#simmy writes

you’ve known ash for quite some time now. since sharing a class way back when in college, you were friends in fact. though, ash has many friends now and it proved difficult over the years to pin him down for a hangout.

still, he invites you to each and every one of his parties. and you’ve attended almost all.

though, when one time you didn’t, he actually noticed. a text came through on your phone the next day reading, “missed you last night! pop out next time?”

you maybe wished he asked about why you missed it, hoping to tell him about the way your car couldn’t start at all and he’d be concerned, even bring you something to cheer you up.

but he never did. you simply responded with “you know i’ll be there!”. he hearted the message but didn’t say anything else.

god, why is it so hard to talk to him?

you sit in a cafe booth on your break, twirling around a straw with your thumb and index, taking sips of your drink every so often. you ponder texting him again, simply for fun or to ask him to hang out.

you two used to hang out so much but nowadays he has his big boy job and you rarely see him, unless at those parties.

which get wild sometimes, by the way. he really knows how to make the aura in the room burn with intensity. it could be the music, though. or the bright color-changing lights, or a combination of both.

but no, it wasn’t either of those, it was him.

when he comes down from those stairs the party actually starts. people’s energies rise and never fall. they rip him away in every direction. he’s unable to stay in one place for long, getting pulled around by person after person.

he seems to love it though. i mean, who wouldn’t? it’s the attention and adoration from everyone in the room.

and there you were, being another one of those oglers. appreciating him for everything he is. how much he helps people, cares for them, is there for them.

you want to ask him to hang out but hesitate hitting send on your phone, slumping down and staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to do.

would he even want to hang out? what would the two of you do? would he reject you?

wait.. reject?

it’s not like you have a crush on him.. right?

not like you care if he’s busy or if he’s hanging out with other people. of course not.

so why do you feel a pang in your chest hoping for a text back after you say “link up?”

normally you would never use that phrase but it’s something you picked up for his vocabulary. so perhaps it’d strike his interest. you did that a lot actually— copy his lingo. it was too catchy not to.

minutes turn into hours and hours turn into nearly the whole day. you were brushing your teeth at midnight after marathoning your favorite movie series with your friend before he texted back.

the phone buzzed on the counter as you gargled, startling you. you spat and looked at it, not daring to flip it upwards. anxiously waiting for your nerves to die down.

you told yourself to except the worst. that he doesn’t want to hang out with you alone. or that he’s busy. he can’t make it.

“i’d love to! can i scoop you in 20?”

twenty minutes?! that’s so short notice. and.. oh my gosh?! he wants to hang out!

you fought a big smile that was threatening to take over your face. instead you push it down and blush, heading to your closet rather quickly.

twenty minutes is fine. anything’s fine.. if it’s for him.

as you dressed you thought about how you were going to steal that phrase: “scoop”, but your friend piped up from the living room.

“where are you going?” they ask, getting up to come down the hall. they turn the corner as you pull up a pair of pants with your nice top not yet on. “oh! you’re half naked, okay!” they laugh and turn around with the speed of light.

you clear your throat, embarrassed to say what you’re about to. “um, you know how i have been waiting for a text back from ash?”

“did he?! is that what you’re getting ready for? but it’s night?!” they finish. earlier you told your friend all about how you’ve been eager to see him lately.

“i.. kind of don’t care that it’s night.” you say sheepishly, with your shirt now and walking past them back to the bathroom.

“is this a D appointment?” they ask, leaning against the door frame. your jaw drops.

“no! i don’t feel that way for him! he’s simply my friend.” you state, examining yourself closely in the mirror.

“right.”

“what?”

“i can see it all over you. you’re excited to see him and you lowkey want action. am i right or am i right?”

did you want action?…. i mean, you wouldn’t necessarily be opposed if the opportunity arose— no. what were you thinking? this is lewd!

“hello?” your friend waved their hand in the direction of your face. “earth to y/n.”

“i don’t want action with him. like i said, he’s my friend.”

“mkay.. keep telling yourself that.” they laugh and walk off, knowing deep down you both are thinking the same thing. “i’m sleeping in the middle until you get back. starfish style because no one can tell me otherwise.” they climb onto your queen size bed.

-

ash picks you up in the parking lot of your apartment building. his audi is parked in a handicapped spot because it’s closest.

“you can’t park there you know,” you say as you get in the car.

he laughs and puts it in reverse once you sit and buckle in. “and who’s around to stop me?” he says, putting his hand on your seat to glance out his back window. the sight of that was attractive to say that least, but you ignore the feeling.

you look around and sure enough there’s almost no cars in the lot. huh.

“how are you, y/n? i haven’t seen you in a hot minute!” he says, looking at the road.

“i’m doing good! how about yourself?”

as he talks, you find yourself zoning out, just staring at him. all of him.

he smells good, the cologne graced air hangs in the atmosphere of the car. he’s wearing a snug black shirt and a watch, and his hair is wet from a shower. you can’t stop staring.

he might’ve noticed but he said nothing, though, you swore you caught a small grin on him.

“anyhow,” he finishes, “too much office drama for me in my opinion.”

“i thought you enjoyed that sort of thing.”

he chuckles. “you know what… actually yeah, i do sorta like it. but! not when it’s revolving around me— i like to observe.” he says as he comes to a red light.

“i completely get that.” you reply, still looking at him.

because of the light he turns to face you, taking a long look at you. “i haven’t seen you in so long. like this i mean.” the light turns green.

“i don’t understand.”

“like.. just the two of us, like we used to do.”

“i know! i missed it, and um..” you bite the inside of your cheek. “i’m really glad you said yes— i almost expected you to be too busy.”

“i’m never too busy.”

“really?”

“well.. maybe sometimes but, most of the time, just shoot me a text.” he says, patting you on the leg. it does something to you that you force yourself to push down. “i’m always down to see you.”

after some time in the car filled with chatting he parks and you blink, somehow you didn’t even notice that he drove you both all the way to the ice rink.

you shake your head. “ice skating?”

“what?” he looks at you full on, then glances down at your seatbelt, unbuckling it for you. “can’t skate?”

you purse your lips and fight another cheeky smile. fuck, why does he make you just want to grin from ear to ear when nothing is even going on?

“i’m just bad at it! i always fall.” you say to him as you both get out and walk towards the building.

“i’ll hold your hand, you won’t fall!”

you did fall. a lot.

as the two of you skated, ash messed around way too much- holding your hand sometimes and others just letting you figure it out on your own.

sometimes he’d even let go to chat with the many people there. of course he knew at least someone on the rink. typical ash.

it was actually odd how many people were there on a monday night. perhaps hockey practice.

when he let go you always wobbled, grabbing onto his arm or his shoulder to balance yourself.

he tried teaching you, and for the most part, you started to get it. though, you were jealous of how well he wandered over the ice effortlessly. his movements were perfect, like he’d been doing this for years and years.

all you had to do was ask though, why he was so good at it, and he’d tell you. apparently you had no idea he played hockey in high school after he swore you told you before.

“i was a goalie though, a fat goalie,” he laughed as he helped you skate, holding your hands as he skated backwards with ease.

the two of you were there for quite some time, just talking the night away. it felt so much easier than you thought it’d be. it was like you both picked up right where you left off, not caring about all the time that went by since you were close in college. he was still the same man. sweet and attentive, only focused on you.

a big part of you thought he would be distracted, maybe taking calls or texts, or simply not interested- but that were never the case.

you honestly loved it. you had his full, undivided attention, always.

the arena was cold and he didn’t seem to be affected by it. but you, on the other hand, were. shivering in your day to day clothes more and more after each time you hit the ice.

at some point, you hit the ground a bit too rough and scraped your palm. the pain was almost nonexistent because of how cold your hands were, but ash still rushed to your side.

he accidentally sprayed up ice chips and snow from his skates when he slid to a stop by you, leaning down and brushing it all off.

some “hehe’s” and “sorry’s” left his lips, but you were too busy paying attention to how he helped you up gracefully.

he sat you down on a bench in the lobby and removed your skates. no more ice for tonight.

you felt more comfortable without the tightly laced boots, but the feeling earlier of him putting them between his legs to tighten them for you was honestly better. perhaps you’d have to come back here with him sometime just so he can do that for you again.

he even put your own shoes back on for you, seeing as your hands were too cold. his were a bit red too but not like yours. perhaps he could help—

before you knew it he was taking both of your hands in his up to his cheeks.

his face was so so soft. like.. what does he do to moisturize because, damn. they were warm too, heating up your hands. he smiled that contagious, goofy grin he always did.

it made you want to.. nevermind.

he looked at you for a long moment, and you couldn’t break the eye contact- it was captivating.

“your eyes are annoyingly blue,” you mention without thinking. he did a stupid face to mimic that one hannah montana meme and it made you burst out laughing.

“i get that so often you don’t even know,” he says as he helps up. it was weird being on skates and now with your feet flat on the ground, the transition felt wobbly.

ash took you to his car and turned the heat up for you, even reaching under his seat to pull out a first aid kit.

your face was pink as he held the still-wrapped bandaid between his teeth, watching him clean the scrape with an alcohol wipe. he then opened the bandaid and placed it right over your wound. patting it for good measure.

“good? or should i kiss it better?” he says with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

you think for a moment, trying to play off your attraction to him as a joke. “kiss it better? maybe? just to make sure.”

he nods and takes your hand up to his mouth and kisses it, maintaining eye contact with you.

you try to pull away after out of hesitation but his grip is unrelenting. “better?”

the blush on your cheeks must be so obvious by now, so you look away and nods when he lets go.

“hey..” he says, turning your chin to look at him. this surprised you, making you blush even more. “i had a good time tonight.”

“yeah?” you try to sound confident but your voice is barely a whisper.

“yeah. i wanted to come and skate tonight anyway.. and i wanted to see you.”

there was a pause before he spoke again.

“why weren’t you at the last party? i like seeing you at those.”

so he is asking after all..

“my car wouldn’t start, but trust me i wanted to come.”

“you should’ve called me! i would’ve totally came to pick you up. i mean, that’s what friends are for, right?”

friends. yes.

“right. i’ll call you if it happens next time.”

“good. because i need you at those parties you know.” he says and leans back into his seat, looking at nothing out the window.

you cock your head. “you do?”

“yeah, duh. who else am i supposed to look at?”

you scoff-laugh. me? “i dunno, maybe the bajillion other people there.” you don’t even get crazy at his parties nor do you spend more than maybe 10 minutes with him there every time.

“y/n.” he says, taking your hand. “remember the first party you came to?”

“the one where you fell down the stairs?”

he laughs, remembering it. “yeah, but do you wanna know why i did that?”

“why..?”

“because i quite literally tripped when i saw you.”

“oh shut up..” you roll your eyes and smile, feeling good about yourself.

“i was so happy to see you y/n. i just feel.. comfortable around you- excited around you.”

“yeah, right..”

“don’t believe me?”

“um..” you think about it for a moment. “not really, ash. i mean, look at yourself. look at all the people around you all the time.”

“i’ve hardly known most of them for as long as ive known you.” he says quietly.

you sat there. and he sat there. neither of you looked away, neither of you said anything else.

the only movement was him glancing down at your lips, then back at your eyes. in that very moment you decided that it was okay to have a little crush on him. to want him like this.

it all came flowing in. you wanted him a lot, actually— this whole time you’ve wanted him. for years. you want him to kiss you and you want to kiss him.

and you want more than that. you want his mouth on other parts of your body. your mouth everywhere on his.

so you go for it.

you take initiative. and you know that ash will reciprocate because you truly do know him better than you think. he does lean into the kiss you two share.

a kiss isn’t the right way to describe it though, it’s almost like ash is drinking water for the first time in his whole life. fervently trying to get more from you, grabbing your jaw with one hand and your thigh with another.

his passion is almost overwhelming, but perhaps he’s thinking the same about you with the way you’re matching his needy energy.

the kiss is vigorous and pushy, both of you needing more, getting hotter, wetter, teeth clashing here and there. perhaps even a noise or two escapes his lips.

your position is a bit awkward and he feels this too, breaking away from the kiss to put his seat all the way back. once he does he practically pulls you on top of him, begging for you.

you connect your mouths once more, feeling the vibration of his small moan against your lips. he lets you continue down his neck so he can catch his breath, his hands roaming all along your backside. this arouses you to your core, feeling the wetness and impatience you have down there.

he grips your ass unashamedly, pulling you down on him to feel the hard tent in his black pants. it makes him shut his eyes, letting out a breathy groan.

he seems to want this so badly, need it almost. so you decide to sink lower, trailing your hands across his hard chest, down the ridges of his abs, and delicately lift up part of his shirt. your fingers gracefully trace his v-line, and he simply can’t take it anymore.

ash takes your hands and guides them to his waistband himself- not caring about coming off as needy or even rude about it.

this was usually attractive. normally you liked men who’d ask for permission to do anything with you or offer to repay you.

you’re sure ash is that type of guy generally but right now he isn’t and somehow.. you find it insatiably hot.

most likely because it proves to you that he needs this, he wants it so bad.

and he tells you that.

“y/n.. just.. fuck,” well, tries to tell you it seems.

you know what he means though, so you don’t waste any more time in tugging down the waistband of his pants and his perfectly tight boxers.

“mm,” he huffs, feeling the air hit his exposed, erect cock.

suddenly you feel too hot— maybe it’s the heat coming out of the ac right behind you or it’s the tension of you with your lips parted on top of ash and his deprived, pink, dripping cock.

you lean down to kiss the tip, still looking at him. his eyebrows are turned upward— looking nearly pathetic and his eyes beg for you. but you watch as he squeezes them shut when you take the base of it in your hand.

he’s acting like he’s never gotten a blowjob or handjob in his life, but it could be due to he fact that he’s an incredibly sensitive guy- in all the ways possible.

or maybe, just maybe, it’s you who’s making him this desperate.

“fuck,” he lets out when you lick a stripe up the shaft, your tongue leaving plenty of saliva behind, so much so that it drips down to his balls. when you come to the top you take the whole thing in your mouth to ash’s surprise, making him buck his hips up.

you take more until you can’t and begin sucking up and down, feeling ash’s hand come to your hair and to the armrest of his seat. he grips both for stability, almost too overwhelmed by his painfully hard cock that’s just bucking it’s way up into your mouth.

a few more strokes from you and he’s already trying to conceal whimpers, his breath and body shuddering.

he brushes your hair out of your face with his hand and makes eye contact with you. you see how absolutely adorable he looks above you, biting his bottom lip just slightly. you go back down and he groans.

“i..” he whines. “i just need to tell you, fuck,”

you keep going, making him fight for the words, but you’re still listening to what he has to say.

“i come quick and like, ahh, a lot..” he pants.

you hum in response, pleased. you give him a reassuring glance, basically letting him know: “it’s okay if you cum all over my face, i don’t mind. i’m actually yearning for it”

you both hadn’t even noticed the glass had gone completely foggy, and ash’s hand was leaving messy prints all over his driver side window.

you also didn’t expect a full whimper and whine leave him lips when he pulled you off his cock by your hair. your hand still working up and down it, knowing he was just about to cum.

and when he did it was spectacular.

you watch it come out of his perfect pink tip and you watch his face, his body, everything. his abdomen practically convulsing. the scene was so, so lewd.

and he wasnt kidding about being a total mess, you believe it even got on the steering wheel.

you wanted nothing more than to keep going, to lap up his cum and overstimulate him but you held back.. perhaps another time.

you truly hope there will be another time— for he didn’t even get to show you what he’ll do for you.

you stroke him through his orgasm, seeing how sleepy he was immediately becoming. it was honestly so cute.

“there’s wipes in the glovebox,” he mutters. the whisper was barely even audible and you weren’t even sure you heard anything, but you reached over and opened the glovebox anyway.

there were wipes and he tried taking them from you, wanting to clean himself up without your assistance- just to be a gentleman.

but you knew he was so happy and so grateful when you offered to do it for him. you took one out and cleaned all around his still twitching cock. you cleaned his thighs and his stomach and your own face and hands.

you took another wipe for the steering wheel and the door and his clothes but those didn’t seem like they were going to get clean unless he actually threw them in the wash.

to your astonishment, ash put his arms around you and hugged you down to his chest after you put the wipes away and pulled up his pants. his kissed your forehead and you noticed the tiniest tear roll down his soft cheek.

you wiped it away and he blinked his eyes open at you, half-lidded. they were full of adoration.

he then kissed you but this time.. it felt like the actual first kiss. earlier it was good but this- it was pure and sweet and slow.

it was genuine.

not that the other ones weren’t genuine but this was different level.

you know some people who refuse to kiss after you’ve given head— them thinking of it being gross to have your lips indirectly contact your own junk but ash didn’t seem to mind at all.

you really liked that.

and you could absolutely tell when he’s not so tired he will repay you by eating you out or possibly even fucking you when the two of you get the chance.

“would you like to go get ice cream?” he asks, looking at you kindly.

༉‧₊˚.

♱ · .

working at the castle where the fuel of your passion for life resides was strenuous. you tired yourself daily with trying to not make yourself seem overly obsessed with the prince.

though, the other servants caught on pretty quick when you first arrived. they come up to you often and poke fun about how you spend almost all your time daydreaming and ogling at prince ash.

but it wasn’t your fault he was so handsome. and not only that, he was kind and gentle and funny. nothing like his father, the king.

the king could not care less for mortals, to which you were (along with the rest of the staff) so you all walked on eggshells around his majesty. but there’s a rumor that he and his family weren’t all that merciless. they don’t prey on or harm the citizens of the kingdom unless they commit treason.

it seemed like a good trade off to you: commit no crime and live under the rule and protection of the king, or forsake the law and die a most painful death by having all the blood in your body go to the bellies of the king and his family. however much you believe this silly myth is yet to be determined.

you were grateful to be a servant in that sense though. it was easier to get by unnoticed. not that you weren’t doing anything unlawful, but they allow you to go about your own life within the castle as long as you fulfill your duties.

your own life within the stone walls however wasn’t of much interest. you spent your time cleaning and washing clothes, tending to the garden and anything else the royal family may need.

it was always scary coming up to them as they sat on their thrones. all pale and sickeningly beautiful. it was especially nerve wracking when you’d bow in front of them to ask what was needed of you— they all watched you with their piercing red eyes.

king wayne was always passive, shooing you off when he was done with your service. his wife, the queen, was more gracious than him. always giving you a smile and an appreciative thanks for whatever you were providing. the princesses were bossy and rude, but not so discarding. and lastly, there was the prince.

he always made an effort to make conversation, ask you about your day and if you needed any help with cleaning up. the first time he ever offered, king wayne shoved an elbow in his direction. they spoke low but you picked up on the king saying something along the lines of “you’re a prince— not the help.”

prince ash simply rolled his eyes and took his business with you elsewhere, following you to the laundry room as you walked with a basket of sheets.

you didn’t know if the two of you were becoming friends, and if you were, you had a bit more than friendship on your mind.

not like you would ever act on that though! afterall, you’re a mere human in the grace of a tall vampire prince who’s been around for centuries. he must’ve killed thousands like yourself.

perhaps you were his next victim.

no. no! don’t go there. you’ve never even seen him drink blood. not in the six years you’ve worked at the castle.

but it doesn’t matter. blood sucker or not, it can’t work anyway. he’s royalty and you’re his attendant. what would people think if they even caught a glimpse of the two of you just talking? it’d be an outrage! a scandal!

it doesn’t seem like the prince cares about that fact. he continues to chat with you wherever and whenever he can. on your way to the kitchen, your bedroom chambers, the garden, he follows and picks your brain. asking you things about humans and such. like “what’s it like to sleep?” or “how does it feel to see your reflection or your shadow?”

today, when he followed you out to the garden with a parasol, shielding himself from the sun, he asked you if the warmth feels good on your skin, for he has only ever known its stinging, searing torment.

at some point the wind blew his parasol upwards a bit and the sunlight hit his face. his expression was twinging with pain and discomfort as he fixed the shade over himself.

the first time he ever came outside with you during the daytime it shocked you. you were worried that he’d burn or turn into dust, but he assured you he’d be fine. he said he would only just experience some “mild” irritation. though you knew mild was an understatement and he probably suffers in the sun more harshly than he lets on.

you hated to admit it— the thought made you sick but— you wanted to see him make that face again. of course, you don’t want him to be in pain, but his expression all pathetic and torn up like that… it turned you on.

you said nothing as you returned to clipping the hedges of a white rose bush, listening to him talk some more. his voice was calming and sultry, yet cheery and filled with excitement. it seemed like he was always content. as if nothing in his life had ever gone awry.. but you know that’s not true. he’s probably suffered greatly. this life he lives couldn’t possibly feel freeing.

“will you be attending the masquerade tonight?” prince ash asks, picking a tiny white rose. it was barely the size of your palm, and it looked even smaller in his hands.

you quickly shake your head and laugh off the image of you ever attending such a ball. it happens every year and it’s the grandest event in this region. “no, my lord, i could never. servants aren’t allowed to attend. surely you must know that.”

“you’d get by.”

“..what do you mean?”

he walked over to you and smiled, gently tucking the little rose into a pocket of your shirt. “no one would recognize you.”

you looked up at his deep red eyes, a lock of his ink black hair falling in front of them.

“and what if i get caught? what about the king?”

prince ash rolled his eyes and huffed. “he wouldn’t care.”

“no, you wouldn’t care, if you were king. i’m absolutely sure his majesty would have my head if anyone caught someone like me, a peasant, attending his annual masquerade ball.”

the prince shifted in his stance but his feet remained planted firmly in front of you. you were so close in fact that you were under the shade of his parasol.

“if anything should happen, i shall deal with it. it’ll be my consequence, not yours.”

you look away, looking at the bright green grass in hesitation and wonder.

what if you really did go? what if you threw caution to the wind and just attended under the anonymity of a mask? but that brought up another issue.

“i cannot go, your highness, i have nothing to wear.”

he laughed, it was sweet and boisterous, before leaning down to your level.

“is that your only concern, dear?”

your face flushed and your heart rate quickened when you heard that nickname again. you hated when he called you that because you had no idea if it had a romantic connotation or a friendly connotation. you fear it’s the latter, so you brush it off.

you nod in response with fake bravado, turning your attention back to the rose hedge to seem busy and act like you’re above all this. to act like you didn’t even want to go to the ball or be around the one man that makes you absolutely melt.

the sun continued to gleam into your face again when you left his cool shade.

“if that’s what you’re worried about..” he tapped his chin. “meet me at my chambers this evening. i’ll get you taken care of.”

the royal chambers? but you’ve never dared to even step foot in that wing of the castle! you’d get in serious trouble if anyone caught you walking to his room with no host. and at late hours no less.

you were going to respond to the prince but before you knew it, he disappeared. you turned around and saw him walking into the castle once more, lowering his parasol when he met the shade and tossing it into a basket where the rest of them held.

him leaving with the last word was his way of saying you don’t have a choice and that you’re coming to the ball.

♱ · .

the stone was cold against your hand as you held it out and walked through the corridors, touching the surface as you went.

your stomach churned but you willed it not to. it’s not like you’ve never seen a ball. your place is amidst the shadows, carefully standing watch along with the knights and the other maids and servants. tending to his kingship and family if need be. it’s almost like you’ve attended every year.

sure you’ve never been in the middle of the room but did you really need to? the answer is no, you don’t have the need to be the center of attention.

the prince on the other hand, it was like it was his whole life. he needed to be out there and be talking to everyone, be an entertainer. a partier.

which is why you find it extremely difficult to understand the circumstances you’re in. why you? why a servant? he could choose anybody to become friends with.

hmm.. you’d have to ask him about this later, persistant to get the answer out of him.

as your feet carried you along the velvet carpet runners of the corridors to the royal chambers, you felt someone coming around the corner up ahead. then you heard her.

the princess.

and it wasn’t the kinder one out of two sisters prince ash has. it was princess kylie, menacing and intimidating just like her father.

you looked around in haste and worry— there was nowhere to go. you couldn’t hide anywhere and the distance behind you was too long to walk away and disappear around another corner.

her voice got closer, along with whoever she was walking and chatting with. you couldn’t make out who it was until the two of them turned the corner, practically bumping into you.

on one face, there was disbelief and disgust, on the other, there was surprise and a warm smile.

thank your lucky stars.

it was prince ash with her. you were incredibly grateful that it was him and not anyone else. they wouldn’t save the way ash will.

“what do you think you’re doing here, pleab?” the princess spits. she was much shorter than her brother and they didn’t look super alike on account of only being half siblings. the late queen, the prince’s mother, had a tragic ending a few centuries ago, a tale long forgotten by most.

the princess had long glossy blonde hair and different shaped eyes and nose. though, her and her brother both had their father’s jaw.

you stuttered, wide eyed at her tone. you always knew she was harsh but being shouted at and insulted never feels good. you wanted to tell her you’re on orders but it wouldn’t sound good coming from you. she thinks lowly of attendants.

luckily, the prince stepped in and spoke for you, standing in front of his sister.

“i required their help with preparations for tonight’s masquerade,” he said to her nicely, yet his words held strength. she dared not question her brother, as he was superior in power. “i gave my permission.”

the princess simply lifted her nose and eyed you evilly when she swiftly passed you.

“didn’t know you even had a name,” she mutters, low enough for only you to hear, and makes her way down the candle-lit corridor, her crimson dress flowing behind her.

your jaw was slightly agape, you couldn’t believe she had just said that to you. you wondered if prince ash heard it but you assume not with the way he’s looking at you earnestly.

his face makes you forget all about being offended, and his voice only encourages more lenience. you decide against telling him about his sister’s comment and instead you follow him around the corner he just came from.

perhaps later you’ll lay in bed and remember princess kylie’s hurtful words and mutter hexes under your breath. granted, it never works. you can’t seem to curse anyone no matter how hard you try and how much you don’t like them. perhaps it’s not in your best nature, and deep down you know that.

“i apologize for her, she’s normally kinder.” the prince says, leading you to the private chambers.

maybe to you, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. mostly due to being in awe at this part of the castle. it was all so new to you. it looked nothing like the areas you and the rest of the servants were used to, even in the nicer parts.

there was so much more warmth along these corridors, more candles and woodwork, priceless relics and paintings and more color.

you weren’t used to seeing paintings, nor any other type of artwork in the help quarters, and you wanted to stand in this hall and just stare at each piece. you wanted to feel the drapes of fabric and take in how soft it all probably was. you wanted to appreciate how lit up it was too, the detailing in the oak and in the marble.

finally the prince walks you to a door. it was grand and engraved, like all the other doors in this upper wing. he eased it open and the light from the corridor pooled in.

it smelled of aged fabrics and polished wood, especially near the racks of luxurious velvets, silks, and lace. prince ash walks you in after grabbing a candle from a holder in the hall and touching it to the other wicks inside the room, lighting up the place.

your fingers brush over the clothes, looking for something that’d suit you well, to help you blend in with the many civilized guests, but you had no idea where to even begin.

ash noticed this, furrowing his brow when he set the flame down. he came up behind you, perhaps too close. you felt his body inches from yours but if you so much as turned to look, you’d crash into him.

“let me help you,” he says, bringing his arm in front of you and pushing garments by.

he had asked you “this one?” over and over again, each time you shook your head, squinting. none of these were quite right.

you shake your head and just pick one, “we don’t have all night, my lord, i’ll just wear this.”

prince ash stops you by grabbing it out of your hands with a serious look on his face. “who said we don’t have all night?”

“the masquerade will be starting soon,” you say, not making eye contact with the vampire and instead attempting to grab the silky garment from his majesty. “i suggest you let me change as soon as possible.”

“you suggest? who are you to give me orders?” he teases, holding it further away from your grasp.

“i wasn’t giving an order, sir, now please just hand that to me.”

“sounds a lot like ordering.” he jousts, tossing the garment behind him. “at any rate, i will find you the perfect thing to wear, just give me a moment. besides, i tend to be fashionably late to the masquerade every year, you must know this by now.”

you do know. you make note of how late he is every year.

but you say nothing— not wanting to appear in love at all.

you simply go to sit on a chair on the opposite side of the room, watching him sift through silks and satins, his cheek twitching when he sees something rather unattractive every now and then.

after a while, he turns around. his expression was highly satisfied. “i believe you owe me an apology and a thank you.” he says as he holds up the most perfect, wine colored piece.

it looked like it’d fit you like a glove, hugging you in all the right places. and lo and behold, it did. the matching shade of your face when the prince watched you change though was not ideal.

what was even more unideal was when you looked your perfect self in the mirror with prince ash and saw only you. his reflection not rendering in the slightest.

you exhaled, feeling melancholy yet excited. now all that was needed was a mask.

♱ · .

you were right about the prince always needing to be in the center. he was naturally an entertainer.

what you didn’t anticipate though was to lose him in the crowd almost as quickly as you arrived there with him. there was no one to dance with. no one to stick by when patrons and noblemen came up to you.

masquerades were all about illusion, you realized. the people here were more odd than you’d ever realize. especially from where you always stood on the sidelines. you’ve never actually entered the fray and talked to the invitees.

as if sex was the only thing on their minds, which it probably was with all the foggy energy in the big ball room, every comment made towards you was hinting for something more. you wondered if this was what all balls were like and if the decency was always like this.

to make matters worse, you never saw the prince after the two of you separated.

perhaps it was for the better. at least this way if you got reprimanded for attending the ball it wouldn’t be as bad as if you got caught with the prince. wherever he was.

you tried not to feel bitter. you really did. but as you made your way out of the many exits, sick of all the swinger-like masquerade madness, you realize that yes, you are bitter about it.

tonight was supposed to be so grand. a once in a lifetime opportunity and you were meant to spend it with the prince who you thought, at a baseline, was at least your friend. not even a romantic interest because you could not fathom him being in love with a human at all. simply, a friend at the bare minimum.

you make your way down the empty halls, the orange warm glow of the lights in the ballroom and the grandiose music faded the further you got.

the stone corridors were going to lead you straight out to the garden. it’d be your second time out there today but this hour is much more your speed. the sun was no longer present, it’d been replaced by its forbidden lover, the moon.

as you walked, you wiped a pathetic little tear that escaped the inner corner of your eye. you couldn’t exactly place your finger on the exact emotion that was filling you from top to bottom but all you knew was that you wanted it to disappear. now.

you straighten up and act like you’re fine as you see someone coming down your direction. your eyes are blurry with tears but you blink away to see them more clearly.

oh no.

fuck.

it’s the king.

it looks like he’s coming right at you, coming to confront and have your head for being a servant in stolen clothes— and nonetheless talking to the prince earlier!

but he passes you, glowing crimson eyes meeting yours for a mere second in acknowledgment. you bow and address his courtship like how anyone should, internally panicking as you hope and pray he doesn’t recognize you.

but why would he? he hardly paid attention to any of the help.

he continues on his way none the wiser, but you’ve noticed something at the very last millisecond. he had a smear of dark red blood on the corners of his lips.

none of my concern. none of my concern. none of my concern. you repeat in your head as your feet carry you even further down to the garden, the windows of the halls letting in the silver moonlight. it made the stone floors look almost white.

once you push open the ornate grand doors leading to the garden, you’re met with the cool air. you exhale, it was a good feeling in contrast to the stuffy warmth of the ballroom. it was also such a relief to be as far away from the king as you could be.

you forced yourself to not think about all the horrors that could have happened between the hours of earlier to now. whose blood that was shouldn’t concern you.

but it always did.

every time the king fed himself and his family for the month you shuddered. those were real people. with real lives and real families probably. it didn’t matter if they were criminals to you— what the king does is so inhumane.

but what do you expect? humanity can’t possibly be found in them when they are quite literally inhuman.

you continue to walk in the cooling night air. the garden is a massive labyrinth of hedges, flowers and stone statues. the paths are mosaic in the moonlight, leading down winding sections.

you make your way down to the gazebo, where the other white rose bush grew. out of the two this one was your favorite, it came up around the whole perimeter of the gazebo, lining the pathways. it also produced bigger, healthier looking flowers. perhaps because this area gets the perfect amount of sunlight whereas the one out there gets enough heat to make them wilt.

you picked a flower, knowing that no one would notice a single rose had gone missing. you felt like you deserved it. the one you received earlier today was small and given to you out of pity you believe.

or maybe it wasn’t, who knows. but it doesn’t matter.

this rose in your hand was bigger, fuller, and white as the moon above you. it felt perfect in your touch when you leaned against the railing of the gazebo, dangling the rose over the edge as you rested your arms.

you sighed, tonight needed to be over already.

“he loves me..” you plucked off a petal and let the wind carry it away. “he loves me not..” you picked off another one.

you shook your head when you had plucked off about half— what am i doing..? this is so pathetic.

your eyes widened as you heard the creak for a gazebo step. daring not to turn around when you heard the prince speak.

“i’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

what is that emotion in his words? you can’t quite determine it. anger? disappointment?

he steps up again, coming closer. “where have you been?” there’s a barely noticeable whine in his voice.. ah, the emotion is concern.

you don’t give him much of a response so he comes up right beside you and leans his back to the railing, trying to get you to notice him.

you still don’t look, and instead you just grip the half plucked rose.

“what’s wrong?”

oh nothing just that you made me come to this crazy masquerade knowing it compromises not just my position but my life, and you leave me high and dry the second we entered the ballroom and it made me feel like even more of an outsider.

you stayed silent once more. you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, especially that, to his majesty.

“listen.” he begins, turning around to get in the same stance you’re in and placing his elbows on the rails, mirroring you. “i know i lost you in there, and you probably hate me for that.”

your eyebrows jump in a “no shit” way.

“but i had important business to tend to.”

“and what may that be?” you ask, your first words since you departed with him in the ballroom.

“i..” he shuts his eyes. “it’s classified,” is all he can mutter out.

“classified?”

“yes, classified.”

“fine, do not tell me, my lord. i’m sure i don’t even deserve to know,” you say and begin to walk off, knowing you’re being slightly petty. he catches your arm in a steel grip to prevent you from leaving.

it’s so unusually tight that it almost hurts, making you squeeze the rose on accident. you hissed in pain as the thorns pierced the inside of your palm, and the prince let go immediately. his dark gaze now filled with innocent worry.

“i’m so sor-“ prince ash cut his own words off with his hand coming up to his mouth. it wasn’t the grip on your arm that had you in pain he realized, it was the thorn that was now drawing blood from your hand.

blood that overrides his senses with a primal energy.

he could barely handle the way his instincts threatened to take over— it told him to grab your hand and start there but he willed himself to back away.

“i’m fine, really,” you say, but you start to realize that the prince is probably not. you look up to him and he has his eyes screwed shut and his hand over his mouth, his other one gripping the rails, white knuckled.

“my lord?” you ask, trying to wipe off the blood with your other hand and make it go away because it really didn’t hurt all that bad, but the wound didn’t yet relent its blood flow. “my lord are you alright?” you repeat.

he huffs and his eyes open, finding yours. the color of them stunned you— they were so brilliantly glowing yet terrifying.

he said nothing, instead watching your actions. he wasn’t about to send you away— for to be apart from you wasn’t what he wanted. but he also couldn’t ask you to come closer, he just couldn’t.

..no matter how badly you wanted him to.

fine, if he wasn’t going to ask, then you’d make a move yourself. tonight has already been filled with surprises, what’s one more?

you take a step towards him and he instinctively flinches away, worried not about himself but about you. about what he could do to you.

“y/n…” he shook his head. “don’t.”

“why.” you didn’t say it as a question, it was more like a statement. why can’t i come forward, you wonder.

“because i’ll lose control.” prince ash admits, lowering his hand that covered his mouth. he swallowed hard and his eyes wandered down to your bloody palm.

“that’s okay.” you whisper, wanting to smile. what the hell has gotten into you? you’re normally never bold like this.

“no, it isn’t okay. it won’t be okay when i take your hand,” he moved closer, grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand up to his mouth. “and put my lips on it.”

“i promise, my lord, it’ll be fine.”

he chortled, rolling his eyes like you weren’t getting the full picture. but what was so bad about letting him indulge? it was only a small amount on your hand, and the more you waited the more you got eager and turned on. this was something you didn’t know you were into until now it seems.

“you don’t understand.. i won’t stop, y/n.” he admits, kissing the back of your hand. you batted your lashes in confusion and he further explained.

“once i start,” he begins trailing a line down your arm. “the venom will spread, it’ll go all throughout your body.” prince ash’s line he was tracing was now to your shoulder, and he slid his finger up your neck and along your jaw, making you shiver. he got to your chin and held it, looking at your lips with focus. “and you’d become like me.”

“is that such a bad thing?”

he smiled at your whisper but it wasn’t a real smile. it was pitiful.

“yes, it is. you’d be in immense pain for days. and i cannot bear to see that.”

“why not?”

“because i care about you,” his eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes, meeting your gaze. “i have for a while now. why do you think i enjoy your company so much?”

fucking finally. clarity.

you’re overjoyed to hear this from him— your feelings are reciprocated. by some will of god or something a man like this, your obsession, was finally telling something you’d been dying to be told.

but a sense of dread filled you.

this is wildly forbidden. even if prince ash wanted to be with you, he can’t. he isn’t allowed. you aren’t of any royal descent and you aren’t a noble to any degree, nor do you have any family who are.

but tonight the two of you should be allowed to do anything, and you’ll take all the advantage.

“kiss me.” you voice lower than a whisper.

he didn’t hesitate. it was that easy to let him know you wanted it just as badly as he did and he showed you how he felt. he showed you with his lips— the force of them on yours.

he was almost too strong, but he couldn’t help that vampiric side of him.

he also couldn’t help the way he immediately went to cup your jaw and pull you in closer. your bodies colliding in such a fervent manner. he wanted it so badly and you loved how he showed that.

a noise left his mouth and it vibrated in yours as he felt your body. his hands traveled lower and lower and he had no shame in touching any parts he wanted— at least for a second. in a snap he remembered his manners and removed his touch, just deciding to place them on your hips until you told him otherwise.

“bring them back,” you pushed, noticing his hesitation. prince ash was quick to resume, feeling you where you really fucking needed to be felt.

you pulled away from the kiss, shocked and hissing in air as his lips went to your neck and his palm rubbed between your legs. his whole hand covered it, and his fingers moved against the fabric. he bit the skin on your clavicle just barely— of course not enough to pierce it and draw blood, otherwise he’d take this in another direction.

you let out a whine, the friction he was giving your crotch was starting to feel too good, and you didn’t want to prematurely finish so you held his hand away in stillness.

he was panting, coming up from your chest that he started to leave marks on. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his red eyes clouding with lust.

“nothing,” you say. “but i fear we’re a bit public.”

he looked around at the dead empty moonlit garden and cocked a brow. “there is not a single person here besides you and i.”

“but what if someone were to come? what if we get caught?”

he exhales and stands up straight, nodding. “perhaps you’re right.”

for a second you think this is it: that this make out session with heavy petting will be how far you go with the prince, and that nothing more is to be explored. but before you know it, he’s led you to his bedroom chambers swiftly and silently to avoid getting caught.

there was an aspect about doing this despite it being forbidden that turned you on so much, but you dare not to admit that. you felt it especially when the prince dragged you by your hand along the corridors, eager to bring you somewhere to have you. all of you.

magnificent didn’t even begin to cover what the inside of the prince’s bedroom looked like. it was nothing like you had ever seen before and if this is only for a prince it made you wonder how much more extreme the king’s quarters were.

“don’t mind the mess,” he had the audacity to say, as if there were any actual mess in this room. the most disorganization was at a desk with parchment and quill and ink scattered about. the rest of the room was in tip top shape.

your eyes gravitated towards the giant regal bed with black drapes coming all the way down from the ceiling, giving the entire frame a canopy. you forgot about how he doesn’t sleep, remembering that he probably only has a bed for instances like this.

jealousy courses through you as you think about him using it for that sort of thing. but you can’t be mad, you won’t let yourself. the man is thousands of years old, of course he’s had lifetimes of experience.

but you hadn’t. which set a power dynamic on top of the one that was already present simply for being mortal.

the prince led you to lay on it, letting you remove your clothes on your own.

he admitted it was something he loved watching. he told you how often he imagined watching you undress and that in the darkness of the night he’d even self pleasure at the thought.

it all made sense now— that moment in the storage room when he found you this perfect outfit.

said outfit was now discarded on the floor, leaving you in only your undergarments. he grinned, grazing over your whole figure with his eyes and hands.

him being fully clothed still didn’t help the power dynamic. it only further established where you stood with him.

still though he attacked your body with marks, finishing what he started on the gazebo.

his body on top of you felt heavy and comforting, and you felt his erection through his pants, poking your loins like it had a mind of its own.

“my lord,” you panted, gripping his silky hair when his kisses became especially intense.

“drop the formalities, please,” he said against your skin and even though you didn’t see his face, you felt his smile.

“what shall i call you then, sir?”

“just ash, if you will. after all it’s only us here.”

you nodded, not yet ready to say his name knowing it’ll sound weird coming out of your mouth. but despite that, he expected you to.

“tell me what you want.”

you blushed, looking away. it was suddenly too hot in this room, and you could not bring yourself to say the words representing his member. so you settled for buying something less expensive.

“take off your shirt, please.” you ask innocently, watching him oblige your request.

his body was addicting to look at. once you got a look at this sight in front of you, you wondered how you were ever going to look away. this needs to be the only thing you see for the rest of your life. his chest was perfect and firm, along with his abdomen. and his shoulder and arms made you desperate for his hands on you again. you needed to mark his pale muscular skin because it was practically begging for an imperfection.

“cmon, ask for what you really want.” he says, knowing what you truly desire to ask for.

you opened your mouth but no words came out, embarrassingly so.

he took your hand and guided it to the eager tent in his black pants. “this?”

nods weren’t enough for him apparently, no matter how desperate you looked. why was this difficult? did he like teasing this much? apparently, you guess.

“use your words. you can do it, i know you can.”

it took courage but you muttered something along the lines of i want your cock in me please.

“please what?” he smiled.

“please my lord.”

“try again.”

fuck. no, you can’t say it. his name was naked without the formality of the word “prince” before it.

but by his request, you knew you were obligated.

“i want your cock in me, ash.” you muttered, adding a please so you weren’t all that demanding.

as if his name itself turned him on— or maybe the way you said it— or maybe it was you, the prince bucked his hips into your palm, needy and excited.

“call me that again.” he said, undoing the belt and buttons on his pants before pulling them down.

you say his name once again and he becomes even more desperate, yanking your own undergarments to your ankles so he may line himself up with your entrance.

he doesn’t insert it until you tell him to, and even then he teases you with the tip. by this point you’re dripping, ready to be filled but he just can’t help but take his sweet time.

you pull him down to kiss you and it forces him to slide in, the two of you grinning against one another’s lips at the feeling.

“fuck,” he mumbles, grabbing one of your legs to put atop his shoulder. the position was lewd and erotic, opening you up in such a way that allowed him to fully fill you with his cock. it was deep and you winced at the stretch.

after a minute with his careful movements, the discomfort began to ebb away, getting replaced with an intense feeling of arousal. it made you move in sync with his hips, getting into a steady groove where the two of you became more and more fervent for each other.

he’d quicken his pace everytime you whined, which became often so now the noise that accompanied it was the slapping of skin to skin.

and once that position ran its course, he slowed to nearly a stop, picking you up by your hips and swapping you on top of him.

this one was clearly one of his favorites, you saw it on his face.

perhaps it’d become one of yours too, you could finally see him better, the candlelight nearby illuminating his handsome face. his sex-drunk expression was enough to make you drool.

your hands found his toned chest as you rode him, feeling his cock way up inside you. every grind, every bounce, every movement you made you got to watch his reaction to, all on display below you.

his smile and lidded eyes were to die for, and you ponder that seriously for a moment. to die for, what interesting sentiment. would you? would you die for him? would you grant him his one true craving?

might as well ask him.

“sir,” you start, raspy with your low tone.

his majesty looks at you, wordlessly asking you to correct yourself.

“ash..”

this earns a smile from him. “hmm?”

“how would you feel if you..” oh, this wasn’t easy to say, you realize. “if you…”

“if i what, dear?”

dear?

so it did have a romantic connotation after all..

how could you have been so blind to it all? it makes so much more sense now.

“if you did have my blood.” you finish, slowing down your pace of riding him.

he didn’t look at you. his expression was rather cold and you didn’t like it.

no.

go back to how it was just moments ago, with his pretty smile and his cloudy eyes.

“i’d feel wonderful, at first. your blood is something i’ll forever imagine getting to taste, to be honest,” he says, gripping your hips. “but..”

there was a long pause before he spoke again. “it would never be worth it. your value is much greater than i can afford to lose.. no matter how much i may want this,” prince ash holds up your hand that was pricked with the rose. “it’d leave me with nothing. you’d be gone. therefore i’d never, and it’ll stay that way.”

you’re silent, impressed with how well he articulated that. and you’re sure there were many more reasons as to why he holds back but.. wouldn’t it be something? him sucking your blood and getting absolutely intoxicated on it.

of course, you both can’t let that happen. otherwise it’d be over just as soon as it’d start.

“y/n…” he says, caressing you carefully and gently, expertly controlling his vampiric strength. “aren’t you terrified?”

“no,” you reply honestly. “i’m not.”

“why?”

“because i trust you.” you whisper, leaning down to place the softest, kindest kiss of the night to his lips. “granted, i have fantasized about you in that way.”

“in the way that i could kill you?”

you flush red, no! ..yes? maybe..

“it’s complicated. but yes, technically i am aroused at the idea..” god, this was embarrassing.

the prince throws his head back onto the pillows in laughter, sharp teeth on perfect display. he squeezed the skin on your hips even more.

you felt a rush of embarrassment cover your cheeks, was he laughing at you?

no, it had to be with you, surely. you smiled a bit, feeling left out of the joke and like you needed to play along. but you were fully serious. you are into the idea of him being that way with you.

“ahh,” he came down from his giggles and blinked a bit. his cheery expression went from 100 to 0 real quick, studying your seriousness. “oh. you.. aren’t joking.”

you shake your head.

he thought for a moment, turning his head to have his cheek on his pillow as he held you. tight enough to make you wonder if he was afraid to let you go.

“would you like to know where i was earlier?”

is he serious?

duh.

“yes, your highness. i would.”

he speaks slowly. “i.. well- we, my family and i, partook in a sort of annual ball ritual. it’s the reason why my thirst for your blood is subdued. i’m quite satiated at the moment.”

“ritual?”

he chuckled and rolled his eyes, “it’s not like satanic or anything, it’s just a routine i should say. a tradition.”

you waited for him to continue after a pause. it must be strange to talk about. you were probably the only human to be told in confidence.

“my father chooses someone from the ball, someone who’s odds are stacked against them.” princes ash’s brows furrow, like he’s upset about something. “men usually. they tend to bring harm to others. commit deeds that we as a society should be looking down on.”

you could tell he wasn’t going to explain the actions of the wrongdoers, the topic being inappropriate enough as is. but you silently knew what he was talking about.

“it’s my fathers way of bringing them to justice, we think.”

the prince looks up at you, studying your face to see if there’s any chance of you running away. (not like you very well could attempt it, you’re naked and on his dick.)

“how do you feel?” he asks.

you offer a genuine small smile, a token of your appreciation. this was what he was worried about? this is what he didn’t want to tell you? he, his family, and especially the king, have earned your respect. you had previously thought that the rumors weren’t true; the ones about king wayne only killing individuals for their crimes. but the prince has confirmed it for you in the most firsthand telling.

to think you thought that they were merciless killers, that the king was a merciless killer. sure he may be dismissive but what he’s been secretly doing for the good of the nation seems fair.

“i think that is just.” you reply honestly.

“yeah?”

you nod, giggling when the prince moves your hips against him for you, grinding you down. how his fangs practically glimmer when he grins has your stomach doing flips. or maybe that’s his cock deep inside you responsible for that feeling.

either way, the two of you lay beside one another after finishing. it was the most satisfying feeling you’d ever felt, not just from having sex but also because you can finally admit to yourself that perhaps you’re fine with being in love with the prince.

you won’t deny yourself any longer.

♱ · .

bonus:

you had no idea what to expect when the prince took you downstairs to the ballroom. it was empty and desolate, trash along the edges and tables that surely you and the other servants must come and clean in the morning.

come to think of it— it could very well already be morning. the sun must be coming up any moment but how were you to know? what with the way you were swept off your feet to the center of the ballroom, only accompanied by his majesty and an orchestra.

how much the prince paid for their extended private service wasn’t a number you should be concerned yourself with. they played beautifully, the pianoforte and violin and whatever else blended together in harmony.

he leads you, easily guiding your steps and chuckling handsomely when you miss them.

what? no one taught you how to dance.

you verbalized this to him and he thought for a moment, never meeting your gaze until he thought of his response.

“never?” he asked.

you shake your head no and he squints.

“how shameful, dancing isn’t opulent. it’s a right, an expressive way to let the body speak when words prove to be inefficient.”

his voice is sultry, toying with a hint of playfulness as he continues to guide you through the dance. each step, though foreign at first, becomes more natural as you give into his persuasive lead.

he’s quite tall, you note, and it makes dancing with him rather difficult, especially since you’re practically nose to chest. his new clean clothes he put on after intercourse are perfectly pressed and clean, hugging his body. and the scent of him is intoxicating, making you want to breathe it in forever.

“relax,” he whispers, as if he caught onto your stressed demeanor. “you’re doing fine.”

you sigh with relief, feeling yourself ease up a little. the music was helping— it was loud and grand and it helped drown out the anxiety you felt.

how on earth did you end up like this?

yesterday morning you were folding sheets and dusting the armory, thinking about how the prince is so gorgeous yet so unattainable. you even chat about it to the other servants your age, giggling and gossiping about how attractive you all think he is. and now? you’re hand in hand with him waltzing in the ballroom. they are never going to believe you— but should you even tell anyone?

♱ · .

*pleab: someone who is of lower class. a commoner. it’s not a very kind word.

“aren’t you worried about catching what i have?” you ask him, bedridden and blowing a stuffy nose.

ash simply scoffs, his arms were crossed against his defined chest. “does it look like i do?”

true.. he was standing in your room afterall. he had come by to drop off some medicine, alphabet soup, and flowers. he even cut the stems and put them in a vase next to your bedside. it wasn’t like you could smell the roses though.

“i guess not,” you reply, reaching for another tissue. he grabbed the box and handed it to you so you wouldn’t reach too far. “but what about work?”

“baby,” ash chuckled again. “you’re being ridiculous, work is not even a factor in this.”

the next thing you knew he was removing his blazer and tie, tossing them on the chair at your desk, and climbing into bed with you.

“oh my god you’re definitely going to get sick now.”

“more reason to spend time with you.”

you roll your eyes. “okay cornball.”

you took in the state of ash. jealous of his sinuses being clear— oh how you missed breathing. you wonder if there’s a god so you can pray and repent and explain how you took breathing through your nose for granted.

you continue looking at your boyfriend, his throat was probably so clear, he didn’t have to worry about a cough or pain of swallowing. the feeling in your throat was icky and persistent, souring your mood, and the taste in your mouth for that matter.

he looked ahead at the tv, already entranced in what you’re watching. “oh so it’s called bridgerton because that’s their name? the family?” he turned and asked.

you nodded, trying to not look so sickly. he held your hand in notice, eyes lingering on your state.

“you’re so beautiful.”

you laugh. how could he say that right now? your hair was greasy, you probably needed a shower, your robe’s been on all day, and you were pretty sure that dark circles and red noses weren’t all that attractive on you.

but ash looked at you the same. like nothing was wrong.

“no, i’m gross right now!” you shake your head and create a smidge of distance between the two of you, pulling your hand away from his hold. you didn’t want him too close for two reasons. one, you didn’t want him having a cold as well. and two, what would he think if he knew the foul taste in your mouth because of your throat? or what if your nose starts dripping again?

you push his shoulder away, giggling. he was still looking!

“you’re never gross, you boombot.” you always laugh when he calls you a boombot— it’s delivery and its cadence being so silly to you for no reason. you don’t even know it what it means! well, vaguely you know it’s some character from subway surfers, which is popular with ash. but he uses it in such an interesting way that he’s made it his own phrase. he’s coined it.

and he primarily calls you that. it’s a form of endearment, you’ve learned.

“i am in this moment,” you put your palm out to hide. “so i suggest you keep your distance pretty boy.”

he throws his head back on your pillows and laughs. “your voice sounds so cute.”

now it’s your place to start chuckling as the two of you quote a video that begins with “cute? i’m not cute! i mean my parents call me cute-!” you both find it to be the stupidest yet most hilarious video.

“thanks.. i guess?” you finish the line, relishing in the feeling of laughter. it was sort of helping your congestion in a way.

ash sighs and smiles, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. “i meant it’s nasally.”

“what?”

“your voice. it’s nasally. i mean i found it totally sexy before but the sick voice just.. mm.” he scrunches his nose in playfulness. it’s such a sight— his face— the way it’s so symmetrical and handsome and perfect. it’s annoying.

“you have such a thing for voices oh my gosh.”

“hey,” he catches your hand again, pulling it closer. “i’ll own it.”

you smile and start to feel a sneeze coming.

oh god.

the embarrassment of snot potentially going everywhere, especially during a more intimate moment such as this, could ruin everything!

you desperately reached for the tissues and find that ash has already held them in front of you once more. you grab one and feel relief as you made it in time, sneezing right into the tissue and not, thankfully, all over.

“poor baby,” he mentioned, watching you blow your nose.

“enough of your teasing. are you here to keep me company only to embarrass me?”

“no,” ash states, getting up to find something. “i’m here to take care of you, thank you for reminding me.”

you watch him walk around, sort of grateful he’s made a bit of distance so you don’t keep giving him germs.

but the truth is, you want him back in your bed. it felt cold without him. suddenly all you want in this moment is to cuddle.

ash leaves to the kitchen but not before you got a good look at his ass while walking out. those dress pants really do him favo-

“when was the last time you ate?” he shouts from the other room, cutting into your train of thoughts. ash booty train has left the station.

you weren’t about to shout back because of your throat so you stayed silent, hoping he’d come back.

to which, he did. smart cookie.

“like twelve.”

“like twelve?! baby, it’s the evening already!” he leaves again and this time you didn’t get another glimpse of his butt. shame.

granted, ash wasn’t the best at taking care of others. he can barely take care of his dog let alone himself.

but when it came to you?

how could it be possible that he practically becomes clark kent?

feeding you, giving you medicine, water, anything. he even set up a humidifier near you.

and later tonight after dinner, he ran a warm bath for you.

“you know,” he starts, checking the temperature of the water by swishing his hand in it as you disrobe. “my mom always said to not take baths or showers when you’re sick.”

“why’s that?”

he looked confused too. “i don’t even know. like why wouldn’t you want to be clean, especially when you feel so unclean while sick.” his eyes go wide and he backtracks. “i mean! not you! like you specifically. i just mean in general.”

you chuckle, getting in the bath. he held your hand as you stepped in. “no i know what you mean. but maybe your mom sees it as: having wet hair makes you more sick? because when you get out you’re super cold and it could make it worse? i dunno, spitballing here.”

“no that makes so much sense.”

you fully sit down in the bath and sigh. oh my god was it heavenly. it did wonders for your aching muscles and body pains and also for your stuffy nose. the steam cleared everything right up and you notice your throat even subsided in pain.

this was wonderful. nothing but one thing was missing.

“don’t you want to join me in here?” the bathtub may be small but ash could definitely have space to sit behind you. the two of you know that very well and have tested the theory.. many times.

“this is your time, love.” he says, looking for your shampoo. he finds it and pops the cap open, lathering it in his hands. “let me take care of you.”

perfect much?

you instinctively dip your head back to wet your hair before he starts.

ash’s hands on your scalp felt so good. that combined with the comforting heat of the bath, it could have made you pass out. or perhaps the nyquil was just beginning to kick in. either way, you didn’t know the bath was even finished before being carried to your bed again, all dried and dressed.

your hair may have even been blow dried but how were you to know? you were almost completely asleep— only a fraction of consciousness remaining, and it was used up solely on watching ash tuck you in, kissing your forehead.

ash

he’s the type of mf to put a tampon up his nostril when he has a bloody nose

^“what?” with his nasally ass voice. “it works!”

played hockey in highschool and was a goalie for most of it but when he started losing weight he was center and left winger

one of his favorite things to do is just drive. like drive around the backroads in his audi listening to music.

he LOVES nicki minaj. especially barbie drip remix

he falls up the stairs

one time chantelle recorded him while he was eating salami wrapped around a cheese stick and he went “hm! it’s actually a bit fruity!” and the audio got really popular on tiktok

always keeps quarters in his pockets for vending machines

calls chantelle’s girlfriend an opossum bc he thinks she looks like one

his dad likes to keep him humble so for his first car he got him a total rust bucket

and he drove it to school. everyday.

and to work— he used to work at a grocery store.

his best/worst memory from the grocery store was getting deathly scared by a danny devito cardboard cutout that was around the corner

he does pilates once a week

has a pastel pink yoga mat for it and he ties his hair up into tiny pigtails

his dalmatian rocky is a fucking menace. absolute bark boy and does zoomies on the furniture but ash loves him way too much

he bought his sister kylie a white jeep off the lot when she turned 16.

called agnes raggedy anne one time as a joke. she wasn’t happy.

one time got sick from inhaling so many helium balloons

he’s obsessed with ludacris. the guy. he’s met him twice.

hes a shorts in the winter guy. “i’m not even cold bro.”

he has a bubble butt

he never remembers to check his pockets before he does his laundry. so much melted paper and coins are at the bottom of the dryer when he’s done.

messy handwriting

certified top of the doorframe slapper

he’s been on first name basis’ with all moms since middle school.

after he bought a bape bearbrick 1000 raymond manages ash’s finances. he only gets a certain allowance from his paycheck and the rest goes to his savings account which he isn’t allow to touch.

constantly bouncing his leg.

this man LOVES slumber parties. all aspects! the snacks, the movies, the skincare, the pillow fights! he goes crazy

super messy eater. his sloppy ass hotdogs slip out of the bun and land on his lap 7/10 times.

better at dancing that you’d ever think

likes taking picture of donuts just as much as he likes eating them

he knows how to crochet and somewhat how to play the guitar

can’t handle spicy food at all! bro is absolutely red, teary eyes, salivating, everything

really likes despicable me and minions

he is fucking feral at trampoline parks

^he has a video of himself that’s super sped up jumping around there really fast and doing flips and it makes him laugh everytime he watches it

he has shirts that say nerf or nothing on them.

when he was fourteen he shaved his head and bleached it.

lays on his belly all the time

broken so many bones in his life. bro was always in a cast or crutches. (he got hella signatures)

he likes red gatorade. a lot. he got that red circle around his lips

he often forgets to rerack his weights

bought a handicap parking pass on amazon, put it in his glovebox, and he takes it out when he wants to park somewhere easily (he knows he shouldn’t)

he makes your mom jokes maybe too often

he’s a sneaker head

^laying on his office couch like “chantelle should i buy these?” and they’re like some absurdly priced resale of travis scott jordans

his phone lock screen is rocky

he can’t use chopsticks.

says his favorite video game is call of duty black ops but secretly the real answer is roblox.

his favorite roblox game is meep city.

he bought an nft one time and it plummeted

he has never even been close to being in a car accident

he tries to come to all his sisters’ volleyball games. cora his stepmom is always there and ash doesn’t exactly like her but he’s so so kind and he always strikes up conversations with her.

he’s a cheerer and a clapper

his favorite color is blue

he always has a blue phone case

gets so so sunburnt everytime he goes to the beach

he has a ton of freckles on his back but not much in other places

^“i feel like one of them has to be cancerous right?”

a lot of people think he’s a picky eater bc he likes mcdonald’s so much but he’s actually got a pretty refined pallet. he’s a big fan of scallops

used to go to random mechanics for car stuff but for the past few months he’s been coming to chantelle’s girlfriends cousin’s shop.

he keeps coming in because he thinks oaklynns cousin, jericho, is cute but if he ever told chantelle she’d beat him to a pulp

at this point he’s getting unnecessary upgrades to his car. frequently. a tiny rock hit the windshield? shii guess he gotta replaced the whole thing.

“come here often? what am i saying— you work here.” he says, flustered over jericho. he can barely see his face half the time with it being masked by pairs of shiny sunglasses

he collects rap snacks

he likes to play hide and seek but when he hides he always goes behind a curtain and you can see his feet

bros the type of guy to open a bag of chips with scissors

has a pic of him and nardwuar.

he always downloads the games in the mobile ads

he has hundreds of games on his phone

bro always falls for the shit like “somebody wrote gullible on the ceiling” and “gayboysaywhat”

he quotes movies and shows ALL the dang time

he can’t cook for shit

his favorite video ever is that one old guy smoking a cigar in a car with the song no auto durk

˚ · .

chantelle

she’s quick to block someone

worked for an insurance company and she absolutely hated it. that place was the bane of her existence.

one thing she loves more than anything is going on vacation— especially tropical ones

“ash did you take your adderal today?” (always keeps extra in her purse)

her favorite flowers are blue hydrangeas

hates when ash just clocks out whenever he wants but there’s no stopping him

drives a 2022 toyota camry and she has one of those like corny rhinestone ignition button decals but now it’s stuck on there

she’s allergic to dogs (no rocky babysitting for her (grateful))

her girlfriend is chronically short

number one sza fan

single-handedly keeping vaseline in production

when she’s not in business clothes she wears like 3xl t shirts and like cheetah print booty shorts

˚ · .

raymond

bros a total chef.

would have vanessa do his sleeve tattoo when he’s a dad

secretly (maybe not so secretly) really insecure.

despite looking like a tough guy he’s a total square. always doing what he’s told no matter what.

he oversees payroll as well as company finances

he doesn’t mind commercials or ads, sometimes he even enjoys them

he is left handed

jia and him went to the same college (penn state)

he played basketball there and got quite good

he’s really interested in planes

loves loves loves food videos

he doesn’t do cardio kind of ever..? he only works his legs, arms, back, and shoulders, and doesnt really run a lot.

his favorite workout is doing deadlifts

raymond’s mom can only speak cantonese and she’s 4’11

his dad is as tall as raymond and speaks decent english

part of the reason why he’s such a good cook is because jia gets hangry and he wants no drama.

raymond’s aftershave is one of the sexiest smells you can ever possibly imagine.

he can be bold sometimes. confidence comes from nowhere and it’s shortlived

he’s very very patient

˚ · .

facts about side characters:

agnes used to be a stripper and everyone in the office knows about it.

headphone guy got his pinkie cut off by a yakuza member.

eli calls raymond “raymin” and everyone thinks it’s very cute.

oaklynn, chantelle’s girlfriend, is a florist and she drives a volkswagen rabbit that ash can never quit laughing at.

oaklynn doesn’t like ash.

ash’s sisters on his dads side kylie and parker don’t often get along (on kylie’s account) but parker gets along with ash’s sister on his moms side, eva. parker and eva each lunch in the library together

eva’s very secretive, she had a boyfriend that nobody knew about. one day ash found out and she broke up with him, scared that he was gonna tell their mom (he would never).

eva doesn’t drive bc of anxiety, but if she did ash would be quick to get her a car for her birthday. he thinks a miata would suit her.

vanessa used to be a biker

jia has a naturally high stress level perpetually, which makes her cranky.

ty for reading! not proofed so ignore any spelling errors, grammar issues, punctuation mistakes, and weird formatting

love yall!

jericho copyright dylan

˚ · .

raymond of course wants vanessa to be there— he’s never really spent more than a day or two with eli without her but she’s super busy for the weekend

the two make it a boys trip except raymond doesn’t love the outdoors when it’s rainy, but he does enjoy fishing

the drive to the port city is abysmally long. like hours and hours and hours of nonstop driving. the only stops being quick potty breaks or stops at the gas station

raymond simply cannot say no to eli when he runs in and finds snacks and drinks he wants. even if they’re super unhealthy

eli’s so excited about a bottle of bug juice that he downs the whole thing in minutes— meaning they have to keep stopping for bathroom breaks, even when there are no outhouses

eli is definitely in the back in a booster kicking raymond’s seat

“quit it or i’m turning off the music” (the music being disney sing-a-long songs per vanessa’s suggestion)

raymond is a hotel man. 5 stars if at all possible but he’ll settle for 4 or maybe 3 if necessary

when they get there it’s cold and rainy and dark and raymond shakes out his wet hair when he enters the lobby of a nice hotel

he comes to the counter fully expecting them to have a room but they’re completely booked.

no worries- he’ll just go to the next hotel..

booked also.

surely the 3 star hotels aren’t full, so raymond drives the two of them to those.

all of the hotels. all of them. are fully booked. every single one in this whole town.

raymond has to take deep breaths as they sit in the silent car. he calls vanessa and she answers immediately, happy to see them. she isn’t so happy though when she sees raymond’s stressed out demeanor.

“you didn’t call ahead or make reservations?!”

“i thought they’d have plenty of rooms.” raymond steps out of the car so he can curse. he doesn’t know eli can still hear him. “there’s like a billion hotels in this goddamn town and none of them have a fucking room? like what?”

when he gets back in from talking with his wife, he puts on a happy attitude for eli.

“it’s okay, buddy. we’ll figure something out, yeah?” he turns around in his seat to see eli in the back and gives him a fist bump.

there’s an rei close by that sells everything raymond and eli need to camp tonight and more. it’s not as extensive and big as the one close to where they live but it works just the same.

he buys a tent which was probably too much money, sleeping bags, a tarp, pillows, lanterns, pretty much everything they didn’t pack.

he uses ash’s phone number for the membership and they get a discount. (ash loves hiking and rock climbing, so naturally he has an rei membership)

setting up was even more difficult for raymond. it might have been fine if it wasn’t so dark out but what’s worse was it’s raining.

his nose and ears became pretty red but nothing compared to his hands. they were so cold and he got so frustrated setting up this tent.

“are you okay raymin?” eli pipes up when raymond enters the warm, running car. he knows he’s wasting gas and draining the battery but he’d rather have eli cozy and dry in the car than out there in the cold rain with him.

he smiles when eli says “raymin”. he doesn’t try to correct him anymore because eli just continues to pronounce it like that.

“i’m fine kiddo i just need to warm up in here for a minute.”

once raymond finally finishes setting up, he wakes up eli who had fallen asleep in his booster seat.

eli, groggy and holding his blankies, makes his way to the inside of the tent. raymond quickly picks up the tail ends of the blankets that eli was dragging on the muddy ground.

inside the tent was small, but just spacey enough for the two of them. well, for a large 6’3 man it was not preferable but eli thought it was huge.

a frigid chill arrived in the morning but the rain had stopped. raymond found little eli between his buff arms, hugging him for heat.

the day was much more enjoyable now that it was actually. daytime.

and the two did all the things raymond planned.

eli looked cute in his little green raincoat and froggy rain boots. holding raymond’s hand and jumping through puddles.

they made their way to the pier where raymond taught eli how to fish. eli got bored of it extremely quickly so he just sat in the folding chair next to raymond’s tacklebox, playing on his phone.

it was too big in his hands but that didn’t stop him.

“raymin! uncle ash is calling!”

“uncle? ash is not your uncle, who told you that?”

“he did!”

that night raymond was able to get a room for them in a nice hotel for once. he was relived to finally be able to shower after all that; a day long drive, a muddy camping night, and an all day fishing session. but now it was finally time to get clean and relax.

“raymin!” eli’s voice called from behind the close bathroom door. “can you help me turn on da shower?”

raymond got up and opened the door to see little eli trying to cover himself with a large towel. raymond chuckled at how he literally was not covering himself at all in the back— tiny buns just fully exposed.

he turned on the shower for him and asked eli about the temperature. he said it was fine but the water was “too fast” and “felt like needles.”

raymond noticed the water pressure too. it was definitely too high for a kid. a bath it is then.

raymond wasn’t used to taking care of eli like this. he knows vanessa would be doing this better but he was determined to be a good father.

he let eli play in the tub for a little, sitting on the closed toilet on his phone, texting vanessa pictures from their fishing excursion, before he noticed how disgusting eli’s little dinosaur toys were making the water.

dirt and sand and mud came off the second eli put them in the tub and raymond was quick to take them out, wash them in the sink, and toss them back in.

at some point they all sank and eli couldn’t find them under all the suds and bubbles.

raymond scrubbed him clean and it reminded him of washing his dog, bruce. both somehow more muddy than he realized and neither of them could ever sit still.

raymond snapped a picture of eli with his hair soaped up to a point on the top of his head like a cone. raymond’s warm laughter disappeared the second his phone slipped out of his hand and dropped into the tub.

“shit!” he muttered and tried fishing it out but it kept slipping and sliding around at the bottom. eli was having an absolute giggle fit at this.

later the two watched cartoons on the tv. the channels were weird, like they always were on hotel tvs, but they enjoyed it.

toy story 2 was playing but it was nearly over so they channel surfed.

“i wish dey had disney plus!” eli says, falling asleep into the big covers next to raymond.



bonus ·˚ ༘

thinking about them coming back to this town like 10 years later.

it’s become a tradition now to go every year together.

teenage eli casting his fishing pole on the pier next to raymond.

they talk about nothing and everything. just enjoying their labor day weekend together there in the rainy, beautiful town.

the first night they camp in a tent, the second night they stay in a hotel.

“hey dad can i ask you something?”

“absolutely bud,” raymond responds, looking through his glasses as he replaces the hook at the end of his fishing line.

eli grabs the line so it’s still, making it easier for raymond. “so.. there’s this girl i like..”

“uhuh..”

“and i was thinking about asking her on a date when school starts again.”

raymond looks at eli and nods. “yeah no, that’s great! i think you should. sometimes you need to just bite the bullet.”

“like you did with my mom?”

“exactly like i did with your mom.” raymond says, knowing full well vanessa is the bold one out of the two of them.

“what are your plans?”

“well uncle ash said i could borrow his car..”

the house was precisely the way i left it this morning. clean, undisturbed.

they say it is a woman’s job to clean but i would much rather complete the job than my wife, catherine. she is the opposite of tidy, always leaving clothes and jewelry about and never partaking in household upkeep.

catherine also has a habit of exploring my things. rummaging around drawers and flipping through the pages of my books, possibly looking for something to spark her interest in gossip. she is a trifling woman.

i would have never married if id met the real her before the matter, but to my misfortune i had not much of a choice. being an eligible baron i was inclined to pick a bride as soon as i must, but there was so say in whom i was given.

it was the viscount’s cousin, who had come straight from london. i met catherine for the first time on our wedding day.

over letters she sounded just alright, slightly attractive even. she’d surely make for a compliant and lovely wife— keeping me company during the dark nights when i need it, which is most every moon.

but instead, she sleeps beside me with an invisible barrier separating us. furthermore i have no desire to reach out and touch her, the romance was never there to begin with.

although, a hand to hold would be nice.

shutting the front door behind me i am greeted by the cook. an old woman who i’ve known since childhood. she is just fine at cooking, nothing special about her meals.

the house is dark, making me feel as though my day is worse than it is.

catherine is not home, nor will she be until many hours. i know this because i passed her on the streets on my way home after work.

she did not notice me. she was snickering with her girl friends and fanning her peachy face. i could only assume she was laughing at the expense of another.

on fridays she and her group enjoy going out and i, as well as the rest of the husbands, just allow it at this point. what we have in common is our distaste for the unladylike nature of our wives. it seemed to be a theme for the barons of our “exquisite” countryside city.

“how are you today, my lord?” the cook asks as she wipes her hands. it’s respectful that she greet me when i arrive home from work but she probably wouldn’t if not for formalities. we do not converse outside of small talk.

“quite fine, thank you, miss josephine” i say, pulling at my necktie and loosening it. she disappears back into the kitchen after i do not ask her about herself, which i regret.

it’s silent and dank in the room. hearing nothing but a ticking clock on the mantle.

i decide to light a fire, bringing life and warmth to the living room. and it is hours that i sit in front of it, trying to read. trying to write. trying to get lost in my work.

and after a good long time, catherine is still not back. the sky is black and the stars stretch across the horizon. enough was enough.

but before i could stand up in a huff, there was a knock on the door.

it was a special knock, one that josephine knew not to answer because it was none of her business.

it was my neighbor and closest adversary, the viscount whom is cousins with my wife.

he lives just down the street in a house bigger than ours.

i am hesitant to answer, for something might be wrong. why would he be at my doorstep at this hour..?

i grab the door handle and pull it open, revealing the viscount, all dressed up in day clothes despite the time.

he was a strong, attractive fellow. a top hat often on his shiny hair, long eyelashes and a perfect pencil mustache.

he had above adequate features, a non crooked nose, unlike mine, and a lip with no big scar, also unlike myself.

he used a cane for no particular reason other than to match it with his top hat, simply for the purpose of aesthetics.

the viscount hugh huntington is somebody i am very jealous of but will never admit.

he smiles and mischievously tips his hat to me.

“what are you doing here?” i ask, crossing my arms.

“do you know where your wife is?”

im silent, shifting on the opposite foot and looking away. “no, i do not.”

“were you about to go looking?” hugh raises a eloquently curved brow.

“as a matter of fact, yes i was. but how is this any of your concern?”

“because she is with my clara, i imagine. they are always together. i was going to see if you cared to join me in retrieving them.”

i grab my coat but say nothing. my silence is my obvious stubborn agreement.

“we shouldn’t have to be doing this.” i say, leaving the house with him.

he walks with his cane, acting like he isn’t 29, and nods. “but we are. because the women in my life are—“

“maddening?” i finish.

“..i was going to say incorrigible but,” he laughs. “maddening, yes i suppose so.”

he doesn’t seem to mind their antics as much as i. perhaps because he’s known catherine and clara most all his life, and i, only some five years or so.

i sigh when we get to town on foot eventually. it’s bustling and busy, lit up and bright. i am exhausted but lord huntington is just as spry as ever, looking for clara.

“come,” he leads me through groups celebrating whatever they are celebrating, somehow knowing exactly where clara and thus, catherine, might be.

i am suddenly stopping in my tracks, not moving my feet after the viscount. he notices this and comes back.

“um.. william..?”

“i cannot see her.”

“what?”

“i cannot.”

“what are you talking about, we’ve come all this way.” he tried to pull me, but i am firm in my stance.

he struggles, attempting to get me to move but i feel frozen. “come now william! we do not have all night!”

“i think i shall go home now.”

“withou-”

“without catherine, yes. i refuse to see her. i am— i don’t know.” i really don’t know. i am unsure how to articulate my feelings in this moment.

why i don’t want to see catherine is complicated. how come i am second guessing after deciding to leave the house to go looking for her?

why should i have to do that?

what could she be possibly doing?

and why don’t i care? deep inside; i really only care about how i should want her to act. i should want her home because she is my wife.

but in actuality, i do not care what she does or to be around her.

and i wish i could say all of this to the viscount standing before me but i am solid as a brick, unmoving and not explaining.

he gives up on trying to get me to follow when i tell him one thing.

“i have not— i cannot will myself to give catherine what she desires. no matter how greatly i try.”

“and what is it that she desires?”

i want to say an attentive husband or possibly love. romance.

but..

“i have no clue, i just know that it isn’t me.”

the viscount eyes me for a little. examining me and i look to the ground. this is shameful— i know he must be judging me.

“have you ever heard of the gilded parlour?”

i squint.

“sorry, the what?”

hugh looks around to make sure nobody is listening before he leans in closer, being discreet. “the gilded parlour is downstairs of laurel’s. it is adjacent to a night club of sorts.”

laurel’s is a hugely respected and professional tailor shop that makes only the finest of dresses and suits. i frequent the place often and have ever in my days heard of a downstairs.

i wonder what is was. parlour entails that it’s an underground bar, but just how scandalous it was remains to be seen. how did the viscount know of this?

“have you been?”

“of course.” he smirks, looking around again before leaning in even closer to speak, looking with a hazy glow in his bright green eyes. “do you really think clara is not only satisfactory in the bedroom, but active at all? trust me, william, this could very well be the solution to your marriage troubles.”

im hesitant, dumbfounded by this new information.

it does make a lot of sense, however. lord huntington is incredibly high spirited; perhaps this is why.

“i haven’t the slightest clue how to act, my lord. what would i even say to access entry?”

the viscount purses his lips. “i shall go with you then. the doorman will know me and then soon enough, you as well. i shall just introduce you.”

i nodded, unknowing of what i was getting myself into. catherine and clara were suddenly the last of my thoughts as lord huntington and i strolled upon laurie’s tailor shop.

i asked him what was down there.

he replied with you’ll see so i had no realistic expectations.

upon arrival, the doorman greeted lord huntington like they’ve known one another for years— but i have never seen this man in my life.

his gaze darted to me, eyeing me up and down.

“and who might this be, my lord?”

“this is baron berkshire, he will be accompanying me tonight as a new member.”

“uh,” i speak up, adding my opinion. “g-guest. guest member— i won’t be staying.”

“sure you won’t.” the doorman laughed, as did hugh. confused, i followed the them behind a door to a staircase i had never seen before.

of all the times i’ve been here, this was a total mystery to me.

the further we got down the stairs, the louder it got and the more the parlour was revealed. a huge venue, it was.

a bar and a stage and many, many corners to retreat to. awe was an understatement to how i felt.

without wasting any time, hugh descended down, meeting presumably many friendly faces.

he knew so many more people than i thought. i knew he was quite popular but this is a marvel.

most of them were women of the mistress type. the word harlot might be too extreme, especially in a place like this where that was the normal.

i took a few steps in, deciding not to hang around lord huntington— he appeared to have more pressing matters with these ladies than with me.

i took the initiative to explore the place myself, afterall i was a guest. i might as well feel welcome.

the bar had many, many more drinks than typical bars. they probably specialized in how well they run things in this private club. i decided to have a drink.

the shot of cognac was severed to me in a crystal glass— it sparked my curiosity as to how this parlour is funded. what sort of secrets the patrons of this city held, who the patrons were.

suddenly the lights began to dim and voices grew quieter. a spotlight was aimed toward the empty stage.

people started to form a bit of a crowd, scooching toward the stage to get a better view for who might come out.

i did the same out of follower-habit. and granted, i was curious.

the woman that came out gave me chills.

dark red heels, dark red dress. irresistibly hatched stockings that didn’t go further past the upper thigh, leaving skin to be revealed.

her corset was showing much of her chest, although modest.

chills ran all throughout my body and i slow blinked, almost in full shock at how instantly my eye was caught.

how strange.. i must really have a distaste for my wife for even the first spotlight woman i see has my trousers tightening.

she was disgracefully dressed and it pulled me in closer like a magnetic force.

her red lips began to sing after speaking to the audience with words i had not even caught, blinded by my haze.

her voice was like poison and the cure to it at the same time. i felt like falling to my knees, staying put as if she were a siren in the ocean.

my pants became even more strained when i parted my lips and imagined her looking at me. it would be so wonderful if we made eye co-

good lord.

as if i said it aloud and she heard, she looked directly into my eyes. her beautiful lashes batting when it lasted only a second before gazing to someone else.

i had to leave.

this was too perverse.

what in gods name was i doing? betraying my wife like this?

i quickly made my way up to the stairs and ignored lord huntington asking me where i was going above the music. i didn’t even know where he was but i heard him.

the doorman laughed as i ran out, hearing his guffaw in the distance when the cold night air hit me.

~

catherine was home when i arrived, already getting undone for bed.

she sat in front of the vanity and brushed her hair with a silver hairbrush, acting like she was perfection to behold.

she caught me in the vanity mirror, lips downturned like an offended sorceress. “and where were you, william?”

i scoffed, removing my waistcoat and dress shirt. “where were you?”

catherine acted as if i already accused her of something with that one sentence, setting down her hairbrush with a loud noise. “i asked you first.”

i huffed, feeling my hair in its natural state. it must have came all undone from my constant messing with it on my way home thinking of the gilded parlour.

“if you must know; i was out looking for you.”

catherine tsked and got up, rolling her eyes at me like i was an idiot. “you know i always go out on fridays.”

“forgive me then,” i say, feigning respect. “is it so cruel i regard for my wife’s safety?”

“im perfectly safe, william.”

we’re laying beside one another in bed. not touching, not looking.

she continues after some quiet time. “why can’t you be more like lord huntington— he and clara have the perfect relationship.”

i am silent for the rest of the night.

the party was going great. everything was in order, drinks were on a tab, catering was perfect, and a lot a people came. it was loud, the lighting was low, and the music was good.

only, kosuke didn’t care nor even think about any of these things. it was his own birthday party and he wasn’t even interested in the activities going on.

in fact, he was in the restroom for quite some time.

patrick orchestrated the party and invited all the guests. mainly because he has an odd passion for organizing events and activities— as well as using it as content for his vlogs.

he had his camera with him the entire night, holding it up for himself and poppy mostly. he’d soon post it the next day and probably title it “grwm to throw a birthday party for my best friends ex (shit goes down NO CLICKBAIT)” with shock emojis on the thumbnail.

the whole thing was paid for in advance using the money from kosukes big boxing win last night.

sure it should have gone towards kosuke and takashi’s rent or maybe to their day-by-day inclining debt, but he decided that it was fine to do whatever they wanted with it as long as it meant kosuke had a good birthday.

besides, he deserved it. he landed the last hit before the eighth round buzzer rang with a stunning knockout. kosuke was on top of the world, bloodied and battered but feeling good.

the opponent he faught was someone he’d been wanting to get in the ring with for years now. each are one of the best cruiserweight fighter in their bracket and they finally got to meet.

he was a jaguar from brazil by the name of santos and he had tattoos all over. he hit kosuke at the weigh in and it started crazy hype for the fight leading up in a few weeks. the yoshida versus santos posters were plastered all over downtown and tons of bets were placed on that night.

it may have been good for publicity but not for kosuke. the premature jab by santos only set him off and if it weren’t for his coach he would have torn the guy up to shreds.

in the gym, people who know kosuke tend to watch out for his “tiny” anger problem. they always clear the way to his training area as soon as he walks in. loud voices become low murmurs and the gym equipment noises only grow.

in the locker room, it’s dead silent. the other fighters can hardly even glance up. out of fear or respect— it didn’t matter. nobody looked at kosuke for very long lest they have a desire to get targeted.

with takashi, it was the same way but a bit less so. he was still threatening but the turmoil levels were much lower. you could probably even talk to him on a good day.

but despite the aggression, kosuke and takashi’s presence at the boxing gym is good for morale. they bring a certain energy that others feed off of.

as for the fight last night, suke had sustained a couple of injuries but it’s nothing in the grand scheme of things. only a cut eyebrow, some swelling, and some scratches and bruises.

even after 24 hours they look much better than when he stood up there on the canvas after the win. and while he was up there, he took a glance around at the audience, hoping to see a certain red doll waiting somewhere for him— win or lose.

but she wasn’t.

and he felt like an idiot for expecting her to show up.

but he wouldn’t put it past her; she’s done it before. back when their relationship was newer; poppy used to refuse to go to these because she hates the sport of boxing but one day during a real big fight, she showed up.

kosuke was overjoyed, not because he won but because she was there. he slid between the ropes and hopped off the canvas, meeting her with a strong hug. only pulling away so he could kiss her until they couldn’t breathe.

they made love that night and it may have been one of the best moments of their relationship in kosuke’s opinion. it was slow and passionate. he took his time with her made sure every inch of her body was cared for and pleased. the look in his eyes was lethal.

but now.. they’re going through it.

poppy never shows up and it’s pointless to consider the possibility she might.

kosuke quit looking for her and instead met the acknowledging eyes of his brother— the person who’s there for him the most after every single match. he’s his right hand man and vice versa.

he gives him his water, mouthgard, his wet towel and ice, vaseline for cuts, he even wraps the athletic tape around his paws and tightens sukes gloves over them. and kosuke does the same thing for takashi when their places are swapped.

but even then, they have a bad relationship outside of matches and the boxing gym. at home, they barely talk and often times, takashi is quickly walking past kosukes door, careful not to look in and see something he’ll regret.

kosuke rarely ever closes his door— you’d think at that point he didn’t even have one. something about the apartment being under his name or whatever. still, that didn’t magically mean he can give himself the title of being the king of their apartment, letting anyone who walks by see the woman he had bent over and half sliding off his sheets while he took her from behind.

takashi normally wears noise canceling headphones. especially because he’s part owl, which means his hearing is so good it’s more of a curse than a blessing, so headphones definitely help block out the constant noises he’s hearing.

he has them on almost virtually all the time. especially at home where he can truly be comfortable. his shaking stops and his heartbeat becomes regular again.

the only downside to wearing them though is whenever taka walks around thinking nobody’s home, he’ll accidently peer into his brothers room and see something he forever wishes he could unsee.

it’s even worse when suke catches him— thinking his brother is a peeping tom makes him disgusted and violent. he’s thrown countless items at taka that have shattered against the wall past his head, which were always followed by a shriek from the girl.

but takashi being a pervert could not be further from the truth. his brain and his body just didn’t work together that way— it was uncommon for takashi to feel arousal.

he sat up from his stool at the bar and headed towards the restrooms, weaving through the crowd of people partying. he caught the eyes of a few of his friends, poppy and evelyn who watched him curiously.

he mouthed “bathroom” and they nodded in acknowledgment. they may not know exactly what taka suffers from and what he goes through (because of kosuke leading them off the trail) but they know enough to be worried for him.

he may have passed out a couple times during previous hang outs for medical reasons— but embarrassment aside— he felt lucky to have such caring friends.

on his way to the restrooms down the back hall of the bar, takashi strolled slowly. the alcohol was affecting his better judgement, making him burst into the bathroom.

upon entering, he was shockingly met with a naked woman becoming beet red in the face, and kosuke over her with his belt and zipper undone. they were doing it right over the sink—

the audacity to not even use a stall.

what’s more is that kosuke didn’t even notice takashi. he noticed the face of the girl and tried to follow her gaze, only seeing the door swinging closed left behind by somebody.

“so what? someone saw us. no big deal.” he grunted, preoccupied with kissing her chest and returning to his pace of sliding in and out of her.

takashi stumbled out of the grimy hallway, his heart rate beginning to increase as he thought of all the ways kosuke would hurt him later for walking in on them.

it seemed like it should matter so little, like getting on a downward spiral was being dramatic. but one thought led to another and suddenly takashi’s anxiety was beginning to grow rapidly. his heart condition often blew symtoms out of proportion.

he thought of things related to kosuke, then slowly, unrelated to kosuke, wild and invasive thoughts that gradually stressed him out more and more.

come to think of it, takashi needed to pick up his meds around this time. he had just gotten a refill thanks to the recent win and his primary physician said it should be ready later.

it was a bit of a struggle to have kosuke pay for them. afterall, with hardly any insurance coverage they had to pay for his refills almost entirely out of pocket.

takashi fiddled with his paws as he asked him yesterday night. it wasn’t good timing for kosuke but it didn’t matter. he needed them and they both knew that.

kosuke had just had an argument with poppy over the phone when taka asked. at first he called her to let her know she left a bra at his house but it turns out it wasn’t hers. needless to say kosuke would say no to pretty much anything taka asked for in the moment— so it was miracle he got convinced.

on his way toward the exit, taka bumped into his friends again. this time patrick had joined them, vlogging as he did, and they were all immediately focused on stumbling takashi.

are you okay’s and what’s wrong takashi spewed out from their worried mouths.

taka looked up, meeting the bicolored eyes of poppy. she looked at him with concern and had her paw on his shoulder. without trying to, his eyes met her low cleavage red dress.

although he felt nothing, he admired the way she was so beautiful. of course she would be wearing something nice at kosukes party— despite the state of their relationship.

patrick also dressed nicely but it wasn’t unusual, his wardrobe was only prim and proper. and evelyn wore what she normally did and that made takashi feel better about wearing his baggy everyday clothes at this party as well.

not like he had any nicer ones besides one crisp suit. and that was reserved for important boxing conferences and very special occasions.

suddenly the doors opened and two new guests arrived, leaving takashi’s circle to dissipate. he was undecided if that was something to be grateful for or something to miss.

the guests were recognized as the ski instructor and his bulky friend who works at the rental place with him.

kenai and the other one. takashi didn’t know his name.

before leaving, taka watched as poppy practically jumped into the other husky’s embrace. it was oddly intense. kenai blushed and so did she, fixing her dress as they parted. the big one shook patrick’s hand and also smiled at him. they seemed so friendly all together..

takashi took this as a sign to leave. he didn’t want to get acquainted with kenai and the new guy.

meeting up with kenai multiple times this week was already bad enough for the brothers. not only did the guy admit he didn’t know how to ski just so he could “make their acquaintance” but he showed them up with his snowboarding. kosuke and takashi were good but they had no clue kenai was going to be so annoyingly incredible at it. he could be a professional as far as they could’ve guessed.

kosuke watched from afar, being unusually silent down the hill as his girlfriend became friendlier and friendlier with the instructor. they met up “secretly” for lunch once and coffee twice this week. both thinking they were being covert and sneaky when in reality, kosuke knew about it all.

it was a ticking time bomb.

poppy and kenai were compatible. much, much more compatible than kosuke and her ever were— by a long shot. kosuke was a puzzle piece from a different box, trying to fit himself into poppy’s picture when he so clearly wasn’t apart of it.

but he forced it so.

like an invasive species or disease, slowly hurting her more the longer he stayed. or better yet, he was a parasite.

he latched onto her all those years ago and has been taking advantage of her since.

though, kosuke wasn’t interested in just letting her go so easily now that kenai entered their atmosphere. he wasn’t about to let this new guy who looked to be her perfect match just waltz in and steal her away.

no, kosuke would keep her for as long as he wanted. ever since they’ve been meeting up with this instructor, he’s backed off just enough to let poppy think she can do as she pleases.

he’s ignored her, essentially. and she’s been fine with it up until the other night. wondering and confronting him for why her boyfriend isn’t there for her when she needs him to be.

he wanted to say something like “why don’t you ask your new boyfriend,” but instead, kosuke then simply gave her everything she desired overnight. kissing her, making love to her, being kind and caring, building her up. and the next morning, he broke things off.

it only made her more conflicted— just how he intended. it was all tricks, mind games, manipulation. he knew she would get bored of this new boy soon enough and come running back to him. the love that kosuke can show her was promising enough to go back.

and in the meanwhile, kosuke enjoyed some nice time fucking floozies one after another. perhaps it was because he truly wanted to or perhaps he did it to distract himself from the anxiety that began to eat away at him.

breaking up with poppy was complicated. contradictory.

*what if you’re making a big mistake?* replayed in his mind, causing much self doubt.

if he so desperately desired her it made no sense to leave her. because by the slim chance his tactic doesn’t work, they’re truly done. the new guy will sweep her off her feet before kosuke can even turn around and plead.

but he ignored the nagging fear. it will work, he’s convinced himself. she will come crying back.

and so, kosuke focused on the other women. poppy was out of sight and (mostly) out of mind.

kosuke got with any pretty canine girl. that was his type. it wasn’t always that way but ever since poppy, the other girls he’s had sex with always resemble her in one slight way or another. but he cared not to admit that.

poppy wasn’t an idiot. she knew of this little ritual he always did. she wasn’t going to overreact or be dramatic after this “break up”. the process was as normal as breathing at this point.

in fact it was good, it gave them the opportunity to have some time away. which they so desperately needed after getting to this boiling point weeks upon weeks now.

poppy enjoyed it by getting to know kenai, who was like a refreshing tall drink of water after years of drinking anything but.

she did want to see him more. possibly even kiss him. touch him.

but she decided it’s best to take things slow, after all, kenai was doing just that with her. rushing into things has never worked out for her so far.

she wouldn’t mess up something good so soon. not after feeling like it was her fault her and kosuke were such a mess.

to avoid thinking about it, poppy turned her attention to kenai, both of them silently gawking at how perfect they thought the other looked.

“i didn’t think you’d come,” she said, scratching her elbow. it was a nervous habit she did when she didn’t want to feel awkward.

“why wouldn’t i? you’re here.”

“oh you know,” poppy waved off. “it is for kosuke and whatnot. so i thought that might deter you.” she chuckled to make it seem more casual.

it wasn’t.

she worried for kenai. for kosuke. for their inevitable interaction.

the two of them being here was possibly worse than any boxing ring face off she would ever see.

“i mean.. you guys broke up right? water under the bridge.” kenai mentioned, walking poppy to the bar to get her a drink. the gentle touch he had on her lower back didn’t go unnoticed.

“yeah, i guess so.” she smiled, playing off the growing nervousness bubbling in her chest.

has no idea that she and kosuke had sex the night before the break up.

no idea how kosuke went down on her, making them impossibly close when poppy wrapped her legs around his head and groaned past the shoved panties in her mouth.

-

luckily, takashi’s pharmacy was just a block away from the bar. they were open until 11 tonight so taka had to walk quickly on the snowy sidewalk, making sure not to slip on the icy parts.

as he went, he looked down, analyzing each step he made. it was odd of him and onlookers might wonder what’s wrong with the guy.

though, it simply made sense to him.

if he stepped on a crack in the sidewalk, their mother misaki’s back would break— according to 13 year old kosuke.

taka recalled how they walked to school together every morning in japan. they just moved back recently and their house was not too far from the campus. each day kosuke took his little brother to elementary school and walked himself to his junior high, which was the building right next to it.

takashi had a hard time letting go of kosukes hand when they had to part, clinging to him like 3rd grade was prison.

it certainly didn’t help that takashi was challenged when it came to literacy skills. reading and writing wasn’t exactly his forte— even in both languages. but speaking was a different story.

when it came to relearning japanese, taka flourished. and he was great at math— two things kosuke didn’t get lucky with.

kosuke always just yanked his hand away and told taka to go in because the sooner he did, the sooner they would walk home at the end of the day.

after takashi would let go, suke would jog next door through long hallways and up the stairs to his 7th grade class, always late.

and from their classroom window during lunch, he’d see takashi at recess.

there were many times when he peered outside to see taka wandering around alone, getting a ball kicked to the face, or just sitting by himself on the ground, tracing shapes in the dirt with a twig.

kosuke moved his seat away from the window so he didn’t have to see that anymore. it made him crumble inside and the only way he knew how to deal with any type of sad emotion was to pretend it didn’t exist.

after school, they always had to stay for an hour extra because mom was obligated to come and pick them up. she did sometimes, maybe a few times a month.

but most days, she forgot or chose not to and the brothers would get tired of waiting. they would just walk home when staff wasn’t watching.

“step on a crack,” kosuke sang, hopping over each crack in the sidewalk. “break your momma’s back.”

he sang that for years out of habit, and it eventually became part of their routine. but little did kosuke know, his brother was always behind him stepping on every crack he passed.

it’s not that he truly wanted their moms back to break or anything but he did hold a certain level of hatred for her. it only festered more and more as they grew older.

little mutated takashi lived in his brothers shadow, who was clearly their mothers favorite solely based on genetics.

this mother-son resentment was mutual. it existed in every little aspect of their life. she’d roll her eyes at things he’s said, punish him for not doing anything, laugh at his stutter, and neglect any need he ever came to her with.

a lot of the time, kosuke would get more of something that was split between them. things ranged from food and drinks all the way to affection. but they both got very little.

takashi was forced to sit on the floor if they ever spent any “family” time together. those moments were few and far between, always weirdly accompanied by random men who each thought they were gonna be their new dad. they never lasted more than a few days with misaki.

food and clothes and basic hygiene products were a limited resource at home. it got so bad that kosuke and takashi would walk to the store themselves as they got a bit older and slyly take things off the shelves when nobody was looking.

takashi had… stickier fingers than kosuke but kosukes greed started getting a bit out of hand. he kept handing things to his brother nonchalantly, knowing takashi would expertly tuck it away.

one time they got caught and takashi remembers kosuke mumbling something along the lines of since when did ukai install cameras, that old fuck. aparently they were right above them the week before and the next time they came in, the old man who owned the store had printed out their pictures and put them on the “banned” corkboard.

oftentimes takashi would also need medical attention and misaki would just not bother. it clearly didn’t matter more to her than being out of the house doing god knows what.

still, to this day, takashi is kept out of the loop about what exactly their mother is up to— although it’s not hard to guess. she’s in one way or another affiliated with sex work and substances, things among that nature.

she gets herself into trouble more often than not. which mainly explains why the brothers are the way they are: delinquents.

as takashi made his way back to the bar with his meds in hand, he’s stepping on cracks he sees in the sidewalk through the melting snow.

spring is coming.

by this time next month, most of it will be gone and the tiny bright green spurts of grass will start to peek up through the ground.

the boys will start to get hotter. getting trims to their fur to keep their temperatures under control.

it reminded taka of the time spring came one year— the first year— taunting him with the heat as he went through the most wretched time of his life.

“how did this even break?” taka mumbled to himself as he stood on the top of a ladder in him and suke’s first apartment. the ceilings were high because they (kosuke mainly) thought it was a good idea to spend a ton on a place they couldn’t afford for very long.

he paid the deposit easily but by three months in, they were already up to their scruffs in overdue bills.

and to make matters worse, the apartment wasn’t all that nice. it was a shabby little place with thin walls and cheap appliances. everything constantly broke, including this AC unit that takashi was attempting to fix.

the yukon to them was comfortable in the winter months, especially for kosuke. it’s one of the reasons he forced taka back here.

but spring had arrived and it was unpromising. the warmth stayed in their thick fur, making it nearly impossible to stay cool.

it was their first year here as functioning adults, yet they knew nothing. in fact, it was a wonder that takashi was surviving.

his brows were furrowed and he chewed on the screwdriver he held in his mouth, checking the inside of the unit. there was a switch. heat and air conditioning.

“it’s just that simple?” he said through clenched teeth over the screwdriver, flicking the switch to AC, and rescrewing the cover back on.

once at the bottom of the ladder, takashi was about to pat himself on the back for how easy of a fix that was as he turned it on again. it made a grinding sound for a little and then stopped.

“fuck,” he sighed, tossing the tool onto the floor and not even bothering to take down the ladder. it wasn’t theirs anyhow, it belonged to their neighbor. taka didn’t ask, he just took it from the alley and was gonna put it back as soon as he could, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment.

the heat in the apartment became unbearable, causing takashi to take his shirt and pants off, making the place messier with even more dirty clothes thrown around.

he was overstimulated, pacing and trying to calm himself. it wasn’t helping that he was coming down from a major high he experienced last week

the mystery pill he took given by some lion he recently met had him glued to his messy bed for a whole night and a whole day. mouth hung open and pupils bigger than they’ve been in a long time. possibly the only good thing that came from the experience was takashi’s ability to jerk off and actually cum. that wasn’t a regular occurrence.

in fact, it was so rare that taka took the opportunity to crank his cock as much as he could, just to make it worth the time. he started off slow, savoring how good it felt to touch himself after not caring for masturbation weeks or even months at a time.

he gripped it and tugged up and down, not even thinking about anything specific— he was just in the moment.

a handful of tissues later, his cock was soft, twitching, and sensitive, the slightest touch would make him shiver. slipping on a pair of underwear and pajama pants make him double over back onto his mattress and shudder.

but was that such a bad thing? not at all.

come midday, taka felt almost completely normal again, apart from the twinge of artery pain that always lingered. he stared up at the cracked white ceiling and took in the silence of their place. not a thing whistled in the wind.

with normalcy came realizing he hasn’t seen kosuke.. in days.

at first it was quiet and peaceful. he may have thought about how grateful he was to not be bothered while he trip-sat himself. but now that he’s back to feeling real, he feels alone.

he feels panic.

takashi attempted to call his brother; it went straight to voicemail. he called again, then again, then about 3 more times before giving up.

sent at 3:40 pm: where u at

sent at 6:19pm: will you come home soon

sent at 6:20pm: bro where the fuck even are you

sent at 10:47pm: suke where did you go

sent at 12:24am: u ok?

sent at 3:03am: i need help

sent a 3:04am: call me back

suddenly takashi sat up in bed. the glow of his phone on his face was “kosu-kun” calling. his profile picture taken just months ago was a candid image of him with a pink party city wig on. it’s so visibly obvious he was caught off guard, but they shared laughs with the wigs.

it represents the seldom moments where the boys aren’t always at each others throats.

takashi answered, sliding the green button to the right.

“hello?”

“taka. what’s wrong.” kosuke said, his emotion unreadable and dull. but he wouldn’t have called if he truly didn’t care.

“n-nothing— where the fuck are you?”

“why’d you text me if there was nothing wrong, you’re wasting my ti-“

“wait!” takashi said before suke could hang up. “just please, tell me what’s going on. you haven’t been home in like.. shit,” taka rubbed his aching eyes. a migraine was coming. “three, four days.”

“uh,” kosuke grumbled, taka could practically see him scrubbing his face like he always does. even thousands of miles apart they were mirroring each other. “mom got into some trouble. she needed help.”

takashi was silent. milions of questions ran through his head but he asked only one after the long pause.

“…are you back in tokyo?”

“..yeah.”

that was enough for takashi to hang up.

it’s been a rough year of living in the yukon again. but back home in japan, where takashi could never go back, everything was the way he wanted. he so desperately missed it there and it was out of the question.

he had a real friend but not only that, a crush. he had his health mostly under control by the time they left. he had a growing career in boxing (give or take his lack of passion for it). he even had an opportunity to go to college.

but suke blew it for him, for both of them.

and now he’s back and taka was beyond envious.

beyond confused.

the whole reason they left was because their mom overdosed. she was no longer their problem after adulthood, suke decided, so he packed up everything (including taka) and dipped back to their hometown in the yukon.

so for him to just go back at the drop of a hat was beyond takashi.

later, he learned it was because she needed money and offered kosuke a place to stay while he made extra cash winning illegal fights.

four months later he got booted and came back home.

the guy walked through the doors of his apartment like nothing mattered. like he didn’t leave his only brother alone for months on end.

he sent money sometimes for rent and called once or twice to check up things. but it wasn’t with care or consideration.

takashi survived on pure willpower and spite. his health issues were at an all time high, he needed a hospital right away, the house was a mess. he was a mess.

but he still walked up to his brother and hugged him. he was tired. not sad at all nor happy. an emotionless tear rolled down his face and onto suke’s backpack.

“what are you doing?” kosuke pushed back, furrowing his brows and looking at taka with disdain. but he softened instantly.

takashi was much skinnier and his fur was unruly. it was clear how badly kosukes absence affected him. in that moment, he decided he wasn’t going to leave again like that ever again— no matter how much he acts like he doesn’t give a shit about him.

“i’m sorry.” he mumbled, tucking in the cross he wore into his shirt.

there were countless eviction notices they had to deal with, along with the process of finding a new place and getting takashi looking at least a little bit more on track.

not a lot of talking happened around the time kosuke came back. it was a really weird and silent era they never talk about.

-

“you should really hydrate!” patrick yelled in otis’ ear, his accent was thick and he held up a water bottle.

otis waved a huge paw around drunkenly, “i got this! im a master at beer pong.”

he tossed the ping pong ball across the table in the sloppiest way, his inebriation clearly affecting everything he did. they found it funny.

they as in patrick, poppy, and kenai.

none of them were nearly as drunk as him, laughing as they watched otis miss terribly. the ping pong ball bounced off the table but kenai skillfully caught it before it hit the ground.

he and poppy were on the same team, opposing their best friends who were paired together.

it was strangely intimate on both sides.

on the one hand poppy and kenai kept making each other smile. it was non stop jokes and pokes and perhaps some flirty touching here and there.

kenai was surprisingly good at beer pong even though he didn’t drink. he and poppy scored balls back constantly throughout their entire game and instead of both patrick and otis having to drink, otis took almost each one— sparing his teammate.

it was romantic in a way, but nobody wanted to say anything about it; otis was someone people always assumed was straight.

“i’ve never seen him like this,” kenai says lowly to poppy, both of them giggling.

“really? not ever? he’s your best friend!”

“i mean ive seen him drunk but not this drunk. and patrick here is the cherry on the top.”

poppy glanced at him— her and kenais proximity was way closer than she realized. she swore she could practically smell the shampoo he used on his fur. “what do you mean?”

“well, look at them. patrick is clearly making him feel great.”

poppy nods in agreement. “i guess you’re right. they compliment each other in a unique way.”

-

kosuke took his time with all the buttons on his black shirt. he left the top few undone and he zipped up his pants, redoing his belt and watching himself in the mirror as he did.

he was annoyed. previously startled but it masked into just agitation. the girl he had in here with her panties around her ankles turned out to be a total mess.

at least to kosuke.

he won’t take accountability for the way she stormed out and will instead most likely call her crazy.

mere minutes ago, kosuke had her on her knees.

the tile floors of the men’s public bar bathroom had to have been downright hazardous but he pushed her down anyway, holding her face gently as he slid his hard cock in her mouth.

it was going good, he was relishing in the feeling and her teeth, sharp as they were, were luckily not getting in the way at all.

she was skilled at this and kosuke found himself loving that, combing his paw over her soft head. he was enjoying himself.

so much so that he groaned.. something he shouldn’t have.

yeah good girl poppy under his breath whilst his eyes were shut. he was in his own world it seemed.

though, this was not private and the girl heard it, immediately pulling off. “excuse me? who the fuck is poppy?”

kosuke blinked open.

his first initial emotion was shame, of course. that was normal. anyone would feel embarrassed after something like that. but kosuke had a tendency to let a secondary emotion cloud over.

anger.

it was his response to any uncomfortable situation and he was uncomfortable a lot. all the time, almost. (aside from when he was with poppy.)

“why are you stopping,” he gritted through his teeth, grabbing a fistful of her fur and yanking her head back towards his groin.

“i don’t k-,” she pushed against his thighs as he slid his cock back in forcefully.

“yeah that’s fucking right— you don’t know, huh?” kosukes aggressive nature was threatening to her, volatile. her attitude worsened when he spat down on her face. “finish the job.”

that was it.

she had it with him.

the woman pushed herself away and collected her things, fixing her dress so her tits weren’t still hanging out.

“fuck you,” she said, quickly leaving so he didn’t lash out again. she may not have known him for very long but it wasn’t hard to understand he was dangerous.

she stormed out, heels angrily clacking against the floor of the hallway on her way to the exit. she muttered something about wolf stereotypes as if she wasn’t a canine herself, wiping her lips.

right as she was about to open the south exit door, someone came in and bumped into her rather harshly.

before he could apologize, the woman shoved him over. “ugh! out of my way, freak.”

she marched out, choosing to ignore to fact that the guy she just crashed into looked highly similar to the guy she fucked in the bathroom.

“s-sorry.” takashi still said, even after the door swung closed.

he pocketed his little orange pill bottle before walking in again, wiping his snowy feet on the doormat, not ready to rejoin the party but he convinced himself to anyway.

he found a good spot on a barstool that overlooked most of his friends. he watched evelyn for a moment.

she was on a drab rust colored couch explaining something to a man. takashi chuckled, she looked belligerent, clapping her paws in front of his face to make him understand something.

evenlyn likes starting debate arguments after trolling straight republican men. it was her thing.

he then looked over at patrick.

what was even happening over there..?

he was hanging by his arms from the huge polar bears bicep, swinging like a kid.

it was actually sort of refreshing to see patrick so playful and happy.

not that he isn’t happy, but a better word to describe patrick would be content. smirks weren’t smiles and the jokes he made and laughed at were usually always at someone else’s expense.

but here he was, having a ton of fun without making someone the butt of the joke. he even had his camera off and tucked away.

then taka looked at poppy. beautiful poppy.

she was laughing as well, getting noogied by the ski instructor. he heard them both say at the same time i love this song! when steal my sunshine came on in the background.

the more takashi watched them, the more he found comfort in their simple joys.

what was so wrong with this picture, he thought.

takashi could make his own assumptions about these two guys, detached from kosukes preconceived notions.

in the car or at home, they would sometimes chat about kenai. it came from a place of jealousy. kosuke brought him up when it wasn’t even close to their previous topic.

something about the guy being a cuck. and he was “so annoying” to kosuke.

and while takashi agreed in the moment..

he didn’t find himself having annoyance or hostility toward the guy.

in fact, he saw the way kenai lifted up poppy’s spirits— contrary to his brother who makes her feel smaller than a bug.

but it wasn’t so easy to just enjoy this.

poppy has something coming for her.

kenai has something coming for him.

they’re not going to get off scott-free, and takashi can only prepare for the worst.

he ordered a beer from the bartender and sat back. right as it came out and he took his first sip, he saw him.

kosuke was far. just coming out of the hallway a good distance from them. he hadn’t spotted them just yet.

taka seemed to watch in slow motion. how his brother noticed and approached the group getting closer and closer by the second.

there was energy beneath the outer surface of his body. it coursed through kosuke and was reflected in his eyes. his physique seemed to reflect how angry and strong he was becoming.

insanity, takashi thought.

kenai, unsuspecting, had his back turned, just having a good time with poppy.

oh fuck.

takashi clambered out of his seat, almost tripping, and bolted to poppy, grabbing her arm and pulling her away before anybody could process what was happening.

if he hadn’t, poppy would have gotten hurt from just being kenai and kosuke’s vacinity— because in a split second, kenai got a wooden chair to the back with enough force to knock him out.

it broke around him, wood pieces flying everywhere and people screaming brought takashi back to reality.

he let go of poppy who ripped herself out of taka’s grip. she was by kenai’s side in an instant, crouching on the ground to see if he was okay.

to avoid being involved in an all-out bar fight, taka went back to the bar counter, chugged his beer, and took his leave.

in the time he did so, chaos unfolded behind him. he heard poppy’s angry voice, voices of their friends getting on kosuke. he felt kosukes anger.

his rage.

more so because he knew his brother wasn’t getting what he wanted. this was a bad situation that he didn’t think through. he never thinks things through.

he was cornered and he couldn’t fight anybody in this circumstance. not with odds like this— not with poppy here, the one person he seems to care about, protecting the guy he wants to tear to shreds.