#cursed mr burns image

[james-p-sullivan]

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Wild Nights || CL16 {1}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x songstress!reader Summary: After getting dumped before your wedding you decide to take your best friend on your honeymoon instead and end up having a whirlwind romance. Warnings: 18+only, NSFW, smut, oral, angst WC: 2.3k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Epilogue

The memories of last night ran through your mind like a montage that was powered by a strobe light, disconnected images and snapshots that blinded you and left your head aching. You blinked against the bright sunlight flooding the bedroom you didn’t recognise and tried to suppress the groan of pain that came with the hangover you rightfully deserved.

You had drunk far too much but you deserved to let go and have fun. Getting dumped right before you were meant to be married definitely gave you a free pass to go wild so you kept the booking for your honeymoon in Monaco and took your best friend instead.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you spotted your iPhone on the bedside table and found the battery dead. 

A soft snore had you freeze and you slowly turned to the sound with a racing heart as another memory resurfaced. The back of a head full of lush, thick dark hair rested on the pillow beside you and your eyes trailed down his spine to the curve of his ass that was obscured by the sheet hanging over his hip. 

Angry red lines marked the otherwise smooth skin of his back and you remembered the pleasure of that moment. It had been the first time in a long time that you hadn’t needed to fake the orgasm that rippled through you. You had forgotten the feeling until you had collapsed light headed among the fluffiest pillows you had ever laid your head upon and fallen into the deepest sleep in weeks.

You slipped quietly from the bed and tiptoed across the carpet, collecting your bra and panties along the way until you found your dress in the living room. You bit your lip as you skirted around a broken vase, remembering how - shit, what was his name? - how he had picked you up with surprising ease and sat you on the side table between the desperate kiss you were locked in. The shattering of the glass hadn’t even fazed him when your ass had knocked it off. 

You looked around the apartment as you crept to the front door, hoping to find some indication of a name, but the high end place must have been an AirBnB because there was nothing personal anywhere. The only notable item at all was a beautiful Steinway Grand Piano that you were envious of, wishing you had a few minutes to run your fingers across the ivory keys. 

The thought of playing the piano drew the whispers of a memory that you couldn’t quite clutch.

Arthur? The name rang a bell but you shook your head as you unbolted the door and grabbed your clutch that was waiting beside it. There had been an Arthur at the bar but you didn’t think it was him in the bed. There were a lot of guys there last night, a lot of names to remember, hopefully Bea could fill in the blanks when you found her. 

Your cheeks burned as you walked through the heart of Monaco, trying to figure out where your hotel was in the maze that was the city. You stuck out like a sore thumb among the men and women out enjoying a sunny Saturday morning and you swore some of them even pointed your way as you passed by. 

This took the walk of shame to a whole new level. 

Finally you reached the hotel and as a bonus you found the keycard had survived the night and was tucked inside your clutch along with your lipstick. Your luck seemed to be turning around as you took the elevator to the honeymoon suite and pointedly ignored the tv screen set to welcome Mr and Mrs Wallace.

The shower was running so you went straight into the bathroom, not even knocking since there was no need for privacy among best friends. “Bea, I just had the best sex of my life and I don’t even know his name.”

The water shut off and the steamed shower door swung open to reveal someone who was definitely not your friend. “Oh my god,” you gasped as you spun away. “Who are you?”

Bea stepped sleepily into the bathroom rubbing her eyes with a groan, “Shhh, my head is killing me babe.”

“Bea,” you whispered as you grabbed her shoulders and kept your eyes above them since she wore absolutely nothing. “There’s a naked man behind me.”

Her eyes darted over to the man who had at least wrapped a towel around his hips. “Oh, yeah, isn’t Monaco great?” 

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend again?” the man asked with a charming smile.

“Again?” you asked with a frown.

“We met briefly last night.”

“At the bar,” Bea explained, though it didn’t really help considering there were a lot of bars. “Y/N, this is…Pe…ter?”

You were a terrible friend for feeling relieved that she wasn’t sure of his name either and you exclaimed, “Thank god, I’m not the only one. What the hell happened last night? I half expected to find a tiger in the bathroom.”

“And instead you found a lion,” the stranger winked. “It’s Pierre by the way.”

“Stallion more like it.” Bea dragged her eyes over his body before holding her hands up in front of your face, her palms about 9 inches apart and nodding. “Seriously.”

Your jaw dropped and your eyes drifted down her body before you could stop them. “Where did you put that thing?” 

“Where didn’t I,” she fired back with a husky laugh before dragging you from the bathroom and jumping back into the only bed in the suite. “Tell me everything.”

“I only remember little bits, well, and one not so little, definitely not that big though,” you pointed out as you nodded your head to the man collecting his clothes from around the room. “Please fill in the blanks.”

“Oh that’s easy,” Bea laughed as she snuggled back into the blankets, tugging them all the way up to her chin. “We met Pierre and his friends at Casablanca.”

“Casablanca?” you couldn’t remember the name.

“Yeah, they had an open mic night.” You screwed your eyes shut knowing what was surely to come as Bea continued. “I signed us up and we fucking killed it, babe.”

You fell back into the pillow that held a masculine scent it hadn’t the night before and groaned at the new information. 

“You were really good,” Pierre complimented as he pulled his shirt on and pulled his phone from the pocket of his dress pants, turning to Bea. “Can I get your number?”

“Why?” she asked with a laugh. “We’re only here for a few more days, you don’t have to try to let me down gently. I won’t cry into my pillow because you didn’t call.”

He seemed a little shocked at the rejection and you thought maybe he actually had wanted to keep in touch but he recovered with a smile and pulled his shoes on. “In that case, I’ll let you ladies enjoy your afternoon. Bea, it was a pleasure.”

“That it was,” she said with a whimsical smile that told you it was an understatement. Her eyes trailed after him and she didn’t snap out of it until the front door clicked shut. “I think I love it here.”

“You just love hot guys,” you corrected.

“And this city is drowning in them, and they are probably all stinking rich too.” 

Bea reached for her phone on the nightstand and you remembered that yours was dead so you plugged it to charge in before scooting closer to her. You figured you could watch a few mindless Tik Tok clips with her  before dealing with the day ahead.

A few clips turned to dozens and you were in fits of laughter at a compilation of fails when Bea swiped up and you heard a familiar voice. Bea screamed and shoved the phone on your face, her finger pointing to the likes. “Holy shit!”

You grabbed her phone as the short video started again and saw the camera was mostly focused on the man who was playing the piano beside you. “It’s him,” you gasped as you showed Bea. “That’s who I went home with last night.”

“Woah, nice! He’s a stunner. I always told you, piano players and gamers are the best in bed. Something about those fingers…”

“Shhh, you horn dog. I need a minute of quiet.” You rubbed your temples as you were flooded with freshly recovered memories.

—

You side eyed Bea when you heard your name called out and the MC shielded his eyes from the stage lights as he searched the crowd.

“She’s right here!” Bea shouted and pushed you forward, the heels unsteady under your feet after all the shots you had taken. 

“I hate you.”

“You love me, now let’s go.”

Bea took her place at the upright piano while you grabbed an acoustic guitar that had seen better days from the stand and adjusted the height of the microphone stand. You were acutely aware of the crowd as you checked it was in tune and turned to Bea to see if she had a song chosen. 

She leaned towards the mic set up on a boom above the keys and gave you a wink that instantly made you suspicious. “I wouldn’t be your best friend if we didn’t dedicate this song to that piece of shit ex.” 

You grinned at the idea of slating him and heard a few cheers from the crowd that told you you weren’t alone in having a shitty ex or maybe they were fans of Olivia Rodrigo. “I guess that means we’re playing Traitor.”

Your fingers strummed the opening notes and the self consciousness faded away as you fell into the meaning of the song, letting all the hurt and anger fill your words. 

The bar emptied as the crowd shifted away from alcohol and filled the dance floor, their bodies swaying to the rhythm. Suddenly their voices joined yours as the chorus came to an end. “Guess you didn’t cheat, but you’re still a traitor.”

Your eyes lingered on a group of guys that seemed centered around one who stared back at you, his eyes swimming with emotions you knew intimately. His eyes held yours as he raised his bottle in the air, saluting with the camaraderie that came with the shared pain and you couldn’t help smiling back through the heartache.

The song had ended but when you made your way off the stage the MC had blocked it and asked the crowd if they wanted to hear another. The screams had reverberated the stage floor and Bea had already said yes, going so far as to ask the crowd for a song request. 

“The angstier the better,” she said. Quite a few shouts for Adele came up and she pointed at a young woman. “I love Someone Like You, but unfortunately I don’t know how to play it.”

“Arthur does!” One of the guys in the group said as he pushed his friend forward. 

“No I don’t, Charles plays all the sad songs,” Arthur said as he elbowed the man next to him, the man who you hadn’t been able to look away from since he raised his drink to you. 

—

“Charles,” you murmured as you remembered moaning the name, your fingers laced in his hair when he went down on you. 

“What was that?”

“His name is Charles,” you repeated as you pointed to the handsome man playing the piano, his eyes remaining focused on you the entire time. 

“Oh yeah, it’s all through the comments. He’s some racer or something, I dunno, never heard of him.” She shrugged and swiped off to the next video. “So are we going to lounge around here all day or hit the bars?”

Your stomach protested the thought of more alcohol and you shook your head. “Is there a third option?”

“How about the beach?”

“I can manage that, I’m just going to shower while my phone charges.”

“Good, you reek of hot sex and I’m lowkey upset you haven’t given me any juicy details.”

“The audacity,” you gasped as you thumped her with your pillow. “This whole apartment reeks of sex and my pillow smells like a french Chad. See, sniff it.”

“I’ll take that,” she said with a smirk before burying her face on the pillow and inhaling dramatically. “You have lived vicariously through my sexual adventures, sexventures if  you will, now it is my turn. So, spill the tea.”

You groaned as you covered your face but she wasn’t going to let you off that easily and she pulled them away. “He was amazing, and I’m not saying that because I was drunk because I remember everything after we got to his apartment.”

“I already gathered that much, I need details.”

“Okay, well, he ate pussy like a champ, honestly, I didn’t even have to ask - he just wanted to, and I actually came.”

Bea snorted and buried her face in the pillow to scream before looking up. “Babe, that’s what real men do, he who must not be named was just a lazy asshole who never took care of you like he should’ve.”

“Jesus, I didn’t realise this was what I was missing out on all those years.” You shook your head ruefully and sighed. 

“Forget him, you’re moving onto better things, fitter guys, and plenty more orgasms where that came from.” She leaned forward and pushed you almost off the bed. “Go on, my little whore, go shower so we can get out of here. You’ve made us girls proud.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” you said with a shake of your head as you made your way to the bathroom. 

“Normal is overrated!”

Click here for part two.

Tagging: @alwaysclassyeagle

[badingsm]

If its possible could you do a Natasha Romanoff x Avenger Wife Reader where reader is pregnant and when the snap happens Natasha is among those who gets dusted/snapped and reader gives birth not a long after and when the team reverses the snap and Natasha returns reader introduces Natasha to their child

Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide, cursing, depression, suggestive contents, angsty but still fluffy ending.

It's kind of unjustified, I know, but I'm in a rush because our midterms are coming soon :((

"Clint, where's Nat?"

Your heart thumped unsteadily, feeling some ache somewhere in your heart that you couldn't figure out just yet why it was there. But it's surely there.

You got your answer when the man sobbed as he fell onto his knees. "I'm sorry, Y/n.. I'm sorry."

"No, no, no." You shook your head from side to side, tears burning into the corners of your eyes while you refused to believe him with what you think he's implying. "Tell me where my wife is!"

"I'm so sorry," Clint said, wiping away his tears.

"No, Barton! Fuck you, this isn't funny anymore!" You glared at him. "Goddammit, what the fuck happened?"

"It's a soul for a soul," Clint whispered lowly. Flashbacks of the scene moments ago had torturously replayed into his mind, making him feel more miserable than he could even bear. "And she told me to tell you that she loves you and your baby so much—that she's doing this for the both of you, for everyone."

"Fuck everyone!" You screamed madly, tears now flowing endlessly from your bloodshot eyes. "This can't happen—she won't leave us just like that! Fucking hell!"

"I'm sorry, Y/n." Wanda teared up with you, rubbing your back while you looked towards Yelena, who had her knees bent on the ground, her face buried in her palms, while Kate drew circles in her back. "We're going to make this worth it. For Nat. We're here for you."

"No, no, no, don't say that," You scoffed. "We're going to bring back my wife by killing that purple grape motherfucker!"

-

It was a deadly fight. Everyone had some injuries, some severe, and some carrying on. Most were bloodied due to the war that had happened. It was exhausting, filled with rage and pain from all the suffering that all of you had to endure when your loved ones had been dusted and gone.

Everybody mourned the great Tony Stark's sacrifice. It was a gloomy moment, more so because you're about to give birth and you realized that your baby wouldn't have her mama by her side.

It was a painful journey; all the thorns repeatedly stabbed your heart endlessly every minute of every day, crying on the corner while you thought of the moments where you could have been with Natasha throughout your journey.

Before you even knew it, an oxygen mask was placed on your nose as you pushed with everything that you could until you heard the cries of your daughter. It made you cry because Natasha should've been here. She should be the one holding your hand as you painfully pushed instead of this stupid railing of your bed.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Romanoff." Your OB smiled at you, handing your cleaned-up child for a first-time skin-to-skin contact with your daughter.

And you sobbed when you caught sight of your daughter, immediately quieting when she found comfort in the warmth of your chest.

She was the spitting image of Natasha—small strands of red hair were growing in her head, while you also caught a glimpse of her forest green orbs. Her nose and her lips—all are Natasha.

Jesus.

You really miss her.

"Hi, my love." You kissed your daughter's temple, sniffling quietly. "I'll be here for you always, and Mama's going to be in your heart always."

-

"Shayne, I told you, don't bother me again!" You sighed over the phone, feeling the ache of not sleeping for 36 hours already due to your daughter crying endlessly. "I'm not interested!"

"You need someone to be with you," Shayne insisted. You met her in a bakery shop that she owned after one of your visits to Natasha's grave. You became good friends until she confessed her love for you, and it got out of hand. "You're smart enough to know that your daughter needs somebody else other than you."

"First of all, fuck you." You spat lowly over the phone, afraid to wake up your daughter again and make her grumpy for the next few days. "Second, how dare you! Third, shut your useless mouth before I do. Lastly, if you ever bother me again, I'll make sure your mouth will be put in its appropriate place. Bye."

You ended the call with nothing but fury in your heart. It actually felt nice to have a friend outside the compound, but then, as it turns out, it will be three times worse than you had imagined, making you wish that you never entered it in the first place.

You look over to the crib, where a two-month-old baby girl is sleeping peacefully, as if she hadn't just turned your whole world upside down. It's not that you're complaining; you love your daughter with everything that you have, but without Natasha's guidance, you don't know what to do. It came to the point where you suffered from severe depression. You tried drinking some paracetamol all at once but stopped when you heard the needy cries of your baby.

God, everything feels exhausting.

Then, before you even knew it, you were silently crying over the corner, holding your palm against your mouth so you wouldn't make a noise that might startle the sleeping child. It all felt heavy while you had nothing but a child to hold onto.

Knock knock!

You groaned, walking towards the door, knowing probably that Shayne decided to barge into your house yet again, which is already annoying, when suddenly, as you opened the door, you were faced to face with the person whom you missed so dearly.

You blink owlishly, pinching yourself quietly from behind as you look at her with squinted eyes, and finally, when you see her smile shyly at you with a small wave, you realize that she's real.

Finally, Natasha's back.

Natasha Romanoff is home.

You scoffed, lunging at her with a bear hug while she enveloped you with the same warmth that you longed for.

"I missed you, baby!" Natasha mumbled in between your teary kisses, about to press her soft lips again against yours when you pinched her side and repeatedly slapped her shoulder. "Babe! What?!"

"You bastard!" You cried, tears wrecking away through your eyes. "You left me alone! You left us—your daughter! Damn it! Do you always have to be the hero, huh? Why do you always have to sacrifice something? Can't you be selfish for once?"

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Natasha muttered like a mantra as she hugged you tightly until you got tired of your tortures on her body. "I'm so sorry, detka. I love you, and it won't happen again."

"Yeah, no, I'm still mad and furious-" You were cut off by the loud cries of the little child that you and Natasha had made together on one of your date nights as you both got lost in translation and fell in love with how your bodies seemed to understand each other passionately wordlessly. "Fuck."

"Is that...?" Natasha didn't have to finish her sentence when you both entered the messy house. The redhead didn't care about the slight lack of tidyness, as her eyes were trained immediately to the small frame on your arms. "Y/n.."

"Hi Mama!" You smiled, your heart leaping in joy when you finally realized that your daughter's able to finally meet her Mama and be with her Mama. Finally. "We missed you."

"Not as much as I do, love," Natasha kissed both of your foreheads, shakily reaching out to cradle your guy's baby when you insisted that she should hold her. "God, she's so beautiful."

"She looks like you." You grinned, hugging Natasha by the waist as the wailing child immediately fell silent at the warmth of her mother and the lulling of her low hum. Your hand went further until you reached the area below her glorious ass, pinching it as hard as you could, making the widow yelp due to the force of your own powers, "Baby, what was that for?!"

"Revenge." You smiled tightly. "Tell me how you're able to come back here soon, okay? Right now, I just want us to cherish this moment as a whole family, please?"

"Of course, my love," Natasha grinned, pursing her lips as she leaned in to kiss you. "I love you, baby."

You sighed, shaking your head. "Not enough."

"What?" Natasha was confused. "What do you mean?"

"You have to promise that you won't leave us again." You stared at her, the burning of the corners of your eyes indicating your tears even though you fought them back as much as you could. "Please, Nat, I can't bear to lose you again—we can't."

Natasha's heart ached at the pleading look that you gave her. It hurts her that she's the reason for your pain and misery, even though that wasn't entirely true to you. She smiled, finally making up her mind to do some lighter and more office work on the compound rather than have deadly missions from now on. Unless she needed to, after all, it's still her mission to help the people.

"I promise."

-

Bonus:

The night was finally peaceful this time. There weren't any nightmares that will haunt you at night, and there won't be any dreams that will make you wreck into sobs in the daylight because, at last, Natasha's here. With you.

"Good morning, baby." Natasha's husky voice greeted you in the morning. You could feel her slightly tightening her grip around your waist as both of your bodies from last night fell into each other like a perfect puzzle. "God, I missed you so much."

"That's what you get for being so selfless always." You sighed.

It's not that you're selfish; of course, you want to save those in need because that's the reason why you both are heroes, but sometimes you wish the guilt from Natasha's past would vanish away because she doesn't deserve it. It was none of her fault because she was controlled and powerless to fight that. It still haunts her every day, and you're empathetic for that.

"Tell me," You whispered lowly while she drew small circles around your skin, making you feel the warmth of her hands. "How is this possible? Are you Natasha from another universe?"

"No, baby, no.." She chuckled lowly, kissing your temple while she breathed out, a small smile creeping into the corners of her lips as she felt thankful for another chance to be with you and your daughter. "The team. They reversed the snap with the help of Tony's theories and equipment after they gave back the stones. It's a long procedure, but here I am now. What's important is that I'm finally here."

"But Tony.." You felt the tears sting your eyes.

"He's back too, baby." Natasha winked, and you scoffed in happiness, kissing her passionately as the day went by. It's still early, and you felt something poke against your ass, causing Natasha to groan lowly. "Now, now, let's make many baby Romanoffs for this house because the author is a hornbag and a whore for me, yeah?"

"Fuck yes!"

And maybe baby number two, indeed.

[fanaticsnail]

Sapsorrow Chapter 7

Masterlist Here, Sapsorrow Masterlist Here

Word Count: 8,800+

The Storyteller - Sapsorrow"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it"Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

(Image Source)

Tag List: @maybe-a-bi-witch @fuzzyfestcat @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @buggyenjoyer @thesailus @under-kitty @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @quirkyrascal @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 @mfreedomstuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrs-wolfwood

Notes: Thank you to @i-am-vita for her banner! Thank you for your patience, I had this chapter beta-read twice. Thank you to @since-im-already-here and @vespidphoenix for their kindness in volunteering to do that for me! Such love and appreciation for you both.

Song Suggestions: Casper's Lullaby,

Their Wedding Serendade: Turning Page - Sleeping At Last

“I will not marry him.” 

Her voice held such sorrow, but her cries fell on deaf ears as her governess began to tug her hair into place with the rough scrape of a bone comb. Thrown onto her hands, pale gloves thrust up to her elbows by the hands of her ladies maids; her shoulder straps readjusted to float down her forearms like beams of radiant moonlight. 

“He has heard your demands, and seen them done. You are his princess...”—her governess’ voice paused while she shook her head to rid her eyes of her own tears—“...and now you are his bride. You bound yourself to him the moment you placed that damned band over your unity finger.” The small quiver in her tone had the princess’ eyes spilling over with a fresh stream of hot tears. 

Immediately springing to her feet and snatching her hair out of the firm grip of her ladies maid, she flung herself against the corner of the room. Her face was littered with tears, her eyes swollen and lip bruised from the force of her teeth clamping on them. 

“My princess,” the governess spoke, her hands quivering as they reached out in an anxiety induced panic, “You have been training your whole life to marry royalty. This was a title you were born to bear. You are to be queen of your lands, ruler of your home country. With your union to the king-.”

“-I will not marry him!” She beat her gloved hands against the wall, her enclosed fists almost shattering her bones atop the cobblestone walls. Sobs rocked her shoulders, her wails echoing throughout the hallway and flooded the ceremony space with her grief. Attendees held a similar somber expression, along with royal subjects celebrating with glee at the prospect of a new queen. 

“My lady,” the governess’ voice shook as she stepped closer to the shaking princess and placed her hand over her shaking shoulder, “My lady, please.” 

The bloodshot eyes of the royal princess snapped up to her with a cold and frightening stare. 

“What would you have me do, my governess? Wed this man who is more than twice my age? Dine with this man, consummate a union with this man? A man who already rules over these lands as king? A man who i-is-...” 

Her eyes fluttered closed as a fresh surge of tears fell from her darkened orbs. 

“A man who is my father?” 

The princess rounded on her ladies in waiting, her eyes now incandescent with helpless rage. “What would you do?” she continued. “What would any of you do, were you in my place? The law of the land binds me to this ring. I have become plagued by an unnatural and grotesque curse-.”  Her voice halted in her throat, plagued by her own revelation. 

That is exactly what this was. This was a curse. 

A curse on her soul to bind her in matrimony to her own flesh and blood. Where other children dreamed of fairytale romance, being spirited away into the arms of a lover, she was bound by fate to this ring. 

The princess’s gaze landed on a pot of water hanging in the fireplace. As she walked in that direction, her eyes never leaving it, the water went from simmering to bubbling to boiling over. Hardening her resolve, she grasped the iron handle and removed it from its place above the fire. 

“My lady! What are you-,” the calls of her ladies in waiting were silenced by a single look from  the governess. 

The princess’ sobs began to crack and cackle into maniacal and sinister laughter. 

“I will curse you. I will curse all of you,” she booms, casting the glove from her left hand to reveal a violet ring encrusted with an array of several stones bound within a thick band. Nine stones of unique colors danced within the light, their forms melded into a large central stone in the middle. The green hue of moss overshadowed the radiance of the smaller stones, the thick band dwarfing her unity finger. 

“If you are thinking of casting it into the fire, my lady,” the governess stepped closer, her hands held with palms facing outwards in defense, “The damage is already done. You are bound to marry him, there is nothing you can do.” 

The princess flung the band from her finger and threw the object into the iron pot. 

“In that hopelessness, I shall thee bind,” she intones in a hundred voices, at once of the deepest bass and highest soprano. The attendees within her chambers stepped back, some thrust onto their knees under the powerful boom of her voice. 

“Whosoever shall find, claim or attune to these crafts, their souls shall be cursed under the plague of unity,” she continued, her hair shifting in colors and tones to several shades closer to death, “May their suffering feed my heart with gladness and life, as my suffering brings gladness onto thee.” 

“-My lady,” the governess spoke, her eyes widening in fear as she witnessed the princess wither beneath her curses, “My lady, please-.”

“-And as my yearning for a love true and just shall never be quenched,” the princess’ voice hitched, her own tone dominant within the vocal strands of external forces, “I will allow the wearer to place a plague of conditions on their heart the moment the craft is thrust upon them.” 

Her hair whipped in the unnatural wind, the ring now smelting down into a lava of molten gold. The gems began dancing within the pale light as smoke poured from them in hues darker than night.

“Should their conditions never be completed,” the princess continued, her heart swelling with vicious rage, “I will claim their souls and bind them to my own in eternal suffering a year from the day it begins.” She ripped a fistful of her vibrant hair, placing it within the concoction alongside her tears. 

The ladies in waiting, the maids, and the governess clutched their hearts and covered their screams with their hands as the clouds of smoke spread through the chambers. 

“My lady!” The governess shrieked, “Princess, please! You do not know what it is you are making. This unnatural phylactery has no place in the lands of the living. My princess-.”

“Your Queen,” her voice boomed, her pupil-less gaze snapping over to her governess. Her face contorted into an unnatural and cool gray tone, her vibrant hair lifeless in hue while whipping around her face within waves of spectral ocean. 

“My queen,” the governess repeated, bowing her head to the royal witch. Her hue returned to her, the gold simmering down as she poured the liquid onto the coals below the surface. An unnatural steam rose within the flames, the vapors smelling of metallic blood mixed with the sweetness of honey. 

“I-I just-...” the princess wailed in defeat, her shoulders slouched, “-I just wanted to find love, governess. I wanted so desperately to find peace with a spouse of my own choosing. I wanted a partner to court me; to woo me, to cherish me. I never wanted-.”

“Sapsorrow, your king awaits you,” A voice called from behind the door, interrupting the unnatural scene within. As the ladies glanced nervously between the princess and  the door, the final words of the princess’ confession bound all but one stone within nine rings, leaving the central moss agate laying dormant, as if awaiting a final command. 

“I just wanted a love that was truly mine.”

- 

The echo of those final words plagued your mind, dancing as the concept of time began to mould from the past and spring you into your future. The repetition of ‘truly mine’ rotated and stirred within your slumber, breaking the peace you had once found for yourself beneath your bedsheets. You catapulted from your huddled pile of blankets into an upright position; your damp hair clung to your brow and sweat stuck your nightdress to your body. Your plagued slumber left you with more questions than answers. 

Had the spectre wanted you to see that image? Did she have control over your mind, did your attunement to the moss agate ring bind to you? Drawing your right hand up to your face, you rotated your thumb and index finger over your temples to rid yourself of the nightmare that seemed to persist each time you lay down to slumber. 

A light rap at your door had you jolting from your thoughts, snapping your head towards the wall and hastily making your way over to the interruption. 

“Governess!” A hushed feminine whisper called to you, “Governess, can I come in?” Perona continued her polite rapping, the drum of her knuckles gathering up rapidity against the wood in an anxious thump. You sighed, shaking your head and allowing a small smile to dance over your features. 

Collecting the iron handle beneath your hands, you open the door and immediately become overwhelmed by the embrace of your pink-haired pupil. She squealed into your ear, bouncing happily on the balls of her feet as she attempted to twirl you. 

“You are getting married to Mihawk today!” Her voice squeaked with high-pitched enthusiasm, “Have you tried on your dresses? Have you written your vows? Did you read his letter yet? Have you thought about your perfume? How are you doing your hair? Are you doing it in three different styles for the three different outfits?” 

The sheer rapidity of her questions had you unable to find an anchor to hold them. You fluttered your eyelashes shut, shaking your head hastily and attempting to wrap your mind around her flurry of words.

“Of course you haven’t read his letter yet, I still have it! I am scatterbrained today, my lady. I can barely contain all of the excitement!” She continued, breaking away her contact from you and thrusting a wax-sealed envelope into your hands. 

“Perona-?” You began, your voice halting as she danced past you into your chambers and staring at the two mannequins in the corner of your bedroom beside your changing shield. Her voice caught in her throat, all air relinquished from ballooning her lungs. You turned to face her, holding the envelope close to your chest as a warmer smile drew itself to your features. 

“O-Oh-... Oh m-my-...” Perona’s words found no harbour against her lips, all thoughts became silenced within her mind as she hovered over to the dresses. You allowed a warm giggle to rise within your throat at her fawning over the objects. 

“Do you like them?” You asked her, cocking your head over to the right hand side to find a better angle to read her face. 

“They are beautiful, my lady,” she whispered, reaching her hand towards the sleeve of Sir Crocodile’s creation and halting before her digits found purchase, “Can I touch them-?”

“-Don’t you dare, Perona,” A gruff, masculine voice called from the corner of the room. You snapped your face over to the doorway, noticing Zoro donned in lengthy tan sleeping trousers and a dark yukata hanging limply at the front. 

“Zoro!” You gasped, drawing your chemise closer to contain your form from his eyes, “It is one thing having Perona in my personal suite, but another to have a young gentleman while I’m clad in my nightdress.” Zoro shook his head, his wolfy grin taunting you beneath his down tilted head. 

“Would you change your tune if I said I have wine?” Zoro’s brow quirked up, revealing a green bottle from behind his back with a small, nonchalant shrug. You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head and removing your arms from concealing your chemise from vision. 

“Have you got a saber tucked somewhere on your person, Zoro?” You quirked your own brow up in question. Zoro laughed, turning away from his lean to reveal three swords clinging limply against his hip. 

“You can take your pick, my lady,” he shrugged, his hand lying on the hilt of his favoured blade. You opened your arms to him, gesturing for him to enter your suite with an elaborate flurry of motions. 

“Then by all means, my green-haired pupil,” you mixed your tone somewhere balanced between absolute sarcasm and unwithheld appreciation, “Welcome to my humble abode. Shall we begin by getting ourselves ready for the ceremony, or having a drink before breakfast?” 

Zoro answered wordlessly with a small smirk. Withdrawing the white blade from within its scabbard to claim the cork from the top of the wine bottle, and unlatching the wax by severing the rim with his sword. He reached towards your small dining table, upturning three of the four teacups from their place atop their saucers and pouring the amber liquid to the brim. 

“You gonna open your letter?” he asked, nodding to the envelope clutched within your hands and reminding you of its presence, “We’ll do a small cheers and give you a bit of privacy to read it.”

“I hope you are both planning on giving Mihawk a similar wake-up call,” you laughed, reaching forward and claiming a teacup from Zoro’s outstretched grasp. Zoro chuckled, shaking his head as he raised his own teacup to clash the rim with your own.

“Oh, he’s been up for hours,” Zoro confessed, Perona giggling as he handed her her own teacup, “He’s been brooding in the ceremony space: hovering over the decor and pacing, last time I checked.” Perona struck the corner of her teacup against Zoro’s before meeting the edge with your own. Your brows furrowed, glancing from the corner of your eye outside your bedroom window to seek out the elevation of the sun. 

“How many hours remain between now and the ceremony?” you asked Perona with a partial anxious quiver depicted within. Perona stepped forward, brushing her shoulder against yours in a small gesture of comfort. 

“You’ve got two hours, my lady,” she whispered, prompting your heart to nearly stop beating and your breath to halt in your lungs, “That’s why I thought to wake you-.”

“-And why I thought to bring you booze,” Zoro added, throwing back his teacup and downing the contents in one heaping gulp, “Just to take the edge off.” Your hands stuttered, taking a small sip of the wine within your cup before setting it back down. 

“I thank you both for your thoughtfulness, my dears,” you gave them a small downturned smile, your brows triangulating in the center of your forehead, “I have thoroughly enjoyed my time getting to know you as my pupils-.” 

“You’re going to be our lady now, my lady,” Perona added to your thoughts, “No longer just our governess, but something akin to an adoptive mother beside Mihawk as our apprehensive father.” Your breath caught in your throat, hitching at the thought of becoming unified not only to a spouse today, but upholding a promise to chaperone the two wards at a place of higher standing.

“Don’t think too hard about it, my lady,” Zoro reassured, his brow furrowing down. Placing his mug down on the table, he reached his hands up to clasp your shoulders beneath his heavy-handed grip, “You’ve already got so much goin’ on in your head, just know-,'' his breath caught in his throat as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. He was bewitched by the charm of your melancholy and apprehensive expression, your doubts begin to spiral behind your eyes. 

‘You are not good enough for this role. This is not your place. This is not a role you were born to play. This was a role that always belonged to someone of higher standing; someone of higher class-.’

“-Know we would be proud to have you as our lady, not just a governess hired to serve a role,” Zoro continued, collecting your chin beneath his fingertips to hold your gaze with his own. Perona stepped her body closer to you, weaving her arms around your waist and hastily drawing her cheek to press against your back. 

“I can hear her too, my lady,” Perona whispered into your back, prompting you to break your eyes away from Zoros to glance over your shoulder. Perona’s large, dark eyes looked up at you with sorrow and understanding held within her orbs, promises of empathy propelling her utterances, “And any words she brings onto you harbouring doubt, I will smother you in nothing but kindness and love to reassure you.”

Heart swelling at her utterances, your eyes began to pool over with gladness. The mist of your eyes clouded your vision as Perona continued to sing her praises into you. 

“I love you, my lady,” Perona hushed, her eyes beginning to dance with her own emotion. Her lip quivered, looking up into your eyes with true adoration and love at you, “We both do, don’t we Zoro?” At the sound of his name, Zoro’s breath caught itself within his mouth for the second time. 

You trailed your eyes back over to his, breaking away from your contact with Perona, and meeting his hazelnut orbs with your own once more. No whisper of a word, nor utterance fled his lips; all emotion depicted in the slight shudder of his eye and quirk up of his lips. Sighing out, you drew your arms around Zoro’s waist, turning your head to feel his heartbeat below his warm chest. Perona continued to nuzzle against your back as Zoro’s hands on your shoulders snaked over your back and pulled you both closer to him. 

“I am so glad to have met you both, dears,” you whispered, scrunching your eyes shut and deeply inhaling your insecurities, exhaling your worries into the air as they held you firmly. 

“Zoro, you need a bath. You stink, and I can smell you from here,” Perona called over your shoulder, “I pity your proximity, my lady. He’s probably spilling that musky smell onto you, meaning we’ll have to bath you too- My lady! We’re running out of time!” Perona immediately broke away from the embrace, tugging at your hips to break from Zoro’s grip and leading you to the changing shield.

“You: bath,” Perona ordered, pointing her finger at Zoro, “And you,” she snapped her eyes over to you, “Moon-dress first, right?” You sighed, nodding your dismissal of Zoro with a light smile. Zoro grunted a cough, adjusting his waistband around his yukata, and nodded in return before exiting your chambers. He halted at the table, collecting the half-drunk wine bottle by the neck, before heading through the door and latching it again with a small click.

“My lady, the moon first?” Perona asked once more, taking your attention from the door to gaze into her eyes. You nodded in confirmation, prompting her to shove you behind your changing screen to rid your body of its night chemise. You folded the chemise over the door of the screen, as the variety of items presented themselves to you in order from lesser to grander. 

“Perona, sweetheart,” you called to her, your voice holding an anxious laugh, “There is far too much material here for me to continue thrusting this onto my body.” Perona laughed in response, walking over to the screen and peeking over the top of the wooden frame. She inhaled deeply, a small squeak propelling her inhale. Her brows rose in excitement, her eyes upturning in glee at the first part of the assembly of the moon dress. 

The bodice of the dress clung to your breasts, an ovular shape wisping in layers of tulle and smoothed satin to draw over the midpoint of your shoulders. Trailing down from its seamless layers, your back was joined with an elaborate assortment of ridges and latches. Upon investigating it initially, you were unsure of why such items were joined in bands of silver, onyx and gold to its back until it hit you.

This was truly the moon. 

The silvery hue of the beams, the mystery of fluttered blues and pale whites cascading from end to end; all bound by circular divots of darkened onyx and quartz to resemble faces and craters atop the lunar surface. The many layers of skirts laid a train ending in the same ovular shape as the neckline atop your chest. 

“O-Oh, my g-goodness,” Perona’s voice managed to stutter out, her soul mirrored within her expression of youthful adoration and excitement, “You look so beautiful, my lady. As luminescent and radiant as the moon in peak of nightful.” You sighed with your smile, brows upturning and weight falling away from your shoulders. 

You gave Perona a small twirl, the material pooling and drifting as effortlessly as warm mercury over cool stone. She gave you a small applause and a small jittery cry of joy before ushering you over to sit at your vanity. Glancing up at your features, the illumination of the dress mixed perfectly with the tone of your skin and hair.The task had been executed flawlessly. 

“Now then, my lady,” she said, shaking her head and clapping her hands, “I am going to leave you to get yourself primed, painted and dressed with the jewellery-,” Her eyes widened, “-Jewellery, my lady! I have to get the jewellery!” She hastily turned back around and fled to the door, flinging it wide and immediately cowering away from a large, balled fist descending to where wood once was. 

You recognised the scent first, the smell of cigar tobacco and ashen smoke wafting into your chambers mixing with the expensive and earthy cologne of the hulking and boorish-.

“-Sir Crocodile,” you uttered as you began to rise from your vanity. Turning to face him, the intimidating aura of the hulking man hung behind the threshold of your door. 

“My lady,” he nodded his head in response, his head ducking below the frame to meet the purple hue of his eyes with your own, “May I enter your space?” Perona sucked in a breath, darting her eyes between the man at the door and you in your bridal dress in a small panic. Without turning his head, Sir Crocodile’s eyes met with Perona’s through the corner of his narrowed gaze.

“I harbour no ill intent with your mistress, little mouse,” Perona pouted at his words, prompting the twitch of his smirk to pull at the corner of his lips. He cleared his voice, removing the cigar from his lips and extinguishing the flame atop the stone wall beside the door frame; an action prompting your lips to curl in a small snarl. 

“As I were the means to provide you with such a dress,” his sinister smirk drew up to his cheeks, the huff of cigar smoke pooling from his lips, “I desired to be the first to see you in your radiancy. How are you enjoying your daw' alqamar-,” he shook his head in reprimand for his verbal linguistic slip, “-Your moonlight, my lady?” 

Several thoughts lingered in your mind: a reprimand for using your wall to douse the burnt end of his cigar, asking him to leave your space to continue dressing yourself for your wedding, thanking him for the skill that designed and crafted the garment over your body. Elevating to your feet and walking over to the door frame with precision and grace, you halted your movement and dipped into a low stooped curtsey.

“Sir Crocodile,” you spoke in a low and stern tone, “I would offer my praises and my gratitude to you presently,” your tone twitched in subtle agitation as you rose to your feet, “But I am a bride, and my groom is awaiting me.” Crocodile hummed through his nose, his smirk continuing to hold against his lips as he stared down at you. He took a moment to stare at your bodice, his brow twitching as he cocked his head.

After taking a moment's pause, his eyes softened to a point almost unavailable to an untrained eye. 

“You look beautiful, my lady,” he offered in a hushed whisper, “That dress was made for you by my means,” he stooped lower, remaining outside the threshold but hovering closer to you in proximity, “And you wear it as it you were born to don such a garment.”

At those final words, both Perona and Sir Crocodile left you in your solace to prepare yourself for your wedding ceremony. As you applied the final stroke of paint to dance atop your lips, from the corner of your eye; you spotted the parchment paper sealed with a wax stamp not dissimilar to the letter of summons from Mihawk those months ago. 

Placing down your lip-paint brush, you reached for the letter and unfolded the crease and snapping the small seal holding it closed. Immediately, your eyes widened at its contents:

“My Beloved Wife,

In light of harbouring no such secrets between us; I have written the vows I desired to forge with you, and present them to you before we meet for the first time as husband and wife.” 

You halted your reading, the swell of emotion elevating your heart to a risen drumbeat of both adoration and anticipation. Quickly reading through the customs he wished to claim over the ceremony, your smile broke your sorrow as you truly witnessed how much thought he placed into each declaration and decree. So many elements, so many customs you were learning held meaning for your husband to be; you found yourself awestruck.

“I have no such means for communication with you before we meet to truly know if you agree with the terms. 

But know this, 

I appreciated you for your skill as a governess to our wards, I found myself smiling at your playfulness as my Lost-Lady, and I am looking forward to the future that we will find ourselves forging; unified as one. 

My darling, I do

I will.

And I will always love you. 

Dracule Mihawk ~ Your Devoted Husband.”

A small drop soaked the page, swelling the signature lovingly scrolled ink into the bottom of the page, smudging its words. Shocked, you rose your hand to your cheek to find a damp trail of tears falling against your cheeks; completely unaware of when you had begun to cry. A small laugh flung from your lips, prompting you to sniff and shake your head before setting to the task of reapplying your paints and perfumes to the highest quality. 

The final step was placing the cascading veil atop your hair and covering your eyes, sheer in material appearing to illuminate pale blue under the lights. In your hand, you clutched your bouquet of lilies, roses, and baubles of babies’ breath. Nestled into the arrangement peered throughout were small wisps of blue forget-me-nots, a small nod to your prior filterless encounter with your Farm-Hand and you as his Lost-Lady. 

The halls were littered with similar flowers, illuminating the area with bulbs of roses, flurries of jasmines and hiding within the scattered arrangements: the same innocent and small forget-me-nots in clusters joined with twine. Although walking alone, you felt the presence of all guests loitering within the ceremonial space of Castle Kuraigana to propel you. 

Murmurs of hushed voices, small conversations resonated within the halls and beyond had your heart beating with irregular jumps in anticipation for what awaits you behind the large, closed doors. You sucked in a breath, the trail of your moonlight dress dancing along the lengthy hallway for each movement of your feet. 

‘You are truly going through with this, are you? Joining yourself to a role that you have no place in unifying with-.’

“-Sapsorrow,” your hushed voice rang into the air, the atmosphere cooling at the immediate utterance of her name. Whispers and hushed hums alerted you of her presence standing beside you in her spectral regality. 

“You dare speak my name, Governess?” the voice to your side answered you, your spine and follicles standing in tingles at her tone. You rolled your neck on your shoulders, twitching your hands by your side to rid it of your anxiety as you turned to face the spirit haunting you.

Her hollowed eyes framing her pupil-less gaze found your face, her sinister smile resting comfortably against her lips. Hair swiping in a wind not present as she moved, her dress pooling at her feet like a flag within water. She was a horror to behold, but there was a deep melancholy reflected in her eyes. 

“Queen Sapsorrow,” you stooped low, bowing yourself almost to the floor with your humility, “I express my gratitude to you.” You heard her spectral voice hitch in her unnatural throat, her animosity fleeing from her in the wake of curiosity. Before she opened her mouth to speak her taunts to you, you spoke once more as you rose to your feet. 

“I have no parents; no father, nor mother,” you confessed to her, your eyes depicting your honesty through each word spoken, “No family to call my own, until this very moment.” You stepped closer to her, reaching out your hand to bare your right palm to her. 

“I was alone in this world, drifting from place to place and finding purpose as a governess - an excellent governess,” you corrected yourself with a smile. Her uneasy and cautious expression unwavering for each parting moment you held her hostage with your words. 

“You are the reason I am here, and I will forever be grateful to the future you had bound to me,” She clicked her tongue at you, scrunching her nose to reveal her snarl at you. You hardened your resolve and continued, “Two wards: a man akin to a roguish son, alongside a beautiful and delightful daughter. In this unity: I have found a love that is truly mine,” you concluded, a warmer smile drawing up to reveal your teeth to her in a kind smile. 

Sapsorrow’s eyes widened, her unbeaten heart fluttering and reigniting within her chest at hearing her own words reflected from the lips of another.

“Would you care to join me as I take the walk?” you offered her, stepping closer to her and continuing to hold your hand elevated to the front of you.

“Excuse me?” Her spectral voice called, her tone somewhere between offended and bewildered at such an offering. 

“Would you care to join me as I take the walk, Sapsorrow?” you again offered, gesturing to her spectral hand with your forehead, “From what I know of your history in the tale once told to me, you deserve your own happy ending. Walk with me, and I will be glad to share mine.” 

“You think my curse ends with just you?” Her form faded from vision, her voice reverberating in the hall outside of the ceremony with you, “Oh, I have eight more curses to awaken, you arrogant woman-.” Her voice held source from all corners of the hallway, “-Nine if you account for the clause that stupid tall blonde placed upon the band lying around that inked doctor’s neck!” 

Her sinister cackle broke her sentence, unnerving you more than the words she was speaking,“I shall start with those who aided you in completing your conditions; the easiest of the three to ensnare will be the Crocodile, for I know where his ring lay-.” 

Your breath hitched at her confession, her own words halting as she attempted to stuff them back into her undead lips. A rough spectral sigh drifted within the walls, her face once again revealed to your eyes. She looked softer, almost human now. Her hair was less wild, her face less horrifying, and her eyes soft and baring pupils within them behind her thick and lengthy eyelashes. The was truly beautiful, her sorrow depicted alongside an unfamiliar warmth in her undeath. 

“I will allow your happiness to lie only with you, Lady of Kuraigana. You deserve peace today,” she confessed, a warm smile rising to her lips as she leant forward to take your hand, “Enjoy the time you have with your love.” She stepped forward, pressing her left hand against your offered right, a tingle dancing against your skin at the contact. 

“This is where I leave you,” she confessed, floating backwards slowly towards the high ceilings, “But I will be watching your future closely.”

“Thank you, Sapsorrow,” you offered your gratuity by slinking down to another low bow. Halting her final exit by the upper window, she turned once more and glanced at the corner of her eye at you and smirked through the left hand corner of her lips. 

“The Sun-Dress is my favourite, my lady,” her small laugh propelled one of your own to dance alongside hers, “If I had a heart, I would even show mercy on Red-Hair for such a fine craft. But alas,” her beauty once again faded into the horrifying spectre you had initially seen her as, “I do not.”

Her spectral body disappeared from the window, a swell in orchestral melody commencing as soon as she departed from the space. You were once again drawn to this single moment, your heart beating now in anxiety of what your future held for you. 

You were to become Lady of Kuraigana, bound to one of the former warlords of the seas. The World’s Greatest Swordsman as your beau, the Lord of this land you were now to call home. As you began to step towards the threshold of the door, the wooden barriers were pulled back by members of staff to reveal the attendees within. At the end of the ornately decorated row, your gaze immediately found linked with the honeyed hue of your beloved. 

Flowers lined the pews within the large room, candles alight with warm flames to illuminate the shadowy row. All eyes snapped to you, gasps fleeing from their lips as they took in your incredible beauty dressed in an arrangement as radiant as the moon. You could audibly hear the smirk from the hulking Sir Crocodile, as praises of your dress were flung into the air with their comments and sighs. 

The music swelled, a small smile drawing up to your face as you propelled yourself forward while clutching your bouquet close to your naval. You thanked your veil from shielding your nerves from prying eyes, a small blush dusting your cheeks as you shamelessly raked your eyes over the body of your intended.

His shirt was dipped into a deep ‘V’, tasteful frills decorating the hemline against his collarbone and neck. His overcoat lay open black in colour with the softest shade of mauve within the inner shield. Dark, leather pants were clasped by a golden buckle decorating his waist, the outer frame of his thighs supporting embellished embroidery in the similar mauve decorating his overcoat. Atop his head, his signature hat with his puffed, white feather dancing behind the broad brim and shielding his curled locks beneath it. 

In all your time spent with Dracule Mihawk, you could safely assume you had a grasp on how to read the subtle changes in his stoic face. His lips were barely parted, his eyes only slightly widened and his face only a single shade away from his regular hue with the dusting of the palest pink. Once again, the thought hit you like a puff of cautious wind: you were to wed Lord Dracule Mihawk, become his wife and he your husband. 

If his words to you were left unread and unwritten, you would have no doubt plaguing your mind at this very moment of one thing. Lord Dracule Mihawk was hopelessly, truly and deeply in love with you. 

As you approached the final steps towards him, you slowly turned to view Perona standing to the side of the aisle, noticing Zoro standing beside your intended: both holding similar expressions mirroring your own. You had all been awaiting this moment with the greatest anticipation: from the moment your accidental hands toyed with the moss agate ring, to the knowledge the curse bound you now by fate. 

Mihawk opened his mouth, watching as you slowly placed your bouquet he had affectionately crafted for you within Perona’s outstretched and awaiting hands. The officiant gave you a soft smile, turning to address the large number of attendees scattered amongst the pews in their most formal attire. 

“Valued and adored guests here gathered,” she began, her arms gesturing outwards in a warm embellished wave, “On behalf of the Lord and Lady to be of Kuraigana, I would bid thee welcome to witness the unification of two souls in matrimony.” Mihawk had yet to tear his eyes off you, paying attention to all words spoken by the woman in front of you, but hypnotised by your presence at his side. 

“There are a few elements to witness performed here. We are to leave no stone unturned nor phrase unuttered in their bonds forming,” she continued, turning away and gathering a larger twin candles within her hands and holding them to the side of her body, “Lord Dracule, you may reveal your wife from beneath her shroud, so we may witness her declarations departing from her lips.” 

Mihawk rose his hands to your collar bones, his fingertips pinching the sheer material within his thumb, index and tall finger and hastily withdrawing the shield from your face. He allowed himself the luxury of the backs of his hands brushing with your cheeks as he flung the sheer fabric over your hair, a shaken breath escaping your lips at his tender touch. 

As your eyes met without filter between you, his expression finally revealed more to you than a subtle tick and twitch. The air was sucked from his lungs, his eyes softening as he found his body drawing closer to you almost against his will. You smiled up at him, adoring this new and unrefined experience of adoration dancing over his face. 

“I present you with two candles,” the attendee informed you, placing them out in a gesture for you to take them from her hands, “I shall alight the wick of Lord Dracule's, and he will speak his actions and their meaning aloud.” She lit his wick, gesturing for you to turn to face one another with your candles extended in the middle of your bodies.

“With this flame,” Mihawk uttered in full clarity, “I vow to light your way through all darkness that plagues you.” He extended the flamed tip to ignite your candle in front of you. 

“Under its light,” you uttered with a small bow to him, “I trust you to guide me.” A small sniff from Perona, attempting as she would to halt her emotions from expressing themselves, had a similar experience rising in Zoro behind Mihawk. The two wards witnessing their Lord and Lady now unifying themselves in matrimony finally began to find harbour within their hearts in each passing moment and gesture. 

Taking the candles from you and placing them within their designated dishes on the table and elevating a silver goblet and accompanying decanter. She poured the crimson liquid within the spherical container, offering to place the cool stem within your fingertips. 

“Your cup may never empty,” you expressed, offering to your swordsman the container, rotating the object twice within your hands first and bowing your head low, “For I will be the wine that fills it.” His fingers brushed over yours, grasping them and taking them with him as he elevated the wine to his lips. He continued holding his hands over yours as he offered the goblet up to your own lips. 

“May I be the wine that fills your cup,” his smile twitched at the corner as he added, “And may you always be satisfied with the contents that replenishes you.” A small blush rose to your cheeks as your eyes never broke from Mihawks. He elevated the wine to your lips, allowing for a small sip to pass from your lips. The celebrant reclaimed the goblet from your hands and placed it beside the lit candles, rising now a tray with two cubes of sticky honeycomb atop the surface. 

“This may get a little messy, bear with us everyone,” the attendee expressed, drawing a small teetered chuckle and rise of giggle from your guests. Mihawk allowed the softness to be depicted in his face at the small giggle that fell from your lips, both claiming the sticky cubic piece of honeycomb into your fingers. 

“I shall serve you in all the ways you require,” you both spoke in unison, “And may the honeycomb taste sweeter coming from my hand.” You both placed the sticky cubes within each other’s awaiting mouths, both laughing at the mess atop your fingertips. Without hesitation, Mihawk clasped your wrist, holding your hand in place as his tongue danced around your fingertips to skillfully rid them from the honey. Your shocked expression was shrouded by the presence of Mihawk’s thumb within your own lips, prompting you to perform a similar action to suck the sticky substance to rid its presence from his digits. 

Small whistles and flirtatious commentary fell from the lips of the Red-Hair pirates, hooting and hollering in their support of such an unbridled expression of lust within the ceremony. Another rise of laughter occurred between you as you retracted your fingertips from each other’s mouths. The attendee placed the tray beside the goblet and returned with two thin sheets of material and offered them to Zoro and Perona. 

Perona reached forward and gathered the material within her hands, Zoro apprehensively doing the same with no frame of reference as to why he was doing so. 

“The two wards under the care of Dracule Mihawk will present the ties to bind you, solidifying their positions in upholding you within your commitment to one another as your chosen witnesses,” Mihawk turned away from you, as you did him, to gather the material within the hands of the wards behind you. 

“May our bond continue to grow all the years you choose to remain with us in unity, Perona,” you whispered to her, prompting her to smile through her tears that began to fall as soon as your vows commenced.

“I will stay as long as you’ll have me, my lady,” she confessed in a similar tone, offering the sash for you to take into your arms. 

Although you both were too wrapped to hear the conversation occurring behind you, Zoro and Mihawk had a similar moment parting between them.

“Although you are destined to earn my title as ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’ in single combat, I am proud to call you a son under my familial name, Zoro,” He uttered with a small twitched smirk and narrowed eyes. 

“I will hold both such titles with honour, Lord Mihawk,” he reached forward, his arms containing the sash and prompting both Mihawk and you to return in facing one another. 

“May this knot you tie demonstrate to those present here the symbol of your unity,” the attendee uttered to you, prompting a skillful dance of fingertips brushing and hands clasping one another to tie the two sheets into a single knot in the centre. You and Mihawk both presented the unified material to the celebrant, who collected it from you by the knot in the centre. She placed the knot beside the dish containing the small syrupy honeycomb remnants, raising a box containing two bands of gold within. 

“My lady, you may raise your hand to place the ring atop your beau’s unity finger and relay your vows onto him,” she gestured for you to claim the larger band within the box, elevating it to his left hand and hovering it over his fingertip.

“My beloved,” you began, glancing from his hand to dart your focus between his two honey-coloured eyes, “These are the vows of promise I swear unto you, unifying us in marriage.” He awaited expectantly his breath hitching once more as you relayed your confession of love onto him.

“I will never possess you, for you belong to none but yourself,” you smiled at him, beginning the descent of his ring slowly over his finger, “I cannot command you, for you are free.” Shimmying the object over his first knuckle, you continued to relay your vows.

“I pledge to you that your name be the one I cry into the night,” your smile cracked at the corner of your face at a small stifled squeak from Perona, “And may mine be the smile that greets you the morning after.” You slid the ring over his final knuckle, securing it to the base of his finger before interweaving your fingertips with his. 

“May this ring be a symbol of my devotion to you, unifying us as one to all those who view it,” you concluded. Finally meeting his eyes once more, his glazed over eyes held such softness for you it felt too intimate for his public persona. He firmly squeezed your right hand within his left before unweaving his fingertips from yours and collecting your ring from the box presented by the attendant. 

“My beloved,” he began, clasping your left hand with his right, and elevating his left hand to hover the golden band above your left finger; his own new band catching your eyes as it danced in the light, “These are the promises I swear onto you through my vows of devotion.” He slid the ring slowly over your fingertip, his eyes never breaking away from your own as he presented his words.

“I will never command nor possess you,” he ushered the ring over your first knuckle, “For your will belongs to you alone.” Sliding the ring over your second knuckle, he continued to relay his vows slowly onto you. 

“I pledge your name to be cried from my lips in the night, and my smile-...” his right hand gently squeezed your fingertips as his smile drew up onto his face, “-be what greets you on the morrow beside you.” Perona stifled another squeal behind her unoccupied hand clapping over her lips, prompting a smile to break over your own lips. 

“May this band unify us in matrimony, and be a beacon of my promise to all who view it,” Mihawk concluded, immediately stooping his lips to press a chaste kiss atop your knuckles, much to the detest of the celebrant. She clicked her tongue to reprimand him, shaking her head with a smile of her own. 

“Given your lips can’t hold their restraint, my lord,” her warning tone playfully reprimanded him, “I will now allow for the lord and lady to solidify their unity in the sharing of their first kiss as husband and wife. You may both collect each other and seal your covenant with words left unspoken. You may now share your lips with one another.” 

Mihawk immediately began his descent, cradling your jaw beneath his left hand and shepherding you towards him with his lips parted in anticipation. You hastily drew your own left hand up to his right cheek, your right hand finding purchase on his waist and anchoring yourself to him as he finally pressed his lips onto your own. 

His lips were slow in movement, savouring the sweet taste of sugary honeycomb mixing with the bitter wine presented to each other earlier. He gasped into your mouth, opening it to deepen the unity between you by presenting a small flick of his tongue into you. His nose brushed with your own, his hand on your jaw fell immediately to your waist and clutched you firmly against his waist. Brows furrowed in unbridled passion, the world around you fled from memory at each press of his lips against your own. 

You slid your hand up to clasp his shoulder, a small squeak fleeing from your mouth into his as he turned your body in a low dip towards the guests in their seats in the pew. This action drew you away from your lustful hypnosis, the applause and cheers of your guests gleefully erupting into the air. He hastily drew your body back upwards with the flitter of your luxurious dress pooling behind you. 

“I am now delighted to pronounce, through this seal of unity,” the celebrant concluded her presentation, “The Lord and Lady Dracule of Kuraigana. Celebrate and uphold them, and may jovial celebrations continue into the night with merriment.” Mihawk clasped your hand and placed it into the crook of his left elbow, beginning his ushering of you to flee with him from the ceremony space to continue into your reception. 

Several of your guests greeted you both with their offerings of congratulations and affirmations, Red-Hair Shanks prying your husband away from your arms with his arm hooking over his shoulders and ushering him into a warm embrace. You made eye contact with the first mate of the Red-Hair pirates, who offered you a polite smile and the nod of his head; both of which you returned with actions mirroring his own. 

However, as soon as you became distracted by the embraces falling to your now husband, your elevated mood of joy was immediately halted as a floating and severed gloved hand clapped over your lips. You could not offer a hum of protest, nor a scream as your body was pried away from Mihawk’s and into the hallway outside of the ceremony space. 

“All part of the plan, Starlight,” a soft, nasally voice reaffirmed you in your ear. You turned your head to meet with the face of the flashy-fool himself, his face painted to the highest quality. His hand rejoined his forearm with a small suctioned ‘pop’.

“I’m gonna take my hand away from your face now, alright? You gotta be quiet and listen to what I’m ‘bout to tell you,” He nodded, his eyes serious with no room for joking. You nodded in return, prompting a smile to rise to his lips. 

“I’ve done some reading,” Buggy informed you, his tone apprehensive and nervous, “And there’s a custom in Kuraigana regarding weddings that sounds way too fun to be left out of ol’ Hawkie’s.” 

“And what may that be, sir Buggy D Clown?” Your frown deepened the longer Buggy kept you away from your new husband. He chuckled at your apprehension, a sly smile now developing further in elevation. 

“You are to be dressed in a new gown, no longer a bride but a wife under his name,” he confirmed with a nod, your understanding reflected in your own nod. “As your new dress is placed onto your body, you’re a new woman. And as a new woman,” his eyes twinkled with mischief, “Your groom has to woo you to win back your favor.” 

“What are you saying, sir?” you narrowed your eyes, and threw him an accusatory and pointed look. 

“What I’m saying, Starlight,” he continued, linking his arms with yours and beginning to shepherd you further away from your celebration, “Is that I’m going to kidnap you and dress you in your starlight gown,” he grimaced a small grin, “I may have had a couple of my crew break in and steal the mannequin earlier,” he quickly uttered before waving his hand in front of him to halt your protests, “And he has to humble himself and perform a skill worthy enough to win your favour.” 

Your bewilderment was pictured over your face, looking from his eyes and apprehensively allowing him to draw you to the peer. 

“What type of skill, Buggy?” you asked him, your curiosity peaked the longer the clown explained himself.

“Could be anything, Starlight,” he shrugged, his playful smirk pulling wider. His eyes twinkled, the paint falling within the crows feet beneath the blue and white hues, “He could dance, sing, recite poetry, he could even juggle. It truly doesn’t matter as long as you’re impressed and successfully wooed.”

You took the moment to study him. From his painted face, to his beautiful assortment of a red and yellow diamond patterned vest, to his tanned leather pants, and all the way back up to his hair braided and styled away from falling in front of his eyes. He threw his best grin at you, his lips curling in an apprehensive and crooked smile. You shook your head, stepping closer to him. 

“Does Mihawk know about this?” You uttered quietly, your dress shifting behind you in your haste. He sighed out a shuddered laugh of dark glee.

“Oh, I’m certain Red-Hair is filling him in right about-...” he trailed off, thinking long and hard about his answer. As soon as your feet found the wood of Buggy’s ship, the anchor rising and sails drawn down by his crew, he gestured to the doors of Castle Kuraigana in the distance.

“-Now.”

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (14/22)

Chapter summary: Vision sends you a demand letter for physical assault; Yelena makes a discovery that could shake the delicate foundations of your newfound 'friendship' with Wanda.

Chapter word count: 5.6k | Warnings: None | Ship: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader

Author's note: Enjoy? :)

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next chapter: Fifteen

--

Fourteen

The demand letter sits in front of you, openly mocking you with its mere existence. It arrived at the most unanticipated time, suspiciously just a few days after your birthday. It is drafted by one of the most sought-after law firms in New York and co-signed by one Victor Shade, but you doubt that he had any hand in composing it. 

You've read it at least a dozen times now, its words wasting no time diving into the heart of the matter, “On January 4th, 2022 I suffered severe and critical injuries, when the actions of your insured, Ms. Y/N L/N…”

Deep down, you think you’ve been expecting this. The way Vision looked at Wanda the last time you saw them hinted at his lingering feelings. You knew he would do something to ease Wanda's rejection of him, and now he wants a specific amount as compensation: "Total Damages - $831,615.60."

With steady breaths, you carefully fold the letter back into its envelope. 

You wonder if Wanda knows about this. Clearly, whatever she and Vision previously agreed on to delay this matter has now unraveled. And if that’s the case, you want to make sure that Wanda stays out of this, and that her ties to Vision are permanently severed.

As you’re pondering the financial repercussions should you opt to settle, and the added frustration of Natasha not returning any of your calls, your office phone rings, startling you.

"Yes?" you answer when your assistant speaks.

"Sorry to bother you, but Ms. Yelena Romanoff is here to see you," your assistant tells you.

"Send her in, Martin. Thanks." you say and hang up, hurriedly clearing your desk, thoughtlessly placing the letter on top of the pile of documents you need to burn through for today.

A few moments pass, and then Yelena appears at the doorway of your office, wearing a bright smile that matches her vibrant pink lipstick. Coyly, she taps on the door, even though it's already slightly ajar. She's dressed in tight, ripped jeans, paired with knee-high boots and a vibrant red jacket–easily a sight for sore eyes. 

“Hey, baby, you busy?” she asks sort of mischievously. 

You shake your head, grinning “Not for you.”

"Good," she replies, stepping into the room and locking the door behind her. You begin to rise from your seat, but she stops you with a hand. Making her way around your desk, she forcefully pushes you back into your executive chair.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, entranced, and watch as she straddles your thighs.

"Assaulting my girlfriend," she murmurs with a wink, her choice of words momentarily freezing you in place. But as her lips find their way to your neck, any further thoughts dissipate, distracting you from everything else in that electrifying moment. Your hands rest innocently on her hips, massaging her gently as her hips start a slow, gentle rhythm. Tilting your head back, you surrender to her fervor as she traces the length of your throat with her nose, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along the way.

Yelena's jacket slips from her shoulders, cascading to the floor, revealing a thin turtleneck that clings to her form. With haste, you lift it up, exposing her flushed chest that’s heaving with her every breath. But before you can bury your face into her soft mounds, the phone rings again, prompting your girlfriend to get off your lap. 

You let out a frustrated curse under your breath, while Yelena giggled, amused at your striking annoyance.

"What is it, Martin?" you answer as calmly as you could while trying to get the image of Yelena’s breast out of your head. 

"Mr. Stark is calling in the managers for an emergency meeting," Martin informs you.

That completely diverts your attention away from a half-naked Yelena panting on your desk. 

“He’s here?”

"Yes, ma'am," Martin confirms.

"Uh, okay. Give me two minutes," you say, ending the call. 

Having overheard the conversation, Yelena quickly retrieves some tissues and proceeds to gently wipe away the lipstick stains she had left on your neck. “Shit, sorry, babe.”

"Don't worry about it," you stammer, still finding it difficult to concentrate amidst your lingering arousal.

“Yeah,” Yelena smiles knowingly. “Maybe another time, then.”

"Would it be more practical if I put that in my calendar?" you suggest, half-jokingly.

Yelena scrunches her nose at the idea of scheduling sex. “Where's the fun in that?” she retorts.

"You're right. I’m a fussy nerd, I know," you admit with a chuckle.

"A sexy nerd," Yelena corrects, planting a full kiss on your lips. "Now, go get 'em, tiger."

She playfully nudges you towards the door, urging you to make your way to the meeting. As you straighten the creases on your skirt, you quickly reassure her, “I'll be back in a few, okay?” There's a hint of worry in your voice, as if you fear she might leave without your knowledge.

Yelena's eyes meet yours, and she gives you a reassuring smile. “I'll be here,” she promises.

As soon as you leave the room, Yelena retrieves her jacket from the floor and tidies her appearance. In an instant, she transforms into the journalist persona that she hasn’t allowed you to see. She had visited you for another purpose today, and the unexpected opportunity that presented itself left her both surprised and eager to fulfill her intentions. 

Call it an instinct or a persistent gut feeling, but Yelena had been on edge since your birthday. A sense of unease had settled within her, accompanied by an unexplained nagging sensation that there’s something she needed to uncover. It feels as though you’ve been keeping a secret from her for quite some time.

Carefully, she rummages through your drawer, cautious to leave things as they are. And then, out of the corner of her eye, something catches her attention—an envelope. It doesn’t look like it belongs there, on top of documents and folders that have the stamp of Stark Industries in them. No, this envelope bears the distinct markings of an infamous law firm. And clearly, you’ve read whatever is inside, considering the gaping tear on the side of the envelope.

With steady hands, she retrieves the envelope, her movements purposeful and precise. Carefully unfolding the letter, her eyes swiftly scan its contents, absorbing the information with speed and accuracy. She knows that time is of the essence, aware that you could return at any moment, leaving her with limited opportunity to delve into its contents.

Yelena slips the letter back in its envelope and returns it to its original position, making sure to arrange it exactly as she found it. Were you going to tell her about this? Would you have asked for her help or her input as your partner? Or would you just go through the tides without her ever knowing? 

Her intuition had been spot-on; there was indeed something to uncover, and it was undeniably connected to your ex-wife.

She promised you she’d be waiting, but if she wants to help you out of your situation, she better get going.

***

Later that same day, Wanda stands behind the sleek espresso machine, a confident smile on her face as she prepares to demonstrate to Peter a coffee technique known as "pour-over brewing". The café is relatively quiet, with only a few customers lingering over their cups of coffee. Valkyrie left just a while ago after enjoying her usual brew. Before leaving, she had presented Wanda with a thoughtful gift—a bag of exotic coffee beans collected during her recent business trip to Cape Town. Valkyrie had hoped to impress Wanda not only with the beans themselves but also by showcasing herself as a renowned photographer. Eager to try them, Wanda saw this as the perfect opportunity to share one of her favorite brewing techniques with Peter.

As Wanda expertly pours hot water over the meticulously arranged coffee grounds, she explains the process. "Pour-over brewing allows us to extract the full flavor from the coffee grounds. It's all about precision and patience. The water must be heated to the right temperature, and the pouring technique should be slow and steady. It results in a clean and nuanced cup of coffee."

Crouching down to bring himself to eye level with the coffee, Peter’s concentration deepens as he poses a question: "So, how can you tell when it's ready?"

“Generally, it takes around two to three minutes for the water to pass through the coffee bed, depending on the desired strength and flavor profile." 

Wanda leans in, pointing out the subtleties of the process. “As you observe the flow of water, pay attention to the color and consistency. The water should form a gentle, controlled stream, evenly saturating the grounds. If it rushes too quickly or seems to pool in one spot, it may be a sign to adjust your pouring technique.”

“Additionally,” Wanda continues, “Watch for the final stages of the pour-over. As the water nears the end of its journey, the drips become slower and more intermittent. This gradual decrease signifies that the process is almost complete.”

With a smile, Peter watches as the coffee brewing process unfolds before his eyes, precisely as Wanda had described. As the last drops fall into the waiting cups, Wanda proceeds to pour the freshly brewed coffee, dividing it between two cups—one for herself and one for Peter to try.

“For the rest of the week, you’ll be covering all the coffee orders, alright?” Wanda says.

Peter nods eagerly in excitement. 

Just as Wanda is about to bring the cup to her lips, the cheerful chime of the café's entrance sounds. Her eyes widen in surprise as she catches sight of the least expected person to walk through the doors of her coffee shop.

Yelena. 

Confusion immediately clouds Wanda's face, but before she can react, Peter takes the initiative to greet their customer. Yelena responds with a faint smile as she approaches the counter, drawing closer to Wanda until they’re standing face to face, finding themselves in a similar situation just a few weeks prior.

“One cup of coffee, please,” Yelena orders meekly, pulling a twenty-dollar bill off her purse.

“Coming right up,” Peter promptly replies, ready to assist, but Wanda interjects.

“I'll get this, Peter. Why don't you attend to the stock for now?” Wanda suggests.

“Certainly, Ms. Max–Wanda,” Peter says and scurries off to the back room, giving the two some space. 

Wanda's smile brims with gratitude as Peter leaves, granting them a moment of privacy. She then shifts her undivided attention to Yelena, whose growing discomfort doesn't go unnoticed, stoking Wanda’s own anxiety about the purpose of her visit.

Pushing aside her inner reservations, Wanda adopts a professional demeanor, masking her own concerns. From this point onward, it’s all business.

"Specifically, what coffee would you like?" she asks.

Yelena shrugs. "Anything, really."

Wanda chuckles softly, appreciating Yelena's laid-back approach. "Alright, then. Would you prefer it hot or iced?"

Yelena raises an eyebrow. "Who drinks cold coffee?"

Wanda's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Actually, many people do. But I have something special for you. I just brewed some off-the-menu grounds from Cape Town. Would you like to try that?"

“Sure. How much?” 

Waving her hand dismissively, she insists, “On the house. It's a gift from a friend anyway.”

It’s met with a quiet nod from Yelena, who slips the twenty dollar bill into the tip jar as a token of appreciation.

“How about something to eat?” Wanda asks.

“I’m good,” Yelena politely declines, shaking her head.

However, the next words that escape Yelena's mouth are anything but polite, catching Wanda off guard. 

“Are you trying to get her back?” 

Wanda almost drops the cup she was in the midst of placing on a tray for Yelena.

Staring at each other, tension lingering palpably before Yelena clears her throat, breaking the moment. She gestures towards a more secluded area of the café. “Should we, uh, talk over there?”

With a hesitant nod, Wanda acquiesces, her thoughts filled with a flicker of doubt about her choice to open a café rather than a bar. At this very moment, she wishes for nothing more than a shot of whisky before having this ‘talk’.

Yelena doesn’t jump back right in after they are seated. Instead, she takes a sip of her coffee, humming pleasantly at the flavor that touches her taste buds.

“How did you find this place?” Wanda asks. How did you know where to find me?

Yelena, unfazed by the question, responds matter-of-factly, “I'm a journalist. Finding out things isn't too hard for me to do.”

"So, are you trying to get her back?" Yelena repeats as her eyes lock on Wanda’s.

Wanda's response is swift and sincere. “I'm not,” she states firmly. If Yelena had asked her that question before the night she nearly died, she would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. But now, she has nothing but respect for your relationship with Yelena, and doesn’t want to come in between the happiness you’ve found with her.

“But you still love her, don’t you?”

Wanda acknowledges her feelings for you in a slow, deliberate nod, seeing no point in denying it.

“I don’t know why you feel the need to ask me this,” Wanda says. "Y/N loves you. She wouldn't be with you if she didn't."

“I know,” Yelena says with conviction. "But that doesn't mean she’s mine completely."

Wanda's eyes narrow, searching for the true intent behind Yelena's words. Does Yelena genuinely believe that? Could there really be a possibility that you still love her?

Wanda swallows dryly. “I–”

Yelena interrupts, her tone heavy with resignation. "You should have just stayed away," she sighs, her gaze shifting downwards, as if the realization dawned on her just a little too late. She didn’t mean to start talking to Wanda about her insecurities, but Yelena couldn’t help but think about the depth of your attachment to this woman the more she looks at her. 

As she gazes at Wanda, she can't help but wonder where your love for Wanda ends and hers begin.

“I am staying away,” Wanda firmly declares, her posture shifting as she straightens her spine in the chair. All of her encounters with you except for the time you were the one to come to her have been purely coincidental–despite how often they happen.

“Except for matters concerning Sparky,” she adds, correcting herself, “He used to be Y/N's dog as well. It was important for her to be informed about what was happening with him.”

“So, you didn't contact her on her birthday?” Yelena probes, watching Wanda intently for anything that would suggest that she might be lying with her answer.

Wanda, to her credit, doesn't even flinch as she replies, “I did.” It’s immediately clear that Yelena has no idea that you ran into her that night. Wanda understands that it is a matter to be discussed between you and your girlfriend, and she has no intention of revealing something that is not hers to disclose. But it’s another question that will definitely consume her thoughts later.

Yelena tightly clenches her jaw, trying to stay calm. She's always trusted you and never invaded your privacy, never checked your messages. But now, she can't help but wonder if she should have been a bit more vigilant.

“I see,” she drawls, and then finishes the last of her coffee. She doesn’t think she wants to know the details of that any further. “You claim that you’re trying to stay away from Y/N, but obviously, you’re not doing such a great job of it.”

Confused, Wanda furrows her brows and asks, "What do you mean?"

Yelena reaches into her purse and retrieves a thumb drive, sliding it in Wanda's direction.

Wanda looks at the curious little device. “What’s this?”

“Before I tell you, there’s something you should know,” Yelena pauses, making sure that Wanda is thoroughly listening before she shares the news. "Victor Shade has just sent Y/N a demand letter for damages related to physical assault."

"V-Vision?" Wanda’s voice trembles as she speaks.

Yelena nods knowingly. "I assume there's only one Victor Shade in your life–"

"He's not in my life." The words escape Wanda's lips with a forcefulness and intensity that surprises them both. “Not anymore.”

A pregnant pause hangs between them, Yelena patiently waiting for Wanda to gather herself as she observes the rapid whirl of thoughts inside her head. 

After a beat, Yelena continues the slew of disclosures. “I assume his decision to exact revenge on Y/N has something to do with you.” 

Wanda's voice rises in defense. “Are you accusing me of conniving with that–”

“No, not exactly,” Yelena says. “He’s a kid who grew up in a wealthy family, never being denied anything in his life. I think his letter was driven by jealousy. All I’m saying is that this could have been avoided if he had not seen you two together.

“Which brings us to that,” Yelena's gaze shifts to the USB device, which sits untouched near Wanda's hands on the table. It's as if Wanda is actively avoiding it, treating it like a dangerous explosive, which in retrospect, could be deemed as such if its contents were ever revealed. 

"Look, I don't have concrete proof of him stalking you, but I believe this is substantial evidence to shake him off balance."

Wanda fixes Yelena with an expectant gaze, her eyes brimming with anticipation.

Yelena lets out a resigned sigh. "Fine, I'll tell you, since you're so patient.”

Wanda resists reacting to the veiled sarcasm, sensing that what Yelena is about to reveal aligns with her worst fears.

“Vision filmed you both having sex,” Yelena states bluntly, not concerned with softening the crude reality of the situation. “I was able to retrieve just one. I don’t know how many there are. And from the way the recording was cut an hour later when you’re already sleeping means you have no idea he was doing this.”

At Wanda's lack of response and the visible dread in her eyes, Yelena decides to speak up again.

“That's an invasion of privacy. In the state of New Jersey, you can send someone to prison for that for up to five years. Now, it’s up to you to decide what to do with this information.

“I know you care about Y/N, “ Yelena takes a deep breath, as if that fact physically hurts too much for her to accept in light of things. “I know you’ll do everything to help her in this situation.”

“How much is he asking from Y/N?” Wanda mumbles after a long time. 

“More than $800,000 in damages.”

“Jesus,” Wanda gasps at the amount, instinctively bringing her hands up to her face, covering her eyes and burying her features in her palms. Although insurance might cover it, it’s still potentially crippling. Determined to figure this out, she finally picks up the USB from the table and secures it inside her pocket. 

“How did you find out all of this? And how did you even get this video?” Wanda inquires curiously.

“I don’t reveal my sources.” Yelena replies with a smile, leaving Wanda suspicious about the legality of her methods. And equally suspicious of Yelena’s intentions, Wanda asks, “Why are you helping me?”

Yelena's snort breaks through, a genuine expression of glee that surprises Wanda. "I'm not. I'm doing all of this for Y/N."

"Fair enough. But why approach me then? You could have immediately gone to Y/N about this, even shown her the video?” Logically, it would be a strategic move for Yelena. Witnessing the gritty details of Wanda’s cheating would undoubtedly reignite the grievances in your heart. And she’d never have to worry about you going back to Wanda ever again. 

The look that Yelena throws at her is a mix of pity and disgust. “I’d never intentionally hurt Y/N. I came to you because it's your responsibility to fix this mess. It's the least you could do for all the pain you've caused her.”

With those words hanging in the air, Yelena rises from her seat. Casting one final glance at Wanda, she adds, "If you think I’d resort to dirty tricks just to keep Y/N, then you really have no idea how to love her in the first place.”

***

“You have no idea how happy I was when you said you wanted to see me.”

Vision smiles at Wanda as her gaze unwillingly falls upon him, her body trembling with a fury she never realized existed within her. The moment Yelena left her café, Wanda wasted no time in reaching out to Vision, and he promptly answered her call, as if he had been eagerly anticipating that very moment all along. She had chosen a crowded restaurant, in one of the busiest streets in Manhattan near Town Square, seeking safety in the presence of a man she knew deep down couldn't be trusted.

"I didn't want to. I had to," Wanda admits sharply, crossing her arms in front of her. "I thought we had an agreement. That you would stay away from Y/N. And your idea of that is extorting money from her?"

“My circumstances have changed,” Vision argues, sounding almost remorseful. “My dad decided to cut me off, and I can no longer fund my move to Tokyo to pursue my film studies.” 

Vision searches Wanda’s face, hoping to see a reaction, but she remains indifferent to his news of departure, seemingly unaffected by what's happening in his life.

“That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard,” Wanda says spitefully. And then she sighs in defeat. “If I give you the money, will you–”

"I don't want the money from you," Vision declares, placing his fork down with a loud noise. "She did put me into a coma–”

“Because we fucking drove her to it!” Wanda screams her frustration. The outburst attracts the attention of others in the restaurant, and Wanda looks around apologetically before sinking back into her chair with a sigh.

“The assault happened and I can prove it in court if it ever comes to it.” he says after Wanda has grown quiet.

“You’re not going to prove anything because you’re going to retract that letter and you’re going to leave her alone just like you promised.” Wanda’s words carry a sense of finality, as if there is no other option for Vision.

“You can’t tell me what to do anymore–”

“I can,” Wanda says with a bout of confidence. "Otherwise, you're looking at up to five years in prison for filming me without my consent."

It takes Vision a moment to grasp the meaning behind Wanda's words, and Wanda takes pleasure in observing the color drain from his face. 

“You hacked into my stuff?” he stammers in disbelief.

“You fucking filmed me,” Wanda reiterates, as they both remain fixated on their respective grievances. “I can’t believe I ever trusted you. I’ve never felt so betrayed and disgusted with myself as I do now.”

“How did you get the file?” he asks.

“I don’t reveal my sources,” Wanda says, echoing Yelena’s statement from earlier.

He locks eyes with Wanda, attempting to gauge if she's bluffing, but Wanda remains resolute, maintaining a stoic expression. Then, a small laugh escapes him, shaking his head as if the situation is nothing more than a joke. Wanda fumes as she takes a sip of her water and sets it back down heavy-handedly.

“Here’s the thing,” Vision casually signals for the waiter to refill his wine. “We’re all backed into a corner. If you use that against me, she'll find out, and it will only fuel her hatred towards you. Is that a risk you're willing to take?"

Wanda hesitates, her lips parting with uncertainty before closing them in a swift decision. It's a high-stakes gamble, an all-or-nothing move that reveals the vulnerable hand she holds.

You really have no idea how to love her in the first place. She doesn’t exactly know what Yelena meant by that, nevertheless, it makes her doubt her ability to love you properly. She wishes there was a manual that she could read from cover-to-cover until the pages are worn from countless readings. All Wanda can do is prove that she can; even though loving you is the one thing she wants to get right, but has failed multiple times.

“You don’t get to question me about what I’m willing to risk.” she says as she stands up to leave.

Vision calmly wipes his mouth with a table napkin. “Then I guess we’ll just have to find out what Y/N’s next move is.” 

***

Standing on the balcony of your high-rise Manhattan apartment, the view from up here is breathtaking.

The city below pulsates with vibrant energy, resembling a living organism with a heartbeat all its own. Its grandeur is reminiscent of the landscapes that once inspired poets and artists in centuries past. However, the awe-inspiring scenery does little to quell the turmoil raging within you, as you grapple with the decision of whether to pick up the phone and call Wanda or let the silence linger.

You haven't told Yelena about the demand letter that you received from Vision’s law firm yesterday. You want to protect her from getting involved in the convoluted aftermath of Wanda's cheating, which evidently still affects you like aftershocks from an earthquake. You tell yourself that you will let her know, in time, when you figure out what to do. 

With Wanda, there's a strong likelihood that she is already caught in the midst of this storm. You vividly recall the last encounter with Vision, his demeanor exuding a sense of power, as if he held the ability to dismantle your life in a single moment. He subtly implied that it was solely Wanda who prevented him from doing so. 

You wonder if Wanda’s aware that Vision has carried out his plans for revenge; she needed to stop protecting you from him. You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself and accepting the repercussions of your own choices and actions. 

As you deliberate on what to say to Wanda when you eventually call her, the sound of your building lobby intercom blares through the living room. The voice on the other end informs you, "Ms. Y/L/N? A certain Wanda Maximoff here would like to see you. Shall I allow her in?"

Your heart skips a beat and you press the button for you to speak. "Please, thank you.”

There’s the answer to one of your questions–Wanda probably knows about Vision’s stipulation  regarding the substantial sum of almost a million dollars.

It’s a few minutes of waiting before you hear the doorbell ring.

You open the door to find a visibly fatigued Wanda standing timidly before you. Dark circles under her eyes and a certain gauntness in her cheeks catch your attention, details that you may not have noticed before due to her naturally pronounced cheekbones that give her a sharp, distinct look. 

"I should've called," Wanda says, offering a thin smile as you welcome her inside. "But my feet were already bringing me here before I even thought about it."

"It's no problem at all. Would you like some water or something to drink? I have kombucha, tea... There's also a French Cab breathing in the kitchen, though I know it's quite early."

"I think I'll go for a glass of wine," Wanda replies.

"Coming right up," you say with a warm, good-natured smile, playfully mimicking Wanda's typical line in her own café.

“Is Yelena around?” Wanda asks as she nervously takes in her surroundings.

“She’s working,” you reply as you trudge towards the kitchen.

Left on her own, Wanda perches awkwardly on one end of the couch, her eyes scanning your quaint living room. She can discern the details that reflect your personality, but it doesn’t appease the fact that she has never felt more like an outsider in your life.

"Here," Wanda hears you say from behind her. She turns her head to find you giving the wine glass a gentle swirl, observing as the liquid moves about slowly and clings to the sides—a clear indicator of its high alcohol content. Bringing the glass to your nose, you take a whiff, seemingly enticed by its aroma. Finally, you extend the glass towards Wanda, offering it to her.

Wanda takes a sip–it’s rich and heavy, and the warmth it brings immediately spreads to her chest, instantly soothing her.

You look at her expectantly, choosing to sit on the opposite end. Seeing how worried she looks, you feel that she might finish her glass before she could utter a single word about what she came here for. 

Deciding to help her out, you break the silence first. 

“I take it you know about Vision’s demand letter,” you start, running your fingertip along the rim of your own wine glass. “It’s what you came here for right?”

Wanda nods and then raises the glass to her lips once more, taking another sip until she empties its contents. A small dribble of red liquid escapes from the corner of her mouth, which she promptly wipes with her thumb.

“What are you going to do?” Wanda asks, somber eyes fixed on her lap. Guilt weighs heavily on her, feeling like she brought this on you–which, in hindsight, she probably did. 

As Wanda wrestles with her own feelings of culpability, she hears Calliope's voice echoing in her mind. “You can’t shoulder all the blame, Wanda,” she told her. “It just leaves you lonely and stuck in a situation you have no control of.” 

Control is an illusion, Wanda reminds herself.

“I already set an appointment with my own lawyer. She’s going to go over the figures so we can renegotiate.”

It’s not at all what Wanda is expecting.

“You’re paying him off?” she asks, gaping at you openly for a moment.

"I did send him to the hospital. For quite a while actually," you admit, blinking slowly. "And if he had never woken up, I could very well be in prison right now."

As Wanda struggles with lingering guilt, you find yourself unable to deny the truth either and it weighs heavily on you. Frankly, you see no other way around this. Evading the consequences of letting your anger overwhelm you to the point of potential homicide is no longer a viable option.

You can see Wanda struggling with your decision, and you bitterly think that it’s too late for her to protect you in any way. She’s inflicted her own damage; and the consequence for her is watching the implications of it unravel before her.

“I–I have another way,” Wanda says.

Arching an eyebrow, you’re torn between curiosity and doubt. Wanda is aching for another glass of wine, but she has been consciously limiting her alcohol consumption lately. She doesn't want to repeat the countless occasions where she has either blacked out or come close to it.

“Wanda, stop,” you say, your voice gentle. “I don't want to know. I need closure. I need to get it in the right way, not through shortcuts. Please, don't protect me from this.”

Wanda’s eyes close on their own accord at your mention of the word ‘closure’. Does that closure include her?

“Just hear me out, please,” she implores with urgency. “There’s… there’s something he did that you can bring up with the law as well. And Vision has no proof that you were ever in his apartment, right? So if it comes to it, he really can’t prove that you’re the one who attacked him.”

Wanda looks pale even as she speaks with a kind of preternatural calm that you recognize only comes out when Wanda has come to terms with something. You lean back on the arm rest with an expectant look.

“He recorded us having… having the affair,” The words wrench themselves out of Wanda’s mouth and it takes a while for them to sink into your brain; when they do, you quickly look away, wishing you had instructed the concierge to deny Wanda's request to see you earlier. 

You make a conscious effort to rein in your emotions, particularly the anger that wells up inside you. Wanda's infidelity is something you have learned to cope with long ago. But to discover that it can be substantiated with moving pictures and sounds leaves you grappling for answers.

“Did you know?” you ask steadily–while you can. “Did you know you were being recorded?”

Wanda can’t read the emotion behind your words as she shakes her head no. 

Wanda inches closer to you, until your legs are almost touching. With utmost care, she takes hold of one of your hands and places a flash drive in your palm, closing your fingers around it. Your instinctive response is to maintain a firm grip, clenching your fist tightly around the drive.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” she whispers. "If it wasn't for... for what I did, you’d be... we’d be..." Wanda's voice trails off as tears well up in the corners of her eyes, which she hastily wipes away.

Your own eyes moisten at the sight of her, but you manage to hold onto your rage to keep yourself from shattering altogether.

“I'm sorry he's resorting to this,” she continues, her gaze fixed on your clenched fist. “I'm sorry that this exists,” she adds, acknowledging the evidence of her betrayal in your hand. “I’d take it all back if I could.”

You feel the bandaid being ripped off the same wound that refuses to heal. 

How deep does this go and where does it end?

Wanda's breath hitches, her struggle to hold back a sob. You impulsively attempt to create some distance, a physical retreat. Yet, as you lean back, the solid presence of the armrest behind you seems to trap you in a greater sense–of simultaneously wanting Wanda close and wanting her as far away from you as possible.

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife | @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant

[madlumqx]

that's unexpected. | n. kento

synopsis | nanami kento was the most secretive person in your office, to find out one of his biggest secrets was something you never expected.

warnings | non-sorcerer!au, office!au, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, nanami is in his late 20’s to early 30’s), nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni!), bit of a slow burn, fem/afab!reader, camboy!nanami, dom!nanami, masturbation (f/m), using of pet names (angel, darling, & the likes), sir kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation (f), dacryphilia, dirty talking, size kink, hand kink, degradation, praise kink, and unprotected sex (don’t do this irl for the love of god)

a/n | alright, who’s ready for this to go down? haha camboy!nanami will forever live in my head.  also !! a big shout out and thanks to @l0serloki & @bunnyyamor for helping me gain confidence in writing this because i would have NEVER even thought abt posting it T___T credits to the original artist of the nanami fanart i have used in the banner.

word count: 5.4k (haha whoops got carried away)

nanami kento was the most secretive person in your office. no one really bothers him aside from gojo satoru from the finance department of the company that you work in. 

the man was a total mystery for everyone since he tends to be more reserved than most. despite this however, he was a total heartthrob for everyone; tall, muscular, polite, and drop-dead gorgeous? yeah there’s no doubt that people would line up for his attention. 

you, on the other hand, strayed away from him. not because you wanted to be different, you were just too intimidated by his presence. he was your senior in the company by eight years and the last thing you want is for anyone to have your head for being the new girl in the office trying to score with the hottest guy. 

the work you do was draining enough already. 

it was another day at work and you were just about to lose it. your team’s manager tasked you to photocopy a bunch of files needed for an emergency meeting to be held in the afternoon but the xerox machine decided to be a little bitch and jam mid-printing. the missed calls from your boss only adding pressure as your shaky hands try your best to fix the contraption. 

“need help?” a voice mumbled from behind you, causing you to jump just a bit and turn to the source. 

your eyes widened a bit to see nanami staring down at you with the same unreadable expression he sports every day. “o-oh! mr. nanami, i’m okay! just… having paper jam problems, is all.” you sputter out, mentally cursing yourself for being so obvious about your nerves with him. 

he silently shrugs you off and shakes his head, a hand reaching over to place on your shoulders so he can go to the machine and pull out the jammed paper with ease. “you can call me kento, you know.” he mumbles softly. “you’ve been in the office for over a year now but i can’t recall having a conversation with you.” 

he catches you off-guard at that statement, making you choke on air. luckily, the last paper you were photocopying was done and you grabbed it along with other copies stacked, “our… schedules never really collided! we can have a conversation soon, mr. na- kento!” you bid him a swift goodbye, bowing as you hurry off. 

you were internally panicking, practically fighting with yourself as you walk away, pondering if it was better to just accept the earful from your manager with one missing copy just so the incident with kento never happened. him, on the other hand despite his emotionless exterior, was bewildered at how much you tried to avoid him.

and even if it wasn’t like him to pry into others but you caught his attention.

—

“satoru, do you know (y/n)?” nanami asks the white-haired man as they both exit the building. his run-up with you still unable to leave his mind. the nervous image of yours planted into his brain. 

gojo looks at him in disbelief that he would finally ask about someone around the office. “you mean (y/n) (l/n)? yeah i know her! she’s really sweet and friendly, actually.” he answers truthfully, looking back at the time you and him were seatmates at a seminar for the whole company and how you catered his talkative ass the whole time and managed to still pay attention to the speaker in front. “she brings me the cookies she bakes from time to time. why’d you ask? have the hots for her?”

the blonde stares at the latter with unamusement. “just talked to her earlier, i don’t know but she seemed to avoid me. we’ve been working under the same department in administration but i’ve barely heard her voice.” he admits, actually curious why you’re so avoidant of him when you manage to befriend satoru. 

unable to help his laugh, gojo pats his friend’s back and shrugs. “maybe it’s more of a you thing rather than her, (y/n)’s friendly.” he says and picks up his pace. “here’s my stop, have fun wondering why she avoids you, nanamin!”

—

you were drained, all you wanted to do was sprawl on your bed and wonder why you put up with the job that you’re in.

removing the tortuous heels you’ve been wanting to take off, you take a deep sigh of relief as your feet hit the solid floor. dragging your body towards your room and sprawling out on the comfort of your bed. you almost moaned at the contact of your aching back against the foam of your bed. 

managing to slip off most of your clothes, you were left in just your button up and underwear; the only thing on your mind on right now to further release tension made you open your phone and searched for a website where you can get off to camboys, scrolling through different ones until you come across one that looks a tad bit too familiar. 

sitting up a bit, you stare at the muscular body and the all too familiar voice and slacks that slapped your senses back into place. despite his face being hidden behind a mask, you knew it was nanami! the very person you actively tried to avoid was live… stroking himself for the whole of the internet to see. 

your sensible side was begging for you to stop and scroll away, but you were a human with needs too. you could feel yourself slowly drip in arousal as you watch him hungrily paired with the guttural groans he slips off from time to time. it was definitely him. 

“mhm, that’s right baby, stroke yourself for daddy.” the words he spoke hitting directly in between your legs. feeling his dominance, you just opted to follow and let your neediness take over.

sliding your hand south slowly, you moaned quietly at the slightest friction of your fingers as you slowly rubbed your clit. nanami’s voice was all that you could hear, matching his pace as your eyes focus on his digits, it seemed so big, so perfect to fill you up. you’ve noticed how big his hands were when he helped you just today, but never has a dirty thought crossed your mind until now.

unable to focus with just one hand, you let go of your phone and continue your ministrations, just hearing your co-worker’s breathy moans and small words of praise was enough to send you over the edge. “nngh, k-kento..” you needily say to no one, dipping your middle and ring finger inside, quietly whining as it fills you up; soon feeling the knot in your stomach slowly starting to tighten.

“mhm, gonna cum soon, baby? that’s my good doll, c’mon, make a mess.” nanami’s voice fills up the room, making you quietly cry out of pleasure as his voice sends you into oblivion. 

your eyes looked back at the screen of your phone and you watched as nanami came himself, thick ropes of white coating the tip of his cock and stomach, it was a sight to behold. a godly sight, if anyone was to ask you. but not even the nbi can ever get that information out of you.

you had just fucked yourself to your co-worker’s camboy service; how were you supposed to face him at work tomorrow then?

—

you tried to be stealthy around the office, thankful that your work cubicle was on the literal opposite side of nanami’s, it was easy for you to avoid him and risk blowing your cover about knowing his secret. he was a well-respected man who has serviced the company longer than you and the last thing you want was the gossip to spread like wildfire amongst the hungry-for-him people that surrounded him daily. 

the plan you had was simple, stay by your side and avoid him at all costs! it sounded easy in your head, even packing your own lunch this time so the only real opportunity for the two of you to clash was if you had to take a trip to the bathroom. 

everything was going smooth until your lunch break, however. 

you were confident! with just a few hours left of the work day, your plan would be deemed successful, until gojo satoru came waltzing over with nanami in tow. “oh (y/n)!” the boisterous man had greeted you with a wide grin. “why eat here? someone bothering ya?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at you and your food.

the man behind you, honestly. you thought to yourself but you could never say that out loud.

opting to avoid looking at his companion, you turn to gojo and smile at him. “toru! well, i just wanted to eat here. kind of a break from the noise, you know.” you say, internally cringing at how shit your excuse was. in attempt to save yourself, you also motion your computer which was displaying a plethora of files opened. “and i just want to revise on the letters and memorandums that the boss assigned to me, just want to keep things spick and span before i have to pass them by the end of the week.”

satoru suddenly lights up even more, glancing at nanami who just stared you down. clearing his throat, he pulled the blonde forward and patted his back. “nanamin, right here, would love to help! right?” he says, leaving the two of you in shock.

you immediately shake your head as the words gojo spoke finally sink in. “oh! there’s no need! i can manage and i’m pretty sure mr. nanami’s busy too.” you bow a few times as you decline, heart racing as you hope kento would do the same and wack some sense into his friend’s head but instead you were met with him shaking his head. 

“it’s okay, (y/n). i have nothing to do anyways, i finished my work for the day already.” he says, grabbing the vacant chair next to you and places himself beside you, motioning you to continue on with your lunch as he takes your work laptop away so he can revise on the current one you’re doing.

you stare at gojo incredulously, unable to formulate words as the blue-eyed man shrugs and silently walk away, leaving you and nanami alone. 

cue the awkward silence. 

it was unbearable; knowing that if one of your female officemates saw you two together would cause gossip and the weight of being aware of his side job after office hours pestered your thoughts and inner demons to your limits. but considering you had no more say on the matter, you just let him work on what you were doing previously and eat your sandwich in ignorant bliss.

that’s until your eyes landed on the two fingers on the touchpad of your laptop scrolling through the file. the memories and thoughts that took over you last night were back, causing you to choke on your food, making nanami stop and look at you with concern.

“are you okay, (y/n)?” kento asks, placing your laptop back on the table as he pats your back and offers you the water bottle on your desk. his brows were furrowed with concern as you take the bottle and chug down the water, making you a deep gasp for air right after. 

taking a few seconds to calm down, you nod. “mhm, just the food going down the wrong pipe.” you manage to crack to lighten the mood between the two of you. if he was doing this much to actually talk to you after yesterday’s photocopy small talk, you probably should make a conscious effort to talk to him too. 

“kento? i… i apologize for like… you know avoiding you all the time.” you start off, voice quiet but you can feel the blonde’s intense stare on you. choosing you pick at your fingers rather than look up and meet his gaze. “i’m just intimidated by you, most of the time.” you continue to explain, having the courage to look up and see the corner of his lips upturned to the smallest smile. 

“it’s okay, (y/n). i’m just glad it isn’t because of my appearance or something. really thought i did something for you to avoid me as much as you did yesterday.” he admits, placing the laptop back down and flexes his fingers, causing you to spare a quick glance at them again before placing your attention back on him. maybe striking up a conversation with him wasn’t a bad thing at all.

but unfortunately for you, however, nanami kento’s a very observant man and your glance onto his hands didn’t go unnoticed. 

—

it was the end of another workday and you were more than glad to go back home and just pass out, but the morbid curiosity of checking to see if nanami was live plagued your mind. it was a bit later in the night as you had to go out and run a few errands of grocery shopping before heading home so the chances seemed lower. 

after arriving home and washing up, you were back on your bed, thumb hovering over the browser of your phone to search up if he was active. you shouldn’t, (y/n)! he’s your officemate for fuck’s sake. but you did so well already with hiding it from him today, one more time wouldn’t hurt, right?

the next thing you knew, you were back on the website, heart racing to see if he was active— he definitely was. it seemed to be the start of the stream but he wasn’t wearing his usual slacks anymore, it was gray sweatpants that outlined his dick perfectly and hung low on his hips, exposing his defined abs and v-line.

but what actually caught your attention, was the silver rings that decorated his fingers. combined with the evident veins on his hands and arms, this was like a treat that fed your core. you couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to have the cold metal kiss your skin as he touches you. 

it was all too much, but you couldn’t help but greedily want more, want more of him.

—

a few work days go by and nanami seemed to be drawn to your presence, finding himself gravitating towards you as you treated him the same as you would with any person; unbeknownst to him about your knowledge on the things he does by the time office hours are done. 

it’s a beneficial friendship for the both of you; he gets to be left alone by the people who usually pester him to eat with during lunch (with the exception of satoru) and you get to fulfill your dirtiest fantasies by watching him get off whenever you catch him live on stream.

—

it was finally saturday, almost two weeks since you first found out about kento’s secret. you felt proud of yourself for managing to keep it inside for you for this long (with the denying thought that you wanted to gatekeep this information to yourself for as long as you can)

you were making your way home when all of a sudden the rain started pouring, it was harsh and you were drenched in no time. having no other choice, you were forced to find shelter underneath one of the buildings, cursing yourself for not bringing the umbrella you had chosen to leave inside your house when you decided to go out for a walk.

“(y/n)?” someone calls out, and you turn over to see nanami dressed in just sweatpants and a fleece jacket that fit him snug. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, eyeing your figure.

you shot him a sheepish smile, “i wanted to go out and walk for a bit since i’ve been asleep all afternoon. might not be the brightest idea of mine to not bring an umbrella.” you explained, trying your best to keep yourself warm by hugging your arms to yourself. 

nanami contemplated letting you into his home; not that he didn’t want you there, he just had business to attend to later into the evening. seeing your freezing frame, however, made him think otherwise. “how about you say here for a bit? i don’t think the rain would let up anytime soon.” he offers, motioning his head to the doors of the apartment complex. 

you wanted to decline, you really did. but considering whether you should wait this is one out and probably face hypothermia, maybe accepting his offer was the wisest choice to make.

so you relent, nodding quietly as you walk closer to kento, following him inside the building and into the elevator. “have you invited anyone else from the office over here?” you asked him, genuinely curious to see if he has brought anyone else over. 

to your surprise, he shook his head. “just you, (y/n). and satoru, but he’s an unstoppable force of a migraine so i have no other choice.” he says, sighing at the mention of his best friend's persistent and unannounced visits. 

it somehow excited you, going inside his apartment and seeing where he would do his business, and it didn’t help that he admitted to not having anyone from the office over aside from gojo; it was like the cards of fate were on your side— even if the odds and chances of him ever opening up the topic were slim to none.

 if there was a 0.1% chance it would happen, you would jump on it.

the elevator ride was silent, the awkwardness weighing on your head as you shift from one foot to another as your eyes steadied on both of your reflection against the doors of the lift. it wasn’t helping that you were still cold from being drenched in the rain. “this is us, (y/n).” nanami mumbles quietly as the doors open to his floor, motioning you to get out first. 

“i’m not intruding by suddenly coming over, right?” you ask, nipping on your lower lip as you watch the muscles under his shirt flex as reaches for his keys. 

he glances back at you before finding the key, shaking his head. “relax, (y/n). i invited you to come over. would’ve declined if i felt you were.” he truthfully says, opening the door and steps to the side, tilting his head to the side and wait for you to enter. 

mumbling a soft thanks as you pass by him, you eye the apartment. it wasn’t /that/ fancy but you can definitely see that he was rich. anyone can also tell he liked reading from the multitude of books displayed on the shelf beside the tv. it was definitely an apartment of someone around his age. 

“you can wash up in the bathroom, i’ll grab you some spare clothes in my room.” he speaks up, pointing to the door by the end of the hallway. “i’ll just knock when i have them ready.” he finishes, walking briskly into his bedroom. 

you head off into the bathroom and wash up, stripping from your clothes to go into the shower and wash off the sticky feeling from being in the rain, sighing in satisfaction as the warmth of the water soothes down your shaking body. 

right as you were done, you heard the knocking from the bathroom door. “(y/n)? here’s the clothes.” he calls out. wrapping yourself with the towel, you open up slightly to see him with his arm extended but his face was facing away. “just… find me in the living room after.” he mumbles and walks away as soon as he feels you grab the set of clothing. 

briefly slipping into the boxers and the shirt he gave, you walked out and headed for the living room where you saw him sat by the couch, legs sprawled just enough for the dirty thoughts to come right back. his lap seemed so inviting but you had to keep yourself at bay. you were a sudden guest after all.

“would you like some coffee? tea?” nanami says, eyes shamelessly checking you out in his clothes; the way it looked on you causing his dick to stir in his jeans. he felt ridiculous, being turned on by the way you look in his clothes. then again, you didn’t seem to mind his blatant way of eyeing you up and down. nanami is a wise man, he knew and felt if the tension was thick and that was clearly evident with you. 

nodding, you sat down by his side; the distance just enough for the two of you not to touch. “if it wouldn’t be such a bother, some coffee would be perfect.” you answer, smiling at him shyly as you get comfortable in the cushions. 

feeling his weight lift off from the couch, he looks down at you with his same old stoic expression. “again, you’re my guest so it’s natural for me to try and be a good host. i’ll get us a cup of coffee.” he says, patting your head gently before disappearing into the kitchen. 

and you were left alone. alone in nanami kento’s house. 

if you were to tell yourself two weeks ago that you were in this current predicament, she would have never believed you. but here you are, eyes wondering around to observe the little trinkets, decor, and overall ambiance of the older man’s place. the curiosity of wanting to know where he films his live but you wanted to respect him and not blow your cover about being aware inside of his own home. 

“i’ll find out soon enough, nanami…” you mumble softly as you stretch, unaware that the very owner of the name you just mentioned was just a few feet behind you. 

“find you about what?” nanami’s voice startles you, sitting up straight as you turn your body to look at him with eyes as wide as saucers. c’mon get it together, (y/n)! you look like a deer caught in headlights! you cuss to yourself, unable to form any excuse for a few minutes. 

kento looked unamused, raising an eyebrow to your direction as he places the two mugs of coffee down on the table. “asked you a question, (y/n). what are you going to find out?” he asks one more time, authority dripping in his tone which sends shivers down your spine. his dominant aura seeping out of him so naturally as he towers over you. 

looks like you have no other choice than to come clean. 

taking a deep sigh, you start to avoid his gaze, fingers toying with the edge of his shirt. “i… i know, kento.” you admit, voice shy and meek as your heart thrashes around in your chest at the reaction he could have. “i was curious about where you… do things.”

the moment the words left your lips, nanami knew exactly what you meant and honestly, he wasn’t even mad. you treated him the same despite bearing the heavy secret of his work outside of the office hours. you didn’t even gossip around the department about it! you were such a good girl for him that it honestly turned him on more so than feeling invaded.

“and you’ve kept it all this time?” his voice comes out lower than before, stepping closer as one of his digits hook around your chin to lift your face, making you have eye-contact with him. “why’d be so secretive about it, sweet thing?” 

sweet thing. motherfucker knows he has you hooked around his finger and you couldn’t help but feel a tad bit frustrated at yourself for being so weak. “because… it felt nice to be the only one to know.” you say, nipping at your bottom lip as your vulnerability slowly shows in front of him. 

his free hand snakes around your waist to pull you in, tilting his head lightly as his dark orb stares into yours. “such a good girl for me, yeah? keepin’ my secret and all” he says lowly, leaning in just enough for his lips to ghost the skin of your cheek, breath fanning over your ears. “should i reward you for being a good girl then?” 

he hit the spot. he knew exactly what you wanted and you weren’t even ashamed about your body language, hands now gripping the side of his shirt tightly to keep him close to you. “y-yes sir, want you so bad.” you mumble quietly. 

that’s everything that nanami needed to hear. 

his lips were on yours in a flash, moving in such a slow and intimate way you can’t help but whine just the tiniest bit into the kiss. it drew a low groan from his end, sounding almost primal as he pulled you in tighter, feeling his hardening dick stir against your lower belly. his hands were already underneath your shirt, palming your breasts and pinching your pebbled nipples. 

“gonna take you to the room, darlin’” he mumbles, stripping away your shirt before lifting you up with ease as he navigates through his apartment with such expertise. his lips never leave your skin, planting open-kisses to your neck, leaving little nibbles here and there that would probably leave light marks for you to see after all of this. 

once reaching his room, you gently tosses you down on his bed, “take a look ‘round and see if this satisfies your curiosity.” he says, motioning to the familiar set up you took in as his background whenever he streams. “could easily open up that camera and fuck you for the whole internet to see, would you like that?” kento asks you, pointing to the camera that was directed at his bed. “as much as i would want that, wanna keep you as mine for tonight.”

the pure filth that was leaving his lips caused your brain to malfunction, unable to form any words from being so overwhelmed already, he shakes his head. “already a dumb baby? how will i fuck you stupid then, little slut?” he tsks, going down on his knees and tugs you to the end of the bed. 

easily slipping off the boxers you were wearing, he groans at the sight of your sopping cunt. “such’a good fuckin’ girl for me.” he groans lightly, his big hand gripping at your thigh as his tongue took a teasing kitten lick at your folds, humming at how sweet you tasted for him. “so wet and i haven’t even done anything yet?”

“m-mhm, s’all for you, sir.” you respond, looking down to meet his gaze, your hand slowly reaching over to grip at his hair which earns another groan from him. 

“gonna make sure you only know my name by the end of the night.” was the last thing he said before latching onto your clit, tongue swirling around your clit. his free hand ghosting against your hole, middle and ring finger gathering enough of your arousal before dipping in, filling you quite well. 

your hips buck up as you feel his fingers enter, “t-too big, nami…” you sputter out, already losing it at the idea of his dick fucking you senseless later on. 

kento was about to lose it; he was a man of self-control but something about the way you react has him wanting to see more of you, to gauge more reactions from the touches he gives you. nanami wanted it all. 

“gonna have to prep you, sweet thing. needa make sure you’re ready for daddy.” he answers, fingers doing quick work of finding that one spot that made sure to have you writhing underneath him. seeing how your face contorted into one of pure bliss, he knew he had it. 

with his tongue doing laps around your clit and his fingers fucking you so well, you could feel the tightness forming at the pit of your stomach. “g-gonna cum, nami…” you manage to say, your moans filling up his room as you struggle to control your movement against him. 

you hear him hum, his ministrations never stopping until you feel yourself come undone, nanami’s fingers ride out your high before pulling away once you settle down. you’ve never cum that hard before and you want more.

whining lightly at the sudden loss of his fingers inside you, your eyes watch eagerly as he licks his fingers clean, his stare at you filled with lust. “w-want you in me, sir.” you beg, hand reaching up to palm him through his sweats, earning another groan from him. “please… need you so bad.” 

and who was kento to decline? making quick work of his swears, your mouth watered at the sight of his cock, freed from the constraints of his pants with his tip smeared with his precum.

sitting yourself up, he stops you and shakes his head. “gonna pleasure you first baby, can do that some other time.” he says, positioning himself on top of you. the tip of his dick ghosting against your hole. 

“don’t… don’t think it would fit.” you mumble softly, already whining at the feeling of his tip teasing you. “gonna have to make it fit then, princess.” he says, slowly sinking into you. 

the both of you groan in satisfaction;  the feeling of your tight walls wrap around him so well and the burn of his length enter you already causing so much euphoria

once he bottoms out, he stays just for you to adjust to his size. once you nod, he rocks his hips into a steady rhythm, his groaning music to your ears. “s-so fuckin’ tight baby. gonna make me cum so soon.” he grunts, voice a bit gruff as you let out another whine. 

“go faster, nami, please. want it rough.” you beg, throwing your head back at how he fills you up so well, just wanting to feel every bit of him. “you sure, baby?” he asks, lifts his head to look at you, adoring your already fucked out expression. 

“mhm, use me, please.” you beg. 

with your verbal permission, nanami relents. his thrusts were sharp yet hit the exact same spot every time. with his free arm snaking down, his thumb does quick work to rub circles around your clit, overstimulating you even more. 

his lips bite into your skin, leaving nasty lovebites as your fingertips drag along his skin, leaving red marks along his back. it was mixed with your light and airy moans, his low grunts and occasional curses and praises about how well you were taking him; t’was pure filth with the sound of skin slapping resonating in the room.

“k-kento, sir, i’m- i’m close!” you squeal, hips bucking up uncontrollably as tears form in your eyes; overwhelmed with pleasure from his fingers and cock.

kento’s drunk on the feeling of your pussy squeezing him right with your legs wrapped around your waist, he couldn’t get enough. “gonna cum in you, yeah? gonna make sure your pussy’s dripping with my cum.” he gruntles, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he starts to chase his own high. “look so fuckin’ pretty with those tears runnin’ down your face, angel.”

his words of praises sent you over the edge, nodding desperately as your grip around him tightens. you feel yourself cum for the second time tonight and nanami rides out your high, his own coming soon after, filling you up. 

he thrusts in you one more time, causing you to react and shake your head, “t-too much, nami.” which he understands and slowly pulls out, watching as thick white beads drip from your cunt mixed with your own arousal. 

kento leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, “gonna be back in a bit, sweet girl.” he mumbles and leaves, reappearing with a towel and a glass of water in his hands soon after. “here.” he says, giving you the glass and stars to clean you up gently, his hands light and makes sure to leave nothing. 

putting the glass of water on the bedside table, you hold his wrist and tug on it. “please don’t leave, nami. just want you here.” you mumble, patting the space next to you. 

the blonde obliges and lays down beside you, easily pulling you into his embrace and tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “gonna be here by your side for as long as y’ want me to, sweet thing.” he says, shutting his eyes to relax himself. 

“next time we do this, we’re fucking for everyone to see.”

peepeepoopoo camboy!nanami says to reblog, pretty please !! >__<

[fuckmymunson]

OMG OMG CAN YOU DO MORE OF DARK SIRIUS BLACK

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐭. 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫.

★ CW: 18+, Smut, unprotected sex, cheating, (kinda?) exhibitionism, slight degradation, slapping, (maybe) phone sex, my awful English. | Minors DNI | word count: 1.8k.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Have fun, love, but not too much, eh?" Sirius teased his girlfriend, your big sister. Kissing her lips, you felt a wave of jealousy crashing over your chest, wishing it was you who he was kissing instead.

"Is just a road trip, Sirius." Your sister giggled, holding her backpack. "Are you sure you don't wanna come?"

He shook his head, pressing another kiss against her lips. "Nah, girls' weekend, have a rest from me, babe, you deserve it. Tell Mrs Moony I say hi." And with another round of goodbye kisses, she left, leaving you two alone in the small flat. 

You moved to the city with your older sister who was thrilled to have you with her, and her boyfriend Sirius who was practically living there too. In the beginning, the relationship between you and Sirius was a little awkward; He was so flirty and touchy, so your sister and her friends, (who also happened to be his friends) explained to you that Sirius was just being himself. Then, everything took an… interesting turn. Noticing how his eyes lingered over you, wearing those short summer dresses, how he smirked at the sight of you bending down to pick the cans of beer from the living room, giving him a slight peek of your pretty cunt pressed against the pink fabric of your panties, how much he enjoyed braiding your hair, his fingertips brushing your neck, making you shiver. 

The little attempts to catch his attention were painfully obvious. You felt guilty, of course, he was your big sis’ boyfriend for god's sake! But you couldn’t help it, he was too charming for you to simply ignore him, with his breathtaking grey eyes, his sexy smirk and the way his fingers trailed your shoulders when you were wearing those tiny tank tops… I mean, give yourself a break!

“Um.” You cleared your throat, trying to push away the image of his lips all over you to the back of your head. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” Standing up from the living room, hearing him chuckle, you rushed to the bathroom, locking the door. 

The cold water ran through your body, in a desperate attempt to cool down the burning feeling of desire you had for your sister’s boyfriend. 

Grabbing a near towel hanging on the grab bar, you wrapped it around your naked, wet form just in time to remember how you forgot a dry set of clothes. You cursed under your breath while opening the bathroom door so slowly it seemed like it took forever to walk through, looking at both sides of the tiny hallway, relieved to see it empty. After tiptoeing to your room, next to your sister's, Sirius's voice coming from the tiny gap of the open door caught your attention, the curiosity getting the best of you leaned closer. 

“I swear, Prongs.” He was on the phone, presumably with James. "She’s so fucking hot, and I have to spend the weekend with her, have you seen her? I want to devour her.” His words made you gasp, quickly covering your mouth with your hand, hoping he hadn’t heard you. “She loves to act dumb, mate. I’m starting to think she’s actually that dumb. Better for me, I like em' more when they only have air inside their cute little heads.”

James must have said something funny on the other side of the line because Sirius started laughing. You’re about to leave, one hand still on your mouth and the other clutching tightly at the towel covering your decency when the door opens. 

"Whoa, look who we've got here." Sirius is standing next to you, phone pressed against his ear and a pleased smile on his handsome face. “Guess who was eavesdropping on our little chat, Prongs?”

“I didn’t hear anything, I swear.” The lie rolled down your lips and before you could take a single step, a ringed hand is pressed against your hip, making you squeal.

“Spare the lies, love.” Sirius practically drags you inside the bedroom, closing the door with his foot. “Be a good girl and lemme see you, come on.”

Your body tingled with courage at first, the hunger in his eyes sending you a wave of courage, and soon, the towel pooled at your feet, exposing your naked form to your sister's boyfriend, who eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “Gorgeous.” He whispered. The way he approached you made you shiver in anticipation, feeling defenceless. “So this is what’s gonna happen, pup.” Placing the phone on the bed, he pressed the speaker button. “I’m gonna fuck you in your sister’s bed, and Prongs here is gonna hear all of it, okay?.” You nod but is not enough for him. “Ask me for it, let Prongs hear you.”

“Please fuck me in my sister’s bed, while James’s on the phone.” There was no turning back. The words felt unreal, and the crimson blush that followed them only amused Sirius beyond limits.

Then, he kissed you, and the way he did was so passionate it took away every hint of common sense you had left. His tongue took its time exploring your mouth, delighted at the taste of your lips. He was a very good kisser. Pushing you to the bed, he caged you with his body, wasting no time licking and biting your neck, his rings scraping the supple flesh of your tits. The loud moan that escaped your lips made James groan on the other side of the line.

“You want Prongs to jerk himself with your pretty noises, pup?” Sirius breathed against your chest, only to bite your nipple making you moan again. 

“Yes, please.” You begged, James was also insanely hot, with those broad shoulders, that American tan and those pretty messy curls, countless times you had daydreamed about tugging them while he's burying his face between your thighs. 

“I can’t say no to that.” James chuckled and you heard the clear sound of a zipper being pulled down. 

A finger slides across your folds, gathering the increasing dampness, causing you to whine. “Focus on me, doll, I’m the one making you feel good.” It sounded more like a threat. Either way, you whimpered in agreement. “Look at you, your pussy is basically dripping f’me.” To remark his words, he inserts two fingers, prompted to curl them. The new feeling made you cry with pleasure. “There we go, so eager, aren’t you?”

No one had ever touched you like that, he seemed to know exactly what to do for you to become putty in his hands. The lewd sound of your pussy clenching on his fingers and your moans are music for his ears. “Please.” You beg again when his palm scratched very lightly your clit.

“Please what, baby?” Sirius asked, acting innocently, repeating the action. 

A few moans distracted you from his question, licking your lips at the sounds of James jacking off and his occasional groans, you closed your eyes picturing the scene, his shirt being held up by his teeth, his glasses sliding down his nose from the sweat, his sweatpants tugged down just below his thighs, stroking his hard cock up and down, up and down at the sound of your moans… Speaking of moans, a loud one escaped your lips when Sirius’s hand slapped your pussy far from delicately, another warning. “I asked you a question, are you dumb?”

“Please fuck me, Siri, please” The answer earned your a groan from both men, the mere sound almost sending you over the edge. 

“You really want that, love? You want me to fuck you dumb in your big sister’s bed?” 

Fuck.

“Do you want me to use you like a little toy? My little toy?” His words are relentless, determined to not give you a break. “I’m sure you do, pup. I can fucking see the way you drool for me, your sister’s boyfriend.”

“What a dirty little girl…” James moans. 

“Wearing those little dresses, batting those pretty eyes at me, begging for me to fuck you.” Sirius pulled away from you much to your displeasure, removing his shirt and his jeans as quick as his hands allowed him. 

Having him naked was a whole different experience. You've seen him without a shirt countless times, trying to be discreet (and failing miserably), spellbound at the way his arms flex, at his black tattoos, bold and dangerous, just like he is, but to actually have him like this was an experience of a lifetime. While torturing you, he stripped away every piece of clothing from him parsimoniously until he's fully naked, and you're now certain you like everything about him.

“Can’t wait to make you mine.” He growled, opening your legs and with one hand coating his hard length with your lovely fluids. He slid in with a swift thrust, almost bottoming out. " Fuck, if I knew this beauty was so tight, I would've fucked her months ago." 

“Is it better than her sister’s?” James teased Sirius, making you moan in the procedure.

“Way fuuuuucking better Prongs.” And living up to his words, Sirius's pace is merciless, the obscene sounds of his thrusts and how your puffy cute pussy clenches around him made James moan louder through the phone, and you can hear the wet sounds his cock is making against his hand. “You hear that, love? Prongs s’gonna cum with the thought of your adorable pussy.”

James’s loud groan indicated to you that he did in fact cum.

“You like it when your sister’s boyfriend makes you his personal slut?” His hand reached between your bodies, rubbing your clit in tiny shapes. 

“Y-Yes!” The desperation in your voice is priceless. “Fuck, p-please.”

“Are you gonna cum? Pretty girl?” James’s hoarse voice next to you almost felt as if he was right there. “Are you gonna make a mess on Pads’ cock?”

“I can feel your tight pussy swallowing my cock, sweetheart.” The man above you is wild, driving you insane.

“Are you gonna milk his cock like the good girl you are?” 

“Fuck, s’good.”

Sirius groaned lewdly at the way you came, squeezing him impossibly harder, feeling you come undone under him, seeing the way your back arched in pleasure, how your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, and the sweet, sweet way you yelled his name. The warm feeling of hot, strings of cum inside you is literally overwhelming, and when he pulled out, you can feel it almost squirting out of you, making a mess on the purple bedsheets. 

“Such a mess.” He panted, running a hand through his hair. “You better wash those sheets, lovely, unless you want your sister to know I fucked you dumb in her bed.”

“Fuck, she can make a mess on me whenever she wants.” 

“You hear that bunny? What do you think if we invite Prongs for breakfast tomorrow?” Long fingers gather some of his cum and yours, pushing it back inside your empty hole. 

“Only if she’s the dessert.”

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. I appreciate any feedback!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

[persephone11110]

My Own Aphrodite

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings:body image issues, self esteem issues, past self blame, issues, society sucks, sucky beauty standards, weight scale, past body shaming, pervy men, digusting school system, misogyny, curse words, tiny bit of smut, happy ending

prompt: ❛you’re beautiful, you know that? ❜credit: @nightprompts

I wrote this based on my personal experiences

ALL BODIES ARE BEAUTIFUL!! :)

reader nickname is Angel

This is a prequel to Hold Me Baby, but you don’t have to read it to understand. But u should tho— no pressure :)

-

Past

You could feel eyes burning into your chest.

“Miss L/n, it hurts me that you seemed to forgotten our three fingers straps rule” Mr. Lee sounded hurt, you could see something being scribbled down on the notepad that was currently in his hands. He ripped the paper off and walked towards your desk and handed it to you—“The last thing the boys need is a big distraction, do you want to cause a disruption in our classroom?, he didn’t give you time answer—“Go to the nurses office for a cover up or go home”. He proudly walked away with a smirk on his face.

“What!” you muttered under your breathe. You quickly jumped from your chair— scared of the consequences if you refused. Mr. Lee creepily stared at your chest, you started to blush in embarrassment, is this what he meant?- your body is distracting.

“See what I mean Y/n your causing me a distraction” he gestured toward your breast.

“Please leave now”

Tears started to drip from your face. I didn’t mean too. your lips begin to wobble.

As you drag yourself through the empty halls sour thoughts seemed to paralyze your mind.

“Why couldn’t I be smaller?”

“Did Mr. Lee have a point?”

“Honey” the secretary of the school Ms. June called out to you.“Honey if Mr. Lee sent you down here for a cover up, the nurse doesn’t have anymore to give”.

More tears slipped down your face.

“I’m so sorry Honey unless you find something i’m going have to send you home”. A pinch of sadness crossed over Ms. June’s face.

You didn’t have to tell her. You could see her hand moving fast as she scribbles something down.

“I’m sorry Y/n” you looked down at the piece of paper— a permisson slip that required your signature stating that you were leaving early.

“Thank you” you whispered.

You walked away with tears pouring down your face. “Why me? , Why me?” you kept repeating to yourself. “Did I really deserve this?”

How were you supposed this explained to your parents?

I am a distraction.

- -

Present

“Angel you looked great in that one” Bradley told you— and you were pretty sure he’s said that fifteen dresses ago. He relaxingly sat on the bench inside of the dressing room- his phone tossed to the side, even though it occasionally tinged Bradley ignored it. He assuring you that all his attention was on you.

You messed with straps, trying to lift them higher.

You we’re trying to cover up your cleavage.

Your shoulders sagged—dressing shopping had been a lose cause and too add it to it you dragged your husband Bradley alongside hoping to get a good opinion— but all he’s been offering you is five stars reviews on each and every dress you’ve tried on so far. (kind bastard). You atleast thought he give you his honesty and tell how ugly you’ve looked in all of them — telling you how disappointing it was to been soulmates with the ugliest woman alive.

“Angel whats wrong with this one?” he asked curiously— surely Bradley saw how grotesque you were?, yet his eyes and body language showed otherwise. You and him were both tired— You pulled Bradley out of bed at the ass crack of dawn to try on dresses. Now your starting to regret bringing him here— you wasted his and your time.

“N-Nothing,Nothing” you shakily start to take off the dress. You felt the dress slip down to your body onto the floor.

You sniffle, your face is getting hotter and hotter by the second.

“Y/n?” he tries.“I didn’t mean to insult you—”

Did he do something wrong?

You were gone. It seemed like you were in your own world. Subconsciously you curl into yourself- seemingly hiding your body from him.

“Angel”, he didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.

“I’m sorry Bradley—let just go home” you broke out your trance, you doubted you find a dress in time for the navy gala.

Weeks ago the scale showed you a number you didn’t like and now your body is reflecting it.

Your suddenly on the floor picking up the dress— there you go again getting stuck in your own world.

He could see your brain spinning fast, he hears the evil voice in the back of your head telling you how ugly you were.

Soon Bradley was on the floor with you—right now he needed to get to the bottom of this, he needed to make this right. “Angel”

Distraction.

“Angel—can you hear me?” he voice is sweet and gentle. He gives you minute to answer him— times like this he knows how hard it is for you to pull yourself out of so much darkness.

He shouldn’t have too see you like this. He shouldn’t even have to be in the same room as you.

“Ready” he asks you.

“Yeah” your voice was equivalent to a prey moving through predator territory. Quiet and unsteady.

“C’mon here” he gestures with his hand. “it’s okay Y/n”. Bradley reassures you after seeing the look of terror and uneasiness on your face.

Its the easiest job you’ve ever done. Your face is already in the crook of his neck. After everything that had been going on you only had one question— why is he so fucking soft? metaphorically and literally.

“Talk to me Y/n” he tells you. “Let me in”.

Bradley gently dragging his hand up down your back— he’s slowly coaxing you back to calmness.

You sigh.“I really want toBradley… but what if you don’t like what I say?”. His fingers pause for a second.

“Even If I don’t like it Angel, I still want to hear whats wrong— your feelings are justified, I still want to help you”. Bradley says with sternly yet softness is bleeding into his voice.

You can’t help but melt at that.

Even when you tried building your defenses higher, Bradley kept knocking them down.

“Distraction” you decided with.

“Y/n?” you could feel the gears spinning in Bradley’s head.

“I don’t want to be an distraction Bradley” you tell him again, was he purposefully not listening to you?

You could feel his face turn into a frown.

“Y/n how are you distracting?” he asked you. “Do you mean your distracting me?”.

Remember what he said— “Let me In”

“My breast their.. their so big” your voice is wobbling again like earlier. You wished you could talk without being a baby.

“Angel I’m not some teenage boy who’s gets distracted by the sight of breast” he seems hurt by the accusation.

“No” you sighed. “They cause disruption”. Your talking like it’s was true— you talked liked no ones ever told you it’s wrong.

Then it dawned on him, someone told you this when you were young. Someone hurt his wife.

And someone never told you otherwise.

The grip on you slightly gets tighter.

“Angel” Bradley shaking his in disbelief and disgust. “You are not distracting, your body doesn’t cause disruption.

“But—” you attempt to argue.

“But nothing Angel, who ever told you is full of shit and they couldn’t control themselves around a child… there is nothing wrong with you” , you pull your face from Bradley neck. He sounds so sure of himself.

He’s angry, his jaw clenched.

Guilt eating at you. And sure enough Bradley could see it.

“No, No Angel” his voice is coated with softness .

“I’m not mad at you- I’m irritated that no one ever corrected you”.

“Yeah me too, but I’m glad I have you” you throw your arms around him.

He’s hugging you back“I’m glad you found me”.

Confidence is now seeping through your veins.

“Bradley I like the last one”

Fuck Mr. Lee

“Me too Angel— it fits you like a glove and friday evening i’m going to enjoy ripping it off you”. Bradley stroking your back again.

You blushed. It’s amazing how your husband always manages to turn a sweet moment into a horny one”.

“Likewise Bradley Bradshaw—If you get off me fast enough we could have enough time for a pregame before my shift” you hum in amusement— fully knowing how feral your husband was.

He flings you up, “hurry up Angel and grab the dress”. Bradley moving around in the dressing room— he’s even cleaning and grabbing your other dresses.

He acting like a headless chicken.

Bradley starts fishing for his keys—not even giving you a chance to pay first. He practically throws his credit card into the cashier hand.

He wasn’t slowing down either.

“Come on Angel, time to go!”

[writing-intheundercroft]

When We're Older || Reunions

AO3

Word Count: 7,004

Chapter Rating: Explicit (warning: smut, NSFW, MDNI)

“So,” Theo cleared her throat, swinging their hands together. “Feldcroft, this summer. You and me, like we said last night.”

Sebastian squeezed her hand tightly. “It’ll be a night to remember, I promise.”

He cursed under his breath again.  Perhaps he’d overpromised the whole night to remember scenario. He was just as eager as her to consummate their relationship, but he was also a virgin. Ever the scholar, Sebastian resorted to books for the knowledge he needed.  He started off with some of the muggle romance novels Theo had gifted him (all flowery language about true love, nothing he didn’t already know) eventually resorting to more scandalous forms of literature.  He’d overheard plenty of locker room talk from the older Slytherin boys over the years, and they’d all sung praises over a particular text that had tips, tricks, and importantly, illustrations. Sebastian certainly couldn’t order it from Mr. Brown at Tomes and Scrolls without dying of embarrassment, so he’d begged Sirona for an afternoon off for a cheeky trip to London. 

He’d used the floo network to get there, and hurried to Flourish and Blotts.  Naturally, he spent the entire time dodging schoolmates, and had been completely humiliated by running into Violet McDowell, who’d been perusing the sewing section (why it had to be right next to the sexual materials section was mind boggling to Sebastian). Once he had a copy of Harold Edgecombe’s Demystifying the Modern Witch in hand, he rushed to the clerk, red in the face. He felt mortified as the young clerk snickered, taking his time to ring up the book.  Sebastian shoved it into his book bag, nearly tripping over himself to the nearest floo flame before running into anyone else he knew. 

Sebastian had spent the next twenty four hours poring over the book from cover to cover.  There was simply so much he needed to know–where Theo might like being touched, if she were flexible (he shuddered at the imagery), and other topics he had no idea he’d even needed to be mindful of. The book was promptly wedged between the bedframe and the wall, images burned into Sebastian’s mind, as he stressed.

Continue reading on AO3

A/N: Yes, it took me eighteen chapters to get to smut and character plot building. Got a lil too lost in the sauce building the angst~

[valen-nidk]

SAGAU. / Pick your poison.

FINAL CHOICE.

> Albedo 9 1/2 (+ bonus: Klee 2 1/2).

cw ; none.

summary: Reader has yet to be found out as the creator, so they are enjoying their freedom (they remain blissfully unaware of that fact).

taglist: @artificial-heartache , @jaxielous .

. .

"... told you so! I was right, Mr. Albedo!", a small figure came running towards (y/n) who had to quickly straighten their posture as they properly sat down. It was an easy guess but made (y/n)'s heart beat fast nonetheless -- have they been actively avoiding the characters? Yeah. They didn't have the mental, emotional or physical strength to meet any of them yet.

Why? Because what if they saw their favorite and wanted to immediately seek for affection or compliment them and give an awful, poor and even creep impression?

Holding their breath for a moment as they screamed internally, (y/n)'s stood up and patted their legs and rear to remove some of the grass. "Oh, uhm, hi..!", cursing at their inhability to say anything witty or remotely funny, (y/n) chose to focus on Klee whose eyes were beaming with sheer curiosity and her hands were curled into fists that moved up and down in excitement, footsteps were heard but (y/n) didn't have the confidence to look up at the alchemist after hesitating while greeting a child.

"I was playing fish blasting and when I turned around, across the big water body, this house showed up! Isn't that amazing?", turning to see Albedo, the child kept on rambling about her discoveries and proudly placed her hands on her hips, it was an incredible feat to discover someone living in the middle of nowhere with little to no resources... Hence why she had to report it! They could be a potential monster, perhaps, a new kind that Kaeya had yet to discover, cue to her duty being the one to protect Mondstadt.

(Y/n) simply kept smiling and waited for an opportunity to talk though they eventually looked elsewhere due to feeling an icy stare observing them with utmost calm like a subject under a lens only to be destroyed at the slightest movement.

"Good job spotting an anomaly, Klee", it was such a warm soft spoken tone that (y/n) couldn't help but to look at Albedo patting Klee's head with a faint smile curving his lips. If they could, they would have taken a thousand pictures but burning this image in their memory should be enough, right? Although that moment didn't last long, not when Albedo now looked at them like they were a boring subject or a pile of trash, filth even. Not a single word left past his lips which made (y/n) nervous and swallow saliva louder than intended.

Though that could also be due to being analyzed by such a deep and profound stare was causing butterflies in their stomach and their face felt somewhat hotter.

Hands raising up in defense, (y/n) started to speak while making hand motions in the air due to feeling anxious, one thing was having options on the screen to choose from with an already established thread of conversation but this... This was an actual dialogue with no game intervention whatsoever. Nervewracking indeed. "I uh, I'm... lost. Well, not lost just, I know this place, of course, but I don't", ah, yes, what an impression to make before the one character who is the most savage when it comes to sincerity and honest when he is bored. (Y/n) will be lucky if they manage to hold the tears of embarrassment until the pair is gone, return to their world and scream into a pillow. "People. I don't do well with them so I, here...", great. An advance. Not a lie, per se, but not the whole truth either.

Still better than saying all these powerful yet handsome and beautiful individuals were too much for them to handle, their heart wouldn't be able to take it. Even less when their voices sounded so... different and their gestures, movement, all of it was raw. All of it real. Goosebumps showed on (y/n)'s skin while feeling a pleasant shiver running down their spine.

Clearly, Albedo wasn't convinced but Klee bought it with ease. In fact, by the time the adult pair realized it, she was gone which caused (y/n) to almost go into cardiac arrest when they turned around to see the door of their house wide open with Klee inside who was fascinated by the inside of their house -- part of them relieved she wasn't far away, and the other is already losing years of life as (e/c) eyes witnessed how pointy ears twitched upwards and stared at the TV screen before her which was, unfortunately, playing an action movie with all of those explosive CGIs and flying flashy machines.

"What a fascinating artifact, what's it called?", did it hurt that the Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius was far more interested in the TV than themselves? Yes, it stung. Could they blame him? Not at all. But, for real? Not even asking for their name? Ouch. More reasons to go back to their world and cry.

While it had been the right choice to make the exterior of the house fit Mondstadt's aesthetic... They had been an absolute moron to make its interior akin to their world with modern tecnology but how were they supposed to be comfortable within the game if they did not possess all the comfort back from their world, huh? Bitting their lower lip, (y/n) chose to be a decent host as they closed the door behind them to avoid even more unwanted visits and offer some tea as well as cookies while now two curious characters observed their house. Albedo asking right and left about every crook and cranny, dismantling some objects to see its mechanisms.

What an afternoon... Surely, they will leave before dinner..?

> Yes (they leave with the promise of visiting tomorrow)

> No (they stay with the posibility of a sleepover).

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Nine]

This chapter is calmer than last one,

Or is it?

Viktor x Fem!Reader---Gothic AU: Spooky Sea---2.3K--SFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Synopsis:  Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: Upon your return to Piltover the Old, you discover that the strange happenings aren't only bound to you, but to the whole town...

Tags: Strangers to Lovers | Ghosts | Mermaids/Sirens | Slow Burn | Bonding Time | Forced Proximity | Mystery | Dark Magic | Spooky (?) imaginery |

Taglist: @lunar-monster @bittercyder @local-mr-frog

Nine: Curses Trapped in Whirlpools

The wind near the beach was lighter, the marine breeze stealing all the free space inside your lungs to reclaim you, the sand trying to glue you to become one with it, dragging you to the ground.

“It had rained heavily.” An obvious statement to try to break the tension settled between the two ever since you climbed the carriage on wobbly legs.

The beach soaked, with the sand more like mud, tinted a darker shade of brown. Tiny pools scattered across the coast, all filled with dead specimens, amorph from the tearing tides and the unmerciful wind, and yet, too strange to belong to this world.

Hollow-like eyes, blobs of black substance resembling skin, teeth so sharp for belonging to such a tiny fish.

“Probably a waterspout," Viktor signaled, his skin regaining some color under the evening sun. The tip of his cane poked one dead fish. "These don't belong to the surface."

The lighthouse was still on, the beacon concealed with the sun’s brightness.

"What is that?" Your finger pointed to a strange mass near the cliff's wall. Without thinking, you walked toward it, feet sinking in the sand, chilling your feverish skin.

Viktor called your name, hand extended as if to stop you. But you couldn't see him clearly, looking at the sea swinging lazily, almost taunting for you to get closer to the thing only to snatch it out of your grasp.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

You stopped a couple of meters away, where there was a toppled basket, moss already growing from the vegetal fabric the basket was made of. Inside, there were wet pages of what seemed to be letters, the ink ran over by the water, eating the words away. Photographs of people you had never seen, weddings, funerals.

“What’s this?” you muttered, too scared to bend down and see it closer.

“Memories,” Viktor told you, his hand over your shoulder. “Come on. You’re going to get sick with your feet all soaked.”

“Why do people put them here?” The stone staircase was seeped in water, with you carefully walking behind Viktor, ready to help him in case any of his feet slipped from a step, but he was just as impassible as the lighthouse itself against the wind starting to blow over. “Isn’t it easier to burn them if they wish to get rid of them?”

"They're not trying to dispose of them.” His golden gaze tracked back at you from the corner of his eye, like another lighthouse casting its glow over your wandering mind. “It’s an offering.”

“An offering? I thought all the people here had shifted from pagan beliefs.”

A noncommittal shrug. "You can't get away from the belief when it's rooted in the ground you walk," Viktor commented, the exhibit at the museum coming back to your mind, the image of the lighthouse alongside the legends, the shadowy figure of a monster you didn't want to see. "This was one of the main coastal towns to seek the favors of mermaids, after all."

The sea’s roaring lulled you, eyes drifting over the never-ending blue of sky and water merging. It was a world of their own, so close and far from your grasp at the same time. “Viktor, do you believe in those stories?”

“People do that around fall, praying not to have any major storm hitting the coast.” Viktor walked with a steady pace, his hair shining between honey and copper. "I do not see the harm in amusing people's beliefs, Miss."

Knowing that it would be the best answer you could get out of him, you continued the path ahead.

"How's that I haven't seen one before?" Your breath was getting agitated, and you didn't know if the reason behind the steep climb, or Viktor's story.

“They only put them over the cliff wall, nearer as they can to the maelstrom in front of the cliff.”

You fidgeted with the handle of your suitcase—well, the one Viktor had lent you. “Do you know where the maelstrom leads you?" you asked, biting your lip at listening to how childish that question had sounded.

“’Where?’” Viktor raised an eyebrow.

"Yes! Haven't you heard that story?" you said, excited to tell the knowledgeable man next to you a new piece of information that may serve his research. “That if you fall into a whirlpool, you end up in the mermaid’s realm?”

He chuckled, a wry smile that could outshine the sun. "That's why you shouldn't throw rocks or logs inside them." He rummaged inside his pockets for his keys, and now, you could walk side by side, the house welcoming you like an elongated shadow, with no lights or curtains drawn, all its eyelids closed, as if dormant.

“Or the mermaids will come for you while you’re playing on the beach!” you finished the shared thought, happy to have made him smile, for once.

His eyes twinkled. “Do you think that ghosts can get trapped in the mermaid’s realm if they get caught in the whirlpool, Miss?” Viktor sounded as if he was about to give a dissertation, his voice almost reverential. “Sometimes, I wonder if that’s the reason why the cliff cries.”

The entrance door opened without noise, the bright light outside devoured by the foyer, stains covering your eyelids, black and red with each blink.

You were following Viktor’s white shirt, when suddenly you didn’t see it move anymore, your head bumping into his back.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Your hand flew toward his arm to steady him.

“I’m—It's… it's fine," Viktor muttered, tapping his cane on the floor. One. Two. Three. As if knocking.

You peeked from over his shoulder, feeling the blood pooling down your feet.

“What… what happened here?” you uttered, so quietly that it was a miracle Viktor could hear you over the rapid beat of your heart. The furniture was toppled, pages scattered over the floor, some glasses broken, crunched under Viktor’s unrelenting steps as he scanned the room. “Someone broke in?”

Could it be your family? Trying to coerce you into their will and find you gone?

Anger bloomed inside of you, tensing your jaw, and feeling a pit in your stomach, as if someone had forced you into swallow stones that would only drag you deeper into the current you wished to outrun. One not even the terribly adventurous trip to the city, not even the golden band on your finger could make you float away.

“I’m going to look for them,” you huffed, surprised at how cold your voice sounded. "This is unacceptable. To drag you into this mess…" It’s my fault, your mind echoed, another infuriating truth.

“Wait.” This time, Viktor did hold you by the hand, his fingers brushing your palm and wrist in a motion so light, for a moment you thought you would’ve imagined it. “They weren’t the perpetrators. Or I believe they weren’t.”

Looking up at him, you copied his frown. “Viktor, you don’t have to excuse them…” you started, words getting trapped in your throat at seeing how the light filtered from the entrance to the stairs in a familiar pattern.

Muddy footsteps.

Viktor saw the fear in your widened eyes, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Miss. Go to the lighthouse. I will sort this out."

You grimaced, looking at the house torn to shreds. "I can help you clean—"

"No. It could be dangerous for you." His eyes searched for yours. "Please go to the lighthouse. I promise that everything will be alright."

Opening the rusty doors of the lighthouse felt almost like coming home; the familiar, newly painted walls received you, with the smoky smell of the hearth. Away from that house, for whatever lurked in there.

Shaking your head, you went to the beacon room to check on the electrical panel, finding it only slightly heated from working incessantly for almost three days. The longest Viktor or you could go with having nausea and headaches, hallucinations mixed on top of it, or so you thought, when you woke up in Viktor's bed, with him laying on the couch, the plate where you had put his meds empty.

You couldn’t turn it off, as night was already settling its black blanket over the waves, fog creeping into the surface to blur the limits of the familiar world to turn them into a ghostly landscape.

A chill ran down your spine at remembering the silhouette, white yet solid enough to pierce through the veil and stare right at you, freezing the blood of your veins with its ominous greeting.

Would you see it again? Just as you had seen the mud footprints.

Your teeth nibbled on your thumb’s nail, mind rummaging as to find an explanation.

Someone had broken in, it had to be that—perhaps someone lived inside Viktor’s house, using the owner's usual absence to their advantage. That's why they had appeared in front of your room, as a threat to draw you away.

But… who would dare to live in a seemingly haunted house? Maybe it was the reason behind the strange sensation of someone watching your every step, of all the silences charged with expectations of something breaking it.

Almost as if you could remember it from your days cleaning the house; the gazes from the corner of your eye to double check the hallways, that the creaking wood may not have been the aging house hit by the wind, but rather, a careless step right next door.

That perhaps Viktor was hiding another person from your view if he was distracted enough not to notice such things. Because it must be signs, like objects moving, or disappearing, the footprints, of course, or some noise.

At least you didn’t have to spend more nights there. Little mattered if you were husband and wife, you were only his lighthouse keeper. Occasional friend, at best.

Minutes poured into hours, the sky grey inside that another realm that seemed to be an unfinished sketch, with its sharp edges and grey backgrounds all ornamented with the cliff’s haunting cries, ones that in a twisted way, you had missed.

In the city where everything seemed to be a dream, the cliff’s real screams grounded you in the sick reminder that this was real.

That the muddy footprints were, too.

Your skin got covered in goosebumps, the constant thumping of raindrops against the ceiling drowning any outside noise, except the clear of the entrance door slamming close.

The chair you were sitting on creaked from your jump, feeling your heartbeat thrashing against your ribcage.

By paranoia, you looked back at the beach, where the female-looking apparition was already standing as still as a statue, her bony and deformed hand raised in a greeting.

She turned her head slightly, and the dead algae clung to her remaining black hair covering one of the hollow sockets where her eyes were supposed to go. Instead, from the holes ran putrid blood, almost as black as tar, that the rain couldn’t watch.

Her smile was too wide, showing her too-sharp teeth. And then it clicked in your head. She looked like those strange fishes from the deep sea.

Was she a mermaid?

“Miss.”

You screamed, and Viktor almost fell from the last step of the stairs, his knuckles white from balancing his body on the rail. Miraculously, the thin balustrade was stronger than it looked. “My—are you alright? I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I could frighten you so badly.”

He had an awkward smile on his face, eyebrows knitted in worry.

“Viktor… what are you doing here?” Your question didn’t help to diminish the blush covering his cheeks despite the wet ends of his hair poking around his ears.

“I suppose I couldn’t sleep.” With little, shy steps, he approached the uneven table, sitting atop it while pressing his cane against the ground to balance its legs. “Not after… well,” he sighed.

When you looked at the beach again, it was empty.

“Had it happened before?” Your voice was barely audible over the incessant rain.

His graceful fingers outlined every line of the wood. “A couple of times,” he sighed, the hollows of his face accentuated with the single bulb atop your heads. Viktor looked exhausted. “But never… like this.”

He shrugged. "It's rather a risky strategy to get me out of the house."

You gestured toward him. “Well, it worked today, so,” you said, trying to alleviate his focused frown for some minutes.

Viktor chuckled, his eyes twin to the beacon brightening the night outside. "Julio used to see me napping in the cot when he returned from his duty. He must have forgotten to tell you."

“I don’t mind the company.” You stood up, returning from the panel room with one of your blankets. Viktor smelled like the burned wood of his hearth, to old books and coffee, when your hands brushed his shoulders as you wrapped the blanket around him. “You’re shaking,” you muttered with a smile. “Do you want some tea?”

Viktor was about to nod. “Only if you’re having one, too.”

You felt your stomach lighter, and suddenly, it was very tempting to start playing with your unkept hair. “I will be back.” You could feel his gaze burned on your back as you walked toward the stairs. “Can you keep watch meanwhile?”

Viktor called your name, your feet hovering over the edge of the step. Turning to see him, slowly walking toward your unoccupied chair, gaze cast over the coast as his elbow leaned against the window to support his chin.

“I know we didn’t meet in the most… ideal circumstances. But… but I’m happy that you’re here, now,” he muttered, looking back at you with a smile. “Thank you.”

You smiled, looking at the ground. "I think I should be the one thanking you," you said, hands interlaced over your stomach. "You helped me break out the cursed destiny it had been traced for me.”

Viktor hooked the cane in the crook of his elbow, looking out the window, pensive.

“I like to believe we both are helping each other to break our curses.” Viktor looked at you intently, his gaze freezing you, mid-step, suspended in a void.

[froghatz]

Continuation of my Jotaro x Childhood friend/crush scenario

previous post

Haven't really came up with a good title to call this story yet.

cut for length

After the fight between Kakyoin and Jotaro:

"So, tell me. How the hell do you know about y/n??"

"I'm afraid I can't exactly remember, but I have a faint image in my head. I just recall that I was supposed to head out with them, I assume to come take care of you under Dio's orders, but then he suddenly pulled them aside before we could head out. I don't know what he told them unfortunately, I'm sorry."

Holly enters the room she allowed Kakyoin to rest in, with a tray of food.

"Here you go dear, I'm sure you're hungry. Eat up so you can rest." (Holly)

After setting the tray of food down, Holly gives Kakyoin a kind smile before heading back out to room to attend to some chores. While Joseph made his way into the room.

"So, find out anything about your friend Jotaro??" (Joseph)

"Kakyoin says that he last saw y/n at some mansion, I'm guessing Dio's hideout, he supposedly gave them new orders before y/n could head out with Kakyoin. Apparently, y/n was supposed to come kill me alongside him, but I guess Dio changed his mind. Makes me wonder why...It really pisses me off."

"A mansion you say?? Do happen to know any further detail of this mansion?? Like what does it look like from the outside or anything that may be around it??"

"No, I don't remember anything. All I remember is encountering Dio, before he planted his damn flesh into my brain. Everything after that is just blank. I only have small blurs from when I was under his control, but none of it is useful."

"I'm sorry Jotaro, but it seems that your friend is under Dio's control. Though this also means that they most likely have a stand as well. That's the only reason I can think of as to why Dio would take them under his control. I supposed you don't happen to know of their stand's abilities either, right Kakyoin??"

"No. I do not."

"Is that so?? Then let's go find that vampire bastard and kick his ass. I'll make him regret ever-"

"Mr. Joestar, it's Holly! She's ill! Come quick!" (Avdol)

The discovery of Dio's curse only adds more fire to Jotaro's flame. First Dio thinks he can just take his only dear friend away from him and get away with it. Now he wants to take away his mother as well. It only makes Jotaro want to annihilate him even more. A burning passion to push through any and every obstacle that gets in his way to rip Dio's head off with his own bear hands.

----------------------------------

"Right! Let's Go!"

and so, the journey begins...

[thedevilofblackbrook]

{ DEMO TBA }-{ CHARACTERS }-{ MAIN BLOG }-{ PLAYLIST }

the barn leaned over, the vultures dried their wings

the moon climbed up an empty sky

the sun sank down behind the tree on the hill

there's a killer and he's coming through the rye

but maybe he's the father of that lost little girl

it's hard to tell in this light

and i want to know the same thing

everyone wants to know

how's it going to end?

--- TOM WAITS, "HOW'S IT GONNA END?"

after the death of your mysterious and secluded great-aunt, you receive a letter from her lawyer saying that she's left you all her earthly belongings: her house, her money, and her secrets.

in order to claim your inheritance, you travel to blackbrook, a small town in the south, to clean out her old and dilapidated house. the town itself is even stranger than the situation you've found yourself in; your house is far on the edge of town, the townsfolk all but avoid you, and you feel like your being watched at all times.

the shadows around your new home seem darker every day. death now permeates everything around you, and the fate of the town is up to you: save those around you or let them burn?

set in a fictional town somewhere between the late 1890s and early 1900s, the devil of blackbrook is a southern gothic 18+ interactive novel with horror elements.

customize your character's name, gender identity, pronouns, physical appearance, personality, and more.

solve the mystery plauging this town with the help of a strange group of townsfolk and outsiders.

romance any of eight characters, all of which have fixed genders but are available to romance by all mcs.

your actions have consequences: "true evil is, above all things, seductive. [...] like a siren, beckoning you to ruinous shore." -- the creature, penny dreadful; evil is as evil does, your choices may help your foes and alienate you from your friends (or maybe you've decided the roles are reversed? who am i to judge?)

THE DEVIL: ???

the white eyes. the darkness that creeps into town. the shadow around every corner. makes you feel as if air is being sucked out of your lungs. when will it stop? please god let it stop.

THE SHERIFF: abraham beauregard.

he's been doing this for far too many years. duty. authority. he needs to be in power because without it he is nothing. if the town finds that his station is no longer useful, his life will crumble and fall apart. he knows there's evil. but pretending it's explainable is much easier than accepting he can't do anything to stop it.

THE HOLY MAN: pastor moses kelly.

wake up, preach, bless the folks that are scared (even though he knows it won't do anything), barely eat, barely sleep, wake again. the church is old and it's bones are brittle and he thinks he can't stand the image of the crucifixion any longer. when the devil calls, how can he prove the might of god when the sky seems so empty?

THE CAMBION: samson graves.

he never asked to be here, never asked for this body, for this inherent evil carved into his tendons and bones. his mother was good, but she's long gone now, his home a charred grave behind him. violence and death follows him wherever he walks. maybe killing the devil will bring him peace... even if he doesn't know what that feels like.

THE OUTLAW: stranger wyatt.

stranger... strange man... rider upon a pale horse. he claims the outlaw life brought him freedom but... he longs to settle. plant roots and watch a life grow. but his hands have done so much wrong and he thinks that he doesn't deserve anything good. maybe the only thing that could save his cursed soul is sacrifice. will he give until there is nothing left?

THE REVENANT: francis.

they don't know who they are. what they are. they crawled out of the earth coughing up dirt with nothing but a ring and sheer terror. they remember love, happiness, sadness, and warmth but all that's left is fear and cold and anger and a deep sense that something is very, very wrong. the house is familiar, but will it remember them?

THE BRIDE: mrs. ethel de loughrey.

she misses her home. her mother. her baby brother. her father was loud and terrible but she would trade anything to be out of this loveless marriage and quiet (too quiet) house. she resigns herself to baking and sewing but she longs for so much more. her husband isn't mean or rough but he wishes she was someone else and she wishes she was anywhere but here.

THE PROPHETESS: constance abernathy.

she sees too much. knowledge is a terrible thing when cursed with too much of it. everyone she meets she sees how they end: jealous husband, robbed and killed by outlaws, a mistress who wishes to be more. the worst ones are those filled with darkness and terror and eyes. those fucking eyes. she doesn't know what it is but she knows its not of this world. but no one beliefs the woman with the strange visions.

THE ARTIST: rosalyn goodwin.

the people of the town whisper about her behind her back about her "unwomanly" proclivities, but she couldn't care less. she keeps herself busy in front of a canvas and she wouldn't have it any other way. her hands are stained with paint and she fills canvas after canvas with beautiful pieces. this town does not accept women who live outside of their expectations, but perhaps somewhere in the west will provide a more welcoming place for her art.

[themurphyzone]

BatB AU: Memories

AN: Here's the next chapter! After four chapters of Brain angst, it's time for some Pinky angst!

Ao3 Link

Ch 26: Memories

Pinky scraped the dirt out of Pharfignewton’s hoof with his pick, while she stood still and waited patiently for him to finish. The stablemaster and his apprentices always took great care of Pharfignewton, so there wasn’t much left for him to do, but he’d grown so used to grooming her by himself that it had become second nature. 

And he enjoyed using this time as a bonding experience. 

Once he was finished with the hooves, he set the pick aside and climbed up the wooden post so he’d be at an equal height to her flank. Then he picked up his brush, combing her pelt with gentle, broad strokes. Pharfignewton whinnied blissfully, burying her muzzle into her feed bucket while Pinky searched for any fleas or ticks. 

He didn’t see any burns or scars from that horrible Mr. Itch’s fiery whip, but Pinky kept his touches light and gentle when he came across a slight tangle that needed to be undone. 

Pharfignewton was able to stand without pain or tiring or collapsing. She was doing just fine, in perfect health, and was well-cared for.

But as Pinky’s fingers threaded through her fur, horrible images flashed through his mind. 

The crack of a whip. Pharfignewton’s agonized cries as flames burnt her pelt. The cackle of a cruel man as he mocked her for still trying to protect them even though she was suffering. The exhaustion in her eyes as she pushed herself to her limits despite Pinky begging her to not hurt herself while she galloped faster than she ever had before so they could save the castle. Collapsing in the rain, her injuries finally taking their toll when they finally reached their destination and urging Pinky to go on without her.

According to Papa, the same magic that brought Brain back to life and restored the castle and servants to their non-cursed appearances also healed Pharfignewton’s injuries. 

But even with that reassurance, Pinky still couldn’t shake off the feeling that he’d absolutely failed Pharfignewton that night. The same way he’d failed his father, friends, and especially Brain. 

They didn’t seem to be mad at him. They never blamed him nor scolded him for not being faster or smarter or braver. 

But Pinky knew that he was the reason Snowball had attacked in the first place. If he hadn’t revealed the Beast’s existence to his village, the castle wouldn’t have been in danger. 

Papa could’ve gotten the care he needed sooner. Pharfignewton wouldn’t have been burned. The servants wouldn’t have been in danger. Brain wouldn’t have died. 

Pharfignewton whinnied softly, turning around to face him. There was a worried look in her eyes, so Pinky quickly put on a smile. He’d heard that horses were sensitive to their rider’s fear, and he didn’t want to scare her. 

“Your pelt looks so glossy, Fig,” Pinky said as she nuzzled him. “Must be all the apples they’ve been feeding you lately.”

Sugarcubes and apples used to be a luxury treat, since they’d been rather expensive in the village. Pinky usually saved his money for weeks leading up to special occasions just so he could pamper her for birthdays and Christmas. But now they were easy to come by, and Pinky wished he’d been able to do more for her. 

Pharfignewton stomped her hoof. 

"I'm alright," Pinky assured her as he stroked her muzzle. "Don't worry about me. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.” 

Brain worked hard to give Pinky everything he’d ever dreamed of. Even though Brain confessed that he didn’t think he’d done enough to make Pinky happy, the truth was that he’d done so much for him, and he never realized it.  

His heart warmed as he thought of Brain, the memory of his embrace keeping his anxiety at bay. But he'd have to wait for the real Brain's hug, since he was busy helping Papa with the workshop again. 

What started as Brain's way of atoning to Papa quickly bloomed into a genuine interest for machinery and inventing. Papa couldn’t stop bragging about Brain’s talents with the gears and tools, while Brain squirmed from embarrassment and soaked in all the praise at the same time. 

And Pinky was grateful that Papa had somebody in the workshop to look out for him. Papa’s inventions had a nasty habit of exploding randomly, and breathing in all that smoke and ash would be awful for his lungs. 

He could rest easier now that he knew Brain would get Papa out safely if there was an emergency. 

A month ago, Brain had been fretting over what he wanted to do with his life since he was still unsure about returning to princehood. Even now, he mostly considered inventing a side hobby, though if he wanted to pursue that path more seriously later on, Pinky would happily support him. 

“I’m glad Brain’s trying stuff he’s never had the chance to do before,” Pinky said to Pharfignewton.   

When he was younger, there were lots of things Pinky wanted to do when he grew up, though he could never settle on a pretend career for longer than a day or two. 

Fairy princess, baker, painter, candlemaker, violinist, a mermaid who was head over fins in love with a handsome pirate….

Well, his parents had always supported him even if his answers were a bit silly now that he looked back on them. 

“What about you, Fig?” Pinky asked. “What do you wanna do now that we're living happily ever after?” 

Pharfignewton flicked her tail. “Learn how to ride a horse,” she replied to Pinky’s shock, in a voice that was more higher-pitched than he expected. 

“Narf! But you’re already a horse, Pharfignewton!” Pinky laughed. 

Pharfignewton turned to the entrance of the stable, where Dot huddled by the doorframe, shuffling like she was trying not to get caught. 

"Hi, Dot!" Pinky exclaimed. 

"Shhh!" Dot hissed, quickly ducking behind a tall barrel before diving into Pharfignewton's stall and hiding herself behind the door so that nobody peering in from the outside could see her. "I don't want the stablemaster to find out I'm here or he'll tell Dr. Scratchy!" 

She glanced down at the skirt of her pink and white dress, grimacing as she gingerly brushed the dust and straw off the fabric. Her coordination had improved a lot in the past month, even though some of her movements were still stiff and awkward. 

Her head was covered by a black equestrian's helmet, her ears hidden underneath with a strap going around her chin. A yellow flower adorned the front. 

"Did Dr. Scratchy say you couldn't be here?" Pinky asked. He didn't want to get Dot in trouble, but he wasn't a good liar and wouldn't be able to cover for her. 

Dot laughed nervously. "Well…you see, Dr. Scratchy said no to horseback riding because he thinks I haven't got enough dexterity in my fingers yet, but Yakko said he'd let me try if you and Pharfignewton were willing to show me the reins." 

She giggled at her joke. 

"I mean, Yakko isn't totally done with his overprotective streak," Dot admitted, tapping her helmet. "He wanted me to wear a helmet, and while I'll concede to that, Wakko had to help me convince him that strapping pillows to each side was a bit much. Mostly by tickling him with Squit's shed tailfeathers until he gave up, but that's beside the point." 

Pinky blinked. "I didn't know you were into horseback riding." 

Dot scowled. “Why? I’m not allowed to develop an interest in new things?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

“Of course you are,” Pinky said, and Dot’s scowl and defensive posture dropped. He glanced at Pharfignewton. “Are you alright for a walk, Fig?”

Pharfignewton tossed her head, laying down so Pinky could put all her riding gear on.

“She says yes!” Pinky said to Dot, and she finally returned his smile. “You can help me with the riding gear.”

He pointed to the reins, bridle, and saddle that were too high for him to reach at the moment. Dot grabbed the items for him. 

“You’re not calling for a stableboy?” she asked. “You’re technically a princess now. You can just order them to prepare your horse.”  

That wasn’t how Pinky saw himself. He wasn’t sure if he could call himself a princess if Brain wasn’t sure about being a prince. He was still a village mouse deep down. 

“I could, but I enjoy getting Pharfignewton ready myself,” Pinky admitted. “It helps me feel close to her.” 

And there were no stableboys in the village. Everyone, except for Snowball who viewed the action as beneath him, prepared their own horses.

“It does?” Dot blinked. She probably hadn’t considered that before. She picked up the bridle, her fingers somewhat stiff. “Alright. So how do you put this thing on?”    

Pharfignewton slipped her muzzle into the loop of the bridle, the metal bit disappearing into her mouth. Pinky tightened the straps of the bridle and attached the reins. 

Then Dot tried to place the saddle on Pharfignewton’s back, though her first attempt resulted in the saddle facing backwards and under Pinky’s direction, she flipped it into the correct position. Pinky showed her how to buckle the straps to secure the saddle, and though it took Dot a few minutes, she managed to slip one of the straps into place on her own. 

“You’re doing great!” Pinky cheered while Dot flexed her fingers. 

“And yet I still can’t figure out buttons…” she sighed, frustrated with herself. 

Pinky gave her a reassuring smile as he hopped into the saddle. “You’ll get it eventually. Just takes some practice!”  

Once Dot hauled herself onto the saddle behind Pinky, Pharfignewton rose to her full height. With a flick of the reins, she trotted out of the stables and into the sunlight.  

It was a beautiful day for a horseback ride. The once-barren, wintery grounds were now full of lovely, colorful flowers, their fresh scent wafting along the breeze. The servants were trimming the hedges and trees, planting vegetables in the garden plots, and milling around outside. Nobody was in a rush to complete their work. 

They were all happy and relaxed, everyone determined to enjoy their lives now that they were no longer ruled by the curse. 

The sun was shining brightly, fluffy white clouds dotting the blue sky. The temperature was neither blazing hot nor freezing cold, and the pure white snow that once blanketed the earth had melted away, replaced by fresh spring grass.

Pinky guided Pharfignewton along a path that led to an open space in the courtyard, the same place he'd once played in the snow with Brain. 

That day was the first time he'd ever seen Brain laugh. He used to have so much despair weighing upon him that he'd never gotten a chance to let loose and have fun, to smile and laugh and play to his heart's content. 

It was one of Pinky's favorite memories. 

Now that it was spring, the courtyard was filled with beautiful flowers. It would be the perfect place for a picnic. 

Oh, he'd have to talk to Brain about his idea! A picnic in the sunshine would be so romantic! 

There was a light blue dress with floral accents in his closet he'd been meaning to wear, but the right occasion hadn't come up yet. And he had a matching floppy hat to pair with it! He couldn't wait to see the look on Brain's face when he debuted his new outfit. 

Brain always got adorable and blushy whenever Pinky wore a new dress around him. 

"Thinking about a certain someone?" Dot teased. 

"Narf, I think this would be a lovely picnic spot," Pinky sighed dreamily. "We could put the blanket on that patch of grass in the middle of the wildflowers, have our basket full of sandwiches and yummy strawberries, make flower crowns and bask in the sunlight-" 

"Pinky, I'm sure you'll have a lovely time, but right now I'm here to learn how to ride," Dot said, holding out her hand expectantly. 

Pinky handed over the reins, and the moment they left his hand, Pharfignewton abruptly came to a stop, throwing Pinky and Dot forward on the saddle. Neither of them expected a rough stop, their faces hitting the leather. 

"Ow!" Dot yelped, rubbing her nose as she quickly sat up. "What happened?"  

"You pulled the reins and told Pharfignewton to stop," Pinky said.

"I didn't say anything about stopping," Dot frowned. 

Her hands clenched the reins tightly. She was determined not to get this wrong. There was an unusual flicker of fear in her eyes, though what exactly she was afraid of, Pinky didn't know. 

"You didn't have to say anything," Pinky explained. "The reins did all the talking for you. Just pull up more gently next time so she won't stop so fast." 

Dot bit her lip, the mistake clearly eating away at her. It was unlike the bold, confident Dot that Pinky knew. She may've been a teacup once, but she wasn't fragile. 

Still, everybody needed a confidence boost sometimes. 

"You know, the first time I let Brain steer Pharfignewton, he turned too sharply and we both fell into the snow," Pinky winked at her. Dot let out a small giggle, her smile returning. "But I'm sure you won't let us fall off." 

"Never," Dot declared, sitting up straighter with the reins firmly in her hands. "Alright, Pharfig. Let's do this thing!" 

Responding to her newfound confidence, Pharfignewton reared onto her hind legs and gave a triumphant whinny. 

Pinky and Dot clung to the saddle and laughed as Pharfignewton dropped down to all fours and took off running, her hooves thundering against the ground. Dot yelped, trying to get a handle on the reins, though Pharfignewton only took it as an opportunity to run even faster. 

Pinky reached behind him, gently tugging the rein upwards to slow Pharfignewton down. It was too soon for her to be racing like her life depended on it, and he didn’t want to scare Dot out of riding horses. 

Within seconds, Pharfignewton slowed down to a brisk trot. 

“Let’s keep it at this pace, Fig,” Pinky said. “Dot’s just a beginner.” 

Pharfignewton tossed her head. Pinky could feel some pushback from her, a lot more than usual. She wanted to run like lightning, but understood that Dot needed time to get used to the reins. 

But that wasn’t all. In her own way, she was saying that she could handle herself, her injuries were healed and she’d been ready to gallop for ages, but she tried to hold herself back so Pinky wouldn’t worry about her. 

He should’ve let her run to her heart’s content much sooner. But all he saw was Pharfignewton’s battered and exhausted body in the rain, collapsed in the mud and unable to stand. He saw the burn marks and the pain she was in, and he saw himself pushing her to run faster without tending to her injuries first. 

"Pinky, is something wrong?" Dot asked. 

Pinky shook his head, the disturbing vision disappearing from his mind. 

“I’m alright,” Pinky quickly said, not wanting to ruin Dot’s lesson. “Let’s keep going, Pharfig.” 

But Pharfignewton didn’t budge. She nickered with worry.

“We can stop if you’re not feeling up to it,” Dot said, though she wasn’t able to completely hide her disappointment over her lesson being cut short. 

Dot didn’t want to stop. She was very determined to continue, and Pinky didn’t want to get in the way of that. 

“I’m okay. We can keep going. There’s a reason you really want to learn, isn’t there?” Pinky asked, quickly changing the subject. He didn’t want his worries to ruin their lesson.

Dot hesitated, her hands shuffling on the reins. “Actually, there is. I…don’t really remember Mom or Dad. It’s always been Yakko and Wakko and me. But I got curious, so I’ve been trying to find some information in the library about my parents. Except…the only book I found mentioned that they were overthrown by King Salazar. And it was only one sentence. It was really awful. So I asked Yakko, and he said he remembered Mom giving her horses funny names like Sir Neighs-a-Lot and Boris. And I thought…maybe she really liked horses. I thought I could get to know her better this way.” 

He placed his hand on Dot’s knee to comfort her. 

Pinky’s memory of his own mother was somewhat fuzzy, but he still remembered a lot of things about her. 

Her smile when Pinky did something that made her laugh. Her playfulness when she danced, her cloak billowing around her. Her gentle arms that comforted him when he was sad. A soft voice that told him ‘I love you’ after tucking him into bed. 

Dot didn’t have those memories of her mother. All she had was anything Yakko remembered. 

“Let’s get on with the lesson then,” Pinky told her. “And after this, I’ll get Brain’s help in finding books about your parentss. Nobody knows the library better than he does!” 

Dot’s smile returned as they picked up the lesson once again.   

o-o-o-o-o  

It was mid-afternoon by the time Pinky reached Papa's workshop. If Brain wasn't consulting with his senior staff about the castle's organization or with Pinky, he was often in the workshop messing with gears and tools Pinky didn't understand.

At first, Brain worried about what others might say about his new hobby, but once Pinky pointed out that it wasn't like anyone who would judge him for getting his clothes dirty would be coming to the castle any time soon, Brain stopped fretting about it so much and proudly boasted a stained apron whenever he finished a session.

He still insisted on rolling up his sleeves and working with leather gloves instead of plunging his bare hands into things like Papa. 

Pinky was happy to see that his two favorite mice were bonding just fine, though he made sure he entered the workshop with some mini cheese sandwiches and thimbles of tea. 

They both had a bad habit of skipping meals if they weren't reminded when they were really focused on something, and Pinky wasn't going to let that stand. 

Carefully balancing the tray on his arm, Pinky knocked on the door and waited patiently for someone to answer. There was a muffled exclamation and a loud crash, followed by an annoyed grumble. 

They always did this whenever Pinky visited them while they were working on some super important machine. 

"I have cheese sandwiches and tea!" Pinky called, laughing to himself over how silly those two could be sometimes. 

There was a thingamajig mounted on top of the door similar to what they used to have in the cottage when they wanted to see who was waiting for them outside. Pinky waved into its lens and held up the food he’d brought, and the thingamjig jerked sharply back into place before the door opened wide enough for Pinky to slip through.  

“Hi, Papa!” Pinky greeted the old mouse as he set the food tray on a workbench. “I brought snacks for you and Brain! I hope you haven’t been teaching him to skip meals lately.” 

Papa patted his belly and chuckled. “Really, Pinky. Does it look like I’ve been missing meals since we’ve moved in? Everyone’s been asking if I want something to eat every time I round a corner!”

The servants had done the exact same thing to Pinky when he’d first come to the castle. He couldn’t resist the little chocolate teacakes Flavio always whipped up for him. 

And Pinky was happy to see that the last month had been kind to Papa. 

His fur was healthier, his whiskers were fuller, and his eyes were brighter. This was the happiest he’d seen Papa in a long time. 

“So what dkind of amazing doohickey are you making over there?” Pinky asked, pointing to the back wall, where an enormous pile of timber and metal sat. 

Papa grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Thought I'd get an early start on this year's fair. I'm telling you, Madeline Junior is going to be even bigger and better this year! She'll finally win the blue ribbon she rightfully deserves!" 

Poor Madeline never had a chance to be entered in the fair. First she was lost in the woods when Papa took a wrong turn, then she'd saved them from Mr. Itch's carriage, but was sadly destroyed in the process. 

There wasn't enough of her remains to salvage either. 

"I'm really happy for you, Papa," Pinky said with a smile. "Madeline Junior is gonna do great!" 

"Yes, and I've got quite the partner to help me make Madeline Junior the very best she can be too," Papa said, puffing out his chest with pride. He turned to the pile of timber and metal. "Why don't you come out here, Brain? Pinky's come to say hi, and he brought sandwiches!" 

There was a distinct clinking sound that echoed through the room, but wherever Brain was at the moment, he didn't reply or come out of his hiding place. 

Papa just sighed and shook his head with mirth. "Well, I'm sure your boyfriend will be happy to see you once he comes back to this world." 

Whenever Brain became engrossed in a book in the library, he would lose track of everything except for the text in front of him. It would be the same here. 

Pinky poked his head around the pile of rubble and found Brain sitting on the floor, a row of bolts and gears laid out around him. Instead of being scattered randomly as Papa might've done, the row was neat and organized by size and shape. 

Brain didn't notice Pinky and Papa at all. His ears didn't twitch in their direction, nor did he turn around and say hello either. 

He only scribbled something onto a piece of parchment, then put his quill back into the inkwell. Next he attached two gears to each end of a short rod, murmuring to himself as he spun the gears along the floor. 

Then he shook his head, unsatisfied with how the end product turned out. He removed the gears from the rod and put them back into his collection, returning to his parchment and scratching out whatever he'd written. 

His methods were very different from Papa's, who was more of a 'throw everything together and if it doesn't explode it's a success' type.

But in his own way, Brain was just as passionate as Papa about these inventions, and Pinky would happily encourage them even if he didn't share their interest. 

Still, Brain needed to eat. All his brilliant thoughts were just as hungry as his stomach! 

His back was turned to them, and Pinky smiled mischievously as he thought of a surefire way to get Brain's attention. He stifled a giggle and placed a finger to his lips so Papa would know not to give him away. 

Papa nodded and mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. 

Pinky crouched on all fours, tail swishing with excitement. He tried to be as quiet as possible, though he was unable to help the happy, purr-like narf that escaped his throat. 

Slowly, he crept forward, keeping Rita's kitty gracefulness in mind as he imitated her stalking a colorful yarn ball. 

Brain continued to scribble on his parchment, completely unaware that Pinky was just inches away from him. 

Now within pouncing distance, Pinky waved his tail at Papa, who gave him a thumbs-up in return. 

Then Pinky wiggled his butt, tensing his back muscles right before leaping with his arms outstretched. 

"SURPRISE!" Pinky yowled. 

Brain had no time to brace himself or move out of the way. He shrieked when Pinky's weight sent him sprawling and forced him to the floor. 

The equipment scattered everywhere as Brain thrashed underneath Pinky, his tiny feet pummeling Pinky's stomach to try and make him let go. Pinky laughed at the pleasant tickles spreading through his body. 

"What the-" Brain sputtered, his arms flailing as he tried to wiggle free, but Pinky only held him more firmly. "I demand you unhand me at once, Pinky!" 

Egad, his little scowl was adorable. 

"Look, Papa!" Pinky called as he stood up with a squirming Brain in his arms. "I've caught a mouse!"

"I had everything perfectly organized before you stomped all over it!" Brain shouted, glaring at Pinky. 

Papa chuckled, and Brain's expression turned to betrayal once he realized Papa wasn't going to help him here. "He's a chubby one alright. What are you planning to do with him, Pinky?" 

That was a very easy answer. 

"Kiss him, of course," Pinky said, pressing his lips against Brain's fluffy cheek. 

Brain's protests quickly died away, his limbs relaxing as he settled into Pinky's embrace, a contented sigh escaping him. 

"You could say hello like a normal being," Brain murmured, leaning against Pinky's cheek. 

"Hello like a normal being," Pinky repeated. 

Brain just shook his head and sighed, then kissed Pinky back. 

"Narrrrf," Pinky purred, loving the feel of Brain's lips against his own. Brain tended to kiss lightly, just an inexperienced brushing of the lips. But he was starting to come out of his comfort zone, just a little more every day. 

Pinky didn't mind. He was happy to receive Brain's affection no matter what form it took. 

"Awww." Papa's voice was somewhere far away. 

Brain's cheeks flushed a bright red as he broke off the kiss.

"Jack! I…um, I didn't realize you were standing there," he stammered in embarrassment, awkwardly shifting away from Pinky. 

Papa laughed. "By all means, don't stop on my account. I enjoy watching true love in action." 

Brain only tugged his large ears over his blushing face, hiding his lovely eyes from view. His entire head resembled more of a misshapen tomato than a mouse, and Pinky found it adorable. 

"Pinky, I assume you didn't come here just to steal a kiss…and what little remains of my dignity," Brain said. He knelt down to reorganize his collection of trinkets.

"Well, I did bring sandwiches and drinks," Pinky admitted. "Someone has to remind you and Papa to eat, or you'll just work and work and ignore your hungry tummies. And that's not good! Your smarty minds need food so you can be a million times more clever!" 

Papa nodded. He knew that Pinky would never take no for an answer whenever he was told to stop what he was doing and eat. 

But Brain glanced at his parchment, dismayed that he was being pulled away from his work. 

"I require five more minutes," he said. "I'm still weighing the pros and cons of each stabilization method for the ax. If we can just compensate for the recoil and inertia factors-" 

A loud, hungry growl interrupted him. Brain immediately placed a hand over his grumbling stomach, scowling at it like it betrayed everything. 

"Oh, be quiet," he muttered when Pinky gave him a smug, triumphant look.

With no other options, Brain begrudgingly sat down on the workbench where Pinky left the sandwich tray. His frown disappeared once he bit into the cheese sandwich. 

Cheese always worked wonders for the soul. 

Once Brain finished his second sandwich, Pinky decided that now would be a good time to tell him about Dot’s request. 

“You know, Dot’s super curious about Warnerstock and her parents,” Pinky said. “She’s been trying to find books about them in the library.” 

“She better return the books to the right shelf,” Brain grumbled. “The Warners are all terrible at remembering such a basic principle.” 

Pinky loved how passionate Brain got about the state of his library. “She doesn’t remember anything about her parents. It makes her sad, so I wanna help her find something that makes her feel more connected. So can you help us find a book that’ll have everything she needs to know? You know the library better than anyone.” 

Brain was silent as he considered Pinky’s question. He didn’t seem as confident in his ability to find a book about Warnerstock as Pinky hoped. 

“My parents-” Brain’s nose wrinkled at the word. “-have the unfortunate habit of banning books that they consider distasteful to the monarchy. Believe me, I had personal experience with that matter as a child. They burned my copy of Robin Hood and scolded me for, and I quote, ‘reading peasant propaganda and pro-revolutionary material against the divine rule of the monarchy’. It was frustrating whenever I wanted to read a book only to be told that I can’t because it didn’t pertain to my studies, banned for its content, or both.” 

Pinky’s mother used to read him any fairy tale he wanted. He couldn’t imagine her saying no.

“Of course, I just bought another copy after I laid claim to this castle. They didn’t think that one through,” Brain said. He sighed and leaned forward, his expression pensive as he rested his elbows on his knees. “Nor their alliance with King Salazar for that matter.” 

Pinky's tail rested over Brain's. Neither of them knew why the royal family wanted to be allies with a murderer. It must’ve troubled Brain greatly. 

“Brain? Do you think…he’s gonna come after the Warners again?” Pinky asked, biting his lip nervously. King Salazar sounded very ruthless and cruel, so much like the late Prince Snowball. “He sounds even worse than Snowball. I…I don’t think I could deal with another mob if he tries to kill the Warners like Snowball killed you.”

The agonized gasps of air. Sorrowful pink eyes full of all the things he’d wanted to say but never had the chance to. Crimson blood staining his side and spilling onto the stone, washed away by the rain. A trembling hand on Pinky’s cheek, a once-strong grip weakening with every passing second. A dying voice whispering gratitude just for being there in his final moments.

What if it happened again? 

Brain squeezed Pinky’s hand. “That won’t happen,” he said firmly. “The Warners are safe here. He’ll never find them.” 

Though Brain’s tone was confident, Pinky’s fear remained. The castle wouldn’t give up the Warners easily, but Pinky couldn’t shake off the dreadful feeling that someone could be badly injured during battle. 

Papa was pouring over a sketch of Madeline Junior now, oblivious to the tension in the room. What if he was caught in the crossfire again? 

A sandwich was pressed into his hand.  

“Eat,” Brain ordered. “We’ll research Warnerstock in the library when you’re finished.”

With that, Brain swung his legs onto the workbench, grabbed a scrap of parchment, and began to doodle some complicated equation with his quill. He leaned against Pinky, body wriggling briefly as he settled into a comfortable position. 

Pinky ate his sandwich and watched Brain work on his drawing, and though Brain tried his best to soothe Pinky, the pressing fear of losing everyone he cared about didn’t disappear. 

o-o-o-o-o

“-there’s at least seven different books from the history section that could prove useful, five from geography, two from politics…it’s been a while since I’ve browsed these sections, so there could be more if we comb the library carefully,” Brain said.

But Pinky wasn’t paying much attention. He knew he really ought to be listening to how Brain planned to research Warnerstock, but his nerves were still on edge, his fur constantly standing on end. 

Something bad was going to happen. He felt dread sink deep into his bones and his stomach. The castle was going through its normal, daily routine right now, but that could all change in a heartbeat. 

He remembered how happy he’d been in his golden ballgown, dancing together with Brain who looked very handsome in his blue overcoat. But his happiness didn’t last, quickly turning to fear when he’d discovered his father collapsed in the woods, then horror as Snowball gathered an angry mob to murder Brain for no reason other than his existence. Then Brain won his battle against Snowball, and the relief and joy Pinky had experienced was overwhelming. 

Yet joy turned into sorrow when Brain died in his arms. All they fought for, all they endured that night just for the chance to be together once again…it was all for nothing. 

Then Brain came back to him, alive and well once more, and life became a happily ever after straight out of a fairy tale. 

So why did it feel like happily ever after could end any second? 

Pharfignewton could run. Papa could invent. The servants were happy. 

And Brain was…missing. 

Nobody else was in the hallway. Except for a table with a decorative vase and several paintings, Pinky was alone. 

“...Brain?” Pinky shouted. 

His voice echoed off the walls. Sunlight streamed in through a large window, which only deepened the shadows of the furthest corners. 

“Brain, where’d you go?” Pinky’s breath came out in short, rapid puffs. His chest hurt, a sense of dread overtaking him. “Brain?” 

The castle was too large. Brain had given him a tour once so he wouldn’t get lost, but in his panic Pinky forgot everything he’d been told. Maybe Brain was in the library by now. Except…Pinky had no idea where the library was, or if Brain would be there at all. 

Was he in the right hall, or even on the right floor? Maybe he’d forgotten to take a turn past the lion tapestry? 

Pinky wanted to keep moving, but at the same time, he wondered if he should backtrack to another hall, and found that he couldn’t move his feet at all, completely frozen with indecision. 

Suddenly, a hand seized his wrist. 

“Cease your dawdling, Pinky. We have work to do, and we can’t waste ti-” Brain’s irritation melted into confusion as Pinky leaned against his large head in relief. 

He couldn’t help it. He was just happy Brain wasn’t gone forever. 

Brain’s soft fur tickled Pinky’s nose, the fluff familiar against his fingers. 

Brain's here now. He's alive. He isn't hurt anymore.

Brain's breath hitched underneath him, and Pinky was happy just to hear him breathe without those horrible rattling noises. 

"Pinky?" Brain said, his ears falling back as he returned Pinky's affection with a pat to the shoulder. His irritation was gone, touch lingering as he studied Pinky's face, concern in his rose-pink eyes. "Are you feeling alright?" 

His concern was sweet, but Pinky didn't want his worries to hinder Brain from researching Warnerstock. 

"Y-yeah. I'm okay, Brain!" Pinky quickly plastered on a smile, hoping it looked genuine enough to fool Brain. "Never felt better in my life! Zort!" 

But Brain only raised a bushy eyebrow in response. 

Guilt pooled within Pinky, and he tried not to wither under Brain's searching gaze. Brain had been so honest and brave when he shared his deepest secrets, even when he mistakenly believed Pinky would never want to see him again if he found out the origin of the curse. 

He should've returned that honesty. But instead, he was just a liar liar pants on fire. 

Except he was wearing a dress, but that didn't quite have the same ring to it. 

"C'mon, Brain! That research isn't gonna research itself! Can't wait to crack open one of your dusty ginormous history books!" Pinky exclaimed, quickly dragging Brain down the hall with him. 

"I thought you'd fall asleep if you opened a history book!" Brain protested. He stumbled as they reached the library doors, his small legs trying to keep up with Pinky's longer strides. 

"Then I'll use clothespins to stretch my eyes really, really wide!" 

Brain grimaced. "Thank you for the unnecessary mental image, Pinky." 

"You're welcome, Brain." 

Unlike winter, when they kept the library doors shut to keep in the heat of the fireplace, the doors and windows were open and inviting, a gentle breeze cooling off whoever came to read within the enormous library. 

The first thing they noticed was the enormous, colorful book castle that spanned nearly the entire length of the room. Pinky knew Brain owned a lot of books, with many shelves piled as high as the domed ceiling, but he didn’t realize there were enough books to build a castle-like structure large enough to walk through. 

Tall columns of books surrounded the structure, topped with little flags. 

"Egad, this is really amazing!" Pinky said. "Whoever did this really has an eye for color!" 

Brain wasn't as impressed. "My books aren't meant to be used as toys!" he complained. "They're strictly either for reading or display only!" 

"Oh, don't be like that, Brain," Pinky nudged him playfully. "Haven't you ever played with books before?" 

Brain folded his arms. "I didn't play with my books, Pinky. I used them as stand-in subjects while I practiced addressing them as their king. Completely different situation.” 

Pinky just gave him a knowing look. 

With an awkward cough, Brain quickly turned to the book castle. “Alright, I know you three are in there!” he shouted. “You better have a good explanation for the mess you’ve created with my books!” 

Yakko appeared from the roof of the book castle, wearing a crown made out of parchment and a red blanket as a cape. He pulled a monocle out from his pocket and leaned over the book wall to peer down at them. 

Pinky laughed at Yakko’s bug-eyed appearance. 

“Good morrow, loyal subjects!” Yakko called. “How farest thee? Doth thee carest to rest thy weary feet at mine own castle?” 

Pinky giggled. He had no idea what Yakko was saying, but it sounded hilarious.

Brain wasn’t impressed though. “Thou art all fools,” he grumbled. 

Yakko gasped, hand clutching his chest dramatically. “How dareth thee callest me a fool! Thou hast declared war on the fair kingdom of Libraria! Sir Wakival, soundeth the drums of war!" 

"Of course, your Chattiness!" Sir Wakival bowed, who wore his signature red cap on top of a knight's helmet. Pinky had been wondering why one of the decorative knights in the foyer was headless. 

He slammed the visor down and pulled out a snare drum and pair of sticks. He started with a drumroll, then played a loud, headbanging rhythm that Pinky couldn't help but clap along. 

"Whoo! C'mon, Brain!" Pinky exclaimed, bumping Brain with his hip to try and get him to move to the music. "Move those hips!" 

Brain only covered his ears and glared at Sir Wakival. 

"THIS IS A LIBRARY! HOW ARE WE GOING TO CONDUCT RESEARCH IF YOU PERSIST WITH THAT RACKET?" Brain shouted above the noise of the snare drum, tugging down his large ears to block the noise. 

Then Sir Wakival stopped playing and frowned, much to Pinky's disappointment. He thought Sir Wakival was an excellent drummer. 

"I think it's missing something…" Sir Wakival murmured, tapping the chin of his helmet with a drumstick. Then he snapped his fingers. "Faboo! Your Chattiness, I humbly request cannons! Lots and lots of cannons to give Libraria's war song that extra oomph!" 

"Cannons, you say…" Yakko smirked. Though he was pretending to think about it, it was obvious he was onboard with the idea from the moment Sir Wakival suggested it. "Very well. I grantest thee lots and lots of cannons!"

"FOR LIBRARIA!" Sir Wakival shouted. He produced several crumpled balls of parchment and threw them at the mice. 

Egad, they were under attack! 

"Don't worrieth, my fair Brain!" Pinky exclaimed, planting a kiss on his forehead as he shielded Brain from the onslaught of paper balls. "I'll protecteth thou!" 

Brain blushed in Pinky's arms. "It's thee. Use the proper subject-verb agreement, Pinky."

A paper ball pelted Pinky in the back of the head, and he laughed at the sensation. He didn't understand the difference between thy and thee and thou or why people talked so funny back then. 

Brain grabbed the paper ball and placed it in Pinky's arms, then grabbed his chest fur and yanked him down for a quick kiss on the lips before releasing him. 

"Now lay waste to their barbaric posteriors!" Brain exclaimed, turning Pinky around to face Sir Wakival, who was crumpling more parchment for ammunition. 

Brain quickly scrambled out of the line of fire. 

Pinky reared back and threw the paper ball at Sir Wakival, though it missed him by several feet. Paper wasn’t exactly the best throwing material, but Pinky and Sir Wakival were tripping over themselves and laughing as they tried to hit each other with their harmless projectiles. 

“I demandeth your surrendereth, you knave!” Sir Wakival shouted. 

“Can’t surrendereth if I don’t know what a knave is!” Pinky yelled back. 

He weaved between Sir Wakival's legs, finally striking him with a paper ball to the back at close range. Sir Wakival cried out dramatically and fell to his knees. 

"YES!" Brain shouted, grinning as he cheered Pinky on. 

Pinky blew a kiss in his direction. He couldn't let his biggest fan go unrewarded for his support. 

Yakko smirked. "Now! His back is exposed, Sir Wakival!" 

It was? 

Maybe he should've picked a different dress. The sleeve straps were a bit loose around the shoulders and fell down his arms. He dropped the paper ball he carried to adjust the straps of his dress. 

“Not like that, Pinky!” Brain shouted. “Behind you!”

A shadow fell over Pinky, and he only had time to turn around before a massive hand lifted him off the floor. 

“I win!” Sir Wakival proclaimed triumphantly. “The kingdom of Libraria is safe once again, your Chattiness!” 

Yakko clapped his hands. “Good show, Sir Wakival! As your reward, I hereby proclameth you captain of my royal guard!”

Sir Wakival flipped open his visor and cheered. Pinky cheered alongside him, because Sir Wakival put up a really good fight and he deserved to be promoted. 

Brain just shook his head, pretending to be sorely disappointed while trying to hide the tiny, fond smile on his face. 

As Sir Wakival and Yakko celebrated together, neither of them noticed the movement of a curtain behind them. Something was pulling it along, though they were hidden behind the railing of the library’s upper floor. 

Then the movement stopped. If Pinky didn’t know any better, he’d say the curtain might’ve been angling directly at the Warner brothers. 

“Narf! There’s something behind you…eth,” Pinky said, remembering to talk funny just in time.   

The curtain’s fabric pulled taut, but the Warner brothers just shrugged. 

“Thou shall have to do better than playeth an old trick on-” But before Yakko could finish his sentence, a loud caterwaul interrupted him. 

The Warner brothers turned around just in time to see Dot swinging towards them at a high speed, gripping the curtains for dear life as she let out a battle cry that would’ve put an entire army to shame. Sir Wakival’s hand opened from shock, and Pinky fell to the ground. 

A swift current passed over Pinky’s head as Dot sailed over him, slamming feet first into her brothers and knocking them straight into the enormous book castle they’d built. Brain’s pink eyes were round and wide, his expression of comical disbelief. Dazed by the impact, the Warner brothers couldn’t do anything but twitch and groan in a heap of tangled limbs. 

Dot plucked the crown off Yakko’s head and placed it atop her own. Then she took the yellow flower from her ears and pinned it to the front of the crown. 

"Behold, I am Queen Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Third! Bow before the new queen of Libraria!" Dot bellowed, pumping her fist into the air triumphantly. 

Before Pinky could ask if she was a queen or a princess, a book fell to the ground from one of the highest spires of the castle. The spire wobbled back and forth, until it finally collapsed backwards, causing even more books to rain down from above. 

Just how many books did the Warners use for their castle? There must’ve been even more stacked up on the inside than Pinky thought, and it was collapsing quickly! 

“It’s gonna fall!” Pinky shouted. 

As a rather heavy tome began to fall directly towards Dot, Yakko quickly grabbed her and sprang out of the way, carrying Wakko under his other arm. All three of the Warners made it to safety. 

But Brain tripped over himself when he tried to run. The book wall was crumbling fast, its shadow directly over him. He was on his hands and knees, too disoriented to stand. 

Brain’s crushed body buried under a mountain of books, Pinky throwing story after story aside in a frantic search, finally discovering a familiar crooked tail, uncovering the rest of Brain…

…who laid on his back. 

He wasn’t moving. 

“Brain!” Pinky cried out, clutching his best friend tightly in his arms. 

There was a tear in his clothing, a long slash towards the back. It was sticky and warm to the touch. 

Terrified by the sensation, Pinky pulled his hand away. His palm was covered in blood. 

The rain couldn’t wash the blood away. It would be forever stained on his palm. 

This was all his fault. Brain had given him so much, and he repaid him by leading a murderous mob to the heart of his castle.

“I’m sorry, Brain…” Pinky whispered his name to the lifeless body he cradled. No apology would ever be enough to make up for it. “I’m so sorry…”  

Tears blurred his vision. 

The villagers were right about him. 

He was weak, useless, and stupid. Not good for anything except for being laughed at. 

“...Pinky?” a familiar voice whispered. “Pinky, are you alright?” 

There was a hand on his damp cheek, uncertain yet loving at the same time. Pinky knew that touch. 

A pair of worried pink eyes blinked at him, a crooked tail twitching. 

Brain was…alive.

And Pinky was in the library once more, with an uninjured yet confused Brain in his arms. The Warners were gathered around them too, also looking down at Pinky with worry. 

The proud book castle was no more. It was just a large, unorganized heap now. 

Everybody stared at him as they waited for a response. 

Pinky quickly wiped his tears on his arm and plastered on a smile, not wanting to worry them more than he already had. He didn’t want to lie to his friends, but they’d never let him help with the research if he admitted anything. 

“I’m fine.”  

End AN: He is not fine.

He has issues.

[james-p-sullivan]

im gonna post this cursed image of mr burns facing the camera separately

[bangchanbabygurl]

Sweet Nightmares (B. Chan)

Member: Chan

Request: No

Genre: Smut, Angst,

WARNINGS: Fingering, masturbation, dark themes, explicit language, mature themes, mentions of alcohol, teasing, & corruption kink

(Sneak Peak) Sugar Cane

Letting out a tired sigh, I turned to see Faith passed out on the couch; a wine bottle was opened. I shook my head as I covered her with the blanket before heading back upstairs and entering the guest room. I placed my neatly folded clothes on the bed before stepping inside the bathroom and getting the bath ready; I felt exhausted. After Chris had walked me to Faith's place, I stayed up late reading A Touch Of Darkness. It was getting too good for me to stop reading; I stripped from my clothes as I turned the faucet off.

Dipping my foot in the water and testing the temperature, it was slightly hot. Maybe I should've opened the cold water more; a sigh left my lips as I let my body soak in the steaming water. I rest my head against the tiled wall; my body felt at ease. Grabbing the red sponge, I began to scrub my skin softly. Yet my mind wouldn't be at ease, let alone he kept appearing almost like he had the ability to make my mind go blank with nothing but his image. A sigh left my lips as I squeezed the bottle, pouring shampoo into my palms. Massaging my scalp to soothe myself from the stress, I rest my head on the wall. I let my body relax for a couple of minutes when he appeared out of the blue in my mind again; I cursed under my breath as Chris Bang wouldn't leave my head.

My mind memorized almost everything about the man who haunts me, from the way his deep brown eyes stared into my soul like he could see it. His lips were the perfect fullness and pout shaped closely to a heart, to his hands. His hands left me wondering how they would feel, whether wrapped around my arm or elsewhere. I wondered how his lips must feel or taste; perhaps he's fantastic when it comes to kisses. A shaky sigh left my lips as the unfamiliar feeling crawled back; I clamped my thighs together. I bit my lip as my mind was filled with sinful thoughts about him; why does he make me feel this way? Why is it him that makes my heart leap? I am idiotic; no man like him deserves to be loved by a woman like me. Yet he managed to rot my mind like nicotine; the feeling became unbearable. Kneading my thighs together, trying to stop this feeling.

Closing my eyes, his image continues to linger in my mind. My breath became staggered as I slowly let my hand trail down my abdomen, opening my eyes. A small gasp left my lips as my fingers grazed softly at my sensitive core; I found myself wondering what on earth am I doing? I'd never done anything like this before; shaking him out of my head, I stopped myself. Let out a shaky breath; I rinsed away the soap and shampoo. I need to stop; this isn't normal. Is it?

Rinsing my mouth, I grabbed the towel off the counter and began to dry my hair walking out of the bathroom in the familiar red silk robe Faith had given me. “Luna!?” Faith’s voice sounded confused and amused; I furrowed my brows in confusion as I walked out of the bedroom. “Yeah?!” I called out, but she didn't respond. I tossed the towel into the basket before walking downstairs, “Faith, what is it?” I asked, turning my gaze to her.

Faith had a smile and crossed her arms; I felt my cheeks become crimson as I noticed she wasn't alone. “Why didn't you tell me about Mr. Bang coming over?” She asked with a hiss; I bit my lip. “I must've forgotten,” I muttered, feeling his gaze burning me. I hugged myself, realizing I was only in a robe. “I’m...gonna go and get dressed,” I said, turning on my heels before rushing upstairs.

Closing the door behind me, I let out a muted scream; I sighed and got dressed. Applying some curl-defining creme to my hair, I rolled down the sleeves of my shirt. Taking a quick look in the mirror as I sprayed myself in rose-scented perfume, I probably overdid as I let out a slight cough. I gently massaged lotion onto my hands and face, grabbing my bookbag and phone; I walked out of the room. Wait? Why am I trying to impress him?

I halted on the last step as I brushed off my unwanted thoughts, “You’re staying over again tonight, right?” Faith asked, grabbing my hands. I smiled faintly and nodded, “Yeah, I have to make a quick stop at my place and grab some things.” I said. Faith let out a small sigh of relief; I felt terrible for her. Paranoid has gotten the best of her; I hugged. Faith wraps her arms around me tightly. “Thank you for staying, even though I spent the night with Peter.” She whispered; I smiled. I glanced over at Chris, who stood there watching with amusement. I blushed and looked away, “Right, I’ll see you in a bit. Be careful.” Faith said with a wink. I chuckled and walked over to the front door, slipping on my sneakers.

“You know...I could've gone walking to my classes.” I said, looking at Chris as I closed the door behind us. He chuckles, “Then I would be spending the rest of the morning worried and pacing,” He muttered. I bit my cheek and followed him out the path, “Besides, I like your company,” Chris said, looking at me with a smile. I felt flustered and returned the smile, “Right,” I said and walked out through the gate. I spotted the familiar Chevy Impala; Chris sure does have a thing for vintage cars. Clasping my hands together, I followed him towards the vehicle. “Did you sleep well?” He asked, opening the passenger door. I fought back a laugh, “Yeah,” I lied. Getting inside the car, our fingers brushed against each other as we reached for the seatbelt.

I looked at him, our faces close to each other. “You don't have to do it,” I said as he fastened the seatbelt. Fixing it, his fingers grazed my neck softly. “Just making sure you're safe,” He whispered; I glanced at his lips. “We should probably get going,” I said, looking away. Chris cleared his throat lightly before closing the door. I let out a shaky breath; my heart was pounding like crazy. My eyes fell on his hands, gripping tightly on the steering wheel. He seemed angry about something, but I didn't dare to ask. Afraid he would take his anger out on me, I look down at my jeans. What will this...whatever this is whatever we are...what’s going to happen next? Will this all be considered a fling? Something that was a waste of time? Or will it be more than a fling?