#will i ever write the remaining 21?

[jon-withnoh]

Beatrice was leaning against the fence, reaching over it to scratch her horse between the ears. Her boots were covered in ash. I put a hand on her shoulder.

“You disappeared… I was worried.”

“There’s no need,” she said gruffly. “I am fine.”

“It must have been awful for you, seeing it like this.”

“It was home, no matter how long ago I’d moved away.” Her shoulders slumped forward.

“Oh, Beatrice.” I hugged her. To my surprise, she did not push me away. I stood and held held her, determined to be steady for as long as she needed me.

— Prompt 24: just really needed a hug

[aturinfortheworse]

it may have taken me 15 years but i have finally learned to make sure each draft of a book contains a note right at the start saying "Here's when I started this draft and why and how it relates to the other twenty-seven-and-a-half drafts with titles like 'The Remaining Gods 2018 (Older) Unabridged Edited.'"

[gayerthanevertbh]

good girls have gone… bad?

summary: her sister has been on your thoughts ever since you became friends with yelena. you two exchanged a quick gaze, and you both wondered right away who natasha romanoff was. sleeping with your best friend's sister isn't such a bad idea, considering yelena left you to spend some time alone with natasha, right? you knew she was way older than you, and you loved that.

warnings: smut, age difference (reader is 21; natasha is 37) blowjob, natasha has a penis, dirty talking, and more - 18+ minors dni

note: i'm back! i'm sorry if i haven't been updating, if i have to be honest i lost interest in this account. but now that i'm back, i think i'll be writing here more often! i apologize if there are some errors with this fic

“I have to get my report card at uni today,” While I was engrossed in a vlog on my phone, Yelena let out a sigh as she devoured her bag of chips. “Are you okay being alone here for now? I mean, you’re with Natasha. So you’re in good hands.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Your sister doesn’t talk much.”

“She has a day off from work; give her a break.”

I laughed involuntarily. “Even though she’s not at work, she doesn’t talk much. She’ll talk if we want something for dinner or something.”

"I believe she is simply shy," Yelena kissed me on the forehead and said as she got her bag off the couch. “Listen, call me if you need anything. Just hope that I have a signal.”

I smiled at her as she departed, leaving me in solitude within the living room, embracing the tranquility. Yelena and I have been friends since senior year, which I find amusing considering that I have always seen her at school since I was a freshman. It's etched in my memory how she was the one who reached out to me initially, and from there, we embarked on a whirlwind of parties and adventures. Over the course of the past two years, she became the sole person I could rely on. We were supposedly living together at our university, but she mentioned that I could sleep at her place any time whenever we’re on campus since her place was conveniently located nearby. Then, upon encountering her sister, Natasha Romanoff, my heart seemed to come to a halt.

She was absolutely stunning, without a doubt the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. She had a chic, cropped hairstyle, delicate hands, and a radiant smile that seemed to stretch for miles whenever I caught a glimpse. I found everything about her quite appealing, including her tendency to be more reserved in conversation. I often pondered whether or not Yelena had parents, but she remained tight-lipped on the subject. She only shared with me that from a young age, Natasha whisked her away from their parents and they began their life in New York. Her sister has always been the one supporting them financially, which is why she has been consistently absent. However, Yelena's admiration for her sister knows no bounds.

It was sweet, which made me jealous sometimes. 

As I made my way back to Yelena's room, Natasha emerged from her own room, a warm smile gracing her face.

“I assume Yelena’s not at home?”

I shook my head. “No, she’s getting her report card at university today.”

“Oh,” She let out an exasperated sigh and casually leaned against the wall. “And you? You’re not getting your report card?”

“I already got it; my parents weren’t so proud this time.”

“What did you fail?” She let out a soft laugh, fixing her gaze on me intensely, causing a knot to form in my stomach. I'm not sure if it was positive or negative, but her intense gaze made my heart skip a beat.

“Finance,” I murmured. “I didn’t focus with that subject that much, which I completely regret.”

I heard her giggle again, and it made my heart race even faster. When I give it some thought, I realize that Natasha and I are similar in one area: sex. I don't discuss it with Yelena or my other friends, but I don't feel embarrassed talking to Natasha about it. Although we've never actually done it, we were both flirtatious about it. Natasha usually asks me to come to her room while Yelena is sleeping, where she usually spends her time masturbating at the foot of the bed. And when it was my turn, I would smother my fingers when Natasha expressed her wish to touch me. 

In her bed. 

The following day, we just look at each other as if nothing had happened and don't discuss this. Since Yelena didn't seem suspicious, which I was grateful for, I carried on doing this with Natasha until she eventually became tired of me. I was probably just another girl in her view, someone to be used. She was, nevertheless, to me like the book that I couldn't put down. I was drawn to her and wanted to spend time with her.

I could never acknowledge such a thing.

“I was wondering if...” Her mouth became silent as she walked over to me, smirking, and brushed her delicate fingertips over a strand of my hair. “Maybe you’d join me in our secret affair?”

I snorted. “Affair? Natasha, we aren’t in a relationship.”

"Well, it would be impolite to suggest that we watch porn together or something; you are aware of the subject."

I debated whether or not to do it today because Yelena might return at any moment. I sighed heavily and shook my head because she had not told me what time she would be home. It was a bad idea, because if that turned out to be true, we could be caught.

But it wouldn’t hurt to do this... Right?

“Okay,” I whispered to her as she trailed her fingers on my collarbone. “Take me to your bedroom.”

“Shit,”Natasha whispered, holding on to her mattress sheet. “That feels so good, baby. K-Keep going; don’t stop.”

I stared at her face, contoured with lust,  and bobbed my head up and down. Considering that her cock felt erect in my mouth, I find it fascinating how much this makes her want to engage. She lifted her hips a little as I licked and sucked on the tip of her dick.

“Good girl,” She whispers, pressing my head farther down as she runs her fingers through my hair. “You like that? You like my cock in your mouth?”

I let out a quiet affirmation as I sensed a certain anticipation on my tongue, observing her eyebrows furrow each time I took her length into my mouth. “You’re so big,” I withdrew my mouth from her cock and caressed her whole length, filling the room with loud, sloshing sounds. “I’ve never done anything like this, Daddy.”

“Oh yeah?” She gently sat up on the bed and slapped the head of her dick onto my lips by grabbing the base of her length. “Open up, sweetheart. I need to cum in your throat.”

Ideally, I would prefer that not to occur. I had to taste her, though, because it was Natasha. Heck, I didn't even give a damn if Yelena was home right now. All I wanted was for this to occur, for her to require my presence. I bobbed my head angrily and made gag noises as I sucked on her dick once more.  

It turned on Natasha even more as I did so. 

“You’re so warm, fuck...” I knelt on the bed as her words faltered. "You're such a slut for my dick, look at you. Tell me, you wanted this, didn’t you?”

More than you could ever know. 

She was probably amazed at my ability to pull off such a feat as she watched me in disbelief as I placed her genitalia into my mouth. The action caused me to cough a little, and I choked on her genitalia right away. And I pulled my head back. She pouted, her whole length smeared across my face as she gripped the back of my head. "Baby, I thought we were just gon' talk dirty to each other."

I whimpered. “I needed you, Daddy.”

“Yeah? You needed me?”

“So bad,” I whined as I kissed her length. “Please don’t stop.” 

“Open your mouth.”

She fucked her cock by pushing it back down my throat. Hard. I throw my eyes back, and Natasha's hips falter as she strikes the back of my throat. She recoils her head. “I’m going to cum down your throat, and you’re going to swallow it, okay, baby? You are so good for me, so so good...”

If I were the only girl in the world, I would do this every single day. However, I was aware that I was probably not destined for her because she was much older than I was and I was too young. People will make judgments; she wouldn't think that of me.

Natasha remained motionless for a few moment before turning to face me with a broad smile. "You feel like you're wet to me?" I moaned around her cock as she reached for my covered cunt and gripped it. "Oh my god! Fuck, keep doing that, baby girl.”

I kept moaning all over her length as she quickly and forcefully fucked my mouth, causing me to gag every time her tip touched the back of my throat. I was her sex toy, and I never wanted to be anything else once she put both of her hands on the side of my head.

“I want to fuck your pussy,” She continued to fuck my mouth like an animal while whispering in a rough manner. “I want to—ugh—I want to rip your pussy apart, especially that throat of yours. I bet you’re so tight, baby. Fuck, I can imagine myself ripping you open.”

Rip me open, make me fall apart. I’ll be anything to you, anything. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Natasha drew her length a bit and rolled her hips against my face, her cockhead resting on my tongue instead. “I’m going to cum on your tongue and you better swallow it; don’t waste any drop.”

She was hooding her eyes and idly stroking her dick when I parted my lips wide for her. She glanced at the door once, then grabbed my jaw and drew me in. “Here it comes, baby. I-I’m going to cum—fuck almost there just... Argh!”

She stroked her dick widly as she came onto my tongue. She kept stroking her length, and I had to close my eyes because I could feel some of her semen falling on my face. However, she released all of it on my tongue. Slapping her tip on my face and smearing her length all over it, Natasha let out a long, raspy moan. “You look so pretty in my cum.”

“You c-came a lot...”

With a nod, she reclined on the mattress. "Yes, I did. It's been a while since I've truly done that," she says, continuing to stroke her dick, albeit more slowly. I got up and grabbed the closest towel I could find after realizing that I had to go before Yelena could see or smell the sex in this room. "Are you sure you haven't done that with anyone?"

“I never give blowjobs,” I stated with a small voice as I wiped off my face with a clean towel. “When was the last time you had a girl suck on your dick?”

Natasha was standing in front of me as I turned around. As soon as she gripped my waist and drew me even closer to her body, I felt my breath catch. She let out a long breath and muttered, "You were the first person to give me an orgasm in a very long time, darling."

I chuckled lightly. “I thought you’d never do something like that. With me, at least.”

“You’re very pretty,” She pulls down my shorts, gesturing for me to roll my eyes back as she holds her dick in her palm. “Can I feel you? Just a bit? I just... I want to imagine what it’s like to feel your pussy rubbing on me.”

I gazed into her eyes, taking note of the intensity of her desire. So I lowered my panties to my mid thighs and touched her cock, gently stimulating the sensitive area. We both felt a rush of pleasure as Natasha leaned her head against my shoulder, drawing me in closer to her.

“You’re making me hard again,” She whimpered and pressed her cock against me, causing me to scream quietly. “Oh shit, you are tight!”

“Fuck, Nat—Yelena could go home any minute!”

“Just one minute,” she begged as she looked at me in the eye. “Baby, let me fuck you.”

“Okay, okay,” I whispered and felt myself being pushed against the edge of her desk, her hands hoisting my legs up. “Oh god—”

"God, I’m about to rip you open here,” Natasha spoke with such assurance that it began to pique my interest. I bite my bottom lip as she retreats a little and thrusts back into my cunt. “Let it all out, baby girl. Let Daddy hear you—”

“Y/n, I’m back!”

“Shit!” I exclaimed and pushed her away, pulling up my shorts. She immediately grabbed her boxers and wore them before I reached for the door. “Natasha, she can’t see me like this. Or you like this!”

“Just hide here for a moment,” Natasha led me into her bathroom, responding to my request. I widen my eyes in anticipation, waiting for her next words. “Just for this moment, okay? I’ll handle everything.”

I recognized what I had done as soon as she shut the door. I looked so desperate that I should never have given Natasha a blowjob in the first place. I shook my head carefully, running my fingers through my hair. "What did I do?" Sitting on the floor, with more memories of us playing along in my thoughts, I asked myself. Was I a lousy friend? Would Yelena even accept me if I was?

I don’t know. 

hehe let me know if i should make this as a story

[ctrlhope]

Lily pleaseeee share your favorite ot7 hybrid fics, i can’t find any 😭😭😭😭

OMGGGG BB YOUVE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE OKIEEE I LOVE OT7 FICS REAL BAD

I’ve been reading hybrid fics p much since I started reading bts fanfics so… I can hook u up dastardly style 🤩 links under the cut <33

so before I start listing ima be so fr and say I like most of my hybrid fics verryy formulaic. i p much only ready hybrid bts x human reader and I really enjoy the whole plot of ‘y/n inherits bts and doesn’t know what to do!’ Or ‘y/n sees 7 hybrids at the shelter who need help and doesn’t know what to do!’. It feels sooo chicken noodle soup to me and it feels good for my soul <33 so I hope these fics feel like chicken noodle soup for u too and that you love them as much as I do <33

Series

Abundance ✰ @angelicyoongie

HYBRID CLASSIC FICCCC actually one of the first hybrid fics I think I ever read?? Def the first hybrid ot7 which is kinda crazy 😭 perfect chicken soup for the soul <33 probably the basis for the way I like hybrid fics I read formatted now!! you can really see how the authors writing grew with this fic. Was the fic that made me fall in love with hybrids, actually. I love all of her work so bad man [last updated: 10/4/24]

Trouvaille ✰ @spookyserenades

on my main recs list for a REASON!!! MODERN OT7 CLASSIC FIC!!! if you like the slowest of burns… you’ll enjoy this fic heavily. once again my favourite chicken-soup style so I can’t help but recommend it <33 I have… so many words id like to say about coyote jimin and hoseok… but I will remain silent for my own dignity 😔love all of her work terribly <33 [last updated: 8/17/24]

SeVen Uncaged ✰ @/missing_min_meowmeow (ao3) and @/polaritae (ao3)

two part series (first half completed, second half not) detailing the difficulties of adopting 7 hybrids reader was completely unprepared for 🙂‍↕️ YESSS MA’AM!!! LOVE LOVE LOVE!!!! I love how this fic goes into the details of how difficult mentally and physically this kind of change would be for the hybrids. I love the characterisation of each of the boys. I LOVE IT!!!! pls give this series a chance it is so definitely worth it even though it’s unfinished. A love it terribly, in its entirety. I LOVE FLAWED CHARACTERS!!! [last updated: 9/11/23]

Restitution ✰ @/cloudtea (ao3) @cloudteawrites (tumblr)

like I said I REALLY like fanfics where reader comes into a bunch of hybrids and has to deal with the consequences 😭 that being said, this has exactly everything I love in a hybrid fic, I absolutely love the concept, and the stories of where each of the guys came from before. THIS is exactly what I mean when I say a chicken soup fic— warm and comforting. Hopefully the author will come back to it someday <33 it’s so good even though it’s just the beginning [last updated: 4/19/21 — permanent hiatus]

Loving You Isn’t Hard to Learn ✰ @/arduouslove (ao3) @arduouslove (tumblr)

MANNN ITS SO WARM AND COMFORTING!!! like,, i know i keep saying chicken soup and IM SORRY BUT THATS WHAT THESE ARE FOR ME!!! I absolutely adore the concept of a motel for hybrids to go when they need help. And I really love the development we’ve seen so far between Hoseok and jimin. Another fic that was left at the beginning, but truly lovely. Another one I hope the author updates again someday <33 [last updated: 03/07/23]

Still Life ✰ @/king_myg (ao3)

OKAY NO YOU DONT UNDERSTAND THIS IS ACTUALLY LIKE,,, ONE OF MY FAVOURITE HYBRID FICS IVE READ!! The concept behind it is just so,, intriguing. It’s a yandere fic, so it has that edge to it but the way jungkook just *is* is so…. No you actually just have to read it to understand. I love this fic sooo bad actually. And Yoongi who pretends not to be a hybrid… and!! I really can’t express in words how exciting this was for me to read. I can’t wait to see how the rest of the guys relationships develop with the reader. [last updated: 5/22/24]

Home Calls the Heart ✰ @anonnie-in-wonderland

verryyy cute ot7 fic <33 the first chapter just feels very warm and soft. its adorable how tae wants to 'adopt' a human for his family even though he doesn't quite understand the repercussions of it [last updated: 12/17/22]

About love ✰ @mochiimac

One of my favourite tropes of reader coming into hybrids and them all hating each other right off the bat!! The writing style feels so safe too <33 [last updated: 04/24/3]

A Hundred Percent Human ✰ @/wrienne (ao3) @wrienne (tumblr)

Another CLASSIC ot7 hybrid fic!! I remember reading the first few chapters before I took a break from fanfics back in the day. Each of the characters (bts memebers) are so interesting and I love the personalities the author made around them as well as all the world building they did within the fic. The class system was so interesting to me and TAEHYUNG??? God, such a fun and dynamic story!! Highly recommend you check it out [last updated: 7/24/23]

Daddy’s Money Makes the World Go Round ✰ @/That_Author (ao3)

SOOO warm and comfortable. Guarddog Namjoon rlly just wants to keep the reader safe even though her parents are mean. Their relationship (as well as the rest of the guys that come into the home) is just SO sweet n gentle <3 [last updated: 10/28/22]

Oneshots

Secret Story of the Swan ✰ @purpleyoonn

one of the few yandere fics on the list and oh so sweet <33 the way they gently lure reader is so 🥺 and she gives in easily to their charms 🥺 v cute little oneshot <33 love her a lot

Beastly Gods ✰ @lemonjoonah

A CLASSICCCCCC one of the only (other) yandere fics on this list. mostly taehyung x reader w/ implied ot7 x reader ++ drabbles featuring ot7 x reader. I love this fic so much actually you don’t understand. It holds such a special place in my heart PLS READ IT!!

Tangled Hearts ✰ @writersrealmbts

Adorable look into readers life with 7 hybrids <33 truly love how this fic played out and the interactions the members had with eachother and the reader. ITS JUST REAL CUTE OKAY!!!! Makes me all soft nd gushy!! Very cute <33 i love it.

To Be Read / Currently Reading

Kindness ✰ @/angelaronin (ao3)

Stray Cat Strut ✰ @/typhloticharuspex (ao3)

Meritocracy ✰ @/saylilirose (ao3)

The Dog Days are Over ✰ @/mintedmango (ao3)

Redamancy ✰ @/dalgi_jungoo (ao3)

A Sweet Change ✰ @/kagsii (ao3)

Peculiar Pack ✰ @/dollremi (ao3)

If anyone has any reads I didn’t mention comment them or message me them!!

** I’ll update this as I read more / find more fics I’ve read in the past that I enjoyed!! By no means is it complete, these are just the fics I’ve read/reread recently nd enjoyed <33 Currently going through my tumblr likes to see if I’ve missed any <33 ✰ last updated: 01/19/25

Main Rec List | individual/poly hybrid rec list (coming soon)

[tan1shere]

Her Favorite

Teacher Billie Eilish x student female reader !

A/n: the thought of this is sending me feral rn, enjoy 😩 also Claudia is in this and we are pretending you and her are the same ages okur yuh (20-21)(bills is nearing 30s let's say 😋 MILF) - there's going to be links to the outfits on each day that she wears on one of the words, just to help you get a better visual 😁

Summary: you're the teachers pet. Her. Favorite.

Warnings: smut DURH, mdni ! Thigh riding, soft dom bills nothing new here, sub reader, heavy sexual tension GAHH - think thats it ! Lmk if I left anything out 😙

Masterlist - pt 2 , pt 3

You were a college student. That's how most of these go right? You're the popular party throwing, blonde- no. In this case you were the shy, less know girl who sat in the middle of the class, not in the front and center. Or in the back. You were fairly confident, in yourself and what you loved. But all attention on you sent worry through your body. You had one best friend, Claudia. She was the kindest soul, more outgoing than you were but you loved her regardless.

Today was a Wednesday so that means music class. You don't really have any interest in it if you're being honest. But Claudia insisted you join her as a fun class, which you'd argue with and say all classes were fun in a way. But that wasn't strictly true. You couldn't sing, nor play any instrument so it wasn't as fun to you. "You know, I got you to agree to this class because it was fun, not to be good at it!" She says, walking beside you into the classroom. "But we have to try to be semi good at it- and that's not going so well." She just nudges you. "Well I already know you have fun anyway." She winks. Making your eyes roll.

"Don't you just wonder what she will be wearing today." - "You're annoying you know that?" She shrugs with a smile. "I know you love meee." As you entered the room. You spot her. The teacher of this specific class. She was beautiful and you most definitely had a crush on the woman. Was it silly? Maybe, but it was the only good thing about this class. Like Claudia was teasing to you about before. Today Ms O'Connell was wearing something very casual. A brown striped jacket with a collared white shirt underneath. Her hair was down today and she just looked so good. You sat down in your usual seats.

Ms O'Connell then starts for today. Explaining a few things, you honestly had no interest in them. But you just couldn't help staring at her. You then hear your name being called pulling you out of whatever trance you were in. "Y/n? You listening love?" You swallow discreetly, trying to not make it obvious how nervous she made you. You'd never let it fully show. Besides she talked to all the students that way. "Yes, sorry just tubed out for a sec. I'm listening." You replied sweetly, really not wanting to get in trouble. Or maybe that wouldn't be so bad. She nods in reply, continuing.

It wasn't as if you voluntarily put yourself out there, you never asked questions but for some reason she seemed to ask you all the questions, why? You were just writing something down when she eventually approaches you. "Can we speak after this lesson?" She asked you so softly, you thought youd die right there. You nod. Feeling tingles going throughout your body.

That time, was now. You were packing up your things as everyone else leaved, you go over to her, but not as close. Which confused her slightly. "You wanted to see me Miss?" Her head tilts. "You can come closer. I don't bite." Her pretty smile was then to be seen, you reluctantly go closer. "I've noticed the past few lessons you've been distracted." Uh oh. "Are you sleeping ok? You so look a little tired recently. Everything alright?" The way she's checking up on you makes you want to pounce at her and kiss her beautiful lips. But your mind remains, trying to calm it down. And it was slightly true, you always struggled to sleep but that's just been a thing ever since you were a kid.

"It's ok, I'm fine just not a huge sleeper?" You admit, but there was a concerned look on her face. "As long as you're ok." You nod, suspecting the conversation was done going to leave, but she grabs your arm gently. You look at her, into her eyes. Your nerves coming right back. "I'm always here if you need anything yeah? If you need to talk." And there you were again, in a compelling trance. Her eyes were like a spell. Your heart rate picks up, at the feeling of her hand on your arm.

Little did you know, she saw it all. The way you looked at her didn't go unnoticed by the woman. And little did you know. This was just the start of something, so crazy.

It was now Friday, music class yet again. And you couldn't stop thinking about that interaction, the way her hand held onto your arm, her blue eyes casting a spell on your own. You even slept better that night as silly as that may sound. Maybe she was like a comfort? You walk in with Claud, going to your normal spot. Ms hottie (as you liked to call her in your head.) Was wearing something interesting today. It was another collared shirt, with faint lines. Paired with a sleevless jacket ontop. She had a cap on, and those sexy glasses. You loved whenever she wore them.

She admitted to the class that she didn't need them she just enjoyed wearing them. And your immediate thought was hot. So every time she wears them you freak out a little inside. You listened to her voice, speaking, singing. God she was everything. You had told Claudia about the other day and she just made you more delusional about it, saying...

"Oh my god, what if she likes you."

"She was so teasing you with the bite comment."

"She knows."

It had been driving you nuts, like she was a little person in your head repeating those sentences. And here you were yet again, not focusing. Ms O'Connell looks over at you but staying quiet this time round.

There was no doubt about how bored you were, but it wasn't long to go thankfully. For the class and the rest of the year. You honestly couldn't wait to be done for good, this was the last year. Once the lesson was over you go to pack up your things, when you hadn't realized your other books had fallen out of your bag. You sigh, going to bend down to your knees to pick them up. Everyone was leaving, and it was just you and her. You stand once you collect yourself and your things, turning around but only to be met with those beautiful blue eyes.

You gasp, had you of been expecting she was right behind you. "Sorry sweetheart, didn't mean to startle you." You flash her your sweet smile. "It's ok!" She looks over your body, slowly. Hm. Unusual. Unusually hot. "You seem to fade into space alot. Is that normal?" She asks. Referring to you being distracted earlier. Her eyes keep roaming around your body, landing on your eyes... Then your lips. Continuing that motion til she settles on your eyes. "A little yeah, big daydreamer." You laugh a little, nervously. "What do you tend to think about?"

You. You. You. Your brain chants. "Things." Her head casually tilts, but it goes straight to your head. Or maybe your aching core. Because that was way too hot. You swallow, audibly. A tiny smirk plays on her lips. "What's the matter?" She asks with slight concern but her smirk overpowers any of that sympathy. You felt like for the first time you couldn't speak to her, your words gone. "Hm?" She asks with such a velvety smooth tone. You wanted to whine, it's as if she knew what she was doing. Making you feel such a way. But that's impossible, right? You pluck up some confidence. When she gets closer to you before you could speak. "Kinda glad this is your last class for today." Your brows furrow. What? "W-why-?" You then ask, widening your eyes at how pathetic it came out.

"Because, I get to do something that I've been wanting to for soooo long." Your breath becomes quicker, unsteady. Similar to your legs. "Please." You breathe out, too into your own thoughts to care about how wrong this situation may be. In broad daylight. Her lips come softly onto your own, so incredibly slow. Your tongues eventually mingle together, tasting the sudden desire against one another. She pulls back going to swipe her thumb against your lip. Staring at them. You felt dizzy, weak. No way you just kissed her. "Things. I didn't know that was my new name." She looks into your eyes again. Darker, sexy. Fuck. You thought. Her hands reach for yours going to take you into her secluded office.

She shuts and locks the door. Approaching you. "I see the way you look at me angel, I'm very aware." You swallow, louder than the last time. "Just know those daydreams have you soaked huh?" She pouts slightly, in a mocking sense. Your head reluctantly nods. Looking into her eyes, she backs you up against the desk. "Then you must know just how much I daydream of you." Your eyes grew bigger, did she really just say that? No way... Her hands rest on your thighs, face leaning closer to yours. Moving slowly to your ear. "May I show you, pretty girl?" Your breath catches in your throat before you reply, breathlessly. "Please do." Her smirk returns.

Grabbing your hand again and leading you around to her chair, eventually getting you to sit on her lap. Your hands rest on her shoulders. Hers gliding up and down the sides of your body. "Just want a little taste of what I've been mindlessly thinking of, yeah?" Whatever the fuck that meant you didn't care, nodding nonetheless. Her hands then grip your hips, manhandling you so your cunt is directly over her thigh. The change makes you gasp slightly considering you hadn't expected that. Your hands grip her shoulders as your underwear is met with the rough material of her pants. Having your skirt semi out of the way. "Thin. Wet." She says inches away from your face. You bite your lip as you both hold eye contact. The way her glasses sit on her face making it 10x better.

This woman. She's driving you mental. Were you dreaming or something? She begins to slowly move you on her thigh, making your first noise come beautifully past your lips. "Good, you know how to use your voice." She says, averting her eyes to you and her thigh. "You gunna make a mess on ne sweet girl?" Your eyes shut as her movements quicken, feeling your brain fog over with a euphoric sensation. "M-more.." You blurt out. "More she says?" Billie chuckles deliciously. (Like at the end of guess 😵) "Angel wants more, how very sweet." You gulp. "P-please?" Your soft voice made her go nuts. She wanted so badly to ruin you right here right now. But she resisted for the time being. "And she asks sooo-" Her movements speed up, causing your eyes to pop, jaw agape. "-nicely."

Your head lulls back as you feel it coming, the way your clit was throbbing against her rapidly. Soon after feeling that tightness, only to be met with that sticky necter. All over her thigh. She hums in approval. Letting you fall against her, head landing in the crook of her neck. Your breathing slowly coming back to you as her hand rubs gently over the skin of your arm. "That's why you're my favorite."

After a minute or two you come back to reality. Not the right reality but your senses turn back on. She swiftly tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. Smiling at you gently, thinking for you second before taking her hat off and plopping it on your head. She looks at you so lovingly, now seeing that compassion in her eyes. It made you melt, softly putting your hands on her face. Hers latch delicately over your wrists, soon grabbing your hand and kissing it tenderly. This was wrong, not because of any age, but because she was your teacher. Did you really care tho? Hardly. Once you leave it's not like it'd matter. But oh fuck it felt too good.

"Go clean up darling, I'll see you on Wednesday." She then winks, as you leave the classroom. And all your mind could say was.

Oh.

My.

God.

Pt 2 will be out soon. ;)

[eightmakesonebraincell]

our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom (teaser)

genre: poly hockey team!ateez x coach fem!reader, enemies/strangers to lovers, athlete!au, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 1.0k (teaser) + approx. 38k (full fic)

c/w: sweaty ateez (warning well deserved), lots of hurt/comfort, one of the slowest slow burns to slow burn, remaining tags to be revealed with full fic

synopsis: you become the new coach of the elite men's ice hockey team, the red devils. but with both yourself and the team carrying burdens of the past, you all find it difficult to see eye to eye. as you lead them to the championships in the korean ice hockey league, you discover that teamwork and trust is not as straightforward as it seems.

a/n: when i started writing this i really thought it wouldn't exceed 25k but here we are :D full fic will be released in about a week and i am so ready

“she’s the new coach?” yunho frowns in confusion. “no offence, but we’re not a bunch of kids for her to practise being a soccer mum to.”

“she was the assistant coach for the grey eagles,” coach cho discloses.

“the grey eagles? the under-21 men’s championship team?” yeosang looks incredulous.

mingi sceptically comments, “the fact that we’ve never seen or heard of her before probably tells us enough.”

hongjoong’s lips purse sourly as he tries his hardest to analyse the situation with the professionalism of the team’s captain. but with the sudden change in coaches and the same critiquing doubts as mingi, hongjoong cannot help but feel his personal judgement webbing over his mind. over the team’s entire career as an elite ice hockey team thus far–five years, now well into their sixth–the red devils have only ever had two coaches. coach cho has been with them for the longest and whilst it took the team a while to eventually warm up to him, he has been with them for almost quadruple the amount of time it took to trust him.

the team’s alternate captain, seonghwa, speaks to you directly, “if you don’t mind me asking, why are you not playing as an athlete yourself? you’re clearly our age–nowhere near retiring.”

you knew from the very start that your age would make your credibility as a coach much lower, and your answer to seonghwa will not help your case either. “i stopped playing.”

“how come?”

the trigger of memories fills your nose with a sharp stinging smell. you blankly reveal, “i chose to stop playing.” you know exactly how it sounds like to somebody else, even more so to professional athletes. coach cho has also told you of the team’s hardheadedness and strong will when it comes to the passions of their career, so you are expecting the cold receptiveness that you are met with.

your response strikes the wrong chord within wooyoung. there was a point in his career not too long ago when the choice of continuing to play or not was at risk of becoming a forced decision. the way you answer so callously with those very words that had threatened to tear his world apart has his jaw grinding and eyes darkening, and he is not the only athlete in the arena who feels similarly.

“i would rather choose to die before i choose to stop playing. ice hockey is my entire life and without it, i am not living either,” hongjoong jabs and you cannot help but clench your fists because you know exactly what he means. still, you stay quiet as he continues, “sorry, but i can’t respect a ‘coach’ who chose to stop playing.”

at the captain’s words and subsequent move to leave for the changerooms, the rest of the team also gather their equipment and follow his steps. san’s feet falter in front of you, expression hesitant until he decides to voice, “our team needs a bit of time. it’s hard for us to warm up to…outsiders, and i know it might not mean much to say this but we have our reasons. don’t expect us to blindly trust you just because you’re a coach.”

the use of the word ‘outsider’ does not go unnoticed as you nod, “of course.”

san jogs off to rejoin the others and coach cho hums, “guess some things haven’t changed. they were just as prickly to me when i first became their coach.”

you raise an eyebrow, “prickly? to you?”

“yes, believe it or not,” he chuckles nostalgically. “we’ve come a long way because i’ve been their coach for years now. but it took me a while before i was able to break down their walls.”

you briefly mull over the information, then ask out of curiosity, “what would you have done if i didn’t sign the contract?”

“begged you to rethink your decision,” he jokes with a pleased chortle. “i would have to start looking for a different coach, i suppose. you were my only pick.”

“but why me, of all people? there are so many other experienced coaches that you can choose from.”

he looks at you, eyes glinting with intuition and confidence as he simply says, “you’re familiar with their playing style. they play just like you used to.” at your silent processing, coach cho probes, “why didn’t you tell them the real reason?”

you smile wistfully, “i didn't tell them because i’m not here to gain their pity.”

some of the boys’ voices grow louder as they emerge from the changerooms, changed into fresh clothes and their kit bags slung over their shoulders. you hear one of them ask, “captain, is she really going to be our new coach?”

they step out from the facility’s corridor and you accidentally make eye contact with hongjoong, yet neither of you look away. maintaining a steady gaze directly at you, he responds with a slight glower, “maybe, but she’s only the coach by title. i’m still the captain of the team, so let’s see who everyone listens to.”

as they exit the rink’s arena, you feel a fire of determination growing inside of you. you have won over your own demons and you have won the championships before–this is nothing in comparison. whether your next words are for coach cho or for yourself to hear, it does not matter.

“i may not play anymore but i was still once an athlete and no athlete has ever, in their career, wanted pity. i’m here to earn the team’s respect and i will win over them, especially their captain.”

you watch the swing of the glass door as it shuts behind the players, catching a brief glimpse of the trees lining the arena’s perimeter. it is the first day of autumn when you meet the red devils for the first time and outside, the leaves are beginning to change their colours.

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[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 11

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension, arguements, mentions of alcohol, being intoxicated

Matt’s gaze locks onto the envelope in my hand, his jaw tightening. “Oh, this again” he mutters, dropping his phone onto the bed. He leans back against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s gearing up for a fight.

“I didn’t realize this was your jumper” I say quickly, gesturing to the yellow Ralph Lauren sweater I’m wearing. “Nick gave it to me yesterday. I didn’t know-”

“Convenient” he says, his lips curving into a bitter smirk. “Nick’s just handing out my stuff now, huh? Real generous of him. Not that it matters. Keep it.”

“Are you done?” I snap, holding up the envelope in my hand. “Because this is what I’m here to talk about.”

Matt’s smirk fades. He shifted himself up, his arms still crossed. “What about it? You’re upset I didn’t send it with chocolates or something?”

I glare at him. “You sent me flowers. Then threw them in the trash. And this-” I wave the card slightly. “This apology? I don’t get it, Matt. Why would you even do that? What’s the point if you’re not going to own it?”

He looks away, jaw tight, as though he’s trying to figure out how to answer. After a long pause, he finally speaks. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have” I say sharply, before I can stop myself. “Because now I’m here, and you clearly don’t want to explain yourself.”

“You’re right” he says, his voice colder now. “I shouldn’t have sent them. It was a mistake. I should’ve just let Nate get you flowers instead. That’s his job anyway.”

I freeze, staring at him. “What?”

“You heard me” he says, his tone bitter now. “If anyone should be sending you flowers, it’s Nate. Not me. But let me save you some trouble, he runs through girls like it’s a sport. You’re just a number to him, Y/n. That’s all you’d ever be.”

The words made no sense to me, knowing that there was nothing going on between me and Nate. But I know he’s trying to get under my skin, and that just makes me angrier.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about first of all” I say, my voice shaking slightly. “And even if that was true, why do you care? You’re acting like this is about Nate, but it’s not, is it?”

Matt doesn’t respond immediately. He just looks at me, his eyes flickering with something I can’t quite place, frustration, maybe. Or something deeper.

“I don’t care” he says finally, but the way he says it is unconvincing, like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.

“Right” I mutter, taking a step back. “Well, if you don’t care, then stop acting like this. Stop sending flowers and writing cards and then throwing them away. And stop dragging Nate into it like this is about him, because it’s not.” 

The room remained silent as I let out a frustrated sigh, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Matt, or what I ever did to make you hate me so much, but I don’t want it to ruin Hawaii. Nick and Chris did something really thoughtful by inviting me, and I don’t want it to be awkward between us while we’re there.”

He exhales sharply, looking away. “Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before busting in here and accusing me of playing games.”

I clench my jaw, trying to keep calm. “I didn’t accuse you of anything. I’m asking you to stop.. whatever this is. If you don’t care, fine. But don’t drag Nate into it, and don’t make me feel like some kind of idiot for trying to understand.”

His gaze softens slightly, and for a moment, I think he might actually say something that makes sense. But instead, he shrugs, his expression hardening again. “Fine. I’ll back off. Happy?”

I study him for a moment, trying to figure out what’s really going on behind that mask he always wears. But I don’t have the energy to keep pushing, so I just shake my head and turn to leave. I step out of his room, closing the door behind me, shutting it with more force than I intended.

I head straight to my room, practically flying up the stairs. My chest feels tight, my thoughts racing in every direction. That conversation with Matt was supposed to give me clarity, but instead, it’s only made everything worse. Why does he have to be so infuriating? Why does he have to say things that don’t make sense, like some cryptic puzzle he’s tempting me to solve?

I throw myself on top of my bed, burying my face in my pillow as all of my feelings boil to the surface, and before I know it, tears start falling. I don’t even try to stop them. I let them flow, hoping they’ll wash away some of the tension clawing at my chest. The tears aren’t just for Matt and his mixed signals, they’re for everything. For how lost I feel, for the way nothing goes right or feels straightforward anymore.

My mind replays the conversation over and over, dissecting every word, every glance, every pause. Why did he say it should’ve been Nate who gave me the flowers? Why did he warn me about Nate like that? And why did he throw the flowers away in the first place? None of it makes sense, and it’s driving me insane. I wipe at my cheeks, but the tears keep coming, hot and relentless.

Part of me wishes I could just forget the whole thing, shove it into a mental box, lock it away, and never think about it again. But another part of me knows I won’t. Not when Matt has this way of getting under my skin, and especially when we're going to spend every waking minute with each other for the next few weeks. Hawaii was supposed to be a break, an escape. But now, I can’t help but feel like it’s going to be anything but relaxing if things with Matt keep going like this. 

The next morning, I wake up feeling groggy and emotionally drained. My eyes are puffy from crying, and the frustration of yesterday’s conversation still lingers throughout my body. I take a deep breath and remind myself to focus on the day ahead, before starting to get ready. There’s no time to dwell on Matt or his cryptic actions.

Nick is already up and at it when I make my way downstairs. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, typing furiously on his laptop, a cup of coffee in one hand. He looks up when he hears me enter, flashing his usual enthusiastic grin.

“There she issss!” he says, closing the laptop dramatically. “You ready for a day of last minute prep?”

I give him a half smile and nod. “Yeah what do you need to do?”

Nick looks at me for a moment, his eyes narrowing like he’s trying to figure out if something’s wrong. But to my relief, he doesn’t press.

“Okay, so first things first, we’re getting your nails done. Non negotiable. If we’re going to Hawaii, you need to have vacation ready nails.”

“Nick, my nails are fine” I protest, holding up my hands.

He raises an eyebrow. “No offense, but ‘fine’ isn’t good enough. You’re coming with me, and we’re going all out.”

I rolled my eyes but let him drag me out the door. Honestly, a little pampering doesn’t sound so bad right now.

The day flew by as we rushed through last minute preparations. Nick and I spent the morning at the nail salon, where I settled with a classic french tip. Afterward, we hit a few shops to grab more shorts for Nick. Back at home, I double checked my suitcase, making sure I had everything I’d need for the trip, though my mind wandered more than I’d like to admit.

By the evening, I felt physically tired but mentally restless. I tried to focus on the excitement of Hawaii and the break I desperately needed, but thoughts of yesterday’s conversation with Matt kept creeping in. I forced myself to push it to the side and take myself to bed. We had an early flight the next day, so I set my alarm before climbing in. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I made a silent promise to myself. This trip would be about relaxing, having fun, and leaving all the confusion and tension back at home, even if it wasn’t exactly easy to do.

My alarm went off at 5 am, dragging me out of a light, restless sleep. I groaned, hitting snooze once before forcing myself to get up. I could hear quiet movement around the house already, doors creaking, the sound of someone wheeling suitcases, and the bang of cups in the kitchen. I quickly got dressed, grabbed my suitcase, and made my way to the living area.

Nick was already there, suitcase next to him. “Ready for paradise?” he asked with a sleepy grin.

I nodded. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

Chris and Nate came up a moment later, both looking slightly disheveled but ready to help. Chris grabbed Nick’s suitcase while Nate reached for mine. I thanked him quietly, and he just nodded.

The silence was heavy, but oddly enough, it was comforting. The silence just wasn’t between Matt and I now, it seemed like everyone was too tired to make conversation this early, which made it less obvious that Matt and I hadn’t said a word to each other.

I glanced over and saw Matt standing near the door, his phone in his hand as he scrolled through it. He looked up briefly when Nate passed by him with my suitcase, but he didn’t say anything before following them down.The three of them loaded everything into the car while Nick and I lingered inside, waiting for the signal to head out. 

Matt took responsibility of driving all of us to the airport. The drive was quiet, not that there would be much conversation out of five people in the early hours of the morning. We arrived at LAX just as the sky began to lighten. After paying for long stay parking, we unloaded the suitcases from the trunk. Everyone grabbed their bags, and we walked toward the departures section, the chill of the early morning air still lingering.

The airport was busy, but not chaotic, the flow of people moving fast. We made our way to the American Airlines desk, where a sign displayed our flight to Kahului. “There it is” Nick said, pointing ahead as he led the way.

We joined the line to check in and offload our bags. Nate and Chris joked quietly ahead of us, their energy picking up as we got closer to the counter. I couldn’t help but take a glimpse at Matt, who was standing slightly apart, looking at his phone. The awkwardness between us lingered, but thankfully, the chaos of the airport didn’t make it obvious.

When it was finally our turn, we handed over our passports and tickets. The airline agent smiled and tagged our bags before sending them down the conveyor belt. “Enjoy your trip!” she said cheerfully, handing us back our boarding passes and passports.

“Thanks!” Nick replied, grinning. “We plan to.”

With our bags checked in and our hands free, we regrouped in a free area away from the check in desks. The trip was officially underway, and for the first time since waking up, I felt a small buzz of excitement. Hawaii was actually happening.

After getting through the long security line, we gathered our belongings and headed toward the food court. It was close to 6.30am now, and my stomach was screaming at me. I needed food and I needed it quick. We ended up at a cafe, where everyone ordered breakfast before finding a table to sit at while we ate.

Nick sipped his iced coffee, clearly wide awake now, and leaned back in his chair. “Alright” he said, “So what seats is everyone in on the plane? I wanna know who I have to sit next to for six hours.”

Chris pulled out his boarding pass first, looking over it. “I’m in 27A” he said.

“I’m 27B” Nate chimed in, smirking.

“27C” Nick added with a grin. “Perfect, we’re all together.”

I took a sip of my coffee, nearly choking on it as I glanced down at my boarding pass. “I’m in 22E. I’m not even in the same row as yous.”

Matt pulled out his pass, frowning slightly before reading it aloud. “22D.”

I froze for a second, my stomach flipping. Of course. Of course, out of everyone, I’d end up sitting next to Matt.

Nate burst out laughing. “Oh man, you two are gonna have such a fun time crammed next to each other for the whole flight.”

I glared at him, but he just smirked and took an obnoxiously loud sip of his drink.

“It’s fine” I said, more to convince myself than anyone else. “It’s just a flight. We’ll survive.”

Matt shrugged, slipping his boarding pass back into his passport. “Whatever. As long as you don’t steal the armrest.”

The tension was obvious, but no one said anything else about it. We finished eating, the mood shifting back to excitement about the trip. But I couldn’t shake the swirling feeling in my stomach. Six hours next to Matt sounded like the longest flight of my life.

It was nearly time to board so we made our way toward the terminal, following the signs for our gate. Our flight was due to take off at 9am, so we had time to get there. When they called our group to board, we lined up, handed over our boarding passes, and shuffled down the bridge toward the plane. I could feel my nerves creeping in as we got closer to our seats. I was a nervous flier anyway, but now the seating situation made the nerves feel worse. Matt walked ahead of me, casually scanning the seat numbers as if he wasn’t dreading this as much as I was.

Finally, we reached our row, 22D and 22E. Matt slid into the aisle seat without a word, and I plopped down next to him, setting my bag under the seat in front of me. I hated the middle seat.

I took a deep breath, glancing around as people continued boarding. The guys were a few rows behind us, already joking loudly about something. God how I wish I was one of them.

I leaned back into the seat, already planning to just sleep this entire flight. If Matt and I weren’t going to talk, and let’s be honest, we weren’t, then maybe I’d at least get some rest. The flight attendants made their announcements, and soon we were in the air.

Once the seatbelt sign turned off, curiosity got the better of me and I leaned forward to sift through the entertainment options on the little screen in front of me. Scrolling through the endless movie titles, I couldn’t find anything that caught my attention.

Beside me, Matt sighed, his screen already on. 

I glanced over just in time to see him click on 10 Things I Hate About You. For a second, I was surprised, out of all the movies, this was the one he picked?

“You like that movie?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Who doesn’t? It’s a classic.”

I smiled, unable to help it. “Fair point.”

He settled back into his seat, his arms crossing loosely over his chest as the opening credits started rolling. I found myself sneaking glances at the screen, my own selection forgotten.

“You’re just gonna watch mine, aren’t you?” he teased, catching me mid glance.

“Maybe..” I shot back, smirking. “It’s a good movie.”

For the first time, Matt giggled, a real, genuine laugh at something I said. “Fine, but don’t hog my screen.”

We ended up sharing the movie in a way I hadn’t expected, making quiet comments about our favorite scenes and quoting the lines we both knew by heart. I felt weird.. it felt... easy, like the tension between us didn’t exist.

When the scene with the marching band playing on the bleachers came up, I felt my lips moving before I even realized it.

"You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of youuuu"

To my surprise, Matt’s voice joined mine, quietly singing the line in unison. We both stopped, catching each other mid verse, and immediately burst into laughter.

"Seriously?" I said, grinning.

“What?” Matt replied, smirking. “You’re the one who started it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to sing along” I shot back, shaking my head.

As the movie went on, it only got worse.. or better, depending on how you looked at it. It felt strange, but in a good way, like we were finally on the same wavelength, even if it was just over a movie. By the time the poem scene rolled around, Matt tilted his head toward me.

“Bet you’re one of those people who cries during this part” he teased.

I raised an eyebrow. “Bet you are too.”

He didn’t deny it, just smirked and went back to watching.

By the end of the movie, we were both smiling, the tension replaced by a shared sense of ease. It was probably the first time we’d genuinely laughed together without any sarcasm or snark.

Soon after, the flight attendants started coming down the aisle with the food cart, Matt stirred slightly, rubbing his eyes and sitting up straighter.

"You getting something?" I asked, glancing over at him.

"Yeah" he muttered, squinting as if even the dim cabin lights were too bright. "But I swear, I can't even keep my eyes open right now."

"Then why are you bothering?" I teased, but when he shot me a half hearted glare, I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Just give it here when it comes. I'll keep it on my tray until you're ready for it."

His expression softened into something that almost resembled gratitude. "Thanks" he mumbled.

When the food finally arrived, he lazily reached for his tray table but paused, blinking sluggishly.

"Don't bother" I said, pulling his tray of food over to mine. "I got it."

"Yeah, yeah, you're a saint" he grumbled, but there was the faintest smirk tugging at his lips before he leaned back in his seat.

Matt tilted his head against the small headrest attached to his seat and shut his eyes, clearly giving in to his exhaustion. I felt more awake than anything now so I decided to sift through the in flight entertainment menu again, settling on another rom com to pass the time.

Not long after, I felt a shift in the weight beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Matt's head drop forward before it slowly tilted to the side, right onto my shoulder.

I froze for a second, unsure of what to do. His face was relaxed, his breathing slow, completely unaware of the situation.

I thought about waking him, but.. he looked peaceful. And, honestly, I didn’t mind.

With a small sigh, I adjusted slightly to make it more comfortable for both of us and went back to watching my movie.

By the time I finished my second movie, his head was still resting on my shoulder, and I couldn’t help but smile a little. For someone who could be so infuriating, moments like these reminded me that maybe there was more to Matt than he let on.

The captain's voice crackled through the intercom, announcing our descent into Kahului, Matt woke beside me. He blinked slowly, rubbing his face with one hand, and then turned to look at me.

His gaze dropped to where my shoulder was, and his brows furrowed slightly. “Wait.. was I.. was I asleep on you the whole time?”

I tried to keep my expression neutral, but the corner of my mouth twitched in amusement. “Yep. Dead to the world. Snoring and everything.”

His eyes widened slightly, and I could see a faint hint of color rise to his cheeks. “I don’t snore.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. Literally.”

He let out a soft groan, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his seat. “Well.. uh, thanks for not shoving me off, I guess.”

I shrugged casually. “Figured you needed the sleep. Plus, you didn’t drool all over me, so I let it slide.”

That comment earned me a small laugh, though he still looked a bit awkward. He glanced out the window on our side, clearly trying to play it cool, but the way he kept fidgeting with his seatbelt betrayed him.

Not too long after, we landed and began to disembark the plane, into the warm Maui air, the energy buzzing between all of us even though we were still shaking off the stiffness from the flight. After collecting our bags, we stood near the exit where our transfer driver was holding a sign with Nick’s name on it.

The drive to the villa was surreal, with palm trees lining the roads and the scent of salt water from ocean wafting through the open windows. Nate and Chris were hyper, pointing out every little thing as if they’d never been here before. Nick was quieter, scrolling through his phone, and Matt sat silently in the back, his sunglasses shielding his expression.

It was 2pm Hawaii time when we finally arrived at the villa, and the place looked like it was something out of a movie, white walls, large windows, and a gorgeous pool overlooking the ocean. Five bedrooms, one for each of us.

“All right” Nick declared, dropping his suitcase in the entryway. “First come, first serve. Claim your rooms!”

Chris bolted upstairs with Nate right behind him, their voices echoing through the house as they bickered over who got the room with the best view. Nick wandered off down the hall, humming to himself as he inspected the options. That left me and Matt still standing near the doorway.

“You’re not gonna fight for the best room?” he asked, glancing at me with a smirk.

I shrugged, rolling my suitcase forward. “Nah, I’ll just take whatever’s left. As long as there’s a bed, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself” he said, grabbing his own bag and heading upstairs.

Once everyone had claimed their spots, I found myself left with a room on the far end of the villa, tucked away from everyone else. It was smaller than the others, but it had an ensuite and a private balcony with a view of the ocean, so I wasn’t complaining. Honestly, the distance from the chaos of being with boys was kind of a bonus. I knew I’d want some peace and quiet at some point. I let the reality of being here sink in. It felt like a fresh start, and the dynamics between everyone were already proving to be.. interesting.

By the time I had unpacked, showered, and finally settled into my room, the exhaustion from the early morning and long flight floored me. I decided to lie down for just a moment, but the comfort of the bed dragged me into a deep nap.

When I woke up, the time on my phone read 5pm, and the sounds of loud, off key singing drifted through the villa. Disorientated but curious, I got up and made my way downstairs into the main foyer.

The sight that greeted me was something straight out of a comedy. Chris, Nate, and Matt were standing in a loose huddle, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, belting out some song at the top of their lungs. Their words were slurred, their movements uncoordinated, and the sight in front of me was nothing short of chaotic.

Nick stood off to the side, arms crossed and wearing an expression of sheer disbelief. His eyes flicked to me as I entered, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

“What the hell happened while I was asleep?” I asked, pointing toward the impromptu concert happening in the middle of the villa.

Nick sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like he couldn’t believe it either. “Well, they decided to go for a walk to ‘explore the area’” he said, air quoting the last part. “Somehow, that walk turned into them stumbling into a few bars. Fast forward a couple of hours, and this is what we’ve got. They’re completely pissed.”

I glanced back at the trio, who were now attempting to harmonize but failing miserably. Chris had climbed onto one of the couches, using a long decorative pillow as a makeshift microphone, while Matt leaned against the back of a chair, swaying slightly. Nate, the ringleader of this circus, was conducting them like an offbeat orchestra.

“And dinner’s in, what, two hours?” I asked Nick, already knowing the answer.

“Yep” he said flatly. “No way they’re sobering up in time.”

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Great. So now what? Do we just let them embarrass us in public, or do we try to get them somewhat presentable?”

Nick shrugged. “Honestly, at this point, I’m tempted to just let them crash and burn. They brought this on themselves.”

I glanced back at the drunken trio, my frustration tainted with the faintest hint of amusement. As ridiculous as they were, it was hard not to laugh at the scene. Still, this wasn’t exactly the way I envisioned the first night of the trip going.

“More importantly, what are you planning on wearing tonight?” he asked, trying to ignore the drunken escapade happening in front of us.

“I was thinking my green crochet two piece, you know the  halter top and shorts” I said.

Nick nodded approvingly. “That's a nice first night outfit. I still need to figure mine out, so I’m going to do that now.”

Just as we were about to separate and retreat to our rooms, Matt, swaying but still coordinated enough to grab my arm, pulled me toward the three of them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he slurred, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “You’re part of this now.”

Before I could protest, he dragged me into their little circle. Nate and Chris immediately followed his lead, throwing their arms around both of us to complete the huddle.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” they all started chanting in unison, their voices loud and slurred but surprisingly synchronized.

I couldn’t help it, the absurdity of it all made me laugh, the kind of genuine laugh that comes out before you can even think about holding it back. They all looked so ridiculous, swaying and cheering like they were at some sporting event instead of just drunk in the middle of a villa.

“Okay, okay!” I said between laughs, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “You win! But if you’re not at least halfway sober by the time we leave for dinner, don’t expect me to sit anywhere near you!”

They all laughed too, Nate patting my shoulder like I’d just joined some exclusive club.

I stepped back from the chaotic huddle, still smiling as I shook my head. “Alright, that’s enough bonding for now. I’m going to head up and start getting ready” I said, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

As I turned to leave, Matt called after me. “Wait!” He stumbled forward a step, catching his balance against the wall before straightening up. “I’ll bring you a drink to your room. You can’t start getting ready without a little buzz. It’s, like.. a vacation rule or something.”

I gave him a skeptical look, though I couldn’t help the smirk creeping onto my lips. “Matt, I don’t need you enabling my alcohol consumption. I can manage that all on my own, thanks.”

He smirked back, raising a finger in the air as if he’d just come up with a brilliant idea. “Nope. You’re part of the group now. And the group drinks together. I’ll bring you something good.. you won’t even taste the alcohol.”

“Somehow, that makes me even more nervous” I shot back, but I didn’t fight him on it. “But fine. Just don’t spill it on the way up, alright?”

Matt chuckled, placing a hand on his chest in mock seriousness. “I would never dishonor a drink like that.”

Shaking my head, I turned and made my way up the stairs, already mentally planning out how I’d do my makeup. If Matt was serious about bringing me a drink, maybe a little buzz wouldn’t be the worst thing while I got ready. After all, if I was going to spend the evening immersed in this group of chaos, I might as well have a head start.

a/n: things are.. changing...???

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 24

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23

1.2k words

Things may have not gone to plan, but you finally felt close to Zen.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

--------

A warm fire crackled in the hearth as you sat on Zen’s lap, both still naked. He was warming up the food he had brought home for dinner and you did not want to separate from him when he had gotten up from the bed. You cuddled against his chest while he reached around you to place everything at the edges of the hearth to warm up.

“Aren’t you cold just sitting on the floor?” you asked.

“Not with the hearth lit, and you are keeping me warm” he gave you a quick nuzzle.

A new layer of comfort had settled between the two of you, no barriers remained. Things did not exactly go as planned, but that hardly mattered now. All that remained now was room to grow.

Zen handed you food as it was ready, minced meat and vegetables wrapped in some sort of pastry, while he hummed his usual song.

“You got home early today” you pointed out to him.

“Bira came by and told me I needed to go home and check on something.”

“And you still stopped for food on the way home?”

“It did not seem like an emergency and we still need to eat” he shrugged.

You could not help but laugh a bit. Both Bira and Ba’tual had pointed out a few times that Zen used to skip meals most days, too caught up in everything else to take care of himself. It was not that he looked scrawny or anything when you first met, but now that he was eating well and sleeping through the night he sure did look a lot healthier.

He kept an arm wrapped around you to hold you close while he ate too, which was cozy, though you did have a complaint.

“You’re getting crumbs in my hair” you said and tried to brush them off.

“And I will help you get them out after too” he said.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence at the hearth for a while, Zen’s tusks tapped against the sides of your head while he tried to kiss the top of your head. With the sun starting to set the familiar chill started to set in.

“How about I run a hot bath for us?” Zen offered as if reading your mind.

You nodded against his chest and let him pick you up. Even from this awkward angle with you siting on his lap he lifted you with ease.

The warm water of the bath felt good against your cool skin while Zen washed your hair, getting the crumbs out as promised. Between the feeling of him purring while you leaned back against his chest and him playing with your hair you could have easily fallen asleep like that.

“You look comfortable” Zen said.

“I am” you answered.

“I like that, I like that you are comfortable here and around me” he said as he helped rinse the shampoo from your hair.

“Did you ever plan on getting married, like in general?” you asked.

“I have planned on very few things in my life, things just happen and I pray that they work out.”

“Like this?”

“Like this” he repeated, “And I am very happy things are working out. But you expected to marry, right?”

“I did, and when I was little my family did come to an agreement with another family that if their son could make a name for himself and climb the ranks in the royal navy I would be promised to him.”

“And you were alright with that?”

“It’s just life. He’s from a good family so it would have been a good match” you shrugged.

“Am I a good match?”

You had not put much thought into it truthfully, no more thought than that you were marrying someone who was not human. “Well, you’re a representative on the king’s council and the avatar of a god, so technically I might have married above my station.”

“And that is a good thing?” he asked cautiously.

“Technically this is a very good marriage for me.”

“Technically?”

“Yes, in theory this is a good marriage for me because I married up. But honestly you’re just a really good husband Zen.”

He wrapped his arms around you tightly and pulled you as close as he could without crushing you, “I am trying to be” he said against the side of your head.

You stayed entwined in the tub until the water started to cool. Zen got out first to dry off and relight the hearth to make sure the main room was warm enough for you before coming back to help you out of the tub and dry off.

He tucked you into bed, pulling the covered over you both and then pulled you on top of his chest. His hands were warm on the bare skin of your back while he absentmindedly rubbed your back and occasionally nuzzled his jaw against the top of your head.

It was always just calm being with him. Zen was never in a hurry with anything, well except for earlier. Earlier when he could not keep his hands off of you. Earlier when he eagerly undressed you. When he pressed against you and grinded against you. How direct and needy he was.

You leaned up to kiss his neck and he happily tilted his head to the side to let you reach better. His pulse was strong just under his skin and soft against your lips. By the time you had reached to nip along his jaw he was softly moaning and his hands had traveled down from your back down to your hips so he could really pull you close.

“And what are you up to my lovely wife?” he asked and you could feel the vibrations from his purring.

You did not answer, but instead reached up to pull his hair, making him bare more of his throat to you.

“You are so pushy for such a little thing, I like it” he chuckled.

At this point you were straddling his chest with how far up you had scooted to reach him. The vibrations from his purring were going straight to your clit and only encourage you to grind against him. You had been so ready earlier, so wet and excited to feel his thick cock fill you now that you were ready. It had been so disappointing when you had to stop that afternoon, the first few inches had felt incredible before he got to be too much.

“Are we picking back up from earlier then?” he asked.

“I want you” was all you could manage.

He tilted your face up so you could see him and gave you such a smirk, “Good, because all I have been able to think about for the last few hours was you riding me until you scream my name and then claiming you properly.”

His words made your cunt clench around nothing, a fire lit in your belly at the thought of him claiming you.

“Get on your back” he panted in your ear, “I am going to make sure that you are ready for me this time.”

--------

Part 25

Tag list

@blushycadaver @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @graveblanketgreen @lets-imagineastory @emonatural191 @lovingbadguys @after-laughter-come-tears @plathsotherib @krayziee @zaqnette @mochalyluv @nogoatsnoglori (doesn’t want to let me tag mocha or nogoats)

[ki-kink]

Hey man, love your stuff! I was wondering if you can transform me from a white military officer to a younger, [browner 😅] enlisted guy. I'm having a hard time getting thru to this new generation and i'd like to see what it's like as an enlisted POC (Hispanic, Indian, Arab, etc.) to better understand their situation and lead better- thanks!

CLASSIFIED INFORMATION - FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY EXPERIMENTAL PROTOCOL - OBJECT 42 OFFICER: MAJOR S. KRAUSS START OF EXPERIMENT: 03.02.2025 LOCATION: SECRET

DAY 1 - 03.02.2025 08:00: Injection carried out. Substance: “Evol-9”. No immediate side effects. 12:00 noon: Slight increase in body temperature. Pulse 72, no further abnormalities. 20:00: Fatigue sets in. Minor muscle pain. Presumably adaptation of the organism.

DAY 2 - 04.02.2025 06:00 am: Wake up with a strong feeling of energy. Pain has disappeared. Physical performance subjectively improved. 12:00 noon: Physical changes visible. Skin tightens, muscle definition increases. Hair growth accelerated. Uniform on upper arms and chest tightens 22:00: Increase in strength measurable. Weight difference of 3 kg (increase in muscle mass).

DAY 3 - 05.02.2025 06:00: Skin pigmentation begins to darken. Hormone levels in the borderline range. Libido increased. Urgent desire to masturbate 18:00: Physical transformation advanced. Deeper voice, lower body fat percentage. Chest hair visible 23:00: Feeling of restlessness. Increased aggressiveness. Testosterone levels above average. Urgent desire to masturbate.

DAY 4 - 06.02.2025 07:00 am: Physical rejuvenation clearly recognizable. Estimated biological age: 25 years. Urgent desire to masturbate 14:00: Fighting stamina significantly improved. Skin still darker. Beard growth visibly stronger. Urgent desire to masturbate 21:00: Muscle building extremely accelerated. Weight gain +6 kg muscle mass in 72 hours. Urgent desire to masturbate

DAY 5 - 07.02.2025 05:00 am: Awakening with intense sexual arousal. Difficulty concentrating on work tasks. Masturbated several times. 12:00 noon: Body corresponds to that of a 20-year-old athlete. Speech behavior changes slightly. Response to change in character. Allegedly salutes lower ranks. Urgent desire to masturbate 22:00: Restlessness. Need for sleep decreased. Thinking more impulsively. Masturbated several times

DAY 6 - 08.02.2025 07:00: Voice changes in tone. Choice of words begins to change. “Brother” used as an unconscious expression. Masturbated several times. 18:00: Mirror image irritated. Memories of military training remain, but strange sense of identity. 23:00: Partied with other recruits and privates. Wanked off several times. The shitty language from the NCOs is so lame!

DAY 7 - 09.02.2025 06:00 a.m.: Woke up in the morning with the biggest morning boner ever. Cummed several times in front of the mirror. Physically in competition shape. Talk to NCO about using the gym 15:00: Thrown out of my quarters by sergeant. Asked what I wanted in officers' quarters. Report requested. I'm not in the army for shitty writing! 11:00pm: Assigned to basic training recruits. Don't know why I wasn't before. After dinner I hit the weights in the gym. Wanked off four times in the shower and fucked a comrade.

DAY 8 - 10.02.2025 07:00: Brooo, Digga what's up? Haha, I swear, this thing is awesome! Yo, I feel brutal, bro! Been to the gym for two hours. Now shooting practice. Safe, dude!

DAY 9 - 02/11/2025 06:00: Wallah, I need a workout. I swear I can't do without it. Fuck the protocol, bro. Comrades here are fucking rad. Gym, training, fucking. Awesome, dude!

DAY 10 - 12.02.2025 08:00: Should write a diary here or something. I don't give a fuck, bruh. The bros don't either. I'm fresh, you know? Training, fucking, life is rad, bro.

LOGGING COMPLETED - OBJECT 42 NO LONGER IDENTIFIABLE AS MAJOR KRAUSS EXPERIMENT SUCCESSFUL. FURTHER MEASURES UNDER CONSIDERATION.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Cupid doesn’t gamble II

Summary: Leon, a mafia boss whose empire dominates all casinos on the west coast, meets a young girl amidst a game of poker. What would happen if he threw all his chips and gambled his love for you?

Warning: Mafia!Boss!Leon x Female!Reader. Eventual smut. Slow burn. Romantic. Leon is a gentleman. Characters are 21+ (plot wise). Researched topics. Mentions of violence. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 6,142

A/N: I was giggling and kicking my feet while writing this🤭 holy shit I’ve never written something so damn corny before… I LOVE IT TEEHEE. Ugh I love me some good fluff.

[I][III]

“I gave a second chance to Cupid, but now I'm left here feelin' stupid. Oh, the way he makes me feel that love isn't real. Cupid is so dumb,” - Cupid (Twin Ver.), Fifty Fifty

When Saturday arrived, you dressed yourself in a formal dress. You could only assume he’d want me to dress fancy since he always seemed to wear a suit. You didn’t think you’ve ever see him wear something casual.

The clock marked seven and you patiently waited in your room. You wore a black skin tight dress that reached your knees. It wasn’t from the most luxurious and high brand but it was still quite beautiful. The sleeves were actually a cape draped over your shoulders in a thin sheet of mesh fabric. Even your heels matched your dress. You’ve never been one to dress immodest on the first date. Your hair was done tied down and your makeup was light but not too boring. Everything looked just right.

Leon leaned against his car, his eyes focused on the door of your apartment building. He had been there for a while now, waiting patiently. He was dressed in one of his nicer suits, this one a deep navy blue. Although he didn’t bother to wear his signature red scarf or gloves.

He glanced at his watch, it was a minute before seven. He pushed himself away from his car, his eyes never straying from your door. He’d known Mafia Bosses who had to be punctual at all times, and now, it was a habit.

The neighborhood your apartment was in was on the side of the working class. You didn’t live in the richest part of town so his car stood out like a sore thumb.

Leon suppressed a sigh as he checked his watch again. Seven o’clock, on the dot. He started walking towards the door, his steps slow but steady. When he finally stood in front of your door, he took a moment to straighten his suit before raising his hand to knock, his knuckles rapping against the door three times.

He could already imagine your flustered reaction to seeing him again. He almost smiled at the thought, but his expression remained neutral, his face a stony mask. He waited.

Upon hearing the sounds of the knocking, you quickly made your way to the front door and opened to find Leon dressed so formally. He looked really good, your breath hitched and your heart skipped a beat.

“Leon,” you said with a soft smile, “You made it.”

Leon’s eyes roamed over you as you opened the door, taking in your appearance. The light makeup, the black dress, the tied-up hair, everything about you looked absolutely perfect. He couldn’t help but think that you looked even prettier than the last time he saw you.

He returned your smile with a small one of his own, his eyes softening slightly at the sight of you.

"Of course I did," he said, his gaze never leaving yours, "I said I would, didn’t I?"

He was so gentle, like an innocent lotus that blooms above water. Hence why you couldn’t help the smile you had, “You did,” you whispered as you maintained his eye contact.

You closed the door behind you and walked down the steps to stand in front of him. Even with heels he stood above your height.

“You look very handsome,” you complimented as you gestured for his own outfit. His suit seemed rich and expensive, made with only the best craftsman. Leon’s eyes darkened slightly at your compliment, a small smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. He was used to compliments, but coming from you… it was different. It sent a flutter through his chest, something he wasn’t used to feeling.

"You're one to talk," he replied, his gaze roaming over your figure again, "You look absolutely stunning."

He extended his arm out towards you, his gesture a silent invitation as he waited for you to take it.

His words were sincere, no lie detected. As if he was truly honest, why would he lie to a woman? He didn’t seem the type to try and hook up on the first date. He had manners and etiquette. You gently wrapped your hand around his bicep as he offered his arm to you. You’ve only ever seen this in movies, you didn’t think people still did it in real life.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, staring up at him as the lights from the stars above you twinkled in your eyes. Leon felt the warmth of your touch on his arm, the way your fingers wrapped around the material of his suit. It was a simple touch, but it already felt too intimate. He knew this was dangerous terrain, getting close to you like this, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He didn’t miss the way your eyes met his, a warm sparkle in them as the reflection of the stars danced across them. You looked almost enchanted by him, like a doe staring up at a wolf.

But Leon was no wolf. He was so much more dangerous than that.

Leon led you to his car, his arm still intertwined with yours. His steps were steady, his gaze focused on guiding you to the vehicle. The night was cool and yet, he wasn’t even paying attention to the cold.

His mind was occupied with other things, specifically the thought of how to keep your attention on him. Most of the women he’d dated before didn’t stay for long. He figured they were only interested in his money.

But you were different. It somehow felt like you were truly interested in getting to know him, and not his bank account.

When you neared his car, he actually held the door open for you until you sat down and closed it. Such manners! As he began to drive, you couldn’t help but marvel at his car. Even the interior looked expensive, “Nice car,” you commented softly.

Leon gave you a small shrug, slightly amused by your compliment. He was used to women swooning over his expensive assets, his cars, his houses.

But you didn’t do that. And it was refreshing to say the least.

"It's not bad," he agreed, his eyes on the road. He wasn’t looking at you, but he could still sense your gaze on him. He glanced over at you briefly, a small smirk on his lips.

"You’re not very impressed by the car, are you?" he asked bluntly.

Your cheeks flushed a bit and you shook my head, “I actually don’t know anything about cars,” you replied abashedly, “But I like it. It looks nice. Very comfy.”

Maybe he was used to hearing women compliment his assets and his bank account but you weren't used to such a lavish life so you didn’t know much. But it was all still impressive, not because of the price but because the car genuinely looked like it was taken good care of.

Leon chuckled softly at your answer, the sound low and warm. He could tell he managed to make you flustered again, a slight pink tinge on your cheeks that he found endearing.

"You’re the first woman I’ve met who didn’t swoon over the car instead of the man driving it," he said bluntly, his eyes on the road still.

He found it interesting, your lack of reaction to his worldly possessions. Most women, in his experience, fell over themselves just to ride in this car.

Okay maybe it was a bit weird reducing his car to just ‘comfy’ but it was fresh and real. It was an unexpected response but it seemed like he liked it.

You stared out the window, shaking your head once again, “Why would I put a car over a person?” You muttered before you glanced at him driving.

“A car won’t love me back. It won’t wipe my tears off my face,” you continued, “All it does it take from point A to point B. Why would I choose a car over someone?”

Leon's eyes left the road briefly to look at you, his expression unreadable. Your answer seemed simple and honest, genuine even. Most of the women he’d met cared about how much he could spoil them. They wanted fancy jewelry, expensive clothes. They never cared about the little things, the soft spoken words and the caring touches.

"That makes sense," he replied softly, his eyes focusing back on the road.

“In any case,” you muttered, unaware of how your words affected him for the better. You, in fact, did care about the little things. The lingering touches, the stolen glances—you lived for all of that.

“I think if you love someone,” you continued, staring at the road in front of you, “You understand them. You don’t lust after them, you don’t judge them, and you don’t compare them. To love someone, is to love so innocently but also very intimate in the sense that it isn’t sexual.”

“No car can replicate that type of love,” you whispered and glanced at him. Maybe you were being a bit indirectly forward, but you wanted him to know that you didn’t care if he was the richest man on earth or the poorest man, it was his morals and values that mattered.

Leon’s fingers tightened their grip on the steering wheel as he listened to your words. Your explanation of love was sweet, pure. It was almost like hearing a child’s view on the world, innocent and untainted.

It was so far from his own views on love. Love was a weakness, a risk that only ended in more pain and hurt. He had seen it many times, how people would do horrible things, all in the name of love.

But hearing your idealistic explanation of love… it sounded almost alien to him.

Your words felt almost like a revelation to him, a realization that love was supposed to be innocent, and intimate, and so much more than just material things.

He took a deep, steady breath, his mind quietly processing your words, the way they seemed to touch a part of him he thought was long gone.

"You have a way with words," he said, his voice laced with a hint of admiration.

A shy smirk reached your lips and you looked down at your hands on your lap, “Not really,” you muttered, “I just really like to read romance.”

“I’ve read Anna Karerina, Lorna Doone, and Forever Amber,” you listed softly. You loved romance novels, reading about predestined love and star crossed lovers often resulting in a battle of emotions was all so interesting to you.

Leon's gaze briefly flickered towards you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. It was endearing, your passion for romance. It was almost cute.

"Ah, a romantic at heart," he commented, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "I've heard of those books. Bit tragic, aren’t they?"

He remembered the brief details he’d heard about those stories, tales of love, passion and despair. It all seemed a bit cliché.

“Yes,” you agreed, “It is tragic but what is love if there aren’t consequences? The true enemy of love is not hatred, it’s indifference and doubt.”

“I like to think that love is a double edged sword, a line so thin that divides happiness and depression. It’s our choices that make that sword tilt either side,” you commented quietly.

Leon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened even further at your words. They were deep and profound, making him think of things he’d never pondered before.

“And what happens when that sword tilts the wrong way?” he asked, his voice a little cold.

He'd seen the darker side of love, the way it could make people do things they'd never thought they were capable of. He'd never been a stranger to that kind of love. The kind of love that consumed and destroyed.

“Then you let it tilt until it’s back straight. It’s a rotation, a cycle. Eventually… love will be the right way,” you said.

“Love can destroy and create, not so different from a god. You can create to destroy or you can destroy to create. You can hate to love or love to hate. But in the end, it’ll always be there,” But your view on love wasn’t all happy, it wasn’t all sad either. You’d like to think you had a balance of understanding the good and bad about the subject of love.

Leon chuckled darkly, a bitter, almost sarcastic sound. The cycle of love you described was something he had never believed in.

"Love can’t just fix itself," he replied, "Once it's destroyed something, it can never bring it back. Nothing can."

You smiled and looked at him, “Sure it can,” you replied, “Love *can* be fixed as it can fix others.”

“It’s everywhere. It’s in the trees, in the sea, in our blood—love exists and it hasn’t died. It can’t die. If there is no love, what will there be?” You said softly, “There will be people that hurt you and no matter how much love you give them, it’ll never be enough.”

“But that doesn’t make it the end of the world. It’s a temporary wound in your heart that feels too deep to heal but like all injuries… it slowly heals. Love is time. And you have time to love,” you muttered softly, still staring at him, “And with the right person, you’ll learn,” you said as you hesitantly rested your hand on his shoulder. Leon didn't look at you, his gaze stayed forward, watching the road. But he could feel the lingering touch of your hand on his shoulder, a stark contrast to his cold demeanor.

"You speak so kindly of love," he said softly, his demeanor softening, "As if it hasn't hurt you before."

He was softening, it’s like he couldn’t stay mad forever. “It has,” you whispered, squeezing his shoulder and giving him a small smile, “But I’ve learned to accept that the pain wasn’t just a setback. It was a step for the future.”

Leon's expression softened ever so slightly as you squeezed his shoulder and smiled at him. Your words, your optimism, it made him feel almost guilty for his cold demeanor.

He inhaled a breath, his body relaxing a little. You were a rare one, he had to admit that. In his line of work, he never encountered people like you, who spoke of love with such gentle wisdom.

As you neared the restaurant, it was busy with late night goers. People dressed in nothing but their bestest dresses and suits. It was quite fancy.

-

You had been sitting at your table that he had reserved, spending the time talking about your interests and telling stories. You don’t think you’ve ever laughed as much as you did tonight. He was funny, charismatic, kind, and patient. It was like he had cracked your introverted shell.

Leon's eyes lingered on you as you laughed, a small, warm smile tugged at the corner of his lips. You looked cute when you laughed, he had to admit. He was enjoying your company more than he thought he would. It wasn't just mindless banter, there was an ease in their conversation that he wasn't used to.

Leon raised his glass of wine, silently gesturing for yours to clink against.

"To a lovely evening," he said, his gaze never leaving yours.

You raised your glass of wine and clinked it against his with a smile, “To a lovely date,” you added before you sipped my glass. Once you put my glass down, you sighed softly and looked at him, “Thank you for this date. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy before on a first date,” you said with a small laugh.

The corner of Leon's mouth twitched into a small smile again as you thanked him. He was glad to see that you were enjoying yourself as much as he was.

He took a drink from his glass as well, his eyes still studying you, studying that beautiful smile on your face.

"No need to thank me," he said softly, setting his glass down as well. "This night is just as much for me as it is for you."

You leaned forward and rested your arms on the table, “Are you always such a gentleman?” You inquired with interest, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you act differently.”

"Perhaps," he replied, his gaze fixed on you, "I've always been taught to treat women with respect."

“It’s nice,” you whispered with a smile, your cheeks pink from drinking wine, “It’s way better than what modern dating is.”

"Modern dating?" he repeated, arching a brow, "Not into that whole 'Netflix and chill' nonsense?"

You chuckled and shook your head, “Oh, god, no!” You said as you rested your elbows on the table, your chin resting on the palm of your hand, “That’s like asking someone if you want to have sex. And I don’t do it like that.”

“I’d never ask anyone if they want to ‘Netflix and Chill’,” you muttered, “If anyone said that to me, I’d think they were a walking red flag.”

Leon chuckled at your reaction and shook his head as well. It was refreshing to meet someone who wasn't into the casual 'Netflix and chill' culture.

"I'm inclined to agree with you there," he commented, a hint of amusement in his voice, "It's a little too shallow for my taste. I prefer spending time getting to know someone before... well, anything else."

He took a sip of his wine, his gaze still on you, studying your expression. There was something so genuine about you. It was quite rare in his usual line of work.

“I agree with you on that,” you muttered softly as you watched him sip his wine, “I prefer to love than to lust.”

Leon's eyes widened ever so slightly at your words. Your honesty and your perspective on love and lust were a breath of fresh air.

"Love rather than lust, huh?" he replied, his voice almost a whisper. He set his glass of wine back down on the table.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table, his gaze intense and focused on you, "Quite a profound way of looking at things," he added, a hint of intrigue in his tone.

“Well, yes,” you said, you could feel yourself enter a state of rambling. Of digressing, if you will, “Everyone is so obsessed with instant gratification that we often forget that the process to reach that state is far more rewarding than the feeling itself.”

“It is like walking up the steps of a mountain and your only goal is to get to the other but in order to get to the other side, you must take calculated steps otherwise you’ll slip and fall. And that’s what life is about. To slip and fall but to also pick yourself up in order to achieve a goal, whether it is eternal happiness or a momentous fleet of bliss, the process in which we get there feels more satisfying than the actual feeling of being at the top that can only last a few seconds,” you rambled.

“Love is cherishing all the moments in which led you to be where you are. If we don’t appreciate what we have, someone else will,” then, your cheeks turned a bit pink as you realized you rambled, “Sorry. I went on a tangent there,” you said with a small and awkward laugh.

Leon simply sat back in his chair, a small smile playing at his lips as you spoke. He found himself listening intently to every word you said, captivated by your passion and eloquence.

"Don't apologize," he said, the hint of a smirk on his lips, "I find it endearing when you get carried away like that. You're quite the deep thinker. I like that."

You chuckled softly and nodded once more. You were indeed a deep thinker, a philosopher at heart. Everything that dealt with life, you loved to hear about.

“I just have a lot of thoughts in my mind,” you muttered quietly, “What about you?” You asked suddenly.

“What do you like to do?” You asked as you tilted your head slightly to the side, almost curiously.

Leon chuckled at your question. It was only fair that he be asked about himself. He took a moment to think before responding.

"What do I like to do?" he echoed, a hint of amusement in his voice, "Well, I'm a man of many interests. I enjoy reading, going to nice restaurants, taking walks... and gambling."

He paused, a sly grin slowly spreading across his face, "And you know I'm a pretty damn good poker player."

You rolled your eyes despite your lips curling into a smile, you weren’t all truly annoyed. He was a really good player that beat various times whenever you played for the first time together. The one where you met.

“Yes,” you nodded your head slightly and sat back, crossing one of your legs over the other, “You are a good player. I’m still grateful you forgave what I owed you after the rounds.”

"You know I have a soft spot for pretty girls," he said with a small chuckle, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

He reached across the table and gently patted the top of your hand, his gesture both affectionate and reassuring.

"It wasn't a big deal," he continued, his expression growing serious again, "Besides, I knew you weren't just some rich kid wasting your parents' money. That you were being responsible."

Your face softened and you didn’t move your hand away, the action seemingly affectionate and it warmed your heart. He was so gentle, wasn’t he?

“Just thought of spending a few dollars hoping I’d get more, but I learned my lesson,” you whispered before your hand hesitated a bit. You turned your hand over, essentially putting your palm up against his palm.

Your heart was beating fast, just the simple touch from his hand was enough to set your heart ablaze, “I’d never spend my parents’ money… you’re right on that,” you added, your voice quieter as you stared down at your hands together. Leon's eyes flickered down to where your hands met on the table and lingered there for a moment. He inhaled a tiny breath, his mind momentarily distracted by the feel of your skin against his.

The touch was simple, but in his line of work, he'd nearly forgotten the sweetness of physical affection. He gently curled his fingers over yours, holding your hand in a firm but gentle grip.

The touch was gentle, intimate, and tender. A softness of the warmth shared between you as your fingers gently played across his hand, your thumb rubbing his skin in a setting to wake a trail of warmth.

You didn’t know what took over you to do that but for some reason it felt natural. As if you were meant to hold him like a dream. That’s what he was, a dream personified right before you.

Your eyes drifted from your hands back to his eyes, watching as the dim and orange light of the restaurant play across his features in a harmonious and seraphic light. As your gazes met again, he couldn't help but be entranced by the way the soft candlelight from the restaurant played across your features. It was as if they were crafted to perfectly fit the curves of your face, enhancing your natural beauty.

His thumb gently returned the gesture, rubbing against the base of your hand. A silent, gentle agreement.

Unspoken words and unanswered questions lingered but for now, you’d just enjoy the company of each other. As the date progressed, the night became darker and the restaurant slowly became lone.

After paying, you walked out of the said place and strolled through the sidewalk as you made your way to his car. In the middle of crossing a bridge, the moon’s light reflected on the water beneath you, a shine so bright that you had to stop by the railing and stare at the full moon. Leon's footsteps slowed to a stop as you paused to stare at the moon. He stood beside you, leaning against the railing, his gaze fixated on your face as you looked out at the reflection of the moon shimmering on the water below.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked quietly as you kept your eyes on the moon, a soft breeze blowing by you two.

He glanced up for a moment, taking in the sight of the full moon in the inky black night sky, "It is," he agreed quietly. But as he looked back at you, he found himself thinking that there was a sight even more beautiful right in front of him.

You didn’t even notice his lingering gaze, eyes spoke so many volumes. It’s what makes humans vulnerable, the eyes never lie.

You stood there for what felt like an hour but really it was just a couple of minutes. Your skin chilled with goosebumps as the night breeze brushed over you, once again reprimanding yourself for being cold.

It was a pattern, huh? You being cold and him bringing you warmth. A balance between you. The irony didn't escape him. In any other circumstance, he would consider himself the colder one, and yet, standing beside you right now, in this moment, he could only think of you as the warm one.

He shrugged, then, without missing a beat, he gently draped his coat around your shoulders, the warmth from his body transferring to the fabric.

A smile plastered on your face as you felt the fabric with an all too familiar scent of his cologne. One that you didn’t even realize you had missed so much.

“Thank you for tonight,” you muttered softly, bringing his coat closer to your body, “It’s one of the best dates I’ve ever been on.”

He nodded his head in response, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, "It was my pleasure," he replied, his tone genuine.

He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on you once more, "And in all honesty," he continued, "I had a good time as well. I hope there'll be more nights like this soon."

You nodded and your smile widened, just the thought of seeing him again on a night like this made your insides flutter with joy and excitement. A candid and innocent feeling.

“Yes, I hope so too,” you muttered and stared up at him. It was just the two of you, standing under the moonlight as the sound of water splashed underneath you from below the bridge. Leon couldn't help but smile softly. Your expression was full of innocent excitement, your eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

The sound of water below you two and the soft sounds of the night's insects and the rustle of leaves echoed in the air around you, but all he could focus on was you. You, standing there with his coat draped around your shoulders. You, who, in that moment, seemed more beautiful than ever.

His heart skipped a beat in his chest, and he couldn't help but reach out and gently cup your cheek in his hand.

Your breath hitched, his touch was that of a soft caress. Of an artist admiring their piece of art that had been inspired by their muse. To which in this case, he was the artist and you were his muse.

The night ended perfectly. You had gone to his car to take you back home, although you didn’t really want to leave him just yet. The night felt young but you didn’t want to be selfish and greedy. The drive back to your apartment was quiet and peaceful. There wasn't an ounce of awkwardness, just the comfort of each other's presence. Even as Leon parked the car in front of your home, a part of him wished the night could have lasted just a little longer.

“This is it,” you whispered as you remained sitting in his car while he parked in front of your apartment. You didn’t want to say goodbye, what if you didn’t see him again?

He turned off the engine and turned to you, watching as you spoke the words neither of them wanted to say.

"I guess it is," he replied quietly, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles against the steering wheel.

You took off his coat and gently placed it in the cupholder separating our seats. Then, you glanced at him. Goodbyes weren’t easy when you didn’t know if you’d see each other again.

A thought occurred to you, you rummaged through your purse and pulled out a small piece of napkin, which had your lipstick stain on it, along with a pen. You wrote your number on the piece of napkin and then handed it to him, but not before you stole a kiss on his cheek. Leon's breath caught in his throat as he felt the surprise kiss against his cheek, the heat of your lips sending a shiver down his spine.

“Call me soon,” you whispered as you stepped out of the car, rather anxiously and a bit hastily. He took the napkin, his gaze flickering to the numbers written on it. He held it in his hand, almost like a lifeline, watching as you stepped out of the car.

"I will," he called out, a hint of something in his voice, as if he was reluctant to let you leave, "I'll call you soon," he repeated, a promise, an assurance to you, and himself.

As soon as you entered your home and closed the door behind you, you let out a breath you had been holding in after kissing his cheek. It was bold for you and it probably caught him off guard but you didn’t regret it one bit.

You felt your heart quicken, now that he had your number, you can definitely keep seeing each other more often. All was not lost tonight.

Leon sat in his car for a moment longer, staring down at the napkin holding your number with your faded lipstick kiss next to it. His mind was racing, his heart still thudding against his chest.

Your kiss was bold, unexpected, yet it sent a spark through him that he hadn't felt in so long. It was like a promise, a declaration that something had shifted.

He folded the napkin and put it in his pocket, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He started his car, heading back home with one thing in his mind. Soon, he'll call you. Soon.

-

For a couple weeks, you’ve gone out on more dates. Dinner dates, walks along the beach, even taking you to a carnival. He was always such a gentleman; holding the door open, carrying you in his arms bridal style if your feet ached from your heels, always stubbornly paying for your food.

And you had no say in anything, he was assertive but gentle. As if he only wanted to take care of you and not make you work or move a muscle. You didn’t mind, of course, but you always made sure to offer to pay for dates (even if it made him reprimand you).

For the first time in my life, you felt happy. Genuinely happy. He was everything, the only reason you woke up all happy was because of him. You were no longer your old self, he converted you into this happier version that you didn’t know you could be.

“Eyes locked on the target, Sir.”

“Good, go on right ahead, bring the captive alive.”

The worst thing imaginable had happened. A man broke into your house, the window crashed and you left your room to investigate.

When you made it to your living room, a figure from behind you suddenly pressed a piece of cloth right under your nose, forcing you to inhale whatever was on that.

Your vision blurred and you slowly felt your body become weak and disoriented. The man kept his grip around your arm tightly, preventing you from moving. When you had finally passed out, he gently laid you down on the floor to communicate with another person.

“Target acquired, returning back to base,” the man said before he picked up your body and threw it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

-

Leon was slowly falling hard for you. Seeing you happy, laughing, smiling was becoming an addiction for him. Every passing day that he spent with you, he found himself getting more and more attached.

He would do anything for you, pay for everything, pamper you, as long as you were happy and content. Seeing you smile because of him, brought him more joy than anything in the world.

He was falling in love, even if he didn’t quite realize it yet. His heart belonged to you now, whether he admitted it or not.

“Boss,” the voice of a man rang out in Leon’s office. As he had gone on dates with you, he didn’t neglect his duties as the mafia lord.

“Kyle was found dead in the casino. The arms case was missing as well,” he said to Leon. But it wasn’t just a random death. No, it was the act of an enemy mafia group just from the other side of the city. One that had many times tried to assassinate Leon and take over his empire.

Leon's expression darkened as he listened to his underling's report. The news of Kyle's death and the missing arms case was nothing but a nuisance, but the fact that his enemy mafia was behind this bothered him even more.

"Damn it," he muttered, his fists clenching at his sides, “Those bastards are getting bold."

He pushed himself up from his chair, his gaze hardening as he listened to his underling, "Any leads?"

The man shook his head, “No, sir. The body was missing so we couldn’t find the cause of death. But we found a card with the initials of Santo 'The Suit' De Lucchi.”

Santo ‘The Suit’ De Lucchi was a long time enemy of Leon. He was the man that had been targeting Leon ever since he became a Mafia boss. Santo was given the nickname ‘The Suit’ because he always played a tricky game.

He was obsessed with card decks, often always leaving behind a suit card on a bloody crime scene after murdering his own enemies. He’d leave the four types of cards behind depending on the message he tried to convey. This time, he had left an 8 of Spades card, meaning that he had a powerful group of men at the ready.

Leon's jaw tensed at the mention of the name. Santo 'The Suit' De Lucchi. He knew that name all too well, and it was never for a good reason.

The mention of the 8 of Spades card made his eyes narrow. It was a warning, a declaration of war. And it was personal.

"How nice of The Suit to leave a calling card," Leon said, his voice laced with anger. "He really wants my attention, doesn't he?"

“What do you want us to do, boss?” The underling asked Leon. War between mafias wasn't uncommon. Almost everyday, there were news of men found dead in the streets from crime and mafia activities. But to prevent panic among the citizens, the police simply said they were civilian disputes. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Leon paused for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts and plans.

"I want you to gather more information about his men, his operations, his every move," Leon ordered, his voice sharp and commanding, "But more importantly, I want to know why he's making a move now. This isn't just some petty feud, it's a message."

Leon's eyes narrowed as he thought, "He's playing a game, and I need to be ten steps ahead if I want to win it."

“On it, boss,” the underling then left Leon’s office, leaving him alone to think to himself.

It was suspicious how The Suit made a move now after years of feuding with Leon. What changed? Who was their next target? The Suit wasn’t going to stop there, no, he won’t. It would only be a matter of time before he went after something Leon cared so deeply about.

As the door closed behind his underling, Leon let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair.

He knew The Suit’s next move wouldn’t be a direct attack at him, no, that was too risky for someone like The Suit. He’d want to hit Leon where it hurt the most.

Leon’s thoughts immediately turned to you. His chest tightened at the idea of you being hurt, being targeted somehow. He had to make sure you were safe. Protected.

[angelremnants]

HIS FOR THE SEASON l L. Laufeyson

CHAPTER ONE,⠀The Price of Pride

chapter summary : In the first installment of our ever-tangled tale, we find both our fair protagonist and the mischievous prince at the crossroads of deception and ambition. As deals are struck and masks are donned, dear readers, be warned that not all that glitters is gold, and not every promise comes without a price.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature (16+), implied oral gratification (male receiving), emotional turmoil, light violence, referenced/implied minor characters' death, mind games, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 6.7k

author's notes : Here is the first chapter! I'm honestly so hyped to start writing for this series, but unfortunately I still have to pass my midterms, so the second part might not come as soon as this one.

For a referential point in this story, 1125 years old in Asgardian years is the equivalent of being 18, and 1315 years old would be being 21.

(ao3 version)

⠀

⠀

The road was a serpent of stone and shadow that wound through the untamed countryside beyond the capital's reach. It curled between towering pines with aged branches grasping at the sky and their gnarled roots engulfing the ground below. The air was humid with the promise of rain, dense with the aroma of fir and wet soil, and as the rider moved forward, the storm gathered on earnest—low thundering rumbling in the distance, acting as suggestive caution of his arrival rather than a danger.

No one traveled this road without purpose.

He didn't need a map to know where it led. He had unfortunately been there before, but the years between visits had thinned them out until they scarcely existed at all. However, the pathway remained undisturbed through and through, like the passage of time hadn't dare to touch it.

The first peek of the estate was a sensation rather than a sight—an eerie change in the surroundings, as the sought-after structure then appeared from the increasing mist, like a specter out of the gloom.

A castle of black stone, wreathed in foliage and partially swallowed by the encroaching wood. It stood apart from the rest of the world, unfettered by court or crown regulations, its mere presence a tacit defiance. At the threshold, the gates were ajar, twisted iron molded into fascinating designs, as if warning invaders of what could lay within. There were no guards, no showcasing of banners or sigils indicating its allegiance. 

The traveler did not slow down. His patience had run thin even before he reached the gates, as seen by the continual readjusting of his gorgeous golden hair, withering in the bleak atmosphere. The journey had been quite lengthy, but not as long as the years of silence that had separated him from the owner of this location.

He dismounted his stallion with practiced grace, and despite the bold statement of his presence, the house did not greet him. There were no servants or movement at the windows—only the uncanny serenity that had come to define this place of residence. His boots sank onto the damp earth, slippery from the distant rain, but he ignored the unease. After all, he had not come here for comfort.

Only when he approached the entry did the doors part open, revealing a figure framed by the sallow luminosity of candlelight. The head butler stood by, as immovable as the granite around him.

"Your Highness," Skurge greeted, mitigating the sound of hesitant recognition. "My master is not expecting you."

Thor exhaled through his nose, his frustration like a slow-burning ember. "I will see him regardless."

The retired warrior did not flinch. "My lord—"

"Enough," The prince cut him off, brooking no argument as he stepped past him without dispute.

Skurge sighed softly but did not stop him. It was an old battle that they had fought numerous times before. He had long since realized that denying entry to Thor was a futile attempt. His weary and knowing stare stayed set on the royal attendant as they both marched farther inside the building.

The stronghold's splendor consumed him whole. Velvet draped like falling dusk over the high-arched windows, reducing the outside world to nothing but a memory. Sconces emitted a warm glow that danced across the dark marble and mahogany, catching on the ornate paintings and carvings of mythical beasts, gods and beings. The smell in the room was laden with incense and wine, almost tied into the very foundation of the building. 

This was not a house of duty. It was a house of indulgence.

With each step, he felt the burden of his task on his shoulders. He had not come for a visit—rather, it was an intrusion. He did not belong here, and neither did his brother.

Skurge finally came to a halt in front of a hefty wooden door that, like the manor, appeared to preserve mysteries within its frame.

"He is inside," the housekeeper quietly announced in a way that hinted that he had witnessed this confrontation countless times already. The blond did not respond, simply pushing the door open, the hinges creaking with an aloofness that matched his own.

And immediately regretted it.

The air within was fragrant with an intoxicatingly faint mix of floral and musky. The room was barely illuminated, only emphasazing on the plush bedding and velvet pillows. A fire crept lazily into the hearth, pouring its warmth over tangled limbs, silk-strewn furnishings, and a scene of pleasure the guest did not want to see.

And in the heart of it all—a man clothed in carefree grace, with dark locks ruffled and keen green eyes lifting up to lazily gaze toward the door. A woman knelt before him, her head lowered and her hands resting on his thighs in an act that left little to the imagination.

Thor recoiled, his expression twisting in disgust. “By the Norns—”

Unconcerned, the man turned his head, peering at him with twisted amusement that showed in a smirk so languid. It was clear that the interruption did not even faze him.

"Ah, brother," Loki drawled in a honey-smoothed voice, his eyes glittering with delight. "What a nice surprise. Are you coming to join us?”

Thor glared at him. "Seize your rascality and compose yourself."

The dark prince, on the other hand, was never content with silent compliance. His lips curved, teasing at the edges, mocking innocence. With a languid sweep of his fingers, he waved the woman away.

"Go on, pet," he murmured in a deeper undertone. His fingers knotted in the woman's hair, allowing him to easily lift her head. "We will resume our—" his eyes flicked towards his brother, "—conversation later."

The courtesan pouted and slipped away with a lingering brush of fingers over his knee, her silhouette disappearing through the softly shut door that sealed them in.

Loki groaned and stretched like a cat roused from sleep. He stood with a worrying ease, completely unhurried as he fixed the loose buttons on his tunic. "You've become such a bore," he mused, rolling his shoulders, mockingly disappointed. "Had you walked in centuries ago, you might have actually been inclined to join me."

Thor's glare darkened. "And yet you wonder why our father sees you as a disgrace."

Loki smiled in a sluggish, knowledgeable leer. "Oh, I no longer wonder."

He smoothed down his sleeves and carefully adjusted the cuffs before moving toward the magnificent cabinet on the wall. He took out a crystal decanter of mead, the amber liquid reflecting in the firelight as he poured himself a large drink. 

Not once did he glance in Thor’s direction. He never treated him with the same courtesy. Instead, he raised the cup to his lips and took a leisurely, savoring sip, seemingly not caring about the tension hanging between them. Then, only after swallowing did he speak.

"Now," he voiced, swirling the mead in his glass, his eyes bright with laughter. "Tell me, dear brother, what I owe the pleasure to. Another warning? A lecture, perhaps?" He inclined his head, pretending attention. "Do you intend to recount my many misdeeds, as if I am not already aware?"

His brother exhaled sharply to steady himself. "Not this time. I came for another reason."

Loki arched his brow. "Do tell."

Thor's fingers curled along his sides. He had expected resistance, not such carelessness. This was not the brother he had previously known. The brother who had formerly measured every step with care and sought praise no longer stood before him. In his place stood a creature of indulgence and disobedience, a terrifying figure honed and shaped by unwarranted exile.

But for all his decadence, Loki had never been a fool.

“You are to return to the palace.”

The host’s sneer remained constant, although the light behind his eyes flickered for a brief moment. A brief, almost inconspicuous shift.

He laughed, bellowed even.

Thor tightened his grasp on Mjölnir, the hammer's familiar weight both reassuring and frightening in his hand. His knuckles turned white, and the veins in his arm tightened in an effort to contain his mounting rage. This was not the reunion he had hoped for—but, truth be told, he hadn't really expected anything else from his brother.

"Your presence has been requested at the court," he insisted, each word bearing the heft of obligation and haste. "It is time."

Across the room, Loki's smile contorted sardonically. With a sinuous flick, he sent the last drop of mead spiraling from his cup, allowing it to fade into the shadows as he laid the vessel down with exaggerated disregard. 

"Requested my presence?" he repeated. "How quaint. Let me guess, should I expect greater condemnation? Another lecture on my failings?" He leaned back in his chair, the scowl on his lips growing greater in depth. "Is that why you rode all the way here? To offer the customary refrain?" His cold, mocking gaze never left Thor's, challenging him to prove him wrong.

"This isn't another lecture on your reckless behavior," the crown prince bargained, exasperated but determined. "This is about your title."

At those words, the raven-haired stiffened, his eyes flashing with incredulity. “The one you so kindly withheld because of my exile, you mean? The one I was deemed too… troublesome to receive, while you paraded your birthright before all of Asgard?” His voice was sharp as a drawn blade, every syllable dripping with scorn. “I’m past the age of 1125, you know that well enough. It’s too late to rewind time and add the fanfare and ceremony you so cherish. I have no need of it.”

Thor's chest clenched at his cruel words, but he was undeterred. He needed to make him see reason, if only for a moment. "It's not just that," he ground out, the tension in his voice palpable. "It's about what our father intends to do, and you—"

“Your father,” Loki spat, as though the very qualification felt like venom on his tongue. “Not ours. Do not speak of him as if he ever cared about me."

Thor's mouth dried up, and he couldn't help but feel a stab of remorse. But there was no time to dwell on it now. “It’s not just the title, Loki. It’s... a deal.” his voice dropped. “Father wants to strike a deal with you.”

For a long moment, the second prince regarded his elder with amused disbelief that failed to mask his calculating gaze. “A deal?” he echoed. “And what, pray tell, could he possibly offer that would capture my interest at this late hour?”

Thor’s hand twitched by his side as he fought against the torrent of words threatening to overwhelm him. Inwardly, he cursed the inevitable vulnerability that came with speaking the truth.

“It’s about the will.”

Time seemed to stand still at the statements. Loki ceased to move as though struck by an invisible force. It was a genuine reaction, with his eyes reflecting an image of the youngster he once was. But the shock passed as fast as it arrived, replaced by the gravelly resolve of a man who had long forsaken hope. "The will is no longer of my interest," Loki flatly responded. "Why should I care for his proposal now?"

“I never thought you would, Loki.” The blonde exhaled slowly. “I think you should hear him out. Do it at least this once, and I promise we’ll leave you free of these constant intrusions.”

Loki’s gaze bore into his, seeking any flicker of deceit or ulterior motive. Finding none, an unspoken understanding passed between them—a fragile bridge over a chasm of past grievances and present imperatives.

“Fine,” he agreed at last, a trace of genuine curiosity mingling with his ever-present defiance. “I’ll hear him out. But do not mistake my interest for hope.”

Thor’s weary yet steadfast eyes met his brother’s with a silent promise. “I never would.” 

His eyes traced every disorganized detail of Loki's appearance, which was far from the polished princeling he had previously grew up with. His dark hair fell in wild, tangled cascades around his face, and his once impeccable clothes hung in crumpled disarray, as if burdened by a sorrow too great to be contained.

"You look as though you've abandoned even the last shred of dignity," Thor indicated sorrowfully, the words flowing out before he could catch them. "I'd wager she would be disappointed if she were still here to witness this."

He knew his words shattered the fragile peace, and he promptly regretted uttering them, knowing all too well the tragic history that laid behind this pitiful façade.

In an instant, Loki's eyes flared with terrible enmity. He rose from his chair with the predatory elegance of a cornered animal and rushed toward the envoy. In one swift action, the dark prince grabbed his arm, his hold alluding to an implicit warning built over years of suffering and indolence

"Do not speak so idly," he growled alarmingly, in the fashion of a wintry wind. His fingers sank sharply into Thor's flesh. "You would do well not to invoke her again—especially when you know nothing of what transpired."

The blonde stiffened under his grasp, his stare locking with his in a quiet exchange rich with old wounds and buried truths. For a long, tense moment, they stood there—two souls bound together by blood and remorse, their shared history a shaky bridge over a chasm of pain.

Loki finally let go of him, moving back with a controlled calm that concealed his smoldering despair. "We'll go to the palace tomorrow," he stated calmly and dismissively. "Until then, see to it that Skurge assigns you a place for the night. And send the maiden back inside."

Thor halted, but he knew better than to press on. His brother's barriers were too high, and his resistance was too strong. "Understood," he replied, the resignation in his voice combined with the residual pain of loss. "I'll make the arrangements."

He paused only briefly before turning and heading out of the bedroom, his footsteps retreating down the corridor. The door closed behind him with a faint, decisive click, leaving Loki to his own devices.

The silence that followed felt like a heavy blanket pressing from all sides, saturating the entire space with concealed facts. The shunned prince resided stationary, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon visible through the small window panels. Outside, the night stretched out in a never-ending palette filled with ambiguity and impending possibilities. His thoughts were entwined in knots—of the palace, of his contested title, of the Allfather's aspirations, and of the storm that threatened to come tomorrow.

⠀

⠀

The hippodrome was saturated with incense, a perfumed fog that curled through the towering hall and melded with hushed exchanges and muffled sobs. Draped in somber shades of black and violet, the grand chamber exceptionally bore the sigil of House of Sigvard in golden embroidery upon the banners that swung gently from the pillars. It was an extravagant farewell, one meant for a nobleman of once-great stature, though the weight of his transgressions loomed like a silent specter over the gathered mourners.

You stood at the center of it all, clad in mourning robes of midnight silk, your hands gracefully clasped before you in a practiced pose of grief. Condolences flowed in a delicate stream of soft, sorrowful words from nobles who pitied you and empty gestures from those who secretly rejoiced in the slow and continuous decay of your house’s legacy.

“He was a man of duty,” one of your uncle’s acquaintances lamented barely audibly above the solemn dirge.

“A great loss,” another added with feigned regret.

You nodded, lips pressed into a trembling smile as your eyes shimmered with unshed tears that caught the flicker of candlelight. When the final rites were called, the assembled crowd parted with solemn efficiency, leaving you alone before his final resting place—your last remaining close kin. The casket laid upon a raised dais, framed by flickering torches that cast dancing shadows upon its polished wood, awaiting its fate to be consumed by flame.

Each step you took toward it was in sync with the steady rhythm of your breath. At its edge, you bent down, letting your fingertips trace the smooth grain of the wood as though you sought to commit every ridge and curve to memory. Leaning close, you let your lips ghost near his ear, your voice barely more than a whisper in the hush of the hall.

"May your next life be as wretched as this one was undeserved."

Then, with a tenderness that belied the venom in your words, you pressed a soft kiss to his cold forehead—a farewell infused with a bitterness far removed from true grief.

You straightened with grace before turning and rejoining the front lines, harboring a flawless mask of quiet devastation. Behind you, the ceremonial flames were kindled, and soon the fire took hold. A collective, solemn gasp rippled through the assembly as the casket was engulfed, the scent of burning incense giving way to a harsher, acrid tang that stung the senses.

Tears traced glistening paths down your cheeks as you watched the funeral pyre, each flicker of flame reflecting memories of a once-honorable past. For a long and silent juncture, you remained rooted to the spot, witnessing the send-off until the last embers shuddered and died.

The guests began to gradually drift away in final bows and a mumblage of sympathies fading into the chill of the night, until at last only you and your company remained in the desolate quiet of the burial grounds.

A soft cough shattered the welcomed stillness. “My lady?”

You turned around and revealed your once-tear-stained face being carefully composed, with every trace of feigned grief meticulously erased.

“Elva, please fetch me a handkerchief,” you declared, your voice steady and low. “And go ready the carriage.”

Your ever-faithful maid complied without hesitation, retrieving a pristine silk tissue and placing it gently into your outstretched palm. You brought it to your lips first, dabbing them before using it to carefully wipe your face.

Elva’s eyes widened momentarily. “My lady, why did you—” she began, then faltered, her voice a mere whisper. “Why your lips?”

You folded the handkerchief in a neat fold, tucking it away in your palm like a secret too precious for the light.

"Well, I shouldn't afford to leave noxious substances so carelessly on my lips now, should I?” you lightly chipped, tilting your head in private delight. 

You approached one of the liberated flames from the funeral pyre’s dying glow and threw unceremoniously the ruined fabric. The hanked reacted immediately to the contact—an almost unnoticeable sizzle resounded as its edge curled with unnatural speed into ash, erasing any trace of its presence.

Elva’s lips parted in realization as if to offer further counsel, but no words came—only a respectful silence as she bowed her head and hastened toward the waiting carriage. You stepped after her at an unhurried pace, the ghost of your smirk lingering like a promise of the plans yet to be set in motion.

The carriage door closed with a firm click, sealing the both of you inside the dimly lit interior. Without hesitation, you surged for the nearest window and pulled down its heavy velvet curtain, ensuring that no fragment of the outside world might enter on your personal sanctuary. The cabin was warm and quiet, acting as a cocoon where covert revelations might be shared without the jeopardy of inquisitive ears. You carefully secured each window one by one, an exacting process that the brunette quietly observed, her gloved hands lying demurely in her lap.

Only when the last curtain was drawn did you nestle into the soft seat. You exhaled deeply, as if relieving the pressure of a lifetime in one long, slow breath. Outside, the repetitive clatter of hooves against cobblestone blended with the night's silence. Through a narrow rip in the fabric, you watched the vast sacred building fade into darkness, a mere outline absorbed by the small municipality's tortuous highways.

After a long, reflective interval, Elva's kind voice shattered the quiet. "What are you going to do now, my lady? Seeing that you're free?"

You let out a deep, almost languid sigh, one of odd comfort rather than grief. "I've already begun," you remarked. "The furniture is being sold, piece by piece, and most of the staff have been let go."

Elva's posture tensed as she blinked, recognition dawning in her eyes. "Then that would mean..."

Your lips curled with a faint, knowing smile. "Yes, you have been promoted to the position of head maid."

After a minute of calm acceptance, Elva nodded softly. "That should secure our future, along with the savings you've so discreetly accumulated," she answered nervously. "It was fortunate that your uncle was ill enough in his final years to entrust you with managing the household's resources."

“Fortunate indeed,” you mused, a wry note lacing your words. “Though I doubt he ever meant for me to wield it to my own advantage.”

Elva fell silent for a heartbeat before asking with an almost timid curiosity, “Why not sell the estate as well?”

A distant chuckle escaped you, devoid of genuine mirth. "That house is the only reminder of my childhood. I spent my happiest days there," you mused, your mind drifting as memories surfaced. "I am sure you remember the swing that my father built for me among those old pear trees. I can still recall my mother's standing nearby in case I fell. In the end, I had to regrettably sell it."

Your maid regarded you with a blend of understanding and pity, but offered no further words.

You exhaled through your nose, the corners of your mouth softening into a wistful line. “No matter. I’m certain no one would dare engage in dealings with an estate burdened by such a dismal reputation.”

A profound inertia fell between you, interrupted only when Elva spoke once more. "Did you even sell the portraits?"

You shifted your sight to the curtained window, your face unreadable in the flickering shades. "I couldn't," you confessed with a rare vulnerability. "Some things... are too cherished to be relinquished to strangers."

The rest of the route was spent in thoughtful silence, with the city gradually disappearing as the vehicle transported you home. Finally, the estate's imposing gates emerged in the pale moonlight, and the horses halted, the carriage slowly grinding to an end.

As you reached for the door handle, Elva shifted uncomfortably. “You have no guardian now, my lady,” she reminded you in a hushed tone. “And you remain a bachelorette, at that. How do you intend to proceed?”

Stepping out into the cool air, you smoothed the folds of your mourning dress and turned to face her. “How else?” you replied, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth as clear ambition sparkling in your eyes. 

“I’m going to marry rich. Obviously.”

⠀

⠀

The streets of Asgard have never felt colder as they did tonight. The pavement, slippery with twilight mist, glistened beneath your measured tread and lead you through a region of the city you used to avoid. Lanterns sputtered in the heavy darkness, their meager radiance generating wavering shadows that danced maliciously at the borders of your view. This was not the Asgard you remembered—it was bright, resplendent, and full of pomp and color. No, this was the underbelly of a fading realm, where houses' facades crumbled like brittle paper and wealth remained a faraway dream.

You walked with careful intention, each step resounding on the damp cobblestones. In the back of your mind, Elva's gentle query from yesterday's evening lingered. 

"My lady, why suddenly... this wish?" Her worry was evident, a compassionate spark in the midst of your anguish, when you announced your intention to enter the marriage market. It was a decision made out of necessity, not whim, and one that became increasingly urgent with each passing day.

She was positive that you, of all people, would never debase yourself by engaging in such a banal and ignoble transaction. But surely she was aware of your golden cage, of the days spent imprisoned in the decaying confines of your family's home where sycophantic suitors bargained for your attention as if it were a valuable commodity. Pathetic men of low ranks and even simple commoners, dressed in the finest of what they could afford and bursting with fake admiration, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. They were eager, preening before you as if you were the sun that centered their entire world.

Once, you were untouchable.

Your household name had echoed through every banquet hall and noble ceremony, a jewel in the illustrious diadem of House Sigvard. As the daughter of one of Asgard's most powerful families, you were admired for your grace, brilliance, and wit. You had smoothly presided over your mother's salon, the centerpiece of high society, where the elite eagerly awaited your insights on courtly issues, the latest political intrigues, and the scandalous whispers of the realm. Every word you spoke was valuable as gold.

You'd been at the top.

And what of now? You walked these dour alleys like a phantom of your previous self. Your uncle's reckless expenditures had consumed the once-glorious fortune, leaving nothing but sallow ruins. Gambling. The wretched man threw away everything—your family's name, your inheritance, and the future you had once hoped for. When the payments came due, he callously sold your numerous assets, which included your beloved mother's salon, to satisfy his creditors' voracious appetite. You could still picture it vividly in your mind, the day the "sold" sign was hammered into the front yard, along with the harsh laughing of vultures as they swept away the final vestiges of your inheritance.

It was an insult you could never forgive.

That bastard. 

You clutched your fists as a stringent laugh from your lips and echoed off in the lengthy road. "Idiotic rule," you mumbled beneath your breath as you thought of the oppressive law requiring noblewomen to stay under the custody of their male relatives. Such a horrible charade. 

Fortunately, you had no brother to protect you, no distant cousin prepared to challenge the status quo. The few remaining relatives were either too old or already comfortably ensconced with their own fortunes to give a damn. Had your name retained its former glory, they would have fought like starving lions to claim the scraps of you and your estate.

The edifice in front of you resembled an inn at best, its stone walls weathered and pitted from the unrelenting passage of time and neglect. A sprinkling of weakly reflective windows on the higher floors glowed like feeble stars, giving only the sensation of a long-forgotten place, a hollow echo of a purpose that had once existed.

You pushed open the hefty door and walked inside. The smell stale ale, charred wood, and a faint scent of something metallic mixed in a suffocating haze of smoke straightaway assaulted your nostrils. A faint drone of conversations, accented by the odd clink of chipped glass, emanated from the few figures slumped over tattered tables. It was a dramatic contrast to the sumptuous salons of the past, where laughing sounded like music and every word was dressed in polished beauty.

This decomposing hideaway was your destination—a place where answers may be found among the private matters of people who thrived in the dark. Your torn cloak, nevertheless rich in color, was your only protection against inquisitive scrutiny. Here, you appreciated the anonymity it afforded. Being a faceless, nameless wanderer in these forsaken streets was a small comfort in that abandoned world.

You walked to the far end of the room, where a weathered wooden bar stood under the careful eye of a broad-shouldered bartender. As you neared, his face flickered up, marked with the lines of long nights of hard work. You feigned to fix your cloak, taking care not to reveal your features.

"Anything I can get for you?" he asked in a gravelly tone.

You paused before conspiraciously leaning in. "A glass of the Red Eel," you whispered softly, allowing the words to install themselves.

The bartender's hands stopped mid-polish, his eyes narrowing as a spark of recognition flared inside them.

"The bathroom is two rooms down the corridor, on the left. Be quick," he nodded towards the aisle.

A contented smile traced on your lips. "Thank you," you answered calmly before leaving the bar behind. You crept into the small corridor, the inn's muted sounds fading into a distant cacophony. You soon discovered the small door that went to the so-called bathroom, enclosed in peeling wallpaper and illuminated by a single, flickering light overhead.

You shut the door after you, allowing yourself a moment of calm satisfaction. The excitement of being so near your goal sent shivers down your spine—a delicate blend of yearning for rebirth and desperate hope.

You stepped into the narrow room, where the dim glow of a solitary candle revealed a large desk set in the center of an alcove at the far end of the room. The desk was sinister, made from dark oak and marred by age. Its surface was crowded with parchment scraps, old books, and assorted trinkets, all of which had been neglected to accumulate dust. Behind the desk stood a gaunt man with eyes like chipped flint, his face shrouded by the half-light. 

"What brings a stranger to our door?"

You straightened, readying yourself for the next battle of wills to come. "My intentions should be obvious," you coolly replied. "After all, this is the most renowned informational guild in the city—a sanctuary of secrets for those who truly need them."

He chuckled, a dry sound that echoes in the gloom. "Indeed. But we do not entertain any clients who come so freely." He gestured for you to approach the desk with an appraising stare and greedy eyes shining through the dark.

You obeyed without hesitation, your footsteps echoing faintly as you made your way toward him. "Precisely because I know that, I am here," you asserted, producing your family crest from within the folds of your garment and placed the emblem on the scarred surface of the desk.

The man's eyes widened as he inspected the proud and intricate design bearing the insignia. A slow, humorless laugh escapes him. "What a joke, for the House of Sigvard falling so low to be seen here," he scoffs. "The Grand Marshal's legacy has truly reached the very depths of Hel. 

He shook his head as if almost in disbelief. “Tell me, Sigvarddóttir, why should we even be interested in your demand when you hail from a house that now holds little value?"

Your gaze sharpened and you remained still, not fliching at his attempt to undermine—you knew better than to let his words wound you. "Because, as you yourself noted, House of Sigvard was a bastion of prestige for centuries until it fell into unworthy hands," you countered. "I am of the blood of that esteemed lineage, the direct descendant of an union between the most praised ex-lady in waiting for the Allmother herself as well as one of the most strategic and intelligent war scholars our realm has been blessed with. Naturally, I have inherited those qualities."

The man arched an eyebrow, his smile turning wry. "Inherited, perhaps," he conceded. "But let us not forget the disgrace your house was sealed with when your father was accused of treason and of leaking the kingdom's most confidential secrets. A legacy tarnished beyond repair."

The informant looked at you with narrowed eyes, feeling that beneath your calculated façade lurked a secret weight far larger than desperation. You decided to comply and prove his hunch was right by reaching within the folds of your cloak and pulling out a purse. Its contents clinked softly in an exquisite symphony of gold coins and tiny gems, each one a relic of the richness that once established your ancestry. You carefully opened the pouch, allowing the gold and stones to stream over the desk's scarred surface.

But it was not all.

Added to the funding, you set a little book sheathed in a leather cover that had split with age. Marked on its pages were precise notes written in your own hand, a record of secrets acquired over years of patient observation. This book was your weapon, the result of decades spent documenting the illegal activities of people who had betrayed your family. You had kept it buried for fear of the consequences of revealing it, but now was the moment to wield its terrible truth.

The man's gaze shifted between the bag and the book, his interest evidently piqued.

"I'm positive," you stated, "that my father was framed. And I can prove it—with time, money and power." You watched his lips move to speak, but you lifted your hand to silence him. "But for now, what matters is this." You tapped the book lightly. "In these pages are the names of every shady noble my uncle gambled with—the very ones who collaborated with him to dishonor my family's reputation. Their schemes, deceptions, and cover-ups. These are the architects of House of Sigvard's demise."

You leaned forward, your eyes locking onto his with fierce intensity. "I know that your guild despises the crown's myriad laws. They flaunt their wealth and defy every decree. Releasing this information, especially when most concerns imperialist nobles, would shake high society to its very core. And you know it."

A heated silence ensued, laden with the promise of upheaval. The man then let forth a rich, hearty laugh stirring the dust in the dim light.

"By the Allfather," he vociferated in both admiration and menace. "You really are the daughter of Sigvard and Regna, to speak so boldly." His eyes glittered in a blend of curiosity and a tinge of an unsettling look. "Very well, girl. Tell me, what do you want from us?”

You inhaled quietly to calm your nerves, keeping your grip protectively curled around the purse and the book. The man's dark gaze pierced into you, anticipating your next words and the price you would set.

"I want your help," you bid carefully. "I will gradually pay you in coins and reveal names when I'll come to seek your assistance. Presently, I request your aid regarding two issues."

His eyes glinted with interest, prompting you to deliver the next words with purpose and careful arrangement.

"Firstly, I want you to remove the allegations and evidence of tax evasion that my uncle have tarnished my house's reputation with. Clear my reputation in the eyes of the crown, so that the gossip can stop." You paused, letting the weight of the request settle between you. 

"I will also need a list of future bachelors. I need the names of individuals who are wealthy, of impeccable stature, and untainted by nefarious relationships. These individuals must have enough caliber to be able to keep my distant relatives at bay should they seek to claim what I am and what I own, and they have to allow me to develop sa business of my own by using their riches and influence should it be necessary."

The candle's flame trembled in the silence of the room, its feeble glow stretching enough to let you perceive the man reclining in his dilapidated chair that protested with every tiny movement. 

“Very well,” he pronounced resolutely, as if the verdict had been sealed in his mind long before the words escaped his lips. “You will receive a pigeon carrier during the following few days to deliver the information you have requested. Regarding the remainder of your requests, I will make every effort to assist you as soon as you deem it necessary. You have my word.”

A slow nod was your only reply, as the gravity of the agreement pressed upon you like a stone sinking in dark water. With the deal inked in the silent contract between your eyes, you reached for the small, leather-bound book that lay between you. The book’s spine creaked in protest as you opened it, your fingertips caressing its jaundiced pages and you swiftly tore out a single page.

The crisp sound of paper severing its bond with the rest of the book was startling in the impendation, a punctuation to the gravity of the occasion. You laid the page  before him, bearing a list of names—each scrawled letter a testament to your resolve and the fate of those who had wronged you.

“Here,” you piped, betraying nothing of the tumult that churned beneath the surface. “Consider this a preview. This will only be the beginning.” Your fingertips brushed the cool edge of the parchment as you withdrew your hand.

His searching eyes roamed the list, a subtle spark of malevolent glee igniting in their depths. No words were needed, the silent acknowledgment passed between you both was enough. You then released the contents of your pouch, of which jangled softly as you set it beside the page. 

“As promised,” you declared, your tone final. You cast one last glance at the parchment and the pouch—symbols of heritage and leap of faith intertwined—and with a hasty resolve, you retrieved the crest. 

You finally took your departure, your boots tapping against the floor as you advanced. Your hand reached for the cold iron handle, but before you could definitely leave, his voice halted you once more.

“Sigvarddóttir,” he called with curious intrigue. “One last question before you leave.”

You paused, your eyes meeting his as you tilted your head in quiet expectation. “What is it?”

“If you had to represent yourself, how would you do it?”

The question hung between you like a delicate wisp of perfume. For a short stretch of time, you considered its layers, the hidden meanings swirling like autumn leaves caught in a gentle wind. “I suppose you have your own reasons for asking,” you began, a note of uncertainty in your tone. 

“As for how I would present myself... the answer is, in truth, simple.” Your eyes fell to the family crest, seeping cold from the metal in your hand. "I will always bear the signature of my house with pride, regardless of the circumstance. I wear its history, its strength, and even its failures upon my shoulders, and it will forever define who I am at core, along with how I choose to depict myself hereafter.”

A moment passed before the man’s lips twitched into a small, wry smile. “A proud answer indeed,” he concluded thoughtfully in a small appraisal. 

With that, you turned once more toward the door and without a backward glance, you pushed open the door and stepped into the dim corridor beyond, your mind already racing with the preparation of your next move to play.

Inside the room, the man’s attention returned to the page, his fingers tracing over the names with abnormal care. A soft chuckle escaped him as he murmured, almost to himself, “Interesting... Very interesting.”

His form began to blur and shift. The harsh, angular features softened, the masculine lines giving way to the delicate grace of a woman’s visage. In a seamless transformation, the dark, tattered garments were replaced by a gown of deep, earthen green. The fabric flowed around her lithe frame, rich in texture and hue as if woven from the forest’s heart. Golden blonde hair tumbled in gentle waves around her now expressive face that combined ethereal beauty with a spark of calculated brilliance.

She once again fixed her gaze upon the names on the page, her delicate fingers skimming over the inked list as her eyes glinted with a newfound admiration. “If my calculations are correct,” she said softly, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “this will be a fine choice as an ally. For both of us.”

Her eyes shone with the thrill of the unfolding game, a quiet laugh escaping as she already started to plot the pace to adopt in this upcoming intricate dance of fate. “Yes,” she affirmed to herself, “this will be most interesting indeed.”

⠀

⠀

ending notes : To explain the corrosive part in the burial, my understanding is that in Asgardian funerals, the fire is supposed to slowly process the body to thoroughly purify it. Her accelerating the burning would mean disrupting the ritual and therefore meddle with his passing. Let me know your thoughts about the series so far, comments and interactions are very welcomed ! <3

⠀

PROLOGUE.⠀|⠀CHAPTER ONE.⠀|⠀CHAPTER TWO.

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[sarahreesbrennan]

Another Interesting Spoilery Evil Question

To directly answer the question before I start rambling, the Cobra’s body’s physical age is 24.

(You can stop reading here if you like. This gets very long!)

When Marius meets the Cobra (chapter 18 epigraph from Time of Iron) he correctly identifies him as Marius’s own age at the time - 18.

At the time of the book all the physical bodies’ ages are as follows.

Marius - 24

The Cobra - 24

Rahela - 24

Octavian - 24

(Pio and Nemeth, Octavian’s advisers, are in their early 40s and late 50s respectively - they’re Octavian’s dad’s people and that is part of why they are so stressed. Their king died young, Octavian became king in his teens and it has been an uneasy court ever since.)

Emer - 23

Key - 20

Lia - 19

Rae and Eric in our world were both 4 years younger than their bodies in this world (so they would both be 20 if the story hadn’t happened to them). For the moment we’ll leave aside Key, who had another life too, in a different way. (He was a little kid, but old enough to walk after his father, in the epigraph from Time of Iron in chapter 15.)

I do age shenanigans for two reasons.

—One is that age in fiction and reality is weird, and I wanted to portray that. If I had a crush on Mr Darcy when I was 7, is that okay? If I had a crush on Mr Darcy when aged 41, is that okay? Mr Darcy’s always in his late twenties: Elizabeth Bennet will never be older than 21, but she seemed so glamorous and all-knowing to me when I was a kid.

And if you walk into a story, when in their character development do you find them? Would we like Darcy when he’s sneering at Elizabeth at a ball? Who is it that we love and when?

Plenty of adult women fancied Edward Cullen, perpetually a teen (or was he? Fantasy and horror also open up the possibility of immortality - but in a way, all fictional characters are immortal. Holden Caulfield isn’t growing up any more than Edward Cullen is. And like fictional characters and immortals, the dead aren’t getting any older either—I think often of Anne Rice, author of the Vampire Chronicles, who wrote the doomed child vampire Claudia after losing her own daughter Michele as a child. Death, immortality, fiction and the overlap!) When I read or watched stories in which characters were in different/changed bodies they usually seemed younger - often their younger selves, or a younger/cuter body (Peggy Sue Got Married, Scarlet Heart). (Exceptions exist of course, e.g. Howl’s Moving Castle.) And I like magic losing something, costing you something, plus I’m a contrarian. So I wanted them older.

—The other is that LONG LIVE EVIL is a story about trauma, which often arrests your age in your mind. The period in which you were enduring the horrors is a blank in which you couldn’t develop normally, or in which you had plenty of experiences but few of them match with your peers’.

Cancer did it to me, which wasn’t horrendous as I was in my early 30s and that’s still adult, just meant a bit of ‘oh no I’m not this child’s mother, I’m too young - actually I’m a bit old to be this child’s mother now I think about it, but anyway I don’t claim her’ and the like. But I’ve seen it do the same for people with cancer I befriended or whom I mentor, and it’s a very different proposition if the lost years are 17-21.

It’s not just cancer, I’ve seen bereavement work that way on people, and apparently celebrity works on the mind like trauma and arrests you at the age you became famous in a lot of ways. It’s being taken out of the run of ordinary life, walking through your portal into strangeness.

But in the end most of us wind up with years that feel lost, I think, and playing catch-up is the only way forward.

And allegory remains allegory: if I’m writing a werewolf I’m taking about rage and body horror, sure, but I’m also talking about werewolves.

I was actually confused by this ask at first as I’d written a whole section where Eric says he’s going to die of a heart attack at 20 and Marius is exasperated as Eric is a little young to start lying about his age! But it must have fallen victim to my many cuts - stories transform! - and I can see why, because I don’t think Eric exactly thinks of himself as 20 anymore.

I had some struggles with the age stuff, it’s another layer of complication in a complicated story and there were worries raised that it was unnecessary and might make some characters less appealing but in the end I decided it was necessary to me and let the characters be unappealing, then.

I also enjoy the twisting, fluid ages because they cause conflict, and conflict is story.

Rae uses her new age (and thus doesn’t need to think of her absolutely horrible self worth) to count herself out as a romantic option in Key’s eyes.

She also thinks of the Emperor as in his mid-20s, as he is - after a time skip that happens in the original Time of Iron, years in which Key and Emer were Lia’s servants. She knows about those years, but she doesn’t put it together.

At Eric and Marius’s first meeting 6 years before the events of LONG LIVE EVIL, Eric also hasn’t been in the book that long. He was in a horrifically traumatic survival situation for a large part of the time he was inside, when he approached Marius to blackmail him. That is objectively a deranged thing to do, but Eric is thinking like a terrified 14 year old and also like a Huge Fan of Marius. aka the quintessential white knight, the Last Hope who is reserved and dignified and crucially, 24-28.

That would be the Marius Eric at the time knows when he approaches Marius in the flesh, Marius at 18 and coming off family trauma, friend trauma and quasi-romantic trauma himself. Marius actually DOES go into dissociative states and kill people, Eric was taking a huge risk with his own life that not a single person in the country would have taken. Marius is a Valerius, and they are killers. (The whole court, Marius included, thought Lady Katalin ((Rahela’s mother)) was being very daring by like, touching Marius’s hand when he was 17.)

Eric is acting wild partly because a) he is wild, b) he’s desperate but also crucially c) he’s thinking of Marius as someone that Marius isn’t yet and d) he’s not thinking of things from Marius’s POV, and doesn’t until the events of LONG LIVE EVIL. Their quasi friendship/quasi hostage situation (that the hostage had firmly decided was happening) couldn’t have happened without a perfect storm of weirdness, risks and lack of understanding what the hell was going on.

Marius would not have seen a 14 year old Eric (not a child to him exactly, but squire age rather than knight age) as a criminal threat in the same way as he saw the Cobra, his own age (18, which was definitely very adult, Marius thought at the time). Eric wouldn’t have failed to consider consequences or failed to consider Marius as person rather than character, if he’d actually been 18. But by the time anyone knew better, a status quo was established, and habit is second nature and a stronger nature than the first.

Eric’s plight is horrific initially. But at the same time, Eric is extremely intelligent (both intellectually and emotionally) and able to both cover and play catch-up to this new life, and he can advise Rae with the benefit of his experience - but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t screw up massively when he first came into the book, or that he doesn’t still have many things to work through.

Similarly, Emer is used to Rahela who is quasi older sister and quasi mistress, while Rae is now acting younger. And all of them are dealing with a gross system in which men are seen as in their youthful prime when women the same age are getting long in the tooth and can be traded in for teenagers - so even two people who are the same age aren’t treated as if they’re the same age, if they’re different genders. Age stuff is crunchy!

Also, while Emer thinks of Lia as having all the power due to class, Lia looks on someone who was her glamorous older stepsister’s age mate and went off to the big city years ago rather differently. But then, are adulthood and childhood different worlds? Is being in different social classes being in different worlds?

Can we reach the different universes of other people is something I’m always asking, I think.

THIS IS SO LONG. I AM SO SORRY.

[princess-luvvv]

A GOLD RING AND COLD FEET

Rafe Cameron x fem!exgirlfriend!reader

A/N: (This is lowk 4.3k words I’m sorry) Hey guys lol I literally do not know what I’m doing help. I did not proofread idek how to work this app so if this sucks just don’t tell me bc this thing is the biggest pain in the ass lol. Like I am so genuinely sorry I’m such a grandma. Also this is what I listened to while writing this so feel free to listen as well :)

WARNINGS: AUTHOR CANT FIGURE THIS APP OUT, there’s no smut (not going to traumatize you guys with my brain on the first post), girl reader, marriage (basically the whole theme), cheating (sort of from reader but like it’s fine), ermmm just bad writing im sorry lol. Just a man yearning (like good). Okay Im sorry byeee.

14 DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING DAY: THE BRIDAL SHOWER

Rafe Cameron was going to be the death of me. I knew it.

We had dated for 7 years. He asked me out when we were 14 after knowing each other since we were 6. He broke up with me when we were 21. He said he “couldn’t be tied down in his 20s”.

After that I thought I was completely broken. I had never even imagined loving anyone else - having to love someone else.

But here I was. 14 days away from my wedding to a man I didn’t love. A part of me felt like such an asshole. Marrying a man who I knew I’d never love. But Jackson had his faults. He raised his voice too much. He never opened my door…not since our third date at least. He worked all the time. He regularly forgot important events like anniversaries and birthdays.

We started dating 10 months, 1 week, and 4 days after Rafe broke up with me.

Even though most people said it was time to move on it still felt too soon to me. 3 years later and it still feels too soon sometimes.

But here I am. At my bridal shower. Wearing a silver ring when I haven’t touched a piece of silver jewelry since I was 9.

I was opening gifts when only one remained. A small black box with no tag attached.

“Who is this one from?” I ask the crowd of giddy women surrounding me. They all share confused looks. Shrugging and comments like “It’s not mine” falling from their lips. This only furthered my confusion as I opened the box.

I gasped.

Inside was a beautiful - gold - ring. It was my dream ring.

“Oh my gosh it’s just beautiful!” My best friend Grace said.

“Jackson must have picked it out for you since yours is missing.” Grace says causing me to furrow my brows.

I looked down to my left hand and noticed the absence of my ring.

Since when was that gone?

“Oh yeah…I guess he did.” I smile and tuck the box away. Making a mental note to ask Jackson later. Even though I knew he didn’t get it for me, a part of me hoped.

As my friends went on and on about how beautiful this wedding would be and how happy they were…I couldn’t help but wish their joy was infectious.

At least someone is excited right?

12 DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING DAY: BACHELORETTE

I was sitting in an expensive restaurant in downtown Charleston sipping a cocktail I’m pretty sure costs more than my salad. Jackson and I had decided to have our Bachelorette/Bachelor parties in the same city in case anything happened. He was out having a guys night while I was out with my girls. I hadn’t had this much fun doing anything wedding related well ever.

“It’s not a coincidence that you think that and Jackson isn’t here” a little voice inside my brain taunts me. But I push it down. Along with the bile rising in my throat. From the alcohol or the impending commitment of forever to a person who I know I don’t love - which, I’m not sure.

“How are you babe?” My friend Ava says as she turns her entire body to face me. I was tracing shapes on the condensation on the outside of my barely touched drink while I tuned out the rest of the chatter.

“I’m wonderful how about you Ava?” I smile and meet her eye. She gives an unconvinced smile and repeats her question: “Come on. How are you really? Cold feet? We can get on the next flight out of America just say the word.” She says with a laugh. And I know she’s joking but part of me is screaming “YES!” Inside of my head.

I laugh and shake my head.

“No cold feet. Just lukewarm maybe.”

Lukewarm. It’s funny cause that’s basically a word that sums up the entirety of Jackson and I’s relationship. I hadn’t felt fire, sparks, passion…any of it. Not since-

“Lukewarm is okay. Marriage is big. But…you’ll be okay.” Ava says cutting off my thoughts. And I can see her trying to hide her real feelings. She wants me to talk to him. Not him. Him.

The him who left me in a hotel room in Key West on what was supposed to be our 8 year anniversary trip. The him who wouldn’t stop sending letters to my house. The him who sent me 127 texts and 87 voicemails since last Tuesday. Which is apparently the day the Cameron’s wedding invitation arrived. I wasn’t going to invite them but I felt I needed to. Sarah and I were still friends and I adored Wheezie. The him who took up every inch of my heart. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself he didn’t.

LATER THAT NIGHT AT THE HOTEL…

I entered my private suite in the hotel. I had gotten my drunk pack of bridesmaids back to their rooms…well the ones that were sleeping in their own rooms tonight. I had my own room this trip. My bridesmaid Lila insisted on it in case Jackson wanted to sneak over from his hotel…that’s what she said. But I knew she secretly wanted to give me my space away from the wedding buzz and events. I was grateful for that.

Until I was not.

Because the second I opened my door and ripped off my crown that said “BRIDE” I looked up and saw a man sitting on the couch in the suites living room. His elbows resting on his large thighs as he hung his head.

He looks up when I walk in.

I should’ve been scared…but I knew exactly who it was.

I flicked on the light. “Rafe what- what are you doing here?” I say in half anger half disbelief. OBX was at least 7 hours from here.

What the hell was he thinking?

“I had to see you…” I shake my head as he stands up and walks towards me. I take a step back.

“No. No. You can’t do this to me.” He walks closer. I put out my hands. Placing them on his chest to keep distance between us.

“Please just hear me out….” He gently grips my wrists that are placed on his chest. He paused for a second. Looking into my eyes to see if I would stop him again. I let him continue.

“I know…I know I have no right to be here. No right to do this. But please just listen to what I have to say…” He sighed before continuing. “You can’t marry him. Baby you can’t….I’m begging you. He doesn’t treat you right. You know that. I have so many regrets in my life…but I’d live them all over a million times if it meant I never let you go. I regret that every breath I take.”

My eyes gloss over. His touch was so gentle unlike Jackson’s. He didn’t raise his voice at me. He didn’t do anything but love me exactly the way I wanted while also being everything I needed.

He sighs seeing my eyes tear up. “Baby don’t- don’t cry….it’s just-….I can tell you’re not happy.” He says as he wipes a tear that escaped my eyes.

“I-I’m happy…” I say weakly.

But I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince. Me or him?

He sighs. Bringing a hand up to my cheek to wipe away another tear. His hand not moving. “You’re not. I can see it. I know you…I see it in your face when you look at him. Those beautiful eyes have never told me a lie.”

“You don’t know me anymore…” another lie. He knew me. He knew me. He knew my coffee order at every coffee shop on the island. He knew my favorite songs and the lyrics to all of them. He knew my favorite movie. He knew my favorite animal.

He laughs softly in disbelief.

“I don’t know you? I know you. I know your order at every Mexican restaurant on the island. I can recite your coffee orders in my sleep. I know every word to your favorite Taylor Swift songs. Your favorite movie is Beauty and the Beast and you love the soundtrack. You love penguins and you’re a dog person. I know you baby.”

I cry harder as he recites everything about me. On surface it’s not much. Small talk topics he could’ve figured out from social media. But it goes so much deeper. He knows what makes me tick. What I need when I’m sad. How to cheer me up even through tears.

If only he could do that now…

“Does that asshole even know your favorite Jane Austen book? Huh? Does he? Cause I do. And it’s Emm-“

“Stop! Just stop Rafe! Just- just go! Why-why are you doing this me? This isn’t fair.” I say wiping my tears. I was full on crying now.

“I can’t just sit back and watch you marry someone who’s not going to make you happy. You deserve so much better. You don’t deserve someone who’s never there for you, or doesn’t treat you well. You deserve someone who treats you exactly how you deserve to be treated - like the woman I love. I know I was stupid to let you go. I was young - and I thought I wanted freedom, but I was wrong. I haven’t known a minute of freedom since you left. I miss you, I miss us. And I need you more than I need air to breathe…”

“Please. Don’t marry him. Please baby…” He’s begging now. I’ve never seen Rafe Cameron beg for anything.

“Rafe I’m-I’m getting married in 12 days I can’t-“ I cut myself off with a sob.

He pulls me against his chest. I don’t protest as I cry harder. Pretty much sobbing now.

I clutch onto the end of his shirt. “I have to marry him Rafe…”

“Why? Why do you have to marry him? You know this isn’t what you want.” He says pleading with me. Running a soothing hand up and down my back. Providing me more comfort than I’ve known all of my relationship with Jackson.

“I know.” I say softly. My voice hoarse.

“Then don’t do it. Don’t marry him. I made the wrong choice a few years ago, but I’m here now. I want you not some false pretense of freedom. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I can give you a ring that you actually like, and a house that we build together. I’ll give you anything you want, just don’t marry him. Be with me.” I pause when he mentions the ring. I look down to the gold ring on my left hand. Silently piecing things together.

“Did you send me a new ring?” I look back up him. Brows furrowed. My face puffy from crying. When I meet his eyes I see how utterly heartbroken he looks. It breaks me a little bit.

“I-uh…yeah I did.” He says. And as he confirms my theory I step away from him. Letting out sobs as I turn my back towards him. One hand cradling my stomach as the other covers my mouth.

“Hey - hey what’s wrong. Talk to me.” He says as he walks up behind me placing a soothing hand on my shoulder letting his hands rub me gently.

“Y-you remembered the ring.” I had shown him the type of ring I wanted back when I thought we were going to get married.

I was so stupid at 20. Or maybe I was just naive.

“Of course I remembered the ring. You showed it to me a million times. I know it was your dream ring and I couldn’t bear the idea of him giving you something you didn’t actually want…” He explains with a confused expression. Not quite sure why it was hurting me so bad.

The thought that he had gotten me a ring I wanted even though he didn’t want me marrying Jackson made me want to cry…and vomit.

“I-I can’t-“ My legs give out and I drop to my knees. Rafe immediately goes down with me. Pulling me into his chest. I was now cradled in his lap as he rocked me gently while I cried.

“Please don’t cry baby….it hurts me so bad.”

That night I fell asleep in Rafes arms.

THIRD PERSON POV:

As Rafe brought her to her hotel bed and tucked her in he couldn’t help but feel the urge to get in bed and hold her as she slept. But he knew how awful she’d feel if she woke up next to him knowing she betrayed Jackson. So he left a note next to her bedside and pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving. The words “I love you” mumbled softly as she slept.

ELEVEN DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING DAY: THE NEXT MORNING.

THIRD PERSON POV:

As Jackson walks into the hotel room of his future wife he can’t help the guilt eating at him. He brings in the takeout bags and starts to place it onto a tray.

He takes out the water and Advil he got from the pharmacy and brings it over to her bedside.

As he’s placing the hangover cure on her nightstand a paper written on hotel stationery catches his eye.

He reads through the paper.

“All my love, R.C.”

He folds up the note and places it back in his pocket before going back to the takeout bags. Ready to act as if nothing happened.

FIRST PERSON POV

I wake up with an empty feeling in my stomach. The same one I’ve had for 3 years, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days.

I hear someone walking around the suite and as much as I know it’s probably Jackson…a part of me hopes…

Seconds later Jackson comes into my room with a smile. Holding a tray of food.

Odd. He’s never done sweet gestures for me like this.

“Good morning my love…I thought this would help cure the hangover. I ordered breakfast from that place you like downtown. You always talk about how much you wish we had one back at home so…” As he explains his reasoning for being here the sick feeling grows in my stomach. And I wish it was hangover sickness. I felt like such crap. Here he was being so sweet to me and I cried in the arms of another man last night.

I look around the room for any evidence Rafe was here. Feeling slightly disappointed but relieved that I didn’t find anything.

“Have fun last night?” Jackson says as he picks a blueberry off my plate.

“Uh yeah….it was really fun.” I smile and lie. But he can’t tell the difference so he nods his head before getting up and kissing my forehead.

“Well I have to go into work early tomorrow so the guys and I are heading back home but…I love you.” He says. He rarely says those three words. And that itself wouldn’t be weird. We’re getting married of course we tell each other we love each other. But paired with the weird domestic wake-up I had this morning it left an icky feeling in my stomach. But I smiled and nodded. Swallowing my food before replying.

“Okay…love you too.”

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEDDING DAY: THE REHEARSAL DINNER

“Have you seen my gold earrings?” I ask Jackson. Walking around our shared bathroom while he was shaving. We were getting ready for our rehearsal dinner before we left for the wedding venue in the morning.

“Which earrings?” He asks. Not pausing his movements of shaving his face.

“The ones I always-“ I huff in defeat knowing it’s no use. I’ve worn those earrings everyday for the past 9 years. They were Rafe’s 2 year anniversary gift to me.

I walk around the bedroom looking under a few things before my phone pings distracting me for a second. I walk over to it and turn the screen over to see an Instagram DM message request.

“Hey…I want to say I am so sorry to do this to you. I know you’re getting married in 2 days but there’s something you should know…”

THREE HOURS UNTIL WEDDING DAY: THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING

I was pacing around the cabin of my private room on the property of our venue.

The venue was a family owned property on the mainland. It was gorgeous. Jackson was in the cabin across the venue in the Groom’s cabin. I was staying in the Bridal lodge.

I felt nauseous. My throat felt like it was closing and the white matching way too expensive PJ set I was gifted especially for tonight felt like it was constricting my air. The cabin suddenly felt stuffy and like the walls were about to close in at any minute. I was all alone.

I pull out my phone quickly going to the only number I had on speed dial.

He picks up on the first ring - he always does.

RAFES POV

The whole day I had been sulking at home watching football and drinking whiskey. My lab Daisy sitting by my side as she watched me drown my sorrows.

Was she really going to marry him?

I had dozed off for a few hours before a phone ringing woke me up.

I look at the screen and immediately picked up.

“I need you.” I was standing up running to my shoes before the sentence was even over.

“I’m coming baby…I’m on my way just stay put okay?” Her shaky voice was breaking my heart. I grabbed my keys and made an hour long drive less than 40 minutes.

FIRST PERSON POV

I was sitting with my knees tucked to my chest. My eyes puffy and crying, sitting at the edge of the bed when Rafe barged in. He immediately dropped to his knees next to me. Pulling me into his lap. Cradling me as he rocked me back and forth.

“I’m here baby…I’m here.” He repeats the words like a mantra to ease my mind. And it does. But it doesn’t fill the pit in my stomach that seems to have taken a permanent residence.

“Talk to me baby…please you’re scaring me…” I could hear the fear in his voice. And I felt like such a dick. I called my ex boyfriend to help me the night before my wedding to another man.

I’m the worst.

“I-I’m so sorry….I didn’t know who else to call.” I get out between sobs. He shakes his head. Grabbing my face with both of his hands.

“Shhh….I just need you to tell me what you need. I’m right here. Just tell me how to help. Okay?”

How does he always know what to say? It’s ridiculous.

“I need out of this…” And at that sentence Rafe was pretty sure he could’ve cried a happy tear. But he needed to be sure.

“Out of what baby?” He knew. But he needed to know.

“You know what.” I pause before continuing. Sniffling and wiping my tears. “Jackson cheated on me. His bachelor party…she texted me the night our rehearsal dinner. She was their bartender in Charleston. But that’s not even the worst part…” I shake my head in disbelief at myself. “The worst part is I don’t even care. My fiancée cheated on me less than two weeks before our wedding. And I can’t find it in me to care.”

I knew I never loved Jackson. And that’s part of why I was marrying him. Because I knew that if I never loved him he’d never be able to hurt me…not like Rafe did at least.

I continue:

“I’m literally incapable of loving him because every inch of my heart belongs to you. And it kills me. I should be devastated right now. But- but all I can think is that I need you. And it’s so cold and you hate driving at night but this is the second time you’ve driven over an hour for me in two weeks.”

In reality it didn’t take Rafe an hour to get here. But he let me continue anyways.

“I’m terrible-“ He cuts me off.

“No. You’re perfect. I know you think you have to settle for this but you don’t. I’m not leaving you. I’ll always be here. Whether or not you get married in 12 hours I’m always going to be there when you need me. I don’t care what it is or where you are. You call and I’m there. You need me…and I’m right here baby. I’ll always be right here. I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

I look at him as he says that. And suddenly nothing about this makes sense. Why am I getting married to Jackson?

He sucks.

I stand up. Grabbing Rafes hands pulling him up with me.

“We need to leave.” I look around the room at my things. Rafe immediately nods and starts packing my things into my suitcase with me.

“Where do you need to go? I’ll take you anywhere baby. Car? Train? Plane? Boat? Fuck I’ll swim across the Atlantic for you baby.”

I pause and glance up at him from across my suitcase that we’re both knelt over. I meet his gaze. His eyes show me nothing but seriousness. Standing 10 toes behind his words. I wrap an arm around his neck and place an arm on his shoulder to steady myself as I lean in and kiss him.

He’s so taken aback but he kisses back after realizing this isn’t another one of his dreams that have felt like nightmares these past 3 years.

I pull away and he slightly sighs at the disconnect.

“Anywhere that’s not here. Just need to be with you. Please.”

2 HOURS UNTIL THE WEDDING DAY: AN HOUR LATER ON THE WAY TO THE AIRPORT

I look around the room once more to make sure I have everything.

“You got everything you need baby?” He asks me and I nod.

“I’m gonna take this to the car.” I was carrying my pillow and blanket I had brought. Rafe insisted on carrying my bags. He nods but stays in his place before speaking up.

“Okay I’ll be there in a second I’m gonna take one last look around.” I nod before walking to his truck and getting inside.

THIRD PERSON POV:

Rafe pulls the object out of his pocket. Placing it on the dresser.

He grabs her bags taking one last look at the wedding dress hanging on the closet door before shutting the door behind him.

The silver ring shimmering in the moonlight sitting on the dresser where he left it.

FIRST PERSON POV

Rafe gets back in the car and looks over at me.

“If you change your mind I don’t mind-“ I cut him off.

“I’m not changing my mind. Now drive.” He smiles before putting the truck in reverse.

As we drive for a few minutes a question plagues my mind: Why didn’t he say anything the morning after the bachelorette party?

“Can I ask you something?” He glances over at me. He had a comforting hand on my thigh as he drove.

“Anything.” I smile at his answer while look at my lap before continuing.

“Why didn’t you say anything the morning after that night in Charleston? Not a text or a note or anything? I know you didn’t have to I just…hated waking up with no evidence that you had even been there.” Rafe’s brows furrow.

I did leave a note. He thought to himself.

“Baby I left a note on your dresser…didn’t you see it?” He says confused.

“No…the next morning I woke up and Jackson was…” I trailed off. Suddenly piecing everything together. Rafe seemed to as well. His grip on the wheel tightened and his jaw clenched.

“I left a note. I promise. But it’s not anything I won’t tell you to your face everyday for the rest of our lives. So don’t worry about it, pretty. Okay? I love you, baby.”

“I love you, Rafe.” And I truly meant it.

On the way to the airport we sang along to Taylor Swift songs we both knew. And suddenly the pit in my stomach was slowly being filled with laughter and the way he didn’t even ask me what I wanted when we stopped at McDonald’s.

To be loved it to be seen. And I had to have been invisible to Jackson.

23 MINUTES UNTIL THE WEDDING DAY: AT THE AIRPORT 11:37 PM

“Flight 237 is now boarding. This is the final call for passengers to LaGuardia Airport.”

Rafe looks at me as we get ready to board the plane.

“You ready?” He sticks out his hand. I smile at him.

“Yeah…I’m ready.” I take his hand and lean up and kiss him as we walk onto the plane.

I glance down at the gold ring on my finger. And I realize no one will ever see me as clearly and perfectly as Rafe sees me. And that’s all I could ask for.

“Hey” he looks back at me. Glancing up from his sports magazine. His brows raised waiting for me to answer.

“I love you.” I continue and smile. His gaze softens and he pulls me into another quick kiss. I hated PDA but I didn’t care. Not with him.

“I love you more than I can even describe.” He pauses before continuing. “If I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more.”

I don’t know a lot…but I know I’ve found my person. And everything’s okay. And for the first time in 3 years, 7 months, 4 weeks, and 2 days…I felt like I could breathe.

[forbebeandjam]

Can u do pervert bada with g!p? Ur sleeping with her one night and she is tocuhing herself to you and cming on you while ur asleep

Smut this would be a masterpiece

Late Night Needs | Bada Lee g!p x Reader | +21

Summary: after a long day, you girlfriend feels needy but doesn’t want to bother you.

Word count: 1.4k

Warmings: g!p, sleep sex, self pleasing, etc. MDNI

READERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED

A/N: HELLO! Double update in a day! I am still new to the whole g!p writing so I’m sorry if this not good. It might not make that much sense😣

~🥀~

You and Bada had been dating for quite some time now. Needless to say, your relationship was the sweetest it could ever be. The way you interacted with each other in public was sweet and caring. 

Her friends and yours would often tease you with how sickeningly sweet you were towards each other. Her fans would admire you for being such a great friend to her. Of course, you would play along with the "friend" title because of the strange Korean views on queer people. 

But your relationship was successful in every way. Your communication, affection, and love were perfect but something that was even more perfect was the sex. 

Bada was amazing in bed and she knew just how to please you. She was your first and when you found out about the secret kept inside her pants, it made her fall in love with you all over again. It made her feel safe and loved. Her secret was safe with you. 

You always felt safe when doing it with Bada. The ways she would pleasure you in a new way each time felt amazing and it made you feel special. Loved. Wanted. 

You found yourself sitting at your desk with your head low. Your rude boss had fired you for not wanting to sleep with him. You sighed. You knew it was for the better. He was always an asshole with the women in the company and you wanted to quit but you felt bad for leaving Bada with all the responsibility. 

"I'm sorry that happened, Y/N. I'm gonna miss you," your coworker said. You smiled at her and started packing your things in a box. 

"Don't let that sick man touch you, understand?" I said and she nodded with a knowing smile. 

You headed home. You got out of the car and didn't bother bringing your belongings in. After removing your shoes, you walked to the kitchen and prepped dinner. You cleaned the house and washed the remaining dishes. 

After you finished, you noticed Bada would soon be home so you heated up dinner and went to the shower. The warm water made you feel relaxed and calm. The steam filled the bathroom and you felt the stress leave your muscles. 

You turned the water off, wrapped yourself in a towel, and headed into the bedroom. You leaned back on the bed feeling a tiny bit of stress still in you. You needed to feel better for when Bada arrived since she could sense anything that was wrong. 

So you grabbed your small vibrator and pressed it against your clit allowing the pleasure of the moment to erase the thoughts in your head. Your mouth formed an 'o' shape as you turned up the setting. It made you more sensitive and you closed your legs. You used your free hand to massage and pinch your nipples. 

Soft whines and moans escaped your mouth and you were so immersed in the pleasure, that you didn't even hear Bada arrive. She looked at you through the cracked door and bit her lips. Her member hardened at the sight and she was about to go in and help you out but you stopped your actions. 

"Gotta get ready for when Bada comes home. How am I supposed to tell her I got fired..." you mumbled loud enough for her to hear and she retracted from the door. She could see the worry in your eyes. She walked to the front door and pretended she had just arrived. 

"I'm home!" she said. You quickly put on you nightgown forgetting you underwear and rushed to meet her.

"Hey, babe. How was work?" You said in a jolly tone. 

"It was good. A bit tiring but I had fun teaching Riize. How about you? How was work today?" she asked and you faked a smile. 

"It was good. All good," you said. she sighed and you walked to the kitchen to plate her food forgetting her kiss and hug. 

She followed after you and washed her hands to sit with you at the table. She didn't ask any questions and just ate in silence. After, you washed the dishes and sat on the couch with her as soft music emerged from the TV speakers. 

You cuddled closer and she lifted your chin. She started into your eyes and you bit your lip to prevent tears from forming in your eyes. 

"I know you like the back of my hand. You're hiding something from me. What is it?" tears started to stream from your face. She kissed your cheeks. She kissed your forehead and wiped your tears away. 

"I-.... I got fired. He fired me because I didn't let him manipulate me like he wanted. I'm sorry," you buried your face in her chest and she patted your head softly. 

"You silly girl," she said as you sniffled. "Don't you know I've been wanting for you to quit for a long time now? I see the way he looks at you and I want to poke his eyes out. It's all better this way. Come on. Let's wash up and rest."

She helped you up and tucked you into bed. You read a book while she took a quick shower and an idea popped into her head. She wanted you to make your worries go away so she wanted to pleasure you. 

She wrapped up her shower but to her surprise, You were already sound asleep. She sighed in frustration as she felt her member bulge over her pants. 

"Gosh, Y/N. You drive me crazy," she said before tucking herself into bed. 

She tossed and turned but her slumber kept being interrupted by her unholy thoughts. Your little moans between sighs wouldn't help at all. She was growing more needed by the second. 

"Fuck..." she said and removed the cover from her body. Your body became exposed as well and your nightgown was now lifted. That's when she saw your exposed body. No panties on and legs sprawled on the mattress. 

"What a pretty view," she murmured as she used the hem of her fingers to trace your thigh to the entrance of your core. You moved around only exposing more of your body to her. She felt herself grow harder at the sight of your body and could not hold back any longer. 

She lowered her trousers and began to rub herself slowly. She used one hand to touch your body as the other one worked on her hard member and she bit her lips trying to prevent any sounds from her lips. 

With each touch, you became more awake but did not fully understand anything. You thought it was a dream and you were loving it. Your pussy began to drip at the steamy dream you thought you were having. 

"Bada, please fuck me," You murmured and heard a groan. That's when you realized it was not a dream. Your eyes fluttered open and you found your girlfriend in front of you touching herself as you lay in front of her with your body half-exposed. 

 A slight blush covered your cheeks as you saw Bada struggling to catch her breath but her eyes were completely locked on yours. 

"Baby... can you mh... help me?" she said and you nodded. You used your hand to lift your dress and play with your tits in a teasing way, pinching and licking for her view. 

You brought one of your hands to your wet core and dragged a finger along the lips before rubbing on the sensitive bud. Your head went back at the feeling and Bada's groans grew. Your perfect body was on display for her and her eyes were glued on your every move. 

She felt more and more sensitive with each moan that came out of your mouth. She suddenly felt herself closer and she held onto your thigh for support.

"Baby, I'm..." she said, unable to speak properly. 

"Together, love?" You said and she nodded. You sped up on your own clit and watched as Bada struggled to catch her breath with each passing second. 

"Now," you said allowing her to cum all over you. She let out a deep yet shaky breath as her hotness covered your stomach but didn't stop. She kept going and released one more time on you. You bit your lip and stood up. 

"You feel okay?" you asked as she still tried to catch her breath. Her eyes were shut close and you could tell she was struggling to open them. She weakly nodded. You cleaned up everything and yourself, helped her get dressed, and tucked her in bed. 

She seemed to be asleep again but you felt her pull you into a tight embrace. 

"I love you no matter what, okay?" she said. You chucked at her cuteness and kissed her lips softly letting slumber take you to sleep.

Thank you for reading 🩵

[melk-maid]

warnings: everyone is aged up 21+, afab/gn reader, first time handjob, first time fingering, friends with benefits, clit stimulation, overstimulation, untouched orgasm, a little drool from Gojo synopsis: satoru asks a curious question which leads into doing one another a favour, experiencing each other for the first time as friends.

note: i love love love stupid virgin satoru!!! i also just love writing gojo i like making him so gross and pathetic wahoo ♡ minors & ageless blogs dni - you will be blocked

Satoru is unpredictable. So expressive both physically and verbally, it's easy to feel like you've got him all figured out. There's always little tells he displays when he's itching to go somewhere or bored of the conversation, yet he often surprises you with out of pocket comments or actions to keep you on your toes.

"Have you ever touched dick before?"

You blink from the lounged position on your bed, staring at the worn pages of a textbook you were required to read — something about a lesser known sorcerer clan, your teacher and classmates (including Satoru) insisting it was necessary knowledge. The book is snapped down, resting flat against your stomach, your bent legs spread open to see a casually smiling Satoru laid across your bed waiting for an answer. His demeanour would make you believe he didn't just ask such a personal and out of the blue question, rather asking if you ate breakfast that morning. Swallowing the lump that slowly forms in your throat, you hold your breath in hopes that your flushed face isn't as noticeable as it feels.

"What kind of question is that?" You deflect, momentarily going back to your book. There's a hum and the bed shifts under Satoru's weight, pulling himself by his elbows to be closer to your feet.

"A curious one." He responds and you flick the book back out of view again to watch Satoru prop his head up on his elbow, free hand tracing lines on the sliver of exposed skin between your socks and lounge pants. The question has you working your way up to fight or flight mode, such a small and unimportant touch making you almost squeamish. "I assume you don't have one; if you do, then have you ever touched someone else's?"

Satoru's grin widens when you sigh heavily through your nose, gritting your teeth and trying not to fall into what feels like a trap. "I don't have a dick and I haven't touched one — why are you asking me this?"

There's a lazy and awkward shrug of his shoulders in response. "I was just wondering because I've never touched a pussy before."

The word pussy falls from his lips a little too well. It's sweet and delicate, unlike every other time you've heard it to describe a vagina. Now you're growing even more flustered and embarrassed, holding back a growl when you realise Satoru was smiling up at you from between your wide open legs.

You snap your knees shut and pull away ever so slightly, returning to your book with a grumble, "Good for you now let me read."

A brief moment of silence is all you're allowed, not enough to read through a sentence. "Don't you wonder what it feels like?"

"Satoru—"

"We're friends, aren't we?" You remain silent, eyes glazed over and your heart racing. Slender fingers wrap around your ankle, the skin contact sending shockwaves through your system. "If you can't explore new things with friends, then who else?"

You can't bring yourself to look at him. "What are you trying to say?"

Even when Satoru pushes himself onto his knees, chest leaning against your bent and taut knees, you daren't meet his eyes over the book you're trying to drown in.

"Let's do each other a favour…" He hums, index finger dragging down your stomach and manoeuvring its way between the folds of your body, brushing over the waistband of your underwear beneath your pants. "You feed my curiosity, I'll feed yours."

Satoru is so accustomed to everyone folding for him. You used to refer to him as a brat in your first two years at the technical college — it's a trait that he will never grow out of, no matter how hard he tries. Even though your clit vibrates violently between your legs, you can't give in to him that easily.

"Who said I was curious?" You still can't look at him and it makes Satoru laugh.

"You're not?"

"I didn't say I was or I wasn't."

"The way you're avoiding looking at me tells me you are."

Finally, you drag your eye line up and over the edges of the page, along your bent knees to meet those big baby blues.

He makes you sick sometimes.

"You're not fucking me."

Satoru chuckles, "I'm not trying to. I'll just use my hands; and my mouth if—"

"No." You snap the book closed with an anxious sigh, trying to maintain your composure and steady your shaky hands. Adrenaline tore through you in ways you would rather Satoru didn't know about. "You can use your hands and your eyes, and you have to listen to me when I tell you what to do."

Like a kid on Children's Day, Satoru beams with excitement and pries your knees open to slot himself inside, lips targeted directly for yours. Kissing feels a little too intimate for friends exploring one another, so you turn your head to the side and avoid his attack. Lips pressed to your cheek, Satoru whines from above.

"No kissing either," You groan, "We're doing favours for each other, remember?"

The pout of his bottom lip makes you salivate; oh to sink your teeth into such soft flesh.

"Fine…" Satoru relents, wasting no time in tugging your pants down on either side of your hips.

It takes a moment for you to realise what's happening, just how exposed you are under that hungry gaze. Bug-like eyes stare at your exposed cunt, lips parted and shiny from the drool that falls down his chin—

Oh my god, he's literally drooling.

You thought he would be a little more subtle in his inexperience and desperation; Satoru is the king of acting cool in every situation, rendering you a little shy and giggly when he loses his mind over seeing a vagina in person. It's quite flattering, actually.

Sitting up snaps Satoru out of his dream-like state, pushing into your hand that cups his prominent erection. His little gasp is sweet like sugar, the feel of him through his pants makes your clit ache with need. It feels like you're working on auto-pilot, that this was a dream yet you're so hyper aware of the softness of his expensive pants, the goosebumps that form on his hips from your touch as you return the favour.

First it was his bright white pubes that greet you; you're not sure why you're surprised they're just as pale as the hair on his head. Satoru's hot breath hits the top of your head as he sits up on his knees. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips when the base of his cock appears, slowly dragging his pants down and desperate to stick your nose in the small crease between his cock and balls on either side of his shaft. The further you pull down, the harder your heart beats in excitement, wondering just how much more of his length is hidden behind his pants.

When his cock finally springs free, it bounces at the lack of resistance to greet you. Satoru huffs at the release of pressure, letting his hands wander over your back and shoulders. You can feel and smell him from here — your head lining up with the centre of his chest — and it takes all your strength not to drool like he did.

Wrapping your hands around his shaft, it's red hot and velvet smooth under your touch. It's something you've never experienced before, a feeling like nothing else and yet you already can't get enough of it. Satoru huffs and grips your shirt tight, leaning down to breathe against your neck and offers the odd whimper as you slowly begin stroking him. His foreskin moves with your hand as you pull it down, revealing his tip; red, swollen and glistening. You wonder what it would taste like, how it would feel against your tongue.

Satoru giggles, the sound turning into a sharp inhale and a moan when he exhales, all while you move your hand back up to his head; following the natural shape of his length, your hand tightens around him as he tapers ever so slightly towards the end. His fingers flex in your shirt, hands opening and closing around the fabric as he tries desperately to compose himself — Gojo Satoru will not cum from one stroke of your hand.

"Hey—" He starts, cutting himself off quickly when his voice shakes with his arousal. "Slow down, I wanna play too."

You lean back into the bed with Satoru's encouragement, excited for him to touch you — your hand never left his cock when he followed, leaning over you at an angle you can touch each other. It's natural the way you stroke his cock, so much so that if Satoru's mind wasn't clouded with arousal, he'd accuse you of lying about this being your first time. Moaning and leaning your hips into him, you practically beg him to touch you.

Instantly, you're forced to bite your lip to hold back a laugh.

Unlike you, it was obvious that Satoru had never touched a pussy before. His fingers were long and gangly and clumsy between your folds. Those big eyes of his study you with such intensity that you become almost anxious under his gaze, scrutinised and worried you'll offend him with the wrong expression — still, you weren't going to pretend he was doing a good job rubbing random parts of your vagina with no purpose.

A giggle slips out and Satoru looked like he was about to start crying. "Am I doing something wrong?" He asks, looking like a kicked puppy and fingers threatening to dive inside of you. Thankfully he's seen enough porn to know a little rubbing is good foreplay.

You hum, something neutral, indistinguishable from yes or no. "Like this…" Your free hand comes down to rest over his between your legs, moving him further up towards your clit. For emphasis, you gasp an over exaggerated moan when his fingers brush against you. "That's my clit, rub that in circles."

His eyes never leave you for a second and Satoru follows your instructions, using a few too many fingers around your clit to rub circles over the sensitive nub. It does feel good, but it's definitely not the way you're used to being touched by your own hands. It's strange to not be in control of your own pleasure, but feeling Satoru throb under your hand is enough.

Ever the quick learner, Satoru begins exploring and noting all your reactions. Clockwise, counter-clockwise, big and small circles, he plays with your clit to find what you like the most. When you let out a loud moan from something he did, he smiles wide and asks breathlessly, "That feel good?"

It's hard to focus on pleasuring him when electric shocks of your own pleasure are rendering your mind useless. Thankfully Satoru doesn't care; hearing your sweet moans and praise whenever he does something you like is enough to have him cum untouched if he weren't careful.

When you nod and moan, your bottom lip held between your teeth to try and control yourself, Satoru continues that same motion over and over again. He wants you to cum and you feel so close, but you already know from experience that's not how your body works. It's like you're dragged onto the edge and wobbling back and forth on falling into bliss. Through your haze, you realise what Satoru was trying to do and help again.

"I-Fuck Satoru s-slow." It's hard to get a word out when you're gasping for air through pleasure. His fingers slow from their assault, returning to slow and gentle rubs over your clit. "I can't— If you wanna make me cum, you gotta use your fingers inside me."

As though he'd forgotten that was an option through his excitement, Satoru beams brightly and bites his lip, looking down at his hand between your legs. He sits up and leans back on his knees, far back enough that you can't reach him, and slides a finger into your aching hole. You melt into the sheets at the light stimulation that feels like magic; you'd been so worked up that any kind of penetration was like heaven. So hot, so wet — Satoru was struggling to keep his drooling tongue inside of his mouth.

You're so exposed like this with nothing to distract you, or him. His eyes sear affectionate holes in your body as he watches the way you twitch and react to him, how your legs shake with desperation and exposed stomach jiggles as you whine. It all mixed together in a blend of euphoria that you can't describe.

When you whine and make a grabbing motion towards his cock, Satoru laughs and sinks his finger into you down to his third knuckle. "Don't worry about me, you can pay me back later." His fingers are so much longer and thicker than your own, he's reaching parts of you that you didn't know existed. Satoru's voice falls low when he says, "I want to focus on you."

You think you should take it as a compliment. It feels like you should be flattered that he is having so much fun exploring your body that he doesn't care about his own, especially when all you ever hear is about how selfish men can be during sexual acts. Still, the feeling of being so exposed and cared for is digging up confusing feelings you shouldn't be addressing right now.

So aroused and wet from both of your previous actions, it was easy for him to slide a finger inside and you were itching for more. You whine in embarrassment when a squelching sound begins from Satoru fingering you, despite finding it a hot and common theme when you're by yourself. He takes it as a compliment, laughing to ease the tension and stroking the inside of your thigh with his free hand. It's a nice and soothing motion, one that's overshadowed by the second finger that fills you up so nicely.

You were growing impatient. "Curl your fingers." Satoru looks at you with a raised eyebrow. Motioning your own fingers, you show him through your breathless moans. "Curl them up, please, fuck."

"Like this?"

You were seeing stars.

You back arching off the bed and gripping tightly onto the sheets, you practically howled with pleasure as your most sensitive spot was finally getting the attention you desperately needed. Although he was taken aback for a moment, Satoru's cock twitched painfully in neglect as he watches and feels you react so positively to him, proceeding to abuse the spongy wall with his fingers.

A slough of curses fall from your lips as he quickly finger fucks you, rotating between sliding in and out of your wet cunt and curling his fingers every other drag. It doesn't take long before you cum around him for the first time, bleary eyed and breathless.

He was enamoured with the way you came over his fingers, just how angelic you looked and it was all because of him.

You can't look at Satoru as your vision slowly returns, blurry and dark, you savour the feeling of ecstasy that flows all the way to the tips of your toes. All the while he watches and savours everything; how wet and shiny his fingers are, just how much of his hand you've coated with your slick, the way your walls throb around him, worn out moans and whines of sensitivity when he doesn't stop.

Angling his hand with fingers still inside you, he reaches out for your clit with his thumb to press and swirl while he works your hypersensitive walls. You whine his name, laced with saccharine and oh so addictive, Satoru needs to hear you say it like this everyday of his life.

Understandably, you were so incredibly sensitive to the way he continued to play with your pussy. His fingers were much slower but his assault was more precise; thumb directly pressing into your throbbing clit, fingers slowly and rhythmically curling upward to make you sing. Satoru enjoys the way you writhe on the bed, thighs shaking uncontrollably as you grip the sheets. He took your guidance like a duck to water and part of you almost regrets it.

In your post-orgasm sensitive haze, you notice a wet warmth on your leg that wasn't Satoru's hand that kept you spread open. Prying your eyes open, you were greeted with the sight of Satoru cumming completely untouched. His cock shoots ropes of cum over your leg, twitching uncontrollably. The pink dusting across his face grows when you lock eyes with him, smiling despite his obvious embarrassment. It was the highest form of flattery for him to get so worked up and cum just from touching you, watching you be pleasured and cum without having to lift a finger. It feels surreal and your heart aches pleasantly.

His assault on you didn't relent, however, as Satoru continued to work you up to the edge of the cliff again. The room was filled with the sounds of your desperate moans, a cry of his name followed by a curse, the embarrassing squelch of your pussy juices coating his hand as he moves. This time it was a bright, white light that coated your vision as you came all over his fingers again.

"No…" You whine and actually move to close your legs around Satoru, itching to get away from his hand. "Too much, stop."

For a brief moment he considered ignoring you; the way your body shivers with overstimulation is addicting and he needs to see it again and again. Still, he relents and peels his hands away from your sticky flesh. You watch as he sucks his fingers clean, eyes dark and cock half hard again as he savours you.

"You taste great," He comments and you can't help but moan low in your throat. "Next time, we can do each other a favour with our mouths," Satoru throws a wink your way with a cheeky smile, "If you're up for it."

It feels strange to be putting your clothes back on and returning to how you once were, as though you hadn't just exposed yourself to your friend and made him cum. Something you always thought of as so intimate and loving, yet it was hardly any of that; fun, it was fun and pleasurable. You did each other a favour by scratching a curious itch one another had, returning to your book while Satoru lays across the bed at your feet again like nothing had ever happened. 

[kthice]

JJK'S CASE | JUNGKOOK FF (M) •ongoing #1

Summary: A town shrouded in mystery. A detective entangled in a web of secrets. As Jungkook delves into the buried past, he unearths a truth far more sinister than he ever imagined. Some stories are forgotten for a reason—because once the truth is revealed, there is no turning back.

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: dark romance, psychological thriller,mystery detective oc

warnings: emotional and psychological manipulation, control and possessiveness, obsession, anxiety and mild distress,themes of torment, harm g*ry, murder, themes of entrapment and we*pons.

MASTERLIST

• 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 •14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 epilogue

Tagging my inspiration. You have always inspired me to write 💕@guqflow

---

Chapter 1

Busan

8:30 pm

The fluorescent lights buzzed above, casting harsh shadows on the walls of the interrogation room.

The room was stark and cold, the scent of stale coffee lingering in the air, mixing with the tension that hung thick. The suspect, battered and bruised, sat slouched in the chair across from Jungkook. His eyes darted nervously between the officer and the door, knowing no one was coming to save him.

Jungkook leaned against the table, his expression unreadable, eyes piercing through the darkness. He hadn't said a word yet, but his presence alone was enough to make the man break into a cold sweat. His knuckles tightened around a folder of papers, the only sound in the room the slow ticking of the clock.

"You're not going to get out of here without talking,"

Jungkook finally said, his voice calm, but laced with an undeniable edge.

The words weren't a threat, but a promise.

The suspect shifted uncomfortably, his lips trembling as he glanced at the door again. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, his voice cracking. Blood dripping from the edge of his nose made it harder for him to breathe.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He leaned in closer, his breath steady, his gaze unyielding.

"You've been hiding information about the crime ring led by those b*stards . You think I don't know, but I do."

The man recoiled, panic flashing in his eyes. "I-I can't tell you anything!"

Before Jungkook could respond, the door creaked open, and Namjoon stepped in, his tall figure filling the doorway. His gaze landed on Jungkook immediately, disapproving. "Kook, you're pushing him too hard. We need to follow the procedure."

Jungkook didn't flinch. He didn't even glance at Namjoon. His gaze remained locked on the suspect, his voice unwavering.

"I don't have time for the procedure. This man is the key to stopping them, and he knows it."

His hands caressed the knife glistening between his hands, lips lifting up into a dangerous smirk.

Namjoon stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"You're crossing a line here. We're supposed to get information, not break him down."

Jungkook's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. He simply straightened up, his eyes still intense.

"Then let's see if we can't break his resolve, shall we?"

As if on cue, Yoongi entered the room, his usual nonchalant posture belying the sharp intelligence in his eyes. He leaned against the wall, arms folded. "He's not talking. Maybe it's time to give him a little... push."

Jungkook nodded slightly, and Yoongi stepped forward, pulling out a file from under his jacket. He slid it across the table, the rustling of papers loud in the otherwise silent room. The suspect's eyes widened, and his breath quickened as he recognized the contents.

"You know these names, don't you?" Yoongi's voice was low, almost bored, but the undercurrent of danger was palpable. "You've been working with them for years. They've got blood on their hands, and so do you."

The suspect shook his head furiously, eyes darting to Jungkook, then to Namjoon, as if looking for a way out. "I-I don't know anything about them. I swear!"

Jungkook stood, his presence suffocating the room. He approached the man slowly, each step measured and deliberate. "You're lying," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm going to make sure you pay for it."

A long silence hung in the air as the suspect trembled, glancing at Namjoon, who stood rigid, jaw clenched but silent. Yoongi simply watched, his expression unreadable.

The man broke. His lips quivered, his eyes filled with tears as he dropped his head in defeat.

"Okay, okay! I'll talk... but you have to protect me from them... Or else they'll kill me!!"

Jungkook didn't smile. He didn't need to. His job was done. But the information the man gave was only the beginning. The truth was darker, deeper than he had anticipated.

The link between the criminals and the person he had been warned about- he had to find it out before it gets out of hand. He was determined and knew his authorities will definitely give the case to him.

Giving namjoon a knowing smirk he left the room, leaving the suspect shivering from the upcoming torture.

--------+++---------

The interrogation room door slammed shut behind Jungkook, the air thick with tension as the suspect's bloodied figure remained in the chair, breathing heavily. His face was pale, his body trembling, but Jungkook stood unfazed. His eyes, however, carried a cold calculation that hinted at the darkest side of his work.

The report he had demanded was now finished, the man broken. Yet the truth that had been extracted was just the beginning of something larger-something far more dangerous than this petty criminal could ever understand.

Namjoon stepped forward, his face sweaty after the intense session.His posture still carried that calm authority and his hands were clasped behind his back. The harsh fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting sharp shadows across their faces.

"Jungkook..." Namjoon's voice was low, measured, but there was a tinge of concern beneath it. "You pushed him too far. We need him alive for the next step."

Jungkook didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the now-quiet suspect. His hand clenched into a fist, a quiet but telling sign of the storm brewing inside him. His entire life had been spent tracking down the criminal underworld, protecting the innocent, and ensuring that people paid the price for their crimes. And yet, the world seemed to keep spiraling further out of control.

"I know,"

Jungkook finally said, his voice is still cold.

"But we got what we needed." His eyes flashed with the kind of anger that had earned him his reputation-relentless, unforgiving, and at times, too close to the edge.

Namjoon didn't argue. Instead, he nodded slowly. He had seen this side of Jungkook before-the side that walked the line between justice and madness. "You're getting transferred. Effective immediately. The Yongdong case is growing, and the higher-ups think you're the one to handle it."

Jungkook turned sharply, his jaw tightening. "Yongdong? A small town with no real leads, no known criminals. I don't get why they'd send me there. It's not even on the map in terms of major cases."

Namjoon's eyes flickered briefly to the suspect, who was now trying to steady his breath, but it was clear he wasn't the real concern here. "The crime rates in rural towns are rising. It's been happening slowly over the past few months. The police can't keep up with the increase in incidents-robberies, assaults, and even worse. The locals are scared, and that's why they need someone like you."

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, frustration settling over him like a fog.

"I don't have time for this. You know I prefer working the bigger cases. The ones that matter. The ones with impact."

Namjoon stepped closer, his expression serious. "The whole town's at risk, Kook. There's something about it that doesn't sit right. You need to go in and figure out what's going on. Just get in there, do your job, and come back with answers."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more. He had learned over the years that orders were orders. And he wasn't in a position to disobey them, even if they didn't make sense.

With a final glance at the suspect-who had now gone quiet, too terrified to even make a sound-Jungkook turned away, his steps echoing through the hallway. As he left the room, Yoongi appeared from the shadows, his expression impassive but his eyes sharp.

"You really think a small town is going to solve your problems?" Yoongi asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "They called you in for that?"

Jungkook shrugged. "I don't care. I'll go, get it over with, and come back. Simple as that."

As Jungkook walked past him, Yoongi muttered under his breath, "This is more than just a small-town case. Trust me. Something's off."

Jungkook didn't respond. He knew better than to get into a philosophical debate with Yoongi. Instead, he kept moving, heading for the elevator that would take him out of the building and to the next step in this convoluted, endless mess of criminal justice.

--------+++---------

Yondong

3 pm

Jungkook sat in the back of the squad car, the hum of the engine the only sound as they made their way through the winding roads leading to Yongdong. It was late in the evening, and the last remnants of sunlight were fading behind the trees, casting long shadows across the landscape.

The town of Yongdong was small-nothing more than a speck on the map, with narrow streets and small, cozy houses that looked as if they had been frozen in time. A place where everyone knew each other, where secrets were harder to keep, and yet somehow, the criminal activity had started to fester beneath the surface.

Jungkook couldn't help but feel the weight of the silence in the car, the air thick with anticipation. He didn't know what he was walking into. The whole situation felt wrong-like there was more to it than just an uptick in crime. He had seen his share of corrupt towns, but something about this place felt... different.

His partner for this transfer was Officer Jiho, a seasoned local who had been assigned to show him the ropes around town. Jiho was quiet, the kind of man who didn't say much but who had eyes that missed nothing.

"We don't get many outsiders here," Jiho finally spoke, breaking the silence. "But I'm sure you've heard about the recent... uptick in criminal activity."

Jungkook nodded, but his eyes remained focused on the road ahead. "Yeah. But it doesn't add up. Small towns like this don't have the resources for that kind of organized crime. The people here should be safe."

Jiho shot him a glance. "We thought so too. But things have been changing... slowly. The crimes have gotten bigger, more brazen. And now, people are getting hurt."

Jungkook leaned back in his seat, his mind whirring with questions. His instincts told him that something wasn't right here. The rise in crime, the quiet tension that seemed to hang in the air-it wasn't just random. It was orchestrated, like someone was pulling strings from the shadows.

As the squad car rolled into the heart of the town, Jungkook's gaze landed on the small café at the corner of the street, its lights flickering in the distance. He had no idea what awaited him here, but he knew one thing for sure: the answers wouldn't come easy. And in a town like this, everyone had a secret.

---

--------+++---------

The squad car came to a slow stop in front of the small café at the corner of the street. Its sign flickered in the dimming twilight, casting erratic shadows onto the cracked sidewalk. The town was unusually quiet tonight-too quiet, as if the world had held its breath, waiting for something.

Jungkook stepped out of the car, the cool night air rushing to meet him. He glanced up at the café, its warm light beckoning him in. It wasn't much, just a local coffee spot where the patrons probably knew each other's names. Yet, something about it seemed off. The town's slow descent into darkness wasn't just a shift in crime-it was in the air, in the way people carried themselves, in the way the wind whispered through the trees

"Welcome to Yongdong," Jiho said, his voice tinged with bitterness. He stepped up beside Jungkook, his eyes scanning the window with an unreadable expression. "This is where the locals gather. It's where you'll get your answers... or at least, the ones they're willing to share."

Jungkook nodded, his attention fixed on the café door. As he pushed it open, a soft chime echoed through the air, the noise sharp in the otherwise quiet space. The interior was warm, filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries. Yet, despite the comforting atmosphere, the hairs on the back of Jungkook's neck stood on end. The room fell silent as he entered, and all eyes turned toward him.

The patrons-a handful of older men and women sitting at small wooden tables-paused mid-conversation, their gazes lingering on Jungkook. It wasn't just the usual curiosity of a newcomer; it was something darker. Something unreadable in their eyes, a hint of suspicion mixed with... fear?

Jungkook's senses were immediately on high alert. He was used to the tension that followed him, the way people looked at him when they sensed his power, but this felt different. It wasn't just about who he was-it was about something deeper, something the townspeople weren't saying. He could feel it in the air, thick with unspoken words and hidden secrets.

"Good evening," Jungkook said, his voice steady, though there was an edge to it. He needed to gauge their reactions. Every small movement could be a clue.

The woman behind the counter, who was in her late 40's with short-cropped hair, met his gaze. Her smile was tight, forced. "What can I get you?" she asked, her tone polite but not welcoming.

Jungkook didn't respond right away. He took a step toward the counter, scanning the room with subtle precision. The old men were murmuring to each other, glancing over their shoulders, their words just loud enough for him to catch fragments. Something about "the boy" and "the new one" and "he'll bring trouble." His eyes flickered to them, but they quickly averted their gazes, returning to their coffee cups, pretending to be uninterested.

"Coffee," Jungkook finally replied, his voice smooth. "Black."

The woman nodded, but her hand hesitated over the cup, her fingers brushing against the rim of the mug.

"One black coffee, coming up."

As she turned away to prepare the drink, Jungkook continued his survey of the room. At the far corner, a younger man sat hunched over a newspaper, his brow furrowed in concentration. His eyes darted to Jungkook for a split second before quickly returning to the paper. The tension in his posture suggested he was trying to avoid attention, but Jungkook could see the unease in the way he shifted in his seat.

Nearby, two women-one in her 30's, the other in her 60's-whispered to each other, their conversation so quiet it was barely a murmur. But Jungkook caught the words "police" and "trouble," the sharp edge in their voices making it clear they weren't speaking out of concern. No, they were speaking from fear.

The room, despite its cozy ambiance, felt suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in on him. He could feel the weight of their stares, the way every movement he made seemed to draw their attention. He knew they weren't just curious-they were nervous. They were scared.

Jiho, noticing the unease in the air, leaned toward Jungkook. "Don't mind them. They're not used to outsiders." He paused, glancing around. "Or maybe they're just tired of being watched."

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his expression impassive. "They're hiding something."

Jiho gave him a sidelong glance. "You'll learn. This town... It's not as simple as it seems."

The woman behind the counter slid a cup of coffee across to Jungkook, her hands a little too shaky for someone who worked in a café every day. "Here you go," she said with another strained smile, avoiding his eyes.

Jungkook took the cup without hesitation, his fingers brushing hers for a brief moment. He noticed the slight tremor in her hand and the way she quickly pulled it back as if afraid to make contact. It was subtle, but it spoke volumes.

As he turned to leave, the eyes of the patrons followed him, their gazes lingering on his every move. It was as if they were waiting for something to happen, waiting for him to make the first move, or perhaps, waiting for him to leave.

Jungkook stepped out of the café, the door closing softly behind him. The air outside felt different-colder, sharper. He glanced over at Jiho, his mind racing with the unsettling impressions that had settled into his gut.

"This place... something's wrong," Jungkook muttered under his breath.

Jiho gave him a sidelong glance, a shadow crossing his face. "You're not wrong. There's something here, something we don't fully understand yet. Just keep your eyes open, Kook. You'll see it soon enough."

Jungkook's grip tightened around the coffee cup, his eyes narrowing as he looked back at the café. The answers were here-hidden in plain sight. And it was up to him to uncover them.

---

---

His coat flutters slightly in the afternoon breeze, the scent of fresh rain mingling with the crispness of the night. The town seems to stretch endlessly before him, the distant sound of traffic and muffled voices filling the air.

He doesn't look back at the café. The weight of what he just uncovered still lingers in his mind, but he knows better than to let it distract him. His steps are purposeful, his posture straight, moving through the night with an air of someone used to making their presence felt. A few taps on his phone reveal an unread message, the urgency of it clear even before he opens it. His jaw tightens slightly as he reads the words, but he slips the phone back into his pocket with practiced ease. It's nothing he can't handle, not now at least. He's learned how to compartmentalize-just another task to deal with later.

The sound of his shoes clicking against the pavement echoes softly in the night as he walks towards the squad car including jiho waiting for him at the curb. His gaze drifts across the street, his thoughts momentarily wandering. Something about tonight feels off, but he can't quite place it. There's an unsettling silence in the air, a tension that gnaws at the back of his mind. He shakes it off, opening the door to his car and slides inside. He motions jiho to drive , heading towards their new office , while Jungkook's mind race with uncountable thoughts.

---

???

5:45pm

The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering bulb overhead. The silence is suffocating, broken only by the soft rustling of papers and the occasional scrape of a chair against the floor.

Jimin sits in the middle of the room, the shadows stretching across the walls like dark fingers. His eyes are wide, unblinking, as he stares at the collection of photographs pinned up before him.

His fingers trace the edges of the pictures-images of a woman, her face hauntingly familiar to him, each one carefully placed with a precision that suggests obsession. He lingers on one, his fingers trembling slightly as he runs them over the image. His lips twitch, forming a smile that never reaches his eyes.

"Why did you leave so soon?"

His voice is low, almost a whisper, but there's a dangerous undertone to it, as though he's speaking to her directly."I thought we were just getting started."

He steps closer to the wall, his eyes scanning the photos, his hand brushing against them as though he's trying to touch her. The air in the room feels heavier, thicker, as if the very space around him is holding its breath. He speaks again, his tone growing more intense,

"You can't hide from me. Not forever."

There's a long pause as he watches the photos, the smile on his lips curling into something more sinister. His gaze flicks toward the corner of the room, where a small table sits, cluttered with items-broken objects, mismatched furniture, and more photos of her.

"Don't think you can escape," he murmurs, his voice barely audible now.

"Because I'll find you. And when I do... we'll be together again."

His fingers clench around the edge of a photo, the paper crinkling under his grip. A moment of stillness passes, and then, with a flick of his wrist, he takes another photograph to the wall-one of her walking into the café earlier that day. His eyes glimmer with a quiet satisfaction.

"You can't escape from what's meant to be," he whispers, and the room seems to grow darker still, his shadow stretching across the photos. His presence lingers in the air, thick and ominous, as he stares at the images-each one a reminder of the twisted obsession he's nurturing in the silence of this room.

As the weight of the unspoken words hung in the air, Jimin's smile lingered, a dark promise etched in the shadows of the room, his gaze never leaving the photos-never leaving her.

---

A/n: aahhh I'm so excited to write this story. I have been working on it for over a year now. It feels ethereal to know post it hehe<³