silence stretched, and you could almost feel the weight of her thoughts pressing against the walls of the small room. Finally, she turned, her face lined with the hardships of life but softened with a deep, weary kindness.

"We never left because we were bound by our own choices, my dear," she said softly, setting down the wooden spoon she had been stirring the pot with. She walked over and sat across from you, her hands clasped tightly together.

"When your father and I were young, we believed that Briarfield was where we were meant to be. It was our home, our family’s home, and leaving it felt like abandoning a part of ourselves. We thought the village’s darkness was something we could endure, something we could change."

She sighed; her gaze distant. "And in a way, we did change it. Not in grand ways, but in the small, everyday moments. We found happiness in the little things—in our garden, in the quiet of the evening, in the love we had for each other. We made our peace with the shadows because they were all we knew."

Her eyes met yours, filled with a sorrowful understanding. "I know it’s hard for you, wanting something more, wanting to escape.”

Your mother reached out and took your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "I stayed because I wanted to protect you, to give you a chance to grow up with some semblance of normalcy, even if it was flawed.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you looked at her, seeing the reasoning behind her words. "Thank you, Mother," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "I hope I can make something good come of all this, for both of us."

“I know you will my child. You have always been strong-willed and hence these walls aren’t big enough to keep you in” you smiled at her words and leaned in for a hug. Nothing provided you more comfort than knowing your mother supported your dreams.

The first light of dawn pierced through the thick fog that hung over Briarfield, casting a faint, ghostly glow over the village. The streets were damp from the previous night's drizzle, and the air was crisp, tinged with the scent of wet earth and lingering smoke from the few fireplaces that had been lit.

You pulled on your heavy shawl, its wool rough but warm against the chill, and stepped out into the murky street. The village was just beginning to stir, the early risers emerging from their homes to tend to their chores. The cobblestones beneath your boots were slick, and you navigated them carefully, feeling the weight of the day’s errands pressing on your shoulders.

The first stop was the baker’s stall at the edge of the village square. The baker’s hut was modest but inviting, its windows fogged with the heat from the ovens inside. As you entered, the aroma of fresh bread and pastries enveloped you.

The baker, a burly man with flour-dusted hands and a jovial demeanour, greeted you with a nod. "Morning, lass. What can I get for you today?"

"Good morning," you replied, your voice muffled by the cold. "Just a loaf of bread and some of those cinnamon rolls, please."

The baker nodded and reached for a crusty loaf, its surface crackling with warmth, and a small bag of sweet rolls, their scent filling the air with a comforting sweetness. He handed them over with a smile, and you paid him with the coins you had saved up, tucking the bread into the fabric of your basket.

Next, you made your way to the seamstress’s shop, a quaint little building adorned with colourful patches and ribbons. The seamstress, an elderly woman with sharp eyes and nimble fingers, was busy at her workbench, mending a torn garment. The shop was a haven of vibrant fabrics and threads, a stark contrast to the drabness of the village outside.

You approached her and showed her a small tear in your favourite skirt. "Good morning. I need this repaired, if you could madam."

The seamstress took the skirt with practiced hands, examining the tear with a critical eye. "Of course, dear. I’ll have it done by the end of the day. You’ll need it looking nice for the ceremony."

You nodded, a pang of unease twisting in your stomach at the mention of the ceremony. "Thank you."

With your errands nearly complete, you headed to the village well to fetch water. The well was a central gathering place, surrounded by villagers who would often chat and exchange news as they filled their buckets. Today, however, the well was unusually quiet, the air heavy with the unspoken tension that seemed to follow the village.

As you prepared to lower the bucket into the well, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. You glanced up and felt a familiar pang of discomfort as you saw Lord Corwin striding towards you. Lord Corwin was a balding, pot-bellied man with sagging jowls and skin that seemed to droop with age, his watery eyes always lingering a moment too long on you. He was balding and an overall unpleasant in terms of looks and personality. His dark, richly embroidered clothing marked him clearly as the village noble.

A sigh escaped your lips as you braced yourself. The last time you had seen Lord Corwin, he had been insisting on a marriage proposal—one that you had firmly declined. He was a man of your father’s age, his advances both unsettling and persistent. Despite your clear rejection, he had never seemed to accept it, continuing to approach you with an unnerving determination. You weren’t even sure why he wanted you. Last you checked; you were a mere peasant compared to him.

You tried to steady your nerves as Lord Corwin came to a halt a few feet away. “Good evening, my lady,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with a hint of nervousness that felt oddly out of place given his authoritative stance.

“Evening, Lord Corwin,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. You focused on the well, determined to keep the conversation brief.

Lord Corwin took another step closer, his proximity making you increasingly uncomfortable. “May I assist you?” he offered, though his voice carried an undertone that felt intrusive rather than courteous.

“There’s no need, my lord,” you said firmly, avoiding his gaze as you continued to work. You lowered the bucket into the well, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze.

He reached out to help, his hand brushing against yours as he took the bucket. The touch was cold and lingering, sending a shiver down your spine. “Allow me,” he said, his smile widening slightly.

“Thank you, but I can manage,” you said, stepping back to maintain some distance. The conversation felt like a repetition of past encounters, and you were eager to end it.

Lord Corwin’s eyes remained fixed on you as he carried the bucket to the edge of the well. “You know,” he began, his tone shifting to something more personal, “I’ve been thinking about our previous conversation.”

You stiffened at the mention of the past. You had rejected his marriage proposal some time ago, a decision that had left a mark on both your lives. “Yes, my lord?” you said, trying to keep your voice neutral.

“I wanted to revisit that offer,” he continued, his tone growing more insistent. “Briarfield would be a much different place with you at my side. I’ve reconsidered the benefits of our union. Your knowledge on herbs and medicine could no doubt be used for something greater”

You felt a pang of discomfort at his persistence. “I appreciate your consideration, Lord Corwin,” you said, forcing a polite smile, “but my decision remains the same. I have no desire to marry. I am also still just an apprentice of my mother. I have not yet mastered the art of medicine yet.”

Lord Corwin’s smile faltered slightly, a murderous look flashed in his eyes, but he quickly masked his disappointment with a practiced expression. “I see. Well, I hope you will reconsider in the future,” he said, his tone now slightly colder. “Briarfield could be quite different with someone of your qualities….and your beauty”. On the inside Lord Corwin felt frustrated. He had kindly asked for you hand and yet a little peasant rejected him. That was outrageous! You were a woman who needed to know her place. He thought about how he would break you and meld you into a perfect doll once he gets his hands on you.

You nodded, eager to end the conversation. “Thank you for understanding, my lord. I must return to my duties now.”

As you gathered your things and began to walk away, you felt Lord Corwin’s gaze lingering on your back. The encounter with Lord Corwin had left a bitter taste in your mouth and so you went to sleep that night hoping tomorrow would be better.

You were once again back in the market which was surprisingly bustling with people which as quite rare as people of Briarfield preferred staying indoors. As you strolled through the market stalls, your basket swinging from your arm as you selected fruits and vegetables and some new herbs you could use in making remedies. The vibrant colours of apples, carrots, and cabbages were a welcome contrast. You carefully picked out the ripest fruits and the freshest vegetables, exchanging brief pleasantries with the vendors.

As you turned a corner, you spotted a new stall set up in the market square. It was different from the others; it was not just a simple arrangement of crates and baskets but rather a carefully designed display that seemed to combine artistry with commerce. A large, hand-painted sign that read “Exotic Produce” hung above the stall, the intricate calligraphy catching the light although the words were simple and straightforward. Colourful fabrics draped over the sides of the stall, creating a vibrant backdrop for an array of unusual fruits and vegetables, most of which you had never seen before.

Exotic, brightly coloured fruits from distant lands—deep purple dragon fruit, star-shaped carambolas, and rich golden mangoes—were stacked beside more familiar produce, like apples and cabbages. Interspersed among the fruits were small pots of herbs, their fresh, earthy scent mingling with the sweet fragrance of the fruits. The herbs weren’t just your usual mint or basil but rare varieties with names you couldn’t even pronounce. Hanging from the wooden beams of the stall were clusters of dried flowers and spices, their deep hues and rich aromas filling the air with an almost magical quality.

You stepped closer, drawn in by the sheer variety of it all. Your eyes drifted over the shelves lined with jars of preserves—fig jam, spiced pears, and candied ginger—as well as small wooden boxes containing spices, teas, and even peculiar, dried fruits that looked almost like they belonged in a fairytale.

Behind the counter stood a young man, who, much like his stall, seemed out of place in Briarfield—in the best way possible. His dark hair fell loosely around his face, and his eyes sparkled with an energy that made him seem more alive than anyone else around. He wore a finely embroidered vest over a linen shirt, with intricate patterns that looked hand-sewn, and a soft leather belt hung around his waist, from which dangled small pouches and trinkets.

He noticed you approaching and greeted you with a warm, almost mischievous smile. “Good morning!” he called, his voice light and welcoming. “Welcome to my little corner of the world. I’m Taehyung. What catches your fancy today?”

You smiled back, intrigued by both him and his wares. “Good morning, Taehyung,” you replied. “Your stall is... quite different from the others. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this in Briarfield.”

Taehyung chuckled, a soft, melodic sound. “That’s the idea,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ve travelled far and wide, and I like to bring a bit of everything with me—things that can’t be found in just any ordinary village. I believe even the smallest places deserve a little magic.”

He gestured to a tray of fruit that you couldn’t name. “This, for instance, is a cherimoya—some call it the ‘custard apple.’ It’s sweet and creamy, almost like a dream in fruit form.” He pointed to another pile of peculiar, knobby-looking roots. “And these are galangal. They’re used in soups and teas in faraway lands. Perfect for chilly Briarfield evenings.”

You picked up a starfruit, running your fingers along its ridges. “It’s beautiful,” you said, marvelling at the variety of colours and shapes on display.

Taehyung’s smile softened, his tone becoming more sincere. “Thank you. I wanted to bring something new, something that could brighten up this village a little. Briarfield deserves more than just the tales it’s known for.”

You nodded, appreciating the warmth and care he put into his work. “It’s nice to have something so fresh and different here. Everything else feels so... old.”

“Exactly,” Taehyung said, leaning on the counter with an easy grace. “I’ve always believed that even in the most forgotten corners of the world, there should be beauty and wonder. That’s why I’m here.”

You selected a few pieces of fruit and a small jar of honey that had caught your eye. “I’ll take these, please,” you said, placing them on the counter.

Taehyung packed them up carefully, his movements swift and practiced. “A fine choice,” he said, handing you the package with a smile. “And if you ever need something special—whether it’s some fruit, a spice, or even a little conversation—you know where to find me.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, as if for the first time in a long while, Briarfield held something brighter than its usual shadows. “Thank you, Taehyung. I’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

As you walked away, your basket filled with exotic fruits and herbs, you couldn’t help but feel giddy by short encounter with the young man. Taehyung being kind, warm, and full of life—was a welcome change. You found yourself looking forward to the next time you would meet him.

The next morning you woke up to the unsettling news of a young girl gone missing and as result your father forbad you from leaving the house fearing for your safety. However, spending almost a week cooped up in your room had left you suffocated and so you finally convinced your father that everything will be okay and to let you out. Although he was reluctant, he gave in not wanting to see his daughter pout any further and so you happily made your way outside.

Today, the sky was overcast, threatening rain, as you made your way through the village. You’d just left the bakery, a loaf of sweet bread tucked under your arm, oh how you missed the sweet delight! Just then you heard a familiar voice calling your name.

“Good morning!”

You looked up to see Taehyung approaching, his smile as warm as ever despite the grey skies above. He was carrying a large wooden crate filled with a variety of fruits, herbs, and small glass jars. His appearance was a bit more dishevelled today—his sleeves rolled up, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes—but there was a certain charm to his slightly tousled look.

“Taehyung,” you greeted, surprised but happy to see him. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you.”

“Likewise, I haven’t seen you since that day.” he replied, adjusting the crate in his arms as he stopped in front of you. “It seems fate is playing matchmaker today. How have you been?”

You smiled at his easy-going manner, feeling the tension of the day start to slip away. “I’ve been well, thank you. The recent disappearance of the girl in the village put my father on edge so I was cooped up in my house for some time.” You say laughing a little.

He glanced up at the darkening sky, a hint of concern in his eyes. “Ah that’s a reasonable reaction. Hope everything turns out okay it also looks like we’ll be getting quite the storm soon. I was on my way to the market, but it seems I might be racing the rain.”

You both shared a small laugh, and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable his presence made you feel, even in the midst of the growing chill around you. Taehyung’s energy had a way of lighting up even the dullest days.

“Here,” he said, shifting the crate to one arm. “I brought something for you.”

“For me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

He nodded, carefully balancing the crate as he reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a very small, intricately carved wooden box. The box was stained a deep, rich brown and etched with swirling patterns that reminded you of the stories you’d heard about enchanted forests and ancient lands. Taehyung handed it to you with a playful smile.

“I found this the other day when I was unpacking some of my wares,” he explained. “It’s a blend of tea leaves and spices from the far south. I thought you might enjoy it. A little warmth to brighten up Briarfield’s rainy days.”

You took the box, feeling its smooth surface under your fingers, and opened it. Inside were delicate, dried leaves with an array of colours—deep reds, golden yellows, and dark greens—mingled with tiny bits of cinnamon bark and star anise. The smell that wafted from the box was comforting, a warm mix of spice and earth. Some of these would make a good herbal tea cure, you thought to yourself.

“Thank you, Taehyung. I’m not sure how to repay you for this.” you said softly, genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Consider this as a gift from a friend” he says, face plastered with a boxy smile. “This is lovely. I’ll be sure to try it tonight.” You say excitedly.

He smiled, pleased by your reaction. “I’m glad you like it. If you need instructions on how to brew it, just let me know. It’s a bit different from the usual tea.”

You nodded, slipping the small box into your basket. “I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe I’ll come by the stall tomorrow if I run into any trouble.”

Taehyung’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’m always happy to help. Besides, I’m curious to hear what you think of it. I personally quite enjoy its flavours.”

Before you could respond, a sudden gust of wind blew through the village square, and you instinctively pulled your cloak tighter around yourself. Taehyung’s hair was blown back, but he simply laughed at the sudden chill.

“I think that’s our cue to take shelter,” he said, glancing back at the sky. “Would you like to walk back together? I can help carry your things.”

You hesitated for a moment, then smiled and handed him your bread to lighten your load. “I’d appreciate that.”

Together, you made your way back through the village, you made a short stop at Taehyung’s house as he left his crate inside and then moving at a brisk pace to beat the rain towards your own cottage. Taehyung talked easily as you walked, telling you stories of his travels and the different markets he had visited in faraway cities. He had a way of making the world seem larger and more exciting than it had ever felt before, filling your mind with the fantasies of adventure beyond the village’s borders.

By the time you reached your cottage, the first few drops of rain had begun to fall, but you were safely inside before the storm truly hit. Taehyung lingered at the door for a moment, his smile never wavering.

“Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy the tea,” he said, handing you the basket of you bread back. “But don’t forget to tell me how it turns out.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “Thank you again, Taehyung. It was nice running into you.”

“The pleasure was mine,” he replied, giving you a small bow before stepping back into the rain.

As you watched him walk away, disappearing into the misty streets of Briarfield, you couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of warmth in your chest.

You closed the door, the small wooden box of tea still in your hand and smiled to yourself. It seemed that with each encounter, Taehyung brought a little more joy into your life. Perhaps Briarfield wasn’t so gloomy after all.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of cold, calculating eyes watched from a distance as you and Taehyung exchanged smiles and laughter. Lord Corwin stood in the shadow of a nearby building, his gaunt face twisted into a scowl. His hand gripped the nearest wall tightly.

He had been on his way to visit your family, as he often did under the pretence of “checking in” on village matters. But as he saw you walk with that... that merchant, a slow, burning anger began to churn in his chest.

Corwin had noticed the way your eyes lit up when you talked to Taehyung, the way you smiled so easily at him, something you never did when he was near. It sickened him. How dare you, a girl of such modest means, reject his marriage proposal and then offer such warmth to a mere merchant—a man who was not even of noble blood?

The memory of your refusal still stung bitterly. He had been so sure you would accept his hand when he had asked for it nearly a year ago when turned of age. After all, what better offer could there be for a girl of your station than to marry a lord? He had thought he was doing you a favour by offering you a future above the one your humble lineage could ever provide. But instead, you had rejected him—politely, yes, but firmly.

And now... now you were entertaining this, Taehyung. Corwin sneered at the sight of him, with his polished charm and his ridiculous trinkets. What could he possibly offer you that a nobleman could not? A few exotic fruits? A handful of spices? Corwin couldn’t understand why you would favour someone so beneath him. He had the wealth, the power, the standing. Yet, it was this commoner who had caught your attention.

Corwin’s mind raced with jealousy as he watched Taehyung walks away into the rain, his cloak billowing behind him. His gaze then shifted back to you as you stood in the doorway of your cottage, a small smile playing on your lips as you lingered with the box of tea in hand.

His stomach twisted in disgust. That smile should have been for him—Lord Corwin, the one who had the means to truly take care of you. And yet, you had chosen to waste your time with a man who had nothing of worth to offer, a mere peasant in Corwin’s eyes.

As the rain began to fall harder, Corwin remained in the shadows, his mind simmering with dark thoughts. He would not allow this to continue. He had been patient, waiting for you to see sense and reconsider his proposal. But now, with this newcomer in the picture, he knew that his patience was wearing thin.

Corwin had power in Briarfield, influence that stretched far beyond what someone like Taehyung could comprehend. If he needed to remind you of your place and who truly held sway in this village, then so be it. He would not be so easily dismissed—not by you, not by anyone.

His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a sinister smile as he turned away from the scene. The rain pelted down on him, but he hardly noticed. His mind was already spinning with plans, ways to bend the village to his will, ways to ensure that you would come to see him not as a suitor, but as an inevitable force.

And if Taehyung got in the way... well, Lord Corwin had dealt with nuisances before. This time would be no different.

As he disappeared into the misty streets, the shadows of Briarfield seemed to wrap around him, as if conspiring with his every dark thought. You might not have seen him, but he had seen enough.

And he was not going to forget.

As the days turned into months, your interactions with Taehyung became a cherished part of your routine. Each visit to his stall, each shared conversation, subtly wove the threads of affection between you, creating a bond that neither of you had anticipated.

It began with the little things. Taehyung’s warm smile became a bright spot in your day, a beacon of light in the otherwise dim atmosphere of Briarfield. His thoughtful gestures—saving the ripest fruits, sharing new herbs he’d acquired, and always finding a moment to chat—made your visits to his stall something you eagerly anticipated.

One crisp autumn morning, as you stopped by to pick up some vegetables, Taehyung greeted you with an excited sparkle in his eye. “I’ve got something special today,” he said, pulling out a small basket filled with fragrant herbs and colourful root vegetables. “I thought you might like to try making a stew with these.”

You smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness. “That’s very kind of you, Taehyung. I’ll definitely give it a try.”

Taehyung leaned against the wooden frame of his stall, his curiosity piqued. “You seem to know a lot about herbs yourself. Is it something your family taught you?”

You nodded as you examined the herbs, he handed you. “Yes, my mother is a skilled healer. She’s been teaching me since I was young. I’m learning how to mix tinctures and create salves to help with common ailments around the village.” You paused, twirling a sprig of thyme between your fingers. “It’s given me a sense of independence, something to focus on besides the daily grind of village life.”

His eyes softened as he listened. “That must be fulfilling, knowing that you’re helping people.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his gaze. “It is. Sometimes it’s exhausting, but it’s rewarding when someone comes to you in pain and leaves feeling better.” You glanced up at him and added, “And it also gives me a reason to spend time outside the house. Not many girls here get that luxury.”

Taehyung’s expression grew thoughtful. “It sounds like you’ve found a way to escape, even if it’s just for a moment,” he said. “I’ve seen how stifling it can be here, especially for women.”

You appreciated his understanding. “Exactly. The knowledge my mother has given me makes me feel… free, in a way. I get to explore the woods, gather plants, and create something valuable for others.” You smiled softly, holding up the herbs. “And it helps when someone like you brings something new to try.”

Taehyung’s grin widened, the warmth in his eyes reflecting the budding connection between you. “I’m glad I could add a bit of colour to your day. And who knows, maybe one day you’ll teach me a thing or two about healing.”

You chuckled, feeling a lightness in your chest. “I’d be happy to. Though I have a feeling you’ve got plenty of your own knowledge to share.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a more playful tone. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to keep trading lessons, won’t we?”

Your heart fluttered at the intimacy in his words, and as you both stood there, surrounded by the rich scents of herbs and the quiet bustle of the market, you realized that this was more than just a simple exchange. It was a promise of something deeper.

Soon, your visits to Taehyung's stall became more than just routine errands—they were moments of genuine connection. On this particularly rainy day, the market was quieter than usual. Taehyung, usually so full of energy, looked a bit worn out as he organized his stall. The rain had beaten down hard, and a small puddle was forming near the edge of his stand.

You approached his stall with a warm smile, noticing the concern on his face. “It looks like the rain has really taken a toll today,” you said, offering him a sympathetic glance.

Taehyung looked up and smiled, though his eyes showed the strain of the weather. “Yes, it’s been a tough day. The rain keeps people away. But I suppose it gives me a chance to get to know my favourite customer a bit better.”

You chuckled and stepped behind the stall to help him. “Well, I am glad to be of assistance. What can I do to help?”

“Could you pass me those cloths? I need to wipe down the counter before it gets any worse,” Taehyung said, pointing to a stack of cloths near the back of the stall.

As you worked side by side, you began chatting about lighter topics to lift the mood. “So, tell me more about your travels. You have mentioned a few places, but what was the most memorable?”

Taehyung’s eyes brightened as he started to talk. “Ah, there was this one time in a small village in the east. They had this festival where they floated lanterns on the river. The entire night was lit up with thousands of glowing lights, and the reflection in the water made it look like the stars had fallen.”

You smiled, imagining the scene. “That sounds beautiful. I cannot even imagine how magical it must have been.”

“It was,” Taehyung said, his voice taking on a wistful tone. “But what made it special was sharing it with people who had never seen anything like it before. They were so full of wonder.”

The conversation flowed easily, and the shared experience of tidying up amid the rain made you feel closer. You noticed Taehyung’s laughter was more frequent today, his usual upbeat demeanour peeking through the weariness.

“Do you ever get tired of all the traveling?” you asked, wiping the counter with a damp cloth.

He shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Not really. Each place has its own story, its own charm. But there are times, like now, when I’m glad to be in one spot, especially when I have someone to share it with.”

You felt a warm flush at his words, your own smile widening. “I’m glad you’re here, too. It is nice to have someone to talk to who understands.”

Taehyung’s eyes met yours with a tender look. “And I’m glad you’re here. Your stories about this village, they make me appreciate the little things more. Even a rainy day like today.”

The sound of the rain tapping against the stall created a soothing backdrop to your conversation. As you worked together, the storm outside seemed less imposing, and the bond between you grew stronger. Each shared moment, each laugh, and every serious conversation deepened your connection, making the quiet, rainy day a memorable chapter in your evolving relationship.

Winter arrived, and with it came the chill that seemed to seep into every corner of Briarfield. The cold was relentless, wrapping the village in a frosty embrace. One evening, as you walked home from the market, you noticed Taehyung trudging through the snow, his breath visible in small clouds against the icy air. He was bundled up in a thick coat, a scarf wrapped snugly around his neck.

"Hey, Y/N!" Taehyung called out, his face brightening as he spotted you. “You look like you have had a long day. How about a break from the cold? There is a new cafe nearby that opened up that serves the most amazing hot chocolate!”

The invitation caught you by surprise, but the idea of warming up in a cozy cafe was too tempting to pass up. You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. “I’d love to. Lead the way!”

The cafe was a small, charming place with warm, wooden interiors and a soft glow from the hanging lamps. The scent of freshly baked pastries and rich chocolate greeted you as you stepped inside, making you feel instantly at ease. You and Taehyung found a small table by the window, where the snow outside created a picturesque scene.

As you both settled in, Taehyung waved to the barista and ordered two cups of hot chocolate. When the steaming mugs arrived, you took a sip and sighed in relief. The drink was velvety and rich, the perfect antidote to the winter chill.

“This is incredible,” you said, savouring the warmth. “I’ve never had hot chocolate this good before.”

Taehyung smiled, his eyes reflecting a wistful light. “It is one of my favourites. It brings back memories of home.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Home? Where did you grow up?”

Taehyung’s gaze softened as he took a sip of his drink. “I grew up in a bustling city far from here. My mother used to make hot chocolate just like this. Every winter, we would sit together by the fire, sipping it and talking about our day. It was a small but comforting ritual.”

The warmth of the drink brought a mixture of fondness and sadness to his eyes. “What happened to your parents?” you asked gently, sensing the shift in his mood.

Taehyung’s smile faltered, and he looked down at his mug, his fingers tracing the rim. “It is a difficult memory. When I was young, there was a terrible accident. My parents were traveling to a distant town to sell their goods, and their carriage was caught in a snowstorm. They did not make it. I was left alone, and I had to fend for myself.”

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on his. “I am so sorry, Taehyung. That must have been incredibly hard.”

He nodded, a sad smile on his lips. “It was. But I learned to carry their memory with me. It’s why I treasure moments like these, where I can share stories and connect with others. It is a way to keep their spirit alive.”

Seeing the sadness in his eyes, you wanted to lift his spirits. You took a deep breath and began, “When I was a child, we had this wonderful tradition during winter. Every year, my mother would make a special batch of gingerbread cookies. We would spend an entire day decorating them with icing and candy, and then she’d tell me stories about the origins of each cookie shape—angels, stars, and hearts. Those stories always made me feel like I was part of something magical, even in the midst of the cold and darkness.”

Taehyung’s eyes brightened at the image. “That sounds so lovely. It must have been a beautiful tradition.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of the memory. “It was. It made the winters feel less harsh, and the stories always filled me with a sense of wonder. Sometimes, when I look back, I realize how those little moments shaped my view of the world.”

Taehyung’s expression softened into a genuine smile, his eyes twinkling. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It is nice to hear about those little moments of happiness. It makes me think that there’s more magic left in the world than I thought.”

The conversation continued, filled with more personal stories and laughter. As you enjoyed the warmth of the cafe and the comfort of Taehyung’s presence, the snow outside seemed to fall even more gently, creating a serene and magical backdrop to your evening together.

As spring approached, the transformation in your relationship with Taehyung became more evident. The simple gestures between you, a lingering touch, a shared glance, began to carry a deeper meaning. Taehyung’s once casual conversations now carried an undertone of affection, and his smile seemed to linger a little longer when he looked at you.

One afternoon, you decided to take a walk through the blooming meadows just outside the village. The air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers, and the landscape was painted with vibrant colours as the earth shook off the winter’s cold embrace.

As you walked along the winding path, Taehyung turned to you with a soft smile. “The meadows look stunning this time of year, don’t they? It’s like the world’s been dipped in colour.”

You nodded, taking in the beauty around you. “It is beautiful. I have always loved spring. It feels like a time of new beginnings.”

Taehyung’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “You know, I used to dream about traveling to places like this when I was a child. My mother would tell me stories about far-off lands and the wonders they held. Being here with you, seeing these meadows, it feels like those dreams are coming true.”

You felt a warm flush at his words, and before you could fully process it, Taehyung gently took your hand in his. The gesture was unexpected but felt completely natural. His touch was gentle, and it sent a pleasant thrill through your fingers. You looked up at him, surprised by the boldness of the moment.

“I’ve always admired your sense of wonder,” Taehyung said softly, his thumb lightly brushing your knuckles. “It’s one of the things that drew me to you. You see magic in the ordinary, and that is something I’ve always wanted to cherish.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You had felt a growing connection between you but hearing him express it so openly was both thrilling and comforting. “I never imagined that someone could see me that way,” you admitted, squeezing his hand lightly. “But I’m glad you do. You have brought so much joy and excitement into my life. It’s like you’ve awakened a part of me that I didn’t even know was there.”

Taehyung’s smile widened, and he pulled you gently closer as you continued walking. “I feel the same way. Being with you has made me realize that there’s more to life than just surviving. You have shown me that there’s beauty in every moment, and it’s something I want to experience with you.”

As you walked hand in hand through the meadows, you felt a deep sense of contentment. The shared conversations, the way Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you with affection, and the gentle touches between you all spoke of a growing bond that was more than just friendship. You were falling for him, and it was a feeling that seemed to grow with every passing day.

At one point, you stopped to admire a particularly vibrant patch of flowers. Taehyung leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Do you remember when we first met? I never would have imagined that our friendship would grow into something like this.”

You laughed softly, looking into his eyes. “Neither did I, but I would not change a thing. It has been an incredible journey.”

Taehyung’s gaze softened, and he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “Here’s to many more adventures together, and to finding magic in every moment we share.”

But one day you got the news that would absolutely break your heart. The news that Taehyung was going to leave the village soon. He has spent almost a year in Briarfield at this point.

The sun was setting, casting a golden hue as the last light of day began to fade. The village was quiet, with only the distant sounds of evening settling in and the loud noises of the crows. Taehyung had just finished packing up his stall for the day, and the air was filled with the crisp promise of twilight.

You stood beside him; your heart heavy with the knowledge that he would soon be leaving for a new venture—a journey that would take him far from the village. The thought of him being away from you was almost too much to bear. As he finished securing the last of his supplies, you took a deep breath, gathering your courage.

“Taehyung,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Are you sure you must leave? I wish there was something I could do to keep you here.”

Taehyung looked at you, his expression a mixture of sadness and determination. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his touch warm and comforting. “I wish I could stay too. But I am but a merchant who must travel to make a living selling new things. I need to go, but not because I want to leave you behind.”

His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the depth of his emotion reflected in them. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about our future. I don’t want to imagine a life where we’re apart. Every moment with you has made me realize just how much I want to share my life with you.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as you listened, your heart aching with the intensity of his words. “Taehyung, what are you saying?”

He squeezed your hands gently, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m saying that I want us to be together. I want to take you with me, not just on this journey, but on all the adventures that life has to offer. I want to travel the world with you by my side, to explore new places and create memories together.”

His words were like a balm to your anxious heart. The thought of traveling with Taehyung, of experiencing new worlds and building a life together, filled you with a profound sense of joy and excitement.

“I know it won’t be easy, I know I’m no wealthy nobleman,” he continued, his gaze unwavering, “and there will be challenges along the way. But I promise you this: I will always be there for you, and I will work every day to make sure that our life together is everything we’ve dreamed of. Your smile, the little expressions you make when you like something, the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about all the things you wish to do, the way you fiddle with your clothes when you get shy... all the little things. My soul hurt from within at the mere thought of never seeing that again.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you could see the same emotion reflected in Taehyung’s eyes. “Taehyung, I don’t want to be apart from you either. I’ve fallen in love with you, and the thought of being with you, of seeing the world together—it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Taehyung’s face lit up with a radiant smile, his eyes shining with happiness. “Then come with me. Let’s build a future together, explore new horizons, and face whatever comes our way. We can make our dreams a reality, side by side.”

You nodded, a smile breaking through your tears. “Yes, Taehyung. I want that more than anything.”

He drew you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as the last light of day melted into the evening sky. The world seemed to stand still as you both revelled in the moment, the promise of a shared future making the present moment feel like a dream come true.

As you pulled back slightly, Taehyung cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender and loving. “Well, I guess I should go the traditional root and ask for your hand from your father right darling” you giggled lightly hitting his shoulder and nodding.

You sat quietly by the window, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress as you stole glances at Taehyung. He stood with quiet confidence across the room, but you could sense the tension in his posture. Your heart raced, anticipation mingling with fear as you awaited your father’s decision.

Your father sat in his armchair, arms crossed, and brow furrowed in deep contemplation. He regarded Taehyung with a scrutinizing gaze, the weight of his protective instincts evident in every line of his face. You could feel the tension in the air—your father had always been fiercely protective of you, especially after all the unsolicited attention from Lord Corwin.

"So, Taehyung…" Your father’s voice cut through the silence, steady but probing. "You wish to marry my daughter?"

Taehyung nodded respectfully, stepping forward with a calm determination that steadied your nerves. "Yes, sir. I love her, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, flicking to you and then back to Taehyung. "How old are you, boy?"

"Twenty-six, sir."

Your father’s brow raised ever so slightly, and his gaze softened, just for a moment. You could tell he was weighing the age difference in his mind, but six years between you didn’t seem so bad to him—especially when compared to Lord Corwin, a man nearly his own age who had been making his interest in you disturbingly clear for years. The thought of Corwin’s advances made his stomach churn with disgust. The idea of that old, lecherous man laying claim to you was something your father could never tolerate.

"And what is it you do for a living?" your father asked, his tone regaining its edge. He leaned forward slightly in his chair, as if this question held the key to everything.

"I’m a merchant," Taehyung replied. "I trade in rare and exotic goods and sometimes in textile and jewellery. I’ve worked hard to build my business, and I can provide for your daughter."

Your father nodded slowly, digesting the information. "Being a merchant… It’s an unpredictable trade. One day you could thrive, and the next, you’re barely scraping by. How can I trust that you’ll be able to take care of her?"

Taehyung straightened his shoulders, determination flashing in his eyes. "I understand your concern, sir. But I’ve built my business carefully. I’ve secured reliable connections and steady income. More importantly, I will do everything in my power to fulfil her dream of exploring the world. I will give her love, security, and a life full of joy. I promise you that."

Your father leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting between you and Taehyung. His eyes softened as they landed on you, a brief flicker of emotion crossing his face. You could see that he was weighing not just Taehyung’s words, but the way you had been glowing with happiness ever since you met him.

He sighed deeply; his expression conflicted and weighing his options. The image of Lord Corwin, with his balding head and leering eyes, flickered through your mind. Corwin had been circling you like a predator since before you had even turned eighteen, making his intentions clear in ways that had always made your skin crawl. The fact that a man so much older than your father could desire you had never sat well with him.

"At least you’re not old enough to be her father," your father muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He looked up at Taehyung again, a shadow of protectiveness still lingering in his eyes. "That… man, Corwin… He’s been after her for years. I don’t trust him. Not one bit. The thought of him trying to court my daughter makes my blood boil."

Taehyung’s expression darkened slightly at the mention of Lord Corwin, but he quickly masked it with a polite nod. He always noted the looming presence of Lord Corwin around you but never commented on it. "I understand, sir. I would never treat her the way he has. I want to give her a life full of love and respect, not possession."

Your father studied him for a long moment, his gaze softening as the words sank in. Finally, he turned his attention to you, his voice gentle. "And you, my daughter? Is this truly what you want? Does he make you happy?"

Your cheeks flushed a soft pink as you nodded shyly, your hands tightening in your lap. "Yes, Father. He… he makes me happy."

A long sigh escaped your father as he looked between the two of you. He saw the way Taehyung’s eyes never left you, the way they softened when they looked at you, filled with affection. He saw the glow in your face, the happiness that had settled over you ever since Taehyung had entered your life.

"That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "To see you happy, to know you’re loved."

He turned to Taehyung, his expression softening but still holding a firm warning. "If you promise to cherish her, to be a good husband, then I’ll give you, my blessing. But know this, Taehyung… if you ever hurt her or make her unhappy, you’ll have me to answer to."

Taehyung bowed deeply, gratitude and respect evident in every movement. "Thank you, sir. I swear to you, I will make her happier than she’s ever been."

Your father nodded, standing and extending his hand toward Taehyung. As the two men shook hands, a sense of relief washed over you, the tension that had held you captive slowly dissipating. Your mother who had silently watched the exchanged came with a bright smile to congratulate and embrace you.

The future you had dreamed of now felt real filled with love, adventure, and the promise of happiness that only Taehyung could bring.

You felt like you were floating on top of the world. You felt the happiest you ever felt standing in Taehyung’s embrace. Nothing could possibly go wrong you thought. How naive you were to hold such expectations...

When it all came crashing down

The news struck Lord Corwin like a physical blow: your father had agreed to let Taehyung marry you. You, the object of his obsession for so many years, were to wed someone far beneath the station Corwin had believed only he could offer you. His heart churned with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and festering jealousy, each emotion more poisonous than the last.

For years, Corwin had watched you grow, long before you had even turned eighteen. He had admired you from afar, convincing himself that once you came of age, he would swoop in, offer you marriage, and make you his. He believed you needed someone with power and experience—a man of influence who could protect you. He told himself that age was irrelevant when it came to desire and control. And so, he waited, biding his time until you would be old enough for him to claim. You were just so beautiful and young he felt excitement course through his body at the thought of destroying that innocence. He wanted to break you, mind, body, and soul.

The comparison gnawed at him. Taehyung was everything Corwin was not: young, lean, and graceful. Where Corwin had become bloated over the years, his once-powerful body sagging under the weight of indulgence, Taehyung’s figure was trim and strong. His skin held the warmth of youth, tanned from days spent labouring under the sun. Corwin’s own complexion was pale and mottled, the sagging skin of his jowls and the red blotches on his nose a testament to years of excess and drink.

Taehyung’s dark, thick hair fell in soft waves around his sharp features, while Corwin’s own greasy strands had thinned to the point of near baldness. He could hardly stand to look at himself in the mirror anymore, especially when the memory of Taehyung’s easy smile and clear, confident eyes lingered in his mind.

What did you see in him aside from his handsome looks? Corwin seethed, his beady eyes narrowing with contempt as he sat brooding in his dimly lit manor. His fingers, swollen and stubby, adorned with gaudy rings, dug into the arms of his chair as he thought of Taehyung’s hands—strong, capable, hands that had undoubtedly touched you in ways Corwin could only dream of.

And that’s what enraged him the most. For years, he had waited, believed that you would come around, that you would see him as your only option for security. Yet now you had chosen someone like Taehyung—an outsider, a nobody, who had somehow won over both your heart and your father’s approval.

Corwin’s stomach churned with resentment. His bulging belly pressed uncomfortably against his embroidered waistcoat, reminding him of how much he had let himself go. He felt grotesque compared to Taehyung’s effortless charm. The thought of you looking at Taehyung with love and admiration, of you sharing your smiles and your dreams with him, made Corwin sick with jealousy. It should have been him. You should have been his.

You didn’t know it yet, but Corwin wasn’t going to let you go so easily. He had waited years for you, years watching from the shadows, and he wouldn’t allow some pretty-faced merchant to take you away from him. No—if he couldn’t have you, then no one would.

Seething in his dark manor, Corwin’s mind twisted and turned, seeking a way to tear you away from Taehyung. His eyes, bloodshot with rage, caught the flicker of candlelight and a cruel smile crept onto his lips. The sacrifice. Of course. It had been right in front of him the entire time.

For centuries, the village of Briarfield had performed the virgin sacrifice ritual to appease the so-called devil. But Corwin knew the truth—it was a hoax, a vile tradition created by the nobles to satisfy their own depraved desires. Every year, they selected a virgin girl under the guise of protecting the village, only to defile her and leave her for dead like it was nothing.

Corwin had never hated the ritual. In fact, he had always seen it as an effective way to maintain control, to keep the villagers fearful and obedient. But this year, he would use it for his own purposes—to make sure that you were his, and only his.

Summoning the village elders under the pretence of urgent business, Corwin presented his case. They met in a candle-lit chamber, the air heavy with the smell of burning wax and damp stone. The elders, grey-haired and hunched with age, listened carefully as Corwin laid out his plan.

“The time has come once again,” Corwin began, his voice calm but insidious. “The devil demands his sacrifice, and we must uphold our sacred duty to protect this village.”

The elders nodded. They had been complicit in the ritual for years, their faces grim and indifferent. They knew what it truly meant, and they were aware of what Corwin was about to suggest.

“This year,” Corwin continued, his tone taking on a darker edge, “the girl has already been chosen.”

His eyes gleamed as he spoke your name.

“She is the perfect offering,” Corwin said with a sickening smile. “Her engagement to Taehyung is a distraction—a temptation that the devil himself would surely seek to punish. We must act before it is too late.”

The elders exchanged knowing glances. There was no hesitation, no resistance. They agreed without question, their loyalty to the hoax and their own twisted desires overshadowing any concern for your well-being. All they cared about was the material possessions given to them by the nobles. They far to gone to consider feelings of others as greed had completely overtaken them, over the years. The decision had been finalised.

The next morning, the announcement had been made. This year’s sacrifice was You.

As the news spread, panic swept through Briarfield like wildfire. Whispers of the devil’s wrath filled the air, and fear gripped the hearts of the villagers. They believed that the ritual was real, that sacrificing you would protect them from harm.

But Corwin knew better. He watched from the shadows, his heart dark with satisfaction. You were trapped now, ensnared by a centuries-old lie designed to rob you of everything. And when the time came, he would be there waiting. Not even Taehyung could save you from the fate that had been sealed.

In his mind, you were already his.

You stood there with wide eyes at the town square as you processed the news. The words rang in your ears, a low murmur at first, like distant thunder, before crashing into your consciousness with the force of a storm.

You… you had been chosen as the sacrifice.

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. Your heart hammered in your chest, your limbs went numb, and the world around you seemed to close in. The villagers’ faces blurred together, their whispers and murmurs growing louder. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of fear and dread.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head slowly. “Not me…”

This was not supposed to happen. You had been so close to escaping this cursed place, so close to finally living the life you had dreamed of with Taehyung by your side. A life of love, freedom, and adventure—a life far away from the darkness that clung to Briarfield like a shroud.

But now, that dream was being ripped from you.

Your hands trembled as you clenched them at your sides, your mind reeling. What had you done to deserve this? Why were you being punished? You had seen other girls chosen before, seen the hollow, terrified looks in their eyes as they were led away to their deaths. You had always feared this moment, but you never thought it would be you.

A cold, bitter chill swept over you, and your breath caught in your throat. You couldn’t let this happen. You couldn’t let them take you. But deep down, you knew the village’s decision was final. There was no escaping the elders’ judgment, no defying the centuries-old ritual that had claimed so many before you.

Then, through the crowd, you saw him. Taehyung.

"Y/N!" His voice cut through the noise, filled with desperation. He pushed past the villagers, his face a mix of fear and fury. "Y/N!"

As soon as you saw him, the numbness that had overtaken you shattered. Your legs trembled, and you took a step forward, reaching out as if he were your last lifeline.

“Taehyung!” you cried, your voice breaking as tears blurred your vision. “Taehyung, please!”

In an instant, he was there, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. The warmth of his body, the strength of his grip—it was everything you needed in that moment, everything that kept you from falling apart.

"I won’t let them do this to you," he whispered fiercely, his voice shaking with emotion. "I swear, I won’t let them take you."

But even as he spoke those words, you know how impossible that was. Taehyung was new here so he cannot grasp the severity of everything. The elders had spoken, and the ritual demanded obedience. No one had ever defied it and survived.

Before either of you could say another word, strong hands grabbed Taehyung by the shoulders, yanking him away from you. You stumbled back, reaching for him, panic surging through your veins.

"No!" you screamed, lunging forward, but more hands grabbed you, dragging you backward.

"Y/N!" Taehyung shouted, struggling against the men who restrained him. His eyes were wild with fear, his hands clawing at the air as he fought to reach you.

You kicked and thrashed, desperate to break free, to run to him, to hold him one last time. But it was useless. The men’s grip was iron, their expressions cold and unfeeling as they pulled you toward your home to prepare you for the ceremony.

“Taehyung!” you cried out, tears streaming down your face as you reached for him, your fingertips brushing the air between you. “Don’t leave me!”

“I won’t! I promise!” Taehyung yelled; his voice hoarse with desperation as he was dragged further away. “I’ll come for you, I swear!”

But the distance between you grew, your bodies pulled further apart by the hands of fate. His voice became fainter, swallowed by the murmur of the crowd.

As they forced you back toward your home, you twisted and turned, your heart breaking with every step. Your hands reached out, but Taehyung was no longer there. The emptiness between you felt like a void, and for the first time, true fear gripped your soul.

Your room was cold and quiet, save for the soft splashing of water as your mother gently bathed your skin. You sat in the large wooden tub, your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, though nothing could shield you from the dread settling in your chest. Steam rose from the water, clinging to the air with an eerie stillness, but it did nothing to soothe your trembling body.

Your mother’s hands moved over you with care, her touch soft but weighed down by sorrow. She washed your arms and shoulders, wiping away the traces of the life you once knew, preparing you for the inevitable. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes dull with grief as she worked in silence. She had not spoken since you were declared as the sacrifice, and the absence of your father—who had left the house earlier, unable to bear the sight of his daughter’s impending fate—hung like a ghost in the room.

After bathing you, she helped you from the tub, wrapping you in a thin cloth. She guided you toward a small stool by the fire, her steps slow, as if every movement pained her. The warmth of the hearth barely touched your skin, doing little to chase away the cold knot of fear in your stomach.

Your mother knelt behind you, her hands moving through your long, damp hair. She did not braid it as she usually did for such occasions. Instead, she combed it gently with her fingers, allowing the dark strands to fall free down your back like a cascading waterfall. Your hair framed your face, its softness a stark contrast to the harsh reality of the ceremony that awaited you. The gentle curls of your locks, freshly washed and perfumed with lavender oil, gave you an air of innocence that would make you appear even more pure to the villagers.

The silence between you both was heavy. You could feel her hands trembling slightly as she worked, her breaths shallow and uneven. She parted your hair down the side, letting it fall in loose waves, unadorned, framing your face in a way that made you look younger, more delicate.

When your hair was dry, your mother brought out the ceremonial dress from the chest at the foot of your bed. She never wanted to use it but here she is. This knowledge weighs at her. Her hands shook as she held the white linen gown before you, her lips pressed into a thin line. The dress was simple, yet ethereal—a symbol of the purity expected of you.

The bodice was a fitted corset, but modest, cinching gently at your waist before flaring out into a flowing skirt that reached down to your ankles. The sleeves were long and billowed softly, cinching at the wrists, giving the appearance of delicate wings. Silver embroidery traced the neckline and cuffs, small and intricate, adding a subtle touch of elegance to the otherwise plain garment.

Your mother helped you step into the gown, her fingers carefully fastening the laces at the back. With each tug, you felt as though the dress was binding you tighter into your fate. The fabric clung to your body, soft but suffocating, as if it were swallowing you whole.

When the final lace was tied, your mother stepped back, her eyes filling with tears as she took in the sight of you. The pure white of the dress, the soft waves of your dark hair, and the pale glow of your skin all worked together to create the image of a perfect sacrifice—untouched, innocent, and ready to be offered.

“You look… beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

But the word felt hollow. You didn’t feel beautiful. You felt like a vessel—something to be given away, something to be used.

As your mother placed a tender kiss on your forehead, you swallowed the lump in your throat, your heart aching with a desperation you could not express. Your father’s absence weighed heavily on you.

This wasn’t how your life was supposed to end. Not like this.

But as your mother’s hands lingered on your shoulders, the reality of it all sank in and all you could do was pray for any God out there to help you.

Taehyung paced back and forth in the small, dimly lit room where he had been confined. The walls, lined with aged stone and heavy curtains, seemed to close in on him, suffocating his hopes. His mind raced with plans and possibilities, each more desperate than the last. He had been thrown into a locked chamber, barred from leaving and, most painfully, from seeing you. He could hear muffled voices and footsteps outside, the occasional clinking of metal, and the distant sound of the village preparing for the ritual. Each noise was a painful reminder of the precious moments slipping away.

Determined not to give up, Taehyung had already tried every lockpicking trick he knew, but the door remained stubbornly shut. His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy weight pressing down on him as he thought of you being prepared for the ceremony. The images of your face—so full of hope and love suddenly replaced by shock—haunted him. He could only imagine how frightened you must be, and the thought of you being forced into the clutches of the so-called "ceremony" filled him with a deep, cold rage.

In a fit of frustration, he banged on the door, shouting for anyone who might hear him. “Let me out! I must see her!” His voice echoed off the stone walls, but it was met with silence. He pounded on the door again, desperate, and breathless. “Please! Someone, help me!”

His efforts were met with nothing but the indifferent response of the guards outside, their footsteps fading as they moved away. Taehyung sank to the floor, his back against the door. He clenched his fists, his knuckles white, and took deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within him.

In his heart, he knew he couldn’t give up. Not now, not when the love of his life was in such grave danger. Taehyung's mind raced with a single, driving thought: he had to escape, he had to save you. His determination hardened into resolve as he worked to find another way out, his thoughts consumed with the promise he had made to you—that he would never let anything come between you.

He could only hope that, somehow, he would find a way to break free and reach you in time.

And as his mind tried to come up with another escape plan, he door to his chamber creaked open. The dim light from the corridor spilled in, and there, standing in the doorway with a twisted smile, was Lord Corwin. Taehyung’s heart sank, his stomach churning with a sickening sense of dread.

Corwin stepped inside, his heavy footfalls echoing in the small room. He surveyed Taehyung with a sneer, his eyes brimming with malice and twisted satisfaction. "Well, well, if it isn’t the valiant merchant," Corwin drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "So full of love and devotion for that sweet little girl, aren’t you?"

Taehyung rose to his feet, glaring at Corwin with barely contained fury. "What do you want?" he spat, his voice trembling with rage.

Corwin’s smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth. He moved closer, his oily presence filling the room like a vile stench. "I’ve come to deliver some unfortunate news, I’m afraid. You see, while you sit here locked away, your precious bride-to-be is being prepared for an incredibly special ceremony. One that has been a tradition in Briarfield for centuries."

Taehyung’s jaw clenched as he stepped forward, his hands balling into fists. "I already know about the ritual," he growled. "But you won’t lay a finger on her. I’ll stop you."

Corwin chuckled darkly, shaking his head in mock sympathy. "Ah, but you don’t know the true nature of the ritual, do you? No, you still believe in that quaint little lie they talk about appeasing the devil." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a sickening whisper. "The truth is the ritual has nothing to do with the devil. It’s all for us. The noble men of Briarfield. Each year, we choose a girl. We strip her of her dignity, her purity... we defile her. And then, once we’ve had our fun, we leave her to die."

Taehyung’s eyes widened in horror, his breath catching in his throat. He felt sick, his vision blurring with rage as Corwin continued.

"And your sweet little bride-to-be," Corwin sneered, "will be no different. I will have the pleasure of taking her first. I have waited so long for this moment—watching her blossom into womanhood, untouched and pure, just waiting for me. And when I am done with her..." He paused, his lips curling into a grotesque smile. "Well, let’s just say she won’t be the same girl you fell in love with."

Taehyung’s vision went red. He lunged at Corwin, his fists aiming straight for the older man’s leering face. "You bastard!" he roared, but before his fist could connect, two guards grabbed him from behind, pulling him back with brute force.

Corwin stepped back, laughing cruelly as Taehyung struggled against the guards. "Temper, temper," Corwin taunted, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "You’re nothing but a pathetic peasant, thinking you could protect her. What could you possibly offer her? A life of selling trinkets in the market? She’s too good for you, boy."

Taehyung strained against the guards; his teeth gritted in pure fury. "I’ll kill you! I swear if you touch her-"

"You’ll do nothing," Corwin interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. "Because you’re weak. You’ll sit here, helpless, while we take what’s ours." He adjusted his coat with a smug grin. "Enjoy the show from your cage, boy. I’ll be sure to tell her how useless you were in the end."

With that, Corwin turned on his heel and strode toward the door, a satisfied smile plastered across his face. As he reached the threshold, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. "She’ll cry for you, you know," he said, as if savouring the thought. "But you won’t be able to do a thing about it."

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Taehyung trembling with rage and helplessness. His heart ached with fear for you, but the fire in his chest refused to die. Even as he struggled against the guards, his mind churned with thoughts of revenge, desperate to stop Corwin and save you from the fate he had so vilely described.

The village square was eerily quiet despite the large gathering of people. You stood there, heart pounding in your chest, dressed in your white ceremonial gown. The wind tugged at the hem, but it did little to stir the suffocating atmosphere. It was as if the very air had thickened around you, heavy with expectation and dread.

The villagers watched with false reverence, their eyes dull and unfeeling, offering hollow words of praise for your supposed bravery. Bravery? It was a bitter joke. You had not chosen to stand here, had not chosen this fate. You were forced- condemned.

The elder approached you with a blindfold in his gnarled hands, his wrinkled face twisted into a grim mask of ceremony. His fingers were cold and rough as they tied the cloth tightly around your eyes, shutting out the last slivers of the village you had known all your life. Darkness consumed your vision, leaving only the cacophony of sound and the bitter taste of fear on your tongue.

As you stood there, sightless, you could hear your mother sobbing softly from somewhere behind you. Each sob pierced through you like a blade, her grief wrapping around your heart. You wanted to cry out to her, to run to her, Be held and comforted by your mom but your legs were frozen beneath you, bound by invisible chains of duty and terror.

Hands gripped your arms—firm, unyielding hands—and began to guide you forward, pulling you away from the square. You stumbled at first, your feet catching on the uneven ground, but the hands steadied you, urging you on. You could hear the shuffle of boots and the whispering of cloaks as the elders led you through the village, away from the familiar sounds of Briarfield and deeper into the woods.

The ground beneath your feet shifted as you left the cobblestone streets and stepped onto the soft earth of the forest. The air changed, cooler with the scent of moss and decaying leaves. The sounds of the village faded into the distance, replaced by the rustling of trees and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. You could hear the soft chirping of insects and the distant calls of night birds, their eerie songs only heightening the sense of isolation.

Your heart raced in your chest, each step feeling heavier than the last as you were dragged closer to the altar. Your mind raced with images of what was to come, of the horrors Corwin had spoken of, and you fought to keep your breathing steady. The blindfold pressed tightly against your eyelids, and with each passing moment, the reality of your situation sank deeper into your bones.

The elders murmured soft incantations as they led you further into the woods, their voices low and rhythmic, blending with the sounds of the night. But their words brought no comfort, only a sickening reminder of what awaited you at the altar.

You strained your ears, trying to grasp any familiar sounds, anything that would tell you where you were. The world around you had become an abyss, where each sound was amplified in the darkness. The soft brush of leaves against your skin, the cold gust of wind on your face, the distant crackling of a fire you could not see, all of it swirled together in a maddening symphony of fear.

The hands that guided you suddenly stopped, and you could feel the ground beneath your feet shift slightly uneven stones pressing against your soles. You knew, without seeing, that you had arrived at the altar.

You shivered as they lead you towards the, what you assumed to be the alter made up of old ancient slab covered in moss and lichen. As you were laid upon the stone, you could hear the rustling of the elders’ robes. You strained your ears, hoping for some sound that would anchor you in the moment—a bird’s call, the rustle of leaves, anything—but the forest had gone unnervingly quiet. The blindfold pressed tightly against your face, leaving you in total darkness.

You heard the soft scrape of a blade being drawn, the metallic sound causing your heart to lurch in your chest. The elder murmured words in a language you didn't understand, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You were waiting for something, some terrible finality but what came instead was silence. The kind of silence that felt wrong, like it was filled with secrets.

You felt hands on your shoulders, their grip too familiar, too wrong. And then, you heard it, a low, mocking laugh.

It wasn't the deep, otherworldly growl of a devil, but the cruel, triumphant sound of a man who had long desired something he was now moments away from taking. The sound sent a shiver down your spine.

Lord Corwin.

You jerked against the hands that held you, but they tightened, keeping you in place. Your heart pounded in your chest, panic surging through your veins. You tried to speak, to demand answers, but your throat closed, your voice trapped behind a wall of fear.

"You still believe in the devil, don't you?" Corwin’s voice slithered through the darkness, mocking and taunting. "Poor thing. They have filled your head with stories of demons and sacrifices. But I assure you... there is no devil coming for you tonight."

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. The ceremony, the sacrifice, none of it was real. You were not being offered to some dark entity. You were being handed over to men like him.

"You see," Corwin continued, his voice drawing closer, "this ritual isn’t for protection. It’s for us." He paused, his breath hot and close, sending waves of nausea through you. "For centuries, we've chosen a girl each year to entertain us. To indulge ourselves in ways that the village would never dare to question."

You felt your knees weaken, your body trembling as his words sank in. The stories you had been told since childhood were all lies. The devil was just a tale, a cover for the horrors these men had committed under the guise of tradition.

"Don't struggle," Corwin whispered, his tone sickeningly sweet. "You’ll only make it harder for yourself. After all, you should be honoured to have caught my attention all these years."

Then you felt a hand rustling with your dress and your stomach started twisting at the realisation would exactly Corwin’s words meant. You felt a hand sneak up your dress and grab your thigh and your fight response kicked in. You jerked at the touch and tried your best to swing a fist at where you heard Corwin standing. You were in every disadvantage, but you weren’t going down without a fight. Or so you thought.

You suddenly felt your hands being grabbed and forced down harshly above your head. You cursed aloud at whoever it was but now that both your hands and legs were immobile you weren’t sure what to do. The adrenaline in your body was slowly slipping away and all you felt was terror.

“Tsk tsk tsk, this is not what I expect from you darlin-“ you cut Corwin off “I don’t care about what you expect from me!” you angrily yelled out but just then you felt a sting on your left cheek.

Lord Corwin had slapped you.

“Somebody really needs to put you in your place. Do not forget you are just a mere woman. You exist just to serve men. The only thing of value you hold is beauty and a fertile body to birth children” Lord Corwin replied venomously.

And just before you could retort back, you felt your dress being ripped and only a gasp left your throat.

“No stay back!” you yelled in desperation as you felt Corwin’s grimy hands roam your exposed legs. You felt his breath near your throat as he leaned down to kiss the area. You felt disgusted and angry. Your mind wondered to Taehyung praying that he would show up somehow. You felt Corwin’s hand slid up and grabbed your chest. You cried angry tears as you decided to yell one last time “Taehyung please save me from here!” you cried loud angry tears and just when you were about to give up, you heard it.

From somewhere deeper in the woods, a new sound echoed, a distant clamour of voices, of movement. At first, you thought it was your mind playing tricks on you, desperate to cling to any hope. But it grew louder, closer. The elders hesitated, their hands loosening on your arms and legs.

Taehyung.

You knew it was him. He had come for you.

The voices grew louder, the footsteps echoing closer until they were upon you. You could hear the rush of movement, angry shouts, the crack of branches underfoot. Panic surged through the elders and the men surrounding you. Their once confident whispers turned frantic.

You felt your heartbeat in your throat, pounding with both fear and a sliver of desperate hope.

"Stop them!" Corwin's voice rose in anger, the sharp command lashing through the air like a whip. His hands gripped your arms again, but they were no longer steady. You could feel his panic too, his control over the situation slipping through his fingers.

The elder holding you released his grip entirely, his cowardice evident in his hasty retreat. You could hear the shuffle of feet as others followed suit, abandoning the ritual altar in a state of chaos.

Suddenly, the blindfold was ripped from your eyes. The world returned in a flash of dim torchlight and shadowed faces. The clearing was swarming with men, some village guards, some common folk, and there, breaking through the tree line, was Taehyung.

His eyes blazed with fury; his jaw clenched tightly as he barrelled toward you. For a moment, you were frozen, overwhelmed by the sight of him and by the fact that he had come, against all odds.

Corwin cursed under his breath, his face twisted in rage as he pulled you roughly towards him, using your body as a shield between him and Taehyung. His grip was hard, bruising, his nails digging into your flesh. You could smell the sweat and desperation radiating from him.

"You think you can take her from me?" Corwin spat, his voice a mixture of fear and disgust as he glared at Taehyung. "You, a lowly peasant, dare to challenge me?"

Taehyung slowed his approach but never took his eyes off you, his expression softening for a brief moment as he saw the fear in your eyes. Then, his gaze hardened again, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I will take her from you," Taehyung said firmly, his voice steady despite the storm raging behind his eyes. "Because she doesn't belong to you. She never did."

Corwin scoffed, his breath heavy against your neck. "Look at me, girl!" he growled, yanking your face toward him. His once pristine appearance was now crumbling. His thinning hair slick with sweat, his eyes bulging with anger and something worse, desperation. He reeked of arrogance, of an entitlement so deeply ingrained that he believed the world owed him everything, even you.

"You could have had comfort," Corwin sneered, his eyes darting between you and Taehyung. "Wealth, status... But you choose him?" His voice dripped with venom. "What can he offer you?"

You stared at Corwin, disgust rising like bile in your throat. Even now, he could not understand that what you wanted was freedom, not wealth. You wanted love, not power. And Taehyung offered you all the things Corwin never could—kindness, gentleness, and a future not built on fear.

But before you could answer, Taehyung took a step closer. His voice was like a promise, unwavering and fierce. "I offer her everything you never could, respect, love, and a life free from monsters like you."

Corwin’s grip tightened painfully for a moment, his face darkening. But then, as the approaching crowd surged closer, the realization dawned on him. His plan had failed. The power he once held over you and the village was slipping away.

His eyes flickered with malice as he released you, shoving you toward Taehyung. You stumbled, but Taehyung was there, catching you in his arms, pulling you against his chest protectively.

"Take her," Corwin sneered, stepping back, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "But this isn’t over. You think you've won, but you’ve merely delayed the inevitable." Corvin threw meaningless threats at you.

And with that, Corwin turned, retreating into the shadows of the woods, his figure vanishing into the night.

As you stood in Taehyung’s embrace, trying to make sense of the nightmare that had unfolded, Taehyung’s gaze locked down onto yours. His eyes swept over your form, and his expression hardened, his features darkening with a mixture of concern and fury. The delicate ceremonial gown you wore was torn and dirtied, bruises beginning to form where the men had handled you so roughly. Your entire body trembled, overwhelmed by everything you had endured.

Without a word, Taehyung quickly slipped off his long coat, moving toward you with a gentleness that contrasted the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. He draped the coat over your shoulders, covering you, shielding you from the eyes of those who had tormented you.

“Stay still,” he murmured softly, his voice thick with emotion. His hands brushed over your arms as he pulled the coat tighter around you, trying to hide the evidence of what could have been. His jaw clenched as his eyes flicked over your face, lingering on every bruise, every tear, and the fragile look of shock etched into your expression.

Anger flared briefly in his eyes as he spoke, his voice low but steady. “I’m so sorry… I should have gotten to you sooner.”

“Do not apologise for something you had no control over. I’m just glad that you made it.” You whisper back.

As Taehyung held you close once again, you looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “How did you manage to escape?” you asked, your voice trembling with exhaustion.

Taehyung’s face was a mix of anger and determination. “It was not easy. The guards had me locked in a small, dark cell in the chapel, and I was running out of time.”

He took a deep breath, clearly reliving the tense moments. “I overheard the guards talking about a secret passageway under the old chapel, used long ago for smuggling goods. I knew I had to find a way to use that passage to escape. Also, who reveals such information in front of a prisoner?” he says trying to make you smile and you giggled in response.

Taehyung then continued, “I managed to use a piece of broken furniture to pry open a loose stone in the cell wall. It was a desperate move, but I had to try. I crawled through the narrow tunnel, which led to the chapel’s old crypt. From there, I found a way out to the back of the chapel.”

Your heart raced as you listened, imagining his harrowing escape. “But how did you get to me?”

Taehyung nodded, a fierce resolve in his eyes. “Once I got outside, I made my way to the village edge, where I saw your father sitting in sorrow. I found him and told him everything about the ritual, Corwin’s lies, and how I had managed to escape.”

He paused, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of pride and urgency. “Your father was able to rally the villagers and expose Corwin’s true intentions. They were already suspicious, but my escape and the information I brought gave them the final push to act against Corwin and his corrupt schemes.”

You felt a surge of relief and admiration for Taehyung. “I’m so grateful you made it out in time.”

Taehyung gently cupped your face, his expression softening. “I would have done anything to save you.”

Your gaze shifted just in time to see the villagers dragging a furious Lord Corwin back into the clearing. His once-fine clothes were torn and filthy, his large frame covered in mud and sweat. He panted heavily, too slow, and too fat to outrun the angry crowd that had hunted him down.

“Let me go!” Corwin bellowed, his face flushed with humiliation and anger. “You fools! You have no idea what you have done! This village needs me!”

The villagers’ rage bubbled over as they shoved him to the ground. “You let our daughters die!” someone shouted from the crowd. “You let them suffer while we were blind!”

Corwin sneered, trying to rise, but his bloated body betrayed him, and the crowd held him down. He turned his eyes to Taehyung, the hatred in his gaze palpable but Taehyung let the crowd do the talking, deciding to step back with you.

A Month Later:

The grandeur of the magical court of Aetherfall stood in stark contrast to the grim history of Briarfield. The court was a sprawling palace, its walls adorned with shimmering crystals that bathed the hall in a soft, ethereal light. Magic-infused tapestries depicted scenes of legendary heroes and mythical creatures, setting a majestic backdrop for the day’s proceedings.

Lord Corwin, along with other implicated nobles from Briarfield, was presented before the court. The once-proud noble now looked gaunt and dishevelled, his arrogance replaced by palpable fear. The court was abuzz with whispers and murmurs as the noble’s faced judgment for their crimes.

The Chief Enchanter, a figure of immense power and authority, presided over the proceedings. His robes, interwoven with silver thread, glowed with a gentle luminescence. He spoke in a voice that carried both authority and sorrow, condemning the nobles for their abhorrent actions.

“Lord Corwin and his compatriots stand accused of vile corruption and cruelty,” the Chief Enchanter intoned. “Their ritual, a grotesque masquerade to cover their own depravity, has caused untold suffering. Justice must be served.”

Corwin’s face twisted in a mixture of rage and despair as the verdict was read. The punishment was severe—his wealth confiscated, his titles stripped, and he was to be banished from the realms of Aetherfall. The court’s magic would ensure he could never return, casting a protective barrier around the realm to keep him from ever entering again. And he shall work as a peasant until the day he takes his last breath.

Where as in Briarfield, the once-dark village had transformed into a vibrant scene of celebration. Lanterns floated above, and tables were laden with an array of delicious foods and sparkling drinks. The villagers, once sombre, now danced and celebrated the end of a dark chapter in their history.

The village square of Briarfield had been transformed into a picturesque scene of festivity for your wedding. Lanterns, adorned with delicate fairy lights, floated gracefully above, casting a warm and inviting glow over the area. Tables draped in rich, burgundy fabrics were laden with an array of delicious foods: succulent roasted meats, fresh fruits, pastries dusted with sugar, and bubbling pitchers of sweet, sparkling drinks.

The wedding ceremony took place in the heart of the village square, where a beautifully decorated archway of intertwined flowers and greenery formed a natural altar. The archway was adorned with cascading blooms of ivory and blush pink, their gentle fragrance mingling with the cool evening air.

You stood at the entrance of the makeshift aisle, a vision of grace in a simple yet elegant wedding gown. The gown, made from a flowing white fabric, had delicate lace trim along the neckline and sleeves. Your hair, left open in soft waves, was adorned with a few small white flowers, adding a touch of ethereal beauty.

Taehyung stood at the altar, his formal attire reflecting the elegance of the occasion. He wore a dark navy-blue suit with intricate silver embroidery that caught the light, making him look every bit the regal figure. His eyes were locked on you, filled with admiration and love.

As you walked down the aisle, the villagers, gathered to witness the event, applauded, and cheered, their faces beaming with genuine happiness. The sound of soft music played by a small band in the corner of the square added to the celebratory atmosphere.

When you reached the altar, Taehyung took your hand gently, his touch warm and reassuring. The officiant, a respected elder of the village, began the ceremony with words of wisdom and blessing.

“Today, we gather to celebrate the union of two souls who have found their way to each other through trials and love. Let us rejoice in their happiness and witness the vows they will make.”

Taehyung and You shared your heartfelt vows which certainly bought tears in your eyes as the comforting words set in.

The officiant smiled warmly and pronounced you both husband and wife. The crowd erupted in cheers as you and Taehyung shared your first kiss as a married couple.

As the evening progressed, the celebration continued with lively music and dancing. Taehyung and you moved through the crowd, greeting friends and family, sharing laughter and joy. The atmosphere was filled with happiness and relief, a stark contrast to the dark days that had preceded this moment.

During the evening, as the stars began to twinkle in the sky, you and Taehyung took that as a chance a sneaked away from everyone. You both giggled like teenagers as you made your way towards Taehyung’s cottage. As soon as the door closed, Taehyung had you pushed up against it and wasted no time crashing against yours hungrily, filled with all the love and desire he had been holding back throughout the day. You melted into his embrace, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

He trailed kisses along your jawline, down your neck, leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched. Your knees grew weak as he found that one spot on your neck that always drove you wild. His hands roamed over your body possessively, claiming every inch of you as his own.

With a sudden burst of strength, he lifted you into his arms and carried you toward the bedroom. You giggled playfully at the unexpected gesture, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he kissed a trail down your collarbone.

He gently laid you down on the bed, hovering over you with a look of pure adoration in his eyes. "You have no idea how beautiful you are," he whispered huskily before capturing your lips once again. You slowly trail your hands under his shirt and understanding what you wanted, he pulled his shirt off.

He had a soft stomach but years of hard labour had made his muscles taunt and as you were admiring him, his hands traced patterns along your sides before sliding under your dress to caress every curve. The fabric felt like too much of a barrier between your bodies as he explored every inch of skin beneath it.

Sensing your impatience, Taehyung pulled away for a moment to remove your dress, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. Once you were lying before him in nothing but your lingerie, he took a moment to admire the sight.

"You're perfect," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "Absolutely perfect and all mine."

His hands resumed their exploration, this time with no barriers in the way. He traced circles over the soft skin of your stomach, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, he moved lower, teasing the sensitive skin just above your panties.

You moaned softly at the sensation, arching into his touch. His fingers danced lightly over your heat, driving you closer to the edge with each gentle caress.

"Please," you whimpered, unable to take the teasing any longer. "I need you."

Taehyung's eyes darkened with desire at your words, and without another moment's hesitation, he removed your panties and looked at your core glistening with wetness. You suddenly felt shy and tried to close your legs, but Taehyung was fast enough to pry them open again.

“Don’t hide from me love, let me see and feel all of you” he said looking directly in your eyes. He brings his fingers to your core once again and starts making a figure 8 forcing the sweetest of sounds out of you.

“That’s it love. You look so pretty” he says before diving headfirst into your centre without a warning making you cry out in pleasure at the new sensation. Your hand reached out to grab his hair, pulling on the strands, eliciting a groan out of him. His tongue circles your clit as he slowly enters a finger inside you. The sensational felt uncomfortable but was soon replaced by blinding pleasure once he started moving them.

You felt a coil build up in your stomach as your breath started to get laboured not understanding the sensation. “Tae- I feel s-something in I- you” you couldn’t form a sentence before the coil snapped and you came with a loud moan panting loudly.

Taehyung finally rose up from between your legs, your juices running down his chin making your cheeks heat up. “You did so well baby!” he said a little bit too enthusiastically. You shyly reached your hands over his shoulders and brought him down for a kiss.

Taehyung pulled away before pressing his forehead to your, your noses touching, “We don’t have to do anything beyond this.” He whispered.

“I want to Tae. Don’t worry” you ease his nerves. “It’s going to hurt a little. I’ll try to go slow okay and if anything hurts too much, stop me” he rambles a little which is endearing to you how much he is worried about you.

You kiss his lips one more time, “I trust you Tae, don’t worry” you smile up at him. Seeing you with those big eyes looking at him asking him to make love to you, Tae scrambles to pull his pants down bringing his cock out and stroking it.

"I love you so much," he murmured as he lined himself up with your entrance. "Are you ready?"

You nodded eagerly, excitement and nervousness mingling together inside you. This was it—the moment you had been waiting for.

With a slow and steady push, Taehyung entered you fully. You gasped at the feeling of him stretching and filling you completely. Tears welled up in your eyes as a mix of pleasure and pain washed over you.

"Shh," Taehyung whispered soothingly as he wiped away a stray tear. "I've got you."

He stayed still for a moment to let you adjust to the sensation before slowly starting to move. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body until all thoughts were replaced by pure ecstasy.

As his pace quickened, so did the intensity of your pleasure until it was all-consuming—like fireworks exploding inside you with every movement. Your nails dug into his back, your moans growing louder with each thrust. You wrapped your legs around his waist feeling him even deeper inside of you.

"I'm… I'm…" you stammered, unable to form a coherent thought as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak. But as you were about to cum, he pulled out making you whine at the loss of your high. Before you could complain, he flipped you over on your stomach bringing your hips up and entered your heat once again.

Your hands clutched the sheets tightly as you feel him move your hair to the side and leave trails of kisses behind your neck and ear. You feel your pleasure build up once more and all you can let out are incoherent words. Taehyung could feel you were close with how much you were clenching around him.

"Come for me, baby," Taehyung urged, his voice filled with a mix of desire and desperation. "Let go."

With one final thrust, you felt yourself unravelling beneath him. Pleasure washed over you in a tidal wave as your hand tightened on the sheets below.

Taehyung's movements grew erratic as he chased his own release. With a low groan, he buried himself deep inside you as he found his own release. He buries his face in your neck as the waves of pleasure subsided, both of you breathless and spent from the intensity of it all.

He flipped you back onto your front before collapsing on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he caught his breath. "I love you so much," he whispered against your skin.

You ran your fingers through his hair lovingly, savouring this moment of intimacy between you. "I love you too," you replied softly. "More than words can say."

As the world outside faded away, you knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of love and passion with Taehyung by your side as you both fell asleep in each other’s embrace.

The day had finally come. You and Taehyung were ready to leave the village behind and embark on your long-awaited journey, you were ready to embrace the world beyond the shadows of Briarfield. But first, you had to say your goodbyes.

Your parents stood by the small, worn-down cottage that had been your home for as long as you could remember. The familiar creak of the door, the patches in the roof your father had mended over the years, the garden your mother tended to—it all felt so achingly nostalgic now. Your mother, tears already brimming in her eyes, reached out to hold your hands tightly.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It feels like only yesterday you were a little child, running through the fields. And now, you are leaving us, off to see the world with your husband.”

You choked back your own tears as you wrapped your arms around her. “I will miss you, Mama. So much.”

Your mother pulled back slightly, cupping your face with her hands. “Promise me you will write when you can. Tell me about all the places you visit and the adventures you have. I want to hear every detail.”

“I promise,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your father, though not an emotional man, could not hide the tears in his eyes. He stepped forward, pulling you into a tight embrace. “You’ve always been strong,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I am proud of you for choosing your own path. But remember, no matter how far you go, this will always be your home.”

You nodded against his chest, feeling the warmth of his familiar embrace one last time. When he pulled away, your father’s gaze shifted to Taehyung, who stood respectfully nearby, watching the exchange with a soft smile.

“Take care of her,” your father said, his voice turning more firm, though still gentle. “She’s everything to us.”

Taehyung stepped forward, his eyes full of sincerity. He took your father’s hand in his, shaking it firmly. “I will. You have my word, sir. I will keep her safe and do everything I can to make her happy.”

Your father’s expression softened, and with a nod, he stepped back to allow you both to continue your farewells.

Taehyung turned to your mother, bowing slightly out of respect. She took his hands in hers and said, “Thank you for bringing light into her life. I can see how much you care for her.”

“I love her with all my heart,” Taehyung replied softly, his voice steady. “And I promise to cherish her, always.”

Your mother smiled through her tears before she let him go.

With the goodbyes said, you and Taehyung turned toward his small carriage carrying all your packed belongings and some of Taehyung’s wares. But before you could take another step, Taehyung gently tugged you back, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you softly on the forehead. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice full of warmth and affection.

You nodded, though tears brimmed in your eyes. “As long as you’re with me.”

He smiled and took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips for a gentle kiss. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, but this time, it was not from the cold, it was from the love that seemed to radiate from him in waves. “Together,” he whispered.

As the carriage started to move, Taehyung navigating it, you gazed at your surroundings, watching Briarfield slowly disappear behind a veil of mist and trees. A small part of your heart ached with the weight of leaving everything familiar behind, your parents, your home, the village where you had grown up—but you were also excited to finally see world beyond the once gloomy village.

He noticed the faraway look in your eyes and gently squeezed your hand. "You know," he said softly, "this isn’t goodbye forever. We will visit your parents soon. Perhaps once we've settled a bit, we can come back and spend time with them during our travels."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with gratitude and relief. "You’d really do that? Even after everything?"

"Of course," Taehyung said, smiling. "I know how much they mean to you, and they’ve welcomed me like family. I want to make sure you never feel like you’ve truly left them behind."

His words brought comfort, and you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder as the carriage rolled steadily along. Outside, the landscape was changing from the familiar fields and woods of Briarfield to new horizons.

With that, the two of you settled into a peaceful silence, your hands intertwined as the carriage carried you toward the future.

#bts x reader #bts smut #bts imagines #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyungs angst #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung imagine #taehyung smut #taehyung #taehyung historical au #taehyung drabble #taehyung oneshot #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #taehyung medieval au

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1920sladydectective · 2 months ago

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Romans V Elephants - Professors AU 2.9K

Here it is my loves, part one of my modern Professor x Student AU.

I hope you like it, hoping for it to be around 3/4 parts.

No smut in part one as its just the set up, but boy oh boy is it coming.

Let me know!!

tag list: @nikaachuuuu @shinyshayminflower @chocolate-quotes @fruitfulfashion @wolfessa @lia-winther @ivorydevil @borderline-fixated

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61817521/chapters/158064463

She's Got A Wicked Smile, Angel Eyes:

Gentle summer sun lingered on the autumn winds as you slipped through the ancient cobbled halls with a steady thwack thwack thwack.

Cambridge was as imposing and beautiful as you’d hoped. It spoke for itself, history resting tenderly in every crack and crevice. You didn’t belong yet, but you were determined to pretend. You deserved your place here and each morning waking up in a tiny, poorly insulated room you reminded yourself of that.

There was an odd balance here of knowing you were privileged to learn in such hallowed halls and rolling your eyes at the insensitivity of your comfortable, rich classmates. Each night out at a fancy pub had to be budgeted, beans instead of mince in your dinner, as they racked up tabs higher than your monthly food budget in an hour and then failed to turn up to their lectures. Still you smiled and nursed a cider, nodding as you discussed your latest charity shop find. That was cool here, trendy and sustainable, just as long as you pretended to have a Barbour coat and signet ring to wear with your £2.50 jumper.

One such evening had drained you of all energy and thus you had overslept, curled obviously under a thick gingham duvet set. Now, as penance, you were dashing as fast as you could to your first lecture at half nine. It was naturally with your most important Professor.

Professor Medarda was a legend. Her presence lingered around the Humanities buildings as some kind of God. A Professor of History, with a specialisation in Ancient Rome, she had seen more of the world and knew more of its jaded growth than you could ever hope to. She was precise, exacting and unforgiving. That’s to say, lateness to her was as much a sin as murder.

You knew this theoretically, but feeling her amber eyes cut into you as you slipped into the room at 9:03 was entirely different.

“You’re late,” Her gruff voice froze you in place, halfway to your seat.

“I-Im sorry, I”

“And now you’re being disruptive, sit down and be quiet,” It was a command, wrapped in a sardonic smile.

You sat, hands trembling in your lap, trying to absorb literally anything she said.

Her classroom, distinct in its opulent furnishings and softer lighting, offered little comfort. Matters were made worse by your jittery, illegible notes and her closing statement.

“Now, as I’m sure you know, I only accept two thesis proposals a year, and the other nine of you will have to work with the other Professors in the department,” Professor Medarda spoke plainly, deft fingers slamming a book on her desk shut, “I expect to have all of your proposals in my inbox by four o’clock on Friday,”

It was Wednesday, and you had somehow missed this memo. You needed her as your thesis advisor. She was the best and you hadn’t fought this far just to settle for less than at the final hurdle. So the whole being late thing was great, you’d really put yourself on the map, really pissed her off. Your body grew tenser, as you mutely packed up and left the room amidst the throng of perfume and dark academia pinterest.

Hours slipped by meaninglessly as you stared at your battered Dell laptop. You had direction, you had purpose and you had a boulder of anxiety blocking the flow of anything else.

Romans V War Elephants.

That’s all you’d written so far. You knew it was a good idea, with a rich pool of resources to rely on, and yet. There was always a yet with you. A crumbling Nature Valley bar made a sandy blanket on your lap. Your tea was cold and your mind was empty.

Friday morning came and you had poured your soul into a Thesis proposal you were certain was not going to earn you a spot with your dream Professor. Her lecture was eleven am, and at no point did she even acknowledge the prospect of making a choice. You would know when you knew, it seemed.

Tuesday, bleak as summer recessed into the fickle British memory and autumn summoned brutal winds. You were halfway through a disappointing panini, essay mostly written, when a gmail ding made you jump. Sriracha spilled down your front, clumsy hands mopping it with a tea towel. Onto Mount Laundry it went, as your eyes darted over this new email.

Three times and still the words would not compute.

‘..consideration, I am pleased to extend an offer to be your Thesis advisor,

Blah blah blah scheduling hours blah blah resource allowance blah

Professor Medarda’

Lukewarm ham and cheese forgotten, sharp and unsure breaths rattled against your laptop screen. Somehow, fuelled by Lidl energy drinks, you’d done it. She was yours and that almost guaranteed major success.

Your email was redrafted nine times, as you sought to teeter on the edge between ass kissing and nonchalant. Three times a week you would spend time with her, learning as much as you could, crafting a paper you could be proud of. You needed to invest in a better alarm clock immediately.

Cambridge was well and truly orange now, leaves and litter scattered everywhere as you fought to keep your hat on your head. Your next lecture was with Professor Medarda, and after that came your first supervision session. New stationary, thick ringed notebooks from your sister back home and a lipsticked smile, you could almost pretend that you were confident and prepared. Almost. Pale skin and twitching limbs gave it away. Quarter past twelve, and your wobbly knees lingered.

She gathered her things silently, tucking them under a muscular arm and strolling into her adjourning office. A pause, rustling and the bounce of curls reappearing.

“Do you wish to use your time or not?”

Shit. “Yes, of course,” You fell over yourself to follow her, the elusive space suddenly enveloping you.

Walls filled with aged wood shelves, perfectly varnished and housing more books than you could hope to own. Leather Bound tomes, first editions, signed copies. All amazing, all pretentious, all very Cambridge. A spiced scent lingered in the air, oaky and deep, as your gaze flicked to a dancing flame.

“I thought you weren’t allowed candles in these buildings, just in case,” You regretted it before you’d even finished speaking.

She snorted, her gaze set on yours, “Going to tell on me, child?”

“Course not,”

“Can be our secret then,” She passed you a small, china cup of tea, “Sugar?”

You shook your head, taking the black murky tea and adding a drop of milk.

It was like a warm blanket, soft and tender. Oh. So she could be nice. You nodded your thanks, and took a scalding sip. The heavy door clicked shut at her bidding, sealing you away into a little pocket world with her.

“So,” Her strong voice commanded the room, “Show me why you’re worth it, Dear,”

Not why the topic mattered or how sound your research was, why you were worth it. The room narrowed, as did your windpipe. Selling yourself was part and parcel of the academia world, but to her? You’d already used that energy for a babbled report.

Still, smooth and confident words left your mouth, a dance and proposition in one. Your eyes had cleared, a dissociation sailing you through the initial conversation. Your charm bled through, thick and false, as the need to succeed overtook the doubt. As it always did. You were here after all.

“Well, I suppose this will be of use then,” She grinned, a haphazard throw landing a gilded book in your lap, relishing in your gasp.

“This is impossible to source,” It was a book you’d seen snippets of, and nothing more, “I didn’t realise the University had one,”

“It doesn’t,” The clink of a cup on a saucer, “I do,”

“T-That’s amazing,”

“Read it, make notes and write me a list of other resources you need but cannot find,” a thick stack of papers, essays presumably, “Whilst you do, I shall mark these,”

“Now?”

“Do you suggest some other time?” Her eyebrow raised, “This is rather the point of this time,”

A laugh, high and choked, as you nodded. “Yes, I’ll get on it,”

Professor Medarda cleared a part of her desk for you to rest your possessions and you tugged the heavy chair forward against the patterned carpet so that you could read and type at the same time. You worked silently, as she laughed and rolled her eyes at the papers that red pen seemed to reduce to shreds. She seemed totally used to you, as if you were another little trinket in her space, and though she was still stern, eyes focused, her charismatic nature was potent here. Constant tea, biscuits and an apple when you wrinkled at the fourth bourbon cream.

You tilted your head, taking the royal gala from her grasp.

“First piece of fruit you’ve had since moving here?”

“Well,” A slight giggle, “I had dried mango yesterday,”

“Big spender, expensive stuff,”

“Not at Lidl,” A slight cringe in your soul. She was Waitrose through and through. You idiot.

“Not at Lidl,” She repeated, smirk on her face, “Thanks for the tip,”

When your allotted time finished, you folded yourself away back into your satchel and thrust the book towards, with a slip of paper on top, “That’s the list, only managed to read half today,”

She crossed her arms, jewellery twinkling prettily, as she snatched one and handed back the other, “Finish it for Monday, we can discuss where it will fit in your thesis then,”

“You’d let me take it?”

“Is this your way of saying I shouldn’t trust you?”

“Of course not, Professor,” A gulp, “It’s just so precious,”

She was ushering you out with a smile, hand on your shoulder,”Then treat it as such, see you on Monday,”

The door shut. Pop. The bubble of her pocket world shattered around you, leaving a magic book and a grumbling stomach.

When you’d told your mother that at Cambridge you wouldn’t be allowed to work, that it was against policy because of the shortened terms and immense workload, she had laughed in your face. No help from me, she had reminded you again and again. You’re on your own. Laughable, as if you hadn’t been fending for yourself for years. Now, as you bundled in your bed with a packet of crisps, you wished she was somebody she was not, somebody with endless money and kind words. You had your waitressing job, which had worked you into the ground, and now you lived off the pittance you had been able to save and a maintenance loan that left your account for rent before you’d even noticed it.

In short, it was lunch OR dinner, and this time lunch had won out. Dinner was aforementioned crisps and a good helping of tap water, mixed with the nurturing words of your newest book.

Weeks slipped by under the iron thumb of Ambessa Medarda, your workload heavier than ever as she steered you as if you were a little remote control sailboat. It was a wonder she managed to see any other students, you seemed forever in her office listening to her dulcet tones or cataloguing research papers. Sometimes, on less busy days, she lets you hang around to study rather than forcing you to go to the library. She seemed to read you as easily as her books, amber eyes welcoming and dangerous.

“Some of the best places in the world to study,” Her voice started one wednesday, “and yet here you stay,”

“Bit too much noise for me,” You muttered half into a textbook, “Too many of Daddy’s credit cards,”

Her barked laugh brought you back, “Well, feel free then,”

You hadn’t meant to say that, not at all. You resembled a tomato, “Just prefer the quiet,”

A knock at the door saved you. Her Chinese food had arrived. It smelt divine, and you let out a little sigh.

She sat eating, composed and methodical. Several times she had prompted you to eat your own lunch, until you meekly admitted you had none. Narrowed eyes pinned you in place.

“Why?”

“More of a dinner perso-” A loud, unavoidable grumble from your torso.

“Your stomach doesn’t seem to be,” Her chair creaked as she chucked you a small bag, gaze straight back at her things.

It was a hot, slightly greased bag. Spring rolls. Twelve of them, warm and crunchy, begging to be eaten, “Are you sure, Professor?”

“Eat,” was the only word she gave you.

Winter crept up on you, frozen air a shock as you walked back with groceries. Somehow you’d been in Cambridge for nearly two months and spent most of that time with Professor Medarda or curled on your plastic desk chair. Still, the magic of Christmas began to loom in the early November air. It came sooner and sooner, as did the expenses. That’s why you sat once again in the pub, this time with mulled wine and a mince pie, chattering away with your tiny circle of friends.

“So,” Matilda asked, focusing directly on you,“Any developments? Any new friends? Cheap dinner deals?”

Fabulous, an audience to make you feel like a lifeless loser, “Not really, just been work work-”

“Work,” Nat interrupted with a giggle, “We know babe,”

“At least you’ve got that sexy Professor to while away the days, I could climb her” Matilda continued, sipping her beer.

You were a tableau, brows crinkled in confusion. “Climb who?”

“Professor Medarda, you tit,” Her eyes rolled, “Who else? Professor Daniels, the seventy-six year old?”

“I-I don’t, I mean she’s pretty I guess,” You stammered, “I don’t really see her like that,”

“Then you’re fucking blind,”

You laughed. Forced. Was Professor Medarda hot? You guessed her face was nice, all angular and sharp, with soft edges that made her seem inviting. She did have that towering frame, honeyed voice, plush curves. You were warm. It was not because of the wine. You pushed that confusing train of thought into a distant, long since abandoned station.

Something about that night had set you off balance, mind muddling over old interactions with a new rosy hue. She was nothing but professional, considerate and gentle, a guiding hand to your education. But her words, her voice, were they suggestive? Fuck. You hated your friends, they made everything confusing. That was why you were cold, that was why you were suffering. They had made you forget your scarf and gloves. It had nothing to do with finding your Professor attractive.

She was late which was unusual. You were anxious, which was not. When she wandered in, a small bag in hand, your eyes met and you felt a jolt that had not been there a few days before. Was the golden glimmer brighter now? More alluring? You couldn’t tell.

“Come on in then,” She muttered, key clicking pleasantly to unlock the office, “I grabbed us some pastries,”

You beamed, taking the brown paper bag she offered, as you situated yourself in your chair.

There was nothing majorly different and yet everything had changed.

She was a beautiful, majestic thing and you felt like a lump of neglected, sprouting potatoes. If she noticed your repetitive glances she did not comment on them, merely continuing to offer feedback on your work and provide advice on what to explore next. You had a lot more than Romans V War Elephants written down now.

The croissant was perfect, its flakiness distracting you for mere moments, before you fixated on a tiny bit of pastry attached to her red lips. A practiced tongue darted out to steal the offender, wetting her lips as she scrawled down words. Your stomach clenched. This nonsense was not going to end well.

Finally, mercifully, the day’s session ended, and with it did the proximity that made your mind fuzzy.

It was bitter now, as she walked with you out of the Humanities building, colder than perhaps any other day yet. You murmured nonsense, distracted replies to her conversation and all at once she stopped you, abrupt and calculating.

“You forgot your scarf today,” It wasn’t a question.

“Y-yes,” You nodded, cheeks already red from wind burn, “Was in a rush,”

“You have a twenty minute walk ahead of you,” She frowned, a ghost of concern and something else in her eyes, “Whereas my car is a few steps ahead,”

“I don’t-” Heated cashmere fabric collided with you, as her hands deftly wound her own scarf into a knot on your neck.

“There you are,” She cooed, tucking it into your coat, “Can’t have you getting cold, Sweet Pea,”

“Thank you, Professor,” You almost slurred, mind fixated on something else, “I’ll give it back when I next see you,”

“No rush,” With that, she was climbing into her car with a wave.

It was all you could think, smell, understand. Honey, loose leaf Earl Grey and the woodiness from the office candle.

Numb, dazed feet dragged you home, where you curled into sheets, scarf still on.

You were drowning in the smell of her. You wanted to bottle it, choke on it forever.

Proper crush on your thesis advisor? Tick.

Professor Ambessa Medarda was the most gorgeous woman you had ever met, and you were the shittiest, stupidest cliche.

#reader insert #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #arcane #ambessa smut

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himasgod · 3 months ago

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King Deshret x Reader VI

Where you realize that you have returned to where it all began, and you make sure to attack the problem at its root.

(KING DESHRET IS BACK. Many of you will be wondering, hey, where is part V? Well, the answer is simple. I'm not uploading it in chronological order hehe, and that has been noticeable throughout the fanfic. I want you to first read this part without knowing the previous part, to make a little chronological disorder, which is what I like. Then, when I publish part V, you'll know where all this comes from heheje)

XVII.

You opened your eyes with a start, the echo of a stabbing pain still resonating in your chest. Your last memory was of Deshret’s cold betrayal, when his hand—the same one that once tenderly caressed your face—sacrificed you to satisfy Nabu Malikata’s whim. You had felt the warmth of life leave you, the weight of sacrifice crushing your soul, and darkness claiming you… but now, the desert air filled your lungs again.

Your gaze swept the place in disbelief. The palace was familiar to you, the golden walls and majestic columns unmistakable. The audience chamber was decorated for a solemn occasion, and in front of you was the marriage contract you had signed years ago.

Time had gone backwards. You had returned to the day your fate would be sealed, the one in which you gave your heart without suspecting the betrayal to come. But now, a spark of determination ignited within you. This time, you would change your destiny. You would not be a victim or a sacrifice. You would protect not only your life, but also your love, and you would make sure that your husband would never forget what you meant to him.

You took the pen with a firm hand, and to the amazement of the scribes and Deshret himself, you drew a new clause in the contract: an infidelity clause that demanded his complete loyalty to you. If he ever broke that promise, the consequences would be severe.

“Do you doubt me, my queen?” Deshret asked with a smile that hid a glint of curiosity.

“I just want to make sure that our union is protected,” you replied calmly, looking directly into his amber eyes.

The King, intrigued by your attitude, accepted without protest. His hand covered yours as he sealed the contract, and although his gesture was warm, you felt the responsibility to ensure that this time things were different.

XVIII

The next few days were filled with the bustle of wedding preparations, but you had something else in mind. While the servants decorated the palace, you worked on a special gift for Deshret. Under the guidance of Hermanubis, the most loyal of your friends, you commissioned the finest craftsmen to forge a bracelet of pure gold, adorned with elaborate inscriptions that you personally engraved.

These inscriptions were not mere ornaments; they were ancient runes designed to repel Allure, the supernatural power of attraction that some entities could exert over mortals. You knew that if you wanted to protect your love and your marriage, you must prevent any outside interference.

When your wedding day finally arrived, you wore a golden robe adorned with jewels that sparkled like the desert sun. Deshret awaited you at the altar, his imposing bearing matched only by the intensity with which he gazed at you.

“This is my gift to you,” you said, your voice barely concealing the pride and hope you felt. You offered the bracelet with both hands. “Promise me you will never take it off.”

The King took the bracelet and examined it closely. His fingers traced the engraved runes as a warm smile spread across his face. “I promise you, my queen,” he said solemnly before placing it on his wrist.

Your hands met, and in that instant you knew you had taken the first step toward protecting that which you held dear.

XIX

As time went on, your and Deshret’s relationship blossomed. Every anniversary and birthday, you gave him ornaments similar to the bracelet, each decorated with protective runes that reinforced your promise to each other. He accepted them proudly and wore them always, as a symbol of his love for you and the promise he had made to you on your wedding day.

However, your happiness was put to the test when Nabu Malikata arrived at the palace. The Goddess of Flowers was an imposing figure, her hypnotic beauty seeming to fill every corner with an almost tangible power. She attempted to use her Allure to captivate Deshret, certain that no one could resist her power.

But to her amazement, the King remained unmoved. He treated you with the same love and devotion he had always shown, completely ignoring the goddess’s attempts to attract his attention.

Frustrated, Nabu Malikata noticed the bracelet he wore and tried to persuade him to take it off.

“This bracelet represents a promise,” Deshret replied firmly, “and I have no intention of breaking it.”

The goddess, accustomed to always getting what she wanted, frowned. But her frustration only grew with time.

One night, Nabu Malikata took advantage of a celebration to get Deshret drunk, hoping the alcohol would weaken his will. While he was sleeping, she tried to remove the bracelet from his wrist, but she encountered an unexpected obstacle: a blood lock, a spell that could only be deactivated with your blood.

At that moment, the chamber doors swung open, and you entered accompanied by two servants.

“Take him back to our chambers,” you commanded, your voice as calm as it was deadly.

Your eyes met Nabu Malikata’s, and in that instant, a silent exchange took place. Your gaze was filled with knowledge and defiance, a clear message:

"I know exactly who you are and what you intend to do. But I will not allow it."

The Goddess of Flowers stepped back slightly, aware that she had lost this battle.

XXI

That night, as you cared for Deshret, he woke and took your hand with a gesture full of remorse.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity. “I should never have allowed anything to even try to come between us.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you told him with a soft smile. “Because I know that this time, you choose me, always.”

From that night on, Nabu Malikata never interfered in your relationship again. Though she remained an ally of the kingdom, she knew that the bond between you and Deshret was unbreakable.

XXII.

Over time, your and Deshret’s love became the foundation of a prosperous kingdom. You ruled together with justice and wisdom, uniting the desert under your leadership.

Years later, as you looked out over the vast sea of sand from the palace terraces, Deshret approached you. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your shoulder.

"I had a strange dream today, my queen, one that has been roaming around in my head all these hours. Nabu Malikata stood between our marriage, and I fell into her arms. However, repentant, I made us turned back time… so we could live our lives again."

He grabbed your hand and began to kiss it with his lips, the whole back of your hand

"I would die for you. I would stay months, years, lost in the great deserts looking for your love. I would fight for you. I would kill for you. The massive golden walls of this palace cannot compare to your beauty. You are my greatest treasure, my queen” he whispered.

And in that moment, you knew you had beaten fate. This time, eternity was on your side.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

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iiseult · 8 months ago

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𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝑜𝓊𝓇: 𝑀𝓎 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝒻𝑒

CWs → BALDWIN OILS HIMSELF UP, angst, love letters, themes of war and death, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism

Wordcount: 3.3k

Note: This might be my favorite chapter. Please let me know your thoughts, and pay special attention to the cross necklace. You'll see what I mean. <3

It was not so dramatic, the way his illness progressed, but progress it did. The Holy Disease was inevitable, and he’d always known that. Six months and he was losing sight in his left eye, his peripheral vision effectively ceasing to exist. Twelve months and the eye was becoming clouded and sapped of its color, like something bleached by the sun, only a baby blue now when it used to be so much deeper. Eighteen months and everything through the eye was covered in an indispersable layer of silver mist. And then there was his little finger, the poor little finger on his left hand which he could no longer feel, and when he commanded it to move, it was as if a phantom were possessing it. If it weren’t for the fact that he could see it moving, wiggling back and forth, he likely wouldn’t have any idea whether or not it was really happening. Often he frowned at it in concentration, exercising his will over it and forcing it to move, desperately trying to feel something. Every time he was forced to give up, frustrated. However, the majority of his skin and all of his features were still perfectly intact, and for that he was grateful.

That September he fell ill with fever. Forty-two days and nights he laid in bed, watching drowsily as the sun made its daily voyage across the heavens, warming his too-warm skin and blinding his aching eyes. In periods of occasional lucidity his thoughts lingered only on you. He would see a flash; then the fullness of your lips, the sweet curve of your neck, the shape of your back, and were you wearing your sapphire today? He could picture it clearly, lying against the firm softness of your full bosom, gleaming like a winking eye. Ah, sick mind. Shameful thoughts. He redirected them. What of the kingdom, his kingdom? What of his sister Sybilla, and her son, his baby nephew Baldwin V? They did not come to visit because Sybilla claimed she couldn’t bear the sight of her beloved brother in so much pain. And then his mother was dead, a few months buried. Nobody left to come visit.

He continued to read during this time. He was brought books on war and strategy, classic and ancient tales of love and romance, history, and Greek literature, of which he had always been very fond. Perhaps it was these such books that gave him his next brilliant idea.

He sent for ink and parchment, lots of parchment, and when he felt well enough he sat up in bed and took up his supplies and got to work. Pages upon pages he produced, many times rambling and repetitive in nature because of his fever-addled mind, but always strikingly sincere. From his very heart he wrote, hours each day, and he didn’t share his work with anyone. When Raymond visited he would conceal everything under the covers, or else slide them under the bed.

It was a woman, always the same woman, that he wrote about or wrote to or described in as much detail as he could. Each time he painted a picture of her with his words, a new facet of her beauty was revealed, a new angle, a new reason to love her. And he knew that he did love her. Completely enchanted. Utterly enraptured. Such tender feelings, such longing! He found himself writing cliches while trying to adequately express the extent of his feelings. And each one of these pieces of writing was addressed to you.

“By chance, I met you in the library. I was playing chess. Raymond likes to cheat when I look away from the chessboard because he says the battlefield is just like a game of chess, and in a real battle you must never look away because your opponent does not always play fair. But I would forfeit all my knights and rooks for you, so I looked away from him and towards you instead.

“And when you looked at me, my heart leapt in my chest and a feeling like warm water cascading down my shoulders overtook me and I could not speak. I held my hand out to you and did your bidding, and then I could stand it no longer so I went away. The warmth was becoming unbearable. I was overcome. As if I were a cauldron of boiling water, I burned and then softened and turned pink as something bubbled up inside me. I know all this happened for you. And when ever I thought of you and your exquisite beauty for the rest of the day the same feeling came, tingling in all my nerves. I thought then that it was not unlike having a fever.

“But now I know better, and now that I know with refreshed memory what fever is like, I can say that it’s nothing like you. This fever is harsh and unrelenting. This fever is painful, not pleasurable. There is a heat threatening to overtake me so that I never cool down. But what is this feeling that comes when ever I see you? Dearest Lady, I suspect that this must be love.”

But those were the good days. Those days he could think clearly and articulate properly. So many more of his days were spent too sick to stay awake, drifting in and out of this mortal plane, tangled up in a haze of confusion and stale bedsheets, having long since sweated through them.

His birthday passed. Sixteen, finally, but he didn’t know it until days later, when came his next period of lucidity. His sister sent a gift– fresh, new robes made of silk to soothe his raw skin, embroidered in rich, gold thread. Raymond brought him a quill made from a peacock feather, blue and green and shimmering. It made him laugh when he saw it. Raymond was referencing a joke between the two of them, where the peacocks in the garden often interrupted their conversations with their awful, hideous squawking (for such magnificent looking creatures, their calls were surprisingly grating). And from you, lying on the bedside table, was a parcel of brown parchment tied with a thick white ribbon. He knew that ribbon, for he had seen you wear it in your hair once.

He pulled it loose and placed it aside, intending on keeping it on his person at all times so he might always carry a piece of you wherever may go. He peeled back the paper, sliding it off to reveal a mahogany box. It was unremarkable, but his heart was beating wildly in his throat as he flipped up the delixate metal latch and opened the sleek lid. Resting against the silk-lined interior were two things; a large glass jar full of an amber-colored liquid, sealed with a cork; and a delicate chain with a plain gold cross hanging from it. And then, under the jar, he saw something else– the corner of a folded piece of parchment. A note! He snatched it up and unfolded it hungrily. It was written in your pretty feminine hand, which sent a fiery gust of heat blasting through his veins.

“Your Majesty, happy sixteenth birthday. I know this is but a meager gift for a king, but I fear I cannot match your wealth or creativity. The necklace is one of the only things I brought from home. I wore it round my own neck every day then, and I do believe it has served me quite well, given my current position as queen. I am giving it to you in hopes that, God willing, your condition might improve. The oil is what I use after my baths to soothe dry skin, especially in these coming winter months. Perhaps it will help you in a more practical sense. Many birthday wishes, and prayers for a speedy recovery. Sincerely, your wife, Y/N.”

He pressed the letter to his chest, almost as if he were trying to become one with it. Then he took the delicate gold chain between his fingers and unclasped it, draping it across his neck and securing it again. It fell against his collarbones and glistened handsomely, feeling very cold against his feverish skin, and yet his heart warmed when he thought of you wearing this very chain, day in and day out. What had touched your skin was now touching his. The very notion was enough to make him shiver.

He did not take the necklace off again, not even for his bath that evening, or after it when he retired to his chambers for the remainder of the night.

Baldwin shrugged off his bathrobe and layed, completely nude, on his silk sheets, where the jar of oil from you was waiting. He savored the feeling of its cool glass against his hands, still rife with fever, and then pressed his cheek to its surface, deeply inhaling the rich scent of the night air which drifted through the open window. To know that your hands had touched that very jar made him pulse with excitement. That you had thought of him with some amount of tenderness, that you had thought of him at all, touched him.

Carefully he pulled the cork from the mouth of the jar with a gentle “pop,” and set it aside. He brought the jar up to his nose. It smelled sweet and flowery, very fresh. Clean. Comforting. Smelled like you. He sucked in another deep breath through his nose, letting the gentle fragrance wash over him and sink into his pores. Then he dipped two fingers into the jar and spread the thick liquid along his forearm, coating the skin there thoroughly. It was silky and cool and left a gloss in its wake. His dry, parched skin drank it up greedily, plumping up almost immediately. It was delicious.

He poured a dollop of the stuff into his hands and rubbed them together, relishing the feeling of his slick palms sliding against each other. Languidly he massaged it into his chest, his arms, and his robust shoulders. He threw back his head and slowly worked the pads of his fingers into his delicate neck, feeling the tendons there roll beneach his touch. A small sound escaped his throat. Then he moved his hands lower, not neglecting a single inch of flesh. He splayed his fingers out over the white planes of his thighs, well-toned as they were, and then slid lower, past his knees and to his ankles. It was pure bliss.

Once he was satisfied, he popped the cork back in the jar and leaned over, placing it on the side table, then blew out the candle, laying down finally with a sigh. His body sunk into the cloud of his mattress, his aching limbs met with instant relief. Beneath his pillow was your letter and ribbon. He slid his hand under it to feel for them, just to make sure they were still there, and once he was convinced, he slipped right under into a dreamless sleep.

The very next morning, he woke to find that his fever had miraculously relented, leaving his forehead cool and dry. Amelia immediately informed you of his recovery, and though you were relieved, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from your shoulders, you couldn’t help but wonder how he had recovered literally overnight. It seemed nobody knew the answer, not even the physicians that came to examine him throughout the rest of the day. But perhaps it was better not to question it.

Baldwin had but a few days to enjoy his renewed health before he thrust himself urgently back into work. During his prolonged illness, the ever-fickle political state of Jerusalem had become alarmingly unstable. The Saracens were threatening to wage war, led by the wise and formidable Saladin and his army, rumored to be made up of some 20,000 men. So Baldwin was faced with a harrowing decision, with thousands of lives hanging in the balance. Should he send his men to battle despite their meager numbers, where they would inevitably be met with death and destruction? Most of his knights had already been laid to waste, leaving behind largely unskilled fighters, and only 4,000 of them at that. And could he fulfill his kingly duty to fight alongside them, or would his frail body betray him? Such questions made him wonder if he was even worthy of his title.

Self-loathing ate at him over the coming week until finally, he was forced to take action. Reynald de Châtillon had been pressuring him incessantly to fight, no matter the risk, arguing that it is God’s will and therefore Jerusalem could never fall. Baldwin wasn’t so sure. But deep in his heart, he knew he had no more time left to waste.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The morning was fair and the early sunlight mild, falling through the trees in pale yellow streaks. The trees had been turning all shades of red and orange for the past month, and now they were withering brown, falling, falling. The smell of smoke and chill was perpetual, and very pleasant. The month of November. Autumn in its prime. You woke up that morning not to the melodic calling of birds, which you had become accustomed to, nor the gentle rustling of leaves stirred by the wind, but the muffled cries of Amelia as she came to rouse you from your slumber. Though she had stuffed a handkerchief against her mouth to dampen the sounds, it was no use, and she could not stop it. You had woken up before she even made it to your bedside.

“Oh Amelia, whatever is the matter?” you asked, sitting up in bed with alarm and looking at her, concern heavy in your gaze. You’d seen her upset before, and it wasn’t an uncommon thing to see, but never had she been so outwardly aggrieved in your presence. The poor girl’s shoulders shook with every breath she took. As gently as you could, you got out of bed and guided her to sit on the edge of your mattress, where she promptly collapsed.

“Oh, Your Majesty,” she wailed, looking up at you through tear-filled eyes, “the most awful, terrible thing has happened!”

Her bottom lip trembled, and her cheeks seemed to be flushing darker by the second. In fact, she seemed on the verge of hyperventilating, sensitive soul that she was.

“What? What’s happened, dear girl?” you urged, wiping a runaway tear from her chin. An anticipatory panic had begun to build up inside you. All you could think was that somebody must be dead. Suddenly you were very worried for Matilda, whose frail, brittle bones would likely not survive an accident, which was a very real possibility. In her line of work, what with all the manual labor, you often feared for her health, though she always insisted on being fine. But those thoughts were soon completely dashed from your mind.

“The Saracens…they’ve come! They’re here to take Jerusalem!”

You were stunned into speechlessness. You did not quite know the full gravity of such a thing, of how dire this could be for your whole way of life, and that of your mother before you and of her mother before her. How much would change, were the crusaders to fall! But Amelia’s next words gave you a relative idea.

“They say they’ve brought 20,000 men to Montisgard, to match our army of 4,000. Oh, Your Majesty, we are lost, lost!” she wailed, burying her tear-stained face in your shoulder. For a moment after that she continued talking, uttering those same words over and over again, “lost, lost,” as if trying to understand the meaning of them. But to you the message had been clear enough, and your heart dropped all the way down to your bowels and all you could think was; Baldwin.

Baldwin, the sweet fair-haired boy who’d kissed your hand like it was a holy relic on your wedding day; the one who’d known you well enough from a scant few glimpses here and there to know which gifts to buy for your birthday– and, for the record, they had been the most thoughtful gifts you’d ever received; the one who, unbeknownst to you, prayed for you every night and every morning; the one who had loved you since the beginning. That one, going to fight in a war he was doomed to lose.

And then you were crying too. Great, fat, burning tears glided down your cheeks and into your mouth and onto yours and Amelia’s dresses as you clutched her to you. Your breath could come only in heaving gasps, ripping through your chest painfully. So great was your pain! You could not see that boy die. Then came an image of his broken body lying alone on the muddy battlefield, indistinguishable from all the others in death. Snot dripped down your nose. You cared not.

Matilda opened the door and came in quietly. Your eyes pleaded with her not to deliver to you any more bad news. Her face, drawn into a solid, impassible mask, revealed nothing, except that it looked wan and much older. In her hands was a towering stack of parchment, so tall that it obscured her entire chest from your view.

“Your Majesty,” she called demurely, much softer than usual, “before his departure this morning the King instructed me to bring these for you.”

Rather violently, you wiped the tears from your eyes and wordlessly took the stack into your own hands, taking great care not to drop any. Everything was blurry but you flipped through the pages nonetheless, sinking further and further into a state of hysteria as you did so, realizing with a pang of horror that each and every sheet was a letter from Baldwin, addressed to you. There must have been a thousand of them, enough for one every day since your marriage.

Three years worth of love letters.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying in vain to abate the new volley of tears welling up inside you. Never had you known such love and devotion from another human being, and you couldn’t even say thank you.

Or goodbye.

As you flipped through the pages, you became grave and still.

“My Dear Little Wife, you were beautiful today. I could smell your rose-scented oil from down the corridor. How I love that good smell…”

“My Dear Little Wife, would that I could take you out to the city on my horse, that your beloved arms could wrap tightly around me as we gallop across the orange earth…”

“My Dear Little Wife, as the imminence of war falls upon me, I know that my time may soon come to an end. If I could wish for one thing in all the world, it would not be to cure myself of this accursed affliction, but to have more days to spend living in bliss under the same roof as you. To know you is to love you, my dear. I am sorry if we lose this battle and you are stripped of your queenly title. I am sorry for all that might happen then. Understand that I fight for you, ma cherie. With all the love and tenderness one man can hold in his heart, I bid you goodnight, as your faithful husband, Baldwin IV.”

Yes, that was it, the last letter in the stack, dated only yesterday, and presumably at night. You promised to yourself, and whatever else was listening, that in the event that he did not return, you would read and cherish each and every letter. But you could not dwell on that thought. He would come back. He must. Because you needed him.

“Heavenly father, if you would bring him back to me, I swear I will spend every last day by his darling side.”

//taglist: @lzsia @eatmeandbirthmeagain @likeanecho344 @lunargraveyard @yoursoulisinyourkeepingalone @stickparrot

if anyone else would like to be added, please comment to let me know!

#baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv one shot #baldwin of jerusalem #baldwin iv fic #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven fluff #iiseult #koh

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morgana-ren · 2 months ago

Text

Come down to the Black Sea VII

Merry Honda-Days and Toyotathon everyone, here's the latest chapter of that story that everyone has forgotten existed lmao

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, attempted assault, slight sexual content, one very pissy, overgrown fish and bad writing. It's getting worse folks, much much worse. Soon there will be plenty of uh debauchery for all. I swear.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Who is the first to burn?

What an absolute hell-day.

The café had been swarming with customers to the point of overflow, and you'd barely gotten a chance to rest your throbbing, aching feet— or even take a damned breath without someone practically breathing down your neck for you.

With the entire island abuzz with the news of the gruesome beachside slayings, anyone with free time and not much else to do had congregated in social forums and restaurants to speak in hushed tones and exchange gossip.

Small communities don't have much going on in the way of excitement, so they swarm like bees to honey to any sort of scandal, and it seems that a potential murderer walking among the population is the best form of news to get people in all up in a bluster. Sure, the police had said it was likely an animal attack in their press conference, but people love to talk, and it turns out that a murder is much more titillating than a displaced predator.

Oh yes, the tips had been great, but you could barely feel your legs, and exhaustion was rapidly taking hold. You’d had another date scheduled for tonight, but in the wake of things, you weren't sure if you could even keep your eyes open long enough to cancel it. A quick apologetic text and a promise to make up for it later is the best you can muster before the dreaded drive home.

Thoughts of crawling into bed and sleeping through the next afternoon occupy your head, mind on autopilot as you navigate your way back to your apartment. The winding road takes you by the shore, and you can't help but stare longingly for a brief moment before the light turns green. Twilight turns the sky a velvet purple, ocean lapping gently against the sands, and once more, your thoughts turn towards the sea. On nights like this, you’d used to visit the beach, basking in the silence and peace of nature. Truth be told, you miss it terribly; it feels as if a piece of yourself is missing as you deny yourself the opportunity to visit your once special place.

The vicious sea creature lurking beneath the waves has robbed you of that.

Vindictive, but more so, utterly drop-dead exhausted, you take the turn the opposite way towards your home– and duvet cover tantalizingly waiting on your bed– instead.

It’s a rink-dink pop-up apartment that costs more to live in than it likely cost to build the entire thing. It’s not much, but it’s home, and it’s yours– and right now, there’s nothing in the world you want more than to be inside, curled up under the covers layered on your cheap, shitty mattress.

You’re almost home-free, pulling into your designated parking spot when you spot her : A sun-tanned, leather-skinned older woman that you'd rarely seen without a bent cigarette between her bony fingers is smoking just outside the stairwell.

Lisa. The resident nosy neighbor. Clearly, news about the beach had reached her as well, as she’s perched in the stairwell like a vulture waiting to pounce on the rest of the unsuspecting tenants and entrap them into a lengthy conversation about her thoughts on it.

Eyes almost rolling out of your head, you can’t help the audible sigh. You don't have the energy to converse with her, but you steel yourself, knowing it's entirely unavoidable. She's clearly hooking for conversation, several butts lying scattered around her ancient brown sandals. The best you can do is try to cut it short– as short as you can with a woman like Lisa.

You almost feel bad, being so catty and dismissive of her. She's a very nice lady; she's just exceptionally chatty– and nearly deaf to social cues— and you aren't feeling up to it right now. The only thing you give a good goddamn about is the sink of a pillow.

“Hey Lisa,” You stifle the sigh that threatens to escape, pulling your bag from the passenger seat and slamming the car door shut with a tired swing of your hip.

“Howdy kiddo!” She smiles at you, light from the setting sun spotting through the patterned holes in her wide brim straw hat as she nods at you in acknowledgement, clearly gearing up for the whole conversation with barely contained eagerness. “You hear the news?”

“Yep,” You fumble through your bag for your keys, trying to give a clear hint that you aren't in the mood for a chat today, even knowing it's pointless. “Been at work all day. Hard not to. You know how people here talk.”

“Well, I'm glad they let you outta there before it got too dark. It's not safe out there anymore. Not like it was when I was young. You know, used to be you could sleep on the beach and not worry about a thing.”

That was never the case. Lisa sees things through nostalgia glasses, as is evidenced by her attire, which might have been considered hip at one point before you were even born.

“Yeah, it's a real shame.”

“It’s a shame alright,” She inhales another drag from her cigarette, ashing onto the concrete beneath her as she shakes her head. “They were probably good kids. Hurts my heart to see folks so young gone before their time.” “Who?”

“The kids that were killed— Well, kids to me ,” She purses her wrinkled lips. “About your age, if I had to wager. Nothin’ but youngins. They were having some kind of party on the beach when the tragedy occurred. Such a pity their life was cut short like that, especially in that way. What a travesty.” “Yeah, it’s awful,” You yawn, half intentionally, half unable to help it. “I’ve been warning the city council for years that they’re infringing on mother nature, and she’s going to bite back one day. Looks like she has now. She can be brutal, when she wants to be. You know, I told them about that new harbor. You seen that thing? Like we don’t have enough around here. Pokes right at the boundary line.” You nod, not really sure what else to say. It’s clear she wants to spark a discussion, but your head is a mass of fog and exhaustion, and you’re drawing a blank. Thankfully, she seems to get the hint, frowning slightly as she moves to let you pass up onto the stairwell.

“Right, well, you must be tired– you take care now, girlie. Don’t be staying out too late. Something is stirring on this island. Been here long enough to know something ain’t right.”

“I won’t, Lisa. I’m going straight up to bed. I’m wasted.”

“Good,” She flicks the butt onto the floor, stamping it beneath her shoes before reaching into a half-empty pack for another, apparently still set on fishing for conversation from another unaware person just trying to get home for the day. “Heart can’t take losing anyone else. Old lady can only take so much heartbreak.”

You offer her a sincere smile before continuing on your way. She’s a genuinely sweet woman– lonely, if you had to guess. She doesn’t seem to have any children or family of her own, thinking of herself as some kind of den-mother to the apartment instead. Normally, you’d be more sympathetic to her, but right now, all you can think about is crawling into bed and curling into a ball.

“Take it easy, Lis. Don’t stay out too late either.”

You drag yourself up the metal stairs, footsteps heavy and echoing off the metal steps and against the concrete walls. With one last look at the sunset, you flip through your keyring, more than ready to fall into the sheets. You insert the key and–

The door handle turns without you needing it.

That’s odd. You’re damned sure you locked the door today. Pretty sure, anyways. It’s possible you didn’t. You were a bit preoccupied, after all. It might’ve been one of those little mental slipups. Either way, you’re too tired to worry about it. With a shrug, you kick open the door with a nudge of your boot, hurtling your body through the archway like a stone.

Your apartment is dark, and left with a pounding headache from overwork and undernutrition, you don’t even bother with the lights. Instead, you fling your bag onto the sofa, where you resolve to deal with it tomorrow. Right now, you want something to calm your churning stomach. Lunch breaks are a fantasy when things get so busy, and you’d only been able to shovel a few bites into your mouth between rushes.

Poking your head in the fridge, you note over the half-eaten leftovers strewn about the shelves, something foul-smelling clearly hiding amongst them. Whatever it is, it’s permeating what little good food you do have, pulling out a few things of tupperwear only to throw them back in disgust, shaking your hand off as if it could wave away the stench.

No dinner tonight, it seems. Even if the lack of food wasn’t enough to turn you off, the smell certainly is, and waiting for takeout sounds like the worst idea you’ve ever had. Tea for dinner it is.

The stove hums to life, the burner transforming into a bright, scalding red as you fish the teapot from one of your cabinets. It’ll take a few moments for the water to reach boiling point, and it should be just long enough for you to slip out of your day clothes and into something far more comfortable. Nothing in your life has ever sounded better than getting out of these pants and into something light and airy and comfortable.

The hallway is dark, and you nearly trip over a pair of shoes you must’ve left there earlier. The last few days have left you scatterbrained and in disarray, and clearly you’d been letting yourself lose sight of your mental faculties. Forgetting to lock the door, kicking off shoes in the hallway, and who knows what else you’d been neglecting. Tomorrow will have to be an organizational day– but you’ll deal with that tomorrow when you have the ability to process it.

Fumbling through the dark, you manage to find the closet, shucking off your shirt and kicking your pants off your legs as you reach for a clean tank top and a pair of sleep shorts on the shelf. You hear your phone vibrate in the pocket of your work pants, but you can’t be assed with it right now. You don’t even bother fishing it out as you kick your pants to the side. There is no one in the world you feel like talking to right now. Not even your scorned date who is probably bummed you decided to cancel. You are too, to be fair, but you wager you wouldn’t be much fun right now.

As you unclasp your bra and slide the straps off your shoulders, you could swear you hear some kind of thump behind you. Creaky, miserable old apartment has you scoffing under your breath. Probably the damned AC unit thunking out again. Yet another chore to add to the list of shit to do tomorrow– not that the superintendent will do anything. As far as he is concerned, you pay to sleep here, and that’s that.

The teakettle starts to whistle from the other room, and you shuffle your dirty clothes to the side, shutting the door to the closet and stepping back into your bedroom. Your eyes haven’t quite adjusted to the darkness, but you swear you see movement .

It’s far too dark to truly observe anything in the shadows, but it leaves you with the lingering feeling that something is wrong . Something that sends your hackles raising and a shiver down your spine. Nothing seems out of place, but something feels off .

You try to shake it clean, ignoring the strange bristling that has the small hairs on the back of your neck rising, opting for the kitchen instead. Everything that has happened lately must have your brain fried and your nerves on end. Or you might just be exhausted.

Yeah, that seems right.

The kettle steams and pops as you pull it from the burner, filling an old mug with the water and stirring in a teabag. It smells adequate, and you're halfway through inhaling when you swear again that something moves out of the corner of your eye. You haven’t slept properly in days, and the dull light of the setting sun must be playing tricks. Shadows dancing on the walls. The awful news playing on the edge of your mind, making you paranoid. Whatever it is, it can wait.

It's nap time, and not even the God of the sea himself could stop you from it. Nor can that edging fear that grips at the fringes of your mind and won’t relinquish its grip.

From the hallway, you can see the finishing line. The pale outline of your bed in the darkness, soft and waiting, inviting and utterly perfect. You don't bother flicking on the lights to settle in first. It's so close now, you can practically feel the pillow. The tea goes onto the nightstand, and you're not sure that you'll be awake by the time it's cool enough to drink. You fall into the feathery mattress, so ready for sleep that you swear you're already practically half way there. Your eyes close, not even bothering to worm under the covers.

Finally .

Your body sinks into the feather bed, limbs falling limp and relieved exhale inevitable. It’s unbelievably comfortable in a way you could swear it never has been before, and it feels like you’re wallowing in a cloud. It’s so close now, the sweet, lovely embrace of rest–

But that strange, terrible feeling stays sharp on your mind, ever insistent and refusing to quiet despite your whinging mental protests.

Something has you on edge. Some subtle thing that doesn't feel quite right. Something uncanny and off that has you shifting restlessly. Your body is so exhausted that you can barely think straight, but something raw and primal and cold has lodged itself in your gut, refusing to let go.

You try to ignore it. Try to shrug it off as typical weird day strangeness. You flip onto your back, trying desperately to will yourself into the sleep you'd been so desperate for. Your stomach churns, anxiety and adrenaline racing through your veins for no real discernible reason, and even as you grasp for rest, it slips through your fingers.

The short hairs of your body stand on end, that dreadful feeling of being observed without your knowledge edging into your mind. What was once a persistent tired warps into a cold dread, your heart pounding, something urging you to run–

Your eyes open of their own volition, scanning around for something . Something abnormal, something wrong. You're greeted by nothing but blackness, but you swear, you could swear —

“You humans are so dull. No wonder you’re all half dead already.”

You did not imagine that. Your eyes dart in the direction of the noise, blood like ice and hands beginning to shake. Body paralyzed in fear, refusing to move. That voice, it sounds like—

“It's a– how you say– modern fucking marvel you haven't been killed off already.”

Sparking to life like an old motor, your body shoots up off the mattress, heart thrumming in your ears and legs quaking but ready to bolt. Your feet hit the cheap carpet, knees bent and poised to flee. How is it possible, how is it possible?

A heinous cackle resounds through the room, echoing off the thin walls of your apartment. That hideous laugh that haunted your dreams the first time you'd heard it.

“T-Tomura?”

This has to be a nightmare. It has to.

A frantic look around greets you with two horrible red eyes in the shadows, glowing faintly in the dark. Somewhere in the dim light, you can make out the shine of ivory teeth, beset by twin sets of fangs, bared in a snarl. Your hand slaps the nightstand, determined to prove to yourself you must be losing it. A flick of the light on your table only proves true your worst fear.

He’s here.

Like a horrid shadow, a monster clad in black, a figure stands in the corner of your room bearing down on you. Tall and imposing, menacing as he glares you down with horrible red eyes.Whatever reason he’s here, it cannot be good. Your mind swims through memories of your last encounter: The ferocity, the viciousness, the vindictive and sincere way he’d lunged at you. He’d wanted you dead– and now he’s here to finish the job.

A desperate rabbit cornered by a fox and left with no other options and, frankly, nothing to say to him, you bolt .

Like a newborn fawn on stilted legs, you tear towards the door of your bedroom, almost tripping over a pair of wayward pants. You barely manage to catch yourself on the wall, scrambling to right your balance. There's heavy football behind you like the beat of a drum, approaching inhumanly fast. You claw at the door frame, desperate for the extra momentum. Another cruel laugh, this time immediately behind you.

He's on you before you can even manage a scream, large hand encircling your neck, sharp nails dimpling painfully into the soft skin. Squealing and dizzy, he rips you to your feet with a fluid and disconcerting ease, tossing you back on the mattress with a shove of his arm.

You try to scramble backwards on the bed, efforts squandered as his frigid, clawed fingers wrap themselves around your ankle, yanking you forward once more. Fear and horror mix a caustic cocktail in your gut, kicking fruitlessly at your assailant. His soft chuckle is almost somehow more dastardly than his shrill bark of laughter, sending a riptide of terror through you as he approaches, your leg held in his unrelenting iron grip.

“How is this possible?” The words force themselves from your throat, your hands clutching the sheets as if they could protect you somehow. “You can't— it's not possible!”

“You arrogant little idiot,” he spits, a guttural growl overtaking the ends of his sentence. “You don't know what I'm capable of. But you'll find out.”

“But you're— your tail and— But –”

His other hand curls into the neckline of your tank top, the fabric audibly stretching between his fingers. “ Disgusting , isn't it?”

He pushes forward, your head pulling instinctively backward as he leans closer. An overly large hoodie envelops his upper body, with an ill-fitting pair of black jeans riding low on his hips. The hood is pulled over his head, pasting a smattering of frazzled silver hair to his forehead and over his face, leaving only his chapped, snarling mouth visible to you.

“ How ?”

Another derisive laugh, mouth curling into a twisted grin. “I'm capable of all sorts of things you can't even fathom.”

The metallic, acrid scent of copper becomes palpable and assails your nostrils as he leers over you, and even in your terror, you begin to notice suspicious, dark stains spattered over the fabric of his ill-fitting clothing. Sand stubbornly layers in the creases, rubbed obstinately to the cheap cotton, and you notice strange rips and tears far too clean to be organic and ‘hip’ all over his attire.

Still, it’s not until you see the barely visible logo for a local college, bloody and half-torn from where it had been ironed on, that it hits you.

The clothes aren't his. They can’t be.

He took them. From his victims.

“Jesus— it was you !”

“You'll need to be more specific,” he grins.

“The beach! Those college kids— the massacre— you killed them!”

He rolls his slitted eyes, an obstinate sense of pride still shining through his dismissive expression. “Don't act surprised . You thought someone else had finally had enough of your kind to do something about it? Don't be stupid.”

“God— how could you? They were innocent—”

Snorting air through his nostrils, he scoffs. “Innocent? There's no such thing for one of you ,” He pushes your back further onto the mattress, torso leaning down and head pushing closer until he's so near that you can feel his breath puff on your collar bones as he scents you. “Besides, it's your fault.”

“I didn't kill them!”

“But you made me do it. Didn't you?”

“What are you talking about?” You try to shove at him, feeling his chest against yours. The burn in the back of your thigh from how he’s stretching your leg wails and whines, but it’s a dull roar compared to the cacophony of fear that blares in your brain like a siren as you hear him snap his teeth.

“I couldn't even eat them all. I wasn't even hungry ,” he giggles maliciously, driving the point of cruelty home. “They died because of you, you know. Because you had to be a stubborn little brat.”

“You're a fucking monster,” you hiss, anger starting to bleed through the fear. “Don't you dare blame me.”

“If you'd have let me do what I wanted, they'd still be alive,” Softly, he huffs onto your neck, raspy voice laced with faux-sympathy. His hand releases your newly-maimed shirt to trace his thumb over the hollow of your throat, fingers eventually settling to rest on the precipice between your shoulder and neck. You can feel the tip of his claw prick at your skin, threatening to sink deeper. “So it's your own fault.”

“ Fuck you!”

“Offer still stands,” He mockingly grins, tongue lashing out against your pulse point as you recoil. “I'm sure I could figure it out in your clunky human form. The outcome will be the same either way. I wasn't hungry then, but I am now. Starved , even.”

His fangs graze your flesh, finally removing his hand from your ankle only to anchor you down by the hip instead. His grip is steel, claws sharp as razors resting threateningly against your skin. You whimper as he chuckles, tongue lapping more insistently this time.

“Where's all that fight now? All that brattiness you had? Not so brave now that I can touch you, are we?” His fingers tighten on the rounds of your hip, nails divoting just enough to punish and leave you twitching. “It doesn't matter now.”

Hate sparks your survival instincts, your arm slowly moving to the side and praying the movement doesn’t catch his attention, your hand desperately searching for something— anything— you can use against him. It reaches the cool wood of the nightstand, fingers fumbling about for a grip on something weighty.

“It doesn't have to hurt,” He pants, fingers beginning to wander beneath the hem of your shirt. “I can be merciful— if you beg me.”

“Like hell ,” you spit, longing to tear those terrible eyes from his head as they scan over you.

“There's a girl,” He exhales in a ragged way that leaves your gut shooting through the floor, hand slinking to squeeze at the rounds of your waist. His tongue slips through his teeth one last time, lapping at the tender spot on the crook of your neck until you’re certain it’s gone raw. “I'll almost miss you when you're gone.”

Faster than you can register, his lips latch, fangs driving into your yielding throat without pity or remorse. Your mouth opens in a wordless cry, scream caught like a flightless bird in your chest. He wiggles above you, worming his way further onto you and clutching for leverage as he gnashes. His teeth are like knives, your blood warm and feeling horrifically uncanny as he tears into you almost teasingly with every whimper and whine, clearly testing the limits of his restraint. You can practically feel his every synapse longing to rip into you, quaking with ravenous need. A true predator, held back only by the leash of his own urges.

It will only satiate him for long. He's supping on your fear— your terror— reveling in his own victory.

You won't let him have it.

It's now or never.

Your voice strains with pain and adrenaline, your shaking fingers curling around the handle of the mug of tea, still almost warm against your flesh.

“The feeling isn't mutual!”

Driven by pure survival, it’s over in a flash. With as much momentum as you can muster, you bring the ceramic down on the top of his head. There's an audible thunk hidden somewhere underneath his animalistic howl, and your body slams into overdrive, kicking him off of you with every ounce of hidden strength you have as his fangs release their hold. Faster than you knew yourself capable of, you're off the bed, hand still cradling the sodden mug, body hunched in a defensive position, unsure of whether to fight or fly.

He turns to face you, mouth still wet with your blood and eyes ablaze with fury. His hands brandish those dastardly claws, so eager to tear you apart. Abject terror nearly nails you to the spot, a deer in wretched, red headlights, but some hidden strength drives you to throw the heavy mug square at his head and make a break for it. He narrowly dodges it with inhuman reflex, lip curling into a vicious snarl as it smashes against the wall instead, shattering into fractured pieces that scatter across the floor of your bedroom.

You don't stick around to hear what he says next. Feet pounding the carpet, you take off down the hallway, desperate to reach the front door. So close, if you can just get outside, you can call for help. You can almost feel the air from outside, hand reaching forward towards the handle—

“ Get back here! ”

Fingers snag in your hair, nails grazing your scalp and ripping you backwards, a high-pitched cry erupting from you as agony sears through your spine. Your back hits the wall of the hallway hard enough to bruise, a cold hand curling around your neck once again and squeezing hard enough that it leaves you gasping.

“You little bitch .”

The back of his hand meets your cheek with uncanny strength, and now it's your turn to taste blood– your own – as one of your teeth juts into the tender, soft flesh of your inner lip. You see double for a moment before your eyes manage to focus in on his face. His expression is twisted into one of hateful rage, teeth bared and dyed a watery crimson. Another yank forward only to slam you against the wooden wall once more, your head making a hideous crack as it makes contact. Pain explodes through your skull, tears forming on your eyes against your own will.

“You could have made this easy,” He tightens his grip on your throat until you struggle for breath, hiccuping air pathetically where you can. “But now? I'm going to take my time with you. I'm going to make it hurt .”

“Go to hell— you overgrown clownfish—”

“Talk tough while you can,” Five sharp pains where his fingers dig into your skin. “Soon you won't even be able to beg me to stop.”

You slam your bare foot into his bony shins, trying to kick him off. You swear you hear him chortle, tongue flicking out over his lips. A stray picture frame clatters to the ground at your struggling, glass shattering as it makes contact with the floor.

“You humans are so weak. It's pathetic. ” he loosens his grip only a modicum, just enough to watch you flounder in his grasp. You grab at his wrist, raking your nails across his pale skin, tearing at his sleeve and leaving red welts in your wake. If he even notices your weak attempt to pry him off, he shows no indication.

“Let me go!”

“I don't think so, you sniveling little brat. I gave you a chance, and you spit it back in my face.”

“What are you even talking about! You're the one who threw a fit and attacked me again out of nowhere! I didn't even do anything to you!”

“You're just like the rest of your kind,” he growls, spitting the final word like an insult. “You understand nothing .”

“You don't even try to explain! You just— you just get all pissed off and start throwing tantrums!”

His face contorts, and then evens out. “Do you really think mocking me is the wisest idea?”

“What does it matter? You're going to kill me either way!”

“True,” he shrugs, lips curling upwards into a sinister smile. “You might as well just let it happen. Let this all be over.”

You wince as he leans in again, legs kicking wildly, ankles pounding the wall of the hallway.

“Yes, soon, it'll all be over, and things can go back to the way they should be. You'll be gone , and I can forget all about this and you —”

Something pings in your brain. As you scratch and claw at his skin, something nags at you. Something he’s said. It doesn’t add up. Even your fear-shackled brain recognizes that something is off . He can hate you, sure, but all of this? Forgoing the sea, dragging himself through a city he loathes filled with people he wants dead? Risking life and limb and his prized freedom simply to teach you a lesson? He could have waited and watched, but he didn’t . He was willing to bet it all to see the light leave your eyes and suffocate the lingering flames of your influence on him. Behind the terror of the situation, the logic cracks apart and begins to break.

Through some effort, you manage to drag your gaze away from his hate-filled one, eyes flickering to the pale of his bony wrist, your fingertips brushing against a bit of fabric tied around it.

Clothing. Your clothing. The scrap he’d ripped from you in his last monstrous fit of rage.

Something clicks.

“S-sounds like you’re the one with the problem–” You try to force a snigger, laughing in the face of death. “You think killing me will make it all go away, huh?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” He sneers.

“Don’t I?” You heave air into your lungs where you can beneath his steely fingertips, body panicking at the looming suffocation.

“No, you don’t!”

“It’s almost romantic. You made yourself human just to get little old me– ”

“Shut up .”

“N-nah,” You offer him a cruel smile, equal parts spite and amusement. “Got you really twisted up, doesn’t it? Never been told no?” “You’ll be quiet if you know what’s good for you–”

“Don’t think– Don’t think I will. And I don’t t-think that’s what you want either, if you think about it.” “You will ,” He tightens his grip.

“Did it make you that j- jealous ?”

Another slam before you can even finish the word. Your head is spinning, pain splitting your skull in two. Your head lulls, eyelids fluttering.

“Y-you can’t take it– being told– n-no,” Your head swivels loosely. “And that’s why you’re here. I mean, that—” You inhale raggedly, regaining your strength to glare up at him with unrelenting accusation. “—Or you’re that lonely .”

“You have an awfully big mouth for an idiot about to die!” “Admit it,” You swallow, cringing at the taste of pennies in your throat and tinging the taste buds on your tongue. It’s thick and sickening, but you power through. “You were bored . I’m the closest thing to entertainment you’ve had. The closest thing to a friend. You missed me–”

“You’re a pathetic human whore . I came here to end you like you deserve .” “Did you?” You grin up at him, your own teeth slick with blood. “How’d you find me, Tomura? ”

He says nothing, but his lips twitch ever so slightly. There’s that murderous glint to his eyes, a fire feeding into an inferno, but you can’t help pushing. It feels like he’s accidentally revealed some sacred part of himself against his will. Some baleful, forsaken, deep place he keeps hidden even from himself.

“And now you’re in my apartment, t-trying to kill me. Or is it your own misery you want to snuff out? You think if you kill me, it’ll all go away–”

“I’d kill you and every other filthy human if I could,” He says, eyes flashing and voice full of conviction.

“But you can’t ,” You cough, still trying to breathe through his steely grip. “So now you’re here.”

“Not yet. But I can sure as hell kill you .”

It’s a gamble. A huge one. But the way you see it, the bad end will come either way.

“And let me guess, you think if you kill me, everything will go back to the way it used to be? That the crippling loneliness will subside, and you can go back to sustaining on pure fucking hatred alone? ‘Kill your friends and you can miss them’ type of deal? That you can pretend that you never cared at all? Fool even yourself?”

Looking back at your ‘friendship’ with him, it seems more antagonistic than anything, but for him, that’s probably the only contact he’s had in ages. There may be others of his kind, but you have an inkling that they are either gone, or he hasn’t seen them– or isn’t welcome among them. Despite his best efforts to appear otherwise, he has the quiet desperation of a man who hasn’t been heard and allowed his sadness to fester and harden into molten rage, oozing and destructive and directionless.

“We are not friends !”

“Fine line between care and hatred. You just seem like you can’t tell the difference anymore. You’re here trying to murder me and that doesn’t happen when you’re as apathetic as you claim to be.”

“You’re a fool.” “And you’re lying to yourself! You think killing me will make it go away? You think that ache will stop? Stop and think for a fucking minute, Tomura! You have no plan, no prospects, and the entire island on high alert. You risked your life to be here and do this. You think that’s normal?”

“It’s your fault!” He hisses, spitting words between his teeth. “I hate you!” “Well at least you can admit you feel something! ”

He growls, a low rumble in his chest, but again, he says nothing.

“Look, if I disappear, people will come looking. I have a job, family , people that will know something is wrong. They’ll find you here, and you’ll be carted off to be a glorified science experiment for the remainder of your life. You’ll never see the ocean again. Is that what you want? Is this really worth it?”

Silence. The wheels in his head are turning, and while he will never admit it, there’s the tiniest flicker of dubious doubt there. “Your only hope of ever making it home again is to let me live– unless you’re willing to die for me. For this . I could take you back, and we can just– just forget about this. But that’s your only chance. If you kill me, it’s game over. For both of us.”

A stand-off between the both of you. His white-hot stare, eyes like malignant rubies boring into yours, steeling himself against your invasive words. There is no part of him ready to admit anything close to what you've accused, but the pressure on your body doesn't increase. Frozen, a violent moment in time suspended for what feels like eternity in amber.

You're certain he could have waited like that for an age. A never ending nightmare he's more than happy to keep you held hostage in.

At least, he would have.

Something catches your attention. A noise that isn’t your wild thrashing or his whispered threats. A thumping noise, a bit too rhythmic and controlled to be from your struggle.

Just down the hall, someone is knocking on the front door.

It only takes him a moment to realize as well. He looks at you, and you look at him, both of you in a stasis. His hand on your neck, your nails dragging against his wrist. An endless moment with the both of you frozen in a tableau of violence.

“Darlin’, you in there?”

Lisa . It’s Lisa. Oh, you could kiss her.

He shoots you an accusing glare, as if you had planned this from the start. A large hand slaps over your mouth, fingers still flexing on the rounds of your throat. His body bullies you further into the wall to stay your struggling, doing everything in his power to keep you quiet.

“Not a single word,” He hisses. “If you even try to scream, I’ll break your neck.”

It’s difficult to breathe through his large hand cupped on the latter half of your face, leave alone through the pressure on your windpipe, but you obey, nodding to his command. If nothing else, it might buy you a bit of time to think.

“I heard some commotion from downstairs, so I thought I’d come check on you. Are you in there?”

Neither of you move a muscle, entirely frozen in place. Moments pass, but you know Lisa. She’s persistent. She won’t be leaving.

“Sweetheart?” she's pounding on the door insistently. “You’re worrying me. I know you’re in there. Is everything okay?”

“Don't fucking move,” He reminds you. “I'll kill you both .”

Lisa, nosy as she is, is a good woman. You don't want her hurt. You keep your mouth shut, even as you could scream. She keeps knocking, even as you pray for her to leave. Think, think, think–

Tomura’s entire body is tensed and coiled like a cobra, each muscle pulled taut and poised to strike. He seems caught between fight and flight; his instincts screaming that he turn tail, but his hatred demanding he stay. More humans is the last thing he wants, but he refuses to allow this to have been for nothing. He won’t get the chance again.

“Well, that does it. I'm calling the cops!” She croaks from outside the door, panic rising in her throaty voice.

His eyes widen the tiniest bit, and for the first time, you see it. Fear. He can't take on an entire department. Guns drawn and ready and eager to brutalize. At best, it cuts his plans short and kills him. At worst? They take him alive.

That. You can work with that.

His smothering grip on your face muffles what you try to say. His eyes flick to you, and against his better judgement, he eases it the tiniest amount. Just enough that you manage to squeak out a sentence, but ready to clamp down again if you’re foolish enough to try to yell.

“She's not going to leave, and she will call.”

“Then perhaps she needs to die –” “People will notice her missing. Two missing people in the same apartment? There’s no way in hell you’ll make it back to the ocean. You won’t make it anywhere! They’ll cordon off this entire block. We’ll be dead, but so will you. Or worse .”

He seems to panic for a moment, eyes flitting about, and gripping tightly. He clearly didn’t plan for nosy neighbors– if he planned at all. “And how do I know you won't run anyway? You humans are stupid like that–”

“I don't want you to hurt anyone else! If I run, you'll just kill us both, like you said! I’m not in any grand hurry to die!”

He seems to deliberate for a moment, fingers flexing and eyes narrowed as he realizes his time to decide is running short. Even as he tries to hide it, there’s the tiniest hint of panic hidden behind the wrath of his expression.

“Look, the longer you wait, the more likely it is she’s calling the police. Then we’ll both have a lot of explaining to do that I know you aren’t keen on. I can make her go away, but you need to trust me.”

He flinches at the word trust , mouth pulling into a snarl.

“You don’t have a choice!” You remind him sharply. “Go ahead and answer the door yourself if you want, but her seeing a strange man in my apartment isn’t going to ease her suspicion!”

He huffs, hand pulling from your mouth to ball at his side. The other still tenses threateningly on your neck, even as he realizes he’s been bested by unforeseen circumstance.

“ Fine ,” He releases you slowly, questioning his decision even as he does it. “But I'm listening. And if you so much as hint— ”

“I won't!” You rub at your sore throat, voice croaking. “ Now give me that robe! Inside the bathroom door.”

He seems perplexed, but does so, throwing it carelessly over and watching intently as you pull it over your shoulders and cover your freshly bruising neck and bubbling bloodwork smeared over your chest.

“Just– Just stay here! Don’t move! And don’t let her see you!”

You unlock the padlock to the door, just noticing the damage now from where Tomura must have forced his way in earlier. Great. No way in hell you’re getting your security deposit back now. A flustered Lisa stands outside the doorway, cellphone in hand, smelling of stale and acrid cigarette smoke.

“Hey! Hey— sorry,” You offer her your best ‘ I swear nothing is wrong’ smile. “I was a bit tied up.”

“I— Jesus, girl. Are you okay? There's been one hell of a ruckus coming from up here. You're bleeding—” Her eyes settle on your temple where you’re certain a dribble of blood is matting in your hair.

“C— Closet shelf fell on me when I was changing out of my work clothes,” you smile, wiping your hair out of your face. “I knew I shouldn't have put it up myself. Came crashing right down on me. Broke all my stuff right on my head.”

“My God, that’s horrible! I knew I should have told the superintendent to do his damn job and come up and help. Do you need an ambulance? Here, I'll call—”

“No!” You almost snatch at her phone, panic rising as you can practically hear Tomura gearing up. “No! Really, I'm okay. Just a bit of ice and a few bandages and I'll be fine. It looks worse than it is.”

She gives you a skeptical look, trying to peek into your apartment in a less-than-inconspicuous manner.

“Honest. I'm fine! Just a bit of a shock, is all. Scared the hell out of me, but I'm fine. I’ll fix it later. I’m just exhausted, is all. I want a nice bath and some sleep.”

“I—”

“If it's bad, I'll get it looked at,” You insist, unsure if you’re more desperate for her to stay or to leave. With the threat of the malevolent creature perched in your hallway, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice, you decide it’s the latter.

“I don't have insurance, Lis. The café can’t afford it. You know I can't go to a hospital. It'll put me in the poor house. I can barely afford anything as it is, leave alone medical bills.”

It's a dirty card to play, but it's honest, and more importantly, it works. She pauses, shoulders falling in defeat after a moment as shakes her head, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “Damn shame, the state of things. Ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” you force a rough laugh, trying to appear calm and composed even through your rabbiting heart. “I'll take it easy. I'm going to lie down. It’s not that bad. It just looks that way.”

“Alright, honey. You know to call if you need anything, right?”

“I do. Thank you, Lisa. Really.”

You mean it sincerely. Her interference probably saved your life… for now.

“Do you want me to stop by tomorrow? Help you clean up?”

“I’ll let you know. I’ll give you a call either way and let you know everything is alright.”

“You better,” She pokes at your chest with an orange acrylic. “Don’t go scarin’ me like that.”

“Sorry again. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, she turns, offering you one last look. This won’t be the last you hear of this, but you’ll have to deal with that later. You have a bigger issue to deal with now.

But you think you have just the idea how to.

#Come down to the Black Sea #Part VII #Tomura Shigaraki x Reader #Tomura Shigaraki x you #Siren!Tomura #Yeeeeeah sorry it's been uhh years lmao #Idk why I posted this on a bloody holiday when no one is going to see it lmao

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vampiriito · 11 days ago

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Here comes the sun. (JJ Maybank x reader)

"JJ knew it wasn't right. He knew it from the start. But nothing felt wrong about being with you when you looked at him with those eyes—eyes that seemed to pull him into a world where everything else faded away. Even for a moment. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. He wasn't supposed to let himself get caught up in fleeting moments, quiet confessions and a love that was bound to eat away at everything he had. Even if he didn't have much."

He gritted his teeth, trying to stop him self from yelling. He knew arguing didn't get either of you anywhere, but right now he was fed up, he was annoyed, he wanted answers, something anything."I'm tired of you always giving me these vague ass answers. I'm tired of you just expecting me to accept whatever you give me because you know I'll take it anyway."

(...In which you and JJ blur the line between friendship and something more on a whim, and with the intent to keep things casual. But somewhere along the way things get messy in a way that JJ isn't so sure he is fond of anymore. Especially when he finds himself as the other man. )

warnings; cheating, unprotected sex and uh a lil bit of overstimulation if you squint (p in v), overall a toxic ass relationship (inspired entirely by the whole trilogy album by the weeknd)

If JJ was the king of anything, he was the undisputed monarch of plunging headlong into messy, adrenaline-fueled escapades. Ask anyone even remotely acquainted with the sun-bleached blonde, and they'd tell you exactly that. JJ Maybank lived and breathed for the thrill—the intoxicating rush of adrenaline and the exhilaration of defying every rule laid before him. Boundaries were mere suggestions in his world, lines drawn in the sand only to be crossed without a second thought.

His fingers were a little too quick, a little too light—sticky fingers, they called it. He had a knack for making things disappear, a sleight of hand that was both impressive and infamous. Sneaking off to get high in the dim corners of the school's bathroom became a regular thrill, the weed smoke a temporary escape from the constraints of small-town expectations.

Cliff-jumping from perilous heights, feeling the icy embrace of the water swallow him whole. Surfing during raging hurricanes, the colossal waves towering above like ancient, uncontrollable beasts. Sneaking onto the opulent properties on Figure Eight under the cloak of darkness, stripping down to skinny dip in pools that shimmered like liquid silver under the moonlight. Each act was a defiant laugh in the face of authority, a challenge he was all too eager to accept.

These were more than just reckless antics; they were declarations of freedom. And inevitably, each daring decision earned JJ more than just disapproving glances. The scornful looks from townsfolk, the exasperated sighs of teachers, even the familiar discomfort of the police station's hard benches—all became routine parts of his life. Yet, he reveled in it. The consequences were just another thrill, another story to tell.

Risk was the air he breathed, chaos the rhythm to which his heart beat. His mission was simple: to have a good time—all the time. Consequences be damned. After all, wasn't that what being seventeen was all about? Pushing limits, tasting the forbidden, and dancing on the edge of oblivion before the weight of the world could press down on his shoulders. For JJ, the world wasn't just a playground—it was an endless expanse of possibilities, each more exciting and perilous than the last. And he was determined to seize every moment, no matter the cost. And of course, he wasn't too keen on practicing self-preservation.

Hence, you.

Saying JJ was drunk would be an understatement. It was nearing the end of a kegger thrown down at the Boneyard—a stretch of beach where the locals and tourists alike loved to party under the stars. The bonfire had dwindled to glowing embers, and JJ was definitely more than a few drinks deep, his thoughts muddled and his inhibitions long gone. Stumbling slightly, he pulled out his phone, too intoxicated to suppress the impulse as he dialed your number—a number he hadn't dared to call in weeks. Uncertainty gnawed at him; JJ wasn't quite sure what the two of you were anymore.

Before everything went downhill and your relationship morphed into one of toxic fuck buddies, you had been best friends—childhood companions who knew each other's secrets and dreams. But luck was never on JJ's side, not now nor at any point in his life. And you weren't making it any easier for him, especially since you had a boyfriend—a guy you didn't mind being seen with in public, unlike JJ. Yet behind closed doors, you were still drawn to each other, hooking up secretly whenever you got drunk or had a spat with your so-called boyfriend.

JJ leaned against a weathered piece of driftwood, the salty breeze ruffling his hair as he listened to the ringing on the other end. His heart pounded in syncopated beats, each one echoing the turmoil inside him. The moon cast a silvery glow over the restless ocean, mirroring the confusion in his eyes. The memories of your shared laughter, stolen glances, and whispered confessions flooded his mind. He knew it was reckless, reaching out to you like this, but the alcohol had blurred the lines between right and wrong.

He couldn't help but wonder if you ever thought about him the way he thought about you. To the world, you presented a picture-perfect relationship with your boyfriend, smiling and holding hands where everyone could see. Meanwhile, JJ was the shadow you retreated to when things got tough—a secret solace in moments of weakness. It stung more than he cared to admit, but he couldn't let go. Not yet.

As the phone continued to ring, JJ closed his eyes, a mix of hope and resignation washing over him. Part of him craved your voice, needing to bridge the distance that had grown between you. Another part feared what this call might lead to—a continuation of a cycle that left him feeling emptier each time.

The sounds of the diminishing party faded into the background—the distant laughter, the crackling fire—all overshadowed by the anticipation hanging in the air. JJ took a deep breath, the taste of salt and alcohol lingering on his lips, and waited to see if you'd pick up.

After the voicemail ended, he just sat on the tailgate of his truck, staring down at his phone. He didn't know what to do when he was sober, so getting drunk sure wasn't helping. He couldn't stop thinking about you - what you were doing, if you'd even listen to that stupid voicemail, and if you ever even thought about him anymore.

He groans, tossing his phone onto the dirty tailgate and burying his face in his hands. "God damn it," he mutters to himself.

The insistent ring of your phone shattered the remnants of your sleep. Groaning, you sat up on your elbows, your eyes half-lidded with the fog of early morning as you brought the phone to your face. The harsh brightness of the screen was a rude awakening—three missed calls from JJ glared back at you.

This is great, you thought, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He was probably drunk again. You recalled all too well how your impulsive midnight calls usually ended: getting fucked into the mattress by him, only for you to vanish before the morning light could truly make you real again. It was like a routine that both of you didn't speak about, through the day. As if the sun's warmth could temper the wildness of the night and kept you both sane enough to blissfully ignore the shit show that you both got yourselves into.

Now, with the missed calls and his lingering voicemail echoing in your thoughts, you hesitated before reaching for the phone once more. Yet, drawn by a mix of longing and inevitability, you found yourself dialing him back, even if your fingers trembled with uncertainty.

He’s honestly surprised you called back - he’s not really sure what he expected to happen, but it definitely wasn’t an answered call. He grabs the phone as soon as it starts ringing, answering without even a ‘hello’. He takes a second to get over his initial surprise before he responds.

“I didn’t really think you’d call me back” He says, his speech still a little slurred from being drunk.

"Why are you calling me?" you replied, your tone harsher than you intended. The sound of his voice, and the fact that he sounded like he was plastered made your heart clench a little; but you pushed the feeling down.

He sighs, a small part of him hoping for a more emotional response from you - of course you’d never give him that though. It only ever made it hurt all the more.

“I just-“

He’s not even sure why he called you. It’s a habit at this point to call you during the wee hours of the night, when he’s not thinking straight and he can blame the alcohol for any of the stupid things he says. He doesn’t even really know what to say now, feeling too vulnerable to act like the carefree idiot he normally is.

“I just… missed you, I guess”

And now JJ feels like an idiot. His head is starting to hurt a little, not only from the alcohol but also from trying to express his feelings for once - not that you cared. You never really cared all that much for him anyway.

"That's nice... but you're drunk." you stated, sighing. You didn't mean to come off so rude, but you were half asleep; and with the way your relationship with him was going you were never... emotional with each other. You used to be, but shit happens when you grow up into dumb 17 year olds.

It was bittersweet to think about, that 6 months ago roughly, you were still best friends and that only, no fucking or arguing involved. Every time you'd be with JJ the thought of your boyfriend would haunt you, and you'd end up leaving before sunrise, ending in the same cycle. Having him drunk call you at 3 am or the other way around.

JJ rolled his eyes, though you couldn’t obviously see it. Your words stung a little more than he’d like to admit, though that was normal at this point. There was always just a part of him that hoped you’d sound excited or at least happy to hear from him - and now that you didn’t sound like it, it was almost a cold reminder of what your relationship really was. A dirty, tangled mess.

“So it’s okay when you’re drunk and can’t keep your hands off me, but it’s wrong when I’m the drunk one?” He muttered bitterly,

"Did you call me to make snarky comments?" you bit back, the reminder of your own actions feeling like a bucket of cold water, his words almost waking you up fully.

He chuckled humorlessly, almost scoffing at your words. He knew you weren’t gonna take any of this seriously - hell, he wasn’t even really expecting anything out of this call in the first place.

“No,” He paused, and for a moment he thought about telling you how he really felt and just spilling everything, but it’s not like you’d ever believe him anyway. “I just wanted to talk to you… I’m tired of you just- disappearing all the time when you’re done with me for the night.”

"I'm sorry?" you asked in mock disbelief, although you heard him clearly. You felt guilty if he put it that way, especially since you also had a boyfriend. "And what could we possibly talk about?"

He took a deep breath before sighing again, running a hand through his hair in frustration, tugging at the strands. He knew damn well you weren’t going to talk about anything serious, but he was a little too drunk at this point to think rationally.

“I dunno, our lives? The fact that you’re basically cheating on your boyfriend every time you come over and you won’t even look me in the eye the next day?”

"I don't hear you complaining when i come over. In fact you seem pretty enthusiastic to me." you spat back bitterly. That was one hell of a reality check.

He felt a pang of annoyance go through him. You always seemed to twist things around and avoid the fact that you were doing something wrong.

“Of course I’m enthusiastic-“ He said, scoffing again. “And who’s fault is that? I’m not the one with a boyfriend.”

"As if you'd do it any differently if you had a girlfriend." you scoffed, shaking your head. You knew what you were doing was morally wrong. Hell, sometimes you wanted to walk around with a sticker on your forehead that said 'cheating slut.' But he had no right to point it out when he was just as guilty as you were, given he knew about your boyfriend. "...-and you know i have a boyfriend, but that doesn't seem to stop you from sticking your dick inside me."

He felt another stab to the chest at your crude words, and he hated the fact that you had a point. “Damnit,”

He ran his hand through his hair again, trying to keep his cool. The last thing he wanted right now was some pointless argument, but of course, that’s what ended up happening anyway.

“That’s not the point, okay?” He said, almost sounding desperate to convince you to understand. Of course, you never did.

He sighed, frustrated and tired of going around in circles all the time. How many more times would you do this - how many more times was he going to let you come back just to forget everything the next day and go back to being with your boyfriend as if nothing happened in the first place?

“So are you just gonna ignore that what we’re doing is messed up, or what?” He asked, his tone harsher than before.

"I'm not ignoring anything okay? it's just-.. i can't just remove you from my life. Go ahead and do it; if you're feeling like doing the morally good thing.." you mumbled, your cold façade cracking just a little.

JJ’s heart clenched at your words. He knew you meant it, too - even if your feelings for him didn’t run too deep, there was just something in you that couldn’t just cut him off, either.

“Don’t give me that,” He said, although his voice softened a little at your tone. There was a part of him that just wanted to reach through the phone and pull you into his arms, but he held back - he knew that would only make things more complicated.

"Look, I'm just saying. You don't have to do this.. and yet here we both are.." you mumbled in something that sounded like resignation.

JJ couldn’t do much but sigh again at your words. You knew him too well, it almost frustrated him how you could see through him. The truth was, he didn’t have to do this, but for some reason he always did.

He chuckled darkly, running his hand through his hair yet again. There was a part of him that knew how toxic this relationship was, and yet he never wanted to stop either.

“Yeah, here we are..”

A silence fell between the 2 of you for a moment. It wasn’t an entirely comfortable silence, but it was a little less tense than the conversation before.

After a moment though, JJ decided to speak a question that he always wondered, but never had the courage to ask. “So… how’s your boyfriend?”

"He's.." you started, "-well, not on the island. I dunno.. he's on vacation with his parents right now.." you mumbled almost dismissively, rubbing your hand over your face to ease up the sick feeling and the slight irritation tugging at you.

JJ didn’t respond for a moment, letting the information sink in. Honestly, he was almost surprised your boyfriend was not around for once. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, it made him feel a little hopeful.

He took a deep breath, gathering up his courage before speaking. “You’re uh, alone then.. huh?”

"Yeah." you answered simply, falling silent almost as soon as the words left your mouth.

JJ felt relief at your confirmation, though he could tell that there was something off in your tone. You seemed almost tired and maybe even sad. He didn’t want to ask why though - it wasn’t like you’d be telling the truth anyway, and it didn’t matter why you were alone in the first place. All that really mattered to him was the fact that you were alone right now.

He took a deep breath before speaking again, his tone a little tentative, almost as if he was feeling you out. “You… want me to come over?”

"Do you wanna come over?" you asked, narrowing your eyes even though he couldn't see it given you were on the phone.

He chuckled slightly at your response. Even when all hell broke loose between the 2 of you, you always somehow found a way to be stubborn about things. It was almost endearing, if not maddening.

“Oh, you’re asking for my opinion now, huh?” He said, his tone lighthearted - for now at least.

“Well, the answer’s yes, I want to come over. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

You hummed knowingly, "I'll leave the window open in case you follow through with that." you spoke after a small moment of silence.

JJ smiled to himself, shaking his head slightly at your words. How did you always manage to keep things so casual between the 2 of you?

“You know I will.” He said softly, already getting up from where he was sitting. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

True to his word, JJ arrived at your place shortly after your call. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the quiet, wealthy neighborhood. He couldn't help but notice that the house was shrouded in darkness, each window unlit—a clear signal that everyone else in your household was fast asleep. A sly grin tugged at the corners of his lips. Good, that worked for him. The stillness of the night amplified the distant hum of cicadas and the gentle rustling of leaves stirred by a balmy breeze.

Navigating with practiced ease, he made his way around to the back of your house. The familiar path was etched into his memory, each step bringing back a rush of shared whispers and hidden laughter from a long time ago. A time that he tried not to think about. Your bedroom window stood slightly ajar, just as you'd promised—a silent invitation.

He hoisted himself up effortlessly, the muscles in his arms flexing as he gripped the windowsill. Careful not to make any noise that might disturb the tranquil hush, he slipped through the opening with the grace of someone who'd done this many times before. The scent of your room enveloped him—a gentle mix of lavender and the unmistakable essence that was uniquely yours. He closed the window behind him.

The dim moonlight cast long shadows, but JJ moved confidently. He had long since memorized the layout of your bedroom—the way your desk was cluttered with scattered, expensive makeup and perfume, the cozy chair draped with a soft blanket, the shelf overflowing with well-worn books. His gaze lingered on the small details, each one a reflection of you.

You heard him come through the window, slipping out of bed and walking so you were standing in front of him, watching him fix the curtains after closing the window. You scanned him as well as you could in the dim light. He looked like he always looked, handsome. Sometimes you couldn't believe your small booger infested best friend grew up into a 17 year old who looked like America's next heartthrob.

Despite that, he still looked a little wrecked, like he was plastered and he had a rough night, your tone a little softer than how it was on the phone, "you look like a mess.."

JJ chuckled lightly at your words, giving you a small smirk. He knew he looked like a wreck - his hair was messier than usual, shirt wrinkled, and eyes half-lidded with exhaustion from the alcohol.

He took a step towards you, standing right in front of you and looking down at you in the dark. He always forgot how much shorter you were than him. "So I look like a mess and you still called me over, huh?"

"I couldn't possibly know what you looked like..." you mumbled, raising your brows as you gazed up at him.

He chuckled again, a low, hoarse sound. He knew you were bullshitting, but he couldn't really care at the moment. All he wanted was you.

He lifted one of his hands, brushing his thumb over your chin. “Yeah, of course you didn't..” He said, his tone sarcastic.

“Did you call me over just to criticize the way I look? Damn, talk about rude.”

"No-.. sorry.. i just, felt like i needed to point it out." you spoke nodding along with your own words.

He could tell that you were lying again - you always apologized when you didn't mean it, but tonight he wasn't going to call you out on it. He was too drunk for that.

He chuckled again, pulling you closer to him, his other arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you against him. He leaned down a bit, speaking in a low voice by your ear.

"So then, why did you call me over?"

"Technically you suggested to come over.." you deflected given you had no answer to that. Sex? that was always the main factor either of you saw each other alone.

He snorted, a small smirk on his face at your answer. At least you were being honest about that part. He leaned down further, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke in a soft, gravelly tone.

“Now we’re just gonna be petty about technicalities?”

He heard you hum in response, your arms coming up around his shoulders, fingers tracing over the back of his neck almost lazily and making him shiver slightly against your touch.

He felt the familiar pull of lust starting to stir up in him, and suddenly he couldn’t hold back. He suddenly wrapped his arm around your thighs, easily picking you up against him and carrying you over to the bed.

He sat down on the bed, setting you down in his lap, your knees on either side of him.

He let his hands wander down to your waist, gripping your hips as he pulled you close to him, his lips pressing against your neck, trailing kisses down your throat. God, he'd missed the way you felt in his hands..

Your hands found purchase on his shoulders almost without realizing. It felt like your body already knew what to do, having done it so many times already. Despite that you always managed to get turned on in a way that it didn't feel repetitive or routinely when sleeping with JJ.

He groaned against your throat, his hands already working at the waistband of the shorts you were wearing and trying to pull them off of you in the position the two of you were in.

He left a trail of kisses down your throat to your collarbone, his teeth gently sinking into your skin, trying to find that one sensitive spot that he knew always drove you crazy.

A moan escaped your lips as soon as his teeth found the specific spot under your jaw. It was like he knew what your body liked already and in some fucked up it was endearing. Even when you were technically cheating on your boyfriend. You ground your hips gently, your hands tangling in his already messy hair, messing it up even more.

He groaned softly against your skin when he felt your hips grinding down on him almost hesitantly, his arms wrapping around your waist a little tighter. Damn how he’d missed this, even when he was aware just how wrong it was to be doing what he was doing with you.

He suddenly pulled his head back, his lips finding yours as he kissed you deeply, desperately. He always had to remind himself that he couldn’t leave any marks on you

You cupped his jaw, your fingers splayed out on his cheeks returning the kiss messily, deepening it almost instantly, again, in a practiced way.

His hands quickly found the hem of your shirt, pushing it up and over your head and tossing it onto the floor. He wanted to feel your skin, your body, everything. It'd been too long since the last time he was allowed to do this.

He pulled back from the kiss, his hands pushing your hair back and he looked up at you, his eyes roaming over your body in the dim light of the room.

He let his eyes trail down to your neck and collarbone, a little mark on your collarbone from a previous time they were together still remaining. He suddenly leaned down again, pressing kisses to it before gently biting down on your skin again, his mouth trailing the same path as his eyes towards your breasts covered by your thin bralette. He pressed soft, almost reverent kisses on the skin, his hand kneading your other breast gently.

He looked up at you again when he was done, his breath a little ragged.

"You still taking the pill?"

"You didn't bring a condom?" you asked, furrowing your brows at his question in mild annoyance. Some people had dirty talk before they fucked, you two had this. Having to make sure nothing went wrong and asking the questions you had to ask in a casual manner.

He chuckled, shaking his head and rolling his eyes slightly. Honestly, he knew he should’ve expected the question, but it still amused him how quickly you both went from being all over each other to the serious questions.

He ran his hands up your thighs and gripped your hips, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

"Of course I didn't.."

His hands were still at your hips, his fingers pulling at the hem of your shorts as he looked up at you. His eyes seemed just slightly darker than usual.

"So I'll take that as a yes.." It was a statement, not a question - he already knew the answer. You'd never said no before after all.

"Of course it is a yes... you never bring condoms for some reason." you muttered shaking your head in disbelief, your hands reaching behind you to unclip your bralette.

He smirked when he saw you reach back, his eyes on your hands as they unclip the clasp and push the straps over your shoulders, discarding the item of clothing somewhere on the floor.

"I told you - I don’t like them." He said simply, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip as he looked you over again, growing more uninterested in the conversation at hand.

"Yeah but we can't afford to.. have any slip ups.." your voice was slightly hesitant as you gazed down at him; still straddling him, your expression a stark contrast from the fact that you were on his lap topless. You could tell he was still drunk, and you were kinda feeling the reality of the situation settle in for a split second. After a few weeks of not talking, or sleeping with each other for that matter, you guilt came back full force. But it was pushed down quickly, as it usually was. You felt like a horrible person but you just couldn't help it. Especially when it was JJ.

He raised a hand, gently cupping your cheek, running his thumb over your skin. His touch was a little bit gentler than usual, the alcohol in his system making him a bit more sentimental and open.

"Hey - it’s okay, we won't have any slip ups. I know you’re on birth control, I know you’re careful. We’ve don’t this enough times, everything is fine."

He was reassuring you as best as he could given his state and the fact that he was trying to ignore the guilt in the pit of his own stomach.

He let his hand fall from your face to your waist again as he continued to talk, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on the skin there.

"I’ve never once forgotten to pull out. It’s gonna be okay."

He could tell you were worried - you always got like this whenever you thought about the slim possibility that there could be consequences for what the two of you were doing.

You were gonna say something but held back, you were already half naked and he was already in your room; you couldn't possibly deny yourselves of this, especially when you could feel how hard he was. Stopping this one time wasn't gonna make either of you better people or fix the mess you were so deeply buried in. So, you cupped his face, leaning down to kiss him sloppily once again, the kiss hot and hurried in a way.

He groaned against your lips, his hands going to your hips and digging his fingers in to hold you in place. The taste of your lips against his and your skin against his skin sent his heart racing in a way he hadn't felt in a long time with you.

He felt your tongue against his lips and he opened his mouth, his tongue pressing against yours as he kissed you hungrily, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip gently.

He suddenly grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, your bodies now flush against his. He groaned again, and he had to stop himself from asking any stupid questions - they'd both just be lies anyway since they'd never get any answers out of you.

He pushed his tongue against your teeth, the kiss more sloppy now as he tasted the inside of your mouth, his hands roaming over your back, your sides, your hips - trying to touch you everywhere he could, cover as much skin as he could.

Your tongues tangled as you let the kiss deepen, your hands cupping his jaw holding it tightly, your head tilting to the side gently, He tasted like beer and vodka with a hint of weed, and your thoughts swirled in your head, questions and some snarky comments even. Why was he here with you when he could've hooked up with a random girl at the party he was at? why was he putting up with this shit, if you were arguing on the phone before he came over? But you guessed that just like you, this was his way of taking the frustration out his system. After all, physical was better than emotional even though you both fucked with each other's emotions more than you fucked probably.

He moved his hands from your back to your hips again, and suddenly started to pull them down against his own, forcing your hips to rock against his. He groaned softly against your lips as he felt the friction against his lap, his already half-hard cock getting even harder now. It wasn't enough though, it never was, and he always wanted more than he probably deserved when it came down to this.

He groaned again against your lips, the sound guttural as he continued to guide your hips against his - pushing your clothed core against his own still-clothed hard on.

He pulled away from your lips to start trailing kisses down your neck and your collarbone, his tongue and teeth leaving light marks against your skin that would disappear in the morning. It wasn’t like he could do much more even he wanted to, but he would always have to make sure there was no actual damage to your skin, for the sake of your boyfriend.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he pushed your hips down, all your worries vanishing for the split second of pleasure, grinding down while your hands held onto his shoulders, your breathing growing more ragged as he continued to nibble at your throat gently. You felt slightly dizzy, your head spinning a little at the overwhelming feelings which your brain tried to register all at once. The feeling of his hands holding your hips, roaming over your sides, waist and ribs, his lips moving across the sensitive skin of your throat, all of it was almost sickening in a good way.

He smirked against your neck slightly, feeling your whole body shiver under his hands. He pushed his lips down to the top of your breast, his tongue and teeth leaving a small mark on the side. It would probably just look like a regular ol' bruise and wouldn’t be an immediate cause for suspicion from anyone else, so he felt okay leaving it there.

He pulled you down from straddling him, lifting his hips off your bed so that he could flip the two of you over so that his body was on top of yours, leaning over you as he pulled his shirt off.

The skin on his chest and his abdomen were warm against your body, his broad shoulders hovering over you as he leaned down against you, his forearms rested on either side of your head. He hovered there for a second, his eyes trailing over your face and chest before he leaned down to press his lips against yours again.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, returning his kiss instantly like you always did, the warmth of his body welcome against your skin. You grazed your nails gently across his shoulder blades as you kissed him back eagerly, tongues tangling in a familiar dance.

He groaned into your mouth, his body shivering when he felt your nails on his back. He deepened the kiss in response, his hands roaming and touching your body wherever he could. He wanted to touch every bare piece of your skin underneath him - to savor every taste and sound that he could get out of you from what time you had.

He broke the kiss again, his lips going back down to the skin of your neck, his tongue leaving a wet trail over your collarbone. His teeth scraped against your throat and he had to stop himself from biting too hard, knowing that there were some limits he couldn’t pass. He had to be extra careful, as if he even could be, with things like this. He pushed that thought out of his head and continued on your skin, his lips finding their way down to your chest.

In some way you could tell that by the way he was kissing your neck he was hesitant. Afraid to push some boundary that you both set at the beginning of this whole thing. Again it was endearing in a way, if you didn't think about the fact that he respected the boundary in the first place for the sake of your relationship. In moments like these you wondered why you were even dating your boyfriend in the first place; when you and JJ obviously had something, even if it was hid underneath arguments and screaming matches peppered with snarky comments. But then it was the whole paradox of you basically cheating on your boyfriend with him, which wouldn't technically work in the long term with JJ. After all the way you win them is the way you lose them, despite knowing that you and him had something genuine you wouldn't be forced to go look for it somewhere else.

You took the time to shrug off the shorts you were wearing along with your underwear, saving him the trouble of him doing it him self, your hands going back to tugging at his hair, or run your nails along the skin of hi shoulder blades mindlessly.

He pushed himself up for a second, sitting up on his knees to get his own pants off, pushing them down over his hips and tossing them on the floor. He looked down at you, his eyes trailing up and down your body. It never failed to take his breath away, to see you like this when it was just the two of you and nothing else.

He suddenly shifted, pulling your hips roughly towards his lap again and positioning himself between your legs.

He leaned back over you, his chest against yours as he let his weight fall into you. He reached one hand down between your legs, his fingers searching for the heat between them as he looked down at you again. He saw you bite your lip, holding back a slight gasp from the touch, and that was all he needed to continue, the slight hitch in your breath sending his imagination spiraling, as if he hadn't done this more times that he could possibly keep count of.

You let your eyes flutter closed for a second as soon as his fingers made contact with you, your lips parting ever so slightly at the feather light touch and the contrast between his weight on top of you.

He continued using his fingers, moving them in rhythmic, careful motions that he knew all too well how to do. He shifted himself just slightly, making it easier to reach his other hand down to your hip, grabbing it and holding you still as he continued to use his fingers.

His fingers kept their pace, the feeling of your wetness against them making it difficult for him to do so. He wanted to lose himself in the feeling, to get you to the point where you’d make that pretty little sound that only he knew how to bring out of you.

Your brows scrunched up ever so slightly, your breathing sputtery as his fingers moved in rhythmic circular motions over your clit. You let your lips part a little, small moans escaping them as soon as they did. It was insane how he instantly knew how to move his fingers, as soon as he touched you the familiar feeling of pleasure building, the focused look in his eyes intensifying the lust filling your senses.

He smirked slightly when he heard the moans escaping your mouth, seeing the effect he had on you. It was still an ego boost for him every time he got a reaction out of you. He loved knowing that he could give you a moment of pleasure away from the rest of the world. He wanted those moments for himself, to get that one little bit of you when he could get it because he knew he wouldn’t be able to give it to you again when the sun came up.

His fingers kept their pace, keeping up with your breathing that started to get more ragged and harsh. He wanted to bring you to that point, the one where you’d get lost in the feelings he was giving you and his body pinning yours onto the bed. He wanted you to feel pleasure and only think of him, to give him everything he needed because he knew that in the morning, you’d be gone again and he’d be forced to be alone once more in the same cold bed he’d been in for a while.

Your eyes fluttered open to lock with his, your face still scrunched up in pleasure, your legs parting slightly without realizing when he slipped them inside you. His fingers although moving at a relatively fast pace, they felt almost tender even. And you were glad for that subconsciously, given it's been a while. You wouldn't admit it to JJ obviously, but when it came to doing these things with your boyfriend they felt rehearsed, like he'd do everything robotically. JJ was different, despite being rougher, you felt like it was allowed between you with how familiar you both were with each other due the long friendship backing this shit show that was unraveling more and more between you 2 the more you slept together. Like a train wreck that just kept on wrecking.

He looked back at you, his eyes locked with yours. It was stupid of him to allow himself more than this - just a moment of pure bliss between you two - but somehow he was always a fool when it came to you.

He suddenly moved his hand away from between your legs, bringing it up instead to rest next to your head, his free hand still holding your hip in place as he leaned his body down against yours

He brought his lips down to your neck again, his teeth scraping against the soft skin as he moved them further down to your collarbone, leaving more marks. He didn’t care if your boyfriend would notice them - he hated whenever he saw them on your skin - because if there was one thing JJ was it was selfish. He was selfish and he was selfish when it came to you above all others.

When he pulled his fingers away and slipped them out from inside you you were left feeling a bit empty, physically that was. Emotionally you felt empty for a long time now when it came to him. It was ridiculous. Your hands reached up to run through his hair, your fingers carding through the messy strands, allowing yourself to relish into the pleasant feeling of his warm body against yours, the way he kissed your neck more feverishly now.

He shivered against you when you ran your fingers through his hair, his breath hitching just slightly. He almost hated just how much he actually felt when you did that, to how easily you could distract him with just the simplest of touches.

He moved his attention to your chest once more, his lips and tongue marking the sensitive skin, his mouth leaving small, dark marks in their trail. He made sure to keep them mostly below your collarbone, where they’d be easy to cover up in the morning.

He kissed the skin on your chest again before pushing himself back onto his knees, still between your legs. He looked down at you, his eyes darkened and his breathing heavy. He loved seeing how wrecked you were when he got down like this with you, your skin covered in marks and small reminders of him for the days, and weeks, ahead. Reminders he knew you’d try to hide again from everyone else.

He grabbed your hips again, his grip firm as he held onto you and pulled you closer to him. He shifted, lining himself up with you as he looked down at you again, waiting for permission to continue. You found yourself nodding, granting him the permission he asked for almost mindlessly, your body taut with anticipation.

He swallowed a breath again, his eyes glancing down to what he was doing before he looked back at you, seeing your own eyes locked with his as he teased your clit with the tip of his cock. He could practically feel the anticipation from you, the same as him. He knew it was stupid, that this was the same cycle the two of you continued. You were together in the moment, and distant in the morning. But he was a fool and so were you, and that was something neither of you could help.

He pushed himself forward, sinking into you as he did. He let his eyes slip shut for a moment, a slight exhale leaving his lips as he did, the feeling of you enveloping him familiar but still overwhelming for him. It was always like the first time he got to do this with you, and it hurt him each time, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to give this up anytime soon. He wouldn’t be able to get the chance to get over you because you were always there in the middle of the night.

You drew in a breath, the physical emptiness melting as soon as he was inside you again. It was always overwhelming and mind-numbing despite being done multiple times already. Ironic. You arched up a little, despite still needing a few moments to adjust fully. The stinging wasn't unpleasant, at least not with JJ. It meant you could hold onto it and have it make your stomach constrict and your chest tighten.

He looked back down at you, seeing you arch your back against the bed, the feeling of you still wrapping around him making it hard for him to concentrate. He held onto your hips again, his fingers digging into the skin there to keep himself stable.

He had to hold himself back a little bit, from moving too quickly. He knew that even if you didn’t care, there was a risk of getting caught by your family, and he didn’t want to give them any real reason to hate him any more than they probably already did.

He let out another breath, his breathing getting quicker as he began to move in small thrusts, each one sending a ripple of pleasure through both of you. He held back a moan when he did, trying to keep quiet, and he knew that you were doing the same, the two of you having to stay quiet to avoid too much attention to the fact that he was here right now.

As he began to move you let out a small breath accompanied by a moan, which you knew you had to muffle in order not to accidentally wake up anyone, your palm moving to cover your mouth, prevent the sounds to spill out.

He let his eyes glance down, watching as your hand moved to your mouth as another small moan escaped you. It was hard for him not to pick up his pace at that sight, the fact that you felt the need to be quiet. He wanted you to be able to be loud (like obscenely loud), and to let his name fall from those pretty lips without a care in the world. But he knew that that wasn’t possible - not in this moment or ever - so he had to keep this all as a secret and a memory.

He continued doing the slow, almost rhythmic movements inside of you, the position allowing him to sink deep. His eyes stayed on your face, watching the way your eyes closed and the way your body reacted to all the feelings he was giving you. It was as if he were burning into memory every single expression you made in this moment, knowing that by the time the sun rose in the morning, this moment would be forgotten by you, but him alone. And he knew that he had to savor this, savor these moments, just to keep him going in the days and weeks to come.

"I wanna change.. behind.." you found yourself mumbling without realizing through the hesitant moans, your eyes fluttering open to lock with his.

He paused for a moment, still buried deep inside you, to take in your words. It took him a second to realize what you meant, but when he did, he couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared on his face.

He was all for trying out new things with you, but he didn’t expect you to come up with it yourself. He nodded quickly, pulling himself out of you and backing away a little to give you room to switch positions.

You shifted on your hands and knees, your forearms slipping under your pillow slightly, arching your back up a little, all the while steadying your breath.

He couldn’t help but let out a small, shaky breath upon seeing the position you were now in. Seeing you like that was always so arousing to him, especially when it was your choice to do so. It was like you were submitting to him, and it was hard to keep his own pace when you did.

He shifted closer behind you, one of his hands resting at your hip as he used the other to prop himself up, his eyes looking down at you. He swallowed a breath again, his mouth growing a little bit dry at the sight of you bent over in front of him, waiting for him to take you again. It was the best thing to him - this position. Because like this, he could pretend that you were his, and his alone, even though he knew that you would never be. And it was this moment, he felt in control of you, and it was one of the few moments where you allowed yourself to be JJ and [name] and no one else.

He took a shaky breath before sliding himself back into you, letting out another groan, louder than he meant to. Thankfully, you had buried your head in your pillow, to prevent that sweet moan you knew would let out once he was back inside you.

You arched a little more, tilting your head back allowing him to muffle your sounds more easily now that he stood up straight, his big hand almost covering the lower part of your face, the other hand holding your hip to guide him self in and out of you at a steady pace, hitting that sweet spot inside you.

He continued to thrust into you slowly, although he didn’t know how long he could keep this up, the feeling of you wrapped around him and your sounds beneath his hand beginning to get to him. He leaned closer to you, his chest against your back, and brought his mouth down to your shoulder to try and muffle his own sounds against your skin, his lips against the marks he left earlier, his own small reminders of the time he spent with you like this. The only reminders really.

He couldn’t help but feel just a little greedy, not wanting to slow down as he continued at a relentless pace now, even though he knew someone in this house could easily wake up and check on you. He wanted just a little more time, and a little more of you, even though he knew that it could mess everything up.

He pushed himself in a little rougher now, making sure not to press too hard against your shoulder to keep himself quiet. He knew he was being selfish and careless, but he just wanted these moments, to hold onto them so that he would have something to keep him from breaking in the morning. He wanted just a little more time in this bed, with you, so that he could pretend it was all okay. That he was just a dumb teenager sneaking into the room of his girlfriend and mess around, under the nose of her family. It was far from that.

He continued with the relentless pace which allowed him to kiss your cervix with every thrust, his hand on your hip gripping you tighter to keep you still against him, as his hips moved against yours, pulling more whimpers and moans out of you, even with his hand covering your mouth. It was harder to hear you now, but he was satisfied that he was able to muffle most of the sounds that came out of you. He also knew that he would be satisfied with these memories until the next time he could sneak in and this could happen again, over and over again, in a never-ending cycle.

You knees dug into the mattress for support, still resting on your forearms, back arched up perfectly so you could have him buried deep inside you, the action one akin to a cat arching its back. Your sounds muffled by his hand were growing more frequent now, although they sounded more like mewls instead of actual moans.

His own sounds got a little louder, but he was still able to keep it quiet. He let out a low moan, but it was quickly cut off by him biting into your shoulder again, trying to distract himself from the feeling by leaving more marks. He knew it was self-serving, and that you had to deal with the fallout of that in the morning, but he hoped that you wouldn't mind too much, especially since it meant he could keep a small reminder of you on him as well.

He continued to bite down onto your skin, leaving small marks there in different spots which varied from the back of your neck and your shoulder, marking and claiming you as his even if he didn't really have any right. But JJ was so used to being alone, and he just wanted something that was his, even for just this moment.

He continued to bite and suck into your skin, as his pace started to quicken, losing himself a little bit in trying to drown out the world and enjoy this moment as much as he could, in case it could be the last time it happened. He knew that he was being careless, that this could all end in an instant if someone barged in on them. But he wanted more, he wanted you all to himself, even though he knew you'd never allow it.

One of your hands reached up gently, as if trying to pry his hand from your mouth to speak. You wanted to change positions again, to maybe prolong it a little bit more, even if once it ended you didn't exactly know when you'd sleep together again.

He took a deep breath slowly removing his hand from your mouth to let you speak, curious about what you would say. He could still feel you shuddering against him, the pace of his movements not letting up, but slowing just a little bit, waiting for your next words.

"Let's switch again.." you almost whimpered out, turning your head to gaze at him over your shoulder.

He slowed down and pulled himself out, taking a moment to control his breathing before nodding. He wasn’t going to say no to you.

"How do you want it this time?"

"Missionary.." you mumbled, shifting once again, your limbs shaky and a bit uncoordinated as you moved to lay on your back.

He watched you as you moved, his eyes wandering over the marks he left on your body, some already starting to form into little bruises, like reminders of the fact that he was here, that he had been with you. His eyes glanced down at the way your body quivered and how your breath hitched as you laid down and waited for him, making his own breath hitch in response.

"Yeah, yeah… okay…" he mumbled, shifting to situate himself in front of you.

He slowly settled between your thighs, his hands on them already pushing them apart. He was a little impatient, but he tried to give himself some time to breathe and pull himself together, as he looked down at you, the sight in front of him still just as good as the first time he had you like this, just as breathtaking as it was the first time he had you underneath him.

He slowly lined himself up with your entrance, looking down at you as he did, silently asking for permission, waiting for any sign to tell him that this was what you really wanted, even though he already knew. He still wanted to be respectful, even if everything they did in these moments was the opposite of respectful, and it was hard for him to hold back the sounds that wanted to come out of his own throat when he saw you laying there, waiting for him, legs and lips parted and eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure.

You nodded eagerly, brows knitting up in desperation and plea, your tongue darting out to run over your lips.

He couldn’t help the sound of a sigh coming out of his mouth when he saw that, at your desperate nod and the way your tongue seemed to be begging without words. It made his stomach swoop and his chest tighten at the sight, the way you wanted him still surprising him every time. One might have thought that he would get used to it, but no, it just made his want for you grow.

He couldn’t hold back anymore, he pushed himself back into you once, letting out a low moan as he did, but quickly he covered his mouth at the sound that came out of him. He let out a shaky breath as he pulled his hand away, his eyes looking down at you as he pushed again, his pace starting out slow, but getting more and more rougher again.

You spread your legs a little, wrapping them around his waist loosely to fully bury him inside you, along with your arms around his neck, every time he slipped inside you felt like heaven. Your lower stomach was already beginning to grow taut again, the pleasure coiling and ready to snap. You tilted your head back into the pillow your mouth falling open slightly.

He couldn’t stop himself from watching you as he continued, the view of you laid back among the pillows, your head tilted back and your hair splayed out against the white fabric, the way you seemed to almost glow in the dim light, even through the darkness. His hand came down to your hip, holding you in place as he got more rougher with his thrusts, his breath sputtery and ragged.

He looked down at you again, his eyes taking in all of your reactions, feeling your hands and legs on him, and how you felt around him. The sounds that came out of his mouth were low, as he tried to not let his voice get too loud in case anyone in your house could hear him and what he was doing to you. But it was hard, the sight of you making him want to let out every sound he was holding back, everything he had been holding back from you and this for so long since he first had you. JJ wasn't one to be quiet during these things, he liked to talk and he wasn't afraid to moan or whimper, he was no bitch about that kind of thing. But he had to, at least when it came to you. He had to be quiet and treat this as it was- a thing that was done on a whim and that had to be kept at a low volume.

"Feels so good.. like that.." you mumbled, your eyes fluttering open, trying to suppress the sounds of pleasure escaping your lips when you spoke, your words quiet. You still clung to him, your nails digging into the soft sun-kissed skin of his shoulder blades.

He was almost surprised that you were able to speak in sentences, knowing that this must have felt just as good for you as it did for him. The sounds you made, the way you held onto him and the way you looked all served to make it hard for him to hold back.

"Yeah?" he panted, his voice coming out a little strangled even as he mumbled. "Does it feel that good?"

"Mhm..." you whimpered weakly in response, your legs wrapping around his waist to bring him even deeper, letting out a choked moan at the feeling. "Faster.. go faster J.."

He felt his stomach swoop and tighten at your response—at the small nickname, and when he felt you wrap your legs around him to bring him in deeper, he thought he saw stars for a second. He looked down at you with a desperate expression, his eyes searching your face for confirmation. When you told him to go faster, he took one breath before nodding and picking up the pace, his hips moving against you at a faster pace now.

"Fuck.. yeah.. that's good.. so good" You spoke in a hushed murmur, barely above the sound of your racing heart. Your head tilted back further into the pillow as if seeking refuge in the softness beneath, while your body instinctively arched upward into his chest. Without conscious thought, your nails dug gently into his back, and your fingers traced tender, desperate patterns, as if each scratch could etch the memory of this solace onto your skin. Every quiet touch was a silent plea for more—a wordless confession of longing and vulnerability in the darkness of the room.

He couldn’t help but let out a strangled moan when he heard you say that, the sound almost escaping from his throat before he could try to muffle it against the skin of your shoulder. The way your nails were digging into his back was sending sparks through his body, and he was sure that in the morning he would have little half-moon marks and scratches there as a reminder of this moment.

He continued to pick up the pace as you pushed closer to him, his thrusts getting a little rougher and faster than before. He could feel your back arching up into his chest, the feeling of your nails scratching against his back almost enough to send him over the edge. He bit into your shoulder to muffle another sound, and his arm wrapped around you, holding you closer to him almost tenderly.

His arm wrapped around your middle clutched at you, lifting your lower back from the bed ever so slightly, thrusting deeper and deeper causing your mouth to fall open a little, jaw slack from the white hot pleasure.

He felt the way you gasped, and he could feel the way your body trembled beneath him as he continued to hold you closer to him, his arm around you helping him with the angle. He continued to muffle his sounds against your skin, as if still trying to keep this moment a secret from the world, the sounds coming out of his own mouth just as obscene as the ones coming from your lips.

He was starting to forget about everything else in the world as the orgasm built, the world outside the window of your bedroom, the people in the house with you, even all the things around him in your room, just focusing on you and the way you felt against him, the way your body was wrapped around him and the way you sounded, your little mewls and whimpers that he loved hearing and wanted to hear even more of. He didn’t care if he was being greedy in the moment, he just wanted it to last.

You could feel yourself becoming almost mindless from the pleasure, your mouth still slightly open and writhing in his hold. The angle almost made you suffocate from the intense pleasure, still scratching and digging your nails into his shoulder blades, to the point that if he wasn't just as numb from pleasure, he'd probably hiss in pain. His pace and thrusts were messy, sloppy and uncoordinated just like his moans. You were hoping you were doing a good job at holding back your moans.

He almost tried to speak some words, tried to tell you to stop digging your nails into his flesh, but he couldn’t find the words, and he honestly kind of liked the pain. It was a token of everything that was happening here, and he could tell that he would have some little marks in the morning, and he would be able to look at them and think of you every time he saw them.

He was trying to be quiet, and he was struggling to keep his control, and this whole situation felt so wrong, and yet it felt so good that he couldn’t stop to care about it. The only thing on his mind in the moment was you and the pleasure that he was feeling, and the sound of your voice was music to his ears, even if you were trying to be quiet.

"You.. can.. finish inside.." you found yourself almost panting out, your hips moving to almost pull him even deeper than he was. Desperately.

He almost wanted to say that he shouldn’t, even though he wanted to, he didn’t want to make a mess, he wanted to be polite, and he couldn’t risk anything. But when you panted that he could, he couldn’t get himself to stop. It was like someone gave him the command, and he wanted nothing else but to comply.

He could feel himself getting there just from your words, your movements and the sounds that were coming out of your mouth. It was almost like the rest of the world had faded away and you were the only thing he could see, the only thing he wanted to see. He was desperate for you, and he knew he was a hopeless case, even if he didn’t like to admit it to himself sometimes.

He could feel the pressure building, the heat coiling in the bottom of his stomach, the way his movements were getting more sloppy, more desperate. He couldn’t hold on for much longer, he was starting to get closer now, his breath coming in quick pants, as his own sounds were starting to slip from his throat, his pace quick and messy, his mind completely focused on you.

The pleasure building in your lower stomach was getting more taut, your hands tugging at his hair or digging your nails into his back. His hand reached up, pressing his thumb between your already parted lips and pressing down on your tongue; your sounds becoming a little more obnoxious as his thrusts got more sloppy and fast, "JJ... 'm close.." you managed to mumble around his digit breathlessly, half opening your eyes to gaze at him despite his face being buried into the spot where your shoulder and neck met.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, too focused on how to keep himself under control, how not to let something that might end up being too loud escape from him, to form any coherent thought. But when he heard you say that, he looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours. He could tell you were getting close, and just the thought of that made him feel even hotter and more eager. He panted against your skin, his breath hot and shaky as he tried to form words.

"Yeah.. come on, sweetheart…"

He tried to speak again, his voice barely above a whisper, his mouth next to your ear, as his hips stuttered a little, his pace still quick and desperate. It was getting harder and harder for him to keep his eyes open, to keep his voice down and not let it escape his lips. He wanted to hear you say more, he wanted to hear you say his name, he wanted to hear you say how much you wanted him, how good he made you feel. He wanted to hear anything and everything as long as it was in that tone.

You found yourself nodding at his shaky sentence, your face scrunched up in pleasure. Your brain was too focused on the myriad of sensations, his arm wrapped around your waist holding your lower back off the bed a little, his teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder every now and then when he tried to muffle his sounds, the pleasure from the fast pace, the thumb pressing down on your tongue or caressing your bottom lip. Everything JJ had to offer you, even for a limited time. "JJ.." you mumbled, wanting to say something more than his name but your brain was too fogged up to let out other words.

He held you close to him, even though he was so worked up he couldn’t think straight, holding you tightly against him as he continued to move, his head moving so his face was right next to yours, so he could speak to you in a low, almost gruff voice, his southern drawl slipping out even more now. His nose brushed against your cheek, his mouth now next to your ear.

"Come on, sweetheart.. come on, I want you to-" He almost couldn’t control the sound of his own voice, his pants getting heavier, and he cut himself off before he could say more.

He couldn’t think straight, the feeling of your skin against his, the way you were clenching around him, the sounds coming out of your mouth, everything was overwhelming, and he could feel his mind going blank from all the pleasure and pressure he was feeling. He didn’t care about holding back anymore, he didn’t care about anything else, all that he could think about was you, and your voice, and how badly he wanted to hear you say his name in that special way you always did when you were losing your mind.

You wanted to prolong it, but you had been close so many times already, reason why you asked him to change positions two times but you couldn't hold back anymore. You found your self mumbling his name as quietly as you could, feeling the pleasure wash over you and the knot in your lower stomach snap, leaving you almost breathless. Your body shook gently for a couple of times, your jaw slack, legs wrapped around his waist in a tight lock.

He almost couldn’t breathe when he heard you say his name like that, heard the sounds that were coming out of your mouth. It was like a song to his ears, the best sound he’s ever heard, and just the way you were clenching around him, he felt like he was starting to reach the edge. But the way you were shaking, he was so overwhelmed, hearing you say his name again and again, like a prayer.

"Yeah.. keep saying that, sweetheart, just like that..."

He felt like he could get addicted to that sound, that way you spoke, all breathless and quiet, like you were barely holding on, like you couldn’t get enough of him. Every time you said his name it was like you were giving him a little piece of you, a little piece that nobody else but him was allowed to have, and he wanted more of it, he wanted more of you, he wanted to feel you all around him. Like when he'd plunge in the ocean water and he could feel it surround him.

You didn't even notice you finished because it happened really fast and he wasn't there yet. You clutched to him still, your thighs spasming a little with every of his thrusts, your voice coming into small mewls and his name like he asked. You were tugging his hair, the other hand splayed across his shoulder blade, clenching around him as if urging him to finish.

He couldn’t stop panting, he was holding you so tight against him, he could feel you clutching on to him, and he knew you were gone, but he was still chasing his own feeling of release, panting into your ear, he could feel yourself clenching around him and your fingers in his hair and he never wanted to forget this moment, he never wanted to stop feeling this feeling, and hearing how his name left your mouth, knowing he did that to you, it was so good he never wanted it to end.

He couldn’t tell if you were saying all his name because he told you to or because you were just so worked up, but he couldn’t tell if it mattered anyway, he couldn’t get his mind to wrap around anything that didn’t have to do with you and the feeling of you clenching around him and how wet and warm you were.

"Yeah.. come on, ‘m close, ‘m so close.." He could feel the knot in his stomach coiling, the heat and pressure in his lower growing hotter and hotter with each thrust.

"Come on JJ... i want you to finish.." You urged in a breathless murmur, the air in your lungs momentarily stolen as his hips shifted and the tip of his cock kissed your cervix so sweetly. Every subtle movement sent ripples of delightful overstimulation through your body—a sensation so intense yet perfectly pleasurable.

He couldn’t respond for a moment, his breath coming in ragged pants, it was getting harder and harder to form any sentences, even thoughts. But he could hear you speaking to him, and it was like his body was completely under your control, his arms tightening around you even more as he kept his face by yours.

"Yeah, yeah, sweetheart I swear, I’m- I’m almost there, I'm…" He cut himself off when a quiet moan almost escaped from his lips, almost too late, his head dropping to the crook of your neck instead.

He was so close, he was almost losing his mind, he was practically holding you against him like a lifeline, needing to feel you as close as he could get you. His movements were getting sloppy and jerky, his breath coming in quick pants, he was hanging on to you as if he couldn’t function otherwise, and the thought of that only made it better for some reason.

"Yeah.. ‘m close.. 'm.. I..” He couldn’t form words anymore, he was so overwhelmed, so desperate to finish and his arm wrapped around your middle like a vice.

He wasn’t sure if he actually finished, he wasn’t sure what happened, the whole world went a little fuzzy for a moment. All he could feel was you against him, all he could hear were the sounds you were making, and then the aftermath. His breathing was heavy, labored and shaky, and his body was completely pressed up against yours, his face still pressed against your neck. He didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to let go, he just wanted to stay like this forever if he could.

As soon as you heard the incoherent sounds from his lips followed by that one specific sound that would have you drenched and horny instantly, you knew he finished. You slumped your head on the pillow, lips parted as you panted, your thighs still spasming a little from overstimulation, your eyes closed as you tried to catch your breath. You were still wrapped around him inside and outside, your arms and legs hanging around him loosely now.

He couldn’t move, he just wanted to stay like this, keep you close to him. He was panting against your skin, trying to catch his breath, and he was completely spent. He could feel his breathing shudder as he tried to calm down, and he couldn’t stop himself from placing a small kiss against your neck, an almost instinct, as if needing to be close to you again, needing a small moment to ground himself again.

"God… damn it..” He mumbled against your skin, his voice hoarse.

He tried to lift his head up a little, looking at your face, your closed eyes and parted lips, he could see your expression, he could see how out of breath and overwhelmed you looked. It made his chest fill up with an almost primal satisfaction knowing he did that to you, that he was the reason you looked like that.

"You good..?” He asks after a moment, his voice still shaking a little, he just wanted to make sure you were alright.

"Yeah, 'm good.. just a little... out of it." you mumbled, taking a deep breath, your eyes fluttering open to gaze into his.

He nodded, taking a deep breath himself. "Yeah, same." He chuckled a little, running a hand over his face, and looking down at you.

"Damn.. we made a mess."

He let out a low chuckle as his eyes roamed over the sheets and between your bodies, the evidence of their activities staining the sheets and dripping down the inside of your thighs. He couldn’t help but smile a little, he liked making a mess of you, and his satisfied, almost cocky smirk was on display on his face as he looked back at you.

You glanced back down at your self and then back at him, raising your brows with a small smile, "yeah.. think i need to change the sheets tomorrow.."

JJ let out another small chuckle at that, resting his chin on your shoulder, still keeping his body close to yours, he didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to let go of you quite yet.

"Yeah, maybe you should. Wouldn’t want anyone to know what a dirty girl you can be, hm?" He teased lightly, a smirk on his face as raised his eyebrows at you

"I just think if anyone heard anything they'll know.. which is—scary." you sighed softly, bringing a shaky hand to rub over your face.

He hummed in agreement, resting his chin against your shoulder as his own hands started to rub small circles against the your back. "That’d be bad. What would everyone think if they knew you were letting a pogue like me in your bed in the middle of the night all the time?" He teased lightly, a small cheeky smile on his face.

"I don't think I'm supposed to let anyone in my bed, pogue or not..." you half teased back, the other half dripping with seriousness.

He was silent for a moment as you said that, his hand paused from where it was rubbing against your back, and the smile on his face faded as he thought about your words. He’d be lying if he said he never felt guilty about the whole situation.

"Right. Guess you’re a bad girl after all then, huh?" He said teasingly, his hand resuming the soothing circles on your back.

His mind was wandering, thinking about the whole situation and how screwed up it was. He knew you weren’t really supposed to be doing this, that you were off limits, he knew that you had a boyfriend who you were meant to be with instead of him. But despite all that, he couldn’t help himself whenever he was around you, he never could.

So, here he was again, in your bed, tangled up with you like that was where he was supposed to be. Like he actually belonged here.

But he didn’t, it was a shitty situation, and it was shitty of him to keep taking advantage of you like this when he knew you were supposed to be with someone else. The thought of you being with someone else while he was the one in your bed, it made him feel sick.

He wrapped his arms around you a little tighter and pulled you closer against him, as if trying to ignore the guilty thoughts in his head.

"Yeah given I'm bad at everything.." you chuckled bitterly after a few moments of silence, the reality of the situation setting in. But just like other times you pushed it down. You'd have time to wallow in your own self pity when you were with your boyfriend anyway.

He frowned at that, he hated hearing you talk about yourself like that, he hated how broken and bitter you sounded when you spoke about yourself.

"Hey, you’re not bad at everything..” He started, shifting his body so he was looking down at you. "I mean you’re really good at-” He cut himself off, his eyes trailing down your body for a moment before he cleared his throat.

"At having adulterous sex?" you smirked at him, finishing his sentence as he gazed down at you.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that, he did like when you were like this, witty and sarcastic. It reminded him of how you were when you were kids.

"Don’t say it like that, makes it sound less dirty” He grumbled, even as a part of him did like hearing you say those kinds of things.

He hummed as he thought of other things you were good at, moving to lay on his back next to you, pulling you over so you were laid out on top of him, as he wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin against the top of your head.

"You’re good at being smart, you’re good at being funny, you’re good at.. I dunno, a lotta things. You’re not bad at everything” He shrugged, his hands running over the smoothness of your back

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm having adulterous sex with the guy i tell my boyfriend not to worry about.." you narrowed your eyes teasingly, the smirk still there. You rubbed your hand on your face again, brushing back the strands of hair sticking to your forehead and cheeks, the feeling irritating you a little bit now.

He was silent for a moment, his arms were still around you, still holding you against him, but his hands stopped moving over your skin.

"You tell him that?" He asked eventually, his tone a little more serious than before, but there was a hint of a smirk, like he knew the answer to that question already. He did. He knew your boyfriend didn’t know about the two of you. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

"Yeah... he seems to think we're prone to sleeping with each other since we're childhood best friends. What a ridiculous dumbass, right? as if that could happen.." you chuckled, shaking your head at your own sardonic words.

His chest panged a little at that, listening to you say that, like you were lying to yourself. He wanted to call you out on that, point out the fact that what your boyfriend thought was completely true, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, it would be just repeating the obvious.

"Yeah.. he is a bit of an idiot, isn’t he?” He quipped instead, playing along with your words.

He kept his arms wrapped around you, his hand still rubbing up and down your back unconsciously. He was quiet, silent as he thought. God, your boyfriend really was an idiot, he was so lucky you hadn’t told him and yet your boyfriend was still too stupid to even see what was right in front of him.

That thought made him tighten his arms around you, holding you a little closer against him. He didn’t want to let go of you, he wanted you staying on top of him like that, he wanted you in his arms and tangled up with him. He didn’t want to think about the fact that you weren’t his, that you were supposed to be with someone else, with a pogue hating, money chasing tool and not him.

He hated the situation you were both in, he wished things were different.

"You staying here or going home?" you asked after a few moments of silence, your hands carding through his hair to distract yourself.

He closed his eyes and hummed a little, melting into the feeling of your hands carding through his hair. He was quiet as he thought about your question. Truth is he didn’t want to go home, he wanted to stay with you and never leave. But that wasn’t possible.

“I don’t know” He mumbled after a moment, opening his eyes to look at you. “Why, you tryin’ to kick me out or somethin?”

"No. If you were to argue with me about something stupid like usual, maybe." you responded bluntly, furrowing your brows to yourself.

He chuckled at that, a small smirk on his face at your answer. He knew you were right, the two of you often did argue over stupid things. A part of him wanted to argue with you now, just for the sake of it, so he could stay.

“What about if I don’t argue.” He asked after a moment, his hands still running up and down your back. “What if I’m on my best behaviour?”

"Then i guess you could stay." you muttered, you wanted to add that he should leave in the morning, through the window still but you fought against it. That would be cruel, and it wasn't like he didn't know that.

He could tell you held yourself back from saying that part, he could tell that you wanted to be cruel to him, for him to leave. And hell, maybe he deserved that, he definitely didn’t deserve you.

But he didn’t comment on that, instead, he just hummed in response. “Fine, I’ll stay. As long as I’m allowed to be the big spoon” He teased lightly, giving you a smirk He shifted on the bed a little until he was in his desired position, with you pulled against him, your back press up against his torso, his arms wrapped around your waist, and his chin resting on your shoulder, his face buried in your hair, inhaling your familiar scent.

Usually, JJ would be the kind of person who’d fall asleep almost as soon as he lay down, but right now, he felt wide awake. He didn’t want to waste any time with you and sleeping. It was selfish of him, but it didn’t matter.

He nuzzled his face against your neck, his lips lightly brushing against your skin as he hummed a little, burying his face against the crook of your neck.

You shifted as soon as he spooned you, his chest pressing against your back. Which was kinda sweaty and sticky, but so was he. You let your eyes flutter closed, not sleeping yet but just having your eyes closed. You pulled your messy duvet over you, noting that you'd have to probably change the entire bedding, with how sweaty and sticky you both were. A small part of you said no, of course. It would be nice to have the sheets smell like JJ after he left in the morning.

He made himself comfortable against you, snuggling deeper into the crook of your neck and letting one of his hands move from your waist to splay out over your stomach as he held you.

He could smell a faint hint of your perfume through the usual sweat and sex, but he didn’t mind it, he actually kind of liked it, he liked smelling you, it felt familiar, like home in a way. If he had one. He let out a grumble as he pressed a light kiss against your shoulder, shifting a little behind you so he could pull you even closer.

His eyes closed as he breathed you in, a sort of content expression on his face as he relished the feeling of you against him. He hadn’t felt so relaxed or comfortable in a long time, he could almost pretend that things were different, that the two of you were something different, something more. But that was a dangerous thought to have, and he tried to push it from his head.

He couldn’t help but think of other times like this, when he used to sneak into your childhood bedroom late at night and stay over instead of sleeping at his own shitty house.

He hummed as he thought about that, his hand slowly tracing patterns against your stomach as he let himself think about the past for a moment. He remembered one time in particular, when there had been a big storm and he was too scared to go home drenched, with his dad still angry from the previous fight. So, he snuck over to your house, climbed through your window and spent the night. You’d both snuggled up against each other, him holding you, just like he was right now. It was a memory he often revisited, thinking about how much had changed since then.

He knew things were different now, he wasn’t staying over because he was scared of a storm or his dad, he wasn’t a kid anymore. And neither were you. So much had changed. And yet, at the same time, nothing had changed at all. He was still staying over at your house and crawling through your window. He was still snuggled up against you, the two of you still tangled up together.

He just wished things were different. He shouldn’t still be sneaking over to stay with you, he should be your boyfriend, it should be his bed you were sharing.

"Can't fall asleep..?" you asked gently, noticing he was shifting and writhing a little, instead of being knocked out cold, like he usually was when you both did this.

He looked a little startled by the sound of your voice, he hadn’t expected you to talk, he’d just assumed you were asleep. When he realized that you were asking a question though, he grunted a little in response, his chin resting on your shoulder as he cuddled you against him. “Nah, I’m a bit… wired” He admitted

"You were plastered when you got here like an hour ago.." you mumbled. You had thought he would be wasted and fall asleep instantly, especially also fucking for almost an entire hour. So his words were a bit shocking.

He felt his face grow a little red at the mention of that, he’d been so drunk then, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he fell asleep as soon as he got comfortable. But now he was surprisingly wide awake, he couldn’t explain it, he just felt a bit restless. His hands gripped your waist a little tighter as he grunted a little in response to what you said.

“I dunno why I’m still awake” He mumbled even though he knew why. Guilt kept most people awake.

His eyes fixed on his own fingers, the movement of his hands as he traced lazy circles against your bare stomach. Part of him itched for a joint, he felt restless somehow, he was craving a bit of a distraction, something to take the edge off. He usually didn’t get like this, but then again, usually it was a lot easier for him to fall asleep, especially when he was with you like this. But right now, he just felt a kind of tension running through him, and he wasn’t sure how to get rid of it.

He shifted a little again, one of his legs tangling between yours. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like that he couldn’t get his mind to calm down. He thought about the joint again, that should help, it would make it easier for him to relax.

“I’m thinking, I’d like a joint right about now” He mused quietly, his voice a deep grumble against your skin as he spoke, his fingers still tracing circles against your stomach

"Yeah a joint would absolutely slap right now.." you nodded weakly at his words. A joint would help tame the guilt and the constricting feeling in your chest and stomach. That feeling faded when you had sex but now it was creeping back in. Out with the mind numbing orgasm and in with the self hatred. So weed it was, "think i have some weed hidden around here somewhere," you muttered once again.

“Damn, you got some good stuff hidden in here? You’ll have to show me where you store it” He chuckled, his fingers still tracing lazy shapes against your skin. He liked the idea of a joint, maybe it would mellow him out a bit, help him fall asleep, at least he hoped so.

He hadn’t been able to stop dwelling on the past and how much had changed and just how much he shouldn’t be here in your bed. The best way, of course, was to forget for a bit. Usual JJ coping mechanism.

He nuzzled his face against your shoulder again, his nose nuzzling against your exposed skin as he breathed in your scent. He knew it was stupid and risky being in here in your bed, he didn’t want to think about that. All he wanted to do right now was distract himself from the feelings and thoughts bouncing around his head.

He didn’t want to think about how things were different, how he should be your boyfriend, how he should be here with you and it not be a secret in the middle of the night.

"Dunno if it's good enough for you. Given you smoke weed like 4/20 is every day but—" you trailed off, your voice trailing into uncertainty as you slowly disentangled yourself from him. You moved with a hesitant grace, your body still humming with the residual heat of intimacy, and settled on the edge of the bed. With a careful hand, you gathered your t-shirt and underwear scattered on the floor. His shirt lay next to yours—a silent invitation you longed to accept, though you resisted the urge, not wanting to blur the lines of an already delicate boundary. It was already too intimate as it was.

You slipped into your own clothes—the familiar fabric grounding you—and, with a final reluctant glance at the space between you, you slid off the bed. Each step toward the dresser felt weighted with unspoken tension. Kneeling before it, you opened the bottom drawer and sifted through its contents until your fingers closed around a small tin box. Clutching it, you made your way back to the bed, sitting beside him.

He almost pouted in response to you untangling yourself from him, but he didn’t say anything, only watched you as you got off the bed, pulling a t-shirt and panties on, a small part of him wishing he could’ve seen you naked for longer.

He sat up in the bed, crossing his legs and resting his chin on one of his hands as he watched you kneel before the dresser, searching through it as you grabbed something from the bottom drawer. He couldn’t help but admire your ass a little as you knelt down. He had to.

He watched closely as you walked back to the bed, a small smile on his face as he looked at the tin box in your hands, guessing what was in it. He uncrossed his legs and patted the spot beside him, gesturing for you to sit by him and share what you found together

The small tin box was opened and JJ’s eyes immediately fell on the pre-rolled joint and half pack of Marlboro’s stashed away inside. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, he hadn’t fully expected you to have anything besides the joint, and he found himself impressed by your stash. It was also a bit of a surprise to see the pack of Marlboro’s in there, he knew you smoked regular cigarettes, but he didn’t think you’d have them stashed away with your weed.

He hummed and picked up the joint from inside the box, his fingers playing with the paper for a moment before speaking, his eyes fixed on the joint in his hand. “How come you’ve got cigs in here?” He asked, picking up the half empty pack of Marlboro’s and giving them a little wave, before looking up at you

"Marlboro's are good to smoke with a joint.." you smiled lightly as he shook the red pack of cigarettes. "My other pack is hidden in my purse.. can't have them out and about.." how ironic. Smoking was a secret as much as screwing around with JJ was.

He chuckled a little in response, putting the pack back into the tin box and picking up the joint as he laid himself back down, propping himself up with a few pillows behind him so he could sit up a little.

“You wouldn’t want a big shot like your boyfriend to find out you smoke, huh?” He teased, the joint held between his fingers as he looked up at you with a smirk on his face

"He says it's not feminine to smoke," you scoffed, your tone a blend of amusement and something akin to disgust. Your hand slipped into the familiar tin box, fingers closing around the lighter as if it were a an extension of you. Leaning in, you hovered over him just long enough to ignite the joint that rested between his lips—a delicate, intimate act that blurred the lines between challenge and tenderness. The flicker of the flame danced across his features, making his eyes sparkle and his features more sharper and breathtaking.

He chuckled around the joint as he took his first inhale, his lips closing around the tip of the joint as he inhaled the smoke, letting his tongue dart out to brush against the side of it as he finished taking a hit

“He sounds like a real prize” He teased as he took another quick inhale and let the smoke out, his eyes going to you as he passed the joint over to you with a smirk on his face.

You watched intently as he took the first drag, another amused scoff leaving your lips at his words, taking the joint from him eagerly. You brought it to your lips taking a long drag and holding the smoke in your lungs for a good moment before exhaling it. "Yeah you could say that.."

He watched you as you smoked, his eyelids lowered in a sort of lazy, half-lidded look. His eyes were fixed on the way your lips curved against the joint, how you took the hit, the way you exhaled. He knew it was wrong for him to even look at you like this. He knew how dangerous all of this was. And he hated it.

"Why do you even put up with him?" He asked, picking up the box and taking out a Marlboro for himself, his eyes still fixed on you

He lit the cigarette, putting the still burning joint on the ashtray you had handed him and placed between the 2 of you. He didn’t smoke cigarettes often, they weren’t really his preference. But it helped dull his frustration for the time being, so he wasn’t complaining.

"He isn’t the best guy in the world, so why do you bother staying with him?" He asked, looking straight at you this time, his eyes studying your face, searching for any sign of what you were truly thinking

"It's not a matter of if he's the best guy or not.." you grimaced almost imperceptibly, laying on your back next to him, a small distance between the 2 of you for the ash tray. You grabbed a cigarette before placing the tin box on your night stand, keeping the pack of cigarettes in your lap.

"Well, what is it then. Is it the money? I know his Daddy is swimming in it." He said, taking another drag of his cigarette. The bitterness was clear in his voice, though he tried to hide it. He was jealous of your boyfriend. He was jealous of the fact that he had everything that JJ didn’t, and more. He had money, a good, proper family, decent behavior. JJ had none of that.

"Technically yeah.." you turned to side glance at him as you took a drag of your own cigarette, already feeling a bit dizzy when the nicotine and weed mixed together.

He couldn’t help the scoff that came from him at your response. It stung, it stung to know that you were staying with a douchebag because he had money. That you stayed with someone you didn’t actually like because you preferred the money he threw at you. It stung. JJ didn’t understand why though, he wouldn’t admit it, but it hurt. “So you stay with that tool for the money. You don’t actually love him?”

"God no.. Riley's good company.. sometimes. But I'm not after his money or company..." you grimaced again, tapping the cigarette gently to ash it. Your words felt a bit horrible if you thought about them. Given you were dating your boyfriend for almost 2 years now.

JJ couldn’t help the twinge of anger he felt. You were with a guy for 2 years, spending time with him, going on dates, probably doing other stuff as well, but you didn’t even like him. You just liked the money he had. While here he was, stuck with nothing and nobody. The anger was starting to become bitter resentment.

"So… what’re you with him for then? If you don’t care about the money or him?

"Cause... you know my parents.. they're really old friends with his.. and i guess it gives them a reason to combine their richness.." your frown deepened too as you spoke, taking another drag of the cigarette.

He could see your frown forming as you spoke, the words spilling out of your mouth. He hated it. Hated your parents, hated your relationship with your rich boyfriend, how you were so content with the shitty situation.

"So, you’re basically a trophy. A toy for your parents to show off" His words sounded harsher than he’d originally intended

Although technically it was kind of true you didn't like the wording of that fact. With the way they were planning on marrying you off this dude was kind of like melting 2 trophies together to create a big pile of gold. You opened your mouth to speak closing it again glaring at him slightly, "it's not that simple.. you don't even know the whole situation."

He almost bristled at your answer, his jaw clenching in frustration. You were right, he didn’t know the whole situation. And that was exactly his problem. He didn’t know why you stayed with your boyfriend, why you didn’t want to tell your parents to go screw themselves. Why couldn’t you just break up and be with him instead. JJ let out an angry exhale, another bitter scoff leaving his mouth

"Then why don’t you tell me then, princess?"

"Cause it doesn't matter, okay?" you grimaced once again, looking forward as you took another long drag from your cigarette.

He was even more pissed now, his irritation building more and more with each vague answer you gave him. He really hated when you did this. When you answered a question with a vague ass answer that left more questions than it gave answers. He stubbed his cigarette into the ash tray with more force than was necessary. He wasn’t going to keep being left in the dark by you. That wasn’t going to happen

"Bullshit it doesn’t matter! Why won’t you tell me?"

"Cause i thought this was supposed to be casual... we would fuck and then, i dunno.." god, you sounded like an asshole. Of course it wasn't casual, neither of you believed it, especially with your friendship looming over the whole ordeal like a big green monster. It made things more tangled than they would've been if JJ was a mere stranger. You like to pretend you weren't yourself when these things would happen, because you felt like another person. And yet you couldn't understand why JJ was here, putting up with your bullshit and vague answers.

He was even more hurt now, hearing you talk about your ‘relationship’ like it was nothing. He bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything he knew he’d regret, he couldn’t get caught up in the shitty emotions he was feeling, he couldn’t get attached, he couldn’t do that to himself. He knew it wasn’t going anywhere, you’d made that clear. But that didn’t make it better. "So… this is nothing then." His voice was flat, the familiar bitter undertone of resentment in it.

"No... no, it's not nothing. But explaining isn't gonna help us okay? It never does.." you mumbled the last part, your anger turning into something akin to bitterness, mixed with the guilt of the whole situation, still holding the cigarette between your fingers.

He gritted his teeth, trying to stop himself from yelling. He knew arguing didn’t get either of you anywhere, but right now he was fed up, he was annoyed, he wanted answers, something, anything.

"I’m tired of you always giving me these vague ass answers. I’m tired of you just expecting me to accept whatever you give me because you know I’ll take it anyway."

"No, because if I explain the whole situation, you'll just try to find a way out of it—even when there isn't one. I know because I've tried, okay?" you spoke bitterly, your words laced with a simmering frustration that threatened to boil over. Irritation flared up once again, a familiar heat rising in your chest. With a sharp exhale, you stubbed out the cigarette into the ashtray, the smoldering ember crushed under your fingertips. The scent of smoke lingered in the air, a hazy veil that matched the tension thickening between you.

Sitting up a little straighter, you squared your shoulders, a silent declaration of your resolve even with your eyes glazed over by the remnants of the orgasm and the weed.

The silence that followed was palpable, broken only by the distant hum of cicadas outside and the ticking of your bedside clock that seemed to mock the passing time. You could feel his eyes on you, searching for cracks in your armor, but you refused to meet his gaze. The weight of unspoken words pressed down on you, each one a stone added to the burden you carried.

A knot tightened in your stomach as you wrestled with the myriad of emotions swirling within—frustration, hurt, a flicker of hope quickly extinguished by reality. The walls felt closer now, the room smaller, as if the very space conspired to force a confrontation you weren't ready to have. One that always ended up happening anyway.

He couldn’t keep the anger and bitterness from pouring into his voice now, he was too riled up for that.

"God, why do you always do this?! Just always assume that I’m gonna try something. What do you think I’m gonna do, hm? Find out the reason and then what? Try to find a way to get out of it? Try to win you over from your rich boy? Why do you think I’d do that?"

He stood now too, facing you head-on, frustrated and upset. He didn’t like how you just thought he was gonna try and sabotage your current relationship. He couldn’t help himself, he was too frustrated, and now his irritation was starting to manifest itself into anger.

"Do you honestly think I care that much about you dating some rich douche bag that I’d try and steal you away from him?"

"Then why do you wanna know the reasoning? what does it help you with?" you were hurt at his words. Of course, you were. It already wasn't easy for you and somehow JJ made it harder. He always did. You knew he was in the same place as you emotionally, but he just hid behind this stingy persona that some how hardened any soft emotion you had. So for the time being you'd bite back if that's what he wanted. You'd get to wallow about it later.

His expression softened momentarily in surprise at your response before hardening again almost immediately. He didn’t want to feel bad for you, and yet he did. He felt bad for you because he knew you were in that shitty, uncomfortable situation, because deep down he knew you didn’t actually want to be with your rich prick boyfriend.

"Because it’s infuriating to just be left in the dark all the time. Just to be forced into something I don’t know the context of"

"Hellooo..." you dragged out the word almost mockingly, "you knew the context of this situation. When we started this bullshit the context was pretty clear. 'We'd do it once' we said... and then we started making a habit out of it." you scoffed, crosing your legs under you as you sat straighter on the bed, "—and no one is forcing you.. it's not like I'm doing something you don't participate in.."

"God, you’re impossible. Do you honestly think I’d be here if I didn’t have some kind of feelings for you, huh? You think I’d keep coming back here every time, going along with this ‘arrangement’ as you so conveniently call it, if I didn’t?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, trying to keep his voice level but it was becoming increasingly more difficult. The things you were saying were pissing him off. Greatly.

"That just makes it worse... feelings always complicate things. You think i don't care about any of this? shit, maybe if i was a heartless slut i wouldn't.." you mumbled chewing the inside of your cheek. It felt like your stomach constricted a little when he said he had feelings for you. It was relieving to hear you weren't the only one feeling something. But the hope stoked out because it was impossible and this wasn't a romance novel.

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his throat, almost scoffing at the fact that you thought feelings were what complicated things. Feelings were what made everything make sense to him. They explained why he kept letting himself into the shitty arrangement. Why he continued coming back when he knew it was breaking his heart.

"You think I care if things are complicated? If I didn’t feel anything, if I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t let you drag me deeper into this."

"You could at least be selfish. You usually are. So i don't understand why you don't think about yourself here? If i have to live this shitty life and feel like this, why do you have to too?" you stood up and walk over to him standing in front of him as he paced a little at the foot of your bed.

"I could say the same thing to you. Why do you let yourself live this shitty life? Why are you letting some rich douche control you, huh? If you don’t want to be in that shitty life, then why don’t you just change it?"

He was getting heated now, his voice rising as he spoke louder. And yet he didn’t care if this would wake up the rest of your family, he was too riled up to take that into consideration.

"Cause it's not that simple. None of this is. Out of the two of us you have the privilege to walk out and live your life like you wanna." you scoffed, shifting your irritated gaze to the side.

“Oh please. Don’t give me that bullshit. Out of the 2 of us, no matter what I still have it worse. So don’t even think about giving me that. I come from a shitty family with a shitstain of a father. I barely have enough money to keep myself afloat. At least you have the money to fall back on!”

He hated bringing up the money, but he was so sick of you acting like you had it worse than him. Like you were some sort of sad charity case when you had money and a family that actually gave a damn.

"That's not what i meant. I wasn't flaunting my money and family to you.. i know better than anyone the differences between us." you spoke, your voice softer this time. You felt bad suddenly, cause it was true—he did have it worse. Sometimes it made you wonder how something as beautiful as JJ got such a shitty deal in life. It was ridiculous how rotten and shitty you were, and you got such a pristine life while he was left with... whatever he could get.

He hated how soft your voice had gotten all of a sudden, making him immediately feel guilty for even bringing up the money. It wasn’t your fault his family was shittier than yours, and he felt like an ass for making you feel bad.

He stayed silent for a moment, looking down at the floor for a moment until he looked back up at you. Though his voice had lost the irritation from before and was replaced with something more bitter.

"You still didn’t answer my question. Why don’t you change your life then?"

"Cause it's not changeable okay? This shit runs deeper than any of this combined.." you gestured between the 2 of you, "sometimes i think cheating on my boyfriend is the best thing i can do for myself.." you mumbled bitterly, crossing your arms over your chest and gazing to your side again, at the ashtray with the barely touched joint on the bed.

When you mumbled that you thought cheating on your boyfriend was the best thing you could do for yourself, a scoff escaped his throat.

“That doesn’t make sense. How can cheating on him be the best thing when it’s something that’s tearing you up inside and making you hate yourself even more than I know you already do?”

"Cause at least it's something i wanna do. I wanna sleep with you. It's not like anyone is forcing me to be with you." you turned to him, furrowing your brows and letting a scoff of your own.

He didn’t know why, but something about the way you said that riled him up again. His body tensed and his face hardened into that expression he usually donned at the Boneyard when he saw something he didn’t like. That cold, emotionless facade that always had people pissing themselves when they saw it.

"Oh really, that’s why you cheat on your boyfriend, huh? Cuz you want to be with me. Because you want me this much. Right?”

You averted you gaze again, scowling to yourself. You weren't scared of him, hell you knew him since he was eating his boogers. You were just exhausted of arguing and falling into the same cycle. All of it because you couldn't stay friends when puberty hit. It was angering and sad.

"You never answer me when I ask that question. Whenever I ask if you actually want me, if you actually want what we have or if this is just a way to pass time. You always get silent or deflect. So, answer me for once. Do you want me? Do you want this?”

Maybe it was a bad idea to keep pushing, JJ already knew you wouldn’t answer but something inside him made him continue despite being a masochistic idiot.

"Do you think i'd be doing this if i didn't want you?. You think i use sex just to pass time?" you scoffed bitterly. You weren't surprised he thought that, after all you would act like a cruel bitch sometimes despite loving JJ more than you would ever admit to anyone, yourself included.

He couldn’t do anything other than scoff at your scoff as he ran his hand through his hair once more. Frustration coursing through his veins and his jaw clenched so tight he wouldn’t be surprised if his teeth cracked. He was tired of this. Having to ask you the same question and never getting an answer. Never knowing anything about what was going on in your head.

"You’re never direct with any of your answers, you always have to be vague or snarky. Can you blame me if I think that? You never actually tell me what you want from me.”

"I dunno okay? Sometimes i pray to God you just brush me off when i show up to your door drunk." you knitted your brows up in exhaustion. You knew, since your parents basically married you off to someone else, that you and JJ couldn't have anything. You convinced yourself that if he did casual hooking up with girls at parties, it would work in your case too. Spoiler alert: it was back firing more than you could handle.

Again, another vague response and once again, he felt his irritation spike. He clenched and unclenched his jaw as he felt the urge to scream from frustration, but instead, he just let out a scoff-like laugh.

"Of course, that’s your answer. ‘I dunno’, you never know.” He stepped towards you, narrowing his eyes at you. He didn’t care that his voice was borderline yelling and that it was a quiet summer night outside.

"You never know, no matter how many times I ask, you never know."

He got right in your face, closing whatever distance was between you two so that he was looking down directly into your eyes. He wanted you to look at him, to look him in the eyes and actually speak to him for once without any vague answers.

"What do you want me to do? You want me to just blow you off? Ignore you completely? Not answer your calls and not give you the time of day anymore? You want me to do that, huh?”

"Well if you don't like this.." you shrugged, raising your brows and fixing him with your gaze, although a small part of you hoped he would take the words back and maybe you'd go back to smoking the joint and cuddling until the morning when he had to leave.

He hated it when you did that, when you looked up at him with that expression, so emotionless and vague. But he wasn’t a complete moron, and he could see the hints of hope in your eyes, despite it being barely noticeable. He was tempted, he was so completely tempted to just drop this and go back to smoking and snuggling. He always was. “No, no, answer me. That’s all I’m asking for. Tell me what you want.”

"I want things to be different okay? that's all i wanted and I'll want until i die. Sounds dramatic but it sums up this whole situation." god, someone who finally asked what you wanted, the wrong person at that, because you had no reason. You wanted to keep him here with you, and have him do this, repeat the cycle. But if you were him you'd get fed up too. Hell. you'd probably not take the bullshit you gave him.

He let out a frustrated huff as he once again ran his hand through his hair, pulling a little at the ends. How in the hell was he supposed to respond to that? How was he supposed to react to the fact that you were unhappy and that it was something they both couldn’t change?

“You can’t say that and just leave it at that, we both know that there’s a million different outcomes for how things could be different.”

"You don't understand that it can't be. It just can't. It's not as easy as breaking up with my boyfriend and dating you. Although that's what i wanted from the start of this." you looked up at him, scrunching up your face in sort of desperate expression, whisper shouting at him.

JJ felt his insides twist and turn, his frustration only getting worse. You didn’t even have the faintest of ideas about how much he wished that were actually a viable option. How he wanted to be able to wake up in the same bed as you and not have to worry about sneaking out the window in the middle of the night so no one saw.

"Well, yeah. I do understand that, that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it? I get that it’s not easy to just break it off with him and start dating me."

He clenched his jaw as he looked away from you, a part of him still desperately wishing he could grab you and kiss you right here, right now, and pretend that everything was fine. But he couldn’t, especially now, and he knew it.

"It’s more than just ‘not easy’ it’s pretty much impossible. Or at least impossible to change right now, I mean we still got one more year before graduation, and we both know that your parents aren’t just gonna let you ditch college prep for a life with me.”

"It's not like I'm going to a college that i wanna go to..." you mumbled, scoffing bitterly.

"That doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what you want, it’s what your parents want. And they don’t want some stupid pogue kid to ruin their perfect little college prep daughter’s future." he replied bitterly.

"Yeah it doesn't matter. It never does. It didn't matter when i told them i didn't want to date Riley and it won't when it comes to college or any other life plans. Because they have that all planned out. Hell, they probably planned my first kid already and I'm only 17." you turned your head back to him, scowling and raising your shoulders in a half shrug.

His heart ached at the expression on your face, you looked so damn miserable. So damn broken and defeated. But he knew that it was the truth. He had always known it, that your life would never be your own. That you’d be forced into the future your parents wanted for you, whether you liked it or not. And he knew there was nothing either of you could do about it.

"I know, princess. I know."

It was the pet name. That was his one big fatal flaw. Whenever he called you that he would instantly get this overwhelming need to protect you, hold you tight, and try and shield you from the rest of the damn world. And that was exactly what he did in that moment, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, holding you tight against him as if he could shield you from your shitty parent's influence.

You didn't hesitate to wrap your arms around his neck, despite the hostility and anger that was felt before the hug, your stomach doing a little flip at the softness in his eyes and the pet-name. A hug was probably some sort of mistake even if not directly, but you needed and he offered it and that's all you could get. So you'd gladly take it.

He held you close for several moments, letting himself savor the feeling of holding you again, relishing the feeling of running his hand through your hair and having you against his chest. Even if it was a mistake, he was happy to make it. Because all he wanted was to hold you, to hug and kiss and comfort you whenever he could. He just wished that things were different, that he didn’t have to be a little secret. But he was, and there was little he could do about that.

Eventually, he felt his will and self-control slowly but surely beginning to crumble. He shouldn’t be doing this, he knew that, but goddammit, he was only human. He was a pogue, it wasn’t as if he had endless supplies of self-discipline.

He gently pulled you back onto the bed and laid down with you, letting out a soft sigh as he continued to run his hands through your hair and hold you close, one hand trailing down your spine.

You let him guide you back to the bed, laying back down with him after placing the ashtray with the stubbed out cigarettes and the barely touched joint as he wrapped and slipped his hand under your shirt, tracing the outline of your spine, your face buried in his chest.

He couldn’t help the way his hand traced its way up and down your spine, gently trailing his fingers down the smooth skin and feeling the bumps of your vertebrae. It helped keep his mind occupied, it was a nice distraction from the feeling of wanting to give in to his emotions and kiss you and shower you in all the attention you deserved. But he was also finding it harder and harder to fight that feeling, especially as he felt the warmth of your body against his chest, the feeling of your breath fanning across his collarbone. It was making him want to pull you closer and just hold you forever.

He was losing the fight against himself, and he knew it. But it was too difficult, it was too difficult to go this long without feeling you or holding you close. He just missed you, he missed you so incredibly much. And he hadn’t noticed that he was slowly starting to pull you even closer, almost as if he was pulling you on top of him. And he wasn’t even aware of the fact that his lips were gently trailing across your forehead, as if he was subconsciously craving the feeling of having you so close.

It always surprised you how gentle JJ could be, not only after arguments or sex. Just generally, and you were probably the only person who could say that and mean it. He just was. And it broke your heart a little every time he held and touched you like you were some kind of porcelain doll he treasured and wanted to gaze at. You knew that he'd be such a great boyfriend if you both had it differently. He would. A small part of you, the one that wasn't as selfish as the bigger one, hoped he'd find someone and ditch this situation you both kept sinking further down in. You'd just have to marry some man you didn't love and before you'd realized it you had became an alcoholic living in a shitty suburban home with a husband who cheated as much as you did. Although you wouldn't see Riley doing that, and he probably hadn't done it in the time you had been "dating."

JJ's hand continued its gentle tracing up and down your back, his touch was always strangely sweet and gentle. As if you were the most precious thing in the world to him, as if he couldn’t bear to hurt you. As if he was trying to savor these little moments of being able to touch you, to have you close, as if these little moments would suddenly disappear and never come again. Which, technically speaking, could happen. Anything was possible.

"Why do you do this to yourself..?" you asked quietly, playing with the small shark tooth necklace around his neck, your brows furrowed as you studied it.

JJ was taken off guard by the question, not expecting it. Why did he do this to himself? Because he was a stupid, selfish addict is why. An addict for you, at the very least. Despite knowing that this was all just some terrible mistake, he craved you so badly, that he couldn’t stop himself from giving in time and time again. So in a way, he was doing this to himself, he was the one getting himself into these stupid situations.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, not knowing what else he was supposed to say.

He leaned forward and rested his chin on top of your head, letting out a soft hum as his eyes fluttered shut. He was still holding you incredibly close, his arms wrapped tight around your waist, almost as if he was terrified that this would all slip through his fingers and you would be gone when he'd open his eyes.

“Why do you let me do this to myself?” He mumbled, trying to turn the question back on you.

"Because I'm selfish.. duh." you mumbled, wrapping one arm around his neck and resting it on his shoulder, a small bitter scoff leaving your mouth.

“Oh, I know that princess, I know that real damn well.” He hummed sarcastically, one hand slowly trailing up and down your bare back under your shirt.

“But why? You could easily find someone else, hell you could do a lot better than me.”

"You think i'd do this with someone else..? i take mindless sex in stride already." you chuckled dryly at his statement, of course he'd say that. He always did. In different words but essentially the same essence. And the truth was you were honest, if you did sleep with your boyfriend it would mindless and meaningless. You'd just rather get your self off instead of sleep with him. At least you'd come. "the same goes for you.. i think you could easily find someone less complicated and with less baggage."

He chuckled softly, his hand continuing to slowly move over your back, tracing up and down. “Yeah, of course I could. I’ve had people lining up and throwing themselves at me my whole life. I’ve just conveniently ignored every single one of them.”

He said bluntly, as if it was a ridiculous thing to think otherwise. Not that you didn’t already know him well enough to know that he wasn’t lying.

He let out a soft sigh as his hand stopped on your lower back, pressing you a little closer than you already were.

“I think… I think we’re both too screwed up to be with anyone else.” He mumbled, gently pressing his lips to your forehead.

"A masochist and a cruel bitch with an emotional baggage that could easily crush him into alcoholism.. picture perfect couple material." you mumbled letting out another bitter laugh. You were still mindlessly playing with his necklace, your eyes trained on the shiny shark-tooth, sparkling once in a while in the dim light of your room.

He couldn’t stop the half laugh half scoff that escaped his lips at that. You were right of course, the two of you combined were a recipe for disaster. He tried to picture you, as a couple going on dates and holding hands and being happy and all that. It made him want to throw up in his mouth a little, a sort of anxiety settled in his stomach at the thought.

The hand he was using to trace your back came up to gently grab your hand, stopping you from playing with the necklace “Don’t do that, you’re gonna get it tangled up.”

JJ didn’t like it when you played with the necklace, it made him uncomfortable, nervous, the thought of someone else’s hands touching it, messing with it, made him more than a little uncomfortable and he would do damn well to never admit it. “And it’s an ugly necklace anyway, why do you always play with it?” He said, trying to play it cool, hide the nervousness he felt.

"Lemme play with it." you mumbled, furrowing your brows stubbornly as you moved your head to gaze at him, "and it's not ugly.. where did you even get that?"

He raised an eyebrow at you, looking down at you with a slightly annoyed expression, you always were a stubborn girl, it drove him crazy sometimes.

“Don’t be so stubborn, I don’t want it to get messed up.”

He gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head back so that you were looking at him. To stop you from focusing on the necklace for a moment. “Someone gave it to me a long time ago, just don’t touch it."

"No-.. i meant where did you get the idea that it was ugly.." you sat up a little straighter to look at him curiously, "...but now you made me curious. Who's this person who gave it to you?"

He sighed. He really was hoping you wouldn’t ask that. The person who’d given it to him had to be a touchy subject, but he also knew you, and he knew that you wouldn’t let it rest until he told you who it was. As soon as he saw the look in your eyes, he knew you were going to keep bugging him until he told you, he just was too tired (and slightly drunk) to try and deny it anymore.

“Why do you want to know?”

"Just kinda curious is all.." you grimaced at how strange and secretive he was being, over a necklace which looked like it was bought from the souvenir shop on the highway reserved for tourons.

JJ huffed softly at your grimace, he knew his secrecy was going to seem suspicious. But at the same time, he also had a very good reason not to tell you who the necklace actually came from.

“..It was a friend. A long time ago.”

He mumbled, trying to keep his tone nonchalant, even and normal. But the way he was speaking, as if he was purposefully avoiding giving details was anything but normal and nonchalant.

JJ tensed up at the mention of her name, quickly becoming uncomfortable. He should’ve known you’d think it was Kiara, that the two of you were close, and it made sense.

“No. It wasn’t her.”

He mumbled, avoiding your eyes. His mind immediately going to the person who it really was, and the thought filled him with a feeling of anxiety. But it’s not like he could tell you the truth. "Why would think it was her?"

"—Cause Kiara looks at you like she's in love with you. And she is. And that's not a problem itself, if she wasn't hopping from John B to Pope and then realizing that the one she wants is you." you shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and his question was stupid. Because it was, you could tell by the way he stiffened under you slightly.

He didn’t really have a response to that. You were right, and he knew it. How was he supposed to say “yeah I know a girl is in love with me but I’m obsessed with a girl that’s in a relationship with someone else” without sounding like a scumbag?

He huffed again, turning his head and refusing to look at you. “..Why do you have to bring her up?”

"Cause it pisses me off how easily she got off the hook with it. She's my friend, yeah.. but it doesn't change the fact that she's a homie hopper and that in a way it made things awkward between all of us. Reason why i hang out with the group rarely now." your grimace turned into a scowl at your own words, your eyes directing it to your leg mindlessly.

JJ found himself grimacing again as you continued. You weren’t exactly wrong, in his eyes Kiara had pretty much gotten off the hook without a scratch. And he was too soft on her, not that she’d ever done anything to upset him personally, he understood why it annoyed you.

“..She’s just confused.. she doesn’t understand her own feelings.”

"Can you just.. not?" your scowl melted into a glare as you turned to glance at him, your voice low and uncomfortable.

He tensed again, his eyes narrowing at you as he met your glare. He felt slightly defensive suddenly, what the hell was your problem?

“How about you just not get pissy over every little thing you don’t like?”

"Oh, excuse me for getting pissy over your little Kie.." you scoffed incredulously at his words, voice dripping with sarcasm.

JJ clenched his jaw as you mocked Kiara’s nickname. Something about it struck a cord in him for some reason. He really shouldn’t care that you were making fun of a friend, but he did anyway and it was just pissing him off more. He rolled his eyes at you, his annoyance now fully directed towards you instead of just the topic of Kiara. “For god's sake why do you have to be so damn jealous all the time?”

"You call it jealousy, i call it being the only one in that group who's not head over heels in love with Kiara Carrera. For fuck's sake, you don't remember what she did to Pope, after also kissing John B? How was any of that normal? She slept with him knowing he was in love with her, and then decided to play the 'i wanna stay friends' card." the words came out before you could filter the resentment and bitterness out of them. It was stupid and it was more stupider JJ was being defensive of it. Showed you what kind of guy he was. Not that you were a better kind of girl inherently.

His expression darkened even more than before, his annoyance quickly turning to straight up anger. You were not gonna sit here and talk like that about Kiara, who was also one of his friends and had done nothing to you. Sure, she’d messed up, but everyone did sometimes. JJ knew that well enough. He didn’t bother trying to keep the venom out of his words as he spoke.

“You know what, you’re being a damn bitch. Yeah, Kiara made mistakes, but everyone does.”

You couldn't believe him, but then again you never could. So, it wasn't anything new that he was defending her to the heavens like that. You turned your head to the side, frowning and letting your eyes fall onto your window. You knew in a way, that if JJ was in love with her, that it would be better for him in a way. They had the perfect set-up for a friends-to-lovers thing. You and him were a shittier, much more toxic knockout version of the trope.

He clenched his jaw, his anger slowly growing. He noticed you looking out the window, avoiding his eyes, but he didn’t care. This stupid argument was starting to bother him enough to want to look your in the eyes and make you look back, but he also wasn’t gonna risk it turning into something more.. physical. He ran a hand over his face again, frustrated. “You know, maybe she is perfect for me. We’d probably make a hell of a lot more sense as a couple than whatever the hell you and I were.”

He immediately wanted to take the words back. It was a low-blow, and he knew it. He knew better than anyone just how hard it was to admit you and him would never be “officially” together. But he also couldn’t help it, you being a jealous idiot over Kiara of all people was infuriating and he was drunk enough to be angrier over it than he normally would be.

You felt the sting of the words like that one time when your mom slapped you when you were 14 for something stupid. Just like the slap, the words were fleeting and said out of anger, but what was worse was that they were, in fact true. You were thinking the same thing and he was voicing it out. You shouldn't care, not when you were such an asshole and dragging JJ into in your own pile of shit willingly. It still hurt you.

You tried to hide the sad frown that came over your face as soon as he said that by still avoiding his gaze. You weren't going to let him see your face, because with how emotionally drained and exhausted you were you'd just.. cry.

He immediately regretted saying it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but once the words were there, they were impossible to take back. JJ felt his heart clench as he saw you try to hide your face from him, trying to make yourself seem unbothered. No matter how many times he saw it, he could always tell though. A part of him wanted to apologize, just apologize and tell you he didn’t mean it. But he didn’t.

He let the silence settle over both of you for a few moments more, not knowing what to say.

He sat silently for a few more long, drawn out moments before he spoke again. He knew he shouldn’t say it, but something in him felt like he needed to.

“I mean it, y’know. Kiara would be more of a proper girlfriend than you could ever be.. I wouldn't have to worry about her sneaking off to cheat on me.” He tried to sound convinced, but the words sounded half-hearted to his own ears.

Once he spoke the words, the reality of what he had just said settled in. His heart squeezed painfully, but he pushed the feeling aside and continued trying to convince himself.

“Hell, she’s probably better for me anyway. Doesn’t put me on edge like you do.. wouldn’t just disappear at the mention of her parents or your boyfriend..” He stopped himself, the words coming out in a quiet, bitter scoff. It shouldn’t sting to say, not when you were basically nothing to each other.

Of course he would say that. You knew he believed it, and in moments like these you didn't know why he was putting up with you then. If he wanted he'd probably get sex from her too. It wasn't like it was hard. So then why did JJ hang around you? It was always your biggest question, given you had your answer to it.

Your frown deepened even more, your lip sticking out a little, now that you were actually suppressing the urge to actually cry. It wasn't like that was the cruelest thing he said to you, but it was cruel enough to slowly set you off the edge into a free fall basically. You just were so angry and frustrated at everything and sometimes your body thought crying was what was best for it. You still didn't cry but you were damn near it.

Seeing your expression twisted painfully in his stomach again, but it wasn’t like he didn’t mean it. He knew things between you weren’t going anywhere, and yet he kept going back on you like a fool. So why didn’t he just admit it to himself, that you were both just playing with fire with these meetings?

He was just drunk and angry enough to keep going, to keep feeding the fire.

“She’s probably not even gonna go off to some fancy college and leave me behind, like you are..”

A pang of guilt flashed through him again after saying the words, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was the truth, after all. He wasn’t stupid. You were going to eventually go off to college and ditch all his stupid-ass friends and leave the life you had here behind. You had bigger things ahead of you, and you were definitely smart enough to achieve it. He was just some burnout loser who was probably gonna end up arrested or in an early grave.

By now you would've turned to him and told him to get the fuck out of your room and wherever he would sleep at, when he wasn't here or at John B's house. Screamed at him until he left through the window and then smoke the entire joint alone to cry yourself to sleep. But your mouth already felt watery, like when you'd hold tears and your stomach felt absolutely sick. A small sob escaped you and then it was like a match to a drizzle of gasoline. Your head dropped on top of your knees, your arms wrapped around it as you sobbed quietly. You knew it was dumb, and that he'd probably just get up and leave, too weirded out and not wanting to deal with it. You didn't know if that was good or not.

At the sound of you crying, all the fight that built up within JJ was suddenly gone.

Now that he did feel guilty. The sight of you made his heart clench in a way that felt almost physically painful, and he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. The last time he had seen you cry like that was when your dog died, and he knew it was usually only something like that that would reduce you to this.

But he was the one causing it this time.

He scooted closer to you, hesitating for a second before bringing an arm around your shoulders. It felt weird to do, and he knew you probably didn’t want him to. It reminded him of all those times when the two of you were kids, and he used to hold and comfort you after a nightmare or when you got hurt. How you would clutch his shirt and hide your face against him, knowing he would keep anything from hurting you.

He knew things weren’t the same anymore, but he still pulled you towards him either way..

He sat silently for a few moments, the sound of your quiet sobbing filling the room in a way that somehow made everything feel so wrong. He didn’t say anything, not really sure what to say. Part of him wanted to try and comfort you, tell you it was just a joke and it wasn’t actually true. But he knew that wasn’t the issue, that it was the fact that he wasn’t wrong. And you knew that.

He clenched his jaw again, his own words replaying in his head again.

“M’ sorry.. I didn’t mean it..” He said the words quietly, his heart clenching once more at the sound of your sobbing. It hurt to be the cause of these tears, the one to make you crumble and fall apart in such a way. Not for the first time he wondered how he ended up here, how he could’ve managed to destroy the one thing he’d ever loved. Well, it wasn’t really destroyed, yet..

And you didn't care because it didn't change the fact that the words were as true as the sky was blue. That wasn't the main reason you were crying. You were angry. At yourself, at your parents at everything. At the fact that your friendship was ruined by lust and other factors and that you had lost your best friend to. The only one you had, if you were honest with yourself. And you didn't do that. Not when you knew you were madly in love with him, or when most of you resentment towards Kiara was because she was in fact, the better option and probably the only one.

You palms were covering your face, crying into them softly at everything that was gnawing away at you up until that moment, your body not even registering that he was now next to you, comforting you just like when you were both kids.

It was strange - the way being with you again, the way holding and comforting you in such an intimate way took him right back to your childhood days. Back to when he would hold and comfort you after a bad day or a nightmare, you clinging to him and him relishing the feel of your body against his.

Except now it was different. You didn’t hug onto him like you used to, you didn’t bury your face against him. You were no longer the little girl he used to look after, and he was no longer the boy who would fix all your problems.

He felt like he needed to say something, to say anything. But every time he went to say anything, the words got stuck in his throat. The sight of you like this, so torn apart and broken - it made his stomach twist in a way that felt almost painful, and his heart ached for you like it never had before.

He clenched his jaw again, hating himself, hating the situation. He suddenly understood how the saying “I’d rather watch you walk away than watch you hate or cry” came to be.

He felt like a fool for letting himself get into this mess. For letting himself fall for you the way he did, for letting himself get attached like an idiot. He knew better than that. People like him didn’t get the girl, they were never supposed to.

He thought about all the times as a child like this you had held onto him, the way he would do anything to make you happy again, and he wondered why he couldn’t do that now, why he was so unable to just do something to make it better..

It was still surprising to you that he was still there. He wasn't doing or saying much, but he could've left. Especially with the harsh words he said. It was weird, confusing and it always made your mind flood with questions that you knew you wouldn't get an answer to. Your sobs weren't loud or anything but you were still crying, your face hidden in your knees. The awkward side hug wasn't doing anything to soothe you, and in the back of your mind you were thinking how stupid you looked, breaking down over some words that were true, despite being said so harshly.

The sight of you crying against your knees, trying to hide yourself from him as if he had never seen you cry before, it made his chest ache once more. He had seen you cry hundreds of times before, in all kinds of situations and circumstances, but somehow, this one was hitting him especially hard. Seeing you broken and crying like this, and knowing it was all his fault, hurt more than any of his father’s drunken blows to his face or his ribs.

He clenched his jaw again, taking a breath to steady himself before he spoke.

“Stop cryin’ sweetheart, m’ sorry..”

He didn’t know what else to say, didn’t know what he could possibly say to make this better. Even the nickname slipped out before he could fully register it, reminding him of all those times he would use it to make you stop bawling as a child.

The sound of his voice made you actually raise your head to side glance at him, and by the look on his face you imagined how you looked. You furrowed your brows, as if questioning him about his words, your face going back to being buried in your knees, small hitched sobs escaping you from time to time as you cried.

The sight of you turning to look at him, your red puffy eyes meeting his own and making his chest clench, made him wonder if he had said something wrong. Should he repeat himself? Should he not say anything at all? He felt completely lost and stuck, like no matter what he did this situation could never be made better.

He hesitated for a moment before bringing up a hand to gently run through your hair, the same little thing he used to do all the time when you were little to soothe you.

He couldn’t help but recall those days when he used to sneak over in the later hours of the night, or the early hours of the morning. When you would cling to him like he was your lifeline, the only one keeping you from drowning, and sometimes he wondered if it was true. If he was the one keeping you afloat for so long.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, still running his hand through your hair. It was an attempt to give some sort of comfort to you as you cried..

The sobs died down after almost 10 more minutes of crying, raising your head to wipe the remnants of tears streaming down your face. Now that the tears had mellowed down, the sadness was replaced by a sense of shame at crying cause of some words that were said in an argument. That made you wonder how did you two let it get it so far and complicated. The sex, the arguments, the toxicity; it was all now defining your once beautiful childhood friendship. It felt like a joke, and a bad one at that. One that lacked a punchline or any humor.

You turned to look at him, still sniffling from time to time, "why are you still here?" you asked quietly, your voice a little broken and shaky still.

He took a breath, surprised at your question. He knew he probably should’ve left by now, it was clear you didn’t want him here anymore, and after what he had said he honestly wouldn’t blame you for it.

But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you here on your own like this, not when you were still so upset and clearly broken up. He had never been able to leave you alone and crying, not even once.

“..I ain’t gonna leave you like this..”

He ran his hand through your hair again, his expression almost sad as he looked at you. It was as if he was studying you, taking in your appearance as if he thought he might never see you again.

His heart was aching again, hating how broken up you looked and knowing that he was the cause of it. He remembered all those times when you would smile, laugh, laugh at him or just be happy, and he couldn’t recall if he had seen you like that for him in months..

"Wow.. thanks." you mumbled sarcastically, taking a deep breath to calm down fully, the inhale still sounding shaky and broken up.

He tensed a bit at your sarcastic comment, sighing in slight irritation. After everything, you still had that attitude on you, the same one that got you into this whole damned mess.

“Really?”

His voice was almost snappy, clearly irritated at your sarcastic comment. He didn’t move his hand from your hair, as if trying to make up for his tone with the soothing action.

"Yeah.." you smiled slightly although it didn't reach your puffy eyes, as if you were pleased with how the comment had rubbed him.

Another scoff left his mouth at your tone, his irritation growing more. This was always how you were though, stubborn and quick to anger him. He hated it, even when he knew you most likely did it on purpose.

“God, when are you gonna learn to knock that attitude off?” His hand kept running through your hair, even as he spoke to you.

"I don't have an attitude.." you muttered, sighing in resignation when sensing he was getting irritated at you again. The thirst to argue had died down completely with the tears and you were left with a sense of sickness and sadness. Regret at all the things that led to this.

That sarcastic attitude of yours again. He gritted his teeth, knowing that you were just being stubborn again, but he was still determined to try and calm down himself as he spoke.

“Yes you do. Ever since middle school that damn attitude of yours had gotten worse and worse.” His voice had a bitter sort of tone, almost resenting you for it.

His hand stilled in your hair, trying to ignore the thoughts that came to mind. Memories of the two of you growing up together, the way you would follow him around when you were younger, always by his side no matter what. Now look at the two of you. Fighting constantly, and hating each other for the most part. Hell, he even hated himself for the things he said to you.

His hand moved from your hair to your chin, gently turning your face to the side so you’d be facing him. He studied your face, taking in every detail of it, committing every feature to memory for some reason he couldn’t quite grasp..

“How’d we even get here, huh? How’d it end up like this..?” His voice was quiet, with a sort of longing to it.

"I have no idea.." you shrugged, chewing the inside of your cheek as you mulled over his words. How exactly did you two get here? you'd never stop saying that it was almost ridiculous; having something so pretty reduced to something as stupid as lust and toxicity.

He shook his head slight in response to your shrug, feeling a sort of anger bubble up inside of him. It was always the same, the same damn situation, no matter what. But he couldn’t help himself, no matter how much he tried to stop it, he was always going to want you…

“..Don’t give me that. You know how we got here, you’re as much to blame as I am..”

"Didn't say i wasn't.. -think most of the blame goes to me if I'm being honest.." you spoke evenly, fidgeting with your rings mindlessly.

He watched as you fidgeted with your rings, the sight strangely familiar. It was something you always did when you were nervous. He had seen you fidget like this so many times, before exams, when you were worried about something, hell you even did it back when you had your first date.

He huffed in response to your statement, his eyes focused on your hands and their fiddling. “..Why you saying that?..”

"Dunno.. most of the bullshit in my life is from my stupid decisions.." you raised your eyes to lock them with his, brows raising at the same time.

His gaze snapped back to your face when you looked back at him, meeting your eyes, taking a moment to register what you said before answering.

“..I’ve made plenty stupid decisions myself, you know that. Don’t go putting all the blame on yourself now, you weren’t the only one involved here..”

He paused a moment, the realization settling in as he spoke again.

“..You’re being too hard on yourself..” His voice was almost gentle, that hint of irritation from before gone. He hated that you always had to take the blame for things, even when it wasn’t your fault. He knew that you were just worried all the time, that you had anxiety about everything, and that even when things weren’t entirely your fault, you’d still blame yourself.

The way the former comment sounded. 'Involved', like it was a past situation you weren't part of anymore, like this whole thing between you was ending. Or had ended already. And you remembered his words about Kiara being better for him and how'd they make a more healthier couple than whatever you had going on; and it kinda clicked in your head. Maybe this was the time where you'd finally stop being selfish and bring everyone in your situations, "So, what now?" you settled on asking, the question being the less loaded one out of your brain.

His eyes were still on yours as he studied you, sensing the shift in mood, seeing the realization come over your face.

His own gut squeezed, knowing exactly what you were alluding to. But he wouldn’t admit it, wouldn’t admit that it sounded a little too much like an “end”. He didn’t want to think about it like that, didn’t want to admit that he might be losing you for real..

He took a moment to answer your question, his voice still gentle. “..What do you mean..?”

He raised his hand to your face, softly brushing a piece of your hair out of your face and behind your ear. Part of him wanted to hold you tighter, pull you against his chest and never let go again. But the other part, the logical one, told him that this needed to end, that there was no point in keeping up a facade of some thing that was bound to fall apart regardless..

"You know what i mean.. you said some things that hinted at something and i wanna know what you're planning on doing from now on.." you sighed, looking at him with a mix of sadness and determination, your eyes raking over his face in the dim lighting of your room.

JJ looked away from you, his jaw tense. The sadness and determination in your eyes made his heart hurt, and he knew what you were hinting at. But he kept telling himself that it wasn’t like that, not really.

He was quiet for a second, trying to find the words, when suddenly he felt a wave of drunken honesty hit him.

“..It’s not like we can keep on doing this forever, you know...”

His voice was barely above a whisper, and for a moment he looked vulnerable, the cool nonchalance of before gone as he met your gaze again. His hand was still gently cupping your face, his thumb softly rubbing against your skin as a wave of emotions took over him.

“Eventually it’s gonna get too complicated, too messy. We’ll get caught, or you’re gonna stop looking for some stupid thrill to do when your boyfriend pisses you off and you remember you have a good ole boy toy waiting on the side..”

"This was never about the thrill of it.." you muttered, your face twisted into an almost offended look.

“Bullshit-“ He said it before he could stop himself, and he immediately regretted it as he watched your expression, but a part of him still couldn’t bite the words back.

“..C’mon, you tellin’ me that you’re sneaking out to be with me cause your in love with me and not cause you get some sort of thrill out of this?” He spoke in a sardonic tone.

He knew he was crossing a line, but the alcohol was still coursing through his veins and he couldn’t help himself.

“You’ve got a boyfriend that you already said you care for enough to consider marrying, hell you’ve got more than enough reasons to stop hooking up with me.”

He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself at this point, but the words just kept falling from his lips like earlier, like word vomit.

"I am not considering marrying him.. it's not up to me, and it doesn't matter who I'm in love with. Not to my parents anyway.." you shook your head in slight disbelief at his words.

It took a moment for your statement to sink in, the realization that your parents didn’t care who you actually cared for..

A pang of anger, or maybe jealousy, went through him at the thought, and he found himself pushing further.

“Exactly.. you don’t actually get to choose anyway, so why bother hooking up behind his back? Is it just some kind of stupid form of rebellion..”

"If i told you that i loved you and it wasn't some sort of rebellion what would you say?" you asked bluntly, too worked up now to stop saying the words you were trying to hold back for the sake of not making the situation more messier than it already was.

JJ’s eyes widened in surprise at your blunt question, part of him not expecting to actually get an admission from you. He was silent for a long moment, just looking at you, taking in the words you just said.

“..I’d say you’re lying to yourself,” he said quietly, his eyes holding a challenge in them as he refused to look away from you.

You shook your head chewing on the inside of your cheek, fixing him with your gaze silently. This was probably the only time in your life where you weren't lying to yourself. But it seemed like he didn't believe you. Or just didn't want to.

His jaw tensed slightly as he saw how genuine your expression was. He wanted to believe you, but for some reason part of him was still hesitant, still needed more.

“Say I actually believed you.. what would that change? You’ve still got a boyfriend, and your parents..” He stopped, his gaze hardening slightly.

"The way you think i look at this situation... i don't do it cause i get a kick out of it." you shrugged, a sense of desperation lingering in your voice.

JJ’s expression softened slightly, a pang of guilt going through him at the tone of your voice.

“..if it’s not because you’re getting off on it… then why do you do it, huh? Why do you keep going back to me if you don’t even love me?”

"That's what I'm trying to tell you... that's the reason why i keep coming back. But you obviously can't wrap your head around the fact that i actually care about you, as if we weren't friends for so long before this." your face contorted into the desperate expression even more, gesturing a little as you whispered at him.

JJ’s expression darkened at your statement, his body tensing up. He didn’t respond for a long, drawn out moment, still reeling from the words you had said.

“..bullshit. You don’t get to say that you care about me. We aren’t friends like we used to be, we’re.. something else entirely. And don’t even think for a second that I buy what you’re saying. Because you don’t actually care about me.”

"Okay then leave." you whispered softly, your expression hardening as he brushed off your admission and words, too exhausted to argue or scream at each other, especially since it was the early morning now. “Gladly.” He sneered, his expression dark as he pushed himself off the bed, moving towards the window after putting his clothes and shoes back on in a infuriated hurry. But before he left, he couldn’t stop himself from looking back at you one last time, his expression becoming almost soft and vulnerable again

“…You know that I care about you too.”

He said quietly, the confession slipping out before he climbed out the window. JJ made his way back to his house, the cold air biting his skin and sobering him up a little too much for his liking. But the night air couldn’t stop his mind from spinning, going over the words you had whispered to him, over and over like a broken record..

Bye lmao, i went thru like 3000 emotions while re-writing and editing this. Here's smut, i guess? this is the most angstiest smut ever written prolly. Let me know ur thoughts and if you want a part 2 to this one too. I promise summer was my first love is also getting another chapter.

Tag-list*:･ﾟ✧ @cali-888, @bee-43, @jjscoquette, @melsbels-zip, @stanseventeen

Divider credits:✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ @strangergraphics, @cafekitsune

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