#man if i could write good mysteries i would write that in a heartbeat

[princehatterene]

au where mana and ferdie are detectives going around fodlan solving cases

[faerievampling]

Miracle

Summary: Years after the defeat of the Netherbrain, Astarion and Tav discover they are pregnant.

link to ao3!

Part 2

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x Female Tav/Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: 18+. Mention of breeding. breast milk. pregnancy. Astarion being very horny for all these things. body worship. angst. changes in POV focus. brief mention of abortion.

A/N: I'm totally going to write more about these two. I need a pregnant adventuring Tav and protective Astarion.

You had been cleaning off your armor after a long day of running errands for Jaheira and the Harper’s when you notice Astarion’s eyes on you.

You could feel his stare, and as you turn to meet it, the look on his face is peculiar, somewhere between shock and amusement. 

“Darling?” You ask, stopping your task to fully soak in his expression. “Astarion -“

“It’s nothing, my love, nothing,” His voice is dismissive, waving his hand as he tries to push beyond whatever he has been thinking. 

You notice his ruby eyes don’t leave yours for the rest of the evening. You can’t help but feel as though your vampire is avoiding you. 

But you decide to give him his space: this was often the remedy for Astarion’s mood swings. 

***

Astarion couldn’t figure it out. 

You had rarely left his side for the past few years. When would you have had the time to steal away with another man? 

Astarion wondered who he was, what he looked like. 

He curses. Why hadn’t he ever picked up the scent of this mystery man? His smell would have been all over your body.

And Astarion knew his nose was working just fine: your change in smell had been the very first thing he picked up on. Astarion certainly thought it strange, but he chalked it up to a weird diet. The two of you had been running through the wastes of Rashemen, and you had eaten a questionable animal that one night. 

No, it wasn’t that, Astarion was certain. That little flutter of a quickening he had heard earlier couldn’t be denied. Even though you were just on the other side of the wall, Astarion could hear the gentle thrum of two heartbeats. 

He sighs, running his hands through his curls. He’s certain that you don’t know. You weren’t good at hiding things, and you rarely attempted to lie anyways because you are such a sweetheart that it didn’t make any sense at all for you to have bed with another man and cause Astarion pain like this.

Astarion knows he just needs to talk to you, but for the unlife of him, can't figure out where to even remotely begin. Pregnancy and childbirth was…he didn’t even want to think about it.

A child? He can’t even really fathom having one around.

Astarion sits up, having found the resolve to finally confront you, and finds you on the porch of Jaheria’s estate, your eyes mindlessly scanning the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

Astarion takes your image before interrupting whatever thought you were having: you were a vision, a rare beauty that Astarion was so lucky to find. 

He swears his heart flutters for you sometimes. “Do you like being back in the city?”

You nearly jump, startled by the question. 

“Sorry, darling,” Astarion murmurs in apology.

You smile, laughing a bit as you collect yourself. “I do. It’s nice to see it all back together. The rebuilding efforts took longer than expected,” 

Astarion fears you’re going to keep talking about the mundane when all he can focus on is the beat of that little heart and how round and plump your breasts look beneath that blouse.

Astarion swears you’ve never filled out before; not like that.

“You’re staring again,” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. Astarion can see the worry in your face. “Just tell me, Astarion.”

Astarion swallows. “Well,” Astarion stumbles, rolling his eyes at himself as he tries to find his words. This hurt more than he thought it would. “You’re with child, Tav.”

***

You’re speechless. 

“I’d rather like to know who the father is.” Astarion’s eyes are round, wet, tears already lining them. He blinks them back quickly, trying to compose himself. He almost seemed surprised by his sudden lack of control of his handsome face.

“What?” You ask incredulously. 

“I’ve been trying to imagine him, to think about when you could have…” He stops himself, swallowing his upset before continuing to ramble: he keeps talking, stumbling while you’re still processing what he just said.

You interrupt him.“You’re saying that I’m pregnant?” 

“Yes.”

You’re silent for a while. You can feel Astarion’s nerves fraying at the seams, his emotions emanating through him, producing an aura that has encompassed you both. It made time feel slow.

“How do you know?” You ask a bit stupidly. You hardly had missed your monthly bleeding, only being a few days off, which was very normal for you.

“I can hear it. The heartbeat.” His voice is low, guarded. There is a thick moment of silence.

“Surely not,” You almost laugh. But Astarion’s face is still, eyes round and wide as he studies you. He looks devastated, and it makes your stomach drop.

You realize he’s being serious, asking you in earnest if you had been with another. You think you should say something. 

“You’ve been my only lover since the clearing, Astarion.” You want to reach out to him, but you think not. If Astarion had hackles, they would surely be raised. 

“So you’re going to chalk this up to some immaculate conception?” Astarion spats cruelly, his agitation getting the better of him as he flails his hands. “Instead of just telling me the truth?” 

You’re speechless again. You knew he wouldn’t lie about this, so you desperately try to accept the fact that you’re pregnant with Astarion’s child as he, the very man who has bred you, yells at you.

“Close your mouth, darling, you aren’t a fly trap.” Astarion quips, crossing his arms. 

The anger is rising inside you, his offense reaching a boiling point. Your fists clench, your eyes narrowing as you try to reason with him.

“Four weeks ago, we were in the Rashemen wilderness with only Minsc and Boo as our company,” Is all you can say. 

Astarion’s expression is locked in between confusion and betrayal. “Minsc has his charms.” 

You scoff. “You can’t be serious, Astarion.” Astarion’s gaze meets the floor. 

As you study your lover, your anger dissipates. You see how hurt he is, how unsure of himself he feels. He wasn’t likely to tell you that outright, but you knew.

You can’t place how you feel, anymore. You aren’t numb, per say, but there is a distinct lack of feeling within you. You hadn’t thought this a possibility. You didn’t know if you were happy or sad, or if you would even be up to the challenge.

You needed some time to think, to let this soak in. 

“You know, I just remembered that Shadowheart invited me over for tea the other day,” Your excuse is lame, but Astarion doesn’t stop you as you awkwardly walk down the steps, off to the crowded streets of the city. 

***

Astarion was a mess the whole time you were gone. He tried to keep himself busy by doing various things around Jaheira’s house, but he kept finding himself lost in thought, thinking about that little bundle of life inside of you.

He felt greatly relieved when you returned.

He waited for you in one of the spare bedrooms, the one you always shared when you two passed through Baldur's Gate. 

He was pretending to read when you came in, trying not to seem too eager to talk with you. He heard the continued thump of the little heart beat alongside your own. His anxiety is paramount, but he feels a wave of relief crash over him at the sound of the life inside of you.

Astarion tried to accept that you hadn’t slept with anyone else: you couldn’t have, it was literally impossible. And he knew you never would have, anyways. But, since you didn’t sleep with another man, that meant that he, Astarion Ancunin, impregnated you. 

“How was your date with Shadowheart?” Astarion asks, peeking over his book. You had begun to undress yourself, and Astarion couldn’t help but steal a glance. 

He noticed the sway of your breasts as you freed them; the tips of them being especially tight and a darker pink than usual. 

Gods. It was like you were purposefully wafting your scent right in his face. You were sweeter than usual, and Astarion felt a bit ashamed at his growing stiffness. 

Earlier, he had accused you of sleeping with another man, even though he very well knew you hadn’t. And now, he was ogling you, thinking about all the pregnant women he had seen in his long life: it hadn’t been very many. Pregnant women didn’t often frequent the flophouses late at night. 

But he imagined how your belly would swell, how your hips would round, and how your breasts would become even larger…the thought aroused Astarion, far more than he expected it to. He had to stop himself when he imagined your milk-filled breasts; another bodily fluid of yours that your vampire was desperate to taste.

“It was alright,” Your voice was shaky as you finally covered your breasts, to Astarion’s relief. He tried to ignore his swollen cock. “She confirmed. What you said.” 

Astarion places his book down, moving to sit at the edge of the bed, placing himself closer to you. He really doesn’t know what to do, or how he feels, but Astarion does know one thing: that he adores you, and he can’t handle the distance between the two of you. 

So, the vampire reaches out, desperate for your contact. Astarion feels much better when you take his hand, sitting next to him.

“I’m sorry for my accusation earlier. I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around it all.” His tone is good humored, down to earth, as he wants to be sweet to you. You deserved it.

“It’s rare. Practically a miracle.” You say, but your face is absent of the smile that Astarion had expected from you.

Astarion didn’t really know how you felt about children. He assumed you didn’t want them because you chose to be with him, but he expected you to be a little bit happier than you looked. 

“There are remedies, you know. If we don’t want this.” You say, looking away from him as you do. 

“Well…it’s your body, Tav.” Astarion spoke gently, wanting to be careful with you, because you were always so careful with him. “I can’t tell you what to do with it.” 

Astarion imagined that if taking care of seven thousand vampire spawn in the Underdark was something the two of you had managed, then a child couldn’t be too difficult. (Many years from now would prove Astarion very wrong in thinking this).

“What If I keep it? Would you leave me?” You speak quietly, carefully, as if you were treading dangerous waters; asking questions you didn’t actually want to know the answer to.

Astarion doesn’t hesitate, desperately wanting to comfort you. “No,” Astarion squeezed your hand, grabbing the other as you faced each other. “I honestly can’t imagine a scenario where I would.” 

You smile a bit, and Astarion smiles back. “So, what do we do?” You ask tentatively. 

Astarion sighs, a hand going to caress your cheek, bringing you closer as he pulls you into a tender kiss. “We keep living, of course.”

Part 2!

Masterlist

[barleyo]

BARELYYYYY write another daddy Leon fic, AND MY LIFE WILL BE YOURSSS

867-5309.

Real Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: this fic is shitty and short, sorry ^_^ i literally have no drive or desire to write anymore, idk what's going on with me. probably some type of brain worm! but i thought i should at least try to get something written :3 (ily whoever knows what song the title is referencing)

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), phone sex, age gap (21 and 50-ish), mutual masturbation, no actual sex, idk dude i'm not sure what i was going for with this

Wordcount: 719

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

"Little note wasn't lying," Leon said into his phone, sitting in his car near the back of the bar's mostly empty parking lot. "What's this about a good time, doll?"

It was too late for him to be out like this. Too late for him to be this far from sober. Too late for him to be calling some random number that was stuck to the urinal partition. And, of course, it was much too late for him to be this horny.

"Depends," a voice, your voice, spoke on the line. "What kinda night is it, mister?"

Thank god he was drunk, or else he would've heard right through your overly sensual, fake tone. Thank god you were stupid, or else you would've known it was him right from the sleazy nicknames he used.

"Tonight?" 

Dirty fucking man. His hands were practically already in his pants. Roughly palming at himself over his tented jeans to the sound of some mystery broad's voice. 

"It's a real good night, babydoll. I think you could make it better though." He pulled his zipper down, cock pulsating desperately. 

You giggled on the other line, absolutely drowning in the sudden flush of attention. That's why you slipped the damn sticky note with your burner's number into the men's room all those nights ago, hoping some horned up man old enough to be your dad would ring your line and validate you. Little did you know, that man would truly be your dad. 

"Sounds like you could use it. I don't mind 'chatting' for a bit," you said, hand finding its way all over your body. "Tell me, y'touching yourself already?"

"To a voice like yours? Of course I am."

Leon freed himself from the confines of his pants, eyes shifting anxiously as he looked around the sparse parking lot. He was a grown man, he'd jerked off to hotlines and voices on the phone all the time. In public, though? New territory completely. 

He squeezed his shaft, feeling it pulse in his hand. Thing had a heartbeat of its own at that point as it practically begging to catch some friction and relief. 

"Glad you called," you said, sliding your panties off while you spoke. You tossed them in the corner of your room mindlessly. "I've been waiting for someone to find that little note."

Leon opened his mouth to respond when he heard a soft moan escape your mouth. That was enough for him to start. He wanted to take it slow, to enjoy himself, but who was he kidding? He was a needy fucker and he wanted to cum ASAP. 

"What'cha doing right now?" he was finally able to ask, swallowing thickly as he pumped his length. "Using those cute fingers, doll?"

You hummed through an over exaggerated moan, dramatizing and putting on a show for your 'mystery man.' 

"Sure am," you said, finger curled, reaching your g-spot the best you could with the limited length it had. "But it's not as good as the real thing."

He could practically hear the pout in your voice, and it drove him crazy. You sounded like a bratty little baby, just his type. 

"Awh, aren't you a poor thing? Bet some older cock would do you good, huh?" 

He heard the squelch of your cunt through the phone speaker. It picked up the sound of your palm hitting your clit, and the little gasps of air you let out each time you slammed your fingers in.

"Guess so." You bit your bottom lip, holding back an excited squeal at his words. "You offering?" 

Leon chuckled dryly, watching the tip of his cock weep with pre as he stroked himself. "Oh, someone's eager. Sure," he said, amused smirk on his face as he started to near his climax, hand still working furiously over his cock. "I'm offering. I could use a cute thing like you, anyway. It'll be much better than just hearing ya through the phone."

"We'll see about that," you teased, phone clicking off of the line just as he started to cum. 

(XXX)-867-5309: *sent location* 

(XXX)-867-5309: pull up ;)

Wait, that address? That was his house...

"Fuck."

Leon's head fell back on the car seat headrest, brain going a mile a minute. Hand still covered in stray spurts of cum.

"Fuck!"

[prettyoatmeal]

Shouldn't Have Shared (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Following up my previous post LOL. This is also not proof read, I was listing to a documentary and listening to music in the background of writing. I didn't intend for this to be so long, but I kinda got lost in writing this.

GENRE: Smut

Summary: 'CAUTION! Do not share or this man will appear in your room!' is what the post said. Of course, it was just a hoax.. wasn't it? Sharing it to feed into your obsession for this fictional man from a video game, you're woken up to a pleasant surprise.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, creampie, overly possessive Ghost, primal, mentions of claiming and ruining.

Word Count: 1009

NSFW UNDER CUT

Masterlist here!

***************

Rustle... rustle, rustle...

Stirring in your sleep, you could feel something was.. off. You felt the air tensing around you, becoming hyperaware of your breathing and heartbeat as you began to wake up from your slumber. Opening your eyes and rubbing the sleep from them, you turned away from the wall only to see the shadow of a large man staring right down at you. Your life almost flashed before your eyes.

Feeling your heart stop, you let a loud shriek of terror at the unexpected silhouette. Sitting up quickly, you push yourself to the corner of your bed, your body working on autopilot as you pegged one of your stuffed animals at him.

You could see the little stuffy you threw bouncing off from his chest, hearing him chuckling under his breath.

"Gonna take a lot more than a stuffed lamb to take me out."

You'd recognise that voice from anywhere.

Holy shit.

Turning on the lamp of your bedside table, you finally got a look at the mystery man standing at the edge of your bed. Eyes adjusting to the light, your eyes widened at the realisation.

"Easy, love, no need to be frightened. It's just me. You know who I am, don't you?" Taking another step, he bent over and leaned his palms into the plush edge of your bed, allowing you to get a closer look at him.

Hmm, blond eyelashes. Cute. Full gear... hot. You nodded, swallowing. He was so much bigger in person. Over a screen you couldn't properly picture yourself next to him, but now that he was up close, it was jarring.

"Good, of course you do."

Slowly, he crouched down and picked up the soft toy, throwing it back next to you. Hearing his voice in person, you couldn't help but shudder as you stared in awe. He was so close, so close to you. If this was going to end in any of the ways you've fantasised about, it was going to end with-

"Tell me, sweetheart, did my character on a screen do me justice, or am I even more striking in person?" he smirked, his voice lingering with an arrogance which would make you gag if it were any other man.

He was real... and damned cocky too.

You hadn't said any words yet, and he noticed your silence, his head tilting as he was almost kneeling on your bed at this point.

"Answer me, lovie."

"Yes."

"You're good at listening, aren't you?" He continued, his voice low in just the right way to send a shiver down your spine. "Now tell me something else, you've always wanted more than just pixels on a screen. You've played the game, you've fantasised, you've shared."

Fuck.

"Fuckin' cheeky for sharing that knowing I'd come find ya, and now I'm here to give you what your imagination can't. Would you want that, lovie?"

Fuck.

You swallowed, hard. The air charged with a palpable energy. It felt as if the room was closing in on you two, the erotic tension flooding the air around you as you felt yourself becoming warmer. While you felt your fluster, your fantasies in turn were becoming more and more real by the second.

God, you wanted this. You needed this.

"Yes."

___

"Quit squirming, damn it."

Your eyes were rolled back. His hand was over your mouth, muffling your pathetic whines. You couldn't risk waking up the house, could you?

Your body pinned down against your bed, his clothed chest against your back. Slamming into you at an ungodly speed with sloppy noised, it was everything you'd dreamed about.

"I said," he started, pulling your hips up with his free hand with a grasp tight enough to bruise, angling every thrust which made you lose your mind, "quit squirming."

It was hard to not drool over his palm, the unholy echo of skin slapping together made you pray that no one else would wake up to hear it.

"Ghost-" you managed to moan out his callsign, muffled against his palm.

"Fuck, baby. Keep quiet f' me." he almost whimpered, his face getting lost and buried in your neck as he nipped and kissed at the soft skin. "Can't have- mmh - ye' waking the others up, can you?"

You were barely able to shake your head, this goddamn hunk of a man keeping you under his weight as he rearranged your insides.

"Sweet girl, how long have you thought about this? Touchin' yourself to the thought of me, now coming into y' room like this and using you like you've wanted." His voice came out as a growl, right against your hear and giving you goosebumps.

One night stands were never your thing, but you could for sure keep this going with him. With your walls clenching around him, your went blurry with tears as your eyes threatened to flutter closed.

His filthy words wavered, his voice breaking as he became increasingly desperate himself.

"Finally been given a taste and this wet cunt is just sucking me in."

With his cock hitting that spongey spot inside you, you tensed under him as you felt your orgasm approaching rapidly. Only a few more thrusts and with a muffled cry, you were coming undone, gushing around him. The feeling only made him whine more as you clamped down on him so deliciously, his hips slamming against your ass were now on borderline primal.

"I'll give you what you want, y're all mine, fuck."

With a final grunt against your neck, you felt the warmth of his cum filling you to the brim. Though, he was so deep inside you that there was no where for his release to go but seep out of you. His his heavy breaths mixed with growls, he removed his hand from your mouth and helped to flip you over.

Pulling you almost down to the edge of your bed, you were put into a mating press, barely comprehending it in your post-orgasm haze.

"We're not done yet. Sweet girl, I'm going to ruin you."

***************

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH

I'VE JUST GRADUATED

CHEERS

[yummyuta]

winner takes it all | p.w ft s.e

♡ genre: smut - mdni! slight angst (wonbin x reader) | word count: 2,583 words

♡ warnings: cheating (reader is involved in a bet) alcohol consumption, public sex, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), slight dumbification

♡ summary: in a tense and unexpected turn of events reader finds herself spending the evening with her boyfriends racing rival.

♡ authors note: im back again with another wonseok fic only this time wonbin is the mc! i've had the idea of rival racers since april, and im so happy i got around to writing it. i hope you enjoyed this one! btw i do not condone cheating whatsoever, this is purely fictional.

♡ song recommendations:

the stands were packed, and the roar of the engines was deafening as the cars lined up for the start. you stood amongst the crowd, of fangirls screeching out your boyfriends name. as the countdown began and checkered flags were raised, your heartbeat accelerated. as supportive as you were of your man, and his career it always filled you with a sense of dread that someday he would get hurt. as the sound of the gunshot went off, signaling the race to begin you spotted eunseok’s car, a brilliant red streak on the track, and your eyes followed him eagerly. but as the race unfolded, another driver caught your attention. a sleek navy blue car with silver stars decorated across the hood and sides seemed to dance through the track with an almost mesmerizing grace. this mystery driver was audacious and precise, and you couldn’t help but admire his skill.

the race was fierce, as eunseok and his rival were locked in a breathtaking duel, their cars battling for every inch of the track. the crowd was on their feet, and you found herself torn between cheering for eunseok and marveling at the other mans performance. the final lap was a heart-stopping spectacle, and in a dramatic climax, both cars crossed the finish line at the same moment.

as the dust settled, you began running down towards the track, signaling to your boyfriends team to let you in. you noticed the tension between eunseok and his opponent. the two racers exchanged words that seemed more charged than celebratory. suddenly, the mystery man approached you, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of intensity and curiosity.

"you’re y/n, right?” he asked, his voice calm despite the adrenaline still pumping through him. "yes,” you replied, a bit taken aback. “how do you know me?” suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a side hug. "dont you dare speak to her wonbin" eunseok barked at the man. eunseok turned to you, a look of concern in his eyes, "lets go home okay, forget this race" he quickly spat out. you sat there in confusion, before wonbin broke your focus. "now not so fast, i want my rematch. this time, the stakes are higher. the winner gets the privilege of spending time with you", he said so casually.

your eyes widened in shock. “what? i’m not a prize to be won.” eunseok looked conflicted, on the one hand he wanted to run away with you, and not look back while on the other he felt his pride and career would be at risk if he didnt take on the deal. the clock was ticking, it was time to make a decision, besides you were his good luck charm, as long as he had you he was sure he could win and everything would go back to the way it was. you believed in him, he knew that, so he took the leap, hoping you would understand.

"baby, this is about more than just the race", he confided in you. despite your discomfort, you saw the determination in his eyes and agreed to the terms of the rematch, hoping it would resolve the tension between them. the rematch was set for the following week, and the anticipation built up. when race day arrived, the atmosphere was charged, and the race was even more intense than before, with both racers pushing their limits. in a stunning final lap, wonbin edged out eunseok by a fraction of a second. the crowd erupted in cheers as wonbin crossed the finish line first. you felt a mix of emotions - sadness for eunseok, and a growing unease about what the night with wonbin would bring.

the bleachers started the clear, as people began making their way to the after party. you sat there in disbelief until you were faced with wonbin and eunseok directly in front of you. you were about to run towards your boyfriend until wonbin held out a hand to you. "i'm going to have my fun with you tonight", he smirked. you rolled your eyes, accepting your fate, then wonbin turned to his rival, saying, "dont worry ill try to have her back in one piece." eunseok nearly lunged at his enemy, you quickly reacted, standing in between them and placing a calming hand on eunseoks' chest. "i dont like this anymore than you do," you reassured him, placing a peck on his lips, before wonbin began dragging you away.

wonbin lead you into the bustling party, his hand held on tightly to your waist as he guided you through the crowd. all eyes were on you, everyone knew you were eunseoks girlfriend so it was no suprise to you that whispers and rumors immediately began to circulate. as the night went on, wonbin introduced you to his friends and fellow racers, shotaro, and anton. wonbins groupies also were intent on following you both around like lost puppies the whole time, waiting for a moment where you left his side, giving them the opportunity to pounce.

you were hoping for that as well, but wonbin only got more physical with you. he placed his hands wherever he could, your thighs, ass, waist, hips, shoulders barely leaving you space to breathe. his hands were rough, calloused, and cold, nothing compared to your boyfriends. a few times you would spot eunseok from across the room, it was like wonbin was purposely flaunting you in front of him. the minute eunseok met your gaze, he could only shake his head and down another shot, hoping he could drown his loss of you and the race in alcohol.

while wonbin was preoccupied for a few moments talking business with his manager, you managed to sneak off to the dance floor, swaying your body to the sweet sound and sipping on your cocktail. you were enjoying your peace until you felt the presence of someone behind you. wonbin reached around you, lightly grinding into your back, whispering compliments into your ear. "you know you are by far the hottest girl i have ever seen, i dont think eunseok realizes how lucky he is." your cheeks began to flush as heat began circulating around the two of you. you blamed it on the fact that you were borderline drunk at this point and kept moving to your own rhythm, hoping his words wouldn't phase you anymore.

you ignoring him only added more fuel to wonbins fire. he lived for the chase, he was a go-getter after all on and off the track. he decided to take things to the next level, sliding one hand up your shirt, while the other found its way lightly around your neck, testing the waters to see how you would react. to both of your surprises, you leaned further into him, letting out the cutest sighs he's ever heard. you were getting worked up, you knew it was wrong to be doing this you promised eunseok you wouldn't enjoy yourself, but also he is the one who put you in this position in the first place. you turned your head around in his grasp, looking into his eyes, the purple and blue lights reflecting off his beautiful features. you didn't stop yourself when he locked his lips with yours in an eager kiss. you also didn't stop him when he began to escort you off the dance floor and outside to the parking lot. the cool air, along with the reality of what just happened, smacked you in the face as soon as you stepped out. you instinctively moved toward eunseoks' car, and wonbin followed.

you leaned against the hood of his car, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to compose yourself. this was wrong, and the guilt began to crash into you. you were lost in your thoughts until wonbin stepped in front of you, positioning himself in between your legs. "whats wrong baby, miss your boyfriend" he snarked. you stared at him with tears in your eyes, "why did you do this? couldn't you have found some other way to settle the score without ruining my relationship!" you screamed out in frustation as you balled up your fists, wanting to hit him but trying to contain your anger. he only continued to stare at you, getting more excited.

you didn't know this, but he's had his eye on you since the first day you came out to the track to support eunseok. when he looked for you in the stands, he imagined you cheering him on, he thought of you wearing his jacket, he thought of you running down, jumping into his arms and kissing him in celebration of his victories. he imagined laying you down in the backseat of his car, undressing you, as you begged him to keep going. he wanted you more than any championship title or the fame that came with it. "are you even listening to me?" you snapped annoyingly in his face.

now it was his turn to catch an attitude with you, he didnt have much time left before you went crawling back to eunseok, so he knew he needed to do something to bend you to his will before he missed his chance. he rolled his eyes, before grabbing your chin between his fingers, "baby we can do this the easy way, or the hard way, and i much prefer a challenge" he said with a sick smile before leaning in, not quite placing his lips on yours yet. he was testing you, "the choice is still yours though, just remember im not the bad guy here, eunseok is the one who didn't fight hard enough to keep you." your eyes swirled in his, he saw right through you, all your conflicting emotions, "you can't tell him okay, please, you already got what you wanted" was the last thing you thought before releasing all the tension, completing the space that was left between you. he pulled away ever so slightly, "you will be my dirty little secret" he growled before picking you up, placing you on the hood.

your legs wrapped around him as he began to unbutton your shorts. you made quick work pulling his racing jacket off his shoulders, taking if off and placing it next to you. he went for your shirt next, ripping it up and over your head, stretching his fingers to your back to unclasp your bra, exposing your tits. you leaned back, propping yourself up on your elbows, as he slid your shorts and underwear down your legs, and watched as he rid himself of his pants.

his buldge was prominent, he leaned in and you sighed, closing your eyes wanting to feel him again. you felt cold, leathery fabric being placed over your shoulders, opening your eyes as you saw he put his racing jacket on you. "that's much better," he purred in your ear. he began placing open-mouthed, tongue kisses on your breasts, collerbones, down your navel, to your inner thighs, licking and biting all the way to your glistening core. "you dont know how many times i imagined this," he muttered before locking his lips around your folds, sticking his tongue in your entrance.

his obscene slurping sounds mixed with your moans, the beat of the music from inside the party could barely be heard over the sounds you were making. he flicked his tongue in and out of you expertly, he had to be the best at everything in his life. he took the hand that was holding your hips apart, bringing it closer to you so he could play with your nub. like pressing on the gas pedal, he was firing you up with each second that went on. you threw your head back, hair sticking to your forehead, and jacket barely hanging onto your body as you arched your back, moving your hips closer to his mouth practically suffocating him. wonbin was bringing you closer to the finish line, and before you knew it, your orgasm smashed into you.

juices splattering all over his chin, as he pulled away, licking his lips, eyes blown out in lust and the moonlight sparkling on his face. "you taste even sweeter than i ever could have thought." your face was red, you were exposed and embarrassed, but you wanted more, "please, wonbin..." you had to be out of your mind, but you wanted to make the most of your mistake before it was over. "please what baby, use your words", he hissed back, "do you want my cock, you want to get fucked on top of your boyfriends car is that it?"

in the midst of everything, you completely forgot where you were. guilt started setting its way into your stomach once more. you wanted to curl up into a ball hiding yourself from the man in front of you. as ashamed as you were, you didn't want to think of it anymore, and your body was screaming at you, so you listened. "yes please fuck me until i forget" you begged him, "oh princess, trust me this will be a ride of a lifetime", he said before unveiling his cock, pressing it into you, his hips snapping into you. he was slightly longer and thicker than eunseok. easily reaching places, it took your boyfriend a few moments to get to. you gasped, exhaling every bit of bitter air that entered your lungs. he was knocking the wind out of you with every thrust. the car shaking, the hood bending with the weight of you and the force and speed of his hips pistoling in and out of your core.

"if only eunseok could see this, his precious girlfriend getting railed by his arch nemisis," wonbin teased. you hated to admit this to yourself, but the thought of it kinda turned you on. maybe if eunseok saw you like this, he would realize you dont deserve to be treated like a bargaining chip. your eyes rolled into the back of your head, biting down on your lip until you nearly bled, feeling your second orgasm of the night rapidly approaching. eunseok had never made you cum this fast, he was a sweet lover, but it wasnt always enough for you. maybe what you needed this whole time was someone who knew how to push your buttons. strings of curses flew from your mouth, as your body was being thrown around the hood of the car. wonbins bicepts flexing as he held your legs strongly around his waist.

"almost there baby, cum for me, let everyone hear whose the champion, who is fucking you this good," wonbin exclaimed. you went to cover your face, becoming extremely overwhelmed by his words. wonbin wasn't having that though, he needed to see every expression, every scrunch of your nose, and curve of your lips as you were overcome with pleasure. he grabbed your wrists pinning them above your head, "come on baby, say it, let eunseok know who the real winner is". your throat raw, and mouth dry, as you clenched around the man whose name came out of your mouth in broken screams and moans. wonbin pulled out of you, "thats it baby" he groaned as he painted your tits and stomach with his release.

your chest heaved, your body tingly, and brain nearly checked out. barely catching your breath, you were startled by the sound of your phone ringing from your pocket in your shorts. wonbin got off you, and as he pulled his pants back on, grabbing your device, bringing it to his ear "y/n phone, may i ask who is calling?" wonbin answered. you sat up, inching off the hood collecting yourself when you heard "oh its you, yeah, she's right here. we are by your car, she's exhausted, " wonbin exasperated into the speaker. realizing he was talking to eunseok, you quickly made yourself look as presentable as possible, hoping there were no signs of the sinful act that had just taken place. suddenly, the door slammed open, your boyfriend pacing towards you.

"times up, we are going home right now," he yelled. you turned to face wonbin for the final time that night, as he placed his index finger over his lips in a shushing motion, winking at you. when eunseok made his way over to your side, opening the passenger door for you, he took notice of your change in appearance. "why are you wearing wonbins jacket?" he said in disgust. you gulped, eyes beelining towards the ground, studdering trying to find an explanation. "didnt want her to catch a cold. besides it looks better on her anyway, you can give it back to me at the next race...when i beat you again." he confidently said as he walked over, getting in the driver seat of his own car, reving the engine and driving off into the starry night. as your boyfriend drove home, you clenched onto his rivals jacket, knees buckling as you recalled the events that had transpired, both of you sitting in silence, as the recollection of the time spent with wonbin slipped into the unknown.

[ttttobistuff]

HIHI I saw you write for gravity falls :) I was wondering if we can get something with Grunkle Stan?? Maybe a NB reader? :0

Night of the Undead

( Stanley x GN Reader )

TW: A bit of angst

A/N: I apologize for taking so long, but I hope you enjoy it! I really like this episode, and Stan looks undeniably good.

Running your fingers through his soft hair, Stan’s head balanced as he tried to stay awake. You helped him stumble his way to the bed, after he once more fell asleep in the office.

Lately, organising the income of the Mystery Shack turned into a nightmare. Firstly, he tried with Wendy…of course, she failed in her task. Unfortunately, he then tried with Mabel, which went worse than expected. Abraham Lincoln did not enjoy glitter over his face.

After staying up night after night, he became cranky during the day. Fights would spark out of the blue, and you’d calmly end them. Usually, you could remind yourself that he was simply exhausted. Other days, it was considerably harder. For example, today.

You began to recall every time he simply exploded. Not once, nor twice, nor thrice.

Each time, he simply shut his mouth quickly and then turned around. Storming out of the room was not the best way to stop a fight, but at least it worked…you simply accepted it. You felt hurt, of course, but you didn’t wish to be another problem for Stan.

Tonight, when you curled up in bed, it was cold. The sheets were smooth, not a single wrinkle. You missed his face, his skin over yours and his warmth. The bed felt too big without him, merely empty. You waited for him, but then one hour went by, and then two.

Shivering, your legs moved across the Mystery Shack. Searching him in the place you knew he’d be, you pushed open the door. Turning the knob slowly, so as to not disturb him. Lucky enough, Stan was just staring at a myriad of dollars. Not doing much other than looking rather tired.

That’s how you ended up having to assist him to bed. But you did not mind much—you would do far more to be able to snuggle between his arms into his chest during those freezing times of the day. But nothing mattered anymore. The fights didn’t exist any longer, every scream, every hostile look. You began slipping into sleep while listening to his heartbeat, holding him close and tight.

The sudden burst of a sunbeam awoke you hours later, but for your liking, Stan’s voice was the first thing you heard.

“Today, it’ll be different. I promise,” raspy and deep, it made you blush, “the party will go well.”

Immediately, the word party alarms you slightly.

“What—what party?” Foolishly, you asked.

Stan chuckled in response, and as his face approached yours, you stopped caring. His lips were placed, and his hands softly held your face.

“The grand re-opening for the shack, remember?”

He then proceeded to unwrap his arms around you, and stretch lazily. Dragging his legs out of the sheets, his expression remained fixed upon the door. You were curious why he looked exhausted, even after sleeping in for two hours more…

“C’mon, get up,” the man pulled your arm along with your whole body, “we have to prepare everything”.

And, as he just had stated, Stan did not waste a single second. Cleaning, rearranging, and buying food. Of course he did none of these, he was too busy with money. You began feeling fed up with it, yet you bottled it up. After all, there was not much to do—Stan only wished to keep proper order within the shack for the first time in ages.

You took upon yourself to clean, meanwhile the twins decorated everything. Well, Mabel did. Dipper was a bit too distracted with Wendy, but you couldn’t do anything but look at the painful, embarrassing conversations between them.

Couple of swipes and shiny stars after, the Mystery Shack was finally ready. And, as the sun set, you began admiring how quickly people filled up the empty space.

Still, something nagged you. Something was ticking you off, and there was no way you could enjoy the party without figuring it out. But as you investigated, the only unusual things you found were empty chairs. Except, Wendy and Dipper were supposed to stay sited all night long in those chairs. Leaving the lonely table, you wandered around. In an attempt to catch a glimpse of the two teenagers, you stumbled upon an outside window to Stan’s room.

Standing near it, you crouched near the floor. What if Stan was there? What was he doing? …is it weird to be spying on your partner?

You allowed your curious mind a peek. But, to your surprise, the only interesting thing within were the two teens you had initially been searching. Although Stan was there, his frown indicated anger. Yelling confirmed your suspicions, as well as Dipper sprinting through the door. Wendy looked remorseful, but there was nothing to be done.

Stan’s eyes travelled to the window, and your eyes met his. As for now, luck was not on your side.

He seemed displeased, and to worsen the situation furthermore, his sigh was your last straw. This morning, he promised a thing, and in a matter of hours, he had thrown it all away.

You stopped crouching down, and simply stood up. Slowly walking backwards to where you came from, his nostrils widened with fury. As his mouth you once kissed twisted, your heart begged you to run. And, so you did.

At this, Stan realised his mistake. Though, it was far too late.

Knees against your chest, and back against a tree trunk, you hid away. Unable to process your own thoughts, breathing became harder. The party loudly roared in the distance, but nothing could bring you back inside.

The night turned suddenly darker, and a goosebump crawled over you. The moonlight shined through your lids, and forced your eyes open. That same feeling, something was wrong again. Though, that time, you wished it had been Stan’s attitude…

From beneath the ground, a filthy, thin hand reached to the sky. Landing around your ankle, your instincts help you kick it off your skin. Moments later, dozens if not hundreds more began digging themselves up. Catching a few breaths of the cold night air, the undead desperately struggled through.

Soon enough, an odour drove them deep into madness. Flesh, fresh and warm. Jumping to your feet, you sprinted through the infinite trees. The further you went, the worse it looked.

Finally, you stood in front of the Mystery Shack. A gruesome scene unfolded before your very own eyes. A dreadful scream helped you snap out.

The twins were trapped upstairs, and judging by their frightened expressions, neither of them knew how to stay alive. Neither did you, but you would do anything it took to keep those kids alive. So you ran, and nothing could stop you.

Entering the house, and sailing your way through the rotting bodies drenched in dirt, you reached the stairs. Staring down at your ripped clothing, you thought of Stan. You thought of how badly his suit must look now. You thought of his messy hair, and manic eyes. His trembling hands, or the cold sweat dancing down his throat.

As you let down your guard, the undead begin to notice. Mercilessly, they launch at you. With all their might and hunger, they reach for you. Looking at what seemed to be the ending, your arms covered your face in terror.

One second later, then two, nothing had happened, except the strange sound of a punch…

This time, Stan was not late. He was right there, ripped suit, messy hair, manic eyes, and sweaty skin. Yet, his fists were firm. Not a single tremble, you noticed anything but an ounce of doubt.

“Go! Get the twins!” He shouted, between grunts of effort.

“I will not leave you,” you yelled back.

“Do you trust me?” And, of course, you answered yes.

“Then, go upstairs and wait for me…NOW!” Following his orders, you turned around and followed Mabel and Dipper’s screams.

It only took Stan a few minutes to reunite with you. You could not hold yourself from wrapping your arms around his chest. Holding his face down for a kiss, you forgot about every frown those lips had ever given you. His mouth tasted like rum, and his cheeks were reddish.

“Hey, we get it, both just forgave each other but let’s leave the kisses for after the apocalypse.” Spoke Mabel, with those abominable creatures in mind. You looked at Stan, and he looked back, but no more did his eyes show hate.

One pop song later, the undead’s brains were everywhere. It was a horrifying mess, but the twins and Stan were still perfectly fine. With a few wounds, but nothing serious.

Gazing down at the grass tinted with crimson blood, a pair of hands pulled you closer. Stan’s lips felt welcoming, and the alcohol in them eased your worries.

The twins looked at you both; Dipper seemed uncomfortable, Mabel snatched a photo for her album.

It for sure was a night you would never forget, but now, the only thing you wished to do was drink and kiss away every sense, combing your fingers through his soft hair.

[mymainwastoocluttered]

The Key to My Heart (Housewardens)

Reader has a secret she keeps locked in her chest. He knows he has her pure, full love when she gives him the key

NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!

A bit, uh, macabre. Little bit of body horror. If you know Pirates of the Caribbean... Yeah. That.

— <3 <3 <3

— Riddle

Riddle has always known of the existence of the chest. He remembers clearly the orientation day, the girl dressed in baggy cerimonial robes, holding a small chest for dear life.

He hadn't seen it after that, though. Even when he went to Ramshackle, the chest was nowhere to be seen. Even when they started dating, he would never see it. Not that he wanted to pry on her personal matters, of course, but he couldn't help but be curious.

And his patience is rewarded eventually.

The two alone in her room, Grim gone for the day, the door and windows firmly locked. Riddle knows whatever it is she'll reveal, is extremely important and must be kept a secret, and he's touched by her trust on him.

He's less touched when he sees what's in the chest she placed between them on her bed.

A living, beating heart greets him, sounding like a constant drum.

He doesn't know how to feel. He has seen hearts, of course, he's the son of great healers, human anatomy was the first thing drilled in his mind.

But still, there's just something... Something raw about it. Something... Ironically visceral.

"This is my heart," the Prefect explains. "My only weakness. This body of mine cannot die unless my heart stops."

That... makes so much sense. Definitely explains her recklessness when it comes to overblots. She can't die by normal means, no. Not without a heart.

"And this... This is the key to this chest. The only one in existence. I carry it everywhere," she shows him the old key, and he does not has the mind to process its intricate details. "But I want you to have it."

"... W–what?"

"Riddle Rosehearts, this is the key to my heart, and I want you to carry it, forever."

— <3 <3 <3

— Leona

Leona honestly has no idea what's going on. He thought the worst when his girlfriend suddenly asked him to come to Ramshackle so they could speak alone. Thankfully, she's not breaking up with him.

But the chest sitting in front of him on her bed is not making him any less confused. Specially since he can hear... Soft heartbeats coming from it? And muffled by the material of the chest is the scent of meat, fresh, living meat.

"Herbivore–"

"This is my heart," the Prefect states, nimble fingers doing a quick work of taking a heavy looking key from around her neck and opening the chest. "This is why I can't die. While this heart beats, I shall not die."

"... Why?" Leona asks instead of cursing like he first planned to. Give him a break, even he hasn't seen this amount of... Of gore. He's not sure if he's asking why her beating heart is out of her body or why she's showing it to him, and he'd appreciate either question being answered.

She chooses the second one.

"Because... It is yours. I'm giving you the key to my heart, to keep."

— <3 <3 <3

— Azul

Azul has heard the stories of sailors. Human sailors. Despite the merfolk's slow but sure integration on land, the good part of the population is still pretty wary, so he always had to sneak out to go listen the drunk sailors tell stories about gold and jewelry and treasure beyond comprehension.

So when he saw the chest on the hands of the mysterious magicless girl, his first thought was that one tale about the man who fell in love with a Sea Goddess, only to then get stuck with a dreadful job after her bitter betrayal. A man who, in his suffering, ripped out the tormented heart in his chest and locked it away.

Needless to say, he doesn't need to be given context for it when she finally shows him the chest, alone in Ramshackle. He observers the beautiful carved images on the sides, commits the texture of the wood to memory, caresses the time's scratches and bumps.

He refuses to let her open it, mentioning the tale of the sailors. He feels like he'll faint if he actually sees the fragile thing that keeps her loving existence with him.

But the key he accepts gladly. Azul will wear that around his neck until his very last days.

— <3 <3 <3

— Kalim

Kalim is no stranger to fear.

Some may think the contrary, what with his sunny disposition and optimism, but Kalim is no fool. Only fools have no fear.

And more than that, Kalim is way more aware than people give him credit for, or at least he has been working arduously to be so after being part of the reasons behind Jamil's overblot.

So when his girlfriend, his lover, his love, hands him the key to the chest where she keeps her heart, Kalim is consumed by fear.

Fear that he'll fail to protect the heart. Fear that he'll forget it somewhere and leave her vulnerable, fear fear fear

But then she grabs his hand and places the key to his hand and oh. Oh.

Oh.

— <3 <3 <3

Kalim swears on everything he has ever cherished that he will not fail at keeping her heart and her safe.

— Vil

Vil plays with the heavy key in his hands, the silence between the two thick as he processes what his girlfriend just told him, what she just gave him.

The key is honestly beautiful. A bit on the older side, but the intricate arcs of its head are elegant and, dare he say, noble. A skeleton key like none he has ever seen before. Worthy of her ethereal heart.

All his life, Vil has been playing the villain. All his life, people have feared his cursing touch. Including Vil himself.

Yet here she is, his beloved, giving him the two most important things in her life —no, giving him her life. Trusting him to guard it, to care for it. Accepting whatever he might do with it.

He could reach in and stop the beating so easily.

But instead, Vil kisses the key, and then its previous owner.

— <3 <3 <3

— Idia

Curses. Idia is particularly... Acquainted with curses. So he immediately knows.

"It's warm..." He mumbles, a finger gently touching the beating heart, curious eyes watching as it speeds up.

"For I am alive."

He'll make sure of it.

His girlfriend doesn't need to say anything else. He knows. He understands. He gets the concept. He can even go beyond his gloomy disposition and muse that maybe, maybe it isn't a curse, but a blessing, for nothing could kill you.

— <3 <3 <3

— Malleus

Malleus holds the key without gloves, even after his girlfriend warns him that it is made of iron and it shall burn his hands.

He does not care, however.

Not when this piece of iron and a wooden box are the only things between them and their life together forever. A fragile, human heart inside a box, defenseless, even a pencil could do the job. And then she'd be gone.

He feels his eyes water when she places the key in a little bag and then gives it to him, the fabric protecting him from the burns.

Her heart in the open, and all she can think of is his well-being.

He truly chose the most peculiar human to love.

[e-dubbc11]

Trust Your Gut

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of rohypnol (date rape drug), fluff, smooches, mention of a little violence

Word Count: 2.7K-ish

Summary: You keep seeing a very handsome stranger every Friday at happy hour with your work friends. He saves you from a potential dangerous situation

A/N: Miss me? 🤣 I had a lovely vacation, didn’t really look forward to going back to work but I’m happy to be back to writing. And if there’s anything you’d like to see from me, don’t hesitate to send something to my inbox. Come say hi! ♥️ So anyway, I saw a prompt on the blog @creativepromptsforwriting and I wanted to use it. #1061 - “I have wanted to kiss you every time I’ve seen you smile.” “Then why haven’t you yet?”

Oh and I make mention of Tyler Durden, Brad Pitt’s character in Fight Club. If you haven’t seen it, what are you waiting for…it’s classic!

Not much else to say except I hope you like it! ♥️

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Before you had even set one foot into the bar today, you felt his presence.

That gut feeling you had all day while you were at work, a combination of butterflies and knots danced and twisted around in your stomach as you kept glancing at the time, waiting for the moment you could clock out so you could go and meet your friends for your usual Friday after-work drink.

For the past month, you had noticed him. The way his long dexterous fingers wrapped around the glass of bourbon, the way his throat moved up and down as the amber liquid trickled down his throat, and the clenching of his teeth as his drink hit his stomach.

He was so handsome, mysterious, and sexy as fuck. His eyes looked like two pieces of onyx that shined when the dim lights of the bar hit them just right and you tried your hardest not to seem like you were staring at him but he probably knew you were.

Every woman in that place stared at him. How could they not? Between his handsome face, the fancy suit and tie, those eyes you could get lost in, and a smile that made you weak in the knees, you were irresistibly drawn to him. He could have his pick of any woman but you were surprised that every woman that threw themselves at him, he turned them all down.

Why?

Actually, you didn’t care why he turned them down. You only cared that he did turn them down and you didn’t have to watch him leave with someone that wasn’t you but you were too shy to even think of speaking to someone of his caliber.

All of those thoughts disappeared as soon as you saw your friends waiting for you. You were there to have a good time with them, not to gawk at the handsome man in the fancy suit. They had saved you a seat and it happened to be near Mr. Fancy Pants’ table.

Your gut never lied; he was there already.

He was drinking with a few other guys also dressed in fancy suits. Your heart jumped from your chest into your throat and you managed to catch a glimpse of him before he could return your gaze although he probably didn’t even look away from his friends.

“I’m bringing someone for you next week, y/n.” Your friend Jenna said.

Your mind was somewhere else and you were staring off into space so you didn’t exactly hear her.

“What?” You replied.

She glared at you, pointed and asked, “You didn’t pay attention to a word I just said, did you.”

You felt bad and apologized.

“I’m sorry, Jenna. I guess I’m a little distracted.” You replied.

Every woman in the bar had a crush on Mr. Fancy Pants, but you didn’t let it show that you did too. It was difficult but you acted like he wasn’t even there. If there was a way for you to become invisible so no one would see you ogling him, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Stolen glances would have to do…for now.

**********

The following Friday, your standing date with your friends was rapidly approaching and you were nervous about the guy Jenna said she was bringing for you. She said his name is Tyler and he is a personal trainer/boxer at the gym that she and her husband go to. Every time you heard the name “Tyler,” two words popped into your head…Fight Club.

“…And could you try not to mention Fight Club when you meet him? I knew exactly what you were thinking when I told you his name was Tyler.” Said Jenna.

You shrugged and said, “Ok, but you know that happens when I get nervous. I just start quoting movies or blurt out song lyrics. I can’t help it. It’s who I am.” You said with a slight chuckle and batting your eyelashes.

It almost sounded like Jenna didn’t want you to be yourself but she wanted you to be someone else when talking to Tyler but you would try to keep your movie quotes to a minimum, although you couldn’t make any guarantees.

He was nice enough, good looking, and seemed like he enjoyed his job. But he was a little full of himself, dull and didn’t seem like the brightest crayon in the box, nothing like the real object of your affection, Suit & Tie. Everyone in the room was drawn to him.

Without saying a word, he commanded your attention and always seemed in charge of everything. That kind of power over people turned you on, it sent a restless shiver down your spine, and a sudden warmth brushed across your cheeks.

Your blind date, however, droned on and on about the gym, his clients, some of them famous people, which didn’t impress you in the slightest. Your mind wandered, thinking about if Suit & Tie’s taste in bourbon was impeccable like his taste in suits.

Your desire to taste the bourbon on his lips kept getting stronger with every sip he took. The words coming out of Tyler’s mouth were not registering and it sounded like he was speaking underwater. That’s how little you were paying attention to what he was saying.

There was something about Tyler that wasn’t sitting right with you, though. He put out kind of a weird vibe but you couldn’t put your finger on exactly what it could be. Your intuition has never betrayed you before and you didn’t think it would start now.

Setting your empty glass onto the bar, you told Tyler you needed to use the ladies’ room and said you would order another beer when you got back. Emerging from the bathroom, you were startled to see who was standing in front of you. Mr. Fancy Pants. Your stomach lurched upward toward your throat before settling back down and he wasted no time starting the conversation.

“You have a date tonight, I see.” He said softly with a warm smile.

He noticed that he scared you.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized and extended his hand for you to shake. “Billy Russo…nice to meet you.”

Shaking his hand, you replied, “OH! I’m y/n, it’s really nice to meet you Billy. And yeah it’s—it’s a blind date.”

Billy moved in closer, caging you in against the wall down the long and narrow hallway. The scent of his spicy cologne floated past your nose and he placed his hand against the wall just above your head. He was even more handsome up close.

“Do you like him?” He asked in a serious tone as the line of his mouth tightened a fraction more.

Not really knowing how to respond, you stumbled over your words at first but managed to pull yourself together long enough to answer him.

“Oh…well…I dunno,” You had started to say. “Actually…I feel like there’s just something off about Tyler but I don’t know what it is.” You whispered.

Billy’s endless brown eyes stared into yours. He looked…angry but you weren’t frightened.

“You felt that, huh?” He replied.

Nervously, you nodded.

“Yeah, I felt that too and confirmed it when I saw him slip something into the fresh beer that’s waiting for you on the bar.” He said through clenched teeth.

You covered your mouth in disbelief.

“WHAT?! I purposely didn’t order another beer yet so I could watch it being poured.” You asked in a scared tone.

“Look, I know you don’t know me but I don’t want anything to happen to you because, well…I” Billy trailed off. “Do you trust me?”

Strangely enough, you did. You trusted him like you’ve known him for years.

“Y-yes, I do…Billy.” You answered.

The corners of his mouth turned up into a sly smile.

“Good, because I’ve kinda developed a little crush on you in the four weeks I’ve been comin’ in here. I keep suggesting this place to my team, hopin’ I’d get to see you.” He whispered in your ear, his hand still pressed against the wall, and his slight New York accent peeking through.

His words went straight to your core and instantly goosebumps peppered across your skin as the scent of bourbon escaped his lips when he spoke.

“Really?” You asked, shyly.

Biting down on his lower lip, he nodded.

“Well…I may have a little crush on you too.” You said with a slight smile.

Your hands trembled as you reached for his tie. Sliding it through your fingers, you looked up at him through your long dark lashes, desperately wanting him to kiss you and not caring that you just officially met him a few minutes ago.

Billy Russo was the one person in the entire bar that you felt like you could trust wholeheartedly and that included the trust you had in your co-workers and friends. It was hard to explain but everything about him just felt right.

Billy had inched close enough for the two of you to share the same air, causing you to swallow hard before he spoke again.

“I have wanted to kiss you every time I’ve seen you smile.” He said slowly as he grazed your cheek with his knuckles and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, away from your face.

Billy’s lips ghosted over yours as you asked with a smile, “Then why haven’t you yet?”

Flashing that million-dollar smile, he gently cupped your cheeks and drew your face closer to his before his lips were pressed firmly against yours. They tasted like vanilla with a mixture of sweetness and bite as he continued to kiss you a little harder now. Your stomach dropped when his body pressed up against you and your hands migrated to his raven colored hair.

His kisses were even better than you imagined they would be.

Breathlessly, his name fled from your lips as he kissed up and down the side of your neck. You completely lost yourself in the moment before snapping back to reality and remembered about Tyler, your friends, and the fact that no one has been down this hallway since you came out of the ladies’ room.

“Billy…no one’s come down here looking for either one of us.” You said.

He pulled back and said with a devilish grin, “Oh I got a guy at the end of the hallway preventing anyone from coming down here. I didn’t want any interruptions before I could tell you what that asshole did to your drink.”

“Shit…I keep forgetting about that.” You said, pressing your palm to your forehead.

Billy smirked again. “I’ll take that as a compliment, pretty eyes. Have dinner with me.” He commanded.

“Are you requesting or demanding?” You asked with a warm smile.

He leaned in to kiss you again.

“Please?” Asked Billy.

Without any hesitation, you replied, “Well since you asked nicely…yes, I’d love to Mr. Fancy Pants.”

Billy started to laugh.

“Mr. Fancy Pants, huh.” Said Billy.

You shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t know your name so that’s just how I referred to you in my head.” You said with a slight chuckle. “Suit & Tie was another one I used.”

He laughed at that one too.

“Well, I like both of them.” He said.

Just as he finished his sentence, a voice boomed from down the hall.

“Hey Bill!”

Billy yelled back.

“Yeah, what is it Frankie?!”

“You done warnin’ Miss Pretty Eyes about that fuckin’ scumbag yet?! Says he needs to use the bathroom.” He said, his voice dripping with disdain.

You narrowed your eyes slightly as the corners of your mouth curled into a smile.

“Pretty Eyes? You’ve told other people about the nickname, I see.” You said to Billy.

Billy winked at you and replied to his friend.

“Go ahead, Frankie. Let him down here and then you can watch me work!” Yelled Billy, with a devilish grin.

He was breathless with anger. Clenching his teeth, you watched as Billy’s hand balled into a fist until his knuckles shown white. The same knuckles that were gently brushing your cheek a few moments ago were getting ready to connect with Tyler’s face.

“You’re gonna hurt him, aren’t you.” You said nervously; your hands shaking slightly.

Billy kissed you on the forehead and replied, “Tyler’s walkin’ in to his own personal Fight Club. I’m gonna make sure he’ll think twice before doing that to someone else, y/n.”

The reference to Fight Club made you laugh. Movie references randomly popped into your head at any given time. It appeared that they randomly popped into Billy’s head also. This guy just might be your person.

“Ah, you forgot the first rule of Fight Club, Mr. Russo!” You chuckled a little. “So, do you beat people up professionally orrrrr?” You asked sarcastically.

He gave you another wicked smile and said, “We can talk about that at dinner and then you can remind me what the rules of Fight Club are.”

Immediately after he started walking down the hall, Tyler began running his mouth, telling Billy to get away from me, and “hope he’s ready to have his ass kicked.” When he got close, Tyler took a couple swings at him but missed and Billy proceeded to show him what happens to guys who mess with other people’s drinks.

Shoving Tyler out of the back door, Billy bloodied him enough to where you knew he’d never do that to anyone ever again and had the bartender call the police. When they dumped the beer out, there was some white residue along the bottom of the glass.

“Hey, he took swings at me first. I was just defending myself.” Said Billy, after being asked why Tyler’s face looked like a mangled piece of meat.

Bar patrons and Frank had watched Tyler swing first so they corroborated Billy’s story that he was “defending himself” and Jenna apologized for trying to set you up with such a creep. It wasn’t her fault; how could she have known? But she still felt pretty bad about the whole thing.

“I promise, I’ll never try and set you up again. I’m not very good at it, apparently.” She said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Well maybe if this works out, you won’t have to set me up again.” You said.

Watching Billy talk to the police, you felt a sense of relief, and it scared you to think of what would have happened if he wasn’t there. If he wasn’t watching at that exact moment, something terrible could have happened to you.

Billy had finished talking with the cops when you rushed over to him, crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms tightly around his torso. The shock of it all had worn off and you were left thinking about all of the bad things that could have happened.

He was surprised but returned your embrace as tears streaked down your face.

“Hey, hey it’s ok, y/n. It’s ok. You’re safe.” He whispered against the top of your head.

“Thank you, Billy.” You said with a hitch in your voice, trying not to get your tears on his shirt.

You just kept thanking him over and over again. You had to make sure he knew just how grateful you were to him for today.

“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you…pretty eyes. You can trust me.” Said Billy with a slight smile.

His voice was calm and smooth like warm honey. He soothed you and reassured you that you were alright. Billy’s long arms wrapped around you, his body was a warm cradle for yours, and you fit perfectly against him.

“I know I can, Billy. I don’t know how I know…but I do.” You said as the corners of your mouth curled into a shy smile.

Brushing his beard with your thumbs, you leaned in to kiss him again. Instinctively, you knew there was something off about Tyler but at the same time, your gut told you there was something about Billy Russo that fit just right.

You would just have to remember to really listen to that inner voice from now on when it tells you something important, whether it’s bad or very…very…good.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @ittybxttykxttytxtty @mrsbillyrusso @russosafehaven

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[seraphdreams]

“HIGH, HARU.”

sanzu haruchiyo / fem!reader.

contains. very dark content. yandere!sanzu, manipulation, drugs, obsessive behavior, slight aggression, distorted perceptions of love, guns. 18+ mdni.

author’s note. this had been something i’ve been thinking about for about a year so i decided to write it out a little.

synopsis. how far does your love go for sanzu? how far does his go?

word count. 1.3k

the way others would describe your relationship with sanzu is totally different from how you would. to you, he was a loving man; albeit, eccentric at times but held such a deep love for you that if you were to cut into his skin, it’d bleed you. if you weren’t so madly infatuated, you’d understand that he’s quite an obsessive lover, a toxic fit to the passion and emotion you’d display with him.

the truth is, haruchiyo never learned to love until he met you. his love was overwhelming yet it comforted your broken soul. his past seemed to justify about every single one of his actions. and you loved him. no matter what, you will always love him.

it started from the span of a few days ago. sanzu would come home, eyes low with fatigue written all over his features. “haru, you look so tired.. you okay?” he’d brush you off, mumbling about how he’s always this way, yet his face felt cold in your hands. in fact, his whole body was alarmingly cold. it was as if you slept with a living corpse and woke up to one as well—he wasn’t doing good.

for a while you’d been speculating about the culprit, those mysterious pills he took day in and day out. tins and bottles of them were scattered around your penthouse with no sign of ever going. you cared about haruchiyo more than you cared for yourself; bringing up your thoughts with him couldn’t hurt.

“don’t you think it’s time to quit?” you query as you stand in the hallway, your lover a few feet from the front door. he scoffs as he takes off his shoes one by one, while ridding himself of his usual bloodstained suit jacket and tie. “quit what?” he fully straightens himself out to look at you, the same tired glance in his eyes. “those pills. they aren’t doing you any good..” you start off before your voice unexpectedly gets quieter. “i don’t want you gone from them.”

he chuckles, softly, while making his way to you. there’s a grin on his face, one that mocks you, makes you feel feeble. he ruffles your hair as he walks past you and to the bedroom. “don’t worry about me, ‘m fine.”

you let out a deep sigh, starting up again. “but you’re n—” he swings back around, his eyes narrowed as if he had gotten ticked off just that quick. “didn’t i just say i was fine? get to bed.”

for the most part, haru slept like a baby with you tightly grasped in his arms. he wasn’t the type to sleep lightly, he could sleep through a break-in if you let him. yet, you were wide awake, unable to chase any form of slumber. your thoughts raced through your mind at a thousand miles per hour. your heartbeat too fast almost as if you’d run yourself a heart attack. it was a struggle but you managed to free yourself from sanzu’s arms, getting up and heading to all the various spots where you knew he kept his pills.

one bottle at a time, you poured them into the toilet until there were no more in the last tin. turning your head, you pulled down on the handle and flushed, doing away with the empty bottles and settling back into bed.

once morning came, you arose to your lover not accompanying you in bed. you figured he’d be heading out for work by now so you joined him in the kitchen.

“baby, the craziest thing happened.”

your heart pounded at his statement. “hm?” you tried to occupy yourself with the coffee pot to stave off any nerves but any fool could tell that you weren’t getting too far.

“i could’ve swore you left me in bed last night.”

“i went to use the bathroom.” you respond bluntly.

“and now it seems like my medicine tin went missing.”

you shot your eyes up from the pot to look at sanzu. he wasn’t an idiot, far from it. “went missing? did you look everywhere?”

he stares blankly for a second before closing in on you. “you think i’m fucking stupid, huh?” you walked backwards until you felt the counter against your lower back. “you don’t take pills, so would you like to tell me where my shit went?”

your throat felt scratchy and dry as you attempted to rasp out the words. “i-i flushed them..” before he could inch out another word, you continue. “i care about you, haru! i don’t want you dying on me.”

“like fucking hell you care about me.” his voice isn’t a yell, but it isn’t nearly as close to being his normal tone. “i’m fucking crazy, you know that. i need those pills, they help me.”

each one of his words felt like a knife to the heart. you couldn’t believe that the man who’d go through hell and back for you would also treat you as if you were nothing.

“they don’t help, haru. they’re making you worse.”

he steps away, slowly. returning to his original position, he takes one of the bottles in hand, turning to show you the label. “my fucking name is written on this shit, it’s prescribed. the fuck you mean they’re making me worse?”

“it’s not even prescribed by a real doctor, you get it from a dealer!” you didn’t mean for your words to project like they did and it came as a shock to sanzu. he’s still for a moment in disbelief before grabbing his coat and walking out the door. “i’ll deal with you when i get home.”

you spent majority of that afternoon cleaning up to calm your nerves in any sort of way, yet the tears never stopped. it was creeping close to the time when he’d usually come home and you found solace in hiding from him in your spacious apartment.

the front door clicks, then opens.

“mighty clean around here.” he comments, looking around the space. it’s silent and you hoped he couldn’t hear the pounding of your heart through your chest. footsteps crept here and there as if he was searching for you. he knew where you were, he was just giving you some time to play into delusion.

“you bitch!”

his grip on your wrist is taut as he pulls you from your hiding space, aggressively laying you out on the couch. he’s hovering over you, gun in one hand as the other finally lets go of your arm.

“haru, i love you! i love you so much, haru! i love you, i love you!” you chant mindlessly as if it’d snap him out of whatever trance he was in. his eyes were unreadable, you couldn’t tell what emotion he was feeling or what move he’d make next. he used his gun to caress your face, finding joy in the way you continued to babble. “you love me?”

quickly, you nod your head. “i love you so much! if you killed me right now, i’d still love you!”

pleased with your answer and the uncontrollable tears streaming from your eyes, he lets up. with his gun tossed to the side and his position switched from hovering to standing over you, he pulls you up in his arms.

unpredictable he is.

“let’s talk this out, okay?”

you nod your head, holding onto his wrist as he leads you from the living room to the bedroom. he sits at the edge, pulling you on top of his lap. “you say you love me so.. i’m gonna do whatever i want even if it kills me, and you’re not gonna say a word, right?”

you nod your head against his chest.

“‘s like you been cryin’ all day. you must be thirsty.” he holds you in his arms as he takes you to the kitchen. “let’s get you some water, good girl.”

“my good girl, i do this ‘cause i love you.”

tags - @shujismoke @creepngs @koucaine @mikeyswaifuuu @meena-in-a-nutshell @getougeko @imkumichan @messofavs @saaraunicorn @cloudnitee @ipetnero @aasouthteranoswife @saffronity @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @stffychn @aki-and-saltfish @withlovetengen @zuuki @keooooothings @tojitsukaisen @bunnyyamor @sauzysushi @luvhaitani @bluerskiees @kasaslovr

[nichoswag]

Hey I really love your works!! I wanna request the trope "demon x human" with maki please? Demon is y/n and human is maki! Not sure if you need more infos, but you can add the prompt #9 "may i have this dance?” Thank you!!

eyes . hirota riki

prompt: "may i have this dance?"

trope: demon x human

pairing: stranger!human!maki x demon!female reader

warnings: reader is a demon obviously, lots of flirting, kissing, cursing, teasing, fear, pet names (handsome, love, cutie)

song rec: your eyes tell - bts

a/n: this is an interesting take on this trope! when i put it on the list, this was not exactly the person and scenario I'd imagined for this quote and trope, but i'm happy to write it!! i like writing new things! thank you anon for requesting, and i hope this is what you had in mind! enjoy ♡

maki looks around the lively room. he's currently at a party his friends have dragged him to, except they've all gone off and he's all alone.

he keeps looking for his friends when he spots you.

you meet his curious, doe-like orbs with your own siren eyes.

immediately, you decide you need to have this man. he's simply too cute and attractive. you have the urge to steal him and take him far away so only you can look at him.

maki's curious eyes turn fearful as he realizes you're eyeing him as if you want to devour him whole. he realizes as your eyes flash red exactly what you are.

a demon.

maki obviously knew there would be demons at this party, but he could not have predicted he'd pique one's interest. he wonders if the rumors and myths about your kind are true - are you truly capable of unimaginable sins? would you snap and kill him in a heartbeat?

you notice the look on his face change from curious to terrified, and flash him a smile as if to say 'it's alright, i'm not gonna hurt you,' as you're thinking quite the opposite. there's just something about him that makes you want to protect him forever.

as you smile at him, he takes in your razor-sharp teeth from across the room, and his fear turns to sheer panic.

"relax, she won't hurt you," a voice says from beside him. a girl slings her arm around his shoulder. "i think she likes you, actually, considering she looks like she wants to rip my throat out."

maki looks back to you to see you making a face that's truly much more terrifying. somehow, even looking angry, he's able to notice how absolutely stunning you look in your red dress with your hair down.

"do you wanna go get a drink with me?" the mystery girl next to him asks.

only then does he notice her sharp teeth and red eyes.

"oh- i, uh-"

"sorry to interrupt, but can i steal this guy away for a sec?"

maki turns to see that you've made your way across the floor and are now standing in front of him, seemingly close to bursting into flames.

the girl side eyes you, but maki feels something wrong about staying with her, so he opts to nod at you as you take his hand and lead him back across the room.

you both seat yourselves on an unoccupied couch, ignoring the couple making out against the wall next to you.

"sorry if i startled you," you say. "that girl is just-"

"dangerous, right?" maki asks, and you're taken aback at how he knew that. "i could kind of sense something was wrong with her."

"she's one of those demons who hurts humans for fun," you explain. "i won't get into detail, but it's pretty fucked up."

his eyes widen. "wait- so you mean all demons aren't like that?"

you're again taken aback. "how little do you know about us? the laws we go by say we can't do any harm to humans."

it's his turn to be surprised now. "but- earlier, you were staring at me like you were gonna eat me."

you laugh, and he somehow still thinks the sound is sweet. "i wasn't gonna eat you, silly. though i could if you want me to-"

"i'm good, trust me." he chuckles.

"so what's your name, handsome?" you ask.

he blushes furiously. "it's maki. well- riki, technically, but my friends call me maki."

"cute," you mutter. "i'm ____."

"that's a pretty name," he says, attempting to be bold.

you giggle. a new song plays in the background, a japanese song you recognize by bts. "ooh, i like this song!"

he nods his head to the beat. "it's a nice song. you have good taste.

you stand up in front of maki and extend your hand. "may i have this dance?"

he giggles like a little kid. "you sound like an old person."

you glare at him. "do you wanna dance or not?"

he grabs your hand and you both walk closer to the middle of the room. his hands are on your waist, yours on his broad shoulders, and you swear you could die like this as you sway to the sweet melody.

"so, you like me?" maki asks suddenly. "that's what that girl said, and the way you were looking at me..."

you contemplate how to answer. "well, yes. i thought you were really cute when i saw you and i hated that that bitch had her claws on you."

he blushes again, flustered. "you're really pretty yourself."

"yeah, love?" you smirk at him. "you like me too, don't you?"

he exhales sharply, not sure how to answer. "um... i think so."

"you think so?" you aren't satisfied with his answer. "you mean you don't know?"

"well... i wanna get to know you better," he says.

this satisfies you a bit. "you're so cute," you whisper, but he hears anyway.

"thank you," he says, not meeting your eyes.

you remove a hand from his shoulders to palm the side of his face and steer it back towards you. "look at me. i wanna see those pretty eyes of yours."

he blushes again, his doe eyes wide as he looks into your narrow, crimson orbs. they're beautiful to him, in a way.

he realizes your faces are getting closer together when you're only inches apart.

"can i kiss you?" you whisper as your lips ghost his.

he closes his eyes and connects his lips to yours. your arms wrap fully around his neck, pulling his body in closer, and his arms envelop your torso.

a few moments later, he pulls away with a gasp for air. "jesus. that was..."

"good?" you ask, tilting your head to feign innocence. your eyes narrow. "i've been told i'm a good kisser."

"how many people have you kissed?" he asks, seemingly upset.

you caress his face with one hand, reaching the other to snake around his waist and close the distance again. "the number doesn't matter. what's important is that none were ever as stunning as you."

you kiss him again, and this time he rests his hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into the bare skin where there's a gap in the dress you're wearing.

this time, you pull away to let him get some air, but you stay close, resting your forehead against his. "i want to get to know you too, cutie."

he giggles against your lips. "well, what are you waiting for?"

©nichoswag | do not copy my work or repost onto any other platform.

[daddynattt]

Hey thank you for answering my question. I was thinking of a mommy!natasha x little reader fic based on the time Nat was in hiding in Norway? Reader is obviously her baby so she went with her. Just some cute moments of them watching movies, falling asleep together, doing some activities etc during that time if you could write that? Also I’d love if reader called Nat ‘mama’ too instead of just mommy. Thanks so much :)

Sorry it’s a bit short, this is my first time writing little reader. Hopefully it’s okay & I hope you enjoy some fluffy Mommy Nat.

Precious Little Angel

Summary: You and your mommy spend some quality time together.

Pairings: Mommy!Natasha x Little!Reader

Warnings: None just fluff.

Word Count: 0.8k

“Mama? Are we there yet?” your eyes were droopy and your mind fuzzy as you and your mommy were traveling all day. You didn’t know where the two of you were going but all you wanted to do was snuggle with her in bed and fall asleep in her arms. 

“Yes my precious little angel, we’re here” she picks you up in her arms when you do grabby hands at her, walking towards a trailer, while placing her hand on the weapon behind her back in case there was a threat inside. Your arms wrap around her as you nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck, her scent and warmth calming you down. The two of you walk further into the trailer and into the bedroom.

“You’re in my bed” your eyebrows furrow as you raise your head and look at the man getting up from the bed. 

“Mama! It’s our bed silly” she lets out a laugh as she places you down on it.

“You’re absolutely right sweetheart. Stay here for a moment and i’ll be right back” she kisses your forehead and leaves you in the room as she walks away with the mysterious man you’ve never seen before. You grab your stuffies from the bag your Mommy brought and get under the covers as you wait for her to return, cuddling them to your chest. As your eyes flutter closed after laying there for a moment, your Mommy lays down next to you and pulls you into her strong, protective arms. 

“Mama” you snuggle closer to her, your head laying on her chest, her heartbeat bringing you comfort. 

“I’m here little dove, Mommy’s got you” her hand traces small patterns on your back, and you snuggle closer into her if that’s even possible. 

“Sweetie, you’re already so close, I don’t think you can get any closer” you huff as you look up at her. 

“Wanna snuggle Mama” you pout as you give her your best puppy dog eyes. She smiles and places a kiss on your forehead. 

“Mama will give you all the snuggles my love, how about we put on a movie and watch it while we eat some snacks?” you nod your head excitedly as you sit up on the bed so she can get everything sorted.

“We can watch Toy Story Mama?” you bounce up and down on the bed excitedly, a big smile growing on her face when she sees the adorable look you give her.

“Of course bubs, anything for my little Angel” she grabs her laptop and some snacks that she brought and sets everything up on the bed, allowing you to snuggle into her as she holds you close. The two of you watch the movie but your eyes flutter closed as you slowly fall asleep against your Mommy’s chest, little snores coming out of your mouth, her warmth and protective hold lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Honey? It’s time to wake up.” you slowly wake up as your hear your mommy’s voice in your ear, rubbing your eyes as you look at her.

“Morning Mommy” you snuggle into her as you slowly wake up. 

“Good morning baby, you’ve been sleeping so much. How about we wake up and make some breakfast and color in your coloring book. How does that sound?” you squeal as you scramble out of the bed.

“Yes! Can we make pancakes?!” she chuckles as she scoops you up in her arms and tickles you.

“Mommy! S-stop!” you giggle uncontrollably and squirm out of her arms. She lets you go as she makes her way to the kitchen to start making you your pancakes.

“Would you like to help Mommy make your pancakes?” you nod your head excitedly as you grab the chair and move it towards the counter. 

“Yes! Can I mix it please?” she laughs as she starts the batter and let’s you stir it afterwards. Once you are done, and she wipes the mess off your hands, she starts cooking the pancakes and looks down at you. 

“Why don’t you go and grab your book and crayons so we can color after we eat breakfast?” you hurry and grab it from the bedroom, placing it down on table. Once she’s done she puts the pancakes on a plate for you both with some syrup.

“You want orange juice or chocolate milk?” 

“Hmm, choccy milk please” she pours you a cup of chocolate milk and the two of you eat your breakfast. Once you are both finished she washes the dishes and the two of you color in your coloring book together. Once you get tired of coloring, you clean up around you and put away your book and crayons and tug on your Mommy’s shirt as you make your way back to her.

“Up Mama!” she smiles and lifts you up into her lap as she holds you close. 

“Thank you for being such a sweet little Angel and cleaning up and putting away your book and crayons. You are such a smart little cookie” she boops your nose and you giggle.

“I love you sweetheart, you’ll always be Mommy’s precious little dove” you smile as you snuggle into her chest. 

“I love you more Mama” 

[cheeriecherrymain]

Springtime On The Moor [Chapter 1]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Chapter Rating: T Story Tags: Regency AU|Slow Burn|Arranged Marriage (affectionate)|Strangers to Friends to Lovers|Angst/Comfort Proofread: No Taglist: @trfanglophile @fairy-writes  Chapter Summary: You meet your husband for the first time. On your wedding day. And he’s...not what you expected.

The first time you meet your fiance is on your wedding day.

Clad in an ivory gown with lace detailing on the sleeves, standing at the far end of the aisle on your fathers arm. It’s unconventional for such a thing to occur, especially in this modern day and age.

Your marriage was most certainly a business deal: you had expected no less when you came of the age to wed. It was something that you had been raised knowing, and over the years you’d grown to find comfort in the fact that your future was at least somewhat decided for you.

But to marry a man you’d never met before? Not even once?

Your father had spoken to you with the utmost assurance, promised that he’d know your mysterious betrothed when he was but a boy - told you of all the mischief he’d gotten up to, and how he’d always done things out of the kindness of his heart.

“Viktor is a good man,” your papa had sworn, gently taking your tear-stained face in his hands. “He’s a little odd, I will admit; he doesn’t always know the ins and outs of polite society. But he is not cruel, as I have seen many men to be. He’s gentle, and smart, and he cares deeply for the commonfolk of our city.”

You had scoffed when he’d fed you such pretty words at first, but by the end of your discussion, you’d been calmed. Your father would not lead you wrong in life. He had handpicked spouses for all your older sisters, setting them up with bachelors who would treat them with smiles and spoil them rotten with goods beyond what they’d had before.

You trusted his judgment.

Even when the letters you’d written to your betrothed had been declined, you trusted him. Tea, lunch, a walk in the garden, something: declined.

You trusted your father.

Even when your frustration ran rampant, he promised you.

“Does he even want to marry me?!” you’d shouted, in a fit of anger caused by the constant rebuff of your supposed fiance. “Because he’s certainly not making much of an effort! In fact, he’s making no effort at all!”

Your father had been diligent in soothing you with his soft words and promises, swearing to you again and again that you’d have the wedding of your dreams, filled with friends and food and dancing and happy laughter. And you had believed him.

But now?

Now, you have doubts.

Music plays quietly in the background, nearly drowned out by the whistling of the wind and the thunder of your heartbeat in your ears.

Anger.

Disbelief.

Shame.

All things you felt when your gaze fell upon the chairs set out on either side of the aisle. Decorated with ribbon and pretty draped fabrics, and hand-plucked flowers that were bloomed at their fattest. Barely thirty seats, at your fiance’s insistence - something that had outraged you so significantly that you had half the mind to call the whole deal off.

He doesn’t know the ins and outs of polite society, your father had reminded you.

You hadn’t wanted to make an improper wife of yourself, so you’d remained silent in the wake of Viktor’s demands, and had agreed to cut down on the guest list. You deeply regretted such a thing now, wishing more than ever that you’d pushed back a little bit against him.

If he was any sort of kind, he would have understood. Even if he truly didn’t have the ability to tolerate the lifestyle you led, he could at least make a single exception for the woman who was to be his wife!

But you had been an utter doormat.

And now each chair stood empty as you walked down the aisle.

You should have tried harder.

But how were you to know that the people you’d once called friends would abandon you on such short notice?

Your siblings and their spouses have claimed the seats in the rows closest to the altar, and all have politely stood to watch you tread forward with grace and integrity. But it’s with a sinking heart that you realize they’re only there out of obligation. You’re their sister - of course they’d come to your wedding, however disastrous it was.

But that’s not the most boggling part of the whole ordeal.

What baffles you most is the complete emptiness on Viktor’s side of the aisle. Where you at least had family on yours, his is well and truly empty. His parents most obviously have not shown up, as you know them to be deceased, but…his siblings? Friends?

No one.

It is the fact that keeps you moving forward.

Perhaps he really had no one. No one close to him, no one to lean on or speak with or share inside jokes.

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

You keep your head towards your future, as you had been taught to.

Viktor, however, has no such grace. He turns away from where he’s been staring a hole in the ground, and towards the noise and - for the briefest of moments - your eyes meet. 

His eyes, wide and worried, and the prettiest shade of honeyed brown. He’s handsome, you realize, with an internal hint of surprise. You’re not sure what kind of man you were expecting him to be, but it’s certainly not he who stands before you.

Slender and tall, with fluffy brown hair and elegant features. You could almost mistake him for an aristocrat, were you not already aware of his adopted background. It hardly bothered you to know that he didn’t share blood with the people he once called his parents - you’re just a little baffled as to why he inherited so much when they passed.

Thankfully, the only thing that seems to be physically lacking about him is his posture, which you assume is from his many years of being hunched over a desk, working. And the moment you catch sight of the brace on his leg, and the cane in his right hand, you don’t fault him for it.

All things considered, he’s perhaps not the worst person you could have ended up with as a spouse. You’d at least be able to make some attractive children, and for that you’re grateful. 

Though you know in your heart that you’d love them regardless of who their father was.

—

The rest of the ceremony passes quickly after that. You and your father reach the end of the aisle, where he carefully hands you off to Viktor. 

Viktor, who stumbles twice when leading you up to the altar, but who continues to hold your hand with a surprising amount of practiced dexterity.

Viktor, who fumbles through his vows despite the fact that they’re the most traditional and mundane you’ve ever heard, but who whispers them with a sort of reverency that leaves your heart fluttering in your chest.

Viktor, whose voice catches on his I Do before you’re pronounced as husband and wife, but whose lips are soft and tender against your own in the barest hint of a kiss. Short and sweet, filling your stomach with butterflies that flutter around wildly.

And then, another clap of thunder, closer this time.

He pulls away from you then, as if he’s just come back to himself and his senses. His fingers slide out of yours, and he steps back with a curt nod, awkwardly offering you his arm. You take it without question, and he leads you towards the dining area that has been set up.

—

It doesn’t take long for your anger and shame to start welling up again, nor for your mood to sour significantly. 

The wind from the coming storm is beginning to pick up, whipping a chill across your face and over your shoulders. Half the decor has been ferried inside by your father’s staff, in lieu of it blowing away entirely, and without any significant number of guests, the garden just looks…empty.

Empty, and lonely, and hollow. Much the way you feel.

Lunch is fine enough, in terms of taste. It’s not as fancy as you had expected, but it’s palatable. You chat amicably with your siblings and their spouses while you eat, and while your manners are poor, you hardly find the mind to care at the moment.

Viktor, in any case, doesn’t say anything. He just continues to eat in silence, watching as the conversation bounces around.

—

After the meal is finished, and all the plates have been cleared away, you make a silent vow to yourself to have a good time. Yes, none of your friends showed up for the most important day of your life, and yes, the weather was quite honestly terrible, and yes, you were quite honestly a little miserable. But!

That didn’t mean you couldn’t turn things around!

“Would you care to dance, sir?” you ask boldly, striding gracefully up to your new husband to offer him your hand. Even with his need for a cane and a brace, he’d surely be able to spare you a couple moments of swaying, right? Even if you spent the rest of the day cavorting around with your sisters-

“I’m not much use for dancing,” Viktor replies, barely even looking at you before casting his gaze downwards, towards the hardware wrapped around his leg. “Perhaps one of your brothers might entertain you, if you feel such inclinations.”

You stand there for a couple moments, your jaw slack in disbelief. 

“Sir, perhaps we could-” you begin to argue, but you’re promptly cut off by a wet splat landing on your cheek. 

You glance towards the sky, praying that what you think is happening is actually not happening.

To no such avail.

Another fat raindrop lands on you, and then another, and another, and another. Plinking down against the flagstone and the handful of pitchers set out on tables. Stirring the leaves of every plant in the garden, and soaking into the soil to create a lovely layer of mud.

It doesn’t take long for everyone to hurry inside to where it’s dry, but the damage has been done.

Your sisters suggest moving the party to one of the sitting rooms in your father’s manor, but…you’re done.

“Let’s just get all my trunks packed into a carriage, so we can be on our way,” you sigh, unable to keep the sadness out of your voice. Your father tries in vain to cheer you up, and reassure you that you were going to have a wonderful life, but you hardly feel like entertaining the hope anymore.

You just want the day to end.

—

The ride over to Viktor’s estate is nothing short of uncomfortable and awkward. You had wanted to leave and get settled as soon as possible, so the moment your things were loaded into your transportation, you take off into the rain. 

At this point, you don’t care if you get stains on your gown. You run out to the carriage and up into its belly, finding a seat in the cramped exterior. Viktor follows after you shortly, and the two of you fall into the strangest silence you’ve ever experienced.

You can see him glancing at you from the corner of your eye, looking as though he wishes to say something, but never quite gathering the courage to do so. Awkward, like your father had said.

You remain like that for a good while, staring out the window while you listen to the rain beat against the glass. It’s possibly the most peace you’ve felt on this day, the repetitive patter of drops lulling you into an uncertain doze.

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until the carriage jerks suddenly and you pitch forwards, hastily jarred out from your nap and into the lap of your husband, who stares down at you with wide eyes.

His hands are warm where they press into your upper arms, steadying you where he’d instinctively tried to catch your fall.

“...are you alright?” he murmurs, gently guiding you back into your seat.

You sigh deeply, and nod.

“I am,” you mumble. “Thank you.”

Another beat of silence.

And then,

“Good. We…ah, we’re here. I’ll fetch an umbrella- let me just-”

You watch in a daze as he squirms around in his seat, before unlocking the door and shimmying out into the weather. The rain has slowed significantly since you last paid attention to it, with just a few little speckles falling from the sky. The birds have begun their happy little trills once again, filling the air with a pleasant kind of peace.

Without waiting for Viktor to find what he’s looking for, you step out of the carriage and into the fresh air to look around a bit.

His estate is…grand, to say the least. The manor itself stands at what must be four times the size of your childhood home, and that’s just in the architecture. The land around the building is nothing short of magnificent, with cobbled paths leading every which way, to secret places you know you’re going to have fun exploring.

The gardens are a little dilapidated, and are significantly overgrown, but you can hardly blame your husband for it. If he was the only one around to help things run smoothly, then you’re not really surprised the land has fallen to ruin.

“I said I was going to fetch an umbrella,” Viktor sighs, when he strides out the front entrance and back towards you.

“A little rain won’t hurt me,” you reply with a cheeky smile.

He stares at you for a couple of moments, his expression unreadable. You almost think you’ve offended him in some way with your actions, until he sighs again and lets his shoulders fall.

“Very well,” he says quietly, gesturing towards you. “But please come inside before you catch a chill.”

—

The inside of the manor is much nicer than the outside, in your opinion. It’s a little dusty, but the wood tones and furniture are nothing short of extravagant. And the rugs, you think, looking curiously downwards. They look like they’ve been hand woven from the finest of fibers.

Viktor carefully helps you out of your coat, pulling the fabric from your shoulders only to hang it over the bannister.

“I…failed to say this earlier,” he begins, plucking at the buttons on his sleeves, “But the manor is at your disposal. Anything you might come across is yours, and you are free to roam wherever you please. If there is anything you require that is not provided, you need only ask - either myself, or one of your ladies’ maids. All I ask is that you don’t come into the workshop in the basement by yourself - or without my knowledge.”

You can’t help but notice the way he still avoids your gaze.

Despite the fact that you’re married.

“Your room has been made prior to your arrival, but in the future you are free to curate it however you like.”

Your room?

Wouldn’t you be sharing?

“Breakfast and lunch may be served to you at your discretion, and dinner is at seven every night. If you have any preferences, again…just ask. Either myself, or your attendants.”

The two of you stand there in silence for a few moments, waiting, waiting, for the other to say something.

“Ah…thank you,” you mumble.

Viktor nods, short and curt, and turns on his heel.

“If you’ll excuse me, now,” he says, as he makes his way towards what you assume is the staircase that leads towards his workspace. “I’ve got some things that need to be completed in a timely manner.”

And with that, he disappears from sight, leaving you completely alone.

—

It doesn’t take you long to find your bedroom. You open six or seven doors along the way, but once you arrive at your own dwelling, you know for a fact that it’s yours. You’re not entirely sure how your trunks and suitcases were moved up to the space without your knowledge, but with such a large estate, you know there are bound to be servants hallways around.

The decor itself is a little bit dated, but it’s still quite beautiful in execution. Soft pastel wallpapers, and deep wood tones. The bed in the center of the room is intricately carved, and you can’t imagine how much such a piece must have cost. How much everything in the room must have cost, ranging from the various bookshelves, to the petite bedside tables, to the sturdy desk beneath the window.

And again, the rugs.

You make haste in changing out of your wedding attire, well and truly sick of wearing such a thing. It’s beautiful, yes, but now the gown only stands to remind you of what has so far been a rather unhappy day. That, and the seams are beginning to dig into your skin, and you’re positive that you’re going to have little sore spots for a couple of hours.

Instead, you dig through your various trunks until you’re able to find your favourite lounging gown. Gauzy and airy, trimmed in delicate lace. It drapes over your body in a way that is breathtakingly flattering, and you can’t help but twirl around in the mirror to admire yourself.

It had been a gift from your eldest sister, for your last birthday. She’d said that you deserved such fine things, and to be clad comfortably when you felt the need to rest.

And later, when it had been just the two of you, she’d whispered to you that your future husband might also find it appealing.

You had been horribly flustered by her statement back then, but now, as you stare at your reflection, you can’t help the tiny smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Your entire wedding had been unconventional. From not knowing your husband before you married him, to the social snubbing you’d received in the lack of guests, to your new spouse not indulging you in a single dance, and the terrible storm cutting the afterparty short.

But there was one thing you knew that Viktor wouldn’t want to miss. What no newlywed couple would pass up, and what all your sisters and you had giggled about on the nights you’d sneaked into each other’s rooms to gossip.

The wedding night.

And looking as enticing as you did, in your pretty, frilled nightgown?

Your husband would not be able to resist.

He had work to attend to, still: this much you know. But in no more than two hours the sun would start setting, and he’d be finished with his distractions. He would come upstairs to find you where you wait, curled up in the lavish bed with a novel, donned in the finest of silks. 

Just for him.

—

Imagine the shame you feel, when you listen to the grandfather clock on the main floor chime once again.

Midnight, this time.

So late that you can barely keep your eyes open. So late that the candle lighting the pages of your book has nearly burned out. So late, that you can’t even focus your eyes on the words anymore.

The shame you feel, as you crawl into bed in the dark.

Alone.

[fullstcp]

"Lover" by Taylor Swift Sentence Starters

I FORGOT THAT YOU EXISTED

"I lived in the shade you were throwing until all of my sunshine was gone."

"I couldn't get away from ya."

"I forgot that you existed."

"I thought that it would kill me, but it didn't."

"It isn't love, it isn't hate, it's just indifference."

"I would've stuck around for ya."

"Would've been right there, front row, even if nobody came to your show."

CRUEL SUMMER

"I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below."

"Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes."

"What doesn't kill me makes me want you more."

"It's a cruel summer with you."

"I'm not dying."

"We say that we'll just screw it up in these trying times."

"We're not trying."

"I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone."

"If I bleed, you'll be the last to know."

"I'm drunk in the back of the car."

"I cried like a baby coming home from the bar."

"Said, 'I'm fine,' but it wasn't true."

"I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you."

"I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

LOVER

"We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January."

"This is our place, we make the rules."

"There's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear."

"Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?"

"Can I go where you go?"

"Can we always be this close?"

"I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you."

"My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue."

"All's well that ends well to end up with you."

THE MAN

"When everyone believes ya, what's that like?"

"I'm so sick of running as fast as I can."

"I'm so sick of them coming at me again."

"If I was out flashing my dollars, I'd be a bitch not a baller."

"If I was a man, then I'd be the man."

THE ARCHER

"I say I don't want that, but what if I do?"

"I've got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you."

"I never grew up, it's getting so old."

"Help me hold onto you."

"Who could ever leave me, darling, but who could stay?"

"All of my heroes die all alone."

"They see right through me."

"Can you see right through me?"

"All the king's horses, and all the king's men couldn't put me together again."

"All my enemies started out friends."

I THINK HE KNOWS

"I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans."

"It's like I'm 17, nobody understands."

"He/she/they got my heartbeat skipping down 16th avenue."

"I wanna see what's under that attitude."

"I want you, bless my soul."

"He'd/she'd/they'd better lock it down or I won't stick around."

"Good ones never wait."

MISS AMERICANA & THE HEARTBREAK PRINCE

"You know I adore you."

"It's you and me, that's my whole world."

"You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes."

"It's you and me, there's nothing like this."

"We're so sad, we paint the town blue."

"Voted most likely to run away with you."

PAPER RINGS

"Now I wake up in the middle of the night and watch you breathe."

"Kiss me once cause you know I've had a long night."

"Kiss me twice cause it's gonna be alright."

"I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings."

"You're the one I want."

"I hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this."

"I'm with you even if it makes me blue."

CORNELIA STREET

"We were a fresh page on the desk filling in the blanks as we go."

"I hope I never lose you, I hope it never ends."

"That's the kinda heartbreak time could never mend."

"I get mystified by how this city screams your name."

"I thought you were leading me on."

DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS

"Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts."

"I get drunk, but it's not enough."

"The morning comes and you're not my baby."

"I look through the windows of this love even though we boarded them up."

"I can't pretend it's okay when it's not."

"What once was ours is no one's now."

"The only thing we share is this small town."

"You said it was a great love, one for the ages."

"If the story's over, why am I still writing pages?"

LONDON BOY

"But something happened, I heard him/her/them laughing."

"They say home is where the heart is, but that's not where my mine lives."

"Darling, I fancy you."

"I guess all the rumors are true."

"Babe, don't threaten me with a good time."

"Just wanna be with you."

SOON YOU'LL GET BETTER

"I didn't tell you I was scared."

"Desperate people find faith."

"I know delusion when I see it in the mirror."

"You make the best of a bad deal."

"I just pretend it isn't real."

"I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try."

"I hate to make this all about me."

"Who am I supposed to talk to, what am I supposed to do, if there's no you?"

"This won't go back to normal, if it ever was."

FALSE GOD

"We were crazy to think that this could work."

"Remember when I said I'd die for you?"

"I can't talk to you when you're like this."

"I still do it for you, babe."

"We might just get away with it."

"Religion's in your lips even if it's a false god."

"I know heaven's a thing, I go there when you touch me."

"Hell is when I fight with you."

"We'd still worship this love even if it's a false god."

YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN

"You are somebody that I don't know."

"You need to calm down, you're being too loud."

"You're coming at my friends like a missile."

AFTERGLOW

"I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue."

"Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves."

"Why'd I have to break what I love so much?"

"I don't wanna do this to you."

"I don't wanna lose this with you."

"It's so excruciating to see you low."

"Tell me that you're still mine."

"Tell me that we'll be just fine."

"Tell me that it's not my fault."

"Tell me that I'm all you want."

ME!

"I promise that you'll never find another like me."

"I know I never think before I jump."

"I know that I went psycho on the phone."

"I never leave well enough alone."

"Trouble's gonna follow where I go."

"I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me."

"I know I tend to make it about me."

"I never wanna see you walk away."

IT'S NICE TO HAVE A FRIEND

"Wanna hang out?"

"Yeah, sounds like fun."

"It's nice to have a friend."

"You've been stressed out lately, yeah, me too."

DAYLIGHT

"My love was as cruel as the cities that I lived in."

"There are so many lines I've crossed unforgiven."

"I'll tell you the truth but never goodbye."

"I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you."

"I don't wanna think about anything else now that I thought of you."

"Luck of the draw only draws the unlucky."

"I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked."

"I once believed love would be black and white, but it's golden."

ALL OF THE GIRLS YOU LOVED BEFORE

"Your past and mine are parallel lines."

"Every dead-end street led you straight to me."

"Now you're all I need."

"Teenage love taught you there's good in goodbye."

"I wanna teach you how forever feels."

[tuulikannel]

So so so... I'm sick, and for whatever reason my brain decided that this is a good time to start writing an amnesiac Asano fic. I've so many other fics in the works that I don't know if I'll ever continue this, which is why I decided to post it here before it gets buried and forgotten in the depths of my computer. Mainly I just had this one scene in my mind, and wanted to use this chance to have Shuu say something to his father.

But yeah. Here's a little untitled fic snippet for you, about 1000 words.

One cold December morning a boy woke up. He was lying on his back in a bed, and he remained there a good while, absolutely still, staring at the ceiling. Gradually, the frown on his face deepened.

Where… was he?

He sat up, looking at the room. A desk with schoolbooks on it, a bag on the floor, clothes set ready on a chair… were those his clothes? He touched them, hesitantly. There was something familiar about them, true…

Still confused, he decided to dress up. Whatever was going on, better not to face it in the pyjamas.

He gave the desk with the books one more glance and slipped quietly out of the room. The empty corridor behind the door was quiet and gloomy. He swallowed and started walking it down, instinctively stepping as quietly as he could. He took careful peeks into the rooms he passed, but there was nothing familiar in them, nothing to solve this mystery.

Ah, a toilet. That might be a good idea, no matter what was going on.

As he was washing his hands, his eyes fell on himself in the mirror, and he paused. Wait, was that what he looked like? Strawberry blond hair, violet eyes… He blinked, touching his cheek. Yeah. That was him.

Him…

He… who was he?

“My name is,” he started to say to his mirror image, but no name came to his tongue. “My name is,” he repeated more strongly, but to no avail. Nothing. His mind was empty.

His heartbeat sped up as he stared at himself, trying fervently to think. Who was he? Where did he come from? What did he do, what did he like?

He didn’t have a clue.

Also… what was this place he was in? His home? That would make sense, but… he pushed the toilet door open and shot a careful glance around.

This didn’t feel like home.

He didn’t know where he was, but he did know that he wanted to get out of there.

He came down the stairs, making his way slowly through the house, trying to spot a single detail that would seem familiar. Nothing. Step by step his nervousness rose, and he could feel his breath getting caught in his throat.

In the kitchen, there was a man sitting by a table, drinking coffee while reading something on his laptop. The boy paused at the doorway, wondering if he shouldn’t just go on, but the man had already noticed him. He gave the boy a curt glance.

“Sleeping late today, Asano-kun?” he said.

The boy blinked. “Asano… kun? Is that my name?”

The man lowered his coffee mug to the table, frowning at him.

“Is this some kind of a joke? Or are you implying you’re going to leave the family and pick a different name? Well, you’re free to do that once you’re an adult. For now, as long as you live in this house, you are still Asano Gakushuu.”

There was a long silence as the two stared at each other. The frown on the man’s face deepened as he looked into the boy’s eyes that reflected nothing but honest confusion.

“What are…?” he started to say, but the boy shook fervently his head.

“Are you serious? That’s my name? What the hell… why am I called ‘study’?”

“It’s written with the kanji for learning and excellence, you know,” the man started to explain, his tone hesitant, but the boy (Gakushuu? What the hell! He would not be called that) cut him off again.

“If that really is my name, I think I am gonna change it! It’s ridiculous!”

He was growing increasingly agitated. What was going on here? Was he caught in some strange nightmare? This house that made him so nervous, not to talk about this man… and that ridiculous name. This couldn’t be real.

“I’m dreaming,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “This got to be a dream…”

A chair scraped against the floor as the man stood up. “Are you truly trying to say you can’t remember anything? Gakushuu?” A hand touched his forehead and he instinctively drew back. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring straight into the man’s. That unblinking, piercing stare made him feel cold inside, and he took another step back.

“Or is this some plot of yours?” the man went on, but he couldn’t really pay attention to what he was saying. Being so close to this man… made him even more nervous than this house. “What are you planning to accomplish? Amnesia is a serious matter, not something to joke about!”

“Who the hell are you, anyway?” the boy spat out, ignoring everything he had said.

The man paused. As he stared at the boy in front of him, the sterness on his face gave way to hesitation. “I… I’m your father,” he said then.

“No.” The boy denied it firmly, unhesitatingly, without even pausing to think about it. “No, you… you can’t be.”

“But…” Now the man seemed to be at a loss. Something about that amused the boy, but even so, he couldn’t help being on his guard. This man was dangerous. He knew that much.

“But,” the man repeated and swallowed. “If you don’t remember, how could you know…?”

“It doesn’t feel right,” he said. “I just can’t… can’t believe that you…” He shook his head. “There’s no way that’d be true. You’re not my father. Can’t be. You’re someone… I...” detest, he was about to say, but his voice trailed off. Was it a good idea to antagonize this man?

The man stared at him long and hard, his face utterly unreadable. “Wait here,” he muttered then. “Wait. I… I need to make a phone call.” He left the kitchen, fishing out a phone from his pocket.

The boy waited a moment, tiptoed then out and peeking into the living room, saw him standing by the window, talking with someone on the phone. Good. This was his chance.

Moving as quietly as he could he headed to the front door, put on shoes (interesting that there were clearly several shoes that could be his), grasped a coat and slipped out.

Leaving the house behind he finally felt like he could breathe again.

(tbc??? who knows, if I get inspiration)

(eta: check the reblogs for Toufu's art! ^^)

[headcanonsandmore]

'Stand and Deliver!' Chapter Six

Summary: A new arrival appears in Crofters Lodge in dire circumstances, and Tegan finds herself travelling to London once again. The phantom keeps appearing and Tegan finds herself slowly growing to like the mysterious masked figure. Will a death-defying chase alter things between them? Read on, dear readers, and find out…

~~~~~~~~~~

Hi everyone; my apologies for the delay with this chapter. I know I'm normally very regular with my release schedule but this has been a weird time for me; I bought my first house! Yeah, I'm as surprised as you are XD Hence why I've barely had any time to write over the last few weeks.

Anyway, my apologies again for the delay. Today is my birthday and I finally have some time to myself, so I've been able to get this chapter finished. Hopefully, the next chapter won't take nearly as long to write but we'll have to wait and see.

~~~~~~~~~~

Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~~

Monday had always been a calmer day for the inn, but there was still work to be done. Luckily, the weather had stayed dry, although it was still cold, with overcast skies and dim sunshine peeking through.

Tegan spent most of the morning sweeping the courtyard, and cleaning out Dan’s stable. The donkey looked sheepish, as if embarrassed that she needed to clean out his muck. Tegan chuckled, and scratched Dan fondly behind the ears, which elicited a happy honk.

After all that hubbub from the previous evening, the inn felt very quiet. Tegan ignored the acceleration of her heartbeat as she remembered dancing with Nyssa, although she couldn’t help but smile at the memory. It was a very good memory, after all.

Although… Nyssa had quickly left after the Lethbridge-Stewart had made his introductions. The pastors daughter had quickly curtsied to the man, before squeezing Tegan’s hand in goodbye and heading off, explaining that her father would be expecting her arrival back home soon.

Tegan let out a sigh, and leaned against the door of Dan’s stable.

She had hoped to have danced the rest of the evening with Nyssa, but she supposed that was too much to hope for. After all, Nyssa’s father did rely on her for help around the parish, not to mention the various charitable collections that Nyssa organised for the poorest in the community. Nyssa was a busy person, and Tegan was glad to have had at least one evening with Nyssa to herself.

It had been lovely, dancing with her. Feeling the happy beat of her own heartbeat, and the warm gentle brush of Nyssa’s hand against her own. Now that she thought about it, Nyssa had a surprisingly strong pair of arms, given that she had been able to effortlessly dip Tegan whilst the two of them were dancing. Tegan wouldn’t have expected it but, then again, she had been away for a long time; it could easily be that Nyssa’s physicality was due to her busy schedule, not to mention living in a small village where, when heavy things needed to be moved, the entire community came out to help.

Now that she thought about it, she wondered if she would get to see Nyssa’s bare arms in the summer months-

Tegan felt her face suddenly flush, and she cast that thought aside. She gave Dan one last scratch behind his ears, and headed back across the courtyard to the inn.

Too dangerous to think like that, anyway.

When she came back inside, she found Adric and Joy sat at the long table, pouring over the inn’s accounts. Adric had always been good with numbers, and his skills had grown significantly since Tegan had last stayed at home.

‘Where’s dad?’

‘In the cellar,’ Joy said, looking up from the long rolls of parchment. ‘Doing a stock check with the barrels.’

‘Right. Did you say earlier about me delivering something to Barbara?’

‘Basket’s in the kitchen; thanks, love.’

Tegan pressed a quick kiss to her mother’s forehead, and ruffled Adric’s hair. Ignoring the grumble that arose out of the boy, she headed into the kitchen, picked up the basket and headed out of the side door.

As she walked along the road, Tegan breathed in the fresh country air. Hmmm. Bit too fresh, that morning. The wind was blowing in the wrong direction, bringing with it the pungent odour of manure. Lovely.

Still, Tegan found it hard to complain. She had grown up on Sutton Common, after all, and the smell of manure was not new to her. She supposed she had grown used to the smells of London which -while very unpleasant at times- didn’t tend to include cows mess.

Tegan headed off of the main room, and up the small side-street, passing a couple of cottages along the way and coming to a stop in front of door, painted in a blue that was beginning to fade.

She knocked politely and took a step back, holding up the basket.

Barbara Chesterton opened the door. Her hair was looking slightly messy and her cheeks were slightly flushed. The top few buttons of her blouse had been hastily done up.

‘Hello, Barbara.’

‘Er, hello, Tegan,’ Barbara said, as she stepped forward. ‘Oh, the basket? That’s so thoughtful of your mother-’

‘Fun night with Ian, eh?’

The older woman’s face bypassed red and turned maroon.

‘Ssshhh!’ she exclaimed, waving her other hand in mortification. ‘You don’t need to draw attention to it.’

‘Draw attention to it? You spent half of the dance with your hands on his buttocks!’

Barbara giggled.

‘Yes, it was rather an enjoyable evenings dance. What about you? I saw you with Nyssa; are you teaching her to dance?’

‘Er, sort of.’

‘That’s very sweet of you, Tegan,’ Barbara said. ‘Nyssa is rather shy with public events, bless her. I think she really appreciates you doing that.’

Tegan shrugged.

*

After politely declining Barbara’s offer to stay for scones (she knew that Barbara and Ian would want to continue whatever had been interrupted), Tegan headed back down the lane, and then stared up the main street that headed past the inn and out of Crofters Lodge.

There was a coach, stood at the side of the road, just before the bend in the road.

Tegan felt a strange feeling of foreboding. Looking around, she saw that the main street through the village was deserted aside from herself, no doubt due to the early hour.

Hurrying up the road, Tegan headed around the other side of the inn (Dan the donkey giving a happy honk as she passed) and took a shortcut, making her way across the muddy ground, ducking from tree to tree as she went.

She came to a stop amongst the trees nearest the road, and peeked out towards the coach stood on the opposite side.

Her eyes widened in horror.

There were two figures next to the coach.

One was a man, dressed in a long black cloak and a tricorn hat. His build was bulky and gruff. One hand was holding onto a horse that was presumably his own. The other hand was pointing a pistol at the second figure.

The second figure was a young girl; she couldn’t have been older than thirteen. She was probably a few inches shorter than Tegan, and had short dirty-blond hair. Her bonnet was lying abandoned on the ground beside her.

She was kneeling beside someone who was lying, collapsed, on the ground. It almost looked like-

Tegan felt her breath hitch in her throat.

There were several red stains on the man’s shirt, and his skin had a horrible ghostly pale look to it. He was dead.

Tears were streaking down the girls face, as she glared up at the highwayman.

Now that Tegan looked at it, she could see the forms of several other passengers lying about in the coach. The coachman was lying on the ground nearby, with the same pale look to his skin.

They were all dead.

This had been a massacre.

‘Well, young lady,’ growled the man irritably. ‘Can’t have you around, can we? Otherwise that’s me for the gallows.’

He raised his handgun.

Tegan felt a sudden search of panic. She needed to do something! Maybe she could distract the highwayman so the girl could run for cover? Or-

There was a load bang.

Tegan flinched, but the girl did not fall. Instead, the pistol had been blown out of the man’s hand.

Tegan’s eyes darted along the road from where the sound had come.

The phantom, sat astride their horse, was barrelling up to the coach.

‘Get away from her!’ exclaimed the masked figure.

The man turned, eyes widening behind his mask.

‘You again!’

Without a second thought, he scrambled backwards, jumped onto his horse, and galloped away, heading onto the common.

Instead of following, the phantom slowed their horse to a gentle stop, and climbed swiftly to the ground. The girl stiffened as they approached.

‘I mean you no harm,’ said the phantom, kneeling down in front of the young girl. Their voice was exceedingly gentle. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘N-no,’ stammered the girl. ‘I… my father…’

The phantom looked over the girls shoulder, and their gaze seemed to rest on the body laying a short way away.

‘I’m so sorry,’ the phantom said, very quietly.

The girl’s lip began to tremble. The phantom leaned forward, and put their arms softly around her. The girl began to cry into the phantom’s shoulder, and the figure patted her gently on the back.

Tegan’s mouth hung open. There it was again; the phantoms predilection for kindness that Tegan wouldn’t have thought possible of a highwayman. Why did it intrigue her so? Was it simply the gap inbetween the figure of the masked bandit and the kindness that they seemed to extend to everyone? Or was it something… else?

No -Tegan waved the thought aside- that definitely wasn’t possible. Tegan knew that her feelings for any man would never be that.

She bit her lip thoughtfully.

The girl had, by this point, wiped her nose messily with her sleeve, and pulled away somewhat from the phantom.

‘The village of Crofters Lodge is just along the road,’ said the phantom, gesturing behind them. ‘There is an inn there; the innkeeper and his wife are good, kindly people.’

‘Can… can you take me there?’

The phantom nodded. They took the girl with one hand, using the other to lead their horse.

‘Good, kind people, you say?’

‘Yes,’ the phantom replied. ‘I know their daughter.’

‘Is she nice?’

‘She is the loveliest person I have ever met,’ replied the phantom. ‘Tegan, her name is. You’ll like her, I’m sure.’

Tegan froze for a moment. Why did the phantom think she was lovely? They’d only met twice before, and on the first occasion Tegan hadn’t exactly been full of the milk of human kindness. Where would the phantom have-

Nyssa. Of course, Nyssa had apparently been mentioning Tegan whenever she crossed paths with the phantom.

The innkeepers daughter smiled. Nyssa was too good for this world.

Tegan turned and hurried away, taking the long route around. Her boots beat softly against the dull winter ground.

She arrived back in the courtyard of the inn, and hurried in the back door.

‘Mum, there’s been a hold-up on the common!’ she exclaimed, bursting into the common room. ‘The phantom managed to stop the robber but… oh…’

The door opened, and the young girl from the coach entered, looking terrified out of her wits.

Tegan hurried forward.

‘Hello,’ she said, gently. ‘My name is Tegan.’

‘The masked man mentioned you,’ said the girl. ‘My… dad always called me Vicki.’

Her eyes glistened miserably with tears.

‘Oh, you poor dear,’ Joy said, coming up to stand next to Tegan, before bending down to Vicki’s eyeline. ‘Come along; let’s get you somewhere to sit and I’ll get you something to drink.’

‘T-thank you,’ Vicki said. Joy placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and guided the young girl over to a table nearby.

The door opened again.

‘I came as soon as I could!’

Tegan startled at the familiar voice, and turned round, her heartrate suddenly increasing again. She hurried across the room.

‘Nyssa?’

‘The phantom threw a stone at our front door,’ said the pastors daughter, face flushed from the exertion of running. ‘He said that there had been a hold-up on the common, and a poor young girl who needed somewhere to stay.’

‘O-oh,’ Tegan said. ‘Right. Yes, her name is Vicki. She’s still in shock, poor thing. I... I wouldn’t go to the coach, if I were you; it must have been pretty horrible, by all accounts.’

Nyssa nodded.

The two young women crossed the room, to where Vicki was sat. Joy had placed a glass of milk in front of her, but she wasn’t drinking from it. Tegan’s heart clenched in empathy. No doubt Vicki could barely focus on anything at the moment, given the circumstances.

‘Vicki,’ -Tegan gestured to Nyssa- ‘This is Nyssa Traken. The pastors daughter.’

Vicki stared at Nyssa for a moment, and her eyes narrowed slightly, as if in thought.

‘Hello,’ she said, slowly. ‘How do you do?’

Nyssa hurried forward and knelt down beside the girl, giving a small, kind smile.

‘I’m very well,’ Nyssa said. ‘Er… Vicki, was it?’

The girl nodded, morosely.

‘Do you have any family in London?’

Vicki shook her head.

‘There was only dad,’ she said, quietly. ‘I… I don’t have anyone now, it seems.’

Nyssa’s eyes seemed to glisten with tears. She reached out and took Vicki’s hand in her own.

‘That’s not true, Vicki,’ she said, her voice breaking slightly as she spoke. ‘I assure you that no-one will force you into an orphanage or a workhouse. You are more than welcome to stay with my father and I in our home, for as long as you want to.’

Tegan felt her heart well.

‘Thank you, Miss Nyssa,’ Vicki said, giving a watery smile despite her tears. ‘That sounds wonderful.’

‘Come along, love,’ said Joy, placing a gentle hand on Vicki’s shoulder. ‘Let’s get you some food, help you get over the shock…’

Vicki nodded, and followed Tegan’s mother away. The kitchen door closed behind them.

Nyssa wiped her eyes, and gave a sniff. Her eyes landed on Tegan, and she tried for a watery smile.

Without thinking, Tegan strode over and put her arms around the younger woman. Nyssa stiffened slightly but did not pull away, and leaned into Tegan’s shoulder after a moment. Her hands came to rest around Tegan’s back. She wasn’t crying anymore but there was a curious fragility to her. At the moment, Tegan wanted nothing more than to support Nyssa as best she could. It wasn’t even due to her own feelings for the parsons daughter; she simply knew that she would be there for Nyssa, no matter what.

Nyssa’s hands were soft and gentle against Tegan’s back, and her head had a warm weight as she rested on the shoulder on the innkeepers daughter. Tegan decided that she liked this feeling far more than she would ever feel comfortable admitting to Nyssa. The feeling of knowing that Nyssa could rely on her, whatever the circumstances, was truly wonderful. Or maybe Tegan was just hopeless. Either way, she didn’t care.

Eventually, Nyssa sniffed again, and gently pulled away.

‘Better?’

The parsons daughter nodded. 

‘Thank you, Tegan,’ she said, with a smile. ‘You are too kind.’

Nothing is too kind for you, Tegan thought. She dare not say it; she knew that Nyssa was just brush it away, assuming that Tegan was just being overly sweet.

Instead, she simply returned the smile.

‘You were… very sweet to her.’

Nyssa seemed to freeze, her eyes darting to Tegan’s face, as if trying to salvage some deeper meaning from her expression.

‘How do you mean?’

‘Suggesting she live with you,’ Tegan explained. ‘That was really lovely of you, Nyssa.’

‘O-oh, w-well…’ Nyssa stammered, waving a hand. ‘I just wanted to help. The poor girl has had a harrowing day.’

Tegan leaned forward, and took Nyssa’s hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

‘I wasn’t kidding when I said you were the loveliest person I’ve ever met,’ Tegan said, smiling softly.

Nyssa’s cheeks turned a pretty pink of pink.

‘T-Tegan,’ she stammered, blinking quickly. ‘I… oh, I’m really not as lovely as you think I am.’

‘I find that hard to believe,’ Tegan replied, very quietly. ‘You sure you aren’t hiding a halo under that bonnet?’

Nyssa let out a flustered giggle, and tried to cover her mouth with her other hand. Beautiful. Tegan felt her heart jump into her mouth; whenever she thought Nyssa couldn’t spellbind her, the pastors daughter would prove her wrong.

‘An angel?’ Nyssa chuckled, skin crinkling around her eyes. ‘Are you simply trying to flatter me, Tegan?’

‘I thought I was stating facts,’ Tegan cheeked, grinning. ‘And I will keep at it until you finally stop underestimating how wonderful you are.’

‘That’s a little rich coming from you, isn’t it?’

‘That reminds me, I think you need to stop mentioning me to the phantom,’ Tegan said, with a chuckle. ‘Apparently, they’re now under the impression that I’m lovely. You’re flattering me, Nyssa.’

Nyssa blinked quickly, cheeks flushing again.

‘W-well, it would be discourteous to lie when describing you,’ she stammered, grey-green eyes meeting Tegan’s brown. ‘And… you are lovely, Tegan. I hope you do not mind.’

Tegan smiled.

‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she said, quietly. ‘You know me, Nys; I couldn’t be upset about you saying that about me.’

‘Really?’ Nyssa said, voice barely above a whisper. ‘Why?’

There was a beat of silence. Tegan felt her throat go very dry. Her heart hammered painfully against her chest, and she was sure that her palms were sweaty.

‘Nyssa… I-’

But there was then a creak as the front door of the inn opened, and Tegan lost her nerve.

Benton stepped into the common room, followed by Nyssa’s father. The parson’s daughter startled slightly, but did not remove her hand from Tegan’s.

‘She’s in the kitchen, father,’ she said, quickly. ‘Mrs Jovanka is getting her some food.’

‘Much needed, I imagine,’ sighed the pastor. ‘Come along; let us help the poor thing.’

Nyssa followed her father and Benton across the room to the kitchen door. However, she turned to look at Tegan.

‘Sorry, we were interrupted; what were you going to say?’

‘Er… n-nothing.’

Nyssa frowned, as if she had been hoping for a different answer, but nodded. Tegan swallowed as, hand still clutched around Nyssa’s, she followed the pastors daughter across the common room.

Would she ever be able to tell Nyssa why?

*

‘Tegan!’

Stumbling down the stairs as she did up her pinafore, Tegan hurried into the kitchen. It was the next morning.

‘Mum?’ she said, coming to a halt just inside the door. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’

‘Vanessa’s been taken ill,’ Joy said, eyes worried as she looked up from the letter in her hands. ‘This came with the morning post carriage; her nurse is worried sick.’

‘Right. I’ll collect my things and hop on the mail carriage heading to London,’ Tegan said, already grabbing a loaf of bread from the table. ‘Don’t worry, mum; I’ll stay with her as long as it takes.’

Joy pressed a quick kiss to the top of Tegan’s curls, before nodding and letting her rush back upstairs.

*

‘Hold on!’

Tegan recognised the voice and turned where she was stood. Lethbridge-Stewart was striding pointedly in her direction. The innkeepers daughter frowned, before passing her bag up to the coachman, and then turned around to face the military man.

‘Hello, Miss… Jovanka, was it?’

‘Yes,’ Tegan replied. ‘Good morning, sir.’

‘And to you, miss. Are you heading to London?’

Tegan nodded. The man frowned, his moustache prickling on his upper lip.

‘There are highwayman abroad, Miss Jovanka. I would advise caution when travelling across the common to London.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Tegan replied, stiffly. She knew that she had no reason to be so cold to the man, but his presence at the dance had disturbed Nyssa. ‘But I must travel nonetheless; family emergency, you see.’

Lethbridge-Stewart nodded, in apparent understanding.

‘This phantom may still be around, hence my warning.’

‘I have met the phantom on several occasions,’ Tegan said, frowning. ‘They have caused me no harm thus far.’

‘You are very lucky indeed, in that case.’

Lethbridge-Stewart tipped his hat, and strode away.

Tegan rolled her eyes at the man’s back, and turned around, climbing into the carriage. When she had initially heard that a higher-up was arriving in Crofters Lodge due to the highwayman situation, she had hoped that the official would be similar to Benton in outlook. This had clearly been a forlorn hope, given Lethbridge-Stewart’s rather pompous manner. She understood that the man was simply carrying out his assignment, but anyone who caused Nyssa Traken discomfort was not to be trusted, in Tegan’s mind.

She really was hopeless for that woman, wasn’t she.

The coach left Crofters Lodge a few minutes later. Aside from Tegan, the only passengers were an elderly couple who had been on the coach since it had set off northwards earlier than morning. They did not speak, content to quietly sit, and Tegan was more than happy to join in.

Tegan looked out of the window. Through the morning mists, she could see a familiar-looking figure on horseback, gliding between the half-visible trees like a guardian angel.

Smiling slightly to herself, Tegan sat back down. She had a sneaking suspicion that this coach wasn’t going to get held up on the common.

*

Several hours later, Tegan climbed out of the carriage, her boots making a soft squelch against the muddy pavement. London’s sanitation hadn’t changed much since she had been away. It was always worse in the winter, when the heavy rains combined with the dirt of the streets to form a disgusting layer of sloppy mud.

She bit back her desire to wrinkle her nose, and collected her bag from the coachman. Giving a quick thanks, Tegan headed down the street.

It had clearly rained here more than it had back home, and there was a wet tinge to the air, mixed with the general odour of unwashed bodies, animal mess and human waste. Lovely.

Eventually, Tegan arrived at her aunt’s home, and knocked swiftly on the front door. It was a respectable house, in a street mainly made up of the strange social strata where the upper working class bled into the lower echelons of the middling sort. Office boys, young families of army sergeants, shop assistants, trade apprentices, and the like.

Vanessa’s front door was as well-cleaned as it always had been. A few moments later, it opened, revealing the harried-looking nurse that had sent Tegan the letter that morning.

‘Thank goodness, Miss Tegan!’

‘Hello, Mary,’ Tegan said, smiling kindly. Domestic service was a difficult job, and she bore the woman no ill for trying as best she could, despite such an isolated and difficult job. ‘How is my aunt?’

‘She has improved somewhat,’ continued Mary, letting Tegan into the house and closing the door swiftly behind her. ‘But I was most concerned.’

The house was much the same as ever, albeit with a slightly less airy feel than when Tegan had lasted lived there. Mary had kept the place clean and tidy, but there was undoubtably a sense that the place was now more a place of care than of a home in its own right.

Tegan placed her bag over to the side, removed her overcoat, and followed Mary up the stairs, the steps creaking slightly under their weight. It was warmer inside than out, and Tegan was glad to be out of the cold air.

The two young women came to a stop in front of Vanessa’s bedroom. Mary opened the door, and Tegan entered. With another smile, Mary closed it behind her.

Vanessa was sat up in bed. Her eyes lit up as Tegan hurried over.

‘Hello, my girl,’ she said, voice accented with a slight croak. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘And to see you too, auntie,’ Tegan said, bending down to kiss her aunt on the forehead before sitting down in the chair left next to the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Much better now, Tegan,’ Vanessa said, smiling. ‘I’ll be up and about in no time at all. You know me; tough as an old turkey.’

Tegan grinned.

‘Mum will be pleased,’ she replied. ‘She was worried about you, as were we all at home.’

‘My apologies,’ Vanessa chuckled. ‘I do worry that my maid may have inflamed concerns with her letter. I was simply feeling a little under the weather, and yet she seems to think that I was at deaths door.’

‘She means well. And we do not mind being informed as to how you fare.’

‘Anyway, how are things back home? Is Adric still helping out with the accounts?’

Tegan smiled, and began to reminisce.

*

‘My apologies for bringing you away from Crofters Lodge,’ Vanessa said, smiling. ‘I take it that you are enjoying your time back in the village?’

Tegan nodded, smiling.

‘Very much so. It’s great to see all the old faces again. Barbara, Ian, Ben, Polly-’

‘Nyssa Traken, perhaps?’

Tegan’s mouth fell open.

‘How did you-’

‘You’ve mentioned her about five times in the past half hour,’ Vanessa chuckled. ‘I take it that you enjoyed dancing with her.’

‘Er… yes,’ Tegan said, very slowly. ‘I did. She is… a good friend. Kind, sweet, intelligent. She will make a wonderful wife, no doubt.’

Vanessa smiled.

‘Not every woman needs to marry,’ the older woman said, gently. ‘Some of us… find comfort in other things. Other people.’

Tegan stared at her.

Was… was it that obvious? She could have sworn that her expression hadn’t changed when mentioning Nyssa. And… what on earth did the older woman mean? Other people? Did… did that mean what she thought it meant?

‘Yes, Nyssa is a wonderful friend,’ Tegan said, softly. ‘I… I do care a great deal for her.’

Vanessa smiled.

‘That does not surprise me,’ Vanessa said. ‘Our family are good judges of character. It is no great shock that a woman as good as Nyssa Traken had become such a close friend to you.’

Tegan’s fingers bunched into the material of her dress. It felt as if Nyssa occupied a space in her mind constantly these days, regardless of what else she was doing. But she supposed that was to be expected. By the sounds of it, Ben and Polly had felt the same way about each other for a long time before they had begun courting.

Could she court Nyssa?

Was that even possible?

But… Nyssa had been very happy whilst dancing with her. She had repeatedly mentioned that she found Tegan lovely, and there had been moments between them -when the two of them were alone- where Tegan could almost have hoped that maybe her feelings were not entirely unrequited.

Tegan swallowed. It was all so very complicated.  

‘Do… do you wish me to stay, auntie?’ she asked. ‘Mum isn’t expecting me back for a while.’

‘No, dear,’ Vanessa replied, kindly. ‘I’m perfectly fine; I think Mary just got a little scared on my behalf when she sent the letter. Bless her, she is so caring.’

Tegan smiled.

‘In that case, I will leave you to it,’ she said, standing up and pressing a kiss to her aunt’s forehead. ‘I will catch the coach back home.’

‘Goodbye, Tegan.’

Tegan smiled.

‘Goodbye, auntie.’

*

‘Tegan; jump!’

It was several hours later. Tegan’s coach -which, aside from her, had been empty- had been hijacked by a highwayman. The coachmen had been thrown off the side. Realising that the robber hadn’t noticed the carriage was occupied, Tegan had climbed out of the window, and started wrestling with the masked man for the reins of the horses. In the scuffle that had followed, the highwayman had been thrown from the seat, knocking himself unconscious on the ground.

Tegan, trying desperately to slow the horses down, had been left atop the rickety coach. The horses, by now terrified by all the yelling and shoving, were now incapable of stopping, no matter what Tegan did. The next fifteen miles (or thereabouts, it was difficult to judge) were the longest of Tegan’s life.

It was just when Tegan was at her wits end that a horse, carrying a very familiar-looking masked figure, had appeared, galloping alongside the carriage, with their hand outstretched towards her.

The phantom had tried to climb up on the coach but, due to the horses terror, was unable to get close enough. Thinking fast, Tegan first threw her bag to the phantom, who nimbly caught it and attached it to their saddlebags behind them, keeping their horse on-course with one hand.

Heart in her mouth, Tegan leapt from the carriage. She landed behind the phantom and swung her leg quickly up over the horse, clutching her arms around the waist of the masked figure to steady herself. The horse’s hair was wet in the night air.

The carriage, horses still braying in terror, continued down the road and was swallowed up by the inky black night around them.

The phantom slowed the horse to a gentle stop by the side of the road, next to a grassy patch. A barn was stood a few hundred feet away. Tegan and the phantom were both breathing heavily, the exertion hitting their bodies with a sudden shock as the danger had passed.

The phantom reached out to help Tegan down. As Tegan made to reach down, her wobbly hold on the horse broke, and she fell.

The masked figure made an attempt to catch her, but the momentum of Tegan’s fall caused the two of them to fall onto the grass, tumbling over each other before coming to a halt in a jumbled heap.

‘Ow…’

With a sudden shock, Tegan realised that she was now straddling the phantom’s waist. The highwayman’s cloak had ballooned out behind them, and was now acting the part of a large blanket, protecting both of them from the we and muddy grass. The buttons of their shirt beginning to gap, and their legs squirmed slightly underneath Tegan. A strand of curly brown hair escaped from under their hat, trailing down over the mask that covered their eyes.

As Tegan’s brown eyes met the grey-green orbs below her, she was suddenly aware that, up close, the phantom didn’t look like a man at all. In fact, with the way their chest was heaving in and out, and their face flushed a delicate pink colour, they almost looked like a-

Tegan’s face flushed.

‘S-sorry!’ Tegan exclaimed, feeling her heart pounding against her chest. She was suddenly aware of her own thighs pressing into the legs of the phantom, and she made to stand up. Her dress had bunched up somewhat during the events of the last half hour, and it took her a while to scramble to her feet. ‘I-I didn’t mean to-’

‘N-no problem at all,’ the phantom replied, looking away as Tegan made to arrange her petticoats into something less salacious-looking. ‘Are… are you hurt, Tegan?’

‘Just a little shaken,’ she said. She realised that, in the heat of the moment, the phantom had dropped the honorific of “Miss Jovanka”. The way they said it… why did it sound so familiar?

‘I-I best get you back to the village,’ the phantom said. ‘Are you able to ride behind me?’

Tegan nodded, trying desperately to calm her breathing. No doubt she looked a complete mess, with her dress torn and her petticoats still showing underneath. For some reason, the thought of the phantom seeing her in this way was strangely… exciting.

For a moment, Tegan’s gaze came to rest on the phantom’s shirt, which was still expanding in and out as the masked figure tried to get their breath back.

A sudden warmth sputtered into life between Tegan’s thighs, and she hurriedly averted her gaze to stare at the horse instead, feeling her cheeks flush with heat. What on earth was she playing at? This was the phantom after all. While they were a decent enough sort, they were still a highwayman.

Wait… since when had Tegan started referring to the phantom as “they” instead of “him”?

But was the phantom a man? Judging from the way Tegan’s eyes had lasciviously lingered on the phantoms chest, she wasn’t sure. She had never seen men in that sort of way, after all. There had only ever really been…

Nyssa.

Tegan felt a sudden spasm of guilt in her gut. It was wrong of her to stare at another person in this way, given the feelings she knew in her heart would always belong to the pastors daughter.

 And yet… Tegan could not ignore the giddy delight that came with being around the phantom. The feeling of their cocky-yet-gentle gaze on Tegan was… rather exciting. The sputter of warmth between her thighs continue to kindle softly, lapping slightly over her skin.

Tegan was not a stranger to those sorts of feelings, of course. Her adoration for Nyssa had been an early indicator in that regard. But she had always tried to repress those sorts of feelings when it came to the pastors daughter; she somehow felt that to think of Nyssa in that sort of way was… unfair to the woman. After all, Nyssa saw Tegan as a good friend.

Admittedly, these sorts of reservations tended to disappear from Tegan’s mind during sleep, and she had woken from various dreams breathless and covered in sweat. Those moments had always been followed by bouts of shame and remorse, the latter directed at the young woman who, in the depths of Tegan’s dreams...

Well, Tegan tried not to think too much about it. Good grief. Her unconscious mind had a habit of bringing hidden desires out into the open during those nocturnal hours. It unnerved her.

The phantom looked up. A drop of rain landed on their cheek.

There was a crash of thunder, and the heavens opened. Rain poured down, bouncing off Tegan’s overcoat and bonnet. Within seconds, she could feel the cold water permeating to her skin.

‘The barn!’

Breaking into a sprint, Tegan and the masked figure (who had grabbed the horse’s reins) charged over the wet grass. The horse didn’t seem that bothered by the rain, so Tegan reached the doors before the phantom. She pulled up the large plank keeping the doors closed, and pulled out one of the doors.

The horse strolled inside and shook itself, soaking the phantom in a second shower of rainwater. The masked figure gave a groan.

Tegan followed the phantom in through the door.

The masked figure tied their horse up against a nearby wooden wall, and the animal shook itself again before snorting.

The phantom walked back over to Tegan, and the two of them stood, shivering, staring out into the rain; it was getting worse by the minute, although mercifully there weren’t any strikes of lightning.

‘Guess that puts paid to getting back to Crofters Lodge.’

‘You never know,’ the phantom said, pulling their wet cloak off their shoulders. ���It may just be a short heavy shower.’

Tegan stared sideways at the masked figure out of the corner of her eye. Their cloak had kept the worst of the rain off, but their shirt underneath was damp in several places. Where the rain had soaked in, the material had become half-translucent, and Tegan could make out several patches of pale skin-

The innkeeper daughter turned away quickly. Her heartrate had increased again. The heat between her legs sparked. Rabbits.

‘Er… Miss Tegan?’

‘Hm?’

‘Your overcoat looks soaked; you’ll catch a chill if you leave it on.’

Tegan reluctantly removed her outer layer. The layers underneath were mostly dry, but there was an uncomfortable dampness nonetheless.

The phantom was staring at her. Their eyes met hers, and a flush came to the face of the masked figure as they turned away sharply.

‘Er… Miss Tegan, your blouse is…’

Tegan looked down. With a start, she realised that her blouse was a lot more transparent than she had initially realised.

‘Don’t stare!’

‘I’m not!’ the phantom exclaimed, sounding very flustered. ‘Why did you think I turned away?’

‘Er… yes,’ Tegan said, lamely. ‘Sorry.’

‘No need,’ the phantom said. ‘I’ll just…’

They gestured to the open doors, and Tegan nodded.

‘Yeah; best to keep the warmth in.’

A few moments later, the phantom had pulled closed the door.

They headed across the barn (still avoiding looking at Tegan) climbed down onto the ground underneath one of the haylofts, leaning back against a heap of hay, and placed their hands behind their head, knocking their hat slightly forward to cover their arms. They crossed one leg over the other.

Tegan sat down a few feet away, and leaned back against the side of a barrel of hay.

‘Nothing to do but wait until the rain clears, I suppose.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ the phantom replied. ‘You can rest assured that I will not harm so much as a head on your head, Miss Tegan.’

‘Not much for the literal roll-in-the-hay, then?’

‘Not without a maidens consent, certainly. I am a gentleman.’

‘Gentle… man.’

The phantom went very still.

‘What?’ they said. ‘What are you implying?’

‘Nothing,’ Tegan replied. After all, it wasn’t any of her business, regardless of her own flusteredness when it came to the masked figure laying a short distance away. ‘Just thinking how you really are a gentleman, aren’t you?’

‘I am not an aristocrat, if that is what you mean,’ the phantom said. ‘Besides, I doubt you’d be interested in a roll in the hay with me.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

The phantom, to Tegan’s surprise, let out a giggle.

‘Because, knowing a certain pastors daughter, you’ve got someone already trying to find you, despite the rainstorm. Can’t imagine you’d want her to turn up whilst you were in an intimate situation. The poor girl would probably faint.’

‘Cheek!’

Before Tegan knew what she was doing, she had got to her feet, closed the distance between them, and gave the phantom a hearty shove. The masked figure, still giggling, went sprawling into the hay.

‘Bit of a short fuse, eh?’ grinned the phantom, dimples showing in their cheeks. ‘Goodness forbid I say anything untoward about “Nys”-’

‘Oh, do be quiet!’

Tegan found her heart hammering against her chest.

‘I can tell Nyssa that you propositioned me in a barn when I was vulnerable, though,’ Tegan said, grimly. ‘You’d never hear the end of it.’

‘I don’t doubt that,’ the phantom replied, with a shrug. ‘She has rather a soft spot for you, doesn’t she. Bet you’d be happy if she propositioned you for a roll in the-’

Tegan shoved the phantom again. The highwayman was ready for her this time, though, and gently placed their hand on her arm. Tegan froze where she was leaning over, her brown eyes meeting the green eyes that peeked out from under the hat. She was aware that the phantom could probably see quite a lot of skin through her half-transparent blouse, but the idea did not alarm her. In fact, it felt almost… enjoyable.

There a very pregnant pause.

‘Er….’ Tegan said, not quite sure what she was even going to say.

‘I think the rain’s stopped.’

They both looked towards the door. Sure enough, the sound of the rain had completely disappeared.

‘Back to Crofters Lodge,’ the phantom said, gently letting go of Tegan’s arm and climbing to their feet. ‘We best get moving; your parents will be worried sick.’

‘Er… yes.’

Tegan put her still-soaked overcoat back on, and followed the phantom outside.

What on earth had just happened?

*

Tegan climbed down from the phantoms horse, her boots landing with a soft thud against the stones of the inn’s courtyard. It was a good hour later, and the weather had remained mercifully dry. Both Tegan and the phantom were now dry, although Tegan felt a chill coming on and knew her mother would insist on drawing her a hot bath once she got inside.

The phantom also climbed off the horse, and came to stand next to Tegan, at a companionable distance.

‘You’re sure you’ll be safe from here?’

‘Oh, I’m not sure,’ Tegan said, with a chuckle. ‘I imagine after almost being kidnapped, a quiet courtyard with a sleeping donkey may be a step too far.’

The phantom smiled.

‘Fair point. Dan is rather a handful, isn’t he.’

Tegan raised an eyebrow.

‘How do you know he’s called Dan?’

‘Er’- the phantom’s face blanched for a second, before regaining its prior confidence-‘Miss Nyssa told me.’

‘I’m starting to think Nyssa tells you a lot,’ Tegan said. ‘I hope you have no designs on the pastors daughter?’

‘Why would- no!’ the phantom exclaimed, startled. ‘Obviously not!’

Tegan let out a laugh.

‘Oh, I’m only messing with you,’ she said, still chuckling. ‘I like to think Nyssa has better sense that to get mixed up with highwayman.’

The phantom stared at her for a second, before letting out a small laugh of their own. The highwayman then climbed off the horse, and stood in front of Tegan.

‘But… you do not?’

‘Apparently not, no,’ Tegan cheeked back, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. She took a step closer. ‘Thank you for the rescue; I must admit, I can understand why you are considered something of a folk hero around here.’

The phantom smiled, and gave a short bow.

‘No thanks needed,’ they replied, smiling as they straightened up. ‘The least I could do. I hope that we can become… friends, of a sort.’

Their grey-green eyes glistened in the half-light.

Tegan smiled.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, smiling softly. ‘You have a way of sneaking into people’s hearts.’

Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the phantom’s cheek.

The phantom froze, and Tegan’s brown eyes met the grey-green. Their breath seemed to catch in both of their throats.

‘E-er, anyway, thank you!’ Tegan exclaimed, stammering as she turned away. ‘M-much appreciated; have a good night!’

As she hurried to the side door of the inn, Tegan found her face beginning to flush. Her heart was pounding against her chest, and she was certain that she was perspiring. The mind of the innkeepers daughter was aflutter as she desperately tried to understand what she had just done.

WhydidIdothatwhydidIdothat-

The door closed behind her.

The phantom stood, in the empty courtyard. There was silence aside from the gentle snores of Dan the donkey, and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. The evening air was cool. The village had turned in for the night.

The masked figure reached up to the spot on their cheek where Tegan’s lips had brushed. A slight blush began to coat their skin and, behind the mask that covered her eyes, Nyssa Traken stared up at the first floor window of the inn that housed the young woman she adored.

~~~~~~~~~~

DUN-DUN-DUN XD And the identity of our mysterious highwayman is finally revealed (well done to everyone who was able to guess correctly).

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it; I always love a good cliffhanger!

[haitaniapologist]

COUNTING SINS.

╰┈➤ many were the names that helen of troy was called by the poets. the most beautiful woman in greece, a daughter and a sister of kings and gods, an evil witch, a whore. but she was just a girl torn between love and duty, wasn't she? just like you. exactly like you. but there weren't guns in ancient greece, and the trojan war could never be compared by the bloodshed that could happen in tokyo if you fell in love with the wrong person — especially being married to his worst enemy, and brother.

pairings — izana kurokawa x fem!reader x sano manjiro.

warnings — reader is the youngest haitani, cheating, gang things, talks about a gang war, non-explicit s*x, dubcon, guilty feelings, heartbreaking, light angst.

prologue — next chapter — masterlist (taglist form can be found there)

BOOK ONE: BREAK MY BROKEN HEART.

verse one

you were used to waking up to a cold and lonely bed, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. 

the exact moment your marriage with izana became such a shallow thing was still a mystery for you, but everything seemed to change when you two came back from your honeymoon. it seemed as if he wanted just to possess you, to call you his and put a beautiful ring on your finger, just for the sake of saying he managed to settle down with the haitanis' younger sister. 

kakucho, when you voiced your worries to him, said it was just the way izana was — he didn't know how to show love, even though you disagreed with him. you felt loved in your dating months, loved like no one else ever loved you before. why things needed to change now, that you two were married? and change for the worst, actually. 

the only thing keeping you relatively happy were the notes. 

at first, you thought it was your husband, the sender of them. it made sense — who else would be doing such a thing? and it made sense, too, due to kakucho's explanation about how izana truly loved someone. but you could recognise your husband's calligraphy in a heartbeat, and it wasn't his. the thought about who was a fool enough to send such romantic and tender notes to the woman married to japan's most wanted criminal haunted you for months, even though the notes were your source of happiness.

the worst part was that you couldn't tell a soul about it, because if word about it reached izana's ear, they would end in the spot. 

but when the first signed letter arrived, you knew izana could do anything he wanted, but he wouldn't stop writing them for you. 

sano manjiro was the name in the bottom of one of them, a note that left you in tears — manjiro had a way with words that nobody would ever think a man like him would have, and all of his words touched your heart like nothing ever did. you almost couldn't read the signed name due to your tears but, when you did, your heart started to race inside your chest. 

you couldn't deny that mikey was someone that sometimes crossed your mind. not always, but you always remembered his onyx eyes at the most inappropriate times. they had an enormous impact on you, as you thought they always did with anyone that looked straight at them. but you tried not to think too much about him — after all, you had your own husband, someone that was mikey's enemy and brother. nothing good would come if you pursued such thoughts, but manjiro was a stubborn man, managing to reach you through his letters, with the help of someone that you always wanted to know the identity of. 

you weren't the only traitor in bonten. 

some nights, an enormous guilt crashed over you. you were clearly cheating on your husband — even if nothing physical happened, you were receiving love letters from another man that wasn't him, you were thinking about another man whenever you two had intimate moments together. that was cheating, but you couldn't stop. through his letters, manjiro showed you more love and care than your husband did since your return from your honeymoon, and he made you feel wanted and important with just some words written in black ink.

you weren't even sure that izana wasn't cheating you on too. 

sometimes, you wanted to ask your brothers about it. but izana was their boss, and just the implication of such a thing happening could cause a war between them — and that happening was going to be your downfall. you wouldn't be able to endure seeing your brothers fighting with your husband, and you wouldn't know which side to pick, even if izana was cheating on you. deep down, you wanted to believe he still loved you, even though his actions spoke otherwise. 

you sighed, watching your reflection in the mirror. you had changed since you married izana — no longer wearing the soft and pastel colors you loved so much to wear, always choosing the colors your husband said fitted you best. they were normally red or black, bonten's colors, and you didn't mind wearing them to match with him. however, he wasn't home now, and you could wear whatever you want without him criticizing your fashion choices. 

wearing your favorite colors always managed to make you happy, and the thrill of receiving another love letter from manjiro was the cherry on top. he tried to send one every day, and they always managed to make your heart race and cheeks red — even if your heart was being consumed by guilt.

you didn't have much to do. izana always insisted that you didn't need to work, as he could provide everything and anything you wanted. but sometimes you missed going to university, having some girl friends around you, people who you could tell what was happening. 

you excited your room, heading to your living room. maybe seeing some TV would be good for you, but a glimpse of pink hair caught your attention. 

only one person in bonten had pink hair, and even though you knew he was aware you were following him, that didn't stop sanzu haruchiyo from delivering another of mikey's letters. 

a gasp left your lips and he chuckled. “surprised, princess?” he was holding the paper between two of his fingers, his twin scars up due to his smirk. “your brothers never told you about my involvement with mikey in the past?” it was a genuine question, and you knew it. you were observant, of course, and knew all the bonten members' mannerisms. haruchiyo had his head slightly tilted to the left, the indication that he was curious about your answer. 

“no.” you answered, taking some careful steps towards him. “i've only known you as a tenjiku member, and nothing from your past from before it.” ran and rindou always made sure you weren't involved with gang matters while you were growing up, to give you some sort of normalcy during your teenage years — a thing they didn't have. 

sanzu nodded, his green eyes shining with something you couldn't pinpoint what it was. “i was a toman member. i still am.” he confessed, quietly, as someone would confess their sins to a priest. your theory about a traitor was right, after all, though it was someone you would never suspect. haruchiyo seemed such a loyal person, someone you were sure was ready to give his life to izana — but his loyalty lay somewhere else. “what are you going to do with this information, princess?”

you came to the conclusion that it was a test. probably an order from manjiro. 

“nothing, but only if you give me my letter.”

the smile on haruchiyo's face could be seen as a sinister one, but it had a small amount of relief on it, too. if you decided to tell your husband, you would probably end years of planning both manjiro and haruchiyo did, and lose the only thing keeping you sane throughout the days. 

he quickly lowered his hand, and you took the paper from his fingers, eager to know what manjiro had to say for you today. 

my y/n,

i hope this letter reaches you on a good time. and that you discovered and took with your gentle eyes the new information about haruchiyo i gave you. he can now be our source of connection, if you wish to return a note — i don’t care if all of this is one-sided. sanzu says everything i need to know about what you feel towards them, and it always pleasant news to my heart. 

though, on this one, i won’t declare my undying love and adoration for you. you already know that, my sweet. but i wish i could say what’s in my heart looking at your eyes and holding your face in my hands, but only if you wish this too. i know how dangerous it’ll be for us to meet, but i would take any risk just to look at your eyes once more. i won’t pressure you on anything, but, at least, ease the ache in my heart — for the good, or for the bad. 

always yours, 

manjiro. 

the beating of your heart was so loud that you were sure sanzu could hear it, your cheeks red and hands shaking with the prospect of seeing manjiro once more. the first and last time you saw him was on the day you became izana’s wife, and his eyes had never left your mind since. before knowing where sanzu’s loyalty really laid on, you thought seeing him again would be just a daydream of yours — but now it was more tangible, something that you could almost touch with your hands if you reached enough. 

“will you deliver something for me, sanzu?” you asked in a hushed whisper, afraid that one of the staff could catch you and one of your husband’s executives having a moment together — if izana ever dreamed you were cheating on him with sanzu, you were sure both of you would be dead by the next morning. 

but the house’s staff was nowhere to be seen, and you realized it was sanzu’s doing, too. 

“of course. i would do everything for you and mikey, y/n.” you were flustered at his words, but you could understand where they were coming from — you made mikey happy, and that made sanzu happy. his loyalty was admirable. 

“then get me some pen and paper, haru, please.” you smiled at him, already making your way to your room once more. “we’ll need to plan this meeting very carefully if we want to not die.”

verse two

“where’s sanzu?” 

izana’s voice reverberated through the room, his orchid eyes scanning his executives sitting around the table. his first instinct was to search for takeomi’s eyes, as sanzu’s older brother, but everyone in the room knew they didn’t want to be affiliated with one another — a story with deep roots that he wasn’t able to extract from both him and shinichiro, and apparently just a few knew the exact reason why the akashi brothers seemed like stranger than siblings. 

instead, his eyes landed on mucho. 

“he asked to be the one in charge of y/n’s protection this morning, sir.” it was yasuhiro’s answer, and it made izana content. sanzu was someone that he knew he could count on, especially to take care of you — he once heard him saying you reminded him of his little sister to rindou, and such an information soothed his heart. he couldn’t only rely on your brothers’ to be the ones in charge of your security, as they were more valuable members to bonten than haruchiyo. 

though your brothers didn’t seem so happy knowing you were with sanzu. but they said nothing, knowing that now you were izana’s property instead of their own. 

izana nodded, eyes now fixed at takeomi. “very well. shall we start this meeting, then?” 

at the agreement nod of all his executives and of the ex-members of the black dragons, his advisor started. 

the topic was, as always, sano manjiro’s growing gang — the tokyo manji gang, mostly known as toman. it was a topic that didn't worry izana that much a few years ago, as toman had always been there, like a bug that could be easily crushed. but mikey was worse than their older brother, as takeomi said to him once, and his charisma was enough to be able to make someone’s loyalty change with the blink of an eye, and that was worrisome. some of bonten’s lower members had already left izana’s side, traitors that were now in the protection of mikey, making it difficult for sanzu and mucho to kill them. 

that wasn’t a good thing, and takeomi always made that izana knew the consequences of another powerful gang in tokyo — the city couldn’t handle two powerful gangs at the same moment, hence why izana made sure he had defeated every single one of them, making their members his members and their leader, his executives' play things. if toman continued to grow like it was, stealing members and disrespecting bonten’s influence, izana couldn’t see an outcome that wasn’t a war to determine whose gang the hegemony would be of.

and he knew mikey knew that, too. 

he let takeomi explain the situation to his executives, his mind wandering to you, his beautiful wife. sometimes he felt like he was neglecting you, but you were always ready to welcome him with open arms and legs spread, so maybe it was just in his head — you knew, of course, about how hard he worked to make tokyo his and yours kingdom, how hard he worked so you didn’t need to, so you could have whatever you wanted at the crackle of your fingers. 

the only thing he expected in return was your loyalty, and izana knew nobody would be able to make you change it. he was your first love, your first everything. you would never betray him and, if you did, he preferred you dead than between another man’s arms. 

ran and rindou knew nothing about that, of course. you were their precious little sister, and if you died, izana didn’t know what they could do — but accidents always happened, right? he shook his head imperceptibly, though kakucho noticed the change in his behavior. you weren’t cheating on him, and he was just paranoid. maybe the situation with toman was making him more and more stressed, and such intrusive thoughts were always lingering on his mind. 

izana dismissed kakucho’s puzzled eyes with a nod, orchid eyes back at takeomi. 

“it is izana’s decision what we should do, but a war is inevitable.” the older akashi finished his presentation, and the atmosphere in the room was gloomy — war always meant deaths, and every single one of them had dear people back at home that their deaths would make their heart suffer the most. “wakasa and benkei can attest on my behalf if someone doesn’t believe me.” he continued. “tokyo can only have one big gang around.” 

“any objections?” izana asked, eyes scanning the room. nobody dared to utter a word, and izana smiled. “very well. ran, rindou, you may start the preparations. i’ll send y/n to our house in okinawa, so i expect you two to focus on your task.” he sounded harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t have his two strategists not thinking straight because of their little sister’s safety. sometimes, he even wished he still had such a relationship with emma — but she was a traitor, like everyone else. “the others can expect orders soon.” 

with that, he left the meeting room, kakucho on his side. 

if it was war that sano manjiro wanted, izana would grant his little brother’s wishes.

verse three

the izana you met, the one you fell in love with, always managed to come back when he needed to relax — and by that, he needed your body to take his mind out of whatever was troubling him. and you weren’t strong enough to not fall for his sweet words and wandering hands, your arms already opened to welcome him whenever he arrived home and buried his face on your neck and his hands already massaging one of your breasts. 

however, as much as your body was under izana, reacting beautifully to his ministrations with the sounds he loved to hear, your mind was still trapped in the prospect of meeting mikey in the next day. it was sanzu’s idea, of course, as he knew how much his true boss wanted to finally hold you between his arms — if you denied manjiro of another day without your presence, haruchiyo said he would probably march inside your house and steal you away. 

that couldn’t happen, of course. it would be a formal declaration of war, the transgression of territories, and you couldn’t put mikey in danger just because of his urge — and yours now, too — of seeing you again. 

a particularly hard thrust of izana was what took you away from your thoughts, a mewl escaping your lips. you were cheating on your husband, weren’t you? thinking about another man while he was balls deep inside you, when he finally acknowledged you after days without sparring you a glance — you should be happy, shouldn’t you? he was finally being the izana you met those months ago. but you couldn’t bring yourself to be happy, like you used to. 

was that what you were for him? just a whore that he could use whenever he wanted, but a whore that belonged to him and no one else? it needed to be that, and you felt like a fool for always falling for his antics. maybe everything had been a competition between him and your brothers, and you were the prize — and maybe that’s why they looked so gloomy on your wedding day. maybe they knew that once you were married, izana would become distant and cold, but couldn’t tell you. 

but why did he do that? why he needed to play with your feelings if he was just going to use you for sex? it would’ve been better if he made you his personal slut, without the attachment a marriage would bring. it would be better if you knew his real intentions with you, than marrying him and falling for his estranged brother. 

tears started to burn in your eyes. “am i making you feel so good that you’re crying, my love?” you heard your husband ask, and you were glad he had mistaken your tears with pleasure than seeing how heartbroken you were. 

you could only hum, afraid that your voice would denounce that you were feeling everything but pleasure. you let your husband do whatever he wanted with your body, trying to mask your real feelings with a few moans and whispers of encouraging words to him, even though you weren’t feeling good. it was the first time that sex with izana wasn’t a pleasurable moment, and you felt dirty and like the most foolish woman in the word. 

faking your orgasm a few seconds before izana’s own release, you almost sighed in relief when he slide out of you, his cum dripping from your pussy. he smiled at the sight of you fucked out beneath him, fingers sliding inside your hole once more making you whimper in overstimulation. “need to make sure everything is inside, love.” he explained, kissing your lips. “don’t you think a little me or little you running around would be a blessing?” 

if he said those words before today, you would have agreed wholeheartedly with him. but now? dread was pooling in your stomach.

verse four

the mornings after izana was a husband again were always the worst.

they were always a remind of what he became, since it only take him only one night to revert to a cold and heartless man - and the realization of what you were to him wasn't helping you with the intrusive thoughts. was he like that since the beginning and you were blind by the spells of first love to acknowledge that? 

you sighed, turning around in your bed. you were wearing only one thin nightgown, not enough to protect your body from his smell and touch, and you almost flinched away when he kissed your neck - more tenderly than usual, and that worried you. did the prospect of having a child with you enough to make him be like he was? but, would he treat your child the same as he did with you? that wouldn't be fair.

“what do you say about having breakfast together, my love?” his offer was tempting — he didn't let you have dinner before he was ravishing your body, and your stomach was starting to rumble with hunger. 

however, you knew such an offer wasn’t being made because of his big and generous heart. no, izana had other intentions than just eating breakfast with you, and you started to get anxious about what it was. did he know about your plans to meet mikey in the afternoon? did he know about the letters, or that you’ve started to fall out of love with him? you were sure you were masking your feelings well, he couldn’t be able to know. you still acted the same, you were sure of it.

you nodded, almost imperceptible, but he noticed — smiling sweetly at your agreement. he held his hand for you and you took, not as firm and tight as you used to, the feeling now foregin and strange. his hand was too big and too demanding, squeezing and interlacing your fingers while you followed him to the dining room, only with a flimsy nightgown protecting your body from the eyes of the staff, the breakfast table already prepared, all your favorite foods and drinks displayed on top of it. 

he knew. he knew about your plans with mikey. 

once, if he had pulled the chair for you to sit on, your heart would be beating loudly inside your rib cage and your cheeks would be read like a rose. now, however, you managed to give him a small smile, but your heart was beating quickly inside your chest for different reasons. if he noticed the change in your behavior, he said nothing. 

breakfast was filled with small talk, mostly done by izana — he updated you on how bonten activities were going about, or funny things that happened to him and his executives. that brought a smile to your face and laughter to bubble from your lips. the boys were also a comforting presence in your life while you grew up, and hearing about them and your brothers being relaxed around each other. 

you wish you could’ve been there to see it for yourself, and not just listen to it by your husband’s lips. 

breakfast was ending and izana showed you no signs of having discovered your afternoon plans, which made everything even more suspicious. that wasn’t just an act of love of an absent husband to his not so faithful wife, far from it. however, when he started to speak again, you understood why he had done that. “y/n, my love.” honey laced his tone and you knew something was going to happen. you tried to act as normal as you could, but anyone could see how nervous you were feeling. “i don’t wish to alarm you, but war is coming. i hope you understand the implications of it.” 

you knew what he meant. bonten and toman were going to clash, and you were in the middle of it. 

“i’ve made a deal with your brothers to make you safe. tonight, you, sanzu and mucho are going to leave for our house in okinawa.”