#i just realized the book is also under the sheets it looks like its also taking a nap with tjem bro.

[callsign-rogueone]

three in the morning - b.d. + g.t.

Bodhi Durran x reader x Garrick Tavis Garrick comes back from overnight watch to find both of his partners in his bed. Filth ensues. words: 4.1k 🏷: NSFW. no book spoilers, but set during Fourth Wing. reader is afab and feminine, but no pronouns used. threesome, established poly relationship, soft dom/sub dynamics, Garrick’s first time subbing but he’s very good at it, overuse of pet names, a lot of praise, mention of oral sex (f receiving), some body worship, because who doesn’t want to kiss each one of Garrick’s ab muscles?, unprotected PIV x2, sloppy seconds / cum as lube (don’t look at me like that), lots of aftercare!!! buckle up and bring a towel and maybe some baby wipes. you’ll need them. I'm really exposing myself with this one, but I hope you like it.

Being a section leader has its perks — namely, getting a nicer room with a bigger bed — but Garrick could really do without the once-a-week overnight watch.

It wreaks havoc on his sleep schedule, staying up until two in the morning every Thursday night, only to wake back up at six for another full day of classes and flight training. Fridays are hell, but at least he has Saturday to ease things off, catching up on sleep — his personal record is eleven hours straight, before Xaden practically dragged him out of bed for a dagger drop.

You and Bodhi try to make it more pleasant, making sure he eats something before his shift starts and kissing him goodbye, spending those nights in his room, so that he can come back to fall asleep in warm sheets and soft embraces. While that’s very nice to come home to, it also somehow makes the watch even more agonizing, knowing that his partners are sleeping in his bed right now, half-dressed, a soft and loving tangle of limbs that he can’t work his way into for hours.

When the infantry leadership finally shows up to relieve him — and they’re always fucking late —, he’ll make the climb up to his room, where he usually finds you both fast asleep. He’ll use the last of his energy to shower and brush his teeth before slotting himself into bed next to you. The feeling of the mattress shifting under his weight will wake you up, and you’ll each give him a sleepy kiss and a soft welcome home before you slip back into dreamland, content to cuddle into all that plush muscle until sunrise — which is only a few hours away.

But sometimes you two don’t make it all the way to bed. There’s been more than one occasion where you’ve tried to stay up until his return, passing the time studying, only to knock out around one, slumped onto the floor with your textbooks still open in your laps, leaving Garrick to wake you up and help you change into proper pajamas before you all pile into bed together. 

“I’ve told you two not to stay up for me,” he’ll remind you gently, not having it in him to properly scold you when you’re so soft and sleepy like this, all warm and pliant in his arms.

“We know,” Bodhi always replies, wrapping his body around the older boy’s. “Just missed you.”

Then you’ll hum in agreement, nuzzling your cheek into his shoulder, and it’ll only be a matter of minutes until Garrick is out like a light, completely relaxed, all his worries brushed away by your soft touches.

Tonight, as he moves to unlock the door to his room, he sees the soft glow of a mage light, but when he crosses the wards that Xaden helped him put up, he doesn’t hear the still silence that should come with the pair of you having fallen asleep. A mischievous smile spreads across his face at the familiar sounds; the wet smack of skin on skin and the soft, needy noises that always spill from your lips when someone is touching you just right.

Sure enough, Bodhi has you lying on the bed face-down, ass-up, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you back against his hips as he fucks you nice and deep.

Bodhi grins at him, and Garrick realizes that you’re facing the door — he wanted Garrick to find you two like this.

“Look who’s home, honey,” Bodhi coos.

It takes you a second to process his words, your brain already been turned to mush with how good Bodhi is making you feel, but you lift your head from the pillow you’d buried your face into, looking up. “Gare,” you breathe, your eyes widening.

He can see the little streak of fear that moves through you as you realize he’s back, that he’d caught you both red-handed, but Bodhi continues driving his hips into yours without a care in the world, showing zero signs that he’s going to stop. 

That’s the difference between you two — Bodhi isn’t as afraid of Garrick as you are. It takes a lot for him to consider submitting, while you fold so easily — just the right look from either of them, being spoken to in the right tone of voice or touched in the right places, and you turn from a fearless dragon rider to a soft and pliant little toy.

Like tonight, when he’d been able to convince you to break Garrick’s rules and have some fun, just the two of you. You'd been so needy after nearly two weeks without any kind of sex, and when he’d woken you up in the middle of the night by grinding his hips against your ass and kissing your neck, your resolve started to crumble, very quickly.

It was too easy for him to lead you down that slippery slope that led to your current position — soft kisses turned into his hands all over your body, groping and squeezing… and then he’d convinced you to let him eat you out, to let him make you cum on his tongue… you don’t have to do anything, honey, just lay there and look pretty. it’ll feel so good, I promise.

It did feel good; very good, and it was only natural that it led to something more — the thorough fucking you’d both needed, been so desperate for after weeks without.

But Garrick doesn’t seem mad about this at all. He’s giving you that signature smug smile — like he’s proud that he has the both of you in his bed, and he has some devious plan in mind for you.

“How was watch?” Bodhi asks casually, starting to draw little circles on your clit with his fingertips.

“Fine,” Garrick answers. “Same old. A few first-years sneaking around and making out in the halls, but no threats to life as we know it.”

He strips off his flight jacket, draping it over the back of his desk chair like he always does. He’s wearing a tight thermal shirt underneath that hugs every muscle of his arms and torso just right, clinging to his chest.

You watch as he brings a hand down to rub and squeeze at his cock through his pants. It’s hard to see with the dim lighting of the room and the solid black fabric covering it, but you know that he’s definitely hard, ready to fuck you as soon as Bodhi’s done — they’ve always been good at sharing, at taking turns.

You shiver at the thought, wondering how Garrick is going to respond to finding you two here like this, if he’s truly not mad, or if the two of you will be in for a world of trouble in the next few minutes.

Garrick coos down at you, condescending. “You needed this so bad, didn’t you, honey? So desperate to be fucked that you couldn’t wait another hour for me to get back, that you just had to break the rules?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you find yourself nodding, agreeing with him. “Yes,” you whimper, “m’sorry, I just — ah — know you’re tired from watch, and you do so much for us already… didn’t want to bother you…”

He feels a twinge of guilt as he realizes that you have a point. It’s been much longer than it should have since he’d last fucked you properly— he’s always so busy with watch and third-year classes and section leader stuff, and trying to keep the rest of you alive… he’s exhausted at the end of every day, and you’d been too concerned for his health to ask him to do anything else on top of it all.

“Shh, honey,” he soothes, stroking your hair gently. “I’m not mad. S’ really fucking hot seeing you two like this in my bed. And I don’t care how tired I am, I’ll never be too tired to take care of my loves when they’re needy.”

You have that cute little concentrated look on your face as you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed, holding your breath… he realizes that you’re trying not to cum until he gives you permission. So you do still care about his rules after all— or maybe this is just an attempt at damage control.

“It’s okay, honey. You can cum for us,” he coos.

You stop fighting it, letting the motion of Bodhi’s fingertips on your clit and the relentless thrust of his hips into yours push you toward the edge. A few seconds tick by, and you break, sobbing out Bodhi’s name and babbling incoherently as he continues to fuck you through your climax.

“Fuck,” Bodhi pants, his head tipping back. “You get so fucking tight when you cum, honey, gods…” He moves his fingers away from your clit, but continues railing into you, the head of his cock nudging against that special spot with every stroke.

You let your head drop back into the pillow, muffling your little squeaks and cries at the overwhelming sensation.

Adorable. And really fucking hot.

Garrick undoes the buttons of his pants, sighing in relief as the pressure on his crotch decreases. Having a hard-on in flight pants is never comfortable — the fabric is too stiff and restraining. He kicks off his boots, stripping down to just his underwear, and leaving the clothes in a pile on the floor that he’ll clean up later. Right now, he has more important things to do.

You continue to whine helplessly into the cushion, completely limp; Bodhi’s hands on your hips are the only thing keeping your body raised off the bed. He isn’t far behind you, if his panting breaths and soft moans are any indication.

“Oh, are you close, baby?” 

“Uh-huh,” Bodhi stammers, struggling to keep eye contact with Garrick — another one of his rules; he always wants to see those pretty eyes of yours when he makes you fall apart. Unless he has you laid face-down, of course.

“Go ahead, then.”

He continues the movements for a few seconds before you hear a gorgeous little moan, and his pace slows to a lazy drag, riding it out. 

“Holy shit,” he pants, stroking his hands over your hips appreciatively before he pulls out.

Garrick sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing your back for a moment. “You okay, honey?”

You hum in affirmation, moving your head to rest against his thigh, nuzzling your cheek into the soft muscle as you regain your strength. 

“This is new,” he muses, brushing a knuckle over the strap of the little tank top you’re wearing; rider’s black, of course, but soft and lacy and completely impractical for anything other than sleeping, in both senses of the word. It’s just thin enough for him to see the outline of your nipples through it, hardened in the chill of the room.

Bodhi must have been truly desperate if he kept your shirt on. He normally loves taking his sweet time with you, sucking on your nipples and teasing them with his fingertips, groping at the softness of your chest. He could spend hours just doing that, and he has before, on multiple occasions.

Garrick brings his hands down to smooth over your shoulders, admiring the softness of your body. “Think you can go again, lovie?”

You make a happy sound of affirmation, eager to feel his body against yours after so long, but you’re still a little worried about him, and the fact that he’s been awake for nearly twenty-four hours already. 

“You’re sure you’re not too tired?” you ask softly, looking up at him. How cute.

He just smiles. “Oh, I’m fucking exhausted. Which is why you two are gonna be doing all the work.”

Bodhi grins at him, having caught his breath. “Yes, sir.”

Garrick’s jaw flexes at the response, and he raises an eyebrow in warning.

The two of you had learned the hard way that Garrick is a little bit of an authoritarian. He likes to be in charge in the bedroom, and doesn’t tolerate any sort of sarcasm or backtalk out of either of you; a bit ironic, but if you were to bring that up, you’d quickly find yourself in a rather compromising position —  though not an unpleasant one.

You decide to take this a little farther, boldened by the conspiratorial look on Bodhi’s face.

“Our section leader works so hard,” you coo, rising onto your knees. “All these long night shifts, keeping us safe… The least we can do is thank him for his service, and help him relax.”

Bodhi knows where you’re going with this, eager to follow along. “It’s for the good of the quadrant, really. Got to keep morale high.”

“Well then,” Garrick says smugly, liking the way this is headed. “Get on with it.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You work in easy synchrony — you sit up straighter to kiss him, Bodhi dipping his head down to kiss his neck, his hands smoothing over the broad expanse of Garrick’s chest and shoulders.

Garrick rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close, kissing back lazily and sighing against your lips — he'd needed this more than he’d thought.

Bodhi is still working diligently, kissing every muscle of his stomach one by one, pulling down the waistband of Garrick’s boxers just enough to kiss each of his hipbones, brushing his nose along the defined ridges of muscle.

You guide Garrick back to sit against the wall, putting a pillow behind him to lean back on —  you know his entire body must be aching right now. Maybe you’ll offer to give him a massage tomorrow night, after dinner; he could use a tension-reliever, and it’s a nice opportunity for you to admire his back muscles and rub your hands all over them.

“Thank you, baby.”

You hum in response, kissing at his neck softly and cuddling into his side, laying a hand on his chest, right over his heart. His pulse jumps as Bodhi’s hand wraps around his cock, gliding up and down slowly.

“What do you want us to do, Gare?” you ask softly, dropping the ‘sir’ title — you all know that this isn’t the time to get into all of that, not when you all should really be getting to sleep, but also because it’s been so long; you just want to be soft with him, gentle, to remind him how much you love him and make him feel nice and relaxed after that nearly twenty-hour day. 

“You too tired to ride me, baby?”

You shake your head no, sitting up to straddle him. As you spread your legs, a thick glob of what can only be Bodhi’s cum drips out of you — landing on Garrick’s thigh.

Oh.

You burn with embarrassment, but Garrick doesn’t look grossed out at all — amused, rather. “No need for lube, I guess.”

Your jaw drops as you watch him bring a hand down to scoop it up with two fingers, using it to slick up his cock for you. Bodhi looks equally stunned, but also very turned on.

You recover from your shock quickly, shifting your hips down to help him guide himself into you. You’d been well-prepared, but there’s still a bit of discomfort as you start to sink down onto Garrick’s lap, your body working to accommodate the thickness of him. 

“Easy, baby,” he soothes, muscled forearms settling under the backs of your thighs to support your weight and keep you from taking him deeper. “Don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.”

Your heart swells at the softness in his voice, another reminder of why you love him so much; he may look scary, but he’s really just a gentle giant. You dip your head down to kiss him, cradling his jaw with one hand and stroking your thumb over his cheek — he could use a shave come morning, but you’re secretly very eager to see what he’d look like with more than just a day’s worth of stubble.

Bodhi’s hand slips between your bodies, circling the pad of a finger over your clit. You make a soft, pleased sound into Garrick’s mouth, lifting your hips ever so slightly and lowering them slowly, bobbing up and down on the first few inches. He likes that, if the soft swear he lets out is any indication.

Bodhi continues the gentle movements, lips still smearing over the thick muscle of Garrick’s neck, down to his collarbone, kissing and nibbling and sucking at the pale skin. That’s definitely going to leave marks later, but you know Garrick doesn’t mind in the slightest. He always wears the hickies as proudly as he does the patches on his uniform, as a sign of achievement and a signal to anyone else that he’s spoken for — doubly spoken for.

Garrick moves his hands up to slip underneath your shirt, wanting to grope at your chest, and you take your chance; you sink all the way down until you’re sitting in his lap, your thighs pressed into his.

He nearly chokes, his fingers digging into the softness of your waist. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes, “are you okay?”

You hum in contentment, starting to rock your hips against his. “Never better.”

You’ve never taken him this deep before. It’s delicious, feeling his cock filling you completely and nudging against that special little spot with every bounce of your hips, the wet slide of your bodies against each other, aided by Bodhi’s spend that continues to leak out onto your thighs.

It feels and even sounds obscene, wet and messy, definitely going to require a change of sheets tomorrow, but it’s clear that everyone involved is absolutely loving it — Garrick especially.

“Gods,” he pants, “takin’ me so fucking deep, baby, so warm n’ wet n’ tight, can’t — can’t even think, s’so good…”

They say sleep deprivation can be equivalent to intoxication after a certain point; that it starts to cloud your mind and slur your words, make you feel all soft and hazy and dizzy, loose-lipped and borderline incoherent. He certainly feels inebriated right now, his head spinning as he realizes that his exhaustion is making every sensation more intense, dialing everything up to eleven.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so glassy-eyed and flushed and completely gone. It’s always been you and Bodhi under his spell, at his beck and call, whimpering incoherently while you’re held down by his strong hands and used as he sees fit — and you all love that, but this is just as good, if not better.

“We should have done this earlier,” Bodhi says teasingly, brushing a hand over the other boy’s stomach and admiring the way his abs muscles flex as he tenses and squirms underneath you.

Garrick gasps out an agreement, his hold on your hips tightening. 

“Relax for us, baby,” Bodhi coaxes, bringing a hand up to guide the other boy’s head toward him. Garrick swallows, nodding obediently and letting Bodhi pull him into a soft kiss that deepens quickly, Garrick tugging Bodhi closer with one hand and making a soft, desperate noise against his lips. 

You rub a hand up and down the muscle of his arm slowly, attempting to relax him, and his grip starts to loosen. “There we go,” you soothe. “Such a good boy.”

Garrick whimpers at the praise, the prettiest little sound you’ve ever heard him make — and you want to hear it again.

“Oh?” you ask, teasing. “You like being called a good boy, Gare? Like being told how pretty you are, how good you feel inside me?”

He pulls his lips away from Bodhi’s to answer you. “Yes,” he pants, flushed and out of breath — a definite sign that he’s almost there. Usually it takes a while longer for you to get him this close, but you suspect that he’s too tired to care, and that he’s enjoying being taken care of much more than he thought he would; he isn’t holding back anymore.

Bodhi takes his turn to coo praises at him. “You’ve been such a good boy for us, Gare, letting us take care of you… I know that this is new for you, but you’re doing so well.”

Another soft whimper, his breathing ragged and uneven.

You’re a little out of breath yourself, your thighs starting to ache from the exertion, but you’re determined to get him there, and your words definitely seem to be helping. “You have such a nice body, baby. So strong, so nice to look at, to touch… Feels so good, too. Love feeling full of this perfect cock.”

You grind your hips down a little harder, and Garrick gasps, his eyes rolling back. “So good,” he breathes, “fuck, baby, please don’t stop, need to — need to cum, please, s’so good…”

“Shh, sweet boy, it’s okay,” you soothe. “I’m not going to stop. You can cum when you’re ready. Just want you to feel good, okay?”

“Thank you, oh, fuck, cumming!” he gasps, gripping your waist and keeping you seated in his lap as he spills into you, thrusting his hips up into yours with a few lovely little moans. He pants into your neck, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug to keep you close. 

You can feel his heart racing, his thighs trembling underneath yours — that must have been pretty intense. “You okay, baby?” you ask softly, bringing a hand up to play with the damp curls at the back of his neck.

“Uh-huh,” he breathes, “just a little… little dizzy...”

Bodhi shushes him quietly, pressing a few soft kisses to his bicep and laying his head against the boy’s shoulder, rubbing his back. “Deep breaths,” he coaxes, the way Garrick usually does for the two of you after he’s fucked you senseless like this.

“Did so good for us, Gare,” you praise, kissing the top of his head. “We love you so much, baby.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles into your shoulder, exhausted. His breaths have evened, his pulse slowing, but he still clings to you, keeping your body pressed to his.

You stay like that for a moment, just holding each other, letting him come down slowly. You press little kisses to his head every so often, rubbing your palms over his shoulders to release the tension there. 

“Let's get you cleaned up and in bed, big guy,” Bodhi coaxes.

“We’re already in bed,” Garrick responds in a soft mumble, not wanting to get up. It’s comforting to know that he’s still cognizant enough to be a smartass.

You laugh. “C’mon, lovie. There’s only a few hours until formation.”

He whines softly, burying his face deeper into your neck -- knowing that as soon as he goes to sleep, it’ll be time to wake up and start another exhaustingly long day, and wanting to stay like this forever, soft and safe and free of the school’s expectations of him.

Bodhi has given up on getting him to shower, and instead holds out a pair of sweats. “You can be the middle spoon, and we can cuddle until breakfast,” he offers, “but you need sleep.”

Garrick sighs, knowing Bodhi is right. He loosens his grip enough for you to get up, and you regret it immediately upon feeling the wetness running down your leg, a mix of each of you. You wince, but Bodhi is quick to hand you a scrap of fabric from the drawer of Garrick’s nightstand for you to clean yourself up with.

All three of you are going to need showers in the morning, along with multiple cups of coffee at breakfast and an early night in, but none of you regret this in the slightest.

With a quick change of underwear from the overnight bags you and Bodhi had packed for your little sleepover, you all pile back into bed, with Garrick in the middle — your usual arrangement, since he takes up the most space, but also because you want to keep showing him how much you love him, that you’re there for him.

“Love you,” Garrick says through a yawn, settling under the covers. “M’sorry for neglecting you.”

“We love you too, Gare. And you didn’t neglect us. You were just busy. We understand,” Bodhi soothes.

“F’ that ever happens again, jus’ tie me to the headboard n’ have your way with me,” he mumbles.

You laugh. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, love.”

He doesn’t respond — he’s already fallen asleep, tucked safely between his partners in a soft, warm bed. You each press a kiss to his cheek, snuggling into his side.

“G’night,” you murmur.

“Night,” Bodhi replies, nearing sleep himself. “Love you.”

You reach across Garrick’s chest, intertwining your fingers. “Love you, too.”

#bodhi durran #garrick tavis #fourth wing #bodhi durran x reader #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader #mine #18+ #smut

[babygirl-diaz]

Look At Me

This is my first time writing smut for this pair. I am not a smut writer so please let me know what you think. Do I have a praise kink like Buck? Maybe I do.

***

Tommy was fully engrossed in his book when he heard a gasp. He looked up confused, to find Evan looking at him with his eyes wide open and his mouth slightly agape.

"What?" Tommy asked as he looked at himself. "Is there something on my face?"

Evan nodded, dumbfounded, before going over to Tommy and getting into the bed. "The glasses." He pointed at Tommy's face.

That confused Tommy even more before he realized what Evan was saying. He couldn't help but chuckle at that. Of course, Evan had a thing for glasses. Maybe nerds were his thing. "You like my glasses?"

"No, I like those glasses on you," Evan replied and surged forward, kissing Tommy.

Tommy gasped into the kiss. Evan took the book from Tommy's hand and threw it somewhere.

"Hey, I was reading that," Tommy complained.

Instead of saying anything, Evan pushed Tommy down on the bed and climbed on top of him, beginning to rock against him, "I need you."

Tommy moaned and rested his hands on Evan's hips. "Yeah? How do you want me?"

"Right here, just like this, spread out under me, while you're wearing nothing but those damn glasses," Evan replied, making Tommy's breath hitch.

Things moved quickly as Evan undressed them. Tommy felt the cool air against his skin once he was naked, and he shivered, but that was also mostly from the heat of Evan’s gaze on his body. Once Evan stopped staring, he reached out and grabbed the lube from the side drawer. He spread Tommy's legs even wider and when he pressed two fingers inside him, Tommy let out a loud moan and tipped his head back, arching his hips off the bed. His breath quickened and he felt warm all over despite the cold breeze blowing through the window.  

As Evan fucked him with his fingers, his voice trembled as he said, "Fuck, you're so beautiful, spread out under me like this."

Tommy watched as Evan’s eyes roamed his body, his pupils blown wide open. "Only for you, baby," he managed to say. He moaned at the loss when Evan pulled out his fingers.

Evan grabbed Tommy's hair and made him look at him. "You're all mine, you hear me? Only. Mine."

Tommy’s throat went dry. He felt himself getting harder, and he could only nod. "All yours."

Evan smashed their lips together in a bruising kiss and soon Tommy felt the intrusion of his cock pushing inside him. He moaned into the kiss, which Evan swallowed, and kissed him harder.

"Evan," Tommy gasped, pulling away from the kiss.

Evan wasn't small by means and every time he fucked him, Tommy understood where he got the name firehose from.

Evan pushed until he bottomed out and then he was moving.

"Tommy," Evan whispered.

"Evan, just like that."

Tommy wrapped his legs around Evan's waist and felt him go deeper inside him. He wrapped his arms around Evan’s neck and pulled him closer. 

"Fuck, you always feel so good, baby," Evan said kissing his neck. He bit down on a spot that he knew was sensitive for Tommy and drew another loud moan from him. "Mine," he whispered against his neck.

"Yours.” The word made its way out of his lips without a second thought. He could feel himself get closer to his release because of the possessiveness in his boyfriend’s voice. 

Evan's hand wrapped around Tommy's cock and he stroked it in time with his thrusts.

"Evan, Evan, Evan..." A litany of his boyfriend's name escaped Tommy's mouth, making his voice hoarse.

"Well, since you said please so nicely..." Evan trailed off and smirked. He pulled out and slammed back inside Tommy.

Tommy screamed and grasped the sheets. "Evan, please, baby."

Evan started stroking his cock faster, stopping his thrusts for a few moments.

"No, don't stop. Baby, come on, please, move. Please."

"You're always so nice," Evan chuckled and started moving again.

Soon, Tommy came all over Evan's hand and his own stomach. Evan brought his fingers to his lips and licked them off one by one. "Mmmm... You always taste so good."

Tommy felt his cheeks heat up at that, "Do you have to do that?"

"Yes," Evan replied and increased the pace of his thrusts, making the bed rock back and forth. He gave Tommy another bruising kiss and Tommy knew he was close.

It wasn't long before Evan came inside Tommy while kissing him. "My babyboy," he whispered against his lips.

When Tommy came down from his high and could speak, he said, "I can't believe these glasses got you so turned on."

Evan gently kissed the tip of Tommy's nose. "Just when I think you can't get any hotter, you do."

#tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy #kinley #tevan #911 abc #911 fanfiction #911 fic #bucktommy fanfic #smut #bottom tommy kinard #top evan buckley

[whisperingn1ghts]

Cuddly mfs 🦌 ⭐

#they need to be in contact at all times even in sleeping otherwise they'd explode #prongsfoot #bambibelle #james potter #sirius black #lookimg ay them makes my eyes tunr into hearts #“whats going on with the lighting” it came to me in a vision #i just realized the book is also under the sheets it looks like its also taking a nap with tjem bro.

[saiidahyunie]

don’t go insane

hirai momo x fembodyguard!reader || fluff ; smut 

synopsis: you get assigned to protect your world famous girlfriend again—but an incident occurs one night that will change how you approach the bed from now on. 

warnings: smut ; cursing ; more smut ; mentions of food ; alcohol ; spanking ; praise ; edging ; smut again ; overstimulation ; degrading ; slight belt play? ; bondage ; dacryphilia ; mmmmmm smut and smut hehe! ; bottom momo ; whipped reader for a quick second ; [redacted] appears (again) ; might/might not be proofread ; i think i cleared the checklist ??

a/n: for @gayforminatozaki, the direct sequel of standing next to you .

the cool morning air of paris meets you, standing on a balcony with a french pressed coffee to your lips.

how fitting. 

you scout the few amounts of people down on the street below your apartment that were going about in their daily lives. you see a woman enter a bakery with another person cruising down on their moped wearing a cute baby blue helmet zipping past your vision. 

another sip of your coffee passes through your lips, finishing the last bits of it before you were just now holding a simple empty cup that said “for the missus” with a lipstick mark under the text. you scoffed at the cup of choice, knowing that it had came as a set that was a welcoming gift for the person that you were assigned under. 

sighing out in relaxation, you gaze over the skyline where the eiffel tower was making its presence known, with the arc de triomphe also standing tall behind in the distance on this bright morning under the warm sun.

you turn your head back inside, the sheets unmade from the amount of movement that was made in the bed last night—your side clearly left imprinted on the mattress and pillows, along with the pool of clothes that were scattered across the floor from last night’s event.

suit trousers laid flat, the dress shirt on the chair, your necktie on the headboard of the bed. it was the complete opposite to your current attire of grey sweatpants with a white crop top shirt. god it was definitely an evening for the books. another pair of clothes were off on the tile floor next to the bathroom, a path seen leading further into the room, it’s occupant still fast asleep on their side of the bed. 

the person sleeping their heart’s content away in question? none other than your famous girlfriend, momo. 

unlike your side of covers, hers exposed her bare back to you, hints of red marks and hickeys all over like a canvas painting that was curated by yours truly.

but how did we get to this exact moment currently? let’s rewind a bit back to explain how you and her ended up the morning after in a paris penthouse suite. 

not long after you and momo hooked up following the chrome hearts incident back in new york city, momo finished up the remaining tour stops in the US with ease. the only new catch however was that you and her kept your relationship secret behind the scenes. 

most of the nights would be filled with endless sex with soft pillow talks in the morning, show preparations filled with stolen kisses when no one else was looking, staying right by her side when escorting her through different areas—hand on her back or a finger linked with hers.

the two of you really enjoyed the time spent together on the free days, momo being the free spirt that she was going crazy with shopping and you carrying most of her new clothes that she couldn’t wait to try on for herself and you—only for it to be torn off her body minutes later when you couldn’t stop eyefucking each other. 

in all of the moments shared, time was the greatest enemy in the end. her tour had finished and you would be sent back to another posting while momo would have her much needed time off. 

it hurt to finally be separated after realizing the feelings you had for her, but you knew that she had the strings to pull you back to her for another event sometime later in the year, so the agreement of being in a long-distance relationship was the solution for now. 

at the airport, you ensured to keep your bodyguard image once yoona had managed to get everyone situated in momo’s team. while she was doing that, momo pulled you away from the logistical atmosphere to a nearby photobooth. you laughed at her silly idea, but she insisted on making one last memory before leaving back home. 

“this is so teenage corny, but i wouldn't mind having one last memento from you.” you say to momo, sitting down on the far end of the small booth, arm wrapped around her waist while she tapped away on the screen to get the photo machine working. 

“something for us to keep, and a little reminder of you.” momo says sweetly, you press your lips to her jaw that makes her mewl cutely at the affectionate side that she managed to bring out of you. 

you and momo do a wide variety of poses in the six frames that were set up for you two. the first three being funny and cute poses of pressing each other’s faces and hugging, and the last three being more intimate with kisses on cheeks with the last one being a proper lip lock to seal it. 

yoona stands outside a luggage store with karina, looking for the two of you while she spots you two walking, sharing a quick laugh while momo was holding two cups of coffee—clearly one of them for yoona as you stood behind her, scanning the people walking past you while momo handed the cup. 

“our flight’s leaving in about an hour, but we have first class so we can board a little bit early than expected.” yoona announces to the three of you. momo pouts her lips with those thick nerdy glasses that were just for show and not for prescription, your cheeks forming a dimple realizing that the time was now growing short. 

“if anything yoona, we’re pretty much set over here. another team will escort you guys to the gate, but this is it for us.” karina says, your eyes turning towards her while she said that to momo’s manager. 

“do you mind if you can bring us to the person that’s helping your team before you have to leave?” yoona asks, shouldering her expensive handbag in her arm that was slipping off. 

“sure, y/n you want to come?” 

“it’s fine, i have to get in touch with nayeon for a debrief.” you reply, holding a hand up with karina acknowledging your refusal. “you can go, i’ll meet you back at the terminal.” 

karina nods, motioning yoona to follow her. 

momo bent down to tie her shoelace real quick, but that was a fake cover since she stood up after you tapped her shoulder, wrapping you into a hug that makes you want to go with her back home. you could use the break anyway from your bodyguard post for a bit and you did say to nayeon that you’d be taking a temporary vacation once you and the rest of your team got back. 

“momo…” you mutter, her hair over your mouth and nose as her grip tightened around you, not wanting to let go at all. “you have to go baby.” 

“i know, it’s just- i’m gonna miss you…” she mumbles into your shoulder, fighting back tears before loosening her hug just a bit to meet your face. 

“we’ll be together again, but you deserve the break.” you comfort her, patting her head as she hugs your waist once more, pressing her lips to yours for a quick kiss—one feeling that you’ll never get enough of the next time you’re assigned with her again. 

“i guess i have to go now…” she says defeatedly, you grab her hand for a quick second before she stars walking away, fishing for your slip of pictures from the photobooth and a sharpie that you always had on the ready, scribbling on the back of it with something. 

“give me your photo slip and take this.” you instruct momo as she hands you her copy of the pictures, trading for the one that you just wrote on. 

“what’s this?” 

“my personal phone number,” you answer, “i keep two phones; one for work and the other for outside of my job.” 

momo chuckles a bit, happy with the gesture you just did to ensure that you and her would keep in touch. 

“now get going silly, you’ll miss your flight.” you say to momo, tapping her shoulder as she gives you a couple more quick kisses, each contact much sweeter than the last before she pulls away.

“i hope you know that i love you right?” 

“you don’t have to tell me twice.” 

she smiles at you, lunging for one last kiss before starts running backwards to the gate, waving at you like a lost child at the mall. the black beanie the back of her head finally disappearing in the crowd after a few seconds. 

everything felt way too good to be true, only for you to be brought back down to the earth. the miles and miles of land and oceans tearing you and momo apart for what seemed to be like forever—but in reality it was just for the summer. 

momo’s tour had concluded in may, and she had the whole summer to herself back doing various things with her close friends and family; traveling around the world and seeing the new sights of countries that she dreamed of going back to when she was a kid. 

as for you, nayeon let you off the hook with that long overdue vacation that you proposed back at the chrome hearts store. sure, she didn’t want you to be on temporary leave since you were basically the best in the business at doing your job correctly. speaking of correctly, that dumbass heechul was finally kicked off to the curb and shipped to a different celebrity service that was more well known for dealing with delinquents—perfect for his line of work really. 

during the summer, you decided to use your well paid time off doing a bunch of works that you put on hold when you first got the bodyguard job. this was not limited to drifting in custom-made cars, a getaway trip with your close friend sakura to jeju island, and even doing a simple modeling gig; courtesy of momo for helping you get set up. 

you and momo kept in touch through texts and facetime calls whenever it was possible despite the difference in place and time, but if was worth fucking up your sleep schedule for her, then you could never complain about the increase of caffeine in your system. 

“so when are you supposed to go back to work?” 

you hum while reaching in the cupboard for a mug to use for your homemade root beer float, “i don’t know, nayeon told me that i could come back whenever i feel like since i’ve done a lot more than i initially expected.” you say, turning back to see momo on your screen laying on the bed, the heels of her feet up in the air. 

“they really worked you down, didn’t they?” momo sighs out that makes you chuckle at the thought of it. she knew that you were stressed to a certain degree during her US tour, and luckily she was the one to relieve all of that almost entirely. 

“yeah,” you say, “but on the brightside, i finally got back to some of my hobbies outside of work.” 

“hmm, like what?” 

“oh you know, sleeping in a whole lot more compared to waking up at 5 in the morning. or better yet, being able to go out for some drinks and not having to worry about a hangover the morning after.” you list, pointing a finger up in the air like some idea with a dumb smile struck over your face. 

“you’re so cute.” momo laughs out, “i can’t believe you have this side of you i didn’t expect to see.” 

“oh shut up, you’re one of the few people i can’t get mad at now.” 

“good.” 

the both of you share a laugh together over the phone, sipping the last couple chunks of ice cream mixed with your root beer, stirring it with a spoon while momo shifts herself into the bed more, almost getting ready to fall asleep. 

“i miss you.” you say to momo, tilting your head to match hers that was on her side now, tapping her cheek on the phone screen. “it sucks that we have to keep this dating thing a whole secret for the sake of our companies.” 

“at least it's not a dating ban, but i miss you too.” momo replies, eyes drooping with the wave of sleepiness slowly taking over. 

“i’ll let you go sleep now.”  you softly say while momo moans slightly through her covers. “dream of me when you can, yeah?” 

“always.” momo murmurs out, waving small with her three fingers over the cover as you wave at your phone screen, kissing to the air while momo ends the call after more than four hours. (with all this free time that you and momo were granted, it was justified) 

“she’s so cute.” you say to yourself, standing up from the table before cleaning up a bit around your kitchen before packing it up for the night. 

once the summer had passed, things got back into full swing. momo was in and around the studio working on her next project while you ease yourself back into the bodyguard position by training the newbies that had come up through the ranks.

you had a smug smile on your face with the new people being introduced to your unit; chaeyoung worked under a previous agency but switched over since the pay was better. wonwoo was also a returner that was supposed to be with your team on momo’s previous assignment, but you got heechul instead which was a bummer because of logistical reasons. and there was tzuyu, who didn’t seem like the more intimidating type—once you saw her skills with firearms and martial arts, that ended the questions faster than they could be formed. 

during one team briefing, nayeon pulled you out of it for a quick word. granted, you hated those meetings anyway so nayeon was doing you a favor by bailing you out so that you didn't have to talk about all of the financials that this bodyguard job demanded for better equipment and all of that special jazz. 

“this better be good.” you say to nayeon, leaning your hand against the wall with the other on your hip as nayeon parts a wisp of hair from her face before seeing a grin with a hint of her fixed bunny teeth. 

“we got a posting for you. pick five others to tag along in your team and we’ll get all of the details sorted out.” 

“you know i’m taking karina, mingyu, and wonwoo this time. but let's add tzuyu and keji too.” 

“that’s why i like working with you y/n.” nayeon says, tapping your shoulder, letting out a scoff at the compliment you received just now.

“is there a catch?” 

“sadly, this is a double-op assignment. we’ll be working with jihyo’s agency.” 

“that’s not bad, she does her job pretty well like you actually.” 

you and nayeon glance over to see joshua blitz past by, running papers in enclosed cardboard pipes on a cart before returning back to the conversation. 

“so jihyo’s team is in on this also?” you ask, rubbing your hand alongside your face. “explains the lag in details being exchanged.” 

“it’s fine,” nayeon replies, waving her hand up to not make you worry. “jihyo and i are good friends, so i expect nothing less from you or her team.” 

“where’s the assignment?” 

“france, for paris fashion week.” 

“oui, oui.” you hint at nayeon with a wink. “that means i can dress a little more fancier now.” 

“should’ve done modeling instead then.” 

“don’t tempt me now…” 

an exchanged laugh was shared before nayeon brought you back to that stupid meeting that was already ending, but you were excited to travel again—this time, to one of the most stylish cities in the world.

while that was happening, momo was back in her luxurious apartment sharing a brunch meal with sana, her close friend of 10 years, catching up with whatever life nonsense had happened while momo was out of the country. 

“so that’s how it happened?” sana asks, tossing a grape into her mouth while momo was texting yoona about some logistical details regarding the expected fashion week appearance. 

“pretty much, but i had a crush on her since the first time i went on tour, but there was something about her the next time i saw her that made me want to jump at the opportunity.” 

“and you guys have been dating for?” 

“roughly about fiveish–six months since may? so it hasn’t been that long.” momo answers, putting her phone down on the coffee table that showed her homescreen of you and her on a day off in los angeles, the blurry image of you and her hugging that was probably taken by yoona. 

she also shows a professional picture of you working to sana—an image of you at the front while momo was behind wearing sunglasses along with a hoodie to keep her appearance hidden to the public. 

“she’s pretty hot, i’ll give you that.” sana chides, zooming in at your broad stature, the blazer on your body well rested in every noticeable aspect in the shoulders and waist, the earpiece clearly seen in your left ear and your prada glasses. 

“the best is what they say about in terms of her job, now i’m trying to have y/n assigned with me every chance i can.” 

“you are so gay, and horny.” 

“you’re into that too sha, don’t even talk.” 

“the new miu miu ambassador everyone will be talking about in a week or so. can’t wait to see the pictures from that.” sana says, downing a glass of orange juice while momo hits her with a pillow from the couch.

planning phases are always a pain, but luckily you’re not part of the management end of things with your agency since nayeon’s team did most of the heavy duty business like clockwork and once everything was all set in stone—the green light for paris fashion week was under way. 

momo was walking around her spacious walk in closet, trying to get some of luggage filled up with different clothes and combinations to wear before and after the necessary promotions with miu miu, grabbing a couple of miu miu clothes that she already owned prior as well as tossing a pair of flared leggings over her head. the sound of a trap beat is being heard from the tv in the living room serving as background noise only for her phone to ring off a notification that makes her stop what she’s doing. 

at the same time, you were in the middle of your workout at your apartment’s gym, finishing up a set of pullups before you heard the vibration of your phone on the bench over the heavy rap song blasting over you. dropping from the bar, you walk to the bench where your gym bag and phone were at, fishing for the towel to wipe the sweat off of you, staring at the mirror of your body build. you kept yourself in shape, the tattoo on your left arm in all of its glory as well as the toned muscles from the shoulders, arms, and abs. 

you look down at your phone to see the text from nayeon in the groupchat with the other members in your team for this assignment, the link attached from her message that consisted of the fashion week schedule, travel itinerary, and a few other things that you would look at later once you got back to your place.

so you grab your secondary phone for personal uses, showing a picture on the lockscreen of momo in her element during her concert that you snuck backstage with the home wallpaper being the slip of paper from the photobooth at the airport before texting sakura who was asking for your opinion on the beanies that she’s crocheting. 

back at momo’s apartment, she plops back down on her moonpit couch, wiggling her feet along with the song in the background with two weeks worth of luggage ready at the kitchen island before getting another text notification, but this time it was from yoona. 

you’re getting a post workout shake ready in the kitchen, drying your hair with a towel in your all black outfit of a simple oversized shirt and sweats, feet tapping along the hardwood floor while you subconsciously made a lap around the kitchen island waiting for the blender to stop mixing when your work phone gets another text that has you looking again. 

momo reads yoona’s message, confirming the flight ticket to paris while your text gets the final confirmation of your next posting. the both of you smile at your phone screens that can only mean one thing while the both of you switched over to the message app in less than a millisecond.

you and momo are finally seeing each other again in another corner of the world. 

the welcoming party at the paris airport wasn’t out of the ordinary.

if anything, it was actually a chill approach once you heard that momo’s team had landed from their thirteen hour flight. you, mingyu and keji were waiting for karina and tzuyu to loop back along with momo’s group. 

“this should be a fun week.” mingyu says, rubbing his hands together that was clothed in woolen gloves. 

“i feel like you’re not as enthusiastic unlike last time.” you reply, fixing your ear piece and turtleneck that had a sleek silver chain hanging around your neck. 

“well, it’s been a while since we had you at the helm so—”

“y/n, why do you have jewelry on your attire?” keji asks while pointing at the chain that made mingyu stifle a laugh at the surprise question. 

“keji, she’s the leader. she has some leniency with what she wants to do with herself.” mingyu answers the question for you, smiling from keji’s dumbfounded reaction. 

“alright you two, that’s enough. we got eyes on twelve.” you say when you saw the small band of people approach you at the terminal door. the flashing lights and people clamoring left you unfazed as the secondary team of guards parted them away from the main centerpiece. 

the paparazzi crowd presented momo to you that was straight out of a movie scene; she was layered in a thick leather hoodie with both hands in her pocket. even with sunglasses on to protect her from the bombardment of flashes coming from the cameras, you felt her eyes locked on to yours, that smug smile she always beared almost kicking you in the gut. just even in close proximity, there was a power that she held that made your world stop for just a second. 

you catch yourself smiling, and this girl is gonna fucking drive you crazy. 

flashing a look to mingyu and keji, the both got into a standard formation to slot themselves into the pack, keeping most of the fans and camera people at bay once momo got to the door on the way out. you look at your watch to ensure that everything was right on schedule and right at nine thirty on the dot, the momo frenzy has finally touched down in paris. 

“everything’s holding up from back here.” karina says through your ear piece, waving her hand in the back row where you could barely see her. 

“alright, prep the team for phase two.” you reply back, showing a hand signal that prompted karina to relay the message to the other workers that helped out guarding momo to disperse the crowd surrounding them, clearing a pathway the the entryway of the bulky black suv and opening the door for yoona and momo. 

the two girls flash a look at you, even with a straight face you couldn't help but wink at the two of them—the notion of you being assigned to them again was a much needed reassurance before getting into the car. you’re already thinking of how to sneak away with the talk of the town in the city of love, but that will come for later. 

it’s all the usual at this point, closing the car door before your assigned driver asks you about the hotel location in french, in which you reply back flawlessly with the matching language. momo takes of her hood and sunglasses while you were in the conversation, listening to how the french words rolled off your tongue like butter—biting her lip a bit at how damn good you were at your job.

“nice to see you two again.” you say looking back at momo and yoona sitting in the backseat smiling to see your face. “been a minute hasn’t it?” 

“i was worried that you weren’t gonna be back in time for this, but thank you for being here.” yoona says to you, placing her bag in the middle seat between her and momo. 

“please, this is what i do for a living.” 

“and it’s also my job to keep your little secret relationship here under wraps.” 

“yoona, you’re already doing so much as it is and we’re thankful for that.” you say to the manager, tilting your head off to the side while the car was rolling along the streets of paris. 

“so what’s the plan y/n?” momo asks you, taking your ear piece out to reduce the back and forth chatter between karina and wonwoo on the radio channel. you hum while looking through the main windshield as the suv weaved at every turn and straight on the way to your next destination. 

“the plan is to have you guys and my people checked in. after that, we’ll give you guys some downtime before going out to have dinner. since the fashion show isn’t for another day, you basically have a free day before the actual event, so whatever it is that you want to do is up to you or yoona for that matter.” 

momo hugs her legs on the backseat, getting more comfy leaning next to the door. “there’s this restaurant somewhere around here, and they have some mean oysters that they serve. you think we can go there yoona?” 

“sure, let's just get you situated in the hotel first before i put in a reservation.” 

when your small convoy of cars arrives at the breezeway outside leading into the hotel lobby, you can immediately tell that the inside was subjected to a certain theme. none of the hotel guests seemed to bat an eye that a world famous celebrity was staying here given the increase of bodies in security when yoona was getting momo checked in at the main desk. 

a 1950’s victorian theme was spread about in various areas of the lobby. the paintings on the wall, the couches and chairs for the guests to sit on have a more regal theme to them rather than saying old fashioned. you had a knack for a sense of nostalgia for an era of time that you weren’t even a part of let alone born in, but it was things like these that really kept you captivated—much so like getting lost in an art museum and momo knows this about you very well. 

momo was already called over by yoona at the front desk to verify the hotel stay, then was shooed off jokingly while karina was with the manager to get your team situated too. planning and logistics, you thanked nayeon in your head for hiring karina in the first place who could handle all of the paperwork stuff. mingyu and wonwoo worked well together, so you kept it that way and sent them outside to keep on the lookout for jihyo’s team that she sent over while tzuyu and keji were with some of momo’s management and indulging in a lovey conversation. 

and there you were, next to momo again, not showing any hint of your relationship with her whatsoever since you and her agreed to keep it a secret until after ‘work hours’ but that wasn’t limited to exchanging quick glances and looks so filled with love. the both of you were in your own element constantly to the point that even the simple acts of doing in and out of your job was more than enough for momo to be crazy about you too. 

she sees you off in the distance, hanging near the elevators with another extra guard member that was with your team talking about details of guidelines and all that before the guard member stepped away from you to tend to something else. momo then points her phone towards your direction, zooming it in precisely that it gets you and the fancy vase full of white lilacs taking a picture that captured your back that was exceptionally shown from the blazer.

momo then edits this in her photos for what seemed to be a few seconds before she felt an alluring presence over her. “that pic isn’t me i’m assuming?”

“it is, you’re too fucking fine in that suit for me.”

"all for you baby, remember that." you reply, with momo looking up at you matching the same smirk on your face.

you knelt down to meet her gaze, the wolf cut in all of its glory along with her small hint beauty marks on both of her cheeks. those plump, kissable lips are making it dangerously hard for you to not steal a peck with everyone possibly watching.

"you look wayyyyy too good in casual clothes..." you say to momo, leaning into her face from your lowered position. "maybe we should just get away from everyone here, just the two of—"

“y/n, come up?” 

pulling back with a defeated sigh as momo nicks a lock of hair behind her earlobe, you press on your earpiece to answer the comm.

“go ahead karina.”

“momo is officially checked in, but jihyo’s team just arrived outside the hotel right now.” 

you look over to the front desk, yoona holds up a set of keycards before looking back to momo nodding that everything was all set up for her. the two of you meet with karina and yoona before the elevators, handing her the projected itinerary that was drafted up by nayeon. 

“go on up to the rooms. jihyo’s team is taking over for your guys' dinner tonight.” 

“what about you?”

“i’ll have to meet with whoever jihyo sent for this double assignment, but you guys have my number to keep in touch if something comes up.”

yoona nods her head, reminded by how much star power momo held with just her pure existence. giving momo a look before cocking her head to the elevators. 

“we’ll see you guys soon, but enjoy your dinner.” you say while you and karina give the pair a small wave before walking away to the front doors of the hotel lobby to meet with jihyo’s bodyguard team.

knock knock 

in your dark room that was only lit by the faint light of the lamp on your hotel desk, you couldn’t help but wonder who was at the door or why they would be knocking at this hour.

walking up to the frame and looking through the peephole, you see that no one was actually there—now you would just dismiss this and just plop black on the bed, but there was a premonition that someone was there that you just didn’t know. 

so you open the door, unlinking the chain lock before opening it wider to see the welcoming body; only to be lunged at by the supposed intruder, arms linking around your neck while yours fall to a slim waist, their lips meeting with yours. 

suddenly your back meets the wall of your hotel room, the taste and scent of peaches filling your senses on your nose and lips. the perpetrator pulls away from you for a quick breath before letting out a muffled moan into your mouth again, making your brain hazy from the feeling of their lips and your hands roaming all over their back. 

“wha–” another groan passes through the small space between your faces. “what are you doing here?” you ask the person pinning you against the wall, smiling against their lips. a slip of your tongue was enough to incite a small moan, in addition to gripping their ass through the baggy jeans they were wearing. 

they pull away, leaving your eyes half-lidded—their hands slowly receding away from your face while you add a bit of a tighter grip around their waist, rubbing the small divot in their lower back. 

“i wanted to see you.” momo says sweetly, lowering her hood to reveal her bare face much closer to you, a soft smile across her lips that makes you dip your head down trying to resist the absolute cuteness that was displayed in front of you. 

you’re grinning, hard, and you’re trying not to show momo how badly you’re folding as momo pulls you in for a hug–the kind of hug that’s suffocating you from the pressure, the one where you embrace your lover when you meet at the airport after being away for so long. you shouldn’t be this whipped for her, but you are, and that’s the reality. 

“do you realize that you’ll get in trouble if they see us together?” you ask momo, the door finally closing from the hallway to shroud the both of you in darkness again before flipping the light switch to the hallway in your hotel room. “besides, it’s past your curfew and we have a busy day tomorrow already.” 

“it’s okay,” momo assures. “i think you can be a little bit lenient with me can’t you?” wrapping herself around you again, catching another whiff of the calming scent of honey in her hair. 

you sigh, melting at her touch. even if she was a little bit shorter than you, she knew how to make you vulnerable with so much sincerity and care—the best kind of protection in momo’s case really, “you’re really stretching your luck here momo, but i won’t be the one at fault if you don’t wake up in time later.” 

“stretching huh? you can help me with that.” 

“god, you’re something else.” you chuckle out. (you’re seeing what she’s implying here, but you’re not letting her get to you that easily.) 

“so let’s go then. i wanna show you around for a bit.” 

“and where exactly do you even plan on going at this hour? it’s almost midnight.” 

“maybe if you get dressed, we can get going before the others realize that we’re not actually here.” momo assures, prompting you to change your attire into something more comfortable and inconspicuous. she sees your nike sports bra that’s covered by a shirt layered with an oversized hoodie, your legs that was occupied with sweatpants now in different color to help match the look along with your casual shoes that you used for morning runs. 

finally you’re ready, and momo giggles at the sight of you fixing your shoes before you flash a very unamused look, closing the gap between your faces again before opening the door out to the hotel hallway. 

“i’im giving us forty-five minutes, so this date better be worth it.” 

it’s wasn’t really a bad scenario to be getting lost in the streets of paris at midnight. 

the city is so much prettier at night. you’ve seen the pictures from various twitter accounts and pinterest posts, but to experience it live and in person was a completely different experience. you got lost in the various structures of architecture, the cobblestone pathways that were used as the main roadways, and even the vintage aspect of the closed stores and cafe shops. 

a pretty night indeed, in addition to walking along with your extremely pretty girlfriend as well. 

your hotel was a block away from the eiffel tower, and people were still out and about getting pictures and videos of the old landmark flash scattered lights that illuminate about every fifteen or so minutes. you and momo walk hand in hand along the parkside, talking about the many things that you two did over the summer while being apart, filling in on what the other has been up to besides texting and calling on a regular basis. 

she’s taking pictures of you with the tower to share with your parents back home, you’re taking pictures of her—it’s all so candid and a much needed last minute date that was spontaneous. you didn’t want to consider it to be stress relief, but momo was a breath of fresh air in your life that was clouded with the constant loop of work, work, work, and work. 

there’s a nearby night market in a plaza on the way back that caught the attention of momo. specifically, the vintage clothes that were hanging alongside the canopy on display and momo trying to negotiate which pieces to buy for her own closet while your held her handbag still in a guarding position, but with a much more relaxed stature. she’s laughing with the vendor, and you’re nothing but heart eyes for her. 

forty-five minutes went by in a flash, and you’re back in the hotel hallway of momo’s room. your hand is laced with hers while the other was holding a paper bag filled with clothes that she bought from that market. 

you’re at the door of her room, keycard pressed against the lock and she walks in, handing her the bag along with a few other items that you held onto for her which were just additional essentials. checking the time on your watch, it was almost one in the morning and the calltime to get everyone set up and ready was between 7 to 8, so it wasn’t too bad but you’re in no place to complain. 

“thank you,” you breathe out, standing in the middle of the doorway like a girl scout selling cookies, staring at momo’s bare face again, her eyes open wide like boba balls with that same soft smile again. “i needed this, so much.” 

momo doesn’t say anything, she just steps into your bubble again, arms enveloping you. every worry that you carried through your bones suddenly vanished at the presence of momo’s heartbeat next to your chest. her hands find themselves on both sides of your face, lips coming in contact with yours again, savoring any last bit you could before letting her off for the night. 

“you are…” the words are muttering out of your mouth, momo’s lips brushing against yours as she hums, the feeling of her giddiness spreading to you. she pecks you again to shut you up. 

“sometimes you talk too much y/n.” momo says, pushing you away and out of her door before getting ready to close the door. “get some rest babe, you’re gonna need it.” 

before she could close the door on you, you lean for another kiss, “see you in the morning.” you say to momo, giving a quick one again before you’re waving her down the hallway. you didn’t have to say anything or need to, the actions you had spoke more louder than your words ever could and momo understood this, doing a little heel tap before entering the elevator down to your hotel room’s level. 

the main event of paris fashion week, and this was just the opening. 

“shin ryujin.” you say, clasping the younger woman’s hand with an iron grip, “last i heard, you were a liaison for jihyo and now look at you; primary team leader for her agency.” 

“dreamt big, and got the promotion.” she beams, flashing glances to wonwoo and karina who were behind you in front of the hotel lobby waiting for the suv’s to arrive for today’s activities. 

“i believe you know the plan for today y/n?” 

“pretty much straightforward, you’ll be with us and we’ll meet with your people at the venue already.” 

ryujin nods at the memorization, “are you sure that’s all?” 

you nick your head off to the side with a laugh, “how could i forget about the after party activities?” 

right on cue, yoona calls you from the spinning door, the rest of momo’s entourage walking out with momo already prepared in her look for tonight. it was a simple blue denim croptop and jeans that hugged all of the curves on her body in all of the right places. her back was exposed for everyone to see and her makeup didn’t look to be too extensive–much like a simple touch up and her wolf cut looked dashing when it was all properly styled, her bangs were a signature part of her look and my god she looked good. 

okay, stay on task here, you shouldn’t be leering on the job anyway. 

so you turn around to give the three people behind you a quick word, “you know the teams, you know the assignments, keep the radio channels open in case anything pops up. are we clear?” 

“crystal.” ryujin and karina both say in unison, while wonwoo simply nods at you. 

“good, let’s have a good day, people.” you say before dispersing into your respective cars heading off towards the venue for the fashion show. 

when the group arrives at the venue, you immediately hear the murmurs from the crowds standing in the barricades increase to more screams once you open the door for momo to walk out. the entire place went bonkers as momo made her way past the red carpet, stopping for a photo op that showed her outfit again and the waves of flashes were just everything thrown at her all at once. 

you stand off to the side, watching momo indulge in the limelight before she walks over to your direction after being prompted by mingyu to proceed walking indoors. momo flashes a smile at you while you raised your arm to the side to guide her past the door when ryujin comes up in your earpiece. 

“y/n?” 

“go ahead ryujin.” 

“i got a text from karina, she said that their suv broke down on the way here.” 

that can’t be good.

“how bad in terms of time are we talking?” you ask ryujin through your wrist, trying to mask the sound so that there’s no interference, walking indoors to better the quality of your talking. 

“shouldn’t be that long, but we’re hoping that they can be here by the time the event is halfway over.” 

“you’re saying that we’ll be short-handed by the time the after party rolls around?” 

“sorry, you know this is out of our control.” 

“i know,” you say with a hand raised up, trying to calm yourself down. “stick to the plan, i’ll get in touch with karina and them when i can.” 

ryujin acknowledges before the earpiece goes silent again with exchanges from other guards from both of your teams. you weren’t the kind of person to be stressed with things like these, but you had an uneasy feeling that if things didn’t go to plan, it struck a bad nerve in your head. 

strike one: have key members in your team deserted leaving you short-handed.

the fashion show however was well organized and thought out. the seating arrangements looked to be in a more open setting with no chairs, but stone seats with the runway already set up. you meet up with keji and tzuyu who were on the other side covering one of the exits, in clear line of sight where momo was sitting. she had her leg crossed over the other that was lady-like, and you observed her as she watched the models showcase the new fall/winter looks that were set to be released in due time. 

“say, didn’t you do modeling y/n?” you hear keji ask you on your right side, earning a chuckle from you that helped ease your mind just a bit. “i could’ve sworn you should be walking on that runway too right now if you wanted to.” 

“are you saying that i can serve like those girls in those oversized suits and dresses?” you ask keji as tzuyu giggles on the opposite end, causing you to roll your eyes at the two rookies that you brought onto this assignment. “maybe i can, but to answer your question, i did do a photoshoot while on vacation.” 

“no way really?” 

“i’ll save showing the pictures when all of this is over.” 

once the showcase was all done and over with, momo was advised to attend the miu miu provided after party that included a dinner and various interactions with other celebrities. again, it wasn’t too crazy but the fact that tonight wasn’t swinging your way in terms of logistical planning, you had to be flexible. 

the dining hall looked way more sophisticated that could be on par with the setup of the fashion showcase. it was more of a lively food spot with a bar attached rather than a usual restaurant, with a lot of seating arrangements spread out across. you find momo sitting in the middle of some fancy table alongside what you assumed was another brand ambassador that miu miu had invited out with wongyoung. their conversation seemed to be lively as the pair shared a smile together over the loud crowd of people around you. 

you find yourself keeping a close eye on her from time to time throughout the dinner. momo looked fully immersed back at the showcase and the dinner, her eyes wide like saucers. she sneaks a few quick glances at you and you’re doing the same, through the camera flashes and your head moving like a swivel to ensure everything is in shape. 

after everyone continued to enjoy themselves with the complimentary dinner provided by the fashion company and organizers, you get pulled off to the side by keji who played messenger via ryujin outside where the management and various workers were outside in a small pavilion. 

“fill me in with what you got.” you say to ryujin, turning away from the two people that she was talking with—automatically assuming that they were her people that she brought over on this double-op assignment. 

“you want the good news or bad news?” 

“is there any difference between the two?” 

ryujin giggles at the banter you’re effortlessly producing. “so bad news is, karina, mingyu, and wonwoo won’t be able to make it tonight.” 

well, shit. 

“the good news is! i have these two with me to help fill you in with the workload.” 

you wished she hadn’t said that. because those two people that ryujin was talking with appeared right behind her—and you’re just forced to deal with it. 

chanyeol, on her left may look like a saint, but you could tell that he was bad news. as for the person on her right side, was someone that you had a vendetta against. you definitely wished that karina and mingyu were in their place in addition to tzuyu and keji.

“heechul,” you say, “i didn’t expect you–” 

“it’s good to see you too y/n,” the sickening man in front of you replies, “i admit that i screwed up, and i’m here to give a sense of consolation with this new role. i promise, my act is clean now, and it’s a new start for me. let me prove that to you and ryujin, please.” 

your blood is straight boiling at the fact that you’re in the presence of this guy, but you have to focus on the task at hand and see the whole week assignment through, but you’re definitely gonna give nayeon a hearing once you get back from paris. 

“now that you guys are acquainted, we’re getting wheels up in about fifteen minutes. y/n and heechul, i’m gonna have you guys grab momo and her team while chanyeol and i get the cars outside.” ryujin instructs you, pointing to the exit with her finger. 

flashing a look at heechul, you cringe at the sight of his smile before rolling your eyes. “you can count on us ryujin.” heechul says before nodding himself off to get in the vibrant crowd. ryujin notices your expression and body language, sensing that something was off with you. 

“is something the matter?” 

“yeah, why the hell is he here with you on this assignment?” 

“y/n, hechul was desprate for a second chance, and jihyo gave it to him.” 

“but–” 

“i’m aware of his past actions, but give him a chance.” 

you sigh out, arguing wasn’t gonna make this assignment any better. “fine,” you say, “just this once.” 

ryujin taps your shoulder before her and chanyeol both walk away from you. this day couldn’t get any worse as it is. 

strike two: find out that one of your past workers is on the same assignment with you and gets you in a more pissy mood.

from the more expensive, regal fashion showcase and food spot, the location changes to a nightclub setting that was completely cleared out for momo’s entourage. the place named ‘crazy horse paris’ was also a nightly hotspot for club goers on a weekend basis—but this came as a surprise since one of momo’s songs just went platinum in the charts, so it was only right for another small celebration to be held. 

in the midst of all the strobe lights flashing in the club with the firework candles in a cut out record of momo’s song, it was nice to let loose a little bit. the exchange of the provided dinner that was filling was no substituted with small snacks and alcohol. not bad for a successful fashion week outing right?

everyone makes the rounds of the plethora of drinks; beer, wince, hennessey, whiskey, there were a lot of people relaxing on this lovely thursday night. the loud music bumping your eardrums as you’re observing momo’s management taking shots, and even tzuyu and keji who were having a little bit of fun so you’re also keeping an eye on them. 

your arm gets bumped at the bar while watching everyone lose themselves in the music from the dj, and you turn to see that ryujin is offering you a drink. 

“you a heavy?” she asks, taking her offer of the glass of whiskey before raising her glass up for a quick cheers. 

“i’ve had a couple already,” you reply, downing the burning alcoholic drink in one swig, placing the cup down on the bar before sliding it across for the bartender who nods at you for keeping him occupied. “that’s my last one though, can’t be having too much now.” 

“that’s fine,” ryujin says, matching your stature with her body facing towards the dance floor, before she looks down on her watch to see that she received a phone call. “shit, i gotta take this, it’s jihyo.” 

you nod her off, implying that you got everything covered for now but you realize that you haven’t seen momo since the cake celebration. “say, where’s momo?” 

“she’s in one of the private rooms.” ryujin answers, pointing to the small pathway that leads down to the rooms that she just mentioned. you give her one more look as ryujin picks up the phone before heading out of the club outside to take the call. 

not long after, you’re in the hallway of the private rooms, each one with their own door to give a sense of privacy for those groups who did buy it ahead of time. the first three doors were just various groups of people who were already in the club before you and momo’s team arrived, so you didn’t have to worry about them. 

but then you were at door number four. and you could hear momo’s laugh through the cracked opening. 

like the peeping tom that you were (it’s your job to be curious), you peer through the opening a little wider to see momo’s back facing you. she appeared to be dancing to the music that was playing from the tv speakers. her movements looked to be more alluring, seductive. the nerves in your brain are racking with so many questions to why and who is she dancing for. so you sneak in quietly to see two men on the couch, clearly enjoying the show that momo is giving them.

“you guys like what you see?” momo asks, her words are slurred together from the barely coherent sentence. the movement of her hands up her waist, showing off the curves from her different outfit that was a tank top with black biker shorts. 

“i love what i’m seeing here ms. momo, a lot.” 

that voice…there’s no fucking way right? 

“why don’t you give us a little more skin honey?” 

oh, this isn’t good at all. 

momo hums out delightfully, taking off her tank top to reveal a skimpy white push-up bra, fiddling with the latch behind her with one hand before ripping off the undergarment from her body. you immediately shoot straight up, glaring at the two men sitting on the couch, their dress shirts slightly unbuttoned and momo turns around, her bare tits in full display. this was your nuclear bomb, and the explosion was imminent. 

“christ, what the actual fuck you two?!” you spit out, the sight of heechul and chanyeol’s expressions shrinking away now that they’ve been caught. heechul’s caught in your wave of anger again, and this time was much worse than the previous incident. 

“y/n, we—” 

“oh, don’t play that card with me!” you begin, stepping closer to the two disgusting men that were now sitting up, preparing to hear an earful from you, shoving chanyeol into the cushions first before flying a fist to heechul’s face, giving him a proper black eye. “i’ve had enough of your bullshit today!” you yell out before tossing momo her discarded clothes. “put these back on, we’re leaving.” 

“what? already?!” momo whines, half-sober, half-drunk. she’s definitely smashed, but there’s more pressing problems that need to be dealt with. 

you grip her by the arm, pulling her closer to you before your hand snakes down to her waist. the harsh action making momo flustered at your touch when your face is extremely close to hers. the hoodie that she tossed is now being put on by you, giggling uncontrollably at herself because her arms are up in the air before setting the hood on her head to cover her up. “i think we should call it a little early, yeah? what do you think momo?” 

“you’re a party pooper.” momo says, her eyes half closed, still smiling. 

“unbelievable.” you say harshly, tensing your jaw again once you laid eyes on chanyeol and heechul, checking his fingers for blood on his face. you could do a whole lot more damage, but your words are the  most powerful tool in your arsenal, and it won’t be ignored by the higher ups. 

“let’s go.” the anger in your voice not reaching momo since she’s still chuckling even when you’re escorting her out of the private room and into the front of the bar of the club when ryujin comes back from her phone call with jihyo.

“woah, where are you taking momo?” she asks, puzzled at momo’s drunken state while she’s staring at your side profile. 

“i’m taking her back to the hotel personally. she was in a private room with heechul and chanyeol giving them a show.” 

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.” 

“tell yoona that i’ve got this, we can deal with those two knuckleheads later.” 

strike three: find out your girlfriend was almost taken advantage of by two absolute fucking clowns calling themselves bodyguards.

you’re dragging momo through the hotel hallway, listening to her hums as you place the keycard on the lock, pulling her in and slamming the door immediately after so hard that you might’ve just broke the deadbolt. 

momo stands against the closed door leading to the bathroom, her head is somewhat ringing but still conscious to some extent about her actions realizing that she had done fucked up—

“do you have any idea of the amount of shit that you just put yourself in? letting those two fuckwads have their way with you and you’re just allowing it?” you exclaimed, giving no care for the other hotel guests with the amount of yelling that you’re doing already. 

standing super close in front of momo, the roles are reversed from when she came to see you the day before and your overwhelming heat was slowly growing within—her cunt pulsing at the tone that you’re using as all that she could do was let out a small whimper, shrinking away into the door behind her. 

“y/n," momo slurs out, "i—” 

“one: you’re smashed. two: i might come under fire for what i did to bring you back here, and—” 

you meet momo’s gaze to notice that her eyes were lidded, she’s doing that devilish smirk that’s tugging at the corner of her lips. looking off to the side before you force her to stand straight up, gripping her arm and shoulder, pressing her to the drywall even more. 

momo presses her legs together, she’s never seen you this angry before, especially at her, and she’s liking it. 

so with just a little push, you look at her again at the low groan she lets out, seeing that her bottom lip is retracted into her mouth with her teeth just peeking out. 

don’t. break. 

there’s an intensity through your eyes, bewildered at what you’re doing before the synapses in your brain fully registers what’s present in the moment, and what you’re going to do next, clenching your teeth before parting your lips after with a subtle smile. 

you grab momo’s face that lets a small gasp out, letting this newfound opportunity tempt you with all of it’s weight, looking at the flushed cheeks and glowing complexion from the alcohol, scoffing at the state your girlfriend was in currently. 

“maybe this bitch needs to have the attitude fucked out of her no?” you mutter, causing momo to moan out with the proposition before pulling her closer to your face, “you’re insane for making me like this, and now you’re gonna pay for it.” 

yeah, you’re definitely insane.

strike four: teach your girlfriend how she should be handled after being stupid.

it only took a few steps for you to toss momo on the edge of the bed, her lower half hanging over on the floor as she tried to get up in an attempt to reposition herself, but you pin her down with your flat palm on her back, letting your hand feel out her tapered and exposed waist. momo swallows a gulp, still anticipating what you were going to do next, “feel free to stop me at any time, but you probably won’t do that because you’re liking this so much are you? prissy little slut.” 

momo is still wrecked over the alcohol that’s pummeling in her head for now at least, but she hums softly while nodding to comply with the lasting boundary you’ve set up before stripping off your blazer and rolling up your sleeves.

she feels your hands on her waist again. the rigidness of your fingers makes her body shiver at how gentle it is initially, but the roughness behind it when you clutch the sides of her waist. your hands find the waistband of her shorts, pulling it off of her to reveal momo’s exposed ass and the skimpy black thong she was wearing under as well. 

“first you give a strip show and you’re wearing a fucking string as your underwear? you reallyyyy want me to set you right don’t you?” you scoff as you knead momo’s ass with your one hand before giving a firm hit that sets the tone with how high-pitched momo’s yelp spills out of her lips. 

there’s a firm red mark from the first strike, and you’re tilting your head at how your hand slightly stings from the slap, so of course you’re gonna go back for more. if she’s gonna act like a slut the way you found out what she was doing, how could you not give her the proper punishment that she deserves?

her ass is now beet red, and you’re biting your lip at the sight of momo’s legs wiggling on the edge of the bed and the whimper she’s sounding off like she’s asking to be used as a way to let your frustrations out especially the day you just had leading up to this. 

you then rip off your dress shirt and toss it carelessly to the nearby seat next to the coffee table, and momo sees the white cloth hit the chair before you slide your hands up her waist underneath the hoodie you put on, feeling her breasts without the bra since she took it off back at the nightclub. 

the shiver that seethes out of momo’s teeth when your fingers find her nipples, pinching the buds to tracing around her mounds with your fingertips before lightly scratching her chest that earns a string of breathy whimpers of being toyed around. "y-y/n, please--" she mumbles out barely.

you then lean over to momo’s side, hand sliding across her ass that catches the leaking arousal from her pussy, massaging her ass before giving it another harshful slap. “need me that badly huh?” you’re smiling against the cuff of her ear at what momo has become and you haven’t even slipped your fingers and tongue inside her yet. “gotta ruin you first, but i promise to take care of you after, be patient for me baby.” 

momo’s face scrunches as you loosely press your lips to her face before sliding off the hoodie leaving momo completely naked on the bed still bent over, waiting to be fucked dumb by you. 

“hands behind your back, stack your wrists on top of each other.” you say sternly, and all that momo can do is just comply with your commands, exhaling out in desperation but also eager the way she’s moving her head left and right with the lasting touches you’re giving her to her ass and folds with your single finger, smirking at how she’s shuddering.

you then unlink the belt from your pants, folding it in half before creating a small opening loop that creates a loud 'slap' of the fine italian leather. momo feels the grooves of the accessory and the coldness of the buckle before you give her a light hit at the same red mark that makes momo's legs squirm in the sharp, pleasureable pain.

"f-fuck-"

another two or three slaps follow after that.

"we learned our lesson yet?" you ask, gripping the nape with your head over to the side of her ear. momo throws her head back whining, fighting the pain coming from below and the throbbing in her pusling cunt that's all too present now. "yes y/n- it feels-"

"i'm not convinced with your answer." you say, noncomittal with your actions saying otherwise. you continue with a few more light slaps to give more leniency before wrapping the belt around momo’s stacked wrists behind her back before fastening it tightly, leaving a little bit of room for momo to move her hands around. 

once both hands were bound together, momo feels a sudden stillness in the air, lifting the upper half of her body slightly to shift herself on the bed only to be pushed down by your hand on the small of her back just over her tied hands, looking over her shoulder to give your eyes the wonderful view of your girlfriend being submitted to the brand new y/n she managed to crack. the towering presence taking you to new heights. “wow, you do look good from behind.” 

your hands start to shift over to the sides of momo’s waist, feeling the slimness of her figure before trailing down to the slopes of her ass, letting your fingers join together to cup them as momo squirms at the sensation of your cooling touch. she’s humming out a sound from her closed lips, almost like appreciative tone the way her side profile is hinting towards a smirk– “please, y/n, i need you—” 

she needs this, and you’re considering the cards in your hand right now; give in and let momo have her way with you outstandingly topping her, or make her beg to get the drunk horniness fucked out of her. 

so, you go with the second option. 

“how badly do you want me inside?” you mutter, kissing the top of her rear shoulder blade before your lips start to canvas the small divot of her spine. “were the cameras at the show and the two guys leering at you not enough?” 

“mmmph…” momo croons, hiding her face before you smack her ass again from the side this time, shooting her face out in response to the pain. “god, w-why are you—” 

“answer the question babes, do you want me inside of you? yes or no?” 

momo hides her face again, before letting out a whiny coherent sentence that you could barely hear, but you need to drag it out of her. “final warning, if you want me to give you what you want, beg for it. i need you to say it out loud for me.” 

“y-you, you– you–” 

“speak up love, i wanna hear your lovely voice.” 

for two short seconds, you wait for an answer, and then—

“please baby, i want you now. i want you to fuck me with my hands tied till i won’t be able to walk. fuck, you’re such a tease, just make me yours.” she slurs out, but the neediness overpowered the alcohol in her system that makes it easy for you to understand. 

while she was saying that, your left hand was already primed hovering over her cunt, the last bit of teasing—the best possible punishment that you could give momo as you’re fighting the urge to let your fingers dive into the heat. 

“you already are.” you say, and dip the pads of your middle and ring finger into her cunt, letting momo find that searching ache- or, at least the sounds that were music to your ears as she cursed out a noise before shoving her face into the sheets, her fists clenching through the tied leather. 

there’s no warning or preface, just the coaxed maneuver of your fingers all up inside her, twisting and turning against the slick leaving no remorse as you upped the pace. you know how momo likes it when you turn up the tempo of your thrusting hand, she’s swallowing hard and clenching her teeth because of it and she’s babbling to the point where you can sense the tension from her expression and increase of pitch in moans. 

her eyes are closed throughout the entirety of the short time, considering how much you riled her up with your whole act of pinning her in the wall and the mattress to get her to almost cum, catching her hands slack from fists to near cupping hands. momo’s at her high, but you curl your fingers and slide out completely, tearing it away from her. 

“n-no no, fuck what are you doing, i—” 

you’re snickering as momo’s brows knit together before fluttering her eyes open darting to meet, pleading you everso to let her cum. 

“don’t,” you warned, “i was easy on you before, but now i’ll treat you like the bitch that you deserve to be treated.” sliding your hand up slowly on the side of her waist while your other hand was grazing over the marked ass you created. 

without warning, you smack her ass again that makes her yell out loud enough for the next door guests to hear, before subduing that with the soothing upward swipe of your flattened tongue that earns a hitched breath and a moan filled with satisfaction the way you’re lapping up momo’s soaked cunt for the time being–an act of generosity that is all a facade that’s part of the play for now. 

“mmnh–” you groan against the searing core, all that you want to, “so fucking good baby.” 

momo gives you a subtle “mhm hm” with her eyes still closed, biting her lip at the feeling of your mouth on her swollen pussy before the intensity increases with your two fingers now inserted into play. 

you almost get caught off track with the amount of time you indulge yourself with momo’s pussy bent over against the bed, palm and fingers splayed on her lower back as the other hand is working along with your tongue working to get her close, then again stopping once the hitched breaths are near its peak. 

pulling away with a kiss and a bite to the inner thigh, momo squirms again when she realizes that the feeling of your fingers and tongue are no longer there, only to be substituted with your moving hands on her hips, pulling her up to the bed and deepening her arched back. her knees are already bent like they’re kneeling that opens up her pretty, puffy pussy lips. the sight alone makes you want to frame it in a sex museum, but this is momo’s pussy, your pussy to tear up, and no one else’s. 

leaving teasing touches with just your fingers dancing along the slopes and curves of her body, you go at it again with another quick round, pumping inside of her that makes her come close to her climax again, snatching it away in quick successions, you’re also planting marks on her back while you listened to the heavenly moans that cancels out the frustrations you had earlier today while on the job. 

momo is going to be so thoroughly fucked, left breathless when you finally set her free from the tied belt, her wrists marked red from how much she rubbed the leather against her skin. 

“flip,” you order, “and don’t even think about moving. i’ll put you how i want you to be.” 

in the hopes of you letting her cum (for the first time tonight at least), momo follows your demands, doing exactly as she’s told by flipping herself over, barely able to prop herself up on her elbows, as you give teasing kisses to her chest, working your way up to her mouth that eases her mind for just a bit. 

“arms up.” and momo listens as a smirk forms at the corner of your lips against hers, your hand fishing for the necktie while your face was occupied. you then straddle momo over her chest, wrists crossed at the top of the headboard with a small knob that was perfect for you to wrap around with the tie, securing it firmly but also just leaving with enough room for momo’s hands to move around (you were liking it when you see her squirm with her hands.) 

once that was set, you then meet your gaze with hers, giving another sensual kiss for a few seconds before trailing down to the hollow of her throat, leaving light marks before crossing off the mental checklist in your head of how to push momo’s buttons.

hands on breasts, massaging them with the addition of the mouth on her nipple, causing her to moan at the contact, stimulating as your rough palms glide over and below her upper chest. momo’s cunt is throbbing uncontrollably from the few times you’ve edged her and how you’re doubling down your efforts in overestimation is clouding her mind from the relentless pleasure she received from tonight so far. 

“we liking this, are we?” you murmur against her skin. 

“please, god i– nmh” 

“all of this riling and you still want me to do something about it? pitiful.” you laugh before leaving another dark mark on her torso. 

“i won’t like it, i swear— wanna be ruined….just fucking destroy me…” momo sighs out, her eyes blinking repeatedly as your gaze shifts lower and lower until you finally reached to her swollen, soaked cunt. “y/n—” she’s begging so much more than before, and you almost feel bad. "please, wanna cum so bad..."

“shhh, maybe.” you mutter over her face for another chaste kiss to her cheek and jaw. “we think we deserve it now?” 

momo can only whimper at the question as you give her a meaningful kiss that was gentle, her body easing from the tension of your touch as a flick of your tongue across her lips, relaxing for just a moment before you pull away. 

the sight of her bent over for you was enough to get off on, but when you look at momo’s gaze—the way she’s leaking neediness: her lips are swollen, chest heaving with heavy breaths, cheeks tinted with a highlighted pink redness all over, her eyes are nearly crossed from your kisses like she’s dizzy for more. 

momo’s eyes flutter shut once again as you kiss her cheek, the small area behind her ear that she adores you for letting her know that you’re still pushing all the right spots together the more you move further and further down to her hips—where her cunt awaits as she feels your lips moving closer from her inner thighs. 

sensitivity was something that you were hyper aware of, honing in your ears to the sounds and breaths that really makes momo cry out, praying that you’d give her what she wants. the pecks were then exchanged for the sudden surge once your lips finally latch onto her pussy, and momo bucks her hips forward while your hand hooks onto them, keeping her in place. 

you’re letting her find it, tongue and mouth swirling and humming in all the ways you know that makes momo crazy. her thighs are pressed against the sides of your head, prolonging the sensation with your nose buried into her clit. you feel the tension building up within her—right where the sounds are at the apex—and you shift your head off to the left suddenly, yanking the orgasm away once again. 

“that’s my girl.” pulling back to mutter against her leg, looking upwards to see momo’s head rolled back, and her wrists are fighting against the tied fabric from their crossed ‘X’ position. 

“y/n, please.” she begs again, “you’re so– so bad, baby i can’t—” 

you’re trailing your mouth up her body again, hands grazing the fine line hinted at her abs. “so amusing…” you mutter out, running a finger along her jawline from the end of her jaw to the tip of her chin. “dripping from being worked up so much by me…” 

a hand is combing momo’s tangled wolfcut, and your head is at an angle with the most devilish smirk as your kneecap touches the heat between her legs, running your hand to feel the seeping slick that’s coming out of her, and another whiny remark is let out at the reeling notion of your touch. 

“fuck, just ngh– i’m– can’t be nmh—” 

she’s speaking complete nonsense at this point, and you can’t ignore the remarks at this stage now. your lips retreat from nibbling her ear lobe as your hand works simultaneously, inserting into her folds again that leaves momo shaking. more marks are now seen across her body from her neck to her chest, fuck they might as well be bruises at this point the way you’re just chewing away at the enticing body that’s lying under you. 

another harsh bite sends momo screaming, keeping your mouth occupied with the three digits already pumping in her, a subtle nudge of her clit with your thumb that has momo somewhat say your name loudly, eyes rolled all the way back with her mouth wide open, she might just go numb at this point. 

“such a good fucking girl mo, take it like the pretty slut you are…” 

the breathy pants get a lot bigger in the hotel room as you thrust mercilessly into her, it’s all instinct at this point as one more push was good enough to get her across and she finally cums all over your fingers after all that degrading and teasing you’ve put her through, hips shivering as her ass is off the mattress. 

“hnngh! oh fuck!, god i’m cumming, c-cumming–” 

it's so hot when you're like this for me.

momo’s high was only short lived when your lips are on her nipple again, nibbling on the bud with a little more ferocity as her elbows try to tense forward, but the necktie holding her on the headboard keeps her from buckling in. it sends a short circuit through her entire nervous system. 

no chance to recover for momo, shaking her head with her teeth clattering against itself, you continue to mark up her chest again, leaving a noticeable bite mark on the rim of her shoulder. momo starts to see sparkles in her head, and her vision starts to zone out. this was a first for her being used like this, used by you; for your own benefit to completely have control over.

“god, shit– wai—no–pleas–” she tries to cry out, voice nearly breaking, and her face is scrunched up to the maximum. 

“you can tell me to stop mo, do you want that?” 

you can only see momo’s heaving chest rising and falling at an alarming rate, but she shakes her head with her fists clenched through the necktie. “i’m giving you what you want, so fucking deal with it.” 

momo has gone multiple rounds with you before; but after being edged to the point where she could just cum in quick successions? you’ve managed to learn that about her body faster than she realized, which is impressive to say the least, one of the many tricks you’ve managed to master. so you bite her nipple again, inciting a moan and her legs close around your hand, wiggling your fingers sliding in and around her walls to get her going again in no time. 

a litany chorus of your name being sung through her vocal chords with a mixture of a cry breaking through in between shaken breaths, and momo is trying everything in her power to just see it through—even if tears are starting to stream down her eyes. her walls clamp down on your fingers again, pumping through it, but now you leave a trail of nibbles down her body again before shifting to the lower part of the bed and back to her cunt, joining your fingers with the swipe of your tongue. 

“no—no no no, wait, bab- y/n– fuck, go easy p-please, i’m sensitiv–” 

“i could care less of a shit if you can’t handle it anymore, you owe me a good meal.” 

you’ve got four fingers in her at this point, and while you’re surprised by the stretch and the liquid sounds coming out of her fucked pussy, momo has blown past the point of no return, and you’re feeding into that as you slide your fingers out, letting your mouth finally have it’s chance to finish the job. 

momo closes her legs around you again reflexively, but this time the pressing in between her heat was powerful enough for her to take your head off since she managed to crack your neck slightly.

you growl out at the act, pulling her legs apart before sliding your hands up to the bottom of her calves, raising both of them upwards for you to have free reign in shoving your face deeper into her cunt, tongue licking up the sweet arousal with no restriction. there’s a slight resistance, and you bite lightly to the side of her swollen lips. 

“n-no more, please–p-pleas—”

“baby,” you tell your girlfriend who is completely fucked by your mouth, growling with a kiss to her asscheek, “keep your fucking legs up.” 

momo can’t do much, nor that she had a say or fighting chance to do so. you’re holding her down as you eat her out, the pent up aggression and anger that you had for all of the things gone wrong clearly taken out on her. she lets out a piercing scream, (much more like a screech the way she’s shaking under your touch) and feels her body go limp, mind clearly passed from consciousness barely as she finally cums in your mouth, cleaning up her cream with your tongue, humming with the craving fully fulfilled while you help set momo’s legs down. 

you give her pussy one last chaste kiss, before wiping off the last remnants of her cum from the bottom of your lips with her tongue and finger, sucking on it earnestly to prolong the taste. you’re panting out from exhaustion, and the entire lower half of your face is soaked, but the sight was all well worth the reward. 

momo’s tied hands fall slack from the headboard, her head is off to the side, her eyes are closed, cheeks flushed pink with parted lips in inconsistent, labored breaths. her entire body is marked all over; the hickeys and bite marks are basked in glory of the light from the lamp, her thighs are pressed together, rubbing, hiding the additional marks on her legs and her clearly swollen pussy that’s also red. 

you run your hand up her thigh again, and she whimpers at the slightest touch. every part of her body is either bucking or twitching as all that’s heard from momo’s lips was shaky breaths, the sensation hasn’t settled in her body or mind with the amount of back to back to back to back to back orgasms she had in one go. this might be a brand new record between the two of you and she looks way more ethereal the way she is just left in an absolute mess. 

“fuck.” your mind was having trouble conjuring up the proper thoughts, your heart drawing these stuttering breaths that might seem unhealthy, the wave of hunger and lust finally peeling away from you. “fucking amazing.” 

leaning over her, you untie her hands, holding them together as you shift momo over more into the bed, wrapping your arm around her as she’s still trembling from what just happened. “i’m proud of you momo, my pretty girl…crazy that you could handle all of me…” you sigh out, rubbing your thumb over her cheek, her eyes are still closed but she lifts a small smile of praise while you showered her with light kisses. 

an intrusive thought washes over and you shift yourself away from momo’s lying body, setting yourself slightly on top of her but still on the bed, trailing your kisses from her exposed collarbone up to her neck—your lips catch the taste of salt from the tears that were streaming down from her face earlier, and she sniffles a bit when you wipe them away with a soft smile of appreciation. 

“so fucking pretty.” you mumble out, and momo’s lidded eyes meet yours; the gaze softened when you start to rub your hand on her hip to help soothe the soreness as she used her remaining energy to lean up and lock lips with yours again. her hand resting on your shoulder as you plant more pecks along the line of her chin, the way her small fingers are slotted against your neck so modestly. “god, you’re so good to me…” 

whenever momo wakes up from sleeping or a nap, her nose is always the first sense that picks up the tasty scent of food, it isn’t any different this time today. 

she’s laying on her side, on the farthest end of the bed, eyes fluttering along with a slight headache from however many drinks she doesn't remember having from the night before. the familiar weight of your body absent behind her as she tries to sleep off the tingling that still lingers through her body, but she eventually moves around under the covers to notice that she’s wearing a hoodie now–the same hoodie from last night.

momo hears a faint conversation down the small walkway to the outside of the hotel room, but your voice was all familiar with that smooth and swift tongue speaking in french before the locks of the door are heard again. 

you walk over with a tray, setting it down on the coffee table next to the bed before shifting your look towards the bed seeing momo’s face. 

“you’re up.” you greet her with a gentle tone, one that is very very light-hearted whenever it’s just you two together. momo turns to her side again, prompting you to walk over to the far end of the bed, kneeling over give a few quick kisses on her cheek before fixing her disheveled hair. 

“got you some breakfast, c’mon get up.” you say, “we have a free day to do whatever with the rest of the team later.” 

a small giggle is heard from momo’s nose, before she doesn’t move to get up, rather scrunch up under the bedsheets protecting her like a little kid that’s scared of a monster. “um, can you carry me? i kinda can’t feel my legs…” 

you look back with parted lips, forming a smile after with a laugh, “of course baby, anything for you.” 

the hotel room service breakfast is pretty much normal just like any hotel. just your usual eggs, sausage, bacon, french toast, some waffles or pancakes, and a mix of fruits. you already finished half of your plate and now feeding momo a slice of the syrup drenched breadstick. “good, right?” 

momo hums as she finishes up the last bits of her plate, the last thing was the glass of apple juice that was now put on the table. you wipe your face with a napkin before staring at momo again who just shys away since you’re staring at her for a little longer than usual. 

“is there something on my face?” 

“there is.” you answer, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek that had a little bit of whipped cream from the belgian waffles you two ate. momo blushes when you pull away and you’re wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “there, all better.” you say with a smile, getting up after. 

“wait,” momo says, and your attention is on her again. she has her arms up with her legs on the seat of the chair. 

“momo wants uppies?” you say cutely, and momo just nods. so you pick her up from the seat and set her on the bed, fixing up the covers to get more situated. it was a little early and most of the activities would be in the afternoon, so it wouldn’t hurt to just chill for a bit. 

“sorry about last night…” momo says, twiddling her fingers together. “i got carried away with the drinks.” 

“it’s okay.” you respond, kissing her hand to comfort her. “was i too much last night?” 

“no, i actually liked it…” 

“that so?” you ask, teasing momo as you move closer in the bed. “i don’t want to be the one to have all the fun, you know.” 

“well, you can.” momo admits, and you’re folding yet again crawling on top of her, pecking her lips as momo melts into putty again, mumbling against her lips, 

“expect more of that from me then.” 

“what did you say to me again last night? that i made you insane?” momo responds, stealing another kiss from your stoic face. “i think you may be right.” 

“what if we told yoona that we want to make this relationship public? i don’t wanna hide this anymore.” 

momo ponders for a quick second, before locking onto your eyes again. “if we did, then everybody is gonna go–”

“insane.” 

#saiiidahyunee #kpop x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice smut #kpop smut #hirai momo #twice momo #momo smut #momo x reader

[seventhcallisto]

Chapter ⅰ. "loved by."

— His Cologne.

An/Cw; innocent forehead and neck kisses. Touching. Some arguing. Briefest mentions of domestic violence and scars(other characters). Lots and lots and LOTS of world building. Read prologue, or you'll be v confused. Idk how to word count on here or know how corporate people talk goodbye. (Also I don't have favorites, i love all my men equally)

Wonwoo had another toss and turn night. He's gotten less and less sleep these past weeks than he's ever had in his entire life. His mind can't stop wondering. He's plagued by nightmares of their missing soulmate. The one who begged as she pulled away. Cried like she was being tortured. It transfers into his dreams. Haunted him when he woke up grasping the sheets. Gasping for air every time. Only to realize she wasn't there next to him.

"Hey." Mingyu side steps wonwoo, having just woken up himself, the house was fairly empty, many of the guys were doing their shoots, filming, and/or out. Because of that, wonwoo and mingyu have the house to themselves. The only sound of birds chirping could be heard through cracks in the windows. Gyu pulls a bowl and a bag of cereal, pouring himself some. He glances at wonwoo, occasionally watching him stir breakfast in a large pan. After pouring some milk, he leans against the kitchen counter. Eyeing wonwoos quiet behavior.

"What's wrong?" Yes. He already knows the answer. He can feel something has been awry with wonwoo since.. well. A while. "Nothing.." he lies with a sigh, looking over his glasses at mingyu. Gyu slurps the cereal off his spoon. "Bullsh1t," he mumbles through a mouthful, wonwoo grimaces. "You've been off for weeks, don't tell cheol I'm saying this, but.. You're not telling us either. Not even i know what's wrong.." mingyu looks up through his lashes, stirring his cereal half hazerdly.

Before wonwoo replies, mingyu is chewing through another bite. Wonwoo sighs. His eyes are cast back down to his wrist. The golden goldfish taunts him. "I met another.. one of us, the fourteenth one." it's so casually said. Gyu chokes on his bite. Coughing and sputtering into the sink. "What? Like.." he points to the spot right under his own ear. There's a mark there, small, barely noticeable. It's uncompleted and messy. Saturn, surrounded by its rings.

Wonwoo nods.

You're gonna get fired, but maybe it's what you deserve. Your boss was somewhat upset you left without saying goodbye. Eunha has always been a kind soul to you. You've spent all your time sucking up to her for weeks. Anything to distract you. You mindlessly play with your ear. Caressing your own soul mark. Everyone is born with their own soul mark. It isn't until later their soulmates' mark comes through. You were born with saturn behind your right earlobe, tiny specks of the galaxy shining behind it, the colors vibrant against your skin tone.

You're taking a walk after work. Already dressed to visit some places you had on your bucket list. Not to toot your own horn, but you're feeling better. There's nothing wrong with pampering yourself every once in a while.

"Thank you," you tell the cashier as she checks you out. Bags upon bags lay on your arms when you step out back into the street. Shops line back to back, you glance at each. Taking your time. Spring is almost in full bloom. You find yourself wanting to go out more to enjoy the things you haven't taken the time to before. Your eyes scan every sign, every decoration you enjoy or find adorable. You slow to a stop in front of a bus stop. You glance at the advertisements and help wanted posters.

'Soul mark removal session - book by appointment,' the paper reads. 'Lee Hyun,' the soul doctor in the paper smiles brightly. You want to look away, to pretend you didn't see it for some reason. Yet you reach out and pull off a piece of paper with a number. Turning it over and then shoving it in your pocket.

Not even the next hour you're calling the number, your fingers tap against your marble counter as you wait for the dial tone on speaker. You're on hold for ten minutes. The price of morals is high on your mind. "Hello, this Jane with Soul Surge. How may I help you today?" Your conversation with the desk lady is quick, yet you're still tapping your fingers in anticipation as you continue booking your appointment. "And you will be billed two days after your first appointment. How would you like to pay? Alright.." her keyboard clicks.

"Alright, I have scheduled an appointment for you with Dr. Lee, would you like a reminder? " Before you know it, you're done talking and hanging up. An appointment next week. You sigh, the burden on your shoulder still feels heavy. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

The next week comes sooner than later. You're lacking with work because you're so distracted. You bite your lip and toss before sleep the day before. You stare at yourself in a mirror. The first time you've worn clothes that show the majority of your soul marks. Your face grows ever redder at what people will think. For such a young girl to have so many marks on her? It feels scandalous. You pull a jacket over. Although the weather reads warmer than it has all week.

You're called into Dr. Lees office. You're sat across his pristine white desk. "What can I do for you today?" He starts off, a kind smile on his aged lips. You sigh "well I have thirteen soul marks. And I would like to get them removed. " You emphase with your hands, eyebrows furrowed. "That certainly is a number, I admit I do not think I've had a customer with that many, but that shouldn't be a problem. May I take a look?"

You show him all the ones you can reach on your own. If he's surprised, you can't tell. He throws away his gloves, sliding back into his chair. "I'm able to remove only a few of your soulmates' marks on you at a time, but if I can remove your own mark fully, then with time, the others should dissappear." You nod. There is a solution, after all. "And, sorry but- I've heard that after the mark is removed, the person who removed them feels..lonely?"

He laughs lightly, "No, no, that is a complete urban legend." You let out the air you're holding. It's too good to be true. And you're right. "But the other people involved, the other soulmate or soulmates will go through major discomfort, uhm, it will go away in less than a year, permanently. If you are to get it removed, you will never be able to make a connection with your soulmate." his tone is somewhat cheerful. Yet the dread in your stomach builds as he goes on.

"Oh," you don't have a response to his words. He notices your face dropping. "But, like I mentioned. the discomfort feeling should go away within a year-long period." He uses his hands to emphase his words. "And these - the discomfort feeling. How does it feel for the soulmates involved exactly?" You press, pulling your bag onto your lap to hug it. Comforting yourself.

"Well. The effect should take place directly after the removal process. They'll feel a slight burning, like an ant bite sensation. Eventually, after a few days, it'll turn into an urge to itch the spot. The spot will swell and redden within a couple of weeks, and soon enough, week by week, pieces of it will be absorbed through the skin. The symptoms may vary depending on the person. Nowadays, there are creams to help with the symptoms and process."

You bid the Dr goodbye.

Before your treck home, you decide to visit some more attraction spots while you're in the city. You're happy you can afford the luxuries, but you've already overgone your budget this month. You watch street performers, and occasionally, you'll grab a treat to take home to eat as you walk. One snack won't hurt. Your hands are in your jacket. Enjoying the afternoon breeze. In the back of your mind, you're thinking about the decision you want to make.

"Oh, excuse me!" A lady not much older than you apologizes as she bumps into you, her stomach is wide with pregnancy, two kids sit in a double stroller, no older than a year. She has her hands full. "Oh no, that's my fault," you wave her off politely, looking at the stairs behind her. "Would you like some help?" You offer, she smiles gratefully. "If it isn't too much to ask.." she laughs lightly. You're holding the end of the stroller as you slowly decend the stairs.

Once you reach the end of the stairs, she's bowing her head, thankfully. "Thanks, uhm.." You tell her your name. "What a lovely name, surely to bring good luck, I'm Kim Jiung," you smile. "Are you a shaman, perhaps?" She smiles back, pushing the stroller forward. You follow with a short pace. Stepping side by side. "My husband is," she continues, "when i was your age, he was the most desired shaman on the block." she laughs as she reminisces. "I met my husband asking for advice." she stops the stroller and lifts her long sleeved floral navy blue dress all the way up to her elbow. Scars litter most of her arm.

On the inner curve of her elbow is a crown placed on a perfectly red pillow, the diamonds in the crown shift as she turns it towards you. "That's when I found my soulmate," she cheerily smiles, pushing the stroller once again. Your smile doesn't reach your eyes, yet it's a sweet story. "Because of the law placed for soulmates, i was able to divorce my husband at the time." A sad look crosses her face. "He was a women hitter. And a drunk. It got worse when I told him about my current husband, youngwin. The process took a year to complete." She smiles to herself at the end. "I wouldn't change the hurt for anything," her hand goes to caress her belly.

"Weren't you scared he'd reject you.. because you were married?" You ask suddenly. She's not taken aback in the slightest. "Never," she sighs peacefully. The sun sets to your left, and the sidewalk is void of many people. "He was the most understanding person in the world," she turns to look at you. "My parents never approved of my relationships. They didn't help me when my ex-husband got violent." She smiles sadly. "But my youngwin did," she turns to begin pushing the stroller again.

You stutter to a stop, watching as she takes a few steps ahead. She looks back to see where you are. Then she sits on a bench. She swings the stroller around to look at her babies, wiping her hand against one of their faces softly. "Healing takes a while on your own, but when you have support, it's much easier to get through the days," she coos at the kids softly. You feel sluggish as you walk over and sit next to her, the settling silence nips you.

You watch the children grasp onto their toys and laugh joyously at their mothers' tickles. Her soothing words bring out coos from the twins that make you smile. "How soon are you due?" You ask, turning to face her. She pats her stomach. "Only four and a half more months," she makes a motion, crossing her fingers. You laugh. "A summer baby, thankfully, I can not do any more winter due dates. i already have plenty of winter siblings," she finishes off, pulling out a snack for the twins. You hum quietly.

"I was an only child to three parents, even that was too much for them," you snicker. Leaning back on the bench, you watch the twins messily smack their food around. She turns to look at you.

"Sometimes children can make or break a couple." You know she doesn't mean anything by it. She's just feeding conversation. You're still reminded of that fateful June night. She takes notice of your silence and your distant expression. "I get it,.. it can be hard, but if you're willing to.. you know - talk to each other. That's always the first step to getting better." She smiles reassuringly. Squeezing the hand on your leg. "When my husband and I finalized our soul bond. I was scared of him not liking me - not my past. But me. It was hard for us to communicate." She sighs. Squeezing your hand again. Her eyes fall to your soul marks. Both on your wrists.

"But we got through it because he stayed, and he cared. And I wanted to get better for him, with him." she pats your hand. "Whatever it is, I'm genuinely sure it will work out for you." her gaze is soft and kind like a mother's. You find yourself giving a small smile back.

The week you met jiung your head swirled with unease, she takes some of it away with her advice. She's updated you on her life almost every day. You've become close friends, possibly even best friends in the span of the week. Although older than you she is definitely the more lively and extroverted one in your friendship. You don't mind though, her positivity is a breath of fresh air. Pictures of her twins, Jino and Jina fill your messages. You can't help but adore their chubby faces, their petite pregnant mom holds them up for one photo smiling gleefully, you assume her husband took the photo. 'They're getting bigger than me!' The text after announces.

Your appointment for your soul mark removal is soon. You're not nervous if you don't think about it every second. The man- soulmate you bumped into seemed well off, right? His clothing was designer. His glasses, too. He- and his other soulmates will be able to afford the solution cream.. right? Whenever you think about him too much, your heart flitters. You try to focus on the small things in your life. And not the way he stared at you. The way his name echos in your head every so often. The way your soul mark yearns to be connected with his. What it'll feel like to be connected with the others as well, how they feel, what they're like. Your mind betrays your wishes not to have those thoughts.

In the midst of night, you're cursed with dreams, Tangled into sheets, laughing with him. More than one person is there, every so often the bed sinks in and you can fel yourself pressed against another person. Skin meets skin in soft, innocent touches, just wishing to be close to each other. The sun beats through the sheets, creating an angelic like glow. You can never make out the murmurs and whispers. When he steps out of the blanket, you miss his touch. You feel empty without him. And then, you wake up, usually groaning at your mind for creating such a tantalizing dream. One you can't forget the next day.

Mingyu is no stranger to the looks his members give him. "What do you know?" Seungkwan is the first to ask, jutting his head at the older guy sitting in the makeup chair. He pushes on mingyu's shoulder, biting into an apple slice. "No, it's a secret. I promised Woo," gyu mumbles, crossing his arms. Across the room, wonwoo sleeps in his chair while the makeup artists finish. He's catching up on missed – well deserved – sleep.

"We're tied, remember? I have a right to know. We don't keep secrets," Seungkwan pouts, chewing the rest of his apple slice down. Gyu also pouts, a reactive thing he copies. Seungcheols chin falls on top of mingyu's head, eavesdropping the entire time. An urging look is in his eyes, encouraging mingyu to go on. He almost gives in. "No. I can't, it's something you have to ask wonwoo about." He sighs and turns away from his members.

Seungcheol and seungkwan share a look over mingyu's makeup chair.

The drive back to the house is long, and wonwoo attempts to catch some more zzz's on the drive. The city lights bounce off the glass, it's well past 9 o'clock. Wonwoo gets the farthest window seat in the back. Hoshi and seungcheol are sat next to him. Arms thrown over each other to share warmth, cheol' head falls on hosh's shoulder, the absence of his snores is a tall tell sign he's not really asleep. Hoshi is pressed up against the other window. He's on his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his timeline. Joshua, Dino, and Vernon take the middle seats, each one of them passing their phones around. They laugh quietly. Mingyu sits in the passenger, his eyes relaxed but not yet asleep.

Usually, a drive home like this would make wonwoo feel content. His soulmates being close by is enough to satisfy the need to be curled under a pile of them. He's lost in thought when the van comes to a stop at their building. Everyone begins to shuffle out. Wonwoo and mingyu are the last two to leave the van. Mingyu shoots a look at wonwoo when he steps out, watching his other member rub behind his ear, where the fourteenth soul mark is. Both of them - followed by their manager - walk into the building.

Everyone's already relaxed when they all get settled down. Movie night consists of seats being switched around here and there. Some don't even bother watching. Just lingering around on their phones or laptops, content to just listen in. Everybody needs some soul bonding. Lately, their energy is drained faster, even Jihoon can feel it. He sits on a single armchair, his laptop propped on his lap. His hoodie is rolled up his arm, while the rest of him drapes comfortably in the chair.

Jihoon mindlessly rubs his soul mark, the planet behind his ear. It stings every so often, like it would when he's been away from his soulmates for too long. He sees wonwoo most days doing the same rubbing motion on his ear. No matter how he tries to avoid asking wonwoo what's been going on, he can't help but feel he won't get an answer out of him even if he did. Wonwoo can definitely be secretive and stubborn sometimes. Jihoon glances to wonwoo and mingyu, talking quietly in the kitchen just around the corner. Only he can see them stare at each other, a heated discussion beginning to rise.

He tries to listen in, but it's too loud with the movie. The rest of the members are wrapped around each other on the couch, work clothing and blankets string about here and there, and they haven't had much time to clean up recently. Jihoon slips out of the living room quietly, leaving his closed laptop in his spot. Only cheol blinks an eye for a split second, watching jihoon go.

Jihoon quietly walks into the kitchen, which is dim except for the microwave light that pops popcorn every second or so. Wonwoo stands with his head hung low, defeated. Gyu turns to the sounds of shuffling, glancing between jihoon and wonwoo. Jihoon stares back, a questionable look on his face when he glances between the two quiet men.

"We need to talk," wonwoo says, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes only meet halfway with Jihoons.

Your favorite place on earth was your bed, minus the crumbs. You had spent your first paycheck on it, and you don't regret it at all. It's a king size on the floor. You're perfectly content with it. You can lie and say you're always perfectly content. Today is a lie day.

Your face is squished against your sheets, and your phone is propped up on a pillow. Your appointment isn't until 12. You can feel every one of your soul marks pulse every once in a while. A hearty rhythm you've gotten used to, but you're highly opposed to. A pulling urge to get out of bed and wander the streets til you find who you're looking for. You rub your tired eyes. It was a strange night. Series of dreams plaguing your mind when they're still fresh.

You stand on the sidewalk, golden hues paint every corner. Jiung is no longer pregnant, and her kids aren't currently with her. Surely an image of her your dream made up. She talks mindlessly as you walk. Your eyes never stray from her. "You'll know what to do. The timing will be perfect. Everything will fall into place." She repeats every so often. You're in the most expensive outfit you've ever bought, one you used for clubbing when you turned 21, and you never wore again. Every shiney piece of it sparkles like diamonds caught on flash. In the next moment, you lift your head up to photographers and cameras flashing in your face. You go to shield your face, but you're already being pulled away by your shoulder. You blink your eyes, and you're in an airport now. Faceless strangers shove their phones in your face. A hand tugs on your own, pulling you along, another guides your waist. Both help ease the twisted feeling arising. You're crowded between people escorting you. As soon as you begin feeling claustrophobic, you fall into a weightless state. Floating mindlessly before drifting down into a bed. Your bed. Sheets are neatly tucked in, but blankets strew all of the area. As you continue to look, the bed seems to grow. You can hear the distant sound of clattering in your kitchen, yet you can't see anything pass the bed. Quiet talking and whispers, they're purposeful as if they're trying not to wake you.

You're falling back in, head laid on a broad chest. You can hear their heartbeat through their shirt. Strong and steady. Content. Their voice rumbles a melody, humming soft. Behind you is another chest pressed to your back. Their hand is tucked under your neck, soothing strokes to the base of your hair. Warm lips pressed to your forehead. Another pair falls on your soul mark.

When you wake up. You can't determine your own feelings at the reality of it. No one is pressed by your sides stroking your face and head like you wish. No one is pressing soft, delicate kisses to your forehead and neck. No one is humming to you. After you stretch and yawn, you're doing your morning routine. Humming the melody to yourself.

You crack eggs for breakfast. You tune turning more quiet as you focus on what you're doing. By the time you're done cooking it's 10. You don't have the appetite anymore, but you're obligated to eat something before your appointment. You eat what you can and get ready.

You're taking your time now. When you pull your socks on your finger strokes the infinity mark on your ankle, then each of your hands gently touch the shooting star and goldfish on your wrists. When you pull your clothes up past your thighs, you watch the branch get hidden, you watch It meet just over your hips. Fingerprints, the beautiful figure beneath your belly button, and the moon hide away. Then you pull your shirt over your shoulder. You eye the rose, glancing down at the blackhole on your collarbone. You cant see it but you can feel the pulse of the butterfly and the tiger on your back. You reach up to touch the back of your neck. The dragon shifts when you glide your finger over it. All of these intricate marks will be gone. Including your own. Your soulmates will feel the pain of loosing one of their own. You'll never meet them. Never talk to them. Never know the details about them.

What's gotten into you? Since when did you care?

Why do you care?

You're picking up your phone before you know it, you're breathing hard. Why are you breathing so hard? You take a few slow breaths. Your hands grip the phone tightly while you dial Soul Surge.

"I'd like to cancel my appointment."

The news hits the boys like a train. Wonwoo had not just single handedly refused to tell his soulmates about the woman, but mingyu had hid it too. Their other soulmate. "Why didn't you tell us this?" Seungkwan sighs. "Wait." Dokyeom interjected standing from the couch. "So that light was you two?" Dokyeom grabs wonwoos shoulders, shaking him. "I was right there! How does gyu know before I do?" Wonwoos face shows displeasure, many of the boys are about to intervene. Seungcheol pushes dokyeom back gently from wonwoos space. Kyeom can tell cheol is serious when he doesn't bat an eye at his outburst. He takes his seat next to Dino.

"Well," joshua buts in, he tucks a hand under his chin, his arm propped up on the counter. "Maybe she had her reasons to run." he can buy it himself. It's very possible. The room returns to silence. Cheol shifts from his feet, deep in thought. He stops short, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You two did connect, right?" Seungkwan asks before cheol can, and Wonwoo nods. woozi speaks up. "Then that means she and you will find your way to each other"

Letting the universe and soul connect doing its thing takes too long in mingyus opinion. Everyone decided so anyway. Mingyu was oddly the only one to object. At night, he thinks about it. What'd it be like to finally meet her. What kind of personality would she have? What her likes are. Does she like music? Does she know who they are? Is she a carat? His mind fogs at the number of questions. She's been running around his mind ever since wonwoo told him.

He finds himself restlessly trying to convince his members to step up so they can find her quicker. Maybe he's looking for someone to back him up. Mingyu can be personally driven. And maybe this is something he shouldn't be doing. He's out doing his own thing that day. He doesn't have any filming to do. So his hand reaches for his phone, turning his neck to the side and throwing up peace between his fingers. The fourteenth soul mark is on display. His phone audio shutters when he takes the photo.

Only five slides of him. A tight black tee with a low collar, he's perched on a ledge. One in a black tank in the gym, one of him drinking some type of drink. Mingyu. His name is in Hangul, on the side of the flimsy paper cup. His peace photo. Lastly, it is just a picture of the back of his neck. His head is turned. In every photo, the planet is in clear view. The majority of the time, he can't post pictures with the fourteenth soul mark. The company decided against it.

'It'll cause controversy to the public'

This time, he decides to break some company rules. " 🪐 " is the only thing in the caption.

It's the same day jiung drags you into town. "Girls trip!" She laughs so heartily, clinging to your arm at your front door. On her form is a yellow spring dress. And you're in a drop shoulder oversized tee, a pair of loose pants. She takes you to the most popular jewelry store on the strip, waiting in line. "Why are we here?" You ask, she doesn't tell you. "You'll know soon enough!'" She pouts playfully. And maybe she uses her pregnancy to get your spot in the store faster. You don't point it out.

A young lady tightens a metal of your choice to your right ankle, and the accents blend perfectly. Jiung gets a rose gold color on hers, baby blue accents that look perfect against her tan skin, and lastly, a single seashell pendant to match with her own soul mark. "You don't have to get the pendant," she tells you with a smile shuffling on her one foot as they tighten the bracelet to her. She knows you don't particularly take fond of your soul mark.

"No, I'll get the pendant," you smile back to reassure yourself. You watch now as the younger lady fastens the bracelet to your ankle. Zapping it into place. A permanent ankle bracelet is now tied to you. You're not upset at the decision.

"Thanks for coming with me, I didn't think you'd want to get one, though," jiung smiles, her eyes on her own ankle bracelet as she walks in her flip-flops. "Their designs were too pretty to pass up," you say, you both stop in front of another store on the strip. This one has a couple of cut-out boards on the outside. You don't recognize any of them except for j-hope of bts. It's chained down. You stare in surprise.

"People really steal those?" Jiung laughs like what you said is the funniest thing in the world. "I took the d.o one they had out a year ago," she reminisces. You stare in shock, jaw-dropping. "Jiung!" You scold, she pulls you into the store before you have anything else to say. Once you get over the initial shock of the store decorations, you're wandering around. A couple of albums catch your eyes. Your hand scans over the records.

Here and there are a few people. But it isn't crowded. A couple of young girls, no younger than high schoolers, scroll on their phones, taking pictures of the album section, the laugh boisterously. They switch off to take photos of each other with their newly bought albums. You make sure to stay out of their shots. Not far away, you're at the plush section with jiung. She talks to herself about which plush she wants. "Dwaekki or Quokka.." You zone out when the loud girls squeal.

"Oh! Mingyu just posted!" A confused 'huh?' Follows. Okay. Maybe you're curious yourself. You secretly eavesdrop into their quiet conversation, squeezing a plush you got from the shelf, its a wolf with only a shirt on, a content expression on its face. A notification peaks jiungs interest. It's a jingle pop. Her phone is in her right hand while the plush is in her left. She gasps. Your head whips around towards her, glancing over her shoulder at her screen.

There in bold reads; "SEVENTEEN 14TH SOUL MARK REVEALED!" followed by a collage of zoomed in photos of a guy, his hair is short but on the base of his neck is the planet.

Your planet. Your saturn. Glittered with galaxies behind him. When you go to double look, you can feel your neck crick in protest. Jiung calls your name. Shock on her face. She stares at your neck. Gosh. The one day you decide not to wear something that'll cover your neck AND you forgot your jacket. You slap your palm over your neck.

Your name is called again. Jiung has taken the plush from your hand, putting it back on the shelf. "Let's go," She says, so casually glancing behind you. You continue to stare, nothing coming from your throat. You follow her gaze. The two girls' heads shoot back down to one of the phones. "Doesn't it look like hers?" They whisper. Just your luck. "Ji, I-" she grabs your arm and marches to the front of the store, your head is downturned. This can't be real. How could all of this happen? How does-

The girls stop you. "It's you, isn't it!?" Their tone borderlines obsessive fangirls. "No, please move," jiung speaks for you, her arms hold you defensively by your shoulders. You're starting to regain your senses. The girls push your shoulder, acting playful "gosh I didn't know someone so ordinary would be one of their soulmates." The other girl pouts, "She doesn't look good enough for mingyu." her tongue clicks, both of them shove their hands over their arms.

Jiung goes to defend you. "Hey! Why are you two bothering customers?! This is the third time this month!" An older lady yells, she comes over with a book in hand. The girls look shocked, they bow their heads, and Apologize. Sneaking looks at you two that are heated. It's pretty forced. "ajumeoni! We're just talking!" "ajumeoni! Have you restocked the txt albums?" Their voices get high pitched. Shoulders bumping yours and jiung as they pass.

"Let's get you outta here," jiung sighs. She pulls you out the door.

You're in a state of shock.

Jiungs apartment is homely, fit for a family. Boxes pile upon each other. "Sorry it's messy, we're moving soon," she sulks, pushing a box with her foot. She takes a seat on her couch. Patting the spot next to her. You move from the hallway and sit. "Girl talk?" She suggests. "Or we can watch a movie. The twins are with youngwins' mothers. So I have until tomorrow off. " she shifts with her feet under her.

You don't think about it. "Girl talk," you sigh, staring into her dark eyes. When you explain everything. No, really. Everything to her. She takes it upon herself to rub your arm in a soothing gesture. "And.. then I canceled the appointment." You finished. She shifts to get closer to you. "Oh honey" she pats your hand.

"You are such a sad fool," she sighs. You pull your head up, looking at her. "Excuse me?" She stutters. "t-that came out wrong. What I meant was you're not giving it a chance to work out; I mean. I understand not being ready. I do. I don't know what you went through to have done all of that. And there's not a way to change the past. So you'll have to pull yourself out of this mess." She pats your hand again. "I recommend finding a way to talk to your soulmates, talk about it" you nod at her advice.

You exchange a few more sentences, and jiung is right in all cases and scenarios. "Everything will work out"

News spreads quickly in Seoul. You can't go outside much, and when you do, you always feel like someone is about to find out who you are. You usually grab your groceries as fast as you can. Always pulling at your shirt collar.

"Who are these guys again?" You ask on the phone, on your laptop, you're on naver searching up images. Jiungs kids can be heard giggling and fussing in the background. "They're seventeen. They're a 13 member boy group. You've heard of K-pop, right?" You say a simple 'uh-huh' "you know that song. Aju nice? It was pretty popular a few years back." "Nu-uh, nope," she sighs. "I was in America then," you respond casually. "America? Are you American?"

A notification pops up on your open browser. "BIGHIT Entertainment and PLEDIS Entertainment speak up about SEVENTEENS' 14th soul mark." Jiung speaks up for you. "Bighit and pledis are looking for their 14th soulmate," she mumbles through the speaker. "This could be your chance to talk to the company," she speaks your thoughts. You read the site briefly. "I think I'll email them." You nod like she can see it. Throughout the rest of your night, you fill out a detailed email, it takes you hours to come up with the right thing to say.

Everyone has given mingyu a piece of their mind and the silent treatment. But seungcheol? God. He's the quietest of them all. Mingyu is backstage, and many of the members stand around talking and / or getting their makeup retouched. He's not focused on anything particular, though. A frustrated sigh leaves his throat. He excuses himself from the makeup artist and walks over to cheol. Cheol stands tall, talking with jeonghan. His biceps flex against the stage outfit.

"Hyung" mingyu stops just shy of the two members. Jeonghan shoots a look at mingyu. One he knows says he's still upset at him. I mean, the whole reason they're not on strike right now is because this was pre-planned. Immediately, mingyus post was taken down by the company. His account is temporarily taken away. It's been more than a week. And now they're seeing if the public will let it slide under the rug.

Cheol parts from jeonghan who goes the other way. He stands face to face with mingyu. "I'm sorry," mingyu starts. he pauses. "That's it?" Cheol asks, folding his arms. "Mingyu, have you thought about what's going on?" Cheols' frustrated voice makes mingyu drop his head. "Yeah -" "You don't, though, Gyu. our soulmate is out there, and you know what wonwoo said. She ran away from him. It's possible she's not ready to see us. But we dont know unless she comes to us first." cheols voice turns more melancholic at the end.

Mingyus heart hurts, seeing him upset. He wants to reach out and hide away at the same time. "I'm sorry," he repeats himself. "I wasn't thinking," his voice grows quiet, the quietest he's ever been. Cheol can't help it when he reaches out and rubs his thumb on mingyus cheek. "I wanna see her too," he smiles sadly. Mingyu tilts his head into cheols palm. Wrapping his arms around him tightly. Cheol wraps his arm around him back. Ruffling his hair.

A man stands at your doorstep. Cloaked in normal everyday clothes, you would see on any stranger walking the street. "Hello?" He says your full name to your doorbell camera, leaning in too close. "Hello, this is she. Who are you?" You reply from your phone. You're at work at the moment. Your shift ends in less than 20 minutes. "Hello, I'm Song Jaeho with bighit and pledis entertainment. I have a few questions to ask you if that's alright. Do you happen to be home?"

Bighit-pledis ent..? You slap a hand over your mouth. Who told!? It wasn't jiung! Right!? No... she'd never. She respects your boundaries. Oh.. the girls. The two from that store! Oh wait. You sent an email.

Are you even ready for this?

"I.." You look at the time. 15 minutes. Screw it. "I'm not currently home, but I'm just about to get off work. It'll take less than five minutes," the man claps his hands, pulling back from the camera. "Great, I can wait in the lobby then"

"Eunha! I'm off. My parents had a medical emergency and need me to drive them," you clock out, praying no one notices your blatant lie. "Oh yeah, you go on! Tell them I said hello. " she's never met your parents. But is so kind anyway.

By the time you make it to your apartment lobby, you're just under 4 minutes. Mr. Song stands up and greets you. You bow your head back. "Hello," you smile politely. "Song jaeho." He shakes your hand. "I'm assuming you know why I am here," the hybe employee says. Crossing his hands together. "Is this possibly about my.." You point to the back of your ear. "Soul mark? Yes. Actually, it'd be much easier to talk somewhere more privately. Would you mind accompanying me for coffee?" You look around, and he's right. Many people come in and out of the building, and work for a good number of people is over.

The coffee shop is crowded for the afternoon. A good thing in your opinion, maybe you should have thought before following some strange man to a cafe you hardly know. You're lucky he caught you on a half day. You take the only available seats by the exit. The space is fairly far from the next person, so you'll be able to converse openly.

Once you order, jaeho gets down to business. He slides his card between you and folds his arms. "I am specifically the legal advisor for idols who are soulmates with non idols. I work for bighit and their departments. Now, to start off, I would like to first see your soul mark. It's a precaution, so we know you're -" You stop him there. Pushing your hair away and turning your head, you show him your soul mark. He sits up a bit to lean over, eyebrows furrowed. You scrub at it to prove your point. It doesn't flake or move. "It's genuine," you mumble. He sits back. "It seems so," he says skeptically.

"May I?" He points to your wrists. You sigh and lean your wrists out to him. "Go ahead, have at it," he turns and inspects the soul marks on your wrists closely. You watch the top of his thick hair while his glasses hang off the bridge of his flat nose. It's like he's trying to see if you're a real diamond.

"I apologize for the precautions. You can never be too safe." he lays the folder between you. Legal documents laid out perfectly. "What's this?" Song jaeho crosses his hands together, placing them on the table. He points to each sentence as he says them. "I'm assuming you know of the boys' status. They are celebrities, and we, as the company they are signed under, must take the proper precautions to prevent any harm coming to them. It's nothing personal. Strictly business." He smiles. It's not genuine.

"And you want me to sign this?" You stare. "Yes, I will guide you through all of what you'll be signing," he smiles again. Pulling each paper towards him. As he continues to explain. You get the feeling this is just an nda. You read whatever you can on your own, trying to catch any funny business if you can.

"Once I sign these, what will happen?" He pulls away and closes his folder. "Once you sign the paperwork, we'll be in contact shortly. If everything goes well, you should be able to meet all of them. There is no guarantee or specific date set in stone, though." You hum at that. Looking down at the stamped papers in your hands, you flip through each.

All that's stopping you is some paperwork. Yes, it's not as easy as you wish it was. But you can't run away again. And now, probably, is your last chance of meeting them.

"Could I use your pen?"

You're wringing your hands as you sit in a spacious room. It's been atleast two months since you've see song jaeho, you almost thought you had been scammed until he called and scheduled a meet up. You feel foolish when you say that. 'Meet up'. It's like this moment doesn't determine your future. Set in stone. You couldn't even pick what to wear. Should you have gone in your favorite outfit? Something modest? Sophisticated? Sexy? God, you're going crazy.

You place your head down on the arm of the couch. Sighing into it. Your nerves are shocked. You've got to get a hold of yourself. You take a few deep breaths. You smooth out your clothing, making sure it's pristine. You're lifting your head up to scan the room, it's a giant comfortable room, almost like a living room. It seems homely, it must be a place where the boys rest before makeup. You've caught up on the lore of kpop, thanks to jiung, and figured the rest out yourself, possibly through a series of videos.

Truly, you're trying not to run away. But song jaeho already knows where you live, and you need to get meeting them over with. What's your plan? What are you even doing here?

The door opens abruptly. For some reason, you shoot up. Three men step in first. You only recognize Jaeho. You can hear the footsteps echoing down the hallway. It's a wide amount of them.

You feel your heart thump in beat. It rings loudly in your ears. You want to hide. To run from the center of the room. Anything to get every eye off you. Your lips purse. You lick them gently. Suddenly feeling your mouth dry.

The shoes echos as they stop just outside the open door. You can make out some harsh whispering. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Maybe they're just as nervous as you are. The thought makes your lip quirk. "Get in there!" A louder whisper cuts through. Your lip quirks into a smile. What were you getting yourself into?

One by one, models pass through the door. Why are there mod- it's like your heart leaps. You laugh internally. These guys.. these guys are Seventeen.

You can distinguish every one of them. Features you're fond of, already memorized. There's something so familiar about them. You can't put your finger on it.

Your hands squeeze by your side. Glancing from each guy to the four older men in suits. Each of the suited men talk to each other. "Take a seat, please," one of them breaks off from the secretive circle they had formed.

You plop yourself back down onto the couch, almost falling over from the cushioning. You smile to hide your embarrassment. There's only one other couch, and each guy attempts to fit on it. The shortest of them all takes the single armchair, smiling smugly as a much taller one complains about not having room. "I got here first," he says.

Your lips quirk up into a smile, and you bite your laugh down. The taller guy looks to you, a challenged smile on his face. You stare back with a small, a knowing look that definitely says 'yeah i laughed. What're you gonna do about it?'. He takes his place next to you. Plopping his full weight down. You almost fly forward into him. He grins from ear to ear. When you pull away and he scoots to the edge of the couch to give you some space, you find yourself smiling inwardly.

It's no surprise that all of the guys didn't fit on the couch. Two of them noticed this guy taking a seat next to you, yet playfully rush to take the spot on your left. The guy with hamster like features beats the much taller, otter looking one.

He smiles in victory, and you watch the guy pout and walk away. For a split second, your eyes catch each other, you smile, face scrunching. A tiny laugh erupts from you. He grins from ear to ear. He's not so upset he didn't win the spot anymore. He stands behind the adjacent couch with his arms resting on the top of it.

A shoulder bumps yours. It's from the hamster looking guy. He pouts, and you smile, bumping your shoulder back at his. His pout lifts despite him trying not to. His lips curve upwards.

Finally, once everyone is settled down into their spots. Two of the men in suits step forward.

"On behalf of Bighit and Pledis Entertainment, I will be representing seventeen." The other one speaks up. "And I will be representing Ms -" he says your full name.

You sigh, more legal work?

"If this is about more legal signing, I have already signed everything with Mr. Song Jaeho" You gesture to jaeho, who stands off to your left. The men in suits looked puzzled. Jaeho nods. "If that's the case, we can just begin introductions." The fourth guy says, clapping his hands together.

One by one, you learn the names of each guy. You make sure to memorize it perfectly. Some of them are even foreigners, you really wonder how they all met. They seem to have the closest bond, apparently they've known each other for years.

You've got a lot to catch up on.

Soonyoung and Mingyu are the two that sit with you. Soonyoung on your left and Mingyu on your right. The one who took the chair is Jihoon. From left to right, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Joshua, and Vernon take the couch across from you. Sitting on the arms are Seokmin and Wonwoo. leaning against the back of the couch is Seungkwan, Junhui, Minghao, and lastly, Chan. The one who lost the race.

"Tomorrow, we're shooting for a video," seungcheol speaks up over the growing silence. "You could come if you want," he nods. Everyone waits with bated breaths.

"I'd love to," you grin.

#hiscologne #x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen ot13 #seventeen seungkwan #seventeen minghao #seventeen joshua #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen soonyoung #seventeen mingyu #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen junhui #seventeen hansol #seventeen vernon #seventeen #seventeen seokmin #seventeen jihoon #seventeen chan #seventeen jeonghan #soulmates #slow burn

[posebean]

fantasys your alkaloid‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️  ref sheet of alkaloid for my alkakurei fantasy au that i totally didnt abandon crazy:B here (notes abt world+magic system and other stuff on that post)

stuff abt their outfits and etc under read more

hiiro is fresh from his village baby boy left to go find his nii-san with only his clothes and a trusty satchel at his side- he just goes around looking for his nii-san and etcetc idk how long the gap is but he finds tatsumi and mayo and stays with them for some time and during that time tatsun gets him a coat because baby boy literally only has those and hes just been doing work for some guild (idk how to explain bc guilds require education but i guess tatsun pulled strings for him) so he has money to live while also looking for his nii-san and sometimes he has to go to cold places and one time he comes home after a job in a cold place and hes sick and tatsun is like hiiro-san please take this jacket with you :..) so now hiiro has a coat custom-made for him :3! he's good with elemental magic (the 5 core elements water wind fire earth plant) very versatile and a skilled little guy (not as talented as his nii-san but no one is as talented as nii-san!) anyways yadda yadda he gets a message or smth and is preparing to leave tatsun and mayo but (spoilers for meru fic) meru points him towards the town where everyone else is and yea he goes and finds his nii-san and now his goal has changed from find nii-san to convince nii-san to go back home but he befriends everyone else too and i think they do eventually go on some kind of adventure together maybe more the three younger ppl aira hiiro and kohaku

aira is a little silly fellow he dresses nicely (very inspired by fs2 but i cant stop looking at it and thinking damn he french colored......) and loves magic so much he admires all the grand mages and everyone in the upper echelons and loves watching other people cast spells and such unfortunately for him while he has a decently high innate talent, his control is God Awful which results in magic never going well for him- with no control at all, literally negative control, he can try to cast one spell and something completely different will be cast instead- and the skill level varies too it's literally just a roll of a dice for him if he tries to cast a simple flame spell he might end up flooding the room with a wall of water, it's that bad kkshfkj also he acts like he doesn't like it but he actually loves rabuhan-junior so much he secretly spoils the hamster named after him and rabuhan junior loves him back rabuhan-junior likes to sleep in his hat or on aira's head whenever kohaku goes out and leaves rabu-han junior with aira tatsun has very normal clothes bro dresses like a dad (did you know both of his fs have the same color palettes i didnt but using them as reference made me realize, anyways-) his clothes are very comfortable and easy to move around in, especially given his injury from [spoiler event here ]. he also has a cane and his injured leg has pain suppressor sigils and bandages wrapped all over it his leg isn't completely unusable like its not broken or anything its more like. a kind of necrosis like if you unwrapped it there would be a dark mark thats like icky and sometimes it flares up and hurts tatsun so much that he falls over and :( he found the cane one day in the catacomb (wonder who put it there) he added the begonia himself as a reminder of his sin... shiro is his little mouse familiar that he conjured with the help of kaname! she's a sweet little thing, often found sleeping on an open book on tatsumi's desk. she has the tatsumi-colored ears and legs because she was conjured up rather than a pact familiar. regarding magic tatsun is pretty average on both control and power, but that doesnt really matter because most of the spells he uses are passive spells more used for healing/doing work. he likes to garden and has a beautiful garden of all kinds of flowers at the chapel :) he just doesn't dare touch the flowers in the catacomb, because he knows someone else already takes care of those also that purple gem hanging around his neck is a gift from mayomayo it doesn't do anything and has no magic but tatsun still likes it :) mayomayo dresses in all dark colors because he believes that if he always dresses in dark colors no one will ever have to be bothered by seeing his existence he comes from a lineage that practices forbidden magic, not necessarily all dark but some of the more ... interesting spells . something happens in his past and he ends up leaving, taking with him his tome and well. proceeding to get chased by all kinds of monsters out in the wild because for some reason he just attracts all kinds of beasts poor guy magic-wise he does have the forbidden magic from his family but he more specializes in healing and curse removal- he doesn't dare do anything else for fear of (redacted). besides, maybe he'll one day be able to actually save somebody instead of hurting them, maybe his existence would be worth it some day. the ribbon in his hair (the green/teal one) is from tatsun :) he said mayo would look good in brighter colors and mayo disagreed so tatsun gave it to him and now its become part of his outfit and (i combust into a thousand bits ) also because of that mayo feels like he has to give tatsun something back so thats why he gives tatsumi a purple gem he had that used to hang from his spell tome anyways i still love this au very much and i hope you enjoyed now i will proceed to forget about it again /j i still really wanna write kohaku's fic and then maybe one last one for rinne-kun or smth because aghghj there's still so much that's not developed yet but (explodes)

#enstars #alkaloid #hiiro amagi #aira shiratori #tatsumi kazehaya #mayoi ayase #fantasyau #bean art #look at rabuhan-junior he is so small please love him

[serene-sun]

𝕸𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖊 18+

Pairing: aether x reader

Summary: you have strep and aether is here to help, but you need a distraction from the pain.

Warnings: pussy eating, eh hickies, nothing really bad but there is a small hint of piss but it's not allot

Author note: this is my Christmas gift to and from me, and also to my friend eli

“I made your favorite,” Aether said softly as he opened the door with his foot to your bedroom.

“Oh..” you whine as you spot the trey in his hands, while sitting up in the bed you don’t let the blanket leave any skin exposed.

“Oh, I got more blankets and brought them in here earlier but you were finally asleep.” He chuckled as he set the tray beside you, “Gonna have to use your arms.”

You whine and slowly take them out of the warm cacoon. A shiver runs through your body as you get chill bumps.

“So has it gotten better?” He asks as he unwraps the civil-wear.

“No,” you say in a whisper, throat too scratchy to talk.

Aether hums, and he watches as you dip the spoon in the bowl swirling it with warm soothing liquid before taking it to your mouth. The way it slides down earns a moan.

Aether looks at your too Half above the blanket nest, you weren’t wearing clothes so your breasts popped out above the cotton sheets like a frame.

Aether watches your expression as he lays the backside of his hand on your chest, then slides it down to start groping it. “I think you still have a fever, very hot.” He said sadly before brushing over the nipple.

You whimpered as he touched, but it felt good nonetheless as chill bumps covered you again.

Aether sat a bit closer to you as he moved the trey to straddle your hips as both hands massaged each breast. He pushed some of his quintessential magic into you so you would ease from the pain-bearing sickness.

You stiffen but melt into his touch, your hands slide on top of his as you feel over his veins. His fingers rub deeply into the flesh of your breast as he squeezes the nipples until it turns purple. He starts to grab harder as he looks into your eyes.

You squirm as his magic starts traveling down to your cunt, making the already hot organ drip with arousal as the folds slide against each other. Your clit buried in flesh starts to poke out as your clenching hole squelches as you move.

“Aether…” you whimper, almost unheard.

The ghoul nods, he rubs his horns against your head before crawling under the blanket and gently licking up your vagina's hot slit before he pulled apart your folds like book pages. He breathed heavily against your core that clenched around nothing.

Your clit poked out of its safety and throbbed. Aether rubbed the point of his tongue against the small hole of your urethra. He prodded at it until your clit brushed against the top of his nose, earning a loud moan from you above

Aether took a deep breath before taking your clit into his mouth, swirling around the hood with his tongue before unraveling it and sucking on the bare little bud.

He continued sucking until your squirming legs squeezed together on both sides of his head. He took it as a sign that you wanted more.

You cried out as he slid two fingers into your tight vagina. Aether worked your clit and hole as his other hand gently massaged your urethra with the pad of his thumb as little beads of urine dripped out from her holding off an orgasm. He brought his lip down to collect it

She squeezed around his fingers before squirting, sliding down his throat just like the hot soup previously.

He quickly escaped the sheets for a breath of air as he realized he was being suffocated by plush thighs and lips.

“Think you need a little distraction, little bunny?” He said deeply as he pulled down the zipper of his jeans and pulled out his aching erection that leaked with cum.

You bunch up the blankets around your ears and nose as you nod with knitted brows, and watery eyes pleading as she spreads her legs.

Aether chuckled as he let go of his cock to take off the rest of his clothes, it sprung back up with a glistening glow of cum coating his girth as it leaked from his tip.

The ghoul got back to his spot under the ocean of fabrics as he poked his head out at the top to kiss her collarbone before sliding into her vagina.

You whimper as his thrust opens you up more, his cock pushing against your cervix lightly as your inner walls rub against his penis as he pulls out and moves quickly back in.

You whine as he starts to ram into your heated cunt at a quick speed, rough pubic hair rubbing against your overstimulated clit.

He slams back into you as he bites down on your chest between your breasts, a purple mark beginning to form as he sucks harshly. Over and over again he did that across your breasts before his hands wrapped around your waist.

His balls slapped against the bottom of your ass as the base pushed deeper and deeper with every new thrust. You were filled to the brim with his penis, it glided across all of your pleasure spots and weak ones. Your urethra throbbed as you held back another orgasm. Some liquid flooded aethers cock and your pussy as you orgasmed unintentionally.

The big ghoul doesn’t stop pounding your tight and swollen vagina before licking a long stripe up your cheek. His forked tongue played with your bottom lip before kissing you passionately.

Aether hammers your cunt with 4 large and forceful thrusts as he slowly pounds your vagina full of his sperm. Hot seed coating your walls as it drips down your hole and to your ass.

“Fuck.” He grunts as he gives one final shove before more ropes of orgasm fill you both

You gasp for air as you realize how long you were holding it. You breathe heavily as Aether plops down on your chest, head in the crook of your neck.

“I…I-“ you stutter to find words to say.

“Shhh, shhh little angel, you will feel better soon.” He says as Aether caresses your cheek.

You whine but nod, turning over to cuddle into his chest.

“Filled with medicine now,” Aether smiled wickedly

#serene sun nocontext #the band ghost #serene sun spice time #serene sun mutuals #ghost band #the band ghost x reader #serene sun writes #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls #ghost band fic #aether x reader #aether ghoul #aether ghoul x reader #aether fanart #aether ghoul fanart #the band ghost smut #the band ghost ghouls #the band ghost fanfiction

[inlocusmads]

gridlocked ~ trystan & nora

Nora and Trystan investigate a case of a missing student, except they realize she might have also gone completely offline; her internet footprints scrubbed off as if she were never there.

wc: 2.9k, warnings: mentions of blackmail

a/n: @choicesmonthlychallenge prompt "new life" // this is the first installment in many case-fics (I'm back writing more case fics!) to come (gonna be very very original here and title this part one of the 'The Casebook of Nora Rose' lmao). This doesn't follow any sort of 'canonical' timeline, so take it however you will

In the cases of missing persons, it is perhaps more important to observe one’s bedroom - especially if they didn’t have a verifiable presence online. The topmost sanctuary on a list of them. (The list went: locked blogs, private social media accounts, bedrooms and boxes, in that order.)

You’d be surprised the number of times Nora found the answer in an unsuspecting drawer. A ticket from a school charity carnival and suddenly the kid is on the run with the fundraising money, not knowing what to do, knowing they couldn’t just give up and afraid to stay in one place, afraid of getting penalized legally.

Maria Palmer’s bedroom was neat. Mrs Palmer had put in extra care in the form of extravagant housekeepers to dust everything with its own scent. Everything had its place. The vanity kit never bled into the verdant mahogany desk meant for working. Books never touched the bedside tables, given their own places on neat shelves. Working stationary was contained to two drawers alone; the ink kept far away from the silk bed sheets. 

Nothing suggested a kid lived there; even if the kid just so happened to come from a line of wealthy corporate magnates. And that’s precisely where Trystan came in.

“I just had a talk with David and Clara.” he said, entering briskly.. “They said they last talked to Maria over the phone when she was en route back to her boarding school. They denied any claims of her ‘acting strange’ over the weekend and were puzzled to hear the news that she wasn’t present anywhere in school.”

“But you call bullshit.”

“Obviously. If anything, Maria would know how to hide well. Part of the whole ‘being a part of a pressurizing family’. Look-” Trystan pulled open the vanity drawer. “- generic brands of high-end makeup, never used. Books hardly ever opened. Everything feels so -- new, preserved like a museum here.”

Nora’s phone vibrated with a series of texts  from Luke. She picked it up, giving it a quick glance:

Luke: Sending you Maria’s student profile from Wellesley’s. Luke: <sent an attachment> Luke: No luck w the social media stuff, I suggest you look for different means. Girl’s digital footprint is scrubbed off. Luke: can’t track her phone either. Tough luck but I'll keep trying.

“Must be one hell of a phone to have Luke not figure its entire schematic diagram out already.”

“Her student records say she was a well-rounded student with good grades. She started at Wellesley two years ago; transferred schools and got in on a soccer scholarship.”

“Funny. Maria’s parents never mentioned she took an interest in soccer. When I asked them if she liked her time in Wellesley, they said she liked to write and that the school had journalism clubs she was a part of.”

A quick look at the boarding school’s website suggested there was no such thing as a journalism club. A soccer team did exist with everybody’s names and accolades and while Maria’s name was emboldened at the very end under ‘reserves’ - points for trying out and having rich parents, Nora supposed - it still didn’t add up when her student records took her in on a scholarship. 

“I don’t think we can trust their word.” Trystan said. “It is likely Father Palmer made a nice donation and they just had to get something on paper to prove Maria was admitted in on merit. And if I am not wrong, boarding schools pride themselves over obscure polo-esque sports. Hence, the field of soccer - pardon the pun - is open for anyone regardless of their skill.”

“They are usually sometimes right.” Nora switched her phone off, slipping it into her pocket. “Maria might probably enjoy writing. It’s the first thing her parents would have told you about her, right?” - she continued, off Trystan’s slow nod, “I don’t think they’re lying. They wouldn’t want us stumbling into this soccer scholarship. It’s good news for whatever press that keeps writing about them.”

Nora fished her phone out of her pocket. She handed it to Trystan. “I don’t think we’ll find any piece of tangible area to cover more than her bedroom. Can you do a sweep?”

“Right, because you think I am qualified because I stuff my poetry in a tree trunk.”

She gave him a you-dug-your-own-grave look.

Trystan sighed, hand on her shoulder.. “Word to the wise, go easy on them.”

___

“We called for carpenters when Maria came over the weekend. She had a bookshelf built for her.” David cupped his mug of tea, taking slow sips. “She was -- herself. Maria talked to us a lot. She seemed to be really liking her classes this semester. Very focused, you see? The bookshelf was a reward for her good grades. We try not to spoil her too much.”

Clara walked back from the kitchen, taking a seat on her plush couch. Her haunted look from before seemed to have dissipated. “Pardon me for asking, detective but - I have heard many things about your partner. He is the exiled prince, isn’t he? From that -- little city we went on vacation once and never again.”

“Yes, he is.” Nora answered, reluctantly.

“Thought I recognized his face somewhere.” Clara chuckled a little. “The memory - it’s a little finicky.”

“Did life get busy after Maria transferred schools?”

“Um- a little.” David was hesitant but hadn’t lost his temper yet. “She lived far away from us - we barely had enough time to think about ourselves because we were too busy worrying about her. It’s been years since we went back to Europe and even more since we took a holiday.”

“Must be rough, but - c’mon, who hasn’t taken a summer road trip anywhere, right?” Nora tried to make her enthusiasm look less synthetic. Fortunately for her, the parents were too dejected to notice whether she had an interest in the Palmers’ holidays.

“Maria spent her summers in Wellesley.”

“The whole summer? Did she have a project or-”

“We assumed so.” Clara interjected. “Guess we can’t trust our daughter anymore with anything, really.”

“Clara-” David motioned, as if he were trying to tell her to refrain herself.

“It’s true. She only came home for the weekend because she cared so much about that shelf. She doesn’t come home if there’s no little present waiting for her.”

“Clara, that’s enough.” David filled her empty mug with wine. 

“I personally like to believe Maria would have appreciated the present. It is something she got after doing well in school, I presume? Considering you don’t wish to spoil your daughter.”

“No, of course not.”

“What do you generally reward her with? Might be a bit of an odd question to ask--” Nora started.

“No, no, nothing odd about it at all. Thing is, she never really asks for anything.” David replied. “She’s a good kid - easier to understand. We had no problems with her. She owned tons of books, read a lot, so we gave her a shelf. Told her she could customize it however she liked. We encouraged her to try out for the prom committee. Gave her the best dresses, makeup kits money could ever buy. We supported her journalism stint too - gave her the best camera possible..”

“Did she take them to school?”

“Presumably. Had she had the opportunity, she’d have had her bookshelf built in her dormitory!” David exclaimed.

Nora thought of the unused stationery, the makeup that still remained new, the wardrobe she’d only taken a quick look at - unsure what to make of the well-ironed dresses that never were worn. She thought of the books too, what Trystan told her about them - Books hardly ever opened. Six years in the industry and you too could tell if a book had been used or not judging by the fractures in its spine, forgotten bookmarks or creases on the pages. Judging by the parents’ accounts, it appeared they assumed money could fix their absence. 

David purposefully fed his wife alcohol to keep her quiet; exhausted from having to project an image of ‘corporate calmness’ at his daughter’s disappearance. Clara had broken entirely; resorting to blame her daughter because it was easier that way. Nora concluded the mother and daughter wouldn’t have been the thickest of friends, considering how little of Clara appeared on the mantle of framed photos. One parent spoke highly of their daughter, while another shunned her every second they could get their hands on. Clearly Maria had different relations with them.

“Did she have plans after Wellesley?”

“She’d always expressed an interest in the family business.”

“Pfft.” Clara scoffed. “Clearly she had more interest in running away with her imaginary boyfriend.”

“I apologize.” David interjected quickly. “Please go check on the bread. Clara? -” he ushered her away to the kitchen, “I’m sorry for that. My wife is a bit of a cynic sometimes and this has taken a hard toll on her mental wellbeing. Could you give us some time, please? And if possible, could you wrap this up a little sooner? It’s best for Clara that way - if it is okay with you.”

_____

“Have you thought about it?” Trystan asked. The two of them stood staring out of Maria’s bedroom window, at the brilliant front garden. A few books were stacked up on the desk, but left halfway through - something that could be said for Trystan’s “sweep” of the bedroom that had hit a brick wall.

 “If Maria is a writer and the parents believe her to be, you and I do the same, where is the expression? The writers I have met are expressive, are - really out there. Nick Bastion would take part in cult orgies to write a mystery book about the same thing. Writers are expressive people. If Maria had free reign to do - well, just about anything with her parents’ money and them willingly giving her everything, regardless of whether she likes it or not - it is likely she has already expressed herself.”

“But what is it? It’s not in writing. Not on social media. Nothing coherent.”

“The very absence of expression - can we say - amounts to some expression as well?” Trystan turned around on his heel. “The bedroom matches the walls, the hallways, and the rest of the house.  Where does that leave Maria?” Trystan asked. “If she has her parents’ personality bleeding into her space? These books -” he pointed at the pile at the desk, “-are all from the Wellesley Student Library. They all have that slip of paper attached to their covers. She never took them back to her school.”

“Let’s piece together a timeline.” Nora flipped open the first book, then the second, third, fourth and fifth. She noted down the dates of Maria borrowing them and the dates they were due back. It was clear she’d brought them with her, but left with a suitcase lighter than usual. 

Nora went back to the wardrobe, phone in her hand with the Wellesley website open showing her the dates of all the important events the school were to celebrate. Prom was only a few weeks away. The Annual Athletics Meet was only a few days away. All her formals hung limp in her closet. The smoking gun was finding a haphazardly thrown-away jacket with the Wellesley School’s soccer team insignia that had her name embroidered. Boarding schools might be rich, but seldom did they give more than one blazer to their athletes - reserves included.

Suffice to say, the absence of expression amounted to a greater deal than the slightest bit of difference among the gold and silver wallpapers. Maria knew her parents well enough to ensure she left her room in a way that would never reek of suspicion. After all, she was David’s little girl; Clara’s disgraced daughter, the Palmers’ spoiled child who always left with something more than she came home with.

 It was a common unspoken piece of information at this point, that it was safe to assume Maria had run away. Whether it be on her own volition or through peer pressure, it was clear she’d prepared herself for it long before she’d come home.

Nora sat on the bed, scrolling through more details she could gather from Wellesley’s website, only to find a dropdown menu that said - ‘summer programs’. Curious, she clicked and gave the article a quick perusal.

“Trystan, do you have a copy of Maria’s student records? Does it mention she has any history of doing a summer program?”

“No- none at all.”

“Language arts, swimming, Latin-” Nora read off the course list. “It says that students who aren’t involved in summer programs would not be allowed to stay back in the school. The Palmers think that Maria is doing a summer program and that’s why she doesn’t come home for summer. And if you wish to stay back, you need consent from your parents.”

“But it says she’s never done them. At all. No mention of it in her records. Or any history of her staying back.”

“Everything - like you said - with her, concerns an absence.” Nora went over to the desk, picking up the books issued by the library. “No wonder we couldn’t find anything about her online. The books don’t have a barcode sticker, which means they’re not uploaded in the system yet.”

“The titles too.” Trystan highlighted. “New York Subway Guide. Perfect for a girl who is new to rapid transit commutes.. Home Repairs and Improvements. Worthy if you are taking a woodworking class. Worthier if you’re starting a new life. You get the idea. Question is, why did she leave them behind if they are useful guides?”

“They’re books.” Nora answered, which didn’t really prove her point.

 She sighed, substantiating further. “Books are heavy. She can’t take pictures on her phone camera - no, unless she has one of those low-quality burner mobiles. David mentioned giving her daughter a camera to support her journalism hobby. Perhaps she could have taken what she needed, ditched the books back because she didn’t need all that extra weight. And it works out for her because the books don’t land up in her records. She doesn’t need to have her Google searches leave digital footprints.”

“It is a reasoning.” Trystan compromised.

“Another thing that I found strange-”

“Which is?”

“Her parents. Neither of them - in my brief conversation with them - ever wrestled with the possibility she could have been kidnapped. A sixteen year old girl travels alone. That sentence doesn’t end well in many stories. One could say it’s a likely response to trauma or distress but -- like I said, subjective.”

“We can’t rule that out either. The parents have their own differences to settle. The child could have been caught in the middle. Question is, if she really did wish to run away, why do it now?”

“It’s the timing. David said Maria was very excited to come home to customize her bookshelf. He said they had to get carpenters to work on the customizations. Depending upon the commission, furniture businesses usually insist you pay before you get a shelf assembled for you. Typically the package would also cover the costs for carpenters--” Nora searched the bookshelf for any signs of a logo stamped across the side. She emerged with a satisfying smile, giving her phone a couple of taps, pulling up the contractor’s website. “-- like so.”

“Nora I genuinely have no idea where you are leading with this.”

“She needs cash. She needs a nice check so that she can trade for physical cash. What did you tell me about Maria having free reign?”

“If Maria had free reign to do anything with her parents’ money and them willingly giving her everything, it is likely she’s -- expressed herself?”

A quick word with David and Clara only cemented this theory further. 

“Maria told me to address the check to Harriet Trout.” David sunk his head into his hands. “I didn’t -- I thought it -- I mean, it was a couple hundred dollars--”

“Can we get an exact amount?” Trystan queried.

“A thousand dollars. I--- I should have checked, I-- I genuinely thought --”

“We’ll look into this.” Nora told the distraught couple. “We’ll be in touch.” 

Wishing not to engage further with the internal politics in the Palmer household, Trystan and Nora took their leave.

____

��Harriet Trout wouldn’t be that hard to narrow down.” Nora said, as they walked back to their car. “A made-up name at that too. Maria would be avoiding getting her transactions on paper, so she’s traveling with cash. She wouldn’t have gone out of state. Last-minute plane tickets can rake up prices. She needs money for food and living.”

“We’ll have to look into nearby motels with cheap price ranges.”

“Somewhere near Wellesley would do it. If she hadn’t come back home for the summer and likely wouldn’t have gone out of state either,  given her parents would know either way, she would have hung around in motels. Perhaps someone was sponsoring her stay through the summer. Ensuring she doesn’t have to use her card because her parents would come to know if she were to withdraw huge amounts of money overnight.”

“Do you think she might have opened up an account in Harriet Trout’s name?”

“Possible.”

“Nora wait-” Trystan placed an arm on her shoulder. “What if she didn’t run away like we assumed? What if due to this - sponsor, she was forced to go back and repay the money? But a thousand dollars would hardly cover two, three months’ stay. With three meals a day and transport. And that discounts your everyday expenses. It could be well above a thousand.”

“Maria’s father told me she never really asked for anything. It could be her guilt holding her back.”

“Think about it.” Trystan implored. “The sponsor would likely be more experienced than her.. Them telling her how to get the money, how to get it from her impressionable parents. Her father, especially, because they had a good relationship. It is unlikely for a sixteen year old boarding school student to do something like this if they don’t already have a steady hand guiding them through.”

Nora agreed. “The sponsor seems to understand her better than anyone else that she would leave home for it. Something that is holding her accountable somewhere. One which she had no control of.”

He continued. “After all, that is all people want, yes? Someone to understand them better? And they’re more vulnerable then?”

Vulnerable sent shivers down Nora's spine. She immediately took her phone to call Mafalda.

_____

Tagging:

perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam @stars-are-within-me @thosehallowedhalls

crimes: @trappedinfanfiction @ao719 @cassie-thorne @peonierose @moominofthevalley @jerzwriter @dutifullynuttywitch

Also tagging @choicesficwriterscreations

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged/removed, as always no hard feelings.

A/N:

This is *technically* my first foray into writing short mystery stories and I really hope I did a good job of it and that there are no unaddressed plot holes that makes me want to astral project myself into hell.

I want to bring out bits of characterisation in the story and I loved writing how Nora sees a problem versus how Trystan sees a problem. Nora's rooted in pragmatic explanations while Trystan tends to challenge both pragmatism and abstract-ism with a flurry of "Wh-" questions.

I especially liked writing the last bit because it kind of has them show a lot more sympathy than they originally started off with and both of them can kind of put themselves in Maria's shoes. I didn't plan on writing an end to this, given it would likely exceed 4k words and I did not want this little short story project to just derail into a pit of hopeless nightmares. You can expect Maria to have a happy ending, reunite with her parents and have Nora and Trystan be able to use their assumptions and deduction to derive a thread of a possible explanation to bring Maria home.

Thank you for reading <33

#w:inlocusmads #trystan thorne x mc #crimes of passion fics #crimes of passion choices #trystan & nora

[lilysaus]

okay. this fucking picture made me so mad i went on a 15 minute rant to my sister while she was trying to read her book.

so ive been looking at a lot of pictures of posts on pinterest because thats just where i spend most of my time. most of these posts are on the topic of adhd. ive never been properly diagnosed, but reading through these posts has made me feel so welcomed and understood (more than my parents have made me feel, pretending that this is "all just a phase that ill get over soon because pretending to have adhd is just the thing right now") that i realized ON MY OWN that "hey maybe i do have adhd." well.

i found this post while scrolling through pinterest, and it really sparked my anger.

i have a friend who was diagnosed with add before it was considered an "outdated" term and scrapped because apparently ALL FUCKING FORMS OF NEURODIVERGENCY THAT ARENT AUTISM ARE JUST "ADHD".

i read this post and it was what sparked my anger and my 15 minute rant to my sister. people who get degrees in this stuff, or counselors at schools, never really know what youre going through. all they know is that youre having some problems and they need to be solved.

which brings me back to this picture. if you look up "is add still a thing" on google, this is the first picture to pop up. and just seeing the visual aids they put with it makes me furious enough to throw something or someone out a fifth story window. the little girl is fucking SMILING while thinking about the most common shit people think us neurodivergent folks think when distracted. first off, no. false. we dont just think of video games and candy. we think of the randomest shit possible, like how long can i sit here without blinking or what kind of funny shit can i draw on this one sheet of paper.

and ALSO.

you cant just categorize adhd as TWO SEPARATE THINGS and call it good. we dont fit under two umbrellas. theres too many of us. we each have our own figurative umbrellas that only we ourselves can fit under, no one else. thats the problem with neurotypicals. they fit the typical stereotype for humans: we try to understand everything by putting it in a box. those lists of "symptoms"? i match every single one. on both sides. so ha. take that SCIENTISTS. what am i? some kind of freak of nature because i dont fit under just ONE of your precious categories?

i also looked up what "inattentive" means and it made me angrier. according to oxford languages, "inattentive" means "not paying attention to something", which doesnt seem too bad, right? it fits some people perfectly with their symptoms, right? but its not the definition that bugs me. its the example sentence thats used. "a particularly dull and inattentive student". basically saying that if you dont pay attention well to something, youre dull and boring.

im sorry, what? sometimes i have trouble paying attention, sure, but you ask any of my friends and they can agree i am NOT boring in any way, shape, or form. non of them would describe me as "dull". inattentive? sure, but not dull. so to call it "inattentive" adhd, instead of just add, is stupid! my friend with ADD (not fucking adhd, stupid scientists) is one of the funniest, most entertaining people ive ever met. shes an incredible artist, super smart, and knows how to make anyone laugh. does that sound dull to you? does she have problems focusing sometimes? yes. does she struggle with doing something sometimes? yes. but dont the rest of us?

my point is, when i see things like this, it pisses me off. like, unless all of the scientists who agreed "add" is an outdated term have it themselves, i refuse to believe its outdated and i will continue to say that my friend has it. she was literally diagnosed by the doctor telling her "you have attention deficit and hyperactivity disorder without the hyperactivity." THATS JUST FUCKING ATTENTION DEFICIT DISORDER YOU DUMBASS!!!

anyway, i hope im not the only one who feels this way. i just felt it necessary to get this out there. maybe someday, people wont be so dumb and single minded. in my opinion, neurodivergent people are superior in intellect and creativity, but i guess until someone like that takes over the world and dropkicks neurotypicals into the stratosphere, we'll never know.

#adhd stuff #undiagnosed adhd #living with adhd #neurodivergence #neurodivergent #add #its called add not adhd #you dumbasses #scientists are stupid sometimes #make that all the time

[virgin-mojitos]

massage session ft steven grant (slighlty nsfw)

heyyyy okay so we've established that im a liar and i do not keep my word but this idea came to me a while ago and i was like fuck it why not. but anywho, heres some fluffy steven (with a hint a sprinkle a dab of smut at the end) as an apology, enjoy!!

PS: reader and steven havent had sex yet but have done other things, so they might be in 2-3 month in

Definitely absolutely surely clearly DO NOT think about,  

Coming home extremely tired, you’ve been on your feet the whole day. Steven could tell from the moment you entered the flat, you had already texted him prior to order some takeout because you cant cook today. So he comes over kind of worried but also amused because you’ve never displayed any signs of fatigue .(usually you are very good at hiding them and steven does not know if they’re some trauma response, he does not ask either way.) he comes over and gives you a big hug, “you okay love?” so you hide your face in his chest and give a muffled “m okay” he laughs because you clearly do not look okay, “well I ordered takeout. Come lets eat and you can tell me about your day yeah?” “ cant, too tired to eat” and it was this moment that steven realizes hes nearly carrying all your weight because you can barely stand. He almost verbally ‘awww’s but he decides against it because if he did that you back away, knowing your ‘I gotta be strong and able 24/7 or else i deserve punishment’ tendencies. So he offers something else instead.

“would you like a massage?, I read a book about physiotherapy once” so you laugh of course, because who the hell casually reads a book about physiotherapy once? So you imitate him while giggling, making fun of his accent and all. “oi, I’m being serious it was just there and I decided to see what its all about that’s all” you laugh again and lay your chin on his chest and tell him that you would love a massage.

“turn away so i can take off my shirt and lay down on the towel” and he does turn away, knowing the gentleman he is. While laying down you take a minute to admire the scene that steven created for you in little time; scented candles, regular candles lit up and all the lights turned off. “you ready?” steven startles you but you answer him with a short “mmmhm”

 as soon he starts youre already making noises and shoving your face in shoulders in coyness. as steven gets more into it you stop covering my mouth and groans (mind u theyre both groans of pleasure and pain) ‘hes got very good hands’ you think. Your clutching the sheets and putting your face in the pillows and scrunching your nose, just a very pornographic image you think to yourself again, poor steven really.

and then when hes almost finished he starts kissing your neck and you laugh and say something like “was this in your book?” and he smiles and laughs and continues anyways.  And then when hes finished he turns your face slightly and kisses you for a bit until it gets uncomfortable for you, you’ve just had a massage for gods sake you don’t want your neck to hurt again.  so you decide to spin around and wrap the towel under around you when you do, any form of modesty

so now you are heavily making out, so drunk on the other that you dont notice his fingertips barely grazing your stomach under the towel so he stops kissing you and goes “is this okay?” and you nod and pull him by the hair to kiss him again, trying to show your gratitude through your kisses for the massage and asking for your consent. his hands starts gets cheeky rising up and hes just, he not touching you hes grabbing? Like squeezing in a way, squeezing anywhere hes touching. He reaches under your breasts and you gasp so he starts kissing your face and your neck and he asks again “is this okay?” and you gasp out a yes and he starts gently caressing yout breasts and at this point your a moaning mess right? hes still kissing your neck when he starts kneading them and murmers in your neck “you’re so fucking soft”

…yes definitely do not think about that

phewww *fans self* is it getting hot in here or is it just steven i mean what...

as always likes and reblogs help boost my ego!!!

my asks are always open if youd like me to write something!!

(steven’s SFW alphabet)

#steven grant x reader fluff #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant smut #moon knight smut

[3clipes]

Thank you

Warnings: idk Fluff? Best Friends to Lovers Summary: Movie night with your best friend Felix

The loud beep caught your attention, reminding you of the popcorn you had placed in the microwave minutes ago. Getting up, you made your way to the appliance beginning your next task. Felix should be here soon. 

You thought back to the small text you received earlier that evening. Felix had said he wanted to spend some extra time with you; lucky for him, you had been missing him as well. Due to his busy schedule the two of you rarely hung out as often a you did in the beginning of your relationship. So you gladly accepted his offer, inviting him over to your house for a movie night, consciously knowing that he’d stay the night, like he always did. It being a small tradition between the two of you.

You and Felix’s friendship had began to blur within the lines of a relationship and friends, neither really knowing how the other felt- while also being too scared to confess and ruin the bond you had created after years of friendship. 

A small sigh left your lips. If only you could just buck up and confess to him. Any rational person would realize the obvious signs he had sent you, but you being you couldn’t distinguish if those signs were him just being a good best friend. 

“Shut up y/n, its not he’d ever like you anyways. Just be happy with what you have,” you told yourself. Placing the bowl of popcorn on the small coffee table you herd the sound of your door opening. You gave a small smile, knowing it was him. “Lix!” You exclaimed, urning on your heel and running up to him. 

He gave a mischievous smile, before swiftly dodging your open arms and going straight for the popcorn. “Felix~” You pouted, feeling your body slump as you gave a sad look to the boy who had already began stuffing his face. “So you love popcorn more than me now, huh?” 

A small giggle left his lips as his eyes crinkled. “Sorry y/n, but I can’t chose what I love more.”

“Wow! Well I made cookies but thanks to you last reply, you wont be getting any. Enjoy watching me eat all of those delicious cookies in front of you!” Before Felix could utter a reply you booked it to the oven, pulling out the sheet of cookies out. 

Lifting one to your mouth you watched as Felix’s face shot up, instantly running to you. “AH! Y/n NO-“ He outstretched his hand towards your own, attempting to stop you; but you were too quick. The second you bit down on the cookie Felix’s form slumped, his outstretched arm going limp. 

You quirked you eyebrow, “Well? Do you have anything you want to say?” Felix’s pleading eyes met yours, as he gave another small pout. “Fine then.” Without another word spoken, you shoved the rest of the baked good into you mouth.

With a triumphant smile, you brought the plate of cookies to the living room, while walking past a distressed Felix. Taking a seat on the couch you gave a small glance to your best friend. “You know, all of this can still be solved with a hug.”

Perking up at your words, Felix pounced on you within seconds. Wrapping his arms around your torso while snuggling his head into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry~ You know popcorn could never replace you!” He exclaimed; then uttering “Most of the time..” under his breath.

You tried you best to ignore the rising feelings that fluttered in your chest, praying to the heavens that he couldn’t hear your increased heart rate— little did you know, he did indeed hear it, and that only caused his own heart rate to pick up. 

“Hmm ill forgive you,” your words trailed off, waiting for a reaction from the one above you— more like on you. Moving his head, his eyes caught sight of yours, encouraging you to go on.

 You always loved that about Felix.  No matter what you spoke of, he always seemed to be offering you his full attention; even during times where not even you knew what you where talking about. It made you feel like what you had to say was important— to him at least. 

“If you make me your brownies.” You could see the sparkle in his eyes brighten at the mention of his brownies. “Hmm~ I guess I could do that for you,” he said with an amused tone. “Then I guess you can have some of my cookies.”

Your eyes caught his as, watching as his eyes turned to crescents. You couldn’t help yourself- I mean how can you not get lost in his eyes. The one person that had been there for you, no matter what. Offering a shoulder to cry on when you needed it, or even small words of love. You couldn’t help but think, what would you do without him. 

Noticing your eyebrows furrow, Felix lightly brushed his thumb against you side, bringing you out of your trance. “You ok? You looked like you spaced out there.” With a small nod, you brushed off his worried tone. “I’m good, just thinking. Anyways!” 

Moving your attention to the flat screen, you reached for the remote— being careful not to move much. “Got any ideas?” Your eyes fleeted to Felix’s, catching a glint of adoration in them. You tilted your head, switching to his other eye and back. 

The blonde seemed to realize his mistake, shaking his head in response and moving off of you. He made sure to keep his eyes locked on the screen, refusing to look at you. “Um- I don’t really know. Let’s just scroll through our options and pick the best one.”

“Sounds good,” You said before moving into a upright position beside him. Your eyes flickered between him and the tv, slightly disappointed at lack of touch. Why had he moved off of you? Had you made him uncomfortable? “What about this one? I’ve been planning to watch it anyways.” Felix gave a nod of approval, before leaning forward and grabbing one of the cookies and the bowl of popcorn. 

He gently handed the bowl to you, before turning his attention back to the movie. Your eyes stared at the screen, as your mind filled with thoughts. Why did it feel so awkward between you two? It’s not like you haven’t seen each other in a while. In fact, you had seen him no more than a week ago. 

A sudden thought popped into your head, a thought that made your nerves spike. Did he know? Did he know that you liked him? That’s the only rational reason. He knew you liked him and doesn’t like you back. He’s not saying anything because he doesn’t want o make you feel bad. God you have to fix this. But how?

The words left your mouth before you could take them back. “I’m sorry.” Felix gave you a look of confusion and worry. Feeling the shift in the atmosphere, and clearing sensing that something was wrong, he turned to face you. His legs relaxed against the soft couch in a crossed position, giving you his full attention like he always did. 

You looked down, hair slightly covering our face as you played with your fingers— a habit you have had since childhood. “I’m sorry that I like you.” The second your words caught his ears Felix had to take a double take. You WHAT? There’s no way he herd you correctly. His lips opened, only for you to continue. “I just- ahh I don’t know!” Your hands moved to over you face, feeling yourself grow warm. Good going y/n! Looks like you just screwed yourself over. 

From the look on Felix’s face you could instantly tell that he had no idea about your feelings towards him. “Sorry- I just- im sorry. I tried to ignore it but— you make it so hard!” Your eyes peek out between your fingers as you started to feel the your frustration grow. Not at him of course, but at yourself. How could you fall for your best friend? That’s like the number one rule- Don’t fall for your best friend. And what did you do? Fall for your best friend.

Felix sat still, till trying to process this newfound information. Is he dreaming? He didn’t know. But you took his shocked expression as bad news, beginning to spiral. Your mouth began spewing every feeling you’ve felt through the years of secretly liking your closest friend. 

“I mean- You’re always there for me, no matter what. You always found a way to be by my side, even with your hectic schedule. You always listen to me and you actually care about what I have to say. And don’t get me started on how happy you make feel! I could be having the worst day and all you have to do is send me a text and suddenly my day is instantly better. I-.” Your words trailed off. Should you really tell him? 

You feel Felix gently take your arms and move them aside, only to be met with blurred vision. You haven’t even realized you were crying. A small whimper left your lips as your eyes met his. His beautiful dark eyes. The ones you’ve lost yourself in countess times. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.” His thumb began to wipe your tear stained face. You were so great full for him being in your life. You have no idea what you did in the past to deserve to be given even an ounce of his attention, yet here you were. 

 “Thank you.” 

He may of thought you thanked him for wiping your tears away, or just being there for you. But it was more than that. It was for all the times he brought you out of your head. All the times his smile brightened up a room. All the times he blessed your ears with his laugh. All the times he’d make a snarky comment, or play along with your antics. Every time he sang. Every time his eyes crinkled. Every time he Oppenheimer up to you.

Every time he was unconditionally himself.

Pulling you into his embrace, he moved one hand to rest on your head as his fingers soothingly stroked through your hair. “Shh shh its ok. I’m not going anywhere,” he mumbled beside your ear, pulling you further into his chest. 

Moments passed when your breath finally calmed. He let you relax into him, noticing your slow heart beat. “I should be the one thanking you,” he mumbled into your skin, delicately pressing his lips against your jaw. “or all the times you made me laugh.” He moved his head to press a kiss to your cheek. “For all the times you made me feel safe and happy.” A third kiss pressed onto you forehead. “For all the times you put up with my antics.” He moved down and pressed a fourth kiss to the tip of your nose. “For making me feel at home.” He stilled in front of your lips as his eyes stared up into yours. 

It was almost like he was asking for permission to kiss you. Your hands moved up from his sides to the sides of his face. Lightly tracing the spots that littered his skin. Without another thought you gave a nod. Feeling his breath fan your face, as his eyes fluttered shut. 

You could feel the love he felt for you. The way his lips gently pressed against your own. The way the kiss was soft and airy. A kind of kiss that represented unconditional love.

 You could get used to this, you thought, feeling your lips tug into a smile. 

But as you began to feel your lungs burn with the need of oxygen, you slowly pulled away. Only for Felix to follow your lips. You gave a small laugh at his actions, as you tried to catch your breath. His eyes bore into your own. A soft smile graced both of your lips as he leaned in once again. “For showing me your true self and letting me do the same.”

Then one last peek to you lips.

“Thank you.”

#felix imagines #lee felix #stray kids #skz #kpop imagines #bias #friends to lovers #movies #film #fluff #wholesome #comfort #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #oneshot #drabble #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #straykids x reader #felix x you #lee felix x you #lee felix x y/n #felix x y/n

[genericpuff]

Hi, you would have more knowledge in this bc I’ve seen people say the color changes in LO are a result of the books being printed in CMYK and Rachel is trying to avoid the misprint colors in later editions, but that can’t be right, right? that feels like giving her more credit that she’s actually due. Bc the books are now post the colors changing to the current neon and they still look bad in print. Is there any actual reason for the colors getting this way, or is it really just laziness?

potential bonus question: what art tips would you give to achieve that early LO look, with the texture and lights and all that? Love Lore Rekindled btw <3

Honestly, I really don't think it has to do with the books. I think some of it does have to do with the TV show deal (like they're trying to give it a cleaner 'animated' look) but when it comes to the books, most of its issues is less of the color expression and more just the composition of panels. I mean, it's kind of a given considering how big of a pain in the ass it is to turn a vertical webtoon into a print book (which is why it's kind of bitter irony now that Webtoons is turning back on their whole "phone format is the future" mantra from way back when when they realized they weren't making any money off that LOL) but man you can tell they're struggling to just make the books work.

When it comes to the actual oversaturation of colors over the course of the series, I feel like it comes down to several other things that aren't related to the books:

1.) Rachel's stated in interviews that she got criticism (pointless criticism from non-fans I'll add) about how the colors were 'too bright' back in LO, so she went "nah make them BRIGHTER" as a way to get back at those critics. Which is just absurd because it's resulted in her shooting herself in the foot with uglier art that's turning off even the fans.

2.) She and her assistants aren't unified across software. Some panels are drawn in Clip Studio, some are drawn in Procreate, some in Photoshop, it's a mess. And the real kicker is that all of these software have different color bitrates so some of them literally don't have as many colors as others (ex. Clip Studio is able to express about 16 million different colors, vs. Photoshop which can express up to 281 trillion, which is obv WAY better for print, but meanwhile Rachel can be seen working in both Procreate and Clip Studio).

3.) Rachel doesn't have her assistants using a shared color palette. They're literally just eyedropping colors. You may as well be playing a game of telephone at that point, where the original message gets more and more twisted as its passed down the line, but in this case, it's with colors (which is especially problematic when you're eyedropping panels that haver texture overlays which will automatically distort the colors, AND when you're using multiple different software which come with different color bitrates). That one definitely falls under laziness IMO.

All of this is VERY silly to me btw because Rachel started off with Photoshop, like I'm fairly certain most of her work prior to LO was done with Photoshop. Clip Studio is the generally recommended software for people making webcomics as it comes with way more support for them (such as panel rulers and speech bubble pens) but it doesn't have the same color expression that Photoshop does which I feel would be way more beneficial for LO, it's not like it's working with the same color palettes that most traditional webtoons using CSP are using.

But a lot of it is also Rachel just shooting herself in the foot by not maintaining any sort of consistency between herself and her teammates. Which is even MORE absurd because Clip Studio LITERALLY comes with teamwork support, I use it with Banshriek on Rekindled where we can literally share files, with the addition of a Google Drive folder we can both access that has files for color palettes, references, model sheets, etc. and with none of the incompatibility issues of working between two different software because we both use CSP and know how to use it.

To answer your bonus question as simply as I can, the biggest thing I've found with trying to replicate that old LO style is just... not caring, if that makes sense LOL like I've recreated multiple of Rachel's old panels just for the sake of research and I've learned that she REALLY didn't know what she was doing back then, there's NEVER been consistency in LO but back in S1 it was obvious she actually still cared. So when it comes to recreating that style, it's sort of difficult to pin it down to any one "method" because she really has none, she just treats every panel as its own individual painting (esp back in S1).

So get loose, don't be too strict on yourself (like I am, sigh) and mess around with gouache brushes, they're definitely her go-to. Prioritize lineart in places where shadows would cast (such as under the neck, limb bends, etc.) and then in post-production, slap a canvas texture on top.

I can definitely give a more in-depth tutorial at some point, but again, it's REALLY difficult to perfectly mimic her 'style' because it relied on her winging it every time without any real standardization LOL Which makes it tricky because I'm someone who REALLY relies on that standardization, so even I still look at Rekindled art and go "yeah, it's nice, but it's not LO" because I'm following too many 'rules'. People seem to like it anyways tho, so I'm not gonna go feeling bad over it LOL

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus #ama #ask me anything #anon ask me anything #anon ama #lore rekindled #lore rekindled comic

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 26

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

We. Are. Back!!

It's been almost six months!! 😶 Motivation comes and goes, but I'm very happy to be posting again. Like I said in a comment on Ao3, this book is too special to me to ever abandon. Thank you for your patience!! 💙

When Rick kicks the stool out from under Jim's feet, there's a simple crunch sound, and then he's dead.

I watch from afar as his body dangles from the rafters like a doll filled with sand, wondering why I thought it would be louder. It feels like I can breathe again. As if I've had a noose of my own wrapped around my throat until this very moment. Jim's dead. He ain't a threat. Just dead and dangling. Silence pours out across the farm. It feels strangely comforting; a hug from somebody you thought you didn't like.

I know Dale would disagree. I don't gotta ask to know he didn't want this.

If he weren't under six feet of dirt and bugs right now, I think I'd tell him I'm sorry.

Not just for Jim having to die, but also for being angry. He knew it never did nobody any good to be angry. If I hadn't told Carl to leave that muddy walker alone, wanting it to suffer and pay for some crime weren't even its fault, then maybe Dale would still be here.

I kinda realize in this moment that I don't care if dead people don't gotta see bad things. Because Dale ain't get to see the good things anymore, either. Like books and soup. Hugs, jokes. The baby, once it's born. Neither does Momma or Sophia or Shane.

It's like Jim said. I should be dead by now. On account of all laws of nature and chance, I should be long dead.

But obviously, I ain't.

And I'd be a stupid, silly, brainless little girl to not think that makes me at least a little bit lucky.

As I fiddle with the metal buckle of my overalls, Dad and Rick carry Jim outta the shed, their hands hooked around the dead man's armpits and ankles. Carol's probably thinking something like, He's with his loved ones now. But I ain't Carol, and I don't believe in heaven, so all I'm thinking is, I hope it didn't hurt. I've never had my neck snapped before, so I wouldn't know. They shuffle over to the pile of wood and walker bodies, tossing him on top, dusting their hands off on their pants. They's gonna burn him. No graves for them that ain't family.

Good. We have enough of those, anyway.

Dad and Rick turn away from the pile, their faces largely blank.

Before they can see me, I stand from my spot near the fence and scurry away, because I know I'm not meant to be watching.

That morning, everybody gets busy doing something. Whether it's bringing supplies into the house or cleaning a grimy rifle, nobody's twiddling they thumbs. There's something about putting work into a thing that needs it that clears the mind, I guess. Stops us from thinking about Jim, anyhow. Me, I help out by going around with a basket of fresh fruit, handing them out to anybody who wants some.

The first people I swing by are Rick and T. They've begun reinforcing the fences together, using old metal sheets and planks of wood to barricade any weak points they find. They gratefully take a juicy pear each, leaning against their handiwork to bite into the sweet flesh, groaning at the taste. Something nice happens in my chest when I see them smile. It's like looking at a puppy. You just can't be sad.

"Wow, this is good," T-Dog nods, turning the fruit over in his hand. "Thanks, Harley."

Rick doesn't say nothin', but I'm just glad to see him enjoying himself. Even for just a moment.

I head over to Patricia and Carol next, who are scrubbing at some laundry over by the trees. I earn myself two more smiles when they take a couple peaches, leaving them to their own devices and making my way through everyone else. Herschel, keeping Maggie company as she hangs up some wet clothes over a line in the sun. Jacqui and Lori, tidying up camp a bit, preparing lunch. Jimmy, polishing guns.

When I give a pear to Dad, who's fixing some of his crossbow bolts, he kisses my cheek as thanks.

And Beth. I don't forget her. She sits in the bay window of her bedroom, nibbling away at a green apple.

I know eating a good piece of fruit ain't never stopped nobody from wanting to kill themselves, but everything counts.

I've only got a peach, apple, and a pear left tumbling around in my basket when I approach Glenn and Andrea. They're stood around the hood of Dale's RV, frowning into the rubber tubes and gears like there's a jigsaw puzzle in there, muttering to each other.

"You gotta tap it three times," I think he's saying, pointing at something, "And—"

"— And give her a twist," Andrea sighs, throwing her hands up. "I know, I know."

Glenn notices me out the corner of his eye. He doesn't light up exactly, but the tension leaves his shoulders. "Oh. Hey, Harley."

"Hey." I give a little smile, holding out the basket. "Y'all want some fruit?"

"Ugh. Yes, please."

They each pick one out, leaving me with the apple. I toss the basket onto the nearby folding chair and bite into its waxy skin, the sugary juices leaking down my chin. It's sweet as candy. Well, from what I remember candy tastin' like, anyway. It's delicious.

Andrea seems to agree. "God. Remind me to always become stranded on a farm with an orchard."

Glenn bites a chunk out of his peach as he takes the screwdriver from the blonde, scooting around her to stand in front of the exposed engine. "Here. Let me have a go... Dale told me that in these old vehicles, the points get corroded."

I wipe my sticky chin, watching as he pokes around with the small tool.

Dale knew everything there was to know about this RV. Whenever it broke down, he didn't even need to check beneath the hood before he knew exactly what was wrong with it. Hell, even I've picked up on its quirks by now, and I know jack about vehicles. There's all sorts of screws and bolts and duck tape crammed into the poor thing's inner workings, but it just refuses to die. Like a stubborn old mule. 

A bit like Dale. No matter how many times ya put that old man down, he'd come back ten times stronger.

"I let him down," Glenn suddenly sighs, and it's easy to know who he's talking about.

I glance over his shoulder, through the front windshield. Dale's ridiculous amount of souvenir air fresheners still hang from the mirror. Oklahoma. Illinois. Missouri. Kansas. That ain't even half of 'em. We used to tease him about them, but he always just laughed us off and recited some philosophical quote from a dead guy about how memories feed the soul, or whatever.

Nobody ever understood it when he said stuff like that, but I still know we all miss it.

"He was proud of you," Andrea tells him; then me, "Both of you."

I sheepishly look away, picking at the stem of my apple. No, he weren't. But that's nice of her to say.

"That's easy for you to say." Glenn shakes his head. "You had his back."

She doesn't know what to say for a moment.

"Well... All I know is that there's no way he didn't know how much we all cared for him, even in the end. He was too smart for that."

I got no doubts about that. He knew everything. Knew everything about the RV, about poetry, about us. He was just one of them types of people. I only wish I hadn't argued with him that day, but I argue with Dad all the time, and he still loves me. So, can't all be bad.

Glenn pulls back from the engine with a resolute, "Welp... That should do it."

When Andrea climbs inside and twists the key into the ignition, I'm proven right. This old RV just refuses to die.

"Well done, Glenn," I smile over the noise of the engine. "You did it."

He turns to me with a smile of his own, looking proud of himself.

After that, he and Dad leave the farm to search for a hearing aid. 

Maggie hands them a list of houses they can try their luck in, and then we exchange the usual goodbye hugs and kisses before waving them off. There ain't no use in sitting around, wondering if they're going to get bitten and die because of me, so I leave to find something I can distract myself with instead. Luckily, Rick and T-Dog are more than happy to let me help them out with the fences.

If we're gonna get serious about staying here at the farm, we're gonna have to make some upgrades.

I obidiently tail them as they work, lugging around a bucket filled with rusty nails to pass to them.

"You know, Harley," Rick grunts as he hammers a scrap of metal to the wooden posts, "Carl still ain't stopped chewin' my ear off about all those things you taught him the other day. If I have to hear the word 'mushroom' one more time... I'll go crazy."

I pluck a nail from the pile and hand it to T-Dog.

Just to be annoying, I say, "Mushroom, mushroom, mushroom."

"Hey. Watch it." He scolds me, but not very well. He's smiling. "Anyway. You two ain't on good terms right now, are you?"

I raise a brow. "How'd ya know?"

"Well, I figured you'd be playin' with him right now if you were. And to be honest, he's been in a bit of a mood lately."

I huff a little, silently cursing Rick's parents for making him like this. "We squabbled. That's all."

He hums thoughtfully.

"Whenever I argued with my sisters," T-Dog tells us, "They'd start messin' with me. They'd hide my Xbox controller. Eat my snacks."

Rick chuckles. "They sound nice."

"Yeah, you could say that," He chuckles along with him. "A real pair of peaches."

"Well, Carl ain't done any of that," I suppose, adjusting the bucket in my grasp, "But he did call me a stupid baby."

Rick turns to look at me. "What?"

"He snitched on me about the shed and called me a stupid baby. Then I told him I hated his guts."

As I stand there, he fixes at me with a funny, What am I going to do with you?, sort of look, until he returns his attention to the work at hand. "Well, he was right to 'snitch' on you, but I'll have a talk with him when I can. It's not okay to name-call."

"I think it's 'cause he's gonna be a brother soon." I think aloud. "He said he's gotta protect me."

T-Dog argues, "You got all of us here to protect you. Boy's got nothing to stress about."

"I know. He just likes bein' somebody's keeper."

Hammering the last nail into the metal, Rick gives the thing a bit of a shake to test its strength, pleased to see it won't budge.

"Okay, I think this one's good." He decides. "Let's move onto the next one."

As we gradually make our way down the fence line, we continue chatting away about other useless things. The weather, future plans for the farm. Something we don't talk about, though, is the baby inside Lori's belly. I don't think Rick wants to think about it, let alone talk about it. He must be mulling over all the hundreds of things that could go wrong. As the leader, that's his special talent.

By the time we reach the area around the barn, I'm not listening to the conversation anymore. It's difficult to concentrate on making out their voices for such a long time, so I just tune myself out, absentmindedly gazing past the two of them, into the field.

That's when I notice something off about the burning pile.

It's still sitting there, a boring bunch of wood and junk, but the problem is I can't seem to spot Jim's body on it.

I know they didn't move it to some other place, and it's definitely not been lit on fire yet, so it can't be that.

When Rick holds out his hand for me to pass him another nail, I leave him hanging. He frowns down at me in concern; confusion. I think he says my name, but then he follows my gaze, followed suit by T-Dog. I can tell the exact moment they catch on.

"Okay," T-Dog levels with nobody in particular, holding up his hands, "That's creepy as shit."

"Stay here," Rick wearily tells us, before jogging away to investigate.

I don't need to be told twice. Clutching the bucket to my stomach like it's a teddy bear, I huddle closer to T, letting him step in front of me as if a chupacabra is gonna pop out from under the debris and gobble us all up. We watch Rick approach the burn pile, creeping up on it, concerned he might wake it up. He peeps this way and that, the hammer held tight in his grasp, ready to strike.

Was Jim bit, I find myself wondering, Was he bit, and we just didn't notice?

No. No, that can't be right. If he was bit, he would've turned long before we had the chance to hang him.

Rick flinches backward. He gawks at his own two feet. I think he might've crossed paths with a snake, or even that chupacabra, but then a hand shoots out from behind the burn pile and we learn the thing tryna bite him ain't an animal. It's got black hair and a grubby red shirt, a pair of milky eyeballs. It's Jim. He crawls after Rick like he's tryna avenge his own death, his neck still swollen and wrong.

Once he's absorbed his own shock, Rick brings the hammer down on Jim's skull, but he's fresh, so it's not mushy like it is usually. He has to bludgeon him two, three, four more times before the bone cracks open like an egg, wet brains dribbling down his face.

We all catch our breaths. I don't think any of us were prepared to watch Jim die twice today.

"Where was the bite?" T-Dog calls out, sounding like he's about to barf all over himself.

Rick kneels to check under Jim's shirt, flip him over, roll up his pant legs, because of course he does. There has to be a bite.

But when he stands, he calls back, "I can't see one."

There's a gaping pause between us all.

"Well, it ain't on his ass cheek, is it?"

Rick raises a brow as he steps over the body. "You wanna go check, be my guest."

"Nah, thank you, man." He answers drily, eyeing the blood dripping from the head of the hammer. "Well, what the Hell happened?"

Instead of telling us he doesn't know, or offering up a theory, Rick just sighs. He tosses the hammer into the little wagon we've been pulling along with us, rubbing at the faint wrinkles on his forehead. I remain hiding behind T-Dog. I know there's no snake or chupacabra to be heard of, and now, not even a Jim. But I don't like the danger in the air. The danger of something being wrong and not knowing what it is.

Rick lowers his hand, gaze landing on me. He keeps it there for a moment.

To be a walker, you gotta get bit. I can't see one. Everyone knows that.

"Come on," He eventually mutters, reaching to take the heavy bucket from me. "Let's get back to the house."

"Rick, what's wrong?" I whine as he grabs my hand. "We ain't workin' on the fence no more? Why?"

T-Dog snatches up the handle of the wagon and hurries after us.

"Don't worry about it, honey," He soothes, giving my fingers a squeeze. "The grownups will handle it, okay?"

Rick says this, just like he always has, but all he does when we get back to camp is eat lunch and talk to Maggie about our progress on the fence. I decide it's not a big deal. I trust him. Maybe he's just waiting until me and Carl aren't around to talk with the other adults about it. Maybe Jim did somehow get bit while he was in the shed. Maybe it really was on his ass cheek. I won't pretend to know.

In any case, I dig into my scrambled eggs and buttered bread without giving it much more thought.

After lunch, the three of us go back to working on the fence, anyway.

"Hope you enjoyed the apple."

With her forehead resting against the window, Beth gazes down at the farm, like some lonely angel peering down at another world. The afternoon sun gently contours the subtle curves of her girlish face, which isn't looking nearly as dreadfully pale as it did before.

"I did," She answers sweetly, smiling as I come to sit next to her on the thin cushions. "Thanks, by the way."

I give a shrug. "Yer sister says peach and pear season's just about up, so all we's got for a while is apples, anyway."

She surprises me by giggling at me, a pretty tinkling sound that suits her. "That shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"

My cheeks go warm. "Huh?"

"I saw you," She explains, a fondness in her eyes. "Chowin' down on that apple just before."

"When I was wit' Glenn and Andrea?"

She nods. "You were smiling. It was nice."

I contemplate calling her a stalker, but all that comes outta my mouth is an amused scoff, rolling my eyes and turning to look out the window. I understand why she likes it up here. I can see the whole farm. People milling about camp, chickens pecking at the ground. And off in the distance, the herd of black cows dotting the paddocks like little beetles, munching on bales of hay. And quiet. Precious quiet.

I glance at the distant treeline, thinking about the recent whispers of the horde. I brush it off quick as I can.

I steal a glance at Beth, instead.

That little smile is still pulling at her lips, a lively glint in the soft green of her eyes.

For some reason - mainly my talent for speaking without thinking - I ask her suddenly, "Do you still wanna die?"

She stiffens ever so slightly, and I only have a few short moments to feel awful about it before she meets my eyes.

"I just mean," I continue, wishing I ever knew the right thing to say. I think back to when Carl was in my exact position, asking nicely for me to not do what Beth did. He also threatened to smack me in the face, but I don't imagine that would go over too well with Beth. Neither would shouting at her like Dad. So, I just do something stupid, another one of my talents, and I improvise. "I been worried about you. Not, like, pity or nothin', but... I know how you feel. And after Dale... I realized that just 'cause people die, it don't mean I gotta die, too. It ain't a reason to wanna die. It's a reason to wanna live. 'Cause I'm just glad I ever knew Dale and Sophia and everyone else that died at all."

I feel encouraged by her glassy expression to keep talking. Not that I could stop myself if I tried.

"So that makes us lucky, y'know. Yer Momma's dead. My Momma's dead. But we loved 'em, and you can keep lovin' other people, but not if you're in a grave somewhere. Besides, it would just pass it on to them that would miss us. Not worth it, if ya ask me."

When I finish my word puke, she pins me with a tense, watery look that makes my insides cramp up.

"Maggie told me," She says, "That if I decided to keep living, that I'd find moments where I'd know I made the right decision."

She takes a deep breath, chuckling afterward.

"I think this is one of those moments," She decides.

"It is?"

I feel a weird sense of pride. I know me and my stupid apple and bad advice didn't singlehandedly solve anythin', but I was able to make her realize she don't got nothin' to regret by surviving her own mind, and that's more than enough for me.

I nod, trying not to smile, because this is supposed to be a serious moment. "Good. That's... good."

Her chuckles turn into laughter. "Why you so awkward all the darn time, Harley?"

Then I'm being wrapped up in a hug. I hate hugs. But this one ain't too terrible.

When we part, I ask her, "Are we friends?"

She seems to find that funny. "'Course."

"Well, my Dad and Glenn are gonna be gone for a few more hours," I tell her, "So, we should play something 'til then."

Beth warns me that she's seventeen years old, so she might not be able to play the same way me and Carl play, but that's okay. We don't have to play pretend or anything. We can do something she likes. Apparently, that's painting our nails. I have to try not to pull a face, but I guess I end up pulling one anyway, because she bursts into giggles and pulls me to my feet. I'm not the biggest fan of girly things. It's just not what I grew up with. I'm used to scuffing my nails while climbing trees and playing in the dirt, not painting them. But I'll give it a go.

"What's your favorite color?" She asks me, setting me down on her bed and rummaging through her desk.

"Yellow," I chirp.

"Actually," She lilts, pulling out a little bottle of yellow polish, squinting at the label. "It's Electric Spring Citrus."

I scoot over to make room for her on the bed, presenting my nails to her.

The afternoon slips away easily after that.

Nighttime paints over the orange sky.

Me and Beth have migrated downstairs by the time the sun has disappeared beneath the farm, lured in by the domestic commotion of dinner being prepared. It's soup again. I recognise the smell by now. While we wait to be served by Maggie and Patricia, the rest of us gather around the coffee table, ribbing each other as we break the rules of a card game Jacqui suggests. Carl keeps cheating by lying about what cards he has, but he's too dumb to realize he'll have to show them to us at some point. I laugh hysterically when he loses.

"You weren't listenin' to the rules, was ya?" I enjoy taunting him as he goes red. "Typical!"

He complains, "Shut up, Harley!"

"Okay, okay," Lori placates, doing a very bad job of hiding her smile behind her fan of cards. "Settle down."

I almost don't think about Dad and Glenn or Dale or Sophia or Shane or Momma for the whole game. By my standards, that makes for a good time. Carl continues losing miserably, whining even more miserably-er, while Jacqui beats us over and over again.

I'm reminded of the night we had our first dinner together - The one where Patricia made everyone feel super uncomfortable, and then I almost died. It's hard to believe this is the same house and the same people. Probably because it's filled with laughter.

We continue playing even through dinner.

When I lose for the fifth time, I take my bowl of soup and retire to one of the sofas, settling in next to Rick and quietly sipping at the warm broth. He sends me a bit of a look as if to ask me if I'm okay, probably reading my face in that weird way he got, noticing I'm thinking about Dad and Glenn. I reply with a simple nod. He doesn't seem satisfied with that response, but he can't do nothin' about it.

It's too noisy in here for him to talk to me, and neither of us know a single lick of sign language.

So, he just gives me a thumbs up and hopes it gets the point across. They'll be okay.

Eventually, even Herschel gets roped into playing.

"Hey, I actually happen to know a thing or two about this," He tells us, before proceeding to eviscerate Jacqui at her own game.

We all go awww, as she throws down her cards.

"Darn..." She sighs. "You weren't lyin', old man."

"As Jesus as my witness," He holds up a hand, "I never lie."

Lori asks, "Where'd you learn to get this good?"

"I used to spend a lot of my time in bars, young lady." He explains. "I got more than enough practice finessing card games."

"Well, I'd say it paid off."

He raises his fluffy white brows. "They used to call me Great-Hand Greene back in the day, you know."

Everybody in the room can't help but laugh.

"Now, Daddy," Maggie exclaims, "That's a lie!"

Great-Hand Greene calmly enlightens her, "It surely isn't."

This is the moment headlights turn into the driveway. Everyone turns to look. My heart squeezes. Dad and Glenn. The two lights come to a sudden stop, watching us like two eyeballs through the dark. The sound of doors slamming. I place my bowl on the coffee table and hurry out of the lounge room, followed by some other footsteps. But when I reach the foyer, the door bursts open without my doing.

Dad first, then Glenn. Both of my lungs deflating in relief, and then both of them knotting right back up again.

"That horde's headed this way," Dad wastes no time in announcing, "And it ain't stopping for nothin'."

Everybody freezes. A horde? The horde? Headed our way? Right now?

Rick pushes past everyone. "You saw it?"

"Trust me, man." He jokes dryly, shaking his head. "You can't miss this thing anymore."

"There were hundreds of them," Glenn agrees, frantic. His hair is suckered to his forehead with sweat, even though the season's turned. "We were over by Mallory Road when we caught wind of them; got us stuck for a couple hours until we could slip past."

"Not that it matters now," Dad snides.

Maggie asks, "Were you able to get the hearin' aid?"

He gives a nod, but nobody's paying attention. "Bits and pieces."

"Patricia," Herschel orders, our card game long forgotten, "Kill the lights."

We follow Rick out onto the porch. The night welcomes us with a cold gust of wind. At first, I can't see much of anythin', but then the lights blink out one by one and my stomach drops into the floorboards. On the other side of the field, leaking out from between the trees, are bodies, bodies, and bodies, so many it's not worth trying to count. They make the group on the highway look like a couple of stragglers.

As the mass amount feet stumble up the driveway, I'm hit with the feeling that our fences aren't going save us.

"I'll get the guns." Andrea mutters, and I think that feeling has hit everyone else, too.

Rick runs off in the direction of the cars. It's where we've kept our bags of emergency supplies for a time like this. Does that mean we're gonna leave? Or are we gonna fight? Is it even possible? I didn't even get to finish my soup. That feels important, somehow.

"Maybe they're just passing." Somebody stupidly guesses. "Like that herd on the highway."

"Should we go back inside?"

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about." Dad drawls, gazing out. "Horde this size will rip the house down."

I worry up at him, "Daddy, I don't want it to rip the house down."

He shushes me, putting a strong hand on the nape of my neck, squeezing reassuringly. I let it calm me. I feel a fool for panicking, but if there were ever a time to panic, it would be now. I cling to him as Andrea dumps the bag of guns on the floor. She passes them out to everyone that got two thumbs and a brain. Maggie, Glenn, Dad, Rick. Jimmy. Even Herschel. Nobody is being left out of this fight.

Not even me and Carl. A gun is pushed each of our hands. You know how to use it, I remind myself.

"This the plan, then?" Dad confirms with everyone, because it's crazy. "We take 'em all on?"

Andrea passes me a loaded mag. I don't have to count the bullets inside to know it's not enough.

"We have guns. We have cars."

"We kill as many as we can." She's on board. "We'll use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm."

"The burn pile," Glenn adds, "There's a bunch of kerosine and matches down there. We could lure them into the barn, set it on fire."

Rick climbs back onto the porch. "Bags are all packed. If things start to get hairy, we can leave."

"We're not leaving." Herschel argues.

"Herschel—"

"This is my farm." His voice booms as he pumps a pair of fat bullets into his shotgun's chamber, fire in his eyes. "I'll die here."

"Alright." Dad lilts over the droning rumble of death incoming, looking around for objections. "It's as good a night as any."

I get herded into Maggie's car. Dad gives my face a kiss and slams the door shut. I bump the mag up into the chamber. I know how to use it. I do. Two more slams. Glenn at the wheel, Maggie in the passenger seat. I've shot two walkers before, when I was out in the woods with Shane. I just have to do it again. And after that, again and again until they're all gone. Glenn stomps on the gas. The car screeches forward, ripping through the grass, barrelling into the night. I don't even bother buckling myself in. That's not how I would die tonight.

"You got enough ammo back there, honey?" Maggie fusses, digging through the glovebox and throwing me a spare.

"Thanks." I catch the cardboard box, trying not to shiver as Glenn rolls down all the windows. Groans and wind flood the car.

He shouts, "Start shooting!"

Just like that, gunshots erupt from all possible angles.

I grip my pistol tight, aim it out the window. You're gonna hold it like this, Shane's voice tells me, Firm. Confident. You're the one in control, here. I'm in control. My home's bein' invaded by the dead, and a horde this size might rip the house down, but I'm in control. The car spins. I lurch. It's hard to aim like this, but I gotta try. I line my eye up with the wobbling sight. I breathe in and out.

I squeeze. BANG. 

I can't even tell what I hit, or if I hit anything at all, but it don't matter. I squeeze again. BANG.

Glenn weaves us in and out, around, through the horde, never getting too close, never veering too far.

In the other car, T-Dog, Andrea, and Carl. They swerve around us, shooting down every dead bastard they can hit.

I squeeze. BANG.

BANG, and again, BANG, and again, BANG.

The jaw of a nearby walker explodes off its meaty hinges. It swings around. It trips. It slumps. I've killed it.

"How we doing back there, Harley?" Glenn calls out. "You okay?"

"I— I'm fine!" I shout back, pulling my body back into my seat to reload.

I peel open the box of ammo. A curse falls from my tongue when the little bullets go tumbling onto my feet, rolling under the seats. I quickly snatch them up, shoving them into the mag. On the other side of the car door, fireworks of gunpowder and bullets, squealing tires and breaking bones, a blazing Hellfire lighting up the sky. Orange and roaring. I notice it, then. Dad. Rick. That must be them. They've set the barn on fire. It's cracking and falling to pieces, a burning church. The walkers fight to get inside like it's the last Sunday on Earth.

An important beam succumbs to the flames, snapping in half like a broken twig, bringing the rest down with it.

I hear wood breaking, and then there are chickens running lose across the field, screaming, flapping.

I squeeze and I squeeze and I squeeze. BANG.

A rotten old man crumples to the ground. BANG.

A lady's shoulder bursts open, a pop of bone and muscle. BANG.

A girl with one of the poor birds in her mouth, choking on feathers, dead. BANG.

For every one we kill, five more are there within a heartbeat to replace it. Glenn's foot falters on the pedal, and we come to a crawl, and then a stop, unable to do much but watch as the farm is consumed. This is a losing battle. There's no other type.

Herschel said we weren't leaving tonight, but that can't be true. I guess he is a liar, after all.

"We gotta go," Maggie's shaking her head, the tears in her eyes collecting like little pearls. "We're not gonna win this. We gotta go."

As if only to prove her point, the barn collapses once and for all. I almost feel like crying.

"I'm sorry, Maggie." Glenn says weakly.

Yeah. Me, too. I gaze out at the oak tree, still standing bravely; the little wooden crosses clueless beneath it.

As Glenn drives us back into the chaos, my pistol stays in my lap. I don't got any bullets left, anyway. I just sit there, watching everything pan by. Mine and Dad's camping spot, tucked away in the distant trees, just how we liked it. The crumbled fireplace where I talked to Dale for the last time. The shed. The swing outside it me and Carl used to play on. The orchard. The patch of dirt where Sophia died.

I wish I had the power to know when things were gonna end. That way, I could've savoured my last day.

It's not as cool as the superpower's them people in Carl's comics got, but it's the one I'd want.

It was silly. Working on the fences today with Rick and T-Dog made me think we were gonna be okay.

When I look up, we're approaching the house. Jacqui's sitting on the porch steps all by herself, staring out at us.

Glenn pulls us in close, getting out and hovering around the hood of the car, waving her over. "Come on! We gotta go!"

I crawl across the seats and shove open the door. "Jacqui? Come on!"

She's not coming. Why is she not coming? The door is open. We can all leave together. When I call out her name again, she convulses ever so slightly, as if she's got a bad cough but doesn't wanna let it out. I feel my face fall all at once. Her arm gives out, slumping from her neck, into her lap. I notice the blood first, all ten gallons of it, and then the bite. Her muscles spasm again. Oh. No, no, no.

"Jacqui?" I call out uselessly, but Glenn's already back in the driver's seat and Jacqui's already dying.

"C-Close your door, Harley," He orders, slamming his own.

She's dying. We can't stay here. I know both these things, but it still takes everything in me to pull the door shut.

After that, the deaths just keep coming. We drive past Patricia as the horde pull her into their mouths, Jimmy as he stumbles from the RV, clutching at his open throat. There's nothing we can do for any of them, but we manage to reach Carol just in time. She climbs into the seat next to me, and we ask her if she's seen anybody else, but she hasn't; she hasn't seen anybody.

Turning my face to the open window, I let the wind dry my tears, seein' as my Daddy ain't here to do it for me.

The faces of the horde pass by, a sea of rats on a burning ship.

I want to go collect my things. I want to pet the cows one last time. I want to do everything we won't get to.

My body lurches all on its own, then.

A face in the crowd. It's different from the rest. I'm not good with faces or names, something my teachers used to grumble over, but I'm good with this one. That one walker, tucked in with the rest of them, wearing the Police cap. It's Shane Walsh, dead and walking.

How? How is that possible? Why are the tears back tenfold, now?

Lit by the moon and the flames, I see his broken cheekbones for the first time since that day, the way they're bulbous like apples, mishappen like clay. Everything about him is wrong. His nose is broke. Clothes all mussed up. Ribs pouring. His eyes are glossed over. He don't seem to mind his broken body, or the fire, or the smoke. He just wants what all other walkers want. To bite into something. It's him, but not.

I almost want him to look at me. I clutch my locket, wanting our eyes to meet just to make him prove it.

This just can't be true. He didn't get bit. He got shot and beaten, but he didn't get bit.

As if I've willed him to do it, he looks my way.

"Carol," I croak, watching as he noses at the air like the animal Dad always said he was, "You got any bullets left?"

I feel something being placed in my hand. It feels just like the locket, but colder. I shakily load it into the chamber; lift the gun. I believe in you, His voice is back. Now line your eye up with the sight. I stare down the barrel, carefully placing his face on top of the sights. I only have this one bullet. I can't miss. Not only because I need to put him down, but because I think I want to make him proud.

Breathe, I take a deep breath, In and out. 

Damn it. These fuckin' tears, they're messing up my aim. I smack them away and line up my shot again.

And squeeze.

BANG.

All the air rushes outta my lungs as his body hits the ground, disappearing amongst the horde.

I lower the gun.

Carol's already looking at me before I glance her way.

When we peel onto the highway, I can still see the flames burning over the tops of the trees, like some old religious painting.

Maggie breaks the silence. "What if nobody else made it?"

Nobody answers. I preferred it when the only noise in the car was the gentle humming of the engine, but I can't blame her for asking. We got no idea who else made it out alive. The four of us are all alone out here. Ain't no phone number we can just dial to ask if they're alright.

"They made it," Glenn eventually just decides, staring out at his high beams on the dark road. "They had to."

"Well, how are we going to find them?" Carol asks innocently, petting my hair as I lay my head in her lap. "They could be anywhere."

Maggie sighs. "We could circle back to that place I found y'all on the highway?"

"No," Mumbles Glenn. I can see his finger tapping against the wheel. "No, the horde came from that direction."

That's where our ideas run dry.

"Glenn?" I whine, clutching at my temple. He glances at me in the mirror, concern in his eyes. "My head. The ringing. Hurts."

He makes a troubled sound. "It must've been all those gunshots... I'm sorry."

Carol suggests, "Maybe we should just stop somewhere for the night."

There's a pause between them, but it's a short one, because it doesn't take much for Glenn to agree. He's musing to himself about how we can't drive all night. It would be a better use of gas to drive in the daylight. But really, we all know it's because he's a big softie.

He pulls us into a little nook on the side of the highway, killing the engine and turning on the ceiling light.

"I'm sorry," He says again, as if he put the ringing inside my head himself. "Maybe there's something in the supplies?"

Maggie unzippers the bag at her feet, pushing around the stuff inside it, shaking her head. "Just some water. Thirsty?"

I shake my head.

"I think we should all get some sleep." Says Carol, her voice a whisper.

Yeah. A good sleep sounds really good right about now. I think we've earnt it. Georgia will still be here when we wake up.

"Okay." He reaches up to press the ceiling button that turns on the moon, its dim white light spilling across the console in the dark. We all loosen slightly, completely exhausted. "We can just pick up again tomorrow. I'm sure the others are doing the same thing."

"Goodnight," Maggie tries to smile, reaching around her seat to stroke my shoulder.

"Goodnight," I mumble, echoed by Glenn and Carol, and then it's silent.

I close my eyes.

No eggs and buttered bread for breakfast today. Just a stale granola bar I gotta split with Carol, and a sip of water I gotta split with all three of them. After we take turns peein' in the bushes outside, we're back on the road again, and we're on it all day.

I don't know where we're going. I don't think Glenn knows, either.

I'm starting to think we might be driving all night, too, by the time we run into the others. That's right, the others. Herschel's shitty old pick-up truck is parked in a swath of brown leaves on the side of the road, right next to Dad's motorcycle and another grey car.

When Glenn pulls on the brake, I think we're all crying happy tears, but I'm too busy crying happy tears to notice.

I climb out, grinning, running into my Dad's arms.

"Harley," He sighs in relief as he picks me up, squeezes me tight. "I knew they'd take good care of ya."

"I knew you'd take good care of you," I giggle, hooking my chin over his shoulder.

"How did you guys find each other?" Glenn marvels.

"Well, when I saw their little Toyota goin' the speed limit," He nods behind him, "Figured there just had to be a cop at the wheel."

As chuckles break out between the group, he places me back on the ground.

Maggie asks, "Where's the rest of us?"

"We're the only ones that made it so far," Rick answers, and it's now I notice just how much smaller we are now; barely ten. We're just as alone as we were when it was just me, Glenn, Maggie, and Carol. No shelter, no food, no direction. Feathers in the wind.

"Where's Andrea?"

Lori shakes her head. "She was with us at the farm, but we got separated."

"Did you see Jacqui?"

Jacqui. Poor Jacqui. Maggie, Glenn, and I share a look without even meaning to.

"It was awful, Dad," I mutter, the memory caught in my throat, "We found 'er by the house, but we had to leave her behind."

Glenn explains, "She was bit."

"They got Patricia, too." Beth says. "Took her right in front of me. I was holdin' onto her, Daddy, but they just..."

"We saw Jimmy, too." Maggie sighs as Herschel wraps her little sister in a hug. "He was in the RV. It got overrun."

"But, you guys definitely saw Andrea?"

"There— There were walkers everywhere," Lori seems sorry to say, "But, yeah. We saw her."

"Well, we have to go back for her."

Rick argues, "We don't even know if she's still there."

"She ain't." Dad butts in. "She's either somewhere else or she's dead."

"So, we're not even gonna look for her?"

"No. We gotta keep moving." Rick agrees. "There's walkers all over the place."

Maggie scoffs, "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."

"I say we head East." Dad suggests, pointing vaguely in the direction of the sinking sun, cresting through the fog. "Head East, and stay off any main roads like this one. Bigger the road, the more walkers we gon' run into. The more assholes like this one."

He lifts his hands from where he's been resting them on my back, swinging the crossbow off his shoulder.

"I got him." He grumbles, sending a bolt through the stray walker's nose.

"Well, I hate to tell you guys," T-Dog scratches at his head, "But we been riding red for the past hour."

"We can't all fit into two cars."

Rick decides, "We'll have to make a run for some gas in the morning."

"Spend the night here?" Beth hisses, shivering lightly. "I'm freezin'."

"We'll build a fire." He gestures at my Dad. "You can go out lookin' for firewood, but stay close."

He raises a greasy brow. "I only got so many arrows, man. We can't just sit here with our asses hangin' out."

"Watch your mouth," He snips.

Glenn raises his hands at the group. "Everyone just stop panicking, and listen to Rick."

"Look, Glenn and I can go make a run right now," Maggie placates, "Try and scrounge up some gas so we can get back on the road."

"No." He shuts her down. "We stay together. God forbid something happens and people get stranded without a car."

That other side of Rick is back - Someone I might as well start callin' Second Rick; Scary Rick - and everyone can tell. It's the same one that was outside the shed, telling us with no room for argument that he was going to execute Jim. He's tense. He's a rubber band pulled tight, his eyes darting from face to face, just waiting for a flash of disagreement from somebody for him to pounce on.

I make sure he don't find one on my face. I'm not keen on upsettin' him.

Glenn's a little braver than me, though, because he says incredulously, "Rick, we're stranded now."

He shakes his head. Not listening. Not accepting it. Just, No, no, no. 

"I know it looks bad," He reasons, even though we don't need to be told. "We've all been through Hell and worse. But we found each other. I wasn't sure. I really wasn't, but..." He scans our faces again, a little less coldly this time, taking us all in. "But we did it. We're together, and that's all that matters. We'll find shelter someplace. It's gotta be out there somewhere. It's gotta be."

But we had shelter already, I feel like shouting at him, I don't want another one.

"Rick, look around, okay?" Glenn's voice raises. "There's walkers everywhere. They're— They're migrating or something."

"There's gotta be a place not just where we hole up," Rick doubles down without care for what he's saying, smacking his knuckles into his palm. "But that we can fortify. Hunker down. Pull something together for ourselves. Build a life for each other."

That's what we tried to do at the farm. He should know that. He was the one fixing the fences with me.

"I know it's out there," He says angrily, as if that place he's talkin' about is hiding just to spite him. "We just have to find it."

I muster up the courage to voice my thoughts.

"But, Rick," I say, "How many those places we already been?"

He shakes his head again. "We fooled ourselves into thinking they were safe. We won't make that mistake again."

At the quarry, our mistake was being too close to the city. That was way back in the beginning when nobody had died yet, and we thought we just had to wait it out until the army came. But they didn't. And after that, our second mistake was trusting Jenner. We wanted answers, but we almost lost everything trying to get 'em. Then, the farm. I guess that was a mistake, too, now. You never know 'til after.

I don't say anything to that. It's cold, and I'm hungry, and I don't want to argue any more.

He's pleased with my silence. "Okay... We make camp tonight here; get back on the road at the break of day."

Carol murmurs something.

Whatever it was, Beth agrees with her. "What if walkers come through, or another group like Jim's?"

"Speaking of Jim," T-Dog fixes Rick with a look. "We ever gonna talk about him?"

Lori's confused. "What do you mean? What could possibly be left to talk about?"

"We saw him turn," He's happy to reveal to everyone. "Thing is, though, he wasn't bit."

"How is that possible?"

"Shane, too." I blurt. "I— I saw him when the farm went down."

Lori turns her gawking expression onto her husband. "What the Hell is going on?"

He's not looking at any of us. He's glaring at some ordinary pebble on the ground, brooding, hesitating.

Then, "We're all infected."

What?

It's so vague and profound that nobody knows what to make of it.

My Dad does us all a favor and squints at him. "How you mean?"

"At the CDC," He confesses, his voice a hoarse whisper that I can only just make out, "Jenner told me. Whatever it is, we all carry it."

We all carry—? The germs that make the dead ones come back? We all carry them?

He's been lyin' to us this whole time. The CDC, that was months ago.

Sometimes, lying ain't just sayin' something. It's not sayin' something. Daddy taught me that the night I told him I'd had a good day at school, and then come dinnertime, I let it slip that Ethan, the boy that sat behind me in class, had actually punched me in the belly that day at lunch. He got so mad. He ripped off my shirt. There was a purple blotch on my pale skin. Then he taught me how to punch boys back.

That's what Rick's done. He's hidden a purple blotch from us, and now we should be angry.

Carol steps forward, her silver brows pinched. "And you never said anything?"

I consider my body. I don't feel sick. Not like I did when we thought I was bitten.

Rick lamely asks, "Would it have made a difference?"

Yes, I think, but he already knows that.

Glenn accuses him, "You knew. You knew this whole time."

So, that's why Jim and Shane woke back up. You don't gotta get bit. You just gotta die and come back with enough to be able to bite.

That means even if you jumped off a bridge and all your bones were broken and you died, you would still come back.

My—

My Momma would'a still come back.

"How could I have known for sure, huh? Until we found Jim, I had no proof Jenner was even tellin' the truth. You saw how crazy that mother f—"

Glenn cuts him off. "That is not your call. Okay?"

"When Daryl found out about the walkers in the barn," Lori adds, "He told everyone as soon as he had the chance."

Rick don't care. "Well... I thought it best if people didn't know."

Glenn and Dad look right at me. Like they've both thought the same thing I have. They're the only ones here that know what happened to my Momma. I remember telling Glenn about it at the CDC. Momma. We were outta the city when it happened. It was the night the world ended twice. First when we got the call, and again when our neighbours tried to eat us. It's a lot of people's worst ever night. It's mine.

I won't ever know for sure, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought the rules didn't apply to my Momma.

At least we know that if any of us were to die, the others would make sure we didn't turn. Survivor's honor, or whatever it's called.

The silence goes on for so long that he just gives us one last look over, turns, and walks away. Nobody cares where.

Dad crouches; looks up at me. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah," My voice wobbles, but I'm telling the truth. "I just... Don't wanna think about it."

Glenn clears his throat. "Well, it looks like we don't have much of a choice about this. We need to set up camp."

As everyone slowly breaks off to do their part, Dad takes my hand and leads me over to his motorcycle. "Got somethin' for ya."

Oh, right. The hearing aid; bits and pieces.

I'd almost forgotten.

"I hope it ain't complicated," I tell him, fiddling with my craggled ear. "Maggie said Herschel don't know about this stuff."

"We'll figure it out." He promises, before squeezing my hand and letting it go. "I ain't even sure if they work."

He opens the saddlebag, taking out a wrinkled plastic bag. He reaches in and pulls out what looks like an unusually shaped piece of skin-colored plastic with a rubber bulb on the end. And two other hearing aids, one brown and one purple, the type I'd recognise.

He stuffs the bag away and tucks some hair behind my good ear, making room to stick the first one in.

"I think it goes like that." He leans in closer, messing around with something on the back of it. "How do I—...?"

Something clicks.

All of a sudden, there are birds in the trees.

My eyes go wide, jaw dropping, gawking out at the forest like I've never seen one before.

A grin sneaks its way onto my face.

"The birds," I muse quietly, taking in the sounds of their distant chirps. "I can hear 'em, Dad."

It's not perfect. It's not as crisp as it was before. I think the batteries are low. But I don't care. It's still one of my favorite sounds.

He's smiling faintly up at me. "Good."

"Dad, your voice!"

"My voice?"

"I forgot what it's s'posed to sound like," I giggle. "It's so loud. And annoying."

He snorts, giving my butt a smack for being silly. "Well now when ya tire of my naggin', you can just pull that thing out."

As quickly as it had come to life, it makes a crackling noise, a sudden beep, and then there are no more birds.

I pluck the aid out my ear, giving it a bittersweet look. It didn't last forever, but it was nice while it did.

He mumbles something; then, louder, "We'll find some more batteries soon. Sorry, baby."

"Don't be sorry." I say. "It was perfect."

After packing them back into the saddlebag, we leave to collect firewood together. I imagine the sounds of the birds around us.

Night comes. We can't stop it.

I pretend we're camping.

We're not stranded. No, we just decided to go on a camping trip together because we thought it would be fun. That's why we're all huddled around a campfire in the dark, instead of sleeping in our beds at the farm. I'm curled up against Dad's stomach, which is better than a bed, I think. Beth's cuddled into her Dad's side, too, staring into the flames while Maggie and Glenn whisper to each other beside them.

I wish we had a deck of cards. I wish any of us would wanna play.

We got nothing but a wall of stone to protect us from the forest on the other side, but I pretend that away, too.

I just focus on the sound of an owl hooting somewhere off in the trees. I bet it ain't scared. Owls; they know the night.

Tomorrow, we're gonna have cheap steak and ketchup for breakfast, and then Merle's gonna let me sit on his shoulders just like always.

"We're not safe with him," Carol suddenly mutters, and that's not something I can pretend away. I'm back here, now, and we're stranded. No steak. No ketchup. No Merle. "Keeping something like that from us. Why do we need him? He's just gonna pull us all down."

Maybe I don't wanna be camping, anyway. It's good enough right here, surrounded by the people I care about.

"Nah." Dad's voice is a rumble in my lower back. "Rick's done alright by me and mine."

I cuddle further into him, shuddering lightly as he rubs my cold arms. His leather vest don't make a great blanket.

"You're his henchman." She reminds him. "And I'm a burden."

He scoffs. "And Harley?"

"You both deserve better," She says softly, her face pensive in the orange light.

It don't matter what we deserve, I told Shane when he said the same thing.

Unamused, Dad pries, "What do you want?"

"A man of honor."

"Rick has honor."

They leave it at that. I think they wish we had a deck of cards, too.

The owl hoots again.

Then, a branch breaks.

CRACK.

I straighten.

"What was that?" Beth murmurs worriedly. "Was it a walker?"

We all stare off into the dark, ready to fight whatever might come out of it.

"Could be anythin'," Dad mumbles as he stands, readying his bow. "Could be a racoon. Could be a possum. Could be the Easter bunny."

Carol hugs herself. "We need to leave. I mean, what are we waiting for?"

"Which way?" Glenn asks.

Maggie points at the thin trees behind T-Dog. "It came from over there."

"That's back from where we came."

"Yeah."

"The last thing we need is for everyone to be running off in the dark." Rick scolds us, reminding us he's here. The light from the fire washes him in flame, the dried blood on his forehead glistening with sweat. "We don't have the vehicles. No one's travelling on foot."

"Don't panic," Herschel soothes us all calmly, still clutching his shotgun.

Maggie argues, "I'm— I'm not sittin' here, waitin' for another herd to blow through. We need to move. Now."

"No one is goin' anywhere," Rick snarls.

"Do something!"

"I am doin' somethin'!" He retorts. If he really was that rubber band, this is the part where he would snap in two. "I am keepin' this group together. Alive! I've been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn't ask for this. I shot my best friend for you people, for Christ's sakes! For you Daryl, and you, Harley. I was the one that took care of Jim. Me! Everything! Everything has been on me!"

I know I said we were supposed to be angry with him. But, actually, I think we're just scared.

Lori's holding Carl's head to her chest. Dad stands in front of me, as if he doesn't want me to see. T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie; all with their mouths sealed shut, not sure where to look, or what to say. Is this really the same Rick that comforted me at dinner?

"Maybe you people are better off without me." He shrugs, taunting us. "Sure. Go ahead."

I've never had to be a leader before. I did have to kill Shane, but Rick's done so much more for us. I'm not better off without him.

"I say there's a place for us out there, but maybe—" He's just rambling, now. "Maybe it's just another pipe dream. Maybe I'm— Maybe I'm fooling myself again. I'm just as much a sucker as Shane was. But, hey, why don't you go find out yourself?"

He sweeps his hand behind him, presenting us with the forest.

"Huh? Send me a postcard."

I can't hear the owl anymore. I think it flew away.

"Go on. There's the door. You think you can do better? Let's see how far you get."

I pull the leather of Dad's vest up to my face, shyly peeping over the top of it; breathing shakily. I don't want to see how far I can get. I want to stay right here with my people, whether we're starving or not; freezing or not. I think everyone else does, too.

Or at the very least, they want to stay here where there's a warm fire and guns.

"No takers?" He lilts. "Fine. But get one thing straight. If you're staying—"

He pins every single one of us with a look.

"— This isn't a democracy, anymore."

That word Dale used. The one that means things is fair.

Then he sits right back down where he was before, like he didn't just threaten to abandon us all.

Slowly, everyone else sits back down too, because there's nothing else to do. We all heard him. We can't leave. When Dad settles in behind me again, I squirrel into his chest, his arms wrapping around me. There's no sound except for the branches crackling in the fire and the heartbeat beneath his shirt. I don't know where we go from here. But I do know Dad will keep me safe, and Rick will keep the group safe. He's worked himself raw and bloody to make sure we survive. The fish fry, the CDC, the highway, Shane, the fall of the farm. All of it.

We didn't survive all that bullshit just to fall apart now. There's still something out there for us.

We just have to find it.

Author's Notes.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed 😊

I'm sad to see the farm go, but we had a nice time while we were there.

Please leave a comment! I'm anxious to hear from you all after so long :)

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon daughter #twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #angst #rick grimes #reader #original character #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd

[allegra-writes]

"The Lesson"

Claimed series Part V

Armand x Daniel Molloy

NSFW

Warnings: Oof, let's see. Somnophilia, non-con elements, minor character death. I mean it, Daniel and Armand basically molest a sleeping or otherwise unable to consent woman, literally consume her as a meal and then proceed to get hot and heavy right next to her corpse. It is pretty misogynistic and I felt very uncomfortable writing it at times, but there is a plot reason for things to unfold the way they do this chapter. However, if any of this themes makes you uncomfortable, please do not read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable character, and for legal reasons I won't be accepting tips for this story or any story set in Anne Rice's Immortal Universe. Thank you!

MY MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

They came in through the window, like the nightmare creatures they both were now. Armand first, of course, Daniel was still as clumsy as a newborn calf taking its first steps on a barn floor when it came to the flying gift, so naturally, his maker was already leaning over the sleeping figure by the time he made it into the room.

It was a nice room, with cream-colored walls and a narrow single bed covered in a deep midnight blue comforter. The closet, bedside table, and small desk were also painted white, to imitate a set, but upon closer inspection, Daniel could see the different styles and materials. Still, the mismatched furniture didn’t take away from the charm of the small space, if anything, it gave a kind of whimsical quality to it. There were makeup tubes and hair pins strewn among old notebooks, a colorful scarf on the back of a chair alongside a maid uniform, evidence of an ordinary, inconsequential life being lived. If life was ever inconsequential, Daniel mused as he examined the rare black orchid plant kept on a faux antique ceramic mug, the titles of the few books in a language he could speak: Radcliffe, Poe, Shelley. He could see what Armand had meant back down the street when he had first caught whiff of the girl, half in love with death indeed.

“Daniel,” Armand’s voice cut through his reverie, “quit your delaying”

Right. They were there because of him, after all.

“Beloved, you need to feed” The older vampire’s tone softened as Daniel reached him, “and I chose her just for you”

And wasn’t that just a whole other level of fucked-up, not only Armand’s words but also the way they affected Daniel, warming him up inside the way only a youthful-looking vampire with cooper eyes and coal-black curls who ordered the entire menu of a fancy restaurant for him, or brought home emeralds and sapphires the size of his thumb because they reminded him of his eyes could? But he was too old now, wasn’t he? To try and pretend to be at war with himself. The very least he could do was refuse to be a hypocrite and admit that, when it came to Armand, all his morals, all his idealism, all the equality and human rights he had fought so hard for his entire career, simply flew out the window. What did those matter anyway, when he wasn’t human anymore?

As in a trance, Daniel walked ahead to meet his would-be-prey.

She was lovely. Long brown hair spread on white pillows, older than his daughters -thank god for the small mercies- and paler too, all milky skin so thin he could see the veins running under it, a web of blue and purple strings pulsing with life and heat. Daniel’s throat went dry, the hollow inside his stomach growing deep and black and endless. He felt lightheaded, the weak, slow beat of his own heart reverberating in his ears. Reluctantly, Daniel had to admit to the hunger.

“She’s beautiful”

“She’s perfect” Armand corrected, as if offended by the imaginary implications that he would pick anything less than top quality for his fledgling. Daniel realized she truly was, the shape of her voluptuous and undeniably seductive under the light sheets, enticing in her trusting, helpless sleep. Was this how Armand had felt looking at Daniel? All those nights, so many years ago, when he would wake up to his demonic lover’s weight on top of him, buried fangs deep, cock deep inside of him? Had he looked like this, so innocent, so defenseless, so ripe for the taking?

The girl’s eyes fluttered underneath her eyelids, stirring under Daniel’s gaze as if even in her unconscious state she was aware of the danger. But the soft stroking of Armand’s knuckles against her cheek was all it took for her to settle again, relaxing into the mattress, lips parting as she sighed in contentment.

Armand leaned to place a chaste, almost sweet kiss on her forehead.

"Come nearer, beloved," his maker commanded, hands never stopping their gentle stroking of that warm, pink skin, "focus your attention on her. Can you hear it? Do you feel it?"

It wasn’t hard, to find her heartbeat and let it capture him. To let the half-formed whispers from her mind reach his, even in her sleep, her melancholy, her sadness, her indefinable longing.

“She yearns for it, the rapture, the embrace, something she has only but glimpsed in her dreams, but has slipped from her like water through her fingers,” Armand explained, “yet she knows it exists… Wouldn’t it be cruel, Daniel? To allow her to go on without it, bereft in the isolating wasteland of modern existence, unsatisfied, victim of brute men and their rough deceivings, abusing of her passion and neglecting her?”

If Armand expected a reply, he was left wanting it. Daniel was incapable of replying, mesmerized as he was by the graceful movements of his maker’s hands as it glided over the sleeping beauty in his arms, tossing aside sheets, pushing up her sleeping shirt, uncovering more and more skin as it went.

“Our embrace, my beautiful boy, can penetrate that isolation, can delve into the root of her soul, we can give her that ecstasy she craves. It would only be fair, you see, in return for the precious elixir of her blood…”

“Return?” Daniel frowned, even as his eyes were still glued to the place Armand’s fingers were digging into the supple flesh of her inner thigh, sliding down until they could hook around her knee, parting her legs for him to see.

“Yes, Daniel, in return” He could hear the amused smile in Armand’s voice, “If you thought I brought you here to feast on her sweet, unpolluted blood and give her only darkness for all reward, you misunderstood the whole affaire”

There was a connection there, some parallel to be drawn between all those threesomes back in the seventies, letting Daniel watch Louis feed from him, and what he was proposing now, but Daniel’s mind was too muddled by hunger and desire to be able to examine it. Too far gone to even consider the ethics of what he was witnessing, as Armand popped the buttons of the girl's shirt one by one, baring full breasts and pink nipples to Daniel’s ravenous stare. Armand’s eyes were just as greedy, making sure he had all of his fledgling’s attention before lowering his head to trail open-mouthed kisses down the woman’s neck and chest, and breasts, letting his fangs nip at the delicate skin of her areola, only lapping at the drop of blood that sprung from the tiny cut once it slid down the curve of her tit. The sleeping girl arched her back, the softest of sighs leaving her mouth, and Armand rewarded her by bringing one of his hands down to tease at her covered crotch with the pad of his thumb, a wet patch quickly darkening the light cotton.

“Would you like to sample, Daniel?” The dark-haired vampire asked, the very image of sin with his blood-stained lips and naughty little smirk. Throat too dry for speech, Daniel nodded.

Instead of offering up her wrist or her neck as he expected, his maker slid his hand inside her panties. Daniel watched it move obscenely under the fabric as Armand fingered her for a few moments, before taking his hand out and offering him the glistening digits for him to suck clean.

Obediently, Daniel crawled towards him, taking the proffered fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste. It wasn't as good as blood, at least, Daniel didn't think it was. The truth was in the forty-six hours he had been a vampire, Armand’s blood was the only one he had tasted. His maker had fed, oh, he had fed plenty, it was obvious by the searing heat emanating from him and by the flush darkening his brown skin, probably sneaking out to hunt while Daniel still slept. But he had only drunk from Armand. Their time since he had first woken up as a member of the undead was spent in a feverish haze of animal, lustful sex, and little drinks from each other. Still, Daniel imagined if there was something to come even remotely close to the blood, it was this, this sweet, almost cloying nectar from their delectable little bride.

Armand smiled at him adoringly, approvingly.

“After all these years, all the distance between us… you are still my good boy, aren’t you, Daniel?”

Before any reply could take shape inside his head, the lovely beauty trapped between them woke up with a start. Daniel could feel her confusion give way to terror, and then to recognition as she took in the monstrous apparitions sharing her bed. It was a surreal thing, to be able to spy, but only partly, on the silent conversation taking place in front of him.

“It’s you, it’s really you… I dreamed of you… No, I’m not afraid… I knew you would come, I knew both of you would come”

It was her the one to initiate the kiss, even if Armand was the one to gently push her into Daniel’s arms, she was the one to part her lips and slip her tongue inside the mouth of the young immortal, moaning as she cut herself on his fang in her eagerness to taste death.

The first taste of her blood was a revelation. It was like sunshine flooding his veins, waking his senses back to life, bringing everything into an even sharper focus. Even time seemed to move slower as he departed from her candied, wet mouth and sank his fangs into her dainty little neck.

There was a struggle, at the beginning. After the initial sobering stab of white-hot pain, she twisted and scratched and beaten at Daniel’s chest with all her might, but her feeble human strength was no match for a vampire, not even one as young as Daniel was, and soon enough she gave into the swoon, letting Daniel press her close to his chest. Letting the hard pebbles of her nipples rub against him, arching her back for him as she melted into his embrace, pliant and supple again. Letting her heat warm Daniel’s lifeless body. Letting her pulse feed Daniel’s veins with every beat, letting his heart feast on her own.

He caught a glimpse of the enchanting dream Armand had woven for her, of the slightly damp moss she laid upon as a fresh breeze graced her skin, of the crickets and forest creatures serenading her to sleep under the night sky bejeweled with the stars she loved so dearly, before her mind faded completely.

“That’s enough, lover mine” Armand coaxed, voice soft but firm, “let her go, lest she drags you into that gentle goodnight with her”

Daniel found that was easier said than done. Letting go of her was as difficult as leaving a cozy bed on a cold winter morning, but Armand’s insistent hands left him no choice but to comply. A soft thumb swept over his lower lip.

“So messy…” Armand mused before licking the blood off his chin and mouth, and yes, that was the taste Daniel had craved for all this time, better than the swoon, better than the blood, the sweetest taste was his maker, his Armand. It was as easy and natural as muscle memory to pull him in on top of him and guide him to straddle his legs. Even after all those years, after all he had changed both in life and in death, Armand still fitted with him like a puzzle piece, like a perfectly tailored suit, meant just for him. It was only right, to feel Armand’s possessive touch under his t-shirt, those impossibly soft fingertips trailing his ribs one by one, the scrap of those glass-like nails sending shivers over his entire body.

Daniel’s own hands weren’t idle either, bunching up Armand’s sweater to his armpits so Daniel could suck and bite at those sensitive nipples and hear the pornographic sounds Armand always made when he focused on that particular part of his anatomy.

“Love these tits” Daniel growled low and dirty against Armand’s skin, “prettier than any girl’s”

Armand’s moan was filthy as he tugged at Daniel’s hair hard enough to rip some strands from his scalp, making him almost dizzy with want, if such a thing were possible for a creature of the night. But Armand was so fucking perfect, so hungry for it, hips rolling against Daniel’s, hands ripping his shirt off his body, Daniel couldn’t help but think, for the millionth time, he was going to be his undoing.

“Hey! I liked that t-shirt” He protested, lying through his teeth cuz the truth was he couldn’t give a crap about the old, faded, grey piece of clothing. He simply wanted to hear Armand say:

“I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll buy you a thousand shirts just so I can tear them to shreds to unwrap you” Just like the old times, “You are my gift from Louis, my beautiful boy”

“Am I?” Daniel replied, defiant as always, “Why don’t you tie me up all tight and pretty with a bow then? What you waiting for?”

"So impertinent" Armand tsked, sliding his hand inside Daniel’s jeans in retaliation, "I would punish your insolence, but I know you'd only enjoy it"

Whatever reply hung on the tip of Daniel’s quick tongue, it was left unsaid as Armand’s fingers closed around his length.

It was still as intense, as electrifying, as debilitating as the first time. Daniel couldn’t help to throw his head back, his neck suddenly too weak to support his swooning head. Armand’s hand against his nape, however, pulled him back into place, probably so Daniel wouldn’t get a glance at the quickly cooling corpse right next to him.

“No, keep your eyes open, beloved. I want you to look” He commanded, sounding as breathless as Daniel felt. It wasn’t a hassle to obey, though, not when Armand was taking his own cock out of his pants, thick and long and pulsing with borrowed blood, Daniel couldn’t have taken his eyes off of it even if he had wanted to. And he certainly didn’t want to.

Armand spat on his hand then, nasty and vulgar, before wrapping his hand around both their members. Fingers unable to surround both girths at the same time, he started slowly pumping his hand up and down, in the rhythm that was sure to drive Daniel mad.

What the technique might have lacked in physical stimulation, more than made up for in visuals, the image of Armand’s cock pressed against his, longer, leaking all over his, the contrast of his bronze skin against his, stone white and washed out, they way it seemed to grow and fill even more before his eyes, the way the veins popped…

“Armand…” Daniel pleaded, without knowing what for, “Need… I need”

“Yes, beloved” Armand replied, guiding Daniel’s face to his neck, “here, from my throat”

It was just what the fledgling needed, shuddering with the force of his release the very instant his maker’s blood hit his tongue.

“Yes, like that” Armand husked, the rhythm of his hand growing more and more erratic, the longer Daniel drank, “harder, take it all…”

Daniel bit down deeper, sinking his human teeth on the hard flesh, tearing muscle up, making Armand explode, copious amounts of hot fluid bathing his cock, splashing on his stomach.

He retracted his fangs then, but kept lapping at the open, messy wound with his tongue, relishing in the waves of both aftershocks combined, refusing to let the link between their minds shut down again, holding Armand’s shivering body close against his, uncaring of the mess. There was a desperation, a deep melancholy emanating from Armand’s thoughts as he came down, the same bone aching loneliness he had caught a glimpse of the very first time they had come together at that bar, eliciting the same ferocious devotion in him, and he suddenly understood…

The dance was finally over.

Daniel’s destiny had finally been fullfilled. The devil’s minion through and through, born, dead and reborn, at last reaching his final form. Forever servant and master to the ageless creature clinging to him.

Don’t let me go, it begged, don't ever let me go.

I won’t, Daniel vowed, knowing in his blood there would be no running away for him.

I won’t, a promise and a threat, I love you.

I love you, a blessing and a curse, I love you.

Forever.

Next part (back to 1973)

#claimed series #the devil's minion #armand x daniel molloy #smut #dead dove do not eat #mind the warnings #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #interlude with the undead

[icanbeyourjedi-writes]

Dear Frankie Chapter Four

Summary: Falling asleep in Frankie’s arms is everything you hoped it would be. He is one of a kind, and your heart breaks the moment he tells you he has to leave.  Words: 4259 Rating: 18+ SMUT please don’t read if you are under 18 Warnings/Triggers for series: Frankie is active duty military, deployment, death, Adult language, themes, and SMUT

A/N: So I don’t really know anything…ok I know nothing about Fayetteville, North Carolina.  I am taking my own liberties on what it’s like there.  Names of places may exist, but I have no idea if they are real or not as well as some of the events I have.  But its fan fiction and there are no rules.  While the reader may have some descriptions, I am doing my best to leave out physical characteristics. Just try to have a little imagination while you're reading this.  This story had come to be from that photo of Pedro in the white suit for the NYC premiere of Massive Talent. It made me think of an Angel, then talking with @tauralmie kinda came up with this idea of a story where what if one deployment Frankie didn’t come home, and you had been dreaming of him so much, you see him wearing that white suit. That is how this little series was developed.  Special Thanks to @heythere-mel for betaing and always listening to my random half assed ideas

**Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. **

-November 2011-

I never expected ‘waiting’ out the storm would turn into staying the night. I didn’t know I’d be falling asleep in your arms. But it was the best night sleep, and something I could get used to. I have never felt so safe in an unknown place. Being wrapped in your arms felt like home. As sad, confused and a little upset as I was after hearing I wasn’t the only girl you took to the lake I am so glad I stayed. It made me realize no matter how slow we take this, as long as it’s with you, I’m in. I’m all in, I’ll go as slow as it takes. 

You had to roll the waist of his boxers a few times for them to sit on your hips without them falling off with each step you took. Baby blue in color with little sail boats. It gave you a chuckle at how this big, strong, army pilot had such adorable boxers. Pulling the black shirt over your head, the smell of him fills your senses; teakwood and bourbon slowly becomes your favorite scent. Stepping out of the bathroom, the bedroom is dark; a lamp near the corner by the bookshelf and couch is the only source of light. Frankie lounging on the sofa with a book in his hand

“I’ll sleep here; and you can take the bed” his knees are up to his chest, he stretches. Setting the book down as he stands hearing you step foot into the room turning the light off behind you

“Frankie, that couch is far too small for you to sleep on comfortably. Take the bed, it’s your house. I can sleep on the couch” 

He fixes his shirt and he stands up fully, making his way to you. He wasn’t used to seeing a girl in his clothes. He was almost always at the women’s home, and he was leaving by the time the sun rose. There was no need, or reason a partner would need his clothes. He’d never admit it, at least not out loud to the guys. But this look, this moment was the moment he knew he was falling, and falling hard. He liked seeing how his shirt hung on you, he liked how you rolled his boxers up so they’d fit you. Your hair’s a little damp and resting on your shoulders. He liked the length of it, just enough to hold on to. He imagined holding it, while the two of you were between the sheets. He wanted to tell you at this very moment that he loved you, and you would have let him. But he was scared that it was too fast, too soon. 

A loud thunderous clap fills the room and you flinch at the sound, you’ve never been a fan of thunderstorms. Frankie wraps his arms around you. You turn your head resting it on his chest, you wrap your arms around him. He places a barely there kiss to your head “you know, we can share the bed and nothing but sleep can happen” you squeeze him a little tighter when another loud boom hits 

“Just sleep?” He questions 

“Just sleep…If that’s all you want” you humm the response 

“But what if I want to kiss you?” He moves his hand to turn your face to him, his thumb holding your chin “I like kissing you” 

“Kiss” you say and he leans in closing the distance and giving you a quick kiss to the lips “and sleep” you say against his lips 

-February 2012-

Just sleeping next to you was so hard. I wanted to take it to the next level. I am ready for it and I want you to be the first. My first. Frankie, I am falling in love with you more everyday. I know at some point we are going to have to say good-bye when you get the call. It might be selfish, but I don’t care - I don’t want that day to come. I want to keep you here. With you wrapped around me I feel like I’m protected from whatever the world can throw at us. You keep me safe from the bad, until the bad comes from you. 

Laying on Frankie’s right shoulder his arm stretched out, his left wrapped around you. Holding you a way a small child holds a stuffed animal while they sleep. You turn your head and place a kiss on his bare chest. His right hand moving to the back of your head, fingertips massaging it. 

“Hi,” he whispers to the morning air not wanting to wake up from this 

It’s been almost 3 months since that first night. That night of falling asleep in his arms. Trivia Thursday led to Frankie Friday and it was honestly your favorite day of the week. A day the two of you had free or in Frankie’s case, mostly free. 

“Good Morning mi Pescado…kiss” you smile turning up to look at him 

He returns the smile, tilting his head to kiss your forehead. He tilts your head up to kiss the tip of your nose, before kissing you on the lips. “Mi Estrellita, I need to tell you something” 

“Ok?” You try to hide your worried tone as he lays his head back down on the pillow 

“Catfish…how I earned the name. It did come from the ability to hold my breath for long periods of time. That part is true. I was a swimmer in high school…but that’s not the only reason I got the name” he says. He’s staring at the ceiling. You can tell he is trying to keep his breathing even 

You lift your head up, placing your right hand over his heart and rest your chin on it, “is it because you get these little whiskers when your beard starts to grow in?” you brush your fingers over his lip with your free hand 

He chuckles and it vibrates your entire body, you love the sound of his laugh and the way he closes his eyes, little crinkles appear. Seeing him happy makes your heart swell “no…well not exactly. Wait, do I really look like a catfish?” 

“Lil’ bit. But it adds to your handsomeness” your thumb lingers on his lower lip pulling it down slightly 

“Sure…handsomeness” he rolls his eyes “but back to holding my breath and a catfish. I can hold my breath for long periods of time, and not just when I’m underwater. But when I am under something…or I should say someone”

It takes a few moments for you to process what he means by under someone. “Oh…ooooh” you say when it all clicks. You know the guys are the ones that gave him the nickname, or call-sign as they called it. You want to ask how they found out about this ‘talent’. It was like he could read your mind and he started to tell you the story of how he and Benny ended up with the same girl. Benny after Frankie, and she had told Ben about how this pilot she had been with was the best she ever had. She met him at a bar, but he was gone before the sun. She eventually told Benny the pilot’s name; and that’s how the name Catfish was born. 

“If it changes how, you look at me, I understand. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner” his fingertips draw a line up and down your spine “I was scared, and I wanted you to know Frankie, not Catfish before I fucked everything up” 

You nod your head, tucking his little whisps behind his ear. Frankie was like an onion, and you were slowly peeling back the layers

“It’s why I wanted to go slow. I’m not good at the romance thing, despite all the books. I’m…I, I didn’t want you to be a one-night stand”

Frankie removes his hands from you when you push yourself up, your body facing away from him. Frankie follows, sitting up as well. His back against the headboard. It takes a minute to find the right words. You knew he was experienced in that department; you just didn’t expect that experience to lead to his name, “is that why you didn’t want to come in on your first date?”

“Yes” he says quickly “I like you. I haven’t been in a relationship since high-school. One-night stands were easier. No strings attached. No one to miss me when I leave. The feelings I had, still have, scare me. You can do so much better than me” 

Catfish: a freshwater or marine fish with barbels resembling whiskers around the mouth. Typically, bottom dwelling. 

When you told me how you really got the name I’m not going to lie, it’s not what I imagined. The fact that you got the name and the pussy-eating-king title scare me and worry me that you’re going to leave when you learn my secret. 

“Better?” You turn to face him; his mood has changed. He looks as if he has zoned out and, in another world 

“Yeah,” he shrugs “I’m not that great” he puts his head back 

The mood in the room had changed. You woke up and couldn’t be happier, and now…it’s cold and somber. Frankie kept selling himself short and you wish he could see him from your eyes. You reach for him, putting a hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb along the top part of it. 

“Frankie, from where I sit. Your pretty great” 

“Kiss?” He asks 

Kiss…it started simple. Anytime either of us didn’t have the right words to say, we’d utter the simple word, with an even simpler response. Frankie, you always sell yourself short. You always say you aren’t the romantic type. But from our first definitely-not-a-date date, to a date. To the first kiss, to how you simply just hold me. You look at me like I’m the only girl in the world. Frankie, you are the romantic type, and I just wish you could see it. 

“I have to go away for a while” he tells you. He holds his face between his hands, afraid that you're going to turn away from him. That you would get up and leave him.

“For work?” You sigh and he nods closing his eyes “how long?” 

“Four to six months, I…I fuck I don’t want to leave. We were just getting this figured out. Now I have to leave” he leans forward placing his forehead against yours “I’m sorry. I am so so sorry” 

“Well…” you close the short distance kissing him “we’ll just have yo pick this up when you get back” 

“Really?  You still want me…or to wait for me?” He pulls back just enough to see your face. Looking into your eyes searching for an answer he already knows the answer too

“Yes,” you move your body and throw your leg over him. Lifting yourself to straddle him, sitting on his thighs. Hands resting at the base of his neck resting on his shoulders “I mean you are going to have to show me why they call you ‘catfish’ when you get back” you thumbs tilt his head up and you pull him towards you, starting a slow make out session

His hand slides under the hem of your shirt, his shirt. His hands rubbing up and down your sides leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His tongue brushes against yours and he swallows your moan of pleasure. Your fingers thread through his shorter hair. Still just long enough for you to pull. He leans forward, his body weight shifting as he is about to throw you on your back so he can hover you when there is a knock on the door. 

“Fish…there’s no sock on the door, so I pray to God your decent” Benny’s muffled voice becomes clearer as the door is cracked open further. You nearly jump off Frankie, moving to his side “oh shit…hey Sella. Sorry I don’t know you stayed the night” 

“Hi Benjamin” you smile, hiding your face in Frankie’s shoulder. 

“I hate to interrupt, whatever was going on here, but Fish we are gonna be late” 

“Late?” You question. It was Frankie’s day off or well his usual day off 

“Meeting. A briefing actually. Preparing us for our tour when we leave Tuesday. Wait…he did tell you right and I just didn’t drop that information” Benny puts a hand over his face 

Frankie did tell you, he just failed to tell you when he was leaving. He didn’t tell you it was so soon. Benny continues to talk. Frankie telling him ‘thank you’ hoping he would finally take the hint to leave. But your mind was racing. Tuesday wasn’t that far away, he would be leaving for months, and the scariest thing. He may not come back. The door closes and the tears you didn’t know you were holding back begin to fall. 

Standing in front of the buses that would soon be taking him away, brought you back to your childhood. Your Mom's hand in your small one. Your other hand holding onto a teddy bear your Dad had given you. You wipe away tears watching him get on the bus. Blowing a kiss to you and your Mom, you crying and yelling for him not to go. 

Holding Frankie’s hand, staring at the ground. His thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of yours. You had so many things you wanted to tell him. “Kiss?” He asks, bringing your gaze up to him. You could see the fear in his eyes and the sadness in his voice. You nod your head yes, leaning into him. The kiss not lasting nearly long enough. 

“Do you have to go?” You ask barely above a whisper. Not expecting him to hear you 

“I do…” he nods. His forehead resting against yours. His hand moving to cup your face as he pulls back. His eyes never leaving yours “promise me something?” 

“Anything” 

“Live your life while I’m gone. I don’t want you to worry about me…” 

“Frankie…” you interrupt him 

He shakes his head and continues “…if a better opportunity comes along, take it” 

You can’t believe the words he is saying. After all this time, after everything you’ve told him he still doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe that you want to be with him and only him. The look he gives you when you tell him you don’t want better, it breaks your heart. The man will never believe he is good enough. 

“You promised” his voice cracks 

“Fine, I promise you Frankie. But I need you to promise me something in return” you wrap your fingers around his wrists that still hold your face. He nods, “promise me, you’ll come home” 

“I’ll do everything I can” he says, leaning in to capture your lips with his once more. It wasn’t the words you wanted to hear and he knew that. He was praying the kiss would make up for the wrong words. His hope that this kiss would be the answer you were looking for. 

Your fingers tighten around the fabric of his jacket. His hold on your gentle, his thumbs brushing along the side of your cheeks, holding your face to his. The kiss ends all too soon as a booming voice yells at the remaining men to get to their respectful bus. Frankie pulling back slowly, his hands still holding your face. His eyes roaming your face, it was like he was trying to commit every detail to memory. The voice yells again, “I have to go now, Estrella” he sighs. You lean in quickly giving him one last kiss before he completely pulls away. 

You watch as he gets in the small line boarding his bus not too far in front of you. “Hey Morales!” You yell and he turns his head in your direction, “one more thing. I love you” you say.

He stares at you wide eyed with a smile. He goes to open his mouth when the buses rev to life, starting to pull away. The sounds of the engines is all you can hear, you can see his lips moving but unable to understand anything he is saying. The men behind him usher him up the steps of the bus, and before you know it his bus is pulling away. 

How soon is too soon to say those words? 

I know you’ve never say them, I know you want to mean it when you do. But, Frankie, I meant it. I mean it; I love you. I needed you to know that before you left. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, I wanted you know that I won’t find something better when I have the best already. 

-March 2012- 

When you told me you were going to be gone 4-6 months I thought, sure…no problem. It’s not that long. But it’s only been a month and I am missing you like crazy. Saying goodbye to you that morning was hard. The worst part of all of it was knowing it could be the last time seeing you. The last time talking to you; holding you; and feeling your lips against mine 

It was late, you couldn’t sleep. You turn your head and glance at the clock on your nightstand. 1:00 AM the bright red numbers read. You know you should close your eyes, beg the sleep to come. But your mind keeps thinking of him. Where he was, what was he doing? Was he safe? Was he drinking enough water? Was he thinking of you the same way you were thinking of him?

Unable to take it any more you toss the blankets off of you. Tossing your legs to the side you lift yourself out of bed. You move as quiet as you can to the kitchen, you don’t know why. Heather and Tyler were upstairs; they'd never hear you. Making yourself a cup of hot tea to maybe, just maybe get your mind to relax. It’s been almost 2 months without him. If you were going to make it through this first tour together, you were going to need to figure out a way to relax. You did it when you were a kid with your Dad, you’d totally be able to do it with him. For him. 

You picked up a journal at the store the day he left. It had been years since you sat down and wrote. You thought it might help. You could tell Frankie about the things he was missing. This way when he came back, he could read it, and make him feel like he never left. You wrote about the things that reminded you of him. No matter how small they were. 

Like how the supermarket added 8 new flavors of ice cream:

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT, 8 NEW FLAVORS. I TRIED A BUNNY TRACKS ONE AND THEY MIGHT BE BETTER THAN YOUR SWEATY BALLS. 

And how the other night you looked up to the night sky and thought of him 

I saw a shooting star today, it brought me back to dancing with you at the lake that night. It made me wonder what the night sky looked like where you are

The journal entries weren’t always long, and sometimes it was just a bunch of gibberish, but you made sure to write down everything. 

I miss not calling you, I miss your random texts. Even when it was about a new helicopter maneuver I didn’t understand. I miss Trivia Thursdays and I really miss those mornings on Frankie Fridays where we shared our secrets. 

Working at a radio station made it hard; especially when every song reminded you of him. 

Friends in low places played on the radio today. All I could imagine was you in that worn-out flannel you always wear. That favorite pair of jeans, and your black cap I hardly see you without. Standing on that little stage at ‘down the road’ your hand on the mic and singing the first few lines of the song. Just waiting for the chorus to kick in so everyone can join you. I really hope that one day I get the chance to hear you sing. 

It was your birthday, you sat on your small sofa with Heather and Tyler. There was some Star Wars movie marathon on. You didn’t have any plans, it was just another day. But Heather refused to watch you, he sad. She was your best friend after all and it was her mission to make the day great. Tyler did the chef thing; making you some fancy pasta dish and a tres leches cake. The sun had just set and you were more than ready to call it a night. There was a knock on the door. You know it was a long shot, and there was no way that it could be him. But one could hope right? Your heart started to heat a little faster the closer you got to the door. 

“A little late for a delivery isn’t it?” Heather questions as you open the door 

You knew it wasn’t going to be him, but it still made you sad when the man at the door wasn’t Frankie. The grey haired man asked for your signature and he handed you a bouquet of pink roses, a card with the name Estrella written in elegant handwriting across the front. You close the door as you turn back toward the couch smelling the flowers making you smile from ear to ear and their sweet scent. You catch a glimpse of Heather looking at you, a shit eating grin on her face. “Shut up…” you plop on the couch 

“I didn’t even say anything” she throws her hands up in defense. 

You carefully rip the card from the paper around the bouquet and open it 

Mi Estrellita,  I am so sorry I am missing your birthday. I know a bouquet of roses is silly and probably super cheesy but it’s all I could think of. I wish I could be there to celebrate. I pre-ordered these when I found out I was leaving. The girl at the flower shop said pink roses mean elegance and grace. I found out they also mean happiness. That’s something you brought to my life. I know my crappy handwritten letter doesn’t make up for me not being there, but we can celebrate when I get home. 

-Tu Pescado

Your fingers move over the last two works. Two simple words that for you held so much more meaning. Tu pescado- your fish. It may not be an ‘I love you’ but it was close enough to show you how much you meant to him. 

Frankie, 

If this is you thinking you're not good at the romance thing, it makes me wonder what your definition of good is. The flowers were beautiful. But it was your “crappy” handwritten letter that meant the most. I am counting down the days until I am able to see you again and know that you are safe. Until then Mi Pescado, I’ll look at the stars and dream of you. 

Work had been much of the same day in - day out. Answering phones, taking requests. Going to local spots to promote the station. Working and playing songs for your 8 hour shift some days made it difficult. Especially on those days that you’d hear a song reminding you of him. The closer the day of him returning made it even harder. 

“Thanks for calling WJPP, what can I help you with today” you try to sound cheerful. You were exhausted. Another sleepless night, Frankie was to be home any day now and each day he wasn’t it was harder to not think of the worse things. 

“Uhm yes I would like to request a song” the voice sounds muffled 

“Yes sir, what song is that?” 

“Open Arms, and I’d like to dedicate it too. To Mi Stella…shit I mean Estrella” 

“Uhm ok…and your name?” 

“Come outside” the voice is different this time. Clearer and deeper. It’s a voice you swear you'd recognized anywhere 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Come outside” and he hangs up

You look at the phone before hanging it up. Looking over at your coworker she nods her head and smiles. Your work was safe, you had to have a badge to get in…security would drive around the lot. But you also have no idea what is going on. It wasn’t that you gave up hope on him coming home, it just wasn’t a day you were expecting to see him. You move to the main doors of the office, the large glass doors and you don’t see anyone outside. 

“Estrella…” you hear from your left and you turn your head in the direction of the voice 

And you see him, his baby face he left you with replaced with a mustache and a beard. His hair is longer now too. Still dressed in full fatigues. His eyes suckin and looks of sorrow written on his face. Your heart breaks and fills with joy. Your feet bring you to him without even thinking. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. Your arms move around his neck melting into him. You stand there just holding him for a few moments before you pull back. Your arms moving your hands to cup his face. “Hi…” you whisper not wanting to ruin the moment 

“Hi, I’m home” 

A/N/N: Check out @littlemisspascal​ library for more amazing works 

#Pedro Pascal #Frankie Morales #Francisco Morales #Pedro Pascal Characters #Pedro Pascal Character FanFic #Triple Frontier AU #Christiina Writes #Dear Frankie #Frankie 'CATFISH' Morales #Francisco 'CATFISH' Morales #ICanBeYourJedi

[mermaidsirennikita]

Caro's Best Reads of 2022

2022 was an interesting year for me in general, and that did not let up re: my reading life. I continued to read almost exclusively romance, with a few exceptions. Most of that was historical romance--but that's not the only subgenre I love. I'm also trying to make more of a concentrated effort to explore other subgenres, for a couple reasons.

A) Very bluntly, to avoid burnout. Variety is the spice of life, etc.

B) Historical romance can be amazing. However, it can also be very white and heteronormative. To me, it's easier to be aware of the pitfalls of some historical romance novels when you read from subgenres that offer greater variety.

I also finally really got into Immortals After Dark and... By God, my life was changed. I don't think I've ever read a romance series that really thrilled me quite as much (newbs get a cheat sheet). I'm going to list my favorite IAD books here, (separately) but know that I do advocate for reading that series in order due to its mythos and series-long arc.

I'm not ranking these books, because I can't. And this list is about what I read this year, not what was released this year. I will, however, be holding 2023 ARCs that would have made off the list, because I feel like it's a bit unfair.

With that said--here's what I loved the most this year.

A Lady for a Duke by Alexis Hall.

A gorgeous historical romance that is, in fact, one of the few friends to lovers novels that works for me. It's true that A Lady for a Duke breaks new ground in historical romance--and it's an inherently queer story. Even beyond Viola's identity as a trans woman, much of this novel surrounds the concept of the found family--the Duke of Gracewood is saved not only by Viola, but his family. The story takes turns that I didn't expect, especially regarding the physical nature of Viola and Gracewood's relationship; this one doesn't take any kind of expected, heteronormative beats. But at the end of the day, what struck me most was how truly I felt like Viola and Gracewood knew each other deeply. And as their knowing shifted to a romantic and sexual relationship... It was just really, really moving. And, it must be said, super passionate.

Run, Run, Rabbit by C.M. Nascosta.

Listen, while everyone else was loving the minotaur book--and look, I get it, the minotaur book is very well-done, I'm not saying y'all are wrong--THIS was my Nascosta of choice. Run, Run, Rabbit is a quick, very dirty read that toes some lines with romance and gives us a deliciously toxic couple in Grayson and Vanessa. They are coworkers (really, he's kind of her boss), they're lawyers, they hate each other, and they are werewolves. This one is primal on every level--much of it is told in flashbacks around the framing device of a Lupercalia in which Vanessa is just dying for an alpha male to chase her, catch her, and fuck her in front of a million other werewolves. But it's also primal in that, while Grayson and Vanessa want to keep their relationship surface level... As the deeply competitive, naturally wolfish, and frankly erotic people they are, the time they spend together fucking and talking after they fuck and revealing casual truths to each other is true intimacy. They fall in love without realizing it, and he does! Remain! An asshole! There aren't easy fixes in this book, and I can't say I'm confident Vanessa and Grayson have like, healthy relationship at the end... but I am confident that they're under each other's skin in every way. (Also: there is shifted sex in this. You've been warned.)

Heated Rivalry by Rachel Reid.

The "closeted gay hockey player" is kind of a subgenre of a subgenre in romance--if you like sports romance and you like m/m romance, maybe you'll like... And as someone who does find hockey to be the sexiest sport, but also a sport I don't know about and don't care to watch, I wasn't that into the concept. Then I read Heated Rivalry. And then I read Heated Rivalry again. And then I read The Long Game. And then I read Heated Rivalry again-- There's something addict and charged and just like, achingly romantic and hot about this book. Ilya and Shane feel like real people to me. Their romance feels real. I buy that they would be in and out of each other's lives for like, a decade, unable to fully let their thing go while also being unable to commit. Shane's internalized homophobia contrasted with Ilya's seemingly carefree bisexuality (I say seemingly because... Ilya is Russian) adds stakes to a story that is really mostly about two people having to come to terms with the fact that they are in love. The Long Game is also a worthy sequel, delving further into Ilya's sense of humor and extroverted charm as a coping device for his trauma and depression--and giving them real challenges as a couple, while preserving the romance and happy ending. Fucking LOVE.

Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage by Jennifer Ashley.

If you want a marriage in trouble book--this is a marriage in trouble book. What I love about this novel is that it really examines like... what happens after that sweeping romance. Mac and Isabella are instantly smitten, and he is the classic rogue and she's the classic virgin, and he sweeps her away and they marry and it should be happily ever after... But the little things pile on, until the two of them can't withstand a BIG THING together. You feel the sense that he's given her space, and you feel the gravity of their situation, which is why she needs that space so badly. This is basically a book-long grovel--with paint sex, because Mac is one of the few artist heroes that actually works. And it's also deeply, intensely, painfully hot in a way that can only be found in a book about two people who know each other emotionally and physically, and know exactly how to push each other's buttons. This is what I want out of a good, angsty historical romance.

The League of Gentlewomen Witches by India Holton

I also read The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels this year, and that was another five-star read. But The League of Gentlewomen Witches took it all up to another notch for me. The magic was even more whimsical. The heroine was even more lovable (in this case, a proper lady who desperately wanted to walk on the wild side, my favorite). The sexual tension was hotter, the romance swoonier, the pirate even sluttier. I frankly had a great time with it, and it only got me more invested in the quirky, wacky world India Holton has created. Escapism at its finest.

Indigo by Beverly Jenkins.

Yes, obviously Indigo is a classic. But I had never read it, okay? And God, I'm glad I did. Indigo is beautifully written and romantic as fuck, with one of my favorite grand gestures I've ever read in a book. (Really, two of them.) It's also an older book, and there is like, a wacky kind of villain that I imagine you could pick apart critically... However, I loved the drama of it all. And there's just something really classic and beautifully sweeping about Galen and Hester's love story. He's a rake who's smitten. She's a smart, sensible woman who's innocent in many ways, but experienced enough in life to be skeptical about his devotion. He chases her, literally and metaphorically, throughout the novel--and why wouldn't he? Hester is awesome, and Galen knows she's awesome. There's journeying, there's action, and there's the embedded history that Beverly Jenkins fucking aces. She knows how to tell a story authentically, and Indigo is just.... Both incredibly romantic and ready to bring you to tears.

Lead by Kylie Scott.

I just really enjoyed Kylie Scott's Stage Dive series in general, and the final book, Deep, was also a five-star read for me. But I decided to single out the third book, Lead, because it just felt so different from the rest. We're introduced to Jimmy in the first book at its lowest--in many ways, he was the villain. The hero's promiscuous brother who was high (once to the point of overdose) for most of his page time, essentially harassing his brother's new wife... While we find out that he also slept with his brother's ex-girlfriend. What this book does is show us the work that Jimmy has done and is doing, pairing him with the only kind of heroine that could work for him--a no-nonsense broad who doesn't take his shit and is a friend to him far before things get romantic. Lena and Jimmy's romance is full of tension and unsaid feelings, and when feelings are said--and acted upon--God, does he fuck up. A couple of times. It's the kind of push-pull angsty romance that's great to read, coupled with great sex scenes (even if Jimmy is very bad at after care) and Kylie Scott's signature sense of humor. A fabulous celebrity romance.

Forbidden by Elizabeth Lowell.

Elizabeth Lowell's medieval trilogy is a fabulous shot of pure 90s drama, with everything from horrible heroes who can't love to.... horrible heroes who can't love, even more! Forbidden really took me aback, though. It's got everything: a kind of wacky premise full of medieval borders I didn't fully understand, a rich sense of the world and atmosphere, a bit of mysticism, and a CURSE. Oh, also, amnesia! This is one of those books that hinges on something being revealed... and once that thing is revealed? Oh, shit. Is the fallout fantastic. And that's what really got me about this one. The emotional reactions, the way everyone had to withstand the drama between Duncan and Amber? Oh yes, she is Amber--Amber the Untouched. Incredible. And he, of course, is the sub-villain of the previous book, which makes all of this even more intense. Old school excellence.

The Bride Goes Rogue by Joanna Shupe.

If you want to get emotionally invested and on the edge of your seat for a romance novel.... You need to read Joanna Shupe. The Bride Goes Rogue has all the beats of a great Shupe book--the hero is a ruthless tycoon, the heroine has zero time for his bullshit, and there is much illicit sex, partying, and secrets. Oh, and the hero absolutely hates the heroine's father and wants to destroy him. What I think takes The Bride Goes Rogue to another level is the interplay between Preston and Katherine, the way they can't help but needle each other at every moment. It goes beyond enemies to lovers--it's how they're physically wired. It's a dom/sub book, straight up; Katherine loves pushing his buttons, and she gets off on teasing him. The power she wields over this man while playing submissive is great to see--and the grovel? Please. All of this wrapped up in Joanna Shupe's Gilded Age, which is my favorite iteration of the era. Addictive, and leads into an even better book... which isn't out until next month, hence why it's not on this list.

How to Steal A Scoundrel's Heart by Vivienne Lorret.

One thing I really appreciate out Vivienne Lorret's last few books is that they seem really preoccupied with playing with older tropes of historical romance. This one is no different, taking on the idea of the fallen woman, the mistress, and making her our heroine. As innocent a mistress as Prue is, she's nonetheless a woman so desperate that she's willing to sell her reputation--and her body--to a hero who's more than willing to take her up on it. All of that sounds kind of dirty... but while Prue and the Marquess of Savage definitely get down and dirty, the love story itself is sweet and tender and romantic, and FUNNY. This was my first Vivienne Lorret, and I'm so glad to have discovered her. And this is another one that leads right into a fabulous early 2023 release...

Between the Devil and Desire by Lorraine Heath.

There were... several... Lorraine Heath books on my favorite 2022 reads shelf, so I decided to pick one and run with it. Of all of them, I think Between the Devil and Desire stuck with me the most this year... for now. That could always change. Much like The Bride Goes Rogue is a classic Shupe, Between the Devil and Desire is a classic Heath. There's a zany plot, a woman with a queenly resolve who's rattled by the hero, a great supporting cast (some of whom have or will get their own books), and a wacky twist that is so chaotic it absolutely works. Also, lots of angst. This one is a classic Lady and the Tramp setup, but with the added stakes of the lady being a single mother who can't afford to let go... unless she can. And yes, reader, she does pass out after seeing his dick at one point. TW: discussions of childhood sexual abuse.

Heartbreaker by Sarah MacLean

In many ways, Henry, the Duke of Clayborn, is a hero I think Sarah MacLean has been waiting to write and I've been waiting to read from her. He's stern, he's bossy, he's actually a sweetheart, he has an absolutely filthy mouth. But to be honest, I wasn't sure about how Adelaide would shake out as his heroine at first... And then I got to know her. This is classic MacLean: you have a woman who's really good at what she does, and a man who just adores everything to do with her. But what I loved most about Heartbreaker is how it emphasizes what makes Adelaide and Henry's relationship so beautiful. She thinks her greatest asset is her ability to go unseen... Yet he has always seen her.

Any Duchess Will Do by Tessa Dare

I had two Tessa Dare five-star reads this year, and everyone knows the other one is amazing and I love it and recommend it (A Week to Be Wicked). But I want to call Any Duchess Will Do out, because it is just as funny and hot and zany as any great Tessa Dare book... with a reveal that had my heart breaking. This is the best kind of interclass romance--complete with a scene I have mentioned many times that features the hero fucking her while making her repeat his courtesy titles (it's.... very fun). And our heroine--not a virgin, a bit jaded yet still quite innocent, swept away yet imminently practical--is the perfect juxtaposition to a hero that was introduced in A Week to Be Wicked as... kind of a total jackass! Come for the laughs, stay for the tears.

The Duke I Tempted by Scarlett Peckham

We need more kink in historical romance!!! People of the Regency and the Victorian eras were kind of inherently kinky--the culture is like, social edging. What I loved so much about this book was not just its explicit handling of kink, but the sensitive exploration of how that kink helps the hero, how he's been shamed into hiding it, and how healthy and beneficial it is not only to him but his heroine. While I totally respect and love erotic romance and erotica, I do feel like many historical explorations of kink do veer into those zones, to the point that at times the meaning behind the kink feels tangential. And while that's totally valid (after all, not everyone has a deep reason for indulging in kink!) I just liked how much Scarlett Peckham clearly researched and thought about d/s in this book.

The Special IAD Corner:

Look man, I was consumed by Immortals After Dark, and those books had a strong presence on my Favorites shelf. In order to keep them from dominating the list, I'm going to allow them they own corner... ahead of the guide. Although I do generally recommend reading these books in order, some claim you can... not do that. Either way, I'm listing them in order of their place in the series.

Dark Needs at Night's Edge by Kresley Cole.

The first IAD book to feature a virgin hero, and by God did this have me on my knees. It still does. This is one of the most weirdly romantic books I've ever read, and it's arguably at that earlier point in the series where it's easier to jump into. Though of course, you might miss out on Wroth Brothers drama--which is part of the appeal of this book. Conrad Wroth is broken not just because he's an insane centuries-old vampire who existed in his mortal life to kill what he was forced to become... but because the people who forced that transformation on him are his brothers. The pent up desire of Conrad, someone who not only could not have sex, but wasn't even interested in it due to his preoccupation with his thirst and insanity... Is delicious. And Neomi is a magical heroine, so it's easy to see why he's so enraptured with her. She had me from the moment that she, a ghost, tried to determine if Conrad could see her by doing a sexy striptease (it worked). He's a crazy virgin vampire who in many ways is quite innocent and in other ways totally corrupted, trying his best; she's a determined, flirty, funny, and yes, angry ghost who just deserves a break. They are magic.

Kiss of a Demon King by Kresley Cole.

For all that Conrad and Naomi are romantic sweetness, Rydstrom and Sabine are the... exact opposite of that. While also having some pretty sweet moments. Sabine is an understandably controversial heroine, wicked and proud of it, kicking off the book by taking her hero hostage and beginning a campaign of edging in an attempt to become his wife and the mother of his child. For politics! But I'll be real--nothing that Sabine does is beyond what certain heroes in this series do... And it works, for me, because Rydstrom absolutely revels in her. Their love story is perhaps the definition of a love/hate story, full of one-upmanship and "parity" and Rydstrom just desperately trying to claim Sabine and make her realize that she loves him... Even if it's kind of insane that he wants her love. It's a twisted romance, but it's one that I found thoroughly enthralling, hot, and darkly funny. (The first time he grins at her is when she flips him off... how am I supposed to fight that?) And the kink in this book? Is fabulous.

Pleasure of a Dark Prince by Kresley Cole.

This one... This one.... It speaks to something.... deeply cavewoman within me. The line "she was born to be found by me"? Listen. LISTEN. There's just something about Kresley's werewolves, and Garreth is kind of definitively wolfy--erotic, protective, extremely devoted, hedonistic, and very alpha. But in an incredibly charming way. The idea of pairing such a carnal hero with a heroine whose abilities and identity are tied up in her vow of chastity? Fabulous tension. Garreth's very literal pursuit of Lucia is fraught and tense, but also funny and sexy and eventually, incredibly tender and romantic. You get the adventure of them traveling by river on a quest--and the heat of them... working around that vow of chastity. But all of this hinges on self-denial--Lucia denying her desires, and Garreth very literally denying what he is in order to be with her. You know that the thread between them is stretching thinner and thinner with every page, and when it finally snaps? It's absolutely delicious. The scene where Garreth chases Lucia through the jungle? Etched. Into. My Brain.

Lothaire by Kresley Cole.

Look. This is a classic. It's plain and simple. It's a romance classic in general, it's a paranormal romance classic specifically, and it is a perfectly done villain romance. I cannot imagine the anticipation for this book back in the day, because it's like--literally, how the fuck can Lothaire be a viable romance hero without losing what makes him... Lothaire? His truly evil impulses and deeds, his ambitions, his incredibly dark sense of humor? His insanity? And for that matter, how could you possibly give him a heroine to match him? Kresley's inspired choice was in giving Lothaire Ellie--not just a mortal woman, but a poor, seemingly ignorant mortal woman he'd find totally beneath him... Only to discover that as much as Lothaire is a master manipulator, Ellie isn't bad at mind games either. The twisted game between them, the cat and mouse that just every so often revealed their true feelings, is just... captivating. Is he going to kiss or kill her? Does she love him--can she love him, after everything he's done to her? Somehow, Lothaire never loses his bite (haha) and Ellie rises to the challenge of fucking with his head until he is so incredibly unhinged for her that it's easily one of the most satisfying reading experiences of my life. And the blood blowjob? Lives up to the hype.

MacRieve by Kresley Cole.

Look, man. There's weaponized sadness, and then there's this book. Never have I read more heartbreaking prologue--and MacRieve is just an absolutely broken hero at the beginning of this book. The brilliance of the novel, however, is in seducing you into believing that MacRieve and Chloe can just magically fall in love and now that they've met, all his issues are cured. Time to move on! And then--wham. They're confronted with their real, unavoidable problems, and they (largely MacRieve) have to fucking deal with them if they want a chance at lasting love. This is a challenging book--but I found it incredibly powerful, without losing the sense of adventure and sex and even humor (MACRIEVE BRAIN) that makes IAD so good.

Special Shoutout for 2023 ARCs!

Two of my favorite books of 2022 were actually... 2023 ARCs. So while I can't necessarily recommend them as 2022 novels in good conscience, I will recommend pre-ordering them.

The Duke Gets Even by Joanna Shupe (out 1/24/2023)

The culmination of three books of buildup (though it does stand alone), The Duke Gets Even is so incredibly satisfying that I was basically just clutching my face throughout my first read. You want enemies to lovers done right? You want two people who try so desperately to avoid one another while also being ridiculously attracted to each other? You want a woman who believes in abortion rights and a duke who believes in a bit of pain with his pleasure? Read it. I'm still not over this one.

Never Seduce A Duke by Vivienne Lorret (out 2/21/2023)

This book has the kind of zany daring and boldness that I've been looking for in recent historical romance releases. It's funny, it's hot, it's angsty, and its completely fearless. You never get the sense that Vivienne Lorret is thinking about what people will think of her next move with the plot. She just goes for what she thinks is right, and it totally sells the (admittedly wild) story.

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