#why even both apologizing for my novel you know this is how i roll by now

[minranghae]

Taste | 18+

》 pairing: c.san x f!reader

》 genre: fluff, smut, angst if you squint really hard

》 warnings: friend’s brother!san, female reader, general silliness, stubborn reader, san loves to tease, hes a sweetie too ofc, smut, piv, oral (f. receiving), fingering, pet names (angel, baby, etc.), coworkers, san bites reader one (1) time, barely proofread, unprotected, lmk if i missed any

》 wc: 5.2k

》 hello! i am back from the dead with my second fic and second installment in the senses series. i do apologize that this took so long, but i do plan on releasing more stuff soon-ish. i'm working on a longer series, so who knows what'll hapen lol. also! i am cross posting on ao3 now. the user is femdoms, so check it out if you are interested. finally, i just want to say thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy this!

 “God, I really can’t stand you, San! Stop following me, pervert!”

“Yeah, whatever, just get in so we can talk,” he yells to you with his arm hanging out the window of his car, an annoyed, yet amused smirk covering his face.

“No way!” You yell over your shoulder, too embarrassed to face him both physically and figuratively. 

Really, how could you? Not after you found him with your diary in his hands, reading it like it was his favorite novel. At first, you tried to convince yourself that he didn’t see those pages, but the blush on his cheeks told you otherwise. 

And that’s why you’re here: running away from San in the middle of the night.

“I’ll make you a milkshake,” San coos from the car, causing you to turn your head in interest, “You know you love ‘em,” he offers, as if you’re a dog and he’s holding a treat in front of your face. 

And god damn it, it works.

“Fine, but I’m not talking to you until I get one,” you say, opening the car door and climbing in.

“You’re talking to me now,” he quips, earning a look from you that he thinks would’ve killed him if it had the ability.

“Alright, tough crowd,” he murmurs to himself with a dry laugh, hoping to earn a giggle- or at least a smile- from you, but to no avail.

The whole situation was so embarrassing. And degrading, and stupid, and embarrassing-

“Stop thinking so much,” he swats at your arm playfully, noticing the clear look of discomfort and sheer, unabashed embarrassment on your face, “you don’t even know what I have to say yet.” 

You answer him with a small hum, deciding against giving him a verbal response, because no matter how much you’d like to curl up in a hole and die, you’re still as stubborn as the day San met you. 

You officially met him the first day you worked at the diner. Your best friend’s family had owned it since the old owners left, leaving the significantly smaller family of four looking for new employees. College debt had already begun sneaking its way into the back of your mind, and Eunbi needed to work with someone other than her nagging parents or annoying older brother. It was the perfect opportunity for you.

“C’mon! Just try it!” The boy working with you begged.

“I already told you, I have trauma with milkshakes!”

San laughed to himself, trying to hide the amusement evident on his face.

“Look, I’m sorry you found a hair in your milkshake however long ago, but I can assure you that my milkshake is hairless,” he held his little finger up to you, “pinky promise.”

Rolling your eyes, you locked your pinky with his. Your hands lingered together for a moment too long, until San pulled his away to push the drink closer to you.

“San, you know, I’m not really a huge fan of chocolate-” 

“Didn’t you and Eunbi make chocolate cupcakes for your birthday though?”

You freeze, cheeks heating up at his question, unsure if it was the fact that he’d caught you in a lie or that he knew and remembered what you and Eunbi had done for your birthday bringing the blush to your face. Attempting to hide your embarrassment, you shot him a small smirk, gently pursing your lips.

“‘Gotcha there, honey.”

Ever since that day, San always had a milkshake waiting for you at the end of each shift. And maybe it was that kindness that made you blush, or maybe it was the fact that his eyes smiled along with his lips every time he greeted you. It could’ve been the way he always knew how to make you giggle, but whatever it was, it was clear that you’d fallen for San.

Which is weird. Weird because he’s older than you, he’s your coworker, he’s out of your league, and worst of all: he’s Eunbi’s brother.

Really? How cliche is that? It’s not even like you could tell Eunbi about it. That would’ve made everything so much worse. It’s embarrassing enough to be so head over heels for a guy who just sees you as his little sister’s best friend, but to have people know about it too? There’d be no coming back from that.

And that’s exactly why you decided to start keeping a diary, or mindful journaling as you called it. That sounded better than keeping a diary.

You originally started it to confess some of your feelings about San. You wrote how embarrassed you were to have a crush on him. You wrote about the milkshakes he made you and the times he defended you against angry customers. You wrote about how stressed you felt about life in general. Your worries, your fears, the moments of your days that you wanted to forget, but your mind wouldn’t let you. You wrote about anything you couldn’t confess to another person. 

On particularly late nights full of hopeless pining and horny desperation, you’d write about your fantasies, some involving random celebrities or TV characters, but most involving San. 

It was nothing too in depth, it was more about how much you wanted just a taste of him. You knew you could never have him for good, but if you could just feel his strong arms around you or his lips on your skin just once, maybe that’d be good enough. Just a little taste. It felt dirty thinking about him in that sort of way, but who would see it anyways? 

Little did you know, San himself would.

It had slipped out of your bag. And being the kind, and relatively organized coworker he is, San picked it up to put it back in your bag for you. The way it landed on the floor, though, left it open on its spine with its pages just begging to be read. 

He wasn’t going to read it. That would be an invasion of privacy, and San wasn’t that kind of guy. He wouldn’t do that.

But when he picked it up, he couldn’t help but notice his name on the page. And unfortunately, as it does most of us, curiosity got the best of him. 

San tried to stop himself, he really did. But, knowing just how eager you were for him put his head in a spin. He just couldn't help but picture you underneath him, with that adorable blush and shy smile that only appears when he starts teasing you. He wanted so badly to hear how you whimper, to feel how warm you are, to see how sweet you taste. He had a feeling you liked him, but he never would've guessed you reciprocated the feeling so strongly.

He saw this as more of an opportunity for you two. He wasn’t going to tell you what he’d seen; he’d just confess to you one night. And maybe it’d have to be secret for a bit, but eventually you could be his, and he wanted nothing more than that.

No big deal.

But, as soon as he heard a small gasp from the doorway and looked up to see your eyes welling with tears, he knew that plan was well fucked. 

San always thought you were pretty. From the moment Eunbi first brought you over, he couldn’t help but notice your expressive eyes and beautiful hair. But what he liked most was that shining smile you had. And seeing that he’d wiped it from your face as soon as you walked in, he just had to chase you.

And so, as you sat across from him in a booth in the dimly lit diner, he studied your face: the embarrassed blush and sweaty gleam sheening your forehead, your pouty lips wrapped around the straw of a chocolate milkshake as your eyebrows furrowed.

Even your beauty was stubborn.

He began softly, so as not to scare you, his fingers drumming against the table in a gentle rhythm, “So… do you like the milkshake?”

You looked up at him, an eyebrow quirked, “Yeah, it’s good.”

San pushed out a sigh at your icy reply, settling back in his seat as he let his palm fall flat against the table. He knew what he wanted to say, he just couldn’t find the words. You broke the silence a moment later.

“Look, we can both pretend like you saw absolutely nothing at all and I’ll ask to work different times of the day so we won’t even have to see each other. I’m not weird, I promise, I just-”

“Shh,” he cooed, grabbing one of your hands, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of it, “you didn’t even let me talk yet.”

San’s gaze scanned your pretty face for a moment, falling onto those eyes and lips he adored. His heart pounded against the back of his ribs, and yet, you seemed so nervous. Had he read it wrong?

“Did you mean it? What you wrote?” he asked, his voice holding a subtle tone of insecurity. His gaze fell to the table where your hands met, his grip tightening just slightly.

You looked up at him, your wide eyes sweeping over his strong face and your breath picking up. Of course you meant it, but did he want you to mean it? 

“Why are you asking that?” you mumble, pulling your hand from his shyly. Your entire face was tinged pink from embarrassment and guilt, so anxious. San couldn’t stand it.

He made an effort to grab your hand again, his other hand lifting your chin gently so you’d look at him. He shook your head a little, trying to bring out a tiny smile again. 

“You said you needed my face between your thighs…”

Your body went rigid. Out of all the entries, he just had to read that one? You remember writing it after watching him open something with his teeth one day, his jaw flexing as he used his teeth to rip open the plastic packet. Unfortunately, your mind was clouded by unsavory thoughts later that night, and so, into the journal those fantasies went. 

“I’m just saying, I’ve needed a taste for a while now, too. Just give me a chance. Don’t run, please,” he pleaded softly, his grip tightening on your hand ever so slightly. He gave you that look, the one where his eyebrows would furrow so gently and his eyes gleamed softly, a desperation hidden in them. San wasn’t one to beg, but he couldn’t let you think he didn’t like you.

To his surprise, the confession didn’t make you smile. Instead, you felt your eyes well up with tears and a heavy weight lift off your shoulders. Slowly, you snaked around the table to San’s side of the booth, immediately wrapping your arms around one of his as you cried into his shoulder. He received you warmly, his free hand coming up to pat your head softly with sweet coos leaving his mouth, calming and affectionate.

“I thought you were gonna hate me forever, Sannie. I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, hiccuping softly, no even noticing your snot blotting San’s shirt. Such a mess.

San let out a breathy laugh, guiding your face up and off of his shoulder. He grabbed a napkin from the holder at the end of the table and wiped your nose with it gently, an affectionate air about him. He’d never seen you so emotional, and though his heart constricted seeing your tears, he was just happy to be the one taking care of you: his precious one. In a way, seeing you so worked up over something he saw as no big deal was endearing. Then again, almost everything about you was endearing to San. 

He smiled down at you after wiping your nose, mumbling, “Pretty girl.” You could feel your cheeks go red instantly, feeling like it was your first time having a crush all over again. 

He continued, his deep voice soft and sweet suddenly, “I could never hate you. Never, never,” he shook his head a bit, leaning in so that your foreheads were pressed together, “what I read only surprised me, but it would never make me hate you. So, don’t apologize for liking me. I like you, too.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat as he said that. In fact, it seemed like cardiac arrest would be the next step if he didn’t stop looking at you with those soft eyes.

“Never knew you had such a dirty mind,” he teased, rubbing your arm with his free hand gently.

And just like that, your eyebrows furrowed again and you hit his arm gently, too embarrassed to be sappy for long.

“Stop that! It’s not good to hold in all your thoughts, you know. You should write your feelings down,” you scolded, face bright red and lips pouting. San took the scolding at first, but it wasn’t much use. He was too focused on how cute your face looked all scrunched up. 

And, he couldn’t deny it. Being scolded was pretty hot.

“There you go again,” San interrupted, sighing playfully. He couldn’t help but tease. You stopped mid-sentence, unsure of what you were even scolding him about now.

“Hm? What?” you asked softly, a little pout remaining on your lips.

San giggled a little, his eyes squeezing shut as he threw his head back. It was just too much fun for him. He leaned in closer to your face, close enough that your noses nearly met in the middle, whispering, “You’re too busy being angry to let me give you a taste of me.”

That cocky bastard. Cocky, and teasing, and sexy…

Your eyebrows quirked up and your cheeks burned even hotter as he leaned in closer, his mouth just next to your ear. 

“That’s what you wanted, right? What you wrote in your diary… ahem, journal,” he whispered, need dripping from his words. 

And yet, you were too embarrassed to speak. Or, maybe flustered was the right word. Either way, your brain didn’t quite work when San teased you normally, and especially not when his hands traveled to your waist, thumbs pressing into you gently.

“W-well, yes, but it was just a fantasy! I was just imagining! If you read more, you’d see I wrote about celebrities also…” you stammered, your hands searching for a place to rest along with your eyes. 

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m not special?” San asked, biting his lip to hold back a cocky smile.

You gasped a little, hands instinctively finding San’s firm chest, “No, no! I just meant, just,” you panicked a bit, somehow losing your words yet again as San put his hands over yours.

“So, I am special? Am I special enough to have a taste of you?” San asked softly, still teasing, though there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his voice, something like an invitation.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Sannie… What would Eunbi think?” You ask softly, eyes round and full of worry. Unintentionally, you leaned further into San’s chest, prompting him to pull you into a hug. He cradled the back of your head, petting your hair softly.

“She doesn’t have to know yet. And you can always say no, baby. I know I tease you a lot, but it’s just because you’re so cute when you’re worked up. We can take things slow if you want. It’s just that journal entry… it made me…” San trailed off towards the end, his own cheeks getting pink now.

Softly, you reached up and ran your fingers through San’s hair, finally offering him a big smile, “Look at you blushing now.”

San blew a bit of air out of his nose, suppressing a shy laugh. “How couldn’t I blush? The thought of you wanting me that way…” He trailed off again, voice high and squeaky now that he was being teased. He pulled you close and buried his face in your neck, letting his lips place a soft kiss before he continued.

“I want to hear you say it, angel. Tell me I’m special and it’s more than just a fantasy. Tell me how you want me,” he mumbled into your neck, using every ounce of self restraint to stop himself from kissing it again.

And, in that moment, months of yearning for, pining over, and wanting San in every way came back to you. Your heart ached a bit, and so did the space between your legs. Everything you had imagined and told yourself was just a dream was coming true. It was true that it would be difficult to hide this whole thing considering Eunbi could read you like a book, but you couldn’t let this opportunity go.

“God, San, I want you in every way possible,” you breathed out, tilting your head back to give him better access to your neck. As soon as you did, he latched on to it, sucking a small bruise into it. You trembled a little, involuntarily letting a tiny whimper cross your lips as you whispered, “But I really need you to fuck me right now.”

“That’s all I need to hear, baby. Here,” he murmured, detaching himself from you quickly. He swiftly switched spots with you, leaving the booth seat and pulling you to the edge of it. He kneeled in front of you, one hand on your thigh and the other gripping the table still. Pushing the table towards the other side of the booth, San ran his hands up and down your thighs, eyes pleading and lust filled. “It’s alright if I taste you?”

“Please, need it so bad, Sannie,” you pleaded as he slowly undid your jeans, pulling them off your legs along with your panties in one fatal swoop. You were already dripping onto the seat and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

San pressed gentle kisses up your bare thighs, using a thumb to rub gentle circles into your clit. You gripped the top of the seat, already feeling a pulsing need in your heat as San’s mouth inched closer to it. His breath tickled the area, making your squirm, but what was worse was the look in his eyes. He stopped just in front of your cunt and looked up at you with dark, lustful eyes. In that moment, you understood San wanted this just as much as you did.

It was true. San couldn’t even recount the amount of times he pumped his fist in bed or in the shower thinking about you and your sweet pussy. And as much as it made him blush just thinking about it, he wanted nothing more in life than to bury his face in between your thighs some days, making you squirm and hearing what noises he could pull out of you. He wanted to have you, to know you on a deeper level. And what was more intimate than knowing the way a person tastes?

“Pretty,” he murmured into his direct line to heaven, his nose nudging your clit 

gently. A long, hot stripe was licked up your pussy, making you twitch expectantly. Instantly, your mind began to grow foggy and your hips bucked, San whispering, “It’s alright, just relax, baby.”

And so, you did. You let your torso fall all the way back against the booth seat and your fingers tangle in his hair, a soft grunt leaving him as he dove in deeper. His tongue swirled around your entrance, dipping inside every once in a while as a quiet hum vibrated against you. He kept up his agonizingly slow pace on your clit with his thumb, savoring that way you tasted on his tongue.

Soon, though, San needed more of you. He needed to see you squirm more, hear you moan just for him. He pulled you even closer to the edge of the booth, another grunt leaving him as he had to pull his face away for a moment. He hoisted your legs up onto his broad shoulders, instantly attaching his lips to your clit, kissing it softly before sucking it. 

A thick finger found its way inside of you, knuckle deep and wriggling. You squirmed, unable to hold back your noises. Even with just one finger, he filled you up better than you’d ever been before. He added a second finger a moment later, getting familiar with your body inside and out. Scissoring his fingers, he stretched your pussy out, mumbling something about how perfect it was.

“Fuck, San, even your fingers are big,” you slurred, back arching up in the air. San answered with another hum against your pussy, one you could tell was a shy giggle. He curled his fingers, letting his lips pulse around your clit now that he could tell you would finish soon. He slowed his pace down for a second, lifting his head to look up at you.

“You wanna cum? Want Sannie to make you cum?” He asked with a condescending pout, mirroring the one on your own lips. You nodded fervently, but it wasn’t enough for San.

“Gotta hear you say it, angel,” He furthered, eyes darkening as he held back another sly smile. You whined, kicking your legs gently. San tutted, swatting your thigh gently, “Don’t be so stubborn. Just tell Sannie.”

“Please, San, make me cum. Wanna cum all over your tongue,” you relented, hips bucking back up towards San’s face, nudging his chin against your clit. San cooed gently before diving back in. Lapping at your hole, he circled your clit relentlessly with his thumb. He wasn’t going to let you cum anywhere but his tongue.

It didn’t take long for you to do just what you’d asked for. Suddenly, your entire body began to tingle, radiating from the place between your thighs. Your toes curled and your knees tried to squeeze together, locking San’s head in place so that he could lap up every last bit of your essence that was flowing out of you. He made sure he got every last bit, taking his time to lick and kiss every last part of your slick, throbbing cunt.

Eventually, he pried your legs open and helped you sit up, smiling hard at your flushed out face. He swiped his chin with his thumb, bringing it up to his lips before licking off that last bit of you. He sighed, “Could live in that little hole forever, baby.”

You blushed gently, turning away from him shyly, prompting him to sit next to you. He grabbed you by your waist, pulling you onto his lap so your back was flush against his chest. “Hey, you can’t get all shy on me now. Where’s the feisty girl I know, hm?”

“How could I be mean after you just did that to me,” you pouted, making San laugh. 

“You’re always mean to me,” he told you dramatically, grabbing your chin and turning your face towards his. Carefully, he grinded his hips up so that you could feel how hard he was. And he was. Just the taste of you had San throbbing, and the only reason he let you cum so quickly was so that he didn’t cum in his own pants. 

You gasped softly, feeling San’s cock pulsing against your ass, then again when his thick fingers began circling your clit again. He rested his chin on your shoulder, speaking so softly into your ear, “And what’s really mean is how you made me so hard, I almost came from how good you tasted. You wouldn’t leave me like this, right, baby?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and turning around in San’s lap. His hands went straight to your ass, cupping it and pulling you down to grind against the tent in his pants. Your eyebrows furrowed gently as your hips moved back and forth on him, concentrated huffs falling from your tongue.

“Greedy girl,” he teased, nudging your jaw with the side of his head gently, “you want my cock in you?”

You nodded, pouting at him, “Please, San. Need you in me bad.”

San just laughed, guiding your hands to unzip his pants. He lowered his voice, looking down at where your crotches met, “Alright, you can have it. But, you gotta do the work now. You really tired me out there before.”

You whined again, this time out of pure exhilaration. Wasting no time, you unzipped San’s fly, yanking down his pants and boxers as best as you could. His cock sprung out, hard and red, begging you to take it.

But first, you giggled mischievously as you gave it a few pumps, enjoying its weight in your hand. San groaned, throwing his head back and cursing under his breath. It didn’t take long for him to grow impatient. He grabbed your waist and guided you to sit up better, right above his manhood.

You moved your hips around just to antagonize San as he’d done to you so many times. He let out a frustrated groan, burying his face against your neck yet again, kissing it softly as he pleaded, “Cmon, baby, don’t make me crazy here.”

“Wanted this for so long, Sannie,” you breathed out as you finally sunk down on him, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. San chuckled, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know, baby, read all about it,” he smirked, that smug look on his face melting into a lovesick smile as you swatted at his chest. He couldn’t help but suck another bruise into the side of your neck before chiding, “Just teasing you, been thinkin’ about this for a while, too.”

He rutted up into you, hungry and needy, filling your slick heat completely. Your body twitched with each thrust, languid and deep, San’s silent confession. He was savoring his meal, taking it slowly and enjoying it wholly.

The only sound in the room was that of skin on skin, San’s hips snapping up into yours. He knew just the spot to hit inside of you. You cried out in pleasure, prompting San to speed up. The two of you, hungry and desperate to cum, moved together in a near perfect harmony. 

“Fuck, this pussy was made for me,” San stuttered, trying to keep himself inside you, but it was hard with your bouncing and his thrusts, not to mention the wetness you spilled each time he left your body for a moment. San grunted in your ear, biting down on your shoulder a moment later. He was close. It didn’t help that everytime he thrusted up into you, you let out the sweetest sounds. San wanted to listen to them all the time, but even the thought of doing this again with you made him harder. 

Honestly, his cock kept getting harder with each second it spent inside you. You were so warm, so tight. San was normally a patient man, but it was hard to take his time with you.

You couldn’t be helped either. As soon as he sunk his teeth into you, you came all over him. Wetness poured out of your cunt, coating San as you cried out his name. He followed suit soon afterwards, pulling out and cumming on your thigh. Quickly, San pulled you into a hug, still heaving as a big hand came up to cradle your head. 

For a few minutes, the two of you sat together, your form still tucked into San’s warm embrace as he rocked you back and forth. You both tried to regain your breath, but every little touch made either one of you gasp softly before you turned your head the other way, embarrassingly lovesick. 

San was warm, physically and figuratively. Sweat dripped off his forehead and fell onto yours, but you couldn’t care less if it meant being held by him. It was strong, secure, surreal… it was everything you had written about before. There were days when all you needed was a firm hug, to be held without the fear of falling, somewhere warm and safe. San was all of that, and you could feel it now. It wasn’t just something you wrote about anymore. It was real.

San noticed the face you made when you were thinking and his heart rate picked up. Was it not good? Did he disappoint you? He nudged your head with his shoulder, pouting, “What’s wrong? Was it not good?”

“What? No! It was amazing, I just… I like you a lot. And I like that I don’t have to imagine things anymore… Well, that is if you want to continue this,” you trailed off, blabbering embarrassedly. Maybe all he wanted was a hookup. Uneasiness settled into your features while amusement settled into San’s.

“Silly girl,” he scoffed, enamored by everything you were, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Your eyebrows shot up and your heart fluttered. You were never one to get so worked up so easily, but San had a way of making it happen. You cleared your throat, trying to regain some composure.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” you mirrored, acting coy now. San cupped your face, dimples on full display as he smiled at you, meeting your gaze. He leaned in and gave you his first real kiss of the night. Your lips molded together perfectly, San’s tongue swiping across your lower lip occasionally. You felt his warm cheeks against yours, which made you giggle sweetly. San’s heart melted.

The boy pulled away a moment later, letting his forehead rest against yours, “Does that answer your question, baby?”

You snorted in response, shaking your head bashfully. You wanted to hear him say it. San rolled his eyes in response, his hands moving down your back to rest on either side of your ass. Still, he smiled and whispered, “Yes, I want to be your boyfriend.”

You sighed sweetly, unable to hold back the big smile on your face. San delivered a little spank to your ass, playful and teasing, “Happy now?”

You nodded, allowing a little squeal of excitement to leave you. “Very happy, Sannie. Very happy,” you whispered back, laying your head on his shoulder to look around the dark diner. 

Just then, your eyes spotted a little red light up in the corner of the diner, seemingly connected to a security camera. You jumped, whisper yelling at San, “Fuck! Fuck, the cameras, San!”

San jumped as soon as you did, following your gaze up to the security camera. He mirrored your panic for just a moment before pulling you further into the booth, pulling his jacket off to cover up your still bare bottom half. 

And just as you thought you were going to have a heart attack, San laughed, and somehow, the uneasiness melted away. He ruffled your hair playfully, moving you off his lap and onto the seat before zipping his pants back up. He stood up, leaning down to your level, “I'll go take care of it, honey. Just clean up and get dressed. And finish your shake,” he told you, motioning to the table where your half empty, half melted chocolate shake sat.

But as soon as he turned around, he turned back and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before scurrying off to the office, ready to delete the footage. You couldn’t help but smile knowing San would take care of it. What a dream boy.

[cvldbones]

one single thread of gold

chapter 3 (of 11): twenty-one

Where she once thought she had carefully excised the parts of her that had been touched by Anthony Bridgerton, he finds a way to seep back into her bloodstream. It is so typical of them, she thinks. How could it have been any other way? Over the course of a decade, Kate and Anthony keep finding, and losing, and choosing each other.

Sometimes I go blurry-eyed Small talk and you tell me that you're on fire Lights on and it's black and white, I couldn't stay forever

***

Kate bustles through the crowded pub, pulling her curls out of her coat. She mutters half-hearted apologies to the other patrons as she shoves her way towards the table in the back corner. Finally collapsing with a huff into the booth, she offers Sophie a grateful smile when she pushes a beer with an overly generous pour in Kate’s direction.

“Sorry I’m late. The train took bloody ages. I am suddenly reminded why I do not come out on Friday nights,” Kate half-yells over the noise, and Sophie rolls her eyes.

“It doesn’t help that it’s bloody freezing, so everyone is in here instead of on the patio. I thought March was supposed to be considered spring?”

“I don’t know that we get spring here. We go straight from winter into summer and back again.”

“That sounds about right.”

Kate tugs her jacket off her shoulders, tossing it unceremoniously beside her in the booth. Her eyes scan the room looking for the rest of their friends, and she spots Rachel and Elaine at the bar, two large pitchers in hand, so she fixes her attention back on Sophie, taking a healthy sip of her beer. “I’m surprised you could make it tonight,” she says, delicately.

Sophie raises an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“Well, I don’t see a particular Bridgerton man glued to your hip, so – ”

Her best friend groans, playfully slapping Kate’s shoulder even as a flush creeps up her neck. “We’re not that bad.”

“I think this is the first time in – what – a month? That I’ve seen you without him. Not that I’m complaining,” Kate adds, quickly. She knocks their shoulders together to emphasize her teasing. “I’m both very happy to see you and very happy for you. It’s nice, seeing you so… besotted.”

Sophie sputters out her drink, nearly choking on her laughter. “Besotted? Oh, my god, you need to stop reading those stupid romance novels and actually get laid. Besotted?”

Kate waggles her eyebrows at the same moment that their other friends join the table. Giddy hellos and hugs are exchanged as beers are refilled, and the two newcomers pick up the thread of conversation, Elaine leaning forward conspiratorially, elbows propped on the table. “Did she tell you why Mr. Bridgerton is not joining us this evening?”

Sophie moans in false irritation, covering her face with her hands, and Kate laughs openly. “Well, of course not. Why?”

“He’s doing a pub crawl with his family tonight, for his little sister’s eighteenth birthday. Is that not the most sickeningly wholesome thing you’ve ever heard?”

Her traitorous heart skips a beat. “His whole family?” Kate asks, and she thinks her voice comes out mostly normal. Curious.

Sophie, of course, sees straight through her. Her former embarrassment is replaced quickly by a knowing smirk. “Anthony even came in from Oxford,” she replies, pointedly, with a raise of her eyebrows.

Kate’s tongue feels too big for her mouth. “That is sickeningly wholesome,” she manages to reply.

Read more on AO3!

[richmond-on-three]

roy x jamie kiss☺️☺️

Send me a pairing and a word for a fic <3

"Woah" Jamie let out a soft breath, his eyes wide as he stared at Roy once they had broken apart. With his back against the wall of the boot room and Roy standing in front of him, there was nowhere for Jamie to run, and for the first time in his life, Jamie was excited to be in such a tight spot. Fantasies of being in such close proximity with Roy had plagued his mind since long before Jamie had ever met him in person; what had just unfolded between them was the stuff of his wildest dreams “That was…” 

“Fucking stupid of me” Roy finished when Jamie trailed off. It was obvious to Roy that Jamie was clearly taken aback by how idiotic he had been. A conversation about what Jamie should bring for Phoebe’s birthday party at his sister’s place that weekend should not have ended with Roy taking Jamies face in his hands and kissing him. Roy’s eyes shifted to the door, and he contemplated leaving without another word but knew that wouldn’t be fair to Jamie; he deserved an apology “I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“Mate, why are you apologising?” Jamie asked, reaching forward and wrapping his hand around Roy’s wrist in the hopes he would be able to prevent him from leaving. The last thing Jamie wanted was to rush through the halls and call after Roy; he was too exhausted from training to make a scene.

“Can you not call me mate when my tongue was in your mouth two fucking seconds ago?” 

“Thought mate would be better than granddad, sorry” Jamie grinned, hoping he was approaching this in the right way. Some people would require a more gentle approach after such a thing but not Roy; if Jamie were to get the chance to kiss him again, then he’d have to show Roy that it hadn’t changed anything between them. They were still just Jamie and Roy. Jamie smiled wider when he heard Roy call him a prick under his breath; he was grateful for the normalcy “So, how long have you been wanting to kiss me?” 

“Fuck off” Roy rolled his eyes, taking a hesitant step forward when Jamie pulled at his wrist. He was starting to suspect he’d not been reading Jamie wrong over the past few weeks; the innuendos, the touching, the drunken flirting, it had all been leading to this. Both of them knew whatever existed between them was complicated and more than likely going to get a bit messy but standing in the boot room, neither of them cared. It felt as though they were the only two people in the world “I don’t know when it started; should’ve done it years ago when I wanted you to shut up” 

“It definitely would’ve worked” Jamie admitted, a slight blush colouring his cheeks at the memory of his massive crush on Roy as a teenager. A massive crush that had never entirely faded - something Jamie had to bite his cheek to avoid admitting at that moment. He knew it would be best if they took things slowly; he didn’t want to come on too strong and end up alone once again “You’re a better kisser than I imagined” 

“How long have you been imagining kissing me?” Roy asked, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. Something about the idea of Jamie fantasising about kissing him caused his heart to beat just a little faster; he would happily act out any of the fantasies Jamie had ever had about him at that moment. Maybe he’d even share some of the dreams he had about them as well. Jamie wasn’t known to be a prude; he’d probably enjoy hearing Roy’s list of various places he’d thought about fucking him around the training ground. 

“Long enough that I don’t want to waste any more time talking” Jamie replied, letting go of Roy’s wrist and taking Roy’s face in his hands instead before he leaned in. He had been taken aback by their first kiss and revelled in its roughness and neediness, but he wanted to enjoy a soft kiss with Roy before they spoke about whatever was happening between them more. He wanted their second kiss to be the kind of kiss written about in the romance novels he used to steal from his mum’s bedside table or the kind of kiss shown in the rom-coms Ted forced the team to watch.

Jamie wanted their second kiss to be the kind of kiss he’d been dreaming about since long before he’d met Roy.

[cherricheol]

Trapped for Christmas {Seungcheol ff}

[This is all pure imagination people]. In this story we will see Lana's {Jeonghan's little sister} story and how her's and Seungcheol's relationship develops. Now a little warning.... this book is spicy in certain chapters, and I will mark them so if some people are uncomfortable with reading spicy stuff you can skip it. But remember, this book has a plot. I'm super [ see what I did there ;}] excited for you guys to read this book. I hope you love it. Plus a smutty Christmas novel.... uh yes, sign me up. Make sure to enjoy your stay. Also i know its May and its not close to Christmas. Love you lots Jelly thoughts.

"Hope you enjoy them." I smiled at Mrs Min, handing over the bag filled with her usual pastry order. I find it cute that she comes in every Tuesday and Friday to pick up pastries for her and her husband.

"Thank you dear."

Hearing the oven timer go off, I wiped my hands on my apron and headed for the back. I was instantly met with the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. You'd think after running the bakery everyday for almost a year, I'd grow tired of the smell of the freshly baked sweets, but no. It was probably the best smell in the entire world, no complaining on my side. I made quick work of pouring the white sugary icing on the hot, fresh out of the oven, cinnamon rolls, watching it melt and roll down the sides of the pastries. The icing is the best part of a cinnamon roll if were being honest here. which was why I made mine with extra icing.[Do you want one?]

Hearing the front door ding, I quickly grabbed the tray and headed back to the front of the store. With it just being me, I was doing double duty by baking and running the cash register along with greeting costumers. My gaze shifts to the door, immediately landing on the person walking in through the door. With a grin, I bearly have enough time to set the tray down before loud squeals of children meet my ears.

"Auntie Y/N!!"

Two cute little heads pop up by the counter, both flashing me toothless grins, I couldn't help but grin back at the faces of my niece and nephew.

"Hey you two hooligans."

"Sorry for just stopping by. These two want to surprise Jeonghan with some cookies after work." My sister-in-law Sana apologized, coming up to the counter. "You're totally fine. Any chance to see these cuties." I scrunched my nose down at them with a grin. My niece, Miyeon copying me.

"Well its your lucky day, cuz guess what." I bend over the counter to get closer.

"What?"

"I have cookies in the oven right now." Both sets of eyes go wide at my words. "How about you two sit down, and while you wait you share a warm cinnamon roll?" Their eyes never once leave my frame as I move behind the counter to grab a plate and dish out the still warm cinnamon from the tray. Grabbing two forks and some napkins, I hold them out towards them.

Two little hands snatch the plate and napkins from my hands faster than you can blink, the footsteps of them running towards a empty table being heard with a chorus of " thank you's".

"I swear, they get bigger each time I see them." I comment while shaking my head with a chuckle. "You're telling me. Just yesterday they were babies and now look at them" Sana answers while looking at them. "They need to stop growing, soon enough they are gonna have girlfriends and boyfriend's." I say with a chuckle turning my gaze to Sana as she speaks.

"Don't even say that around Jeonghan. He already plans on locking Miyeon inside the house until she's fifty." I laugh, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Jeonghan was the same way about me when I was younger, hell even now that I am 25 for crying out loud. "Poor Miyeon when she gets older." Sana and I share a knowing look on how overbearing Jeonghan is going to be.

"How have things been by the way? We haven't seen you for a while" Sana asks while leaning against the counter as she speaks. "Sorry, things have been busy here lately and whenever I have days off, Jen wants to do something." Literally any free time I had outside of working hours from the bakery were spent on relaxing at my apartment or my roommate/ best friend Jennie was convincing me to go out.

"You work too hard Y/N. You are young! Go out and have some fun while you still can." I held back a sigh at her words, running my hand through my hair. I know everyone means well and want me to enjoy being 25 but I love what I do. Opening my own bakery was a dream come true and to do it at 25 was amazing. I've worked my ass off to be where I am now and if it meant giving up going out and partying, then I just don't care. Plus I was never one for going out all the time. I liked being at home, laying on my couch and relaxing.

"I know, but with Christmas around the corner, I just don't have the time." Which was technically true of course. With Christmas literally a month away I was already getting piles of orders and I know it will only get busier as days go by. When I said I wanted to open my own bakery a few years ago I knew it was going to be really difficult. Owning any sort of business was hard, I learned that with my parents and then with Jeonghan taking over. And this past year has been nothing short of hard work that paid off, I had made it. And now here I am with a business slowly starting to boom and just in time for the holiday season. I may have given up time spent with friends and even family but for me, it was worth it.

"I wont go on about it but just make sure your taking good care of yourself, okay?" Sana squeezed my hand on the counter, her eyes soft and gentle as she gazes at me. "I will." Despite how annoying it could be I was grateful that Sana was looking out for me. She's become the older sister I've always wanted. If I ever needed anything, she was always there no matter what. When I answered a random ad for a fake boyfriend eight years ago for my brother, I never thought we'd meet someone like Sana. Definitely didn't believe Jeonghan and I would gain another family in the process.

The sound of the oven beeping had me pushing away from the counter. Sana went over to the kids while i went in the back to grab the freshly baked cookies. Sliding warm cookies into a box, I added a few more than necessary. I knew my family and i know that the cookies will be devoured within minutes. Wrapping it all up and placing the rest of the cookies on a plate, I made my way back to the front of the bakery.

"Here you guys go, fresh from the oven." I smile at the way the two small heads snap in my direction. It only took a second before their little feet were running towards the counter. I came prepared tho, placing two chocolate chips in front of Miyeon and Min-jun.

"You spoil them."

"That's because I'm their favourite auntie in the whole wide world" The smile n my face gets wider at the sight of my niece and nephew stuffing the cookies in their mouths. "Okay guys we better get going so we can see appa." Sana announces while grabbing the box of cookies and started veering the kids towards the door. "You're coming over on Friday for dinner right?" Sana asks over her shoulder as she stops.

"Yeah I'll be there."

"Say bye to auntie Y/N."

"Byee!!" The two practically shouted as they walked out the door. Shaking my head with a smile at their antics i get back to work.

[kxlinthesky]

EPISODE 5 LIGHT NOVEL Chapter 4-4 English Translation

WARNING: This chapter contains what I can only call “implied/referenced supreme violence against children” without spoiling anything. This is a big chunk of the chapter and is crucial to the plot, so I can’t place asterisks like previous times without cutting at least half of the chapter off. I apologize for any inconvenience.

--

“Good to know your sense of direction is just as awful in your dreams.”

 A voice echoed in his ears.

An innocent, laughing voice. A girl’s voice.

Holly.

  “... My sense of direction isn’t bad. The place I want to go just keeps moving away from me.” Young Owl’s lips jutted out in a pout.

Beside him, Holly rolled her eyes. “What’s that even mean? If you’re scared of getting lost, maybe you should stop wandering around all over the place, like Miss Junie keeps saying.”

“I’m telling you, I’m not scared.”

“But you’re saying your dream’s scary.”

“That’s... that’s just a dream, though. You’ve got stuff that scares you, too, right Holly? Like the director.”

“I’m not scared of the director.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying! I’ve got my lucky charm, so I’m fine.” Holly puffed out her chest, pointing to the necklace hanging around her neck. The gold medal glinted in the sunlight. “This is a memento of my mom’s. I like it ‘cause it’s pretty. Mom said that the pendant protects whoever wears it from scary things, so I’ve got nothing to be afraid of!”

“How does a medal protect you?”

“I dunno, but my mom wasn’t a liar.... Oh, hey, I’ve got an idea!” Holly clapped her hands and leaned forward. “Maybe if you pray on this, it’ll protect you from your nightmares! Wanna try?”

“... How unscientific.”

“Science is so boring. Mom said, ‘As long as you have this, the great angels will be able to find you wherever you are. They guide us.’ We’re ‘the chosen people,’ or something. You know Quinn, he’s a year older, and Launy, he’s two years younger, they both have charms like this too.”

“Do they?”

“You didn’t know? Quinn’s got a handkerchief with this same design on it, and Launy’s got a brooch. Everyone prays to the angels. I think I was allowed into the orphanage ‘cause of this charm, ‘cause y’know, orphans like us usually go off to work and don’t get to have educations. Hey, why don’t you make your own charm? I’ll help!” Holly held her medal up again.

“Thanks,” Owl said, sounding completely uninterested. “But I think I’ll pass on the whole praying thing.”

“How come? I came up with this great idea and everything.”

“’Cause it’s more fun talking to you, since you’re in front of me, than praying to angels from who-knows-where. Besides, whenever I talk to you up in the tree like this, I feel like everything will be okay even after I have that dream again.”

Holly blinked. Her eyes widened. “... Does that mean I’m your angel?” she asked shyly.

“Huh?... I mean, I guess?”

The girl’s cheeks flamed red.

Young Owl’s head tilted. Just then, he thought he could hear an adult’s voice. “Huh? What is that?” He glanced through the gaps in the tree branches toward the sound of the voice. There, through the leaves, he spied a well-dressed adult down on the ground looking for someone. He looked angry.

Just when Owl was wondering what he was up to, two students wearing the same uniform as him came up. “Hey, honor student, Mr. Rob’s looking for you,” one of them said.

“Did you do something again?” the other asked. The pair quietly crept up to the tree Holly and Owl were in with identical grins.

“Timo, Gil. No, I didn’t do anything.”

“You sure you didn’t take Teach’s math textbook again?”

“I didn’t take anything. It was in the bookcase, so I read it, that’s all.”

“That’s all? Sure there’s nothing else?”

“... Well, I guess I did rewrite some of the equations in the workbook because the teacher wrote them wrong,” admitted Owl.

The two boys below laughed. “Serves him right.”

“Yeah, Mr. Rob’s always yelling at us, he sucks.”

“That’s not nice,” scolded Holly. “You shouldn’t damage his reputation like that.”

“Why? If he’s using the wrong formulas, then he’s the one in the wrong,” Owl pointed out, shaking his head.

The adult’s voice called out again, clearer this time. He was getting closer.

“Hey, maybe you should get outta here? Just until supper?”

“We’ll hold him off for you.”

“Yeah, if you give us half your dessert tomorrow.”

“Done.” Owl slithered down the tree, giving each boy a firm nod.

“Be careful,” called Holly from above.

“Yeah.”

Holly looked down on him from up in the tree, her face obscured by the backlight from the setting sun. The only thing he could see clearly, in fact, was the sparkling medal against her chest. What a strange design, Owl thought to himself.

 Most devotional medals like that had saints or the Virgin Mary inscribed on them, but that medal’s design was almost like –

 Almost like....

  “... Three flowers...!”

The medal slipped from Owl’s grasp and clattered to the floor. It rolled to a halt at his feet. He clutched his head, all the air in his lungs fleeing him at once. He sucked in a deep breath. The memories that had come rushing back left him dizzy. “It can’t be,” he breathed. “That design....”

He took a step back from the medal. His entire body trembled. His heart pounded furiously against his ribcage, each thump sending a wave of pain through his chest.

“Holly....”

Her name rattled in his dry throat. Decade old memories tumbled around in his brain, pried loose for the first time in years.

Owl had been in an orphanage in the middle of a forest back then. They took him in when they found him wandering around with amnesia. He’d waited with the police for a while for his parents to show up, but no one turned up looking for their lost kid, so off to the orphanage he went. It was there where he made friends with a girl, innocent and childlike and always by his side – Holly.

And she had an old medal, with the exact same design as the symbols here on Teos.

 “She was one of the people chosen by the angels...?” His voice came out as a gravelly whisper, fighting its way out of his dry throat. “Was she – was she actually a descendant... of the people of Teos...?”

Just as the words passed through his lips, a scene unfurled in his mind’s eye, a scene from a long, long time ago dyed in deep scarlet. A horrific memory, dredged up from the depths of his consciousness.

“AGH...!”

 – bodies blanketed in black thorns, children screaming, the church burning, a dark forest –

 “STOP...!”

Owl buried his face in his hands with a shout, chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. No, not now, don’t think about it now, think of something else, now is not the time for a flashback. The words ran through his brain, words he’d repeated since childhood to control himself. He focused on thinking of every equation he could, every formula, proper numbers applied to proper calculations. He forcefully controlled his breathing and wrangled his roiling emotions back under lock and key.

“... Damn it.”

Somehow, he managed to shove his recovered memories into a tiny corner of his brain. He lightly pounded his fist to his chest, then turned his gaze back down to the medal lying at his feet. He reached out to pick it up.

But just then –

“Waah...!”

A scream echoed from nearby, mixing and mingling with the yelps of the animals outside, and Ralph came bursting out of a side room.

“Ralph?”

Ralph groaned, one hand pressed to his mouth and nose as he all but crumpled to his knees. The poor man’s face was deathly pale and contorted in anguish, his legs shaking too badly to stand.

“Ralph?! Are you okay?!”

“Yes, I’m fine, it’s just... the smell....”

“The smell?”

“It’s making – making me sick....”

Owl glanced into the room he’d come out of. A confessional, maybe, or a prayer room, though it was hard to tell since it was pitch-black inside. What had shocked Ralph so? Owl walked closer.

“You mustn’t, Master Owl!” cried Ralph urgently. “Don’t go inside!”

Unfortunately for him, Owl’s curiosity won out over any trepidation. He continued to approach the room, because right now, he needed to think about anything else besides the horrific, painful memories.

“Don’t!”

Ralph’s entreaties only spurred him on further. Owl peered inside to find –

“What – what is...?!”

His legs froze as if encased in ice. His whole body soon followed.

 A world steeped in malevolence lay on the other side.

 “Master Owl, you can’t, go...!”

Ralph yanked Owl’s hand, begging him to step away with his fingers curling like a vice grip around the detective’s wrist. He’d already stopped breathing – no doubt he couldn’t bear the smell permeating the room.

 It was the overwhelming stench of death, after all.

 “Tristan! TRISTAN!”

Owl briefly left the room to shout outside.

Tristan peered through the window. “What is it, Owl?”

“Ralph’s had a bad shock. Help him!”

“Ralph did? Hold on.” Tristan slipped through the window and immediately went to Ralph’s side. Owl went to the room once more.

“Master Owl!” called Ralph.

“It’s fine.”

Owl took a single step inside the room. White fragments snapped under his heels... pieces of bone. Nausea roiled in Owl’s gut, but he held it down by tightly squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he finally felt able to open them again, he glanced around the room.

No windows, only stone walls covered in dark red messages scrawled in paint.

No, not paint. Blood. Old, dried blood.

Countless words covered the walls and floor, so thorough and so tightly packed that it dyed the stone itself a permanent shade of burgundy, leaving hardly any gaps free to see the bare wall underneath. The bloody missives, clearly scribbled by the desperate and cornered, positively reeked of distress and impatience.

They all looked like alchemical techniques. Owl could see the traces of transmutation where through his monocle, but he wasn’t seeing the usual fog or golden sparkles or anything like that. No, these traces oozed like thick sludge, repulsive and sticky and clinging to every available surface.

He hesitated to even breathe in here. Bones littered the floor. He desperately hoped that they were simply the remains of animals who’d wandered in and gotten lost, but....

“These are human,” said a voice from the entryway. Tristan. “Children, based on the size.”

Owl’s breath caught. He bit his lip. He’d thought the same, of course, but hearing it out loud made it all the more real.

Tristan stepped inside, his eyes roving the walls. “They performed a forbidden technique after all...” he murmured, aggrieved.

Owl’s eyes had at some point slipped shut without him noticing. It took a great deal of courage to open them again. “A forbidden technique... like the one at the McCreeches?”

“This is even more repugnant than that. This is a cursed rite – an unforgivable secret art.” Tristan picked up one of the bones. “This is an arm, hm. Severed quite neatly from the shoulder joint, at that. There are similar marks on some of the other bones here.” The gentleman clicked his tongue, a very un-Tristan-like gesture. “This was the site of human transmutation.”

“Human transmutation....”

“The person who conducted this strung a number of corpses together and used them to create a single living, breathing human, I would guess. Much like Victor Frankenstein.” Tristan pulled something from his pocket – a small notepad, caked in dirt and falling apart at the seams.

“What’s that?”

“I found this in a corner of the yard outside. There was an alchemist who lived here in the past who was trying to accomplish something.”

“... You’re kidding me.”

Owl took the notebook and carefully flipped through the crinkled pages. It was a diary spanning several years, based on the dates of the entries. Much of it was illegible thanks to all the exposure to the elements, but he could still make some bits out here and there.

  XX Month XX Day

My daughter’s body is decaying even more.

I have to hurry.

I can’t stand the thought of losing her like this on top of everything else.

If I can make the perfect matter, surely I can bring her soul back to me.

  XX Month XX Day

I had no choice but to discard her body. It was too rotten.

If only I could’ve at least preserved her beautiful face....

  XX Month XX Day

The people from town came again.

They were talking nonsense about burying my daughter!

She’s not dead yet!

She’ll come back as long as I get my hands on a PERFECT BODY!

  XX Month XX Day

A strange man came to visit, so I chased him off.

Smiley bastard.

He was probably some undertaker the townsfolk sent.

  XX Month XX Day

The man came again.

How did he know I was looking for the recipe for the perfect matter...?

  XX Month XX Day

I don’t believe it.

That man knows the recipe?

It’s impossible, there’s simply no way... is he telling the truth?

  XX Month XX Day

If what he says is true

If a spell like that really exists, could I actually make it?

A new body, for my daughter....

If I find the island he was talking about....

  XX Month XX Day

That man had the gall to say to me, “Are you prepared to commit a taboo act?”

Of course I am! I’ve been prepared for a long, long time!

  “... This is....” Owl gasped. The words “new body” swam in his mind as he shut the notebook. The deep-seated hatred oozing from the pages gave him quite the headache. “This is a log of an alchemist who tried to perform human transmutation?”

“So it would seem. The alchemist was strung along by a certain man, came to this island, and conducted research on transmuting the human body. This uninhabited place was the ideal environment for such heretical work.”

“Uninhabited....” Owl’s eyes fell to the bones at his feet. The sheer number of them indicated quite the number of people. “Then where did these come from?” he asked doubtfully.

The bones scattered throughout the room all appeared to belong to children, but there were a staggering number of them. On top of that, not a single skull could be found among them.

“We can’t be sure whether someone sent the ‘materials’ here, or whether they were already here from the start....” Tristan reached for the notebook and rifled through the pages. He stopped and pointed at a certain point.

  XX Month XX Day

The contents of the bag that was brought to me prior to departure are still fresh, even after several years have passed.

The arms look like they could move at any second.

The sections are beautiful and vibrant, like they were only procured yesterday.

How did he get his hands on these ‘materials’...?

 Well, whatever. It doesn’t matter to me.

As long as I can get my daughter back, nothing else matters.

  XX Month XX Day

The legs and hearts among the ‘materials’ are particularly spectacular. Such vivid color. Slender, healthy... they’ll fit my daughter wonderfully.

The only problem is those unsightly black rose markings.

  XX Month XX Day

It’s almost ready!

My daughter will soon be revived!!

The ‘parts’ that man got for me have produced remarkable results!

Though I do have to wonder where he gathered bodies with such concentrated magical energy from.

I think he said something about descendants of Teos....

  XX Month XX Day

IT WORKED!!

My daughter was resurrected.

She came back to me.

She’s just like she was before... no, she’s even more flawless now.

I don’t even have to worry about her feeble body anymore. This is cause for celebration!!

 Now all that’s left is to restore her soul to this body!!

  XX Month XX Day

Something’s wrong.

Her eyes won’t open. And I’ve been feeling a strange presence for a few days now.

There’s a voice in my head saying, “Offer her unto me,” and... “Leave the flask.”

Is my daughter this “flask?”

Did that man trick me?

No. I can’t stand the thought of losing her again.

I have to leave the island for now and hide her body somewhere....

Oh, what if I change her into a different form and leave her somewhere where no one will ever find her? That ought to work.

  The rest of the pages were blank.

 Owl’s fingers trembled like he’d seen something truly monstrous. “The human transmutation succeeded? It really exists? Using kids’ bodies to make another person?”

“Most likely.”

“That’s horrific...!” Owl’s teeth gnashed together. The word choice along left his body shaking with rage. Tristan’s deductions at the hotel were right on the money, it seemed, as much as he wished they weren’t.

 Arms.

Legs.

And hearts, and healthy bodies.

Materials.

Descendants of Teos.

 Flask.

 The notebook fell from Owl’s clutches and clattered to the floor.

Flask.

The word was still fresh in his mind.

The angel with the cold, cold smile, Mastema, had said that word at the McCreech estate.

That’s what he had called Ellie – “flask.”

 “... If that alchemist, if he took his daughter’s new body and turned it into a new form... like a white statue, and hid it somewhere....”

 His mind went further back, to the day he and Ellie first met.

 “Everything started with that unknown statue of a young girl....”

 The dots were connecting one by one in his head. And they were forming a picture.

 “Ellie... was made here, as a homunculus...?!”

 Not every mystery was solved yet. He still didn’t know how something that was supposed to have been hidden ended up as part of that auction. But the conclusion he drew from the evidence at hand painted quite the cruel picture.

 “It can’t be....”

Overwhelming shock rolled through his system. He very nearly lost the strength to stand, only managing to stay upright by grabbing onto a nearby dresser before he hit the floor.

“Owl.” Tristan reached out for his son.

“... I’m fine.” Owl slapped his hand away and straightened up. As he did, his foot bumped into a wooden crate underneath the dresser, knocking the lid off with a loud clatter. He glanced down with a faint hum of surprise, then paused, squinting down for several seconds... before he reached down and picked the lid up, sending a cloud of dust into the air. He waved the dust away, then reached inside the crate and pulled its contents out. “This... this is....”

The instant he realized what he held in his hands, a violent wave of vertigo once again overtook him. He stumbled back a step. He couldn’t stand being in its presence.

Tristan saw what he was holding and grew pale as well. “Owl, that’s....”

He was silent.

“Isn’t that the uniform from the orphanage you were at?”

Owl’s shoulders shook. The light gray fabric, the long bishop sleeves, the large white collar – yes, it was without a doubt the uniform from the orphanage where he’d once lived. “Why... why is this... here...?”

The box contained more than just uniforms. Buttons, shoes, emblems he remembered seeing at the orphanage... the whole thing was haphazardly packed with objects someone had deemed unnecessary. Owl trembled like a leaf.

 It can’t be, there’s no way, this can’t be true, this absolutely can’t be right, this is unforgivable!

Owl’s head shook back and forth. He couldn’t – he just couldn’t fathom the horrific images his brain was throwing at him.

 “... These must be the clothes of the children they used for parts.”

“!!!”

“Perhaps, on the day of that fire....”

Owl’s imagination ground to a halt at that.

 “No...!”

 Another step back. The uniform slipped from his grasp. Owl gripped at his skull and shouted, “NO!!” The flustered boy had gone deathly pale.

Tristan grabbed Owl’s shoulder to steady him. “Let’s go,” he said, carefully steering his son out of the room.

 “... Timo, Gil, Holly...! HOLLY! NO!”

“Calm down, Owl.”

“It can’t be true, everyone was here? No, no, it can’t...!”

“Owl.”

“And I heard that Holly’s body was never recovered after it burned down! I thought they didn’t find all the bodies because some of them got away... I thought they made it out safe, I thought they were living somewhere peacefully this whole time...!”

“Look at me, Owl, there’s a good boy.”

“But they were all here, they were made into this... why?!”

“Owl! Look at me!”

Tristan snapped his fingers directly in front of the panicking Owl’s face. The boy yelped, turning to look at him with eyes still wavering in confusion.

“Take a deep breath.”

“... Tristan,” whispered Owl.

“Remember who you are. Remember what you are. A case has happened, and you’re standing here now as a detective, are you not?”

“... Yeah.”

“If you want to believe it’s a lie and turn your eyes from the truth, that’s your business. I don’t want to see your heart break. You can forget everything you saw here and we can go back home right now if you want.” Tristan looked Owl dead in the eyes. “What do you say?”

 BOOM!

Just then, a quake rocked the ground powerful enough to rock the entire island.

“What was that?!” Owl and Tristan cried out in unison, glancing around.

“It’s an earthquake!” Clemens shouted from outside the window. “Owl, Tristan, get out of there, now! It’s coming down!” The priest was holding onto Ralph, who was trying to scramble out of the room.

“Shit –!”

The pair fled the church through the window together just in time for the ceiling to crash down in a cascade of bricks right where they’d been standing. They didn’t have time to register the terror of how close a call that was, though, because when Owl saw the scene unfolding before his eyes he was struck utterly dumb.

Everyone’s attention was on the volcano.

“An eruption...?”

“No, that’s not an eruption. That’s not smoke.”

At first, everyone assumed the volcano was erupting. But looking closely, it looked nothing like an eruption. The mountaintop, which had until that point been quiet and peaceful, emitted some kind of hazy something or other. It wasn’t lava, and it wasn’t smoke. No ash or cinders or anything fell from its summit. But if it wasn’t an eruption, then what was it spouting? The same question whirled through everyone’s minds as they watched on, the volcano producing more and more of that hazy substance with greater and greater force. In a mere heartbeat, the entire surrounding area was blanketed in the stuff, blocking the sunlight and coloring the sky the deep hue of despair. This was serious, whatever it was. The four decided to get some distance for the time being....

And then they heard someone singing.

 Our God

Our Guide of Love

I am a Servant

Who won’t clear away your grief

 “That voice!”

“Owl! That’s –”

“It’s him!!”

Owl and Tristan recognized it immediately. They knew who that voice belonged to.

And when their eyes turned once more to the volcano, Owl saw something.

And in the next instant he was gone, racing toward the mountain.

original written by Nagaya Kawaji here

[tragedy-of-commons]

Good morning, Gwen. Avery reblogged your event and it appeared on my dashboard, so I came running.

"You're not good enough for him. Just break up with him already." + Jean + platonic

"You're not good enough for him. Just break up with him already."

Jean feels her heart plummet in the suffocating confines of her chest, your words stoking a different kind of fear. Had she overshared too much, causing you to finally snap? Are you going to stop being friends with her for good? Will you start to ignore her when she waves to you in the street? Will you tell everyone about what a sorry person she really is?

She knew she couldn't hold a genuine friendship down for long. It was only a matter of time before you became sick of her busy schedule and secretly dysfunctional livelihood--

She's sobered from her panic by the sound of your fingers snapping a scant inch from her face. "Teyvat to Jean! Hello?"

Like you always do, you're the one to ground her when things get particularly rough. Right - she needs to actually respond; being this inarticulate isn't doing her any favors.

"My apologies," Jean breathes, fidgeting with her gloves. She actually needs to be present so she can heed your counsel. "Please continue."

"Archons, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying that if he constantly expects you to meet impossibly high standards, you'll never be good enough for him," you jut your thumb out from your clenched fist and swipe it across the expanse of your neck. "You need to kick his ass to the curb, and you need to do it yesterday."

Your (literal) cutthroat gesture makes Jean shift in her seat. You don't mince your words at all - but that's precisely what she needs, precisely why she came to you for advice. Lisa has a terrible habit of sugarcoating things, even when she's at her most proactive... and Kaeya is, well, Kaeya.

She rises and places a hand on the backrest of her chair, rounding it so she can gaze out of the generously sized window that brings her whole office together. The view of Mond Proper, her home, never fails to calm her down.

"...I'm not even courting him, truly," Jean explains, watching the breeze ruffle a patrolling Knight's hair before being lost in the rustling leaves of trees beyond. "My obligations leave no room for that. We're keeping our relationship casual, informal."

She can almost hear the grimace in your voice. "Casual or not, him expecting you to ditch your hobbies or dress a certain way crosses the line. You know that as well as I do. If you're looking for permission or validation, I'm giving it to you right now."

Those words immediately soothe a large chunk of her anxiety. Jean's ramrod straight posture relaxes into something much more tailored for this atmosphere - sharing a cup of (now cold) tea with you, her dear friend.

"You're right," because of course you are, "but I have no idea how to end things. Etiquette classes didn't prepare me for any of this."

You snort as she turns back around to face your judgment. "To hell with etiquette. My suggestion? Kill him," you propose with the seriousness of a soldier about to go to war.

Jean's cheeks burn hotly as she flounders, attempting to deal with your type of humor in a timely fashion. You mercifully wait for her to do so, teacup and saucer perched daintily in your free hand. In all honesty, she wishes she were more like you; brave, uncaring of what others think, the main character of your own story.

She finds it in herself to chuckle. "I value diplomacy."

"Yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes good-naturedly, "but this isn't one of your romance novels, Jean, nor is it a negotiation. You deserve to be treated with respect, full stop."

She really wishes you'd stop bringing up her guilty pleasure so nonchalantly, but then she'd be deluding herself. She also wishes that she could be as confident and point-blank as you are, even if you both share the same sentiments - hers are just hidden under many layers of propriety.

"I believe you're very wise," Jean tells you sincerely. "The people of Mondstadt should elect you as their new Acting Grandmaster."

"You know, they should. I'd have that dickhead fling of yours executed immediately. Do they do that here? If not, they should look into it."

She sighs. "I take it back."

You grin, slamming your empty cup back onto her desk with a clatter. "Really? You don't want me to flay him alive? Or exile him to Dragonspine with nothing but the clothes on his back? Oh, oh, I know! What about electrocution--"

As the sun sinks down even lower in the sky, casting the Knights of Favonius Headquarters in a truly poetic glow, Jean realizes she feels much better. She'll have to get back to work soon, but for now she'll indulge you as long as she's able.

(Electrocution doesn't sound like too bad of an idea.)

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: hi! good morning to you too & i'm glad you chose to take part! thank you for the prompt huehuehue. i decided to go in a little bit of a different direction because i just couldn't bring myself to be too mean to reader or the lovely jean... hope you don't mind!

event post here

[dramawatch]

Why this

Dear Reader, IRL I begin my discussions of Asian drama with either a rebuke of American media for it's failure to meet my specific requirements (if the listener is not already a convert), or I bring out my oral manifesto on Why I Like Asian Drama. I will spare you both of these, not only because I'm a tad tired of hearing it myself, but because online such as we are a present, you can walk away very easily, and I won't even see you do it. This eases the tension quite a bit for both of us, if I'm being honest, so I'm going to give it all to you as succinctly as possible today and let the chips fall where they may, so to speak.

All media, IMHO, works within its own parameters. It may be done well, or poorly, or even done in some oxymoronic way where bad becomes good or vice versa. (There is probably jargon media experts would use right now to express this, dear Reader, and if you are one of them, I apologize for all the eye rolling you may be performing. I'm not a media expert.) However, no matter how well a particular media is executed, it is not guaranteed to suit everyone. We all have our own needs and tastes. My needs and tastes are not met by the parameters of American dramas.

You may be wondering at my use the word "parameters." Perhaps if I was someone else, who thought slightly differently, I'd be writing about originality or being forward thinking or something else in the context of media. But what I think about is parameters. Everything has parameters. Parameters help lend definition to something. Although they are literally limiting, which can seem like a negative, it is very difficult to get anything done without them. Even this blog. It's easier for me to be creative within the confines of this austere, questionably attractive blog format, than I would if I were spending energy on being slick or savvy. If I had many fancy options, I'd bouncing off them endlessly, instead of just getting down to writing this here today.

The parameters of Asian drama hit my pleasure center just right.

There is tremendous of variety amongst them, for one. The number of episodes varies drastically, from 6 episode long Japanese web dramas to 60 episode long Chinese costume dramas. It can be fantasy or historical, contemporary or futuristic, romance-centered or mystery-centered, or combinations of them all. There are many tropes and archetypes. Meme bingo cards have been made of them, they're so prevalent. But a trope or an archetype is just another kind of parameter, and I'm all for it.

I'm not anti-innovation or creativity, dear Reader. In my defense, I'm going to drag in Jane Eyre.

Jane Eyre one of the most famous Bronte novels. We've all heard of it, even if we don't know much about it, per se. It's part of our popular culture. Why is that? What makes it so great?

It's because Jane Eyre is a play on the dominant romantic paradigm at the time, the Gothic novel, where a beautiful young heroine meets a dashing, handsome, virtuous man, and is rescued from supernatural and earthly horrors by him and Live Happily Ever After. Jane Eyre is a young woman, but she is neither beautiful, nor such a paragon of virtue - she doesn't forgive just because people ask, and she is not entirely sheltered from cynicism. Edward Rochester is the main love interest, but he is also not handsome, nor particularly charming, and he has some obvious faults of character that those who have read the book know very well. In a typical Gothic novel, Rochester would have been the villain. This is what makes Jane Eyre great: Bronte turns the Gothic novel on its head, and doing so, wrote the first modern anti-hero.

I consider the anti-hero considerably when I'm consuming media. I enjoy exploring all the incarnations of archetypes and the way they can be played with or mutated. Sometimes it can be frustrating, but it can also be very satisfying. Asian dramas bring in a wider variety of archetypes and tropes than American media and are not shy about it. I can't tell you how many arrogant CEO romances I've seen, some of which wouldn't be too ashamed to put that in their title like a Harlequin Romance, and I still have room for more, because even if it's a remake, it's still not quite the same.

I'm going to end this admittedly not very succinct post with a recommendation for my favorite arrogant CEO drama:

Lost Romance. An editor (and voyeur) at a romance publisher witnesses the attempted murder of the handsome CEO through a drone and ends up falling into the novel she is editing as the female antagonist. If you want to see a lighthearted rom-com wherein a female underling can talk her way free of consequences after being caught watching her boss shower, this is for you.

[books]

Tumblr Exclusive: Forestborn

Do you like shapeshifters, epic quests, magic, dark forests, and obstinate princes? Well, have we got an exclusive excerpt for you!

Forestborn is an upcoming @torteen novel by debut author Elayne Audrey Becker. Becker graduated from Vassar College with a BA in classics and history. She is currently continuing her education at the University of Aberdeen in Scotland after time spent as an editor with a New York publisher. She grew up with a lake and woods as her backyard, spending long days outside and visiting national parks with her family.

Forestborn will be available at bookstores everywhere from August 31. Read the exclusive excerpt below, and thanks again to Elayne for sharing her inspiration moodboard with us!

Forestborn By Elayne Audrey Becker

One

I find her deep in the Old Forest, facedown in the dirt. 

Sharp pain needles my palms where I’ve balled my fists so tight, the nails have carved half-moon marks into the skin. Snaking across the twig-strewn ground, gnarled roots press against my boots like a warning as I roll the young woman onto her back. Best to be sure.

No, she is certainly dead. Cold, stiff, and hungry like the rest; even with forest debris masking much of her shirt, the threadbare cotton dips in unmistakable rivulets across her bony frame. I swallow my disappointment and push her eyelids shut, wanting to spare her kin the sight of those empty, pointless eyes.

“Sorry,” I murmur, sitting back on my heels. “I’m guessing you didn’t deserve this.”

Around us, the trees lean inward and down with ominous uniformity, leaves and branches straining against their holds, drawn to the dead woman as if tethered by ropes. The sway, the humans call it. I ignore the prickling in my belly. They’ll straighten out soon enough when the magic leaves her body. 

With a final nod, I push to my feet and wend my way back to the forest’s edge. It’s a close wood, with broad oaks in summer bloom crowding the grassy floor, their leafy canopy admitting shafts of sunlight that glitter like crystal chandeliers. All in all, too peaceful a setting for someone driven to madness to die alone. I breathe it in deep to savor the scent while I can, grateful that for whatever reason, these trees never seem drawn to the magic in my own blood. I’ve had enough of vengeful wilderness to last a lifetime.

“Well?” Seraline asks, her knuckles nearly white where they clutch the hem of her shirt. 

I shake my head. “Dead.”

Her shoulders sink. Though Seraline is sturdy as iron when she’s in her aunt’s tannery, shaping leather into draft horses’ yokes, standing a determined two paces behind the tree line now, she seems shakeable as snow.

“Come on,” I say, nodding to the stony town just across the open fields. “You’re going to be late.” I don’t ask if she plans to examine the body for herself. Seraline may have insisted on coming as a show of support, but our friendship has many limits, her discomfort with the dead and dying the least of them. 

After a brief hesitation, Seraline falls into step at my side, sweeping her seeing stick across the ground in broad strokes. “Poor thing.”

I nod, my jaw clenched tight. 

This time of year, the late summer air hangs heavy even in the early morning, enough that the back of my neck is already slick with sweat. The barley fields remain mercifully empty as we pick our way through the dusty rows, but still I plow forward with my head down and shoulders bent, half from habit and half spurred by the hour. Seraline isn’t the only one who’s running behind. 

“Will you not come with us?” she asks, her head tipping to the side as we near the town. “Aren’t you due back in Roanin, anyway?”

“I can’t,” I reply, making it sound like an apology. I’m not really sure why we still play this game when we both know it’s futile. “I have a few things to take care of first.”

“Today of all days,” she snorts.

“You know how it is.” In truth, I’d give my right arm to stay away from the capital today. But there’s no help for it.

“Her husband deserves to know,” Seraline adds after a while. “The two of them were inseparable.”

“He will know. The trail wasn’t hard to follow.”

Seraline is always trying to persuade me to talk to the deceased’s families. She believes I have a softer manner than many in uniform, and once she even called me heartless for refusing. That time hurt the most. But it isn’t my job to report any deaths I uncover to next of kin. Only to the king. And it’s not like she’s stepping up to volunteer, anyway.

Briarwend is a humble farming town that stretches all of three streets, a collection of squared off stone shops that deal in necessity rather than charm. Its weather-worn residents are the same. When I began seeking intel here four years ago, long days tending the surrounding fields made the people lazy and open over a couple of pints. Lately, they’re just hungry, poor soil and rising taxes leaving gaping holes that only tempers seem to fill. 

Each night under dwindling lamplight and over stained, sticky tables, the pub dwellers deal out anger and judgment like tossing seeds across the earth. The battered forest walker I helped home last night is not the only magical person I’ve found bleeding on cobbled streets. The humans’ anger is growing fists.

Seraline’s family is fixing their horse’s harness to an old wooden cart when we reach their cottage home. Most others have long since departed.

“Where have you been?” her mother demands, tightening the leather straps. The roan mare stamps a hoof, ears flicking nervously in my presence. “We should have left hours ago!”

“Lela needed my help. And you’re not ready, anyway.” Seraline shrugs.

“Nor are you. Breakfast is gone, so you’ll just have to wait. Go get changed.” She studiously avoids my eye, as if I’m not even there. 

Seraline bids me farewell with a light touch on the shoulder, which causes her little sister to quickly interlace two pairs of twisted fingers and pull them apart. The sign to ward off bad fortune.  

“You shouldn’t indulge my sister,” the dreadful Arden says once she’s gone, stomping over and swiping a greasy hand across his forehead. By far the weakest sibling in this family of four. “Seraline is delicate. She can’t be tramping about the kingdom with the likes of you.”

Which is ironic, really, since he was eager enough to sidle close last year, when he thought empty flattery might earn him a kiss. That was before a too-often empty belly soured his tongue, before he learned who and what I was. And though I truly could not care less what this boy thinks, I’m dismayed to find my stomach still burns with anger and something close to shame. My gaze drops to his pant leg, which bears splotches of dried blood from the night before. 

“Problem?” Arden sneers, white skin burned red from long days in the sun. 

A slow tingling feeling bubbles up from my core, threads of numbness that tiptoe across my arms and legs. I force myself to breathe deeply, to beat the threads back. “I know it was you,” I mutter. 

He traces his chapped lips with two fingers, beady eyes darting to his mother before he leans forward, his smile stiffening. “You know nothing,” he hisses.

“You forget I have certain resources at my disposal.” I raise a hand in front of his flaking face, where my nails have sharpened into claws. “And that I know where you live.”

I stare until a satisfying trace of fear tinges Arden’s expression before stomping away toward the town’s single inn, which is little more than a guesthouse with four creaking rooms. If Helos were here, he would tell me to not take the bait, that I’m better than that. What he never seems to understand is that I’m not better than anything at all.

[earlgreydream]

another minute.

| James potter x reader | fluff | smut |

subby james, because I can’t get enough

Your book rested against one bent knee, propped up so you could view the white pages. The story sucked you in, consuming hours of your time, making you forget you were lounged on James’ bed, instead of lost in a mythical world. Worlds of ethereal angels sucked you into a far-away reality, creating visions in your mind that distracted you from the looming anxiety of O.W.L.S. and James’ stress.

You were broken out of your trance when the door opened, the exhausted boy returning from quidditch practice. You frowned when you noticed how defeated his expression was, exhaustion making him weary. Your boyfriend rarely looked sullen, and the sight made you sad.

“James, how was it, love?” you dared to ask.

“It was a total shitshow.”

His voice had a distinct whine to it, alerting you of his disappointment and neediness. You sighed, reaching out your hand, squeezing his, deciding to let his profanity slide instead of scolding him. 

“Go shower, James, and I’ll help make it up to you,” you instructed softly, knowing what James wanted from you.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered softly, disappearing into the bathroom.

You listened to the water run, setting your novel aside. You stripped down while you waited for him, residing yourself to lie naked on the bed. 

.

James was beyond frustrated with how the practice had gone. Tournaments were coming up, and Gryffindor was nowhere near prepared to beat Slytherin in the championship. He’d spent the entire semester coaching the team, but they weren’t as good as the cunning house, and the frustration was wearing on James.

He was tired of being in control, being responsible and ordering around the other students. It exhausted him, and all he wanted was to melt into a submissive headspace around you, and let you take care of him. You loved to do it, you adored your sweet, mostly well-behaved, subby boyfriend. 

James let the hot water and soap wash away the dirt, rain, and sweat, leaving him clean for you. He spent a little too long in the shower, enjoying the water until it ran cold. He appreciated your patience, thankful he wasn’t being rushed. 

When he walked out of the bathroom, he immediately started to harden at the sight of your nude form stretched out on crimson sheets. You looked divine, and he stood and stared at you for a moment, taking in the sight.

.

You smiled, running your fingers up his warm torso as he walked over to you. The towel fell from his waist, and he knelt over you on the bed.

“What do you need, my love?” You brushed black hair from his face, and he leaned into your touch. You gently tilted his face up, thick, dark lashes parting to reveal emerald green eyes.

“Need you,” he whined, sinking down to lay between your legs.

“You can have whatever you want,” you promised, willing to give the gorgeous boy anything.

A muscular arm hooked under your waist, and his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sending a shudder through you. You allowed yourself to relax, dripping onto the sheets as his tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, sucking on it while his fingers toyed with the other.

James encouraged a sigh from you, gazing up with gentle green eyes. Your fingers combed through his hair, feeling the soft locks under your touch.

He rutted onto the bed innocently, and you wondered why he didn’t fuck you, only focusing on your chest. You were beginning to ache with need, and if he wasn’t going to fill you, you wanted to be eaten out.

“Jamesie, love, why don’t you touch my pussy?” You asked, your voice coming out in a slightly higher pitch.

“Wanna play with your tits,” James whined, smearing his lips over your skin as he spoke.

“I know, baby, but I need to be touched properly. Please, can you be sweet for me?” You pleaded, starting to regret your promise to let him do whatever he wanted.

Above all, James wanted to please you, and be your sweet boy. A small sigh escaped his lips, and he pried himself from your chest.

“Okay,” he relented, pecking your lips before sitting back on his heels.

He let himself admire you for a moment, your skin flushed from teasing, and the puffy red area between your legs glistening. He bit back a smile, amused by how aroused you got from having your tits played with, even though you complained.

“Will you ride me?”

You almost missed the question. James’ voice was so low and soft, it barely registered. You didn’t understand how he could possibly be shy, asking, but he still somehow surprised you.

You sat up and James grinned, falling onto his back on the red sheets, his waves fanning around his head in a dark halo. He was ethereal, with his warm, tanned skin, and bright eyes.

You moved to straddle his lap, kneeling over your boyfriend. James’ hands came to your hips, helping to guide your movements and take some of the pressure.

Your hand reached below you, gently wrapping around him. You jerked him off a couple times, preparing to ride him. James watched you silently as you sank down, his cock disappearing inside of you. Your eyes squeezed shut and one hand reached out to grab the headboard for balance.

“James, fuck!” You moaned as your hips met his, entirely filled with him.

Your head dropped forward, both hands gripping the oak headboard. James leaned up slightly, pulling your nipple into his mouth while you were bent over him. A cry left your lips from the stimulation, and you rolled your hips, beginning to build a rhythm of fucking yourself on James.

He was heavy and thick, enough to make you feel as though you were being split open every time your hips came down on his. The burn was delicious, spreading heat through your abdomen and slowly building pressure.

James loved the way you felt around him. You were so tight and warm, enveloping him and shocking him by how deep you could take it. He loved the way your tiny veins strained as you gripped the headboard, your face scrunched up in pleasure.

He snapped his hips up into yours, forcing himself against your cervix. A scream tumbled from your lips, your clit grinding against his pubic bone. The stimulation sent you over the edge, orgasming violently.

Your hands came down to his chest as you struggled to hold yourself up, hot fire burning through your veins as you pulsed around him. James pulled you down fully, spilling into you as he came. You squealed at the sensation, gripping his shoulders as the thick, white liquid leaked out of you.

“Oh my god, James,” you breathed, throwing your head back as he throbbed inside of you, continuing to paint your cunt with white ribbons.

He was loud. Moans fell from James’ gorgeous, full lips as he fucked up into you, drawing out both of your orgasms until you were so weak you nearly collapsed on him.

He caught you, arms snaking around your waist to hold you against his chest. James rested his chin on top of your head, letting you bury your face in his neck. Fingertips skimmed up and down your back, tracing delicate shapes on your skin.

You relaxed, not caring about the mess, settling down with him still sheathed inside of you. He hummed softly, soothing you with a familiar melody.

You pressed tiny kisses to his throat, making the boy smile.

“You trying to rile me, honey?” James teased, nudging your head.

“No, just loving on you.”

His heart softened, and he kissed the top of your head, tightening his arm around you.

“We gotta clean up soon.”

“I know, but let me have another minute.”

James obliged your wishes, never objecting to being warmed by you. When you began to squirm, he decided it was time to clean up, his hands going under your legs.

An apology was whispered as he eased out of you, earning a pathetic whimper. You felt raw and sleepy, and you detested the feeling of James pulling out and leaving you empty. He tilted your chin up, delivering a kiss to your lips, trying to distract you.

He waved his wand, cleaning you both— and the sheets. Your arms draped over his back as you were carried to a shower, hot water pouring over the two of you.

James carefully set you down, making sure you were steady on your feet. You gently pushed his shoulder, smiling as James knelt in front of you.

His forehead rested against your thigh as you massaged shampoo through his hair. He didn’t mind showering a second time, cherishing the intimacy with you. All the tension he held dissipated, relaxing as you showered together.

He washed your body gently, minding the tender areas. You giggled as he murmured a spell, making the bubbles change colors.

.

“Thank you,” James said, snuggled beside you in bed.

“For what?” You looked up, meeting a gentle emerald gaze.

“For helping me cheer up,” he answered, brushing his fingers over your cheek. Your face broke into a smile, leaning back into his chest.

You pulled your knees up, curling tighter into a ball against him.

“I’m happy to. I’m sorry that your day was hard, though.”

“You more than made up for it. I’m so lucky to be yours,” he kissed your cheek, earning a grin. You reached up, tangling your fingers into his hair.

“I’m the lucky one.”

He laughed and pulled you onto his lap, squeezing you and littering kisses all over your face.

[bunnys-babies]

8:15 am

pt. 2 to 3:24 am

Armin Arlert × gn!reader

wc: 500+

warning(s): none :3!

a/n: so I started this pt. 2 where Armin wakes up after what happened in pt. 1 and anon ALSO requested this so ofc that worked out perfectly LOL - I hope you like anon! And same with everyone else :3

pt. 1

The chill air that blew against your leg peeking out from underneath the comforter was the first thing you noticed as you slowly woke yourself up, which made you mad. Why wasn’t it the warm arms of your boyfriend? Where on earth was that punk, hm?

You groaned and drew your legs back under the plush blanket, tucking them together after spreading them across the expanse of your bed to see if you could locate said punk. You were unsuccessful. You sighed and attempted to pull the covers over your head, or at the very least shield your eyes from the blaring sun that was coming through the window (who the hell left the curtains open?), but a grip coming from the bottom edge prevented you from doing so.

Blinking your eyes open and squinting, you sat up to see the perpetrator,

“Oh, someone’s grumpy this morning, huh?” Armin’s raised eyebrows and sideways smile normally would’ve sent you into a fit of butterflies and giggles, but instead you rolled your eyes and huffed as you flopped back onto the bed.

He gasped dramatically and stayed standing there in his boxer briefs, one hand holding a mug of something steaming, and the other still gripping the bottom of the blanket.

Thinking you could be quick enough to catch him off guard, you yanked the blanket towards you one more time only for your hands to fly off, successfully smacking yourself in the face.

You whined and rubbed your cheek, sticking up a middle finger in the direction of Armins snorts and half ass apologies as he set his mug down on the windowsill. But it was hard to stay mad when you felt him quickly crawl up towards you (definitely scaring the shit of you) and wrestle your hands away from your face so he could place as many kisses there as he pleases.

His soft hair tickled your skin as he moved down to blow raspberries into the junction of your neck & shoulder until you could barely breath, thoroughly convinced you now have rock hard abs.

“Okay, Ar-Armin please I can’t, I can’t breathe! Oh my god!” You let out another squeal as his hands shot down to tickle and pinch at your sides.

It wasn’t until you had told him, “You’re the best boyfriend in the world I promise!”, enough times to fill a novel that he finally let up and flopped down next to you in bed.

You smacked his chest playfully as he pulled you into his side while you both caught your breath.

“Well, someone’s in a better mood this morning.” You finished your sentence with a peck to his cheek.

“What?” He turned to look at your face with a confused smile, “What are you talking about?”

“Seriously? You don’t remember at all?”

You laughed again, as if you hadn’t done enough of that already this morning, and sat up to run him through last nights events. He gasped and laughed along with you, even covering his face for a few seconds when you told him how he swatted you away.

“And you’re always like that. But it’s honestly really funny so I don’t mind.” You patted his chest softly and smiled when you felt the vibrations from his laugh hum against your palm.

“Mmm, well I guess I owe you in the mornings then, huh.” He ran his hand soothingly up and down your arm.

You lifted the covers and tucked him under with you, smiling when he pulled you closer into his body.

“Yes, you do, which is exactly why you’re gonna give me 15 more minutes. And why you’re gonna stay here the whole time, too.”

Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, you can feel him smiling.

“Deal.”

——————

taglist: @d1lfluvr @plutowrites @kaimaara @pretty-pop-princess-hs @alonezz @venusackerman @cupcakkesinflatedwetbussy @alert-arlert (if you’d like to be added jus lemme know!)

[yesimwriting]

All The Good Dreams

A/n this one is based on a request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera who requested a fic where General Kirigan has been dreaming of the reader for as long as he can remember and that’s one of his few reasons to smile and the reader has been having the same kinds of dreams about him and when they meet they just know. 

This one is being written in third person bc it’s the only way I can see this fic being done but I’m a little insecure about writing in third person so be gentle lol

Also a little personal update I’ve been working on my original novel and it’s coming together y’all!!

--

ALEKSANDER. 

The morning sunlight seems to only come to take her from him, peaking through the curtains and stirring him awake and away from his dreams. Aleksander keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, trying to will her features to remain in his mind. She had looked more angelic in last night’s dream, dressed in all white and watching him with an adoration he doubted real life could duplicate. 

The girl has haunted his dreams like a ghost of promise since before he began to change the world. Since before anything in his life was solidified. He lets out a sigh, something similar to a smile playing at his lips. Thinking of her would not bring her to him, if he could manifest her, she’d be by his side right now. He has things to do, duties and obligations that will bring his final goal closer. Each day is a step closer to victory, and each night brings the promise of dreams. The promise of her. 

--

Y/N.

“Y/n.” The voice is gentle and distant. “Y/n,” a little harsher. “Wake up, you’ll be late.” 

Fighting against grogginess, y/n wakes up, eyes squinting open. “What time is it, Danna?” 

“Late.” Danna’s reply is curt as she steps away from y/n’s cot. “I thought you were awake already and then I came in to look for my boots and you were still asleep with that ridiculously peaceful look.” Danna paces around the room. “You must have been dreaming of your prince again?” 

Y/n feels her skin warm. “He’s not a prince!” It’s a weak defense. “I regret telling you that almost every time I dream I see the same man.” 

Danna drops down, grabbing her worn boots and pulling them on quickly. “You’re making me believe in soulmates, l/n.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes, sitting up and placing her feet on the ground at her own leisure. “It’s nothing like that--I’m not even sure he exists.” 

Lacing her shoes, Danna narrows her eyes at y/n. “Sure.” Y/n opens her mouth to protest, but Danna beats her to it, “If you need to argue with me, do it while getting dressed, we can’t be late today--General Kirigan’s visiting this camp for the first time and I doubt he’d appreciate being interrupted by a non-Grisha medic.” 

At that, y/n wrinkles her nose, but she stands anyway. “Ugh...Grisha.” She walks towards her uniform. “They can get away with anything and I hear Kirigan’s the worst of all of them because he’s in the same order as the Black Heretic that began all of this.” Y/n pauses, crossing her arms. “And it’s ridiculous that the army even needs non-Grisha medics. Healers exist and they should not be primarily reserved for other Grisha who rarely get injured, especially to the extent that the rest of us do.” 

“I know, y/n, but don’t speak like that until the General is gone.” Danna draws her lips into a thin line. “And hurry up before you get us both in trouble.” 

Y/n lets out a sigh. “Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up.”

Danna eyes her friend wearily. “Alright, worse comes to worse I’ll try to cover for you.” 

“You won’t need to.” Y/n isn’t sure she believes herself. “I’ll be there.” 

Danna pulls on her second boot, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t really believe you.” She stands easily. “But knowing you, you’ll talk yourself out of any trouble the way you always do.” 

“I do not always talk myself out of trouble.” 

Turning to leave, Danna pauses, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes. If she had more time to argue with Danna she would take it. But she doesn’t. She’s quick to get dressed, thoughts of the mysterious stranger from her dreams keeping her company. Last night he seemed more tired than normal, a crease between his dark eyebrows as he sat by her side. A part of her she keeps buried worries about him. It’s ridiculous, to concern yourself over a figment of comfort your mind created for you. 

By the time y/n’s changed, she knows she doesn’t have much time to get to her station. She’s rushing out of her tent, one boot still untied. The medic bag she slings over her shoulder swings as she jogs towards the medical tent. Today the camp is hectic, everyone desiring to appear efficient and reliable for General Kirigan. It’s all ridiculous to Y/n. General Kirigan will never be impressed by them. If he’s revered even among Grisha, Y/n can’t imagine the superiority complex that man must possess.

Her eyes scan the soldiers and workers she knows so well, each of them behaving so differently than normal. There is no friendly chatter this morning, no casual banter. There is only the business of war. 

Y/n watches the people she knows, so focused on their nerves that she barely registers the person she crashes into. “Sorry!” The apology leaves Y/n on instinct.  Her bag falls off her shoulder, gauze and antiseptic falling onto the ground on impact. Y/n bends down instantly, beginning to pick up her supplies. She mentally curses herself for being so easily distracted and not properly shutting her bag this morning. “Everything’s so hectic today and I was running late and I just--I have no idea how I didn’t see you.” She drops her supplies back into her bag. “I guess it’s a good thing they keep me off the battlefield and in the medical tents.” 

Reaching for the last of her supplies, Y/n’s eyes land on the shoes of the person she just crashed into. They’re leather. The fine kind of leather meant for marble halls, not trekking through the unknown. Y/n’s mouth goes dry as the possibility of the graveness of her mistake sets in her mind. She exhales slowly, daring to look upwards as she closes her bag. 

When her eyes meet those of the stranger, she is left with no choice but to gape. She’s not staring because she’s now at the mercy of General Kirigan. She’s not staring because nothing could have prepared her for his beauty. She’s staring because she knows that face. She knows those sharp features and steady eyes.

His lips are slightly parted. Y/n is struck with the odd thought that perhaps he too has words wedged into his throat. 

“It’s you.” The whisper leaves her faintly. 

The words seem to unfreeze Kirigan, his expression moving from shocked to stoic. “Excuse me?” 

Awkward regret floods through Y/n. She drops her head downwards, desperate to escape the power of his gaze. “General Kirigan.” She uses her words as a way to dismiss the emotions her chest seems to be brimming with as she stands. He’s not the man from her dreams. That’s impossible. “I apologize for my inappropriate behavior an--” 

“No, no,” he shakes his head once. Y/n bites her tongue at his dismissal. “You said ‘it’s you.’”

Embarrassment knots her stomach. “I just hadn’t realized that I ran into you, General. I--I knew you were coming today, but I wasn’t expecting to see you much less like this.” 

Kirigan’s eyes seem to be nothing more than inviting pools of kindling emotion. So familiar yet so distinct. He can’t be the man from her dreams. The man from her dreams must be nothing more than a composition of traits she finds generally attractive. General Kirigan just happens to possess those features. That explanation is the only thing that keeps Y/n’s feet rooted to the ground, but the longer she looks at him the more that explanation loses its strength. There’s just something so knowing behind his expression, so specific to the face that she’s only seen while asleep. 

Tearing his gaze away to scan the area, Kirigan reaches forward, placing a hand on Y/n’s arm. The touch leaves Y/n warmer than it should. Maybe that’s why she lets him lead her forward, ducking into an empty medical tent. She keeps hold of her bag as he turns, his eyes full of something dark and unknown. But not angry, Y/n notes, no, not angry. The look is too peaceful for rage, perhaps even hopeful. 

“When you looked at me…” He exhales, voice low and sacred, “You said ‘it’s you’.” Y/n can only blink, still mesmerized by something so foreign and familiar all at once. “Do you know me?” 

In his urgency, Kirigan’s hold on Y/n’s arm becomes more assured. Something in Y/n wants to pry herself free in order to prove to herself that she’s capable of resisting his drawl. But his touch is not to trap her, the look in his eyes tells her that. His touch is pleading--desperate and hopeful. 

“Everyone knows you,” when Y/n finally finds her voice, she is not convinced it is her own. 

The corners of Kirigan’s mouth fall downwards, something in him threatening to deflate. “I meant--have you seen me before?” The question is not one Y/n is too willing to answer. How could she tell this strange man, this general she was convinced she’d dislike on some fundamental level while never speaking to him, that she knows him? She knows him like she knows her own beginning. “Because I’ve seen you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way her eyes widen. This doesn’t mean anything, she warns herself, he could have seen her walking. “I didn’t see you, that--that’s why I ran into you--” 

“No, you’re avoiding the question.” Her face is warmer than it was when Danna was teasing her this morning. It’s warmer than it’s ever been. “Because you’ve experienced it as well.” 

The swelling in her chest is overwhelming. “Experienced what?” 

Kirigan eyes the entrance to the tent once more, confirming that no one is approaching. “All of the good dreams,” he exhales, “They have been of you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way everything in her melts. She’s not insane. She’s not projecting something dangerous onto the Shadow Summoner. “I see you in my dreams always.” 

Slowly, he releases his grip on her arm. Watching her like she might be a mirage, Kirigan raises his hand, brushing his knuckles along Y/n’s cheek. She lets him, holding her breath until his hand falls back to his side. A part of Kirigan expected the girl to be a trick of the light, something that his touch would reveal to be a fallacy. But she remains true, watching him with eyes the size of saucers. 

“How long I’ve been waiting for you, you’ll never know.” His voice is as heavy as a lament. 

Y/n feels her back straighten slightly on instinct, desperate to pass whatever scrutiny is being passed over her. “How--how does this happen? How do two strangers dream of each other for so long and...” 

Something knowing colors his smile a shade of ambitious green. “What is your name?” 

“Y/n.” 

Kirigan’s minds flit through lifetimes worth of faint memories. The girl laughing, the girl teary eyed, the girl embodying all the stars he’ll never have, the girl representing all he needs. Y/n. There’s finally a name to her. 

“Y/n,” the name is a gift. Kirigan pulls a ring from his fingers before grabbing Y/n’s arm. Too lost in a strange euphoria, she lets him pull her arm forward before pressing his ring into her skin. Her brow furrows as he begins to guide the metal down her skin. That slight confusion quickly turns to total shock as a thread of light begins to spindle down her skin, following the path he’s creating with the ring. “You and I are going to change the world.” 

--

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag @kaitlyn2907

[patheticdarling]

Surprise, Surprise

   Summary: Colin and Reader are happily married and are now awaiting the arrival of their very first child. Reader and Colin are nervous, in a relatively normal sort of way, That is until the older Bridgerton boys point out to Colin that twins run in the Reader’s family.

   Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy & Childbirth/Some Cursing/Drinking/Sexual Jokes/Cavity Sweet Fluff

   Word Count: 2005

*NOT MY GIF*

   “You’re staring,” you smirked as you flipped through your book, catching Colin’s gaze from your peripheral vision. 

   “Am I?” he cleared his throat awkwardly as he switched his eyes to the plate of biscuits on the table, “Apologies.” 

   You chuckled, setting down your novel, “I think I would be more worried if my husband didn’t stare.” You sat up, readying yourself to get off the sofa. 

   “Here, let me,” before you could protest Colin was already at your side, helping you to your feet. 

   “You know I’m not completely helpless, right?” you laughed, a bit out of breath. 

   “I never said that,” he defended, “Just don’t see why you have to move so much. When Mother was pregnant, she never-” 

   “She also always had another child running around, Colin,” you interjected, “Especially if it’s when you were old enough to take note of her pregnancy habits.” 

   Colin sighed, “All I’m saying is that I just don’t want you to take on any unnecessary stress, Daphne says it’s not good for the baby.” 

   You shook your head in defeat. Besides Lady Bridgerton, Daphne was the only one in the family with a child of her own. Even before her son, Daphne was already quite the maternal expert. 

   “Fine, I surrender,” you huffed, Colin grinned, “But not taking on unnecessary stress applies to the both of us.”

   “Whatever do you mean?” Colin furrowed his brow. 

   “Colin!” you nearly scoffed, “You’ve got to be joking. You nearly have a full head of grey hairs from how much you’ve been stressing over our baby.” 

   “I-I have not!” he protested. 

   “Oh, right,” you rolled your eyes, “You know you can be so full of it sometimes.” 

   “Y/N!” Colin groaned, “Can we please just get going so Daphne or Mother don’t have our heads for being late to family tea?” 

   “Come on then,” you chuckled. 

   Colin kept a sturdy grip on you as you exited your carriage, ever so carefully. Your arm linked with Colin’s as you walked up the steps of the Bridgerton Family home. The sound of rambunctious laughter could be heard as soon as you stepped in. The entire family was gathered in the drawing room. 

   “Ahh, there you are little brother!” Benedict grinned, a glass of wine in his grip. And judging by his slight lack of motor skills, not his first cup. 

   “Y/N! Look at you!” Anthony smiled, his state similar to Benedict’s. 

   Colin and you exchanged a laugh before he joined his brothers and Simon near the other side of the room. 

   “Y/N!” Daphne squealed, bringing you into a tight embrace, “It’s so good to see you.” 

  “You as well, Daph,” you grinned, “Or should I say Your Grace?” 

   “Oh, please. No need for such formality, we’re family,” she winked before pulling you over to the rest of the girls. 

   “Hello, Y/N,” Eloise smiled, giving you a less enthusiastic hug. 

   “Eloise,” you greeted, “Surprised to see you. Thought you’d find an excuse to sneak off by now or at least invite Pen to keep you company.” 

   Eloise let out a groan, “She’s running late. Her Mama made her stay for family tea this time. Apparently, one of her sisters is back from their honeymoon.”

   “How fun,” you joked. 

   “Y/N! Y/N!” you were now bombarded with waist-high hugs from Gregory and Hyacinth. 

   “My, look how much you’ve both grown,” you smiled at the two children, “I swear you’ve each added on an extra inch.” They both smiled proudly before scurrying off to play and bother their older brothers. 

   “Y/N,” Lady Bridgerton’s voice called from the couch where she was holding Daphne and Simon’s sleeping son. 

   “Hello, Lady Bridgerton,” you curtsied, “Oh my,” you smiled down at the sleeping bundle in her arms, “What a handsome little one.” 

   “Isn’t he?” Daphne gushed.

   “He’s beautiful, Daphne. Congratulations, again,” you grinned. 

   “Thank you,” she smiled as her mother handed her the small bundle. 

   “Come here, dear,” Lady Bridgerton brought you into her embrace, “How’re you feeling?” 

   “Positively exhausted but I’m still trying to get as much sleep as I can before he or she is here,” you smiled. 

   “We all know Colin is hoping for a boy,” Anthony and the others had stumbled over, “Isn’t that right, Colin?” 

   “A boy would be nice,” Colin muttered. 

   “You heard the man, Y/N,” Benedict interjected, “Better be cooking up a healthy baby boy for my brother here.” 

   “Benedict Bridgerton,” Lady Bridgerton was quick to snap, “That’s enough wine for you. You too, Anthony.” 

   “But Mother-” 

   “But nothing, Anthony Bridgerton,” she protested, “It’s a family tea, so I suggest you help yourself to a cup, young man.” 

   “Fine,” they both huffed, tossing back their glasses and going to make themselves a cup. 

   The near spilling of sugar was enough for Daphne to signal Simon to go help her brothers while she cared for their son, “On it,” Simon was quick to take charge of the tea making. 

   “Last time we have wine at tea,” Lady Bridgerton took note as she sipped her own cup, “Thank you, Colin, for being more responsible than your older brothers.” 

   “Thank you, Mother. I really take pride-”

   “Oh, shut it,” Benedict interrupted, “He’s only too scared to get drunk because he’s in full Papa mindset.” 

   “I am n-” 

   “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Daphne interjected as she handed her son to Simon, “Better than being an unfatherly drunk.” 

   “Thank you, Daph,” Colin smiled smugly. 

   “Sure hope your son is more fun than you are, little brother,” Anthony teased. 

   “That is, if it is a son,” Benedict added, “I mean Y/N is one of six? Or so? And you’ve only got one brother.” 

   “Right,” Anthony commented, “A twin, right?” 

   You nodded, “My twin, actually.” 

   “Oh. Think you could handle twins, Colin?” Eloise joined in on the teasing. 

   “Eloise,” Lady Bridgerton warned. 

   “It was a genuine question, Mama. Twins run in Y/N’s family, don’t they Y/N?” Eloise questioned. 

   “Actually, yes,” you smiled nervously, “My father has twin brothers and a twin sister himself. My grandmother was a twin and so on and so forth.” 

   Colin’s face began to lose colour as he finished off the last half of his wine in one go, “Bloody hell,” he muttered. 

   “Colin, don’t tell me you didn’t know,” Simon added. 

   “No, course I did,” Colin cleared his throat, “I-I just hadn’t put it into consideration until this moment.” 

   “Well, you probably should,” Francesca teased as she sipped her cup. 

   “I think it’d be great if Y/N and Colin had twins,” Daphne commented, “The more children, the better, right?” 

   Your face had now drained a bit at the idea, “Um, of course.” 

   “Y/N?” Lady Bridgerton had taken notice of your pale state, “You feeling okay, my dear?” 

   “Two babies,” you muttered as Lady Bridgerton and Daphne helped you fall to the sofa, “For the rest of their lives.” 

   “Y/N?” Daphne called out, “Can you hear me?”

   “Two babies,” you muttered again.

   “Maybe we should call the doctor,” Daphne offered. 

   “Has she gone into shock?” Eloise asked. 

   “Colin?” Simon shook his muttering brother-in-law. 

   “Y-Yes?” Colin answered as thousands of thoughts ran through his mind. 

   “Your wife,” Simon answered, raising a brow as he nodded towards the couch. 

   “My wife,” Colin repeated lowly, “MY WIFE!” he snapped from his gaze and joined your side at the couch, taking your hand, “Y/N? I’m right here.” 

  Your widened gaze shifted from your tapping foot to Colin’s equally worried face, “Two babies,” you muttered. 

   Colin moved to speak before noting the rather large audience that he had, “Um,” he cleared his throat, “Would you all mind giving me a moment with Y/N? Alone.” 

   “Oh,” Lady Bridgerton nodded, “Of course, my dear. Come, we can go enjoy tea in the backyard. The weather is especially lovely today.” 

   Colin muttered a quiet thank you as the family shuffled out of the room, Benedict winking at his younger brother before closing the parlour doors. 

   “Y/N?” Colin tried to get your attention. No response, “Y/N?”

   “Hmm?” you answered, gaze now focused elsewhere. 

   “Y/N, please,” Colin gently turned your face, caressing your cheek as you finally met his eyes, “Are you okay?” 

  “Umm, I-I think so,” you answered, “Just you know the little thing about possibly having to push two babies out of me in one go. Then having to raise them at the same time for essentially the rest of their lives and-” 

   “Oh my God,” Colin’s squeezed the bridge of his nose before letting out a sigh, “Y/N, listen to me, please, dear.” Your attention shifted as you caught your breath, “We’re going to be alright.” 

   “What?” you muttered. 

   Colin let out a chuckle again, “No matter what happens, we are going to just fine.” 

   Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones or maybe the adoring and assured tone of Colin’s voice that brought tears to your eyes, either way, there was no hiding it, “B-But how do you know?” you sniffled. 

   Colin shrugged, “Honestly? I just do. And I think it might be because of all the other things I’m extremely sure of.” 

  “Oh yeah?” you dabbed at your tears, “Like what?” 

  “That my wife is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met and that she rarely ever gets scared. On the off chance she does, she never lets anyone see her so vulnerable.” 

   “Everyone but you, dear” you smiled as tears still cascaded down your cheeks. 

   “Ah, that’s right,” Colin smirked, “Everyone but her charming husband, of course. She lets him in once and awhile.”

   “You’re lucky you get that much,” you tease. 

   Colin chuckled, “All jokes aside, I can assure you that we are going to be just fine, love. There’s not a doubt in my mind.” 

   You smiled softly, “How did I get so lucky to land the sweetest lord as my wonderful husband?” you intertwined your hands. 

   Colin grinned, kissing your enclosed hands, “I’m the lucky one.” You blushed profusely, “I love you.”

   “I love you too,” you both smiled before exchanging a soft and passionate kiss. 

   “What did I miss?” a high voice came into the room, “Oh my.” 

   You broke away to see Penelope Featherington standing in her bright yellow and green ensemble. 

   “Pen!” Colin greeted as he rushed over to the girl and quickly pulled her into a hug, “H-How’re you?” 

   “Just fine,” Pen blushed as they pulled away, “Hello, Y/N.” 

   “Penelope,” you smiled as your own blush dwindled, “Good to see you. You’re all grown up.” 

   She grinned, “Oh, congratulations on the baby again. You did get our flowers, didn’t you?” 

   Colin nodded nervously, “Yep. They are beautiful, thank you. I don’t know how you knew orchids were Y/N’s favourite although there is a possibility that the baby may be allergic to them and you know how scary that might be.” 

  You chuckled as you got up from the sofa, waddling over to the two of them and cutting off Colin’s rambling, “We have them in our own drawing-room, the light in there really illuminates them.” 

   Penelope smiled proudly yet awkwardly, “H-Have either of you seen Eloise?” 

   “Yes,” you nodded before Colin continued his rambling, “Whole family is out back enjoying tea. Come, we can all go together.” 

  Penelope nodded eagerly as she led the way to the backyard. 

  “You are going to give yourself grey hairs,” you teased as you intertwined your arm with Colin’s.

   “Well, it’s either now or when the twins come,” Colin answered. 

   “When?” you chuckled, “Don’t you mean if?” 

   “Huh?” Colin had found a cup of whiskey, swigging it back, “Oh yes, right. If.”

   “I wouldn’t get too drunk if I were you,” you explained as Colin took another glass, “Is that your mother heading this way?” 

  “WHAT?” Colin quickly tossed the glass behind him as you started fervently laughing. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive if our kids are like you.” 

   “Oh, please, you love me,” you chuckled. 

   “That I do,” Colin smirked proudly. 

[ragingbookdragon]

All I Wanna Be Is Somebody To You

A Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: None

Author's Note: For the one anon who wanted a nervous reader! I hope I did this justice for you, darling! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She didn’t hate talking. Not really. But the idea of holding conversations with people she didn’t know sent her heart fluttering and her throat tightening until it was impossible to breathe. More often than not, she found herself apologizing a lot for the stuttering or the repeating of things she said. Most people gave her odd looks, told her to stop apologizing so much (like that ever helped anyone), or laughed and told her she was cute—which was nice until she realized they meant in a childish sort of way rather than an endearing one.

But it wasn’t always like that. According to her parents, there’d been a time when she couldn’t stop talking. Always had something to say and had somebody to tell. Something changed during her years, she knew when, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself or her family when they asked what happened to their outgoing and talkative daughter. Too many times she’d heard, “You know no one cares about X, right?” or “Oh my God, will you shut up?” and every time she heard it from a friend it dug into her a little deeper, made her shut her mouth tighter, and tore her heart much harsher.

And because she chose to be the silent type instead of the outgoing one, people assumed her arrogant and cold, distant and rude, and she found herself spending most of middle school and high school by herself. She was glad when graduation came, and while she’d dreaded giving her valedictorian speech, she did manage to get through it without too much trouble. It did feel like her one triumph against everyone who ignored her throughout school.

College freed her. Allowed her to make a flexible schedule, take smaller classes, and be solitary when she wanted. She’d refused a dorm room on the campus, living only fifteen minutes from Gotham University, instead choosing to commute daily and she liked it a lot more than having roommates in a four-bedroom apartment on the school grounds.

When she wasn’t in class, she stayed home a lot. It came with being a homebody, but when she did go out into the great big city, she liked to shop. Little antique shops or bookstores. She went to bookstores more than she did school. There was something so wonderful about finding a book in the shop and sitting down at a café and reading quietly. Which is how she met him, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he wanted anything to do with her. She was quiet and shy, and he was open and flirty. They obviously didn’t match in any way, shape, or form. At least, that’s what she thought.

***

She drew her gaze along the wall of books before her, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she searched for the novel. It’d been a long time since she’d read The Count of Monte Cristo, a copy of her father’s that he’d had when she was just a child. Something had reminded her of it the other day and all she could think about was getting her own so she could annotate in the margins.

As she came across it, she started reaching when someone got to it first, one finger pulling it out by its spine before taking it into their hand. She visibly deflated with a soft sigh as it was the last copy and hung her head in defeat.

“I’m sorry, were you wanting this too?” Her head cocked up and she gazed at the young man before her. He smiled and she felt like she’d been shot in the chest at how dazzling it was. “Here, you can have it.”

Swallowing thickly, she shook her head, “You got it first.” Nodding, she added, “It’s yours.”

He cocked a brow at that. “Well, from the devastated look on your face, doll, you want it to be yours.”

Her cheeks warmed at that, and she felt nervous where she stood, resisting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. “N-no it’s okay.” She said. “You take it.”

“Oh no you don’t. That’s not how this works.” He chuckled and took her hands, pressing the book into them, then he winked at her. “The doll deserves to have her book.”

If there had ever been a time in which she wanted to explode from embarrassment, it was then, and before she knew it, she shoved the book back into his arms and so hard that it must’ve knocked the wind out of him because he gasped. She spun around and took off down the aisle and out the front doors as fast as she could, wanting nothing more than to disappear in the crowded streets. That or sink into the ground. Maybe next week she’d come back and get the book. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be there again.

***

Then again, her hopes were always wrong, and she picked up the copy of The Divine Comedy, flipping it open to read the first page.

“I see you’re a fan of the classics, aren’t you, doll?”

She snapped the book shut when she heard his voice and looked over at him. Something inside annoyed her at the cocky smirk he wore, much more was the arm he had resting on the top of the bookshelf as he gazed at her.

“You know, you left a nice bruise on me the other week.” He quipped, shifting his weight to cross his ankles. “You’re pretty strong.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, turning to look back at the book. “Sorry I hit you…it was an accident.”

“Well, I can accept your apology if you tell me your name.”

“Why?” she questioned quietly, wiggling her toes.

“Because I wanna put a name to such a cute face. Why else?” he flirted, and she scowled at the book cover. “Oh, that’s an even more adorable face.”

“Quit doing that!” she hissed. “It’s not funny!”

He chuckled. “Oh contraire, it’s actually hilarious.” He took a step towards her. “I’m Jason, by the way.”

Her eyes darted to the outstretched hand, and she stared at it for a split second before softly shaking it. “(Y/N).” she murmured.

Before she could pull her hand back, he raised it and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Enchanté ma chérie,” he professed, breath hot against her skin and just like before, she was so absolutely flustered she was yanking her hand back and poor Jason’s grip slipped, and he whacked himself in the face with his own hand.

“Nice to meet you!” (Y/N) yelped and scurried off down the aisle and to the register where she purchased her book in record time. Third time was the charm and she prayed that he wouldn’t be there again.

***

And whoever lived upstairs must’ve really had it out for her because she flipped the page in her One Thousand and One Arabian Nights and heard an exaggerated cough. Looking up through her eyelashes, she saw Jason standing there with a grin on his face. “Hello (Y/N),” he purred, and she immediately felt her cheeks become hot.

“Hi Jason,” she muttered, gazing at her book, listening to the chair screech as he sat down across from her.

“How are you doing today?” he asked, setting down his own copy of Arabian Nights.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, finding it harder to focus on the book over the smell of his woody and oriental cologne. She thought she smelled a twinge of tobacco with it. “I’m fine.” Her eyes found his teal ones for a moment. “And you?”

He smiled, making her heart pick up a beat. “Doing pretty good.” He winked. “I got to see you again. Though I’m hoping I don’t get hit again. Either by a book or my own fist.”

“Sorry…” she cringed, sinking down in her seat. “That was an accident.”

Jason shrugged and propped his elbows on the table, placing his chin on his fingers. “Don’t worry about it. Say, do you like coffee?”

“I do,” she murmured.

“Great, want anything from the café?” he asked, nodding at the board and she looked over at it.

“I guess I could order a latte,” she replied more to herself than him, starting to pull her wallet out.

“Nah, I got it.” Jason said, standing from his seat.

(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said I got it.” He quipped and she jumped from her seat to stop him, but caught the leg of her chair, and she flailed, stumbling right into Jason. They went tumbling to the floor and she landed atop him. For a minute they were both stunned silent as the people in the store looked at them and he smirked at her. “Well, this saves me the trouble of asking you out to dinner.” He winked again. “Should’ve told me you had a bold streak, doll.”

She immediately scrambled up, placing one of her hands on his chest to shove off him when her leg slipped, and her knee went into his groin. He groaned and rolled over, holding his crotch and (Y/N) was so mortified all she could do was apologize profusely and at one point she was sure she was mixing up her words, but it didn’t matter. Grabbing her things, she started running off a third time.

Though she’d made it ten feet out of the door and down the street before someone grabbed her round the waist and hauled her to a stop. “Oh no! We’re not doing this pattern again! I am not getting hit a fourth time!”

(Y/N) spun in his arm and gaped at him. “I’m sorry!”

Jason sighed heavily and lowered his head. “Holy crap, I’ve never had such a hard time getting a girl to go out with me.”

“You wanna go out with me?” She pointed to herself despite her flustered state. “W-with me?” she gave him a dubious look. “Really? M-me?”

“Well, if you wanna hit me a fourth time to be sure, go ahead, but yeah,” he retorted then heaved another sigh. “Jeez, talk about getting hit on.”

(Y/N) spluttered at that. “I did not hit on you!”

“Right, you just hit me instead.”

“It was an accident! And I said I was sorry!”

Jason grinned at her and arm away. “Well, I’ll accept your sorry’s if you go on a date with me.”

She blinked at him. “A date? When?”

“Tonight.” He said. “There’s a bookstore down in the town square for insomniacs. Open until seven A.M. and serves a mean cup of hot cocoa.” Jason smiled and took her hand. “So? How ‘bout it, doll? Wanna go out with me tonight?”

All she could do was simply stare at this gorgeous man that obviously had a thing for her for some god forsaken reason. “Why?” she asked blankly, and he seemed to falter at that.

“Why what?” he repeated, confusion etching across his face.

“Why do you wanna go out with me?” (Y/N) gestured to herself. “I’m weird.”

“So am I.” he agreed.

“I stutter a lot.”

“So does my brother.”

“I don’t talk a lot. I don’t like talking a lot. People get mad at me when I talk a lot and I prefer to listen and you’re not going to like going out with me because I’m going to be super quiet because I get flustered easily and I—”

Jason put his hand over her mouth and stared at her. “Do you ever take a breath?” she nodded silently, and he sighed. “Look, (Y/N), it’s only taken getting shoved in the stomach with a book, getting punched with my own hand, and getting nut-shot to understand that you’re not exactly comfortable with the public.”

He removed his hand. “That’s why I invited you to the bookstore. Because even in the few weeks we’ve known each other, I know you like quiet places. But if you don’t feel comfortable going with me right now, that’s okay. We can take it slow.” Jason smiled at her. “Doll, all I wanna be is somebody to you.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly and looked at her feet, whispering, “I…don’t wanna go out right now…but I’d like to give you my number…if you’re okay with that?” she shrugged. “We can text.” Feeling hopeful she reached out and placed her hang on his arm. “And get to know each other better? Maybe tell each other our favorite books? That’s…the best way in my opinion.”

His face lit up and he murmured, “I’d love that.” He pulled out his phone, tapping at it before he handed it over to her. “Here you go.”

She took it and looked at the contact name he’d already put in. My Flustered Doll. She glared at him. “You think you’re pretty cute, don’t you, Jason? You’re not. At all.”

He smirked. “Oh, is that so?” She nodded and he quipped, “We’ll just see about that then.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and typed in her number, handing him back his phone. “There you go.” He glanced at it, seemingly satisfied before he locked it and put it back in his pocket, then they met each other’s gazes and she awkwardly pointed over her shoulder. “I’m going home now.”

Jason caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “See you later, doll. Stay cute.”

She was hurrying off again, his laughter in her ears, unaware that their exchanging of numbers was going to evolve into so much more in the coming months.

***

“—And I’m pretty sure I can never show my face again at school, Jay. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.”

He hummed, fingers gently dipping into her spine. “Well, this is coming from the girl that nut-shotted be in the middle of a busy bookstore.”

“Why would you remind me about that?” (Y/N) scowled. “It was an accident.”

“And yet it can’t be more mortifying than telling a guy to shove his head up his ass.” He retorted, eyes still closed as they basked in the sunlight streaming through the window. “This is at least a five on the ten scale.”

“More like a hundred.” She muttered, tucking her head under his chin. “I can’t believe I said that to him. Oh, I was just so—just so mad at what he said about my poem! He was just being mean!” (Y/N) gripped his sweatshirt. “You understand right?”

Jason nodded, his other hand resting at her hip. “Mhm.”

“You don’t think I’m overreacting, do you?” she frowned. “Everyone else thinks I am.”

“Telling someone that their poetry isn’t good because it isn’t iambic pentameter isn’t following constructive criticism, doll. It’s called being a douche.” She giggled and he bent his neck, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Call me next time Lord Douche-Canoe starts on your poetry again and I’ll school him on face-time.”

(Y/N) giggled again and rolled over, pressing them chest to chest and she grinned when he whined at her moving. “Thank you, Jason.”

He smiled at her. “I only take my thanks in kisses. Sorry, doll.”

Rolling her eyes, she bent down and pressed her lips to his. “I love you,” she murmured against him, and he hummed, hands grasping her hips.

“I love you more.”

“Nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” he scoffed, pulling back to look at her. “I am willingly in a relationship with the girl who nut-shot me in—MMHPF!”

(Y/N) shoved a pillow into his face, face hot as she shouted, “Stop bringing that up! It was an accident!” All she got in return was his laughter.

[salazarslytherin]

midnight rendezvous (b.w x y/n)

requested: yes! by @weasleyswizardwheezes1 [i love you arms your writing so uh anything w bill weasley. either smut, angst, fluff, etc. is fine, but could it be on the longer side. please and thank you, no pressure btw :)] send in your own request here

summary: where you and bill have a penchant for meeting in the night

part two here

🃛 masterlist

cw/tw: angst, smut AND fluff babes fem!reader, bill's kind of a dick for a part. sexual tension to the MAX doll. age difference (~6-7 years?) reader IS 18! jic anyone was worried. also i imply reader is short-ish? but in my mind bill is like 6’3-6’5 so he’s massive and like most people would be shorter than him

word count: 5.25k (so i heard u say ‘on the longer side’ and interpreted it as ‘i want a short novel’. hope this satisfies u doll, there'll be one or two?? more parts coming!!)

a/n: requested by @weasleyswizardwheezes1 . hope you like it! pls leave a comment, like or reblog to help boost if you did xx

☯︎ join tag list here

Being the best friend of the Weasley twins definitely had its perks. Spending summers at the Burrow, having a second family that was closer to you than your own, friendly banter that came along with the family.

However, there was an unexpected drawback that came with this.

A drawback by the name of Bill Weasley.

⚔︎

Although in the same year as the twins, you were a year older than Fred and George, meaning you had always felt a little more mature than the two pranksters.

Thus, you felt like you noticed things that the two of them never really noticed. Girls having crushes on them, boys being envious of them, the ways rumours would fly around about the three of you.

The main thing, however, that you felt the two of them didn't notice, was the way Bill treated you.

It wasn't that he'd always been like this. The first few years you'd known the man, he was very nice to you – familial and brotherly, much like the rest of the family had been to you.

However, sometime in fifth year, things changed.

⚔︎

You arrived at the Burrow with the twins for Christmas, ready to be welcomed by the family you'd come to call your own, but was left feeling hurt, weirdly hollow.

Every Weasley had welcomed you with open arms, except Bill. Harry, the only other non-Weasley around, was embraced heartily by the curse-breaker, but you were given a sharp nod, and nothing more.

Confused, you shook it off, moving to sit next to George, his arm wrapped around your waist as you snuggled into him. Fred landed on your other side, passing you a mug of hot cocoa as he landed a kiss on the top of your head, arm enveloping your shoulders with a tight squeeze.

Surrounded by the younger Weasleys as you watched Ginny, Ron and Harry play a game of Exploding Snap, you felt an intense gaze on you, looking up to see the four oldest Weasleys sat around the dining table, watching all of you.

You caught Bill's eyes, sending him a familiar smile, but was ignored as the man took a sip of his coffee, turning to look out the window instead.

Your hurt was short-lived as Fred leaned into whisper a soft quip into your ear, letting out a laugh, turning to relay the same quip to George.

The rest of the trip went similarly – every time you attempted to catch Bill's eye, to hold a proper conversation, he'd ignore you, or brush you off, pretending that he had something else to do.

The day all of you left the Burrow to go back to Hogwarts, Bill had even left the group before you could say goodbye to him, and you could only be left wondering, what did you do?

⚔︎

Now that you've graduated, you were relishing in the last summer you could spend in the Burrow as a teenager without the pressure of work hovering over you.

Determined to have the best time you possibly could with your 'family', your days were consumed by pranks with the twins, quidditch with the family, and helping Molly bake.

Yet, you still felt empty; a hole in the warm pit created by familial love, a hole marked with the name 'Bill Weasley'.

The cursebreaker was still actively avoiding you, for no known reason, and you stopped seeking out why a year ago. Instead, you sought to live your life with one less brother, one less family member to love.

Tossing and turning, you found yourself particularly restless one night. Not wanting to wake Fred, who was sleeping soundly in bed next to you, you got up, tiptoeing down to the kitchen to have a nice cool sip of water.

You'd taken to sleeping in the twins' room since the first holiday you were at the Burrow. Molly was against the idea at first of course, but was incapable of stopping the pranksters who managed to sneak you in night after night, insistent on having 'sleepovers' with you.

After the third night, Molly gave up, only giving you three a strict 'no funny business!' warning, before trudging back off to bed.

⚔︎

The dim lamplight from the kitchen illuminated just about enough for you to see your surroundings, having been around the Weasleys' long enough to know which boards to avoid so as to not have them creak and wake the family up.

However, what you hadn't taken into account was a body on the ground, hitting your foot into a blanketed torso, making you elicit a shriek, the unknown body on the ground letting out a muffled groan.

"What the fuck?"

You muttered a quick 'Lumos', pointing your wand at the person under the quilt, only for the fabric to be thrown aside, revealing a tousled Bill Weasley, sleep clouding his narrowed eyes as he massaged his abdominal with one hand, ruffling his hair with the other.

"Oh."

Realising that the man on the floor was, in fact, a Weasley, and not some thief who'd stolen into the house in the middle of the night, you dismissed the charm, lowering your wand and shifting awkwardly on your feet.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were there."

Throwing a curt apology at Bill, you moved off towards the kitchen, grabbing a mug from the cupboard above and wordlessly filling it up, intent on finishing your business as quickly as possible before heading back up to the twins.

"Pour me a cup?"

The deep voice startled you for a moment. At some point Bill had gotten up from his mound of pillows and now found himself stood behind you, his hand holding out a mug that had a 'B' painted on it, gesturing at the water jug you were holding.

Nodding curtly, you poured him his water, Bill thanking you before moving to lean against a counter, watching you from behind the rim of his mug.

"'m surprised you're down here."

Furrowing your brows, you looked up at the man in confusion.

"What'd you mean?"

He shrugged, downing the rest of his water before placing the mug down on the counter with a tad bit more strength than he needed. He stretched for a moment, arms pulled over his head to pull the sleep out of his eyes, shirt moving up with the movement to show off a slither of his toned stomach.

"You're always around the twins, never see you without 'em. Expected you to be, in their beds or something I don't know."

A protest spluttered from your throat, choking slightly on the water that you'd been drinking.

"I–what?"

The man lifted an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side.

"Am I wrong? You've been in and out both their beds since you were firsties. I mean, it's not hard to guess what you're doing in there with 'em."

You huffed at the implications of Bill's words, putting your mug down with much of the same vigour as he had just now.

"First off, I'm an adult, and I can do what I please."

You were fuming, steam practically coming out your ears, and hearing the muttered 'clearly been an adult for a while' from Bill's lips didn't help.

"Second, even if I was sleeping with your brothers, which I am not, I don't understand why it'd be any of your business. It's not like we're friends or anything."

An odd, emotionless laugh came from Bill's lips, pushing off the counter to come stand over you. His tall stature forced you to stumble backwards, pressed against the wooden cabinets as he glared down at you.

"First off," Bill's deep voice was modulated up an octave, mocking your previous rebuttal.

"I am not saying your life is part of my concern. I'm concerned for my brothers."

A hand landed next to your head, pushing against the cabinet harshly.

"But second, you're practically a Weasley. It's my duty to look after you guys."

You laughed indignantly, looking away from the intense man to focus on his arm instead, as if studying the tattoos that covered his tanned frame.

"I'm sorry. It's your duty to look after me?"

You pushed him off of you, moving away with a huff, grabbing the two abandoned mugs to wash them with far too much tenacity, water splashing everywhere.

"Yes, that's what I said. I've known you since you were eleven – of course I have to watch over you. You're like family."

You rolled your eyes, giving up the facade of placidity as you left the mugs clattering in the sink, whipping around to face Bill.

"I'm like family? That's rich, William, truly rich."

Now it was your turn to advance towards the man, causing him to back up as your anger fueled you with energy, stomping dangerously close to his feet.

"If how you treat me is how you treat your family, I pity Molly for having you as a son."

Incoherent words left Bill's mouth in an attempt to argue further with you, but you didn't listen. Turning on your heel, you left the man in the kitchen, no longer concerning yourself with which steps to avoid as you stomped back to the twins' room, leaving Bill accompanied only by the dim light from the lamp, and the creaks coming from the floorboards.

⚔︎

After that infuriating night, it was no longer a 'hidden' fact that something was off between you and Bill.

While it had seemed that Bill used to be the one avidly avoiding you, the tables had quickly turned – you were now the prey ardently avoiding any encounters with your predator.

Any time Bill came into the room, you'd either leave, or place yourself as far away as humanly possible. During meals, you'd move yourself to sit next to Ginny, as opposed to in between the twins as you'd been sat for years, just so you no longer sat across from Bill. Even during quidditch, one of your favourite things to do with the whole family, you opted to sit out and stay in the twins' room or help Molly with the dishes, just to make sure you never had to interact with Bill.

Honestly, you weren't quite certain why the conversation with Bill had ticked you off so much. Maybe it was because he accused you of sleeping with your best friends, as if that was all you were good for. Maybe, it was because he had no right to insert himself in your life like that, to pretend like he cared about you in the first place.

It was clear he no longer wanted to be a part of your life when you were sixteen. You had no desire to welcome the curse-breaker back into your life now.

⚔︎

Three days after the midnight meeting with Bill, you found yourself restless again, unable to sleep.

George shifted slightly as you moved out of his bed, turning to cuddle with your now abandoned pillow as you slipped out of his grasp.

You decided to go for a quick midnight broom ride, hoping that the adrenaline rush and energy that you'd burn while flying would tire you out so you could finally fall asleep. A lot of the time you'd spent avoiding Bill turned into naps, which meant you were increasingly unable to fall asleep at night, disrupting your sleep schedule massively.

Cursing Bill under your breath, you creeped down the stairs, hoping that he wouldn't be down there again. You didn't want to have to deal with the eldest Weasley again.

Thanking your lucky stars, you landed on the final step, noting that the first floor was empty. Hoping that the door wouldn't creak when you opened it, you ran towards the small shed out back, grabbing a random broom from it and got ready to fly.

"Y/N?"

You were already mounted on the broom and ready to kick off as that dreaded baritone resounded from the door.

You should have known you weren't that lucky.

Yelling a quick "Nope!", you kicked off and flew out towards the countryside, only looking behind you to see Bill standing in his sleeping pants, hands gesturing out at you in exasperation.

"Now how's that for some good ol' avoidance?"

⚔︎

Though you'd initially planned on flying only for a little bit, seeing Bill at the door really put a damper on your plans, making you decide to fly to a nearby watering hole the Weasleys used to bring you to.

Illuminated by the moonlight, you descended upon the grassy area, smiling at the way the water rippled in the soft night breeze.

Tranquility was what the scene spelt.

In a moment motivated by something you'd come to dub as 'Weasley Whims', i.e the reason the twins had gotten the three of you in trouble constantly, you decided to strip down to your underwear to take a dip in the cool water, abandoning your clothes and wand on a mossy rock nearby.

Taking a running leap, you threw yourself into the water, feeling, for the first time in three days, free. A laugh rippled the waters as you broke through the surface, swimming back over to the edge, only for the laugh to be stolen away as you noticed a shadowed figure land next to your broom.

Bill Weasley was here to ruin your night, yet again.

You let out a strangled scream of frustration as the man alighted from his broom, feet and torso bared to the moonlight.

Clearly, he, like you, had not bothered to dress properly for the impromptu flight.

"Why are you following me."

Your question held no semblance of curiosity, only frustration as you demanded an answer from the man. His answer did not come, only moving towards the water to kneel in front of it, looking down at you.

"Why are you running away from me?"

Wisps of his ginger hair fell forward, covering bits of his handsome face as the rest was carelessly thrown up into a short ponytail, clearly done to prevent his hair from falling into his face during the flight, a precaution that you'd forgotten to take.

"I could ask you the same. Only, it must be a bit harder to hide from someone when they're already hiding from you in the first place, hmm?"

You turned away from the man, diving back down into the depths of the watering hole to kick yourself over to the other side, wanting to do nothing more than swim away from the ginger, or maybe, have him leave you alone and fly back to the burrow, alone.

But of course, fate never let you have your way.

You turned around only to see the man had sat himself down cross-legged, body illuminated by the moonlight as it highlighted the tattoos decorating his forearm, the several scars that littered his chest a sharp white juxtaposing his tanned skin.

"I never ran away from you."

Your head fell back as you tread the water lightly, looking up instead to admire the stars that embellished the night sky, recalling fondly the astronomy classes you'd taken in the past two years as you focused on constellation after constellation, intent on ignoring the man in front of you, hoping your disregard would drive him away.

"Y/N, I'm talking to you."

The words drew a monotone chuckle from you, your eyes snapping to meet Bill's.

"Well that's a first."

Bill moved to stand up, and your heart jumped for a moment. Maybe he would finally leave you alone.

But yet again, luck never did seem to favour Y/N Y/L/N.

Instead of moving further away as you'd thought he would, Bill moved closer, stepping into the shallow of the watering hole, the water soaking the bottom of his pants.

Your eyes darted at the ripple of his abs with every movement, swallowing as your eyes darted to look anywhere else you could. You were not about to find this man attractive.

You could see him coming towards you in your peripherals, and moved back to face him, his pecs the only part of his torso above the water.

"You haven't spoken to me for almost two years, and now you've just got so much to say to me, huh?

Bill looked down into the water, nibbling on his lip as he looked back into your eyes, almost sheepish as he tried to answer.

"I–"

"You know how much that hurt?"

You swam closer towards him, your feet finding ground as you stood next to him, your shoulders bared to the world as you were no longer submerged.

"You were like family to me for almost five years, and then one day. You just fucking stopped. Stopped talking to me. Stopped joking around with me. For a while, you didn't even look at me!"

Your hands came up out of the water, gesturing wildly as you basically screamed at the man, Bill flinching slightly as the water splashed into his face, looking back down at the water again.

Ashamed.

"D'you know how fucked up that was? I had no clue what happened, why one of the people I considered family, one of my favourite people in the world, just fucking despised me all of a sudden."

Bill looked up at you in surprise at your words.

"And you know the worst fucking part?"

Your voice suddenly fell to a hush, almost a whisper as a tear welled in your eye, prompting you to shut them as your head tilted down, urging your breath to slow down.

"The worst part, the worst part was that I thought it was my fault, that it was something I'd done to drive you away. I blamed myself for ages, didn't know what I said, didn't know why you hated me."

"Didn't know why you'd never like me back."

The last part was said in a true whisper, barely audible despite the silent night.

Yet Bill still heard it, and his breath hitched in his throat, eyes searching your face as a tear escaped you, rolling down your cheek.

Unable to restrain himself, Bill's hand darted forward out, cooled by the waters you two found yourself in, a blatant contrast to the warm tear as the pad of his thumb wiped it away.

You flinched away from Bill, feeling vulnerable for the first time that night, coming to the sudden realisation that you were clad only in your underwear, your unintended confession drawing heat to your cheeks as you moved away from the man.

"I, I was afraid."

Bill's own confession halted your movements, making you turn back around to look up at him, confused.

"I–, how do I say this. I was ashamed of myself."

It was now Bill's turn to feel vulnerable, his unease making him shift in the water, the water rippling around the two of you at his movements.

"That winter when you came back here, when you turned sixteen, I started seeing you as more than family. I– I found you attractive, and I felt disgusted with myself."

You huffed, disbelieving of the words you were hearing.

"I'm being serious Y/N. You just, grew up over those few months, and just came back different, somehow. I felt like a predator, I was twenty-three! You were still a kid, and I, I just didn't know what to do anymore."

"I wasn't a kid!"

"Of course you were! You were still in school, I'd been working for five years, I couldn't live with myself feeling like that. I didn't know what to do, so I just, distanced myself. Hoped that the feelings would go away eventually, then I'd just, go back to being normal."

Your eyes scanned the ginger's face, searching for a speck of a lie, a pinch of deception but only found uncertainty, attraction and lust dusting the man's face.

"But you never stopped..."

Your breath stopped for a moment as your eyes met.

"Are you being serious?"

His breath fanned your face as both of you instinctively moved closer towards each other, more of your body exposed to the world as you came further out of the water.

"As serious as I could be Y/N."

Your breath was taken away as Bill leaned in, ghosting his lips over yours, strands of ginger hair falling to tickle your face.

"Can I kiss you?"

A breathless whisper fell from Bill's lips, prompting you to nod in assent, the man falling to capture your lips before you even finished the move.

Sparks flew in that moment, the man's lips gliding over yours as he stole your breath away. You pulled apart after a second, before your lips fell back together again, insatiable in your desire to taste each other.

Bill's tongue teased you, mouth falling open for his teeth to graze at your lower lip, making you gasp such that your lips fell open in the same way, his hand moving to cup your jaw. Taking advantage of your momentary shock, the ginger slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring every nook and cranny of you as you moaned into his lips, pressing your chest against his.

The water waded around you as Bill's left hand moved down your body, fitting snugly under your ass as he muttered a soft 'jump', which you obliged.

Your legs wrapped around the man's hips, Bill walking the two of you onto the soft grass, muttering a charm against your lips before placing you down.

Instead of feeling prickly blades of grass on your skin, a soft blanket had appeared, making you smile, pulling away from the man.

"Quite the romantic, Mr Weasley. Know how to treat a girl right don't you?"

A deep chuckle sounded from the man who hovered above you on his hands and knees, biting his lower lip at the sight of you.

"Only the best for my girl."

Your heart leapt at Bill’s words; were you his now?

Not wanting to dwell on it, to overthink this moment of passion, you pulled his lips back down onto yours.

His girl.

⚔︎

The moon hung high in the night sky as both your hands explored each other, frantic, as if it was your last day on Earth and you only had here and now to envelop yourselves in each other.

The pure animalistic need that pulsed through the two of you allowed no time for foreplay, fingers hooking into the soaking fabrics that clung to both of you.

“Can I?”

Bill fingered the waistband of your underwear, thumb brushing your hip bone with motions feather light, wildly disparate from the way his lips devoured yours hungrily.

One act designed to ruin you, the other almost afraid he’d break you.

“Yes, I need you.”

You deigned to show him just how much by hooking your own fingers into his waistband, soaked pajama pants pulled away to reveal his boxers, clinging to his muscular frame.

Bill responded by undressing you with much of the same vigour, moving to pull your underwear down to your ankles, his pants in very much the same state, gazing down at your soaked private with lust clouding his vision.

“Next time,” he breathed out onto your glistening lips, “I’ll make you cum with just my tongue.”

Your breath hitched at his words, no, his promise, of a next time as Bill made his way back up your body, peppering kisses on your exposed skin, his hard-on grinding against your leg as he moved up.

The cursebreaker’s deft hands unhooked your bra expertly, sucking in a breath as your pert nipples were revealed to him.

“Beautiful.” He mumbled, almost as if he was speaking to himself.

Bill moved to unclothe himself fully, before you stopped his movements, his hands already pulling at the waistband around his hips.

“May, may I?”

He nodded as you sat up, eyes glazed as he studied your body, memorising the way your breasts glistened in the moonlight. He would make it his mission to mark them, to show anyone who came near you that you were no one’s, but his.

You hooked your fingers into his boxers, pulling them down to his thighs at an almost agonising pace as every part of Bill was unveiled to you, standing proudly in the light.

“Are you... a virgin?”

The man above you asked as it dawned upon him. He was really about to have the girl he’d been craving for.

“No, I’m not.”

His jaw clenched at your admission, the thought of someone else’s hands on you ticking him off, before pushing it away.

It didn’t matter. You were with him now.

He nodded, coming back down to kiss you as one hand braced him by your head, the other reaching down to pump himself slowly.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, eyes falling closed as you immerse yourself in him.

Bill’s knee nudged your thighs apart, moving himself so he was lined up against you, hand brushing his cock up and down your lips, causing both of you to shudder.

His head dipped into you, your tight heat causing him to hiss, pausing for a moment to savour the feeling before pushing himself in fully, stopping only once he’d bottomed out.

“Are y’okay?”

You bit your lower lip as Bill moved away from you to scan your face for discomfort or pain. His girth, while not quite painful was definitely bordering on pain, your walls stretching as he filled you entirely.

“Yes, just, one second.”

Your hands gripped his neck, lacing your fingers through the tresses of his hair as you adjusted around him. As the pain receded, you nodded, a silent signal for the man to move.

He carefully pulled out of you, then pushed back in slowly, hands landing by your head to brace himself, testing the waters whilst both of you moaned at the feeling.

“Faster.”

Bill obliged, moving to thrust in and out of you at increasing speeds with each movement. His hips snapped against yours at a speed that could only be described as vicious, eliciting sounds that defiled the tranquil nature you were surrounded by.

You were breathless as the man thrusted in and out of you, his movements only capable of drawing pants and whimpers from your mouth, the activity rendering you a simpleton who knew only two words - ‘Bill’ and ‘please’.

Your climax soon drew close, a coil tightening with his every sound and every move, your body notifying the man above you by the clench of your walls around him, the motion drawing him closer to his own orgasm.

“Are you close baby?”

A nod was all you managed as you threw your head back, Bill’s tip brushing against your g-spot edging you even closer to your precipice.

One of Bill’s hands moved down your body, landing on the bundle of nerves above where the two of you met, rubbing figure eights onto you, making you let out a gasp of surprise as the older man helped you move closer to your orgasm.

His movements didn’t falter as your moans grew louder, seeming instead encouraged by the promise of your climax, your moans growing loud and unabashed.

Each pant of his name made the man groan in return, moving both his fingers and his hips so ferociously that your breasts bounced with each thrust, your back sure to be red and chafed in the morning from the friction against the blanket.

But you didn’t care - the only thoughts you were capable of manifesting was how good it felt to have Bill inside you, how this was the one thing you’d ever needed to feel full, how he never stopped in his stimulation, the way his mouth felt on your nipples - sucking on the skin of your breasts, a reminder that would last of this fleeting night.

As Bill stimulated you with his cock, his fingers, his mouth, you couldn’t hold it in any longer - and you could tell Bill was reaching his breaking point as well - you let out a moan that would awaken the sleeping birds in the tree nearby, a scream of “Bill” that would leave the twins wondering why your voice was hoarse in the morning left you, legs trembling as you released around the man.

Yet he still never relented.

As you rode out your orgasm, your cunt throbbing, Bill never faltered in his actions, hips thrusting into you as he bit into your neck softly, intent on marking you for all to see as his cock twitched inside of you.

With a moan that you could only describe as sinful, yet angelic, a sound that would haunt your dreams and bless your nightmares, teeth grazing your sensitive skin, Bill came into you. Hot stripes of white liquid coating your walls while his thrusts slowed to a stop.

Getting up on trembling hands, Bill hovered above you, exiting you in a slow movement that had you whimpering at the sudden emptiness, your eyes still shut from your post-orgasmic bliss.

Lips pressed onto your forehead, as if Bill was savouring something he didn’t want to lose.

Something you didn’t want to lose either.

⚔︎

The flight back to the Burrow was silent, the two of you side by side as you flew through the wilderness of Ottery St. Catchpole.

When you landed, you looked out onto the nature around you, Bill landing almost immediately after you.

In the distance, you could see the sun readying to rise in the East, colours bleeding into the sky that had been pitch dark save for the spattered stars hours ago.

“Did you regret that?”

The man standing beside you asked after a moment of silence, not daring to meet your eyes as he appeared vulnerable, afraid, feigning an interest in the rising sun.

His muscular arm was what you were faced with as you turned towards him, his tall stature casting a shadow over you. You eyed the red marks you’d left on him, the little reminders scattered on his shoulders and back.

“No. Did you?”

The cursebreaker turned to face you, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched you, scanning your face for the umpteenth time that night.

“Of course not.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, drawing Bill’s gaze down towards them, a small smile telling you he was admiring the slowly darkening marks he’d left on you.

“Then why’d you assume I would’ve?”

He caught his lower lip between his teeth, gnawing on it absentmindedly as he shrugged.

“I dunno. Just assumed you wouldn’t have wanted that with an older man or somethin’, I s’just worried, s’all.”

You inhaled deeply, letting out a long sigh as you reached out towards the man, cupping a hand on either side of his chiseled jaw, making him look into your eyes.

“Bill, that was my decision to make. If I didn’t want to have sex with you, I wouldn’t’ve done it. It’s not your place to decide for me whether I wanted it.”

You leaned in to capture his lips in yours; this time deepening the kiss on your terms, slipping your tongue into his mouth and savouring his taste.

Cinnamon, with a hint of mint and tobacco.

You pulled away, tracing your lips to the sweet spot under his ear, sucking softly before turning to whisper in his ear.

“I wanted it, and I’ve wanted you for longer than you could have known.”

part two out now x

[nightwishesworld]

Jealousy

It was a quiet day at the Dimitrescu Castle. The girls were unusually calm going about their business in and out of the basement, keeping their messes down there for the most part. None of the staff was being chased down the corridors in fear of their life and even better; there were no crashing sounds of decorative pieces being broken. Only silence. You and Alcina settled in the library for the afternoon. It started off nice with the two of you lost in your own novels, but it wasn’t long until the vampire grew bored and wanted cuddles. You were more than happy to oblige. It was one of those days that you’d call perfect. Alcina lounged on the couch with her head resting on your lap. Her eyes are closed and all she can focus on is your rhythmic breathing and the feeling of your fingers gently massaging her scalp. A perfect lazy afternoon. You almost thought she had fallen asleep until suddenly her eyes were open, glowing their beautiful gold. Alcina raised her head and sat upright, eyes glued her eyed to the main doors.

"Someone coming, Darling?" You ask in a low voice, reaching blindly behind you for the weapon concealed under the cushions.

She nods. "Sounds like a woman running out of breath. Perhaps a maiden managed to escape the basement." She leaned toward you like she was ready to shield you from whoever was making their way down the corridor. You could hear the footsteps now, they were coming closer and closer to you. Alcina was right, it was definitely a woman, the footsteps were much too delicate to be a man. Said vampiress was practically on top of you now, her arm supporting her weight on the opposite side of you, just in case you needed to be protected.

Whoever it is was just outside the door. You both braced yourselves as the door now twisted. Just as Alcina was about to pounce on the intruder, you both recognized her as one of the maids. False alarm. It was only Mihaela, a very dear friend of yours from the below village. You grew up together and considered yourselves sisters. When her father passed away Alcina welcomed the girl into the castle with open arms. The girls had been introduced to Mihaela on more than one occasion and knew not to harm her. You'd like to think they consider her more or less a friend.

"What are you doing here, dear," Alcina immediately relaxes back onto the couch. "It's your day off, is it not?"

The girl nodded, physically unable to get any words out.

"Good Lord, Mihaela, did you run all the way up the mountain?"

She nodded again. Alcina stood to fetch her a tall glass of water. Mihaela eagerly accepted. "Y/n!" she rasped. "You'll never guess who's in the village right now asking about you."

You share a sideways glance with Alcina, waiting for the girl to continue. Who could possibly be asking about me?

"E/n, your ex!"

If you were drinking something you would have choked. That was a name you hadn't thought about in years. To say you were not expecting that would be the understatement of the century. You don't know what to say. What can you say? What could they possibly want with you after all these years? Money? A place to stay? Work?

Sweet spawn of Satan Aclina would kill them.

She's still staring at Mihaela with an expressionless look on her face.

"What?" You hope you simply heard her wrong.

Mihaela nods vigorously. "I know! I couldn't believe it either. There I was, helping my little brother open up shop for the day and I see them walk by. At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but the next thing I know they're inside the shop hugging me! I could barely get a word out I was so floored."

"I thought they left to tour Romania looking for their 'dream job?'"

"Didn't work out. I guess no one would keep her employment for long. They said they were too good for the jobs anyway, can you believe that?"

"Honestly? Yes. You remember how outlandish they were, guess they haven't changed too much."

Mihaela giggled. "It sure felt that way."

"So wait, how did my name get brought up?"

"They asked if you were still around- seemed pretty keen on seeing you again."

Alcina rolled her eyes. "Marvelous."

You take her gloved hand in yours and give it a reassuring squeeze. She eases up a little bit as you rub circles on top of her hand. "You said no, right?"

"Of course I did!"

"Then why do you look so nervous, Mihaela?" Alcina asked.

The girl stood like a statue, only moving to twiddle her thumbs. Silence fills the room as the matriarch waits patiently for the girl to speak. Her eyebrow arches as if she says "I'm waiting..."

Finally, Mihaela speaks. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in.</p>

"As I was leaving I heard them asking others of your whereabouts. It's only a matter of time before they find out the truth."</p>

"Well that's just fantastic then, isn't it? Now we can't even go down to our own village without risking an encounter."</p>

Mihaela gave a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, Lady Dimitrescu. They're not staying in our village, just passing through. I believe they said the village just east of us, on the other side of the forest."

Alcina hummed. "Best to stay away then, don't you agree, Love?"

You couldn't nod your head quick enough. "Of course. What do they want with me though? I haven't even thought about them in years."

Mihaela shrugged. "I guess they just wanna talk? Reconnect with all our old friends? I didn't ask; just said you weren't around anymore."

"Couldn't you have just told them I died or something? That would have solved everything! They wouldn't be going around using about me AND if they ask to visit my grave you just bring them to the coolest tree in the forest and say I'm buried under it. My body intertwined with its roots. You could've had so much fun with the dramatics!"

"Do you think they'd be stupid enough to come looking her y/n up here?" Alcina asks in an almost hopeful tone.

Mihaela rolls her eyes. "Well, I only came to warn you. You know how...persistent they can be. Now that I'm here, may I stay and pick up some work?"

"Of course you may, my dear. If it's the trek back down you want to avoid I can always call a carriage for you."

"That's very generous of you, my Lady, but really, I don't mind. I like to keep busy."

Alcina nodded, accepting the answer. "Very well, dear. My study could use another dusting once you've regained yourself."

As the doors close behind Mihaela, the matriarch relaxes and lies back down with her head on your lap."Well, that was interesting."

You immediately start running your fingers through her hair. "No kidding, What the hell do they want from me? I thought we agreed we'd never have to look at each other ever again, now they wanna talk?"

"I wouldn't know. You've never told me about this person."

"I was sparing you, trust me." Alcina still looked up at you, her eyes flurrying with emotion. "There isn't much to tell, Al. We were together a few years and couldn't make it work so we started hurting each other, sometimes just out of spite. Really, Al, it's nothing I ever felt compelled to bring up; especially to you." You can't hold back a giggle. "You know how jealous you can be."

"I do not get jealous."

"Al, not two weeks ago you almost slaughtered the village butcher cause you didn't like the way he looked at me."

She rolled her eyes. "That swine was looking you up and down like you were nothing more than a piece of meat."

A comfortable silence fills the library. You're both lost in your own worlds together. Alcina stares up blankly at you as you continue to read."It was a serious relationship then? If it lasted a few years then it must have been."

You try to hide behind your novel and Alcina tosses it to the ground. You can't look her in the eyes without blushing and feeling really uncomfortable. "It was-umm...we were...briefly engaged."

"What?!" Alcina bolts up from her spot. "You were engaged?!"

You nod curtly. "Briefly engaged, yes."

Alcina just stares at you, completely flabbergasted. "When were you planning on telling me that?"

You pulled a confused face. "Um never? Why would I ever bring that up? Under what pretense is that an ok thing to bring up?"

"I..." She sighs, "I don't know."

"I'm sorry, Alcina. I didn't think it was a big deal."

"I suppose it's not. You're here now and that's all that matters."

You crawl on her lap and give her a sweet kiss. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Later That Night

You were out on the balcony gazing up at the array of constellations, waiting for Alcina to join you when there was a knock at the bedroom doors. Strange, no one is around at this hour. From your vantage point, it sounded like one of the servants talking to Alcina. He handed her something through the crack of the open door before having the door slammed in his face. Alcina joined you out on the balcony and handed you a rather beaten-up-looking envelope. "This was left for you by the main gates. Can't imagine who it's from?"

"Fuck, already?"

Alcina hummed as she sipped her wine. "A letter from your ex-fiancee."

"Wanna read it together?"

Alcina shakes her head but it looks forced. "It's none of my business."

"I don't care Alcina, really. This is clearly bothering you and I want to know what's going on between them and me."

"Well, if you're sure then." She hands you a letter opener and curls up next to you. The action briefly reminds you of a puppy looking for attention.

You waste no time opening the envelope and pull out a short, sloppily written letter.

I hope this letter finds you well. Please, before you crumple this up and throw it away please just hear me out. I want to apologize for how I treated you when we were together. Obviously, we were both dealing with a lot back then because we were young and stupid, but I'd like to think I've changed a lot since then. Don't get me wrong, I still have my moments, I'm only human, But I really have changed. If you still hate me and never want to talk to me again I understand. I wanted to say I'm sorry and see if we could make an effort to at least stay friends. I'm not the wreckless teenager you used to know and I've always thought about reaching out to you.

These past years of backpacking have taught me a lot and helped me grow up. I had to learn how to fix my own problems and not lean on someone else's support. I had to learn how to live off the land and support myself through the good and bad times. I realize now that I wasn't able to take care of you because I was unable to properly take care of myself. I see that now. You were never far from my mind; I thought about you every day I was gone.

The blacksmith told me you're working at Dimitrescu Castle as a handmaiden? Never thought you of all people would ever accept that kind of job, but hey, I guess I'm not the only one that changed. I hear it's pretty tough up there...then again you're the toughest person I've ever met. If anyone can handle it it's you. How are they treating you up there?  What's it like living in such a massive castle? You know me, I would probably lose my way and get lost haha.

I really hope you decide to write back, but no pressure. I understand everything we went through was...a lot to deal with and you want your space. Just in case you want to respond, I'll leave my address enclosed. A nice elderly couple is letting me stay with them in exchange for work. How sweet is that? It's mostly just labor chores around the house that need to be done so it's no big deal.

Best regards,

E/N

You share a look with Alcina who only scowls at the piece of paper. "I don't like the sound of this."

You shake your head, genuinely lost for words."I don't even know what to say, honestly."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know."

Alcina sighs and sits you on her lap, straddling her thick thighs. "I know you're going to say forget about them because of me," she silences you with a single finger to your lips. "But it's ok. I know you love me and only me. You're allowed to have friends outside the castle, my love, and I have no right to deny you. Even if this particular friend was your ex-fiancee; I trust you completely."

Your heart was melting in your chest. Even though it looks like it took all her strength to say those words you know she means it. 'Thank you, Alcina. I know you don't like this, but I would at least like to hear what they have to say. Our relationship wasn't a happy one at the end and, well, I don't know, I guess I just want some closure. But I promise every letter I get we will read together."

"Oh you don't have to do that, love, I trust you."

"I know and I appreciate that very much. But I want you to know exactly what's being said between the two of us, even if it's just to ease your mind about them."

Alcina smiles down at you and strokes your lips. "What have I done to deserve you?"

"Whatever it was, you definitely deserve me."

Three months and several letter exchanges later

“Why do we entertain this, again?”

You glanced up after opening the latest letter received. “Because, my love, all they’re looking for is a friend. It’s been a long time since they left the village and a lot has changed, the people included. Trust me, as soon as they make more friends down there they will get bored of me.”

Alcina only groaned in response as she laid herself down on the bed, rather dramatically, so her head was in your lap. “Doesn’t sound that way to me. Last week they said, and I quote, it means the world to me that we’re talking again. I can’t believe after all this time and everything we’ve been through you’re still willing to talk to me.” She sighed. “I’m still surprised myself.”

You lean down and kiss her lips chastely. She pulls you back onto her and bites your lower lip, causing you to gasp. She takes this opportunity to deepened the kiss, caressing your tongue with her own.

You only pull away when the need for oxygen is desperate. “You’re needy when you’re jealous.”

She scrunched her face in disgust. “I told you I am not jealous. There’s nothing to be jealous of. They are nothing.”

“It’s ok babe, I think it’s cute.” You kiss her sweetly. “Shows me how much you love me.”

A light blush powdered Alcina's cheeks. “Well, I do love you.”

“I love you too.”

She closes her eyes and focuses on the feeling of your fingers running through her hair. “So, what are they saying this time?”

“Nothing interesting. They’re still looking for work, I think they might still be holding out on us hiring them. Even though I made it very clear there’s no place for them here.”

“Absolutely not,” Alcina growled. “It’s bad enough I have to listen to you read these damned letters why would I want to hire them? Short-staffed or not that...person is not allowed in my home.”

“I know Darling, I made it very clear. You know that.”

“I know you did. You were sweet enough to let me read it.”

You chuckle as you continue reading. “I let you read all the letters, Alcina. You’re my partner and I love you. You have a right to know what’s going on.”

She moved to sit up and kissed the top of your head. “I appreciate that.”

She made her way over to the vanity and starts taking off her makeup. You paid her little attention as you continued glazing over the letter. This has become your weekly routine; open the letter, read it first by yourself, and then give it to Alcina to read over so she can make fun of the person for the rest of the night. You think it’s her way of letting all her jealous energy out. She knows you and this particular ex were extremely close. It was the deepest relationship you had been in previous to Alcina. But it was also the most toxic relationship you had ever been in.

Every week you got the letter you would assure her there was no reason to get jealous or upset as she does. Not that you minded the extra cuddles and kisses that came along with jealous-clingy Alcina. It was cute. The way she gets close and cuddly with you like an attention-starved kitten.

You were about halfway through the letter when you realized the handwriting changed ever so slightly. It appeared sloppier than the previous paragraphs, almost as if the writer’s hand was shaking as they wrote. Then as you continued down the page the reason became apparent.

“....what are the odds us giving our relationship a second chance? I’ve changed a lot over the years and now that I’m back...maybe things would be different? I never lost feelings for you. This has been on my mind for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to bring it up until today.”

Oh god....

You turn back to Alcina who thankfully hasn’t noticed your sudden nervous energy. You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your nerves, before continuing.

“My feelings never really went away, only transferred from person to person cause I wanted them to be you. But they weren’t and never can be. You have always been so special to me- you should know that by now. It’s nice having you here again. You were a major part of my life growing up. I wish I could change not having you around these past years cause you were my everything.”

You raise a hand to cover your mouth and bit down on one of your fingers.

As you look up to check on her your heart sinks as you’re met with her eyes burning into you through the reflection of the mirror. She knows something’s wrong. Of course, she knows- she always knows! It’s like she can smell your nervousness from across the room. She doesn’t break eye contact even when removing her lipstick.

You try your hardest to pretend she isn’t staring and continue on reading.

“If there’s a way to make your feelings for me come back you better believe I’ll find it. But I know I can’t force you to feel something you don’t anymore. It’s just always been so easy to connect with you. That’s why I want to try and rekindle our flame. You’re such a loving, generous, kind-hearted person to be around. I always admired you for that. To this day I’ve never been able to connect with someone as deeply as I did you.”

“For fuck sake...” you thought. “It can’t get any worse than this right? It can’t possibly get any worse.”

You don’t have to look up to know that Alcina’s stare has intensified. Her eyes are practically burning holes in the back of your head. You know the game she’s playing too...she’s gonna wait until she knows you’re finished reading and come over to read it for herself and let the rages of hell consume her. After all, you’ve seen how out of control her temper can become, this year alone she’s gone through three replicas of her vanity. And that was only because Mother Miranda called.

“....I’m glad to hear you’re in good health. Your health has always been something I worry tirelessly about, even when we weren’t on good terms.”

You sigh in relief. “Ok, that’s not so bad. I guess I can forgive that one. My health has always been up and down, even Alcina worries like a dog over me some days.”

“When I leave again maybe you can come with me? We always did talk about living in the country. We can have our own land for whatever animals you want and a barn to match.”

You actually yelp out of surprise. “Holy shit that’s worse...that’s so much worse. Alcina is going to be livid when she sees this.”

Your attempt to steady your breathing fails miserably. The most you can hope for now is to not make eye contact- then she sees how much of a nervous wreck you are. “Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look- FUCK!”

In an instant, Alcina’s up and making her way to stand behind you, won’t glass in hand. She’s already glaring down at the piece of paper like it personally cussed her out. “What did that lowlife say this time?”

“Alcina, I don’t think you should-“ it’s too late. She’s already snatched it out of your hands.

You start inching away as you watch her facial expressions morph from displeased to disgust, to seething as her eyes scan the bottom of the page. Her breathing is heavy, her nostrils are flaring, and her eyes glowing a bright gold as she recites the final paragraph out loud.

“I’m always going to be here for you from now on. I made the mistake of missing all those years with you. I ain’t missing no more.

Goodnight, MY LOVE?!”

You bring a hand up to hook around her arm. “Calm down, Alci.”

She doesn’t respond. Everything is quiet for what felt like hours when in reality it was only about a minute. You watched her eyes scan over the page over and over again until they fall back on you.

You have never really been scared of the vampiress, she never gave you a reason to be. But those eyes hold no mercy. You want to run away and cower somewhere she’ll never find you, the abandoned passages maybe, but fear has you frozen in place.

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, it’s one of those psychopathic smiles someone sees right before they die. She notices your cautiousness and is quick to retract her claws and thread her fingers through your hair. “If you’ll excuse me, darling. There’s some business I must attend to in the basement.”

“Alci-“

“I’ll be back later tonight, porumbel mic. Don’t wait up.”

Hours passed before you abandoned the idea of sleeping and decided to stroll around the castle. It was usually only done with Alcina when one of you had trouble falling asleep, but since she was still nowhere to be found you figured it couldn't hurt to try by yourself. Bloodcurdling screams from the basement were particularly loud tonight. The girls must have found themselves new toys to play with. No matter which part of the castle you were in you could hear the muffled cries of the damned. You wrote it off as Daniela and Cassandra being particularly intense. Eventually, you ran into Bela while in the west wing. She flashed you a broad smile.

"A little late for you, isn't it y/n?"

"Couldn't sleep. Your sisters are having a lot of fun tonight, huh?"

The eldest vampire sibling shot you a confused look. "What are you talking about?"

"All the screaming in the basement, that's them, right?"

She started laughing. "Oh no, y/n, that's all Mother's doing. She's pretty pissed about something; I haven't seen her this mad in decades! And from the looks of it, I bet you know why."

You rubbed the back of your neck and look around the corridor, really anywhere other than Bela's eyes. "Well..."

"Ooh! What is it? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, not really. It's just, someone I used to be in a relationship with has been sending me letters and Alci thought it would be alright if I responded. Just to make sure they knew I was happy and safe and all that kind of stuff. Then after I'm done reading what they sent me I give the letter to your mother to let her read. So she knows there's nothing going on between the two of us, ya know?"

Bela nods, stars shining bright in her eyes. "OOh what did the letter say?"

"They um, confessed they still had feelings for me. And they were thinking about running away with me to the countryside."

Bela looked like she was going to explode from all this excitement. You knew she was only pretending to not know about all the other letters. Bela was the gossip seeker of the family. Nothing made the girl happier than to have something to blackmail you with, or anyone really. There was no escaping her wrath, not even Alcina could.

"Mother must have been seething!"

"Yeah," you felt rather guilty about it. "I guess she's taking her anger out on the basement dwellers."

Bela giggled. "Better them than us, right?"

"No question about it."

It's after three in the morning when Alcina finally crawls into bed next to you. She's already stripped herself naked and there's a thin layer of sweat covering her body. She wraps herself around your back and you try to be as still as possible, giving the illusion you're fast asleep. You should have known better. This is Alcina Dimitrescu we're talking about here. The woman can probably smell your anxiety from the other side of the castle.

"I told you not to wait up."

You sigh and roll over on your back. "I slept a few hours, then woke up and couldn't fall back. Even walking around the castle didn't help."

The vampire shifted her body so she was almost laying on top of you; her arm is draped over your middle, a leg nudging between yours, and she's nestling her face in the crook of your neck.

"Do you feel any better?"

Even in the low light of the moon, you can see her looking at you. "A little bit."

An uncomfortable silence filled the bedroom. Neither of you knew what to say if there was anything to be said. You decide to break the silence.

"I'm sorry, Alcina. You were right from the beginning. I shouldn't have engaged with them," your eyes widen at your own words. "Sorry, not the word I should have used."

She chuckles into your neck before giving your pulse point a kiss. "It's not your fault, porumbel mic. My anger is not directed at you."

"Still, I should have known this would happen. I'm not responding, of course."

She starts kissing and licking down your neck. "Good. Alcina Dimitrescu does not share her porumbel mic with anyone."

Soft quiet moans began escaping your mouth, which encouraged Alcina even more. You shared a brief moment of unspoken words before joining your mouths to one another. You move to straddle her and press your body into her with everything you've got. For the rest of the night, you proceed to remind Alcina just how much you love her.

A week later in the village

It was a quaint little village, full of blossoming flowers in the spring and cheerful wildlife wandering around the outskirts. The people of the village fended for each other all year round. It was a very tight-knit place to live. Chatter fills the air along with the tantalizing aromas from various shops as the people go about their daily routines. You and Bela had accompanied Alcina while running some errands. Nothing important, really, just picking up various perfumes and lotions the matriarch was running low on. Bela made herself comfortable sitting by the fountain in the village square, growing rather impatient and bored.

You were about to suggest going in the shop with Alcina to help move things along quicker until you heard it. That single sound made your heart stop beating and drop to the pit of your stomach.

"Y/n!" They called from a distance. You groaned when you saw their silhouette approaching, and nearly pulled your own hair out when you saw how happy they were to see you. Bela, however, looked very pleased with the change of atmosphere. "OOH y/n is that them? The one from the letters that wants to run away with you?"

You nod.

As they get closer Bela pretends to gag. "Ew, you were seriously going to marry that?"

You elbow her in the side, hoping they didn't hear that. "I was young ok. Please just go get your mother and tell her to hurry up."

The girl flashed you an evil smile. "With pleasure."

She got away just in time. They greeted you not with a handshake, or a playful punch to the shoulder, but with a bone-crushing hug that lasted a little too long to be comfortable. "How's it going y/n? Gosh, I never thought I would be lucky enough to run into you here!" They pulled away and looked you over a few times. You had the inclination to cover yourself even though you were completely clothed. "You look incredible."

"Thanks, it's uh, nice to see you too."

"So what are you doing here little miss handmaiden? Running some errands for your Lady or is it your day off or something? Do handmaidens even do stuff like that? I don't know. Anyways, if you aren't doing anything right now, you wanna grab something to eat?"

Fuck no

Before you could think of an excuse Bela was at your side again, smiling even more wickedly than before. "Mother is making her final purchase and then we're returning home. We best meet her at the carriage." Her eyes fixate on the person standing opposite of her like a wolf to its prey. "You must be e/n. I've read so much about you!"

You elbow her in the stomach. "Bela!"

Meanwhile, e/n had never looked so embarrassed. "Oh, so you let them read all our-"

The gods were smiling upon you today. Being saved from awkward conversations left and right.

"Come along, my darlings. Time to go home," Alcina calls behind you. Your heart starts racing in your chest, whether it was from anxiety or anticipation you had no idea. As soon as Alcina locked eyes with your ex her entire face shifted. She went from calm and happy Mother Alcina to cold-hearted Lady Dimitrescu almost instantaneously. Your ex was in awe of the tall woman before them. They heard rumors about the Lady of course but always believed them to be just that; rumors and wives' tales.

Bela ran to her mother's side. "Mother, look, it's e/n from the letters."

You pinched the bridge of your nose and could swear you feel a migraine coming on.

Alcina looked them over and nodded. Her expression was neutral, but you knew her eyes held no mercy. "So it seems."

Your ex bowed in respect to Lady Dimitrescu ad greeted her politely. It wasn't bad actually, too bad they're already on Alcina's blacklist. "It's an honor to meet you, Lady Dimitrescu."

She smiles, "I know it is, dear."

You lost composure for a split second and let out a snort. "Apologies, my lady, are you ready to return to the carriage?"

Alcina only waved you off. "Oh come now, my love, there's no need to be so formal. They're a friend, after all, are they not?"

Yup, definitely feel a migraine coming on. Though you had to admit, the look on their face was absolutely priceless. They rubbed the back of their neck awkwardly. "I'll just um...I'll see ya around, y/n."

Alcina wore the proudest smile you had ever seen as they walked off.

"You're ridiculous sometimes, you know that?"

The vampires only laughed in response. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Alcina opened the carriage door for you and Bela to enter first, ever the gentleman, and took a moment to survey the village around her. Only when her eyes met your ex's did she enter the carriage herself, pulling her girls close.

[iguana-eyanna]

The Beauty Within Everything

Pairing: preserum! Steve Rogers x 1940s! reader

Summary: reader thinks Steve stood her up on their date but realizes he’s very ill

Warnings: illness, decline of physical health, angst

You were walking on the sidewalk, fuming with every step you took in your heels, cursing under your breath to whoever invented these shoes.

You were on your way to confronting Steve, your boyfriend, at his place.

You think back to the first time you met Steve at a park. You both sat on the same bench as you were reading a sort of novel while Steve was drawing something on paper. The wind blew strongly as he lost his grip on the piece, flying beside your feet. You pick it up and give it to him, looking down to realize he was drawing you.

You both blush at each other as you complimented his talent and he commented on your beauty. Then on, you guys have been dating for a couple of months.

Now, you were beyond upset about Steve avoiding you for the past week. He promised to take you out on a date, but then stood you up on the very night. You tried calling his telephone but he never picked up the line. Now you arrived on his doorstep, knocking on the door loudly. What you didn't expect was for Bucky, his best friend, to greet you.

"Hi, angel face. What brings you here?" Bucky tiredly asked. "I can ask the same for you, it looks like you haven't slept in days." you replied. Before Bucky could rebut, you invite yourself in looking for any sign of your boyfriend.

"Now's not a good time to visit Steve, doll." Bucky says, trying to usher you out. "That charm won't work on me Bucky. I have been beyond worried about why Steve hasn't been responding to my calls. Is he alright?" You ask, not realizing a figure is shuffling to the two of you.

"You shouldn't have come." a voice croaked out, coughing afterward. You turn around and gasp lightly, looking at a very ill Steve. His skin was pale as snow, and it looked like he was prying to keep his eyes open for a bit longer. Steve tries to take another step but almost falls down to his knees.

You and Bucky catch him in time, as you could feel your boyfriend going limp in your arms. "Help me take him to his bed." Bucky gritted his teeth as he properly held Steve on his side. The both of you took him to his mattress as you opened his blankets so Bucky can tuck in his friend. Steve's eyes were partly closed, but you both can tell he was drifting off to sleep. You sweep his hair out of his eyes and then follow Bucky to the living room.

"What happened?" you whispered lightly, trying not to wake him up. Bucky looks down to the ground, not wanting to break the news to you. "When Steve was a kid, the doctor said that he has a weak immune and respiratory system. Since then, he's had a lot of fevers in a span of months, up to the point where he contracts pneumonia twice a year. I've been staying with him for the past week in case something happens." You sit on a nearby chair, feeling your heart aching for Steve's health.

"This has been going on for years? Why hasn't he said anything? I would have understood if-" Bucky rolls his eyes and sits next to you. "You know him, he's stubborn as a piece of wood. But I think he was scared you'd reject him." Bucky sadly admitted. You stare at a nearby window, trying to think.

You stood up and grabbed your purse "I'll go to the market to buy some things. I'll take care of him. You need to go home and get some rest." Bucky was too tired to fight you on it, so he waited for your return.

You came back with bags of groceries as Bucky helped you carry them to the empty fridge. Before he left, he gave you instructions on how to help steve if he had a coughing fit or if he wasn't able to hold himself.

"Remember, he may have the will of ten men, but he's delicate." You nod your head and lock the door once Barnes leaves. You then started making a pot of your signature soup to pass time in case Steve wakes. Suddenly you hear him coughing uncontrollably, so you turned off the fire and grabbed a glass of water.

Seeing him sitting up with his chest heaving made your heartstrings pull. You then tended to him as you offered to Steve the cup that he gradually took.

Once his breathing slows to a normal rhythm, he looks up to you with such heartbreak. "You should go, I don't want to be a burden." he said the best he could.

You sit in front of him by the foot of the bed, ready to scold the living heck out of him. "I am not going anywhere, mister. You still owe me an apology for standing me up this past week. I was worried sick, Steve. Why would you keep this from me?"

“Cause I didn't want you to be looking at me like this." He replied in a small voice.

"You know I would have understood, you shouldn't have kept me in the dark." You told him, not breaking eye contact. Steve's eyes begin to water and cleaned them away with his sleeve.

"When I recently got sick, I realized something. I’m not the man who could carry you in my arms and kiss you with every ounce in my body without wheezing. I'm not the man who's able to provide for you, like giving you pretty dresses or sweet-smelling perfumes. Heck, I can't even afford you a rose” Steve said as his voice was breaking.

"And now you're spending your money to feed your poor pathetic boyfriend back to health. Can't you see I'm nothing but trouble for you?" He concludes, staring at you. You pause for a bit, reflecting on the words he uttered from his mouth.

"Not once have I ever thought you were weak, Steve. Dear God, I think you're one of the bravest men I know. So please, don't bring yourself down because you can't perform these things you've fantasized about doing. I have never cared for extravagant gifts and just having you in my life is more than enough. You taught me so much about life and the beauty within everything around me. That's why I..." you close in to take his hand on top of your beating heart.

"I love you. I love you so much that it hurts me to think you can't rely on me when you're in so much pain. So please Steve, don't push me away when we both know we were made for each other."

Steve's face softens as he begins to cry. You begin to tear up as you pull him into your chest, comforting him with all that you could give.

"What did I deserve to be with you?" he hiccuped.

"Everything, love. Everything, and more." you replied, lightly combing the back of his hair with your fingers.

Steve lets go of you and wiped away his tears, regaining his breath.

“How can I make up for the past week?” he asks, knitting his eyebrows with determination.

“You can make it up to me by telling the truth from now on. No more secrets between us. And I am nursing you back to health, starting with a soup I just made.” You told him.

Steve nods his head and feels his stomach rumble just from the mention of food. "Well, I am hungry." he sheepishly smiles. You laugh at his reply and got up to fetch a bowl of soup. You return back with the food and Steve holds his hand to feel the warmth of the bowl. Once he starts consuming it, his eyes roll to the back of his head and almost made a moaning sound.

"This is the most amazing meal I've had in a long time." Steve announced, making you laugh harder. He's happy that he made you smile, realizing how much he missed hearing the sound of your voice.

She was his rock, and he wouldn't have it any other way.