#but barely even wants to hire me n refuses to hire any other assistants for our dept (on like minimum wage)

[cruelsister-moved2]

my job is like heyyy we know you work 3 days a week but can you do 3 peoples worth of full time jobs in that time? xoxox 

[mugensword]

sloth | ijichi x f!reader (7.1k)

Pairing - Ijichi x escort!reader (female bodied).  Sloth: unwillingness to work or make any effort. Ijichi is finally taking some vacations for himself after being treated like a slave by Gojo. Unlucky for him, Gojo had decided to handle his vacations by hiring you.  Slight subby Ijichi, massage gone wrong, awkward boner, masturbation (m), steamy massage, oral sex (m & f receiving), face-sitting, safe sex, vaginal sex, ear licking, (Gojo is a pimp???) | TW: none that I think about... | WC: 7.1k.

The salted air burned his lungs and the sun burned his dark hair. Ijichi wasn’t used to the sight offered to him, the sea shining and swaying gently. It was incredibly peaceful. He felt almost guilty of doing nothing but enjoying the view, as the backwash slowly moved the boat. He crisped his hands on the metal bar protecting him from falling into the sea and he gulped. No, he deserved this, it was his holidays. He had worked hard to get to this. It was supposed to be his lonely time, to rest, eat delicious things, enjoy the few days of calm before eventually going back to his stressful and dangerous activities.

“Sir?”

He blinked, hearing an unknown feminine voice in his back. He was alone, nobody was supposed to—

“Sir Ijichi?”

He blinked a second time.

“Y..Yes?” He turned slowly to face you.

You smiled at him, the colorful sundress fluttered by the wind, revealing your knees. “Hello, sir Ijichi.”

Tons of questions rushed to his mind: who was this beautiful woman? Why did she know his name? All his instincts kicked in instantly, as he was too used to danger.

“Yes? Wha..What can I do for you?” He babbled, trying to stay calm. You didn’t look like a threat, but he remained vigilant.

“Actually, I should be asking this question. Sir Gojo hired me for you this week to keep you company and make the best of your holidays. If you need anything, I’ll always be around to help you.”

Satoru hired someone for him? Apparently the man cared about the assistant even through all his bullying. Ijichi felt anxious ; he was not used to being taken care of.

“I don’t—,” he started.

“Sir Gojo said you would refuse any help, so it is his forced gift to thank you for your hard work. He wants you to make the best out of this week of rest.”

You approached him, grasping the metal bar too. He lightly stepped away to let you have more place, amazed and intimidated by your presence. He barely realized what was happening to him: spending a week with a gorgeous woman as a company?

“Are you an?...” He couldn’t say the word out-loud.

“I’m an escort, yes. But it doesn’t mean anything, don’t be embarrassed about it, you’re not technically my boss. But you are my client from now on, I shall make everything it takes to make you feel at ease. If you want to spend time alone, I will disappear until you ask me to come back. I take my orders from you only, so I will not do anything silly unless you ask me to.”

Gojo warned you about Ijichi’s personality. You had a few experiences with men like him, the type of shy, lonely workaholics who were even embarrassed to ask for your services and ended up taking care of you instead of the opposite. They were the easiest to work with, only eating fancy diners and looking nice was enough for them, and they blushed when asking for other simple services.

“I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you Sir Ijichi. May I simply call you Ijichi, or Kiyotaka? Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

You offered your hand. He gulped again, before taking lightly your hand with his clammy ones. He shook it softly, like he was touching a wounded bird.

“Nice to meet you too… Call me Ijichi.”

You smiled at him, trying to make him comfortable around you, otherwise it would be difficult to work. Gojo hired you because you had a gentle and reassuring aura — your eyes were soft, and your smile bright. You felt Ijichi relax, yet he was still lost in the track of his mind, trying to digest the fact that his weekly plan was not as he had originally planned. Not like he had planned much, apart from resting peacefully at the beach and drinking some cheap cocktails. You could easily fit within his plans.

"We have separate rooms at the hotel, Sir Gojo took care of everything for me financially so you don't have to worry about anything."

He nodded. It wasn’t like he had another choice than to indulge completely in his holiday week. Details didn’t matter, he didn’t want to think about it, especially when you were paid to make his life easier and more pleasant. Ijichi hated Gojo for his habit of overpassing people’s boundaries, but for once, he didn’t mess up.

“O-Okay…," he scratched the back of his head, unable to say much more. He was too overwhelmed with your presence to even think right away of the bedroom situation.

"I think we’re arriving soon. I’ll leave you to that, and we shall meet to eat dinner at the hotel's restaurant? So we can get to know each other more."

You tried to catch his eyes by bending lightly over the metal bar, still gently smiling, to make sure he agreed sincerely to your dinner proposal. You tried to make all his worries fade. He gazed at you, imprinting your smile on his mind, relaxing every muscle of his body that was all stiff. He nodded and offered you a faint smile, ears reddening as he blushed.

The room where the hotel’s restaurant was spacious and lightful. You wore another sundress, longer this time, but still fluid and light. It was a perfect fit considering the hot evenings, even if the sea cooled the air. You were waiting for Ijichi, silently admiring the decorum, playing with the waterlilies they put on the table. Surely, waterlilies didn’t grow in this area, but it was still a thoughtful touch of color on the dark tablecloth.

You heard someone clear his throat, making your eyes meet the source of the noise. Ijichi was there, a blushing mess, as he looked at you. He wore a cotton white shirt, with elegant dark pants. He quickly ran a hand to fix his hair as a sort of stress relief before sitting down to face you.

“You are beaut—”

“You look so nice Ijichi!” You cut him unintentionally. “Oh, sorry, I got excited. It’s nice seeing you, I love your outfit, you look so elegant!”

He blushed even more. “Thank you, Y/n, you too look amazing. This dress is beautiful… And of course, uh, you are too… Not only the dress…”

He was clumsy with his words too.

“Thank you! You’re so nice. By the way, I already ordered a drink and appetizers for us,” you smiled at him again, and he smiled back at you, delivered with the awkward situation of ordering the first dish. He probably got used to the idea of having you around during the few hours you spent apart.

You both chatted light-heartedly during the whole dinner. Eventually, Ijichi relaxed even more the more he drank and it was really great for you to see his guard being shattered slowly. He started to open up to you about his work that seemed quite dangerous, or at least his co-worker Sir Gojo was making a nightmare out of it. He was an intelligent man, with a lot of bad luck, you figured. He wasn’t as bad looking as expected, and you even found charm in his features. He was quite meager, as he had sunken cheeks, but in result his hands were delicate, almost feminine. His glasses didn’t fit him, at all, they aged him tremendously and blurred his eyes.

“Can you take them off? I want to see you without them!” You cheerfully asked, when you reached the desert.

He smiled, mind a bit fuzzy by the alcohol, but he didn’t mind. He took his glasses off, only to try to clean them to give them to you.

To your surprise, he had beautiful eyes. They were shaped like almonds, and the pupils were almost black, surrounded by long lashes. He tried to escape your intense study of his eyes by looking away, blushing again at the realization of what he felt like he had stripped in front of you.

“Have you ever considered wearing contact lenses?” You asked, giving him back his glasses. “You have beautiful eyes.”

He scratched the back of his head, after putting them back on his nose. He felt whole again.

“No, I’m used to them. Also, I’m quite clumsy, so I would end up tearing my eye out!” He laughed.

He focused back to you, hearing you talk about your studies and your work. There were very few clients you felt comfortable with to talk about your work, as you were mainly hired to be someone's beauty stooge, and eventually to have sex with them if the pay was enough. You thought, as Ijichi was a morally right type of person, he would look down on you and your work. But he showed deep attention to your story and concluded that he hoped you were safe and consenting to all your extra-activities.

“Be careful, you’ve got some—,” he said, approaching his hand to your face, wiping up the crumbs around your mouth.

You found his gesture delicate. “Thank you, Ijichi.”

--

You spent the whole next day at the beach, alternating between sun-bathing, sea-bathing, and reading under a sunshade. You asked Ijichi to spread sunscreen on your back, and he did, barely hovering your bare skin, almost embarrassed to touch you with his clammy hands. He also looked away when you put the sun-screen on your legs, caring not to bring unwanted fantasies to his mind. A few days passed on like this; you went on walks, or went shopping, visited the island. In the end, you enjoyed your time more and more with Ijichi, who was just a sweet man, yet still clumsy and sometimes self-conscious. But you found it cute.

After some time of quick glances, you remarked that Ijichi was regularly rolling his shoulders, and trying to massage them. He cracked his neck a few times a day, getting relief out of this. One day, after seeing him crack his bones for the third time, you rose from your sun-lounger to grab him by the shoulders. He let out a little cry of surprise, not used to being touched so suddenly.

“Oh god Ijichi! You’re so tense! Of course you don’t feel at ease when your shoulders are made of concrete like that!”

“I..-I’m sorry!”

“Don’t apologize, I should have paid more attention! I’ll give you a massage after your nightly shower, so that all your muscles will already be a bit more relaxed, is that okay with you?”

You looked so concerned he couldn’t refuse. “Y-Yes! If you don’t mind…”

“Don’t be silly, I’m at your service! And I enjoy giving massages,” you smiled at him.

The evening was really nice, and you discovered a new restaurant in the area surrounding the hotel that served delicious food. You both felt a bit tired, after spending a day under the sun, and the cocktails you were sipping surely didn’t help that state of fatigue. When you saw Ijichi trying to hide his yawn to you, you knew you had to go back to your room to honour that promise.

You asked him to go back to the hotel, and he agreed almost immediately. He needed to take a shower to rinse off sunscreen and sweat he amassed during the day. Plus, that massage had been on the back of his mind a lot. There were reasons for that; the first one was that he didn’t get a massage since that coupon Nanami gave him to celebrate his graduation a few years ago. The second was that it was you who were going to lay your hands on that body he didn’t quite like. He was halfly embarrassed that you could judge his small frame, but he realized that you already had seen him in his bathing suit for the last few days so it wasn’t anything new to you. He was more than happy that you were going to give him a massage, because now he trusted you, so he looked forward to it.

Ijichi heard light knocks at his door and opened to you. He didn’t quite see you as he took off his glasses to shower, but he guessed you wore satin pyjamas and he smelled soap when you entered the room. His hair was still damp and he took care to wear boxers under the white towel circling his hips.

You were quick to settle a clean towel on his bed, not really paying attention to the man seeing you run through his room.

“Lay down on the bed! I brought essential oils, and another towel so you won’t mess up the sheets.”

He obeyed, vaguely seeing the shape of the towel on his bed, and laid on his stomach once he found the fabric. “Like this?” He asked.

“Yes, perfect! Put your head in your arms.”

You poured one of the essential oils to warm it up in your hands. It smelled so nice. You put the towel at the center of the bed, making you step on the sheets too. The bed bent gently under your weight, and Ijichi guessed you were on his right side.

“I’m going to rub your shoulders. Tell me if you want me to add more pressure or not.” You experimentally applied your fingers to his shoulder, barely adding pressure to his skin in case he didn’t like it rough. You rolled your thumbs on his stiff muscles, feeling how tense he was.

“Damn, you’re hard as a rock,” you sighed with a smile. You realized the double meaning of that sentence. “I mean, your shoulders are.” Nothing more, yet.

You continued to rub your fingers onto his skin, pressing on what felt more painful, rolling the little bundles of nerves to get rid of it. You felt Ijichi both tense and relaxed at the same time. “Are you okay?” You asked, a bit preoccupied by his reactions.

“Yes, I’m just really, really tense, I guess.” Metaphorically?

You continued, using more of the oil to press your thumbs on his sore neck. You heard him sigh pleasantly, as if it was the first time of the massage session that wasn’t painful. You kneaded the skin more, trying to get this reaction again. You used less force back on his shoulders, not trying to become a physiotherapist, yet still caring about his stiff muscles. Ijichi squirmed again under your fingers. This will not work out. You decided to move on to pay more attention to his back, still wet from the shower. The dim light on his pale skin made his body gracious. All your attention was grasped by every reaction of the man, trying to be delicate on his back.

Ijichi was trying his best to focus on the feeling of your fingers on his body, but the whole situation shifted when he felt your hands on the small of his back. He was really sensitive there, and it immediately tickled him. “Ah!”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it surprised me.”

You added more oil to your hands before putting them back to massage around his spine, almost counting every vertebra. Ijichi felt relaxed everywhere your hot silky palms touched, but wasn’t quite at ease. It was difficult to focus for him as he was more and more aware of the situation, which didn’t bother him when he pictured the massage, but now flooded his mind. You, a beautiful young woman, was touching his bare skin with oily hands. He realized how much touch deprived he was, as something as innocent as that tickled him downwards, in the most embarrassing way. It felt worse, when he imagined how you could look, your small delicate hands rubbing his skin, your hair falling in front of your eyes as you were deeply focused on making him feel good. He gulped, trying to ignore his awkward teenager boner he started to feel between his legs, thinking about unsexy things like Gojo, or an ugly curse.

He shifted his hips, trying to feel more at ease with his growing situation below. But he underestimated your awareness of the effect you had on him. You knew exactly what was happening.

“Does that feel good, Ijichi?”

The tone you used, dropped by an octave, made the air thicker. “Yes,” he answered, breathless. It was impossible to keep his attention, he needed to stop this before it became worse.

“Do you want me to keep going further?” You asked him softly with the same raspy voice, directly to his ear.

He felt a shiver through all his body, now fully aware of the harmless massage becoming a much more erotic one. His mouth felt incredibly dry, as he already gulped earlier.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Oh, I think you know. Why don’t you turn around so I can take really good care of you?”

“I don’t want to for-”

“You’re not forcing me Ijichi. Please turn around.”

You withdrew your hands from his back so he could do as you asked. He slowly moved his hips, turning carefully on his elbows and on his back. You could now almost see the outlines of his bulge through the white towel, and it was the reason why his face was red with terror and embarrassment. “Look what we have here.” You licked your lips, eager to see more of the man and persuade him to let you use your skilled hands on the most pleasurable parts of his body.

“It would be a shame not to be watched properly while doing my job. I’ll get your glasses.”

You quickly stepped out of the bed, going to the bathroom to pick his pair of glasses. You took the opportunity to get rid of your pyjamas and put them at the end of the bed, not really taking care of where they ended up. You wore an electric blue lingerie set that fitted perfectly your curves and never failed to make you desirable.

“There you go,” you handed him his glasses.

His hands were slightly shaking and you guessed his hands were clammy again, but he managed to put them on his nose, blinking twice while looking at you.

“Did I… miss something?” He asked innocently, seeing your almost-naked form.

“Ijichi. Don’t play dumb on me. Make yourself comfortable,” you climbed back on the bed, fully displaying your cleavage to his eyes, “now let me see what we got there.”

He couldn’t deny that it has been a long time since he hadn’t been touched by a woman. So when he felt your fingers brush against his erection covered under layers of clothings, he felt like a virgin again. If his cock wasn’t fully hard before, it surely was now, as his imagination flooded his mind with anticipating flashes of what could come next. It eventually became real as you gazed at him with dark eyes, as you ran your hand up and down on his shaft.

“Are you sure?” His voice was almost a whisper.

“May I?” You offered as an answer.

He nodded grudgingly, ashamed of indulging so fast into his carnal desires because of you. But how could he refuse? You unfolded the towel slowly, to put it aside on the bed. You discovered his dark boxers containing his hard cock slightly throbbing under the weight of your gaze. He seemed to be well endowed, not as thick as you wished, but he was at least big. You tried to work with that, and brought your hand to his covered dick, taking time to touch it gently. He reacted just as you expected, sighing almost too loud, as he finally got more friction on his aching hard member. You took better hold on his cock, grabbing it fully into your hand to pump it impossibly slowly. You could already see a patch of precum wetting the dark fabric, as you continued to slowly jerk him into his boxers.

“Does that feel good? Talk to me Ijichi,” you purred.

“Yes, please don’t stop.”

He finally yielded in his desire — you taking care of his pleasure, while doing absolutely nothing. You felt his cock twitch slightly in your hands, while he let out a content sigh responding to your ministrations. You offered him a cheeky smile, while finally curling your fingers on the elastic of his boxers, silencely asking for permission to remove the last piece of clothing. But he requested that you didn't stop, so you didn’t bother to unroll the boxers to his ankles, tossing them aside on the towel.

You could now have a perfect view on his cock, long as you expected, head already painfully almost as red as his face. Its head was also oozing precum, which made your mouth water. He did have a pretty cock, with a little dark body hair at the base and on his balls, but it wasn’t inconvenient. You delicately circled your fingers on its tip, spreading the wetness of it to slowly drop down to its base. You heard his broken whimper, as you started to really pump his cock and he could finally get that sweet friction he hoped to get. Your pace was purposely sluggish, soft as a feather, as you wanted him to last longer.

“Faster, please,” he voiced between sighs, as one of his hands fisted the sheets underneath him.

You followed his request, and picked up the speed of your hot hand on his cock. Your other hand caressed his inner thigh, rubbing circles on the sensitive skin, patiently getting closer to his groin. You felt him shiver followed by a small moan when your hand found his balls, cupping them gently.

“Ah, f-fuck.”

“Do you want me to suck it, Ijichi?”

His heart skipped a beat, hearing your mouth full of those words. He blushed and felt sweat rolling down his temples, looking at you with desperate eyes. “Please, yes, if you don’t mind.”

“It’ll be my pleasure. You have a really beautiful cock, you know that?”

You guessed that praising him was going to get him even closer to his end, but it didn’t matter. Seeing his eyes flutter at the compliment was worthy enough. You brought your face closer to his pelvis to wrap your wet lips around his cockhead, tasting his salty arousal on your tongue. He moaned loudly, fisting the sheets tighter, while you licked a long stripe from his balls to his tip, only to take him back fully into your mouth. Your fingers were still gently massaging his balls, while you jerked slowly the rest of his dick that didn’t fit into your mouth. You bobbed your head around him, setting a gentle pace, so you could focus on the movements of your tongue on his shaft, rolling around it.

“Oh yes—oh fuck,” you heard him moan. He had the sweetest reactions and was surprisingly vocal.

His hips moved on their own, thrusting into your mouth without a warning. “Sorry!” He immediately apologized. As an answer, you opened your jaw more to take him deeper into your mouth, almost gagging around his cock. You could feel the veins of it and the little uncontrollable throbs on your tongue. His eyes got big, seeing you engulf his whole shaft into your lips, as a sinful moan leaved his mouth. You bobbed your head around him a few times before releasing the throbbing member, only to take some time to lick his balls, jerking his wet cock in your other hand.

“You can cum in my mouth. And please, make as much noise as you want, your moans are delicious,” you smiled, lapping at his tip once you were done with his balls, looking at his hazy eyes.

He settled on his elbows, trying to get more of the absolutely erotic sight he had the chance to assist, getting completely carried away in his lust. This time, he didn’t blush at the compliment, instead he brought one of his hands in your hair, gently caressing your scalp and brushing away some of the hair off your face. He sighed in relief when you tasted him again, opening your mouth and setting a faster rhythm to get him to his orgasm. You tried to maintain eye-contact with him, sweeping your tongue around his shivering cock. His hips thrusted again, but he had more control over them and he knew you could take him fully. The whimpers escaping his lips and knowing you were causing all his reactions were really a turn on to you.

You continued to enthusiastically suck him, especially when you heard him stutter: “I’m v-very close,” while slightly gripping your hair. You hollowed your cheeks, taking more of him, for him to almost reach the back of your throat.

“Ah! Fuck!” he cried, gazing intensely at your wet lips around his cock when he reached his high. You felt his cock twitch on your tongue before his cum filled your mouth. His heart was racing, watching you continue to gently bobbing your head around him to extend his orgasm with small spurts of cum. He heard you swallow his arousal while doing so, and he whined softly at it, letting go of his hand on your hair. Once you felt his cock start to soften, you pulled back your head to face him with a thumb to your lips to wipe off drops of cum you didn’t swallow properly.

He blinked, suddenly coming back to his senses.

“Thank you so much… But I don’t deserve all of this.”

You tilted your head listening to his statement, sitting on your heels. You guessed it was the post-orgasmic sadness men experienced.

“Why not? You’re on holiday and I’m here for you. When will you find the time to let yourself get carried away in sloth and lust?”

He bit his lower lip, trying to find yet another excuse not to feel so guilty of having found such pleasure so easily.

“Then at least, let me take care of you in return,” he offered, sitting properly to face you.

“Alright. But promise me you’ll do the bare minimum, this is not about me.”

You started to get back over him, straddling his hips. He gulped, feeling your hot body close to his crotch, and your lecherous gaze pinned to his eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” he found the courage to ask.

You hovered your fingers over his face, sweeping off some hair that was sticking to his sweaty forehead. Your fingertip didn’t leave his face, softly touching his cheeks, until it reached his lips.

“I want to sit on your pretty face.”

His heart skipped a beat and he swore his hands were clammier now. “O-Okay...”

He didn’t know how to react properly to the compliment, but the idea of having your sex glued to his face was so sinful he might die of shame for agreeing so fast. Usually, work was busying enough for him to move on any sinful thought he could have, but you being around him for the last couple days had awakened deep desires he forgot he had and really tried not to indulge in them.

“I have never… Eaten out a woman in this position...,” he admitted.

You put your hand flat on his chest, pushing him onto the pillows behind his face to settle him comfortably on his back.

“It’s not rocket science, I’ll help you. Just do it as usual.”

You opened your legs more to settle above his shoulders. Your pussy was now level with his face, already slightly wet from hearing his sweet whimpers while you sucked him off. You took his wrists to put his hands on your asscheeks, to help him get used to touching your body with your consent. He seemed mesmerized at the sight of your blue lace in front of his eyes, while his hands finally took a good grasp on your ass.

“Come on, don’t be shy Ijichi,” you brushed again his dark hair out of his eyes, gently petting him.

He used his hands on your ass to bring your pelvis closer to his agape mouth. Once your lower lips connected to his, he sloppily kissed the fabric, and one of his hands rested on your hip. He peppered kisses on your clothed sex, feeling the heat emanating from it and the dampness of the fabric. You quickly brought one of your hands to fully grasp his hair, gently guiding his face to where it felt better. He was surprisingly quick to find your clit, and he lazily dragged his lips and tongue over it, loving how you were slightly trembling under his touch. You started to pant loudly, encouraging him to continue his sweet assault on your pussy, wanting to hear more from you.

“You’re doing so good, it feels really good.”

He dragged his tongue on your panties, having what felt like a proper taste of you when he licked the wet spot on the lace. It sent a shiver through your body.

“Oh my god, please take these off,” you heard yourself speak with an urge. “I want to feel your tongue.”

Taken aback, he still pushed the panties off your hips like you ordered him. You rose your knees from the mattress to help him get rid of the piece of clothing. The cold hair ran through your exposed pussy, glistening with Ijichi’s spit and your arousal. Like a starved man, he immediately put his lips back on your cunt, drinking the wetness from your slit. He hummed at the taste of you, savoring your arousal when he dragged his tongue up to your clit, sucking it between his lips. You moaned out loud and it was the best reward he could have.

“Stick out your tongue, I’m gonna roll my hips,” you warned.

He did as told, offering his pink tongue to your pussy. You moved your pelvis onto his tongue, rolling your hips in different directions to vary the feeling of his wet muscle on your slit and clit. He methodically applied more pressure when he felt your swollen nub on his tongue, earning from you deep moans.

“Just like that,” you encouraged between pants. He continued pressuring your clit whilst you rolled your hips onto his face. Warmth runned through your veins, as Ijichi was willingly pleasuring you solely with his tongue.

You moved your hands onto your body, feeling the sweat and the heat emanate from your skin. When your fingers touched the underside of your breasts, you suddenly felt really too much dressed. You quickly unclasped your bra, throwing it across the room to have fully access to your erected nipples. Rolling them between your fingertips, it sent an electrical jolt through your body that made you whimper loudly. You ground your pelvis with more vigor as the new sensation of your fingers playing with your nipples made you soon realize how close you were to orgasm.

“I’m close,” you heard the loud gasps from the man under you, happy to hear his hard work on your pussy, largely helped by the motions of your hips, was making you feel good. He grasped more forcefully your ass into his hands, bringing your sex closer to his tongue as he was lapping at your juices. He inadvertently put the tip of his tongue into your soaked entrance, which made you shiver and moan. He repeated the movement, adding more vigor to it, as he tried to insert more than just the tip into your pussy, slowly fucking you with his tongue for a while.

Your legs started to tremble, as you were closer than ever to your orgasm. He messily resumed sucking and licking your clit, adapting from hearing your moans the pressure and movements of his tongue to your sex (circles, back and forth, any direction).

You came on his tongue without a warning, moaning at the friction on your pussy and nipples finally reaching that relief you felt approached. For a moment, all your body tensed over Ijichi’s face, unable to control the orgasm. Your pussy clenched around nothing and you knew your essence dripped onto his tongue.

You slowly came back to your senses as you withdrew your hips from his face to make sure you hadn’t killed the man under you. You hovered your legs above his face, to settle next to him on the bed. His cheeks were bright red, chin and face sweaty and full of your essence and his eyes were lost into the ceiling like he was having a divine revelation.

“Are you okay Ijichi?” You spoke gently.

He blinked. “I am more than okay.” It was one of the first times he didn’t stutter nor hesitate with his words. He slowly turned his head to look at you, astonished. His eyes got bigger when he saw you had removed your bra. He brought the back of his hand to wipe off your cum on his face.

You brought your hand to his inner thigh, slowly stroking the sensitive skin close to his half-hard cock. You guessed he felt excited again swallowing your moans and your essence. “Do you want to continue?”

His cock twitched, growing harder.

“You.. Don’t mind?” His brows were knitted, framing his anxious expression.

“Why would I? These holidays aren’t mine. You’re the one in command. So please, relax and let me take care of you.”

Ijichi bit his lower lip while he thought of something to object. But you were right.

“A-Alright...”

“Good! First, let me grab a condom,” you said with enthusiasm as you hovered over him, searching in the nightstand for the rubber. He gulped at the sight of your waving tits in front of his face.

“Can..-Can I touch your breasts?”

You smiled at the innocent request. You straddled him again, sitting on his hips with the plastic wrap in your hand. “Of course. Come on.”

He positioned himself to be more seated in order to fully see and grab your breasts. He barely touched them, like they were made of glass, thumbs caressing the nipples in lazy motions.

“You can suck on them.”

He looked at your face in awe, and immediately brought his wet lips around one of the nipples, swirling his tongue around it. He sucked the nipple audibly, while playing with the opposite one with less reserve than before. He switched between the breasts to give each one the same amount of attention and you moaned at it, seeing the shy man indulge in his lust.

While you straddled him, you felt his cock brush against your inner thigh. You brought one hand between your legs, touching the tip of his cock to slowly rub it against your drenched slit, wetting it. He moaned around your nipple. It felt so good, he was eager to be inside you. You felt his excitement and opened the condom to roll it on his sex while he was still busy with your breasts.

“Are you ready to fuck me, Ijichi?” Your voice was husky and your cunt quivering. You pushed him back for him to lie down again, grounding your soaked pussy onto his cock.

“Fuck-! Yes,” he almost whispered as you brought your face to his neck.

You circled his cock with one hand to align it with your pussy and you slowly sat down on him. You felt him tense, as you took every inch of him inside your fluttering hole. He was quick to put his hands back on your ass, trying to fit more of him inside you while he whimpered at the feeling of your walls engulfing his sex in the most delicious way. You reached for his shoulders to steady yourself onto his cock before slightly moving in slow motions, grinding yourself on him.

“You feel so good…” You told him, starting fucking him at a slow, steady pace. You raised one hand to grab his messy hair, bringing your face closer to his to kiss him for the first time. He tasted like mint toothpaste and yourself. He couldn’t think straight, sloppily kissing you back, happy that you were initiating the kiss he realized he wanted to give you but was too shy to ask.

He squeezed your ass between his hands, as he felt your mouth travel to kiss his neck and jaw, to reach his lobe which you licked softly. He felt a shiver run through his body at the feeling of your tongue on his ear. “Ah!” He squeaked. He was surprised to feel pleasure from his ears, he didn’t know how to react.

“You’re sensitive there.”

“Nobody has… ever licked me there,” he confessed. As he seemed to like it, you continued licking his sensitive skin, loving to hear him whimper at the feeling of your hot tongue on this new spot.

You took the opportunity to raise your hips and fuck yourself a bit faster on his cock, whispering soft praises between pants. His hips tried to meet yours, trying to reach you deeper into your hot sex and you pussy fluttered at his effort. He hissed, feeling your walls tighten around his shaft, squeezing him gently. You started to pepper kisses over his face, before kissing a soft spot on his neck that had his jaw tense and his hands on your rear squeezing your cheeks softly. He was panting hard, echoing your own moans.

“Do you want me to go faster?”

He was quick to nod, almost desperately. You rose from his chest, offering to his eyes the view of your bouncing tits before speeding up the grinding of your hips on his cock. One of his hands leavesed your ass to reach for a breast, groping it firmly in a tight grip. He couldn’t take his eyes off your body and your face, even if he was embarrassed to glance at the place where your pussy takes his whole cock. He allowed himself a quick view of it, only to see his cock drenched in your arousal and your pussy lips stretched by his shaft. He moaned at it, mesmerized at the view. You brought your hand to fondle your other tit, rolling the nipple between your fingers. Your other hands traveled from his shoulder to settle at the apex of your thighs to slowly circle your swollen clit. His eyes were still locked to that place, and seeing you play with yourself, while he was buried impossibly deep inside made him groan. This was so erotic, he’s sure he’ll have wet dreams of it for a while.

Your fingers on your clit felt so good, your pussy clenched at the feeling of the multiple stimulations, it had you moaning without restraint. He echoed your moans, aroused by your sounds. You thought you felt his cock twitch inside you, growing even bigger.

“I’m close -fuck, I wanna feel you more, Kiyotaka!” You panted out loud, starting to fuck yourself abrubtaly on his cock.

Hearing his name made him lose it, and he settled both of his hands on your hips, trying to make you fuck him rougher and deeper. His balls started to tighten as his cock twitched again, overwhelmed at the feeling of your tight and fluttering cunt. “I-I’m close too,” he informed you between ragged breaths.

“Want you to come with me, please!”

Your pace was faster as you fucked yourself vigurously on him, unable to stop your hips so close to your orgasm, still flicking your clit between your fingers.

“Yes! Oh god!” He whined.

“Fuck, ‘m cumming! Ahh-Fuck! Kiyotaka!”

You heard yourself cry as your orgasm hit you, body tensing above his for the second time. You pussy tightened around his aching erection, and he let out a long, unrestrained moan, reaching his own climax. He felt his cock release his cum inside the condom, with quick, uneven spurts, as his toes suddenly curled at the power of the orgasm he just had. You continued to slowly fuck him, milking his cock until the last drop and also allowing yourself to catch your breath, whining. Ijichi moaned out of overstimulation, feeling your pussy clamp down onto his shaft, squeezing it desperately.

You collapsed onto his slender torso, spent, as you did all the work. You didn’t want him not to lift a finger for you, only caring about fucking him for his vacation. He deserved it, and he was a really sweet guy after all.

“That felt so good.”

You rose your hips, slowly pulling out Ijichi’s cock from your quivering cunt.

“Thank you… I really enjoyed it.” He answered, biting his lower lip, looking at you as you delicately removed the condom off his softening dick after sitting down next to him on the bed.

“Do you want me to sleep next to you tonight?” You asked while gazing back at him, knotting the condom to toss it in the bin.

“You don’t have to...You must be exhausted, you did everything… I think we both need a shower. And we’re going to see each other tomorrow. ”

He pouted, watching his body covered with your arousal, his sweat, and massage oil.

You smiled. He was caring. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow. We could do that again too, if you’d like to.”

“Why not…” His trip had only three days left.

You stepped out of the bed, searching for your underwear, and put them back on with your satin pyjamas to go back to your room. You left the man on his big bed, legs slightly opened, still looking at the ceiling like what just happened was a dream, except his dick was still wet with the remains of his cum that didn’t leave with the condom.

You got back to your room and undressed right away. You took your phone that was charging on the nightstand to call Gojo Satoru, wedging the phone between your cheek and your shoulder. Until he picked up, you went to turn on the water in the shower.

“Hello?”

“Hi Sir Gojo. Sorry for calling you this late but, do you remember the bet we made, when you hired me?”

“Of course I do,” you heard him grin through the phone. “I bet you wouldn’t fuck Ijichi, and you bet the opposite.

“Well, you’ll have to pay me the extra you promised. I just had sex with him.”

He laughed.

“I’m glad for him. I thought he was a virgin to be honest, you’re very good at your job, I might hire you for myself. How was he, was he good? Did you cum?” You rolled your eyes to the sky as you listened to the personal questions your employer was asking you.

“It’s confidential.”

“Haaaaw so it means you didn’t get to cu-”

“Ask him for yourself. Just add the extra, please.”

“Alright~!” You sighed as you hung up the phone call before throwing the phone randomly on the bed to finally get in a much-needed shower.

[crimsonrae]

Reckless Intent: Part One

Summary: When the dance between Sherlock and Delia first began, learning the steps did not come smoothly. But then that would happen when affections haven’t been made clear and a murderer is on the loose.

SherlockXOFC

Rating: M

Warning: Mentions of Prostitution and some minor nudity

A/N: I couldn’t leave the thought of Sherlock and Delia alone and this was how I picture them finally acknowledging the attraction between them. Set about ten years before the events in Enola. Sherlock has only been away from home for about three years.

It hadn’t taken much effort.  

Far less than Delia had anticipated when she had visited with the proprietor of the gentlemen's club, but then she wasn’t surprised by the notion that a group of men who spent their private time ogling scantily clad women, would hire her so quickly to do the same. Her stomach churned with mild disgust while her nerves threatened to undo her.

Large dusky pink feathers danced and skimmed playfully over her delicate slippers, teasing the curve of her calf as she drew the large fan up her body.  

Being in the club was a risk, but it had been the last place her dear friend, Margaret, had visited before her untimely death and the police were making little headway in finding her killer.

She bent sanguinely back in time with the dulcet chords from the piano, allowing a glimpse of the swell of her bosom to the leering crowd below.

Part of their sloth had much to do with the other women's reticence in speaking with the coppers. Their livelihood depended on them being able to keep a secret, after all.  

She winked and tossed her leg up receiving a loud cheer as the men tried to glimpse her coveted virtue.

The other part had much to do with the fact that Margaret had been a former pickpocket and flower-girl, now tobacco-girl. Her death meant little to the constables and even less to the detectives.  

What was one more dead urchin after all?  

It both saddened and enraged Delia, for that had been her life for so very long too. Still was to a certain degree, but she had found employment for her particular skill set... even if it did bring her into contact with the police and an up and coming young detective far too often for her tastes.  

She twirled. The fans just barely hid her assets from the audience as she swayed across the stage.

Unruly fire twisted in her veins as she thought of that arrogant young man. How his cerulean orbs twinkled with dark intrigue with their every encounter... as if she were some mystery for him to puzzle out. She didn’t care for his stares or the odd fluttering he caused her.  

The clip in her hair fell loose as she pirouetted more vigorously than she had intended. Her hair cascaded in soft luscious waves down her back much to the appreciation of her gentleman viewers.

Those flames licked angrily at her throat as she recalled their last meeting. How she had all but begged for his help and he... Humiliated tears burned at her eyes as she tried and failed not to think of his uncaring words.  

Her friend’s death wasn’t interesting. She was likely caught in one of her scams and it ended badly for her. She forced the tears down.  

She tried not to think of why his usual dismissive behavior had wounded her so...

What did Sherlock Bloody Holmes know anyway?

A playful smile curled at the edges of her painted lips as she slid down into a vertical -legged split to roars of delight. Never noticing the lone note of remonstrating silence from the back.

Delia glided from the stage feeling flushed and exhilarated as she was greeted by the knowing chuckles of the other women. There was a strange excitement that came from being so daring and vulnerable before that crowd... she understood now why Margaret had sought it out. She felt almost... powerful.

“You look just like her.” One of the girls murmured, a sad glint tinting her gaze.  

Delia arched a questioning brow, surprised when the other woman continued, “Your friend, Maggie... She had that same dazzled look, Luv.”

A few of the women dispersed, heading for the stage – other's the crowd, but the intent was the same to get away from the coming conversation.  

The woman sighed and adjusted the garter on her thigh as she critically eyed the tight lacing of her silk corset, “We’re not fools, ya know? We know why you’re here. Maggie was a good ‘un. Real riot. Shame, what happened to her.”

Delia’s heart skipped a beat, unsure how to react to being found out so soon – she wasn’t used to others seeing through her disguise. It was foolish on her part; she had visited Margaret here on a few occasions. Hesitantly, she queried, “And do you know what happened to her?”

The other woman sighed and finished tethering her skirt to her hip before turning to her, “’ Course not. She ran into trouble, didn’t she? Word of advice, avoid the red room, else you’ll run into trouble, too.”

The woman spurned Delia with a pointed look before she sauntered off to join another girl on a secondary stage. There was no missing the hint behind her comment.

If Delia’s heart had skipped a beat before, it thrummed with desperate need now. Warily, her eyes darted to the stairs in the back of the club as she pinned a faux skirt over the lacey French drawers that teased her nethers. The private rooms resided above, and Delia shivered to think of what occurred inside. Many of the women sold more than dances, and despite her earlier bravado, such carnality was foreign to her. It saddened her to realize that perhaps it wasn’t foreign to Margaret.

Steeling herself, she pasted a coy smile to her lips and forced mischief to dance in her gaze as she picked up a tobacco tray. She mingled in the crowd. Trading her pouches of dried leaf for coin as she steadily made her way to the stairs. She dumped the tray once she passed the smirking usher at the bottom... now she just needed to find this red room.  

Footsteps and giggling voices interrupted her search before she could even begin. Panic choked at her throat as she sought an open room to duck into, uncertain if her presence would be questioned. She didn’t make it far when a warm hand wrapped around her elbow and yanked her into a darkened room. She yelped, her fist flying at her assailant before she consciously noted it moving, but this too was thwarted.

Her wrist was captured, and her body pressed firmly back into the closed door to prevent any further attack when she caught sight of a familiar pair of cerulean eyes.

“You!” Delia spat, her fear forgotten in the face of her arrogant detective, “Unhand me!”

Momentarily allied that no harm would befall his person, Sherlock stepped back with an arched brow as he faced her ire, “Kindly keep your screeching to a minimum. It wouldn’t do to have us discovered so soon.”

Delia’s mouth dropped open indignantly and her hand tingled with the dark desire to slap his smarmy face. She barely kept hold of her temper as she berated him lowly, “You accosted me, Mr. Holmes. If anything, I should be screaming the building down on you.”

“That would be foolish and counterintuitive to your goals.” Sherlock stated mildly as his gaze deliberately skimmed over her meager dressage. His mouth tightened distastefully, “Though you’ve already proved how foolish you’re willing to be tonight.”

She resisted the urge to cover herself as her gaze darkened almost ferally, “I beg your pardon -”

“You’ll beg for a lot more than that before this night is through.” Sherlock murmured softly, a hint of danger coating his tone that raised the hairs on the nape of her neck and sent heat to her cheeks.

It was then that Delia realized there was no trace of his usual mocking humor. His eyes didn’t twinkle with that thoughtful light but gleamed with dark intent. The passive non-smile that usually painted his maw was now replaced by a tense jaw and a twitching cheek. To anyone unfamiliar with the detective they would merely see an impassive visage, but Delia had encountered him often enough this past year to know he was displeased. In fact... he seemed livid.

The realization sent an untoward shiver down her spine. Vainly, she ignored the embarrassed fluttering he induced in her as she held her scowl, “Why are you here, Mr. Holmes? I didn’t take you for the type to buy his pleasure.”

“Nor did I take you for the type to sell hers.” Sherlock retorted impatiently – even this was unlike him. He was not usually prone to such emotional responses. It made her leery, “I seemed to recall my assistance being required in solving the murder of a one Margaret Harris, Miss. Woodson.”

Delia blanched, her uncertainty growing as she stared bemused, “You said the case wasn’t interesting or worth your time.”

“It’s not.” Sherlock iterated stonily, “But since you seemed intent on running headfirst into trouble, I thought it best to intervene before you did something reckless. Though I see I’m already too late on that account.”

Acidic words danced on the tip of her tongue, but by some odd strength, she kept them at bay. Her attention soundly stuck upon his anger. Delia didn’t understand it, was galled by it... she hated it, “You’re angry.”

“I’m aware.” He answered quietly, making her huff.

Her lips pursed as barely kept reign of her irritation, “Why?”

The air in the room seemed to chill with her question and she had to bite back a gasp as his full attention bore down on her like a malevolent cloud. Incredulity shined like a stray beacon against his ferocious storm of muted fury. He stared at her as if she should already know why he was upset, and Delia had never felt more out to sea. For a wild moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be brought back to shore.

“Why?” He growled.  

Delia refused to acknowledge the thrill that hard tone sent through her body as she fought to remember she had been the one wronged in this scenario. Not him.

“Perhaps Miss. Woodson, you are more naïve than I thought. After all, it does take a certain amount of oblivion or perhaps ignorance to not realize where exactly you are standing.” Sherlock lectured crisply as he loomed over her small form, “Is it completely lost on you that you stand in what is essentially a high-caliber bordello? That you are before me in your undergarments? That you are very much at risk of being accosted by far worse characters than myself?”

None of those questions truly answered hers about his motives but rather danced around it. He reminded Delia of a boy she had known as a child. He had had a toy train that he adored more than anything. Strangely, he never played with it, but always had it in hand. He would never let another child play with it and was quite protective of this train. It was his toy. No one else's.  

An inexplicable dawning began to light her mind as if she were seeing the stars in the night sky for the first time.  

Quietly, she prodded him, “I am quite aware, Mr. Holmes. Otherwise, I would not have attempted to defend myself when you did accost me. I understood the risk I took. I also understand that I am not your ward – in any sense of the word. You are not my husband, nor my kin. Your concern for my well being while touching is -”

“Delia.” He barked, making her jump, “Do not insult your intelligence and myself by finishing that sentence.”      

Just as quickly as he had lost grip of his temper, he regained it. She blinked at him wide-eyed as she watched him resume his guarded mask. His control was frightening, but also frustrating. So much went on beneath his prickly surface that to see his countenance crumble was... simply illuminating.  

Her heart beat a frantic staccato in her chest... she wasn’t ready for such illumination, however. Not now. And most certainly not here. She nearly wanted to cry, especially once she realized that to want it otherwise meant she returned his sentiment.  

It simply wasn’t to be born. She did not hold affection for Sherlock Bloody Holmes.  

And yet...

A quiet strangled question left her lips before she could stop herself, “Why are you here, Sherlock?”

His mouth opened to answer before swiftly shutting as he studied her – his head tilted to the side and while she could still make out the fury burning in his bright orbs a strange vulnerability winked like a passing star at her before his visage fell into careful neutrality, “You already know the answer, Miss. Woodson. To speak it would simply be redundant, but I will enact upon that sentiment once we have departed this place. Go and get your things.”

A faint battle ensued within her at his words – Delia wanted so badly to push at him. He dragged her before a truth that she was not ready to face, it seemed only fair that he confirmed her suspicions by admitting his care. But the knowledge that Sherlock was present while Margaret was not, weighed heavily on the battle tides.

She found her back stiffening and chin tilting up as she declared, “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Holmes. Least of all with you. I came here for answers, I’m not leaving until I have them.”

That thin veil of danger descended upon her again as Sherlock glowered at her. Goosepimples shivered down her arms under his silent predation, as her belly swam with anticipation. She suddenly felt very much like a lamb lost to a wolf.  

Unbidden, a small plea came to her tongue, “Sherlo-”

Abruptly, she found herself pinned to the wall and shock thundered through her veins as she distantly perceived the clips of her skirt yank apart before the flimsy fabric fluttered to the ground. Sherlock’s long fingers delved beneath the hem of her undergarments as his mouth claimed hers in a furious kiss that awoke a tempest in her heart.  

Delia squealed, melting into his embrace even as she latched her fingers to his woolen coat to push him away. She barely managed to budge him, when the door swung open admitting a giggling showgirl and her John.

Sherlock growled, his body covering hers effectively from sight as he glowered at the intruding couple, “Room’s taken.”

The man grumbled an apology as he tugged his conquest back out and shut the door behind him. Then and only then did Sherlock return his attention to her. He raised an innocuous brow as he took in her flushed face and gaping expression.

Pleasure twinkled at Delia through his stern visage and she was torn between the need to slap him and a need to taste his lips again. Quietly, he slipped his hand from her drawers and stepped back enough to give her room to breathe. His hungry gaze drifted along her body for a second time as he took in the long expanse of her curved legs.

He swallowed tightly before returning his stormy glare to her face. He left no room for argument as he quietly ordered, “Get your things.”

Yet argue she did, “I’m not -”

His finger came up in warning as he silently dared her to finish that sentence, “You’ll get your answers once I’ve found them. You will not be staying here any longer than it takes for you to find your clothes. Do not test me.”

Still, Delia hesitated, part of her wanted to demand an explanation. Her heart and her mind were of two battles and the sea he had swept her out to, now raged with drowning swells. She didn’t like this confusion, this uncertainty within herself... she wanted answers and not just about Margaret’s murder.

She bit her lip as she fought not to wilt under his demanding stare, “You’re taking the case.”

“If only to keep you out of trouble, yes.” Sherlock intoned almost impatiently. He bent swiping up her skirt and deftly pinned it back in place, “We’ll discuss the matter of your payment, amongst other things once we depart from here – that man was not here to use this room. I don’t know what ears are in the place. So be quick.”

“Sherlock.” She pushed even as he grasped her elbow and ushered her out the door.

He paid her no mind, “Ten minutes, Delia, meet me outside. If I have to come back for you, I will not be pleased.”

He gave her a small nudge towards the stairs, and she couldn’t help but mutter, “You’re not pleased now.”    

“Ten minutes.”

The steel in his tone had her scampering for the back as her stomach clenched. She ignored the wave of arousal coursing through her but raised a hand to her still tingling lips as she bit back a smile.  

Sherlock Bloody Holmes.

Next Chapter

[violet-knox]

Hi! Could u write an adult!Snape x reader where the reader is the new nurse of hogwarts and the start to like each other until one day they finally kiss?🙏😣💕 I hope u can write it, if not I understand ❤️

Love’s Chariot

Pairing: Severus Snape x Female Reader

Summary: You’re assigned to help Severus with the Mandarake Restorative Potion and feel nervous about how it will go. 

Word Count: 3668

A chill ran down spine as you entered the dungeons, rather nervous about the task Madam Pomfrey had assigned you. You’d barely spoken two words to the Potion’s Master since you started at Hogwarts a month ago, feeling flushed every time he came within six feet of you. It was hard to say why you felt such intense fear around him. Intimidation, admiration, lust. But it didn’t matter. Knowing the reason didn’t change your reality and it certainly wasn’t going to help you now that you’d been assigned to assist him in the brewing of the Mandrake Restorative Draught. 

You’d spent every hour of the last few days pondering over why you you’d been assigned such a task when you knew Professor Snape didn’t need you. He’d been doing quite fine these past few weeks on his own with the occasional help of Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey. There was no reason for you to be there and you wondered if he felt the same. He didn’t seem to like you much, at least that was the impression you got when you sat next to him at breakfast one morning. He’d stayed silent, his hair covering his face the entire hour before he got up to leave early, claiming he had to prepare for class. You’d never felt so awkward, so minute, so unimportant in your life. He was a golden chariot compared to you: a newcomer, blissfully oblivious to the hefty responsibilities of a Hogwarts staff member. There was no logical reason for your assignment, that was much clear. All you could do was try and get through it without looking like a buffoon.

You stared at the door before you, your legs frozen in place, too scared to enter his classroom, too loyal to walk away. You wanted nothing more than to run off, to simply continue admiring him from a far but you had duties to fulfill, patience to treat and so you stayed. You looked up at the rustic large door, the only boundary between you and the Master of the dungeon just as intimidating as him. Reluctantly, you knocked on the door. The sound you made barely audible to you but you hoped it was enough for him to hear because you couldn’t bear the thought of having to knock again as you weren’t sure you could knock any louder. 

Seconds went by like hours and before long, you found yourself knocking again, slightly louder this time only to restart your delayed timer. Taking a step back, you tried to convince yourself that you’d done your part. You’d shown up, knocked on the door and he didn’t answer but that wasn’t the whole truth. You didn’t want him to hear you and so you tried to cheat your way out of making your presence known. One more try, you told yourself. Knock properly once and get it over with and so you did. Knock, knock, knoc-.

The door swung open and you found yourself caught stiff, like a deer in the headlights, staring into the face of the man you’d been too afraid to be around. You hadn’t been this close to him since you sat next to him during breakfast, every feature on his face more prominent than it was before. He was taller than you thought he was, the distance you’d been putting between you and him blurring your view of him.

“Have you been standing out here long?” His deep stern voice enchanted you, your mind blanking as you stared up at him. He sounded bored, like the task at hand was simple enough for a child to complete and his expression told you he too had not been looking forward to your lending hand.

“N-no,” you stumbled over your own lie as you shrunk in your place, hoping the floor would swallow you whole. You were made alarmingly aware of your flushed face and the fact that you’d been holding your breath when you spoke. This was worse than breakfast, worse than what you imagined. Much much worse.

“You should have knocked,” he said simply. His tone gave nothing away. You couldn’t tell how he felt, if he was annoyed, frustrated, angry or if he felt the same awkward spark that had ignited the day you laid eyes on one another, refusing to be put out no matter how hard you tried. The Potion’s Master turned on his heels and walked back into his classroom, leaving you to grasp at the overwhelming sense of uncertainty created between you both. 

Stepping inside, you turned back and closed the door, the creaking of your slow movement echoing inside his classroom. It’s funny how a classroom changed so minimally yet felt so drastically different with the rotation of all the professors who’ve occupied it in the past. When Slughorn taught you in this class, you’d never felt the cold of the dungeon air. The layout of the room hadn’t changed, yet with Professor Snape it somehow felt more important, like his mere presence demanded those who step foot in the class show respect for the delicate art of potion making.  

“I presume you’re aware of the duties you’re to attend to this evening,” he spoke as he set up his workstation around the giant cauldron bubbling in the middle of one of the tables. He was ready to begin working and apparently assumed you would be too. 

“N-no Professor,” you said, stepping forward, addressing him professionally so as to not offend him further. You’d been here less than ten seconds and already you were disappointing him, you didn’t want to make it worse by speaking out of term. “Madam Pomfrey only informed me I’d be assisting you.”

Severus sighed in frustration. Not only was he force to spend time with you, to socialize with the person he’d felt too flustered to be around this past month, but Madam Pomfrey had also decided it was imperative for him to waste his time directing you when he should be working on the potion that was to save all those petrified victims filling up her infirmary. It had taken so long for those Mandrakes to grow, his focus these past few months split between stressing over whatever was causing the petrifications and modifying the Mandrake Restorative Draught to cure those who’d fallen victim. And then Dumbledore had to go and hire two more nurses to aid Madam Pomfrey during these ‘troubling times’ as he put it, and he suddenly found his focus shifting to you instead of his work. 

You were so kind, so willing to help, always in uniform, ready to work even when you were off duty. He’d taken every excuse he could get just to watch you from afar. Refilling the Potions cupboard in the hospital wing himself twice every week, taking extra long to take inventory of what Potions they were running low on. He listened to you and hung on your every word, your smile in his peripheral instantly brightening up his day. Always from afar, always at a safe distance away from you where he could do you no harm. You were pure, innocent, untouched by the evils of this world and he couldn’t bear threatening to take that bliss away from you. 

This was risky, brewing with you. He thought of requesting the other nurse when he heard you’d be joining him but he knew how hurt you’d feel to be passed over like that and, if he was to be honest with himself, he didn’t want the other nurse. He wanted you. He wanted to get to know you, to converse with you as you both worked together but he was afraid of what might happen if you did. Would you find him repulsive if he got too close? Would you ask to be transferred out if he dare speak a word of the curse that fell upon him? The one that pushed Lily away, ultimately killing her, the one that gifted him the negligent childhood he’d endured, the one that was responsible for his current status as an ex-Death Eater with no friends and a need to repent. 

None of that mattered now. You were here and all he could do was hope this Potion would brew faster than expected so that he could resume keeping himself away from you. The quicker he gave you the instructions you needed, the less time you would be forced to spend with him and the safer you would be. 

“Professor Sprout has left all the Mandrake roots here,” he began, pointing at the endless crates that sat on the table next to the one where he’d set up his cauldron. “And I need you to extract their cores so I can use the xylem for the potion.”

Severus watched as you immediately nodded your head and made your way to the cutting board and knife he’d set on the table for you to use. You picked up the knife and extracted one of the roots from the crates, looking back at him before you began. He pulled his gaze away from you the moment your head turned towards him, but you’d still managed to catch a glimpse of his face before his hair flew in front of it. Heat rose to your cheeks and you wondered if he’d truly been staring at you or if his intimidating presence had just gone to your head. You worried he was staring to make sure you wouldn’t mess up your task, but you hoped he’d glanced your way for another reason. 

Holding the knife away from you, you began to peel the Mandrake root, each root taking longer than the last to peel but you continued on, letting the silence of the room engulf you. The longer you worked in his presence, the more you wished he’d say something but every time you’d look over in his direction, he would seem so concentrated and the last thing you wanted was to distract him from such important work. Still your eyes ventured to him more often than you’d like but you couldn’t help your admiration. His fingers so elegantly measuring out each ingredient like it was second nature and he looked so relaxed, so… perfect. 

“It would be much easier if you simply chopped them.” You were so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t realized he’d walked over to you. You jumped back when you saw how close he was to you, dropping the root you had in your hand, gasping as you pulled back. “I’m sorry.”

The Professor took a step back, a mixture of disappointment and guilt written on his face. You giggled at how silly it was of you to be frightened by him. Afterall, you knew he’d been in the room with you, there was no reason for you to be taken back by him like that. “I didn’t hear you approach, you startled me. If you know of a more efficient way to extract the root, perhaps you could teach me.”

You offered him the knife in your hand, rather hoping he’d help make this entire tedious process a little faster. His hand reached up and you felt his fingers grazing your palm as he took the knife from you. Your heart leaped out of your chest as your eyes locked for what felt like a millennium. You’d heard many of the students speak rather harshly of their Potion’s Professor, many claiming his eyes were dead and cold, but you disagreed. They were sad yes, but they were warm. They held the weight of the world yet were inviting to those who knew where to look. 

Severus broke the silence as he cleared his throat and looked back at the table to pick up the root that had fallen from your hand. He felt rather infatuated by you. He’d never felt like this before, so speechless, unable to think or speak in your presence. His mind was always blank, always vulnerable when he got too close to you, but it felt good, like a weight was lifted, like for once, he was allowed to breath. 

“Just cut down the middle of the root like so,” Severus said as he kept his eyes on the Mandrake root, trying to pretend like you weren’t there, like he was just teaching a class rather than the one person he wanted to know more about, to grow close to. “Then simply peel away the outside.”

You watched as he extracted the core with ease, astounded by the fact it had taken no more than ten seconds when you’d spent ten minutes peeling away at just one root. 

“Wow!” You exclaimed without realizing just how exaggerated your praise sounded. But you couldn’t help it, you were appreciative, happy to learn from someone as talented as he was. “That’s much quicker than what I was doing. Thanks, Professor.”

“Severus,” he quickly corrected you without a second thought. He hated hearing you speak to him as if you were just another coworker, like you saw him as nothing more than the school’s Potion’s Master, simply there to help keep the infirmary stocked with Potions. “Y-you can call me Severus.”

You smiled in content; he was comfortable with you. At least, comfortable enough to let you use his real name, his given name. All that fear you’d felt, the anxious feeling you had about working with him melted away, replaced with the need to know him, to speak with him, to touch him.

“Then you can call me (Y/N),” you reciprocated, holding out your hand for him to hand you back the knife. You held eye contact with him as you felt the handle of the knife slip into your palm, the tips of his fingers grazing against your skin once again. You gripped the knife when he let go but your eyes didn’t leave his until he reached around you to hand you another Mandrake root. He watched you duplicate his method; cutting the root down the middle and then peeling away the outside, popping the core out and placing it in the bowl he’d provided you.

“I’ve heard that you’ve sought to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts,” you spoke as you continued cutting when you felt him step back, wanting this moment to last. You spoke the first thing that came to mind, hoping the rumours you’d heard were true, hoping this topic was one he didn’t mind speaking about. “You’d make a much better Defense Professor than Lockhart.”

“Calling that man a Professor is an insult to the school,” Severus said as he went to grab a second knife to cut with you. “He’s a worse teacher than he was a student.”

“How do you know?” You asked curiously, wondering why he spoke as if he had first-hand experience with his time as a student. Lockhart was a few years younger than both of you, neither of you could possibly remember his Hogwarts days.

“I taught him.” Your jaw dropped and your attention was pulled back to him. You paused a moment before you spoke.

“No, you didn’t!” You dropped the knife in your hand and turned to face him completely, one hand over your mouth suppressing your laughter which instead came out as a giggle.

“I unfortunately did,” he smiled at you, abandoning the task at hand to share this moment with you. He watched as you laughed, and he could have sworn this was the happiest he’d ever seen you. You looked even more majestic with such a wide smile on your face and it made him appreciate you all the more.

“I cannot believe you taught that man,” you said, taking a step forward, placing a hand on his arm. You were too caught up in the moment to realize how close you’d gotten to him, that the musky smell filling the air around you didn’t belong to the potion but to him instead. “Did he learn nothing from you?”

Severus felt a heavy weight on his chest as he let his eyes roam the features of your face. What he’d give to hold you in his arms, hug you, run his fingers through your hair, kiss you. Kiss you. Kiss you. Love you. He was very much infatuated with you, much more than he’d apparently cared to admit. 

“It very much seems to be the case. If he hadn’t taken his O.W.Ls with Slughorn, I never would have accepted him into my N.E.W.T class in the first place. But as it so happened, Dumbledore said I could not raise the grade requirement unless the students had taken their O.W.Ls with me.”

You giggle, your admiration for the man ever growing as he spoke of his standards. “You know, I’ve worked in this industry a little over a decade and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Potions of such high quality like yours.”

Severus lowered his head, his smile static as he blushed from your compliment. He could hardly believe you’d thought of his work in such a way, that you’d worked at St. Mungo’s and still thought his Potions were better, that you’d given him enough attention to notice his work in the first place. He’d always imagined you saw him as the man who provided you with your tools and no more, he never would have thought you admired him. 

You looked up at him and watched his face attentively. You loved how flushed he got from such a simple compliment and wondered what he would look like if he knew how you truly felt about him. It was odd how you tried to pretend like your feelings of admiration were strictly professional yet in this moment, standing in front of him, inches away, you knew it was more than that. Love, connection, happiness. That is what you felt and what you were sure he felt as well.

“I-umm,” Severus croaked over the empty words in his mind. He wanted to say something, to feel more comfortable with you again, but he found himself back in a place of awkwardness, too scared to say a word to you. He did not want to push you away, to ruin the progress he felt he made today and anything he could think of saying he knew would not end well. 

You sensed his hesitation and wondered for a moment if you’d done something wrong, but when you looked back into his eyes, you realized it wasn’t anger or annoyance that kept him from speaking. He was nervous, like a schoolboy confronting his crush. You smiled and let out a sigh of relief, taking a step closer as you placed your hands on his arms, slowly moving them up to rest on his bicep. Your movement had caught his attention as his eyes met yours, need reflected within them. You were inches away, your beating hearts reaching out for one another, begging you to step closer. 

Without a second thought, you surged forward and pressed your lips to his. You felt your heart leap out of your chest as you let out every emotion you felt for him into this kiss. You’d been so focused on yourself, you hadn’t noticed his lips weren’t moving with yours. Feeling rather embarrassed, you jolted back, averting your eyes in panic. What had you just done? Had you really just ruined any sort of professional relationship you could have had with him with a splurge in the moment kiss?

“I-I’m sorry,” you spoke quickly, your hands shaking as you feared for what he might do. Your career over if he were to complain to your superiors, have you transferred to a different department in the medical division of the Wizarding World, or worse, have you fired. No one would hire you again. No one would want you. “I didn’t mean-”

Your panicked thoughts were instantly washed away as his lips met yours once again, passion spilling over from him and back into you. You hummed from the shock in delight, throwing your arms around him as you pressed yourself into him, kissing him back eagerly as you indulge yourself in his touch. 

Severus had taken a leap of faith, a step towards happiness, knowing now what he wanted and what you wished for was one in the same. He hadn’t imagined the emotions flowing between you, the spark growing into a flame this past month because you’d felt it too. By some miracle, you reciprocate his feelings, and he had no idea why but, in this moment, he didn’t care. He enjoyed the feeling of your body against his, his hands sliding down your sides, one making its way into your hair as the other kept you in place. He wanted to freeze time, to stay like this forever in bliss with you. 

“That was…” You’d tried to speak when you parted, your lips still so close to his, but the words were lost on you like they were him. He wouldn’t dare take his eyes off you lest it break the spell. He took this moment instead to memorize your face, taking in every detail he’d never gotten to see before and when he’d found his heart beginning to ache, he pressed his lips back against yours like you were his oxygen. 

You smiled against him, happily kissing back, thinking about your future with him, about the happiness you were going to build with him. You’d only spoken twice before, kissed him three times yet you were planning a whole life together in your imagination. This was right, he was right for you. It felt like everything had suddenly clicked into place. You weren’t meant to work at Hogwarts to help with the petrification, you were here to meet him. You were together now, whole, complete. You found each other in the sea of darkness that surrounded your lives and together you’d swim to shore. Together you would live. Together you’d be happy. 

 @dracos-mudblood @darkthought15 @severuslovebot @mitchiesdungeon @bush-viper-cutie @raven-hopeflyte @wanderingtrails @sleepysnapesnake @fluffymadamina

[ineloqueent]

my wife

John Deacon x Fem!Reader

synopsis: John loves his wife. but the press doesn’t, so he’s forced to pretend he barely even knows her.

warnings: swearing, drinking, steaminess (not 18+), attempted assault (not quite, but there’s a slimy bastard involved in this)

word count: 3k

see the moodboard here!

⭒

1984

To you, John was your husband. But to everyone else, he was not yours at all.

Of course, Freddie and Roger and Brian and Gerry knew— hell, any roadie or tech with half a brain knew— but under no circumstances were you to disclose this information to anyone outside of the Queen circle, lest the news of your matrimony should reach the ever-hungry press.

It was bad publicity, in the music world, to be married, because the label feared that a certain demographic of fans would be lost when the boys were no longer available for romantic entanglement. As Brian had always been with Chrissie, and both Roger and Freddie seemed never to stay tied down, John was more or less obligated to follow suit with the two latter.

It wasn’t an easy charade, though. Especially when you’d been invited to the same label function as John.

The first time you’d encountered John in public and had been forced to pretend not to know him was really quite funny.

As one of Britain’s top directors, you’d been hired to direct the music video for “It’s A Hard Life,” and your assistant had maintained that your latest project should be a surprise to you, up until the second you arrived to meet everyone on set.

She’d thought you’d be delighted to be shooting for none other than her majesty, Queen, and as it happened, she was right. But little did she know that you were married to one of the boys, and that the other three were as good as part of your family.

Still. It hurt to be in such proximity to your husband, and having to pretend not to be utterly, utterly in love with him. Thus, you had avoided John as much as possible.

Out of the four, Brian had been the most adept at pretending not to know you, which would have said something about his character, had it not been for the fact that he was this inherently polite to everyone he knew. Freddie simply pretended that the two of you were fast friends, and so with him, you were able to keep your usual dynamic. Roger, the cheeky bastard, decided to play up his flirtatious side, and whenever you caught his eye, he’d wink or stick his tongue out at you. After a particularly successful take, he’d walked straight up to you and planted a fat kiss on your cheek.

You hadn’t minded, because it was Roger and you knew he would’ve stopped if you’d asked him to, but John had glowered in the background. You’d been sure that he was going to pull Roger aside at any moment and throw the first punch.

But instead, John settled for waiting until you and he arrived home in each your car, and as soon as you were indoors, he pushed you against the kitchen wall and kissed you dizzy. You barely made it to the bedroom before your clothes were on the floor.

The shoot for the music video had lasted for a few weeks, and the game of pretending not to be John’s wife grew dull. John and Roger in particular were in disagreement with Freddie’s stylistic choices for the video, and you teased John relentlessly about his costume during the hours you were on set, until Gerry gave you a warning look and you backed off; the press were frequently attempting to infiltrate the sets of Queen projects, and you were not safe flirting with your husband so obviously.

And now you had been invited to the album release party for The Works, and were dreading the evening immensely.

Presently, fixing John’s collar before the two of you headed out the door, all was well. You could pretend that tonight, just like any other doting wife, you would be in proud attendance of your husband’s celebration, beaming with pride for what he and his bandmates had accomplished, your heart brimming with happiness because you’d played an integral part in this project in particular.

You were good at pretending. But you wished it wasn’t necessary.

You had finished with John’s collar a while ago, but you still had yet to move. Running your fingers over the soft fabric of his shirt, you relished the warmth which radiated from his chest, the soft aroma of soap and sandalwood which permeated the air around him.

Silently, he slid his fingers into your hair and combed his gentle touch along your scalp. With a sigh, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his middle. His other hand came to rest on the small of your back, and you laid your head on his chest as he kissed your hair.

A few precious moments longer you stayed enveloped in each other’s arms, before John murmured,

“We have to go, beautiful.”

You nodded, your cheek still resting against his chest.

“Go,” he repeated, and made so as to move away from you. But you wouldn’t let him. “Go, love, do you know what that means?” There was amusement in his voice now, and he laughed as you refused to budge at his attempts to detangle himself.

You only relented when he peppered your face in kisses, his touch light and tingling, making you giggle because his hair kept tickling your skin.

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, pushing him back from you, “we’ll go. If only to get this over with.”

Albeit reluctantly, you turned and collected your high heels from their place by the door, your trainers padding quietly along the hallway rug— you had to drive to the venue, and refused to do so in platforms.

“Wait,” John’s fingers brushed your wrist. You stopped, and spared him a wistful gaze, wishing more than anything that the two of you could just behave as a normal married couple. He lifted your wrist to his lips and kissed the underside of it. “I love you.” His words hummed over your skin, his eyes never left yours.

“I love you too, John,” you sighed. “Now let’s go so we can come back.”

He took a deep breath and nodded, and followed you out the door, before you entered your separate cars.

He blew you a kiss as you shut the driver’s door, and you caught it behind the tinted window.

⭒

You arrived ten minutes after John, having taken the long way around, as planned.

The entrance to the party exuded opulence, with a velvety red carpet leading up to the door, while the door itself was hung with glass stars, which caught the city lights and magnified them as their own, and glinted in the incessant flash of cameras.

Having parked far from the venue in an effort to avoid press, and walked a significant distance in high heels, you looked upon the red carpet with relief, and even more so upon Tunbridge, the man appointed as Queen’s personal security for this album and its next tour.

Spotting you, Tunbridge waved you forward, and was quick to dispel the crowd of publicity which had bombarded you upon first sighting.

“Good?” he asked, as you crossed the threshold to the party, and beheld your surroundings.

“Good,” you affirmed with a nod. “Thanks for the help.”

“It’s my job,” he said with a friendly smile, before disappearing back into the flood of arriving guests and press.

Inside, you greeted familiar-looking crew members politely, and, after narrowly escaping a conversation with someone who wanted to gossip about the recent departure of Paul Prenter, happened upon Ratty and Freddie, the latter of whom supplied you with a glass of champagne.

“How are you tonight, darling?” said Freddie, taking a sip of his own drink. “You’re looking a bit lonely.”

It was Freddie-code for asking how you were holding up with yours and John’s charade.

But Brian appeared at your side, and spared you from answering with the same unhappy look you always did.

“As lonely as cold and quiet space with shining stars,” he quoted, and Freddie rolled his eyes.

“Do you ever shut up, Brian?”

“Just because you don’t read,” Brian muttered. He turned to you. “Holding up?” he asked the more direct question.

“No,” you muttered, as Chrissie too arrived on the scene. You smiled at her tightly, because her presence only amplified your awareness of John’s absence. Not that he was absent, though; you could see him talking to Roger in your peripheral vision.

Your heart ached.

Just then, someone cleared their throat behind you.

You spun to find a high-cheekboned man dressed in a crisp-looking suit holding his hand out to you.

“Jackaby Goddard,” said the man.

“Never heard of him,” you responded dryly, repulsed by the self-assurity with which he presented himself.

“Ah, you’re a little comedian, aren’t you?”

You chose not to respond to his remark.

“Would you spare me an interview, Miss L/N? The readers of NME would love to know more about your involvement in the music video for the new Queen record.”

You narrowed your eyes, and felt Freddie and the others watching you closely.

The journalist himself was distasteful, but as a director, publicity was hard to come by, and thus, any publicity was good publicity.

“Sure,” you said, shoving your preconceived opinion of Goddard to the back of your mind, so as to prepare yourself for the interview you’d just agreed to.

“Excellent!” said Goddard, already pulling out pen and paper. “Somewhere a bit quieter, maybe?” He looked at the others expectantly, as though expecting someone to answer him.

Freddie cleverly looked away, and Brian folded his arms. Chrissie squared her shoulders alongside her husband.

“Right…” Goddard mumbled, and peered about the room of his own accord. “Over there, then,” he indicated a table and pair of chairs off to the far side of the room.

“Yeah, no problem.”

You raised your glass to your friends prior to your departure.

But Freddie called you back. “Y/N,” he said, and beckoned. You approached him with raised eyebrows. “Wouldn’t trust that man with state secrets, if you know what I mean.”

“I’ll be careful,” you assured Freddie, and he nodded his approval.

You followed after Goddard, after narrowly avoiding photobombing a woman you thought must have been Debbie Harry.

“Here we are,” said Goddard, pulling out a chair for you.

You thanked him and took a seat.

He sat down across from you and flipped open his notepad. “So,” he began in a low rumble, pressing a button on the recorder in his hand, “what was it like working with Queen?”

You thought a moment, swirling the champagne which still remained in your glass. “Oh, very surreal,” you responded. “All four of them are perfectionists, and wonderful musicians, and you hear so much about them in the news that it’s hard to not view them as sort of royalty—” you laughed “— and treat them as such when you first meet them. But they’re thoroughly decent people, as much as they are perfectionists and wonderful musicians, so the shoot was a lot of fun.”

“Uh-huh. And you’ve never worked with the band before?”

“No,” you said, “but I’d love to work with them again.”

Goddard scribbled something on his notepad, then glanced up again. The man had a strange look about him, with a squint and a crooked nose, and a high brow and cheekbones. It was hard to tell his age, but you thought he must be about ten or so years your senior.

“But it’s very unusual for a woman to be a director, isn’t it?” he went on.

You narrowed your eyes at his tone.

“And certainly strange for one so attractive to be sitting behind the camera, instead of in front of it. Don’t you think?”

His smile unsettled you. It was greasy, like his forehead.

You sipped your drink. “No, I don’t think so. I understand there aren’t many of us, but I hope that my involvement with Queen will inspire more women to consider the field of work. It’s a certain form of artistry, to direct.”

“I’m sure,” Goddard said patronisingly, and his eyes raked over you.

You shifted in your seat, beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. Your dress shimmered and was backless, and a fine slit ran up one side, reaching your thigh. It was a lovely dress, and you did not regret wearing it, but you regretted agreeing to this interview.

Surreptitiously, you threw a glance over your shoulder. But you could no longer see the others.

Just get it done, you thought, and returned your attention to the journalist.

Goddard licked his froglike lips. “What if I told you I could get you an ever better gig?”

You settled for ignoring his body language. “What?” you snorted. “A better gig than Queen? I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“I dunno,” Goddard shrugged. “Rumour has it Pink Floyd are looking for a director.”

“Are they?” you said, not really caring for the answer. You were perfectly capable of arranging your own business.

“Yeah. And I’m sure they’d love you.”

When had he moved his chair to your side of the table? You hadn’t noticed.

“Well, I’ll have to give them a call, then.”

“Or,” cold fingers met with the inside of your thigh, “you could do me a little favour, and I’ll call them for you.”

You stood, and shoved Goddard away. He staggered. “Get the hell off me,” you spat, having had enough of this bastard. “I won’t be finishing this interview, and if you print any of our conversation at all, I’ll be taking legal action.”

But he didn’t seem to get the message, and grasped your wrist.

You tried to shake your hand free, but Goddard was stronger than he looked.

“Let. Go.”

“No,” he hissed, and took a step toward you. You threw out your foot to catch him in the groin, but he dodged. “You listen to me, you little whore—”

Your heart beat in a wild panic, but Goddard was suddenly thrown backward, his tie pulled taut at his throat so that his face turned quite purple.

“Get your fucking hands off of my wife.”

John stood seething before you, with one hand at the scruff of Goddard’s neck, the other fisting his tie, and he looked ready to murder the fellow on the spot.

Goddard coughed, croaked, “Your what?”

Tightening his grip, John glared. “My wife, you absolute bastard.”

Heads had begun to turn, and sweat prickled on the back of your neck.

This would be your ruin. You and John both.

“Your wife?” Goddard had the audacity to laugh. A foolish mistake, given his current position. John threw the journalist to the ground, but kept ahold of his tie.

“Yes, my wife. She’s my wife, and I don’t care what that makes me.” John met your eyes with an apologetic look. “A liar, and a coward? Probably. In trouble with EMI? Also probably. But she’s my wife, so I should start behaving like a husband.” He turned back to Goddard, who lay sputtering on the ground. “With my first order of business being getting you fired from NME. They won’t be well pleased when Queen threaten never to give your magazine another interview, so you’ll be out of a job by the end of the month. And now,” John took a shuddering breath, trembling with rage, “get out of this place, or I’ll have you escorted out.”

He released Goddard’s tie, and promptly crushed the audio recorder beneath the heel of his shoe. Then he stared down the journalist, until the man scrambled to his feet, and out the nearest door.

People were staring openly now, and whispering over their glasses of alcohol.

But John didn’t seem to notice anyone but you. He rushed over, and took your hands loosely in his, so that you could have pulled away if you had wanted to. But you didn’t want to; you loved this man.

“Are you alright?” John murmured, lifting a hand to brush your hair from your eyes.

“Fine,” you said honestly. “A little shaken, but fine.”

He canted his head slightly, watching your eyes closely. You stared into stormy blue-grey as your husband asked you, “Are you sure?”

You had nothing to hide, and nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” He took your hand properly, and turned toward the door. “Then let’s go home.”

“Home—” you started to ask, but then a more pressing question challenged you. “John—”

You stood your ground, and he turned when he felt your inertia.

“What does this mean for us?” you said. “We’ve just broken a legal agreement.” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “With EMI. They’ll be angry.”

John shrugged, and replied recklessly, “Let them be angry. I don’t care.”

There was something thrilling about that recklessness, about John being reckless.

It was like being teenagers in love, without a care in the world for anything but one other.

Come hell or high water.

You let him lead you from the room, and you could not keep from smiling as he held your hand proudly, as you had always wanted him to.

“Deacy darling!” cried Freddie. “Where are you going?! The party’s only just begun!”

John didn’t stop walking. “I’m going home,” he said. “With my wife.”

Jaws dropped around you, and silence ensued, but John didn’t react.

“Well, good fucking congratulations to you!” Freddie shouted, laughing. “Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Deacon.”

The whispers turned to talk following Freddie’s announcement, but John kept walking.

As soon as the two of you were outside and shrouded in shadows once more, you pulled him to a halt.

“John.”

“Mmyes, dear?”

You didn’t answer, just dragged him to you and kissed him soundly, easing your fingers through his hair as his lips grew slack beneath your own. He groaned lowly, drawing you closer and biting at your lower lip as his arms wound around your frame, his hands running down your sides and settling amorously on your hips. Your heart soared at the fact that neither of you had looked over your shoulder before sinking into the embrace of the other, and you lost yourself in him, in his touch.

You would have drowned had he not anchored you, with the words he pulled back from you to whisper.

“My wife,” he said, and kissed tenderly beneath your ear.

You smiled, and wondered if in fact it was possible for one’s heart to burst with happiness.

But in the arms of John, with no pretense left to maintain, you would happily have died.

[operationcavill]

Professionals - August Walker

August Walker is hired by Parker Industries to protect the companies most important assets; Mr. Stephen Parker himself and his workaholic, do-it-all executive assistant. 

Y/N is ending her work day by clearing up yet another misunderstanding with a hotel security guard, “I think I need to have someone keep an eye on Mr. Walker, perhaps keep him in line.” 

“No one can keep an eye on Walker, Y/N. He’s the best. That’s why you hired him.” The man on the other line laughs.

“I understand but if he is going to be a part of this team, he will have to learn to uphold a certain demeanor. There will be no threats to paparazzi, there will be no altercations unless there is some sort of threat to you, and there will certainly be absolutely back talk to anyone on this team. Walker was hired as head of security, he is not in charge.” 

A voice comes from behind her, “And who’s in charge?” 

Y/N swings her chair towards the door, bidding her boss goodbye on the phone, “Other than Mr. Parker, I am.”

August has landed himself in quite the situation. He was professional, always about the job, but with her he can’t help himself, he likes to play. “So, I’ll be reporting to you, right?”

“Yes, each evening I’ll send you a schedule and I expect your notes on security the following morning.” She hands him a laptop, “This is yours. Do not lose it. Luke is our best techie, he’ll set you all up this evening. He has blue hair, can’t miss him. Any questions?” 

“To insure I cover everything at each location, I’ll need personal information about staff and most importantly, you and Mr. Parker”

“I can assure you, you have all you need in the files.”

"Medical, both physical and psychological?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You have full access to background checks, medical history, and emergency contacts.”

“Alright, I assume you’ll send out an itinerary?”

Y/N taps her finger on her phone, “Mhmm. Arrive no later than 8:30 AM, please. I will meet you and Mr. Parker here, then we’re off to the airport.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

“Ok, Well, we’re all finished up,” She stands, throwing her bag over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow, Mr. Walker.” 

He nods, “Tomorrow.” 

August is professional. He’s very one track while on the job; if it does not pertain to the job, then it simply does not matter. Y/N, however, was quite the distraction. Yes, he is here for her protection, that is part of the job but her attitude, her constant emailing or note taking, and her fucking necklace she plays with all the time, were all things he couldn’t escape from.

He watches her tap her foot as she types away on her keyboard, periodically looking out of the jet window, “Does she ever take a break?”

Mr. Parker quietly laughs, “When there’s business to be done, she get’s it done. Y/N has been a busy bee since she was a little girl.” 

“You’ve known her that long?” 

Parker nearly chokes on his tea, “Mr. Walker, Y/N is my niece.” 

He blinks slowly, “That is not in the files she gave me.”

“I’m not surprised. She doesn’t want people to think her career was handed to her. She refused any and all recommendations I wanted to send to schools or internships when she was just getting started, it drove us all mad. She’s stubborn and absolutely genius. You’ll get used to that stubbornness eventually.”

“Interesting.”

“Indeed, a pain in the ass, but she’s the best there is. If you need something done, you go to Y/N.”

August remained tight lipped for the rest of the flight. He barely says a word as they arrive at the Parker estate. Y/N greets every single maid, groundskeeper, and security member with a hug and a smile. She grew up here, no doubt another fact she kept out of her file. He watches her lead the staff into a room filled with paintings and books, perhaps a study, and address them casually. 

“Now, I know Annie has said that you won’t be needed during this stay but you guys deserve an explanation,” She gives August a quick look before continuing, “Steve made a deal with a development team and it seems to have upset other companies.” She notices the confused looks and clears her throat, “Since that deal became public, we’ve been put in a position where Mr. Walker, is here to make sure everything is safe. I can’t keep you all here if there is any threat to your safety,” Y/N seems genuinely upset. He wonders if she’s always like this. 

 Annie, an older woman, sits down beside Y/N and pats her leg, “We know that, Gin Gin.” Gin Gin? Annie get’s up and walks toward August, “You keep our girl safe.” 

His face softens as he looks at Y/N and back to Annie, “I can assure you, she’ll be ok.” 

She stops for a moment before poking his arm, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He uncrosses his arms, and follows Annie, “Now, I have my own rules, Mr. Walker.” Before he can say anything she begins, “You will treat her will the upmost respect. You treat her like a lady, you hear me? I don’t care what tricks you have up your sleeve, I raised that girl and I will not have anyone, in anyway, hurt her feelings.”

He gives Annie a confused look, “I dont think you understand, Ma’am. I’m simply head of security.” 

She rolls her eyes, no doubt where Y/N learned it, “I don’t care what your job is. I know that look.” Annie walks away and disappears into another room. 

When he returns to the study, he sees that everyone has disbursed expect for a small boy. Contrary to his cold demeanor, he’s always had a soft spot with children, “Who are you?”

“I’m August. Who are you?” The little boy tilts his head and kicks his feet.

“August is when I start kindergarten. I’m Joey.” He has no idea where this child came from or who he belongs to but he didn’t just pop up out of nowhere.

“Who are you here with?” Joey smiles and hops of the couch and starts running. 

He watches Joey run to Y/N and jump into her arms, “I see you’ve met my Joey.” She gives him a raspberry on his cheek and laughs with him but notices Augusts shock, “Calm down, He’s my brothers boy. His nanny brought him by so I could see him.” He simply nods, giving the boy a brief smile.

“Is he your boyfriend?” August’s face goes back to shock.

“No, he’s here to watch the house.”

“Oh,” He looks at August, “I don’t like your mustache.”

Y/n can’t help by laugh and without hesitation, August blurts out, “Well, I don’t like yours.”

Joey laughs, “I don’t have a mustache!”

“Are you sure?” Joey nods and August gets closer to him, “Then what’s that?”

“What?” Joey touches his face.

“That,” August pokes above his lip, “right there,” then he wiggles his finger fast on Joey’s mouth, making the little boy scream with laughter.

Y/N looks at him, not understanding how someone can be so cold to others but so warm to a child. She puts him down, “Come on, Joe. Let’s go find everyone.”

Joey turns back to and gives August’s legs a hug, “Bye, Mr. August.” 

He pats Joey on the head, “See you later, Joey,” and he see’s Y/N smile at him for the first time, a genuine smile.

He waits until Joey has left to question Y/N on her reason for excluding her relation to Parker. He knocks on her door and is surprised to see her inches shorter. He was expecting to be eye to eye with her, not eye to, well, forehead. He lowers his head slightly, "Why didn’t you disclose your relationship to Parker?”

Y/N gestures him to come in, “It wasn’t necessary.” 

“It is absolutely necessary. He’s your uncle.” He wants to correct her for rolling her eyes, but he quickly shakes the thought.

She puts things in a small briefcase and closes her computer, “Yes, but in this setting he is my employer.” 

“Any other secret family members? Is the chauffeur your cousin?” August couldn’t help but be frustrated, and when he’s frustrated he become incredibly sarcastic.

“I’d like to remind you that everything you need to know is available in that handy dandy laptop I gave you.” 

“I’m serious. I need to know about any relationships, past, present, good or bad.” 

She crosses her arms, “I like to keep my personal life and my professional life as separate as I can.” 

He rests his hands on the table and leans forward, “Listen, Gin Gin; I respect the fact that you’re a ball busting business woman, but you hired me to keep things quiet and safe. I’m here to protect you and your uncle, and that means I have to know personal details.” 

“Do not call me that. I have no current relationships. You have the names of my brother, and my close friends.” Y/N uncrosses her arms and puts her hair in a pony tail. Not now August.

"Past relationships?”

“Why?” She glares at him.

He returns the glare, “It’s helpful.” 

“That’s vague,” she fiddles with a stray hair that won’t stay in place.

“Are there any past relationships that could interfere with your uncle’s safety or the integrity of his business?” She’s silent for far too long, “ Hello, am I talking to the walls?”

Y/N bites her lip, and mumbles, “Jack Wayne.”

His eyebrows raise, knowing damn well what she said, “What’s that, now?”

“I said Jack Wayne,” He can’t comprehend her timidness around the name. 

August sarcastically laughs as he clasps his hands together, “Wayne Pharmaceuticals, Jack Wayne?” She nods, “You don’t think the fact that you were involved with a rival company was important?” 

“It was before the company made this deal.” She can feel his eyes on her, “I didn’t want to talk about it.”

Her eyes meet his and he looks angry, “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to talk about it.” 

She stands right in front of him and puts on her ‘business woman’ face, “You do not need to know or have the right to know every single aspect of my life.” 

Now, it’s his turn to roll his eyes, “Any other billionaire CEOs you’ve been ‘involved’ with?” 

Now she look looks angry, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, have you slept with any other rival philanthropists?” 

Y/N Scoffs, “Get out!”

Her voice raising doesn’t phase him, “Don’t shout at me.” 

“Don’t insult me. Get out of my room, Walker.” She shoves him out the door. 

He puts his foot in the doorway, “You’re a brat, you know that?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “And you’re a dick! Move your foot.” 

| Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 |

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[mostlycompetentwriter]

Side Effects- Complete

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids (M/F Primary: Y/N x 3racha)

Warnings: Smut, Language, graphic depictions of violence, blood, gore, non-con elements

Genre: Yandere Stray Kids AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU

Word Count: 13K

Summary:  Y/N just wanted a normal life, attending to her studies while earning the degree she’s always dreamed about. Unfortunately, her funds are running low and she’s increasingly desperate for money until she finds an advertisement online. Although she doesn’t know much about vampires, she decides to take a position as a blood donor to the mysterious Miroh Coven, unaware of the consequences of her fatal decision.

It had been almost six months since the incident. 24 weeks of paranoia, glancing over my shoulder in response to unexpected movements and sounds. 182 days of watching the bruises slowly fade from my skin, dark circles under my eyes gradually succumbing to the much-needed 8 hours of sleep I managed with the assistance of medication and my new roommate who always welcomed me in her bed when the nightmares progressed. Finally, it seemed like things were getting better with each passing day further and further away from the traumatic event that had changed my life forever.

I could now walk by myself at night without the risk of breaking down in the middle of the sidewalk. I could finally keep down the food my roommate prepared for me without the familiar feeling of nausea churning my stomach unpleasantly. I could finally find a job to support myself, working full-time as a Secretary at a company with full benefits and a reliable 401K.

They were gone from my life, taking the pain and suffering along with them. I was better now and I was determined to turn my life around because I was a strong and independent woman who should’ve known better. But I had been desperate back then, working through my college degree while my savings account was slowly drained. I wouldn’t be able to finance my Senior year and the idea of giving up on my education so close to the finish line had almost broken me in half.

That’s when I first saw the advertisement, promoted through Google’s convoluted Adword system. It was like an answer to my prayers, everything that I had been searching for wrapped up neatly with a handy URL link that took me straight to the source. I remember reading the advertisement with greedy eyes, unhesitating when I clicked on the “Apply Now” button:

ATTN:

Looking for a reliable blood donor for an estate of 8 young men belonging to the Miroh Coven. Preferably female with a blood type of O negative. Please send in an application ASAP.

Vampires weren’t uncommon in our society, though the government had heavily restricted their creation since a dramatic increase in population. Now, the government required notification if a Coven planned to initiate a new member. It was all a dramatic affair meant to prevent fledgling vampires who were more prone to violence and chaos. Of course, there was the occasional rogue who turned humans against their will simply because they couldn’t handle their blood-lust. However, more often than not, Coven leaders knew how to keep their members under control.

Blood donors were also not uncommon. Covens often hired several different donors to keep around when they required access to fresh blood. It was a practice that was initially met with hesitance from the greater public, but when Vampires proved they could handle themselves better around a reliable blood source, the government gradually acquiesced.

I had never given much thought to Vampires or Blood Donors until I saw the advertisement. More specifically, until I saw the amount of money this Coven, in particular, was willing to pay for their donor. It would be enough to pay my college tuition and keep money in my savings account to pay for rent and food. Since the new semester was rapidly approaching, I needed to pay for tuition immediately and provide a deposit for an on-campus apartment.

In hindsight, it was probably a foolish idea to jump headfirst into the application without doing proper research. Case in point, questioning just exactly why this obviously wealthy and established Clan needed a blood donor immediately. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve hesitated at the obvious sense of urgency behind the advertisement. I might have wondered what happened to the Clan’s previous Donor, but I was simply enraptured by the dollar signs and refused to consider that this could be a very bad decision.

It only took a few days before I received a notice on the application, requesting an interview at the Miroh Clan’s address. I remember feeling excited by the opportunity, dressing in my best slacks and blouse. I drove with barely constrained enthusiasm, singing along to the ridiculous pop song playing on the radio even though I really preferred classical music. But this was a special occasion and I was potentially meeting with someone who could change my life and allow me to finish the remainder of my education in luxury.

“Tuition is due this Friday,” I reminded myself, gaping at the giant Mansion gated in circumference by an ancient wrought-iron fence. “Remember to tell them you can start immediately, Y/N.”

I checked my make-up in the rear-view mirror before opening the door, heels clicking obnoxiously against the sidewalk. My first impression was rapidly becoming something like a passage from Bram Stoker’s Dracula as I ascended the steps to the front gate, smashing my finger against the button on the elaborate security system. The gate opened without warning and I jumped back in surprise, hand fanning against my chest as my heart nearly skipped a beat or two in my chest. “Relax, Y/N,” I said, smoothing down my slacks.

Despite it’s older appearance, it was obvious that the grounds of the Mansion were well-kept and I took note of the elaborate display of hydrangea’s lining the walkway to the front door. I presumed the Miroh Coven likely hired someone to do the work for them, especially since it was a known fact that Vampires generally disliked the sunlight as it bothered their enhanced senses. In any case, I was prepared to meet a bunch of older men who had perhaps lost their last client to old age or something. Instead, the man who opened the front door looked like he could attend the same University as me. Dressed impeccably in a dark mahogany suit, the man straightened his tie before offering me a relaxed smile. “Y/N?”

I nodded my head, trying not to react to the sight of his sharp incisors glinting menacingly in the light. “My name is Bang Chan,” he said, offering me an outstretched hand. “I’m the leader of the Miroh Coven.”

I shook his hand cautiously, aware of the strength in his arms highlighted by the bulging veins visible from the upturned aspect of his shirt sleeves. “Nice to meet you,” I said, recovering from the unexpected appearance of my potential benefactor. I had not anticipated meeting someone so obviously young.

“Come inside,” he said, opening the door further to welcome me into the shadowed hallways of the Miroh Mansion.

Present

“What else will you do?” my roommate asked with a pout.

I continued to read my book, far more concerned with the fate of my beloved heroine as opposed to my roommate’s desire to find free alcohol. “This,” I said, reclining further back against the comfortable stretch of pillows.

“Y/N,” my roommate chastised me softly. “I know why you don’t want to go and they’re just gonna win if you keep insisting.”

I tensed at her words, fingers mangling the corners of the pages. My roommate knew everything about my last situation because she was often the recipient of my screams when the familiar nightmares flooded my dreams. “They already won,” I grumbled. “I can’t even watch a vampire movie without losing my mind.”

“Are you afraid they’ll find you?” my roommate asked. “They’re thousands of miles away and you haven’t seen them for months.”

“Seven months,” I informed her curtly.  “And I’d like to go for eight.”

“Y/N,” my roommate groaned. “You told me that you used to love parties.”

“I know,” I said. “Maybe someday I’ll go out with you, but for now this is the best way I can cope.”

My roommate nodded, messing with something in her bag before approaching me on high heels that were just bordering on too tall. “Here, I found this is the laundry room.”

I held out my hand absent-mindlessly, not really considering what she had given me until I pulled my attention away from the book. When I finally realized what it was, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen followed by a wave of nausea that left me tossing my book to the side before bolting for the bathroom. “Y/N!” my roommate called my name, but I was already expelling the contents of my stomach, groaning from the sickness.

Because the item now discarded next to me was his necklace and I could have sworn I threw it out with their other gifts when I finally attained my freedom from their clutches…

I was completely spent, lungs still seeking additional oxygen and legs sore from where they were wrapped around his. Chan was always rough when he was feeling particularly possessive, hands determined to bruise every inch of my skin along with the deep marks from his fangs. He had taken a lot of blood and despite the offered chocolate now discarded on the side table, I was incredibly light-headed.

“Y/N,” Chan said, fingers tracing a rather nasty bite mark he had left on my shoulder. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?” It was difficult, but I managed to turn my head enough to meet his gaze, startled by how red his eyes glowed under the influence of fresh blood. Chan’s fingers traced along the edges of my lips, forcefully inserting themselves inside and I managed enough strength to lightly tongue my way across the tips. He shivered at that, removing his hand before reaching behind him for the gorgeous necklace I had noticed briefly on his nightstand before he had pushed my face into the mattress. “For you,” he said, helping me into a sitting position so that he could clasp the chain around my neck, golden pendant hanging heavy between the dips of my collarbones. “Perfect,” he soothed into my ear, growling around a husky “mine” before he was kissing a trail down the side of my arm.

Present

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache that only responded to three painkillers washed down with a glass of cold water. It was a Saturday which meant I had the day off from work and I couldn’t be more grateful. After last night’s incident, I had finally managed to convince my roommate to go out and have fun while I dropped onto my bed with a heavy sigh. The only way I could calm myself down was by repeating assurances that I must have forgotten Chan’s necklace in the small bonfire I had made of the expensive things they had bought for me. It must have gotten stuck in the bottom of my pocket which explains its presence in the laundry room. There was simply no other explanation. But a shiver still ran its way down my spine when I recalled the way Chan had looked at me before I bolted out the front door. “I will always find you,” he had snarled the warning before I was lost into the unforgiving darkness of the night.

I ran home from the hospital, throwing my belongings into a suitcase before booking a one-way trip back home, far away from these horrible monsters who I had willingly entertained for the past year of my life. The only positive was the fact that I had graduated which meant I was in no way expected to stick around any longer. Instead, I uprooted up my life and moved back home where I felt safer, finding my current roommate who willingly offered me her unused second bedroom. I could’ve afforded to live alone, but there’s no way that I could manage a solitary arrangement without losing my mind. And I didn’t have my parents because I was far too prideful to crawl back to them considering the unfortunate way our last encounter had ended when my father told me that I could never amount to anything on my own.

They wanted me to attend a local community college before marrying the son of my dad’s business partner to demonstrate loyalty between the two brands. There was no way I would allow my parents to strip away something that belonged exclusively to me. My mother had ranted all night long when I missed my scheduled reservation, telling me that no boy would ever want me. I wish she had been right because I might have avoided the eight consecutive nightmares who entered my life one by one with every intent of bringing me down.

Regardless, I couldn’t change the past if I wanted to focus on the future, and I was doing well for myself these days without my parents or the Miroh Coven. I was assured that I could get through this unpleasant stage of my life because I had every intention of rising through the ranks. My dream was to open my own business one day and marry someone who could show me both love and respect. Because that was what was missing when I served the Miroh Coven. They might have insisted that they loved me, but they certainly held no respect for the woman they wanted to enslave, especially Jisung.

In fact, Han Jisung might have been the worst of the three brothers. You see, Chan’s claim as a leader only went as far as legalities required, having someone’s name down to attribute ownership. But Chan was just as much leader as Jisung and Changbin. The three brothers were thicker than thieves, having grown up together in a despicable orphanage when they were younger. They weren’t bound by blood, but by something much stronger. When they were turned by an older vampire who envisioned them as perfect little soldiers, they decided that they were owed something for all the years of torment they endured. They turned against their sire, freeing themselves from his control, before forming their own tight-knit clan to claim. Throughout the years, they lived in the Miroh Mansion while forming their very own elaborate enterprise and becoming very wealthy in the process. One of the very first things they did as CEOs was to tear down the orphanage they hated and replace it with one of their office buildings. Next, they tracked down everyone that had ever mistreated them, writing down the names in a disheveled notebook that I had discovered one night in Jisung’s nightstand. Some of the names had already been marked out, but there were still so many left, and I didn’t realize at the time what exactly I was holding in my hands until it was too late.

I shivered at the memory, trying to will it away, but it was already forcing itself to play out again in my mind with perfect clarity:

1 Year Ago

To save costs on ridiculous surcharges, and to make things easier for the coven, I had recently moved into the Miroh Mansion with my eight benefactors. They cleaned a room for me on the top floor where Chan, Changbin, and Jisung also lived in relative peace. The eight of them had been thrilled when I agreed to their proposal, talking nonstop about our new situation. Of course, I didn’t intend for it to hold any sort of permanence, but I didn’t dare speak out against Felix because the younger boy had a vicious temper and lashed out violently when things didn’t go his way.

Nevertheless, I quickly settled in with the others and their regular routine. I came to discover that Chan, Changbin, and Jisung were often missing throughout the day, but I figured it had something to do with their business. As for the others, Hyunjin spent a lot of time in the attic where he had attempted to recreate a dance studio, often requesting that I sit and watch him as he moved to the gentle music playing from an older record player. Sometimes, Felix joined him too, but for the most part, Felix liked to play with the younger boys, Seungmin and Jeongin, in their rooms or in mine. They loved video games and I remember countless hours spent playing with the three of them as they giggled and laughed like the harmless school boys I once believed them to be. Occasionally, Minho liked to poke his head in when we were being too loud, scolding us because he was concentrating on his newest art project.

But the mood shifted considerably once Chan, Changbin, and Jisung came home. Immediately, the other vampires would rush downstairs to greet the brothers. It was the same occurrence every night and I was ignorant at first until I finally mustered the courage to ask Chan why they were so eager to see them. The older man had chuckled at me. “We’re their sires, Y/N. They experience a lot of discomfort without us around.”

“Sires?”

Chan explained the concept to me patiently. “Seungmin and Jeongin are sired to me and Hyunjin and Felix are sired to Changbin.”

“And Minho is sired to Jisung,” I said and Chan had smiled at me proudly like I had just discovered something profound.

“When we come home, it’s important that we reinforce our bond. Otherwise, some very bad things might happen.”

I had nodded like that made perfect sense to me. I was really tired and wanted to simply crawl into Chan’s arms and fall asleep. Chan had realized my intentions, holding me close while running his fingers through the messy strands of my air.

The next evening, Jisung summoned me into his bedroom. “I’m hungry, little one,” he said, drawing me onto the bed to slowly strip me out of my clothes. The very first-time Jisung had attempted to remove my shirt, I freaked out and demanded to know why it was necessary. Jisung had smiled, a cunning manipulative behavior that I hadn’t fully realized at the time. “I don’t want to ruin your clothes.”

Of course, his intentions became evident as our sessions increased and I finally gave in and let Jisung fuck me because it did feel really good when he was inside while drawing far too much blood from my carotid artery. It became just another part of our routine, Jisung drawing me into his bed before sliding his cock inside before biting viciously on the side of my neck. I moaned from under him, focusing on the way his cock slid in and out as opposed to the dizziness I was experiencing from losing too much blood at once. Jisung only stopped when I orgasmed, tightening around his cock before he emptied himself between my legs, pressing sweet kisses to my chest before pulling his flaccid length out of my sensitive opening.

“Sleep,” he whispered close to my ear. I whined because I hated it when he left me alone after sex.

“Sungie,” I said, trying to get his attention. I was incredibly drowsy, fighting against every desire to close my eyes.

Jisung chuckled, entertaining my wandering hands. “I have business that requires my attention and you need to rest for me.”

I watched through lidded eyes as Jisung opened his nightstand, drawing out an unfamiliar notebook. He grabbed a loose pen from the organizer on his desk before scratching something out against the paper. Afterward, the notebook was returned to its previous location before Jisung was silently escaping the bedroom. I groaned loudly at the soreness in my neck, massaging the tender skin before allowing myself the sleep I deserved.

It felt like minutes before an unexpected scream pierced through the walls, startling me into consciousness. I jolted up in my bed, far too quickly for my poor body which was still recovering from Jisung’s feeding. I shook my head to clear the black spots, opening them again only for my eyes to latch onto Jisung’s nightstand. I swallowed hard, curiosity getting the better of me as I slowly pulled on the drawer’s handle.

The notebook wasn’t very large but I could tell it was old and well-used. I slowly opened the first page, frowning as I read the unfamiliar names listed in random order. A few of them had been carefully blacked out, indecipherable now that they had been clearly forgotten. I was growing distracted by the names, trying to piece together the mysterious puzzle, when another noisy scream reminded me why I had been so suddenly disturbed. Carefully, I returned the notebook to its home, slipping on a pair of slippers before leaving Jisung’s bedroom.

The hallways were dark and empty with no other sounds alerting me to the unexpected scream that had previously penetrated my drowsiness. I started down the familiar purple carpets, holding tightly to the railing as I descended the grand staircase. It was then that I noticed light spilling from a crack in the door leading to the basement. I had never been down there before, warned explicitly by Chan to never enter that room. But his warning did nothing to assuage my curiosity, so I ignored the alarms going off in the back of my head before reaching out for the door.

There were several voices now, clearly audible, attempting to speak over one another. It sounded like an argument as I started down the stairs, frowning when I smelled something that reminded me distinctly of a sharp metallic odor. “It’s fine,” I heard Jisung’s voice growl and I paused in my steps, wondering if I would get in trouble for interrupting.

“So messy,” Chan spoke now, clearly irritated. “I thought you planned better than this.”

“I did,” Jisung said. “Consider the girl an added bonus.”

I didn’t like the way they were talking, continuing my trek into the basement until I could finally see the three brothers standing together. But I immediately regretted my decision, covering the scream threatening to rip itself free from my chest as I discovered the corpses hanging from the ceiling. It was a disgusting sight, limbs dismembered and lying out across the floor. There was blood everywhere, covering Chan, Changbin, and Jisung, thick and revolting in the way it stained the concrete floors. I instinctively took a step back, wincing when the stair creaked under my weight. Almost immediately, three pairs of eyes turned in my direction and I fell backward in my haste to retreat.

Chan was on me in an instant, cursing when his touch forced a loud scream to pierce the silence of the room. “Relax, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing my shoulders despite my thrashing. He forced me to meet his eyes and the influence of his power was enough to render me unconscious once again.

Present

“You look beautiful today, Y/N.”

I blushed, of course, from Mark’s tender compliment. “Thank you,” I managed sheepishly, watching as my boss offered me a cheeky smile before entering his office.

Ever since I left the Miroh Coven, I had been working a part-time position as the Secretary to a wealthy CEO. I didn’t mind my job, enjoying the menial tasks I was usually instructed to obey. It was quite mind-numbing, a worthy distraction when I first started working here hollowing the horrors I had endured from the Miroh Coven. The pay was excellent and I was able to help my roommate afford rent while reliably buying myself luxuries like a new mattress or a fresh wardrobe since my old clothes reminded me too much of the past.

The hours were also minimal, and I often found myself sitting down at my desk only to look up at the clock and realize my day had already concluded. Subsequently, I was able to leave the office on time every day to join the steady stream of afternoon traffic. Afterward, I might stop by a restaurant to pick up something for dinner, or occasionally drive through the downtown marketplace because I enjoyed shopping for fresh produce. It was all quite nice and I enjoyed settling into my new life with a deep sigh of relief.

It had almost been nine months since I last saw any of the boys and other than the unfortunate encounter with Chan’s necklace, I was sure that I would never have to experience anything so unattractive ever again. I was slowly regaining my confidence, joining my roommate several times when she wanted to see a movie or shop at one of the outdoor malls. Everything was starting to work out for me, which meant that I was also starting to comfortably take more risks.

“Please have fun tonight,” my roommate said, practically dragging me along with her as we entered one of her favorite clubs. After much convincing, I had finally given in and allowed my roommate to take me out late at night for drinks and dancing. “This is a nice place,” she said, leading me to the bar. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

I nodded my head, looking around the relaxed atmosphere. It was certainly a much tamer club than what I was used to visiting, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Of course, the influence of alcohol had a way of making a person far more willing to lower their defenses. “One glass,” I said, accepting the fruity beverage from the bartender before my roommate and I found a table near the edge of the dance-floor.

“So many handsome faces,” my roommate remarked. “Interested in anyone?”

I scoffed at her question because I seriously doubted that I would willingly jump into a new relationship anytime soon. “Really?”

“Just wondering,” my roommate shrugged, drinking down the remainder of her scotch. “Wanna dance?”

I waved her off, deciding that I was okay with enjoying my drink at our table. My roommate let out a giggle, locking eyes with a suave businessman who looked ready to devour her whole. “I’ll check on you soon,” she promised and I quickly lost her in the mass of bodies occupying the dance floor.

I rolled my eyes because I knew better than to expect my roommate’s return. Instead, I sipped at my drink while admiring the friendly atmosphere of the bar, neon colors dazzling in my peripheral vision. It reminded me of my younger college days when I was swept away by the illusion of freedom which independent adulthood offered, attending every frat party I could find.

I grinned at the memories, feeling way too old to try anything like that ever again. It was fun once, being so irresponsible, but now it was time to start paying bills and scratch my head when I attempted to do my taxes. Freedom was addicting, and I could see why so many younger people were enamored with the idea of moving away from home and conquering the world.

Wistfully, I must digress because I often lose myself in my thoughts, and I can’t afford a break in concentration. Instead, I sipped tentatively at my drink, watching the moving sea of bodies. I was entirely focused, which allowed me to raise my guard at the approach of an unfamiliar figure.

“Excuse me? Do you have the time?”

I shrugged loosely because it was an innocent request from someone who clearly wasn’t looking for anything ill-intended. On instinct, I reached into my bag to grab my phone. “It’s almost midnight,” I said, thinking that our interaction would be short-lived.

Instead, the man was insistent, a cold hand digging harshly against my shoulder. “Don’t you know that it’s dangerous to stay up so late, sweetheart?”

The accent had been disguised, but now I recognized it thick and heavy in my ear. I couldn’t even remember to scream before his hand was enclosed over my mouth, teeth nipping at my jaw. Another body slipped into my roommate’s chair, brows raised as he reached for her discarded glass. “Is there room for some company, Y/N?” Jisung asked, blonde hair hanging low in his eyes.

I shook my head desperately, fresh tears clouding my vision. “Where are your manners, sweetheart?” Chan asked with a harsh tone and I was suddenly jerked to the side, a strong hand holding my chin into place.

“What a coincidence, Y/N,” Changbin growled. “We have unfinished business in this little town of yours.”

“You’re coming with us,” Chan said, ignoring the way I fought against him as he practically forced me out of my chair. “Look at me,” he snarled, eyes trained on mine as I started to drift out of consciousness.

I was slowly starting to realize that the implications of being a sire went far beyond just simply turning someone immortal. For example, I knew how cruel Changbin could be, turning violent on a whim, especially if you disobeyed him. He was the one who liked to punish me when he thought I was being bad, dragging out all sorts of special toys to use against my body. Paddles and lashes, whips and spikes, everything Changbin needed was lined perfectly along the walls of the special room he had decorated for himself whenever he wanted to play with someone. He was a sadist in every sense of the word, enjoying the sensation of watching someone suffer for his own pleasure. When he had first brought me into the room, I had immediately protested, close to tears when Changbin had cooed at me and insisted that I would never be forced to do anything outside of my comfort zone. He spoke with a wicked tongue, dark eyes revealing the truth if I had been so willing to look for it, but I eventually allowed him to have his way with me. Tears streaming freely down the side of my face while Changbin’s tongue traced the salty rivulets with a groan.

But Changbin wasn’t the only one with a fiery temper and desire for pain and suffering. His fledgling vampires, Felix and Hyunjin, had decisively taken on his more brutal aspects. Felix lost control whenever I said something to offend him, growling out insults while I tried to avoid his hands. Hyunjin had special permission to use Changbin’s secret room to explore his own masochism, and I had accidentally wandered into one of his sessions at the beginning of our arrangement before things had turned sexual between us. I remember the look of existential terror on the girl’s face that I had foolishly misplaced as pleasure, crying out not in ecstasy but in pain.

On the other hand, Jisung was the manipulative and cunning brother who thought out everything instead of living on a whim according to his pleasures. It was this same trait that I discovered in Minho who also shared Jisung’s tendency to plan out his movements. The only difference between them was that Minho was silent in his execution while Jisung was loud in letting everyone know that he had gotten his way.

Finally, there was Bang Chan, the legal leader of the Miroh Coven. Chan was the last of the brothers to attempt a siring bond because he had never found the right person. I would never know for sure why Seungmin and Jeongin were “the right people,” but Chan doted on them in every sense of the word. He treasured them like they were his possessions, buying them expensive clothes and allowing them leeway when their bloodlust tended to get the best of them. It was up to the sire to teach their fledglings how to properly drink blood from a source, but Chan had decided not to blink an eye when Seungmin or Jeongin accidentally took things a step too far.

Just like Chan, Seungmin and Jeongin were also extremely possessive, especially when they considered something to belong exclusively to them. I can only wish that I had noticed sooner, the way the three of them liked to leave their marks on me in various ways, whether it be through a harsh bite or buying me something nice and insisting that I wear it at all times. Seungmin and Jeongin were also dangerous because there had been times when I felt like I was on death’s door, feeling them drink my blood like they would never stop.

Sadly, I thought I had escaped all of that, so imagine the utter sense of dread crippling my entire body when I woke up to see Chan, Changbin, and Jisung standing over me as they watched me slowly awaken. Chan was the first to react, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he appraised me. “Sweetheart,” he said and a shiver ran down my spine. “Don’t you know how worried we were when you ran away from us like that?”

My lower lip trembled and I bit down on it hard. “I couldn’t stay.”

“Why not?” Chan asked, looking every bit as patient as I remembered.

“You hurt people,” I whispered. “And you hurt me too.”

“Hurt you?” Chan huffed, a look of annoyance masking his features. “We protected you and cared for you, sweetheart.”

“You belong to us,” Jisung said, gaze cold as he watched me from afar.

I sniffled, slowly losing my last shred of pride as I tried not to cry in front of these horrible vampires. His words reminded me of the night I left, rushing out into the streets with blood covering my body. “I don’t have to work for you anymore,” I said.

Changbin growled. “The arrangement meant more than that, Y/N.”

“We love you,” Chan said, reaching for my hands and I didn’t have the strength to fight him. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

I was crying now, triggered by the all-too-familiar words spoken 9 months ago when I entered the Miroh Mansion for the final time.

Eight Months Ago

Jeongin was still young enough to celebrate his birthday, and the rest of the Clan had decided that nothing was too good for their precious youngest member. I remember going shopping with Chan, buying party decorations without any consideration for how much it would cost them. Earlier that week, Jisung and I had visited the bakery to order Jeongin a custom-made birthday cake, including a cheesy message at the bottom to commemorate the occasion. Everyone was in good spirits and I had finally stopped thinking about the bodies in their basement, believing Jisung when he told me that they had been donated to the Miroh Clan to use as a source of fresh blood. “It sometimes happens,” Jisung said. “Whenever there’s an accident and nobody claims the bodies, they send them here for us to use.”

It was an extremely unreasonable explanation but I refused to believe anything else in an attempt to protect myself from the truth. I was determined to move past it, forcing myself to smile at Jisung’s cheesy jokes or Chan’s attempts to make me laugh. I must have been a good actor because they stopped hovering around me at every possible opportunity, watching me like they were waiting for me to bolt out the door and never return.

“Y/N!” Jeongin had said, jumping into my bed to wake me up that morning. “Guess what?” he giggled, adorable face mere inches from my own.

“Hmmm?” I wondered, smirking as he practically beamed with excitement.

“It’s my birthday,” Jeongin said. “I’m supposed to be 40-years-old today!”

“Congratulations,” I snickered, deciding that it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.

“Will you come play with me and Felix?” Jeongin asked. “We can do whatever we want until Chan gets home.”

That’s another thing I had noticed about the fledglings. They never really liked to talk about anyone except for their sired master. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would think that Jeongin had no idea that Jisung and Changbin even existed. “Okay,” I said. “Let me take a shower first.”

Jeongin allowed me to get ready in peace and quiet, and I enjoyed the feeling of the water scalding my skin as I stood under the faucet for far longer than normal. Afterward, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, finding Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin in Minho’s room, arguing over who would join teams. I yawned when I entered, wary of the way Minho was watching me from his bed, legs stretched out in front of him as his eyes followed me all the way to where Felix was holding out my controller.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon with the younger boys, ignoring Minho completely as I let Jeongin win several times even though I was much better at Street Fighter. “Finally,” Jeongin exclaimed, racing for the door before I could question him.

“Chan’s home,” Minho informed me, holding out a hand which I reluctantly accepted, trying not to react when Minho leaned in to press his lips against my delicate pulse point.

Downstairs, all of the vampires were busy setting up Jeongin’s party. Streamers hung from the overhead banisters and balloons floated mindlessly through the room as Chan hugged Jeongin tightly against his chest. “Were you a good boy today?” he asked the youngest who nodded enthusiastically in response.

“Y/N,” Jisung called my name. “Help me in the kitchen.”

I obeyed immediately, finding Jisung situating candles on top of the cake we had purchased earlier that week. I was struck by the normalcy of the situation, standing next to Jisung as he instructed me to start boiling a pot of water. Apparently, despite their delicate diets, on special occasions, the Vampires could enjoy human food and Jeongin’s favorite was being prepared for him.

It was chaotic in the Mansion as everyone attended to their various responsibilities, amusing little Jeongin who flitted from person to person. Although, more often than not, Jeongin stuck close to Chan’s side, talking to his sire about all the nuances of his day. Chan listened patiently, nodding along as he finished the elaborate ribbon around one of Jeongin’s birthday presents. “Is everyone ready?”

We all stood together in the kitchen, singing for Jeongin who was vibrating from head to toe. He blew out the candles and beamed at the accompanying applause. “Happy birthday, Jeongin,” I said, allowing him to pull me into an impossibly strong grip.

Meanwhile, the other vampires slowly congregated into the living room where Jeongin’s presents were waiting for him. “Y/N,” Chan said, holding me back as Jeongin raced out of the kitchen. “Help me carry these drinks.”

I wrinkled my nose because they were obviously filled with blood. Nonetheless, I obeyed diligently, accepting one of the trays before following Chan into the crowded foyer. “Channie!” Jeongin said, holding up a delicate pocket watch. “It’s so nice!”

Chan smiled warmly at Jeongin, ruffling his hair playfully as he started handing out the glasses. Changbin grabbed me by the hips as I passed in front of him, pulling me into his lap as he took a sip from his glass. “It’s not as good as yours,” he teased, lips scarlet from the liquid.

I chose not to respond to his comment, trying to relax against his body. “Y/N,” Chan said before handing me a glass. I studied it cautiously while I gingerly took the glass from him.

“What is it?”

“Just some wine,” Chan shrugged indifferently and I nodded before trying a sip of the beverage. Almost immediately, I winced at the taste and Changbin chuckled at my obvious aversion.

“It was very expensive,” he lightly chastised me and I tried not to notice the smell as I forced more of the wine down my throat.

Meanwhile, Jeongin continued to open more of his gifts, expressing his gratitude towards each of his older members as he tried on various pieces of clothing and jewelry. When he finally got to my present, he shot me a mischievous smirk. “Y/N…”

“Open it,” I encouraged him.

Jeongin needed no further encouragement, ripping through the wrapping paper before discovering the portable gaming system tucked neatly in the box it once came in. “For you to practice,” I said, pleased at his grateful expression. It was an older system that once belonged to my brother, but I didn’t have a need for it, and Jeongin talked relentlessly about how cool it would be to play the older versions of the games he loved.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

I was warmed by his genuine reaction, feeling nothing but affection for the boy. “You’re welcome.”

“What a good girl,” Changbin said, tipping my glass back against my lips. “You shouldn’t waste it.”

I narrowed my eyes, wondering why he really cared about how expensive the wine cost. After all, these were the same men who brought new things into the house every day after flashing their shiny credit cards at whichever cashier had the privilege of accommodating their requests. Still, I knew better than to upset Changbin, especially on poor Jeongin’s birthday, so I downed the rest of the nasty drink before placing the glass down on the side table. “Shall we watch a movie?” Jisung asked, eyes glinting rather maniacally as he studied my discarded drink.

“Please!” Jeongin chirped. “Something scary.”

I hated the idea of watching a horror movie, but I couldn’t protest when everyone else was in total agreement for once. Instead, I followed the rest of the boys into the main living room, resisting a sigh when Chan drug me down next to him on the sectional. “Whatever you want, Jeongin,” Jisung said, tossing the younger the remote control.

“Dracula!” Jeongin declared, an amusing pick perhaps if these Vampires were less violent.

But my opinion held no weight and the film began while Felix turned off the lights. Bathed in darkness, I resisted the urge to curl in tighter against Chan as I tried not to think about the film playing on-screen. Everyone else was comfortable, settled in their usual pairs which meant Minho was sitting between Jisung’s legs while Felix and Hyunjin flanked Changbin on either side. Seungmin and Jeongin sat close to me and Chan as they watched the television with wide, eager eyes.

I tried to turn off my mind, focusing on a distant spot beyond the edge of the screen. It worked for a while, keeping my mind occupied away from the movie playing in the background. In fact, I might have managed to survive the rest of the evening had it not been for Chan whose lips were suddenly brushing along the length of my neck.

I immediately flinched away. “What are you doing?” I whispered, unrelenting when his hand wrapped around the back of my head to force me into place.

“I’m hungry,” he smirked against my exposed skin, teeth sharp against my delicate flesh.

“Why now?” I said, looking over at the others because there was no way they couldn’t hear the two of us.

“Just one bite,” Chan said and I rolled my eyes but bared my neck for him, hoping he would be fast about the unexpected ordeal. He was quick to adjust me on his lap, fixing our positions to his liking. Chan’s teeth penetrated my skin gently and I could feel his mouth latch on tightly as he started to drink from me. I tried not to react, glancing away at the other members who were still watching the movie. With the exception of Changbin, who was looking at me with a dangerous smirk that immediately alerted me to the fact that something was terribly wrong.

As the seconds ticked away, I realized that Chan had no intention of stopping and my instincts kicked in as the storm of anxiety registered throughout my slowly weakening body. I jerked away from Chan who must have been caught off-guard, blood spraying into the air around us as the wound had not been properly closed. But my decision proved to be a necessary distraction because Jeongin and Seungmin both immediately reacted to the intense smell, teeth bared as they sought the source of the blood coating the furniture and my clothes. I managed to dodge Jeongin as he jumped at me first, colliding into Chan to send them both falling back into the floor.

With my hand pressed against my neck, I started for the front door, aware of Changbin closing in behind me. But the older boy was unprepared for Seungmin’s attack whose instincts probably insisted that someone was trying to steal his fresh supply of blood. Changbin let out a grunt as he wrestled with a feral Seungmin, receiving help from Felix and Hyunjin who were trying to protect their sire. Through the haze clouding my eyes, I could see Jisung holding back Minho whose sharpened incisors were cutting deeply into the thin skin of his lips. “You belong to us!” Jisung snarled.

“We can be together forever,” Chan said, still distracted by a wild Jeongin whose dark eyes were starting to look very unfamiliar. It was only then that I realized I had been tricked. They had been trying to turn me without my permission. The expensive wine Changbin insisted I drink must have been someone’s blood because when a human died with vampire blood in their system…

I forced those thoughts away, deciding it was far more important to focus on escaping, and the feral vampires provided the perfect distraction. I managed to make it out onto the street, finding my car parked at the sidewalk. I started the ignition, blasting cold air through the vents to keep me conscious as I pulled out onto the main road. Blood was still pouring steadily from my wound when I stopped next to the Emergency room entrance, ignoring a nearby policeman who was clearly displeased that I was blocking the road before I finally succumbed to the darkness with a grateful sigh.

Present

What have they done? I questioned immediately when I realized that I was back in my regular bedroom the following morning. The normality of the situation should’ve been impossible because I was certain that Chan, Jisung, and Changbin had inexplicably decided to hold me hostage after finding me at that stupid club. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

However, no matter how much I tried to make sense of the preceding night’s events, I couldn’t understand why they would allow me to leave after making such promises to turn me. I don’t recall escaping, especially considering my weakened condition, which meant that the three men had brought me back to my apartment on their own accord. I mean, was this just another attempt to mess with me?

I glanced over at my nightstand, discovering a faded envelope sitting on top of my cell phone. I decided to check my messages first, relieved when I saw my roommate’s contact name. She had apparently spent the night with someone she met at the bar, but she assured me that she was safe and would be home later after work. I was glad that she was fairing better than her roommate, and I turned my attention to the envelope. The handwriting on the front was familiar, and I gently tore through the sealed contents. Inside was a folded letter, and my hands were shaking when I smoothed out the paper to comprehend the brief message written in perfect cursive:

Y/N,

Although our reunion was postponed, please accept this invitation on behalf of the Miroh Coven for your company tonight at 8:00 pm sharp.

Sincerely,

Bang Chan

What did he mean by postponing our reunion?

Unfortunately, I had no time to try and figure it out because the buzzing sound of our doorbell abruptly pulled me out of bed, and I wordlessly tucked the envelope inside my pocket. My roommate and I never received visitors, and there was a small part of me that feared for the possibility that one of the Miroh Coven members was waiting outside in the hallway. Yet, when I searched through the door viewer, I realized that a uniformed police officer was carefully sorting through a file of paperwork in her hands.

“Hello?” I asked cautiously, opening the door just enough to acknowledge the unfamiliar woman.

“Y/N?” the officer questioned.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Officer Smith. I have a few questions for you concerning your previous employer,” the officer said and I was left shaking from head to toe as I allowed her to come inside.

“Do you have somewhere we could sit down?” she asked, and I nodded curtly before leading us both in the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I asked, crowding around the machine in the kitchen.

“That would be nice.”

We were both silent while I served the warm beverage, holding my mug tightly between my hands. “Do you want any creamer?”

“I’m fine,” the officer said. “I just want you to be comfortable. There’s some very troubling things I want to talk to you about.”

“I see,” I nodded, looking intently at the file she had brought with her.

“We’re in the middle of an investigation,” she continued. “It concerns the Miroh Coven. According to our records, you were previously employed with them as a blood donor.”

“Yes, but I was forced to leave.”

“Oh?”

“We had a disagreement.”

“Well, I want you to know that they’re in a lot of trouble,” the officer explained. “We found the body of a young woman on the side of the highway completely drained of blood. When we ran her license, we discovered that she had been employed by the Miroh Coven as a blood donor during the past few months. However, when we asked the Coven about her employment, they told us a very similar story about...a disagreement.”

I shivered despite the heat from the liquid trailing down my throat. “I just...I had a lot of trouble with balancing my college lectures with their schedule. It was very demanding.”

“Of course,” the officer said, but she still wore a look of suspicion. “Normally, we might be inclined to attribute these kinds of things to a rogue attack, but there’s just too many factors that coincide with this case.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, we’ve been unable to contact their previous employees, with the exception of yourself,” the officer explained. “It seems like the Miroh Coven has a history of making their employees disappear without a trace, and I find it very problematic that the young lady we found yesterday had clearly suffered at the hands of a vampire.”

“How many other employees have they had?”

“Quite a few,” the officer said. “I think there’s something bigger going on, and I really need for you to be honest with me, Y/N, because you might be able to help us stop them.”

I swallowed hard. “You think they killed those other donors.”

“It’s very likely,” she said. “Can you tell me anything else about your resignation?”

I found it impossible to make eye contact with the officer, especially when I could still remember everything that had happened the night I left the Miroh Coven. My intention had always been to forget about those terrible circumstances because I was determined to move forward with my life, but all those other ill-fated donors suddenly made it very difficult to remain silent. “They were always nice to me,” I said. “We had a reasonable arrangement because they paid for my schooling and even let me live with them to assuage the cost of on-campus housing. It helped me finish school, but it was always meant to be a temporary arrangement.”

“I understand,” she nodded. “Did they know you were planning to leave?”

“No, but they were keeping secrets from me too,” I said. “A lot of strange things happened when I was living at the mansion.”

“Like?”

“One night, I found a pair of bodies in the basement, but Jisung told me that they were donated...” I trailed off with a choked whimper. “They were also planning to turn me into one of them.”

“Did they tell you this?”

“I guess I didn’t have the right to know,” I said. “I escaped that night and drove myself to the hospital. After that, I moved back here and tried to forget about everything that happened.”

“I understand that it was traumatic for you,” the officer said. “I’m sorry you had to bring it up again.”

I shook my head. “If they’re hurting other people, then I don’t mind the pain.”

The officer sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Have they tried to contact you since then?”

“Yeah,” I sniffled, reaching into my pocket to retrieve the folded letter. “They actually found me at a bar the other night, but they let me go for some reason. I found this letter on my nightstand.”

The officer read over the simple message and frowned. “Were you planning on meeting them tonight?”

“I don’t want to see them ever again.”

“Interesting,” the officer said. “It seems like they really like you.”

“They always told me that,” I said, remembering their whispered words of affection while sharp teeth penetrated my skin.

“I’m going to be completely transparent with you, Y/N,” the officer said. “My station is leading an investigation into the Miroh Coven, but we still need a lot of evidence to bring a case to the court of law.”

“You can have the letter,” I suggested, but she shook her head.

“It needs to be more concrete,” she said. “I need something that condemns them for the previous disappearances of those other blood donors.”

“Maybe a record or something?”

“I wish we had one,” the officer sighed. “We know those donors were employed by the Coven, but there’s no evidence of what happened to them or why they were dismissed.”

“Chan, Jisung, and Changbin own their own company,” I said. “There might be something in one of those buildings?”

“I doubt they’d be careless,” the officer said. “Actually, I’d imagine that the three of them would keep those things close, and there’s probably very few people who they trust inside the mansion.”

I could feel my entire body trembling at her knowing look. “Actually, Y/N, it seems like they trust you.”

“You want me to go to that dinner tonight with them,” I whispered, completely missing her next words because my heart was beating too loudly, drowning out the other noises around the apartment. It felt like I was falling back into a dark place, and I was desperate to find the light again.

Officer Smith suddenly reached out, fingers cold against my arm, and she effectively pulled me back into the conversation. “I know it’s a lot to ask from you, Y/N, but the answers are inside that house! Whatever you might find could bring justice to the people they’ve taken advantage of over the years.”

It was easy for her to tell me to return to the Coven when she desperately needed my help, but why did it have to be my responsibility to return to a place where I had once escaped tragedy? Nevertheless, I could feel the weight of her gaze, imploring me to undertake such a terrifying mission, and I wondered whether or not I could still protect myself when so many other people were depending on me? “Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll do it.”

The Miroh Mansion was still dark and foreboding, reminding me of the very first time I walked through the front door for my interview with Chan. It was a pivotal moment in my life, but one whose consequences I never understood until I drove to a hospital with blood pouring from a wound meant to serve as the last reminder of my mortality. I had nightmares about the Coven kidnapping me and forcing me to return, but I could’ve never imagined that I would come back here of my own decision.

I slowly knocked on the front door, swallowing down my fear because I couldn’t afford for the Coven to think anything was wrong. “Act as if we had never gotten involved,” the police had instructed me.

“I’ll try,” I had promised, and I intended to do whatever was possible to help the innocent. However, I wouldn’t go as far as risking my life to expose these horrible vampires, even if dozens of missing donors were counting on me for justice.

“Y/N,” Chan greeted smoothly when he met me outside on the porch, dark eyes swallowing me into their endless depths. “I’m glad you saw things our way.”

He invited me inside, and I anxiously made my way across the familiar carpeted hallway leading into the living room. I wasn’t surprised to see the other Coven members waiting, but it still didn’t stop my heart from leaping into my throat when I realized that I could very well die tonight if I wasn’t careful. “My dearest Y/N kindly accepted our invitation,” Jisung remarked, gliding across the floor with an impossible speed. I could smell blood on his lips as he wrapped an arm around my waist, escorting me to the lovely sectional where Minho was watching me through lidded eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Changbin contributed, holding a glass of red liquid daintily between his fingers. Felix and Hyunjin sat next to him, looking at me with barely constrained hunger. “You’re just in time for drinks.”

I stiffened instinctively under Jisung’s hold because I remembered the last time I had been offered to drink with them. “It’s just wine,” Minho smirked, holding out a glass for me to take.

I accepted it cautiously, tasting at the rim only to discover a grape-flavored taste that certainly didn’t remind me of blood. Still, I declined to drink further, holding my glass while Chan started a conversation about their business, eliminating the initial silence that had occupied the room upon my arrival. Seungmin and Jeongin happily listened, focused on their sire with an attentiveness that reminded me of my previous stay with the Miroh Coven when I had once been ignorant of their bond. “Dinner should be ready soon,” Chan reassured me and I could only nod in response.

“Do you mind if I use the restroom?” I asked, and Jisung reluctantly let me go while eight pairs of eyes watched me all the way up the staircase.

I took a deep breath, waiting until Chan started talking again before disappearing around the corner into the room I knew he maintained as an office. I immediately started for his desk, pulling out well-organized files and the notebooks full of his writings. Every so often, I glanced up at the clock hanging above the doorway because I knew that I could probably only manage twenty minutes unsupervised before someone came looking for me.

“Please,” I sighed, reading over a promising file tentatively titled extraneous paperwork. “Holy shit!”

Pictures.

Dozens of them.

They were incriminating, various bodies splayed at unattractive angles. Close-up shots of mangled corpses drenched in blood with empty eyes staring straight at the camera. I flipped them over and gasped, reading the names that sounded way too familiar to merely be a coincidence. “This is it,” I said, almost giddy with excitement despite the uncomfortable nausea twisting my stomach at the sight of these poor donors who had managed to fall victim to the merciless Coven.

I shuffled them together, restoring Chan’s office to its previous organization, before tucking the pictures inside the pocket of my jacket. I was more than ready to return downstairs, when I suddenly remembered a faint recollection of the little notebook I had once discovered in Jisung’s bedroom. It wasn’t that much further down the hallway, and I quickly jerked open the drawer of his nightstand, shoulders deflating in relief when I saw the tiny book waiting on top of his other belongings.

I gripped it tightly when I eventually retreated, resting my head against the door to his bedroom quietly because this was causing me more stress than I could handle. “Y/N?”

I immediately turned around, eyes widening in shock when I realized that Chan was waiting for me. I swallowed hard as I held my ground, keeping the journal behind me. “Did you need something, Chan?”

He didn’t respond right away, and I could feel myself growing smaller and smaller with every long second passing between us. Finally, Chan took a step in my direction. “You’ve been gone a while.”

I shifted anxiously. “I- I just remembered something in Jisung’s room. We used to look at it together when I lived here.”

Chan nodded, and I was relieved that he accepted my explanation. “We all missed you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I missed you too.”

He closed his eyes, cherishing the lie that somehow sounded much more believable than it did inside my head. “Can you show me?”

“What?”

“In Jisung’s room,” Chan said. “What did he show you?”

I trembled as I leaned against the door. “I’m not sure if it was something he wanted to share.”

“I see,” Chan murmured. “It’s interesting because there’s something that I want to show you too.”

Chan walked away without another word, and I assumed that he wanted me to follow him. I ignored every instinct that was screaming for me to escape with my evidence because I wouldn’t make it the bottom of the staircase before a Coven member would prevent that from happening. Instead, I took slow steps on unsteady legs into Chan’s bedroom. I was inherently curious, but when he gently backed me against the wall, I understood perfectly well what he wanted.

His fingers were undoing the buttons on my shirt and I carefully shrugged off my jacket before he could find and apprehend the valuable photographs inside my pockets. I also made sure Jisung’s journal was hidden beneath the fabric before I allowed Chan to take me to his bed. The oldest vampire made no secret of his desires, tossing aside his shirt before tugging the fabric of my jeans down my legs. “Y/N,” he sighed, fingering the edges of my panties while his sharpened canines drew lines along my collarbones. My body reacted on instinct because it was impossible to resist Chan when he was looking at me like I was the answer to all of his problems. Despite everything he had done to me, I still responded to his touches and the taste of his skin on my lips. Instead of pushing him away, I held him close, occasionally glancing at my jacket waiting next to the door with the incriminating evidence necessary to end the Coven forever.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned. “I missed you.”

Maybe that was part of the reason why I didn’t resist because I knew that he would never bother me again once the police had their prosecution trial. It was an intoxicating sensation since I was the one with all the power and he was completely clueless to my intentions. He had no idea that I came back to spite the Coven instead of joining them like they wanted.

I watched him roll on a condom, erection prominent as he pushed slowly between my legs. I felt incredibly full, studying the pleasure on his face when he started to thrust inside of me. I looked at him the entire time with eyes wide open because I knew something that he didn’t and, while he was pleasuring me with his precious members waiting downstairs, I was taking back all that time spent in this mansion, knowing that they were more dangerous than anything I had ever encountered before.

His cock moved faster, and I reacted by spreading my legs wider for him, opening myself up to Chan’s advances. It didn’t take him long to come, and I finally closed my eyes when I felt his warm release through the thin latex of the condom. His kisses were familiar, but they also made me want to laugh because I was planning on betraying the people who claimed to love me, the vampires who actually did love me in their own messed up way.

“I love you,” he eventually said, but I didn’t respond, choosing instead to count the tiles on the ceiling overhead.

“Photos, names, addresses, detailed journal accounts...Y/N, you managed to find everything! We can cross-reference this stuff with the files and paperwork we already have.”

I smiled despite the circumstances, watching as two younger detectives sorted the files and pictures before retreating from the tiny interrogation room. “It wasn’t exactly easy for me.”

“Still, this is brilliant, Y/N,” Officer Smith exclaimed, and I felt satisfied knowing that I had done a good job. “We have enough evidence to start the raid.”

“Raid?”

She nodded. “You should know that Vampire raids are extremely rare, but I don’t think your Coven will surrender when we issue the warrant.”

I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion that I could ever belong to the Miroh Coven. “Is it safe?”

“It’s a commonplace occurrence and we’ve all received special training,” she said. “Hopefully, they’ll come to their senses and agree to a trial, but it won’t take much for a judge to officially convict them.”

“Will I have to be at the trial?” I asked, dreading the idea before it could even become official.

“I wouldn’t force you,” she replied. “A testimony would be critical, but this is enough to put them away for the rest of their immortal lives.”

I couldn’t imagine the dreaded reality of such a punishment. “What if they escape? They might try and track me down.”

“Witness protection,” she suggested. “We’ll accommodate you to the best of our abilities.”

“I understand the concept,” I said. “But they’ve found me before despite everything I did to hide.”

“Well, we can work out the details later,” she said. “For now, we need to prepare for the raid. We’ll start by sending in the evidence to the court to get our warrant for their immediate arrest.”

“Is it something that will happen soon?”

“I might have a way to expedite the process,” she grinned. “We’ve been on this case for long enough, bothering the courts for documents and employee records.”

I nodded slowly. “So everything is done?”

“For the most part,” she agreed. “We can commence stage two of our operation.”

“Thank god,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “I’m glad that it’s over.”

“Yes,” the officer said, but there was a reluctance in her tone that sent me immediately on edge. “Of course, we can always use your help with one last thing.”

“What could I do at this point? I’m not exactly trained for this sort of thing.”

“Yes, but we wouldn’t want the Coven to suspect anything,” she said. “They might try to leave before our warrant is formally issued. Until then, I think a distraction might hold their attention.”

“Me,” I intoned, narrowing my eyes because I wanted nothing more to do with those nasty vampires.

“We wouldn’t want them to suspect anything,” she said. “If you go back to the Coven, then they might lower their guard.”

“It was supposed to end,” I reminded her. “You said that I was finished with them.”

“I know we’re asking a lot of you,” Officer Smith said. “But this will be the last time you ever have to see them again.”

“You keep saying that,” I muttered, but we both knew that I was in too deep, which meant that I had no choice but to return to the mansion.

Felix greeted me at the door with his familiar smirk, escorting me inside to the bottom of the staircase. Today meant the official end of the Coven, but they were all completely ignorant to their impending punishment. “They want to discuss something with you,” Felix said, and I understood immediately who he was referring to despite the unnecessary pronoun game.

Still, I knew that I couldn’t keep them waiting, pausing outside of Chan’s office door before I heard someone invite me inside. I took a deep breath, opening the door to discover the three leaders waiting for me expectantly while wearing similar expressions of dark foreboding. “Y/N,” Chan said. “Have a seat.”

I obeyed instantly, looking at the Miroh Coven leader as he watched me with an unnerving attentiveness. “What’s going on? I asked.

“I think we have something serious to discuss,” Chan said and my heart was practically beating out of my chest as I studied Jisung and Changbin from the corner of my eye. They knew, I repeated to myself over and over again as I imagined a dozen different scenarios that all ended with my lifeless body thrown into some kind of river because they had discovered my treason.

“You came back,” Jisung finally said. “We weren’t expecting you to accept our invitation.”

“I was being polite,” I said, rubbing my hands along the seam line of my jeans.

“Yes, but we’re all here,” Changbin said. “We can be together.”

I shivered at his words. “We love you, Y/N,” Chan said. “The eight of us would like nothing more than to keep you with us forever.

“To turn me,” I confirmed, and he nodded his head.

“We’ll make it special,” Jisung said, patting his lap and I reluctantly joined him.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Changbin confirmed, swiping his tongue across his sharp teeth. “But we are hungry.”

“And you’re such a sweet girl,” Jisung added, holding me on his lap as his teeth brushed across my carotid artery.

I held my breath because he was close to biting, but then...

“Chan! The police are outside and have a warrant to investigate the property!”

Jeongin’s face was a mess of tears which, at one time, might’ve forced me to reconsider everything that I had done, but not anymore. “What?” Chan growled, before glaring at me. “You stay here,” Chan said, and Jisung snarled in frustration as he released me before following Changbin and Chan downstairs.

For a moment, I could only focus on breathing because I had narrowly escaped Jisung’s bite and now the Coven knew that they were about to receive an unanticipated raid from the police. I swallowed hard, falling down into the floor as a piercing scream shattered the previous silence that left me shaking like a leaf inside of Chan’s office. There were suddenly loud growls and vicious noises penetrating the closed door and I buried my head between my legs and tried to calm down my racing heart.

I could hear the familiar sounds of glass breaking, of inhuman screams and yells breaking the barrier of the office. The voices of the vampires I had once known yelling out insults and curses, the destructive noises of gunshots and human-like cries for help as teeth tore through skin. It was apparent that the Miroh Coven was not backing down from this fight, and I could only pray that my officer had been right in her assurances that they could handle the Coven.

It seemed like hours had passed before I finally removed my hands from my ears, realizing that the screaming from downstairs had suddenly stopped. I waited for several moments, hearing nothing but my heartbeat in my ears and the gentle sounds of the river outside. Eventually, I managed to stand on unsteady legs, holding myself up against the wall as I started to make my way downstairs.

The smells that assaulted my senses should’ve told me everything, but I still released a piercing scream when I collapsed at the bottom of the staircase.

It was a terrifying sight, nothing but blood and crooked bodies spread throughout the room. I recognized most of the Coven, bile rising in my throat when I made contact with Changbin’s lifeless eyes. I carefully took a step back because I knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen, but an unexpected pressure around my ankle tore another scream from my throat and I fell down onto the floor.

“Y/N,” Chan croaked and I shivered when he moved over me, blood seeping through his shirt, but his eyes were still perfectly focused. “I have nothing now, Y/N,” Chan gasped, gripping tightly to my chin and forcing me to look into the empty eyes of Han Jisung.

He pulled me closer, exposing his sharpened teeth and I could do nothing to stop him. This was it, I thought to myself, the moment I had been running from since that tragic night eight months ago. Because Chan was unrelenting, drinking with long, painful bites that sent a searing pain down my spine as my body fought against the significant blood loss. Everything was cold and I wondered if death always felt this unpleasant.

However, the sudden reverberation of a loud snarl forced me to reconsider the darkening spots in my vision, searching behind me when I realized the brutal aspect of Chan’s bite had suddenly subsided. I felt my mouth drop open in horror, but the feeling quickly disappeared when I realized Officer Smith had speared Chan straight through the heart with a silver stake. The impact was immediate and Chan’s body dropped to the floor unceremoniously, leaving me with only a pair of red eyes gazing unblinkingly from the beyond. Meanwhile, Officer Smith offered me a kind smile that seemed out of place considering the blood staining the front of her uniform. “You deserve a better life, Y/N,” she whispered before her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she collapsed next to Chan.

It took me a moment to regain my bearings, looking around at the surrounding carnage. There was blood everywhere, bodies lying in deep puddles and contorted awkwardly from their injuries. It was a startling realization because they were all gone, both vampires and humans. There was nothing left from their vicious fight.

I was also incredibly tired and I closed my eyes despite my situation. Everything felt heavy, and I just wanted to forget the entire night before I had to comprehend the unfortunate tragedy of the Miroh Coven. I thought I deserved it considering the heavy loss weighing over my heart.

After a while, I became aware of a piercing light burning from somewhere in the distance. I gradually opened my eyes because the morning had arrived and, despite the death and destruction around me, I wanted desperately to find a better future in that beautiful light...

Epilogue- 2 Years Later

Vampires had rapidly gone into hiding, especially following the inquiry into the Miroh Massacre, as the newspapers delicately framed the tragedy. Apparently, society decided that they would no longer embrace their culture, finding more evidence of various Covens abusing the donor law which was eventually retracted in court. Subsequently, the vampires were forced to remain out of the public eye lest they face a severe punishment from the newly minted Hunters who spent their lives training to kill rogue vampires.

As for myself, I had finally taken back full ownership of my life, accepting a full-time research position that eventually led me to my future husband. After our marriage, we moved into an idyllic home in the suburbs and I gave birth to my son who proved to be everything that I needed in this world. Everything was starting to work out for me, and I was finally reassured that the past was truly forgotten because the ones who had haunted it were now gone forever.

“Mommy!” my son called, and I found him in the doorway to his bedroom looking up at me with tired brown eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why is that?” I asked while gently encouraging him to lay back down on his bed.

“A kid in my class,” he said. “He told us about the vampires.”

“Yeah? Well, how would he know anything? He’s probably never even seen a vampire. Not many people have.”

“What about you?”

I shivered at the question. “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Vampires aren’t a problem anymore and there are people now who can protect us.”

“Really?” he asked, and his eyes were incredibly innocent of the true horrors of this world.

“They won’t ever hurt you,” I promised my son before flipping his light switch. I closed the door gently, praying that he might sleep through the entire night in his own bed, before I walked into the kitchen for something to drink. I smirked as I popped the cork on a new bottle of wine that my husband had bought for the two of us to share. It seemed unnecessarily mischievous to drink with my son in the other room, but I still liked to indulge every now and then, especially after remaining sober for nine months during my pregnancy.

I sighed as I drained the first glass, feeling the numbing effects spread through my body like an aphrodisiac. It had been a stressful day because of some unnecessary paperwork at the research institute where I worked, but I knew that everyday couldn’t be perfect. After all, I was absolutely grateful for everything in my life, even if it caused me the occasional headache.

I started washing my wine glass, lost in thought until a strange noise outside forced me to pause in my cleaning. It sounded close to the garage attached to our house, and I figured it might be raccoons again because they were becoming a problem. I glanced out the window, shrugging when I didn’t notice anything suspicious. However, if I had only taken an extra moment to study the outline of my husband’s garden, then I might’ve noticed the unusual pair of crimson-red eyes watching me from outside.

The End.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 62 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: The assistant gossip network continued to do its thing, while Courtney lived her best life, Sutan offered Violet some wardrobe assistance, and Bianca planned a coming out.

This Chapter: The Galactica Holiday Party has arrived, and not everyone is prepared...

***

“Remember to find your light!”

Gigi turned her head, trying as hard as she could not to squeeze her eyes shut, the studio lights blinding.

“I said find it, not stare into the sun!”

Gigi blushed and moved her head again, doing her best to try and follow the instructions Sutan kept giving her.

They were in a photo studio in the Bronx, Gigi to get her first pictures for her portfolio taken, while Symone had practiced how to shoot in swimwear, her friend now waiting with her phone for Gigi to finish up.

Gigi had watched Symone move around, completely enthralled by how elegant the other model already was, Sutan barely correcting her.

“Straighten your back!” Gigi did as she was told, a pair of black jeans hugging her body, the long sleeved black shirt she was wearing clinging to her arms.

“Excuse me...” The photographer, who had introduced herself as Widow, looked out from behind her camera, “can I do my job in peace?” Widow smiled even though her tone was clearly sassy, her teeth blindingly white, her black box braids collected in a high bun. She was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, big red earrings hanging from her ears.

“You know what I hired you for,” Sutan smiled back, and Widow rolled her eyes, making Gigi giggle.

“Yes sir, right away sir,” Widow teased.

“Don’t give the models any ideas with your attitude.” Sutan grinned, his sleeves rolled up around his elbows, refocusing on Gigi who had tried to hold the position he had asked for.

“No, not like, you have to be more.” Sutan moved his shoulders, and Gigi tried to copy it. She knew they were doing this shoot so she could get an idea of what she looked like, so she could train what Sutan called her inner photographer, but it was really difficult.

“No, still not right.” Sutan stepped on the set, getting next to Gigi, the scent of his cologne instantly catching her nose. “Your strength is in your lines Gigi, so you have to stand tall. Use those legs of yours,” He smiled, tapping his own left leg and moving it forward, mirroring what Gigi hoped she was doing. “Try this.”

Gigi moved her leg to copy Sutan, her entire center of balance shifting.

“There we go!” Sutan grinned. “Good job. Now hold it, and find your light.”

***

Violet tried to turn to the side, watching her profile in the big mirror on the back wall of the dressing room.

Her and Sutan had each been swept up by a personal shopper the moment they stepped inside Barney’s, Violet whisked away to the woman's clothes department where everything was outrageously expensive and completely new.

Violet was wearing a beautiful red dress, the hemline just off the floor, her cast barely visible if she stood completely still, which suited her perfectly well.

Violet had every plan to get to the Christmas party, sit down, and then hopefully not move again for the rest of the night, Jovan’s offer of bedazzling her crutches still making her shiver.

“So, what do we think?” Violet’s shopper smiled, the woman standing behind her, her pile of rejected dresses four times the size of the approved ones for the upcoming events, but she couldn’t help being extremely critical, not when everything was so stupidly expensive.

“Well…” Violet looked in the mirror. The dress suited her, even though it didn’t sit snugly at her waist, but that wasn’t something a loose loop stitch couldn’t fix so she could undo it again later and hopefully keep the dress longer. It hadn’t been Violet’s intention to lose weight, and if she was being honest, she had actually expected to gain with a broken foot, but it seemed like that hadn’t been the case, her appetite even worse than usual, her pain killers often making it feel like she had knives stabbing her stomach.

“I’ll take it.”

Violet knew that the dress would be approved by Fame, and loved by Sutan, the low neckline and the opportunity for matching underwear always a treat.

***

“Kat? Are you gonna be okay?” Trixie asked, voice soft.

They were sitting in a little cafe across from her doctor’s office. They’d just gotten the official news - she was pregnant, no doubt about it. She’d put on a transparently false, cheerful face while they were there but barely said two words since they’d left, a croissant and mango smoothie sitting in front of her, untouched.

According to the doctor’s best estimate, she was 14 weeks along, which already limited their options, a fairly invasive procedure now the only way to go if they didn’t want the baby.

She looked at him, blue eyes clear, and said, “I don’t know.”

Trixie nodded, taking her hand in his and holding it lightly. He didn’t want to push her too much, could tell that she was in a fragile state of mind.

“Well...I’m here if there’s anything…Anything I can do.”

“Got a flask on you?” she asked drily, then closed her eyes, immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry, that’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny, babe.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, the two of them sitting side by side, their fingers intertwined.

***

Roxy looked up as Courtney rounded the corner from Miss Fame’s office, flashing her a bright smile. She had just gotten yet another delivery--Roxy was fast becoming BFFs with Greg, the Marie Claire office runner.

“Hey Rox! Whatcha got for me?”

“Hi, Court,” Roxy said, eyeing her suspiciously before handing over the bag, wondering why she was so perky today.

Courtney looked inside the bag and saw what Roxy had already - a large black velvet jewelry box.

“Open it,” Roxy said, and Courtney pulled it out, peeking inside before snapping it closed again. “Come on, you’re not gonna show me?”

A smile pulled at Courtney’s lips, and she leaned forward onto the reception desk, voice low, saying, “You wanna know something?”

“Yes, of course!” Roxy perked up. Was Courtney finally about to admit to her affair with Bianca Del Rio? It was gonna be a hell of a lot easier once she didn’t have to pretend to be in the dark anymore.

“You know how I said that I’ve been...uh...seeing someone who works at Marie Claire?”

“Yeah…you gonna tell me who?”

“Well, no,” she said, and off Roxy’s annoyed scoff, added, “But...we’re coming to the party tonight...together.”

“Oh really?” Roxy’s eyebrows shot up. This actually was pretty decent information, given the potential shit storm it could cause. The drama of Miss Fame’s assistant dating one of her best friends, and them showing up together to a company event? Absolutely delicious.

“Yeah, so...I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” Courtney said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I guess I will,” Roxy agreed, smiling placidly, already typing out a DM to Bob.

***

Fame breathed a sigh of relief as the car pulled up to the hotel she had chosen for the Galactica Christmas Party. The facade was decorated with dripping ice crystals, lights and fake snow making it the winter wonderland she had envisioned. The red carpet had been rolled out, guests already posing for photos and talking to reporters about their clothes, Fame recognizing the signature cameras from E! Network and one of Vogue’s journalists.

She had gotten the confirmation from Shangela that the string quartet had shown up, the musicians hired for the lounge area while the caterers had set up shop in the enchanted forest filled with actual pine trees, the bar carrying a line of gins specifically brewed for the event.

“So,” Patrick lifted an eyebrow, a curious expression on his face. The majority of Fame’s skirt was in her husband's lap since she refused to let the silk anywhere near the bottom of the car. “how are we feeling?”

“Me?” Fame smiled, leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek “Quite content.”

***

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into walking the carpet?”

Sutan looked over at Violet, the two of them on the bottom of the steps leading up to the hotel, Raja and Raven already halfway inside. Raja was in a tight-fitting emerald green suit with a deep cleavage, her hair twisted into a gorgeous updo, while Raven was dressed in a floor length gown in matching green, the two of them looking absolutely stunning together.

“Yes.” The message was clear, and Sutan could feel the tiniest curl of irritation in his stomach. Violet was beyond beautiful, her usually pink nails carefully painted the same red shade as her dress, a tiny purse slung over her shoulders, her black hair curled and spilling over her shoulders and back, her posture perfect even though she was leaning on her crutch, only one of them allowed to come along.

He wanted those pictures of them together, even if it was selfish.

“Lovely eyes-”

“I said no.” Violet’s tone left no room for argument, and Sutan pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath through his nose not to let his irritation win out.

“Sutan,” Violet reached out, gently touching his arm. “This isn’t a you issue, it’s a me issue. I’d love to go up there and be on your arm like a dainty little princess or trophy-”

“What?” Sutan raised an eyebrow. He had never thought of Violet as a princess, or even dainty, the muscles he knew she had and the iron will he had seen her possess over and over again so much more attractive than any trophy girlfriend could be. “That’s not what-”

“I know,” Violet squeezed, underlining her words, “But I’d honestly rather jump into traffic than talk to a single one of those reporters, and risk showing up in any of their publications.”

Sutan snorted, Violet’s dark sense of humor as always getting to him. He knew it also had to do with her relationship to her family, Violet’s choked hospital confession still rumbling around in his head, what little he had managed to piece together telling its clear story of a gossip magazine-obsessed mother, his girlfriend posing for his own mothers old canon camera at Thanksgiving without any issues.

“Okay, but promise me,” Sutan took a step, bringing them closer, his hand finding it’s now familiar place on Violet’s waist, “that I can get one soon.”

“A photo?” Violet raised an eyebrow, their hips almost touching, her free hand on his chest.

“Mmh, just for the two of us.”

“I’ll consider it,” Violet smiled, her fingers gently rearranging his tie, making sure it was sitting completely straight. “If you promise me that we can get a cab home.”

“A cab?” They had arrived with Raja and Raven, a driver coming back to pick all four of them up at the end of the night, “Why?”

“Because you, Mr. Amrull, look fucking fantastic tonight,” Violet looked up at him, a smirk on her lips, “and I wanna make out in the backseat.”

*

“You ready?” Bianca asked, looking over at Courtney as their car pulled up to the curb.

Courtney glanced outside, where a crowd of photographers and reporters were gathered, stomach seizing with the reality of what she was about to do, wondering if it was a mistake. Even walking the carpet with Bianca instead of taking the normal entrance with the rest of the support staff suddenly seemed audacious.

“No,” she admitted, looking back at Bianca apologetically. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Would it help if I told you how absolutely gorgeous you look?” Bianca asked, reaching out to take her hand.

Her outfit for the night was probably the most conservative of all the dresses Dan had pulled for her - a black dress--low cut, but not in a slutty way with a little bow at the front and full circle skirt, paired with a pair of Bianca’s beautiful multicolored Louboutins and simple, classy jewelry--including a glamorous strand of pink pearls that Bianca had sent over earlier in the day.

In spite of her nerves, Courtney couldn’t help but smile a little at the compliment, proud of the care she’d taken with her hair and makeup, hoping to make Bianca proud. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and responded with a cheeky, “Look who’s talking…”

Bianca grinned, and Courtney was once again struck by how fantastic she looked, in a red silk organza cocktail dress, the floaty feminine fabric accentuating her curves perfectly, a deep v-neck giving the perfect peek at her cleavage.

“What if we just stayed in the car for awhile?” Courtney suggested, fluttering her lashes.

“I promise to make it worth your while later, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand, pulling her in close. “But right now, I’m pretty excited to show you off. So whaddaya say?”

Courtney took a deep breath, the churning in her stomach now a combination of nerves and excitement.

“Okay.”

Bianca signalled to the driver, who quickly got out and walked around to open their door.

“Here we go…” Bianca gave her hand one final squeeze and got out, giving the flashing cameras a polite wave before reaching back in to help her out.

Courtney’s mind was a mess. She suddenly had so many concurrent anxieties, like tripping on the carpet, or being dragged to filth by come gossip rag, or, given how lightheaded she now felt, fainting, here in front of all these people. She tried to steady herself, and Bianca’s arm slid securely around her waist.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. You look amazing,” Bianca murmured in her ear.

Bianca led her down the carpet--a true professional, posing and smiling, calmly directing Courtney so that she knew where to stand and where to look, chatting jovially with reporters.

“Who’s your date, Bianca?” one of them asked boldly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Bianca joked back. They’d discussed this ahead of time - better to keep Courtney’s name out of things for the moment, given her job title. Courtney understood, and agreed, and was even a bit relieved. For now, on gossip sites and fashion blogs, she’d just be ‘BDR’s latest blonde,’ and she was very much okay with that. After all, the people that mattered to both of them would know, and that’s what she cared about.

“Well, is it serious?” another piped up.

“You tell me,” Bianca said, and then Courtney really thought she might faint, Bianca pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek as about a billion flashbulbs went off in their faces, murmuring, “You’re doing perfectly, angel.”

She turned to Bianca, gazing at her with breathless admiration, feeling like the luckiest girl in the entire world. And then she took Bianca’s face in her hands and impulsively kissed her, right on the mouth, soft but sure. So what if it was only a fling? Courtney didn’t care anymore--she would remember this high for the rest of her life.

Bianca smiled against her mouth and whispered, “Well, that’ll make headlines...”

“Oops,” Courtney whispered back, both of them giggling.

They broke apart, matching grins on their faces as they looked into each other’s eyes, until Bianca turned back to the sea of paparazzi, now in a frenzy, shouting out questions too fast for Courtney to even process the words.

“That’s enough for you demons!” Bianca called, gently pulling Courtney up the steps, giving one last smiling wave at the top, Courtney’s hand still clasped in hers.

*

“Are you done?”

“Nope!”

Raja hid her grin, her shoulder touching Raven’s as they posed for the camera, her fiancée radiating excitement as she chatted and flirted with the photographers.

Raven had always adored the camera, and if there was a journalist behind it, she was practically in love, getting caught by the paparazzi a treat for her each and every time it happened.

Raja didn’t feel the same thrill, didn’t care as much about showing up in gossip magazines and websites since she had gotten more than enough of that in her youth, but she couldn’t be truly upset when it generated so many great pictures, Raven often looking sexy as sin when she got caught leaving the gym.

“Raja! Over here!”

Raja turned her head, the photographer catching her attention, and that was when she saw them, Bianca coming up a little ways behind her.

Seeing Bianca on a red carpet wasn’t strange, but what was frankly bizarre was the familiar blonde at her side.

Raja had expected Fame’s assistant to be somewhere in the crowd, since it was a company party and a big treat for the staff, but what the fuck was she doing on the red carpet? The support staff was supposed to enter the party through the normal pedestrian entrance.

And then, Bianca put her arm around Courtney’s waist, kissing her cheek as she giggled girlishly.

Oh, fuck.

This was not good. Frankly, Raja wasn’t shocked that Bianca had been messing with Courtney, her behavior at the meeting last week making it painfully obvious that she liked her. But this, this was next level.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more embarrassing, Raja witnessed something that made her blood run cold. Courtney grasped Bianca’s face in her hands and kissed her on the lips, causing absolute chaos from the group of paparazzi around them.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Raven looked up at her, a concerned and confused expression on her beautiful face.

“Wait here.” Raja released Raven, leaving her behind on the carpet, prepared to ambush Bianca the second she got to the doors.

Bianca had done a lot of stupid shit over the years - they all had - and dating bimbos wasn’t a new thing for her, but making out with Fame’s assistant in front of the paparazzi?

That was a new level of braindead, even for her, and Raja had to stop it right now.

*

The moment Bianca stepped off the carpet, she felt someone grab her arm and roughly yank her into the lobby.

“Bianca!” Raja hissed, pulling at her arm. “Come here!”

“Ow!” Bianca laughed at Raja. “Let go of me, you fucking mountain gorilla!”

Just because the woman towered over her was no reason to be intimidated, and it was gonna take a hell of a lot more to bring her down at the moment than Raja looking at her like she was insane.

Beside her, Courtney let out a small gasp, and Raja tried to recover, putting an arm around Bianca’s shoulder and giving Courtney the most sugary-sweet, fakest voice she could manage to say, “Hey there Court, can you give us a minute? I have to chat with Bianca about something important. Great shoes, by the way.”

“Oh...yeah, alright. Um…” Courtney backed away, trying to give them some space. “I’ll just wait over here, then-”

“Perfect!” Raja dragged Bianca to the other end of the lobby, away from any reporters.

“This oughta be good,” Bianca grumbled, though she was still too hyped from the carpet to manage to be truly annoyed.

“What,” Raja pushed Bianca into a corner, inches from her face, her voice filled with venom though her eyes betrayed her geniune concern, “the actual fuck do you think you’re doing, Bianca?!”

“Wanna be more specific?” Bianca asked, tilting her head, an impish smile on her face.

"It's bad enough that you're fucking Fame's assistant, but to parade her around on the red carpet? Without even bothering to give us a heads-up? Are you insane?" Raja’s teeth were clenched, clearly trying to keep her voice down.

"Please. Our relationship has nothing to do with-"

"Relationship? Are you actually calling this a relationship?"

"Yes!" Now, Bianca was starting to get annoyed. Who the fuck did Raja think she was talking to?

"Oy, this is so much worse than I thought,” Raja groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please don't tell me this is why you bailed on the tasting menu."

"So what if I did?"

"Oh god."

"Fuck you!"

"And what did you expect to happen, Bianca? What's your great master plan with this childish stunt?"

“Well...to be honest, I didn’t know she was gonna kiss me on the carpet,” Bianca admitted, a giggle slipping from her lips. “It was kinda cute, did you see?”

“I...am going to slap you.”

“Come on, Raj. I did give this whole thing a little thought.”

“Really? It doesn’t fucking seem like it!”

“Well, I have. Look, I know she’s gonna be pissed, but I also know she’s not gonna cause a scene in the middle of the party. And then after tonight, she’s got almost a full week to cool off before she has to see me again,” Bianca said, punctuating her statement with a charming smile. Bianca was no idiot. Of course she knew that Fame would be irritated, maybe even angry, but she figured that this was a situation where it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. And besides, if she had to endure her friend’s wrath for awhile in exchange for being free to put her relationship with Courtney out into the open, then so be it.

“That’s what you think will happen?” Raja huffed. “Bianca, please, Fame hasn’t seen you guys yet. If we get Courtney out the back door, we can make an alliance with Patrick to get Fame drunk and unplug the wifi tomorrow so she doesn’t go online. It’ll be like it never happened, and we'll never speak of it again.”

“Raj, listen. I know this might be a real clusterfuck, but I’m willing to accept the consequences.”

“Oh jesus help me.” Raja groaned. “I hope she’s worth it, Bianca.” She pulled away, shaking her head. “I really hope she’s worth it.”

As she walked away, Bianca took a deep breath, looking back across the lobby at Courtney, who was doing a terrible job of trying to look casual, the anxiety on her face clear as day. Bianca sent her a big smile, reaching out a hand, and Courtney rushed toward her.

“Was she mad?” she asked, brows creased with worry.

Bianca cupped her face lightly, stroking her cheek, and promised, “Not at you.”

“Okay.” Courtney bit her lip, and Bianca leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the ballroom.

“Yeah...in a minute…” Courtney said, immediately adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Take your time, angel. There’s no rush,” Bianca promised. “In fact, if you’d rather get out of here and go somewhere else-”

“No, no, no…” Courtney laughed, taking her hand. “I’m fine. Let’s go in.”

[that-otome-potato]

Pairing: Technically Kei x MC? Mostly from Sotetsu’s side of things.  Hints of past Sotetsu x MC.

Rating: SFW

Note: Slight angst?

Requester: @lancermylove

Request: So the request (only if you want to do it :) ) is a love triangle with Kei, s/o, and Sotetsu.  Sotetsu and s/o used to date but had to break up and never saw each other since their break up.  After all those years (and after Kei coming to Starless), s/o visits starless and is shocked to see Sotetsu.  She's now dating Kei. Again, no pressure at all.  Only something that popped into my mind.  Feel free to ignore!

A/N: As if I could ignore a request from you!  I hope this is what you were thinking of!

A/N 2: When MC says “So”, that’s short for Sotetsu.

~*~

 "It's not like Kei to be late.  Where could he be?"

Sotetsu looked up from where he'd been lounging on the couch backstage, waiting for the time Team K was supposed to take the stage for their evening musical set. 

Everyone on the team was ready, except for their illustrious leader, who had yet to arrive.  Sotetsu eyed Ginsei, seeing their second pace back and forth, pinching his lower lip in concern.

"You worry too much, Ginsei. We still have five minutes before the show starts." Sotetsu murmured as he looked back down at his phone, scrolling through news articles, looking for any new information on a topic he was researching.

 Just as Ginsei was about to reply, they all turn their heads towards the darkened hall leading to the changing room when they hear hurried footsteps.  Kei emerges from the shadows of the hallway in their outfit for the set, looking no worse for wear.  Sotetsu just raised an eyebrow and smirked, seeing a slight flush on Kei's cheeks.  Surely not from hurrying from wherever he had been. 

‘He was with his mysterious lady friend then.' Sotetsu thought to himself with a smirk and a playful huff as he stood from his seat, leaving his phone behind for after their performance.

Sotetsu clapped their leader on the shoulder as he moved to get ready to go on. "Are you going to bring her along some day so we can meet her, too?"

 Kei just cast him a quirked eyebrow and a smirk.  "She's here."

That got the rest of the guys murmuring - well, just Yoshino and Ginsei.  Gui just stood in his place, looking back and forth between his 'Temporary Master' and Sotetsu, but not seeming to understand. 'Poor kid...' Sotetsu thought to himself before nodding his head towards the stage to turn Gui’s attention forward.

~*~

After their six song set, they had a meet and greet to spend time with the ladies in the front rows that paid extra for their seats.  As he started walking with the rest of the team, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he came to a stop. A  woman was standing in the alcoves of the stage watching the rest of them walk away.

He knew he should have gone down into the front rows with the rest of the guys, but he felt himself drawn towards this person with a growing sense of familiarity.

 "__________? Is that you?"

The woman jumped when he called out to her, her attention on the others talking with the women in the crowd. She looked up at him with ______ eyes full of shock. When she started to say his real name, he put a finger to his mouth and shook his head, telling her to keep his true name a secret. “What are you doing here!"

Sotetsu walked over with a grin that showed a level of happiness he never showed to the cast members. When he was right in front of her, he bent down slightly and wrapped her smaller form in his large arms, surrounding her with his wide shoulders. 

Her warmth was the same as he remembered from when they were dating as teenagers.  She smelled the same, felt the same, looked the same - well, not entirely.  She had bloomed from gangly teenage girl, to a beautiful woman in the decade or so since he had seen her last.

After they had hugged longer than was likely proper, Sotetsu chuckled and scratched the back of his head. "I’m called Sotetsu here.  You can call me So inside Starless, if you want. Been here a while now - longer than some of these other kids you see around. What brought you here of all places? Did you win a backstage pass?"

"Something like that. Your team's performance was wonderful!  I had no idea you could dance like that."

"Yeah... wasn't too much into that when we were dating, was I? Needed a new scene, you know, so I came here.  Learned to dance from watching the other guys who were already here.  Joined this team when Kei came to Starless."

Something in her seemed to deflate as he spoke.  "So this is where you came after you broke up with me?"

Sotetsu frowned and lifted his hand to tuck lengths of her hair behind her ear.  "I was young and full of myself back then.  I felt that I needed to find who I was."

__________ gifted him with a soft smile and looks around the stage behind him. “It looks like you did.  I don’t remember seeing you so happy back then.”

He just shrugged, refusing to take his eyes off of her.  He couldn’t believe that she was here! Just the other day, he had come across old pictures, precious images that had traveled from cellphone to cellphone over the years, of when he and __________ had dated in high school. It had led him to spending a lot of his free time in between shifts at Starless and after work, trying to locate her.

Life had a funny way of causing things to happen.  Maybe it was Fate telling him to try again - he had certainly left her on less than fair terms.

They talked for a few more minutes before he noticed the crowds starting to thin out front.  When Kei hopped on to the stage, he looked like he was pulling himself out of a pool.  Were he a fanciful man, he could almost imagine glistening drops of water dripping from his hair and torso. 

Sotetsu sighed, knowing knowing he was likely going to get an ear full about skipping the meet and greet.

“You missed the greeting out front.” Kei paused in front of him, next to __________, crossing his bare arms and looking at him expectantly. 

Sotetsu turned away slightly, heading to the front stage with a wave of his hand.  “Just wanted to greet our VIP, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

~*~

Kei watched as Sotetsu went to the front to visit with the women waiting for him specifically. Once the other man was far enough away, he turned to __________ with a soft smile, bringing his hand up to tuck locks of her hair behind her ear.

“Was he bothering you, princess?”

__________ leaned into his hand with a matching smile, turning slightly to place a soft kiss on the palm of his hand. “No, he’s an old friend I had no idea was working here.”

Kei’s eyes grew wide.  “You know Sotetsu?”

“I used to. We dated in high school, but he broke up with me the night before graduation.”

Kei pulled her close with the hand at the side of her face, wrapping his other hand around her waist for support.  “His loss.”

As if controlled by attracting magnets, Kei crowded her there in the shadows as they came together in a kiss, a gentle touching of flesh that carried all of the feelings they held for one another.

~*~

The next few days were anything but boring.  __________ was becoming a regular visitor at Starless, spending most of her time helping Kei with different tasks.  It turned out he had been wrong about the reason she had been backstage that night, which he had half suspected had been the case since he hadn’t heard a thing about any kind of raffle like that. However, he also hadn’t heard anything about hiring someone to be like Unei for Kei.

When he wasn’t working on the floor or performing, he was talking to _________, catching up on ten years of activity between graduation and now. Sotetsu was drawn to her every word; how animated she got while telling one of her stories, how detailed she got.  She was radiant like the sun in their dark theater, and he found he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. 

One day while he was disregarding his set up duties for that nights performance to talk to __________, laughing and just taking her in in the moment, he opened his mouth to ask her something about one of her stories she had been telling him.  But what came out was something else entirely.

“Want to have dinner with me sometime?”

__________ was about to say something else, but stopped completely in her tracks, looking at the Team K member like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. “...what?”

“I was hoping you might give me a second chance. I regret ever letting you go, babe. Please?”

“I appreciate you saying that, So, but I’m seeing someone and it’s rather serious between us.”

On the inside, he could feel his heart cracking behind the walls he’d erected over the years to keep other people out. On the outside, he gave her a soft smile and looked down for a second before looking at her again.  “I see.  Guess I missed out then.  Tell me about him?”

She stared at Sotetsu for a short time, looking like she was trying to decide on something. Just as she was opening her mouth to tell him whatever it was she had decided on, they both turned at the sound of Kei calling for both of them to come to the stage. Once every member of Starless was standing there, _________ included in the front row, his leader held up both hands to quiet them all down.

“I’ll get straight to the point. The truth behind __________ being here at Starless is because she was viciously attacked by an unknown group a week ago.  This was the safest place I could think of to protect her because there is almost always someone here. She is acting as my assistant so that I can keep her safe.”

“Why?  Who is she that she would get such ‘special attention’ from you?”

Kei looked over at Rico at the snide tone in his voice.  “I was getting to that, Rico.  So that I can clear up rumors that you have allowed to form between all of you, __________ gets special treatment from me because she is the woman that the main rumor around Starless have been talking about.”

Had he been a weaker man, Sotetsu likely would have staggered backwards in shock.  As it is, he kept his stoic look, arms crossed and feet shoulder width apart. The only show of emotion was him casting his hardened gaze towards __________, then away in thought.  The rest of the conversation was toned out and, after several more minutes, he simply left. 

To go where, he wasn’t sure. A bar sounded like a good idea. 

~*~

“Wow! So you’re a couple, huh?” Sinju exclaimed, walking over to Kei and __________, followed by Qu, Kasumi and Akira.  “How long has this been going on?  How did you two meet?”

__________ blushed a deep pink, linking her hands together nervously.  This hadn’t been how she thought their relationship would come out.  She didn’t know everyone well yet, they were practically strangers!  The only other person besides Kei that she knew was Sotetsu, but when she scanned the group of men before her, she didn’t see his chocolate brown hair or wide shoulders. Where could he have gone?

“Princess?  Is everything ok?”  Kei’s deep voice whispered in her ears, sending a shiver down her spine.  She turned to look at the man she loved, offering him a smile.

She cast a gaze around the crowd again, but didn’t see her friend there.  “Yeah. Guess he went back to work.”

“Who?”

“So.”

~*~ 

Sotetsu went to the cast door and sat outside on the stairs.  There, he took a cigarette out of the pack in his pants pocket and lit the end with a flick of his lighter, watching as the smoke curled and lifted into the gloaming around him. Sotetsu took a long drag from the cigarette and released the smoke in a pressurized release, disrupting the whimsical trail escaping from the lit end. 

As he inhaled the fragrant smoke, he thought back to the last week and his interactions with __________. Now that he wasn’t distracted by her, he remembered seeing the small glances shared between the two, the occasional whiff of Kei’s cologne on her or her perfume on him.  There was also the day he’d caught __________ looking flushed when she came into the shop from the door leading to the offices, followed shortly by Kei, looking similar. A small voice in his head was crying out that he should have noticed the little details before now so that he could have avoided this heartache, but he just shrugged it off. Nothing to do about it now - she looked happy with Kei and he didn’t want to ruin that. If it had been anyone else but __________, then he would have attempted to flirt with her until she gave up her reasons behind dating Kei - if they were anything but pure, he’d put an end to it. 

But it was__________. She would make Kei as happy as she had made him once upon a time. 

Sotetsu took another drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the step his feet rested on and ground out the embers before blowing the smoke up into the air, looking at a sky that was anything but Starless. 

There was one thing he could do. He could pretend nothing happened between __________ and himself and protect her like Kei had intended Starless to do. Sotetsu lit up another cigarette and thought about the idea, feeling like it was the best option for his situation.

He slid over on the stairs when he heard someone approaching the stairs from behind.  When he looked up, he saw Kokuyou exit and sit down next to him. When the red-head pulled out one of his own cigarettes, Sotetsu offered his lighter, lighting the cigarette before bringing his own back to his lips.  

Kokuyou was quiet at first, but after a few puffs, he looked over at the brunette from the corner of his eyes with one elbow propped on his knee as it held his own cigarette to his lips. 

“That was fucked up.  You good?”

Sotetsu released a low chuckle deep in his chest. “Yeah, I’m good.  Surprise, though, right?”

“Yeah. You sticking around?”

Sotetsu finished off his second cig before treating it the same as his first one. “Yeah.  Someone’s gotta help make sure she stays outta trouble and I think it’ll take the entire cast to do that.”

With that, Sotetsu stood and walked back into the staging area to go back to work, always keeping one eye on her. 

[forever-rogue]

Honey & Velvet - Part 3

Summary: Ruthless CEO Max Lord is about to meet his biggest match yet in another CEO such as cunning and biting as he can be.

A/N: Y’all are killing me with your support and response to this, and I’m in love with it! Thank you lovelies, I’m glad to see that we all love our boss daddy! If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know, and as always, feedback and comments are always welcome! xx

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: slight language; max being an ass (as usual)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Maxwell was sitting at his desk, feet up as he waited for his assistant to return. She should have been back fifteen minutes ago, but instead she was late, requiring him to remain in the office. He loathed tardiness, and loathed being help up due to an employee even more. And now he all he could was to wait for her. 

It crossed his mind for a mere moment that she might have pocketed the card for herself and left. But she wouldn't be that stupid. He wouldn't have hired her if she was; Max was many things, but he was smart about picking who worked for him, who he kept in his inner circle. She was one of the few people that was privy to most of the goings on in his office. 

Just as he threw his head back and let out an exasperated groan, a timid knock came from the other side of the door. Rolling his eyes and removing his legs from the desk, he reminded himself to be at least somewhat polite, to not completely scare her away, "come in."

"I-I'm sorry I'm late," his scared looking assistant walked in the door, holding a white box in her hands, which he could were trembling slightly. Nervous, he thought to himself, how cute.

"Close the door," he commanded and she did as instructed, before slowly treading over to him and placing the box delicately on his desk, taking a step back. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the weighty credit card and handed it back to him. Max stared her down as he took the card back and tossed it onto his desk. It was a sign of power, of dominance, that money didn’t matter. 

"I-I have the receipt," her voice trembled as she fished in her pocket, but he just narrowed his eyes at her and she stopped, "sir?"

"There's no need," he insisted gruffly, "as if I care what you spent, I told you that money is no object. Present what you've obtained."

"Yes, Mr. Lord," she nodded fervently, hands moving over the box, untaping the ends so she could remove the lid. The simple, clean, golden writing on the box very simply stated that it was from La Perla. A small smile spread across Max's face at the revelation; he'd a few...friends of the female persuasion that favored the brand. The young assistant was safe...at least for now.

When he didn't make a move to stop her, she lifted the soft cardboard lid and set it to the side. Her nerves increased, heart rate shooting higher by the second as she picked up the singular piece of lace fabric. It was delicate and soft, almost the exact opposite of Max himself. It was a beautiful juxtaposition. While she had considered your words for what to pick, something black and velvet, when she had seen the white lace and pearl number, she had a feeling in her gut that told her this was the one.

She displayed it proudly, making sure he got a good look at it. He drummed his fingers along his jaw as he inspected the garment. It wasn't what he had envisioned you wearing, no; it was better- much better. The delicate material and almost innocence of the scandalous garment would mingle perfectly with your fiery personality. The picture created in his mind of you in the lingerie and heels, along with the lipstick was enough to have him half hard then and there.

When Max didn't day anything, she swallowed the lump in her throat, and set the piece down, and grabbed the matching, barely there panties, "they're a s-set."

"Obviously," he stated coldly, pulling the box towards him, letting his fingers skim over the fabric. He was pleased, very pleased, although his outer appearance suggested anything but. She took a step back and waited to hear her fate. It was several long, dreadful moments before he spoke again, "job well done."

"Thank you sir," she let go of the long bated breath she'd been holding in, a few tears of relief almost running done her cheeks. 

"But you returned late," of course. She should have known that he would never let that go, "you can either dock yourself the time today or make it up for it by coming in early tomorrow."

"I-"

"I don't recall asking for a discussion," he put the lingerie back into the box and pocketed the credit card. She remained frozen in fear, standing awkwardly between him and the door. Maxwell rolled his eyes in annoyance before pointed at the door and simply stating, "go."

“Yes,” she almost ran out of the door in fear, trying to get away as quickly as possible to avoid incurring his wrath any further. At least she still had her job; she supposed that was better than nothing.

As soon as nothing was silence kept him company, Max picked up the newly acquired piece and brought it to his face, almost as if he was trying to memorize the smell and piece. But he caught himself before getting too lost in his wicked fantasies, and folded everything neatly back up.

Just before putting the box back together, he grabbed a piece of paper from his notepad and scrawled a quick note on it: you know what to do with this. Not bothering to sign it, because honestly, you would instantly know it was from him, he tucked the note on the top and closed the lid. 

Once it was tightly sealed again, he wrote down a few instructions on how his assistant was to get the gift to you, once again. She had reluctantly delivered the previous box that morning, and here she was, going to have to do it again. But he didn’t care; he only aim was to get the lingerie to you. After that it was your call; and the ball was squarely in your court. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Good morning,” your tone was so cheery it almost shocked Adina as she looked at you with a raised eyebrow. It wasn’t that you weren’t a cheery person, you just mostly definitely were anything but a morning person. It immediately raised her suspicions as she sat back and watched you hand her a cup of coffee with an almost goofy grin on your face, “what’s wrong? You’re staring at me like I’ve grown an extra head.”

“Not like you to be this happy this early in the day,” she mused as your eyes widened momentarily in surprise. Was she already onto you? You swallowed the lump in your throat as you just looked at her with an innocent expression, “that usually doesn’t happen until you’ve had lunch.”

“I guess I just woke up on the right side of the bed,” on the right side of Benjamin’s bed. More specifically. But you weren’t about to offer that up to her yet. Instead you have her a strained smile, “maybe it’s time to make a change and embrace mornings.”

“I somehow don’t believe that,” she almost snorted with laughter and you playfully flipped her the bird before going into your office, “hey! Another delivery was brought into your office this morning. No note, again.”

“Oh, how exciting,” you sighed at the sight of the white box on your desk; it was a complete opposite of the box from yesterday, “I’m starting to think that someone has gotten me very confused with someone else.”

“Should I start refusing any deliveries from now on?” Adina poked her head inside the office and found you touching the box gently. You had a torn expression on your face; part of you wanted to say yes, but the larger part of you was screaming no. You turned to give her a dismissive smile, before pretending to play it off.

“No,” you said quietly, “it’s fine. One day it might be a delivery that I’ve actually ordered.”

“Yes,” she shot you a wink before shutting the door and leaving you alone, just the you and the mysterious gift.

You brushed your fingers your the lightly raised gold lettering, unable to hide the smile that was spreading across your face when you realized what it was. It was a brand you’d looked over many times before, and had considered buying some for yourself. But you’d never done it; never taken the plunge. Hell, you’d never really had a reason to, your previous boyfriends not having cared what you were or weren’t wearing. Perhaps this would be a welcome change. 

Slinking into your chair, you grabbed your letter opener and undid the seal, setting it down with a small thud and before opening the book. To your surprise, there was a note this time. Glancing over it, you almost wanted to roll your eyes at the sheer audacity. But, instead of just throwing it away, you opened the top drawer of your desk and gently tucked the note, under a stack of other papers.

What really caught your eye however, was the beautiful garment that laid within the box. It so beautiful and dazzling that it took away your breathe; you let your fingers touch it, but only gently as if you were afraid that any harsher touch would destroy it. 

“My oh my,” you whispered to yourself as you pictured Maxwell’s own hands touching the garment, running all over the lace. It was hard to imagine him picking out something this delicate and soft; there was no doubt in your mind that he had assistance with the selection. Just the idea in itself made you chuckle. 

This was ridiculous, this whole little situation you now found yourself in. Realistically, you should stop it and focus on the many tasks at hand and make sure to maintain a business only relationship with Maxwell Lord, but honestly, you enjoyed the game. You picked up the piece and slowly walked over to the mirror, holding it up to your body, trying to picture what it would like on. You’d have to find out later on.

Tossing it onto your desk with a sigh, you leaned against it, eyes going to the cabinet that currently housed the other things you had received from Maxwell. Maybe you should just stash it all in there and be done with it. Or maybe you could -

The loud ringing of the phone interrupted your thoughts and caused you to jump slightly. Groaning, you reached behind you and quickly picked up the receiver, “what?!”

“I expected a slightly kinder greeting after last night,” relaxing slightly at the sounds of Benjamin’s voice, a small blush crossed your cheeks as images from last night flooded your mind, “how are you faring this morning?”

“Ben,” his name rolled off your tongue sweetly, almost like honey, “I didn’t realize last night required a next day social call.”

“I’ve always made sure to take care of you, haven’t I?” and he had taken care of you, several times when you’d gone home with him. He knew his way around the bedroom and past history had given him the most intimate knowledge of your body. He still knew all the spots, the little areas that made you moan the most, that sent the a warmth through your whole body. 

“Yes,” you agreed, biting your bottom gently, “last night was...very enjoyable.”

“When are you free next?” he really didn’t waste any time in getting straight to the point. You’d always admired that about him; he’d never been one to waste time and beat around the bush. You contemplated on what to tell him, part of you wanted to see him anything, of you knowing that you had just used him to scratch that unreachable itch the day before, “Y/N?”

“I...I don’t know if that’s just a good idea,” you admitted quietly, and he just chuckled on the other end, “I had intended to keep this as a more one time kind of thing.”

“Hmm,” he mused quietly, “so you just wanted to use me?”

“Isn’t that what we both got out of it?” 

“Touche,” he agreed, “what do you say though, in all honesty? We’re both adults, surely we can give this another go?”

“There’s a reason we broke up in the first place,” you reminded him, “you were married to your work and I took a backseat to everything, remember? I’m not really willing to go through all of that again.”

“And you weren’t?” there was a bit of bite in this voice as he snarked back at you, “you and I aren’t that different.”

“Fine,” you sighed, “this is exactly why we broke up, Ben. We’re not meant to be together. We don’t work well together-”

“Outside of the bedroom,” he finished for you. He was right; that much had always been apparent to you both, “but, ugh, what’s to say that we can’t just keep it at that? We can meet up...get a little stress relief in...just you and I.”

“Stress relief?” you almost laughed at the thought, “that’s what you want to call it?”

“It doesn’t have to have a label,” he gave in, “but if that’s not what it was for yesterday, then tell me, why exactly did you come to see me?”

“Fine,” you gave in with a small laugh, “I have no problem admitting that I came to you just for sex. There’s nothing wrong with that, and like you said we’re both adults. Adults have sex.”

“I don’t what prompted it, but I’m not going to argue with you,” he said, “last night was fun. If you want to do it again sometime, you know were to find me.”

“Ben-”

“Goodbye for now,” he quickly ended the conversation, but just before he hung up, he added, “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

Before you could argue with him, he slipped his phone back into the cradle and you heard nothing but a dial tone on your end. You listened to the dead air for a moment before hanging up, and letting out a long sigh. What just happened? 

Normally you were so in control, so on top of things, that you never experienced anything like this. But here you were, playing little cat and mouse games with two men, confused as to what the hell you were doing, or why you’d let yourself get so caught up in all of it. You needed to focus on work. That was and always had been your main priority. Apparently you just needed to remember that.

Tapping your fingers along the edge of the desk, you took a moment to collect yourself, trying to steady your breathing. But instead you only sound yourself with more wicked ideas in your head.

Walking back over to your door, you quickly locked it, hoping no one would interrupt you. Thankfully, you had a pretty free day for once, no back to back meetings that would last for hours.

Sauntering back over to the cabinet, you grabbed the black box from yesterday and set it on your desk, next to the one from today.

Walking back over once more, you grabbed the Polaroid camera you had sitting on the top shelf of the cabinet. You'd brought it to work months ago, for a holiday party, and for some reason you'd never taken it home with you. Right now you were glad for that.

With slightly shaky hands, you set it down next to you the boxes. Slipping off your blazer, you delicately draped it over your chair before starting to undo the buttons of your blouse. Almost not quickly enough, you were striped down and pulling on the expensive set of lingerie.

You caught your eye in the reflection of the mirror and took in the sight, your eyes wide and wild and a flush spreading across your whole body. A laugh bubbled up as you realized how ridiculous this all was. But it didn't stop you.

Instead you reached into the black box and pulled out the perfume, spritzing it into the air and waltzing through it so it clung to your warm skin. The heels quickly followed, only adding another touch of sex to the look. Although you were barely wearing anything, you feel powerful...sexy and in charge.

Pulling a tissue from the box on your desk, you wiped away the lipstick you had been wearing, your favorite ruby red. It was stubborn to get off, almost as if it was some sort of warning, but eventually the job was done. Grabbing the new lipstick out, you carefully applied it, and when you were satisfied with your work, studied your reflection. It was a darker shade, but still beautiful. It suited your lips, and face perfectly. But, then again, you had no doubt that Max already knew it would. All this items, these gifts were very calculated. And they came together in a perfect harmony.

The woman staring back at you in the mirror was stunning. Innocent, but scandalous at the same time, a lovely duality. And she was you. A smile graced your features at the revelation.

Grabbing the camera, you tried to figure out how to best take your picture, how to get all the best angles. But then you decided you might as well capture a variety of them. After all, what you liked could be different from someone else's preference. Besides that, you bad a feeling that a multitude of pictures would not be unwelcome.

Once you were satisfied with your work, you slipped the pictures in a manila envelope, making sure it was sealed tightly. Changing back into your work attire, you took everything else, including the camera and tucked it back the cabinet. Out of sight and out of mind.

Stepping out of your office, you handed the envelope to Adina.

"Make sure to get this to Maxwell Lord," you told her without offering anything else, "and only him. Now."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes," you gave her a small smile, "it contains important documents. He needs them now."

"Of course," she looked at you quizzically, "I'll do it right now."

"Thank you."

"Is that a new lipstick?" it was strange. She'd never known you to wear a different color than the ruby red shade.

"Oh," shit. You had to recover and quickly, "it is. I found it in my desk. It's an old one. I decided to try it out. I don't know how I feel about it though."

"I think its stunning," Adina smiled before putting the envelope in her purse to leave and personally deliver it, "you should wear it more often."

"Maybe I will," you gave her a weak smile before turning back into your office. You leaned against the door and let out a long, shaky breath. What did you just do?

»»————-　♡　————-««

A loud knock came at his door, causing him to groan as he lost his train of thought in what he was writing.

"What!?" he barked and the door slowly opened. His assistant quickly scampered over and set the envelope in front of him, "what is this? You interrupted my work for this?"

"I don't know what it is, sir, it was delivered and specifically only for you," she insisted before backing out and quickly closing the door.

Setting his pen down, he sighed as he scanned the envelope but found no indication of its origins.

He decided to open it anyway.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Amnesia - Let the Games Begin

A mixture of delicious fragrances engulfed the café, compelling those who were fatefully walking by to enter the bistro. While the intoxicating scents may be what lured guests, it was the diverse set of attendants that created loyal customers. Jack Rose was founded by Hyroshi Miya eight years ago after the passing of his wife. Kaori Miya was known for having a sweet-tooth and her obsession with the tragedy of the Titanic. During Kaori’s battle with leukemia, Hyroshi developed an obsession with baking, with young Atsumu serving as his assistant. At first it served as a distraction for the duo, and a source of happiness for Kaori. However, when Kaori passed away, Hyroshi wanted to honour his wife’s life, and so Jack Rose was established. Named after the two love interests in Titanic, with an eccentric menu that no neighbouring café could challenge – it was a massive success.

“Hi, welcome to Jack Rose. Please follow me.” The rehearsed dialogue was not short of any enthusiasm, despite having said it hundreds of times.

“Oh my god, she’s so cute!” The middle-aged woman cooed to the male stood beside her, who nodded in approval. His amusement was untraceable due to the dark lenses that adorned his face, but he too was enthralled by your uniform.

A sugary smile had painted across your fuchsia painted lips, earning you a few extra points with the couple. It was a simple act that came natural to you, serving at Jack Rose had never struck you as a tedious job, rather it was a pleasurable experience.

After leading the pair to their assigned seat, a gentle hand had pressed into your lower back indicating that your replacement had arrived.

“Thank you, y/n. I will take it from here,” The mocha haired boy radiated an alluring aura, instantly capturing the interest of the two patrons. “Hi. I’m Tooru, your server for today.” Once introducing himself, his mouth twitched into his signature grin, prompting his eyelashes to flutter shut for a moment. Seated a few tables away, Oikawa’s fangirls were huddled together, squealing in unison.

“Enjoy your stay.” Folding an arm over your stomach, you bowed to excuse yourself before their hypnosis wore off, and the fangirls’ attention landed on you. Needless to say, anyone close to Oikawa Tooru was considered a threat. One they were eager to eliminate.

At the hostess stand, a familiar figure had shifted their weight onto the podium, the ends of his golden strands were frayed from the exposure to chemicals, yet with the sunlight sneaking through the glass behind, he resembled the subject of a painting.

“Oi. Are you feelin’ better today?” Atsumu Miya had always insisted that his accent was a natural product of his environment, although no one truly believed him considering the fact his family home was located in the wealthiest part of the city. Nonetheless, the accent persisted beyond his teenage years and into his young adulthood. It never bothered you, particularly because you had never heard him without it. After eighteen years of friendship, there wasn’t a single thing you did not adore about him.

“I am, don’t worry. Now will you please get off my stand? You are going to scare the customers.” Playfully you waved a hand in the air, gesturing for the blonde to reside elsewhere. “And if I’m not mistaken, you are skipping class right now, aren’t you?” As your tongue hit the roof of your mouth, a clicking sound was created to exemplify your disappointment.

“What was that? ‘tsumu is skipping class again?” If you had not become accustomed to Kuroo Tetsurou’s large and notable presence, you would have flinched the second his shadow had blanketed over you. Rather than experiencing any form of fear, his presence had only amplified your gaiety.

“Uh huh. Shall we get Papa Miya?” The bed-headed server leaned down, nestling his chin against your shoulder as he grinned provocatively at the target of your amusement. Kuroo was only a single year younger than you two, despite physically appearing to be older. The three of you were inseparable since the tender ages of six and five. When Kaori had passed away, Atsumu relied heavily on his two friends, as he had lost motivation to complete the smallest of tasks. That was why you took a job at Jack Rose, you needed it to succeed for his sake. It was a reminder of how his mother lived, rather than how she died. Kuroo had joined you in your quest a month later, and somehow your dream – Hyroshi’s dream had become reality.

“I swear yer the worst friends ever. It’s an online class! Don’t bring pops into it.” The blonde blew out a huff, turning his gaze away from those who threatened to ‘betray’ him.

“Oh my god, you guys are the worst! Poor Omi is in the back preparing all the drinks and you’re out here doing… whatever the hell this is!” Makoto Saito waved a small napkin at the black-haired server, unwilling to engage in any physical violence since it would require energy she wished to conserve. “Go back there, you man-baby. Help him. Shoo. Get off my adorable y/n.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going.” Kuroo raised his hands in defeat, unbothered by the napkin that was now being swayed towards his chest. Makoto had joined Jack Rose two years ago, and not because she was in any need for money – you were the reason she found herself sending in an application for what others would consider a low-end job. She had stumbled into the café one evening, boredom plaguing her after finishing a three-hour lecture. Oikawa had been the one to greet her, yet it was the positivity you emanated that brought her to return a night later. A month later, a job application was handed to you bashfully, whereas you could barely withhold your excitement. She was the second female to join Jack Rose, with Atsumu (accidentally) recruiting Ichika a year later.

“Now that he’s gone, y/n, I’m here to replace you. Omi said something about teaching you the new drink? I honestly don’t remember because I was on the phone, but let’s ignore that fact, hm?” Makoto’s interest in the boys was below minimal, the only male who was deserving of her respect was ‘Papa Miya’. Once Atsumu had jested that it was because she secretly had a crush on the much older male, to which she responded, ‘so what if I do’. The response had defeated his humour instantly.

“Oh, he must be talking about the blue pearl! It’s the newest addition to our menu.” Tapping a finger against your cheek, excitement burned in your y/e/c irises, prompting something to stir inside of both Atsumu and Makoto. What? You were so damn adorable.

“I don’t care, but you are so cute that I’ll pretend I do.” Reaching out, the black-haired girl patted your cheek affectionately. “Now go on, little bird. Fly fly away.”

“You guys better not fight while I’m gone.” With two fingers, you pointed at your eyes then at the two chaotic individuals you called friends, even with the warning, it was highly probable that the second you turned around they would begin bickering.

“Shoo, birdie.” The comment was accompanied by an unusually heavy sigh, Makoto completely intended on annoying Atsumu, but that was none of your concern.

Upon entering the kitchen, your nose crinkled at the delectable scents wafting towards you. When Sakusa Kiyoomi was working in the kitchen, everyone knew magic would materialize in the form of sweets. No one had believed the germaphobe could bake until he dropped off a box of home-made pastries along with his resume. Papa Miya was in the process of finishing his first bite when he declared that Sakusa was hired. He was just that damn good.

“You’re here.” The curly haired male had a bad habit of stating the obvious, he argued that it was key to the proper performance of his logical processes. No one tried to refute his claim, considering the fact he was essentially a genius. “Are you ready to learn?” Raising an eyebrow, his slender fingers wrapped around a glass-vessel before placing it on the counter.

“Mhm hm.” It was a bad habit of yours to chew on your bottom lip when in thought, but Sakusa found it endearing – even though he would deny such a claim out loud. Removing the notepad from your apron, your eyes darted aimlessly, searching for a writing utensil. You may have been a little too occupied with your pockets, a detail that the male picked up on, as he removed the pen tucked behind your ear.

“Are you sure you are well? If not, you should return home.” He held out the pen, analyzing your visage for any physical sign of illness.

“Woops. Sorry. I forgot it was there! But I promise, I’m fine!” It seemed that everyone was a bit on edge since yesterday, when you may have accidentally forgotten to eat and passed out mid-shift. You appreciated the sentiment, but you were fine. Really.

The curly haired baker refused to begin his demonstration until you consumed some food and water, his dark hues did not waver until each inch of the plate was clean. By the time you were done, Ichika had joined you in the kitchen for the lesson.

“I should have recorded that. I feel like I forgot it already.” Ichika was the youngest person on the team, Atsumu had offered her a job after finding her crying at a bus stop one night. The young girl was the breadwinner of her home, and due to her fathers gambling addiction, she was the only parental figure for her two younger siblings. Atsumu, after learning that her mother had too passed, was unable to turn a blind eye.

“I can show it to you tomorrow. I think I’ve got it.” A reassuring smile was presented towards her as you captured her hands and provided a gentle squeeze. “And then we all have the day off. I think everyone has decided we’re going to the amusement park, so it will be fun.”

“Okay… Thank you, y/n.” Ichika blinked excessively to withhold the tears that were brewing, she could always count on you to provide her with the support she so desperately needed. Sakusa who was simply watching the two interact was on guard with a rag to catch any tears that could possibly fall onto the counter he had just disinfected.

“Please do not cry.” The black-haired boy had almost sounded sincerely concerned for his co-workers emotional state, it was enough to fool Ichika who redirected her affections to him.

“You care about me too? Waa. I’m so loved!” As the tears began to exit her eye sockets, Sakusa jumped forward on instinct, pressing the cloth against her face. Laughter danced past your lips as you shook your head slowly. Jack Rose really attracted the strangest of people.

After your shift ended, instead of returning home to complete your assigned work, you decided to finish your assignment at the café. It was fairly quiet after 11pm, and Kuroo had offered to walk you home after closing up. Recently there were a striking number of assaults occurring in your area, and so you accepted the proposition without any hesitation.

“Welcome to Jack Rose! We are about to close soon, but I think I have enough time to serve you a drink or two. Is that okay with you, kind sir?” The words were conveyed in an anxious tone, as Ichika glanced at the clock plastered on the wall. Upon hearing the ‘kind sir’, both you and Atsumu glanced up from your laptop screens, stifling the laughter that was bubbling inside your throats.

“I won’t be long.” There was something peculiar about his choice of words, prompting your neurons to convey the word danger to your body. Before your mind could catch up with your physical movements, you had lifted from the chair and shuffled closer to where Ichika was stood. From the side of your eye, you saw your childhood friend following close behind, presumably picking up on your apprehension. But before you could utter a response to the mystery guest, the lightbulbs illuminating the bistro had burnt out.

The second darkness had enveloped the space, someone had seized your waist aggressively and a cloth was pressed to your mouth. The more you squirmed, the harsher their touch became – fear gradually paralyzed you. Or perhaps it was the chemical coating the fabric on your lips. Piece by piece your senses began to dull. Whether the person screeching your name was a hallucination or not was unclear…. All you knew was that your intuition was right, but unfortunately a bit too late.

Hume, who pioneered the bundle theory, would state that the human soul is nothing beyond a collection of still-shots and experiences. The self is a loosely connected bundle of perceptions, one that would change overtime. The question that remains is…. who will you be now? Who will you become? Without your memories as a guide, can you win the game that was designed specifically for you…? Or will you lose the never-ending battle? 

Amnesia - Let the Games Begin 

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: and so it begins! also in this I may have erased osamu!? LMAO sorry 

Tag-list: @kara-grayson04 @namyari , @cuddlesslut , @iloveanime691 @shakiraisawesome @idiot-juice-enthusiast @fangirling-25-8 @krynnza @yetchann @chxrry-wxne

[immortalitylostandfound]

Storming the Castle

A Princess Bride AU by @gideongrace​ and @immortalitylostandfound​

Starring:

Billy Hargrove as The Dread Pirate Roberts (Stable Boy)

Steve Harrington as Prince Steve 

Tommy H. as Prince Tommy (Humperdinck)

Carol Talmadge as Countess Carol (The Six Fingered Woman)

Dustin Henderson as the Leader of the Party

Will Byers as The Giant

Lucas Sinclair as The Swordsman

Max Mayfield as The Lab Assistant

Mike Wheeler as Miracle Mike

Jane Hopper as Eleven (Miracle Wife)

Robin Buckley as Steve's Lady-In-Waiting

Playlist here!

Full work also on ao3!

Chapter 1: Teaser

Once upon a time...

A love story started as all stories do; at the beginning. It started with a horse, with a stable boy and his magic touch, and with a little pining on Steve’s part. Okay, maybe a lot of pining. Whoever said ‘the course of true love never did run smooth’ really wasn’t kidding, were they?

Chapter Two: The Stable Boy

Steve only knows the new guy his father had recently hired as Stable Boy, but the sheer amount of want that fills Steve every time he sees the guy could fill an entire ocean, no, the grand canyon, no, the ocean—whatever. The sheer force of Steve's longing for this guy he barely knows, this guy who sneers at nearly every person he comes across but who is always so achingly gentle with the horses, even with the spooked, rough, dangerous ones—especially with the spooked, rough, dangerous ones—is too much to bear. This guy whose hands seem to exist on some plane where magic exists, they must, because every time he lays those hands on one of the horses, no matter how panicked, no matter how lost, no matter how out of their mind gone, that horse always calms down almost instantly, within seconds, with a simple touch, and Steve doesn't know what else to call that but magic.

So, of course, Steve talks to the stable boy the only way he knows how. He gives orders. It’s what he was raised to do. It’s what his parents demand. He’s high born—or will be if his parents have anything to say about it—and he doesn’t know how to communicate with servants except by command. He learns this the first time his longing drags him to the stables. He opens his mouth, wanting to say hello. Wanting to ask a million and one questions. Instead he tells the stable boy to make ready his horse.

He doesn’t even want to ride—it’s cold and raining.

But the stable boy answers his request simply. 

“No problem,” he says, and calm eyes blue as the sea, eyes that Steve has never seen except at a distance, meet his own. The stable boy nods. His eyes linger a moment too long. Then without another word he moves to fetch Steve’s horse. 

When the horse is ready, Steve orders his thick cape fetched. Stalling. Again, those eyes on his. Again the simple words. “No problem—” But this time a smile is tacked on after. “Princess,” the stable boy finishes, near mocking but some gentle quality in the word stops it just short. 

Steve gapes. No servant has ever dared talk to him with such insolence. His first instinct isn’t to punish the guy, though later he realizes it should have been, at least according to the rules laid down by society. His first instinct is to laugh. To grin. Maybe to blush a little, who’s to say?

“I could have you whipped,” he says, playfully. Can’t school his smile enough to intimidate.

The stable boy’s smile grows. Again comes the nod, this time exaggerated, carried on into a flourished bow. He speaks no more. Instead, Steve’s cape is fetched, quick as you please. And when the stable boy returns, that cape is fastened with the deft fingers of those possibly magical hands, is smoothed over Steve’s shaking shoulders with a touch that calms him instantly.

He mounts the horse with no more talk between them, dreading the rain. Takes one quick turn about the field and returns, possibly with the goal of testing this stable boy.

“Stable Boy,” he says, his horse clopping gratefully back into the barn, “Clean my horse. It’s filthy with mud.”

The nod again. The “no problem, Princess.” The grin. The stable boy whistles a tune while Steve watches him rub the horse clean, taking care to check it over thoroughly. He whispers secrets to it as he works. Sings low and melodious, just below hearing, as he walks it back to its stall.

Steve leaves before the stable boy can come back, lay eyes on him again. He longs for those lips to whisper secrets to him. 

Every day he rides, ordering the stable boy to ready his horse and always looking for other odd jobs he can order done to lengthen their time together.

These orders are always met with a knowing smile. A look that lingers just that small bit too long. A nod. Those words.

“No problem, Princess.”

This ridiculous behavior continues as weeks drag into months. The stable boy never tires. Steve’s orders sound more and more like pleas to his own ears.

Please know I wish I could just talk to you. Please don’t grow to hate me. Don’t mistake this for pettiness, haughtiness. Please.

One day it all becomes too ridiculous. There’s some tool hanging directly above Steve in the stable rafters, in easy reach, and he finds he’s running out of chores to stretch their time together.

“Stable boy,” he begins as he always does. “Fetch me that tool.” He points upwards. Swallows. They both know he has no need of the tool in question.

The stable boy regards him calmly. Walks over, slow, purposeful, and leans close to reach the requested tool, never once breaking eye contact. He holds out the tool to Steve. Brushes his finger briefly against Steve’s as he passes the tool over.

“No problem, Princess,” he whispers.

But that’s not what it sounds like. He says those words, that “no problem,” like most would say “I love you.”

And it breaks Steve’s social paralysis.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers back. And in this, returns an I love you of sorts as well. As close as he can manage at the moment. As fully formed. His love shown in this gratitude. 

“Thank you, Billy,” and the meaning is love, regardless of the words. Thank you for everything, he implies. For existing. The words aren’t enough to convey—

“You’re welcome,” Billy says, stopping Steve’s whirling thoughts. “Steve,” he adds with a half-grin.

And Steve laughs, something hard and cold in him breaking loose and melting away with the action. Melting away under magic hands that skim up to grip his arms as lips that whisper secrets come in close to brush Steve’s lips with half a kiss—wait for Steve to make it whole. Which he does. One whole kiss is born between them.

The first of many.

But a wise man once said that the course of true love never did run smooth.

So it is with their love. 

It isn't long before Billy decides that he has to leave. If they are to truly be together forever, like they plan to be, the salary of a stable boy isn’t going to cut it. 

It doesn't matter that Steve tells him he doesn't need to go, that Steve will inherit his father's land someday and he'll more than be able to provide for the both of them. No, Billy has to bring in his fair share of the money for the sake of his pride. To do that, he has to go out and find his fortune. It doesn't matter that Billy's little sister Max doesn't want him to go, either. Doesn't matter how Max begs or pleads. Doesn't matter that she cries. Billy is determined to go and he refuses to change his mind. 

So, after many long conversations and many promises that he will absolutely, without a doubt be perfectly safe and will come home before Steve even knows it, Billy gets on a ship bound for lands unknown.

It isn't three months later that word reaches Steve of Billy’s ship. Word of an attack by pirates. Word that there are no survivors.

Steve becomes inconsolable at the news and for days he barely sleeps, barely eats, barely does so much as leave his room.

To have had everything he'd ever wanted and to lose it—he blames himself. He should never have let Billy go and he knows it.

Life holds no meaning with Billy gone.

And with the arrival of Prince Tommy, acting ruler of Florin, things only get worse.

The prince meets Steve one sunny day while both are out riding. Steve still goes, every day, his one moment of solace. He remembers. Every time he enters the stable and speaks to Billy’s replacement, he feels a fresh cut to that old wound. The pain helps him to remember. Helps to keep him alive, or something close to it. 

On a ride, they meet. And in Steve’s beauty, in his utter lack of guile and gentle manner, Tommy sees a great opportunity. 

He sends word to Steve’s parents that he means to have Steve for marriage. Steve’s parents, of course, are overjoyed at the news. The union Prince Tommy proposes will serve to fulfill their fondest grasping wish.

When Steve refuses Tommy’s offer, that dream seems to shatter. Steve’s father, in his anger, throws Steve from the house, disowning Steve and ordering him never to return.

It’s not long before Steve is found—picked up by the prince’s men and taken to the castle where he’s put in a room that though gilded, is no less a cage. Tommy once again asks for his hand. Asks in a way that makes his threat clear. And Steve, caring nothing for himself and even with their betrayal worried for his family’s safety should he refuse, accepts Tommy’s proposal. 

Tommy, not feeling any true love for Steve, is glad nonetheless at the acquiescence. He has a scheme. Wants desperately to start a war with Guilder and in Steve, whose gentle manner and beauty will ensure the love of every subject, he has the perfect pawn to achieve his ends—or so Tommy’s trusted, six fingered advisor, Carol, informs him.

Killing Steve is such a simple, elegant means to his end. The death will enrage his subjects. They’ll demand he go to war to avenge him. It’s brilliant—he’s got to hand it to Carol. 

Now all Tommy needs are some reputable assassins to convincingly frame Guilder.

Dustin and his Party, in desperate need of coin and with a solid reputation to stand on, accept the job.

“But we’re not killing him,” Will says, giant in stature but gentle in nature as he waits with the others, blocking the road.

“We’re definitely probably not going to have to kill him,” Dustin assures him.

“Maybe just cut him a little,” Lucas says, always eager to make use of his blade.

They wait for their chance to kidnap the beloved new prince.

It doesn't take long.

Today, as every day, they know that Prince Steve will pass on his daily ride through the king’s forest. He will be alone, as he is every day. He will be an easy mark.

Dustin steps out into the middle of the path, hands raised, stopping the Prince as he nears. “Sorry to bother you, but we're poor, lost circus performers,” Dustin says. “Is there a village nearby?”

“There’s nothing around here for miles, Kid,” Steve says, taking the trio in cautiously, not at all suspecting the terrible fate that's about to befall him. 

“Cool,” Dustin says, grinning. “Then no one’s gonna hear you scream.”

And Will walks forward. Eyes closed, he knocks Steve out as gently as possible, then lifts him carefully from his horse.

They plant their evidence, shoo the horse on its way, and after that all that’s left is to set sail for Guilder’s coast, keeping an eye out for likely places to drop the body.

Will and Lucas make ready the ship, starting up a game that Dustin has had his fill of.

Rhyming. It had to be rhyming.

“Will, are there rocks ahead?” Lucas asks, grinning while coiling rope.

“If there are, we’ll all be dead!” Will calls back, hoisting the sail.

“No more rhymes now, I mean it!” Dustin complains.

“Anybody want a peanut?” Will asks.

It's going to be a long journey.

Chapter Three: Inconceivable!

Billy, fortunately, had been following after Steve all day and he follows the kidnappers to their ship, then follows as they head for Guilder, as they head for the Cliffs of Insanity and for once in his entire career as a Pirate, Billy finds himself glad to be without his usual crew, glad he'd taken this smaller ship alone to go and talk to Steve, to ask him why he was marrying that idiot Prince, why he hadn't waited. His usual crew would have asked too many questions and if he is to save Steve, there's no time to waste in answering them.

Slowly but surely, his ship gains on the kidnappers. His ship is smaller and sleeker (not to mention faster and better in nearly every way) so it isn't exactly hard to catch them but it is almost impossible to watch as Steve dives into the dangerous, eel infested waters and not abandon ship and dive in after him. From his spot at the ship's wheel Billy screams for Steve to get out of the water, even though he knows he's too far away to be heard, not that Steve would have listened to him anyway, even if he could have heard him, he's sure.

So he stands there, stuck behind his ship's wheel as he watches Steve get dragged back up onto the relative safety of the other ship. He watches as they continue towards the cliffs. He watches as the three men on board get off and two of them climb onto the shoulders of the ridiculously giant-sized one, watches and holds his breath as they grab Steve and watches as the giant starts to climb up a rope dangling from the top of the cliff to the bottom.

Billy watches all this, and he follows.

But not fast enough to catch up to the giant, even though the man was carrying three others plus himself. Again he finds himself forced to watch; watch as the man he loves is hefted, kicking and screaming up and over the wall where he can't yet follow.

“Inconceivable!” he hears someone shout.

Then, the rope falls away.

Well, that's inconvenient.

“Could you, maybe, I don’t know, climb faster?” a man waiting above calls down. If he was in such an awful hurry, he should have left the rope, shouldn’t he?

Whoever’s up there now isn’t the one he’d heard earlier. Which means that whoever had shouted the first time has probably already run off, probably with Steve in tow.

Well, who says a daring rescue should be easy? Where’s the fun in that?

Still….

“Could you maybe climb faster?” Billy mumbles under his breath. “Asshole.” 

He jumps for the next handhold.

But when another rope comes down, his arms are so spent that he doesn’t think, just takes it. 

Reaching the top, his impatient friend even allows him a breather. Descent of him. 

“Pity you aren’t a woman,” the man says. Billy raises his brows. Some small talk. He sees Billy’s train of thought, waves it off.

“With your tenacity, I’d almost wish you were the one—if you were a woman. A six-fingered woman killed my father, you see, years ago. Over a sword he’d crafted for her. After so long searching for her, training to beat her—” he shrugs. “Well, it’d be nice if it was a challenge, you know?”

He stands. Draws his sword and practices his footwork, loathe to sit still too long, it would seem.

“I know just what I’ll say, if I ever meet her, too.” He takes his stance, facing off against some unseen foe. “‘Hello,’ I’ll say. ‘My name is Lucas Sinclair. You killed my father. Prepare to die.’”

“To the point,” Billy says. “I like it.”

He stands. Stretches.

“Shall we?”

“You seem a decent fellow,” Lucas says taking up stance again, this time focused on Billy. “I hate to kill you.” 

He shrugs.

“You seem a decent fellow,” Billy says, smiling, taking a stance to match. “I hate to die.”

The cocky sonovabitch is pretty good with a sword, too, once they finally get down to business.

Too bad for him, Billy is better. Left handed or right.

But he doesn’t kill the man, who waits for death, unarmed and bested. Can’t kill him—skill like his is a work of art. However—

“Can’t have you following me,” he says over the unconscious swordsman’s body. “Nothin personal.”

And onward he rushes after Steve.

Only his catlike reflexes save him from the boulder careening for his head.

“I could’ve killed you if I wanted,” the surprisingly bashful rock chucker says. The giant wields another huge rock like a baseball. “I missed on purpose.”

Well shit, this is gonna slow Billy down.

“Let’s kill each other like men?” he tries.

“No weapons?” the giant says. “Sportsmanlike?”

“Sportsmanlike.” Billy nods.

The next five minutes include much rolling, ducking, and being crushed between a literal rock and the hard back of a giant that didn’t want to be strangled into unconsciousness.

Once the giant finally does drop, Billy takes a moment to rest, standing over the large snoring man. He rubs at his aching shoulder. Cracks his stiff neck.

“No weapons,” he mutters to himself. “Idiot. Ow, fuck.”

And onward he rushes, limping just a bit, after Steve.

till he reaches a clearing and a smug little man, sat at a makeshift little table, Steve blindfolded at his side. A stupid little grin rests on the man’s stupid little face, but Billy ignores it, more concerned with Steve and with looking him over carefully, assessing him for injuries as best he can. Steve seems fine, but it's impossible to tell without asking him and he certainly can't do that right now.

He watches as the fool's lips move, blathering on and on about... something to do with how smart he thinks he is, how Billy can never, ever, not in a million years ever hope to best him at a game of wits and Billy decides to suggest a game.

"This," Billy says, pulling a small pouch from his pocket, "is Iocane powder. It's terribly poisonous. I'll put some of it in one of these glasses of wine here—" he pauses as he grabs the two wine glasses that have been set out before them—though why anyone would stop to set up a nice picnic lunch with wine during a kidnapping, he'll never understand, not if he lives to be a hundred. "And we'll see if you're smart enough to figure out which glass it's in. If you win, you keep the prince and you get to watch me die. If I win, I get the prince and get to watch you die. Fair?"

The fool smiles, his long, brown curly hair bouncing as his head bobs up and down.

"Oh, this'll be fun," he says brightly, like he's excited, like stupid games of chance are what he lives for but also like he has no idea that's what's really going on.

Billy nods back once, succinctly, and turns around to pour the poison into the wine.

"Here we go," he says as he puts the glasses back on the table and slowly pushes one towards the other man. "Now which one has the poison in it?"

"That's easy," the man says. "It's clearly not in the cup you're pushing towards me, that'd be too obvious."

"So your choice is the one I put closest to me?"

"Not quite! I know I can't pick that one either, because—" the man keeps going but Billy stops listening. The man is terribly dull and Billy is already starting to regret not just stabbing him and being done with it. This game isn't nearly as much fun as he'd thought it would be. That and he can't keep his eyes off of Steve and the way he's just sitting there, silent and still, not reacting at all. Weird behavior, so unlike the Steve that Billy remembers, always so vibrant, so loud, so bossy. It's different even just from the way Steve had been kicking and screaming as the giant had dragged him up the side of the cliff less than an hour ago and Billy can't help but wonder if maybe Steve doesn't know who he is, if Steve can't recognize his voice after all this time. Which... might very well be the case. 

He wishes for it not to be true, but he'd be lying if he said that after the years they've been apart that there aren't some details about Steve that have gotten fuzzy for him, too. Like he can no longer remember the exact sound of Steve's laugh or the exact feeling of Steve's skin under his fingers. Because for all that he's dreamed and dreamed of both, those exact details as well as a few others have gotten hazy, like a painting that had been stared at for too long.

But this idiot. He's still going, just talking and talking in circles about which cup to choose. He's taking so long that Billy is just about to give up and stab him when the man finally picks a glass, gathering it up carefully in one hand and swirling it like this is some fancy wine tasting and not a game of choose-your-death.

"You know..." the man says slowly before sipping the wine. "It really was very foolish of you to engage me in a game like this. You have no chance against my superior intellect."

Billy smiles. "Is that so?"

"It absolutely is. You've—" the man's words cut off mid-sentence as the poison spreads throughout his body. One second he's alive—heart beating, lungs taking in air, mouth moving and emitting ceaseless noises and words like if it ever stopped he'd die on the spot and the next he's a corpse, skin losing heat and color as his body begins disposing all unnecessary wastes as that heart and those lungs stop moving. He gives one last shuddering breath and that's it. He's dead. Finito. Kaput. Worm food.

"Well," Billy says, his eyes landing back on Steve and drinking him in slow, like Steve is a drink he's been dying for for years. "I guess that means we can go." He waits, expecting... well, something, some reaction, anything, from Steve now that the kidnappers are all gone but instead he gets nothing. No reaction at all. With the worst sort of sinking feeling in his gut he realizes that Steve really doesn't have even the slightest clue who he is. Steve doesn't recognize him at all. He walks over and jerks the blindfold down to hang around Steve’s neck. Looks Steve in the eye.

“Who are you,” Steve asks, uninterested.

Billy keeps his face blank.

“I’m someone you ought not to fuck with,” he says. He hauls Steve up to standing.  

Maybe, if Steve doesn't recognize him, maybe he'd been wrong all along. Maybe Steve had never loved him. Maybe Steve had been glad to be rid of him. Maybe Steve loved his Prince. A Prince—much more suitable marriage material than a stable boy ever was or could be. 

With a hard glare and rage boiling over in his stomach, Billy grunts, “Move."

 Steve does as asked silently and without complaint.

Chapter Four: No problem, Princess

After some time and much running, they take a tense rest at the top of a great hill. Billy throws Steve down near a fallen tree and watches the royal bastard try to get comfortable. Sees that Steve’s eyes are still locked on him, full of hate. Steve had been staring as they moved, taking Billy in with hard eyes and Billy’s sick of that look on Steve’s face. He wants to tell Steve the truth. No, he wants to drag the hurt out a bit so Steve can feel one iota of the pain Billy’d had to endure at Steve’s hand. Betrayed. Betrayed so cruelly, after dying and being reborn a richer man, all for Steve, only to come back to find him marrying some prince. Impatient. 

It’s a torment. Steve here, staring at him like this, with such loathing, unable to recognize his voice, his touch. A torment.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” Steve accuses.

You’re him. Could Steve see after all? See, beneath the mask, some sign of the man he’d claimed to love so deeply?

“Possibly,” Billy says, annoyed, doubting, “Who’s him?”

“Oh, shut up, you’re The Dread Pirate Roberts. Admit it.”

Guess not.

Billy bows. “Proud to. At your service, Princess.”

“Princess,” Steve says softly, eyes drifting far before sharpening with his tongue. “Don’t call me that." 

It was worth a try. Still, nothing. No recognition. He’d stop playing this painful game if Steve would just give him one tiny—

“And if you’re at my service,” Steve says, “you can fuck off and die already.”

Billy clutches his chest. “Ouch,” he says solemnly. He tries not to smile, the hidden smile hiding real pain. “No really, that hurts.” He wanders closer. “What did I ever do to you?”

Steve tilts his head up, staring without seeing.

“Killed the man I love. How 'bout that.”

“Well,” Billy says, tilting his head. “I kill a lot of people. Have to be a little more goddamn specific, there, Princess. Was your love another Prince like this one? That your type?”

Billy has to try hard to keep the longing, the pain, the old reverence out of the word. Princess. He pins up a cruel smile. Lounges against a log, opposite. Steve doesn’t deserve to see his pain.

“Stop calling—” The words come out hot and hard but he deflates mid-word. Eyes travel leagues again as he stares off. 

"He was poor,” Steve breathes, suddenly sounding far away. “Poor. Perfect. But he thought I—” A small, sad smile blooms. “He had eyes like the sea after a storm. And he left, out across the sea, because he thought I—”

His eyes find Billy’s again. Flinty.

“Doesn’t matter. Your ship attacked his, out of all the goddamn ships on the ocean. And The Dread Pirate Roberts never takes prisoners.”

“Can’t afford to look soft,” Billy says, keeping his voice light, sharp smile in place. “People get word, start getting cocky, after that it’s nothing but too much work. Easier just to kill everybody.”

Steve stares, openmouthed, so much hurt in his eyes for a beat. But soon enough he swallows it down. Gets ahold of himself. Gets angry. 

“Oh, that’s cute. I’m in pain and you’ve got jokes.”

Billy clicks his tongue and all the humor drains out of his voice. “Life is pain, Princess.” Billy knows that all too well. “Deal with it.”

He gets up. Plucks a blade of grass and twirls it thoughtfully.

“I remember him, I think,” he begins. “This perfect, poor, idiot of yours.”

Steve refuses to look.

“He died like a man. Didn’t beg. What he did do was ask me to spare him.” Billy pauses, remembering. “Please, he said.”

And Steve’s eyes raise to his. Billy pushes the pain aside to hold that gaze.

“Lucky for him that I killed him when I did. He kept goin' on and on about his true love. Kept describing someone. Guess it had to have been you.”

Billy looks down on Steve, mouth hard.

“Guess I spared him a lot of disappointment, huh?”

Steve stands.

“You think this is fucking funny?”

Billy crowds up closer.

“Kept going on about how faithful you were,” he says, teeth clenched. “How you were waiting for him.”

“Shut up!” Steve yells.

“How long did you wait when Prince Tommy came knocking, huh? An hour? A week?”

“What did it matter?” Steve yells. Then he deflates. “I was already dead. I died that day, when he died out on the ocean I…”

Horse hooves galloping in the distance catch Billy’s attention. Fuck.

“…and you can die too, asshole.”

There's a shove from behind and Billy's tumbling hard down the hill.

And words slip out. The only words he can think to say.

“No—” Pain blooms in his shoulder. “Problem—” His head catches hard and he flips end over end. “Princess!” He wills his body to stay loose, possibly mitigate the damage.

“Billy?!” he hears. And the world is a violent green blur.

Chapter Five: The Fire Swamp

Without thinking, Steve rolls down the hill after Billy. By the time he's halfway down, he's certain he's going to throw up. By the time he reaches the bottom he's surprised he hasn't. 

"What the—" he spits as he finally, blessedly comes to a stop. "How the hell—" He raises a hand to his head and waits for the world to stop spinning.

"Why—"

"I think that just leaves out when and where," Billy says, already standing. Smirking like he hadn't just fallen down a giant hill mere moments ago. Like he isn't dizzy or disoriented at all.

"Were you ever going to tell me you weren't really dead or was I just supposed to mourn you for the rest of my life?" Steve yells, getting to his feet and getting right in Billy's face with it, his hands flying up to land uselessly on the blindfold still hung around his neck.

"You're marrying someone else," Billy says coldly, like that's all that matters, like he still thinks Steve had any choice in the matter.

“Would you just—" Steve says, pushing at the mask still covering the top half of Billy's face. "Take this off." He pushes and pulls at the thing, making little headway until Billy unties it at the back and it falls off, leaving them close enough, Steve leaning close, that they're sharing the same air and staring at each other full on.

And for a long moment, neither of them moves, they just stand there, chests brushing, breathing in the same rhythm, until finally Steve says, "I never wanted to."

Billy takes a step back. "Well, you are."

Steve steps forward, pushing himself up against Billy again, unable to stay away now that he knows the one and only man he's ever loved is alive, still and whole before him. "He heavily implied he'd make things bad for my family if I didn't." He runs his fingers up Billy's chest, unable to stop himself from touching, either, from making really and truly sure that Billy's real. That this is really happening.

Billy grabs his hands, looking like he's about to push him away and Steve could swear, would swear that he feels his heart stutter and roll to a stop in his chest before Billy drags him closer, trapping their hands between the crush of their bodies and Steve feels his heart trip over from silent to roaring as Billy's lips brush across his own. He can feel Billy's own heart rushing to match the accelerated tempo of his against the back of his hand as the kiss deepens and Billy leans up, his whole body stretching like its trying to engulf Steve's.

Steve feels the kiss and the press of Billy's body crest over him like a crashing wave and he lets it drown him, loses himself in the rough slide of Billy's shirt underneath his fingers, in the way Billy's heart crashes against his ribs like its trying to reach out and touch Steve's hand itself, loses himself in the soft press of Billy's lips. He moans into the kiss as Billy slips one of his hands out from between them to grip the back of Steve's neck and thumb gently at the hair there.

When they finally break apart it's only because they both violently need to breathe and even then, the space left between them is nearly non-existent. "I've never wanted anybody else," Steve whispers.

"Yeah, I can see that." Steve can feel the way Billy's mouth curves up more than he can see it. "Can feel that." The hand at Steve's neck drops down, trails along his spine to rest at his hip.

"There will never be anybody else," Steve breathes out, still just stuck on the way Billy feels, that he's real, that he's here. He inhales deeply—the way he smells—it's better than any perfume anyone could ever even dream up. "Never."

"Good," Billy says, voice low and deep, burning into him in a way Steve had forgotten it could.

Neither of them moves, both of them cool with staying frozen in this singular moment for the rest of forever and for a few days after that. Eyes locked. Smiles on their lips. Those magical hands of Billy’s touching Steve again and healing wherever they come to rest.

The sound of horse hooves shatters the spell, echoing down the valley.

“Shit,” Billy says, tracking their hunters with upturned eyes. “Your new boyfriend is a real pain in my ass.”

Steve’s hands go to his hips. He’s about to argue but Billy grabs up his hand before he can get a good start. Runs up the back with his thumb and then pulls it in for a quick, unthinking kiss.

“Lucky for us, we can go where they can’t track us,” he says, all cocky smile. “Come on.”

Like Steve’s not gonna follow.

Even if it does involve more running in his less-than-sensible palace shoes.

Billy slows as they enter a root-twisted, creepy-ass forest. They stop. Take the place in. Massive trees block the light out. Strange animal cries reach their ears.

“Hell,” Billy says. “For the dreaded Fire Swamp, this place doesn’t seem so bad.”

Steve gapes at him, eyebrow quirked.

“What? Not saying I wanna build a summer home here or anything, Princess, but the trees are kinda cool, you’ve gotta admit.”

Steve scoffs. Starts walking.

“Some rescue, buddy,” he mumbles as he passes. “Five star stuff, right here.” Gestures around them.

Billy shrugs.

“What was that?” Steve says, stood still and wary. 

The popping comes again. His pant leg catches fire—a great tongue of flame roaring up out of the ground and catching him on fire fire fire oh my god he’s—

He starts dancing wildly, waving his leg.

“I’m on fire! Billy, I’m on fire! Billy, Jesus will you—”

Billy tackles him to the ground. Digs up dirt and starts smothering the flames. After a few handfuls, Steve stops burning. They both sit in the silence after, panting.

“You know what?” Steve says, looking out into the unending maze of trees and woody vines they still have to get through. “It’s official. The Fire Swamp blows.”

He stands, brushing the dirt off of his clothes. Billy joins him on his feet. When the strange popping sound starts up again, Steve all but jumps into Billy’s arms and Billy swings him out of harm's way.

“Why is it only trying to set me on fire?” Steve asks, pissed. Billy sets him on his feet.

“Maybe it’s set off by noise,” he says absently. Holds out his hand to continue.

Everything goes fine for a while after that. Dandy. Billy fills him in on his death and rebirth as a Pirate. Steve doesn’t get barbecued. Billy full-on picks Steve up to help him across a fallen log, still talking, which is pretty freaking hot. Steve doesn’t get barbecued. All good stuff.

He should have known it was too good to be true because one wrong step later and—

—he's completely buried in the lightning sand.

But Billy will save him.

He’d been talking, hadn’t got a breath in before he’d plunged underground.

Billy will save him.

He starts to panic, lungs screaming for air. Begins to thrash and doesn’t even mean to. Doesn’t know what he means to do.

Billy will—

A hand closes on his arm, barely distinguishable from the grip of the ground. And Steve is yanked closer to Billy. Scrambles his arms around Billy’s body once it’s close enough to feel.

The first breath he grabs topside—Billy hauling them up—is the best breath he’s had since his first on this earth. Didn’t think for a moment there he’d ever have another.

“You know.” Billy gasps. “This is a good thing.” Gasp. Finally his breath gets somewhere back to normal. “We already know how not to get killed by two out of three of the worst things in this shithole.” He stands. Offers Steve a hand. “Good thing you’re so clumsy.” He grins.

“Oh, you’re hilarious,” Steve says, glowering.

Billy leans in and steals Steve’s lips briefly. Not fair.

“Had me scared there for a bit,” Billy whispers after, lips still brushing.

“Yeah,” Steve says back, wanting to hit Billy a little bit less. “Me too. Thanks for, you know, saving my ass. Again.”

Not even a little bit fair.

Billy smiles.

“No problem.”

His hand reaches once more for Steve’s.

And Steve can’t stay mad at the guy.

“So, two out of three,” Steve says. Counts them off, fingers getting involved. “Fire bullshit, sand bullshit, and—oh Jesus, so it’s just the ROUS’s left to tango with. That’s what you’re saying?”

“Rodents of Unusual Size?” Billy says, rolling his eyes. “Now those are some made up bullshit.”

He smiles his usual cocky smile.

Gets knocked to the ground by an ROUS.

Steve’s eyes pop wide as the giant rat goes in for the kill, long teeth bared.

“Bullshit, huh?” he says, involuntarily.

“You know what, Princess, I really don’t need any lip from you right now!”

Billy grapples with the beast, unable to gain the time to pull his sword and skewer it. Cries out as the ROUS bites down hard on his shoulder. 

The sight of blood snaps Steve into action.

He looks for a weapon but he doesn't find one so he barrels in with both fists and starts pounding on the monster's back uselessly, doing no damage whatsoever as underneath it, Billy screams.

"Fuck, the—" Billy grinds out. "The—there's a stick-" his hand flails in the general direction of a truly gigantic stick lying just behind him and Steve scrambles for it, wraps his hands around the thick base end of it and whacks the monster with it until the stick starts coming away bloody, until the monster goes limp, until the monster stops moving, until the monster stops breathing, until—

"Steve!" Billy shouts. "You got it! You got it! You can stop!"

Steve drops the stick and instantaneously his arms grow so heavy he almost can't feel them. He notices that his hair has become damp, sweaty, and is now sticking to his forehead. He pushes the monster's soon-to-be rotting corpse off of Billy and pulls Billy up, his breaths coming fast and heavy and not just from the exertion.

"And now we know we can handle those, too," Billy says, trying to put it off like it's a joke, but Steve isn't having it. He paws at Billy's good shoulder and under his bad one. Billy hisses but lets Steve draw him close.

"I'm not losing you again," Steve says, more deadly serious than he's ever been. "Not ever again." He sticks his face into the side of Billy's neck on his good side and tries not to start shaking.

"And you won't ever have to," Billy says, voice as calm as anything, even as his own hands wrap around Steve's back and rub up and down like Steve's the one that's injured instead of him. Like he's checking Steve over for injuries, rather than the other way around, like it's probably supposed to be after something like that.

They just stand there clinging to each other like that until Steve can breathe normally and Billy stops feeling the incessant need to check Steve over. 

It takes a while.

Chapter Six: Promise?

They don't talk much the rest of the way through the forest, either, choosing instead to look back at each other every few minutes, silently checking to make sure that they're both still here, both still real, both still alive, covered in blood though they might be.

And when they finally break through to the other side Steve lets out a long sigh of relief, then starts up with, "So what do you—" meaning to say so what do you want to do now? But he never finishes the sentence. He's cut off by the sound of horses approaching and the clank and clatter of armor.

"Shit," Billy curses. He draws his sword, wincing as he does so, in so much pain that he’s not likely to be much use in a fight, but bluffing out of habit.

Prince Tommy rides up to them with the biggest, smuggest smile on his face and it makes Steve want to spit as he says, "Steve," all fake concern and barely concealed disdain. "I'm so glad we found you!"

His smile brightens in the most practiced, staged way imaginable. "Let go of this ruffian and come here."

Steve snorts. "Actually, I'm good, thanks." Beside him, he can feel Billy tensing up, like he's going to fight Tommy even outmatched as he is. Even wounded as he is. Like he'd fight Tommy and his goons one handed and blindfolded if he had to.

Steve bites his lip.

He knows he can’t let that happen.

"What..." Tommy says slowly, his perfect, practiced smile slipping for just long enough to show how ugly his face truly is. "What do you mean by that, my love?"

"I am not your love," Steve says, hand reaching out for Billy's and squeezing it. "This is my love. This is the only man I've ever loved, so if you'll excuse us, we'll just be going now."

They make it about three steps before Tommy's horse is blocking their path, that smug, smarmy smile of his having gone fully dark.

The knuckles in Billy's other hand audibly pop as he tightens his fist around his sword hilt.

Steve sucks in a breath.

"Hmmm, no, I don't think so. See, that really doesn't work for me," Tommy says as he raises a hand then flings it towards Billy. "Guards! Arrest the man in black!"

Billy drops Steve's hand as the guards' horses draw closer. It only just barely gives Steve long enough to come up with a plan.

"I'll come with you!" he shouts just as the men start to dismount. "I'll come with you if you promise not to hurt him!"

Tommy smiles again, this time like the cat that ate the canary as Billy yells, "Steve, no!"

Steve turns to Billy, takes his hand, raises it to his lips and kisses it gently. "I'm not losing you again," he says, matter of fact.

Billy is silent as he walks over to Tommy's horse. "Promise," Steve says, the word coming out between his teeth like it's a threat. "You have to promise."

"I promise," Tommy says. He offers Steve a hand up and Steve takes it. "Your boy won't be harmed if you come with me."

"Men," Tommy calls out behind him as they ride away. "Take him wherever he wants to go."

Chapter Seven: The Six-Fingered Woman and The Pit Of Despair

As Tommy passes Carol he slows a moment, their eyes exchanging an altogether different communication.

“As long as he wants to be tortured and killed,” his eyes say.

“Oh, I promise,” hers reply.

Billy knows what comes next. He’s not as naive as Steve is. But God, Billy loves that glass half full outlook the guy works so hard to keep. Even if it does complicate the shit out of Billy’s life sometimes.

“So, you killing me here or do you have a special spot picked out?” Billy looks up into Carol’s cold gaze. “No need to lie about it.”

“Why would I bother?” Carol says. Nods to her men, her hand waving a gesture.

“You have six fingers on your right hand,” Billy says, smiling. “Oh, have you got some hurt coming your way.”

Carol frowns. There's a popping pain in his head. 

The next thing he sees is a root-snarled dungeon ceiling. He moves his eyes—about the only part of him not strapped down—to see who’s cleaning his wound.

“Max?” He strains against his bonds. “The hell are you doing here?”

“My job,” she says, frowning. Keeps cleaning his wound.

“Where the hell am I?” he tries. She’s still pissed at him for leaving. He can tell. She’s cleaning his shoulder pretty goddamn aggressively for someone who’s not pissed at him, for starters.

“The Pit of Despair,” she says. “What the hell did you do this time, Billy? You’ll never escape here, you know. No one will find this place to rescue you either, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“It’s not, believe me.” Billy stares. Never thought he’d see her again. “Guess you’re stuck with me tilll I die, then,” Billy says, even though what he really wants to know is how she ended up here of all places. But what right does he have to ask? After bailing like he did?

“Yeah,” she says, plunking a bowl down hard. “Till they kill you.”

“So why bother fixing me?” Billy asks, mostly just wanting to hear her talk to him again.

She looks down on him with hard eyes. “Why the fuck do you think?” 

“Cause they’re gonna torture me,” he answers himself. “Of course they are. Whatever.” He’d shrug if he could. “I'm sure I can handle whatever they’ve got planned.”

“Idiot,” Max says. She smacks his shoulder with stinging salve then rubs it in, gentler. Her voice grows gentler, too.

“I wish you were right.”

Her hand rests on his arm. Her eyes fill with resignation.

“They’ve got this machine—”

---

Steve bolts up to sitting out of another nightmare. Gasps and curls into himself and tries to get his bearings. For a moment he’d fooled himself into thinking he was home. In his own bed.

He isn’t.

He jumps out of bed and pulls a pair of breeches on loosely, half tucking in his night tunic. This has to end. He has to end this.

“I can’t do this,” he says, bursting into Prince Tommy’s study. “I won’t. I love Billy. Always have, always will. Too much for this to happen.” He gestures wildly, taking in everything. Tommy, the castle, the wedding, this whole scenario.

“So if you say we’re getting married in ten days, fine. Whatever. Just know I’ll be dead by morning.” Steve rakes his hair. Plants his hands on his hips. “Your move.”

Because Steve can’t take one more goddamn nightmare. He just can’t.

Tommy sets the paper he’d been holding on the table. Stands.

“Alright—“

Robin, his lady-in-waiting, always laces his clothes up too tight. Says it accentuates his figure, but Steve knows it’s on the Prince’s orders. Next morning she’s at it again as if nothing had happened last night. As if she isn’t worried. As if this whole situation isn’t completely impossible.

“He said he sent his four fastest ships to find Billy?” she asks as she finishes dressing him. “And you believed him? God, Steve, sometimes you’re just so—”

Steve sighs. Pulls at his too-tight vest.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have much choice, now do I?”

And if that isn’t the story of his life.

Robin just sighs along with him. At least he has one friend in all of this.

Chapter Eight: The Thieves Hideout

Will finds Lucas passed out in the thieves hideout in the forest.

“Okay, you need to get a grip,” he says as he drags Lucas over to a barrel of water and carefully dunks his head in.

It takes two tries but finally Lucas comes up spluttering, looking around wildly. “Will? What the—” he coughs before Will dunks him a third time.

“That time was for the smell,” Will says as he drags Lucas out of the water again. Lucas looks about as pleased as a wet cat but Will only shrugs before dragging him over to the nearest cabin and plonking him down on the ground so he can lean up against one of the porch pillars. “I’ve heard people talking about a six-fingered woman working in the castle. Other people on the brute squad have seen her. I'm on the brute squad now—cleaning out the thieves forest. What are you doing here?” Will asks.

Lucas peers up at him slowly. “I’m waiting for Dustin,” he says, his words dripping out of him as slow as the water drips from his hair. “He said to go back to the beginning, so, here I am.” He waves his arms about drunkenly. “At the beginning!” He looks like he might throw up any second and he can’t seem to stop his head from bobbing up and down like a puppet on strings.

“But…” Will says, unsure of how to broach this particular subject. Ultimately, he just goes for the direct approach: “Dustin is dead.”

Lucas smacks his head against the pillar behind him then groans.

“The Man in Black killed him,” Will says.

---

“I see you’ve healed up nicely,” Carol says as she strolls into the Pit of Despair.

In response, Billy grunts.

“I think it’s about time we got him started on the machine, don’t you?” she says, speaking more to Max than to Billy. Max says nothing and Billy stays silent. He’s decided he’s going to use the one bit of power he’s got left in this terrible place and not speak to Carol. Not at all.

He sees Carol walk closer to the giant machine placed somewhere above him and watches as she caresses it lovingly. “This machine is my life’s work,” she says and when neither Max nor Billy asks any questions about that, she goes on anyway. “It’s designed to suck the life from someone one year at a time.”

She walks closer to Billy and attaches some wires and other bits and pieces to him. He fights off a shiver at the cold press of her fingers on his skin. He tries to think of Steve, of the warmth of his touch, of his laugh, but the cold terror of this place chases away even the idea of a pleasant thought.

“Now,” she says, those cold fingers trailing slowly, delicately up Billy’s forearm to his shoulder before digging in there, trying to elicit a reaction and failing. “Please, when we go through this, be honest about how it makes you feel. Because I am, after all, recording this for science.”

She digs her fingers in deeper and Billy grunts like she’s annoying him rather than the truth—which is that she’s definitely freaking him out. Max is so quiet Billy isn’t even sure she’s still in the room.

Carol walks slowly to the machine, saying, “Now, to start you off, we’ll just go with one year. Make things nice and easy for your first try.”

Billy stays silent.

She flips a big, fat switch on the machine and for the first split-second it’s fine and Billy thinks it’ll be fine, it won’t hurt that much, but then the pain kicks in, starting in his toes and licking up his body like he’s being set on fire an inch at a time. He shuts his eyes to avoid knowing if he might be. Because he might be, it hurts that bad.

Some indeterminate amount of time later—it could be a minute, it could be an hour, Billy has no idea—he hears something click, thinks maybe she’s shut the machine off, but the pain doesn’t stop, it just reverberates, soaring and cresting inside of him, making him forget anything else other than this pain ever existed.

“Now tell me, how did that feel?"

Billy whimpers.

---

Lucas grunts. “Then we should get his help.”

“What?”

Lucas looks up at Will and tries to put on his best determined face but mostly he just makes himself nauseous. “He beat me in a sword fight.” He gets to his feet. He wobbles. A lot.

“He clearly beat you in a fight.” He takes a step and almost throws up. He considers it a massive victory that he doesn’t.

“And he beat Dustin’s brain.” He wobbles a bit more and reaches back to put a hand against the pillar he was leaning against. He closes his eyes against the way the world seems to tilt on its axis and buckle.

“If we’re going to get revenge for my father, we’re going to need his help.” He lets go of the pillar, takes three steps forward and falls flat on his face.

“Sure,” Will says. “But maybe let's wait until you’re sober, yeah?”

From his position in the dirt, Lucas mumbles his assent.

Chapter Nine: The Four Fastest Ships

“Double the guard.”

Keith nods from his position knelt at Tommy’s side. Tommy leans back, sharpening his dagger blade. 

“Prince Steve will be safe, Your Majesty.” Keith says. “The castle doors only have one key and that key stays with me at all—”

“Steve,” Tommy says, standing as Steve enters the room. “My love. What’s up?”

Robin elbows Steve in the side and pushes him, stumbling, into the room. He turns to glare at her. “Ask him!” she mouths before stepping out of sight.

Steve swallows. This is gonna end so badly, he can already tell. He can barely even look at the slimy fuck.

“Look,” he says, stepping forward. “I need to get some answers—“

“Tons of time for questions later,” Tommy says, walking over and placing his hands on Steve’s upper arms, squeezing. Steve has the sudden desire for a bath. He clenches his jaw. 

“Tonight we’ll be married,” Tommy goes on, ignoring Steve’s discomfort. “And tomorrow’s the honeymoon.” He winks at Steve, who throws up in his mouth a little. “You can ask all the questions your little heart desires once we’re on the ship.”

Steve’s stomach drops. Ship. He really might puke here.

“Ship?”

“Yeah. Every ship in my armada will be waiting in Florin channel to leave with us.”

“Every ship?”

And Robin was right. Of course Robin was right. Steve shakes Prince Tommy’s hands from his arms.

“Every ship, huh?” He backs away. “You’re a fucking terrible liar, you know that? You brag too much.”

Tommy gives some silent signal and Keith leaves the room after bowing uncomfortably.

“Watch your mouth,” Tommy says quietly. He walks over to sit at his desk like he doesn’t give a shit what Steve says. But he’s too tense to sit.

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says, glaring down. “Billy’s gonna show up and save me from this wedding. Watch.”

Tommy scoffs.

“You really are an idiot.”

Steve glares.

“Yeah,” he says, stalking forward. “That’s me! Stupid, naive little Stevie.”

Tommy sheaths the dagger he’d unconsciously picked up. Throws the sheathed weapon to the table.

“What?” Steve goes on. “Scared of what’ll happen to you when Billy does show? Coward?”

“Watch,” Tommy says, jaw clenched, “Your mouth. Or you won’t like what happens, Princess.”

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that,” Steve says, eyes darting to the sheathed dagger on the table. “What are you gonna do to me? You’re not gonna risk hurting me before the wedding, are you, smart guy. And if I do somehow end up marrying you I’ll be happier dead.”

Steve plants his hands on the table. Leans in.

“Billy and I are tied together with stronger bonds than you’ll ever feel in your miserable life. Our love will survive death. True love always wins, in the end. And you are a coward. Pathetic. You’re probably the slimiest little shit ever to crawl the earth!”

Tommy stands, vibrating with anger. He walks slowly to the door. Turns and addresses Steve quietly. Ominously. “You should have watched your mouth.” He smiles like he knows something Steve doesn’t. “You really should have, Princess.”

Then he’s gone. Steve stands in the silence, gut aching.

He picks up the forgotten dagger from the table.

The wedding draws nearer.

---

Three hours to the ceremony and a long unnatural wail echoes across the countryside. It permeates the stone of the castle walls and Steve feels an ache in his chest for the poor creature that makes it. The sound seems to mirror the sound he feels his heart is making. It snakes, echoing, down a busy village street and finds Lucas’s ears.

“It’s him,” Lucas says, pausing to discern the direction it comes from. “I’d bet my life on it.”

“How do you know?” Will asks.

“That’s the sound of ultimate suffering,” Lucas says, remembering the echo of that sound in his own heart the day his father died. “The Man in Black surely makes it now. Nothing but true love would have let him best us for the Prince on that clifftop, Will. Against my sword, your strength, Dustin’s mind? No. It was true love against us that day. Now, the very same man that hired Dustin to murder that true love of his marries his love tonight. The new Prince isn’t likely to see the morning. So you tell me, who else has more cause?”

“I suppose…” Will says, scratching his head.

Lucas starts threading his way through the crowd. Throwing out desperate excuse-mes and pardon-mes as he struggles to gain ground.

“Will,” he says, straining against a large lady carrying a goat. “A little help, maybe?”

“Oh,” Will says, looking down. “Sorry.”

He raises his hands, cupping his mouth for more volume.

“Everybody move!”

The crowd parts. The lady with the goat glares and makes way. And Lucas turns to Will, nodding his thanks.

They hurry through the gap, off to find The Man in Black.

Chapter Ten: The Sound of Ultimate Suffering

The pain of it is worse than any Billy’s ever known, makes him scream louder and harder and longer than he ever would have thought possible and on top of all of that he can hear another, quieter scream flowing alongside his own, like the harmony to a melody for a symphony he’d never in his life wanted to hear and now will never be able to forget.

He thinks it might be coming from Max, could be, based on the look that showed up on her face when Prince Tommy had stormed in and set the machine to its highest setting—50 years—and flipped it on. Could be—

Could be, but—

But—

it could also be that the pain the machine is causing him has split his throat in half and both parts, the harmony and the melody are coming from his own throat. He longs to reach up and to feel it, to see if his throat has really split in half like he thinks maybe it has but his arms are still trapped by his sides in the leather restraints they’ve had him in since he got here and even if they weren’t—even if they weren’t—

He doubts he’d be able to move them anyway; he doubts he could so much as twitch a finger with intention just now what with the way his whole body is twitching, jerking and spasming in a violent and gruesome reaction to the pain.

Every inch of him is on fire, every inch of him is screaming all at once, his heart pounding like an engine that’s missing pieces but somehow is still fighting to try and power his body. And he keeps screaming, keeps screaming and screaming and screaming until screaming is all he has left, until screaming is all he is, but even that stops too as eventually his lungs become too tired, too heavy, the pain too great to carry on carrying on any longer.

It takes longer for the rest of his body to wear itself out and stop its twisting and its shaking, its roiling and agonizing spasms but finally, as his heart slows, so does the twitching and the shaking until eventually he’s lying on the table as still and as silent as he’d previously been loud.

Around him he hears the machine being switched off, hears the water that powers it stop running, hears footsteps, feels a cold and clammy hand press to his neck, hears Max’s fierce, furious voice call out, “You’ve done it. He’s dead.”

He doesn’t see it but he feels Prince Tommy's sneer when he says, “Good. Then I’ll leave it to you to dispose of the body.” Hears more footsteps and the door swinging open, then slamming closed as he feels his lungs fight for just one more breath when Max throws her body on top of his and cries, feels his slowly breaking heart struggle to keep up some sort of rhythm, like his body is trying to tell her not to worry, not to cry ‘cause he’s still here. He’s still alive, even if his mouth won’t move, can’t move to tell her so. 

And even if when she whispers, “Don’t worry, I’m getting you out of here,” into his ear, what she’s really doing is just preparing his body to move, even if what she’s really saying is, “You know you deserved this,” he’s going to pretend what he heard was the first thing because if he’s going to die here, like this, he’d rather think it’s with his sister forgiving him rather than her hating him so much the sight of his near dead body does nothing whatsoever to move her.

He feels the last of the breath left in his useless, battered chest float out through his lips as she moves him onto a cart. Feels the ground pass underneath them and hears the thick wooden wheels click and grumble as she starts wheeling his body out the door.

“I don’t—” he thinks he hears her say, “I don’t know where we’re going to go.” But it’s hard, the world went dark almost the instant the pain hit and now the sound seems to be cutting out, too.

“Billy,” she says, but it sounds like he’s hearing it through cotton, or through absurdly, impossibly thick wool. His head feels like it’s full of wool, too, like each thought has to pass through miles of the stuff just to reach him.

The cart stops and the whole world narrows to the feel of Max’s fingers on his cheek, or at least what his imagination is telling him is Max’s fingers on his cheek as he feels a different kind of burn spread throughout his body, the lack of air spreading to each and every one of his muscles in turn and in turn making them numb as his heart slowly, slowly, slowly rolls itself over, as Max says, “Please, don’t.”

His heart gives one last final thunk, giving Billy just enough time to wish that he could reach out and touch Max’s face and tell her that he’s sorry for everything and to ask her, to beg her, to plead for her to tell Steve what happened to him. Because more than anything he doesn’t want Steve to think that anything could have kept him from rescuing him other than this—than absolute death itself.

Chapter Eleven: Miracle Mike

Lucas follows the tip of his sword through the forest, weaving this way and that, eyes closed.

“Father, guide my sword,” he whispers as he makes his meandering way.

“Hey Lucas,” Will says.

“Not now, not now,” Lucas says, annoyed. “Can’t you see that I’m concentrating?”

He doesn’t dare break the spell by opening his eyes.

“But you’re about to—”

“Ah!” a girl shrieks. Lucas’s eyes fly wide.

“What the hell are you stabbing random people in the ass for?” the redhead yells, stalking toward him and batting his blade aside. “What is that? Oh, hell, I’m bleeding, too! Great! I just bought this dress!”

She’s crying. Had been crying from the look of it. She punches Lucas. It lands harder than he expects it to and he rubs his jaw afterwards, feeling a blush creeping up under his palm. What a right hook. What a girl. Why is she crying? What is happening?

“Sorry,” Will says when Lucas remains silent too long. “But we’ve been looking for him all day long.” He points to The Man in Black, whose still limbs spill over the sides of the small cart the girl had been pushing.

“Billy?” The girl says, her eyes squinting, defensive. “What the hell do you want with him?” Her voice barely trembles. She wipes her eyes and doesn’t let any more tears fall. But Lucas can see that she wants to.

He finally finds his voice. “Revenge," he says.

Good job. Not creepy at all.

“Well,” Max says, swallowing and doing an impressive job of looking like she doesn’t care one way or another, “he’s dead, so….” She raises her eyebrows. That’s that, those eyebrows say.

“Not on him,” Lucas says, raising conciliatory hands and waving her off with them, a little scared of her. “On Prince Tommy—actually on Prince Tommy’s six-fingered henchman, but—you know what, we don’t have time for this. We need The Man in Black—” He stops at her intensified glare. “Er, um, Billy. We need Billy here to stop the royal wedding.”

“Needed, I guess, now,” Will chimes in, hands clasped at his front and eyes downward.

“Needed,” Lucas nods. “No!” Everyone living jumps at his sudden shout. “Need!” He looks to Max. Grabs her shoulder and lowers his voice. “I’m so sorry for this.” He turns to Will.

“Pick him up. Do you have any money?”

“A little,” Will says. “Why?” He picks up Billy’s limp body, leaving the cart behind and not even seeming to feel Max’s blows hitting him, though he is careful not to step on her feet.

“I just hope it’s enough to buy a miracle.”

He takes off. Mostly because Max’s fury begins turning his way at his words.

“I’ve only got forty,” Will says, hurrying after.

He picks Max up and slings her over his other shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says to her, ignoring her yelling and still-pounding fists. “You keep getting in my way and I don’t want to hurt you.”

He walks on after Lucas.

“Wait for me!”

Not long later, Lucas is pounding on the door to a small cottage. After much fuss, a peephole swings open in the door.

“Yes?”

A young, pale face appears, already annoyed.

“Mike,” Lucas says. “I need one of your miracles.”

Miracle Mike takes in the group.

“Do you ever.”

He scratches his cheek.

“Too bad the King’s stinking son fired me, isn’t it?” Miracle Mike says, glaring. “Oh, and thanks for bringing that great memory back, too, Lucas. Really. Appreciate it.” There’s an awkward pause. “Well, it’s been nice chatting.” Mike says, breaking it. “Buh-bye now. We’re closed.”

He slams the door to the peephole shut.

Lucas pounds on the door louder.

“Beat it,” Miracle Mike says, the peephole flying open once more. “Or I’ll call the brute squad.”

“I’m on the brute squad,” Will says, shifting Max’s wriggling body to scratch an itch on his nose.

“You are the brute squad,” Mike says, craning his neck to look Will in the eye.

“It’s important,” Lucas says. He’ll beg the guy if he has to.

“I’m retired,” Mike says, sour. “Anyway, why would you want a miracle from the guy the King’s stinking son fired? I might kill whoever you wanted me to miracle.”

“He’s already dead,” Lucas says brightly, recognizing a selling point and flaunting it.

“Yeah?” Mike says, scanning the still form draped over Will’s shoulder. “Fine. I’ll take a look. Bring him in.”

Lucas smiles up at Will, who smiles back.

They enter the cottage and Will drops Max, but not before Max gives him one last obligatory pounding on the back; she crosses her arms over her chest and goes silent after that. Watches Billy’s body worriedly. 

“You got money?” Mike asks, palpating Billy’s chest.

“Sixty-five,” Lucas says, hoping to avoid haggling and keep enough for something to eat if he does live. He’d only had thirty, which brought their actual total up to seventy.

“I’ve never worked for that little,” Mike says. “Well,” he pauses. “Once. But that was a noble cause.”

Aha.

“He has a crippled wife,” Lucas lies. “His children—on the brink of starvation.”

“You always have sucked at lying, Lucas.”

Damn.

“I need him to avenge my murdered father.”

“You? Finding that six-fingered woman? Your first story was better,” Mike says. “Probably owes you money, right?” He looks around. “Where’s that bellows? He mutters. “Well, I’ll ask him.”

“He’s dead,” Lucas says.

“Oooh, look who knows so much. As a matter of fact, your friend here is only mostly dead. There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Please, open his mouth.”

Lucas does and Mike inserts the end of the bellows between Billy’s teeth and pumps up Billy’s chest. Once. Twice. Max starts to come forward, mouth open in protest, but Will stops her with a gentle hand. Shakes his head no. She frowns, but stays quiet.

“Buddy! Hey, hello in there! What’s so important, huh?” Mike asks Billy loudly, leaning in. “What have you got that’s worth living for?”

The miracle man pushes down on Billy’s chest.

“Truuuue Loooove,” Billy’s body groans out with the released air.

“True love, you hear that?” Lucas says, excitedly. “What’s a more noble cause than that?”

“Other than a BLT, I can’t think of anything,” Mike says. “But that’s not what he said. He clearly said—”

“Liar!”

A brown-eyed girl enters the room, her dark curls bouncing. “Liar. True love. He said true love, Mike. Friends don’t lie!”

“I’m telling you, I’m not—”

The girl holds out her palm and Miracle Mike rises a solid foot up from the floor, feet kicking feebly. Blood drips from the girl’s nose. She glares.

“Help. Or I dump your ass.”

“I like her,” Max says, smiling.

Chapter Twelve: Brains, Strength, Steel, Attitude and a Wheelbarrow

“Okay, so…” Mike says some time later as he’s putting the finishing touches on the weird, round, little chocolate-coated miracle he’s spent the past hour making. “Give him this, then wait about fifteen minutes.” He passes over it one last time with the little brush in his hand before blowing on it and putting it in a little cloth pouch.

He hands the pouch to Max with less fanfare than something like this probably deserves and she follows his lead by roughly shoving it into the pocket of her sweater.

“The chocolate makes it go down easier,” says the brown-eyed girl, the one who had, oddly, said her name was Eleven, though when Max had asked her why she had such an odd name she’d been met with a resounding chorus of, “Don’t ask!” coming from everyone in the room except for, oddly, Eleven herself.

“Right,” Max says slowly as they all start heading for the door, Will picking up Billy as he passes by the table and glancing over at Max like he won’t hesitate to scoop her up again if she refuses to go with them this time.

Which…

Well…

Max figures for better or for worse (and probably for worse) she’s in this now, so she’s going to see this through to the end, even if she strongly suspects it ends with them near the castle, huddled around the dead body of her brother, wondering why this “cure” didn’t work.

Because she doesn’t entirely believe “only mostly dead” is really a thing because she saw her brother die, she felt it happen, like she felt it in her bones and in her gut strongly enough that the feeling stopped her dragging that cart she’d been carrying him in and she’d had no choice but to scramble back and to check on him, to put her hand to his neck and to feel as his pulse crawled to a stop, to feel it as he died underneath her fingers.

And she sees his body now, has seen it get colder and colder each time she reached out to touch it, to touch him. And each time she wanted to see if some lingering echo was left inside, if there was some part, any part, of her brother left, but every time she tried all she was rewarded with was stillness and silence. And cold. So much cold.

Or in other words, she looked, she wanted to believe, but all she was rewarded with was the complete and utter absence of life.

And how could something like that ever be reversed?

No miracle, no matter how good, no matter how clever nor how chocolate-coated, could ever fix that.

Right?

Right?

But then Eleven reaches out and puts a delicate, soft hand on her shoulder and says, “This will work. Trust me,” and she says it with such deep sincerity and complete and total faith that Max wants to believe that maybe, just maybe, it can.

“Okay,” Max says and she doesn’t quite believe it still, she’s still terrified that there’s no way to get her brother back and that this great, big mistake she’s made is one she’ll have to live with for the rest of her life, however long that might be, but… she wants to believe it. She wants to, so she’s going to try.

Then she catches Lucas looking at her funny so she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders and heads out the door before he gets it into his head to say anything to her about whatever it is he thinks he sees on her face.

She hears footsteps behind her and knows Will and Lucas are following close behind and she hears Mike and Eleven call out, “Good luck storming the castle!” loudly after them. Then, more quietly, almost quietly enough that Max misses it entirely, Mike says, “And you’ll need it, you idiots haven’t got a chance!” which is hastily followed up by the sound of a punch landing and Mike groaning loudly enough that Will almost turns around to see what happened before thinking better of it and continuing on.

They don’t talk much on the way to the castle. Well, Lucas tries to. He keeps asking Max about her favorite things, about what she does for work but Max isn’t in much of a mood to talk, less so about what she’s been up to lately and how it involved helping the people who killed her brother and how she’d known that was their plan, how she’d known and hadn’t cared, had been so busy with her own sense of self-righteous indignation over him leaving her alone with their parents that she’d been willing to watch him die for it.

That is, she had been until it had happened. Until he’d started screaming and she’d screamed with him, realizing entirely too late that what he’d done (or more like hadn’t done) wasn’t, had never, been worth his life.

Will, thankfully, doesn’t seem to be in much of a mood to talk, either, instead opting mostly for occasional grunts every time he switches up the way he’s carrying Billy, not that carrying Billy seems to be any great sort of strain on him at all.

And then, once they’re near enough to the castle they stop behind a big, brick building and Will leans Billy up against the wall and looks to Max. He looks to Max but he doesn’t say anything, just pins her with this important, soul-searing look that takes her a minute to fully get before she finally jumps to her feet, saying, “Oh, right,” and dragging the little pouch from Miracle Mike out from the pocket of her sweater.

“Well, here goes nothing,” she says as she fishes the chocolate-coated miracle from its little cloth pouch and Lucas holds Billy’s head back, elongating his throat so that swallowing will take the least possible amount of effort.

Max carefully presses the candy-shaped, candy-looking miracle past Billy’s lips and into his mouth. And she waits.

And she watches.

And she hopes.

“Is this going to take long?” Will asks, peeking over the castle wall at the armed guard in the courtyard below. “It must be only half an hour till the wedding.”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Lucas replies, staring at Billy for any signs of movement.

Max crouches down, face intent.

Nothing.

She turns to hide her reddening face and burning eyes. Pretends to check that their escape route is still clear.

Can’t stop the tears coming as the silent seconds drag on.

Shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

---

Billy tastes chocolate. He’s only ever tasted it once, when Steve snuck him a chunk on his Birthday, so it’s confusing that it’s in his mouth now.

Isn’t he dead? He opens his eyes.

Guy looking back at him seems familiar. Billy’s definitely fought him once before.

“Jesus, back for more?” he says, mouth awkward and hard to maneuver. He looks over the guy’s shoulder to see a strangely familiar giant. Great. “Fine, fine,” he says, stretching his jaw then continuing. “I’ll take you both. Come on.”

He hears a wet laugh.

Max?

Billy’s eyes find hers with some difficulty. He manages a weak smile at the sight of her.

“You weren’t fuckin' lying, Shitbird,” he says, voice softer than his choice of words. “That was one rough ride. About killed me.” Knows it had killed him, but she doesn’t need to— Hang the fuck on.

“Why won’t my arms move?”

“You’ve been mostly dead all day,” Will chimes in.

“We brought you back,” Lucas explains. “Took a miracle—an expensive miracle at that,” he mutters, mourning the weight of coin in his purse. “But then—”

“Okay, enough with the random exposition already, Jesus,” Billy says, clipped. “Just answer one thing. Who are you? I piss you off sometime or something—swear I’ve dueled you or something. And why am I on this wall? And where the fuck is Steve?”

Max gives one wet chuckle and finally wipes her face.

“Let me explain,” Lucas says, finger raised. He pauses a moment, thinking, then lowers it. “Nope, there’s too much. Let me sum up.”

“Fine,” Billy interrupts. Lucas glares. Max kicks his boot.

Billy scoffs and rolls his eyes, because that’s all he’s fucking got to work with apparently, and Mr. Let Me Explain starts up again.

“Steve is marrying Tommy in a little less than half an hour. So we have to break in, break up the wedding, steal your Prince and make our escape—after I kill Countess Carol.”

“We do, huh? Shit, that’s all?” Billy says. But his face says he’s thinking over the problem. More seriously he says, “doesn’t give us much time.”

“You just wiggled your finger!” Will says, amazed. “That’s wonderful.”

Billy throws him a put-upon glance.

“Always been a quick healer.”

Immediately back to the problem, he goes on. “What are we up against?”

“Only one way in,” Lucas says. Picks Billy up enough that his head can loll back over the parapet and he can get a look at the gate behind them. “And sixty men down there guarding it.”

He lowers Billy back against the wall.

“And we’ve got…?”

“Your brains. Will’s strength. My steel. Her.” Gestures at Max who glares to rival her brother.

“Yeah,” Billy says. “We’re screwed. If I had a month to plan, maybe, but this…” Shakes his head. No chance.

“You just shook your head,” Will says brightly. “That doesn’t make you happy?”

Billy flops his head around to look derisively up at Will.

“My brains, her attitude, his steel and your strength against sixty men and you think a little fucking head jiggle is gonna do it for me? Hmm?”

Will smiles. Billy jiggles his head again. So screwed.

“Now if we only had a goddamn wheelbarrow, I could maybe work with that.”

“Got you covered,” Max says. “Was hauling your heavy dead ass around in one when this stabby idiot and his friend found me.”

She shows him her bloodied dress then winks up at Will. The big guy blushes and scratches his neck.

“You stabbed my sister?!” 

Billy flops menacingly Lucas’s way. Gonna kill the little fucker. But he thinks of Steve—at least once every thirty seconds like clockwork and here it is. Cools it. Billy’ll kill the guy later. They’re under a time crunch, here. 

“Whatever,” he says. Rolls his head limply back to see Max. “Why didn’t you fucking say we had a wheelbarrow in the first place?”

“Oh shut up smartass, like I could have known it’d be useful.”

He raises his eyebrows at that. When the hell isn’t a wheelbarrow useful? But he’s only half invested. Half present. He’s thinking again.

“Give my right nut for a Holocaust Cloak right about now,” he throws out on the off chance.

“There we can’t help you,” Lucas says.

But Will pulls something that strongly resembles a Holocaust Cloak from inside his shirt. Dangles it in front of them.

“Will this work?” he asks.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Lucas says.

“Miracle Mike gave it to me. Fit so nice, he said I could keep it.”

“Alright alright,” Billy says, ready for action. “Come on, help me up.”

They stand, both Will and Lucas supporting his dead weight and Max supervising.

“Now,” Billy says, once they’re more or less upright, “we’ve just got to find me a sword.”

His head flops forward. Shit.

“Why? Lucas asks as Will casually balances Billy’s head back upright on his neck. “You can’t even lift one.”

“Sure,” Billy says, his head flopping backward this time. Will lifts it again. Fucking pats it before taking his hand away. “Thanks,” Billy says through gritted teeth. “But it’s not like anyone besides you three assholes knows that, is it? Anyways, It’ll be good to have once we’re knee deep in shit inside the castle. We’re gonna run into problems in there.”

His head flops forward again. Max begins giggling behind them as they finally get going. Will lifts it up once more and this time keeps his huge hand there holding it straight as they move.

“Problems. Chyeah, I’ll say,” Lucas says, ignoring Billy’s flopping head and Max’s giggling. All business. “How do I find the Countess? Once I do, how do I find you again? Once I do, how do we escape?”

“Don’t bug him,” Will says, turning Billy’s head to look his way while he talks.

Billy bites down the curses he wants to fling at Will for that shit. Jesus fucking—

Will’s oblivious. 

“He’s had a hard day,” the guy says. Billy snorts.

Max’s giggle turns into a full-on laugh that she’s forced to stifle with a hand. She’s gonna regret that shit once Billy can move again.

“Right,” Lucas says, looking back, Will turning Billy’s head to catch the response. “Sorry.”

Will makes Billy nod a few times and at this Max just fucking loses it, dissolving into a fit of giggles that are nearly silent as she runs out of breath. Billy listens to her back there, wheezing, slapping her leg. Bitch. Grimaces and endures his piggyback ride as they make their way off the wall.

“Lucas,” Will whispers as Max’s laughter begins to peter out. “I hope we win.”

And Billy laughs too, at that. Once. Darkly. Thinks of Steve and everything that lies between them. Minutes ticking by and him here just useless.

Yeah, big guy. He closes his eyes. Maybe prays. You and me both.

Chapter Thirteen: The Wedding

A voice calls out from behind Steve: "Excuse me, Prince." 

And it's a voice Steve knows all too well at this point—Countess Carol. 

"What do you think you're doing?" 

Steve climbs down from the window ledge he'd been climbing out of and turns to face her, red-cheeked and red-handed. "Oh, you know, just trying to get a better view," he says, casual as anything, even though they both know that's anything but the truth. 

"Yes, I'm sure you were," Carol says with a smile. She's clearly aiming for her words to sound kind, like she thinks maybe that will fool him somehow, but she winds up mostly face planting into disdain instead. She holds a hand out to him and he takes it, knowing he has no real choice. 

"The wedding is starting soon. Come, I'll walk you there myself, it wouldn't do for you to be late," she says, the razor sharp smile spreading across her face with these words only further illustrating the threat that lies behind them.

They walk out of his chambers and Robin joins them halfway down the hall, linking her arm through Steve's on the opposite side of Carol's. "I told you your stupid escape plan would never work," she whispers into his ear just before they reach the room where the wedding is to be held and all he can do is roll his eyes at her as she splits off from him to take her place in the back row. 

Billy is all he can think about as Carol drags him down the aisle towards Prince Tommy. He hopes Billy will come and rescue him, not that he ever should have had to, it should be Billy he's heading down this aisle towards right now; it never should have ever been anybody else. 

Tommy smiles brightly at him once Steve reaches him. Even reaches out to give him a delicate kiss on the cheek and calls him, "My love," again, like he believes this is real, like he believes any of this matters. Like this is anything more than a sham marriage he's forcing Steve into. 

Like he thinks they really love each other or something. 

Or maybe he's just really good at faking it, Steve doesn't know. Either way, Carol drops his hand as Tommy takes it, making Steve feel less like a human being and more like a parcel exchanging hands.

He basically is, though. Like that's what his life boils down to at this point - he's a thing to be used by someone else and that's it.

The tall, pale, buffoonish priest before them begins rambling the second they turn to face him and his voice alone makes Steve want to tear his own ears off. He has this weird thing with his voice where he pronounces all his r's as w's and also all his l's as w's and it makes him almost impossible to listen to.

And this priest he goes on and on and on about true love like, again, this is a marriage of true love, like Steve's not just standing here waiting for his real true love to come in and save him, like any of this really means anything at all. 

It gets so bad Steve starts to wonder if there's any way he could maybe, possibly just end it all right here, right now when outside there's a loud noise and someone shouting, "Hold the line, men!" and Steve sees the scowl spreading on Tommy's face just as he feels the smile spreading across his own. "Billy's coming for me," he says. "My true love is coming for me."

The look on Tommy's face sinks into something murderously angry, murderously angry but with just an edge of fear and that look of fear has Steve's smile growing bigger even as Tommy says, "He can't be, I killed him," because Steve knows better. He knows, without a doubt, that the noise outside is Billy coming for him. He just knows it.

"If you're so sure he's dead, why do you look so scared?" Steve asks, properly happy for the first time in entirely too long.

Tommy grips Steve's hand tighter and turns his death glare on the priest. "Hurry up!' he insists with a big, sweeping hand gesture.

The priest nods but keeps droning on, only seeming to just be reaching the real beginning of the ceremony proper as he says, "Marriage is about two people coming together in united harmony…" which only serves to make Tommy groan in frustration. 

Outside, someone screams. 

"Just say man and husband!" Tommy shouts. "Just get it over with!"

The Priest nods again only this time he does as ordered, stating: "Man and husband."

And that's it. The ceremony is over. Steve is married and Billy didn't rescue him. 

Next to him, Tommy smirks as Steve feels his heart sink down somewhere past his knees. 

Chapter Fourteen: Vengeance

“Stand your ground!”

Lucas heaves the wheelbarrow forward step by grueling step.

“I am The Dread Pirate Roberts!” Will bellows, standing cloaked atop said wheelbarrow. Billy dangles off of Lucas’s back and almost feels sorry for the guy. Tries to pinwheel his legs along to feel like he’s helping. Max just strolls behind out of sight, watching the scene. Billy can feel her repressed laughter.

Not the time. Jesus. Little sisters.

“There will be no survivors!”

“Now?” Lucas says, shoving one step forward.

“Not yet,” Billy says.

“My men are here! I am here! But soon you will not be here!”

“Now?” Lucas asks, desperate.

“Light him.”

“All your worst nightmares are about to come true!” Will says dramatically as the flames rush up the holocaust cloak. “The Dread Pirate Roberts is here for your souls!"

The castle guard scatters, fleeing this way and that, scared out of their minds by the ruse. Granted, Will’s bulk aflame and coming for you was definite grounds to lose one’s shit. Billy doesn’t blame the cowards one bit.

Max starts laughing outright as Will steps down from the wheelbarrow and smothers the flames from his cloak. Lucas hauls Billy toward the gates sole standing defender who tries to be smart by lowering the portcullis.

“Will!” Lucas shouts. No need. The giant is already lumbering toward the impediment. He gets a grip and hauls the portcullis back up. The castle-crashers all advance, crowding the man against the gate.

Billy stares the man down, partial paralysis be damned.

“Give us the gate key.”

Like he’s even intimidating at all just dangling here.

“I have no gate key.”

See? Fuck.

“Will,” Lucas says calmly. “Rip his arms off.”

And thank God for giants.

“O-oh,” the man stammers, swallowing. “You mean this gate key.”

Max snatches it from him. Curtsies before knocking him unconscious and turning to open the gate.

They stroll into the castle. They have done the inconceivable. Onto the next impossible thing on this evening’s docket.

They wander the halls of the castle. With no real knowledge of its layout, they’re basically counting on fate to send their feet in the right direction and Billy finds he doesn’t really mind that. He has a few good reasons to put his trust in fate. To believe he might come through this with love and limb still intact. Life still to live. He feels Steve close by here. That same connection he’s always felt with him. Steve, warm and his and out there somewhere in the castle. Separated as they are by twisting halls and stony walls, Billy can still feel Steve as if he’s standing here beside him.

Now if only Billy can only figure out how to stand and meet him, that’ll be something.

The unlikely group shuffles awkwardly on.

Countess Carol is the first life they meet, her and four armored guards storming the hallway, blocking their advance, and Lucas steps forward with a triumphant blaze in his eyes at the sight of her. Raises his sword to meet the guard she’s brought with her. Billy watches, dangling from Will’s brawny arm, his own sword dangling just as awkwardly as his body from his pathetically weak grip.

Useless.

“Kill the dark one, the girl and the giant,” Carol says. “But leave the fourth for questioning.”

Billy grins. Cocky bitch ain’t she?

Lucas makes short work of the advancing guard. Stands tall once the last one falls. Raises his sword to Countess Carol.

“Hello,” he says, soft. Deadly. “My name is Lucas Sinclair. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

Carol readies her raised blade. Stares Lucas down. Then bolts suddenly, leaving Lucas standing dumbfounded for a beat in her wake.

He unfreezes quick enough and sprints after her.

Billy watches him go. Exchanges a glance with Will.

“What was that all about?” Max asks.

“Will!” they hear echoing down the hall, preventing explanation. “I need you!”

“I can’t leave him and the girl alone, Lucas.”

“He’s getting away from me, Will!” Desperate cries over echoing pounding. “Please!”

Will dangles Billy off a suit of armor.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells him and Max with a frown. Walks off down the corridor.

“Hey,” Billy says to Max as soon as Will lumbers out of sight. “Help me with something, will ya?”

Lucas speeds off after the countess as soon as the door flies from its hinges at the polite suggestion of Will’s fist. He rushes onward, heedless of his surroundings, his focus only on catching her. On forcing her to pay for what she’d done to him. To his father.

Serves him right when he bolts through a door and is stopped cold, stumbling back, when a flung dagger sinks hilt-deep in his abdomen.

Stupid of him. Lost before he’s even begun, his anger getting the better of him. Making him blind. Robbing him of thought.

“I’m sorry father,” he whispers to the ceiling. “I tried. I tried.”

“Ohh,” Countess Carol says, strolling forward. “I remember you. You’re that little brat whose father I taught a lesson all those years ago. Recognize my mark, you see.”

She gestures to the scars on his cheeks. Lucas is paralyzed with the pain in his gut. Can do nothing but listen. Can barely focus.

“Have you been chasing me your whole life only to fail now?” Carol asks, head tilting with interest. “I think that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.” She smiles. “Cool.”

Lucas’s paralysis breaks only enough for him to slide down the wall, legs failing him too. He cradles the knife for a moment, bracing himself, then slides it free. He stares up at Carol, full of hate and unable to contain it.

Figures he might as well use it.

He stands.

“Cute,” Carol says. “Still trying to win? Poor boy.”

She slips forward and stabs out with a smooth killing blow. Lucas is quick with his sword. Deflects it almost enough. His shoulder is impaled.

Carol frowns. Stabs out again. Gets only Lucas’s arm, his defense quicker this time.

She rains down a hard strike from above and he dashes it away, responding in kind. Clashing metal.

“Hello,” he says, stalking forward. “My name is Lucas Sinclair. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

The pain seizes him up and he falls into a table to keep from losing his feet completely. Carol takes the opportunity to strike. Meets his steel. He rises, countering blow after blow. Clash clash.

“Hello,” he begins again. Repeats himself again. Says what he’s been waiting to tell this bitch for years. Lands blow after blow and has her on the defense now. Backing away from him now.

He says it once more for good measure.

“Hello—”

“Stop saying that!” she orders, desperation in her eyes as he deflects one angry blow from her sword and then recreates the wounds she’d given him moments before. Two serpent strikes that she can’t even react to. He drives her farther and farther backwards as those words, words formed and polished over long vengeful years come out again in one final roar.

“Hello!” he says, voice ringing triumphant. “My name is Lucas Sinclair!” Voice quick and sure as his blade. “You killed my father!” Voice eager. “Prepare to die!”

He corners her finally. Swipes her cheek with a gentle stripe to match his scar.

“Offer me money,” he quietly commands.

“Yes,” she hisses out.

He marks the other cheek. Nearly twins now.

“Power too, offer me that.”

“All that I’ve got,” she promises. “More. Please.”

Lucas takes up his stance for one last blow.

“Offer me everything I ask for.”

“Anything you want,” she says, clipped, angry. Strikes out in one final attempt to trick her way past death. He deflects easily. Catches up her arm on a rebounding downstroke and lets her skewer herself on his sword.

The end at last. At last.

“I want my father back, you bitch.”

He shoves the blade deeper. Clean through. Watches the realization of death form in her eyes then kicks her off his blade. She’s dead before she even lands. Her body tumbles, crumpled, to the stones.

Vengeance is his. At last.

Now what?

Chapter Fifteen: To The Pain

Steve walks down the hall in a daze, barely able to follow after the doddering old King and Queen. 

He doesn't know what to do with himself. 

Billy didn't come for him. 

Billy didn't save him.

And if Billy didn't save him there can only be one reason for that—Tommy wasn't lying. 

Billy's dead. 

Billy's dead and Steve has been married to Tommy.

He's actually married to Tommy and the man he loves is dead and now he has to do what he said he'd do.

He has to kill himself. He can't wait. Tommy could come for him at any moment. 

Killing himself now, right now, is his one and only option at this point.

They're almost at his room when he catches up to the King and says, "Goodnight." He almost says, "And I'll see you in the morning," but he doesn't. Because he won't.

The King smiles sweetly at him and says, "Goodnight, dear boy. Sleep well!" before hurrying off down the hall after his wife, not waiting to see if Steve has anything else to say, which is probably for the best as Steve might very well have let slip what he's going to do if asked. 

And so, with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, Steve walks into his room for what he knows will be the last time.

The first thing he sees is the dagger he'd stolen laid out on top of his desk almost like it's been waiting for him. Like this is meant to be. Like this was the way things were always going to play out. 

He sits down slowly, carefully, giving himself plenty of time to back out, to do something else, to do anything else, but he finds himself not wanting to. He can't stand the thought of being married to Tommy. Not for another minute. Not for another second. 

Not a life with no hope of rescue, no way out.

He takes the dagger carefully in one hand and pulls down the neck of his shirt to expose his chest with the other. The cold, cruel steel of it touches his skin and just as he's about to plunge it in and be done with it all, a familiar voice he never thought he'd ever hear again calls out, "I wouldn't be doing that."

Steve turns, excitement building in him so quickly it feels like he might just explode simply by moving around in his chair and internally he sort of feels like that actually happens, like something inside him has exploded and overflowed because there's Billy, lying in his bed like he belongs there.

"Billy!" Steve shouts as he flings himself at his love, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him desperately. He moans Billy's name and calls him darling but Billy makes no move to hold him or to run his hands through his hair or to do much of anything at all, really, and Steve can't stop himself from asking, "Why aren't you holding me?"

In response, Billy grunts, "Careful," like that's supposed to mean something, like Steve is supposed to understand what it's supposed to mean.

He doesn't, so he says, "Really? That's it? That's all you've got?" He sounds annoyed, he knows he does, but he can't help it. This is, quite possibly, the most romantic moment of their entire lives and Billy isn't really saying or doing anything about it. 

But…

It doesn't really matter, Steve decides as he dives in for another round of kisses. Billy's alive and nothing else in the whole world matters. He can feel Billy smile against his lips as they kiss, he can see the happiness sparkling in his eyes but still, all Billy says is, "It is for now." 

Steve shakes his head and settles in, his hands moving up and down Billy's chest, just taking in every glorious inch of him and revelling in each and every breath he feels Billy take. He's so happy, he's so overcome with joy that it takes him a minute to realize that none of this changes quite as much as he wants it to.

"Oh. But… I'm married," he says. "You're too late."

Billy smirks. "Are you sure of that?" 

Steve huffs. "Well, of the two of us I'm the one that was stuck standing there so yes, I'm pretty sure."

"And how do you know?" Billy asks, smirk only growing wider. 

"What do you mean, how do I know? I was there!" 

"Yes, but did you say your vows? Did you say I do?"

Steve pauses. Thinks it over. "No," he says. "I don't suppose I did." 

Billy's tongue flicks out over his lips. "Then that means you aren't married. If you didn't properly finish the ceremony, then you aren't married." He looks somewhere over Steve's shoulder and says, "Isn't that right, Prince Tommy?" 

Steve's stomach does a single, full cartwheel and crashes into his lungs, knocking the breath from him. He doesn't want to look and see Tommy standing behind them. He doesn't want to know.

"It doesn't matter," Tommy says, "We'll just do it again after I kill you." There's the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath and Steve rolls away from Billy to see Tommy standing in the doorway just as he'd feared.

"But a fight to the death seems like the only way I'll ever truly be rid of you, so let's do this," Tommy says to Billy, ignoring Steve completely, like he isn't even here. Normally, Steve would hate that, normally he'd call Tommy out for it but right now it serves his purposes. Right now it gives him time to come up with a plan and to look for a weapon. 

"I have a different idea," Billy says, drawing the words out nice and slow and making Steve wonder if this idea is similar to his whole Iocane powder bit with the kidnappers earlier. He wonders what else Billy could possibly have up his sleeve. "Instead of to the death we'll fight to the pain," Billy says. 

"And that's supposed to mean what exactly?" Tommy says, looking almost… bored. Like this conversation is somehow boring him. Steve's eyes land on the dagger that's still lying on his desk and he wonders if he can get to it without drawing too much attention to himself. He sits up a little on the bed and neither Tommy nor Billy seems to notice.

"Since you are clearly too stupid to know, I'll inform you," Billy says as he pushes himself up against the headboard of the bed. 

"Did you just—" Something in Tommy snaps. "Did you just call me stupid?" 

"I did," Billy says. "But here's what to the pain means. It means that first, I'll cut off your feet, then I'll cut off your hands and after I'm done with that, I'll cut off your nose."

Tommy scowls and draws his sword up along with his chin. "Alright, well—" he starts but Billy cuts him off. 

"I wasn't done!" Billy levels a glare at Tommy, his voice rumbling out from deep within his chest as he says, "After your nose I'll take your eyes." 

Tommy is starting to look frightened, but Steve feels frightened. He knows Billy isn't strong enough to pull off what he's saying he's going to do and he only hopes his own plan, foolish and poorly thought out as it might be, will work.

Still, Tommy acts like he's not scared at all as he says, "Right and then my ears next I'm guessing?" 

Billy sneers and it's dark and it's feral and suddenly Steve knows without a doubt that this is how Billy survived as a Pirate. This look right here. 

"No," Billy says. "That's the point of all of this. I leave you your ears and I leave you your life so that every time someone sees you, every time someone screams in horror at the mere sight of your disgusting, mutilated, freakish body, you'll hear it and you won't stop hearing it. Not until the day you die."

Tommy blanches but still pretends to be unaffected. "I don't believe that. Not for a second. You're bluffing." 

With great effort, Billy pulls himself up so that he's fully standing up on his own and while Tommy is distracted watching this, that's when Steve makes his move. 

He grabs the dagger and has it at Tommy's throat before Tommy is even able to notice. "He might be, but I'm not," Steve growls. "Now put down your weapon." He presses the blade in his hand against Tommy's throat just firmly enough to draw blood and make it sting. 

Tommy's sword clatters to the ground.

Billy takes a step forward, sword in hand and smiles at Steve. "What do you think?" he says. "Should we tie him up?"

"Oh, definitely." 

Chapter Sixteen: The Kiss That Leaves All The Others Behind

“Tie him up tight as you like, Princess.”

Steve huffs a laugh, cinches the ropes till he gets a tight squeal out of Tommy, thinking of the months he’d spent cinched up in restraining palace garb not knowing if it was the cruelly laced clothes or his panic at the thought of life without Billy to blame for his inability to breathe.

A wounded man wanders in and raises eyebrows at the trussed up Prince.

“Going well here too, I see.” He nods to Steve. “Lucas Sinclair, an absolute pleasure, Your Highness.” Immediately he looks to Billy. “Where’s Will?”

“I thought he was with y—oh shit,” Billy says, taking a step too quickly and having second thoughts immediately as his legs turn to jelly beneath him. He hauls himself back to standing with help from the bedpost.

“Okay,” Steve says. “That’s it. What’s wrong with you?”

“He has no strength,” Lucas says and Billy winces. Nods. “He’s only been back from the dead for about forty-five minutes though,” Lucas goes on, “so I’d say he’s doing pretty good, all things considered.”

“Back from the—“ Steve begins, breathless.

“Ha! I knew you were bluffing!” Tommy yells. Swings his attention up to Steve, triumphant. “I knew he was…” He sees the dagger in Steve’s hands, tip inching closer to his neck and he peters off on “bluffing,” clearing his throat uncomfortably afterwards and blessedly shutting his mouth.

Max comes storming into the room already talking, like, “Better not be naked in here Billy I swear to god, okay? I know it’s a romantic moment and all but we’re in the middle of a raid here, and—”

“Max,” Billy nods to her, still hugging the bedpost for support.

She looks relieved. Nods back absently, taking a look around the room. Robin trails in after and raises eyebrows at Prince Tommy’s state before throwing him a sarcastic curtsy. “Your Highness.” And then she throws Steve a smile with a free wink included.

“Your Highness.” Grin playful. “Happily ever after, huh?” she says, motioning with a nod to Billy who’s finally standing under his own power again.

Steve sheathes his dagger and smiles back, swinging that smile over to Billy whose returning smile makes it glow up all the brighter. It's a stretch to hurt his underused cheek muscles. They’ve won. He can’t stop smiling. God, it really might be happily ever after for them. What a thought.

“Yeah,” he says, breath catching on a swell of love for Billy. Joy that he’s here, alive, when Steve had thought him dead. That he’s here and they’ve won. And he can’t stop smiling. And Billy’s eyes capture Steve’s like they always have, the blue of them, the intensity. Steve could stare into them forev—

“Right,” Max says, bringing Steve back to reality, because you can actually hear the eye roll when she speaks. “Well. That’s real sweet and all but can we maybe escape first? Where’s Will?”

“Lucas!”

A faint call drifts in through the open window.

Lucas looks briefly over, but turns his attention and his sword back to Prince Tommy.

“Want me to kill him for you?” he says, eyes darting to Billy. Quick to Steve.

And it’s so tempting. Steve almost says yes. Feels a hand gripping his shoulder and turns to see Billy’s understanding eyes. Billy slowly shaking his head.

“No,” Billy says, reluctantly turning his attention to Lucas. “Let him live a long life shamed by his cowardice. He’s not worth the time spent cleaning his blood from your sword.”

“Lucas!”

The call again, Will down there in the courtyard, trying to yell, but quietly. Like the loudest stage whisper, it cuts through the air.

Lucas shrugs. Knocks the Prince unconscious with the hilt of his sword.

“Hey!” Max calls back, first of them to reach the window. “Up here!”

“Oh, hello pretty lady!” Will calls up, waving a hand holding the reigns of two shining white horses.

Max waves back, blushing. Lucas frowns. Tries to play it off as a grimace afterward, holding his wounded abdomen. Jealous? Him? Please.

“I was looking for you,” Will calls up. “Wandered into the King’s stables and found these five white horses. Figured if we ever found Billy’s Prince there’d be five of us—hello Prince!”

The giant waves up at Steve.

Steve waves back, very confused. Hadn’t this guy kidnapped him before? You just don’t see giants every day. And that other guy too, he’d been there. And what had he meant by back from the dead? 

He sighs. Figures he’ll just keep smiling for now and demand answers later. With violence if need be. Billy so owes him some explanations.

“I call not sharing a horse,” Robin says quickly and quietly through her smile.

“Dibs,” say Billy and Steve simultaneously.

“Shit,” Max hisses, Lucas suspiciously quiet behind her. “Well, Will found the things so I guess that’s me sharing with…” She glares over at Lucas’s state, judgemental eyes scanning him up and down. “What’s your name again? You better not bleed on me, okay? That’s all I’m saying on the matter.”

And with that, she jumps out the window and lands in Will’s arms.

Robin follows, with only the gentlest push from Steve, and Steve jumps down after. Only Lucas and Billy remain above. Billy gestures Lucas to go first and he starts to. Then he leans back against the stone window frame and smiles wistfully.

“You know, I’ve been chasing after revenge so long, now that I’ve caught up, killed Carol, I don’t know what to do. Farm?” Lucas frowns, trying to imagine it. “I’ve never been bored, you know? What will that feel like, I wonder?”

“Well,” Billy says, clapping a hand on Lucas’s shoulder and catching his attention with a sly smile. “Have you ever considered piracy? Got this hunch you’d make a pretty good Dread Pirate Roberts.”

And with another clap on the shoulder, Billy rocks himself awkwardly out the window.

Lucas shrugs and follows after.

They mount up and ride to safety, not stopping till dawn, which they watch from a hilltop overlooking rolling fields for miles. They all pause at the view, Will’s jaw dropped in wonder, Robin wondering how to get off her horse, Max’s arms remaining tight around Lucas despite the blood. And Lucas notices. He smiles.

They’re safe. Free.

Billy’s been watching Steve’s profile or his back for the entire night’s ride, and now all he wants is a glimpse of Steve’s face in this perfect morning light. Wants to see the change freedom brings there.

As if hearing Billy’s silent wish, Steve turns back to him. Smiles. Holds a hand out, inviting. And Billy accepts that invitation; rides his horse up close beside. Whispers to it to stay and be steady.

“Still talking to horses, I see,” Steve says, his smile growing as soft as his lips. And Billy wants to kiss him. Wants to feel that softness again.

“Horses do what I say,” he says instead, pinning up a little grin, eyes still studying those lips.

Steve’s smile widens.

“And I don’t?” he says. Knowing the answer.

Billy chuckles.

“Not ever.”

“But you do what I say,” Steve says, soft, and that smile loses even more definition as his eyes focus in on Billy’s mouth. Catch up with where Billy’s been all along. Same page. Billy doesn’t see those eyes shift. Doesn’t need to. Can feel the soft touch of that new concentration brushing his lips.

“Always,” Billy whispers. Leans closer. Watches Steve do the same, moving to match as true as a reflection.

They’re meant to be this close. Closer.

“Then do what I say now,” Steve whispers back. “Kiss me.”

And Billy licks his lip in anticipation. Can’t refuse an order whispered pretty like that, now can he? Not from Steve.

“No problem, Princess.”

Their lips touch. Are meant to be touching. Together.

They kiss, the new day dawning before them, bright with possibility. They don’t really give a shit. Ignore the dawn and the trill of birdsong. Ignore everything. Exist on a plane of focus only large enough to encompass the press of their lips where they join. As one.

Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that have been rated the most passionate, the most pure. This kiss leaves them all behind.

The end.

[operationcavill]

Professionals 4 - August Walker

August Walker is hired by Parker Industries to protect the companies most important assets; Mr. Stephen Parker himself and his workaholic, do-it-all executive assistant. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

“Wayne?” He knows that’s not all; he can see it on her face.

“He called her a few days ago to see where I was, but she didn’t know. Now, no one can get a hold of him.” 

August stands up and starts pacing, “You were right.” She scrunches her nose, “I’m fucking pissed.” 

She tries to stay positive, but the doubt is grave in her voice, “It’s ok.”

“No, Y/N, it isn’t.” He runs a hand through his hair, “Last night, someone tries to get onto the property and your ex-boyfriend, who happens to be a threat to you and the company your family owns, is missing!” He gets dressed in a hurry and leaves her bedroom without saying another word. She feels like a scolded child until he comes back, angrily stomping back in to kiss her forehead, “I’m sorry,” then quickly leaves again. 

It isn’t until around noon that Y/N sees August. She’s sitting in the study with her uncle, talking about Jack, “Did you tell Walker about Jack?” 

“I told him we were together,” she shakes her head.

“But did you tell him what he did?”

Y/N takes a deep breath, “No, I can’t imagine he’d take that news well.” 

“Gin, you need to tell him.”

“What’d he do?” Oh, no, this was not the setting she planned to tell him; she knows he’ll be angry. He sits across from them, elbows resting on his knees.

Parker nods at her, assuring her that he’s there for her, “Jack isn’t a good man.” August’s eyes narrow at her, urging her to continue, “I didn’t want to mention what I went through because honestly, I refused to believe it.”

He’s tilts his head to crack his neck, “What are you telling me?” 

Y/N fiddles with the hem on her shirt, and Parker speaks up, “He beat the shit out of her, Walker.” The harsh words cause Y/N to shift in her seat.

August stands in an instant, walking over to her and immediately going from investigator to soldier. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N has tears in her eyes, and she reaches for his hand but pulls back as Parker continues, “She broke it off with him, and the prick didn’t take it well.” Y/N leaves and heads to the kitchen; she doesn’t want to hear it nor talk about it. “She agreed to meet him at her apartment to talk about things, but he had other plans. He just left there. She begged me not to tell the police or take her to the hospital. The only way I could get her to go to the doctor was by promising her I wouldn’t contact authorities.” 

August is fuming, his face turning red, and his hands are in tight fists, “You could have told me about this!” 

“Mr. Walker, it is not anyone’s place to talk about abuse if the victim isn’t ready to speak on it. You will not turn this around on Y/N or anyone else, you hear me? This is Jack Waynes doing.” 

August relaxes, realizing his temper is getting the best of him, “I needed to know this. I needed to know this to keep her safe.”

“You do, August. You’ve been incredible to us all, but you do need to understand that Y/N keeps a lot to herself, she’s always had trouble with it. She needs her family right now. I want you to meet with your team and increase measures. Wayne has money, more money than I do. And when men like him have money, they know no bounds.” 

“I should go check on her,” Parker perks his head up, “I need you to call Annie, tell her to pack a bag. I’ll send her a car; I think if Y/N needs someone right now, it’s her. Call Jacob and check on him and Joey.” 

It clicks with Y/N’s caring and nosy uncle that there be something else going on, “She’s more than the job to you, isn’t she?” August doesn’t respond; he straightens his posture, “If I were a younger man, I’d happily punch you in the jaw.” 

“I understand.”

“We’re going to talk, sit down.” August sits across from him, hands clasped together. Mr. Parker is not an argumentative or particularly angry man, but he would fight until nothing left in him when it comes to his niece and nephew. “You know Y/N is a strong woman, I’m sure that was part of the attraction. She is strong, but she is vulnerable, and I will not have any man wrong her or take advantage of her in any way, ever again.” August nods but doesn’t get a chance to speak, “Whatever it is that you think you feel for her or whatever you’re doing with her, end it.”

“I can’t.”

“Excuse me?” No one usually dares to tell Stephen Parker ‘No,’ and they certainly do not disregard what he says about his family.

August shakes his head, “I can’t do that.”

He huffs, “You can, and you will.”

“I love her.” His admission takes them both by surprise. He hadn’t intended to say it aloud; he hasn’t even said it to himself.

“What?” They both jump, and August stands, shocked to see Y/N standing there with a glass of water and a handful full of ginger candy.

“I—uh,” He has no idea how to react, and her expression is unreadable.

Before they can say anything, Parker speaks up, “I need a drink,” Y/N looks at him but still can’t muster up any words.

She stands there wholly frozen, “Did you just say you love me?”

“Yes,” August speaks shyly.

“No, you don’t.”

He’s taken aback, “Sorry?”

“Shut up,” Y/N snaps at him.

Parker addresses Walker, “Good Luck,” then leaves the study, allowing them to have a moment to themselves.

Auguste clears his throat, “Well, now you’re just being rude.”

“No, I mean, What?” She finally sets down her glass and candy on a table beside him.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” His arms slightly raise in frustration.

“We barely know each other.” While this is true to an extent, August is a studier. He learns until there is nothing left to learn.

“You’re forgetting that I know everything about you. That’s the job,” Y/N picks at the polish in her nails, “I don’t expect you to feel the same. I don’t,” he stops and tries to think of the right thing to say, “I’m not someone who, who just allows himself to do these things.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. You can tell me to fuck off if that’s what you want, but I’m still here to make everything as safe as I can, to make it safe for you. How I feel won’t get in the way.”

“I think, uh, I’m just going to go back to my room, ok?”

He nods, “ok.” 

Y/N sits at the window seat in her bedroom, trying to take in everything. She was overwhelmed and couldn’t ignore it, not this time. Jack was missing, and he knew how to get to her. He knew how to hurt her in more ways than just physical. She tries to focus on the rain tapping on the window, but nothing can drown out the sound of August’s voice. I love her. And in classic form, he knocks on her door. She opens it to find a somewhat disheveled looking August. His hair is in his eyes, his shirt is untucked, and he looks tired. 

He sighs and begins to ramble; “I went into the system at 6 when my mother died. I graduated high school early, and went into the marines. I can speak French, Spanish, and Japanese,” he gives a small shrug, “I hate sweet potatoes,” he walks into her room, settling on the foot of her bed, “I’m a music snob, and I don’t know why. I have a mustache because I’m too tired to shave it. I’ve ignored relationships because I don’t want distractions. My whole life has been about a job. I have been left and alone in every sense of the word, and it’s mostly my fault.” He finally looks up to see Y/N in tears again, “I’m sorry, bun. I’m sorry. You know that?” 

She welcomes his embrace when he goes to her. “I’m not crying because you love me,” He’s confused but can’t bring himself to let her go, “I’m crying because of everything else.” 

“I will fix this, I promise.” 

“Gin?” Their eyes go towards her door to find Jacob, who also looks like he’s seen better days. “Are you ok?”

She reluctantly pulls herself away to greet her brother. “I’ll be ok,” then it hits her, “wait, why are you here?”

“Steve called. He said it was best we come here until things settle down.” He nods toward August, her eyes landing back on the handsome yet pitiful looking man in her room. “Joey’s asking about you guys. I can tell him you’re asleep.”

She shakes her head, “No, no, I’d love to see him.” Y/N takes a deep breath and makes her way to the stairs as the two men follow her. 

Joey smiles and holds up a picture he drew. It’s no doubt a sweet portrait of her an august in stick figure form, “Daddy said you and Mr. August were sad, this is for you!” She wraps her nephew in the tightest hug and kisses his forehead, “Why you sad, Mr. August?” Joey looks at him with such concern. 

August Walker, a man who takes pride in not showing emotion, has tears in his eyes, “Sometimes things get a little sad is all.” Joey shuffles towards him and puts his arms up. He hesitantly picks the boy up and wonders what happens to us, when do we lose the sweetness that children have?

His small hand rests on August’s cheek,” Don’t be sad. I brought my trucks. You wanna play trucks?”

He pats his back, “I would love to.” Oh, how he would have loved to have been like Joey.

Y/N steps aside with her brother, trying not to melt at the sight of her sweet nephew, “Where’s the nanny?”

“She quit weeks ago. I told her I liked her but unfortunately, her girlfriend was not too happy about that.” 

“Oh, sorry, how’s Joey handling it? He loved her.” 

“Thanks to your video calls, you and Walker are all he seems to talk about these days.” 

“Really?” She asks in genuine curiosity. 

“Walker doesn’t come off as a kind person, but I guess you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”

“That’s for sure,” Jacob gives her a questioning look,

“So, what’s going on there?”

Y/N tries to play dumb, “Huh?”

“That shit’s not gonna work with me. What’s up with you and the soldier?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He rolls his eyes, maybe a trait that’s genetic, “You’re doing the whole I-don’t-need-anyone thing.” Y/N scowls, “I’m not going to pretend to understand what you went through, but I know it was hard.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to him later.” 

He hits his shoulder with his own, “He must not be all that bad.”

He points toward August and Joey on the floor, where joey shows him all of his favorite trucks. “Daddy said you like my Y/N.”

“I do like your Y/N,” He trades him a yellow truck for a red one.

“You’re nicer than Jack.”

“Oh, I am?” August tries his hardest not to react.

“He never played trucks, and he made her cry.” His small finger points to Y/N. 

“Was Jack ever mean to you or your daddy?”

He shrugs his little shoulders, “No, but he pushed me down at Uncle Steve’s birthday party and told daddy I fell.”

August can barely muster up words, “What?”

“He said I was in the way.” Joey shrugs it off, not realizing that the incident wasn’t an accident.

“I’ll be right back.” August smiles at him before stomping toward the siblings. “Did you know that mother fucker knocked Joey down?”

In unison, they (almost) shout, “What?” 

“Joey just told me that Jack fucking Wayne pushed him down at a party Parker had.”

Jacob walks over to his son, “Joseph, did Mr. Wayne hurt you? Why didn’t you tell me he pushed you?” 

Joey’s bright eyes become glassy with tears, just as most children’s do when asked such tense questions, “I don’t know.”

“It’s ok; I just wish I knew.” Jacob hugs his son and pokes his nose.

Finally understanding that something is wrong, Joey wipes his eyes, “Is he scary?”

All of them have a brief moment of heartbreak for this child, he’s having to learn that there are scary people in the world. Y/N sits with Jacob and her sweet nephew, “Sometimes people can be scary, but you don’t need to be scared of him. You know why?”

Joey smiles, “Cause Mr. August is here.”  

She wasn’t going to answer with that, but he’s rights, “Yes, August is here.”

A familiar raspy voice comes from the hallway, “Where the hell are you guys?” 

Oh, Annie to the rescue, they could all used her right now, “And so is your Yaya, go get her!” Annie adored this house and the children within it. She quickly and gladly took the role of Joey’s Grandmother. She loved him as if he was her own.

Joey runs, tripping over his toys, “I’m ok!” and hops back up to meet Annie. “Hi, Yaya!” They all can’t help but grin at the precious resilience of a child.

“Hello, my little love. I see you’ve been having some fun in here.” She spots the small trucks and dozens of crayons strewn about, “Why don’t you draw me something, eh?”

He nods and runs back to his disaster area. “Now, you, come over here.” August looks toward Y/N and expects her to walk forward, “Huh-uh, handsome, I’m talking to you.” 

[Tagged: If you’d like to be tagged, just shoot me a message or ask!]

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[shctteredillusions]

( @thewolfisawake ) asked:  ➹ Gaku Yaotome from Idolish7

Send me a FC and I’ll make a muse for it! || Always Accepting

The Marshall’s

The Marshall’s are quite a complicated family. Riddled with issues, they’re typically too much for most people to handle. When Chloe Marshall was still young, she gave birth to the first of the nine siblings known as Grayson. Born to an abusive and alcoholic father, his parents only remained together for a year before he ran off, fled the state completely in order to avoid paying child support or having anything else to do with his son. It wasn’t long after that that his mother began to drown herself in vodka. Grayson doesn’t remember much of that time, just knows that he typically ended up in the care of the elderly woman a few houses down at night, when his mother was too drunk to tend to him and was found passed out in the house.

When he was two, his mother ran off for several weeks, no one knows where she went and it had seemed like she too had abandoned the toddler at the neighbors home. Just when social services were about to get involved, she reappears, fresh and clean, swearing she was done with drinking. It didn’t last and it was found out that shortly after she had left, she became pregnant once more. Chloe managed to stay sober for most of the time, even got herself a job and things had seemed to be looking up. Then when little Savannah was born, she spiraled once more. She went on a bender, drank herself into the hospital as the elderly neighbor now watching both of the children.

Slowly but surely, she created a pattern. Always claiming to get clean only to fall off the wagon once more after each kid was born. Again and again, she let her kids down until there was barely anything but a shell of the woman she once was remaining. Most of the kids don’t even know who their father is, some have an idea but their mother is never willing to confirm nor deny it. Over the years, the Marshall kids have endured quite a lot. The elderly woman who looked after them passed away, the only person outside of themselves that treated them like family. Countless boyfriends came and went of their mothers, some bad, some good, some even worse.

Endlessly bullied as they grew up, though Savannah was one that got it nearly the worst. Because of how her mother is, she’s gained a reputation herself without ever having done anything to earn it. Claims of anything and everything from her being a slut, riddled with diseases to even as fertile and cursed as their mother. Nobody wants to touch a member of the Marshall family line. Not unless they wanted to take on all the baggage that comes with it.

As the years have passed, their mother is barely in the picture. Usually, she’s only home when she’s blackout drunk, sleeps off the hangover then heads right back out to start all over again. It’s mostly Savannah, Micah, and Grayson who take care of the rest. The siblings are a rough and tough family who look out for each other and will do anything to keep each other safe. Their methods may not be the best or the most morally aligned but they do what they must to survive.

Under read more for length

Name: Grayson Marshall Birthday/Age: April 21st / 26 Species: Human Hair/Eyes/Height: Black / brown / 5′10 Occupation: Assistant in a law firm Gender: male Orientation: heterosexual / hetero-romantic FC: Tatsumi from Orenchi no Furo Jijou (may be temp FC)

Bio:  Grayson is more on the strong and silent side of things, bottles up his emotions and tries to stay strong for the sake of his siblings. He drowns himself in work at the small-time law firm, trying his best to make enough money to keep all of them afloat. The bills seem to just keep stacking up, one after another late and the eldest sibling constantly feels inadequate and wishes there was more he could do. He hates that his work tends to take up most of his time, keep him away from his siblings for so long but he knows that if not for this, they’d be out on the streets living instead.

Name: Savannah Marshall  Birthday/Age: October 14th / 24 Species: Human Hair/Eyes/Height: Black / Brown / 5′3 Occupation: Constantly changes Gender: female Orientation: demisexual / demiromantic FC: Rui Yashio

Bio:  Savannah, second born and the mother of the bunch. While Grayson is always working, she dropped out of high school at 16 simply to help take care of the kids. She works from one temporary dead-end job to the next, making what little she can to help but most are unwilling to hire her knowing her family and the issues that come along with them. Some call her a stone-cold bitch, untrusting of anyone outside her family and certainly doesn’t trust anyone with her siblings. While she’s harsh, cold, and distant to others, she’s loving and warm to her family. They may be her siblings but they’re more like her kids. Even though rumor has it that little Zachary is actually hers, he’s not. She’s the first one that doesn’t know who her father is, only that she’s half Asian but no idea beyond that.

Name: Micah Marshall  Birthday/Age: June 5th / 21 Species: Human Hair/Eyes/Height: Pale blond / gray blue / 5′9 Occupation: unemployed currently Gender: male Orientation: Bisexual / Demiromantic FC: Gaku Yaotome

Bio:  Micah is more of an outgoing sibling. While he finished high school at the insistence of Savannah, he didn’t go on to college. Not that they could afford it anyway. He was a DJ at one of the local clubs in the city but when things got rough, he sold what equipment he had managed to gather together in order to help pay the bills. Now he’s out of work, no one wants to hire a DJ that doesn’t have his own equipment but he tries to make up for it by pitching in around the house and stealing what he can to either sell or provide for the others.

Name: Christian Marshall  Birthday/Age:  February 6th / 17 Species: Human Hair/Eyes/Height: Black / blue / 5′8 Occupation: high school student Gender: male Orientation: n/a FC: Hokuto Hidaka

Bio:  Christian was conceived during a time that their mother had actually been sober. She had tried to give up the alcohol through religion but it didn’t last long. She was eventually caught sleeping with the priest and because of the talk spread around, he left town before even knowing she was pregnant. Chloe essentially cursed her fourth born to forever carry the story of his birth by giving him such a name and when even one of the nurses at the hospital tried to convince her otherwise, she refused. Christian is another that’s bullied quite a lot. He’s quiet and introverted, hates having the attention on him and though he’s not very good at it, he tries his best to help out where he can around the house.

Name: Cameron Marshall Birthday/Age: May 1st / 15 Species: Human Hair/Eyes/Height: Blond / blue / 5′7 Occupation: student Gender: male Orientation: n/a FC: Arashi Narukami

Bio:  Cameron is the more playful of the bunch. He likes to have fun and constantly mess with his siblings but he’s also incredibly protective of them, has been known to get into many fights for their sake even if he’s not actually a violent person. At least, not as violent as Savannah and Micah can get. He loathes his mother for what she’s done to their family but knows that they have to protect her in order to protect themselves.

Name: Emma Marshall  Birthday/Age: December 5th / 13 Species: human Hair/Eyes/Height: brown / brown / 5′0 Occupation: student Gender: female Orientation: n/a FC: Kanzaki Misuzu

Bio: Emma is outspoken and curious, she hates the way people view her family and wishes she could do something to change that but knows she can’t. She doesn’t have any friends, her morbid curiosity and interests tend to scare most who meet her. She’s not afraid to speak her mind no matter who the person is.

Name: Phoebe Marshall  Birthday/Age: January 12th / 8 Species: Human Hair/Eyes/Height: blond / green / 4′3 Occupation: student Gender: female Orientation: n/a FC: Abigail Williams from FGO

Bio:  Phoebe, or Bebe as they call her, is more on the quiet side, tries to stick close to home and near her family. She hates the looks her family gets whenever they go anyway and has asked multiple times if they could simply move far away to a place where no one knows who they are. She’s still young enough to hope that her mother will eventually turn things around, to sober up and become the mother she should be. While the others love that hopeful side of her, they fear that it’s only going to make it that much harder for her as she grows older and realizes that such a dream isn’t likely to ever happen.

Name: Melanie Marshall  Birthday/Age:  September 9th / 3 Species: Human Hair/Eyes/Height: black / blue / 3′0 Occupation: student Gender: female Orientation: n/a FC: Miuna from Nagi no Asukara

Bio: Melanie, also called Mellie, is but a cheerful and happy toddler. While toys and such are a rarity for them, their income making it nearly impossible to afford such things, she makes the best of what she does have. She finds ways to make her own toys, to occupy herself when the others are busy but more than anything else, she loves being with Savannah.

Name: Zachary Marshall Age: 18 months Species: Human Hair/Eyes: black / brown  Gender: male FC: None 

Bio: Zachary is the baby of the bunch, at only 18 months he has no idea of how their life is and since he was practically raised since birth by Savannah, he calls her Mommy instead of their actual mother. She doesn’t mind, and she doesn’t try to stop the rumors that she was the one who actually had Zac instead of her mother. She loves them all like they were her kids anyway. She just tries to make the best of their situation that she can.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Side Effects- Part One

M/F Pairing: Y/N X Stray Kids (Multiple Pairings)

Word Count: 4K

Genre: Yandere Stray Kids AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU

Warnings: graphic depictions of blood, violence, smut, and language

Summary: Y/N just wanted a normal life, attending to her studies while earning the degree she’s always dreamed about. Unfortunately, her funds are running low and she’s increasingly desperate for money until she finds an advertisement online. Although she doesn’t know much about vampires, she decides to take a position as a blood donor to the mysterious Miroh Coven, unaware of the consequences of her fatal decision.

It had been almost six months since the incident. 24 weeks of paranoia, glancing over my shoulder in response to unexpected movements and sounds. 182 days of watching the bruises slowly fade from my skin, dark circles under my eyes gradually succumbing to the much-needed 8 hours of sleep I managed with the assistance of medication and my new roommate who always welcomed me in her bed when the nightmares progressed. Finally, it seemed like things were getting better with each passing day further and further away from the traumatic event that had changed my life forever.

I could now walk by myself at night without the risk of breaking down in the middle of the sidewalk. I could finally keep down the food my roommate prepared for me without the familiar feeling of nausea churning my stomach unpleasantly. I could finally find a job to support myself, working fulltime as a Secretary at a company with full benefits and a reliable 401K. 

They were gone from my life, taking the pain and suffering along with them. I was better now and I was determined to turn my life around because I was a strong and independent woman who should’ve known better. But I had been desperate back then, working through my college degree while my savings account was slowly drained. I wouldn’t be able to finance my Senior year and the idea of giving up on my education so close to the finish line had almost broken me in half.

That’s when I first saw the advertisement, promoted through Google’s convoluted Adword system. It was like an answer to my prayers, everything that I had been searching for wrapped up neatly with a handy URL link that took me straight to the source. I remember reading the advertisement with greedy eyes, unhesitating when I clicked on the “Apply Now” button:

ATTN:

Looking for a reliable blood donor for an estate of 8 young men belonging to the Miroh Coven. Preferably female with a blood type of O negative. Please send in an application ASAP.

Vampires weren’t uncommon in our society, though the government had heavily restricted their creation since a dramatic increase in population. Now, the government required notification if a Coven planned to initiate a new member. It was all a dramatic affair meant to prevent fledgling vampires who were more prone to violence and chaos. Of course, there was the occasional rogue who turned humans against their will simply because they couldn’t handle their bloodlust. However, more often than not, Coven leaders knew how to keep their members under control.

Blood donors were also not uncommon. Covens often hired several different donors to keep around when they required access to fresh blood. It was a practice that was initially met with hesitance from the greater public, but when Vampires proved they could handle themselves better around a reliable blood source, the government gradually acquiesced. 

I had never given much thought to Vampires or Blood Donors until I saw the advertisement. More specifically, until I saw the amount of money this Coven, in particular, was willing to pay for their donor. It would be enough to pay my college tuition and keep money in my savings account to pay for rent and food. Since the new semester was rapidly approaching, I needed to pay for tuition immediately and provide a deposit for an on-campus apartment.

In hindsight, it was probably a foolish idea to jump headfirst into the application without doing proper research. Case in point, questioning just exactly why this obviously wealthy and established Clan needed a blood donor immediately. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve hesitated at the obvious sense of urgency behind the advertisement. I might have wondered what happened to the Clan’s previous Donor, but I was simply enraptured by the dollar signs and refused to consider that this could be a very bad decision.

It only took a few days before I received a notice on the application, requesting an interview at the Miroh Clan’s address. I remember feeling excited by the opportunity, dressing in my best slacks and blouse. I drove with barely constrained enthusiasm, singing along to the ridiculous pop song playing on the radio even though I really preferred classical music. But this was a special occasion and I was potentially meeting with someone who could change my life and allow me to finish the remainder of my education in luxury.

“Tuition is due this Friday,” I reminded myself, gaping at the giant Mansion gated in circumference by an ancient wrought-iron fence. “Remember to tell them you can start immediately, Y/N.”

I checked my make-up in the rearview mirror before opening the door, heels clicking obnoxiously against the sidewalk. My first impression was rapidly becoming something like a passage from Bram Stoker’s Dracula as I ascended the steps to the front gate, smashing my finger against the button on the elaborate security system. The gate opened without warning and I jumped back in surprise, hand fanning against my chest as my heart nearly skipped a beat or two in my chest. “Relax, Y/N,” I said, smoothing down my slacks.

Despite it’s older appearance, it was obvious that the grounds of the Mansion were well-kept and I took note of the elaborate display of hydrangea’s lining the walkway to the front door. I presumed the Miroh Coven likely hired someone to do the work for them, especially since it was a known fact that Vampires generally disliked the sunlight as it bothered their enhanced senses. In any case, I was prepared to meet a bunch of older men who had perhaps lost their last client to old age or something. Instead, the man who opened the front door looked like he could attend the same University as me. Dressed impeccably in a dark mahogany suit, the man straightened his tie before offering me a relaxed smile. “Y/N?”

I nodded my head, trying not to react to the sight of his sharp incisors glinting menacingly in the light. “My name is Bang Chan,” he said, offering me an outstretched hand. “I’m the leader of the Miroh Coven.”

I shook his hand cautiously, aware of the strength in his arms highlighted by the bulging veins visible from the upturned aspect of his shirt sleeves. “Nice to meet you,” I said, recovering from the unexpected appearance of my potential benefactor. I had not anticipated meeting someone so obviously young.

“Come inside,” he said, opening the door further to welcome me into the shadowed hallways of the Miroh Mansion.

“What else will you do?” my roommate asked with a pout.

I continued to read my book, far more concerned with the fate of my beloved heroine as opposed to my roommate’s desire to find free alcohol. “This,” I said, reclining further back against the comfortable stretch of pillows. 

“Y/N,” my roommate chastised me softly. “I know why you don’t want to go and they’re just gonna win if you keep insisting.”

I tensed at her words, fingers mangling the corners of the pages. My roommate knew everything about my last situation because she was often the recipient of my screams when the familiar nightmares flooded my dreams. “They already won,” I grumbled. “I can’t even watch a vampire movie without losing my mind.”

“Are you afraid they’ll find you?” my roommate asked. “They’re thousands of miles away and you haven’t seen them for months.”

“Seven months,” I informed her curtly.  “And I’d like to go for eight.”

“Y/N,” my roommate groaned. “You told me that you used to love parties.”

“I know,” I said. “Maybe someday I’ll go out with you, but for now this is the best way I can cope.”

My roommate nodded, messing with something in her bag before approaching me on high heels that were just bordering on too tall. “Here, I found this is the laundry room.”

I held out my hand absent-mindedly, not really considering what she had given me until I pulled my attention away from the book. When I finally realized what it was, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen followed by a wave of nausea that left me tossing my book to the side before bolting for the bathroom. “Y/N!” my roommate called my name, but I was already expelling the contents of my stomach, groaning from the sickness. 

Because the item now discarded next to me was his necklace and I could have sworn I threw it out with their other gifts when I finally attained my freedom from their clutches...

I was completely spent, lungs still seeking additional oxygen and legs sore from where they were wrapped around his. Chan was always rough when he was feeling particularly possessive, hands determined to bruise every inch of my skin along with the deep marks from his fangs. He had taken a lot of blood and despite the offered chocolate now discarded on the side table, I was incredibly light-headed. 

“Y/N,” Chan said, fingers tracing a rather nasty bite mark he had left on my shoulder. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?” It was difficult, but I managed to turn my head enough to meet his gaze, startled by how red his eyes glowed under the influence of fresh blood. Chan’s fingers traced along the edges of my lips, forcefully inserting themselves inside and I managed enough strength to lightly tongue my way across the tips. He shivered at that, removing his hand before reaching behind him for the gorgeous necklace I had noticed briefly on his nightstand before he had pushed my face into the mattress. “For you,” he said, helping me into a sitting position so that he could clasp the chain around my neck, golden pendant hanging heavy between the dips of my collarbones. “Perfect,” he soothed into my ear, growling around a husky “mine” before he was kissing a trail down the side of my arm.

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache that only responded to three painkillers washed down with a glass of cold water. It was a Saturday which meant I had the day off from work and I couldn’t be more grateful. After last night’s incident, I had finally managed to convince my roommate to go out and have fun while I dropped onto my bed with a heavy sigh. The only way I could calm myself down was by repeating assurances that I must have forgotten Chan’s necklace in the small bonfire I had made of the expensive things they had bought for me. It must have gotten stuck in the bottom of my pocket which explains its presence in the laundry room. There was simply no other explanation. But a shiver still ran its way down my spine when I recalled the way Chan had looked at me before I bolted out the front door. “I will always find you,” he had snarled the warning before I was lost into the unforgiving darkness of the night.

I ran home from the hospital, throwing my belongings into a suitcase before booking a one-way trip back home, far away from these horrible monsters who I had willingly entertained for the past year of my life. The only positive was the fact that I had graduated which meant I was in no way expected to stick around any longer. Instead, I uprooted up my life and moved back home where I felt safer, finding my current roommate who willingly offered me her unused second bedroom. I could’ve afforded to live alone, but there’s no way that I could manage a solitary arrangement without losing my mind. And I didn’t have my parents because I was far too prideful to crawl back to them considering the unfortunate way our last encounter had ended when my father told me that I could never amount to anything on my own. 

They wanted me to attend a local community college before marrying the son of my dad’s business partner to demonstrate loyalty between the two brands. There was no way I would allow my parents to strip away something that belonged exclusively to me. My mother had ranted all night long when I missed my scheduled reservation, telling me that no boy would ever want me. I wish she had been right because I might have avoided the eight consecutive nightmares who entered my life one by one with every intent of bringing me down.

Regardless, I couldn’t change the past if I wanted to focus on the future, and I was doing well for myself these days without my parents or the Miroh Coven. I was assured that I could get through this unpleasant stage of my life because I had every intention of rising through the ranks. My dream was to open my own business one day and marry someone who could show me both love and respect. Because that was what was missing when I served the Miroh Coven. They might have insisted that they loved me, but they certainly held no respect for the woman they wanted to enslave, especially Jisung. 

In fact, Han Jisung might have been the worst of the three brothers. You see, Chan’s claim as a leader only went as far as legalities required, having someone’s name down to attribute ownership. But Chan was just as much leader as Jisung and Changbin. The three brothers were thicker than thieves, having grown up together in a despicable orphanage when they were younger. They weren’t bound by blood, but by something much stronger. When they were turned by an older vampire who envisioned them as perfect little soldiers, they decided that they were owed something for all the years of torment they endured. They turned against their sire, freeing themselves from his control, before forming their own tight-knit clan to claim. Throughout the years, they lived in the Miroh Mansion while forming their very own elaborate enterprise and becoming very wealthy in the process. One of the very first things they did as CEOs was to tear down the orphanage they hated and replace it with one of their office buildings. Next, they tracked down everyone that had ever mistreated them, writing down the names in a disheveled notebook that I had discovered one night in Jisung’s nightstand. Some of the names had already been marked out, but there were still so many left, and I didn’t realize at the time what exactly I was holding in my hands until it was too late. 

I shivered at the memory, trying to will it away, but it was already forcing itself to play out again in my mind with perfect clarity. 

To save costs on ridiculous surcharges, and to make things easier for the coven, I had recently moved into the Miroh Mansion with my eight benefactors. They cleaned a room for me on the top floor where Chan, Changbin, and Jisung also lived in relative peace. The eight of them had been thrilled when I agreed to their proposal, talking nonstop about our new situation. Of course, I didn’t intend for it to hold any sort of permanence, but I didn’t dare speak out against Felix because the younger boy had a vicious temper and lashed out violently when things didn’t go his way. 

Nevertheless, I quickly settled in with the others and their regular routine. I came to discover that Chan, Changbin, and Jisung were often missing throughout the day, but I figured it had something to do with their business. As for the others, Hyunjin spent a lot of time in the attic where he had attempted to recreate a dance studio, often requesting that I sit and watch him as he moved to the gentle music playing from an older record player. Sometimes, Felix joined him too, but for the most part, Felix liked to play with the younger boys, Seungmin and Jeongin, in their rooms or in mine. They loved video games and I remember countless hours spent playing with the three of them as they giggled and laughed like the harmless school boys I once believed them to be. Occasionally, Minho liked to poke his head in when we were being too loud, scolding us because he was concentrating on his newest art project. 

But the mood shifted considerably once Chan, Changbin, and Jisung came home. Immediately, the other vampires would rush downstairs to greet the brothers. It was the same occurrence every night and I was ignorant at first until I finally mustered the courage to ask Chan why they were so eager to see them. The older man had chuckled at me. “We’re their sires, Y/N. They experience a lot of discomfort without us around.”

“Sires?”

Chan explained the concept to me patiently. “Seungmin and Jeongin are sired to me and Hyunjin and Felix are sired to Changbin.”

“And Minho is sired to Jisung,” I said and Chan had smiled at me proudly like I had just discovered something profound. 

“When we come home, it’s important that we reinforce our bond. Otherwise, some very bad things might happen.”

I had nodded like that made perfect sense to me. I was really tired and wanted to simply crawl into Chan’s arms and fall asleep. Chan had realized my intentions, holding me close while running his fingers through the messy strands of my air.

The next evening, Jisung summoned me into his bedroom. “I’m hungry, little one,” he said, drawing me onto the bed to slowly strip me out of my clothes. The very first-time Jisung had attempted to remove my shirt, I freaked out and demanded to know why it was necessary. Jisung had smiled, a cunning manipulative behavior that I hadn’t fully realized at the time. “I don’t want to ruin your clothes.”

Of course, his intentions became evident as our sessions increased and I finally gave in and let Jisung fuck me because it did feel really good when he was inside while drawing far too much blood from my carotid artery. It became just another part of our routine, Jisung drawing me into his bed before sliding his cock inside before biting viciously on the side of my neck. I moaned from under him, focusing on the way his cock slid in and out as opposed to the dizziness I was experiencing from losing too much blood at once. Jisung only stopped when I orgasmed, tightening around his cock before he emptied himself between my legs, pressing sweet kisses to my chest before pulling his flaccid length out of my sensitive opening.

“Sleep,” he whispered close to my ear. I whined because I hated it when he left me alone after sex. 

“Sungie,” I said, trying to get his attention. I was incredibly drowsy, fighting against every desire to close my eyes.

Jisung chuckled, entertaining my wandering hands. “I have business that requires my attention and you need to rest for me.”

I watched through lidded eyes as Jisung opened his nightstand, drawing out an unfamiliar notebook. He grabbed a loose pen from the organizer on his desk before scratching something out against the paper. Afterward, the notebook was returned to its previous location before Jisung was silently escaping the bedroom. I groaned loudly at the soreness in my neck, massaging the tender skin before allowing myself the sleep I deserved.

It felt like minutes before an unexpected scream pierced through the walls, startling me into consciousness. I jolted up in my bed, far too quickly for my poor body which was still recovering from Jisung’s feeding. I shook my head to clear the black spots, opening them again only for my eyes to latch onto Jisung’s nightstand. I swallowed hard, curiosity getting the better of me as I slowly pulled on the drawer’s handle.

The notebook wasn’t very large but I could tell it was old and well-used. I slowly opened the first page, frowning as I read the unfamiliar names listed in random order. A few of them had been carefully blacked out, indecipherable now that they had been clearly forgotten. I was growing distracted by the names, trying to piece together the mysterious puzzle, when another noisy scream reminded me why I had been so suddenly disturbed. Carefully, I returned the notebook to its home, slipping on a pair of slippers before leaving Jisung’s bedroom.

The hallways were dark and empty with no other sounds alerting me to the unexpected scream that had previously penetrated my drowsiness. I started down the familiar purple carpets, holding tightly to the railing as I descended the grand staircase. It was then that I noticed light spilling from a crack in the door leading to the basement. I had never been down there before, warned explicitly by Chan to never enter that room. But his warning did nothing to assuage my curiosity, so I ignored the alarms going off in the back of my head before reaching out for the door.

There were several voices now, clearly audible, attempting to speak over one another. It sounded like an argument as I started down the stairs, frowning when I smelled something that reminded me distinctly of a sharp metallic odor. “It’s fine,” I heard Jisung’s voice growl and I paused in my steps, wondering if I would get in trouble for interrupting. 

“So messy,” Chan spoke now, clearly irritated. “I thought you planned better than this.”

“I did,” Jisung said. “Consider the girl an added bonus.”

I didn’t like the way they were talking, continuing my trek into the basement until I could finally see the three brothers standing together. But I immediately regretted my decision, covering the scream threatening to rip itself free from my chest as I discovered the corpses hanging from the ceiling. It was a disgusting sight, limbs dismembered and lying out across the floor. There was blood everywhere, covering Chan, Changbin, and Jisung, thick and revolting in the way it stained the concrete floors. I instinctively took a step back, wincing when the stair creaked under my weight. Almost immediately, three pairs of eyes turned in my direction and I fell backward in my haste to retreat. 

Chan was on me in an instant, cursing when his touch forced a loud scream to pierce the silence of the room. “Relax, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing my shoulders despite my thrashing. He forced me to meet his eyes and the influence of his power was enough to render me unconscious once again.

[sweetiecelin]

The Hunter’s Girl (Sam x Reader)

Chapter  1

“Sam?” A familiar voice spoke from behind the brothers.

“(Y/n), thank god you still-” Sam started but was cut off.

“Get the hell away from here. You got the hell outta Dodge the first time, do it again.”

(Y/n) shoved through the brothers and made a beeline for the door, but Sam jogged after her and grabbed a tight hold on her wrist,”Please, just listen, I just wanna talk.”

“You just wanna talk? Get your hand the hell off of me before I break it, Samuel.” (Y/n) spoke intending to keep her promise.

Sam quickly let go,” Please (Y/n), let me and my brother help- talk to you. We’re gonna try and save lives, bare with us.”

(Y/n) met his pleading eyes with a glare that could kill him, “ No. If you don’t get off my property, you and your dear brother will get arrested.”

She leaned close to his ear,” Don’t forget that I have friends in high places, Sam. I don’t like you, so they don’t like you; Don’t forget it.”

She turned  on her heel and unlocked the door, “Oh and Dean, hope your brother told you about me.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Sam turned facing his brother with a sour face, “Don’t tell me… she’s a werewolf?”

“No, close human raised with the wolves.”

Dean looked at his brother, “Like Tarzan?” Sam nodded his direction of the car. Dean took the hint and started on his way, “So definitely like Tarzan.”

“No, No, she isn’t like Tarzan. She’s like a werewolf, she is going to protect the leader with everything she’s got.”

“So did you two…?” Dean questioned once the car doors closed.

“Almost, one night. The night you called.”

“Did I y’know, interrupt?” Dean asked, suddenly more interested.

“Not that it matt-” Sam started coughing, what came up made Dean chuckled.

“So, I did interrupt, man I-” Dean started.

Sam rolled his eyes, “It doesn’t matter okay? She’s moved on with her life, probably.”

Dean started the car and pulled out, heading to the local diner, “There’s always a chance that she didn’t. How knows Sammy, she could be your true love.”

“Shut up, Dean. She and I are too different to even make it work; She was raised by werewolves and they respect her, I’m a hunter and- and it just won’t work.”

“It worked before didn’t it?”

(Y/n) was in the kitchen dancing to the radio as she cooked breakfast, she wanted to make sure that Sam’s morning was better than the past few. He looked like he had been to Hell and back a few times, she decided that Mama Maggie’s famous hangover breakfast can help his nightmares. She had heard him crying out for a man named Dean in his sleep.

Sam had walked in on (Y/n) dancing in the kitchen in a thin tank top and men's boxer shorts, “Is this your morning ritual?”

(Y/n) squeaked and jumped out of her skin, “Fuck! Jesus, you scared me, Sam!”

Sam raised his hands in a defensive manner and chuckled, “Heh, sorry it’s a habit to move around quietly.”

“So…. how’d you sleep last night? You’ve woken me up if you needed anything, you know that right?” (Y/n) quickly said trying to make her guest comfortable, but failing miserably.

“I slept fine. Um, thanks for letting me sleep here for now.”

(Y/n) offered Sam a gentle smile “It’s fine. Going through a loss can be tough of people. Even the strongest tend to break.”

“So, if you want I can try and get a job and pay rent as much as I can to help out you know?”

“Decided you’re going to stay?” (Y/n)’s smile never changing,

“Heh, yeah, I’m thinking about stay settling down for a few months.” He confessed, looking at her.

“What are you good at?” She spoke trying to help him.

“Um, I’m good at manual labor, people, I guess. Nothing else comes to mind.”

“Ya like books?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, I kind’ve got a love for reading..”

“My buddy who owns the best bookstore in town is looking for some help around the store. Look I know this sounds like something a teenager would accept but he pays well.”

“I guess, I’ll look into.”

“My bar also has an opening- Well it isn’t really my bar it’s owned by a kind woman, I just help manage it.”

Sam got taken out of his daydream, with Dean snapping his fingers in front of his face.

“Dude, snap out of it. You good? Because we’re at the diner.”

Sam sighed, ”Can’t you just go in and get the food? I’ll wait here.”

“No. C’mon Sammy, we’re not going to have you spun out of whack by some chick.” Dean hopped out of the car and waited by the front of it until Sam hopped out.

“Fine, Dean! Let’s just get this over with.” Sam got out of the car and entered the diner and the whole place fell silent.

Tracy, one of the pack members,  walked up to the brothers with a fake smile plastered on her lips, “If you could kindly pick a seat, one of our staff with shortly assist you, hunters.”

Once that word left her tongue, the older male, members of the pack started growling lowly at the men. Sam sent a pleading look in Tracy’s direction.

“C’mon Tracy, don’t do this.”

“Do what? Make sure you hurt, just like (Y/n) did once you left without a trace? I think I’ll keep doing this, you son of a-”

“Tracy!” Henry’s alpha voice boomed through the diner, ”We don’t treat people like this, no matter how many times they hurt us.”

“But, Hen- Alpha, he hu-”

“He hurt (Y/n) I know, but she isn’t pack of the pack. The rules don’t apply to her.”

Tracy rolled her eyes, then glared at the brothers, “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. Including hunters and Pack Alpha. We respectfully ask you to leave our establishment.”

Henry placed a hand on Sam’s back,”Don’t worry, we can dine at the bar. Like old times, Sam.”

(Y/n) and Sam had strolled into the bar. (Y/n) smiled at the bartender and the barflies that had been there since opening.

“Hey, Josie. You know that favor that you owe me?” (Y/n) smiled widely at the bartender.

“You finally calling it in?” The older women teased.

“Well, I thought it was about time, after what..  Fourteen years?  My friend Sam here needs a job.”

Josie sighed “Not hiring at the moment hun.”

“C’mon Jos, Kathy ain’t gonna be lifting the heavy packages with that baby of hers, then her maternity leave.”

“You good at bartending, child?” Josie questioned skeptically.

Sam nodded,” Yes, ma’am, A family friend used to run a bar a few years ago, my brother and I used to help out when it got to busy.”

“Mmm, I guess you’re qualified enough. You start tomorrow night.”

Henry and the Winchester Brothers entered the bar and the normal buzz of Joe’s was almost nonexistent. Josie glanced at the large men.

“What can I get you, boys?” She asked in an easy-going manner.

“Hey Mama Jo, could we get three home-grill burgers and three beers?”

“Of course… coming right up.” Josie turned around and gave the simple order to the cook and gave the men the beers.

“Now, Samuel Winchester, why did you decide to come back?”

Sam choked on his beer “A case… the mur-” Dean had kicked his brother's leg “What the hell man?”

“What? I did nothing.”

“Now, Y'all working a murder case in our town? Now that I think of it some patrons the past couple of weeks gave me a weird feeling.” Josie continued.

Dean glanced at the woman “What did you mean?”

“A couple of rough looking guys gave me an odd feeling. They felt like they had a certain motive.”

“(Y/n) say anything to you about it?”

“No, now that you say that, they were stalking her and a few other humans like they were prey. If anything those are-”

Henry cut her off “New members of the pack. Came here a few weeks ago, asked if they could join, some hunters killed their pack.”

Josie rolled her eyes “And you believe them? They looked like brutes, I doubt that their pack got easily killed by hunters.”

Dean couldn’t believe what was going on, a couple of werewolves were talking open werewolf business in front of two hunters, and his brother knew about this.

“You guys, uh know that Sammy here and myself are a couple of hunters, right?”

Josie and Henry looked at Dean, with a sarcastic look on their faces.

“Dean and Sam Winchester; saved the world a couple of times, sons of John Winchester, civilian-turned-hunter, and Mary Campbell, raised-hunter. I’ve known who you two are before Sam first sat down here.”

Sam chuckled “She’s like Bobby and Ellen, mixed into one minus the paranoia and hunter thing. She helps whoever needs to be helped.”

(Y/n) entered the bar and sighed “Look what I found. A mutt and a couple of hunters.”

Henry flipped her off without even looking at her “Sucking dick is the only thing you’re good at sweetheart.”

The younger female smiled “I’m also very good at pouring shots, Alpha.”

Josie sighed “(Y/n) apologize, now.”

“You’re not my mother.” (Y/n) snapped back.

“Shut up, I raised you that should be close enough.” Josie teased.

“I’m sorry Samuel.”

Josie sighed “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

“Now, Sam apologize.” Henry and Dean both laughed.

Sam blew a raspberry “I shouldn’t apologize.”

Josie reached over the counter and smack the back of Sam’s head “You left her high and dry while you were going steady.”

“Woah, Woah, Woah. We were never going steady.”

“My bad, Y'all were courting each other.”

Henry and Dean just continued laughing. (Y/n) and Sam both looked at them and hit them.

Sam spoke up “Listen, me and (y/n) never gonna happen.”

(Y/n) chuckled “Not what you said the night you left. ‘I think  I’m falling in love with you’ ‘I don’t care what others think’ ‘We should be together’.“

“He was only saying those things to get into your pant sweetheart,” Dean spoke while he nursed his beer.

“No duh. No one could ever love a hunter.”

“(Y/n) (M/n) (L/n), take that back.” Josie harshly commanded.

(Y/n) chugged the rest of her beer and got up “No, he doesn’t deserve any apologies, everything he touches gets destroyed.” She stormed out of the establishment and Henry went after her to calm her down.

Sam sighed “I knew we shouldn’t have come back. This is just a mistake, the pack will handle this like they always do.”

He started to get up when Josie spoke up “Sit your ass down, Sam. She’s just being overdramatic. But you are too.”

“How the hell am I being dramatic?” Sam tried to understand.

“Dude, you should’ve tried talking to her reasonably, tried to have understood how she felt after you left,” Dean said without thinking twice. “She must've been heartbroken after the fact that you up and left her leaving only a note behind.”

“Sam, my boy, you’re fucking stupid.” Josie disappointedly sighed.