#todays mood: bored with a side serving of tired

[pawubits]

waiting for a certain brazilian streamer to go live.......

[opluffys]

Make Do-

posted this first to my archive, luffys. pls let me know if there are any errors or it copied weird, it happens sometimes. pls enjoy!! :)

tags- slight angst, face-sitting, size kink, edging, desk sex, oral (giving and receiving), breeding kink, fem reader.

5.7k words.

-Ghost x Reader-

-smut/nsfw-

You laid on the cushioned silk of your sofa, eyes boring into whatever uninspiring movie it was this time. One of your hands preoccupied with a glass of wine, just one, you'd repeat to yourself. Only to find that the bottle was empty when you moved for another refill.

He wouldn't like it if he knew you were drinking this much.

You nearly laughed in response to your very own thoughts, roughly grabbing a handful of flavoured popcorn to shove in your face, anything to be a distraction to that glittering rock on your finger. Anything to be a distraction of him.

Quickly realising such a thing was utterly futile, you spun the gold band that fit snug on your finger, it was perfect. You could never deny such a thing, it was beautiful, as was your wedding. But you tried to see everything through rose-tinted glasses, attempting to paint your unhappy situation as best as you possibly could.

He was supposed to be coming home today, he was supposed to be here already. You were used to him being late, hell, used to being alone at this point. Used to the bed being cold on one side, to his scent fading over his pillow, his clothes, everything.

It fucking killed you.

You heard that familiar lock turning, and the first few times you would run to the door and swing it open before he could even finish unlocking it. Pulling him into the flat you both lived in and lifting his balaclava before pushing his lips into yours. Feeling him push you against the wall and eventually fucking you into it.

Now, you just reached for your glass and downed it. Not quick enough, you heard him walk in, not bothering to even greet him anymore.

"You're awake," His voice was gravelly, worn out.

"You're alive." You countered, eyes still glued to the television screen, expression souring at the sex scene unfolding before your eyes.

"You don't sound too happy about that."

You scoffed, taking the remote in your hand and turning off the television. You sat up from your previous relaxed pose, finally turning to look at him. "What do you want me to say, Simon?" You asked, your eyes meeting as he kicked off his shoes, making a move to be near you.

"You know how it is, being married to someone serving. It's hard, love." He sighed, trying to explain to you even though you've heard it a million times. You knew that he was observing how you had drank excessively tonight. But you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

You stood up from your seat, making your way over to where his large and impressive frame stood. He attempted to close the gap between you two, but you took the initiative first. Your soft hands reached out to his covered face, feeling him lean into your caring touch. The man was touch-starved, you knew that, he knew that. "I'm tired of waking up to nobody in the morning. I'm so damn tired." You shakily sighed, hands about to drop to your side before being engulfed by his larger ones.

You looked into his eyes once more, his hands lightly squeezing yours. His gaze held anguish, exhaustion, and so much more that you'd never know. You removed yourself from his grasp, turning to your 'shared' room without looking back at him.

"Goodnight, Simon."

•

You woke up to a pleasant warmth beside you, a true scarcity. Despite your angered mood, you leaned into him, his arm that was snaked around your smaller frame tightening around you gently. You stared at his exposed face, so at peace and tranquil. You moved from his grip to push a light and loving kiss against his soft lips. A surprised squeak left you as you felt his strong arms wrap around you and push you on your back, his pretty face taking your lips into a harsh and needy kiss.

"Here I was thinking that you were mad at me." He groaned, pushing his hard-on into your clothed heat.

"Oh, I am," You laughed, bringing him closer against you, "but I missed how you fuck me. So good, so deep," You purred, feeling him borderline growl against you lowly, his as well as your hips grinding into one another.

"Careful darlin'. I'm back for only a few days, you want to spend them unable to walk?" He bit your neck lightly, suckling at the skin and causing you to whimper against him. Your body arching towards him, basically begging for him.

Then, your mind processed what he had just said.

You pushed the man off of you, fury bubbling up deep within you. "A few fucking days?" You sneered, the throbbing in your legs pleading for you to forget about it. To just appreciate what time you had with him, and to just get pounded into the fucking mattress already.

"You've been gone for months, and you're here for, oh, what is it this time?" You laughed, turning towards him, "I wasn't expecting the absolute pleasure of being with my fucking husband for two, or oh, even better, three days?!" You mocked, looking into his cold gaze, clearly angered about leaving him in such a state.

You felt your heart squeeze, fuck, it hurt so damn bad, it really did. You missed him so much, you couldn't handle not being able to talk to him, to touch him, to do literally fucking anything with him.

You were aware it wasn't his fault. He knew that you had known.

Though, such a realisation hadn't made the wound on your marriage heal any better.

•

The days in which Simon had spent with you were forbidding. You found it to be better if you were just alone, and yet, you both continued to share the same bed.

You both would argue, mainly about stupid shit. He didn't miss how you'd cower back when he'd yell, when his usually calm voice would get unreasonably angered at such an idiotic thing. You didn't miss how his entire demeanour would change when you practically guilt tripped him about leaving his, 'poor little wife', all alone for majority of the year.

Your rose-tinted glasses couldn't keep up with this, no. Not this level of unhappiness and doubt. You really had loved him, and he loved you. It was obvious in how he trusted you with so many things, secrets that others would never be graced to hear, and vice versa.

You both desperately wanted to apologise.

But that would be too easy.

•

The final day of your husband being with you had rolled around, and you didn't hide your anguish at this. The both of you would still have mindless quarrels, at which you'd turn to your side and silently weep into the night. Feeling his arm wrap around you and try to comfort you.

Despite how you were 'mad' at him, you continued to stick by his side these couple of days he was with you. No matter what, he was your husband, and you loved him. It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but as was marriage, it was never a stagnant good or bad.

You laid in the large and plush mattress of your bed, watching Simon pack his things. Your expression blank as the both of you had spent this off time of his idiotically. You just couldn't let things go, could you?

You heard a deep sigh come from him as he sat next to you on the bed, his large figure slightly slouched in exhaustion. His shirt had been ditched, your eyes tracing the deep purple blooms that riddled his wide and muscled back. You had fallen for every single blemish on him. You began to reminisce on how he'd melt into your featherlight touches when you'd press your fingers deep into his skin, hearing him groan in appreciation.

You turned to your side and heard Simon lay next to you, getting under the duvet and feeling his arms wrap around you. Closing your eyes, you wanted to sob, not being able to see your love for weeks or months had taken a clear toll on not just you, but your marriage as well.

As you were lost in your own thoughts, you began to hear that familiar and dear sound of Simon's light snores, his arms weight becoming limp above you. You smiled at this, missing such a unique feeling.

While attempting to fall asleep, you couldn't for the life of you ignore the throbbing between your legs, his scent being back in full throttle nearly had you whimpering. You took a shaky hand to rub your slick pussy through your panties, biting your lip to ensure you didn't disturb him.

Your hips, however, had a mind of their own, attempting to grind against your palm and get more friction. Something that you had desired, though you knew your hand would never be enough, not after what Simon had put you through.

Nevertheless, you continued to massage your swollen clit, dipping beneath your panties and swiping along your folds. Your eyes screwed shut as you continued to pleasure yourself, selfishly pursuing your own orgasm.

Then, you had felt a powerful set of arms yank your hips backwards, somehow not taking note of the loss of warmth that snaked around you.

"Fuckin' impatient."

"Can you blame me? I don't know when I'll be seeing you next." You laughed, turning to view him and grind your own arousal against his, quickly feeling his erection press against you.

"Can feel how wet you are already," To emphasise his point, his big and calloused fingers brushed against your heat, making you whimper lowly. "wonder what you were thinking about."

"You." A breathless moan as you felt him plunge in two digits deep inside. He groaned, clearly pleased at your response. His fingers pushed deeper into your gummy walls, curling his fingers into that spongey spot that only he could hit with unknown precision.

You quickly felt your high approaching, characterised by the way your moans became more attuned to his movements. How your body jerked and twitched in response to every single thing he would do to you, no matter how insignificant.

You cried out his name, grinding yourself down onto his fingers pathetically, tears collecting in your eyes as you were so damn close.

Until nothing.

He removed himself from you, watching how your expression was so serene, then turned enraged when you realised what he had done.

"You haven't earned it, darlin'." You saw a wicked grin pull at his lips, his eyes full of lust and his own body begging for release.

You whined in response, attempting to push your hips down against his muscled physique to get a taste of any delicious and desirable friction. But of course, to no avail, his grasp on you was ironclad, and so was his lecherous gaze.

"Up and on your knees." He commanded, assisting you onto your shaky legs, tossing a pillow onto the ground where you'd be kneeling.

"How thoughtful." You giggled, your ruined mind forgetting about your arguments, it was all stupid, anyway.

"Just for you." His eye contact hadn't broke from you, instead bringing you close to him and into soft lip-lock.

Once you were settled down in your position, you looked up at him through a lidded gaze, his own stare holding pure and unadulterated love for you. Your face holding a warm heat as you remembered that this was the man you had fallen for, who had shown you a side of himself that nobody else would be lucky enough to know.

Your eyes settled on his perceptible bulge, and your hands hurried to pull his pyjama bottoms down. Seeing his cock spring out and bump against his bare abs. You almost began to drool as your small hands couldn't even wrap around his girth. Leaning closer to his cock as you parted your lips to give the swollen and red tip a quick kiss, before swirling your tongue over his slit. You scandalously mewled when you tasted him, slowly pushing him deeper inside of you, fuelled by his deep groans.

Your lips stretched around his length, tears quickly threatening to spill as his tip hit the back of your throat. His smell, his taste, just all of him drove you absolutely mad with want, feeling intoxicated beyond the point of saving. You fared to meet his lidded stare, his mouth agape slightly, small pants leaving him as you took him deeper into your mouth.

You had taken a slow and appreciative pace, just admiring the feeling of something so big and warm in your mouth. Hearing his sounds was only a plus to such a thing.

Your freehand reached out to run over the dips and divots of his muscled frame, feeling as well as seeing him twitch in response to such a soft and tender touch. Even after all of these years, he wasn't used to someone actually being able to love him. Love shouldn't be available for people like him, for people who had done such things as awful and twisted as he had, albeit for the right reasons.

His hands were one of the worst parts of him in his own eyes. They were the things that killed, the things that ended and destroyed. He would stare into the eyes of those who had their lives draining out of them as a crimson snake, drinking in their level of fear. How his hands were not a permanent red, he had no clue.

But you adored his hands. Holding them, they were so pleasantly warm, so much bigger than yours. Tracing over his knuckles and scars that littered his skin, he thought of such a thing to be disgusting. You thought of such a thing to bandage and heal. That's when he knew that he was gone, falling for you, because you had seen him as a human. Something of which that he had stopped seeing long ago.

"I love you." He blurted, sounding strained and low as your hot mouth was still over him, tight throat squeezing him. Those three words meant so much more, they meant I'm sorry, you deserve better.

You briefly took him out of your mouth, your expression softening over his own. "I know, I love you too." Your own apology was laced and sewn into these words, no, I deserve you.

He pulled you up onto his lap, momentarily connecting your forehead to his own. Your nose brushed against his softly, your lips ghosting against his before pressing them against each other. The kiss was hot, setting your insides ablaze with the feeling of deification from the man in front of you.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, nails slightly biting into the taut skin. Your lips continued to mould against his, tongues intertwined together as you felt his large and scarred hands roam around your body, attempting to memorise your curves and how soft you were. His hands settled on the fat of your hips, squeezing the squishy flesh as you moaned into the heated kiss, body twitching and subconsciously moving closer to him.

You separated from the steamy kiss, resting your forehead on his shoulder while panting lightly.

"I've been thinkin' of something to ask you, love. You'll be a good girl and give me a nice going away present, yeah?" He whispered, tone low with desire. You felt a squeeze on your heart, clearly impacted at his words, you didn't want him to leave. Nonetheless, you offered him a hum as a reply, still catching your breath.

"Sit on my face."

The way he had said it had you reeling, your heart stopping it's rhythmic beats as you sat still, pondering his ask. What if you were too heavy? Or what if you sat on him in a way that-

"C'mon now, I need an answer." His hands continued to roam around your body, drawing small shapes on the small of your back.

"I'll suffocate you," You began, not giving him an opportunity to answer you just yet "and it won't be an accident." You smiled, unbeknownst to him of course.

He chuckled, the deep rumble in his chest felt by you, making you press against him even closer, "It'll be the best way to go."

Of course he would say such a thing, he always had such a fucking cheeky response to anything you had said. You were keen to shut him up at last, his skilled tongue flat against your eager cunt would just be a bonus.

Seeming to be pleased with your answer, he laid on his back with you in your lap, watching you move towards him with lidded eyes. You kneeled near his face, placing one knee on each side of him as you shimmied closer to him. With a shaky breath, you began to lower yourself just barely, your needy clit brushing against his nose causing you to bite back a whimper.

You felt his bulky arms and hands hook under the meat of your thighs, "I said sit, didn't I?" He brought you down onto him until you were actually seated on him. "There we go, love. That's sitting, I don't want you hovering over me." He chuckled, hands squeezing the fat of your hip teasingly.

"Oh, fuck off." You rolled your eyes, about to bicker with him more until you felt his hot tongue lick your slick folds. Catching you slightly off guard, a shaky mewl leaving your agape lips. You looked down at him to see he was already staring right at you without ceasing his attention on your cunt. Your hand threaded through his hair and gave a light yank, hearing him groan in response. His hand kneaded the curve of your ass as his mouth continued to lick you, admiring your taste as if it were the best thing he has ever had in his mouth.

"Oh, Simon..." You moaned, back arching as you felt his skilled muscle push into your folds while his nose bumped against your clit. It had your mind feeling hazy, while the lewd sound of his tongue ravishing your wet pussy filled the room. Your hands continued to weave through his soft strands, pulling and tugging the tendrils as you felt his tongue press against your leaking heat. Just his mouth alone had you crying out for him, not even bothering to use his fingers, not needing to. He knew how you had worked, playing you as if you were the finest instrument, strumming you with deft hands and hearing you sing beautifully in response.

He then finally gave attention to your throbbing clit, lips enclosing around the nub and sucking. It was a fine and blurred line between pleasure and pain, but oh, it had you screaming and grabbing onto the headboard of the bed for dear life. You felt like passing out as the slight pressure of his lips paired with his tongue softly stroking your clit had you begging him for more, begging him not to stop because you were so fucking close.

You sobbed his name, your toes curling and thighs squeezing around your husband so tightly, you were sure he couldn't breathe properly. Just one brush against him, anything, would've had you netting your orgasm at last.

As you had let out a desperate mewl, a message to him of how close you were, he had stopped. Looking up at you with a wide grin on his slicked up face, eyes glimmering with want.

"No, please, I need it..." You panted, holding eye contact with him as your chest heaved in exhaustion.

"I don't think so, sweetheart." He laughed, teasing your wet heat with a quick lick, having you nearly scream.

"I'll fucking divorce your ass." You growled, trying your hardest to grind down on his stupid fucking face, stopped by his bulky arms.

He chuckled lowly, eyes closing as his lashes fell onto his cheeks, "You can't ever find someone who'd fuck you like me." He responded, voice gravelly and an octave deeper than usual. It had your pussy clench over nothing, thighs tightening over his face, his hands having to push them apart. Internally, he questioned if you were actually trying to kill him...

You groaned quietly at his words, realising that he was indeed, correct. Although your first time together almost had you bed-bound for an entire week, he was the only man who would have you having multiple orgasms in a single night.

"So won't you make me happy? Please, Simon..?" You begged, gyrating your hips against him slowly, surprised that he allowed you to move above him. He responded with licking a long stripe against you, having you shiver, feeling your high slam back into you with full force.

Quickly noticing that he wasn't making a move to make you finish, you groaned, filled with frustration. This entire night he had continued to edge you, just one push away, just a single fucking crumb of friction would've had you screaming his name to the stars.

He hummed, seeming to be delighted with your exasperation and anger. "Alright, get up." He sighed, waiting for you to move off of him with clear chagrin etched on your features. Once you were seated next to him on the shared mattress, he sat up from his relaxed pose, stretching while you had watched his muscles flex. He silently walked out of the room, awaiting you to follow him. Scoffing as you shakily stood, you left the master bedroom and saw the open door of the spare bedroom.

He had stood behind the lone desk in the small and cramped room, supposed to be a study for him, but ultimately never being used. Your expression was puzzled, wondering why he had taken you here instead of fucking you deep into the mattress.

"Do you remember my promise to you?" He asked, motioning you closer with a lithe finger, feeling your legs carry you forward before your mind had been made up.

"No, remind me." You lied, now knowing why he had brought you here.

"You know I don't like liars." He hummed lowly, taking your chin in his hand to look into his cold gaze. How this man had continued to read you like an open book never failed to amaze you, such a thing becoming somewhat problematic at times, though.

"Be my good little wife and tell the truth, will you?"

This had you tearing your eyes away from him, for a moment, suddenly and briefly becoming shy at his words. You felt an uncomfortable heat settle on your cheeks, your gaze wandering around the room.

"How about you show me," you bent yourself over the wooden desk, pushing your hips back into his arousal. You smiled at his deep groan, feeling his large hands knead the flesh of your ass, giving it a harsh smack while he had watched it recoil in response. He spread your thighs to accommodate his large stance.

You gasped in surprise when you felt his warm tip press flush against your leaking pussy. You attempted to press your hips back, to finally just feel him inside of you. "So needy." He mumbled, large hands continuing to squeeze and squish your curves.

You whined against the expensive mahogany of the desk, your leg exhibiting unwanted twitches. "Let me hear that lovely voice of yours beg for me." He grunted, pushing just his swollen tip inside your heat, having you stifle a sob.

"Please." You mumbled, just wanting to get utterly destroyed by him.

"That wasn't convincing at all," He chuckled quietly, shaking his head slowly. "I know you can do better than that, darlin'."

"Please, Simon... I need it, I want to feel you, please, just fuck me." You babbled, starting to blab an incoherent string of words, already cock-drunk off of teasing.

"Good fucking girl." He groaned, pushing into you and stretching you open inch by agonising inch. You somehow got wetter at his words, your insides squeezing him impossibly tight.

"Ease up and let me in, love." He grunted, massaging your hip with calloused hands, a meek whimper leaving your agape mouth.

You tried to relax your buzzed nerves, attempting to stop holding him so tightly and ultimately not letting bottom out in you. You cried as Simon slowly rubbed your overworked clit, after being edged all evening, you could've finished by a gust of wind.

"Still so tight for me. You were made for me, weren't you?" He said, accented voice low and saccharine, hidden reverence in his tone. You mumbled out a hushed 'yes,' almost unheard by the keen man above you.

Pushing you deeper into the desk, your smaller hands gripped the edges of the wood with purchase, knuckles blanching while you sobbed beneath him. His bigger hand reached and pressed against your abdomen, essentially grinding your insides down onto his thick cock. You nearly screamed, your hips meeting his own as he set a brutal pace, his fat cock pressing a kiss against your womb with every rough thrust.

He took your hands from the desk and held them behind you, catching both of your wrists in just a sole hand. Pinning your wrists against his gentle yet harsh hold, enabling him to bend and fuck you at his will. You wouldn't tell him this due to your ego, but you absolutely adored when he took you from the back like this, holding your hands back and claiming you as his.

"You're so deep," You cried, stringing words along pathetically, mismatching your thoughts with your words. "feels so good." You mewled against the wood of the desk, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you felt his veiny cock drag against your walls deliciously, paired with the feeling of his big and warm hand pressed hard against your abdomen.

"Fuck," He threw his head back, pushing himself in your warm pussy until he was snug against your cervix, "you're squeezing me so tight." He groaned, big and rough hand moving from your abdomen to give another glaring slap to your ass, your cries only spurring him on.

He buried his cock until he bottomed out inside of your gummy walls, holding his position there. He leaned over you, his hard and toned muscles meeting your softer back. He pressed a chaste kiss against your shoulder, feeling you shudder against him. "You always take me so well." He whispered, continuing to litter kisses all over your neck and shoulder, nipping and biting the sensitive skin to leave a mark, to claim you even if you were already his. You couldn't find it in yourself to respond to him with words, instead whining out to him, wanting Simon to continue his unrelenting pace on your wanting body.

"Can't talk anymore? Fucked you so good that you can't think straight?" You nodded, tears tracking down your warm cheeks as drool had left your opened mouth. You heard him snicker quietly at your frazzled state, his bigger hand kneading the bruising skin of your ass.

You desperately craved friction, to continue feeling his cock wreck your insides just right, fucking perfect. But you had nearly sobbed when you felt him pull out of your wet heat slowly, no doubt to tease your buzzed nerves. Your insides hugging his length and trying to drag him deeper, a weak cry to stay in you.

Feeling utterly empty, you cried out to him, sounding something along the lines of 'put it back', but ultimately being lost to the both of you.

He hoisted you up on the desk, getting an opportunity to look directly at you, his eyes tracking every dip and curve of your body. "You're a fuckin' mess." He laughed, pressing a loving kiss against your cheek, feeling his stubble tickle your supple skin, bringing a tired smile on your face.

He returned to his full posture, towering over your sitting figure, and his stare met your teary one. "Don't worry, love. I'll let you finish," He met your plump lips in a messy and open mouthed kiss, tongues pressed against one another, your dainty hands reaching to push him closer to you. "in due time. Behave, I know you will." He purred, admiration lacing his low tone while he wiped away stray tears. You couldn't do anything else but nod slowly, to oblige to him, to obey.

Bringing his hand onto your waist, his free hand grabbed onto his twitching and eager cock, wanting to be buried back into your heat almost as much as you. Pushing in slowly, his eyes were glued to how your pussy meekly tried to accommodate his large size, and how he had remembered your visceral fear of taking him for the very first time.

"Greedy." He grunted, feeling himself grow irritated with the slow teasing and slow pace that he himself carried out. He felt that break away slowly, the primal urge to just fuck you until you couldn't stand taking over.

One of your hands clawed at his back, leaving deep crescent moons that would vanish as time carried on. Your other threaded through his soft tendrils, pulling at his hair as you felt his cock-head push into you. The new angle felt more intimate between you two, bodies intertwined together as the both of you expressed love in the most animalistic and vital way possible.

Feeling him finally slam into you, his forehead rested against you. The both of your moans and whines being mixed together, lips catching into random lip-lock while his thrusts would rock you back and forth.

"So good." You whimpered, your pussy clamping onto his cock while feeling him absolutely ravage you. He seemed somewhat taken aback that you were able to find your words, of course, other than repeating his name like a mantra.

His rhythm was brutal and unfaltering, with every thrust you were able to feel his thick and girthy cock brush and press against that spot that had your back arching- your eyes screwing shut and screaming out to emphasise just how good Simon made you feel.

You've been holding out for as long as you possibly could've. However, once you finally felt that wonderful pressure slowly rid in you, you knew that you couldn't hold your orgasm back any longer. Your hands brought your husband closer to you as you nothing short of screamed his name, legs encircling his wide build as your liquids jetted over his cock, making a mess over him as well as his desk.

He watched you come undone slowly, like pulling a thread while you had lightly spasmed, feeling him assist you in riding out your orgasm. You whined lowly as you felt him start his rough pace, overshot nerves protesting his onslaught of your body.

You felt him twitch inside of you, knowing that he must be close by now, the both of you losing track of time. Your insides clamped down on his cock, able to feel every prominent vein against you. His low and deep sounds making you subconsciously wish for him to fuck you all night, overstimulation be damned.

"Gonna fuck a baby into you," He groaned, both of his hands attached to your waist while he rammed into you over and over. "let everyone know you're mine." He growled, feeling your cunt flutter around him at his filthy words. You weren't aware that he had a thing about breeding, but fuck, now you might too.

"You want that?" He grunted, taking your chin in hand, forcing you to look up at him. "More than anything." You whispered, bringing him into another searing and breathtaking kiss, feeling him bury himself to the hilt one last time before painting your insides with the prettiest of white. A delicious groan leaving him, separating from the kiss as his hips stuttered against you, pumping his seed deep inside of you, making sure you kept every drop he offered you.

The both of you stayed still, limbs entangled together while each of you had started to come down from your orgasms. You felt him soften inside of you, cursing lowly when he pulled out of you slowly, his eyes watching how your abused hole started to leak his cum slowly. He had to resist the urge to fuck it back into you.

As you had come down from cloud nine, you sighed blissfully, knowing that you'd feel incredibly sore when morning had rolled around.

"You know that I'm not on birth control now, right?" You mumbled, looking at him while you noticed a sly smile on his features. "I meant every word, love." He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss against your bruising lips.

You couldn't hide your own smile, turning away from him as you felt a new sense of love blossom within you. You hadn't really thought of ever having children with Simon, but now that he had expressed that he was interested, you didn't realise how much you had actually liked the idea.

"Want a bath then?" He asked, stroking your cheek adoringly, feeling you lean into his touch.

"You'll need to carry me." You laughed, quickly turning surprised at how hoarse your voice had sounded.

"That was the plan, darling." He responded, moving to bring you against his chest, glistening with a thin sheet of sweat from the strenuous activity the both of you had partaken in.

"You're quite the gentleman today." You giggled, turning your head and your lips giving a loving kiss against his pectoral muscle. He only hummed in response, making his way to draw your bath.

Internally, you had known that your marriage wasn't quite 'fixed', one night of expressing one another's love not enough to fix such a thing. You knew that you both would continue to argue, continue to act like strangers or enemies rather than lovers that were supposed to be commuted to one another.

You also recognised that the two of you were slowly moving in the right direction, realising that marriage was something that isn't meant to be perfect, nor strained. You'd be lying to yourself if you thought that your wedded life was ultimately healed, knowing that many hardships lay ahead.

But as you looked into Simon's perfect and pretty eyes, his gaze meeting yours while he looked at you with nothing short of reverence. Your own eyes reflecting that feeling back at him.

At that moment, you knew it was worth it.

[kisslandeds]

I.

[̲̅T]here's a stillness in the atmosphere of the auditorium, and a heavy languor that pervades the circumambient air. It's a rather lethargic Tuesday morning, a rather laid-back day for Bella, who'd been somnolent since she'd woken up. Despite her indolence, it was necessary she tackle the day. She had several errands to run after rehearsal, and she was more than nervous for them. Regardless, Bella is an early bird, and like usual, she's at work before anyone else.

   Bella figured, as she ambulates across the stage of the regal opera house, that she might as well use this time to rehearse her lines again. She stands in the middle of the vast stage, in a field of light reflections. Being right in the heart of the auditorium helped her visualize an audience, perhaps serving as an incentive for her.

Before her were thousands of seats, vermillion in colour and sewn from the finest textiles. There were levels of seats, balconies of them, just waiting to be filled with people and ovation. Alabaster pillars and delicate marble pillars complete the architecture of the house, perhaps derived from works of the Renaissance era. The lambency from the balcony lights shoot diamonds from the gloss of the stage floor, it felt like a garden of crystals just right beneath her.

   With a deep breath, Bella closed her eyes. Opening them again, she is greeted with visions of thousands of people filling up the empty seats in front of her, an animated audience clapping and cheering. Such a sight would never grow old to Bella. This view, after all, paid her bills and gave her a motive to keep acting. She loved it, adored it. Despite being a job, she never got tired of entertainment, she never grew bored of being on stage.

   For a moment, the ambient was stentorian during Bella's reverie, palpable, even, before silence catches up with her once more and breaks the unreal utopia before her.

Just before Bella reached for her purse to retrieve her folded script, a bright light flashes in front of her, a luminaire so blinding she instinctively shuts her eyes and covers them with the palm of her hand. The main stage light moves across the stage, and the once still ambience of the auditorium was now completely gone.

    Before Bella has a chance to react to the rush of fright that moments before filled her stomach, she notices a figure among the cavernous seats, juxtaposed between them. Gradually, it gets larger, as if moving closer to her. Given the events that had been happening in her life, she had every reason to believe she was in danger. A rather disconcerting emotion overtakes Bella.

   "My Belladonna! I knew you'd be here, you're always here at 9:30 AM without fault!" A rather flamboyant masculine voice reverberates across the empty theatre. Just like that, the quiet atmosphere had been cut through with a knife.

   "Simon," Bella gets up from the stage, a sigh of relief escaping her glossed lips. "Good morning. You're in a good mood today, aren't you? Why are you in so early? You're not here until 10." She inquires, walking across the stage and watching as Simon, her agent, trots down the stairs at the side of the auditorium to get to the pit. She pretends as if moments before she was completely shaken by his entrance.

   "Oh dear," Simon's voice is high in several octaves, and his visage is rather grave. "Today has to be a busy day I tell you! We have to make sure you're on your A-game, baby!"

  "You're making me anxious, Simon."

   "You ought to be anxious," Simon finally reaches the pit before climbing up the stage as if to intensify what he was about to say. "Bella, those casting directors that watched your rehearsal yesterday were in awe at your work! They want to schedule lunch and talk business!"

"My Gods, Simon," Bella sighs. "You don't think a simple text could've sufficed? You know how much you make me nervous when you look so serious."

   Simon gives out a small chuckle, his dark skin wrinkles as he smiles. "I'm sorry, Bella," his eyes twinkle, the gold eyeliner on his eyelid shimmers in the light of the luminescence filling the house. "You know how much your success means to me."

   "Yeah, I'm sorry, Simon, I don't mean to get all serious," Belladonna apologizes for being so apprehensive. "Today's a big day for me. I'm finally going to see someone to talk about these weird things going on."

   "That's great!" Simon adjusts his scarf. "You let me know how that goes," he clears his throat, "anyway, I'd like you to get ready for rehearsal. Your costar will be here any minute now. Remember, your A-game today, ma'am!"

   Quick to brush it off, huh, Belladonna quips to herself. I guess I shouldn't share my business.

    With a forced smile, Bella saunters off to get ready for rehearsal.

II.

  "Beautiful, beautiful," Simon claps, he is as preppy as a schoolgirl. "Brava, bravissimo! I could shed a tear."

   After enduring painful hours of wearing a tight corset and having to act out intense emotions, Bella was to say the least, exhausted. Her visage was glossed with sweat, her stage makeup fading away with the hours of wear. From arriving at the auditorium at 9:30 AM, it was now 3 PM. Despite this, it didn't matter to her. Her role had to be perfect, it was imperative she mastered her character. If that meant staying overnight rereading the same lines over and over again, it was a condition she was willing to endure. Of course, Bella's most critical audience was herself.

  "I think I am moved," Simon wipes away doubtful tears from underneath his painted eyes. "Truly, I have never seen another Christine so remarkable!" Simon turns to Bella's male counterpart. "And you! You make a wonderful phantom!"

  The play that had demanded so much of Bella's time and energy was the classic, 'The Phantom of the Opera.' To be frank, it was a rather challenging role for Bella, having to act out all these intense emotions from the protagonist she plays in such tight clothing and dry conditions of the stage. Not to mention, she was required to sing, and to project your voice across the massive auditorium was no easy task.

   "Don't flatter me," Abel, Bella's male costar chimes. "If you're on stage with such a talented actress, naturally, the energy she exudes would motivate anyone to perfect this role." A big, teeth-y smile spreads across his profile.

   "Oh, please," Bella laughs. "Don't sensationalize me."

   "Don't be so modest!" Abel exclaims. "Although, that is what makes you so charming."

   "Mhm," Simon hums. "Bella, I have to get going to meet with some directors. Please, get some beauty sleep. I need you looking youthful and energetic! You seem gloomy today, and we can't have that," Simon is already at the curtain to the backstage, "Don't forget to rehearse your lines, dear. It's not too long 'till opening night." Just as quick as Simon made his ingress this morning, preceded his egress in the same fashion.

    As soon as Simon's presence had left the room, the air was much more desolate and did not seem so cheery. The preponderance of his aura now dissipated, and Abel and Bella are alone. It was already 3 PM and Bella had to get going to run her errands. The day was certainly not over here.

"I gotta get going, too," Bella gives in a breathy chuckle, she was starting to suffocate from how tight her corset was. "I'll see you tomorrow, Abel."

    Abel nods and elicits a small smile, giving a small wave goodbye as Bella wastes no time to start heading back to her dressing room. The sound of her antique heels reverberate across the theatre, and before it could be gone, Abel stops Bella from sneaking away behind the curtains with a gentle touch to her arm.

   "Hey, Bella," Abel says hesitantly, "before you go . . ."  he smiles nervously, as if telling himself to confess something, "would you fancy lunch today?"

   Bella turns around upon Abel's survey, observing a shy expression dominating his features. He runs his fingers through his quaffed hair, scratching his neck awaiting Bella's response.

  "I'm so sorry, Abel!" she commiserates. "I have something today that I just can't put off. Maybe some other day, though."

  "Of course." Abel chuckles nervously. "Have a nice afternoon, Bella." Finally, he waves her goodbye, to which she replicates, and that was that.

III.

   After rehearsal, Bella had changed into her evening attire and decided to refresh her makeup. After all, she needed to look as presentable as possible today. Her mascara had drooped after hours of wear, and her under-eyes had begun to crease due to her exhaustion. With an anxious exhale, Bella powders her face, cleaning up her makeup to look as awake and fresh as possible. She runs a nude colour liner under her waterline, opening up her eyes as much as she can.

Bella was no stranger to anxiety. As an actress, living alone, she had many things to worry about. However, besides what a person usually worries about nowadays, she had something weighing on her shoulders that she just couldn't handle anymore. She'd been fatigued the past few days with a melancholy feeling reducing the quality of her life, and now she was finally going to get help.

The World's Only Consulting Detective, huh, Bella thinks to herself as she reapplies a pink blush to the roundness of her cheeks. Will you disappoint me, too? Bella sighs, reminded of the contents of the article she'd read on The London Times, the tabloid in which she'd discovered the office of this detective.

❝ Proficiency with observation, deduction, forensic science, and logical reasoning.

At 221B Baker Street

Approved by the Scotland Yard ❞

  It was in Bella's best interest that this detective—Sherlock Holmes, would accept her case. She'd grown tired of rejection from local private investigators, brushing off the details as too 'trivial' or of lesser importance than their other cases. Bella would be referred to the Scotland Yard—and that was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to keep the details as private as possible.

   Belladonna takes a profound look at herself, subconsciously deep in thought of what could come of today. Her brown eyes glisten with the bright white light of her vanity bulbs, a lustre glazing her pupils. Absentmindedly, she stares at herself, her conscience lingering with nothing but thoughts of the future.

    A rhythmic knock catches Bella's unconscious thought. Bella, shaken up, reverts her glance to the door. That's weird, Bella gets up from her chair, I'm not expecting anyone. Could it be Abel again? Simon?

  

   "I'll be there in a second!" Bella grabs her phone from her purse that'd been hanging from a clothing rack. She checks the time, to which it read 3:55 PM. Damn, it's late.

   With a sigh, she places her fingers on the doorknob and cautiously opens the door. The door is barely open, but she can tell there is two strong, broad chests. Curiously, she widens the interstice that separates her and the two men.

   The men, standing right before her, were none whom she knew.

    The man, on the left, wore a white button-up and a black vest. His posture was relaxed, his hands inside the pockets of his dress pants. The man, on the right of Bella, wore a polished 3-piece. The fabric of his vest was deep navy in colour, his button-up was striped and pristine, and his tie was a refined silk, a deep red. Above it all, was a heavy, sculpted dress coat that hung over his robust shoulders. Peculiarly, an arm seemed to be hiding behind his back, as if concealing something.

    Although it was impolite, she was rather compelled by his clothing—she couldn't stop herself from staring, and she hadn't yet seen their faces. What piques Bella's interest specifically is his lapel. Near his navy lapel is a brooch, a brooch of a blue rose with an intense hue. It was a beautiful rose, a rose that seemed so fresh in spite of the dry auditorium air. To Bella's curiosity, both men complimented their habiliment with the same brooch as if to insinuate their affiliation.

    From first glance, without even a look at their face, it was very evident how well-dressed these men were. However, it wasn't just their vesture that made their appearance so captivating, but rather their very aura. Something palpable radiating off of them, something so tangible. Consider it a very emanation of their preponderant, puissant presence.

    Before Bella could open her mouth to speak, realizing how impertinent she'd exhibited herself, her words are adjourned.

    "Good afternoon, madam! How does the day find you?" The man, who she had been studying so intently, finally cuts through the silence. His voice is clear, as smooth as silk.

   Finally, Bella looks up. The man she'd scrutinized the longest of both looks at her with a cunning expression, a perfectly fitting frame for his chiseled physiognomy. His eyes resembled that of sapphires. The bright, extravagant luminescence from the dressing room emits precious gems from his eyes. Even with such an alluring pair of eyes, it does not undermine the sheer amount of education expressed in them. Unconsciously, and uncontrollably, Bella is gripped onto his physical.

    Though she wants to reply to his greeting, she can't seem to get the words out.

    "Have I startled you?" The man's eyes, as blue as the brooch he had clipped on his vest, sink into his apricot skin with a chuckle that leaves his pillowed, pink lips. The man's large palm runs through his perfectly styled hair, wrecking his pristine haircut, yet seamlessly rocking the effortless look. "Or, is it that you find my face captivating?"

   "I'm sorry. . ." Bella breaks her reticence. "I didn't mean to come off as rude."

"It's quite alright!" The stranger chuckles once more. "You're quite reserved, aren't you? It's rather charming."

    In response, Bella reluctantly laughs. Although this encounter was very strange, there was no unnerving feeling that permeates her. In fact, although she was nervous, she felt comfortable. In other words, she wasn't worried for her well-being.

   "In any event," he remarks, "I'm quite thrilled to meet you like this. You are much more beautiful in person, Ms. Demie."

    "Thank you." Bella replies.

    So they know my name, Bella thinks to herself. Although that would be a reason to be alarmed for someone, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary for Bella. After all, she was an actress. Although she wasn't by any means a superstar, she did star in small films that did well in the city, and she would often get recognized for them.

   "I cannot express how lovely you look today. I almost wish I could frame you and look at you everyday." Again, the man expresses his adulation.

   "Do you want her framed dead or alive? Whatever it is, I'll make it happen, James." The young man, who has not said a word until now, breaks his silence and makes a rather strange remark as his introduction.

   Bella reverts her gaze to the other stranger, and she notes how much younger he looks from his affiliate. His face is slightly fuller, more juvenile, and is framed by a full head of brunette locks. The young man's eyes are a deep brown, almost amber when the light reflects it. Underneath his eyes are heavy-sunken circles, although it fits his demeanour. Propped in between his thin lips is a toothpick. "What do you say, James?"

    "Oh, Sebastian," the man clicks his tongue. "You're going to scare away Ms. Demie. It was a metaphor. I meant that she's so pretty that I wish I could have her as a decoration. Like roses on a bedside table."

    Although nothing but oddities have been elicited from this conversation, Bella gets a feeling they mean no harm. "Pardon me if this sounds rude," Bella clears her throat, blinking nervously. "Who might you two be?"

   "Where are my manners? How rude of me, I apologize." The man on the right extends his unoccupied hand, seeing as though there is one hand behind his back. "My name is James Moriarty."

   The two exchange a handshake, and Bella becomes cognizant of his skin, flesh that was rather cold, but soft. His grip on her palm was gentle, contradicting his authoritative demeanour. Her fingers brush against several bulky rings that adorned his fingers, encrusted by what had felt like some rough stone.

   "I'm a maths professor. I teach at the University of London." James elaborates.

    Never heard of him. Bella blinks in acknowledgment, a wavy smile framing her face.

  "This is Sebastian," James refers to his cohort. "Go on, introduce yourself to the lady."

Sebastian clears his throat, picking the toothpick out of his mouth and holding it between his pale fingers before chucking it into his breast pocket. "Sebastian Moran," the man exchanges a rather firm handshake. "Former serviceman."

"I must say, you have excellent work, Ms. Demie," James exclaims, following Sebastian's brief introduction. "Your role of Irene Adler in 'Murder Mystery' was truly unprecedented. Marvellous indeed!"

"You mean that crime drama? I remember you forgot to record it once, and you were so mad that someone ended up dead!" Sebastian laughs in amusement.

Bella assumes what he just said is a joke.

"You were cunning, witty, graceful, and clever. You almost made Irene Adler seem like a knockoff when you, Ms. Demie, were on-screen." James has expressed nothing but reverence to Bella, although it's a kind of flattery that seems genuine, and not cheap or artificial.

"Thank you, Mr. Moriarty. I really enjoyed playing Irene. She was my debut character in TV," she states, "I'm really grateful I was able to play her."

"I can see how!" James exclaims. "As you can see, I'm quite the fan. I'd like to offer you something."

With that, James moves the hand that he had hidden away behind his back during the duration of this interaction, divulging a bouquet of an assortment of bright, blue roses, the same as the one he had on his brooch. They looked so fresh, with beads of dew still on them, as if they had just been picked from a vast field. The roses were the epitome of pulchritudinous, Bella had never seen such a thing even in nature. The colour, it seemed almost unearthly.

"Thank you," Bella accepts the flowers, sauntering deeper into her dressing room and placing them inside of a wide, empty vase on her vanity. "I have to ask. . ." she ponders, "how were you able to get in? The theatre is closed all day, unless you got in at the crack of dawn."

"Why, of course, we've been here since morning. Stayed until your rehearsal ended." James says matter-a-factly.

"That can't be. . ." Bella takes a long pause and recounts the events of her day; she woke up, got to the theatre, where there was not a single soul but herself. Bella could not surmise their claim. Before she can continue her statement, she is lulled.

    "You think we're lying?" Sebastian has a smug expression plastered onto his face.

    "No, I didn't say that," her gaze trails down to the floor, verifying a lingering thought she had in her head and gleaning to support her corroboration. "It's just that your shoes are wet."

    James gives out a chortle, a hearty laugh upon Bella's examination. "It was sunny all morning," he pauses with a smile on his face, "and it's almost like we got caught in the afternoon London rain." James cedes, putting both his hands up in defeat, as if to elucidate that he'd been caught.

"Aren't you observant?" Sebastian quips.

"Oh, I am truly taken by you," James avows, "you have a truly excellent display of observation. It seems you are just as smart as you are beautiful." There's a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Truly. It makes me want to bite even more." Sebastian says this with a deep chuckle.

"You want to 'bite'? What?" Bella furrows her arched eyebrow, expressing a look of puzzlement upon acknowledging Sebastian's terse remark. Before Bella can further inquire Sebastian's obscene sense of humour, James adjusts his tie and clears his throat.

"Well, Ms. Demie, I must see you again," he takes a step back into the corridor. "Sooner, rather than later."

   The door to the dressing room slams shut in an instant, in such a swift manner that Bella cannot even begin to process what has just happened. The two men are gone, and the presence that emitted off of them left with them, too. The room seemed so much more empty and quiet.

Bella blinks several times in confusion, staring at the white wooden door in front of her. Her eyes squint in thought, her mouth agape. What on Earth just happened?

IV.

After the afternoon rain, a cold front infiltrates the humid air in London. With the cold front came a gentle breeze, a mellow wind that mollified the incongruous events that had transpired during Bella's day. She'd spent the last 20 minutes or so on a leisurely amble to her prioritized errand, and while doing so, mentally delineating the unusual details of her afternoon.

Bella's thoughts linger to her unprecedented interaction with the 2 strangers in her dressing room. She thinks about the beautiful, bright blue roses she had been gifted, and wished she had been able to take them home with her. With those men, specifically the professor, Mr. Moriarty, was an undeniably prepotent endowment.

A huff escapes Bella's glossed lips, her tresses flow through the air. She digs her hands deeper into her beige dress coat, an effort to insulate herself, in spite of her legs being exposed from her skirt. Still, her ribbed stockings provide her with a sense of snugness in the cold. Bella clutches onto her purse, opening it and rummaging through her belongings to verify the address she'd been looking for.

Bella stops in her tracks, remaining stationary and leaning against a railing that separates the walkway from a small lake. She huffs once more, looking down and retrieving a folded paper from her bag. The paper unfolded revealed a ripped piece of a tabloid, the edged rigid and coarse. From inside her bag, she takes a look at the article. She leans against the railing and rereads the contents of it, refreshing her memory. The address is highlighted in a light blue.

221B Baker Street

During Bella's perusing, her sense of smell is pervaded by a faint aroma of herbal tea. She looks up again. Ahead of her was a quaint café, it was rather busy, too. Several antiquated table set-ups lined against the building, having a perfect view of the main road and the lake behind the black railings. It was a quite cute setting to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea.

"Fancy a cup of tea, Ms. Demie?" A virile voice calls out, to Bella's surprise. The voice, as Bella follows it, leads to a table where 3 friendly, besuited young men are sat. It was the second time a stranger had referred to her by her surname.

"How ill-mannered of me," the man in the middle says. "I shouldn't have called you by your name like that." There's a friendly tone reminiscent in his voice. From first glance, it was very apparent how tall this man was, despite being seated. His hair was dark, and his skin pale. The man's companions on either side of him were both blonde with an admirable smile.

    "My name is Mycroft," he speaks again. "You're Belladonna Demie." Once more, Bella puts another name to a new face.

    "I'm flattered you recognize me, Mycroft."

    "How could he not?" The man on his right comments. "To not notice such an exceptional actress would be a crime, especially in broad daylight—where she's most radiant. My name is Arsène Lupin."

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Demie. I'm Hercule Poirot," the man on the left extremity says with a charming smile and a small wave.

    Hercule Poirot. That Belgian detective? I've seen him on the paper before, Bella thinks to herself. If she didn't know about Sherlock Holmes, she probably would've reached out to him to consult about her case. "It's nice to meet you all." Bella exchanges. "Call me Bella. I'll never get used to Ms. Demie. It feels too formal."

"Very well then, Bella," Mycroft presses his lips, analyzing her very character. "Why don't you have a seat? Considering we've introduced ourselves and whatnot."

Considering the men were so welcoming, Bella didn't feel like an imposition. In fact, she felt rather comfortable, not suffocated by flattery. She knew they were good people. Still, she felt she shouldn't waste anymore time. "Oh, I don't know. . . I have to be somewhere soon."

"Oh, I do know you're in a rush," Mycroft says, a sympathetic expression on his visage. "But, I do have some thing for you that you may find useful in this very moment. Chat over cinnamon tea? You like cinnamon, don't you?" Mycroft calls out a waiter and asks for a cinnamon tea.

How utterly strange. How could someone possibly deduce that from first glance, with less than a few sentences exchanged? It was alluring, impressive, even. "Y-yes, I do."

"Take a seat, miss! Enjoy a cup of hot tea in this cold weather. I think your company would be a perfect addition to our afternoon," Hercule adds. "I think we may have some information for you in exchange."

Reluctantly, Bella takes a seat on an unoccupied chair. Just seconds after, her cinnamon tea is placed onto the clothed table, along with a small dish of biscuits and a spoon. Her question, of how on Earth that man could know she liked cinnamon tea still remained unanswered. It all felt like some sort of magic trick.

    "Your bag." Mycroft points at Bella's leather bag, which was still open from before. He takes a swig of his black coffee whilst doing so. "You have a pack of cinnamon gum inside. You were wondering how I knew you would like cinnamon tea, didn't you?"

"That's not the only thing we can tell from her bag." Hercule quips.

    "Hercule, spare the vagueness on this poor lady. We're eating up her valuable time, aren't we?" Mycroft chastises his friend. "She needs to pay a visit to 221B."

Once more, Mycroft makes a sharp deduction. His sense of perception was keen, exceptionally refined. Bella had only just met these men, yet they read her as if it was a facile task. She expresses the shock she felt when he pinpoints her errand. ". . . How did you know that?"

    "When you were in the corner, rummaging through your purse, you seemed to have been trying to figure out your way somewhere. You referred to a paper. Specifically, an article on the London Times. It's a rather peculiar thing for a young woman to be reading," Mycroft explains. "Which is why you didn't take out the paper, but rather, you read it through your bag."

But if I never took out the paper, how could he have known? Like a book, the man is able to read her, with finesse. Bella wondered if he was a dilettante for detective work.

"You're sure you didn't take the paper from your bag out," Mycroft adds. "So, how did I know? Your face tells me that's what you want to ask. Well, for that sliver of a moment you crouched down to sit down, I was able to see you ripped out a small section from the paper. There was a photo of a rather popular case that remained unsolved until recently, and from that I didn't need to look more than that to know you were going to 221B. Not even the address you highlighted."

My Gods. Bella is at a complete loss for words.

"Oh, yeah, I know what case you're talking about," Arsène says. "The french nobility's daughter was getting married, but the groom went missing for quite some time."

"Shirley really went out of his way to solve that one," Hercule sighs. "Quite the shock since nothing piques his interest."

"Bella, you're going to hire Sherlock Holmes." Mycroft ends his spiel.

"There's the end of that soliloquy." Arsène chuckles.

To say Bella was amazed would be diminishing the emotion she felt. For the second time today, she'd been rendered unresponsive. However, this time it was from the sheer shock she felt upon this man's extraordinary faculty for figures. It seemed like she'd been a slave to his search for detail.

"Amazing! You're a brilliant mind, aren't you?!" Bella takes a sip from her tea, expressing her impression.

"You're too kind to Mycroft." Arsène laughs a hearty laugh.

"You mentioned you had something I would find of value." Bella remarks, taking a sip of her tea.

"Oh, yes," Mycroft clears his throat and presses a napkin to his lips to wipe off excess coffee, "hand me your phone."

    "My phone?"

    "You've got the default maps app, don't you? I just want to show you the way there." Mycroft explains he has no ill intent but to help.

Bella's intuition leads her to believe this man means no harm, and she has no reason to believe he'd do anything with malice from just a look at her phone. If it were anybody else, she'd tread with more caution. She trusts him. Bella hands Mycroft her smartphone. In just a moment, after a few swipes, he hands it back to her.

"Your destination is here." Mycroft points at a blue dot on a digital rendering of the map of London.

"Thank you so much!"

"I suppose you should get going. We've had you here for about 5 minutes, not too much of your time." Mycroft wears a knowing expression, satisfied with himself and the outcome of the brief conversation.

"Shame you can't enjoy some freshly-baked scones!" Arsène refers to the dish of pastries a waiter has just placed onto the table. Though they looked divine, she couldn't possibly waste anymore time.

    "Mycroft's right, she doesn't have time to relax," Hercule supposes. "No time for afternoon tea."

"Yeah, it does seem I should get going now," Bella gets up from her chair and pushes it into the table. "It was fun talking to you all. I'm happy I got to know you."

"I hope you won't be disappointed in what you may find in there." Mycroft says this with a sigh, as if he knows something she doesn't.

    "Oh! Let me pay for my tea." Bella retrieves her wallet from her purse, before Arsène makes her refrain.

    "Let me be a gentleman and pay for it," he smiles, "perhaps a dinner with you too."

     "Until next time." Hercule gives a wave goodbye, with a closed-eye, wavy smile. His blonde hair glimmers under the sun, that had now started to set. Upon that observation, Bella realizes how late it had gotten.

     "Well, I'm off. Goodbye!" Bella dismisses herself, delighted with the help and conversation she'd gotten from the friendly trio. With that, she uses her phone to guide her to her destination.

V.

It's about a quarter after 5 PM. The sun was setting, and the clouds had become to reflect the light from the horizon. Light orange hues emitted from the sky, a beautiful luminosity as a consequence for the afternoon rain. Although the day may have been nigh to an end, Bella was not yet completed with herself, despite her atypical day having her busier than usual.

Bella, with the help of the digital map Mycroft had set up, was able to reach her destination without getting lost in the vast array of streets in London. However, she had found herself loitering in front of the London residence. She'd come so far that she wasn't going to stop herself from going in, but she was still trepidatious, the lingering feeling of her trip being in vain made her feel tense. Intrusive thoughts of rejection worried her.

Don't be disappointed. Anything can happen. Bella responds to the mental thought of her case being shunned.

Bella exhales, trying to muster up courage to knock while observing the building in front of her. It was three stories, with a flat right beneath it. The residence was connected to several others, however, the architecture suggesting everything directly up and straight belonged to the detective. Embellishing every window, stacked on every story, was a container of flowers, a small garden of green. On the floor above the flat, was a balcony, composed of an intricate black railing and more flowers. The domicile seemed sophisticated, dapper in appearance.

It's now or never, Bella. Composing herself, Bella saunters over to the ingress of the building. The door is black, a glossy paint, she can almost make out her distorted reflection. The frame is rectangular, rounded at the crown. Reluctantly, Bella reaches for the copper door-knocker, her attempt to refrain from being abient. Her warm fingers touch the cool surface of the door-knocker, but before she could knock, she hears an extrinsic speaker.

"Oh, no! Did Sherlock keep you waiting, dear?" A mature, coarse voice calls out from behind Bella.

Bella turns around in response, inquisitive in the source. It's an elderly woman, a convivial expression on her aged mien. "I don't know what I'm going to do with him," she sighs, "how long have you been waiting for, dear?"

"Oh, actually, I was just about to knock." Bella felt discomfit rushing in her, her cheeks going red when she realized the old dame had likely seen her dallying and assumed that she'd been forced to wait. "Do you live here?"

   "'Do I live here?' Aha! I'm the landlord, dear," the elderly woman explains, approaching the door with a ring of keys. "I live next door."

   "I see," Bella enunciates. "Well, I'm here to talk with Mr. Holmes. I'd like to hire him, you see. I'm hoping he's interested in my case."

  "In that case," the elderly woman smiles, her wrinkled skin does not cut her juvenile emotion short. "Welcome to 221B. The boys call me Mrs. Hudson."

  "The boys?"

   Mrs. Hudson has unlocked the door and pushed it open. "The boys. Sherlock and Watson, dear," she explains with a discreet tone. "Come in."

   Watson, Bella thinks to herself, I think I read about him in the paper. He's Mr. Holmes' assistant.

Warily and with circumspect, Bella steps into the ingress of the hearth. Posthaste the door slamming shut, the ambience that carried over Bella outside pendulates to a warmer one. The scent of the breadth is woody, redolent to that of cedar. The interior of the edifice presents itself with an antiquated yet pleasant style, the walnut mahogany walls daubed with an intricate, vermillion wallpaper. The vestibule was spacious, a welcoming entrance. Before the front door was a staircase, the corridor that fared the voices that were upstairs to the first floor.

   "Lestrade, you idiot! How could you possibly have this overlooked? My Gods, the Scotland Yard is useless! What do you even do?! Use up valuable taxpayer dollars?!"

   A commotion from upstairs penetrates through the observation that had kept Bella so absorbed. She looks up at the stairs, to which Mrs. Hudson gives a quiet laugh, and says, "I hope you won't be disappointed by what you find today." That was the second time she'd heard those exact words today.

   "Watson, tell Sherlock to calm down. 'Else I'll assign someone else on this case."

  "For the last time, Lestrade, I'm not Sherlock's mother, nor am I his father. Not even the Queen herself could strip him of the arrogance he has."

   "You wouldn't even think about having someone else on this case, George. The Scotland Yard couldn't be less oblivious to any crime networks going on in the cesspool of London. How could you even contemplate replacing me?! To have another idiot overlook such a crucial part of the autopsy?"

    Several voices reverberate in the domicile, voices Bella can't put a face to. Suddenly, an anxious emotion pervades Bella, and she turns to shoot Mrs. Hudson a glance. "It seems they're a little busy. I can come back another time."

   "Nonsense. You see, they're always chatting up a storm like this." Mrs. Hudson clicks her tongue, her voice is brimmed with unconcern. "Boys! Stop arguing! You've got a guest."

   Following Mrs. Hudson's yell, Bella can't help but feel like an imposition. She fidgets with the backings of her earrings, a futile attempt to control the desperation that fills her. With a deep breath, she relaxes herself. Mrs. Hudson motions her up the stairs, and Bella acquiesces.

In the loft, the entire atmosphere is switched. It was a complete juxtaposition from downstairs, instead of being warm and welcoming, was contemporaneous to chaos and disarray. The lounge room, or rather, the office, had several items strewn about the space, disorder defining the character. In the middle of the study was a hearth, a dark mahogany fireplace with a dimly lit fire. On either side of the fireplace, in the center, were two leather chairs. A window, barely covered by a curtain, released a stream of sunlight into the room and reflected onto the intricate red patterns of the wallpaper, hints of gold adorning it. The office was mounded with books, literary works on the shelves of the walls.

    Ambulating about the room were two men, whilst one sat at an escritoire. However, once Bella's presence had been acknowledged, their quarrel had came to a stop. Knowingly, and not wanting to exhibit herself as brusque, Bella takes the opportunity to introduce herself.

   "Hello," she waves a small wave. "My name is Belladonna Demie."

   Mrs. Hudson, not saying a word until now, dismisses herself. "I'll make you all some tea while you talk things out."

    The man on the right of Bella wastes no time to extend his hand. His face, is carved wonderfully and to perfection. His skin is pale but golden, and his hair is flaxen and with a fitting coiffure. He's suited in a dark brown suit, except without the coat. The man's air lingered with tranquility and cordiality. "It's nice to meet you, Belladonna," he smiles, his white dentition framing his visage, he looked leonine. "I'm John Watson. Feel free to call me John."

   Bella and John exchange a brief handshake, their eyes meeting and acknowledging the establishment of a standard familiarity. His eyes are amber, resembling that of a jasper. His physique is strong, bigger than the rest of the men in the room, however, it doesn't look vulgar, it looks fitting to his masculinity. It was impossible to deny his endowment in appearance.

   "It's a pleasure to meet you John. Just call me Bella, I much prefer it," she says, "I believe I read that you're the assistant, aren't you?"

   "The pleasure is all mine!" a small chuckles escapes his lips. "Well, I do suppose I've become an assistant. The papers write me out to be that way. I'm actually a doctor. I work as a physician at the local clinic."

  "I see. So you're a Dr. Watson."

"May I take your coat? It's quite warm here," John offers, immediately approaching from behind Bella. Her beige coat is slipped off her back, and she is suddenly reduced to her brown skirt and cream cardigan. Her modest jewelry is exposed, a breeze of warmth immediately grazing against her chest.

    Following John's statement, the man next to him takes a few steps forward, extending his hand to Bella. "George Lestrade."

George's appearance is more aged than that of John's. His jaw had a grey stubble, with an indentation in his chin. Grey hairs had already begun to sprout on his head of hair. He wore a navy trench coat with the buttons lazily put on. In the centre of his chest was a brown lanyard, which read George Lestrade with a photo of him.

   "He may not look like it," John says, "but he's an inspector at the Scotland Yard."

   "Could've left out the part where you said 'he may not look like it.'"

  "It's nice to meet you, Inspector." Bella makes out the man who had not said a word through this interaction, he sat on the escritoire with a brooding demeanour. He wore a white button-up with a black vest, his tie was a plaid navy blue. His visage is clouded with the darkness of the corner, exhibiting himself as arcane. Through the process of elimination, she supposed that was Sherlock Holmes.

  "By the way. . ." the inspector scratches the back of his head, "have we met before?"

   John, immediately bears a look of disapproval on his visage. ". . .It's only been 5 minutes, George. Anyone can see where you're trying to take this."

  "No, I mean it! It wasn't me trying to come on to her, I really have seen you somewhere, Bella!"

   Bella, about to mention the fact she's a rather common face on local London TV, is interrupted by John's realization that he had seen her somewhere, too. ". . .You're right. Now that you mention it, I've seen her somewhere, too."

    Before Bella could explain that she's an actress, the words are taken out of her mouth and thrown onto the ground.

    "You've come to hire me? I'm quite busy today, so if it's less than trivial, I'll send you off," the man on the escritoire whom had not said a word until this very moment breaks his reticence with a brusque remark. Suddenly, the welcoming environment is cut through with a knife, replaced with a tension that was palpable. He gets up, a quiet creak following, striding on over to Bella. "You must know, I value my time."

   Feeling reduced to an infant, Bella parts her lips to speak. Again, like clockwork, the words are taken out of her mouth and thrown onto the floor.

    "Let us review," the man paces around the room, his hands inside his vest pocket attempting to look for something. He produces a cigarette from the aperture, setting fire to the butt of it and placing it on his lips. "You're an actress. You've been acting since a very young age. You're preparing for a lead role at this moment, a role you're nervous for."

    "Maybe that's where I've seen her. . .!" Inspector Lestrade comes to a realization.

   Well, anyone who watches TV can know I'm an actress. Bella does not express any amusement to his observation.

"You're Turkish by birth. You came to London in pursuit of work," he takes a puff of his cigarette, "you have Egyptian roots. You're religious."

    Maybe that's a little harder for him to know, Bella thinks to herself. There was really no way to research her background, so it was more than a startle to Bella he'd been able to deduce such a thing. Before she thinks anything else, she listens attentively. Suddenly, she'd encountered an interest in someone recounting the mundane details of her life.

   "You just had cinnamon tea. Specifically from the Crescent Café a few blocks from here." Sherlock attests.

   "Wait, Sherlock, I think I know where I've seen her!" John exclaims, "She was in—"

   "You're with 3 strangers. You're used to being around strangers, yet you're nervous now. You're hiding it, yet the smile on your face looks natural and not timid," he continues, "you don't like exhibiting yourself as shy, or nervous."

   "You breathe from your abdomen. It's why your chest doesn't rise or fall, you were taught that since you were a child."

   "It's a surprise to see you here, Bella, looking for Sherlock of all people," John wears a smile on his face, realizing finally where he'd seen her. "You must know, Sherlock is a fan of 'Murd—"

"You're modest," he continues, interrupting John again. "You don't wear expensive clothing, for the most part, and your jewelry is from your family," he blows out another puff of grey smoke and the room is daubed with an effluvium of menthol. "The symbols on your necklace," he insinuates to the pendant that fell between Bella's bosom, "it's an Ankh—a customary Egyptian religious symbol. It's a rather peculiar pendant for a woman in London to be wearing. It's gold, like your other jewelry, not because of wealth, but because of culture."

    It seemed Sherlock was explaining the observations that led him to his deductions. With keen interest, Bella listens, making no interruptions. "Your other necklace has a blue eye as a pendant. That's the Nazar Boncuk, an amulet known to 'thwart' the bad energies from people by absorbing them. Although it doesn't come from Turkey, and it can be traced back to Ancient Italy and some parts of Asia, it is Turkey's most popular souvenir and tradition. It's not a big pendant, nor one that's very visible, but from the light reflecting it, I can notice the blue gemstones forming the pattern of a blue eye, despite the primarily gold component."

    So that's how he knew I was Turkish, instinctively, Bella places her fingers on her pendant and fondles it as she continues to hearken to Sherlock's immaculate faculties of observation.

"Your bag is half-open, and there's a script visible. It's wrinkled, worn out, probably because you've been reading it every opportunity you can because it's a big role and you're careful not to mess up on any lines. You're nervous about it, that's why so many pages have the ears folded throughout the distribution of the pages. On the spine of the script, is the title of the play. You're playing the heroine of 'The Phantom of the Opera.'"

The detective pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and chucks the decay and presses on it with his foot. He puts down the cigarette on an ashtray atop the fireplace. "You stopped by the Crescent Café and had cinnamon tea. The Crescent Café happens to be the only place in London to serve Ceylon cinnamon, a strain of cinnamon grown in the fields of Sri Lanka. You carried that aroma with you."

It became very clear, that despite the imperious and haughty that lingers in his voice, there was an unfettered extraordinary mental power he was endowed with. With just the power of sense, visual and olfactory, he is able to retell the characteristics of someone and their exact steps. It was magnificent, unprecedented.

    "I suppose I did make the right choice coming here." Bella says nothing more.

"You just now realized that?" Sherlock scoffs.

"What Sherlock meant to say is, 'I'm glad you think so.'" John corrects his companion, adding humanity to his statement.

    Mrs. Hudson comes into the room carefully holding a tray with an arrangement of dishes. In the center is a porcelain teacup, releasing a pleasant aroma of herbal tea. "Have a seat, Bella," she insists, setting the tray down on a coffee table in the middle of the two chairs. "Come here." Bella sits on one of the leather seats, following Mrs. Hudson.

    "You too, Sherlock," the woman says, "I made peppermint tea. Your favourite." The landlady talks to Sherlock with a low tone, displaying her respect and familiarity. It almost seemed kin-like, like a grandmother talking to her grandson. Shortly, she leaves the room.

With no protest, Sherlock seats himself onto the leather chair in front of Bella, on his side of his back faced the pouring sunlight. He reaches for a small teacup, treating himself to the peppermint contents inside the teapot. For a moment, he's silent, his eyes closed taking a sip of his tea. Not ambulating across the room anymore, finally stationary, Bella is able to get a better look at his appearance.

    Sherlock's shoulders are sinewy, his build robust and fitting to his tall frame. His physiognomy was chiseled, a masculinity that contrasts to the softness of his appearance. His cheekbones were carved, the highest point complimented with the light that met it. His eyes, were a light, iced cerulean. It was a timid blue, an iciness that characterized himself. His lips, now wet with tea, were a soft pink that were pillowed, a keyhole effect. His coiffure was black, a deep obsidian hue, combed untidily, yet he wore it nicely. He was an attractive man, his prepossessing figure was yet another endowment to his many brilliant gifts.

"I've shown you the extent of what I can do," he gloats, "I would rather not waste anymore time and would like you to discuss the matter of today's visit. What is the matter of today’s visit?”

"Of course," Bella clears her throat and reaches for her purse. She retrieves a plethora of white envelopes, passing them to the detective before her.

    Sherlock shuffles through the documents, before passing them back to John who'd been standing behind his chair. John studies the papers, a wary expression on his visage.

"'Give up the play or there will be the most dire consequences.'" John says, "'Give up the role, or you will regret it.' Christ, how have you been going to rehearsal with this? I'd be looking after my back. All the notes have the same handwriting, so naturally it's from the same person."

"They were always in my dressing room," she explains, "but that's not all."

"It's not?" John asks.

"A little while ago, one of my dear friends passed away," she continues, "it was ruled an accidental death by the autopsy. She'd died in a car accident. Her name was Flora."

   "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It's quite alright," she says. "The point I'm getting to is that she was also performing a play sponsored by the same people this play is being sponsored by."

"And, you think those things may be related?" Sherlock inquires.

"To be honest," she sighs, "I have no idea. It's been a lingering thought of mine ever since I've gotten these notes. Not to mention, it doesn't help the fact that I have no idea who the main patron for this play is. Anyway, Flora was also playing a main role. She never mentioned any threatening notes to me, but I was thinking it might've been because she was scared to."

"These people funding this event, do they have a company?" John asks.

"They're anonymous. My agent, Simon, got me this role because they whoever funded this play looked for me specifically," she sighs, "frankly, Dr. Watson, I feel that my life has been overtaken by strange, intangible little details that could very well lead to nothing. But, I do know one thing, which is that I am being threatened over this role that I refuse to jeopardize."

    "I'm afraid I've got my hands full." Sherlock clears his throat.

    "Come on, Sherlock, you're so bored you've started to shoot bullets at the walls." John reclaims, glancing over at the wall behind him which had been slightly dilapidated with holes remnant of gunpowder. He closes his eyes and frowns. "Much to the dismay of Mrs. Hudson."

    Sherlock says nothing in response. He settles himself deeper into his chair, taking another sip of the peppermint tea that had now gotten lukewarm.

    Bella bites at the inside of her lip, accepting the defeat the end of the day had come to. It seemed the prescient conversation with Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft had foreshadowed the events occurred. They mentioned Sherlock was critical of his cases, and almost nothing piqued his interest. Although Bella was disappointed, she was not surprised. Sherlock was implacable. That's that.

"Well, I'm disappointed you won't take my case," she explains, clutching at her purse, "but the reason I came here was because I'm not giving up this role no matter what, and I hoped I could get this issue resolved. But, even still, I'm not going to let these notes stop me. I will ensure this production is a success, and I refuse to put my role in jeopardy."

Sherlock sighs an exasperated sigh, his gaze finally meeting Bella's.

"In any event," Bella gets up, "I'll be on my way out."

"No, please sit," John protests. "Sherlock, are you sure about this?"

Sherlock says nothing.

"Bella, how about talking with the Scotland Yard about this?" Inspector Lestrade commiserates.

   ". . .I want to keep this as quiet as possible." Bella explains why she'd sought after private detectives rather than the police department.

   "You think someone on the inside may be responsible." John exclaims.

    ". . .Maybe. I also don't know who it is I'm dealing with. I also don't want to publicize my bestfriend's death, or sensationalize any of this." Bella explains.

   "That's more of a reason to talk to Scotland Yard."

   Sherlock, saying nothing more, gets up, retrieving his coat from the coat stand. "I'll need you to show me where you hold your rehearsals."

   "Congratulations, Bella," John exclaims. "You finally got to him."

    "We must start where the incident occurred," Sherlock says, "and looking for clues in the dressing room is indispensable."

   "My Gods, thank you so much, Mr. Holmes!" Bella exclaims, filled with alacrity. "Really, thank you!"

   "Don't misunderstand," he quips, "I haven't accepted your case yet."

   "I know," Bella says, with a smile. "I'm just really happy you agreed to take a look and offer me your time."

    Sherlock, almost fighting off a smile, wears an indiscernible expression on his visage. "Very well then. I'm sure the answer to this matter will take no longer than 1 hour to be uncovered."

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐃

//A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

i'm extremely glad i was able to wrap this first chapter up. this really is just the beginning, and a way for me to establish some of the main characters. yes i know i took off jack stillman but i just don’t like him😣 maybe i’ll put him back idk 🥹

if this is well received, i will be more than happy to continue my writing :) i just hope this reaches the small, niche audience i want it to reach.

anyways

thank you for reading!

blessed be.

[therealpontius]

Are you mad at me?

Plot: chris is mad but mad at what or who you dont know

Warnings: angst/inappropriate subjects/ upsetting themes

"Hey baby welcome home!" You welcomed chis, arms open wide waiting for a cuddle "Yeah..." instead he just took off his shoes and gave you a small hug “whats wrong babe?” “Nothing, nothing” he twaddled upstairs leaving you confused and scared incase you had done something “oh well he would never keep anything from me, probably just in a weird mood” you whispered to yourself, walking to the kitchen to continue making the tacos you where serving for dinner.

An hour later the tacos were almost done and you hadnt seen chris, maybe he just needed some alone time, you thought. “Chris baby! Tacos!” You waited with a smile expecting chris to gallop down the stairs with a smile on his face. Slowly he appeared with no expression, his eyes caught yours and he gave you a loose, sarcastic smile.

You two sat down on the table in silence, the fear of him being upset killing you “so um, hows your day been?” He looked up at you from his food “alright” he mumbled, stuffing his taco in his mouth. You couldnt help but smile at how cute he looked “yours?” He asked quitley “yeah good babe thanks! Work wasnt that busy today. I got alot of…” he looked up at you like he was bored so you decided to stop “sorry i got side tracked”

The rest of dinner was silent and you couldnt push the lump in your throat aside, chris only got weird like this rarely but it never got better. “Ill get the dishes” he mumbled once you finished eating “thanks baby”. You watched him wash them slowly “baby?” “Hm?” His eyes met yours in the window reflection “are you okay?” He just nodded and continued washing, you walk over to him at wrap your arms around his waist, cuddling into his back “i love you” you spoke into his back so that it could vibrate the skin, it always made him giggle but this time he never did, still just washing the dishes “love you too” “clearly” this was the first time you really spoke back to him and you kinda got embarrassed afterward, walking up to your shared room to isolate yourself from him.

Another two hours had gone by and he sat in the living room watching the tv while you watched the tv in the bedroom on the phone to your best friend pam “has he got any female co workers?” “Not that i know of…” you thought, mind racing “when was the last time you had sex?” “Like two days ago and he was just how he usually is” “good?” “PAM.. yes” you both giggled like he wasnt your long term boyfriend “i say you seduce him, wear something skimpy and tease him untill hes begging for you to fuck him” your face soured at her speaking so dirty but at the same time she mightve been right “pam i hate to admit it, i think i might do that” she giggled “honestly girl DO IT, call me tommorow and update me” “okay love you bye” you flipped your phone shut and instantly go to your drawers.

You slipped on a black lacy two peace he got you for your two year anniversary and over it you put on a white, short crop top, light brown, short denim skirt and to finish off white thigh high socks.

“Deep breaths” you told your self walking down the wooden stairs, flirting and being sexy wasnt your strong point. You entered the living room to chris lying back watching terminator, his head darted to you instantly but he tried to act like he couldnt care less. “Going out?” “No just felt like dressing up” you say quietly snuggling up to his arm that rested behind his head. You smiled against him, he may be pissed but he never failed to make you smile. 30 minutes passed and you made yourself cosy on him, facing him lying against his chest, his legs sat between yours yet he still kept his arms behind his head like he would be poisoned if he hugged you back.

You let out a yawn against his chest and he looked down at you, a small smile creeping up on his face thinking of how cute you looked “tired?” He said in a monotone voice “a little” “you can go to be-“ “no i wanna stay with you” at this point you gave up on trying to seduce him, you didnt even try you just wanted to cuddle him. Lightly he flumped his arms around you like he was against the idea of cuddling but was warming up, you were never sure why he got like this sometimes but you didnt really care it was still him.

You woke up to chris turning the tv off, he noticed you blinked your eyes open “bed time” voice much softer than it has been. He lifted you up with ease and carried you in a cuddle to your shared room, your eyes still blinking to try wake up. He placed you on the bed and sat opposite from you taking off his shirt before laying in bed facing away from you. Softly you tap his shoulder and he turns his body to face you “yeah?” “Are you mad at me?” You felt like a little kid, “no? Baby im not mad why?” “Well youve been really quite, you made me feel really shitty tonight” you didnt sound mad and you werent you were just sad, his face dropped and he looked so upset with him self . Instantly he pulled you into a tight hug “chris?” You ask in worry, he just starts kissing your cheek “im sorry honey” you giggled alittle at his kisses starting to tickle “i had a really shit day at work i didnt mean to take it out on you” “you wanna know why im dressed up?” “Why?” He says, still holding you into his chest “i was going to try seduce you” you both started giggling, it was a ongoing joke between you two bc you couldnt flirt or seduce or anything because you were too akward, that was his job. “Well if you get a good nights rest i have the day off tommorow, maybe you could try some of that seducing in the morning?” He let out a devious giggle making you laugh along “sure thing solider” he turned you round so he was spooning you “now get to bed honey” he demanded “yes monkey”…

[lovely-renard]

Night time with them ♡

Featuring : Akaashi, Suna, Osamu, Kenma, Iwaizumi, Bokuto

A/N: back at it again with soft, kind off domestic boys <3

Night time with him are...

AKAASHI - cozy and relaxing. After a hard day where Akaashi spent the most of his time hunched above his desk, reading and re-reading the same pages over and over again to obtain the best version of it, he needs a moment to relax and cut himself from the adult life. And he much prefers to do it with you by his side. When the sun is long gone, Akaashi prepares for the both of you a drink (cold or hot, depends of your mood and the season), settles himself next to you in bed and just watch you do what you want. You could be reading, scrolling through your phone, watching a movie on your laptop or doing last-minute work, Akaashi just needs a moment to take his mind off work while doing nothing. He often falls asleep with his head atop yours, arms snaked around your middle as if you were his personnal teddy bear. Something you don't mind at all.

SUNA - lazy but comfortable. Is it suprising that Suna, pro player, is quite tired at the end of the day? Tho, he can't bear the thought of going to bed too early without spending at least an hour with you. He's already spending a lot of time away from you and as much as he dies to finally get some rest, nothing will keep him away longer from you. After eating silently in your company, Suna just lays down on your lap, putting on a chill playlist and asks you to speak about your day. He doesn't want to speak about his "boring and same day as always" (his words), he much prefers to listen to your voice as you comb his hair. It puts him at ease and allows him to realease the tension from the day, all the while admiring the view from your lap : you.

BOKUTO - playful and full of laughter. Does this man ever tires himself? Well it seems not since every night, he comes home full of energy even if he practiced all day. You bet he's going to find way to make you laugh while you're eating dinner with him, be it by cracking jokes he heard recently, telling a story about his day, even re-acting some scenes with different voices (he's that invested) or simply adding his own two-cents when you talk about your day. His playful energy follows him when you're both preparing for bed. He's singing (off key but we'll keep that aside) with a toothbrush in his hand, tickling you while you're putting cream on your face and drumming (gently) on your butt. You can bet you're falling asleep with a smile on your face and it makes you wonder if he's not doing all of this so you end your day with a touch of humor and a good laughter.

OSAMU - timeless and warm. Osamu is fully capable of staying awake until the ungodly hour of the night just to spend time in your company. After a whole day of cooking and serving a large range of customers, Osamu just wants to cuddle with you while watching whatever you want on TV. While you make some pop-corn (he's not touching anything in the kitchen, your command), he whines and asks you to speed up the pace as if you had the power to accelerate the time of the microwave. When you got the pop-corn in a bowl and two bottles of soda in your other hand, you stroll back to the living room, diving in the awaiting arms of your lover after putting down the stuff on the coffee table. Time flies when you're watching an old re-run movie with Osamu and before you know it, it's already past 1 AM. You both have work tomorrow (well today) but you're feeling warm here, between his legs. Neither of you moves, resulting in falling asleep on the sofa, something you kinda regret the next morning because of the pain in your back and neck but Osamu's sleepy face make it up for it.

KENMA - spent awake until the early hours of the day. It's no surprise to anyone that Kenma loves to play games, be it on his PC or his switch. What may be surprising tho is that, even after hours of stream where he sat on the same chair to the point his ass and back hurt, he still wants to play but with you this time. And that's how you spent your night (and early morning), playfully pushing the others to win the first place in Mario Kart, exploring the map of Breath of the Wild or building a house for both of your characters in Minecraft. Those activities also includes a bunch of snacks shared and scattered across the room, some calm, lowkey lo-fi music and cuddles, the last one being a must. It's not before the sun only begins to rise that sleep finally caught you and Kenma, falling asleep in a mess of limbs but hands somehow interlocked.

IWAIZUMI - short but oh so sweet. Iwaizumi takes his health and yours very seriously. You can't except him to stay awake for hours on a week day, not when both of you need to attend your job the next day. Even if you insist, he won't agree : you're going to bed early and will be grateful tomorrow morning. But even if during those night time, nothing extravagant happens, he makes sure you enjoy it nonetheless : he cooks dinner with you, asks about your day and listen attentively to everything you have to say, helps you with your skin routine if you have one and mostly cuddles you to death sleep, kissing every two minutes your temple until you fall asleep. Because, yes, he waits for you to join dreamland before he can join you. Night times with him may seem dull, boring even but truthfully, they're great, full of love and little attentions.

[raggaraddy]

Mouthy

Prompt: You say to Yandere BTS "Oh my god! Just shut up!"

A/N: Couldn't sleep, so I wrote this laying in bed. I hope it's not some sleep-deprived nonsense ^-^

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, emotional manipulation, choking, non-con, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic.

Alpha! Namjoon

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You scream it through your bedroom doorway. Storming to the railing of the stairs, you lean over and scream again. "Shut up!"

The sea of people on the ground floor go quiet. Only the music dares to keep making a sound in the background. You skulk back to your room, slamming the door loudly behind you. You had had a long, disappointing day. You were tired and grumpy, and moody and sad. But the dozens of uninvited pack members couldn't care less as their party raged on into the night.

Not allowing you enough time to even climb back into bed, Namjoon storms after you to address your outburst.

"Y/n, go downstairs right now and apologize." He orders.

"No." you mope. Feeling it's a wildly unfair request. All these people are in your house making so much noise when you're trying to sleep. How is it you that's in the wrong?

"Do you think I am asking you? I'm telling you. Get downstairs now." He says sternly. His strict tone making you even more emotional. You just wanted him to be on your side for this.

"But- But I," you sniffle, with tears in your eyes.

"No," Namjoon cuts you off. "I've asked you all afternoon what's wrong. And you wouldn't tell me. So right at this moment, I don't want to hear it. You have been disrespectful to me and my people. So you are going to put some more clothes on and cover-up, and you will go out there and apologize to every single person." He growls, leaving no room to argue. "And you will do it sincerely, or I will give you something to cry about."

King! Seokjin

You didn't say it to his face. You would never be that stupid. But still, you clearly weren't smart enough. While gossiping to a friend, someone you thought was a confidant, you're complaining about a seemingly endless, boring meeting you had to serve today.

"And I just wanted to tell all of them; Oh my god! Just shut up!" You laugh. 

But hours later it's no longer a laughing matter.

"How did you enjoy serving me today, Princess?" Jin asks his tone giving nothing away of what he already knows.

"I enjoyed it. Thank you, your Majesty" You politely smile, thinking his question to be a kindness.

"I often find these meetings so dull. Many of the Lords do like to ramble on. Sometimes I would enjoy telling all of them to just shut up." He speaks the words so purposefully that you know at once you've been exposed.

"My Lord, I-"

"If you are smart you will not say another word." He speaks softly, with a grin on his face. "I want to thank you, Y/n.  I have an endless supply of other people I can hurt. Each one of them is freely at my disposal, but you are my favourite toy." He fills the space in front of you. "However, I am a man of my word. I swore to you that you will be unharmed if you are obedient, and I would not dare to break this vow. Of course, I have sorely missed playing with my beloved little dol, though."

Towering over you he sets off your instinct to get to your knees and grovel, begging his forgiveness for your carelessness. But that would only be a wasted effort.

"So thank you, Princess, for giving me the possibility to hear your pretty cries of pain again. I will make sure to use this opportunity to its fullest."

Assassin! Yoongi

He had been in a hyper mood for 2 days straight. His energy and enthusiastic interaction was something you always craved, but you had never dealt with it this long before and you were losing your sanity and your composure.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You shout at him as your last nerve snaps.

"Okay, Y/n." He gives little to no reaction. "Remember you said this in a month from now when you're begging me to speak to you."

But it didn't take a month. In two weeks you were in tears apologizing. He left you free to roam the house, but he revoked all communication from you. The only times he gave you any attention, was when he forcibly made you stop doing something he didn't like. Or when he wanted you for sex. But still, he wouldn't utter a single word, only bending you over to take what he wanted.

After 5 weeks, just as you thought you'd never hear his voice again, he finally broke his silence. Only to break your heart.

"Listening to you these past few weeks, I realise how much you talk. It's time you take your own advice and shut up. Y/n, I don't want to hear a sound out of you until I say. 5 weeks was easy enough for me. So let's start with that, and then I'll see if I want to hear from you yet."

Vampire! Hoseok

Hoseok was always so animated. Normally it didn't bother you, but he was talking and reacting through yet another movie and you were sick of it. It might have been because you were PMSing or maybe because Hoseok had forgotten to feed you all day, but when he yelled at the TV, you yelled at him.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" And right away you were teeming with regret.

"I'm sorry baby. Am I being too loud?" He laughs with an unexpectedly harmless reply. Playfully but roughly slapping his hand on your thigh. "I'll keep it down."

You're not dumb enough to think that your eruption would go unanswered. So you sit tensely, anxiously waiting to see how he will repay you.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear, after sitting in silence for 20 minutes. "You know I have very strong hearing right?" You nod nervously. Chewing your lip. "Well, your breathing is too loud and very distracting. I can hardly hear the movie. Can you please fix that?"

You know this is going to lead to something horrible, but you have no choice but to do as he says. For the next 10 minutes, you're completely distracted trying to inhale and exhale as softly and shallowly as possible.

"Hmm baby, it's really too much. I can't concentrate on the film." He stands, pulling his belt off. "Here let me help you."

He wraps his belt around your neck, pulling and setting it so tight that it's biting into your skin. Your throat constricting, barely letting you breathe.

As you wheeze and splutter and cough, he holds the end like a leash. Sitting back on the couch, he turns his focus back to the movie without letting you loosen the strap or get away. Your whole body is shaking, your eyes starting to roll back as you struggle to inhale. The belt is cruelly not tight enough to have you pass out though. Only allowing you to sit in your suffering. The sound of your gasping filling the room.

"Ahh, there you go baby. That's much better. Don't worry, it's just while we're watching movies. And there's only two more left in the trilogy."

Playboy! Jimin

He was telling you over and over how sorry he was. How he didn't mean to kiss that girl. That he was drinking. And that she kissed him. It was every excuse and lie he had spouted 100 times before.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You yelled at him. And for a moment it worked. He sat in stunned silence. But as you got off the bed to leave, taking your car keys with you, he chased after you.

"Where are you going?"

"Out Jimin. I need some time alone to think." You scowl.

But he refuses, blocking the door. Holding his arms to either side to barricade you in.

"No, you can't leave! I said I'm sorry."

"Fuck off Jimin, your apologies mean nothing." You say shoving him.

He doesn't accept that. With a roar, he grabs your shoulders throwing you down onto the bed. Quickly straddling you, using far too much force to keep you pinned beneath him. Tearing off the pillowcases, he makes some shoddy but effective restraints. Tying you to the bars on the headboard.

Ignoring your screams and how you struggle he starts to kiss down your neck, pulling at your clothes, rubbing his hands down your body.

"I'm gonna make you feel good Y/n. I'll show you that I only want you, then you'll have to forgive me." He says sounding desperate and unhinged.

You cry and yell for him to stop, trying to buck him off you, but his hand covers your mouth, his other successfully tearing down your panties from under your dress.

"Don't fight me, Angel. Just let me in. And I'll prove I love you the most."

Dom! Taehyung

Finally, Taehyung had agreed to spend some time with you in a social environment. He and you went out to a movie and dinner with some of your friends. They were vanilla friends though, so as an exception, for the day he loosened a lot of the restrictions and formalities you normally had in place.

You, however, you were getting a little too relaxed. While you joked with you're friends, you started to speak to him the same manner. As you and he were playfully arguing about trivia facts you realized you were losing the debate.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You joke. But in the company of your friends or not, Taehyung was not about to let you disrespect him. Even in jest.

"Is that how you should talk to me girl?" He asks loudly and in front of everyone, bringing the group conversation to a grinding halt.

His change in tone and his use of the possessive pet name, right away have you back in your place.

"No," you whisper. The sting of embarrassment hot upon your cheeks.

"No, what?" He pushes it.

You can't stand to look up. All of the attention is on the two of you. And even in your peripheral, you can see your friends looking at you judgementally, wide-eyed and in shock.

And he was making it worse by having you use his title around them.

"No, Sir." you surrender, your head hung low.

"Shouldn't you also apologise to the other people at the table? For interrupting our night with your rudeness." He keeps piling on one shame after the other. Stretching out the ordeal.

"No, it's fine." One of your friends tries to laugh off the awkwardness and speed the discussion away from this point. "She doesn't have to."

"Y/n," He prompts you, disregarding what your friend had said.

Thoroughly humiliated, you can't imagine how you are going to repair these relationships or explain this treatment away.

"I'm sorry for interrupting the night with my rudeness." you swallow heavily, hands shaking.

"Good girl. Now mind your mouth. Before you make me embarrass you further."

Mafia! Jungkook

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" you say in a hushed voice. More of a prayer said to yourself than an actual demand you expected Jungkook to hear.

"What did you just say to me?" he lowers the phone, gawking at you.

You really didn't mean to, it just slipped out. He was talking on the phone, going into too graphic detail about how he and his men dealt with a threat recently. You couldn't handle the gruesome details he was recanting anymore and the words just fell out.

"What did you just say? Did you just tell me to shut up?" He repeats again through your nonreply. His tongue running through the inside of his cheek, his jaw and muscles tensing. His voice jumping rapidly from stunned to aggressive.

You're at home alone with him, so you weren't paying much mind to what you were saying. But this afternoon he's been dealing with work. And right now he isn't Kookie, no the person in front of you is Jeon Jungkook. The temperamental Mafia head, who would as likely hit you as he would speak to you.

"I'm sorry," you squeak.

"You're sorry?" He scoffs, slamming the phone down. "If you had said it and meant it, that would be one thing. I could respect that. But you really just can't control your stupid little mouth can you."

"I-" you start a defence, or more a plea for mercy.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growls leaning forward in his seat making you flinch back. Darting his hand out he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back to where you were. "Don't flinch. I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help you." He smiles.

You wriggle in his clutches, mewling the same trifle apologies under your breath.

"Shhh, my brainless little Kitten. I'm gonna give you a gift." He smirks. "For your own safety, you don't need to talk for the rest of the day. I just need you to come when I call. Sit on my lap when I tell you. And purr for me like a good little pussy." Grabbing your arm harshly, he yanks you off your chair and onto the ground. "There you go, where you belong." He laughs. "You think you can remember to do all that? I know you can. Otherwise, I'll buy you a kat collar to remind you how my Kitten should behave."

[broadstbroskis]

no better company than you | nathan mackinnon

a/n: alright, i’m rolling in late for @antoineroussel oussel summer exchange (thank you love, for running such a lovely exchange again, it was wonderful and i’m glad i was able to particiapte) and i’m very sorry for the lateness! i had the pleasure of writing for the lovely @ghstandpucks​ 💜 again, i am SO sorry about the wait but i hope you enjoy this! 

word count: 3.2k

-----

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I’m late!” You slide into the booth and throw your bag down next to you, hoping to god you don’t look as frazzled as you feel; this restaurant is far too nice.

Nate just smiles at your words, too familiar with your family by now to know that you’re always running 5-10 minutes behind. He’s ordered a bottle of wine- a nice rosé, fitting for the beautiful end of summer day- and had already started pouring a matching glass for you the second you started sitting down. “How’d the interview go?”

You bite your lip. “Eh.” 

“I’m sure it went better than you think.” Nate says encouragingly. “You’re too hard on yourself. All three of you are.”

And well, that’s not a lie. Your siblings were just as critical of themselves as you were. Sid was famously known for it and Taylor, your twin, was as bad as you. But…

“Listen to you!” You laugh at him. Nate’s just as bad as the three of you. A mini-Sid in many ways, to many people in your hometown.

But that was in Canada. This was Denver. And here, Nate was cool. Laid-back. Lowkey. Everything a professional athlete should be. Nobody knew about what a dork he really was, except his teammates.

And now, maybe you too, if all went well with this job interview.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nate says, looking at his menu to feign ignorance.

You giggle, pulling your own up toward your face. “Sure, buddy.”

It’s not often that you and Nate spend time one on one like this, even if you see him all the time over the summer. He’s usually with your brother when you see him, politely trying to decline your mom’s invites to dinner or already hanging at Sid’s house when you invite yourself over to your brother’s house for pool or lake time. Usually time one on one with Nate like this is brief, usually like in passing while he’s waiting for Sid in the kitchen while you’re eating.

It’s nice. Nate’s funnier than people give him credit for and it’s easy to relax into dinner and conversation, to forget about the anxiety from your interview as you chat about what’s new for both of you and gossip about people you both know.

By the time he drops you off at your hotel, it’s late and you’re too tired (and maybe just on the right side of tipsy) to even worry about the interview. You just barely change into pajamas, run through your nightly routine, and climb into bed, before shutting the lights off. It feels like you’re asleep before your head even hits the pillow. 

In the morning, you’re awoken by the sound of your phone ringing, and it takes a second for you to place the sound, but when you do you pounce on it, recognizing the local area code immediately. “Good morning.” You say, trying your hardest not to sound like you woke up literally thirty seconds ago.

It’s human resources, from the job you interviewed for yesterday.

You got it.

-----

“Ew, no!” Your dad holds his hands up innocently, when you rush over to stop him from unpacking a box. “Why would you put that there?”

“Hey, sweetie, maybe it’s time for a break.” Your mom says gently, exchanging a look with your dad, who nods his agreement enthusiastically.

Which is fair. You’d just about almost taken his fingers off just because you didn’t like where he was unpacking colanders. 

“Dinner!’” Your dad latches onto immediately. “Nate offered to take us all out tonight, I’ll let him know we’re ready.”

“Ready?” You frown, looking down at your workout shorts and baggy t-shirt.

“We’ll be ready in an hour.” He amends, already texting Nate.

Nate knocks on the door to the new condo you’re renting an hour and fifteen minutes later, sheepishly grinning when your dad tells him that you and your mom still need a few minutes. “Thought I had my timing perfect.”

Your dad snorts. “Oh buddy. Keep dreaming.”

He’s not too off on his timing, but unfortunately for Nate, you don’t have too much else going for you in your condo yet. Your dad had gotten your TV all set up, but in addition to the TV and living room furniture, you haven’t gotten much else, and that includes food and beverages. So the two of them sit in mostly silence while they wait another few minutes for you and your mom to finish getting ready. 

“I told you that you should have just met us there.” You tell Nate, as he trips on a box on his way out the door.

“Oh, so this wasn’t deliberate sabotage?” He deadpans.

“You caught me. Just trying to keep you around the city full time until I have time to make better friends.”

Nate laughs, as the two of you follow your parents out the door. “Be nicer to me or I won’t introduce you to my friends.”

“Who said I want to be friends with your friends?”

“Children.” Your mom turns to look back at you and Nate smiles at her innocently, but it’s been a while since that’s fooled her. “Do we need to stay home?”

It serves to get the two of you moving, even as you laugh at her joke. Nate drives you to another one of his favorite restaurants, and dinner flies by, with Nate insisting on picking up the tab, even when your dad tries to fight him on it. 

It’s started to cool down a little by the time you’re walking back toward the car, Nate and your dad still fake-fighting about paying for dinner, and you find yourself not realizing you’re smiling at the two of them as you walk behind them until your mom bumps your shoulder. “A few hours off for dinner with some good company was just what you needed.” She says.

And even though the smile on her face seems too knowing, you’re too tired to ask about it right now, so you just nod in agreement. “Yeah, this was nice.” You smile back at her.

-----

Mel Landeskog pokes her head around the corner and you wave at her, trying to catch her attention. “Jesus Christ.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t think he was serious.”

“I mean.” You bite your lip. “I did have to work today.”

“I would have picked you up!” She shakes her head, muttering under her breath, and you know Nate’s going to get an earful from her later. “But no, no. That dumbass just let you come all the way over here by yourself. Sends me a text to come meet you by the door. All casual.”

“I mean.” You send her a look. “Did you expect anything different from Nate?”

It’s the way she looks at you and sets her face that almost has you nervous for Nate. You’ve known Mel for a long time now, but really, you don’t know her from more than just years of NHL events. “I do now.” She says.

You hope Nate knew what he was getting himself into sending Mel a text to come find you earlier.  

Once she leads you up into the box with some of the wives and kids, she’s back to smiling and laughing, making introductions all around. The mood all around is light and easy, everyone excited for the home opener of the season, and happy to be back with everyone again. 

It’s fun to be back in this atmosphere. Hockey’s been a part of your life for so long and there’s truly nothing like the energy of the first game of the season. You feed off the energy, catching up with some familiar faces and chatting with all the other girls, probably too excited when they invite you to a girl’s night later in the week, but it feels good to have plans that don’t involve trying to invite yourself to Nate’s when you’re bored.

“Hey, good job tonight.” You nudge him afterwards, catching up with him in the family room.

He laughs, pulling you in for a hug. “A little different than what you were used to?”

“It lived up to the hype, I guess.”

“I’ll turn you from a Pens fan.” Nate promises. 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Feel Sid’s wrath.”

“What’s he going to do? Check me into the boards? Bring it.”

Nate’s been hanging out with your brother and your family for years now, so he should really know better by now. “Okay, buddy.” You pat his shoulder patronizingly. “Sure.”

“I could take him.” Nate insists. 

“Throw hands. Next game. I dare you.” 

He side-eyes you, because you both know that’s not going to happen and it’s only a minute before you’re both laughing. 

“I better see you on Friday!” Ashley Kadri shouts out to you as she’s walking past with Naz and Naylah, interrupting your laughter. “No excuses!”

“I’ll be there!” You call back. “Promise!”

When you look back, Nate’s pouting-exaggerated, albeit, but pouting. “Are you ditching me this Friday?”

“Yup. Found better company.”

“How dare you?” He cries. “There is no better company.”

“Well.” You shrug. “I’ll know for sure after happy hour on Friday.”

“Find your own ride home.” Nate says and then he starts speed walking away from you at an absurd speed.

“Nate!” You protest, jogging to catch up and he finally slows down enough for you to catch up when you round the corner, bumping your shoulder right back when you purposely bump into him in retaliation.

-----

No one lets loose like a group of moms when they’ve got a night without their kids.

Someone has mentioned this to you before, at a bachelorette party or a wedding or something, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen it really in action before until this happy hour. 

“If the waitress comes back, order me another drink!” Kerry calls, before running off to the bathroom.

The waitress nods at her, before addressing the rest of you. “Another round?”

“Oh, please!” Mel nods quickly and repeatedly.

“Can we get a few more orders of mozzarella sticks too, please?” You look down at the empty plates in front of you. “And maybe some nachos too?”

“Yes!” Jackie lights up across from you. “Great call!”

It pretty much only goes downhill from there and by the end of the night, both Mel and Ashley are crying for reasons no one is sure of entirely and you’re pretty grateful to see Nate among the group of husbands and boyfriends to come to pick up all their girlfriends.

So grateful you scream his name the second you see him. “Nate!”

He winces, trying to pull his ear away from you, but he’s laughing. “Guess you had a good time, huh?”

“Uh huh!” You nod enthusiastically, not realizing how loud you are until he winces again.

Nate laughs. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.”

You gasp loudly. “I can’t leave my new friends!”

“Your new friends are all leaving you!”

You frown, but look around and realize he’s right. Naz has already sneakily pulled Ashley out of the bar and Gabe and Erik were collecting Mel and Jackie’s things. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Nate parrots. “Come on, get your stuff, crazy girl.”

“Hey!” You protest, grabbing your purse. “I am the least crazy person in my family.”

“I hate to break it to you.” Nate says, as he guides you into standing. “But that’s not saying much.”

He’s right, but you bump him with your shoulder anyway as you walk past. That’s about sibling honor and shit.

Nate parked too far away and by the time you reach his car, you’re leaning on him, the adrenaline from hanging out with friends wearing off quickly. Nate’s nice about it, guiding you to his car and then helping you into his front seat before heading around to the driver’s side. 

“You guys had a fun time then?” Nate says, once he’s started driving and you’re half asleep leaning against the window. “Looks like it at least.”

“Yeah.” You nod sleepily. “But you were right.”

He chuckles. “About what?”

“There’s no better company than you.”

-----

Nate becomes pretty clingy after that night, texting and facetiming whenever he’s out of town, and stopping by pretty much anytime he’s got a free minute. It quickly becomes something you look forward to, missing his visits when he’s out of town and looking forward to his calls, smiling when his texts come in and breaking up your work day. And it isn’t long before you realize that you’re being just the same. Sending him messages before and after games. Inviting yourself over for dinner and making Nate cheat on his diet.

In a blessed move from the NHL scheduling department, Sid and the rest of the Pens are scheduled to arrive in town on a Friday morning and aren’t leaving until the end of the weekend. 

They have a practice scheduled for early afternoon, which is perfect for you to wrap up your work day before heading over to watch the end.

Geno lights up when he sees you watching from the glass, the first person to acknowledge you, and skating over in the middle of the drill, leaving behind two shocked linemates. “Mini!” He shouts cheerfully, even as you roll your eyes at your least favorite nickname. All because you happen to be the shortest of your siblings. “Great to see you.”

“You too, Geno.” You smile warmly at him, a little annoyed that you can’t get a giant bear hug from your favorite pseudo-older brother right away. “But I don’t think a few other people feel the same right now.” You jerk your chin back over his shoulder. 

He turns his head quickly but then looks back. “Psh. They’ll get over it.”

You bust out laughing, which is right about when your brother comes over, and in classic Sid fashion, is all about hockey. “Stop being a distraction.”

“I was minding my own business until Geno came over here!” You protest, even as Geno starts laughing and Sid eyes you skeptically. 

“Why don’t I believe that one?” Sid says dryly and sure, maybe you were making faces at some of the guys you knew well as they were passing you, but you weren’t actively being a distraction.

“That’s your prerogative.” You tell Sid, who shakes his head and pulls Geno back for the remainder of practice. 

Practice doesn’t last for too much longer and you spend a few minutes chatting with the coaching staff while you wait for Sid to change. But he and Geno finally come out of the locker room and you stop mid-sentence to throw yourself at your brother.

Sid’s laughing and so are you, but both of you start laughing even harder when Geno pulls you both into his arms. “Two of my favorite people!”

“Taylor’s going to be so offended.” Kris grins, watching the three of you amused.

“Taylor?” You grin back at him, going for a hug once Geno releases you. “How about his wife and kid?”

“Those are my other favorite people.” Geno reasons.

“Now I’m offended.” Kappy deadpans.

“You’re not even close.” Geno grins, roughing his hair.

Kappy tries to get him right back, but Geno just swats his hand away and then Sid’s shaking his head, like this is just the same shit, different day. “Look what you did.”

You grin, leaning against him. “Not sorry. I’ve missed this entertainment.”

Sid shakes his head. “Then you can round them up for dinner.”

You do. Easily.

Nate had suggested one of the team’s favorite restaurants and you’re happy to see that he’d accepted your invitation to join everyone, even if he rolls in a little late. You’re deep into Kris’ camera roll, looking at pictures of his kids and catching up on stories that you haven’t heard about them recently, so you don’t even notice he’s arrived and said hello already until he blows on the back of your neck.

You jump. “What the hell?”

Nate’s grinning. “Hey.”

You shake your head at him and bump your shoulders against him. “Hey.” You mimic and then turn right back to Kris.

But your shoulder stays leaning on Nate, and it remains there comfortably all night.

-----

Sid’s a little cranky when you first meet him for breakfast the morning after the game and you’re sure it has everything to do with the last minute turnover that cost them the game (and bragging rights over Nate this summer, which is really what he’s probably cranky about).

He gets over it pretty quickly though, and soon the two of you are laughing and talking, catching up about your family and your lives.

“-and I even love my office, the vibes are just great!”

Sid shakes his head. “Vibes.”

You grin. You know he hates that word. “Good vibes.” You confirm.

“So you’re liking Denver?”

“Love it.” You confirm, smiling.

“Meeting good people?”

You eye him skeptically. “Yes dad. I already said my coworkers are great and I’ve been hanging out with Nate and his friends a lot too. It’s good”

“Geno thinks there’s something going on between you and Nate.” Sid says casually.

The jump of your heart is far from casual. “Oh yeah?”

Sid eyes you but his response to that is surprising. “You know if there was something going on between you and Nate that would be okay?” He pauses, watching you again, but your face is completely neutral, purposely not moving. “Right?”

“You know if there was something going on between me and Nate that your opinion wouldn’t matter at all, right?”

He grins, laughing as he nods, but after he takes a bite of pancakes he says, “To you, yeah. To him, it does.”

“Why?” You blurt out, giving yourself away before you can stop yourself.

But Sid doesn’t say anything to that. He grins again and then changes the subject entirely.

-----

You only make it about a day before you’re knocking on Nate’s door, pretty forcefully.

“What’s up?” He swings the door open, with a frown. “You okay?”

“Does what my brother thinks really matter to you that much?” You blurt out. It’s been bothering you ever since Sid mentioned it at breakfast. That you lasted this long was probably a miracle.

Nate blushes and your jaw drops. “It-”

“Oh my god.” You grin delightedly. “Come on, really?”

“That’s not-” He blows out a frustrated sigh. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

You nod, but you’re pretty sure he’s not going to get far into what he’s going to say.

He sighs again. “It’s not about, like, his approval, or shit. It’s just- he’s important to you. So obviously he’s important to me-”

You kiss him. 

“You know that you don’t even have to worry about that, right?” At some point, you’d slid one hand to his hip and the other arm around his neck, and the hand there plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I’ll argue about that with you later.” Nate says impatiently and so you’re laughing when he kisses you again.

[uglypastels]

Hogwarts idea

Can you make a fic about how Tom sneakes out at night to spend the nights in the readers room (common room/bedroom) he’s a gryffindor and she’s a ravenclaw

Maybe they have a deal with the house teacher of one of the houses. Maybe he tries to hide in her bed as so not to wake the others. Maybe they fall asleep in the common room and have a minor panic when they wake up and it’s morning. Maybe they accidentally switch clothes or one of them steal the others clothes so they walk around with the wrong colors.

love love love love this!!! and I'm sorry it took me so long, I've been in a bit of a writing slump, but this is the best request to get me out of it! thank you <3 and hope you like it. (this got a bit out of hand and I might have changed the ending a lil bit but I hope its good heh)

(gender neutral!reader, I think? at least that's what I went for but if I accidentally missed something just let me know and I'll edit, I'm dumb)

_________________

Being in your seventh year at Hogwarts, with exams just around the corner, was taking up almost every waking minute of your days. Adding the fact that you had your Head Student duties, and Tom had his Quidditch house team to take care of, meaning that you barely ever had time for each other. The only solution, in your young and smitten minds, was that some rules needed to be broken- just a little bit.

It took Tom some time to convince you since you were supposed to be setting the right example for the younger students, but eventually, one gloomy Friday morning, he finally got to you.

"C'mon, love, it will be fun," he had his arm draped around you as you tried to enjoy your breakfast, the looks of your fellow housemates never going unnoticed. There had never been a rule against students eating meals at different tables, and yet, seeing the captain of the Gryffindor team spending all his mornings and evenings at the Ravenclaw table was a strange sight. He preferred your table, he had said one day when you asked, it was quieter. That you could not disagree with. The Gryffindors were always rowdy.

"I don't know Tommy, what if we get in trouble?" you bit the inside of your cheek, as you always did when you got nervous. Tom responded by pulling you in tighter and kissing your cheek, then said:

"That's half the fun of it, darling." His words rushed an array of feelings through you. A part of you started to feel flustered, while the other wanted to shove his face in the large bowl of porridge that stood on the table.

"Please," he looked at you with his usual sad puppy-eyed look. "I feel like never get to see you, y/n. So I'll come over tonight, you can let me into the Rave tower, we'll hang out a bit and then I'll leave- like nothing ever happened. What do you think?"

"I don't know, Tommy-" You tried to keep a straight face, but it was hard to say no to a gorgeous face like his. after a few short moments of silence, you finally agreed, "fine. Be there at 10. Do not be late, Holland."

"I wouldn't dare to waste a second away from you." He kissed you, grabbed a slice of toast (from your plate, of course), and got up.

"Wait, where are you going?" You asked, confused, since breakfast wouldn't end for another 20 minutes.

"I'm kind of late for early detention with McGonagall," he chuckled before running off, toast between his teeth. You just rolled your eyes and finished your meal in peace.

You never really thought that your classes were boring, but that day, every minute seemed to go by at a quarter of its speed. It was as if someone had put a time-stopping hex on you if that even was a thing. You couldn't wait to finish your studies in the library (the scheduled hours at the library was necessary since there was still so much to get through before the NEWTs), so you could make your way back to the Great Hall for dinner. Once there, you immediately were on the lookout for the head of dark brown curls. You stood in the doorway, letting people pass you, but no luck; Tom was nowhere to be seen.

Internally, you already started cursing. It would be just your luck that he'd get attention again for the rest of the night. Why did you have to fall for the troublemaker-

"Aaah!" you shrieked as suddenly your feet were lifted from the ground. Arms wrapped around your middle, and you were spinning around. You wanted to scream more, but you heard the familiar laugh, and it immediately put you at ease.

"Put me down," you laughed. Tom complied without pretence. But his hands remained at your sides as you turned to face him. And then, eagerly, his lips met yours in a chaste kiss.

It was, of course, silly to think that you could have this moment just for yourself, in a hall filled with hundreds of students. Only a few seconds into your kiss, you could hear wolf-whistles around you. Someone, who sounded very much like Tom's friend and team co-captain Harrison, called out from afar: "Get it, Holland!" Tom was quick to put up two fingers in his direction, not paying attention to anyone. But the mood was ruined, and you pulled apart.

"Missed you today," he said softly.

"Missed you, too." You replied. His fingers slipped between yours, and like that, hand in hand, you were already making your way to the Ravenclaw table, but, unfortunately, Tom was stopped when someone tugged at the back of his robes.

"Oi, you dickhead-" but he laughed it off when he saw it was Ben, another friend and member of the Gryffindor team.

"Sorry 'bout that," Ben apologised, "but we're supposed to be holding a team meeting, remember?" He pointed over at the Gryffindor table, and, indeed, the rest of the team was huddled together at the edge of the table. Harrison had gotten up when he saw you and Tom looking, returning the gesture of the two fingers held up in the V-shape.

"Shit, I forgot." Tom brushed his fingers through his hair. He looked at you, eyes already full of regret, and you could tell he was ready to apologise, but you stopped him before he even opened his mouth.

"Don't worry, we'll talk later, yeah." You kissed him on the cheek, "remember, 10."

And miraculously, Tom did remember. As the clock in the Ravenclaw common room struck 10, you heard the faint knock at the other side of the entrance. Of course, Tom knew where and how to access the Ravenclaw tower, but the riddles that the eagle doorknocker asked were at times a bit too hard, bless him.

You pushed the door open, and there he stood. His robes were exchanged for sweatpants and a hoodie. A blue one, you noticed, not that that would help him fit in with the crowd in the common room. Tom had been team captain for the past three years, and his team had not failed to win the cup once since he had even joined the team, to begin with. Everyone in school knew him and adored him. Not even the rest of your house managed to be mad at him (though the Ravenclaw team definitely held a bit of a grudge after a few bad losses over the years).

He stepped inside, and you quickly lead him around the common room up the stairs of the dormitories.

You had heard that years ago, the stairs had a spell on them that stopped the male students from even attempting to step up to the other dormitories. Now, however, this "rule" has been dropped, ever since several students expressed their concerns for the double standards between the male and female student body, as well as the discomfort it might set up for the queer students.

Personally, you thought it would be even better if every student could have their own room, since sharing a space with four other people could get a bit crowded at times and you liked your privacy, but it was understandable that in an ancient building like Hogwarts renovations were not always an option.

Luck struck once more when you opened the door to your dormitory, and it was empty. All of your friends were still out, most likely staring at their books, in the hopes of getting struck with a moment of brilliance that could help them pass their exams. You closed the door, and Tom made himself comfortable in your bed.

It felt like the entire day had already been wasted, not to mention dinner, so you hurried down to your bed, pulling down the curtains of the four-poster, just to get that little bit of privacy you longed for at the end long day. But, of course, it was nothing unusual or suspicious since you often closed your curtains when you were too tired to chat with your roommates.

It was dark with the curtains closed, but Tom was quick to pull out his wand and murmured "lumos" the tip immediately illuminated in soft blue light. The glow was just enough for you to see his face, the goofy grin taking over his features.

"What are you laughing at?" you asked, whispering in case someone would walk in.

"Nothing," he shrugged, "just happy to be here with you."

"You're daft," you laughed.

"Yeah, about you," and with that, he kissed you. The light at the end of his want went out as he dropped between you. His lips were soft and sweet, the pudding that had been served with dinner still lingering on him. He must have stolen a few cookies from the table when it had finished, you thought, to eat later. He often did that.

You stayed like that, cuddling, stealing kisses from one another, for hours, probably. You were never quite sure because eventually, you both drifted off into a slumber. You could have probably slept like that, wrapped in his arms, forever, if it wasn't the bright light peeking through your curtains that was hitting you right in the face. And the whispers. You could hear people talking.

"I swear, they're just the cutest." It was your friend talking.

"But do they really need to do it here?" A second voice said, also familiar to you. "I mean, how many rules do you think they're breaking?"

"Oh shut!" you heard pillows being thrown. Or at least assumed that was what was happening around you. You couldn't be bothered to open your eyes, instead deciding to focus on Tom and his calm breathing. Your head was close to his chest, so you felt it rise with each inhale he took, and you could hear his heartbeat.

It was Saturday, meaning no classes. You had studied every day for the past few weeks, definitely deserving a little break for the day. If you remembered correctly, Tom wouldn't have training until the late afternoon and you could always skip breakfast. If you got hungry before tea, you could always sneak into the kitchens. After all, the two of you had already broken so many rules, what would be the harm in one more.

Ignoring the further whispers of your friends, you snuggled closer to Tom, feeling his arm wrapping tighter around you. Both of you shuffled around a bit, trying to find back the comfort from the night, and quickly you fell back to sleep.

The End

[seokstrivia]

Neon Lights | dpr live

↬ Summary: You and Dabin work in a club, that’s it, that’s the fic

or, a cute moment between two friends 

↬ Club!AU | word count: 2.4k

↬ DPR Live x Reader: friends to lovers au, slowish burn, it takes place in a club where the two of you work, confessions, one-shot, fluff, minor angst, it's just short and sweet 

↬ A/N so this is my first khh fic on this account, if you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask, I hope this was enjoyable and you all welcome my love for khh to this blog, thank you <3 

A long and tiring sigh parted your lips as you dragged your feet towards the cloakroom. Sure, getting paid meant that you could buy food and feed yourself, pay bills and stay warm through winter, but you were 100% certain that it did not mean never getting any time to rest.

You were putting your jacket away when you heard a small chuckle behind you, one that you knew all too well. A pout formed its way onto your lips while you turned around to face the one person you would do absolutely anything for.

Hong Dabin— your work best friend.

“Good to see you’re happy to be here!” His tone was chirpy, but as usual, laced with sarcasm.

It made you roll your eyes before straightening your shoulders and crossing your arms. Almost in a way to intimidate him or stare him down, but he only smiled in return and you sighed in defeat.

“Do you know how hard it was to stay awake during my last lecture today?” You moaned as you followed him to his spot at the bar. “Clarkson’s monotone voice seeps right through me, I don’t know if I can take it anymore.”

Dabin shook his head before laughing at the forlorn expression etched into your face. Sometimes he wished he could take a picture so he could keep it forever, but you would probably threaten him and force him to delete it.

He knew you well. Maybe, a little too well.

“You’re just being dramatic as usual,” he told you, earning a scoff in return. “I’ll treat you to a nice meal once we’re out of here.”

That was enough to lighten your mood and get you situated at the front door, minutes before opening, with a smile on your face.

The rest of the night was nothing more than a blur, your job was to sit at the register by the front doors making sure anyone who walked in paid before going any further into the club. But it got boring and quiet after a certain time and, to be honest, the only thing keeping you going was the thought of getting something to eat with Dabin.

Hence, as soon as you were done with work and as soon as the place was vacant, you frantically sped towards the cloakroom to find Dabin. He was already there, tugging his jacket over his shoulders before twisting around to face you with a sheepish smile.

That’s not good. You sighed.

“No food?”

He went to open his mouth to speak; probably to spout out a reason or two, but you'd beat him to it.

“It’s okay! There’s always a next time.”

The smile on your face didn’t falter, it wasn’t fake— it was genuine and that was something he loved about you.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” That was the last thing he said before hurrying out the door.

You watched his figure disappear with pursed lips, wondering what came up—did something happen within his family? Did his friend finally break up with his snotty girlfriend? Did his goldfish die—wait, he doesn’t have a goldfish?

A giggle parted your lips as you laughed at yourself while moving for your jacket and bag. It was finally time to go home after a long and somewhat exhausting week.

Your bed was calling your name.

>

"You know what we should do?" Your friend urged, face way too close to yours.

"Sleep forever?" You mumbled in question while moving your face away from hers.

She chuckled in return, full and hearty before playfully bumping your arm with hers, "no silly! We should go clubbing this weekend."

A grunt left your lips, you knew this was coming from the second you'd informed her of your first weekend ever off work.

"That's far from what I think we should do this weekend," you told her before moving your chair slightly away from hers.

Mina was always bursting your personal space bubble without fail.

However, you could never stay mad at her, she was your best friend since birth and had never left your side. She was also extremely supportive, albeit annoying.

"I think it'll be fun."

You turned to stare at Mina, there was a pout on her face as if it would help convince you to say yes.

Unfortunately, it did help.

"Okay, fine! We can go clubbing."

A shriek of happiness emitted from her lips in excitement, it had been a while since you two hung out on the weekend and truth be told, she missed being able to spend time outside of University with you.

But, so did you.

Okay, so maybe you wouldn't be able to sleep the whole weekend away, but at least you'll have a good time.

Plus Dabin would be tending the bar.

The rest of the week was spent talking about what to wear, what time to be ready by and what drinks to buy to get a little tipsy before going to the club.

Mina wouldn't stop talking about, 'the best weekend ever,' it was annoying sometimes, but you couldn't bring yourself to get mad at her since it had been a while since you got the weekend off.

You missed it.

"Is Dabin working tonight?" Mina asked while finishing her makeup.

You were ready half an hour ago, but you never really dressed up. Comfort was always the way to go.

"Yeah, he should be unless he calls in sick," you told her while sipping on your drink.

Mina's eyes met yours through the mirror, the smirk on her lips had you rolling your eyes as she bounced her eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner.

"Shut up," you snorted.

She shrugged her shoulders before returning to her makeup, "I didn't say anything."

A chuckle parted tour lips making her smile.

"You didn't have to."

Sometimes you thought you could read her mind, but in reality, you just knew each other that well.

***

The club was already bouncing with people, most of the crowd was already drunk but, that was a given with cheap drinks.

Mina stretched for your hand and proceeded to skillfully advance through the crowd to get to the bar. A smile made its way to her lips when she noticed who was working at the bar.

"Will you buy me a drink while I quickly go and pee?"

You rolled your eyes at her before telling her to be careful and quick.

When you turned to face the bar after watching Mina disappear towards the toilets, you were met with Dabin's big, cheesy grin.

"Hi! I'm surprised to see you here," he teased, moving closer so you could hear him better. "I thought you would be in bed sleeping."

You flicked his forehead with your finger causing him to grimace in pain, "Mina said she wanted to go out, so... very reluctantly, I said yes."

He chuckled in response, feeling sympathy and understanding that you would much rather be asleep than somewhere loud and crowded.

"Well, can I get you anything?"

You shook your head, 'no,' before glimpsing at the direction Mina was standing, "he's gonna keep her distracted for a while, so I think... I'll just hang around here."

"And keep me company?" Dabin replied as he glanced away from the two now making out. "I'm flattered."

A chuckle parted your lips as you made yourself comfortable on one of the many empty bar stools.

The majority of the night was spent talking to Dabin, catching up and talking about how Uni was going for the two of you.

It was nearing 1:30 am when Dabin finally asked you if you were ever going to get off your ass and enjoy your night.

"You think there’s a reason that I sit at the counter talking to you all night while you bartend... No, of course, there isn't- WHO’S THAT GIRL AND WHY IS SHE WINKING AT YOU?"

You were drunk.

Dabin rolled his eyes and shook his head, "that's my ex."

You gasped in return, this was your first time hearing this, "you have an ex? But you told me that you'd been single all your life."

"I told you I was single most of my life."

"What's the difference?"

Dabin shrugged his shoulders, annoyed that you thought he'd been single forever. Did you think he was ugly or something? Maybe you thought he would only ever make it as a friend.

A sigh parted his lips as he stepped away to serve others at the bar.

You stopped staring at his ex only to find Dabin was on the other side of the bar—with a frown etched on his face.

Was it something you said?

When he came back towards your end, he handed you bottled water before turning to leave again, however, you were quick to grab for his arm, a look of concern lazed across your features.

"I'm sorry if I upset you."

Dabin removed your hand from his arm, he glanced over at his ex before making eye contact with you, "it's not like you would understand. You're the one who's been single their whole life."

His words didn't hurt because they were true, and they didn't mean anything to you. You just hadn't found the right person yet, but it wasn't difficult to understand that Dabin was upset.

And that it was most likely your fault.

>

"Are you working tomorrow night?" Mina asked.

You nodded.

"Is Dabin working."

An exhalation parted your lips as you shook your head, 'no.'

"He's off this weekend," you told her.

Mina knew you were still beating yourself up over the whole ex ordeal with him, even if you couldn't pinpoint exactly what you had said that upset him.

This is why she spoke to Ian, Dabin's best friend, and asked him if they were going out clubbing Friday night. Let's just say she was over the moon when he said yes, and you were slightly freaking out when she told you.

"Wow," Mina exclaimed when she reached the bar. "So, you're bartending tonight!"

You chuckled at the excitement in her tone and nodded your head, "someone called in sick, so I'll be stuck here tonight."

"This is great!" She shouted before going off to find the friends she'd come out with.

It wasn't long before the bar was filled with people asking for drinks, it kept your mind busy and distracted from Dabin.

It kept you so distracted that you didn't even notice him sitting on the stool at the far end of the bar. The very seat you'd taken just last week.

It made you smile, but also made you feel nervous.

"Hi," you spoke softly, but loud enough for him to hear. "What can I get you?"

The scowl on his face caught you off guard, but the slur in his voice told you that he was very drunk.

"Do you think I'm ugly?"

You stared at him for a solid minute before pinching his cheek, even though he was drunk, he could still feel the pain.

"Of course I don't think you're ugly!" You argued. "What gave you that idea?"

He shrugged his shoulders with a pout on his lips and stroked his cheek, hoping the pain would quickly subside.

"You thought I'd been single my whole life."

"That's only because you'd never spoke about your ex before," you told him. "I don't think you've ever told me anything about your personal life, to be honest."

Dabin stared into your eyes with his red and tired ones.

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions," you added.

And then, he smiled.

"If you liked me more than a friend," he slurred in a serious tone. "I would have confessed my feelings by now."

His words caught you off guard but you couldn't ask him what he meant since he was gone and, well, you had a job to do.

However, his words lingered endlessly in your mind for the rest of the night. Was this his way of saying that he liked you? Dabin liked you this whole time and you didn't even know?

Your mind was reeling by the end of the night, Dabin filled your mind with endless thoughts. Wait, if he liked you, why didn't he ask you out on a date?

A sigh parted your lips as you wiped down the bar, watching groups of people huddle together as they were all ushered out of the club.

Mina hurried over to the bar before leaving, her footing was clumsy, but it made you laugh. You assumed she's forgotten the keys to the flat and that's why she was rushing over, however, you were in fact, wrong.

"Did you speak to Dabin?"

You frowned in confusion, "I did, but he was drunk so it wasn't for long."

She nodded her head in response before leaving and waving goodbye.

You rolled your eyes, watching her stumble towards the male she'd met last week. A potential boyfriend she had told you, which didn't surprise you.

It didn't take you long to finish cleaning, but you were exhausted and couldn't wait for your bed. It was nearing 3:30 am when you left the club, the area was empty and quiet as you walked towards your car.

Dabin, who you thought had gone home hours ago, was leaning against the car door. Staring at the night sky, admiring the stars, something in your stomach churned, and you felt your heart begin to beat faster the closer you got.

"Hey," you smiled, keys in hand as you unlocked the car. "You need a ride home?"

His eyes finally met yours, he appeared to have sobered up as a smile rose across his lips, "if you don't mind," he chuckled. "Honestly, I just wanted to apologise."

"For what?"

"For being an idiot," he said. "Selfish, mostly. I got upset that maybe you'd never see me as anything more than a friend."

You punched his arm causing him to wince in pain, "you're an idiot, Dabin."

He shrugged his shoulders while rubbing the pain away.

"If you'd just told me how you felt or I dont know? Asked me out on a date," you argued. "You would have found out that I feel the same."

"You like me?" He asked carefully, eyes searching yours for answers—for anything.

"Yeah, I do."

A wide smile adorned his lips before his arms found your waist and lured you in for a hug, you giggled in return while coiling your arms around his neck.

"Will you go on a date with me?" He asked as he drew back to look at you.

You rolled your eyes, "took you long enough."

[weelittleweasley]

bar maid (b.w.)

prompt: a long night at the leaky cauldron and the late shift can only mean one thing: a boring night. but when a new face pops into the bar, the mood shifts drastically.

pairing: bill weasley x fem! reader

warnings: drinking, mentions of the war, language (literally once), sexual references

word count: 4.5k

taglist: @harrysweasleys​ @gcdric​ @lumos-barnes​ @whizboingies​ @lumosandnoxwriting​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @c-t-h​ @another-lonely-heart-blog​ @starlightweasley​ @parseltongueswriting​ @shilohpug​ @peachypotter​ @vogueweasley​

“Another round of ale, Albert?” you ask with a smile as you wipe down a section of the bar from its previous attendants. The damp dish towel wipes across the mahogany bar, leaving streaks that shine underneath the bar lighting, the faint smell of chemical lemon lingering in the air mixes with the overwhelming scent of lager and spirits. 

Albert flashes you a toothy grin and gives you a shrug. “Eh, why not. It’s a Friday, isn’t it?” Albert laughs before sliding you his brass mug down the length of the bar as you stealthily catch it in your hand. You fill the mug with amber ale, teeming with white foam, smelling of wheat. “You’re too good to me, (Y/N),” Albert tells you with a grin before taking a sip of his usual drink of choice. 

You were a bar maid at the Leaky Cauldron and Albert was one of your regulars. Now, you didn’t think that you would be a bar maid after graduating from Hogwarts and trying to become a professor, but the world had a funny way about it, didn’t it? Being a bar maid meant you got good tips and had the luxury of creating your own schedule, but it also meant when you worked, it was long hours of standing on your feet and serving cheap ale and lager to annoyed businessmen and exhausted workers from the hours of five o’clock to two o’clock in the morning. Work was grueling, but you tried to make as much fun of it as you could.

“It’s the least I can do, Al,” you sigh, flopping the dish towel over your shoulder as you lean over the bar. “Any juicy gossip for me today? I’ve been bored out of my skull since I clocked in and I still got another five hours ahead of me. I need some entertainment,” you groan, cracking your knuckles against the wood of the bar. The thought of another five hours dealing with more alcohol, more grumpy patrons, and another tired night made your head ache. 

Al takes a long sip from his mug, wiping the foam from his upper lip before speaking, “Not much gossip, I’m afraid.” You throw your head back and groan, taking an annoyed sip from your water. “Nothing interesting has happened, my dear,” he huffs in just as much annoyance as you. “We’re living in dark times, all news is usually disappointing, scary, or both. I’m looking for something hopeful just as much as you are,” Al confesses.

You tighten your ponytail and push your baby hairs away from your face, hands flopping on your shoulders as you slump over. Albert was right. The thought of a looming wizarding war over everyone’s heads was enough to keep everyone living in fear of when it would all come to a head and pop. At least working at the pub took your mind off of things, even if it was just for a few hours of the day.

“However,” Albert’s tone changes as you dart your eyes to him, curious. “I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the name Fleur Delacour? I heard through the grapevine that she has recently started working at Gringott’s. Desk job, but people were confused as to why should would come all the way to London for a silly desk job,” Albert explains before sipping from his ale again.

Your eyebrows furrow as the name does ring a bell. “The name sounds familiar. I certainly didn’t go to school with her or else I would know who she was. But the name is oddly recognizable...I’ll ask my younger sister when I speak to her next. She’s at Hogwarts now. I’m sure she’d know,” you tell Albert. “Anyone else take up a job? Familiar names or faces?” 

Al searches his memory for anything else. He presses his tongue to his cheek. “Yeah, there was someone else. William...I don’t remember the surname for life of me, but it was William something...” he trails off.

You think for a moment, trying to scan your brain for a William that you might know. But you drew blank. It had been so long since you saw anyone from your graduating class. You had spent most of your time in the pub or studying or applying for new professor jobs. But no one was looking to hire an under-experienced professor in these times, no matter how good your marks were at Hogwarts, regardless that you were top of your class in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. The thought makes you infuriated because you knew you could teach this new generation of wizards better than anyone else.  

Shaking your head, “Well, whatever, if he was important, you would know his name.” Albert shrugs. “I need to go bring in some kegs from the back, I’ll be back in a second,” you tell him before go around the bar, walking to the back of the Leaky Cauldron, hearing snippets of conversations here and there, most people talking about the news or their families. It was sad; just two years ago people would be roaring with laughter, telling stories and jokes, recounting happy times. Now, everyone was so focused on how the world as you knew it may be crumbling around you. 

The cool fall air wraps around you as you push the door to bring the kegs from outside in as you pull your jumper over your hands to make some make-shift mittens. “Bloody hell,” you whisper to yourself as you see three kegs lined up outside for you to bring in. “Seriously, Tom?” you groan as you grab one keg and start dragging it. “I don’t get paid enough for this, I swear,” you grumble. 

“Need a hand?” a voice interrupts you as you drag the steel keg across the cobblestone. 

You look up and your eyes meet a pair that you haven’t seen in years. An instant smile rises on your lips as the all too familiar red hair is swept in the wind. “You’re kidding,” you laugh as you stand up straight, brushing off your jumper as he smiles widely at you with a chuckle. “Bill Weasley as I live and breathe?” you laugh as you run towards him, Bill engulfing you in a large hug. Your arms wrap around him tightly as he picks you up, your feet leaving the ground as you giggly madly as Bill sways you back and forth. 

It had been years since you had seen Bill Weasley. The two of you had attended Hogwarts together in the same year and became fast friends. You had always admired how Bill was so smart and confident in himself (borderline arrogant, but in the sexiest best way). Bill was a popular one at Hogwarts, but through it all, he always managed to make time for you since you liked staying out of the lime light. Bill was well-loved and revered at Hogwarts, so it was obvious that he became a prefect during your time. And that’s when you two started to drift apart. He became busy doing his things and you became busy with your own studies. After graduation, the two of you went your separate ways, but you always wondered where he had gone. 

Bill sets you down on your feet, his hands still on your hips as he smiled brightly down at you. He looked so mature now, longer red hair tied back in a ponytail, but he was still tall, thin, and undeniably handsome. The hunter green jacket he sported clung onto his tall figure, underneath a button down that was unbuttoned just enough so you could see the chest hairs that poked out from the loose material. Hanging from his ear lobe was a fang earring that wasn’t there before. Bill had changed, but in a way that caught your eye in a way that has never happened before. You gulped. 

“Godric, (Y/N), you haven’t changed one bit,” Bill laughs as he takes a good look at you as you mentally curse that you had been wearing something different than your old blue jumper and leggings with stained boots from the bar. “How long has it been? Seven years?” he speaks as you nod. “Bloody hell, it feels like yesterday we were at Hogwarts,” he recounts the memories fondly as your heart warms to the same memories.

You smile brightly, “Time flies, Weasley.” He chuckles. “We can talk more about it if you help me bring in these kegs and I’ll treat you to an ale on the house. Or are you more of a lager man?” you ask as you walk back over to the steel kegs that wait to be dragged into the pub. 

Bill chuckles as you grab one keg, starting to drag it into the pub. Without any hesitation or effort, Bill picks up the remaining two kegs in each of his hands, muscles flexing underneath his jacket as he shakes his head. You gulp and avert your eyes, trying not to focus on the way he so effortlessly carried the heavy steel kegs as you pushed yours in. “More of a whiskey kind of guy if you got any of that,” Bill tells you as you push the kegs towards the back of the bar, Bill places his two next to yours. “I didn’t know you were working at the Leaky Cauldron.”

Walking back to the bar with Bill by your side you speak, “Yeah. Been working here for a while now since there seems to be a hold on hiring newer, younger professors,” you roll your eyes as Bill laughs. Bill remembered how badly you wanted to be a professor and teach the younger generations of wizards and witches magic. It was your dream, but now it was on pause. “What about you? Why are you back in London? Last I heard of you, you were in Egypt!” you nudge his arm with your elbow.

He gives you a smile, happy that you had been keeping your tabs on him. “I was in Egypt for a long while. Loved it, really. But I came home to help my family out with the Order and such. I’m working at Gringott’s now at a desk job. Very exciting, I know,” he rolls his eyes as you giggle, making your way behind the bar.

A William working at Gringott’s. I should have known, you think to yourself. “Hey Albert,” you call over the man who sits just a mere stool away from Bill. “That new William who's working at Gringott’s now? It’s not just any bloke, he’s a Weasley,” you smile at Albert who looks over to Bill with a look of realization. “Bill, this is Albert, one of my regulars. Al, this is Bill Weasley, we went to Hogwarts together.”

Bill gives Albert a firm shake shake and warm smile. “Nice to meet you, sir,” Bill beams. “You’ve been in good company with this one, I’m sure,” Bill winks as Albert chuckles lowly.

“That I have been. She’s great company and serves an even better mug of ale,” Albert speaks as you smile sweetly at him, Bill laughing. “I would love to stay and chat longer, but I gotta get home to the family,” Albert tells you and Bill, putting on his coat before digging into his pockets and places and handful of coins on the table to pay for his drinks and tip you generously as he usually did. “I’ll see you on Monday, my dear,” Albert calls as he walks towards the door, you giving him a salute goodbye.

Bill speaks, “He seems like a good guy.” You nod as you take out a glass and start to pour him a generous glass of Fire Whiskey before placing it front of him. “How did you know I take it neat? What if I wanted it on the rocks?”

You give him a knowing look. “I know you, Bill. Last time I checked, you were drinking Fire Whiskey straight from the bottle at your graduation party,” you recall with a light chuckle as Bill groans at the memory. “You were off your rocker that night, I’m tellin’ you,” you start to laugh harder, remembering how Bill stood up on the dining room table of the Burrow, singing along to music that he blasted as everyone laughed and sang along with him. Graduation was such a happy time in your young adult life, you wished you could go back and relive it.

He rubs his face with one hand and speaks, “We were a mess that night, weren’t we?” 

“We? Don’t drag me into this, Weasley! I was perfectly happy having one drink, but it was you who made me drink bloody Daisyroot Draught! The smell now makes me sick,” you contort your face with disgust as Bill laughs. “I will admit though, I’ve missed you quite a bit,” you confess, playing with the edges of the dish rag in your hands as you look up at Bill.

Slowly, a smile finds its way onto Bill’s lips as your heart flutters gently as his eyes look into yours. He still had the same eyes that you adored so fondly as a child and teen. In his eyes contained all the memories of Hogwarts and late nights and sleepover at the Burrow. His eyes had laughter and joy in them that you so missed during times like this. You missed Bill Weasley. For more than one reason.

“I’ve missed you more than quite a bit,” Bill reveals as you allow heat to rise to your cheeks. “I missed having my partner in crime around. Sneaking into the kitchens and then getting caught by McGonagall,” he recalls.

You laugh, “Stop, and then she asked if she could join us!” The two of you are in hysterics at the memory of eating leftovers and sweets in the kitchens with Minerva McGonagall as third year students, chatting about school and life after Hogwarts. McGonagall had always taken a liking to the two of you. She always said that you two were peas in a pod.

Bill smiles and takes a sip from his whiskey before speaking, “How long are you working tonight? I’d be happy to stay with you until you clock out.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’m the closer and we don’t close the bar down until two in the morning.”

With a cheeky smirk, Bill huffs, “Well, we’ve got a lot to catch up on and we got...” he looks at the clock on the wall, “four and a half hours to kill. So, start talking, (Y/N). We’ve got all night,” he speaks, dropping his left eye in a wink as you smile with a blush. 

-----------

For the next four hours, you and Bill caught up on everything. And by everything, you mean everything. His life after Hogwarts sounded much more interesting than what you had been doing to keep busy. Bill had been spending his time as a Curse-Breaker for Gringott’s, going on missions throughout Egypt, coming home to London here and there. You smiled as he recounted his stories with such passion and love in his eyes. It was evident that Bill loved what he was doing and he was sad that he couldn’t continue doing his job, now being stationed back in London at a boring desk job. Quite the downgrade from fighting and defeating mummies to working an office job.

Soon, people were filing out of the bar as closing time approached until it was just you and Bill in the pub. You had moved from standing behind the bar to sitting on a stool next to Bill, leaning on the bar as you listened to his deep baritone voice speak to you. 

Bill placed a hand on your knee, giving it a squeeze. “(Y/N)? Tell me something,” he speaks.

“Anything, Weasley,” you smile at him, sleepily.

Bill chuckles, “Why are you working as a bar maid when you could be going out and doing what you love? Teaching. You’ve always wanted to teach students magic and it doesn’t seem fair that you are parked behind a bar pouring ale and lager to lazy blokes.” You roll your eyes and shake your head. “I’m serious. What’s stopping you?”

You sigh and recount everything that has held you back from doing what you want. First off, no wizarding school in the United Kingdom was hiring any professor right now due to the climate of the wizarding world. The only other option was moving to America and maybe teaching there at Ilvermorny? Maybe Beauxbatons in France? But it wasn’t a guarantee that you could find a job with such little teaching experience under your belt. “Besides the hiring freeze? I have no experience teaching, Bill. Plus, I want to make money for myself right now so I can save it up and move into my own place rather than living in my small flat with a bunch of my mates. The only other jobs are abroad and I do not have that much money to make a move like that. Besides, my whole family is here. My friends. And you’ve just come back now and leaving just seems illogical,” you sigh, knowing that your dream would have to wait.

He shakes his head, “Excuses, excuses.” You shake your head and take a sip from the whiskey that you had poured yourself, the amber liquid warming up your chest and stomach. It tasted like graduation. “If I can teach a year at Hogwarts, then you certainly can. Besides, you were just as good, if not better, than me in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m sure they could use your help more than ever right now.”

Looking up at Bill, you see how tender and soft his gaze is on you. He really meant every word he spoke to you with genuine honesty. Looking at Bill now was like looking at someone who you had known forever. He really hadn’t changed one bit. He was witty and kind and smart and sweet. Your Bill. But at the same time, he was different. He had become so mature and ruthless and brave. It was a new Bill, a Bill you could get used to. 

You look down and see that his hand was still placed on your knee. Clearing your throat, you shift in your seat and Bill retracts his hand, digging it into the pocket of his jacket again as you take a sip of your whiskey. “Well,” you start, “I know I would be a better professor than you...I’m better at a lot of things than you,” you tease him as he rolls his eyes. 

“Oh yeah? Do I smell a challenge?” Bill laughs as you shrug. “Ah, ah, don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart,” he leans back in his chair, tongue pressed to his cheek as you gulp, the nickname making your palms sweat. “Go on,” he speaks, daring you to challenge him. “You chose.”

Trying to ignore the rapid increase in your heart rate, you swallow hard. “Fine,” you smile before reaching over to the other side of a bar, grabbing a jar filled with a red liquid and multiple bright red cherries. Twisting the cap open, you pluck out two maraschino cherries, one for you and one for Bill. “I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue faster than you can,” you smirk, flirtatiously biting the cherry of its stem as Bill’s eyes widen and he gulps, shifting in his seat.

He clears his throat, “Yeah? How much you wanna bet?” 

You think for a moment, trying to find a wager that would make this worth your while. “If I win, you pick up the tab from tonight,” you smile.

“I thought this was all on the house?” he scoffs with a smirk.

“Not if you lose,” you sing song, making him roll his eyes. “And Albert told me about a new worker at Gringott’s. Fleur Delacour? Yeah, you’ve gotta ask her out on a date,” you smirk. 

Bill’s eyes widen. “Fleur?!” he exclaims with a laugh. “She’s my co-worker! Plus, we’re just friends. Nothing’s there,” he reasons as you shake your head.

You laugh, “Well those are my terms if I win. Gotta get you out on the dating field, Weasley.” You tease him as he smirks, looking down at the whiskey glass in his hands. “And if you win?”

He thinks for a moment, swirling the whiskey around and around in his glass, pondering what his terms would be. Bill bites the cherry off the stem as you watch his lips move carefully, like you were in a trance of some kind. You quickly shake it off, trying to keep yourself from getting distracted by him. “If I win,” Bill huffs, “then first of all, the drinks are on the house. Second, you’ll have to stop by the Burrow because once Mum hears that you’re in London, she’ll have a cow,” he laughs as you giggle. Molly Weasley, what an angel. “And third of all,” he speaks, leaning forward on his elbows so he’s closer to your face as you inhale sharply, “I’ll ask whoever the fuck I want on a date.”

Your heart stops for a moment as your whole body tingles as the words all from his lips. You can’t take your eyes off of his you are frozen. Bill smirks at your reaction before slowly leaning back in his chair, biting down softly on his lower lip as you gulp. “O-Okay then,” you manage to make out, trying to reorient yourself as Bill chuckles. “Count of three?” you speak before placing the cherry stem in your mouth as Bill does his. “One...two...three.”

With that, the two of you start twisting your tongue around the cherry stem, trying to tie it before the other could. Your heart is racing a mile a minute and your stomach is doing flips as your mind is screaming what the hell is going on. The entire time Bill doesn’t take his eyes off of you, staring into yours. The act felt so inherently sexual that you could feel your palms sweat and a second heartbeat between your thighs grow. This was a terribly good idea. 

You can feel the cherry stem in your mouth finally slip into a knot as your eyes widen in victory, hand flying up to your mouth so you can show Bill the work you have done. As you hand reaches your lips, Bill’s fingers slyly pull his cherry stem out of his mouth just mere milliseconds before you. “I win,” he speaks.

“You cheated!” you instantly accuse him, pointing your finger at him.

Bill chuckles, “How did I cheat? I won fair and square and you know it, you sore loser.”

You shake your head, “I clearly won, you saw me! You had to have cheated, just so you could get free whiskey out of it!” Bill just shakes his head and grabs your chair, pulling you closer to him as you fail to notice as you keep rambling nervously. “Admit it, Bill, you just don’t like to admit that you’re not Hogwarts’ golden child anymore. You’ve out grown that title. Step aside for the new winner which is me, of course. You know I won, come on, Bill. I def-”

“(Y/N)?” he asks softly.

You realize that you are mere inches away from Bill now, his hands resting on either side of your stool. You inhale slowly and gulp, trying to calm yourself down to prepare for the inevitable. “Yes, Bill?” you respond just as softly.

“Shut up,” he whispers with a smile.

“Okay.”

Without further hesitation, Bill leans forward and connects your lips together as you inhale deeply, kissing him back and wrapping your arms around his neck instantly. Bill’s hands slide around your sides before hoisting you onto the bar, him standing between your legs as he kisses you deeper. You wrap your legs around his torso, drawing him closer to you, needing to feel his body pressed against yours. His lips move against yours with deep desire that he had been saving for so long and finally, you both were getting what you wanted for so long. His mouth tasted of the whiskey as you took more and more of it, drunk off of his kiss. 

His hands held onto you tightly, not daring to let you go as you lightly moaned into his lips, making him smirk. Bill’s tongue was cool against yours as he massaged yours with his, snogging you right in the middle of the bar. Your mouths moved together, lusting after the other’s touch. You hands ran down his chest and his abs as he groaned gently into your mouth, making your stomach flutter as you smirked softly. Bill’s hand cupped your cheek before making its way to the back of your neck, pressing your lips harder against his. 

You wanted to take him in this pub just like this, but Bill pulls away before you can push off his jacket. The two of you are breathless from kissing, chest heaving up and down, a smile on both of your faces as you blush a wild crimson. “You win,” you surrender to Bill who chuckles.

“I always win, sweetheart,” he winks before kissing you again, this time short as you whine when he pulls away. “And since I won, that means that this whiskey,” he points to his glass, “is on the house, you’ll be joining the Weasley’s for Sunday dinner, and on Monday night, you’ll be taking the night off so I can take you out on a proper date rather than just snogging on the bar of the pub,” he speaks as you laugh.

You run your fingers through his hair, “You mean you do like snogging me on the bar?” you tease him.

Bill furrows his brows, “Hey, hey, slow your roll. Don’t put words in my mouth now.” You laugh, placing your hands on his shoulders. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than snog you in every location of his pub,” he winks as you roll your eyes. “But I reckon a girl like you should be taken out on a proper date by a bloke like me, eh?” 

Pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, you speak against them, “It’d be my honor.”

“Wicked,” he smirked, giving your sides a squeeze before hoisting you down from the bar. “How about you lock this place up and I’ll walk you back to your flat. Can’t have precious cargo like you roaming the streets alone,” he speaks with a gentle tap on your bum as you roll your eyes.

You shove his shoulder teasingly, “Hey, just because you came back from Egypt, Mr. Big Shot, doesn’t mean you make my decisions for me.” Bill chuckles as you smile, “But yeah, I’ll let you walk me home, Weasley.”

[lebrookestore]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Collab hosted by @heartyyjeno and @neojaems

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐧

Pairing: Qian Kun x reader

Themes: richkid au-ish, royalty au-ish, slight humour, ANGST, strangers to lovers, betrayal, suspense, drugs, murder, cruises, pride and prejudice

Warnings: angst, mentions of murder, drugs, smoking, betrayal, drugging, making out, messed up stuff honestly

Wc: 17.1k

Taglist:  @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @chicksung @1-800-seo @blueprint-han @jenosslut @cupidluvstarrz @kkakkdugi @sweetlyjaem @vera-liscious @leetaeyonglover @kunrengui @unknown5tar @kisshim @the-rooftop-fight @rueyins @kiri-ah @sly-merlin @alicanta77 @rouiyan @jae-dreamin @peachyyjaes  @girlwithmightymuses-deactivated @jenoleemonade​ @radiorenjun​

Summary: Many things can happen on a cruise ship, most of them are unexpected. Secrets are exposed, arrangements are brought to light and love can bloom- but when the secrets and arrangements clash, will the love survive? [loosely based on the Opera; Tristan and Isolde]

Playlist: here

Authors note: My first collab fic!!! I honestly really love how this turned out, and I hope you do too! Take this as a thank you for 400 as well, since I have literally nothing else planned rip. Thanks to Mina for letting me scream about this fic to her and feedback would be really appreciated! Without further ado, I present to you: Love Shot!

“Lady Y/n”, the woman greeted you, bowing respectfully. You smiled softly, touching her shoulder to indicate that it was alright. “Winter”, you said fondly, “You know I don’t care for formalities”, you reminded the girl, who nodded eagerly, and took your bags.

Sighing tiredly, you stood at the entrance, waiting for Winter to return and guide you to your room on the cruise ship, where you would be staying for the next three months. The air was crisp, more breathable than it was in the city. Crossing one hand over the other, standing up straight, you exude confidence and an air of authority, something everyone around you acknowledged and respected.

Your family was and would always be one of the most respected families in Japan. You had money, a name, and many many enemies. There was always someone on the prowl, ever ready to steal your family’s worth, to ruin its reputation. Your father had gotten the family estate when the wealth had been divided amongst him and his brothers, and that had only added up to your net worth. As the daughter of one of the richest men in the world, you had big shoes to fill, especially since you had no siblings. 

You had had your fair share of bad publicity, and drama. Scandals always lazily floated around, and at this point, you welcomed them like an old friend. Added some spice into your otherwise very structured life. 

A year ago, your father had died, leaving all the responsibilities to fall upon you. He had been found dead one morning in his bed, your mother shaking as she sat on the edge, looking on at her dead husband with a crazed look in her eyes. There were rumours and suspicions, but you decided to pay no heed to them.

And with all these new responsibilities, you made the news more times than you cared to count, and the way the media preyed on the tragedy, highlighting it, using it against you. Your mother was at her wit’s end, a broken shell of the commanding woman she was before. You heeded every request of hers, and fulfilled any wish, no matter how idiotic. Your life had changed, but at the same time, it hadn’t. You were still the same filthy rich girl from before.

Winter returned, a rosy hue on her cheeks as she greeted you once more. “This way Ma’am”, you grabbed her arm, glaring mockingly, “Y/n”, you asserted, “You’re never this formal Win, what happened?”

“It’s my job”, she said sheepishly, “And I’m a little out of it, please don’t pay any attention to it”

You wanted to prod her further but decided to respect her privacy, and silently followed her down the halls of the ship, studying your surroundings. It was clear the place was dripping with money, nothing you weren’t used to. With the gold plating and jewel-encrusted chandeliers, you felt more at home than on a vacation.

Well, it wasn’t really a vacation now, was it?

This was business, for your family. A set plan, rules and things you had to do. Even thought it was all arranged, you still had to look pretty and smile and be nice to him.

Stopping in front of a door, she fished out a pair of keys and inserted one of them into the keyhole, opening it and leading you into your room for the stay. It was one of the first-class cabins on the cruise, more spacious than the others. Bowing once again, Winter left you, promising to return to call you for dinner. Sitting down on your bed, you inspected the room, noting its features. It was all the same.

Deciding to get ready for the dinner, you unzipped one of your bags, picking through the garments you had brought along with you. You knew dinners were a big thing, especially if you were of your status, and today would be monumental, especially since you would be meeting someone, and that someone was very important. Finally choosing a silk dress, you slipped it on, retouching your makeup and checking your phone for any updates, you left your room making sure you had your keys with you. The hallways were pretty chilly, so you decided to turn back and get your pullover just in case. 

Waiting patiently by your door for Winter, you checked your phone, reading over the message your mother sent you. A list of instructions, a code of conduct for the evening.

You had to impress them.

Once again, Winter showed up, still donning the rosy blush as she regarded you, and began leading you through the winding halls of the ship. She seemed to be very out of it, not completely focusing on the task at hand as she tripped over her own feet. You reached out, grabbing her arm and stabilizing the girl.

“I’m sorry”, she squeaked, “Forgive me”

“Be careful Winter”, you said, “And stop patronizing yourself, you’re never like this”

Flustered, she nodded a little too fast, “I’m sorry Y/n, just following orders”

“Whose orders?”, you asked incredulously. She rested her hand on the gold plated doorknob, turning to you.

“Your mother of course”, she said, before pushing the door open. Hushed whispers traveled across the room at your arrival, the room falling into silence.

Dinner was served.

Kun walked into the dining hall, his eyes dark and alight with amusement. He slipped his hands in his pockets, leisurely making his way to one of the tables. He observed the scene, taking note of the crowd. Jazz music played softly in the background, setting the mood. Clicking his tongue, he pulled out a chair taking a seat at the table he had chosen. 

He wasn’t alone, there were two other men sitting there, and a woman. One was his brother, Chenle, who was six years younger than Kun. He looked intimidating for an eighteen-year-old, with a square-ish jaw and large eyes. They were set in a blank stare, as if he was used to this, and was tired of it. He regarded Kun with a nod, before going back to his food.

The other was his uncle, Akira, who was only ten years older than Kun himself, being the youngest brother from his mother’s side. He was dressed in an expensive suit, eyes covered with his dark sunglasses. He didn’t even acknowledge Kun, instead, he had his eyes trained on the door, presumably waiting for someone.

The woman was sitting next to Kun, his sister, Yuxi, younger than him by a year. She didn’t even spare a look at Kun, but he was used to it.

A server walked up to the table, handing Kun a menu, and bowing respectfully. He was wearing a white suit, in pristine condition, hair slicked back, shoes polished to the point of reflection. Kun studied the boy, who seemed a few years younger than him. His tag read ‘Heesung’, and he looked bored out of his mind.

“Heesung”, Kun said, “I’d like a glass of Dom Pérignon please”, he requested, to which Heesung nodded, taking note of it in his notepad. “I’ll come back with your drink and order”, he informed Kun as he left.

The doors opened, two women standing there. One was obviously the help of the other, dressed in a black and white uniform. She opened the door wider, exposing the other women to the crowd. She was obviously of some high status, the air around her seemed to hold some sort of authority. She walked down the stairs, her help close behind as she scanned the room to spot a table for herself.

You soon found the table you had been assigned to by your darling mother and walking towards it. You held your head a little higher, asserting a sort of silent dominance over them. Winter pulled out a seat for you, and you thanked her softly, turning to the man on your right.

“Akira, I suppose”, you said, lifting your hand up and shaking his hand. He smiled, “The lovely Y/n”, he said, “I presume your mother has told you about me”

He was handsome, you supposed, in an oldish way. You nodded, “Yes, she has”

“And I hope you are intrigued”, he suggested. You forced a smile, biting down the initial disgust at the older man. “Very much so”, you assured him, turning to the other two, “And you are”, you asked, desperate to avoid any further interaction with Akira.

“Yuxi”, the lady sitting next to Akira introduced herself, holding up a glass of some sort of drink, looking at the other two men.

“I’m Chenle”, the one on your left greeted, smiling slightly. You returned the gesture, looking at the other one expectantly.

“Kun”, he said, disinterest apparent in his tone. “A pleasure to meet you, Y/n”, he said coyly, leaning back in his chair and observed you. Nodding at his curt response, you waited in silence for the waiter to come and take your order. “So who are you?”, Kun asked, to which you blinked in surprise. “You mean you don’t know?”, you asked, not meaning to sound as vain as it came out. You were genuinely shocked at the fact he didn’t know who you were.

“Kun”, Akira warned, “I told you about the lovely Y/n”, he explained, “You know about the deal”

“Was I expected to know her?”, he asked, “To be fair, she's like every other woman here, just richer”

Your eyes widened at his blatant disrespect, as his lips upturned into a smirk, somewhat enjoying your obvious discomfort.

“Ahem”, Heesung interrupted, “Your order?”

Mildly put off, you asked for the meal you wanted, trying not to sink into your seat from embarrassment. If your mother was here, she would’ve given you an earful if you slouched.

Always hold yourself to a higher standard Y/n, she constantly reminded you, Head a little higher than the rest.

Ignore him darling”, Akira advised you. The nickname set a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Excuse me”, you said, “I’m not feeling well”, getting up, you called for Winter, asking her to get your food to your room. 

You walked out gracefully, not missing the sly smile that Kun gave you.

Mornings were something you had always looked forward to. You woke up early on most days, while your mother was still asleep, to be alone with your thoughts. It was hard to think with your mother droning on about responsibilities, and things she wanted you to do for her. You had to mindlessly listen, and accomplish every task she set out for you. You were beyond thankful for Winter, who helped you, and single handedly kept you sane. She was your friend, more than a servant, which was why her sudden formality was confusing you.

While your mother wasn’t with you at the moment, you still decided to leave the confines of your bed, and explore the cruise in peace and quiet, perhaps get an early breakfast alone. You changed into acceptable clothing, casual instead of the finery you were used to and tired of, and headed out to the deck. The cool sea breeze was welcoming, making you feel refreshed. You sipped the tea in your hands, cupping the mug to provide some warmth to your fingers, as you leaned against the railing of the ship.

The floors were made of wood, giving it a rustic feel to it. It contrasted the marble interiors, giving it a simpler look. It was homely, more so than your own home. You smiled wantonly, the silence of the scene comforting.

You mother came to mind, as you remembered the deal, the entire reason why you were on this cruise, it wasn’t a happy vacation, on the contrary, it was a welcoming, an introduction to a new family, one you would soon be thrown into. 

“You're alone”, a voice observed. You turned around to face the man from yesterday.

“Qian Kun”, you said politely, “It appears so”

You weren’t particularly angry at him for not knowing who you were, in fact, you would go as far as to say, you were relieved.

“Relax, I know who you are, I’m just teasing you”, he said, which destroyed all hopes of you being an unknown person. You raised an eyebrow in the question of his doings, to which he grinned, “Y/n Osaki”.

You nodded, looking down at your tea, not quite knowing what to say. You didn’t know Kun very well, but from the short encounters you had with him, he confused you. You studied him for a moment, trying to understand him. He seemed to be put together, content with himself, yet he took pleasure in trivial things, like getting a reaction out of you.

“Well, I don’t truly know you, other than the fact you’re this rich girl my uncle is interested in”, he quipped, standing at your side and looking out at the sea, not sparing you another glance.

“Uncle?”, you asked slightly horrified. Kun seemed to be around your age, so the thought of Akira being his uncle sounded very messed up, especially since your mother was also rooting for the older man.

Kun hummed in agreement, “he was ten when I was born”, he continued. You decided to ignore that fact, for now, focusing on the subtle dig he had thrown at you. “You’re rich too, or so it seems. Certainly, you’re wealthy if you can afford this cruise”

You hadn’t meant to sound vain or stuck up, but it was true. This wasn’t a cheap stay, especially since you knew they were staying on the first-class level of the ship just as you were. Your mother had told you almost everything about them.

He seemed amused, his dimples appearing as he smiled, “We’re comfortable”

You scoffed at the statement, deciding to take a sip of your tea instead of retorting. The conversation, if you could even call it that, fell into a silence. You tapped against the porcelain of the cup, looking blankly at the water.

He was attractive, dark hair splayed across his forehead, dark grey eyes, lips that seemed to upturn into a smirk easily. He had an easy going demeanor, with a touch of underlying darkness, you supposed. It piqued your interest, but you made sure not to show it. 

“See you around Y/n”, he said, walking away, seemingly bored. You watched him disappear under the deck, and suddenly, you were all alone.

Alone with your thoughts.

“And school? How is that going?’, you asked, switching your phone to your other hand as you flipped the page of your book. Your brother bristled at the other end of the line, clearly not pleased with the turn of the conversation, “It’s fine”, he said, “Same old. Sungchan is still trying to woo that lower class girl”, he said this with a snicker, “It’s pathetic really.”

“Tsk”, you clicked your tongue, “Don’t belittle her, she’s smart”

“And not to our standard”, he replied, “Sungchan should know better”

“Shotaro”, you said in a warning tone, “Leave it alone, he’s probably just messing with her. You know how we do things”

“Of course, but it’s turning into an infatuation of sorts, he only talks of her! I’m tired of it”

“Maybe he’s in love”, you suggested, turning the next page. The line went silent, you didn’t worry too much as this gave you time to read a few paragraphs properly, instead of the skimming you had been doing. “And what is love Y/n, hmm?”

“Am I supposed to know?”, you bit back sarcastically. You could hear Shotaro scoff on the other side of the line, “You’re the one getting married, dear sister, and isn’t the eldest sibling supposed to teach the younger one?”

“I am not in love”, you said, “I do not need to teach you anything, pay attention in school instead”

“Love you too Y/n, goodbye”, he said flatly, deciding that if you were to talk of school, he was not going to have any part of it. You shook your head amusedly, placing your phone down and continuing to read. Shotaro was your brother, you were close to him, even with your constant bantering and seemingly formal conversation. It was just how the two of you had been brought up- in a very classy way. You had a reputation to uphold, and a family name to flaunt. 

You shifted in your seat, hearing three knocks on the door. “Come in Winter”, you called out, and the girl walked in, holding a box that was wrapped in ribbon, a pretty bow sitting at the top. You placed your book aside, taking the box from her hands. “What is this for?” “Sir Akira sent it”, she explained, dusting down her generic uniform, “Hesaid he would like you to wear it tonight”

You raised an eyebrow at this, skeptical, but nodded. Winter made motion to leave, but you held her hand, “Sit”, you said with a smile, “Talk to me”

“Miss-”

“Y/n”, you reiterated, “Please Winter?”, she sighed at your request, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “You’re keeping your guard up, we grew up together, stop”, she sighed, “I know, I hate this too”

“Do you? This is my room, no one is watching here, now”, you moved over, patting your lap and she grinned, laying her head down on it. “Aren’t you going to open that?”

“Mmhh”, you hummed, pulling the ribbon, letting the cover loose as a pretty red fabric peeked through. You pulled out the dress, studying it.

“It’s pretty”, Winter observed, looking up at your skeptical face. “What happened?”

“I hate it”, you muttered, “It’s tasteful, sure, but I don’t want to wear it”, you folded it and placed it to the side. “I have several of these.” You wondered how Akira had gotten your size perfectly, let alone the similarity in your style of clothing so on point.

“You still have to wear it tonight”, she reminded you, prospering herself up on her elbows, “How’s your brother?” You glanced at her, picking your book up again, “He’s fine”

“Oh what are you reading?”, she asked, “Will you read to me?”

You nodded with a smile playing on your lips, opening the cover of Pride and Prejudice, leaning back and searching for the line you had finished on. The musty pages welcomed you back like an old friend as you indulged in the love story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. You read about the part, those five chapters where her feelings matured and her opinions changed over time for the man, who she had positively despised before.

You wondered if you’d ever fall for Akira, who you despised too, and was forced into marriage with. Maybe you were a lot like Lizzy Bennet, except you didn’t have a father to back you up.

Duty.

The Osaki Family was very familiar with this term, it was like every second day you heard it. With your family name came responsibilities, expectations and a warped sense of reality. Warped because your reality was very different from most people.

Duty came in different forms. For Shotaro, it was completing his extensive education and taking over the business side of the family, succeeding your father’s work. Your mother’s was to sit there and look pretty, the face of the family as of now, a sympathetic heroine of sorts ever since your father deceased. Yours was to extend family relations, and keep the prestige. You were going to take your mothers place, not something you were particularly looking forward to, but it had to be done.

It was your duty, after all.

The cruise was a way to get away from these duties, by keeping them at the forefront of your mind, replaying like a broken cassette tape. 

“Y/n Osaki”, someone called out, and you looked up from your seat. You were sitting on the deck of the ship, reading in peace with your phone by your side in case of emergency. You recognized the woman as Kun’s sister.

“Yuxi, If I’m not mistaken?”, you asked, moving aside on the bench to give her room to sit.  She crossed her legs, propping one hand on the backrest of the bench and smiling, “Tis I!”, her voice was cheerful, “I’m terribly bored of being surrounded by my brothers, so I thought I’d find you and talk to one of the female specimens”, she joked, causing your lips to upturn into a smile.

“Talking seems wonderful”, you assured her, “What would you like to talk about?”

“Anything honestly, something that isn’t about ‘who’s the man’”, she drawled, an unamused look on her face as she supposedly referenced her brother's banterring. Her eyes cast down to your book, “Jane Austen hmm? My brother loves that book”

“Which one?”

“Kun”, she answered, shifting in her seat, “He can argue for hours about whos the better character,” she smirked, stretching out her legs, “I love my family, but I’m tired of them”

“I understand that far better than you think”, you said, “I sometimes wish we weren’t related”

“You’re one to talk”, she snorted, “You have just about everything you’d ever need and more.”

“I’ll be losing it all in a little, I assume you know this”, you smiled sadly. She nodded, “Alright”, she said, “Perhaps you have everything except freedom”

Kun was tired.

 In the event of having to deal with his brother and uncle’s ‘nonsense’ as he called it, he left the table at dinner to search for some quiet. He walked down the hallways of the ship, the soft rumbling of something he couldn’t quite make out reached his ears. 

He passed his own room, and several others, before coming to the room he was looking for. It had a red door, washed out and dark so it didn’t really stand out. He pushed it open, entering a sort of mini hallway, with another door at the end. 

He walked to that one too, entering a small, dark room. There were boxes and suitcases in there, all from his family.

 But they weren’t all luggage.

 He scanned the room, trying to remember something, it was like there had been an itch ever since he saw you. Like you had opened a door to a memory, but the memory was hazy, he couldn’t quite catch it. It was like a connection had been established, and he couldn’t quite shake it off.

 He sighed in defeat, leaving the room and walking into the hallway once again, only to be met with you, donning a red dress, hair done up in curls. You startled, blinking on seeing him emerge from the side, “Oh”, you said, looking him up and down, “Hello, Kun.” 

He took in your pretty features, wondering how you got roped into this. 

“Shouldn't you be at dinner?”, Kun asked you, lips turning into a sly smile. You looked at him, seemingly unfazed, “Shouldn’t you?”

 “Dinner is nothing special I can assure you that”, he muttered bitterly, “I take you're procrastinating getting there?” 

You nodded, “As much as I enjoy your family's company, I am not entertained by your Uncle, no offense”, you rubbed the side of your arms, “This dress was given by him.”

 “So that’s why he was talking to your servant”, Kun said, “Alright, let’s skip dinner then.”

 “Skip it? My mother would-”

 “We won't tell her”, he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ll make up a convincing story.”

 You studied him, deeming him sincere and nodding, “Lead the way then”, you gestured, and he took your hand, smirking and leading you down the hallways, “There’s a lounge somewhere here”, he mused, “Ah here.”

 The two of you entered a fancy looking lounge that definitely matched the entirety of the cruise ship. There was a bar at the end, and couches in the center. You took a seat, leaning back as he went straight for the drinks

. “Want anything?”, he called, taking a bottle down.

 “French 75”, you requested, “You sister told me you liked Jane Austen?” 

He raised an eyebrow at you, “I do”, he agreed. “Why?” There was that odd feeling again, as if you held some sort of importance, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

 “I mean”, you looked over at the bar, “dinner isn’t going to get over anytime soon and we’re stuck with each other, friendly banter might help pass the time since I don’t have my phone or book with me.” 

He hummed in agreement, “Which book are you reading?” “Pride and Prejudice.”

 “High class families and their literature”, he hummed. “Alright, what about it?”

 “You don’t seem very intrigued by the story”, you observed, taking the cocktail he handed you. “What do you think of Lizzy Bennet’s and Mr. Darcy’s relationship?”

 “Lizzy Bennet, in crude terms would be considered a high class bitch.” 

“Excuse you?”, you asked, slightly outraged in a playful manner. “She is smart and funny and has some brains, unlike the rest of the sisters.”

 “She judged Darcy all too fast don't you think?” He raised his own glass to his lips, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke. “She blatantly disregarded his affections.” 

You felt heat rush to your face, mostly in indignant anger, an urge to defend one of your all time favorite heroines of any sort of story. You had always stood by her. Seeing someone ridicule her, though you had invited him to do so, was irking. “She did not! He bitched about her family and confessed, expecting her to be okay with his idiocy?”

 You asked him hotly, leaning forward in anticipation for his answer. He seemed amused by your irritation, “He’s a man of class, he’s going to judge a not so upper class family. I mean, you would know of this right?”

 “Not if my family was belittled”, you said with a frown, “I see Darcy as the prick who refused to back down because of his goddamn pride.” 

“I always thought Elizabeth was the one with pride, and Darcy held the Prejudice against her family.” His argument was strong.

 You nodded. “I suppose you’re right, but Lizzy Bennet-”

 “Can’t do any wrong?”

 You muttered some not so ladylike things under your breath that your mother would’ve had your head for, glaring at the man who sat across you. While you were all up for playful arguing, being interrupted was something you weren't used to—nor did you appreciate it. 

“Would you let me speak?”

 He smirked, “I suppose you’re defending her because”, he looked at his glass, studying the clear liquid inside it, “you think of yourself as her.”

 “I’m done here”, you said quietly, placing your drink down and getting up, refusing to look at him, knowing his smug expression would just irk you more. His accusation, while probably lighthearted, did not sit well with you. 

“Goodbye.”

The sun was out the next afternoon, casting its golden rays on the deck of the ship, giving it a lovely, summery feel. Guests bustled and walked about, chatting in groups. A small band played their merriment off to the side, setting the mood with their joyful tunes.

Winter stood off to the side with the rest of the servants, a pensive expression on her pretty face.

You stood with the rest of the crowd, next to Akira’s family, returning the warm smile Yuxi sent you. Apparently, there was supposed to be some sort of performers on the ship to entertain the folk. 

You sighed, watching the scene with a polite, yet bored gaze. You would rather be in your room reading, instead of out here. But of course, this was all done from obligation, you had to be there.

Akira shuffled to stand next to you, “I missed you yesterday”, he said, “I was looking forward to seeing you in the dress I got you.”

“I wasn’t feeling too well last night”, you fibbed, eyes meeting Kun’s for a fleeting second, “I appreciate the dress.”

You could feel Kuns smirk, even if you weren’t looking at him. Shifting on your feet, you leaned towards Winter, requesting her to get you a glass of water. 

You were still so uncomfortable around Akira, with his easy smile and underlying words. You knew he was being nice because he had to. You were already his, whether you liked it or not. Shivering at the thought, you took the glass from your friend, taking a sip and trying to focus on the band that played a jazz rendition of ‘Seven Nation Army’.

You wondered for a moment, how it would be if you weren’t from the Osaki family. If you were just another girl, instead of leverage for your family. Once Shotaro was of age and finished his schooling, he would take your fathers place, your mother would remain a shell of herself, useless and forgotten.

You would be like her soon.

Yuxi called Akira for something, giving you room to breathe.

“I hope you’re not still angry at me”, Kun’s voice came from behind, an amused lilt to his voice, “About our little miff yesterday.”

You turned to face him, shaking your head, “I’ll admit, my storming off was a tad immature.”

He frowned, studying you. “Why are you so formal all the time?”

The question took you aback, “Sounds like you have a stick up your ass, reminds me of my friend, Ten.”

“You literally just apologized to me, only to insult me once again?”, you asked, wondering how his mind worked. He was so confusing, one moment all proper the next he acted like a regular kid with a crass sense of humour.

A smile stretched out on his lips, “I never apologized Y/n”, he reminded you, “I only asked you if you were still mad.”

“Touche”

“Loosen up a bit”, he said, “Don’t be so high strung all the time.”

You raised an eyebrow at this, “Oh do tell me how”

He grinned, taking your hand in his, intertwining your fingers, “Let’s go then, I have an idea.”

“Oh hell no”

“Oh hell yes”, Kun smirked, “Are you telling me you’ve never had a water balloon fight?”

“You’re telling me this is a regular occurrence for you?”, you asked incredulously. He shook his head, “No, but it's fun, so lets start”, he handed you a bunch of balloons in a bag.

“How the fuck do you even have these? We’re on a cruise?”, your confusion was comical.

The two of you stood in an empty hall in the cruise, and Kun had locked the door so no one would barge inside. Somehow he had accumulated a bizarre amount of balloons all filled with water. You could foresee the mess that was about to befall you.

You silently wondered why the fuck you agreed to this madness. Maybe it had something to do with Kun;s pretty smile.

He shrugged, “Don’t question it. Yuxi me and Chenle fight this way when we want to get away from our Uncle”, he swatted you away, “Now go! Unless you want me to destroy you from the start.”

A challenge.

You never backed down from a challenge.

You thanked yourself for deciding not to wear that summer dress Winter had initially laid out for you, opting for some pants and a shirt instead. 

Grabbing the bag, you hurried to the other end of the hall, hiding behind one of the heavy curtains and picking up one of the balloons, getting used to the weight in your palms. All you had to do was hit him right? Seemed simple right?

Wrong. So wrong.

As soon as you felt as ready and slipped out of your hiding place, you were hit on your leg, a cold wet feeling creeping up on your leg. The impact of the balloon made you stumble a little bit as you regained your footing, shooting Kun a dirty look. He smirked in response, “Pay attention L/n”

You felt another hit on your arm, realizing he had taken advantage of the fact you had been distracted. Narrowing your eyes, you flung your own balloon and gracefully missed him, the balloon ending up rolling on the ground sadly. 

Embarrassed, you retreated back behind the curtains, grabbing two of your weapons, and scurrying to the other curtain before you could be hit again. Your left pant leg was soaked through, still smarting from the hit and your arm was damp, but your focus was on hitting your opponent.

He chuckled, “Hiding just prolongs this, you know that right?”, he was taunting you, and you scowled, coming out from behind the curtain and throwing your balloon, hitting his calf and making him grunt. 

It was your turn to smirk, pleased at your successful attempt. 

Your triumphant feeling lasted about for five seconds, until you were hit again.

Damn Qian Kun and his quick thinking.You staggered back and he walked closer, “Gonna stay behind those curtains?”, he asked coyly, “Okay, fine you need incentive.”, He threw another at you, making you whine at your own slowness. “Lizzy Bennet needs to be more forgiving”

He had brought up your argument. He knew it would tick you off, making you want to justify your own point of view.

“Mr. Darcy needs to stop being such a prick!”, you exclaimed, flinging your own balloon at him, hitting his side, making him wince, “And you need to stop being so stubborn.”

“I’m the stubborn one?”, he said, almost whined. Another water missile landed next to your foot, bursting and spraying you with water. 

After a few minutes, the two of you were soaked to the bone, your clothes stuck to your skin uncomfortably, but a tired smile stretched out on your lips. His expression mirrored yours as he tried grabbing your arm. The two of you had finished all the water balloons and had been chasing each other around the hall like kids.

For the first time you actually felt like a kid.

You squealed as his fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you down with him as he tripped. Falling into him, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him and entrapping you in his embrace.

Laughter bubbled from your lips as you struggled against him, “Leave me!”

He laughed into your hair, “Truce. Lizzy and Darcy are both idiots.”

“That's established!”, you said, “Let me go idiot”

He did, a wide smile on his face, “You’re more comfortable around me now”, he observed.

You realized he was right, you were more comfortable. You liked the smile on his face, the lilt of relief in his voice. The hall was wet in some places. One of you hiding places, the curtains had a big splotch of water on it, you silently wondered how the staff would react to the state at which it was in.

“I am”, you stated, “Not so strung up now?”

He snorted, “I destroyed you in the water balloon fight, I practically knocked you down from your high horse.”

He looked at the smile on your face, liking it. Even though your hair was wet and messed up, he thought you were beautiful, now that your face wasn’t set in a semi permanent haughty expression.

You hit him playfully, not finding it in you to glare at him. His dark hair was wet, and it fell in front of his eyes as he looked at you, feigning a look of hurt. “You wound me.”

“My mission in life”, you snickered. A silence fell upon the two of you, as you rubbed your arms, the cold biting into your skin. You would have to leave soon, take a shower and show up and dinner, all prim and proper again. The thought made your stomach sink, because you had had fun for the first time in a long time.

You met Kun’s eyes, which were sparkling with a mischievous glint. Raising an eyebrow at him, you crossed your arms, “What?”

“We both have to agree”, he started, “That Mr. Bennet is the best character.”

Winter scurried along the hallways, clutching an envelope, hiding it under her apron lest she ran into you. Her nails dug into the paper, guilt welling up in the pit of her stomach. She stopped outside the door she had been summoned to

Knocking on the throat thrice, she took a step back, waiting for it to be opened. 

A man opened it, narrowing his eyes at her, “Yes?”

“A letter for you sir”, Winter squeaked, “Sir Akira. From Mrs Osaki.”

Akira grabbed the envelope from Winter, swatting her away. The girl bowed and scurried off, not wanting to have anything to do with the contents of the letter. She had already been swayed by your mother enough.

Akira shut the door and locked it, tearing open the letter, desperate to get to it. He pulled it out, fumbling with the paper and reading it hastily.

Dear Akira,

                I would first like to thank you, this wasn’t easy to do without you. Don’t worry, everything will fall into place, and no one will be the wiser. Y/n, my darling daughter, doesn’t know the whole story, only about the wedding, and we shall keep it that way. When our families unite, it shall all be sweeped under the rug.

I shall forever be grateful to you for helping me get rid of him. My debt is free I suppose now, as you read this letter our plan has been put into effect. In return for helping me you shall have protection and a new reputation.

Thanking you, 

                  Mrs. Osaki

Akira sighed in relief, knowing his fate was sealed. He had been skeptical at first, when he saw how distant you were. You didn’t even give him an inch, and he suspected you knew what he-his family did and had done.

But supposedly you didn’t.

When your mother had asked him for his help, he was surprised. The Osaka family? Not happy? How could it be?

How could a wife have murderous intent as much as your mother did?

Folding the letter, he stuffed it into the pockets of his pants, pulling out his lighter and setting fire to the envelope. He watched the tongues of fire snatch onto the paper, bright yellows and blues emerging from nothing. Throwing it in the bin, he crushed it under his heel and pulled out a cigarette.

Kun walked into the room, rubbing his hair with a towel. His and Chenles rooms were connected to Akira’s on the cruise, so that he could check up on them. A frown appeared on the older man's face as he studied Kun’s bedraggled appearance.

Kun’s parents weren’t like Akira, they were respectable and wealthy nonetheless, but still dabbled in the darker aspect of things from time to time, not that many people knew of it.

“Why do you look like a wet rat?”

Kun scowled at this, “I went for a shower”, he said, “You look like a rat more than I do”

It was no secret that Kun, Chenle and Yuxi despised their uncle for his dealings and amoral nature. But of course, Kun didn’t know the whole story, he didn’t know everything, all the letters, the truth about you and your family.

Even you didn’t know.

The only reason they were there was because if the plan didn’t go through exactly as it had been planned, their family’s reputation would be ruined for possibly forever. It was risky business, one that was going to be fixed, no matter how vile and wrong it was.

“Get ready for dinner, and for goodness sake, clean up”, Akira instructed, ignoring the dig and gesturing towards the door that connected his room to Kun’s, “Be on time.”

His nephew obliged and left, leaving Akira alone. He took a deep breath and walked out into the hallway, travelling along it quietly so as to not attract any attention. He stopped outside a red door, opening it and travelling along the dark little hallway it led into. Opening the final door, he found himself in another room, one that was dark. 

There were several boxes there, and a few suitcases. Akira’s, Kun’s, Chenle and Yuxi’s extra luggage. The boxes were not luggage though, they were Akira’s job. The dark side of things. He fished the letter out of his pocket and put it on the top of one of the boxes, next to the rest of the letters.

Leaving the darkness with the dark.

“You’re quite fun actually”, Yuxi said, chattering away to you during dinner. You smiled, returning the compliment.

You were grateful for her talk, which distracted you from the burning stare that Akira held on you, and Kun’s occasional glances. Not that you were against the latter, but it was slightly unnerving. Of course the two of you were much more comfortable with one another, but another feeling had settled in, a prickling on that settled in the bottom of your stomach.

Did you like it? You didn’t know.

Chenle indulged in conversation as well, you learned that he went to the same school your brother went to: Culture Academy. Apparently Kun had graduated from there just before he left for the cruise. Yuxi went to a finishing school, but you expected that, their family seemed the type to send their children to finishing schools.

You had graduated a few months ago as well, but from another high class school, while your brother attended Culture Academy.

“She’s terrible at water balloon fights”, Kun quipped, a smirk on his face as you glared, “Excuse me-”

“You guys had a water balloon fight without us?”, Yuxi asked, in mock offense, “And to think I actually trusted you for a moment”, she said, turning away from you and jutting her bottom lip out. “The betrayal.”

You laughed, “He dragged me, I had no say in it.”

They weren’t as cold as they had been when you had initially met them. It almost felt as if they were your friends. Taking a bite of whatever Winter had gotten you, you met Kun’s eyes, taking in the amused look in them.

Akira cleared his throat, “I assume you’ll be there for the dance next week?”

You raised an eyebrow, “What dance?”

“Instead of a regular dinner there is going to be a sort of dance”, he explained, “I expect to see you there.”

It was a command, not a request.

There was that constricting feeling again, you gave him a tight lipped, curt nod, looking away again. You hated being around Akira, he made you so uncomfortable, and even though you couldn’t avoid him forever, you would try.

He made you sick.

You took a sip of your drink, letting the burning taste trickle down your throat. You were barely past your first glass, not being a heavy drinker. Your mother had told you it was not respectable to drink too much, so you stuck to her rules. You always stuck to her rules, but god, you would’ve loved to drown the entire glass and ask for another at that moment.

Or throw it at Akira. But that probably wouldn’t have been very respectable either.

Winter walked up to you, tapping your shoulder timidly to get your attention, “Miss”, she said, leaning down to your ear to speak in secrecy, “Your mother has called.”

Pressing your lips together to avoid making a displeased face, you excused yourself from the table and followed your helper into the hallway, taking your phone from her. She gave you an encouraging smile as you began speaking.

“Mother?”

Her harsh voice brought you back down, “Y/n”, she said sternly, “Why did you not go to that dinner?”

You fisted your hand, clenching your jaw. Of course she found out, “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“So you tell no one?

“I wasn’t aware of the fact that everyone was supposed to know about my health”, you couldn’t help the bitter undertone in your voice. She didn’t care whether you were sick or not, she cared about why you skipped.

“Not everyone, just the Qian family”, she hissed, “Y/n focus. Duty.”

You knew there was no point in arguing with your mother, she was as stubborn as an ox. You could never be right against her.

“Yes mother, I’m sorry”, you said through gritted teeth. You could hear the smile on her face at your surrender, “Remember darling, you need to impress them”, she reiterated, “It’s for-”

“The good of our family, yes I know”, you sighed, “I’ll follow the rules.”

“Don’t just follow the rules Y/n, behave”, he tone of voice made you feel like a little girl. “You may not know it, but our family name depends on it.”

This took you aback, leaving you mildly confused. What did this stupid vile plan have to do with anything? Sure your family didn’t have the cleanest record (those scandals tainted it a little bit), but otherwise it was extremely respected all through Japan and other parts of the world.

The question sat at the tip of your tongue, but you knew better than to press your mother for answers. If she wanted to be vague, she would. Ending the call politely, you walked back into the dining hall, sitting next to Yuxi. Whatever momentary joy you had gotten from talking with them vanished, instead it was a reminder of your cruel fate, the bitter reality you had to face whether you liked it or not.

Why?

“You’re insufferable”, you declared, leaning against the railing, “Poor girl, you guys really made her jump into a pool?”

He laughed, “Yeah, you should have seen the look of anger on her face. And in full clothing too?”

You frowned, “You monster!”

“Hey, she signed up for it, she wouldn’t have gotten in if she refused”, he reminded you. Kun was currently telling you stories of his schooling at Culture Academy, particularly about a club he was in. You listened intently, enjoying yourself more than you would like to admit. He was definitely entertaining.

Maybe it was because you never experienced half the things he did.

You looked at the ocean, the sun shining down on it and sparkling. “I suppose she did”, you whispered, letting the words float about in the air as a silence settled upon the two of you. It was comfortable, you didn;t feel the need to fill it in. He took out a lighter and a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long slow drag.

“You smoke?”, you asked, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. You had never seen him do it before. The revelation was something you hadn’t expected.

Another thing your mother drilled into you: never smoke. It’s unladylike and very unbecoming of a person, and also because the news would latch onto it and create a scandal that was not needed. In general you had never seen the appeal of smoking.

He raised an eyebrow at you, nodding as if he expected you to know this. Almost as if he was bewildered with your surprised response. And he was, Kun was confused as to why you were so shocked with the fact. It was just a cigarette, nothing that terrible. Didn’t you know what Akira did-

Oh.

Oh no.

“Yeah, occasionally”, he said, brushing it off quickly, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his heel, “Want to head back in?”

You nodded with a shrug, “Okay.” 

He smiled brightly, and a fuzzy feeling made its way into your stomach. You returned the smile, pushing away the feeling away to the back of your mind, far away in a dark corner of your mind, simply because it wouldn’t be right. You couldn’t even afford to think that way.

Not with the arrangement that had been set up, that was for sure.

You followed him inside, another thought blooming in the same dark corner of your mind, no matter how much you tried to push it away.

God it was wrong on so many levels though. 

“She got in”, Kun said, continuing his story from before, “It surprised everyone.”

You smiled, “I’m glad, poor girl, I hope she didn’t get hypothermia or something.”

Kun smiled, “She took my place as I left, you know, graduation and all”, he said, reaching his hand out and grabbing your own, leading you down.

“Your friends sound like fun”, you said fondly, even though you didn’t know them, “Especially that Hendery guy. Did he actually do that?”

Kun laughed, nodding, “He’s mad. I miss them”, his voice turned wistful, but only for a moment, before that pretty smile stretched across his face once again, “I have to tell you about the time Dejun…”

As you went back under the deck and the warmth of the hallways hit you, you decided you would deal with the feeling later. You decided to listen to him instead, liking the way his eyes lit up talking about his friends. You were starting to realize that you were now one of them, one of his friends.

That though stayed in the forefront of your mind, refusing to be pushed back.

And somehow, you didn’t mind.

Kun stepped into Akira’s room, eyes narrowed at his uncle. The tension in the air immediately raised tenfold. 

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

Akira sent his nephew a questionable look, “What do you mean?”

Kun sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Y/n”, he said, your name rolling off his tongue easily, yet there was a sort of anger that settled into it. Why didn’t you know? You should’ve known.

Why did he care this much?

Akira sighed, “What about her?”

“She doesn’t know who you are, not the entire truth.”

Akira let the statement hang in the air, his silence answering. He leaned back in his chair, humming an idle tune. “You’re right, but what prompted this?”

“She saw me smoking”, Kun said, “And was confused, she definitely didn’t look pleased. Tell me, how would she react when she realizes the man she has to marry is a fucking drug lord?”

His uncle winced at Kun’s words, “I know, but she won’t ever know.”

This was madness.

Kun knew of course, of the plan, but he didn’t know the whole story. He knew you were to be married to Akira, an arranged marriage that had been, well, arranged by your mother. And Yuxi had confirmed you knew of it as well. You had never seemed too keen on it, and this worsened everything.

“Sit”, Akira ordered, “And I’ll tell you.”

Holding back a grimace,  he complied, sitting opposite Akira. He waited for the older man to go on, wondering for a moment how it would be like to be in your shoes. You were around his age, and had to marry his uncle? The thought itself was mortifying.

“The Osaki family”, Akira started, “Well known, you’ve heard of them”, he didn’t wait for Kun to respond in any way, “They’re practically perfect, are they not? You’ve seen Y/n, you’re closer to her than I am. With her airs and graces, you’d think she’s perfect too, wouldn’t you?”

Of course Kun though you were perfect, but that's besides the point. He didn;t see how this made any sense.

“It’s all a lie Kun”, Akira said, “They’re unhappy, so unhappy. Her mother was a miserable, poor lady, forced to sit on the sidelines while her bastard of a husband ignored her.”

Wasn’t your father dead? 

Akira cleared his throat, “They’re perfect on the outside, a dollhouse, but through the curtains, it's all a mess. She asked me for help.”

Kun frowned, “Y/n-?” “No”, he said with a smile, “Her mother.”

It was slowly coming together, a puzzle so horrifying Kun didn’t want to believe it. His uncle had done many horrible things, many illegal things, but fuck, he prayed this one wasn’t real.

This was murder.

“So I helped”, Akira’s voice went hoarse, “I helped the way I could. I slipped a drug into a package and sent it to her, one so strong that could kill.”

Horror. This was madness.

“The next day, Mr Osaki was found dead”, a slow sadistic smile stretched out on Akira’s lips, “And Mrs Osaka was overjoyed! She thanked me profusely for helping with her plan. She promised to repay me somehow for my kindness.”

Kindness. Crime. When had the line between the two grown so blurry? Kun was frozen in his seat, frozen in fear. In fear for himself and his siblings, in fear for his family for being related to such a monster. He feared for you, the unsuspecting girl who had walked into his life and brought out things from the shadows he wished he left there. The girl, who’s own mother had been the reason behind her fathers death.

Fuck it was so wrong.

He knew the world he lived in, the wealth and the riches always brought trouble, but never in his life had he ever foreseen this much trouble. The clock on the wall of Akira’s room ticked slowly, every second seeming like an hour. Kun wanted to leave, but he was frozen in his seat, glued there.

His curiosity had gotten the better of him. He needed to know more. What was the ending to this tragic tale?

“And this is my repayment”, Akira said, “I marry Y/n, and everything gets sweeped under the rug. I can start a new Kun, I don’t have to be this person. I know you hate me, but listen, this could change everything.”

Kun felt sick.

“No”, he muttered, “This changed nothing you…”, he studied his uncle's tired expression. Akira’s eyes held a triumphant glare, and that made everything worse.

“You sick man”, he whispered, getting up, “She doesn’t deserve this. You don’t deserve a fresh start Akira, you have blood on your hands.”

Akira groaned, “I don’t expect you to under-”

‘Good”, Kun said, “I’m leaving and I want nothing to do with you for the rest of this trip.”

“Don’t tell your little friend”, Akira sneered, “If you tell her I won;t be the only one affected. Her mother will be brought into the light as well, and you really think no one will suspect Y/n?”

It was a losing situation from all sides.

“She doesn’t know who I am”, Akira said, agreeing with Kun’s earlier statement, “let's keep it that way, shall we?”

Dearest Akira,

                    Thank you for sending me the drug, I’ve slipped it into his drink. He shall be gone soon, and I shall be free. My son will take his palace when he finishes school and Y/n will be yours. A lovely full circle. I won’t have to deal with a man I hate anymore, a man that pushed me aside for everything.

Once upon a time I truly loved him you know? I trusted him and I gave him my heart. He trampled on it and now all I’m left with is a shell.

He forgot I existed, I am but a placeholder.

Not for long.

Thanking you,

                     Mrs. Osaki

You sat on your bed, reading yet another chapter of your beloved Pride and Prejudice in silence, as Kun sat on the other side, looking at his phone and occasionally stealing glances at you.

The friendship the two of you shared was….odd to say the least. You didn’t have to talk, even the silence was enough. You enjoyed his company a lot more than you cared to admit. Turning the page, you decided to stop for the day, placing your bookmark in the middle and shutting the book, turning your attention to Kun.

He couldn’t help the guilt that bubbled inside him, even though he had done nothing wrong. It was the heaviness he carried around for possessing the truth, and was hit with the consequences everytime he looked at you.

“Yes?”, you asked.

He blinked, “What?”

“You’ve been staring at me oddly”, you clarified, “I’m wondering if I did anything to offend you.

“No, no!”, he said a little hurriedly, “I apologize, I’m a little out of it today.”

“Do tell”, you said, propping your chin up on your hand, eyes meeting his with an expectant gaze. He gave you his easy smile, “It’s nothing I promise.”

“I don’t believe you for a second, you’re terrible at lying”, you declared, “Oh come on, I thought we trusted each other?” You tried guilt tripping him into telling you, but he was surprisingly stubborn.

“Do we now?”

“You wound me”, you muttered dryly, “Alright I won’t press you for answers.”

“Thank you for this kindness, oh Lady Y/n”, he said, making a show of pretending to curtsy, which was comical since he was sitting. You couldn’t help the amused smile that made its way to your face at that.

You stood up, placing your book on one of the side tables, brushing down your pants, “We need to be at the deck in five minutes, so I suppose we should make a move.”

He followed suit as the two of you made your way up to the deck. The dinner was out there tonight, so it was bound to be a little bit more casual than the usual dinners in the dining room. This also meant that you didn’t need to sit with the Qian family, which was a mix of relief and disappointment. You liked Kun and his siblings, but at the same time…

Yeah.

The night was a little chilly, so you had pulled on a sweater, finding a table and taking a seat, watching as Kun walked over to his own family, looking stiff. You took the menu from Winter, eyes scanning over the food.

“Ahem.”

You looked up from the menu, only to be met with Akira’s disapproving gaze. “Y/n”, he greeted, “How are you feeling today?”

You swallowed your contempt, forcing a tight pained smile, “Very well, thank you Akira.”

“I’m glad, then why don’t you sit with us?”

Your lips twitched as you tried to think of a way to get yourself out of this. “I’m quite fine here, thank you for the offer.”

He smiled widely, leaning down to your eye level, resting his elbow on the table and effectively capturing your attention. “It wasn’t an offer, sweetheart.”

The nickname made your skin crawl, as you reeled back, “Akir-”

“You will sit with us”, he said firmly, “What would your mother say if you refused?”

Your eyes widened as you realized he knew, fingers gripping the menu. He knew how your mother was and fuck, him knowung that scared you even more. Clearing your throat, you pushed all your confidence into your voice, “I’m quite comfortable here Mr. Qian.”

You didn’t use his first name, you used the family name, hoping to settle the argument, to show that you were not moving.

He took the menu from you, “Come along Y/n, its for the be-”

“Let her be.”

Akira turned around, facing his nephew, “Kun”, he said, voice falling into a tone that screamed it was a warning, “I am not talking to you.”

“But I’m talking to you”, Kun narrowed his eyes at Akira, “She wants to sit there, let her sit there. She is not obliged to follow your every instruction.”

Akira sighed, glancing back at you and smiling sickeningly sweet, inclining his head and walking away, going under the deck. You let out a sigh of relief, looking at Kun who looked oddly guilty.

“Thank you”, you said, “I could’ve handled it, though.”

“I know you could’ve”, he acknowledged, “I just felt like stepping in and helping.” His explanation was curt as he pulled out the chair opposite you, “Do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all. I suppose you’re wondering why I let you sit and wanted nothing more to do with your uncle?”

“I’m not”, he said, “I know what's happening there. And the position you’re in, better than you do.” A sad smile stretched out on his lips(not that you were observing them or anything), leaving you slightly bewildered. What did he mean by that?

You studied Kun, his attractive features and dark eyes. They looked like they held a secret, one you couldn’t figure out.

“Why did you help me?”, you asked again, meeting his eyes. He held your gaze for a few minutes, before they dropped to your lips for a split second. You held your breath, waiting for his answer, and mildly overwhelmed.

Did he feel the same way you had been feeling lately? Why did the prospect of that make you feel elevated? Fuck, you couldn’t think like that, it would ruin everything-

“I can’t tell”, he muttered, “I just care.”

The truth chases a lie with fervor, no matter how small. Like a lover in the night, chasing its partner with passion even in the darkest times.

You observed yourself in the mirror, studying the black dress you were wearing. It had a gold trim at the edges, and lace at the back, giving it the perfect combination of classy and scandalous.

Winter took a step back, curling iron in hand as she marvelled at her own handiwork, a smile adorning her pretty face, “You look lovely Y/n!”, she praised. You really did look lovely, the picture of what you were always supposed to portray: perfection.

“Thank you Win”, you smiled at her, “why don’t you wear one of my dresses tonight?”

Her eyes lit up in surprise and confusion as she placed the iron down, shaking her head, “Oh I couldn’t Miss, I’m a part of the staff, I will be helping out for the evening.”

“You don’t want to pretend you’re not just for a few minutes? You can change after fifteen minutes and go back to your work”, you enticed her, wanting your friend to have some fun.

She hesitated, “No miss, I could get in trouble.”

“Alright”, you relented, standing up from your seat and turning to the door, “Thank you Winter”

“Your very welcome miss, now go, the Qian family is awaiting you.”

You nodded, walking into the hallways and following the few people who were already going to the dance.People of repute, people who would look at you and incline their heads respectfully, as you did for them. They were from your world, after all, everyone was rich and important.

Standing outside the doors, you took in a deep breath and walked in. The hall had been decorated, changed drastically. The tables had been pushed to the sides, for the seating, and the center was left as the actual dance floor.

You walked over to the tables at the side, greeting a few people you knew. You spotted Winter standing at the sidelines with the staff. On reaching the refreshments table, you took one of the glasses of champagne and brought it to your lips.

Jazz music played as couples took the floor, swaying to it. You watched the Qian family, noting that Akira was looking for someone, probably you. Turning your back towards them, you took another sip of your drink. You looked at the starters that had been placed out for the guests, wondering what your mother would think if you took a plateful and sat alone in a dark corner eating. The picture of her horrified expression was enough to tickle you.

Distracted within your own thoughts, you failed to notice Kun standing next to you, an amused expression on his face as he watched you. To him, you looked absolutely breathtaking in your dress, even more so than usual.

“Y/n”

You jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion of your thoughts, facing the man. He was dressed in a suit, hair done slightly messy, but on purpose. His dark eyes met yours, amused as he smirked, “Hey.”

“Hey”, you breathed out, snapping out of checking him out. He looked extremely attractive tonight, a thought you couldn’t shake off. “Kun.”

He nodded, inclining his head towards the table, “I’m sure the refreshments are extremely interesting but”, a slow grin stretched out on his lips, “Would you like to dance?”

You suppressed your own smile, nodding and taking his hand he had offered you. Kun led you to the dance floor, a little off the centre so you wouldn’t be seen easily. Resting one hand on your waist, the other grasped your own, bringing it up mid air. He took the first step behind with you following him as the two of you danced.

“I’m not great at dancing”, he confessed, “So I have to warn you, I’m running off ballroom dancing class from school when we had our Formal Dance.”

You smirked, “Do you want me to lead or something?”

“Only if you twirl me”

You laughed at this, “Alright, brace yourself.”

He gave you a horrified look, “NO, nevermind, I’ll twirl you instead”, he muttered, retrieving his hand from your waist and raising the other so you could turn gracefully. You didn’t make any attempt to bite your giggled away at this, turning and facing him again, back into your former position.

“That was actually quite fun, wanna try?”

He gave you a look that screamed ‘really?’, shaking his head, “I thought we established that I was fine without twirling.”

“But-”

“No”

“Fine”, you made a show of being upset over it, saying something about he was missing out on his youth and that twirling during ballroom dancing was one of the few fineries of life he would never experience if he didn’t do it right now.

That, for some reason, still didn’t entice him.

Oh well, his loss.

You bantered lightly, as you swayed to the music together. You melted together almost, in the midst of your laughter and smiles. You felt so comfortable with him, but every moment you felt like that seemed like a curse, reminding you he wasn’t what you were there for. Whatever you felt towards Qian Kun was wrong, so wrong.

He led the two of you off to the side, away from the dance floor, still in each other's arms for some reason, even though you had finished dancing. He lifted your hand, twirling you once again just for the effect and grinning.

Once you faced him, you realized how close the two of you were. His hands were on your waist anyways, one of your hands was around his neck. Your other hand was intertwined with his, making the contact seem even more intimate.

The smile melted off your face as his eyes flickered to your lips. It was as if he had read your mind, and you wished he'd do it again. You wished he woul-

He leaned forward hesitantly, and in that dark corner of the dining hall, while the others danced around, while Akira looked for you somewhere, behind the tables and everyone, Qian Kun kissed you.

It was a timid kiss, his lips barely brushed against yours, before he pulled away, blinking at you. You stared back at him, equally as surprised, but not in a bad way. He dropped the hold he had on you, but kept holding your hand, as if he was figuring out what to think.

You grew slightly impatient with this, leaving his grip and cupping his face, bringing him back into a kiss. This one was much less innocent, it didn’t feel like he was exploring something for the first time. It felt real, and it felt right.

“Not here”, he muttered softly against your lips, pulling you along with him, out into the hallways. You followed him, giddy from the kiss, giddy from the fact that you had even kissed him. How did that happen? When had that happened? The incident that had taken place mere seconds ago seemed days old, almost as if it had happened several times before.

You wanted to kiss him again.

Resisting the urge to stop him right there and there, you let him lead you to wherever. He stopped outside a red door, almost rust in colour, hesitating for a moment, before he seemingly decided to fuck it all and opened it, pulling you into the little corridor it opened into.

He kissed you again, once, twice, thrice, until you lost count. Pushed up against the wall, your senses seemed to heighten. The low buzz of the cruise ran through you as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. All the banter, the teasing, the way he would trap you with his words had built up to this.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

The only way you could describe the kisses was breathtaking. You felt as if you were struggling for air, yet you didn’t want to pull away. Your lungs screamed for air, but you didn’t want to heed. You didn’t want to break the spell he had put you under. You liked the burning feeling, the way his lips felt against yours, the way his body felt against yours. Drowning, you were drowning but fuck, you wanted no one to save you.

You wanted to drown.

He pulled away finally, letting you suck in a breath. 

“This is wrong”, you whispered, and he nodded, agreeing, “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it again.”

He took a step away from you, studying your features. You leaned against the wall, letting the silence overtake the two of you. You breathed heavily, making up for the air you had lost, albeit willingly.

Footsteps.

Soft footsteps made their way down the hallways, you could hear it. Kun looked alarmed, glancing at the door, “Wait here.”

You frowned, but nodded as he left, closing the door after him and supposedly speaking to someone in hushed tones, further muffled by the barrier between the two of you. You sighed, looking along the corridor you were in at the moment, walking to the end and opening the other door, lest the person he was speaking to burst in and found themselves in a very awkward situation.

You found yourself in another room, one that was dark. Using your sense of touch, you managed to navigate around it, noting that there were suitcases and boxes. You stumbled into one, wincing slightly as a sharp pain travelled through your shin. Using the box to steady yourself, your eyes were drawn to the little labels on the sides of them.

Squinting, you brushed over the names, trying to make out what they were.

Qian Akira, cocaine.

Reeling back, you blinked. Were those drugs? Looking at a few other boxes, you had forgotten about the pain in your leg as horror filled your senses, reading the names of drug after drug, all with the Qian’s names on it. The man you were being forced to marry was a criminal.

You had been thrown into a trance of some sort, a trance of absolute dread. For some reason you couldn’t look away as you kept reading, realizing that whatever was happening was much more serious than you had thought.

The next box had a few papers on the top of it, kept haphazardly one on top of the other. Letters of some sort, envelopes and receipts. You picked one up, eyes scanning over its content, or whatever you could make out in the darkness.

Dear Akira

                It’s set in stone! He’s gone, thank you so much. I promise you that this time next year you will be with my Y/n and everything will be solved.

Thanking you,

Mrs Osaki

The sight of your mothers handwriting and her name at the end of the letter made you sick. The other letters were much like the first, each one releasing more and more information, letting you piece together its words to form a cohesive thought.

Fuck.

You dropped the letters, breathing going heavy as you heard more footsteps. Someone was entering the room, they were coming inside and they would find you. You weren’t supposed to be here, you could tell by the way you had been written in the letters. 

You should have listened to Kun when he told you to stay where you were-

Kun.

Oh god.

The room seemed to close in on itself, the stacks towering above you. You felt trapped, claustrophobic and disgusted. Disgusted by the fact would ever put you in such a repulsive situation. You ran your fingers over the dust covered boxes, reeling back at the names and information that was on them. Bile rose to your throat as you choked back sobs.

He was responsible for it all, all the misery that had been thrown upon you, the odd requests all made sense. This wasn’t an innocent union, it was an elaborate cover up, and you were the leverage.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you staggered back, leaning on the wall behind you for support. Shouts echoed from the other end of the dark room, and your breath hitched in your throat in fear of being caught.

Shutting your eyes and clamping your hand over your mouth, you counted to ten in your mind, praying that whoever it was wouldn;t find you. The voices resided, the footsteps growing farther and farther. You opened your eyes, only for them to widen in a mixture of relief and fear.

“What are you doing here?”

Fuck.

Kun had made a big mistake, he had led you to the worst possible place he could have taken you in his daze. He had gotten distracted by you, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

If he could fucking find you.

After thwarting Akira’s attention by telling him you had gone on the deck for some fresh air, he returned into the corridor, before realizing it was the one place he wasn’t supposed to take you.

And you were nowhere in sight.

He looked around in alarm, before Akira’s voice called out again, “What are you doing Kun?”

He turned around, “Nothing, just checking, I want something from my suitcase,” he said quickly. His uncle narrowed his eyes at him, “And what is that something?”

“I left my book inside the suitcase, and I’m not interested in the dance so I thought I’d go read.”

“Y/n is not on the deck.”

“Am I supposed to keep tabs on her?”, Kun bit back, “She’s probably back at the hall Akira.”

Akira raised an eyebrow at Kun, “I don’t know what you’re playing at, young man, but I don’t like it”, he said, raising his voice. Kun felt like a little kid again, even if his uncle was just ten years older. Clenching his jaw he stood his ground, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, old man.”

Akira left Kun alone, deciding that he wasn’t worth it. 

Kun walked into the room, looking around for you, praying you weren't there. He walked to his suitcase, and narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the outlines in the room.

He heard something shift, and turned on his heels, squinting. He could just about make out your figure standing in the corner, hand over your mouth, eyes squeezed shut. You trembled slightly as you stood there.

He walked over just as you opened your eyes, to meet his own in horror. You were definitely shaking, lower lip trembling in what looked like fear as you tried backing away from him, even though you were already against the wall.

“What are you doing here?”

He took a step forward, reaching out to hold your hand, eyes shrouded in concern at your state, but you shrinked away. “Don’t.”

“Y/n-”

“No”, your voice was shaky, “Stay away from me.”

Your mind was a mess, thoughts racing. You felt used and exposed, so vulnerable. Everything you knew had been a lie, you had been betrayed. Just a few moments ago you were happy, now everything you knew had been shattered, including your own heart.

“You knew didn’t you”, your voice broke in the middle, “You knew.”

Kun’s fake smile melted off his face as he realized what had happened, taking a step away from you. The tears in your eyes made their way down your face as you sucked in a breath, crouching down with your hands over your ears.

All you wanted to do was block all of it out, block reality out and not think of it, but that was hard when reality was staring back at you with a guilty expression.

Suddenly everything clicked into place, why he had been so nice, why he kept helping you. I was all out of guilt, everything was a fucking lie. Half truths and twisted words, secrets and scandals.

It was sick and twisted and you had fallen into the trap unwillingly, and didn’t know how to get out. 

You rocked yourself slowly, trying to compose yourself amongst the madness. You wanted to scream, to cry and tell Kun that you hated him, that you wanted him to leave and never talk to you again. Maybe that’s what hurt worse, the fact that you were attached. 

You had trusted Kun, you had fallen for him like the idiot you were, only for it all to come back for you, slapping you in the face. You felt so stupid for letting yourself believe anything good would come out of this. You should have listened to your conscience when it told you this was wrong.

But this...this was worse than wrong. This was murder. The betrayal of it all hit you hard, and it took all of your willpower not to fall over and give up.

“It was all fake”, you muttered, “all of it”

“Y/n I-”

“You were pitying me”, you spat, “You knew and yet”, sucking in a breath, you swallowed the lump in your throat, ignoring the heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach, the hole that seemed to have been ripped out from your chest. “You still played me.” 

Kun pressed his lips together in a tight line, regret eating away at him. Of course it wasn’t all for his uncle, but you wouldn’t listen even if he tried. You were much too distraught, too far gone for that. Instead he composed himself, leaning down and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“We need to get out of here.”

The harshness of the statement made it worse. You looked up at his serious face through your hazy eyesight, wanting to push him away, but neither did you want to be alone. He sighed, helping you up to your feet, “We have to go or they’ll find you here and it won’t be pretty.” 

Taking your hand in his, Kun pulled out of the room, raising a hand to his lips, silently telling you to keep quiet. “If you don’t want Akira to find you here, go straight to your room, say you were sick.”

He was pity helping you again.

You nodded, sniffling slightly and pulling yourself together again, rubbing your arms. You hated it, fuck, and that moment you hated your own mother. You hated the fact that you had to depend on the boy who betrayed you. The boy who you kissed, and was willing to forget that it was wrong, until the world crashed down upon you.

Walking with you, he decided to part ways where the two hallways met, repeating his instructions from before, refusing to meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, before walking away in the direction opposite where you were supposed to go.

How had so much gone so wrong so fast?

Locked.

You were locked away in your room, refusing to get out of it. The only person you let in was Winter, who came in with meals and other information. You ignored every one of Akira’s presents, declined your mother’s calls and avoided the rest of the Qian family like the plague.

It was like you had spiralled, down into this hole you couldn’t climb out of. Your father was dead, it wasn’t natural. He had been killed and you were amongst the murderers. Your mother had worked with them.

Your brother was back home, going about his life as usual. The world revolved as it always did, but yours has stopped.The little bubble that you had lived in for most of your sheltered life had finally burst. You had been thrown into real life before you could even say anything about it.

Knock!

“Come in”, you said, watching as Winter entered with a plate and her own phone, “Y/n”, she greeted you, with that same funny formal tone, “It’s your brother”

She handed you her own phone, and you frowned. Why hadn’t Shotaro just called you? Why had he called Winter?

Brushing those thoughts aside, you held the phone to your ears, “Taro?”

“Hey”, he said, “hold for a second, would you?”

You didn’t reply, patiently waiting for him, but instead you were greeted with another voice, a voice you definitely didn;t want to hear.

“Darling.”

Your throat seemed to close up, mouth going dry as you gripped the phone even tighter, looking at Winter in alarm. She looked away, and began setting your things straight on the little table next to your bed.

“Mother.”

“What has happened to you?”, she asked, voice cutting through any thoughts, “I thought you understood the gravity of the situation. I have told you countless times-”

“I understood what you told me before I found out I was a pawn,” your voice was remarkably steady, almost scarily calm as you leaned back, “I don’t care anymore.”

“Y/n”, your mother warned, “I told you, our family name depends of it, even if you don’t how how or why-”

“I do know”, you interrupted her smoothly, “I know that my mother is an amoral bitch and the fact that you killed father, without thinking of the feelings of her children, and went on to throw her daughter into a dangerous position.”

You were met with the static from the other line. Had you finally won? Your mother stayed silent at your sudden outburst.

“How did you find out.” It was a question, but it came out as a statement. That helplessness returned, your level headedness disappearing all of a sudden. How could she be so insensitive? She didn’t care at all.

“Doesn’t matter”, he continued, “Now you know it's imperative you marry Akira, or our secrets will be exposed and the family name will be tainted. This also saves the Qians.”

You fisted your hand, spite coursing through your veins. Fuck, you were so angry, angry at your mother for never doing your job, for expecting you to comply with her twisted plans. You were tired of playing along, you were fed up of being perfect, or at least, fed up of portraying that image.

“I hate Akira”, you said for the first time out loud, making them real. You despised him and everything he was, and the new information you had gathered about him had just made you hate him more. You wished you had never met the Qian family, Akira, or Chenle, or Yuxi, or Kun-

That was a lie. You didn’t regret meeting Kun, you regretted trusting him. You regretted not listening and going into that room. You regretted so much, but you regretted knowing the truth the most.

You wanted to live the lie again. 

“And I don’t care if you get in trouble mother, you deserve it.”

“It’s not just me Y/n”, she said, “It’s the Qian family as well, and it’s you and your brother.”

Shotaro.

“He still doesn’t know?”

“We’ll keep it that way. He’s still in school.”

Pursing your lips, you sighed, “I don’t want this”

It was as if she knew she had hit a weak spot, she could feel your resolve wavering. “Do it for Shotaro, if no one else. He hasn’t met life yet.”

You couldn’t understand how she was so cool about it, how she didn’t seem to care that there was blood on her hands, blood of her husband and no less. You supposed crying and screaming wouldn’t accomplish or change anything. This was your reality, and you just had to accept it.

Clicking off the call, you handed Winter’s phone back to her, burying your head in your hands. Decisions, decisions.

Winter stood there with a pensive look, biting her lower lip, before sitting down next to you, “I’m sorry Y/n, but what is troubling you?” Her soft voice mixed with the concerned look on her face was enough to make you break, leaning into her as tears built up in your eyes. She wrapped an arm around you, keeping you steady and holding you up.

She figured she owed you as much.

“Everyone I know has destroyed me”, you whispered hoarsely, choking back a sob, “They’ve either betrayed me or destroyed me and I’m so tired.”

“Who has done so?” She asked, rubbing your back comfortingly, prompting you to go on without actually asking you. You took in a shaky breath, thinking of everyone that was to blame for your misery.

“My mother”, you spat, “Akira, Kun-”

“Kun?”

Sucking in a breath, you nodded, “Kun. He-he knew. He knew and he still led me on, fuck I feel so stupid”, you laughed at the bitter irony, wiping away your tears, “And the thing is, the fact he did it hurts much more than anything else.”

“And why is that?”, Winter whispered.

“I trusted him”, you said, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would help somehow, “I liked him, I gave him my trust, even when it went past my duty.”

Duty, you were starting to realize, was slowly destroying you and everything you held dear.

Yuxi raised her hand so that the light fell on it, the pretty red nail paint glowing as she inspected it. Her right hand was a little messier than her left, she decided she would fix that later. Her hair was perfectly straightened, not a strand out of place, she looked perfect. Her appearance paired with her pretty airs and manners made her slightly intimidating, a little better than the rest.

Finishing school had been fruitful afterall.

Clicking her tongue, she dropped the act, sitting on her bed, hunched over her phone as she scrolled through her messages, catching up on whatever she was missing back home.

Truth was, she didn’t want to get on this cruise, none of the Qian siblings did. Spending time with their uncle? They hated the few dinners they had to tolerate anyways, but a whole three months? That sounded like torture, a torture they were enduring at the moment.

Akira had insisted, saying it would be a good experience for them now that they were adults, well, except Chenle. The boy was still sixteen, but was very much on their level. Their parents had unfortunately agreed, and so they found themselves where they were.

Kun walked through her door and into her room, pacing around, before taking a seat next to Yuxi and looking at her expectantly.

“What?”

“I fucked up”, he confessed. His sister wondered if he was waiting for her to ask the question just to dump that on her.

“Thank you for that eloquent explanation”, she said, “Mind telling me exactly how you did the fucking up?”

He sighed, running a hair through his hair as he leaned against the headrest and told his sister the whole story, from the arranged marriage (though she knew this), Akira’s plan and what he had done, to the kiss and you finding out. Yuxi listened intently, placing her phone aside as he went on.

Once he reached the end of all the events, Yuxi looked pensive, confused almost. “I’m not sure there’s anything you can do to fix this,” she said truthfully, “It’s royally fucked up and I don;t want to have anything to do with our uncle dear ever again.”

“You’re telling me”, Kun groaned, “I feel terrible, and I didn’t even do anything.”

“You did do something”, his sister said, walking to the little table and picking up her little bottle of nail paint, “You stayed silent.”

Winter burst into the kitchen, walking over to the drink area. She inspected them, figuring out which one was yours, and which one was Kun’s. Producing a small vial of some sort of liquid, she took the two drinks and placed them on the counter opposite, opening up the vial.

Guilt had been eating away at her for weeks now, especially when she realized that there might be more to the story than she thought. She had complied with your mothers orders, but now she didn’t care. 

Heesung walked into the room, “Idiot, what are you doing?”

Winter ignored him, putting a few drops in each glass and mixing them in. Heesung took the vial from her when she kept it down, inspecting it, “What is this?”

“Took it from the luggages”

“You stole? You could get fired!”

“I know that!” She snapped before sighing, “But I stole it from a criminal, so it’s even.”

Heesung raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice, “The Qians?”

Winter nodded, “A drug.”

The boy wondered if he should ask, if it was worth it to do so.  Winter took the glasses and placed them back on the tray, turning back to Heesung, pointing to them. “Kun and Y/n. These two glasses are for them.”

“Right. Why should I listen to you again when you’ve spiked their drinks?”

“Because”, she said, “What you’re holding is an infatuation drug.”

Heesung snorted, “So it’s a love potion? I knew you were a romantic Win, but you do know she’s marrying Mr. Akira right?”

“Not if I can help it”, the girl muttered, “She doesn’t deserve it, and is in love with someone else. And it’s not a love potion, it’s a drug.”

Rolling his eyes, the waiter picked up the tray of drinks, “So it’s a love shot then”, he asked, proud of his pun, “And I suppose you think it’s Mr Akira’s nephew?” Still, he pushed the two glasses a little away from each other so he remembered what he was instructed to do. He still thought it was ridiculous though.

“It is, she told me herself, well not that bluntly, but I know it.”

Heesung pinched the bridge of his nose, “And what if your meddling backfires?”

“Wouldn't change a thing., everything is fucked anyways”, she said, “I just want her to have one thing going right for her.”

Winter took the vial back, stuffing it into the pockets of her uniform and straightening out her apron. The smell of whatever was cooking wafted through the air as she composed herself again, “See you later Heesung, don’t mess up the drinks.”

Winter hoped her meddling would pay off

You walked into the dining hall, head held high as you made eye contact with the Qians. Akira gave you his sickly smile, Yuxi with her worried gaze and Chenle still oblivious. Kun looked confused as he watched you approach the table, taking the seat you usually did, before the entire truth came out.

Sitting down, your eyes flitted to Kun’s before you looked down at your lap, plastering on a fake smile and looking at Akira, greeting him.

“I take it you're better?” He asked this, leaning forward, “You must have been really sick, staying away for so many days. It's been a little over a week?”

You nodded, “Yes, I apologize for my absence.” You realized someone, probably Kun had covered for you. The waiter approached, handing everyone their respective drinks, before bowing and leaving.

You raised the glass to your lips, inspecting the table, eyes meeting Yuxi’s who averted her gaze immediately.

She knew too.

Suppressing a scoff, you decided to address the elephant in the room and announce what decision you had come to. You still weren;t completely happy, but it was better than nothing, and you had stood your ground against your mother, who finally agreed, albeit begrudgingly.

“I revoke our little arrangement Mr. Qian”, you said after clearing your throat. He raised an eyebrow at this, a sliver of panic visible in his eyes, “And why is that?”

“I know”

Those two words had held so much, his eyes widened as he stared at you dumbfounded. That dumbfounded expression morphed into one of misplaced anger. “You are not the one to say that.”

“Yes I am”, you said cooly, “I am the one getting married, well not anymore. My mother has agreed and I want nothing more to do with you.”

He clenched his jaw, visibly trying to control his anger. “A deal is a de-”

“Alright, I’ll tell you why you should agree”, you said with a mocking smile. Somewhere in the back of your mind you began to feel slightly drowsy, but you pushed it away, looking at Kun once more.

You didn’t want to look away.

The two of your eyes locked and it felt like you were falling. You could almost feel his lips on yours, his hands on your wait, the way he kissed you-

You snapped back to reality, looking away. 

“I have a message on the top of my fingers ready to be sent right now”, you said, “To the police about your little dealings and the fact that you killed my father”, the words rolled off your tongue easily, almost as if you were talking about something as mundane as the weather, “And then you’ll be ruined.”

Akira paled, and it was clear who held the ropes over the conversation now. You decided to give him proof, raising your hand that held your phone, finger hovering over a number.

“But this can be avoided! You see, just call off the deal”, you took another sip of whatever the waiter had given you, mind going ever so slightly fuzzy once again. “And I’ll keep silent. No one will ever know.”

He clicked his tongue, “You were my repayment.”

“I know, I was a prop hmm?”, you said, “Not anymore, call this off right now Akira.”

He sighed, as if he knew he had lost. There was no point in fighting anymore. “We’re done”, he said finally, and you smirked in triumph, taking another sip of your drink, “Thank you.”

Winter came around with the food, looking suspiciously at you and Kun, before walking away. You sighed, that feeling of blankness returning. You still had to deal with Kun, of course you did, but you didn’t want to do so now. That would make everything messy, but fuck, for some reason all you could think about was the way he kissed you.

This was bad. You had to stop.

You looked at your food, pushing it away and getting up, sighing, the adrenaline from confronting Akira. Did you expect to win? No, but now that you had, your head swam as you got to your feet, glancing at Winter, nodding your head slightly.

“Goodbye”, you said, “I have no business with you anymore.”

Leaving your dinner and the table, you walked into the hallways and sighed in relief. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and you could finally breathe again. You made your way to your room, before stopping outside a door, freezing in your place.

That door led to the hall where you and Kun had that water balloon fight. You took a step towards it, placing your hand on the knob, but not opening it. You didn’t want to open it, just wanted to reminisce.

“Trying to run away from us? Or me? Because you’re still slow.”

You whipped your head around, meeting Kun’s gaze, “something like that.” Your voice was cautious as if you were walking on nails. As if you weren’t trying to not stare at his lips.

He leaned against the wall, staring at you as if he was trying to crack a code. His mind went fuzzy as well, the drug taking effect as it had for you. But both of you were fighting against it, desperate to win.

When did winning come at the cost of losing everything you loved?

Loved?

You bit your lower lip, averting your gaze. The tension in the room had risen tenfold, the way the two of you tried to navigate the gray area you had fallen into.You wondered why the world couldn’t be simple, black and white. Why couldn’t it be bad and good? Why did it have to be so complicated?

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. You snapped back to attention, forcing yourself to get out of your little headspace. Looking up, you met his eyes, and by god, you had never regretted doing anything more than that.

His eyes, they were dark,  voids of nothingness. They didn’t sparkle like they usually did, shining in the light. Instead they were like pools of ink, no light let in. Gone was the smirk you were so used to.

“I know”, you said simply, realizing it was true. You acknowledged the fact that he was sorry.

A bitter chuckle fell from his lips, “I hate myself for not telling you the moment I found out, but everything was so-”

“Messed up?” You finished his sentence, giving him a crooked smile, “Yeah, I get it. It’s all over now though”

“Over”, he repeated, “Right.”

Silence.

“I don’t want it to be over”

You looked at him, a sigh escaping you, “Kun-”

“You’re you, and I don’t want to lose you”, he said bluntly, “You can hate me-I hate myself, but I don't want it to be over.” You began to feel drowsy again, all you wanted to do was walk away and forget the past two months, because now you were attached. Emotionally.

“But I understand if you want nothing to do with us, with me-”

You took a step forward, leaning towards him and pressed your lips to his, mind going completely blank now. You wanted to melt into him, as he kissed you back in surprise, to forget.

You couldn’t do that.

He cupped your face, kissing you again. There it was that feeling, that feeling of drowning. Make it stop, stop, I want to breathe, you thought, before giving up. You liked the breathlessness, even if you tried not to.

Pulling away, you looked at him one last time, before pushing yourself off of him, away from the door that led into the hall, away from him. Kun watched you walk away, down the hallway, before you turned the corner.

And then you were gone.

You leaned against the railing of the deck, watching the water below you. The ripples were somewhat soothing, as you hummed an idle tune.

“Y/n Osaki”, you turned around to face the owner of the voice, Kun himself. He smiled taking position next to you, “Remember when I said I didn’t know who you were?”

You chuckled nodding, “Yeah.”

It had bewildered you at the time, the way he pretended he didn’t know who you were. Now you wished he really didn’t. That seemed so long ago.

It had been a week since the confrontation, a week since the last kiss. The effects of the infatuation drug had long worn off, but what was real was left behind. All the drug had done was amplify it. You didn’t see the Qian family much after it, making a point to avoid them. You didn’t have a reason to see them anyways, you were done.

Yet you still had unfinished business.

The cruise was coming to an end anyways, so what was even the point? Your life would go back to normal like nothing had happened, even though your world had been ripped apart and was holding itself together by threads.

Kun cleared his throat, “We need to talk.”

“We’re talking right now”, you said, avoiding the heavy meaning in his words. 

He sighed, letting it drop for a second before speaking up again, “I didn’t know myself until I asked Akira”, he said, not specifying what exactly he was talking about, but you already knew. “I asked him if you knew who he was and he told me the whole story, and I was….”, he trailed off, searching for the correct word, “horrified.”

“I believe you”, you said softly, “I’ve forgiven you.”

You haven’t forgotten though, you doubt you could ever forget something like this.

Kun didn’t know if that made him feel any better, but he knew he had to get it off his chest. He wondered how he could get you back. You seemed cold again, like the day he met you, closed off and wary of everything. You had a right to be, but he wanted the Y/n he had grown accustomed to, back.

“So”, he said, “Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth Bennet?”

“I thought we agreed on a truce?” You let a smile slip, amused. He grinned, “We did, but I have to know.”

You thought for a second, before inclining your head with a sheepish smile, “I’ll eat my words Qian Kun, Mr. Darcy has grown on me.”

“I’m glad. I won after all”, he said childishly, and you couldn’t help but scoff. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Why don’t I tell you something? Infact, I’ll say it in the words of Mr. Darcy himself”, he declared, “I found myself in this mess before I could do anything about it Y/n, and I can’t take what has happened. I cannot fix on the hour or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It was too long ago, I was in the middle before I knew it had begun.”

Your eyes softened as you shifted closer to him, meeting his own. Yours sparkled with mild amusement as you slipped your hand through his, “You do know that’s how Mr. Darcy tells Lizzy he loves her, right?”

“Is it?”, his eyes held the same mischievous glint yours did as he raised your held hands, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “I suppose it’s fitting then.”

And then he kissed you properly, fingers intertwined, wind in your hair. 

Were you happy? Not entirely, not yet. You still had duty, you still had to bear the weight of your family name. You had to live with knowing your mother was responsible for your fathers demise, you had to keep it a secret for Shotaro. You had to be perfect.

No, you weren’t happy, but you were getting there.

fin.

[marvels-writings]

Used To

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Sequel: World Turned Upside Down

Requested by @trikruismybitch​ : NatxReader, 12,18,19,22,29 <-said by R, angst questions. Nat cheats on R with R’s Bestfriend (Steve or Bucky) Nat saying 44, 23<- angst questions, 26, 49 angst dialogue. Just really angsty maybe include a little confrontation with Nat, R, Steve/Bucky with the avengers witnessing it? I’m in the mood for heartbreak (:</p>

12: “Can’t you see how fucked up this is?”

18: “When did you stop loving me?”

19: “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

22: “Which part of me wasn’t enough?”

23: “How do I make you love me again?”

44: “How do we fix this?”

26: “Will you ever forgive me?”

49: “Will I ever see you again?”

Word Count: 6.2k (heartbreakingly good)

A/N: I loved writing this, as tiring and angsty as it was. I think this is one of the drabbles i’ve cried while apologizing and writing it. It’s really good in my opinion, please do me the honor of reading it.

Moonlight blurred with string lights, bringing you into a gradient of golden and white colors. The balcony was set up, the fairy lights adorning the open-air gazebo above you. The light shone through the glass of red wine you held, the blood-like light splattering on your hands as you played with your food.

Natasha’s voice flowed around the small balcony, bringing to light her most recent mission. Her voice the only sound throughout the entire date. It wasn’t like her to ignore your silence, yet here you were. She had spent hours decorating the roof for your date night, even longer learning to make your favorite food and serving it to you, you were almost guilty for not trying to enjoy it.

How could you when your emotions cloud your judgment? The emotions brought from weeks of observing your girlfriend and your best friend. You thought you knew Natasha would never hurt you, you almost wished she wouldn’t.

But everything seemed to be changing around you. Bucky was spending more time with Natasha than before. You could’ve sworn you saw him leave her room just before you came back from a mission. You could’ve sworn you saw the same lovesick smile she wore around you, around him.

You were just being paranoid, you almost hoped you were being paranoid, to the point where you were ignoring the signs she didn’t cover. Today, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Your girlfriend was wearing an off-shoulder sweatshirt, revealing a hickey on the skin there. You had been on a mission for almost a week, today was the first day you came back. The dark mark was covered heavily in foundation, it showed through the heavy attempt to cover it up.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of it for almost half an hour. Every time you tried to look away or even distract yourself for it, for a few seconds. Your eyes always came back to it.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, a coy smile playing on her lips. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

You tilted your head to the side, considering lying to her, even though it might not work. Taking your eyes off her shoulder to look at her eyes, you set down your fork. The green orbs shone in the soft candlelight, almost distracting you from your turmoil. Almost.

“What?” Nat chuckled, leaning back in her seat, squirming slightly. “I know my cooking isn’t the best, but-”

“When did you stop loving me?” You cut her off, licking your lips nervously.

Your heart hammered against your chest, terrified of her response. What if you were wrong? What if nothing was going on?

Some part of you hoped you were wrong and this would just be another fight. A small voice told you that you were right, you tried desperately to ignore it. You couldn’t, especially when you saw Natasha try to cover up the hickey on her shoulder. It only resulted in smudging the makeup, revealing it more as the cloth slid back.

“I didn’t,” Natasha stated, her brows furrowing in confusion as she leaned forwards into her chair. Her eyes bored into yours, almost asking you why you were upset.

“Then what is this?” You asked, leaning forwards, fingers reaching towards the mark on her shoulder.

 Your hand had barely moved forwards when your girlfriend pulled away. Natasha glanced to the mark before turning towards you. Her face wove itself into a mask, hiding anything she was feeling.

“I, this isn’t.” Natasha stuttered, falling silent when she saw the expression on your face. 

It wasn’t an expression she had seen before. Your lips were pursed tightly, the bags under your eyes seeming more prominent than ever. But your eyes, she wasn’t sure she had ever seen then so despondent.

“How long?” You asked quietly, clearing your throat as your voice trembled. You didn’t want to show how upset you were, not yet. She was barely showing any emotion, you wanted to try to do the same.

“What?” Natasha asked, unsure if she heard you correctly. Her hand inched towards yours on the table, almost flinching when you drew away suddenly.

“How long have you and Bucky been…” You trailed off, you couldn’t say it.

Maybe if you said it, it would become more clear than it is now. Even now, Natasha could deny everything, keeping reality away from you. You weren’t sure if you could handle this reality, starting to prefer if you hadn’t noticed anything.

“Not that long.”

Her mouth opened to speak again, maybe try to make excuses or try to get you to forgive her. You didn’t care, cutting off her lies before she could speak again.

“Don’t lie to me.” You hissed, face morphing into anger as you stared her down. The redhead flinched at your harsh tone, unfamiliar to having it used on her.

Natasha licked her lips, her fingers inching towards the mark to try to cover it up again. It would still be too late, she couldn’t hide the signs once they had been noticed, she couldn’t fix what she broke.

You waited for her to say anything, to tell the truth, to explain why she did this. Nothing, she didn’t speak at all. Her eyes bored into yours as if she was trying to beg you to forgive her with her eyes. You barely noticed when her hand inched towards yours again, her fingers touching yours.

You almost let yourself back into her again.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Natasha whispered, her thumb drawing patterns on the back of your hand before you quickly drew away. Your thumb rubbed the back of your hand, trying to wipe away the feeling of her touch.

“Sorry?” You scoffed, gesturing vaguely around you. “You think you can just say you’re sorry and that would fix this?”

Natasha hesitated, emotions beginning to leak through her meticulously kept mask. The regret flooding off of her in waves. But underneath it all, you thought you could see a thread of fear. Fear of losing you.

“How do we fix this?” The redhead asked, leaning forwards in her seat. Wincing when she spoke the wrong word. Your eyebrow raised in anger.

“We?” You asked, eyebrow still raised as your arms crossed above your chest. 

Your jaw clenched tightly, muscles tensing as you tried desperately to form some sort of mask. It got harder as you spoke, your voice trembling as tears began to gather in your eyes.

“Natasha, I don’t think you can fix this.” You muttered, hoping you were wrong. 

But there was nothing she could do. The mistake had been made. You had to live with it, even though you wanted to leave it behind.

“You broke everything we had.” You muttered, a tear slipping down your cheek. It looked like liquid gold because of the lighting.

You inhaled sharply when you saw the redhead reach forwards to wipe away your tear. Leaning backward, you almost fell out of your chair when you stood up abruptly. Footsteps neared the door as you tried to leave this mess.

You heard Natasha’s chair clatter to the floor when she stood up to chase after you. Her footsteps barely behind you as she followed you out. More tears began to stream down your face, dropping on the ground below you.

The door slammed shut behind you, leaving Natasha outside. It wasn’t locked, she could follow you if you wanted to. Though, you doubted she would.

You leaned your back against the door, breathing heavily as tears soaked your cheeks. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. Should you leave? Wait for her in your room? But you couldn’t go back to the same bed where she had forgotten you.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you went in search of someone you could trust.

————

The loud bang of the balcony door was accompanied by rapid footsteps nearing your door. Wanda looked up from her bed, frowning in concern. Pictures were spread out on her bed as she tried to sort through them, wanting to make a photo album.

She expected to hear the sound of your bedroom door slamming shut. It was usually what happened after you fought with Natasha. This time, it didn’t happen.

Waves of anger and despair hit her as the footsteps neared your door. The slam still didn’t sound, she decided you might be waiting for someone. She bit her lip, nervously walking towards her closed door to open it.

The door handle twisted slowly before revealing you. 

You stood in front of her door, your hand raised as if you were just about to knock. Tears stained your face, your eyes still glistening with them. Your hair was messy as if you’d been running your hands through it. Your hand dropped as she opened the door, your fingers wringing together as you glanced down.

“Y/n, what happened?” Wanda asked, opening the door a little wider. Her brows furrowed in concern as you avoided eye contact with her. Your entire body seemed to be shivering despite the warmth inside.

“Can I, can I come in?” You stuttered, shivering a little more. The witch nodded and let go of the door. But you didn’t seem to notice the gesture, your eyes vacant as you watched her.

“Of course.” She stated, stepping back to give you room to step in. The witch glanced around outside, incase Natasha was behind you. She spotted her red hair, glancing towards your girlfriend as she began to close the door.

Green eyes stared at the witch as she closed the door. It shut with a soft click, Wanda licked her lips nervously. Guilt rolled off Natasha in waves, the witch could almost hear her thoughts through the door. 

Shutting her off, she sighed and turned towards you.

You stood near her bed uncomfortably, glancing towards the pictures. Your eyes seemed to linger on the pictures of you with Natasha, more tears beginning to form in your eyes. Your lip slid in between your teeth, watching the images before turning back around to face Wanda.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, gesturing to the bed for you to sit.

Hesitantly, you sat down, not before moving away the pictures laying there. One of the pictures were when you had celebrate your second anniversary with Natasha, Wanda was posing behind both of you as you took a picture.

 Your fingers ran over your happy smiles with an air of nostalgia.

“It’s Nat, she,” You bit your lip harder, willing the tears to stop flowing.

 They spilled forth anyway, a drop of blood staining your lip from where you were biting it so hard. Letting your lip loose, more tears spilled forth. A sob wrenched its way from your throat as you hunched over, eyes stinging.

Wanda sat down in front of you, one of her hands resting on your knee. She tried to look at you, looking up at you to see your face. Your hands covered your face in a hasty attempt to hide your mess. Your back shook sporadically as you shivered, your body wracked with sobs.

Red wisps caught your eye, you glanced towards it before turning to look up at Wanda. Her hand gestured towards your head. She looked at you innocently, hoping you would let her see what had happened.

It wasn’t the first time Wanda had asked. 

You had come to her many times with nightmares or something that left you broken. She helped you with her powers, using them to help you instead of harming others. You trusted her completely, more than Natasha.

You nodded weakly, trying to bring the argument to the front of your mind. The images began to play through, the hickey on her shoulder, Bucky leaving the room once you came back from a mission, the looks they shared. All of it came to the front of your mind.

Wanda looked slightly confused, unsure of what was happening as she probed further. You tried to conjure an image of them in the act. But you couldn’t, more tears began to fall from your eyes as you tried to clear your mind.

But one image kept showing, no matter what. The same smile Natasha always wore when she told you she loved you. Her lies kept coming back to you.

Wanda’s eyes widened as red wisps stopped flowing between her fingers. Her eyes bored into yours, emotions running through her. The main one being shock.

“She, oh my god,” Wanda stuttered, unable to believe it.

Your relationship with Natasha was the strongest she had seen. You had plans for the future, promises to get through everything together. All of it made you what you were. For Natasha to tear that all down for a few nights of sex, she couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

By the looks of it, neither could you.

“y/n, I’m so sorry.” She whispered though a part of her knew it wouldn’t help. Her hand rested on top of yours comfortingly, trying to provide whatever support she could.

You nodded staring down at her hand nervously. Tears fell from your eyes, streaming down to your shirt and soaking it. Your lips pursed together before you drew your hand away from Wanda’s.

The witch let the silence settle over you, waiting for you to speak. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say to make this go away. She stayed silent, hoping you would speak eventually. Though, a part of her hoped you wouldn’t say anything, instead seeking comfort in the silence.

“Why?” You asked, voice cracking as you spoke. You bit your lip tightly, trying to steady yourself. Taking in a deep breath, you turned to face Wanda.

Her heart broke a little seeing you like this. Your eyes were turning red and puffy, tears still falling from them. You looked at her with so much pain in your eyes, like you’d watched something die.

In a way you had.

“Why the fuck did she do this?” You asked again, your voice steadier than last time. It still broke slightly as you leaned back against the headboard. Your jaw clenched as you waited for the witch to answer.

You didn’t know what you expected her to answer. Maybe she would tell you it was a mistake, or this was just a bad dream you needed to wake up from. 

Part of you hoped for that last reason, almost clinging onto it like a lifeline.

“I don’t know,” Wanda whispered, shattering the last of your hopes.

You licked your lips, tasting the salt from your tears, remembering how Natasha used to wipe them away. You could feel the ghost of her touch her thumbs running over your cheeks as you cried. 

Her comfort after you had a nightmare. 

Her lips on your skin as she drew you out of your mind’s hell.

You wiped your face angrily, trying to wipe away the ghost of her touch. The last thing you wanted was to be seeking comfort from the same woman who broke you. Turning to Wanda, you saw the gears turning in her head as she tried to come up with a solution.

“Maybe you can still work this out?” Wanda suggested timidly, cowering slightly.

You huffed, running one hand through your hair as you stood up. Voice caught in your throat, you coughed before speaking. The witch moved away from you, knowing she had said what you didn’t want to hear.

“Wanda, I don’t think…” You trailed off, palms digging into your eyes to stop the tears from flowing. 

A broken groan escaped you, the pain worsening. Your chest tightening as your arms fell to your sides. You gave up, a sigh leaving your lips as you stared down at her.

“Can’t you see how fucked up this is?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing. It was as if you were begging her to see your point of view. 

Wanda winced as she shook her head, waiting for you to explain. You almost didn’t want to, scared of narrating your worst nightmare.

“I wasn’t enough for the only person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” You muttered, jaw clenching shut tightly.

Memories came back to you, memories of talking to Natasha about your dreams. Everything you wanted to do later, from the small cabin on the lakeside, to what you wanted to name your children. 

All of your plans, even to the small outdoor wedding you had planned. 

All of the things you wanted to do with her, gone.

“And Bucky, of all people,” You sighed, running one hand through your hair, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Deflating, you sighed as your anger began to leave you. An empty feeling taking it’s place as tears continued to stream once more.

“even if it was a stranger it wouldn’t be that bad.” You said, another heavy sigh leaving your lips as you set your hands onto your lap. You leaned backward, laying down on the bed, fidgeting with your fingers as the witch watched you.

Bucky is, no, was your best friend. He had helped you through your hardest of places, you’d helped him once he came back from HYDRA. He was the person you wanted to go to after a long day to rant about, the person you trusted most.

 It was almost ironic that he did this.

“When, when you and Vision broke up, how did you cope?” You asked, turning to face Wanda. 

Her lips were pursed, she wanted to keep the answer to herself. You had been there when the breakup had happened, you had seen how miserable she was. But she pilled through it in a matter of months.

“Y/n…” Wanda trailed off, not wanting to answer. She wasn’t sure if you were going to break up with Natasha, she almost hoped you wouldn’t.

“Please?” You asked again, watching her carefully. Wanda caved with a heavy sigh, avoiding eye contact with you as she spoke.

“I had a few one night stands.” She confessed, glancing up at your. “Then I left for a month, to take a break from everything.”

You huffed in frustration, her answer wasn’t something you had hoped for. If it was something you wanted to do, you would’ve gone for it. But one night stands, it didn’t make sense. 

Leaving everything, that seemed a better option, even though it shouldn’t.

Wanda watched you carefully, seeing what you were going to do. She could see you weren’t going to do what she did. But you might leave, she couldn’t blame you if you did.

“You’re not the kind of person for one night stands,” Wanda stated, her jaw clenching as she noticed your posture stiffen. You relaxed slightly as you spoke, your words more of a quiet confession than an answer.

“No,”

“But you want to hurt her the same way she hurt you.” She continued, hoping she was wrong. 

The look you gave her confirmed she was right.

Your pain was morphing into anger, wanting Natasha to feel some of the pain she was causing you. The last thing you had wanted to cause her was pain, after this, you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore.

“You didn’t need to read my mind to figure that out.” You scoffed, turning away from her towards the window. The stars shone in the sky, the clouds nearing the slowly to cover the light that remained.

“I didn’t,” Wanda whispered, almost too quietly for you to hear.

Silence filled the room again as you considered what to do next. What options were there, you could stay and try to work things out or break up with Natasha. Or you could leave, away from this giant mess she had created. You had the right to.

“Do you think I should leave? Take a break?” You asked, turning towards the witch. She shrugged, not knowing what to answer. Her knees were curled up to her chest, her chin resting comfortably on top as she watched you.

“I think you should do what’s best for yourself,” Wanda answered, truly thinking so for the first time. 

She didn’t want you to leave, but it was probably what was best for you.

You chuckled sadly, wiping away the tear stains on your face. A hand-wound itself in your hair as you smiled again. Your eyes glazed over as memories continued to filter through your head.

“You know, I used to think that Natasha was the best thing that happened to me, the best thing for me.” You turned to face Wadna, silent tears streaming down your face. 

They rolled off your cheek and into the blanket below you, creating small stains. Your words stung you, a crushing feeling in your chest as you continued speaking.

“That being with her was all I would ever need.” You continued, feeling the air leave your lungs as you remembered the feeling. The feeling of looking at her and thinking, almost knowing that this was all you needed for the rest of your life.

Natasha was all you had needed.

“I used to think she felt the same.” You muttered, turning to face the ceiling. Your arms felt heavier than they should be, too heavy to wipe your face. You let them remain there, licking your lips again. Aware of the pitiful green eyes watching you.

Wanda stayed silent, unsure if you were finished. Even if you were, there wasn’t much she could say. 

You opened your mouth again, closing it as you chose your words carefully. A broken chuckle left your lips as you turned on your side, propping your head on your arm.

“How foolish, I used to think she loved me.”

Your words resounded in the room, circling back to you as you spoke them. They were so tired like you’d already given up on Natasha. You’d given up on everything you had, even your plans.

Wanda watched you turn away from her to sleep. The crying had worn you out, you found some comfort in thinking your mind couldn’t come up with a nightmare worse than your reality.

There wasn’t anything she could do to comfort you. If she tried to reassure you, maybe tell you that Natasha loved you, she would be lying. 

You had already been through enough lies.

She sighed, pulling up her knees and taking a book from the nightstand. Sleep wasn’t something that would come easily to her. Your thoughts were still too loud, she did her best to try to comfort you using her powers.

Eventually, you fell into a dreamless sleep. 

One devoid of lies and Natasha, one almost better than the reality you were in.

————

Noise from the bathroom filled the room as you lay on the bed. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds into your eyes. Wanda was in the bathroom, you were alone in the small bedroom. The pictures which were there last night had been moved.

Treasuring the small moments of the morning, you avoided the events of yesterday as you hoisted yourself of the bed. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure what you were going to do. Natasha was still in the compound, waiting to talk to you. She wasn’t one to run away after fights, you were.

Rapid knocking sounded on the door. Your head snapped to the doorway, waiting for a voice to sound.

“Y/n?” Natasha called, the door muffling her concerned voice. “Please, I know you’re in there.”

You froze at hearing her voice, convincing yourself she would go away if you didn’t do anything. Soft footsteps sounded near the bathroom. Wanda stood in the doorway, hair wet from her shower as she watched you.

It was up to you to let her in. If you talked to her, what good could come out of it? Maybe the apology, maybe a plea, but nothing enough to make you stay. If you didn’t want to talk to her, you knew you could ask Wanda.

 But it wouldn’t make this go away. It would only delay the inevitable.

Licking your lips dryly, you shook your head, deciding not to talk to her. Wanda nodded to you, heading towards the door to tell her off. The lock sounded as the doorknob rattled, along with the sound of a lock being picked.

Your eyes widened slightly as the door opened. Natasha stood behind the half-open doorway. You looked away from her as she came in, jumping to your feet.

“Y/n-” Natasha began, not getting in another word as you whirled to face her.

“NO!” You shouted, finally looking at her. Her eyes were red and swollen, hair messy but she still looked like the same woman who had lied to you. You couldn’t do this, not now.

“Natasha, I don’t want to talk to you.” You stated, keeping your voice level to not scream at her. Wanda glanced at both of you, unsure what to do. You stared her down, waiting for her response.

“Please? Just let me apologize.” Natasha pleaded, wincing under your gaze. Her eyes bore into yours, looking for any sort of response. But you’d shut yourself down, adamant to not give her any reaction. though, you doubted that would last.

“Let me try to fix this.” She asked, hoping to get a response from you, hoping you would let her explain.

But you didn’t, you scoffed and raised an eyebrow. Your arms crossed over your chest confrontationally as you looked at her. Heart hammering in your chest, you tried to stop feeling. Stop feeling everything, the nostalgia of what you were, the pain of this, everything.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” You asked, voice cracking as you spoke.

Natasha paused, the answer clear in itself. She had done enough, there was nothing she could do to fix this. Explaining it could only make it worse. What could she explain anyway? 

Explain why you weren’t enough for her?

You didn’t want to stay near her. It was strange, how her mistake managed to turn everything upside down. You used to think of her as your home, the only place you felt safe and protected. Now, you’d give anything to be away from her.

Shoving past her, you headed out the door. Natasha didn’t hesitate to follow you, arm reaching out when she stopped herself.

You didn’t know where you were going, storming into the common room where the rest of the team was. They glanced up at you coming in, Natasha and Wanda at your heels.

“Y/n, please stay, just-” Natasha began, reaching out for you again. You turned around at her words, close to shoving her away from you before she stepped away.

Bucky looked up at both of you guiltily while the rest of the Avengers observed. None of them knew about your fight yesterday. Natasha had kept it under wraps, hoping she could fix this before they found out.

“Why the fuck should I stay, Natasha?” You asked, voice cracking as tears began to form in your eyes.

 The whirlwind of emotions you were avoiding caught up with you. A sob choked in your throat as you glanced away from her.

“Why should I stay when everything I gave you still wasn’t enough for you?” You demanded, stepping closer to her to look her in the eye.

Natasha avoided looking at you, trying her hardest to mask her emotions. Every question you asked cracked her mask more until it began to break. The weight of her mistake was bearing down on her, nearing like a wrecking ball. She was scared it was too late to fix the wreckage.

“Why should I stay when everything we were,” You said, wiping your face hastily to clear the tears. “everything we could have been didn’t matter to you?”

You clenched your jaw tightly, unexpectant towards answers to your questions. You watched her, thinking she would lie to you again. But she didn’t, she stared down at the ground as her eyes grew watery.

Her mask finally broke.

Tears slipped down her face, dripping onto the floor, landing with the soft patter of raindrops. Showing emotion wasn’t common to her, crying was out of the question. She had rarely let you see her breakdown, let alone the rest of the team.

Silence shrouded the room in an ugly cloud. Natasha’s sobs the only sound in the room. No one dared to move, watching both of you intently. The redhead opened her mouth, closing it after as she weighed her words.

“You should stay because I love you,” Natasha whispered, her voice barely loud enough for you to hear.

You licked your lips slowly, eyes tracing the tears falling down her cheeks. A small part of you wanted to wipe them away, to never hurt her again. It was what you’d promised her after all, to never hurt her or lie to her.

It never occurred to you that she would be the one hurting you. That she would be the one who should have made that promise.

“I don’t love you anymore.” You stated, keeping your voice as flat as you could.

Natasha looked up to you, searching your face for your tell. She couldn’t see it, staring at you, desperately hoping you were lying. It was like she was searching for you, but instead of looking for the truth, she was looking for the lie.

There wasn’t one. 

You were telling her the truth.

“Not after this,” You muttered, facade breaking as you let out a sigh. Your eyes slipped to Bucky, who looked up at you. Shutting your eyes tightly, you looked away from him, unable to look him in the eye.

There wasn’t anything you could say. Your heart thudded dully in your chest, the nervousness of seeing Natasha wearing down. Now, you were just upset and angry. All you wanted was to leave.

But there was a question you needed to ask her.

“How do I make you love me again?” Natasha asked, speaking before you could. 

You sighed again, a despondent sound as you looked back up at her. Your eyes were vacant, sad like you’d given up on her.

“I don’t think you can Nat.” You whispered. A sad smile graced your lips, twisting the corners of your mouth into a broken look.

You turned around, about to leave when you remembered the question you’d been asking yourself the moment all of this began. You didn’t want to ask her, scared of the answer. But you wanted to know.

“Just tell me one thing.” You began, turning back around to face her. Natasha looked up at you hopefully, but your expression was serious, crushing her hopes easily.

“Which part of me wasn’t enough for you?”

Natasha opened her mouth but closed it after. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She should have answered something. Maybe lie to you, tell you that nothing was wrong with you. But she didn’t admit it, staying silent.

“No, I genuinely don’t understand.” You ran one hand through your hair, stepping backward. Your eyes glanced around the room.

Wanda was watching the interaction, looking at you worriedly. Steve’s face showed nothing, but his eyebrows were furrowed in anger as he looked at Natasha. You didn’t look at Bucky, you still couldn’t. He sat in your peripheral, looking from you to Natasha guiltily.

“I don’t understand how I wasn’t enough for you.” You spoke, voice wavering as tears began to form in your eyes. “I don’t understand how you slept in the same bed as me, knowing you had broken us.”

Natasha didn’t say anything.

She slept in the same bed as you, made plans with you about your future, told you she loved you. All in the same day she had cheated on you. All in the same day she decided you weren’t enough for her.

“How, how did you even sleep at night?.” You spoke, stepping forward to look into her eyes.

“In the same bed, we talked about spending the rest of our lives together, you broke us.” 

Natasha opened her mouth to speak, a strangled sound coming out. Her eyes glanced down, staring at the floor instead of you. She had never seen you this hurt. Even after missions, when you were scared and crying after a nightmare.

She hurt you more than anyone before, even though you had given her what no one had.

“Y/n, please, it was a mistake,” Natasha begged you, pleading you with her eyes. You stepped away, betrayal shining in your face as you did so. Her eyes slipped to Bucky who looked almost as guilty as she did.

“Please just,” She reached forwards to take your hand, watching you pull away quickly. 

Her eyes shut tightly in a desperate effort to stop crying. It only irritated her eyes as more tears slipped away. She looked up at you again, staring at your blank face.

“Will, you ever forgive me?” She asked, watching your facade crash into anger.

Forgiveness. After everything, after throwing away everything, she dared to ask for your forgiveness. It was almost funny how naive this situation had made her. Anger shrouded you as you looked at her.

“You don’t deserve to be forgiven.” You stated harshly, clenching your jaw tightly.

The redhead winced at your word, a broken chuckle leaving her lips as she looked up at you. She remembered when you had told her otherwise. When you had told her she deserved to be forgiven for her mistakes. 

What she had ruined would come to haunt her.

“You convinced me I deserved to be forgiven, that I deserved love,” Natasha whispered, fondly remembering your promises to her.

You remembered your reassurances as clearly as she did, maybe even clearer. Her nightmares were always more shattering than the reality. But you were always there for her, convincing her that she deserved your love.

“And you had me convinced that you loved me.” You breathed, watching the fondness fade from her face into heartbreak.

You knew she still loved you. She had told you too many times, making it a tradition more than important words. The first time she said them, it was more difficult than you had thought. After, it was almost like the words were meaningless to her.

“I believed you, I used to think you loved me.” You spoke, heartbreak resonating in your tone as you turned away.

Everyone was still watching you intently. Your entire family was watching you, the rest of the team was in the living room now. Funny, the only time you thought they would be watching you and Natasha talk like this would be at your wedding, the day you promised each other your lives. 

Now, they were watching as you broke apart.

She opened her mouth to speak. You winced, waving her off.

“Don’t, don’t say anything.” You stuttered, stepping back slightly. You didn’t want to hear her speak, her lies, or her truth. Not that you could tell the difference anymore. She closed her mouth in surprise.

“I can’t tell the difference between your lies and your truth.” You said, licking your lips nervously.

To your surprise, she didn’t say anything. Maybe she had given up on trying to fix this. You had already given up.

Looking down, you decided to leave. If you stayed, all you would get was apologies from your family and Natasha. If you stayed, nothing could come out of it. Wanda was right to take a break after her breakup. She came back stronger after it.

Maybe you would come back stronger after. You didn’t know if you ever planned to come back.

“I’m leaving, away from this mess.” You told her, looking around the rest of the room.

They were shocked, but Wanda looked like she expected it. She gave you a small nod, leaving the room quickly. The rest of them looked up at you in shock, almost stepping up to argue with you when they caught sight of a tear making its way down your cheek.

They couldn’t stop you from leaving. Not even if they wanted to.

Your eyes fell to Bucky. He looked up at you apologetically as you finally looked him in the eye. Everything was gone from your eyes, the affection you used to greet him with. He was sure his mistake would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

This was one of his biggest regrets.

“Will I, will I ever see you again?” Natasha asked timidly, hope underlining her tone. She couldn’t stop you from leaving her with her mistakes. All she could do was hope for your return. Upon seeing your expression, that seemed unlikely.

“If the entire world turns upside down, you might.” You said a halfhearted joke as you turned towards the door.

Leaving your things behind, leaving your entire family behind. There wasn’t anything here for you anymore. Her mistake had taken that away too.

Maybe in a few years, you would come back, turn this into a story to tell your friends. Tell them the story about how Natasha Romanoff loved you. The story about how you used to love her.

World Turned Upside Down

A/N: I actually wove all of them together. And everyone who made it down to here, please tell me how it is, I put a lot of time and effort into it. Comment and reblog!!!

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver​​, @versdan​, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught​, @lovebotlarson​, @dhengkt​, @hstoria​, @natasha-danvers​, @veryfunnyal​, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ , @ophelias-heart​  , @never-didbefore​ , @justarandomhumanhere​, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn​ , @lesbian-x-blackwidow​ , @marvelbbyx​ , @wlw-imaginesss​ , @hcartbyheart​​ , @summergeezburr​​ , @imnotasuperhero​  , @a-stressedstudent​ , @aaron-despair​ , @rooskaya-yelena​ , @dynnealberto , @thewitchandtheassassin​ , @wannabe-fic-reader​ , @izalesbean​, @higherfurther-romanova​  , @natalia-quinzel​    let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 18

The Darkling x Reader

The Winter Fete was fast approaching. The Little Palace was being cleaned up and stitched up in preparation and the seamstress unit was overwhelmed with orders of silk keftas and lavish gowns.

Aleksander was away at front lines on behalf of the Lantosv King again and you were buried up to your neck in work that would otherwise go to him. You pondered for much too long why he always left and you stayed. He constantly left for the camps and front-lines, tending to Grisha in the outposts and dealing with war duties while you were stuck in the confines of this very Palace, signing your name away and reading boring documents. From what you gathered though it had been the same before you arrived, your intelligence prevailing even now.

'You called for me Deputy?' An older Squaller loomed at your door, her greying hairs curling at the sides of her face.

'I did indeed, please sit.' You pointed towards the small sofa in the corner of your room and got up from your desk, heading for it too.

'I think it's about time I thanked you in person for everything you've done for me, Irina.' You picked up the sealed envelope sitting on the table and held it out to her.

'Is that what I think it is?' The older woman visibly teared up, a feathering touch on the envelope.

'I owe it to you and your mother, Irina. Take it.'

'This is so much more than we have given you.'

'Don't be fooled. , I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.'

'Does he know?'

'Of course he doesn't. I keep my own affairs in order without him prying in.'

'Are you sure?' It struck you with a strangeness that you were much older than the Grisha in front of you and had nothing to show for it. You had seen her as a newborn baby cradled in her mother's arms all those years ago and yet you stood before her, the epitome of youth.

'Go. Live your life. It's all in there.' You gestured to the envelope. Irina looked at you just as her mother once did, a look of gratitude and hope. 'He may not be alive anymore but your girl is. So go, I beg of you.'

She stood up and hugged you tightly, quietly crying out of pure joy. You sushed her like you did when she was just a child.

'Go before I decide to keep you around.' You tried to lighten the mood, to say goodbye without having to actually say it. You knew deep down you would never see her again, and given the fact that her daughter was an otkazat'sya, you had no use for her either. Her life was far away from the Os Alta, you made sure of it and now her mother would get to join her and they could live out the rest of their days as a family.

'Y/N you will always be family. My mother made sure of it. I will always be here to serve you.'

'Go'

And she did, with the envelope clutched tightly in her hand, the daughter of your long-passed best friend walked out the door, ending your relationship with the Volkov Grisha.

You met Inessa Volkov during your very first year in the First-Army. She was a Squaller too, stationed at Kribirsk to aid skiff journeys. She was a firecracker, a feisty Zemeni woman who could both bark and bite and never relied solely on her small science.

It was most strange to see soldiers from opposite armies be friends, but Inessa would always swear she knew you were special. She followed you to the Little Palace, helped you evolve into the infamous witch the Fjerdan's began to fear, but her life hit a standstill when she got pregnant. Twins, the girl a Grisha, the boy an otkazat'sya.

Your position allowed for you to help the boy along in life, to prevent him from being dumped in an orphanage by the other Grisha. You gave him a life of happiness and content away from the buzz of capital and for that Inessa was indebted to you, even after your supposed death.

Irina only knew you as a character in her mother's bedtimes stories until you reached out. From then on, Irina served as one of your spies in the Palace while you stayed in the shadows watching Aleksander's moves from a long distance.

Irina was the last link you had to your old life apart from Aleksander and Baghra, of course. You were lucky she was powerful and could live a long life like her mother, but it still hurt to know she would die eventually and you would still be you. You were used to watching those around you die, Aleksander had prepared you for it unintentionally through his various stories and explained life adventures but the sting was still there.

You and Aleksander were on the same page when it came to Grisha abandoning the war effort, but you couldn't help yourself to not let Irina go. She had a daughter and grandkids that she deserved to spend time with in her old age.

No doubt Aleksander would throw up a fuss about a missing Grisha, but you had planned for it already. In the envelope was Irina's death certificate, the address of her daughter's abode, and all the information on her twin brother's family. You wouldn't tell him the truth ever, you would take it to the grave, if you even have to pleasantry to meet.

If he were to find out, with it would come the bubbling question of 'How many spies were there?' and there were too many to count. You had a looming presence and influence in the Palace long before you physically came back and no doubt he would be pissed that you got away with it.

'Deputy, are you to dine in the hall today or in your chambers?' The maid was looking at you and asking the same question she asked every night.

'I think I'll dine with the Grisha, thank you.'

Lately, you ate your dinners cold and in your office, eating only when you remembered the silver tray sitting idly on the table. When Aleksander comes back he's getting an earful and a stack of papers to read. That'll show him.

The hall was filled with pleasant chatter as you approached your seat. It no longer went quiet as you entered, instead a smile or two were sent your way when you noticed. Alina was sitting at her chair sulking over her plate as she usually did and Zoya was too busy eating to notice anything going on around her.

Your food was warm this time as you dug in, drinking the hefty meal down with kvas. You weren't privy to the conversation taking place around you as your thoughts were suddenly overtaken by him. You were never needy, but as of late you wanted to be near Aleksander at all times which was difficult since he wasn't here. The quick kiss he bestowed upon you before he entered his carriage did little to appease you. He never told you when he would be back, but you hoped he wouldn't miss the fete.

Alina was getting stronger, a messy report said that apparently something snapped in her and she grew in power almost overnight. Sometimes when you walked the Palace halls at night, you would catch glimpse of light coming out from under her door. She was growing confident and it suited her. You knew it wasn't any thanks to Baghra.

'Y/N'

'Hmm?' You looked up from your food to see who called you by your name and not your title and relaxed when your eyes caught Zoya's bored ones.

'Botkin asked me to ask you why you've been skipping your combat?' She looked around impassively as if this was the least of her problems but you knew she had nothing better to do given Aleksander's warning to her.

'Oh ummm, I've been busy.' You set your cutlery down and downed the rest of the kvas.

'A Grisha is never too busy to train, lazy perhaps.' You squinted up at the brunette with a false offense.

'Do you have something else to say to me Zoya?'

'I don't know what you mean.'

'Alright then if you say so.' You got up from your chair, coaxing her up from her own. 'Perhaps, your Deputy wants to train now. Should you care to join her?' You knew Zoya was an excellent Squaller, and an even better fighter but was she better than you?

You didn't miss the look of surprise on her face or the silent acceptance of the challenge as you both walked out of the hall, aiming for the training grounds.

'Don't worry about knocking me cold, the General doesn't speak for me.'

The spaces were empty, all Grisha being at dinner and Botkin seemingly busy too.

'I should hope so.'

If you looked at it from a subjective perspective, Inessa and Zoya were very alike. They both had that ruthless and vindictive aspect to their behavior paired with that sharp tongue and intelligent nature. They would've hated each other.

'Come on Nazyalensky, let's see what your made of.' You got into position, holding up your fists in front of you, ready to strike a blow if need be. You let her hit first, effortlessly dodging and ducking her punches and hooks. She was as fast as a bird in flight, swift and elegant. It impressed you, but unfortunately for her, it wasn't enough. You had her restrained in a matter of seconds, her arms behind her back and chest heaving against the wet ground.

'A worthy opponent. You're pretty good I must confess.' You let her go and stood up, adjusting your kefta around your waist.

'Again' You rolled your eyes at her inability to lose. Just like Inessa.

'Zoya, quit while your ahead. Besides I'm tired.'

'You do nothing all day, how can you be tired'

'Do you speak to the General the same way?'

'Only when he's not listening.' she joked and you actually laughed. It was refreshing to hear someone speak of him without that devout loyalty.

You walked back to the Palace, laughing and joking with the Squaller until you went your separate ways.

You didn't know what happened, but from that day onwards the rude Zoya Nazyalensky became a friend.

---------

Part 19

Contrary to popular belief, I would die for Zoya 😍🥰🥰

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

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[vasiktomis]

Pomegranate, Chapter 18: Quiet Earth, Part II.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here! Notes: Co-angels @honeysides, @shallow-gravy, and @lilwritingraven all provided immense support while I toiled over this chapter, which I am forever immensely thankful for. Never would've been able to give people second-hand embarrassment like this without y'all enabling me. As always, thank you for reading!

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence. Sexually-explicit content. An angry cult leader with performance anxiety. You know the drill.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The comparative tranquillity of Seed Ranch had a way of making Cora feel like time was moving slower than it should have. In all seriousness, the chain-reaction of their escape from Fall's End was still firing, but without the gunshots and the shouting, approaching the property felt more like being in stasis. It was too still. Too unassuming.

The Project members awaiting John on the steps of the property were vigilant about a thorough, yet strangely distant reception of the man, as if they’d been hard-wired to anticipate his moods; warmly welcoming him home, but giving the man such a wide berth that one might have assumed he was carrying a live grenade.

Cora supposed he was at least consistent in his inconsistency; just as volatile toward his allies as he was his enemies. She wondered if the serenity of the ranch was a natural element of John's sect; whether they simply cared enough about the man to know his boundaries to the inch - or whether such a light-hearted environment was manufactured deliberately and specifically around his temper.

The Deputy’s presence did well to break the façade, however. It brought with it a range of cautious exchanges from the followers that ushered them into the home; some in fear of re-living the bedlam of her bunker escape, and others casting stern looks between her bare midriff and their leader’s refusal to leave her side.

She noticed it, too - how he stuck to her like Velcro.

It was only after she was administered pain medication and had her wound dressed (they’d been gracious enough to re-dress the haphazard bandaging on her hand, too) that John abruptly took his leave, excusing himself to apparently more pressing matters. Cora was simply confined to the foyer, drifting in and out of snoozing consciousness on one of the couches in front of the fireplace.

All in all, the mental and physical exhaustion of conceding defeat to the Project proved in all honestly a little boring. The blonde had expected she might break down once she was left alone. It seemed about the right time for it, and yet, all she felt was tired. Was it the cult who had done this to her? Run her so ragged that only anger remained?

Ideas of escape waxed and waned with cultists moving in and out of the space periodically to check in on her, lessening in their hostility with each passing visit until their warnings not to cross them turned into beratements over her refusal to sit still, for the love of Joseph.

In her restlessness, she sorted through thoughts and memories, deciding on the conclusion that while yes, today had been devastating, she’d long since thrown away her capacity to recognise it. It had been so long since she’d spared herself any emotion beyond rage that everything else felt only vaguely different. She might’ve broken down, had she not forgotten how to do such a thing. Trying only gave her a stomach ache, and so she resigned herself to waiting it out, growing more and more impatient with how undramatic this aftermath had turned out to be. How her captor had left her so unceremoniously after being declared victor.

Maybe he was similarly nonchalant about all this.

...No. That was impossible. He'd probably just excused himself to go dance a celebratory little jig. Perhaps he'd stepped through a hornet's nest in doing so, or been ambushed by coyotes. Something beyond mere choice that warranted the excuse to disappear like that.

The skylights in the ceiling changed hues over the course of what felt like hours, however, and John did not return.

It felt weird, being in his home without him present. It felt weird being fussed over by house staff who muttered for her to stop picking at her bandages while she lay across his furniture, warmed by his fire. It felt weird that her exposure to Sharky and Jess had finally led her to identify that the strange smell she’d always detected in the Baptist’s home was unmistakably raw cannabis.

Eventually, the clatter of plates and bubbling conversation drew the Deputy away from the couch and around to the other end of the foyer. The gigantic table she’d only ever seen stacked high with bibles in the past now carried an assortment of food, picked at by passing cultists like a barbeque line while they chattered away.

Watching them almost felt like watching her family back in Brooklyn. Waiting out the messy crossed streams of conversation in hiding until the coast was clear and the kids could swarm the reward of food without the labour of having to hang out with the adults. It was strange, how they mimicked a family, when the only similarity Cora could gauge between them were the logos printed on their clothes.

The spying didn't last. One pair of eyes flickering to her quickly became ten, and Cora's heart rate skyrocketed. Instinct kicked in. Eyes combing over each Peggie around the table for weapons. Hands reaching for her own absent holster and emptied pockets.

The group did not respond in-kind. Apparently, they were too preoccupied with loading up their plates to deal with a leader of the Peggie-killing movement in their space.

Cora didn’t buy it. Not straight away. Not until her gaze darted around the rest of the room, weighing up which of the Baptist’s gaudy home decorations might be most effective at bone-crushing and-

“Look who’s got her colour back.”

…

What?

The same cultist who spoke up - a woman - one of the group who’d been at the church earlier, gestured at the table. “Hungry?”

What?

One Peggie with a particularly heavy beard slid a plate over the table toward Cora. Two younger girls over his shoulder giggled to each other.

“Do you think we should offer her a shirt?”

“I’m not that brave. Leave it to John.”

“Anything fresh is all from the garden.” The bearded Peggie spoke, pulling Cora’s scowl away from them with a smile.

She inspected the table. Undersized apples and strawberries. Home-grown, by their imperfections. Multi-coloured silver beet and slightly burned sweetcorn. Homemade bread piled an end of its own, surrounded by a selection of preserves in blank jars. All of it, against her will, served as a reminder that she’d only ingested coffee today. This was bizarre, but she was hungry. Not to mention the Resistance diet consisted mostly of canned spaghetti.

Gingerly, the Deputy picked at one of everything, and while the group of cultists continued chatting, she stood awkwardly by on the side-line, trying to figure out the most efficient means of eating corn while still maintaining a hostile air about her and lot letting slip that it was fucking delicious.

Apparently tearing into the thing wasn't adequately frightening. The same talkative man split from the party to approach her, ignoring the roll of her eyes. A spot of shine glided over his bald head while he moved around the table, and as he neared, he gave her a moment to squint at him.

There was something familiar about that overbearing air.

“We’ve... -”

“Met.” He confirmed. “Briefly.”

“When?”

“Months ago now. I, uh, almost baptised you.”

Cora chewed the inside of her cheek, considering that. Somewhere in the back of her mind the memory of wet rocks beneath her feet swelled with the lapping of shallow waters. Just tap my arm if you need to come up for air.

He shrugged at her silence. “You were pretty Blissed-”

“No, I remember you.” The Deputy mumbled, turning her attention back to her food, intent on keeping it there. It didn’t last long. A hand stretched out before her, and with a laboured, full-mouthed sigh, she shook it.

“Andrew. Glad to see you again.” He offered.

“Okay.”

The silence was as painful as she’d hoped to make it, but tragically, he was resilient.

"Andy works, too-"

"Andrew's syllabically identical and perfectly sufficient. Where's your boss?"

“Upstairs, working.”

“And he’s asked not to be disturbed.” One woman interjected. “So don’t get any ideas.”

Cora blinked at that. Then, plate still in-hand, she spun on her heel and made for the staircase.

Behind her, the group exchanged a collective look of panic.

"Ma'am?"

"Sister?"

"Hey!"

“We’re not allowed up there!”

“Perfect." Cora grumbled back, already ascending the steps. "Then you don’t have to worry about following me.”

The second storey of Seed ranch was dead still in comparison to downstairs. A hallway presented a quiet stretch of closed doors and branching hallways that led out to balconies, part way between residential space and tactical efficiency.

Back in the day, she’d assumed the Baptist just had a thing for doors. Looking around at the space now, it was clear that John was well-aware of how many enemies he’d generated thanks to his work.

The crackle of a radio up ahead drew the Deputy’s attention, and as she drew closer, a hushed curse.

“Pick up. Come on, pick up.” John murmured. Then, in a brand new tone: “Joseph. Brother. I need you to call me back. Please, it’s been - just...whenever you can. I’ll be here.”

She found him beyond a cracked doorway, hunched over a desk. His fingers smoothed through damp hair hair, tugging, jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

The door creaked as Cora pressed against it, and in the time it took for her to cringe at the noise, John had sat up straight, shifting out of whatever private mood she’d spied him in. He blinked up at her, inhaling deeply, reeking of uncertainty.

She felt it too. Of all the scenarios to catch him alone in, the blonde hadn’t expected that she’d be brandishing sourdough.

A moment passed. Both of them trying to feel out this new territory.

“Hey.” Cora eventually muttered.

John exhaled. “Hi.”

“Brought food.”

He looked away. “Deputy, pleased as I am that you’re making yourself at home, I asked for privacy.”

“Since when did you value privacy?” Cora asked, pushing into the room and seating herself on the desk. The tired irritation on John’s face when she set the plate in front of him was worth the day of boredom already. He glanced up at her, and she responded with a wolfish smile.

“You have corn in your teeth.” He mumbled, relenting, posture slackening. “And you’re getting blood flakes on my desk.”

The Deputy tried not to look so hurried about picking. “Isn’t that a garnish in Japan?”

“That’s fish. You’re thinking bonito.”

“I know what I’m thinking.”

Another pause.

“Is that what you thought you were filleting in the church? Bonito?”

Annoyed silence.

“It was Nick.”

Finally, John scoffed, glaring at her, offering a reluctant nod when she flashed her teeth to confirm she’d gotten rid of the food in her teeth. “You are so funny.”

“Thank you. Eat something.”

Cora watched the man regard the plate in front of him.

“How generous of you to take a bite out of everything first." His gaze landed on the shredded corn cob. "Except for that. That,  you demolished."

"Yeah, well." Cora plucked up the same piece of bread he'd been reaching for. "Why're you hiding up here? Thought maybe you would've starting laying on the torment by now. Not...brooding."

"Brooding."

"Yes."

"Pardon me for needing to adjust to having a murderer in my home."

Cora hummed at that, casting a look around the room. "Took you about 2 seconds to adjust to a murderer's tongue in your mouth-"

"Deputy." John spat, pushing the plate away from him in a final display of denial. "Please, leave. I'm busy."

“No, you’re not.” Cora bit back. “I want to know what your plan is. Now you’ve got me, what’s next? What’s the point in me sitting around on your couch all afternoon? You don’t leave me alone, ever, and now that I’m here you want me to make myself scarce?”

The Baptist's jaw rolled in annoyance, and when Cora shifted her legs to face him easier, he jerked away from her, avoiding contact. “You’ve grown too accustomed to being in the spotlight." He grumbled.

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“What question?”

“What’s your deal? What's the plan? What happens now?”

“The plan is to get back to work. My apologies if your assumption was that you were the main goal of this valley, but there are dozens of things that require my attention-“

“Like sitting by the phone for your brother for hours?”

John paused at that. Something old and familiar flashed over his expression, and he stood from his seat. “You’re jealous.” He accused.

Cora’s lip curled, ears running hot. “You’re wasting time, and I want to know why.”

“Is that why you're nosing through my business? If I gave you details - what I'm working on - what the next step is - is that a strategic win for you?" His palms slid against the desk, planted on either side of her legs. "Or is my lack of undivided attention so awful to you that anything to help rationalise it would do?"

Something in her celebrated that look on his face. The renewed confidence in his attitude. It enraged her, but it was scores better than his absence.

She scowled, but she didn’t pull away when John leaned down into her space. It didn’t work the way it used to. Now it didn’t feel close enough. Now she wanted to part her legs and pull his hips against her.

It was a discomfort she’d never known before, and now, even with her wounds dulled, it almost felt painful. She wanted to know what the plan was. She wanted to plan an escape. She wanted to have just this one little victory if this was the end of the line. If he was going to convert her, then she could at least undermine him by ruining his faithfulness. It might destabilise him enough that she could find some advantage to getting back to Fall’s End. That would make it okay, if it were all driven by strategy or revenge. Her curiosity would be sated.

But then, as if he could hear her thoughts from the sheer volume of their demands, John drew away from her.

“You should shower.” He muttered quickly, snatching the radio from the desk. “Across the hall, on the right.”

He didn’t look at her as he left the room. He didn’t look back when he disappeared down the hall and made for the stairs.

Cora glared ahead at the space he'd left emptied.

What a fucking coward.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Despite her soured mood, Cora had done as she was ordered. She spent all of two minutes rinsing the old blood from her skin, and another ten reflecting in quiet judgement over the bottle of 3-in-1 sitting in the shower caddy with her. Maybe she should've allowed herself the opportunity to warrant having to bathe here earlier. Maybe she'd have developed more of a sense of disgust for the man if she had.

The clothes she’d arrived in were still stained, but it was an improvement. Less of a sensory distraction while she sorted through her thoughts, at least.

While the Deputy dried off and re-dressed, the haze of pain relief began to lighten, and she was able to focus on cobbling together some kind of a plan to get herself out of Seed Ranch. She might have conceded defeat, but the hideous tattoo marking her sternum didn't mean she was suddenly going to behave. Especially if her captor was refusing to even the playing field and let her know what the hell they were supposed to do now.

Whatever John was keeping from her, it was urgent enough that his entire demeanour had changed. What did he need from Joseph so desperately? If it had anything to do with the Resistance, or if had anything to do with Joseph coming here, the Deputy intended to put a stop to it.

If John Seed’s intention was to avoid her, he should’ve thought twice before locking her in his home. Ensuring that he’d keep his distance, however, was the easy part.

The real goal would be getting him away from that radio.

Descending the stairs, Cora found John in solitary silence in the foyer. There was no sign of the Peggies serving up supper anymore, and the dining table had been cleared.

John was alone, sitting on the couch by the fireplace with his head in his hands, no less agitated than when she’d first found him. The hand-held sat close by on his left. In front of him on the coffee table was a landline phone that hadn’t been there previously.

He didn’t notice her at first. To his credit, she didn’t announce herself until a creak of the stairs did it for her. Then, the snap of his gaze toward her was instant. Hyper-vigilant.

Cora reached the first floor. “Where’d everyone go?”

“Minding the perimeter.” John answered, making space for her to take a seat but keeping himself faced away. “You’ll be pleased to know that your troop is still yet to be captured. Little doubt they’re aware that you’ve been brought here. Even less that they’re on the hunt for you, given the state Fall’s End was in when we left. Boshaw seemed happy enough to blow up half the town to get to you. Shorty."

There was no mistaking his bitterness at the nickname.

When she approached, Cora found a folded Project sweater sitting where she intended to. John’s jaw rolled when she slowed to glare at the thing.

Still, he refused to look at her.

“Put it on. You’ll freeze.”

“I’d rather not look like one of you when the Resistance comes to rescue me.”

“You are one of us, now. Almost. Once you’ve pledged yourself to the Project, they needn’t consider it a rescue effort any longer.”

Cora huffed in response, pulling the sweater over her head and slumping into the couch. “You sound a lot less happy about that than I’d expect.”

“I’m fine.”

Stonewalling. Now she was beginning to understand how annoying it was when she did it.

“I’ve made enough of a career out of it to know what you look like when you’re not fine.” The Deputy remarked.

“I think I preferred it when I was asking all the questions.”

“I think you preferred me when I was tied up in a basement.”

That comment caught a glance. Amusement, unnoticed on her part.

“So, what - you’ve been sitting beside a radio all day and somehow weren’t inclined to terrorise me? Or were you just that busy arranging flowers for my Atonement?”

“Are you feeling stood up?” John asked. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were projecting, Deputy.”

Her ears flushed hot. Immediate rage flooded pitted in her stomach, but as much as the blonde would have liked to get up and stomp elsewhere, she had little other option without any better ideas.

Right now, this was all she had.

Channelling her inner Adelaide.

Cora inhaled, swallowing back a cursory retort. “Both work.”

In her periphery, John ceased all movement, staring straight ahead.

All she had to do was pressure him enough to move away. Then it was over. She’d been rejected by him before - anticipating it happening again shouldn’t have needed to feel as gross as it did.

“Maybe I think you got scared, not having me under your control.” She went on, finding the words already prepared on her tongue as she turned toward him. “You seemed like you were enjoying it when it was you-”

“-and then you punched me in the face.” John cut in stiffly.

“Didn’t deter you.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s against the rules.” The clip in his tone signalled a warning. Then, an impatient sigh escaped his nostrils. “And you said it yourself: it was a mistake.”

He wasn’t going to look at her. There was no pulling at his attention while he could hide her in his periphery.

“Is that why you’re upset?” She made a quiet move to touch her fingers to his forearm, but he pulled away with a scoff.

“If you’re trying to buy time -”

“Are you frustrated?” Cora pressed on. His shifting had given her enough leeway to get herself between him and the phone, and she took her opportunity, sliding down to kneel between the couch and the coffee table. Directly in front of him. “Knowing what people say about you?”

John finally inclined his head to sneer down at her, but if he had anything he was intending to say, it was silence by the bob of his Adam's apple. A gulp. His breathing was the only audible sound in the room, barring herself; shallow and staggered.

Almost there.

Cora kept her eyes on his. She wouldn’t lie - despite sitting at his feet like this, she could still gauge the power that she held. That while, yes, there was a spark of disappointment that came with watching him ignore her advances, there was also some odd thrill in watching the man who’d made multiple attempts on her life struggle so much. Knowing that, even with her unarmed and kneeling - even with all his connections and soldiers, and everything he'd done to her - he was powerless.

He’d taken her freedom, but she could get that back. She’d compromised his loyalty to dogma. Nearly made the tallied notches on his arm into a lie. He'd have to start again from the ground-up. He'd be middle-aged before he found the same progress.

“Now that I’m atoned. Now that no one’s watching.” She sat up, drawing closer to his thigh, inwardly cursing at his refusal to move away this time. “All that work you put into catching me, and now what? Nothing?��

“Deputy.” John growled, low and dangerous.

“You want this.” Cora concluded, watching the flush of red bloom from beneath his collar and the flex of his jaw while he grit his teeth.

“There are bigger things at stake right now-”

“And even now that you have me, you’re too scared to do anything about it.”

John inhaled a swift breath, averting his gaze. “That’s beside the point.”

“You want this."

“Would you quit it? You’re wrong.”

Finally, the Baptist shoved himself out of the couch, back-stepping several paces until he was half-way across the room. Once he’d gotten himself to a safe distance, he regarded the Deputy once more, gaze cold and angry while she cycled through unknown victory and equally unknown disappointment.

He wasn’t going to be made to give in.

“You haven’t been atoned. Not yet.” John breathed, turning on his heel and marching into the kitchen.

Cora stared at the doorway he'd escaped through. Now was her chance.

One...two...three...

Okay. He wasn't coming back in a hurry. She'd successfully scared him off.

There was no time to waste.

While the faucet ran in the next room, Cora twisted around, snatching the phone upside down and hastily unclipping the cable from the device. The dial-tone cut to silence. Communication blocked, but cord hooked up to the damn thing was already conspicuous without  evidence of tampering. She couldn't just discard the cable.

There was no way John wouldn’t notice its absence when he returned, and so the Deputy did what any effective home invader would do.

She bit down on the cord, close as she could to the adapter, chewing hard until grinding wire snapped between her teeth. When she plugged the cable back in and set the phone straight again, the machine remained dead, but intact.

Good. That'd buy some time.

The radio was next. Rather than switch the device off, Cora tuned it a few notches, finding a dead station and placing it back right where John had left it.

Done.

Sabotage successful. If Joseph had any intention of making a call-back soon, he’d be going unheard. There was no telling how long it would last, but unless the Baptist was stocked on landlines, half of his communications were disabled entirely.

Cora exhaled, inviting in the momentary relief. Being kept here was one thing. Having to be in the same room as Joseph Seed was another dimension entirely.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She called, rising to a stand and following the Baptist’s trail.

No response.

When Cora entered the kitchen, John was dabbing his neck with wet hands. The moment he sensed her, he grumbled a sharp curse, bracing his hands against the counter to keep from facing her.

“Is this the plan? We just sit and wait?”

His shoulders seized. “...Yes.”

Cora stalked past him, finding a counter of her own to lean against, finding her own patience dwindling. Coiling irritation at the very notion of Joseph having so much sway over the Baptist that he could seemingly halt time.

“So what’s the point in taking me? In bringing me here?” She spat.

“Disregarding our personal rapport, it’s no small matter, having you here.” John ground out. “My family will want to know-”

“Have you tried calling Jacob?”

Something twitched in John's expression. A button, pushed. Dispelled rage.

“The Father  will-”

There was no holding back the snarl that brewed in her throat. Hitting its boiling point. He did  have that much sway over the man. They were sitting here in stasis, all because of him.

“Are you that fucking sad? We’re stuck here just because you need to hear Joseph tell you how well you did? A whole fucking resistance effort just blew up half of Fall’s End. You caught  me. Dozens of people are dying, and all you can do is sit by the phone?” Cora demanded, scowling while his muscles trembled. “Are you serious?!”

“WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO, CORA?!”  John bellowed, head snapping around to fix her in place, eyes blazing. The sheer volume of him froze her to the spot. "Did you assume that you were somehow different from anyone else the Project takes in? That your place here; that you're even alive  had anything other to do than Joseph requesting it? Did you think that you'd somehow slipped through every possible crack in the system for any reason beyond this path being carved specifically by the Father? Because, frankly speaking, YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

The Deputy didn't reply. She couldn't.

Not that it would've mattered.

John, it seemed, was far from finished.

“You're so selfish. One moment you insist on making your own salvation impossible. The next, you assume you can simply start calling shots." He bit, voice already hoarse from yelling, but with no less poison. "You think I enjoy waiting around for whatever order comes next? That I enjoy you waltzing around my home, eating my food, whining that I'm not doing enough  for you? After all the wrath you’ve wrought - after all the death and the destruction - you’re still so fucking entitled to assume that I’d throw aside my loyalty to the Father. All just because you’re here, and not even by fucking choice.”

Cora swallowed, calming the nerves that egged her on to snap back at him. "I didn't - I don't - "

After a moment, the hostility thinned. John's shoulders sagged.

"I know it's not optimal. It might not seem like it, but we're lucky. Things could be a lot worse for both of us, but on Joseph's order, they're not. It's his wisdom that made you being here even possible. So yes; the plan right now is that we sit and wait."

John turned toward her, then. He looked positively miserable.

“What happened last night…can’t happen again.” He explained. “It doesn’t matter that you’re here now. I’m the Baptist. Joseph is my brother. There’s nothing he doesn’t know, and there’s nothing he won’t find out. We need to do everything we can to stay on his good side.”

He did have a point. As much as she wanted John to be the last of her enemies, he was only one of three, and likely the lowest ranked of the Project's leaders. Pushing John to defy a higher power was unwise.

Her job was done, anyway. There was no more need to pursue him. Curiosity didn't matter. Want didn't matter. No meant no.

“Okay.” The Deputy croaked finally, nodding.

John raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” She attempted a smile. "Water under the bridge."

He returned the expression. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Great.”

“Cool.”

They both stood still, watching each other for a long moment.

Then Cora’s heart sank, and she felt herself detach from the counter. John did the same, marching toward her while she advanced on him with equal urgency.

Her fingers found the front of his shirt just as his found her face, and his mouth was on hers in a heartbeat. For all her rationalisations, the blonde reciprocated immediately, clutching him closer, humming into his kiss with a pitch she’d normally find mortifying.

“I’m sorry.” John breathed, hardly breaking away long enough to put the words together before he was kissing her again. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean that."

Cora nodded, barely able to formulate a response against him. Every word she reached for melted on her tongue, completely enraptured by the heat of his mouth and his desperate hands not knowing whether they wanted to grip at her hips or keep cradling her jaw.

She didn’t even know she’d been walked backward until she felt the cold countertop hit the small of her back, and then - much more pleasantly - the warmth of John’s body pressing against her front. She gasped, winding a hand into his damp hair and slipping beneath his shirt with the other, pawing at whatever skin she could access and drawing another one of those pitiful sounds she’d pulled from him last night.

“Wasn’t - ah, fuck,” the Deputy choked, not anticipating the Baptist’s impatience when he dipped his head to kiss her neck, arms coiling tight around her waist, “Wasn’t a mistake.”

"Fuck no." John moaned against her throat, tongue barely darting out to taste her skin. “Won’t hit me this time?”

“Not this time.”

He pulled back then, leaving a half inch of aching dead space between them. Swallowing back a pant and looking at her directly. Like he was weighing up every possible pro and con about this scenario. Cora stilled, trading hesitation with the man, sobering for all but a few fearful seconds.

“If you don’t-”

“Don’t.” John breathed. “Just let me commit this to memory.”

“I mean it.”

“Deputy, you have no idea - how many times I’ve -...how much damage this could do."

Cora shifted under his gaze, searching impatiently to find which direction his resolve would fall. "I can keep a secret."

Amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth, breaking through apprehension.

“You want this.” She murmured.

“God, yes.”

He kissed her deeply, holding her steady through the shiver sent through her as his tongue slid across her bottom lip. Then, as soon as it felt like they were picking back up where they’d left off, he pulled back again. The grin he flashed at her frustration pulled a little noise of protest out of the blonde, and when she chased his mouth, he held her still.

“For the sake of being on the same page,” He began, “you do, too, right?.”

What a ridiculous assertion. What kind of answer was he hoping to gain from that? He already had her consent; did he really need the pride of knowing how badly she wanted this too? It wasn’t even something she’d actively considered, anyway. She’d have to think about-

“Yeah.” Cora breathed, ragged. “Yes.”

John settled into a more comfortable smile, and while the eye contact wasn’t something she could uphold for long, Cora mirrored the expression.

Then, a sigh rolled out of the Baptist. “Thank fucking Christ.”

She didn’t have time to chuckle at that.

His mouth was back on her in a instant.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“What’d I tell you?” Jess hissed, looking Sharky up and down while she waded toward him through torn up asphalt and cement debris. “What’d I tell you about making a fucking idiot of yourself?”

Sharky traded a look with Hurk at that. The man was nearly unrecognizable from all the dust clinging to him.

“I thought we did pretty good.” The arsonist defended.

“The town’s half blown-up, dipshit.”

“We did real  good.” Hurk weighed in.

He wasn’t wrong. They didn’t even kill nobody they weren’t supposed to. There’d been bumps in the road, sure, but all in all, things hadn’t been a total disaster. Once you translated that into the kind of situation they were in, total disaster  was actually kind of...well, awesome. Especially once the Cougars had arrived.

Sharky hadn’t heard word from over East since they’d left, but things must’ve been mighty fucking boring up there at the County Jail for a whole fucking convoy to come charging through town.

He’d never seen so many baseball jerseys in one place, let alone jerseys toting assault rifles.

There wasn’t any chasing leftover Peggies out of town once they’d shown up. It was a purge so quick and so direct that the blonde understood a little better why Shorty had been so pissed about not getting the extra help earlier.

Everyone had found their way back to each other pretty quick once the chaos had died down. As luck would have it, Kim had been walking Boomer when Eden’s Gate had arrived. She’d managed to get a couple of the general store clerks to safety and found a cattle shed to wait out the fight about a mile up the road.

It might’ve been the adrenaline getting him going, but Sharky could’ve sworn her tits were even bigger than yesterday.

Grace and Mary May reunited quick, but disappointingly did not  start making out. Instead, they helped Kim cart Nick and Pastor Jerome off to Dr. Lindsey.

After they’d rounded up any remaining hostages, the team made their way back to Sharky as the stand-in replacement for the Deputy. That part didn’t surprise him. He was  best mate, after all...after the dog, at least. The part that did surprise him was that the Cougars seemed to do that same.

Tracey surveyed the wreckage on her way toward the group with Sheriff Whitehorse and that tight-lipped Marshal in-tow.

“Jerome says Stammos got carted out with John’s people.” The woman announced. “They took the road down to the airport.”

“Then unless they’re plannin’ on looping back around, they’re probably headed to the ranch.” Adelaide replied.

“Probably a smart move after last time.” Hurk added.

The Sheriff inclined his head, incredulous. “Last time?”

“Long story.”

Sharky watched the disappointment pass over Whitehorse’s face. Must’ve felt shitty; losing all of his employees to the cult.

“I tried chasin’ ‘em down, Sheriff.” He said.

“And given how you’re dressed, Boshaw, it’s no surprise they were so quick to leave.”

“Okay. Ouch.”

“So what’s the plan?” Jess asked.

Tracey was already turning back around, headed for the truck she’d arrived in. “We keep liberating.” She answered. “Stammos called us to take back the valley, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“John’s ranch is almost the Southernmost point before the border.” Whitehorse elaborated. “If we do everything right, he won’t have many friends left to help him cross it once he gets word of us coming.”

“Sounds like the same plan as last time.” Adelaide commented.

“No stone unturned.” He affirmed. “Same as last time. Take care of John the same way we took care of Faith and bring our girls home.”

The Marshal, however, didn’t look as happy about that option. Dude always hated taking the long way around. “And what if John’s taken care of your Deputy before we get there?”

Sharky exchanged a look with the others.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John’s fingers tangled in Cora's hair, hurriedly tugging out the damp tie and wincing when a caught snag caused the Deputy to hiss. “Sorry. Sorry.” He muttered, breathless.

“You’re - you’re certain this is okay.” She huffed against him. If there was any acknowledgement of the apology on her part, it was only in how she clawed at his vest, dragging his mouth back to hers.

“Not at all.”

“What about your -” A gasp briefly did the trick of silencing her, but then: “What about your brothers-”

“Please don’t mention my brothers right now.” John whined.

Cora eyed him. “Door’s locked?”

John stifled a chuckle at that. “No, why would it be?”

Cora eyed him dangerously.

“I’m kidding." He defended. "What, you think I let people walk in and out of here unannounced?"

“Fucking prick.”

“Obviously, I’m kidding. You’re a-aaah…” His retort dwindled when the blonde’s hands slid down his front, stopping short of the hem of his vest and creeping back up to his collar again. He pulled back to glare. “A captive.”

“And you’re sensitive.” She replied, simply.

“7 years is a long time.” John’s own hands fell from her hair, slipping down her sides until she couldn’t feel them anymore. “Not sure how much I can...handle.” That last phrase came cautiously. Awkwardly.

The blonde’s fingers traced back down while she listened, more quizzical than apprehensive at the warning.

To her, that sounded more like a challenge.

"What."  John grunted at the smirk that played on her lips.

"Just the audacity of you asking for mercy."

A shiver worked its way out of him when she went lower, ghosting over his hips and then back up again. Deliberately avoiding the ever-insistent graze of an erection against her stomach, sporadically tensing against denim confinement whenever her hands got close. Every reminder of it sending a fresh wave of heat through her.

“Seriously-”

“Mr. Seed, either we carry on like this, or you fuck me. Right now.” The Deputy spoke low, watching the Baptist’s pupils dilate more with each word. “Either way, we’ll find out how much you can handle, but 3 years is also a long time. I’d hate for only one of us to break a streak.”

John stared, dumbfounded.

Then, his hands reappeared, tugging around her waist, wrenching her up and onto the countertop. Her wasted no time pushing her knees apart, drawing near enough between her legs that she could reach for his belt, but not close enough that she could find the friction she was looking for. His fingers pawed her thighs, then gripped hard when her fingertips ghosted over the bulge that impatiently jutted between them.

“Ah. Shit.” He shuddered, folding down to balance his forehead in the crook of her neck, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him standing. Cora found that she liked the idea of that. Ten times the amount of experience she had, and yet here he was, barely functional.

She pressed her palm against him, content with the hitch in his breath and the little jerk of his hips. A responding, dulled twitch pressed back. Through the obstruction of clothing, it was impossible to get a sense of him, but biology didn’t discriminate. She wanted him in her.

“Doing good.” Cora murmured against John’s temple, running her fingers through his hair in reassurance while his dug into her thighs in a vice grip.

“So good.” He choked when she slowly began to move back and forth. “So - so good. Feels - ah, fuck - let me -“

Maybe a little too quickly, Cora pulled herself closer to the edge of the counter, tugging John’s unbandaged hand further up her thigh and hoping he’d get the message while she busied herself with his belt.

She knew his smirk too well to mistake it for anything else when she felt him hum against her throat.

John straightened, pulling Cora’s attention back up to him. Lo and behold, he was looking as arrogant as ever; as if he hadn’t just been whining at her mercy. “Deputy, have a little patience.”

“After all that ranting about giving, you sure are selfish.”

“Oh, so you were listening.” He grinned, tracing a thumb back and forth over the junction of her hip. “Tell me, what happened to my little ranger who loved to play by the rules?”

“Hypocrite.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Hurry up.”

John flinched when Cora’s hand shoved beneath his still-fastened pants, palming him through his underwear. He managed to hold strong, though, even if his voice near-cracked. “Or what?”

“Or John Seed’s gonna come in his pants.”

Again, he twitched in her grasp, but his movement remained torturously slow.

Realisation hit the Deputy at his resistance.

He was getting a kick out of this.

He was testing her.

“How crazy does it drive you, not having total, complete control?" He asked. His thumb reached the seam of her pants, almost too light to feel. She still throbbed all the same.

"You're an asshole." Cora growled.

“You know, I always suspected you got off on that.”

“Evidence suggests it might be the other way around.”

“Answer me, Deputy.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’ll do just that if you don’t cooperate.” John tutted at her frustrated ineptitude at deciphering his belt buckle. “Are you really in a position to be calling the shots?”

Cora stopped to consider that, locking to his gaze with a scowl. Why did every interaction with him have to feel like a chess game?

Fine.

Not breaking eye contact, Cora simply pulled her sweater over her head in response.

John’s gaze broke immediately. He tried to recover, but the damage was done. There was no picking his composure back up after the attitude slid from his face and left him with nothing but prying eyes and a slackened jaw.

“Well,” He croaked, “when you put it that way…”

“Help me with this.” Cora urged, still tugging at his belt. He acquiesced immediately, although with the two of them hastily fumbling with the same mechanism, the extra help wasn’t much better. John swore under his breath, pulling out of Cora’s reach while she clicked her tongue. “Does that thing double as a chastity belt?”

“It’s not my fault we have a single functional hand between us.”

“You stabbed me first.”

“For God’s sake - fuck - got it.”  John sighed, finally unbuckling the monstrosity, rushing back to the blonde’s reach. She dealt with her own belt while he hurried with his jeans, tattooed fingers shaking. The moment he’d succeeded, his hands flew to her waist, revering bare skin and savouring her impatience for him to touch her where she wanted to be touched.

She would have cussed him out, had his teeth not grazed her lip, refreshing the taste of him with his tongue slipping into her mouth - right as his left hand wriggled it way into her pants and pressed.

Cora saw white for a second. Untouched nerves awakening in a frenzy that had her gasping into that bastard’s mouth. Jesus, she could feel  the grin on his face.

“Hm. Hypocrite.” Came the reminder, followed by a strangled noise when her fingers enclosed around his cock; separated still by underwear, but gripping him all the same. His body shoved against her, crushing their arms between them in the attempt to find his way closer - to find more. “Ah - shit. Careful-”

A knock from beyond the kitchen sent a collective jolt through both of them, and John’s head whipped around in a panic.

“W-...what is it?!” He called, voice cracking.

“John, have you got a minute?” A deeper voice Cora didn’t recognise responded from outside.

“Doubt I’ve got more than ten seconds.” The Baptist hissed to himself. “I recall saying emergencies only! Ask yourself - is this something I need to find John for, or can I find my own way?”

Christ. He spoke to his followers the same way she spoke to hers.

“O-okay. Sorry.”

John didn’t reply. He simply turned his attention straight back to Cora, stroking up and down along the material of her underwear. His cock twitched impatiently in her hand, at odds with his leisurely pace. “You’re soaked through.” He taunted, but the tremor in his voice delivered it as a revelation.

Cora’s brow furrowed. She stroked once, sweeping her thumb over the head of him. “Speak for yourself, Baptist.”

A grunt sounded from the man. His hands moved quickly, yanking her to the edge of the counter and gripping at her pants. Tugging the material down and off her legs while he dropped to his knees on the floorboards. The Deputy’s initial instinct to draw herself together and hide from scrutiny was jarred by the way the Baptist gaped between her legs. Like closing them would be some cruel disservice to him. So, she let him stare. Held still while he drew close, dotting a kiss to her knee and shivering when his beard skimmed her inner thigh.

“Thank you for wearing white.” John murmured, stroking a careful thumb over the cotton, leaving only aching want in his wake.

“That a religious thing?” She tried not to croak, raising an eyebrow.

“Not in this circumstance. Just...thought about it.”

“Oh. You just - casually speculated on the colour of my underwear.”

“Something like that.” He continued the action. Back and forth. Up and down. Trying to find the same spot as earlier. For all his enthusiasm, however, he was still out of practice and just as impatient as she was. He’d draw close, but any hitch in her breath pulled his gaze up to her face, searching for praise and losing his place in the process.

When his mouth suddenly descended upon her, though, fingers giving up their place to yank the material to the side and grant him direct access, the Deputy found herself uncomfortably on the complete other end of the spectrum. From not enough, to way, way too much. A squeak shot out of Cora, and her legs clamped shut on John’s skull just as her fingers gripped his hair in an attempt to pry him away from her. Both actions earned a separate “Ow,” from the man.

John pouted up at her. “What?”

“Stand up.” “I like where I am right now.” He protested. “You’re not shy,  are you? I want  to-”

Cora tugged at him anyway. “I don’t want you to practice on me. I want you to fuck me.”

John blinked. “Okay - not shy.” He pulled himself back to a stand, averting his gaze while she guided his hips back between her legs. “I’m - er - it’s just…-”

He bit back a resigned curse when her fingers circled his erection once again, passing over the noticeable slick of precum on strained cotton.

“Just what?”

“I'd like you to - enjoy it." The admission came. "And I’m not going to last.”

“Good. I'll enjoy that just fine.” Cora replied, earning a questioning look. “Won’t look so smug anymore when you’re coming in record time.”

John's expression darkened at the challenge, but his hands shook as they swatted her away, struggling to manoeuvre the fly of his underwear into just  the right position.

Anger was still the quickest way to get through to him.

“Just you wait." He warned. "I’ll-“

She cut him off with a kiss, pulling his hips against her, and his threats evaporated. They were pressed too close for her to see, but his cock grazed the hem of her underwear, finally pulled free. Then, John’s fingers hooked around the material, pulling it to one side.

The Baptist held her gaze, brow upturned like he was worried.

Was he nervous?

“Ready?” He asked.

He looked...kind of pretty like this. Pupils blown. Lips a little swollen. Hair all messed up. Eye-contact wasn't so uncomfortable when he looked this wrecked.

She nodded. "Yeah." The pitch of his gasp matched hers when the head of him slid with dangerous ease along the wetness of her cunt. All she could focus on was the heat of him. The blunt press, drawing closer and closer to her entrance until he was finally lined up. The ache of resisting muscles and relieved nerve-endings when he pushed forward, torturously slow, concentration and bliss fighting for equal real estate on his face, and okay,  he was exceptionally pretty like this.

A tiny little 'fuck'  crept out of John when Cora sighed at the feeling, insistently encouraging, tugging. She needed more. It wasn't fair. Didn't fucking matter how long for; she just needed to feel him. All of him.

Then, when he was barely two inches in, another knock at the door pulled her out of her stupor.

“John? I spoke to Andy. He says it’s an emergency.”

John froze. Then, his eyes scrunched shut in a long-suffering grimace, and once again, his forehead dropped to Cora’s shoulder. Frustration radiated from him, infecting her within moments.

"Has he been out there the whole time?" She grunted.

"Christ." The Baptist sounded almost amused at that. He pulled back to offer a half-smile.

He had to investigate.

Cora, meanwhile, had no patience for his imminent departure. Her legs locked against his hips, but he was gently prying himself away already, muttering repeated, gasped apologies at her protests.

“I’ll be right there!” He called back, already resetting his belt. “Give me a minute.”

“Are you kidding?” Cora hissed, sliding down from the counter.

“I’ll be 30 seconds. I swear. Then we can - we can go upstairs, and we can stay  there. Emergency or not.” John assured her, punctuating his words with kisses wherever he could land them while she struggled to multitask between receiving and yanking her pants back on. Then, he pulled away completely, stumbling out of the kitchen on visibly shaky legs.

Cora took a moment to silently lament before heading back out into the foyer, buckling her belt while she surveyed the space in an attempt to distract herself from impotent fucking rage.

John murmured away with someone outside, half-visible through the gap he’d left in the door. His arms had crossed, but with his back to her, she couldn’t discern his mood any further.

Nonetheless, her concern grew, and when the man said his goodbyes with a nod and entered the building once more, the Deputy found it had good reason to.

John passed through the room, not sparing her a glance. He snatched the radio he’d abandoned on the coffee table, but to her fleeting relief, simply clipped it onto his belt and moved on.

He’d turned pale.

“Hey.” Cora frowned, following him to the trophy cabinet where he began rifling through memorabilia. “What’s going on?”

“We have to leave.” He muttered, unboxing a small case. It rattled as he shook the content into his hand. 38 Specials, most making it to his back pocket, some clinking to the floor, forgotten when he moved on to withdraw his revolver and tucked it into the back of his pants. “Now.”

John continued hurrying about with Cora hot on his heels, unable to really do anything but watch him build a collection of valuables on the dining table. His coat. His keys. A particularly raggedy old bible. He made some effort to conceal the zip-lock bag he pulled from behind the décor on the mantle; definitely the source of the odour that permeated the foyer.

They traded a look - critical on Cora’s part, and John rolled his jaw while he shoved it out of sight, irritated. Perhaps embarrassed.

“Did you know?” He huffed.

“Mr. Seed, I studied in Colorado. I know what a half-bag looks like.”

“Did you know about the Cougars?” John’s voice hardened. “According to the Chosen, there’s one hell of a convoy inbound from the North. Did you know?”

Oh.

Fuck.

“Oh. Fuck.” Cora noted, still too dazed to even bother lying. “I called them in.”

They actually came?

“Wonderful.” John had stopped to run a hand through his hair. “Truly. Thank you.”

“Well sure, but I don’t see what good they’re gonna do you. They’re probably here to-”

“Sarcasm, Cora.”

“That makes more sense."

John started to pace, then, relenting. Dispersing his temper. He tugged the radio from his belt, holding it to his chin. “Joseph, for God’s sake, come in.”

Half a minute passed by. The little curses under John’s breath became more punctuated until his patience thinned. He angled the dial, and then stopped. Examining the station he’d been using, incredulous.

His gaze flickered to her for a split-second, eyes narrowing, and Cora’s stomach coiled.

Shit.

He knew.

She winced while the Baptist strode past her, anticipating his approach to the phone, investigating an absent dial tone and her now-obvious tampering. He turned the machine over, holding up the ruined cord for her to see.

"Your handiwork, Deputy?" The smile that spread over his face was sharp as ever. The mask was back on.

Perhaps this hadn't been her best plan.

She should've let him go down on her when she had the chance.

[mashiraostail]

Hi! Can I get Midnight, Aizawa and Presentation Michael coming home late to see their S/O snuggled up on the couch having fell asleep waiting for them? 😌💜

PRESENT MICHAEL SUPREMACY!! Ofc I can do tht for you! I hope you enjoy it’s under da cut (:<

Nemuri: You always felt bad when you didn’t wait up for her, what if she was hurt or needed help with something? So you usually made yourself comfortable on the couch and tried to get some extra work done, or watch something interesting while you waited for her, and 9/10 times you managed to stay up. Tonight was just impossible though. The more you tried to work the more tired you got, and whatever you put on the television just served as perfect white noise for sleeping, no matter how interesting you would normally find it. All you could do was lean further and further into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. It’s just impossible to keep your eyes open, no matter how hard you try.  Nemuri was just glad to be home, she liked being a hero sure, most heroes do. But jeeze night patrols always sucked, villains should consider bedtimes, and the fact that you were definitely waiting up for her, she felt like she told you every time she got stuck with a night patrol not to wait up but you always tried to, she appreciated it but you had your own things to do and you needed to rest for them-oh.  You were asleep, fast asleep, curled up into the corner of the couch, a knitted blanket wrapped around your shoulders, the TV was barely audible and your laptop was discarded beside you, the screen dim now.  “If you sleep like that you’ll be sore tomorrow.” She puts her hands on your knees where they’re pulled up to your chest. The sleepy breath you take in as your eyes open is really just precious.  “‘m not sore-” You barely snuffle it out rubbing your face into the crook of your elbow and leaning back further into the welcoming couch cushions.  “Maybe not yet.” She sits down beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulder.  “Don’t try n..use your quirk on me..It won’t work..’m used to it by now.” You mutter as she pulls you into her chest she’s pressing a line of kisses to your temple.  “No, I wouldn’t do something so untrustworthy like that. You just look so precious I wanted a hug.” To be honest, in your current state you couldn’t tell if it was her quirk making you drowsy or just the comfort of being so close to her lulling you back into sleep. “All curled up waiting for me like that.” She’s practically cooing at you and all it does is produce a fuzzy feeling all the way from the pit of your stomach up to the apples of your cheeks.  “‘n case you needed me....I figured..” You wrap an arm around her waist and shuffle closer to her nearly buzzing with affection for her and she laughs, “how thoughtful. Why don’t we head off to bed now? Honestly, I’m exhausted too.” She laments and untangles your body from hers even as you protest. “What, you want me to carry you?” She grins and you shake your head.  “No..no you just worked all night I can walk-” You stand up and stretch, pulling your arms above your head and letting out a groan, “I didn’t even ask how your night was, I’m sorry Muri, I feel so selfish right now-” Before you can finish her hands clamp down on your shoulders and she pulls you into her chest again,  “honestly you’re too adorable.” She protests, “if I wasn’t already in love with you I have no clue what I’d do with the way you make me feel sometimes. You’re way too sweet for your own good.”  “I’m gonna fall asleep standing up if you keep holding onto me like this Muri..” You repine, bringing your arms around her back.  She laughs at that, “okay, okay.” She squeezes you again before letting you go.  “You ‘rnt hurt at all are you?” You follow close behind her as you head down the hall.  “No, it wasn’t a very busy night.” It sort of was, but she felt awful keeping you up anymore when you looked like you were about to fall over. “I’m just gonna clean up. Go to sleep.” “I can wait-”  “I like your sleeping face. Don’t worry about it.” You don’t protest that and climb into bed, it barely takes you 5 minutes to knock out. When she gets back she spends a little bit of time admiring you before getting into bed herself and getting close to you. 

Aizawa: He worked mostly at night. Honestly, when you first got together he didn’t expect it to last this long, he thought it’d be a one or two-time thing, maybe an occasional call back for old times sake but, now you practically live together.  And now he told you to stop waiting up what felt like every other night. You couldn’t help worrying though, and that made it hard to not wait up for him, you didn’t mind you slept well enough when he got back so it wasn’t like you were hurting yourself or anything, despite what he thought. You just got some extra work done, it sort of helped you out to be honest you were always ahead of the game. But it was later than normal today, at first it made worry gnaw at your stomach but you got a text from him saying he’d be late, don’t wait up and just go to bed. You still decide to try and wait up for him though. As it gets later your work just becomes fuzzy and hazed, you figure it’d be ok to lay your head down for a little.. The last thing he wanted was to teach tomorrow. He loved his students (though he may not say it to them so bluntly) but even he got burnt out at times. He’d been stuck out later than normal, he wondered humorlessly as he made his way home if villains ever got bored, doing the same thing over and over again, losing every time. He’d get bored if he lost all the time, at least winning was fun. The only thing that annoyed him was keeping you up so late, he wished villains would be a little more considerate of people’s sleep schedules. He guessed that's what made them villains though. He hopes you just went to bed after he texted, he hated hitting a lead so late but it wasn’t like he could have turned it away. At least it didn’t take as long as he’d worried it would. He knew you’d say it was no big deal, that you weren’t even tired but he could always see right through you, maybe that was part of why he liked you so much, you were transparent to him completely on accident and yet also totally on purpose. It wasn’t like you had an easy cushy job yourself, you need your rest too, and if he was being honest- Well..the least you could have done was gotten into bed. He huffs a soft laugh out of his nose. So what was meant to be a little shut-eye..turned into a full sleep. You were laying on your stomach, one arm dangling off the couch the other under your cheek, your shirt rode halfway up your back and the blanket you’d been using had been kicked down your legs reviling your shorts. You were even drooling.  “Hey.” He can’t help dropping his hand on the exposed skin of your back, “you’ll catch a cold out here.”  “‘m not cold.” You don’t even open your eyes, your nose wrinkles up with a deep breath, “‘s warm in here.”  “That’s not how I meant.” His eyes flick briefly downwards to your legs, the blanket bunched up in the back of your knees. You snuffle wordlessly at him and nestle into the pillow between your arm and face. He crouches down beside you, “I’m home now, go to bed.” His hand slides all the way up to rest between your shoulder blades. It just made your eyelids heavier. He leans forward enough to press a kiss to your shoulder, left exposed by your tanktop.  “I’m gonna clean up, think you can make it to bed on your own?” He rests his forehead against your shoulder and you hum, “mhm..”  “Alright, I’ll meet you in there.”   You did not get up. When he rounds the corner into your bedroom and finds the bed still empty he figures it was to be expected. You were still there, you’d rolled over stomach exposed now, and raising and falling slowly with sleepy breaths.  “Hey.” He’s crouching down again, “come on.” If anyone told him back then he’d be so affectionate now he’d probably laugh, but now all he could think about was pressing his lips to the soft skin of your stomach. So he does. You just hum a hand coming up to his hair,  “oh, Shouta you’re back.”  You feel his lips break into a smile against your skin.  “Yeah I’m back.” He slides his arm under your legs, “let’s go to bed-”  “No, no no don’t carry me it’s fine.” You stop him, “it’s late. You worked this whole time? You must be tired.” You yawn as you sit up. He looked happy for someone who’d just spent all night chasing criminals around in circles.  “You seem like you’re in a good mood.” You stand up and stretch before dropping your arms over his shoulders sleepily, “good night?”  He makes a non-commital noise at that, “eh.” His hands hold your arms as you lean up to kiss him. “I’m just glad to be back.” 

Hizashi: You just liked waiting up, you knew you sitting awake in your apartment while Hizashi ran around doing his thing wouldn’t keep him any safer really. But you couldn’t help it. It made you feel just a little better, and plus Hizashi looked thrilled every time he came back to you waiting up, even as he insisted you could have gone to bed you could tell he was delighted that you’d thought about him. You didn’t mind it, you could catch up on work or watch the shows your friends were always talking about that you couldn’t find the time for, or, like tonight you could just enjoy the peace and quiet with a dim lamp and a good book. You loved Hizashi but quiet like this was rare. He wasn’t deafeningly loud all the time but he always carried an air of white noise with him, clicking of heels, tapping fingers, quiet humming. The continued quiet made you drowsier than you’d like to admit, and you did suppose you’d had a longer day than normal. You lean against the arm of the couch settling onto your side. A little shut-eye would be fine, you didn’t think you’d be able to sleep on the couch too long anyways.  Yes knowing you were waiting up for him certainly did make him work a little harder. Every time he thought about you he got fuzzy with pride. You thought about him when he wasn’t around? You worried about him? He just had to do his best to get back to you as soon as possible so you could have a good night’s sleep. Honestly didn’t villains realize it? Some people have partners waiting up for them. (He was some people). He may or may not remind every villain he came across in any of his overtime of that. It was exhausting, but on his way home all he could think about was climbing into bed with you, feeling your fingers comb through his hair, letting you pull his head into your chest as you told him to get some rest. He opens the door expecting to see you propped up against the couch, reading, on your phone maybe. But you were curled up there, under a thin blanket. He’s sort of embarrassed of just how much his heart swells at the sight of you. He can’t help crouching beside you, getting down to eye level. Your arm and shoulder are exposed over the blanket, and your bare calf pokes out the other end.  “Hey, you.” He reaches out and slides his palm from your shoulder down to your elbow, “go to bed, I’m back.”  Your eyes open and you can’t help leaning toward him a little, “oh, Zashi, welcome back. Sorry, I fell asleep..” You murmur and he grins, “it’s alright, missed me so much you couldn’t even sleep in our bed without me, huh? What are we gonna do with you?” The sleepy smile you offer him and how quiet your voice is when you reply, “oh I don’t know. I’m just hopeless, aren’t I?” Sends about a million arrows straight through his heart. He’s glad he’s not standing, his legs would definitely be wobbly right now. You sit up and look down at him, “completely hopeless, huh?” He puts his hands on your knees and shakes his head “I don’t know about completely hopeless..” He felt like the hopeless one here, he bridges the gap between your lips. You let out a thankful sigh into it, it’s been so long, he’s had you like this for so long and you still made him feel like this? He really was embarrassed. “I’m glad you’re back.” You reach out and take his face in your hands, “was your night alright?” No thoughts, head empty. He just nods, your laugh makes his whole chest burst.  “Long?” He nods again.  “You’re bleeding.” You frown, “let’s clean you up?” He felt stupid, ditzy honestly. When you stand and pull him up to his feet all he can do is follow you.  “You can go to bed..If you’re tired. It’s just some scrapes.” He feels you take his hands in yours, “nothing major. You seem exhausted.”  “Mhm..no..” You wave, taking his hand with yours as you do, “I’d rather go to bed with you anyways...if you don’t mind that is.” He feels his soul leave his body at that. “Thanks for worrying about me.” Is all the response he can manage, “I’m really lucky to have you looking out for me.” 

[thefreakydeaky]

Can't Get Over You

Chapter Five

Kylo Organa-Solo x Reader

Ben Organa-Solo x Reader

Summary: Reader throws down.

Warnings: Fluff and Angst

Ben had been in a worse than usual mood for weeks. Each time he saw you, his jaw ticked and he got a little crease between his eyebrows. When you saw that, you felt conflicted, but what were you supposed to say? I'm sorry you're in love with me. Please move on? You found it super annoying. Why should you feel conflicted? You weren't the kisser. You were the kissee and while you were incurabley attracted to all three of the Organa-Solo Triplets, you were only in a relationship with Kylo. Plus you were happy and felt secure in that relationship. You would not abide the notion of having feelings for anyone else.

On the night all hell broke loose, Ben was sitting at the table eating pizza, drinking a beer, and staring at you. You were curled up on the sofa, scrolling through Instagram and trying to ignore him when Kylo got home.

Seeing him brought you instant relief.

"Looove!" You called out in greeting. As Kylo sat at the bench in the entry way to remove his shoes, you set your phone aside and got up.

"Hey." He sounded tired.

You waited beside him.Your arms were around him in a hug as soon as he stood.

"You're home." You grinned.

He cocked an eyebrow at you.

"I missed you." You explained.

He took your face in his large hands and kissed you gently, a sweet meeting of lips.

"I missed you too."

"Are you hungry? I made chicken and mashed potatoes."

He nodded.

You went to the kitchen and served him a plate. You warmed it up in the microwave as Kylo got himself something to drink.

He took the plate gratefully when you handed it to him and went to sit down in the living room.

While he ate you began to put away the left over food and clean up the dishes you had used. Then you went back to the living room to watch tv.

You cuddled up to Kylo, resting against his side, his arm over your shoulders. You weren't paying much attention to what was on. You were busy enjoying having Kylo there with you, enjoying how safe you felt in his arms. You looked up at his profile as he watched the show. You had never felt such affection for a person as you did for him. You probably never would again. You cuddled even closer. He chuckled gazing at you fondly.

"What is up with you today, Kitten?"

You shrugged.

"I just love you so much. That's all."

He smirked at you.

"I love you too."

You grinned. He had finally said it. You basked in the tender feeling. He loved you.

Ben snorted.

You had forgotten he was there.

"You two are so fucking ridiculous. How can you say you love her when you don't know her?"

Kylo frowned.

"It's true. You know it's true. You aren't yourself around him."

"I am more comfortable being myself with Kylo than I have ever been with anyone else." You proclaimed.

"Bullshit!"

"What makes you think I don't know her?" There was genuine curiosity in Kylo's voice.

You tried not to be offended, but the fact that he believed Ben over you stung.

"Because the real Y/n is-is selfish, pretentious, and passionate. This," He gestured in your direction, "isn't her. It's fake. It's total bullshit!"

You felt Kylo's body become tense as he sat up.

"You aren't telling me anything I don't already know. What is your point?"

Ben rose from his seat. His furious gaze turned to you.

"Kylo isn't any better."

Your brow furrowed.

"He got bored of his last girlfriend. It will be the same with you. He'll get sick of you and then what are you gonna do, huh?"

One second you were on the sofa and in the next you were on your feet intent on smacking him across the face.

"Fuck you!"You hissed.

Kylo reached you just in time to hold you back.

"See? What did I tell you?" Ben sneared. His eyes shiney with gloating.

Kylo wrapped his arms around you trapping yours to your chest.

"Let go of me! Let go!!" You demanded struggling against his hold, but it did no good. Kylo was much stronger than you.

"For a second there," He told Ben, "I almost believed you had my best interest at heart."

Ben looked down at the floor in shame. Without another word he walked away. You heard him slam the door to his bedroom behind him.

Part 6