#would have picked different shoes ideally but I only brought the one pair with me

[strawberryteabunny]

magnolias 🌸 and a little picnic by the creek 🧺

[hotchs-bitch]

A Temporary Reunion

Summary: Being in a long-distance relationship isn't perfect, but you and Aaron are determined to make it work

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Language 

A/N: Just a little part 2 to A Temporary Absence, set roughly a year later! I really wanted to write a piece where Aaron is a true workaholic in a happy relationship, so this was really fun to do :) I'm probably not picking this up as an ongoing series, but please enjoy the follow up on their relationship.

Happy reading <3

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“The first available flight isn’t until the middle of July.”  And I would rather hitchhike to Virginia in a murderer’s van than take a plane again, you add in your head.

“Go ahead and book it, then. That’s better than nothing.”

You let out a sigh, closing the airline tab on your computer. “Aaron, are you sure about mid-July? I’ve got to be home by the second week of August at the latest. It doesn’t give us that much time.”

“It gives us some time.” He’s right. “It’s better than nothing. We’re lucky enough that you get most of the summer off. I know it isn’t ideal but if we come up with a better idea you can get a refund, so just get a ticket before they run out of seats.”

“Yeah, okay.” You type nonsense on your computer for a minute. “Done. Can you answer my original question from twenty minutes ago? You know, before you sidetracked me into buying a plane ticket and derailed my whole summer?”

You can hear the smile in your boyfriend’s voice when he responds. “My day was fine, thank you. It was Morgan’s birthday on Monday, but we were in Kansas. Garcia brought in a homemade cake today.”

“Hmm. What kind?” you ask, moving your laptop to the other side of your bed.

“Chocolate. It was shaped like a thundercloud, but the lightning bolts resembled... well, let’s just say I’m still trying to decide if I can get away without writing anyone up for it.” He admits, making you laugh aloud at the visual.

“She seems talented, I’ll have to commission her when I’m in town.” You roll onto your back and look up at the ceiling, putting the phone near your head. “What did Derek get? You did get him a present, right?”

“Hey, give me some credit. I got him cufflinks and a gift card.” Aaron defends himself.

“I’m withholding that credit, based on the cufflinks. I’ve never seen Derek wear cufflinks. And a gift card to…?” you cover your eyes, like it’ll help you avoid the answer. Out of all the things you’ve learned about Aaron since reconnecting with him nearly a year ago, only one has stood out as a glaring negative.

He’s awful, possibly the worst ever, at giving gifts. He makes a good effort and is always thoughtful, but he manages to miss the mark every time. You usually help him by vetoing particularly bad ideas, especially since you’ve gotten to know the team a little better on sporadic visits, but he seems to have taken this one into his own hands.

“Maybe he doesn’t wear them because he doesn’t own them. And it was for Azucar,” he says. He always gets a little touchy when you make fun of him for his gift-giving abilities, and this is no different.

He’s so sensitive to criticism, you think. “Uh huh. Sure. And what is that?”

“An ice cream shop. He said they have the best cheesecake ice cream he’s ever tasted.”

“Oh.” You perk up at that. You’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, expecting an answer like Walgreens or Home Depot. “Good job, babe! But cheesecake? I thought he liked rocky road, that’s what he got when we all went out.”

“It’s his second choice.” Aaron explains with an enthusiasm that tells you he’s very proud of himself for knowing about Derek’s opinions on ice cream. “He gets it because he says no one around here can make ‘real’ cheesecake ice cream. He’s picky.”

There goes the other shoe. “No one around there?” You grab your laptop, doing a quick search. “Aaron? Tell me that you didn’t get him a gift card to an ice cream shop that only has locations in Florida and Texas. Please tell me that, and let it be true.”

“We go to Florida all the time.” Aaron defends himself. “We’ve been there twice in the last three months.”

“As long as their gift cards don’t expire, you did well.” You shut the laptop, returning your attention to Aaron’s voice on the phone. “Just promise that you won’t get me something in Florida for my birthday?”

When he responds with a laugh, you let the sound wash over you. It’s not as deep as his speaking voice, but there’s something smooth and infectious about it, and you find yourself giggling along.

“I’ve got it, Scout’s honour. No Florida-derived gifts for you.” There’s a knocking sound and then a voice in the background, and you hear Aaron speak to someone else while covering the receiver. It’s a little muffled, but you can hear “call the team” in what you’ve come to think of as his ‘work voice’. You hear the shuffle of the phone moving back up to your ear. “I hate to cut this short, but-“

“You’ve got a case.” You finish the sentence for him, and he sighs in answer. “You aren’t cutting it short. If anything, it’s probably a bad idea to keep you on the phone for this long while you’re in the office. Even though you were supposed to go home hours ago.”

“Don’t apologize for that.” He says it more like a demand than a request, like he needs you to know that you’re not bothering him. You can hear the voice in the background again, speaking a little more insistently now. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you from the hotel.”

“And text me as soon as you land. Have a safe flight, Ace. And be careful, yeah?” Even if you’re not with him, you’ve heard enough work stories to know that anything could happen to any member of the team.

“Always, sweetheart.” The line goes dead a moment later and you pick your phone up, plugging it into the charger.

You reopen your laptop to carefully examine your calendar. There’s a week and a half left of school, and you can’t get on a plane to Virginia until July. Even then, you’d rather drive. Wait, you can drive.

The idea hits you like a phallic-shaped chocolate lightning bolt, and you grab your phone again to dial your coworker, the other teacher for your grade. “Daniel? I need a favour,” You greet him.

Within minutes, you’ve convinced him to keep an eye on your class for the rest of the school year. Report cards have already been submitted, and the kids will just be watching movies anyways, so it’ll be easy for him to shepherd all the kids into one classroom.

You send off a quick email to the principal to let her know about the change, then start to pack. Once you’ve finished, you put your suitcase by the front door of your apartment and then sit down to watch some TV. The text you’ve been waiting for rolls in about a half hour later; wherever Aaron is, it was a relatively quick flight.

Aaron: Just landed safely.

Me: thx for letting me know. going to the station?

Aaron: Dinner then hotel. Too late to start work. No victims = no countdown between them. Arsonist.

Me: that’s good! (the victim # not the arson)

Aaron: Agreed. Need to go. Can call from hotel in 40?

Me: don’t worry about it, I’m going to sleep soon

Me: try to call me if you get a break tomorrow. night <3

Aaron: Goodnight <3.

—————

Either you’ve got to start looking for plane tickets sooner in the future, or Aaron needs to do all of the travelling from now on. This is the longest drive of your life, and you aren’t looking forward to repeating it when you go home.

You pull up to the FBI headquarters, parking in the lot marked as ‘For Visitors’. The walk into the building is vaguely familiar, but as nerve-wracking as ever. You go through the motions of signing in and receiving a visitor’s badge, but once you’re on your own you realize you’ve got no idea where to find the only member of the BAU that’s still in the building. Shit.

You peer around the first corner you see, hoping that you’re not violating national security or something.

“Looking for anyone in particular?” You hear a voice, and you turn your head to see your favourite tech analyst standing at the bottom of a staircase behind you.

“Penelope!” You rush to her, the two of you meeting for a long overdue hug. “How are you? I was just looking for you.”

“I’m great! What are you doing here?” She asks once she’s stepped back, adjusting her glasses. She starts to walk, and you follow her.

“Summer holidays.” You explain. “I don’t have to be in the classroom for the next month and a bit. And I can do my work from here with my laptop, so I thought I’d take a drive and come visit.”

“I’m happy you did! We don’t see enough of you around here.” She pulls open a door, and you follow her down a new hallway. “I’m sure you know that the team is on a case, but I’m sure the boss man is busting his butt to get back here and see you.”

You let out a nervous laugh at that, climbing the staircase she leads you to. “He seemed to think they’d be coming back today, so this is more of a surprise. I actually haven’t told him.”

“You what?” She raises her voice in excitement, the noise echoing through the otherwise-silent stairwell. You shush her immediately, but she pays you no attention. “That’s so romantic! Are you going to wait in the bullpen? Or his office? You can hang out in my lair for now if you want.”

“Lair, for now.” You agree. “Do you know when they’re-?”

Penelope’s phone rings, and yours starts to buzz at the same time, effectively cutting you off. “Hello?” you both ask. You hear her greet Derek, but the sound of Aaron’s voice on the other end of your phone call is all you can truly focus on.

“Hey, so, we just caught him. I can’t talk for long; we’re boarding the jet. The flight shouldn’t be more than an hour, I promise I’ll call you as soon as I can.” Aaron’s voice is low, honey-smooth and warm. It makes your chest ache. You’re happy as can be with your current arrangement, but that doesn’t mean you can’t wait to see him in person.

“An hour?” You glance at Penelope, and she gives you a thumbs up. “Okay, I’ll talk to you then. Have a safe flight!”

She barely waits for you to hang up before she’s squealing. “This is so romantic! Let’s go right to the bullpen.”

“Okay, okay.” You let her pull you along, giggling at your friend’s excitement.

Penelope leads you down another hallway, then pulls open a large glass door. “Voila. Are you going to set something up? Do you have balloons, or a banner?”

“Uh, I was just going to say hi,” you admit, biting at your thumbnail in thought. “Do you think I need something else? Aaron says they’ll land in an hour.”

Penelope shakes her head and glances at the time on her phone. “No time for that. The flight there took them less than an hour, and that was in the dark. They probably won’t take that long today.”

“Hmm. Alright, come on.” You head over to the cluster of desks that normally houses the agents of the BAU when they aren’t in the field. Sinking into Spencer’s chair, you watch Penelope sit at Emily’s desk.

“So how are you? How are things going with Aaron?” She draws out his name. Even though you’re used to the team calling him Hotch, they all seem to find it hilarious when you use his first name.

“Aaron is… great.” You admit, fiddling with your hands. “It’s so great, Pen. He was so scared at the beginning, what with all the breakup horror stories around here. But he’s perfect.”

You both know exactly what horror stories you’re referring to. The agents of the BAU give their all to the team, and sometimes romantic partners aren’t alright with that. You know for a fact that one of Rossi’s marriages ended when he missed a sister-in-law’s birthday to investigate twin serial killers a few years ago, and that he hasn’t been the only one left by someone who can’t cope with the devotion that the job requires.

“How are you dealing with the distance?” Penelope asks after a long moment, one where you think about Aaron’s fears early in the relationship.

“It’s not ideal. But he’s gone for work so often, it doesn’t really make sense to uproot across the country for him. I’ve got my life there, and he’s got his life here. Not seeing the other person every day doesn’t mean we don’t care about each other.”

“That doesn’t sound like you. That sounds like Hotch.” She accuses you with narrowed eyes. “If you aren’t as happy as you could be…”

“I am! I swear. It’s his words for the reasoning, but we both agree. We’re okay like this.” You tell Penelope, laughing a little bit at how defensive she can get over both you and Aaron.

You can see in her eyes that she doesn’t believe you. It doesn’t matter, though. You are happy, even if your relationship isn’t everyone’s idea of perfect.

“Hmph… whatever you say.” Her phone rings once, and she glances at it. “Organized Crimes needs access to my digital analysis software. Promise you won’t go making any big romantic gestures until I’m done setting it up for them, please? Hide from him if the team gets back before I do.”

“I promise. Go!” you wave her off, and she scurries away.

Once you’re alone, you start to feel a little awkward. There are other agents working in the bullpen, and you aren’t blind or deaf to the stares and whispers of people wondering who you are and what you’re doing. You finally decide to go to the kitchen and make some coffee, leaving your phone at Spencer’s desk.

—————

You take your sweet time in the kitchen, and you’re still stirring your coffee by the sink when Penelope runs into the kitchen. She skids to a full stop behind you, panting with exertion like she’s just run a marathon.

“Elevator! They…. Just got…” she points out into the bullpen and grips the countertop with her other hand, unable to finish the sentence.

“I’ve got it.” You set down your coffee mug and get her a glass of water, rubbing her back as you pass it over. “Here, have this. Take a minute.”

She drains it, then stands a little straighter. Re-energized, she grabs you by the hand to pull you back to the desk. Your phone is buzzing, and you note Aaron’s name and picture on the screen, but that doesn’t matter.

What does matter is the way time seems to slow when the elevator door opens. The way Aaron is staring at the ground, phone to his ear as he waits for you to pick up. The way he lifts his gaze as he exits the elevator, breathes out ‘Sweetheart’ in a voice so full of love that you could drown in it. The way he pushes past Derek and Spencer without looking, eyes trained on yours as he wraps his arms around you for the first time in months.

As always, the only thing that matters is how much Aaron loves you, and how much you love him.

You throw your arms around his neck and it feels like coming home, and he squeezes you against his chest like he feels the same. Both of you silently agree not to take it any further; there’s no sense kissing in front of everyone in the bullpen. As it is, you can hear the team catcalling and whistling from behind him.

You can hear the clatter of his phone hitting the ground by your feet, but the noise is forgotten when you turn your attention to the beating of Aaron’s heart against your own. You love the feeling, can hardly get enough of it. It’s proof that he’s here with his arms around you, making you feel safe and loved as he sways you gently in his arms and whispers ‘I missed you so much’ against your cheek.

The moment has to end eventually, and it does when you respond with, “I bet I missed you more.” You can’t resist kissing the tip of his nose, but it’s the action that finally makes him pull back with a laugh that he tries to hide with a cough. Right, he’s the boss here.

“Save it for my office, please.” He untangles himself from you and you follow suite, but you aren’t surprised when he takes one of your hands into his own. He squeezes it once, reassuring one or both of you, and then turns towards the team while you grab both of your phones off of the floor and desk.

“Hey, guys.” You give the rest of the team a little wave, taking way too much amusement in the looks they’re giving you and Aaron. “Happy birthday, Derek. How’s that gift card?”

Derek snorts at that. “Warming up my wallet for now, thanks for asking. I never want to get pulled into another harassment seminar again after this, okay?” He looks between you and Aaron, who rolls his eyes at his agent.

“There’s a big difference between a hug and whatever happens on your phone calls.” The exhaustion in Aaron’s voice makes it apparent to you that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

“And if that were just a hug, I’d agree.” Emily chimes in, smirking at the way blood rushes to your cheeks.

“Alright, alright. Aaron?” You tug at his hand, and he drops yours, wrapping the arm around your waist instead.

“I know. Let’s go to my office.” He starts to steer you towards the staircase.

“We aren’t invited?” You hear Dave tease, and you shoot him a look over Aaron’s shoulder.

“Absolutely not. But I’ve got some thoughts on that French Malbec you’ve been pestering me to try, and you aren’t getting out of that conversation.” You call out, letting Aaron pull you away a little faster.

Dave laughs at that, gives you a nod. “You know where to find me. You kids have fun up there.”

You hide your eye roll as you and Aaron climb the stairs. When you get to his office door he unlocks it with a slightly shaky hand, then steps aside so you can enter first.

The office is bathed in warm sunlight glinting off the desk, which is covered in the usual stacks of file folders and consults. You notice a picture frame facing away from your, the image only visible from Aaron’s big leather chair.

He sinks into it with a little grunt, one hand reaching for the picture frame like it’s a habit to do so when he sits down. He stops himself just before touching it and pulls his hand away, eyes cutting to yours as he leans back. “I thought you weren’t coming until mid-July.”

“I wanted to surprise you. I hope it’s not a problem.” You relish the way his eyes light up at the answer.

“No problem here.” His smile could power every building in downtown D.C. It’s an expression that the inside of his office doesn’t see enough of, and it only makes you feel more special to evoke such joy in him. “I missed you.”

“I told you already, I definitely missed you more.” You glance at his blinds. “Want me to close those?”

“You’re going to get me in trouble one of these days,” Aaron complains, but he’s got his eyes fixed on you and he’s trying to fight back the smile that’s been overtaking his face since he first saw you minutes ago.

“That doesn’t sound like me, Ace.” You turn to smirk at him once the blinds are closed. “Come say hi properly, already.”

Aaron gets to his feet while you check your phone, which has started to buzz again. “Ignore them.”

“Ugh.” You step back. “One second, it might be work.”

Penny: You’ve been in there 2mins and the blinds are closed? Really?

Me: I work fast ;) go back to your lair

You let out a giggle when she sends back the running emoji, then drop the phone on Aaron’s desk.

“Sorry about that. Where were we?” You murmur, one hand tracing up his tie when he’s close enough.

“Somewhere around here, I think.” Aaron leans down a little, brushes your lips with his. “Was it an important text?”

You think of Penelope and her highly endearing nosiness. “Nothing urgent.”

“Good.” One arm finds its way around your waist, and he pulls you to his chest. You close the space between you with a kiss, your hands resting on his chest and forearm.

He kisses you softly, emotion pouring into it. When you pull away for air, he presses his lips to your forehead. “Hi,” He whispers.

You’re reminded of that night in the bar with his team, and every time he’s seen you since; He’s barely stopped touching you, or he has his eyes trained on you if he has to step away. Like he thinks you’ll disappear.

“Hi.” You whisper back, pulling him back in by his tie for another long kiss. He deepens the kiss almost immediately, and you break away when Aaron’s hand starts to travel down your back. “In the office? You’re better than that.” You tease.

He chuckles and steps away, leans back against his desk. “So how long are you here for?” He asks.

You bite your lip, more nervous now than you thought you would be. “Well, I was kind of hoping I could stay for the summer. If it doesn’t work, that’s okay, I can just head home in a couple of weeks like I would have. I can also get a hotel if you don’t want me staying with you the whole time, or I could-”

“Hey.” Aaron gently cuts you off. “You’re rambling. Of course you can stay with me, for as long as you want.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He reaches for your hand, and you give it to him. “I can’t assure you that I’ll be around all the time, but I’ll bring work home instead of staying late here. There will be cases, though.”

You nod. Aaron’s work really is his life, and you aren’t expecting him to take time off for you. “I know. We already do the distance thing pretty well, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed. It doesn’t mean I don’t prefer having you in my arms.”

“Trust me, you don’t exactly make it a secret.” You squeeze his hand, pull it gently. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” He looks at his watch and then back to you. “Go where?”

“I don’t know, let’s get lunch. Or we can go for a drive. It doesn’t matter,” you say earnestly, because it doesn’t matter. Once again, the only thing that matters is that Aaron is in front of you, real and solid and currently tightening his grip on your hand.

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“And? You’re the boss, you stay until 8 most nights, and you put someone in jail before noon today. If anyone deserves to leave in the middle of the day, it’s you.”

You can see the moment his resolve crumbles. He doesn’t answer you verbally, but his little smile tells you everything you need to know.

When he turns to grab his phone off the desk, he knocks over the picture frame you’d seen him reach for earlier. It lands face up, and your heart actually flips in your chest when you recognize the picture of the two of you in your apartment at Christmas. You’re smiling at the camera, Aaron pressing a kiss against your cheek with an arm around your waist. It’s one of the only ‘coupley’ pictures you have together, but it’s your favourite.

It's his favourite too, apparently.

Aaron clears his throat and reaches past you to pick up the picture, placing it back where it had been. “Sorry about that,” he murmurs.

“Sorry for what? That you don’t keep it in your go bag?” You lean in to kiss him again, chest swelling with affection.

“That’s not the picture of you I keep in my bag,” he says softly, pulling away before you can make contact. “We should get going soon, or we’re never leaving.”

He has a point, so you allow him to lead you out of the office and past the other agents, waving at them as you go.

—————

As soon as you exit the building, Aaron pulls you against him. His arm wraps around you as you walk down the sidewalk. “We could go for a walk?” he suggests, glancing at you. “It’s a nice day out, and you wouldn’t believe what they charge for gas around here.”

“Lead the way.” He’s right about the weather. As you stroll down the sidewalk together, the sunlight washes over you. The cool June breeze keeps you from overheating, but you still shed your jacket after a few minutes.

Aaron takes it from you wordlessly, draping it over his arm before taking your hand in his.

You don’t speak for a long time. When you do, it’s a little quieter than you mean for it to be. “I guess I’m here for a while.”

“Hmm?” He must be lost in thought because it takes him a moment to respond. “Oh, yeah. So how long do I have you for? Physically, that is.”

You grin, bump his hip with your own. He knows that he’s got you, whether you’re with him or across the country. “Well, let’s see. I was supposed to come in the middle of July and leave after three weeks. So, I guess you’ve got me for seven. Physically.”

“That sounds nice. I think you’re going to like it here.” Aaron says thoughtfully, like he’s been pondering it.

“I’ve been here before, you know.” You point out with a grin, and he squeezes your hand.

“I know that. But we just did touristy stuff and spent time at my apartment and with the team.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m looking forward to having you here in a more… domestic sense.”

“Domestic, really? You have a thing for housewives I don’t know about?” You tease.

He snorts. “Not exactly what I said. It’s going to be nice having you around, as long as you’re not getting mad at me.”

“Are you planning to do something that’s going to make me mad at you?” You ask him. You’re immediately suspicious, but Aaron just laughs.

“Of course not.” The sidewalk splits off into a footpath up ahead into a lightly forested area like the backside of a playground, and you lead him down it while he talks. “But, you know, I don’t want you thinking that I’ll be around all of the time. I can’t take time off.”

“I know that. I’m not expecting you to take time off just to see me.” Aaron doesn’t respond, so you keep talking. “I’m not going to be here forever. I know you’ve got your routine, your work, your whole life. I don’t want you to try to squeeze me in around it, I don’t want to be another obligation you’re working your ass off to take care of.”

At that, he finally speaks. “That’s not fair.” He lifts a tree branch for you to duck under, then follows suit.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s fair. I’ll find my place in…” you wave your free hand, struggling for the words. “In your world, I guess. There’s space for me, Ace, and we both know it. Just let me find it, let’s use this summer to do that.”

“You aren’t an obligation. And how do you expect to find a space when I’m not around?” He challenges. You can hear the raw fear in his voice, his worries from the beginning of the relationship once again rearing their ugly heads.

You’re so distracted by it that you don’t notice the large rocks on the path, and almost trip over one before Aaron steadies you.

“Maybe that’s a part of it. Maybe we deserve to know what it would be like, if we lived in the same place.” Your voice softens a little, and so does his when he responds.

“Sweetheart… I don’t want you to be disappointed. That’s all. I don’t want you to wake up hating me because it’s the second case of the week and you haven’t seen me in days. I don’t want you to regret coming out here.”

“I don’t plan on hating you, and I’m not going to regret anything. It’s almost two months. We’ll see each other more than we have in the last year, no matter how much you work.”

He can’t argue with that, and you both know it. “You know that I’m not asking you to move here.”

“I wasn’t aware that it was even on the table,” you say, “but I know that. Let’s just enjoy the next few weeks, and the rest of it can wait.”

Aaron stops walking when the path ends inside the entrance to the local park. “The rest of it can wait.” He repeats it like he’s trying to commit the words to memory.

“It can. ‘Cause I’ve got you, and you’ve got me. Physically or not.”

“I prefer having you physically,” Aaron murmurs, with a glimmer in his eyes that has you flicking him.

“I know you do. We’re going to be fine either way, you know that?” You put a hand on the back of his neck, pull him in close.

Before you can connect your lips to his, he breathes out, “I know.” He closes the distance with one hand on the middle of your back, pulling you closer to him. It’s sweet and chaste- you’re in public, after all- and he smiles at you once you’ve pulled away. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You reach for his hand and interlock your fingers, just gazing at him.

This summer might not be perfect, and you might even hate it at times, but Aaron is worth it. Whatever capacity you can have him in, whatever space in his heart he carves out for you, you’re willing to take it.

Even if it’s just a temporary reunion.

Taglist: @crowfootwrites @abschaffer2 @kajjaka @jaspxr

[queenshelby]

Just Friends - Cillian Murphy Imagine

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: SMUT

Words: 5034

Foreword:

I have never written anything for an actual person. For my own comfort, I will not be referring to Cillian’s actual family and, instead, I have created two small biographies for the Reader and Cillian.

Biography:

The Reader:

The Reader is 24 years old and recently moved to Dublin with her 5 year old son, Max in order to take up a fantastic job offer.

Max’s father isn’t interested in a relationship with his son and separated from the Reader pretty much as soon as she found out that she was pregnant. 

The Reader is a novelist and editor for the Irish Times. 

The Reader’s interests include books, listening to records, theatre and attending live music gigs. 

The Reader has a close relationship with her grandmother who is 65 years old and a writer herself. She also lives in Dublin with her second husband, who is originally from Galway.

 Cillian: 

Cillian is 42 years old in this story. He is divorced from his wife Siobhan and has two kids, Charlie (6) and Hendricks (8).

He lives in a town house in Dublin and shares custody.

In this story, he finished filming Season 4 of Peaky Blinders about three months ago, which is when the Reader first met him.

---------------------------

JUST FRIENDS

Three and a half months ago you moved to Dublin to take a position as editor at the Irish Times. Initially, the move was daunting to you as you were a single mother and moving your son to a different preschool concerned you.

Fortunately, your grandmother was living in Dublin as well and offered to help you with looking after your son, Max. She was a retired novelist herself and you always had a close relationship with her. Having her around was a blessing.

Over the years, you also met some Irish writers and established good relationships with them. Therefore, finding friends in Dublin was not an issue.

One of your best friends was a play writer from London and was working in Ireland at the time, promoting her theatre play called ‘Blessings’. She introduced you to a bunch of people, most of which were working in the entertainment industry in some way or another.

Whilst all of your new found friends were a fair bit older than you, you related to them. You had interests in common and most of them had children, just like you. They understood that sometimes plans had to be cancelled and flexibility was limited. Having children is a commitment which many of your younger friends didn’t understand. You weren’t interested in late nights because a young child meant early mornings. For this reason, you would much rather attend a dinner and board game night as a opposed to a night club.

And this is how you met a very interesting man named Cillian. Three months ago, your friend Orla invited you to a board game night with a couple of her friends. Cillian was pretty much the only other single person in attendance and, since this was a board game that had to be played in teams of two, you and Cillian were paired up with him.

He was funny and smart and very attractive. You had a good time that night and even won the game with your combined knowledge of random trivial facts.

He was a fun person to be around and you had several common interests.

Over the next few months, you spent a fair bit of time together, mostly with other friends but sometimes alone when your friends were doing things as couples with their partners.

Just recently, you went record shopping together and the weekend before last you and another friend of yours would take all of your kids to Dublin Zoo for the day. Your son Max developed a great friendship with Cillian’s youngest son Charlie. Playdates were a common occurrence.

While both of you separately explored the dating world, you really enjoyed Cillian’s company as a friend and he enjoyed yours and you would often chat about the mishaps you encountered and laugh about them. Dates gone wrong was one of your favourite topics.

The last relationship Cillian had was with a co-worker, which was far from ideal. They’ve met on set of one of his movies about a year after he divorced from his wife, but things didn’t go as planned and the relationship didn’t last. It ended about four months ago, being just one month before you met.

The last relationship you had was over a year ago and it also didn’t last as your boyfriend couldn’t deal with the fact that you were a single mum and that your son always came first.

For Valentines Day this year, your friends set up dates for each of you. It was disastrous. Neither of you were interested in committing at this point and you both were rather flustered about your friends’ efforts after you both had told them not to bother.

You were happy singles.

Theatre Night

As happy singles, you decided to go and see your friend’s new play ‘Blessings’ with some of your other friends on the night you all managed to be child free for once. It took a while to organise but was worth the effort.

‘Hi Max, how was preschool?’ Cillian asked as he opened the door to your townhouse for Cillian while you were in the bathroom, putting up your hair.

Max met Cillian numerous times and got along with him very well. After all, Cillian had a son the same age as Max.

‘Good. Do you want me to show you what I made?’ Max asked while you waived at Cillian from the bathroom.

‘Absolutely, show me’ Cillian said with a smile as he followed Max into the living room.

‘Look’ Max said as he held up two paintings.

‘Wow, is that a T-Rex?’ Cillian asked, causing Max to nod with excitement.

‘That’s very cool…he looks super scary’ Cillian added just as there was another knock on the door.

It was your grandmother who was here to pick up Max for his sleepover at her house.

You opened the door and asked Max to get his bag from the living room which you had packed for him earlier.

‘Nan, this is my friend Cillian’ you said as you introduced Cillian to your grandmother.

‘Hello Cillian, I am Margot. I loved Grief is a Thing with Feathers. It was such an intense play’ she said, knowing right away who he was despite the fact that you had never mentioned him to her before.

‘Thank you Margot and I loved By The Sea, it was a fantastic book’ Cillian responded. He read the book after you told him about your grandmother. Your writing style was very similar to hers and he always loved a good book.

‘Oh thank you very much. Now Max, are you ready?’ your grandmother asked.

Max was ready and you said goodbye, giving him a big hug and thanking your grandmother for looking after him for the night.

While Cillian waited in the living room, you finished your make up and slipped on your shoes.

‘Thank you for picking me up. I really have no idea where this place is’ you said as you grabbed your bag and the two of you were heading out of the door.

‘Any time Y/N, it isn’t far from here actually’ Cillian said.

As you were walking to the Arthouse Theatre you talked about all sorts of things, music, childcare and books.

It was a cold night in Dublin and you were probably underdressed for the occasion.

At the Arthouse Theatre you met up with another two friends of yours. They were both married, to each other, and shared three children. Luckily for them, they had a baby sitter that night.

The play was amazing and you all enjoyed it with a few glasses of wine which were served at the theatre. Cillian had good taste when it came to wine and you usually sought his guidance on what to order.

After you left the theatre, you felt awfully hungry. You hadn’t eaten dinner that night.

‘I am starving, is anyone else up for Pizza?’ you asked your three friends, including Cillian

‘We would love to, but only have a baby sitter until 9pm, sorry’ Amanda said, explaining that she and her husband had to head home fairly soon.

‘What about you Cilly?’ you asked.

‘I would love some Pizza, let’s go to Pizzinis’ he said.

Both you and Cillian said goodbye to your friends and made your way to Pizzinis.

As usual, it was packed and there were no table available.

‘Wanna grab them take away and go back to my place? I’ve got wine and you can show me this new album you were talking about earlier’ you said.

‘Sounds good, let’s do that’ Cillian said before ordering two pizzas.

More than Friends

You arrived at your apartment about 30 minutes later and Cillian put on some music. He found this new Irish band he liked and you were really keen to hear them.

‘Hmm Indie…I like it’ you said as he connected his i-phone to your speakers.

‘Wine?’ you asked as you grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf.

‘Yes please and thanks’ Cillian said as he put the pizzas on the table.

‘I was meant to ask you, how was your Valentine’s date?’ Cillian asked before taking the first bite of the pizza.

‘Oh god, don’t remind me on it please’ you said with a laugh.

‘That good ey? What happened?’ Cillian laughed.

‘He was weird. He basically left after I told him about Max’ you responded.

‘I think that sometimes guys your age might be a bit freaked out by the fact that you have child. I can’t say that I blame them. I couldn’t imagine myself becoming a step father when I was in my 20s’ Cillian said.

‘He was 32’ you responded.

‘Well maybe he was just weird and you are just unlucky when it comes to dating’ Cillian laughed.

‘Yeah, maybe…I am just over dating’ you said…’What about your date?’ you asked.

‘Pretty average. I mean she was nice but had no sense of humour’ Cillian said.

‘Oh what, wait…she didn’t laugh at your Irish jokes?’ you laughed.

‘Outrageous I know. I mean how could she not?’ Cillian joked.

‘Here is to failed dates’ you said as you held up your wine glass for a toast.

‘To failed dates’ Cillian responded with smile.

Over the next hour or so, Cillian and you finished both pizzas and talked about books, including the book you were currently writing, music and embarrassing things your kids had done.

Quite music was playing in the background by then while you talked and laughed together until Cillian brought up a specific book he had read recently, written by a writer named J A Hanson, which he said reminded him on you in a way.

‘I have read all of her books and I really wish I could write romance as well as her’ you said.

‘Her books aren’t exactly romantic’ Cillian responded.

‘Her storylines aren’t romantic, but the character she uses in all of her books involves herself romantically with several other characters throughout the series. The way she writes makes you relate to the character even in these intimate moments’ you explained.

‘She is 60 and probably speaking from experience. I have read in a paper a few months back that she had quite an interesting and adventurous youth in the 70s and 80s’ Cillian said.

‘Free Love…Yeah, I have read this too’ you laughed. ‘Perhaps I just need some inspiration to get over my block, otherwise I will never finish this damn novel’ you said as you poured yourself some more wine.

‘You don’t have to answer this, but when was the last time that…?’ Cillian asked and, before he could finish his question, you interrupted him.

‘That I had sex? Gosh…well over a year ago’ you responded, causing Cillian’s chin to drop.

‘Over a year? Seriously? I mean, surely, a woman like you would get plenty of offers…’ Cillian said, not knowing what else to tell you.

‘A woman like me? What do you mean by that Cilly?’ you asked with a slight giggle.

‘Well, you are attractive, smart and funny. You would get a fair bit of interest’ Cillian responded.

‘So, you think I am attractive?’ you asked with a smirk, causing Cillian to choke slightly on his wine. He regretted what he had said almost instantly, causing awkwardness between you.

‘Well yeah, I think you are an attractive woman’ Cillian said quietly. ‘In a totally objective way of course’ he added, while, just in this moment, you observed his facial expressions.

You observed him drop his eyes to your lips as he said it, and then lower to the place where your shirt opens at the collar, the buttons undone to below your collarbone.

He pressed his lips together. ‘I think I should probably get go…’ he said, and, before he could finish his sentence, you leaned in and kissed him suddenly, like the peck you give a boy you like on the school bus the second before you jump up and get off – a brief bravery without a plan.

He was caught by surprise.

‘Y/N’ he said and, before he could say something else, you apologised to him for what just happened.

‘I am sorry Cilly, I don’t know what just came over me’ you said.

‘It’s alright, I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was inappropriate’ Cillian said.

But, with Cillian’s response, you couldn’t leave it alone and asked ‘So, you don’t think that I am attractive?’ you asked, giggling slightly with some embarrassment.

‘Any man who thinks that you aren’t attractive is clearly blind. But, with that being said, it doesn’t matter what I think, you are 18 years younger than me and it would be wrong for us to take this further. Despite, I don’t want to fuck up our friendship’ Cillian said calmly.

You didn’t know what to say to his comment and, instead of using any words, you ran your hand gently over the side of his perfect face while biting your lip.

‘Just one kiss between friends then, we can blame the red wine after’ you whispered as a comfortable hot feeling washed over you. You felt some sort of attraction towards Cillian since the moment you met him, but didn’t want to admit it to yourself, let alone to him.

‘I don’t know Y/N’ Cillian said as you leaned closer towards him and pressed your lips onto his. You knew he was reluctant but he didn’t push you away.

To the contrary, as you kissed him, his hand came up in a rush to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. Within seconds, his tongue slipped between your lips, whispering over your teeth and began dancing with your tongue.

You noticed the brush of his stubble on your cheek, the press of his lips on yours and the way his mouth tasted, a mix of minty gum and red wine.

It shouldn’t have been so hot, but it was. The taste of him, the smell and flavour, and it made you whimper in your throat. You knew this was one off and you didn’t want this moment to end.

‘Are you ok?’ he asked after he pulled back a little and paused. He was scanning your eyes and there was a cautious considering from his side. You could tell that he was surprised about what had just happened.

‘Yeah, you?’ you said as you couldn’t help yourself but stare into his baby blue eyes.

‘Yes’ he said as he cleared his throat slightly.

There was an awkward silence in the room and you couldn’t stand it.

You build up all of your courage again and leaned over him, pressing your lips onto his once more.

Cillian didn’t hesitate then.

His tongue slipped right back into the same spot than before, before his lips then moved over your face and down to your neck, leaving gentle bites and kisses.

Cillian’s hands were busy touching you at the same time his lips were trailing over your neck.

One of his hands was in your hair at the back of your head while his other hand was moving down to press the small of your back so that your body was pulled forward into his.

As you were exchanging passionate kisses, you could feel the shape of him, the firmness of his body against yours, your legs pressing into his and his chest pressing into your breasts. You could also feel his erection through his jeans, hard as anything, rigid and warm against your tummy.

By this time, you wanted more than just kisses.

‘Sleep with me, just that once’ you whispered.

‘I can’t Y/N, you are 24, it is not right’ Cillian said pulling away from you.

‘It’s just sex Cilly, I am old enough for that’ you laughed.

‘Yes, but I don’t want this to ruin our friendship’ Cillian said.

‘It won’t. There are no strings attached, it’s just sex. Unless you don’t want me’ you responded. ‘Although I think you do’ you giggled as you ran your hand over his pants, feeling his erection.

Your comment made Cillian chuckle.

‘This is a one off, alright?’ Cillian asked, causing you to nod.

‘One off…and it stays our little secret’ you said before smashing your lips back onto his for another minute or two.

After you exchanged more passionate kisses you stood up.

‘Common, I show you my bedroom’ you said cheekily, taking his hand and guiding him towards the bed.

‘Can you help me with this please’ you asked, turning around to face the bed. Your back was now facing Cillian and you pulled your hair aside so that he can open the zipper of your dress.

Cillian unzipped your dress carefully, exposing your black lace underwear.

As you pushed your dress down onto the floor, Cillian began kissing your back and neck, while running his hands over your breasts and stomach, all the way down in between your legs.

You let out a brief moan before turning around to face him and help him pull his t-shirt over his head, exposing his perfectly shaped biceps.

Looking into his eyes, your hand glided gracefully, for once, past Cillian’s belt buckle and into the holy crevice of his Calvin Klein briefs. His cock was hard and ready.

You moved it between my your slowly, relishing his obvious eagerness.

You used the other hand to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, shortly after which he pushed them down to the floor while your other hand never left his warm and hard cock.

After the jeans came off, Cillian pressed his lips back onto yours while using his skilled hands to unclip the back of your bra. The bra also landed on the floor within seconds.

‘Lie down’ he whispered into your ear. You obliged and crawled onto the bed, facing him.

He loomed over you, climbing on to the bed as you scooted backwards further so that he could straddle your hips while you pushed up against him, wanting the rub and friction against you.

Cillian kissed you passionately as one of his hands moved in between your legs.

He could feel your body tensing up as he ran his fingers over the top of your panties

After all, he knew that it had been a while since you’ve been with anyone. He knew to take it slow and give you some reassurance.

‘Just relax’ he whispered into your ear with his thick Irish accent as he edged his fingers over the lace of your panties, his hand leisurely rubbing up and down the length of your squirming crotch, until he pulled your underwear aside and slipped two fingers inside of you.

You could feel your mouth widen and a loud moan escaped you as he teased the full mound of your clit. The stroke of his thumb was purposeful and steady on your firm, dripping pulse while his fingers plunged in and out of you, sinking further and further.

You held onto him tightly as the slipperiness he found made it easy for him to penetrate you with his fingers. You were so wet.

You shuddered at the pattern, shocked to find it could still stun you, unlocking newfound levels of moisture and desire, even when you began to meet the repetition of his thrusts. You naturally tilted and buckled beneath him.

As he was pushing his fingers in and out of you, he trailed kisses down your neck while your hands clutched at his shoulders, scratched down his back, held him tighter to you as I screamed into his skin.

Cillian’s breath grew more desperate and rugged.

‘It seems like we should take these off’ he said, causing you to nod with anticipation.

‘Don’t move’ Cillian ordered as he lowered himself on the bed while removing your lace undies.

Within seconds, Cillian’s lips were an inch away from your crotch, where he painted your inner thigh with tiny and soft kisses.

Cillian pushed your legs apart gently and you knew what would be next. You have read about this many times but this was the first time any man had gone down on you before and you were nervously biting your lip.

You tried hard to relax as Cillian’s lips finally reached your entrance, tasting the evidence of how much you wanted him.

‘Oh god, fuck’ you moaned as his head dove between your legs. His tongue prodded you softly, short licks against your clit.

Instantly, all restraint and reservations you had vanished. You were relaxed completely as his tongue danced and writhed inside of you.

With each skillful stroke, your thighs clenched. But you still needed more and he read you just right; he didn’t stop as you pushed yourself up the bed. Instead, he held you steady, causing you to look down at him and watching his eyes widen as they met yours, reacting to the rush of your wetness.

‘Cillian, oh god���you need to stop, I am so close’ you moaned, not wanting it to be over. You never came more than once so you wanted to feel him inside of you first.

‘That’s good, just let go’ Cillian said quietly with a grin before he continued and slid two fingers back inside of you while whirling his tongue over your clit.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, no matter how hard you tried. Your exhales began to emerge as deepening sighs and you leaned my head back and lived out the fantasy that had flashed through your mind all along.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned as your back arched and a rush of ecstasy flew through your body. You grabbed onto Cillian’s hair as he sucked every drip from you as your orgasm flooded your body.

As you came down from your orgasm, Cillian shuffled himself back up the bed, kissing you passionately.

You could taste yourself on his lips and you were ready for more.

‘I want to feel you’ you whispered after your lips drifted apart and while reaching for Cillian’s hard cock.

‘Do you have a condom?’ he asked, causing you to nod. You had purchased some before your Valentine’s Date, just in case you needed them.

You reached for the bedside table and opened the pack of condoms, handing one to Cillian.

Cillian was quick to get rid of his briefs and put on the condom, before positioning himself on top of you, in between your legs.

He shuddered a great rushing gasp of breath as he entered you. He couldn’t believe how good you felt, so tight.

You felt him push into you then, slowly and carefully, filling you completely.  

‘Cillian’ you moaned as you held onto him tightly as he slowly began to move.

With every thrust, you gasped, whimpered, soft mewling noises, begging for more.

You felt him all the way to your belly button and screamed out with pleasure, your hands taking the heat as he thrusted fast and deep.

As he picked up his pace, you got louder, groans becoming moans becoming shouts, and the bed frame thumped against the wall, louder and faster and louder and faster.

‘Oh god, don’t stop’ you moaned, his skin slapping against yours.

‘You are so beautiful’ Cillian said in between his moans before pulling out of you slowly and lifting up your legs above his shoulders.

He knew exactly that, this way, he would be reaching your g-spot while he was fucking you.

You were slightly surprised by this position but were flexible enough to run with it.

As he entered you again slowly, you let out a loud moan.

‘Fuck’ you moaned in between the high-pitched noises that escaped you.

‘Does this feel alright?’ Cillian asked, wanting to ensure that you are comfortable.

You nodded eagerly and whimpered a shaky ‘yes’ as he continued to thrust into you. He was right at your g-spot and you could barely control yourself.

He slowly picked up the speed and you could feel another orgasm coming on as the tip of his cock kept hitting your g-spot over and over again.

‘Cillian, oh my god, don’t stop…’ you moaned as you held onto his arms tightly.

You began to shake heavily as your orgasm washed over you and tears of joy escaped your eyes.

‘Fuck, Y/N’ Cillian groaned loudly as he felt your walls tightening around him. The sensation coupled with the sounds you were making sent him over the edge and he almost came in sync with you.

As soon as he came, you released your legs from his shoulders and he collapsed on top of you, kissing you passionately.

You could still feel Cillian pulsing inside you when the sudden oddness of what you had done washed over you.

‘Are we ok?’ Cillian asked as he slowly pulled out of you and removed the condom, disposing of it discreetly.

‘I think so’ you said shyly.

‘Good…because I really enjoyed this’ Cillian said as he ran one of his hands over your cheek gently.

‘Me too…plus, I’ve got some inspiration for my book now’ you said cheekily.

‘I am glad to having been of assistance. Make sure you credit me in the end notes’ Cillian said jokingly.

‘Hmm, if I did, it may become a best seller…Sex Scene Inspired by Cillian Murphy’ you said with laughter, causing Cillian to laugh also.

‘I should better get home’ Cillian said as he was playing with your hair. He really didn’t want to leave, but he felt as though it was inappropriate for him to stay the night.

‘You can stay here if you like…’ you offered, but Cillian declined.

After all, this was supposed to be a one off. You are nothing more than friends, or are you?

You accepted Cillian’s decision to leave and weren’t upset by it. You enjoyed your time with Cillian and slept well that night, snugging up in the doona which smelled like his aftershave.

Finishing the Book

The next morning, you got up early to begin writing the intimate chapter of your book. This was the chapter you had struggled with for a while and you finally felt comfortable writing it. If readers would know that, in this particular scene of your book, you were basically reliving your night with your friend, Cillian Murphy, that would be scandalous.

So, you decided to make sure that no one would ever find out about your little adventure.

Unfortunately for you, your grandma seemed to have a good sense of what was going on.

She was on time as usual and dropped Max back at your house at 10am.

‘Had a good night my dear? I can see you are working on your book.’ She said.

‘Yes nan, the play last night was lovely. It has given me some inspiration’ you said.

‘The play has given you some inspiration to write about orgasms?’ your grandmother asked with laughter as she read the screen on your lap top.

‘Nan! Oh my god, don’t read what I am writing’ you said with embarrassment.

‘Oh dear, it’s alright. Believe it or not, I used to write novels myself with a little hint of filth now and then. But, somehow, I don’t think that it was the play that gave you the inspiration to write this little naughty chapter. By looking at the bruises on your neck, perhaps it was your friend Mr Murphy who gave you this inspiration?’ your grandmother said with sarcasm.

‘Nan, no Jesus, please’ you said as your face became flushed.

‘Don’t be embarrassed dear’ your grandmother said. ‘It is good for you. I mean, he is handsome and I saw the way you looked at him yesterday evening…and the way he looked at you’ your grandmother continued.

‘There is nothing between us nan, we are just friends’ you explained with total embarrassment.

‘Alright dear, whatever you say’ your grandmother said, not believing a single word that came out of your mouth.

‘I better go, I have lunch with Alma later… I love you my dear’ your grandmother said before heading out of the door.

‘Love you too nan’ you said.

 WHO WANTS A SECOND PART OF THIS?

[kurowrites]

Betting On You - Part II

Hhhhh, this has been frustrating me ever since I wrote part I. Idk, idk.

Previous part

---

Wei Ying and A-Yuan spent a long time in the bathtub, making sure they were all warmed up and clean before they finally stepped out. (Well, were lifted out in the case of A-Yuan.)

Wei Ying picked out the fluffiest towel they owned and wrapped A-Yuan in it, scrubbing him dry.

When he removed the towel, A-Yuan’s hair was sticking up in all directions.

“Look at this little radish!” Wei Ying laughed as he tousled A-Yuan’s hair. “He even has little leaves!”

A-Yuan protested and removed Wei Ying’s hand, but a moment later, he wrapped around Wei Ying’s leg in an attempt to get Wei Ying to dress him.

Technically, A-Yuan was old enough to put on at least the simpler pieces of his clothing on his own, but he hadn’t been feeling well today. Wei Ying, though exhausted himself, didn’t feel it was the right moment to insist on A-Yuan doing it himself, and helped the little radish out. He got out the nice red pyjamas that Wen Qing got him for his last birthday, and wrestled A-Yuan into it.

He had just slipped into a pair of sweatpants himself when the doorbell rang. In a hurry, he grabbed his shirt and clumsily pulled it over his head as he ran to the door of the apartment.

As he should have expected, their wet, soggy laundry and shoes still lay abandoned in front of the door. Wei Ying hastily pushed them to the side as best as he could, so that he could open the door and hide the mountain of dirty clothing behind it, keeping it out of view.

When he opened the door, Lan Zhan stood in the door frame, as stoic, handsome, and well put together as ever. Wei Ying had the nonsensical impulse to check his own appearance to make sure he was decent, but that was a lost case by now. He had barely managed to slip into a shirt, his long hair not brushed out yet.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, a little more breathlessly than he’d intended to.

“Hn,” Lan Zhan replied, and held up a large pot that Wei Ying only noticed when Lan Zhan brought it to his attention. “Soup.”

Wei Ying’s eyes widened. Had Lan Zhan actually made soup for them?

That was… far nicer than anything Wei Ying had expected. He’d maybe expected Lan Zhan to bring over some instant soup or something. But on second thought, Lan Zhan didn’t seem to be the type to eat instant soup. Ever.

“Oh!” Wei Ying cried out, suddenly remembering that he’d been taught manners at some point in his life, instead of just staring dumbly at the pot. Quickly, he waved Lan Zhan into the apartment. “Come in, come in! Please, feel free to join us! It’s very messy right now, but you know how it is. I always need to make sure we’re on time in the morning, so I only really get to clean up at night. Oh, the kitchen is over here, I think the layout is different from your apartment, no? Yours is bigger.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan slowly agreed, after taking off his shoes, careful to evade the sea of water escaping from the bundle of wet clothes behind the door, and stepping into the apartment proper. “I converted one of the rooms into a music room.”

“Right, music teacher,” Wei Ying smiled. “A-Yuan enjoys your music, occasionally. Though we don’t always hear it.”

“The room is soundproofed,” Lan Zhan replied. “I sometimes play with the window open. I apologise.”

“Don’t apologise!” Wei Ying cried as he provided Lan Zhan with a space on his stove to put the pot of soup down. “We enjoy it. Definitely better than the stuff that usually plays on the radio. Or the shit people try to market as ‘appropriate for children.’”

Lan Zhan only hummed in reply, but Wei Ying was almost sure that he looked pleased.

Heh. Even Lan Zhan wasn’t above a little self-satisfaction now and then, apparently.

“Little radish!” he called out. “Come here, Lan Zhan brought us some soup! It’s dinner time!”

A moment later, A-Yuan toddled into the kitchen and firmly attached himself to Wei Ying’s leg. But despite his apparent shyness about the ‘stranger’ standing in his kitchen, he stared up at Lan Zhan with big, curious eyes.

“Say ‘thank you for the meal,’” Wei Ying encouraged him. He might not be the best father out there, but no one could accuse him of not teaching his son some manners. Those that actually made sense, that was.

“Thank you for the meal,” A-Yuan recited obediently, though he remained firmly attached to Wei Ying’s leg and kept looking up at Lan Zhan with what Wei Ying started to suspect was awe.

It was kind of cute, honestly, because A-Yuan didn’t have too many adults in his life, apart from Wei Ying, the staff at the nursery, and rare visits with Wen Qing. It was good to have positive role models in his life, and Lan Zhan was probably as good as they came. It was also a little troubling to Wei Ying, because A-Yuan’s open admiration made Wei Ying feel like he was somehow lacking as a father. It was a ridiculous notion, because he would not want to be like Lan Zhan, but the feeling was there, still. He knew he couldn’t be everything for A-Yuan. But his emotions were not that easily subdued by reason. He knew he wasn’t the ideal choice for an adoptive parent, anyway, and that he would never be a replacement for A-Yuan’s birth parents.

“It is of no consequence,” Lan Zhan replied seriously, startling Wei Ying out of his morose thoughts. “I offered.”

Wei Ying smiled.

“It means a lot to me,” he emphasised, and waddled over to the kitchen cabinets, A-Yuan still attached to his leg. He reached for the soup bowls and started to unload everything onto their dining table.

“Want to eat with us?” he asked Lan Zhan, waving one of the bowls under his nose.

He’d honestly expected Lan Zhan to politely excuse himself and leave at the first opportunity, but to Wei Ying’s surprise, Lan Zhan simply nodded, helped with setting the table, and then sat down to join them during their meal.

And that was how Wei Ying and A-Yuan ended up eating dinner together with Lan Zhan.

It was almost surreal, to have Lan Zhan in this familiar, currently rather messy environment. But it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. On the contrary, Lan Zhan was a strangely nice and surprisingly interesting dinner guest, and Wei Ying suspected that it was due to his presence that A-Yuan was on his best behaviour. Wei Ying didn’t need to remind him even once not to play with his food! If only that happened during all of their meals.  

To be honest, it was not that easy to get Lan Zhan to speak in the beginning, and convince him to tell them stories about his work as a music teacher. But he made his silence up with being an excellent listener, sometimes listening to A-Yuan’s occasionally nonsensical stories with more earnestness than even Wei Ying was able to fake. And Wei Ying had a lot of practice in faking it.

Wei Ying mostly felt grateful for Lan Zhan’s efforts, because it meant that he was off the hook, for once. He could just sit there, eat his soup, grin at Lan Zhan when A-Yuan said something particularly nonsensical, and not worry about the rest.

And when Lan Zhan finally decided to tell them a few stories of his own, both he and A-Yuan listened to him with genuine interest and no small bit of fascination. For such a taciturn man, he was a surprisingly good storyteller. A certain sense of wit shone through his every word that Wei Ying enjoyed greatly, and that had him laughing out loud more than just once.

All too soon, they were finished with their meal, and it was time for A-Yuan to go to bed. A-Yuan had already started to lag at the dinner table, and so brushing his teeth and putting him to bed was a fairly short and painless process that evening, despite the excitement that an unknown guest had brought.

Lan Zhan, on the other hand, had insisted on helping with the clean-up, and so he stayed and assisted Wei Ying with the kitchen even after A-Yuan had been brought to bed and fallen asleep. Wei Ying had to almost physically keep him from doing all of the clean-up, and insisted to wash the dishes himself.

And so they had ended next to each other at the kitchen counter, Wei Ying washing the dishes, and Lan Zhan drying them.

It was an odd situation.

Wei Ying suddenly realised that he had never been alone with Lan Zhan before that moment. Whenever they had met before, it was usually when Wei Ying was going out of their apartment block or returning home with A-Yuan. Their interactions had usually been short and to the point, and Wei Ying had elected to think of Lan Zhan however he pleased.

It hadn’t been like this.

He suddenly felt himself growing shy, which was all kinds of ridiculous, because nothing was different from before. Why was he suddenly having feelings about this?

Luckily, Lan Zhan didn’t seem to notice how the mood in the room had suddenly shifted, and continued to stoically dry the dishes and carefully set them aside once they were properly dried.

When the kitchen was clean and all tasks were finished, Lan Zhan hung up his towel to dry, nodded once to himself, and then announced, “I should head home.”

Wei Ying stifled a sigh of mixed relief and regret, and led Lan Zhan to the door of the apartment.

“Thank you,” he said as Lan Zhan slipped into his shoes. “You were a true lifesaver today. Both with the soup and for keeping A-Yuan company.”

Lan Zhan rose up from tying his shoes (who did that, it was only a few metres to his own apartment) and stretched to his full height (which was impressive, he was taller than Wei Ying). He looked at Wei Ying for several long and agonising (for Wei Ying) moments.

“No need for thanks,” Lan Zhan replied. “I would not have offered if it had been an inconvenience. A-Yuan is a good child.”

Wei Ying couldn’t help the little glow of pride and happiness that rose up in his chest. A-Yuan was the best child, and he was lucky to be his father!

He said as much to Lan Zhan, and unless Wei Ying’s eyes started to play tricks on him now, his enthusiasm was answered by the tiniest little smile.

“Good night, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, that smile still present in the corners of his mouth.

Wei Ying felt he liked when Lan Zhan said his name like that.

And then, Lan Zhan reached out, and gently brushed one messy strand of hair out of Wei Ying’s face.  

“Please make sure to take care of yourself, as well.”

And with that, he turned around and left, the apartment door falling shut silently behind him.

Wei Ying stood in front of the closed entrance door for several dumbfounded moments.

Did that just–

Was that–

Lan Zhan–

He let out a garbled sound, remembered that A-Yuan was asleep, and quickly turned towards the wet clothes still piled up in the entrance.

He wasn’t going to sleep.

Might as well do some washing.

 Dammit.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

madam carter baizen president, what about carter with the song traitor by olivia rodrigo?

pairing : carter baizen x reader

warnings : angst, carter is an asshole (sadly), reader is nate’s twin sister

inspired by traitor

you betrayed me and i know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt. you'd talk to her when we were together. loved you at your worst but that didn't matter, it took you two weeks to go off and date her. guess you didn't cheat but you're still a traitor

She stood in the middle of the high end designer shop, thousands of girls from Constance moving up and down, picking and fighting for different dresses for one of the biggest events before graduation - Cotillion. As a carrier of the Archibald family name, the twin sister of Nate Archibald, Y/N’s RSVP was sent in her behalf before she even understood what it actually was. She didn’t mind doing it, she didn’t mind keeping up the traditions that her family was so overprotective yet she couldn’t say she particularly enjoyed them. She had to be truthful to herself and admit that she did not enjoy the idea of being presented to society as merely a stereotype of what her social status expected her to become. Maybe that was the dream for some girls, but it definitely wasn’t hers. Nevertheless, she had convinced herself to go, after all Rory Gilmore had gone and she had had a blast so why shouldn’t Y/N give it a go? Besides, if she even thought about not going, she was sure her mother would come from the wood work with her dramatic reasons as to why going to Cotillion was important, when it reality there was only one reason why it mattered - reputation. 

      - So, which one is yours? - her brother joked, looking away from where Blair was trying on her own dress. Y/N rolled her eyes, raising her hand where a black hanger was with her dress. - White? You’re trying to present yourself as virginal?

       - One of us has to. - she bite back. - Besides, Rory wore white and I wanna wear white. 

       - You shouldn’t model your life after a sitcom, Y/N. It’s not gonna be nearly as fun as they portray it. 

       - I can always trip you while you’re dancing. That’ll be fun, huh? 

       - What’ll be fun will be seeing Carter Baizen escort you when mum and dad don’t even know you’re sneaking around with him. 

       - I’m not sneaking around and I told you I’m going alone. - she wasn’t lying. She’d become acquainted with Carter a few years ago and the two had become close friends, both sharing an ambition of travelling around the world, hiking high mountains and looking at the clearest seas but that’s where it ended. At least to him. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t have at least some sort of romantic interest in him. How could she not? He was a handsome man with the same ideals as her, who’d often flirt but she’d convinced herself it was just who he was. Yet, her hopes were always very high at whatever they had. He didn’t look at anyone else like he looked at her, he didn’t hug anyone else like he hugged her and after he left New York, she was the one who he’d still write to yet it never progressed to anything else. She’d rather have him as whatever they were so she could keep him. Of course, Nate was of a different opinion and believed the two were dating, just without the label. - Not everyone can take a Waldorf to Cotillion.

     - You’re not going alone, Y/N. C’mon, we know so many people, so many guys who’d die to take you to Cotillion.

     - It’s really not a big deal. 

     - You should just ask him. - Nate told her, before being dragged away by one of the tailors to fix his suit. She had to admit, she was rather keen on seeing her brother in a fitted grey suit. 

After deciding there was no point in keeping in that store, hoping to find something else, she stepped outside, dress bag over her shoulder. It was a pretty dress and after all, who does not enjoy to be in a pretty dress and get free food and drink? She continued to walk down the street, mindlessly going through a checklist in her head of things she had to get sorted before Cotillion tonight. As her mind checked out invisible tasks, she spotted Carter just a bit down the street. A smile playfully etched on her cherry stained lips as she walked down to meet him. 

     - Hello stranger. 

     - Oh, hi princess. - his eyes moved from whatever he had been looking at to look at her, yet something was off. - What you got there? Body bag?

     - Cotillion dress. Not as exciting. - his attention was scattered, eyes looking left and right as if he was looking out for something. - Are you ok, Carter?

     - ‘Course I am. - he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, turning her the opposite way. - Excited for Cotillion?

     -  They always have great stuffed mushrooms and I do intend to have at least a whole tray just for myself. 

     - Who’s the poor bastard who’s taking you? Vanderbilt?

     - He’s my cousin, Carter. Besides, I told you I am going by myself. 

     - And your mother allowed that?

     - She doesn’t need to know.

     - Sneaky. - he chuckled, stopping as her flat came into view. 

     - I wouldn’t have to be sneaky if you escorted me, Baizen. - she meant for it to sound as a joke, but as those words escaped her lips, she realised how oddly passive aggressive they sounded. 

     - You know it’s not my thing.

     - I know. - she sighed. - I’m just being silly.

     - I’ll take you for brunch tomorrow. We’ll discuss all the gossip that went on. You know the rules, the one with the best piece of gossip wins and the other one pays.

     - You better bring your wallet, Baizen. - she opened the door of her building, bidding her goodbyes before quickly climbing up the stairs to get ready.

Sure, part of her wished he would escort her and be her date but he despised the idea of Cotillion more than she did and she wouldn’t want him to be uncomfortable the whole night. Besides, if she went alone, she probably would get to change her own introduction speech and make a splash for the family. No publicity is bad publicity, after all. As the sun set down, she was being rushed into the car by her mother, hair set with pearl strings all around which matched the ones that hanged from her earrings. She felt pretty, she had to admit. However, as she stepped into the limo where Blair and Nate was, she couldn’t help but imagine how things would’ve been if Carter had taken her. He would’ve brought her favourite lilies as a corsage, just as when he came back from Florence on her birthday and surprised her with a whole bouquet of white lilies and roses. He’d probably have his tie a bit too loose, as he always did whenever he was inevitably forced to wear one. They would dance the whole night to classical pieces. Yet, all these past tenses were merely ghosts in her brain and as they pulled in front of the building hosting Cotillion, she realised she was alone. He wasn’t here, he didn’t make it a priority to escorting her. But it was okay, she’d never want him to do something which would make him uncomfortable. 

As per usual, they were fashionably late as Blair put it and were rushed to the big staircase. She’d seen it before with her cousins own cotillion ceremonies - two big staircases facing each other, one had all the girls and the other the boys. Normally, she’d be looking at whoever was escorting her but since she was about to be escorted by her own self, she merely looked at her own white shoes, contrasting with the gold gown Serena, who was in front of her, was wearing. As long as she didn’t trip or fall down the stairs, it would be fine. 

     - Escorting Serena van der Woodsen is Carter Baizen. - her eyes looked up as she wondered if her own tired brain was playing jokes on her. But it wasn’t.

They were there. He was here, in the centre, by Serena’s side, escorting her. The sound of the room all went quiet and all she could hear was the buzzing in her ears and her heart drop to her stomach. There were no thoughts in her brain and she didn’t seem to even acknowledge what was happening around her, all she felt was an overwhelming pain and her chest tightening.

    - Next is Y/N Archibald, daughter of Howard and Anne Archibald, escorted by ... - she went down the stairs, standing in the centre by her self as she felt the whole world staring at her. 

    - Me. - she looked to her left to see Chuck Bass run down the stairs to stand by her side. - Sorry, I’m late.

    - Thank you. - she mouthed to Chuck as they went down the stairs. 

    - He’s an ass. - Chuck said as they reached the floor. Immediately, Nate and Blair came over to her side. - I’ll stick around for when we have to dance.

    - Thank you, Chuck.   

    - I thought you said he didn’t like these things. - Nate was mad, everyone with a pair of eyes could see it. 

    - Not now.

    - Yes, now, Y/N. He humiliated you.

    - He didn’t ... he’s just a traitor.    

[thestarsoutofyourwindow]

To Survive this Pain, Part 1 - 11th Doctor x Reader

A/n: I'm not dead, I promise! I've just been struggling to finish off fics. If this seems slightly rushed it's because I just needed to finish something. It's exam season (it's extra-long now due to a certain virus), but they're over in a few weeks. I've been trying to stretch into writing for different Doctors, and in my new formats, but good old Eleven is easiest to write. Inbox is still open :)

Word Count: 2596

Summary: After the "death" of Amy and Rory, the Doctor is devastated. After deciding to isolate himself on a cloud, he leaves you with the Paternoster Gang till Strax informs you the Doctor wants to see you.

Warnings: Angst, Cold Doctor, Doctor is slightly ooc due to guilt, mild self-inflicted Injury, Bouts of Rage.

I should try to post part two as soon as possible.

This is my first ever Full Story (GIF isn't mine).

Your shoes splashed through puddles on the cobblestone road, on your way down to the park of which you knew he would be.

You hadn't heard from him in a short while now, but Jenny and Vastra frequently advising you to pay him a visit had been getting to you. That's why, when Strax brought you the news that the Doctor wanted to see you, you leapt at the opportunity.

You were worried, you'll admit. It was clear as day that losing Amy and Rory had him tearing himself to pieces. It was only a matter of time before he sent you off, too. Before he abandoned you.

Weaving around the quiet Victorian streets, the sun still yet to grace the sky, you had arrived at the park. Looking around the odd trees that decorated the perimeter, you picked out the tree that you knew had the elusive ladder directly above it. You stepped over the beds of wilting flowers that lined the pathways into the overgrown grass.

After completing the feat of reaching the ladders, consisting of either jumping or using your umbrella handle, you had successfully pulled the ladder down far enough to climb onto.

Making your way up the ice-cold rungs, you take a moment to consider why the Doctor called for you in the first place.

It made little sense to you. After all, the Doctor had been avoiding you for the better part of two months now; what had changed?

The Doctor planning on taking you home became all the more likely in your mind as you began to climb the spiral staircase, shivering as the late-autumn air nipped at your skin. Winter was slowly breaking through the remaining life.

If you weren't so hung up on adjusting to the less-than-ideal state of Victorian England, you would've had more time to worry about the Doctor. However, he was so hung up with his own issues, and you with yours, that he only crossed your mind when you were settling down for the night.

Of course, it hurt that you too. Never seeing Amy and Rory again. You did your best to hold onto the fact that they lived a happy life together.

A life that you knew could never have. You wish you could say goodbye to them, but you chose to carry the loss with you.

You were exhausted, it was safe to say. Spending your days helping out the Paternoster Gang with new cases that come in was certainly frustrating, especially when you had to avoid so much. Milk, green dyes, dodgy stairs, aliens and gas leaks. Nothing was safe in Victorian times.

Not that you didn't enjoy the company, mind you. Jenny always provided conversation, and paired with Vastra, there were plenty of investigations to be had. You just missed them all, sometimes.

The Doctor had become such a vital figure in your life that it didn't seem right for him to not be there. When you had both lost Donna, you were there for each other, and even then, he was a wreck. You had spent those first two months together, and you had never felt closer to someone before. At first, you couldn't admit it to yourself, but after six years, you knew that was when you started falling for him.

There was so much you didn't understand about him, yet so much he had begun to explain. You had seen and done so much together, places that surprised and scared the both of you. In distant worlds and ancient times, there lay so many memories that you had forgotten. Just another thing consumed by time.

A simple flip through your diaries would confirm that through all that, you admired him: mattering not which of his faces. You had accepted from the start that he was an unobtainable desire, no matter how you looked at it.

He was old, alien and a danger-magnet. Many considered the Doctor to be a God.

It upset you to know that the Doctor could never love you, not in the way you love him. Not in the way that he had shown you what love could be, what it should be. But that was what you had to expect from the Doctor.

You assumed that consistently losing those he loved must hurt immensely. You also imagine losing someone he could spend the rest of his lives with would leave another unfixable hole in his heart.

So it made sense to you that the Doctor would never willingly fall for a human. Your short life-spans and weak bodies meant that so much as a single bullet could rob you of your life.

The thought of what a state he must've been in at that very moment was disturbing, to say the least. You had seen the Doctor angry before, and it was not an easy sight.

His heart held so much pain, so much guilt.

After what felt like a good three minutes, you stepped off the staircase. Your shoes now emerged in a cloud, which could somehow keep you from plummeting into the streets below. You felt surprisingly light, almost like you were standing in a pit of feathers, yet some odd force kept you from losing your balance. Plucking your key out of your pocket, you press your hand against the door of the TARDIS. You unlock the door, pulling the key from the lock and stepping into the Console room.

You called out for him. After listening for a moment, you concluded that the Doctor must've been elsewhere.

The TARDIS was a glum sight. Most of the orange lights were dimmed: if functioning at all. A few even had fist-holes in them. There were what looked like hundreds of books cluttering the console, all of varying topics: The Time War, Time Lord Psychology, the History of the Universe, Earth History, Greatest War Losses. Some had bookmarks; others he had clearly tabbed.

Paper littered the glass flooring, each scribbled in several handwritings. They all clearly varied in ages and sizes, some a muddy brown, others a vivid white. Quite a lot were in small clusters of pages, as though they were ripped from a book. You picked up one of the sheets to inspect closer, and your heart nearly broke.

Each page had a sort of date in the corner, which you quickly realised must've been an approximation of the Doctor's age at the time. They were diary entries, ripped out and thrown in what you assumed to be a fit of rage.

The Doctors' tweed jacket had slipped off the console and onto the floor. The contents of his pockets spilt out onto the floor.

You leant to pick it up, grimacing at just how much he was carrying around. Throwing the jacket over the railing, you avoided stepping on any more pieces of paper.

"Tidy some of this, will you?" You addressed the TARDIS, a hand on the edge of the controls, "I'll go talk to him, where is he?" The TARDIS clicked and hummed in response, showing you a blueprint on the monitor, "The Library? Okay then."

Darting out of the Console Room, you attempt to discover the library as soon as possible. You vaguely remembered the three places the library is most likely to crop up. You went from there. Fortunately for you, you didn't have to go far before the library appeared.

You had always felt as though the library was too empty. Four stories of shelves filled with books, all visible from the ground floor, the rows of shelves created a sort of maze of titles and colours. The Doctor must've owned every single book in the galaxy, judging by the sheer size. Not to mention the several dozen or so empty seats. The library could easily hold thousands of people at once, yet there is rarely ever so much as a whisper.

You had a fair clue as to why the Doctor would be hiding away in there.

There the Doctor was, turned away from the door, in an intricately decorated armchair. You could just about make out the top of his head. You loomed behind him awkwardly, unsure or not if he was aware of your presence.

"Doctor?" You faltered. His head perked up slightly, and the Doctor strained out a hum. He stood up, his arms tiredly hanging at his sides after he stretched. It checked out with your fit of rage theory. The Doctor walked up to you, and you only then noticed how fraught he was.

His expression was tired, eyes sunken and lips pressed into a thin line. His shirt was unkempt: the sleeves were torn slightly. It also appeared burnt or covered in dust. His hands were covered in dust too.

However, you noticed that his right hand had quite a few cuts and gashes, which all seeped out orange-tinted blood.

His greenish-brown eyes search yours for a moment as a tear rolls down his cheek. He inhales deeply, nodding to himself.

"Look, I..." The Doctor paused, again glancing over into your eyes, "I'm sorry- I can't, I can't do this," He took in a trembling gasp for air, "I don't want to, but I can't keep doing this. I'm sick of it. I can't keep losing people. I'm so sick of saving the universe." Unsure of what to you, you reach a hand out to the Doctors. He puts a hand on top of yours, keeping the other, bloodier fist at his side. You brush your thumb over his knuckles, his hand hot against yours. The Doctor continues, "Everyone, everyone who travels with me leaves, or dies, and I'm always alone again. Alone and in pain. I can't keep doing this..."

Smiling sadly, you nod, "I understand," You looked back up at the Doctor, "If you called me here to convince me to go home-"

"Take you home?" The Doctor's voice cracked, "I could never. That'd be just as bad as losing you. I need you."

Oh, the Doctor have his way of making you feel important at the worst moments. Your insides bubbled giddily, but you refused to show it. Instead, you ignored it to the best of your ability; what he was saying was important.

Your attention had fallen back down to his hand, and it looked considerably worse than you initially thought. Pieces of glass dug into his knuckles, the skin seeming gnarled by the force of the oncoming storm, "Doctor, your hand,"

"It's fine." The Doctor seethed, staring numbly at you, "I'm not human, it's not going to kill me."

You wanted to protest. However, given the Doctor's already fragile temperament, you weren't going to push it. Instead, after an instant of silence, you asked a simple question, "How have you been, then?"

The Doctor blinked, giving an answer careful thought. He had an earnest grimace as he finally spoke, "Furious."

"I can see, that" You hum, putting equal thought into how you should approach your response, "What do you think you're going to do, now?"

"Stay here. I'm not getting involved anymore." The Doctor spat, pulling his hand away from yours, turning to sit down, "I don't want to care."

"That's fair enough." You reassure. You didn't like the sound of the Doctor retiring too much, but you respected his choice. If he didn't want to save the world, he doesn't have to. You hoped that, in his chosen conditions, he would heal.

You vowed to yourself at that moment that you'd do everything you could to help him. Starting with his physical injuries.

You heard the armchair squeak softly as the Doctor flopped back against it, picking up a book from the coffee table and beginning to read. You headed back over to the door and grabbed the small medkit from the bracket on the wall. You paced back to the Doctor, pulling a pouffe from a few feet away to sit on. The Doctor glared daggers at you, exhaling sharply and holding his arm out in your general direction. You thanked him meekly, beginning to remove the sharp, reinforced glass shards from his knuckles.

If you were new to travelling with the Doctor, you thought that seeing this might hurt you more. However, six years of travelling was more than enough for the two of you to be used to this sort of treatment. He never seemed to care much about his physical health, more about yours. That often ended up in you worrying about the Doctor, not that you minded. You supposed it worked out, as you both fussed over each other. If the Doctor's previous face saw how he was acting, you were sure he'd have a fit. Not that he mattered, as he was still a part of the man in front of you.

You could tell by the downtrodden way he pretended to read his book, staring a hole through it, that something was bothering him.

"Are you scared of me?" The Doctor halted, voice brittle. He had taken note of how delicate you were and had drawn it up to a fear that the Doctor would lash out at you.

"No," You shushed, focusing on removing the glass from his hands.

"You don't sound sure,"

"I am." You reassured bluntly, "I'm just being careful. I don't want to hurt you more."

"I'm not hurt! You don't need to fuss over me,"

You lifted your eyebrows slightly, "There's nothing wrong with feeling, Doctor. As you said yourself, feelings enhance life." The Doctor exhaled petulantly, eyes back on his book. "But not even you can be in pain forever."

"What is my alternative?" The Doctor strangled out, "I forget? I do something selfish?"

You grimace as you remove the last small shard from his pinky. You take out a clean cloth and some water, dampening the rag as you speak, "You're forced to survive this pain, this guilt, but you will grow from it. You make mistakes so that you learn from them."

You gently clear the blood from his hands and start to apply mild pressure to the deeper wounds. The two of you continued in silence, the Doctor only occasionally removing his hand to turn the page.

He was such a different person to the goofball front you were used to. He was melancholic. However, you would see a small amount of your Doctor bubbling to the surface. He would occasionally chuckle at the book he was reading or draw circles on your palm as you held his hand still. It provided you with enough comfort to know that you weren't wasting your time.

You finished up your last-minute medical care with a bandage around his hand. You closed the medkit.

"Alright, I'm just going to go restock this, then I'll go tidy up the paper in the console room,"

"Oh- right that... Must've been a mess. I'm sorry,"

"It's okay." You smiled pleasantly, "Come find me if you need me, okay? I won't be far,"

The Doctor caught your hand in his, just as you were about to leave, he tugged at your arm. You leant down, and the Doctor pressed a short kiss to your cheek. You countered with a kiss of your own on the middle of his forehead. Just like you used to, back with his previous incarnation.

As you wandered off, you were oblivious as to what that gesture meant. Was it a thank you? Another apology? Was it even platonic?

From behind you, you swore that he said something you thought you'd never hear the Doctor say.

[wandas-sunshine]

Strike Three

Summary: Everybody makes mistakes. Your first mistake was telling your family that you were seeing someone when you were just as single as ever. Your second mistake was asking Pietro to fake a relationship to keep your family off your back. Well, maybe that wasn’t such a mistake.

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3,826

You didn’t have the best track record with relationships, you knew that. Even if you didn’t know, your family would have made damn sure to inform you. You knew they only fussed so much because they loved you, because they wanted the best for you. But they were such a headache sometimes.

You were going bonkers now. Your mother was becoming overbearing with her insistence that you needed to hurry up and settle down, and your sister was positive that she could handle the whole thing for you. She herself was engaged, so your mom agreed that she probably knew how to steer you back down the proper path.

And maybe it was the exhaustion of hearing them try to arrange a good relationship for you, or maybe the panic of listening to your sister talk about her new coworker (who was a very impressive man, don’t you know?), but for some reason, you went and said something so painfully stupid.

“I’ve been seeing someone.”

That was nearly a month ago, and your entire family was pestering you for more information. You felt bad avoiding their calls, but you were bluffing and you had barely gotten out of that conversation alive. Your sister was bringing her fiance to Christmas, so of course that meant you were expected to bring someone as well.

Avoiding conversations about your nonexistent boyfriend was growing difficult. You’d been holding out hope that you would find someone by the time the holidays rolled around, but no luck. A real boyfriend would have been ideal, but your frantic attempts at finding someone to play the part also yielded no success.

You had of course contemplated faking a breakup, but that would only further their idea that you couldn’t handle your own love life. You had dug a hole that you just couldn’t climb out of.

So with one week to your family’s Christmas gathering, you were sitting on your best friend’s bed with your head in your hands.

“I am so royally screwed, Wanda. Stevie is going to force me to go out with some accountant or one of Adam’s firefighter friends, and my mom’s gonna make me marry him. Then what?” You wailed. She laughed, finally looking up from her phone.

“Who’s dating an accountant?” Pietro’s voice made your complaints die on your tongue. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. With him standing there having heard about your pathetic predicament, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that coursed through your veins.

“(Y/N) apparently. If they don’t find a date to Christmas with their family.” Wanda answered him. You groaned again. “They told everyone that they have a boyfriend, and now they have nobody to show.”

“I’ll do it.” He offered so nonchalantly that it took a second to process. Then you’d sat up so fast that you got dizzy.

“For real? You’ll do it?” You clasped your hands together in a silent plea, and Pietro shrugged.

“Why not. Text me the details,” He left you shouting your appreciation after him as he made his way back to his own bedroom.

A week passed by, and you had confirmed your plus one. You kept the information you shared minimal, just giving his name and saying that you hadn’t wanted to say anything until you were sure he’d be able to come. You were nervous about the whole thing, a whole list of things that could go wrong playing on an endless loop in your head as you tapped against your steering wheel.

A few moments passed before he finally came out with his suitcase in hand. Three nights at your parents home with your sister, and your friend who you’d somehow coerced into pretending to date you seemed like a nightmare. But Pietro’s presence was calming. He sat his bag in the back and settled into the passenger seat. He had the brightest smile on his face.

He buckled in and sorted out the music as you started on the drive back to your childhood home. The quiet between the two of you lasted a while before he broke it.

“So what’s our story, cupcake?” He smirked and turned the music down, looking over as you spared him a confused glance.

“Our story?”

“Yeah, you know. How we met, how we got together. The story we’re gonna tell our kids one day.” Your stomach flipped. What were you getting yourself into?

“Um, I guess we met through Wanda,” You started, keeping your eyes on the road and gripping the steering wheel tightly so you didn’t have to focus on how strange the whole conversation felt.

“And I saved you from some drunk creep at a party,” He started. “I took you to iHop-”

“And we’ve been together ever since!” You finished with a laugh. It was mostly true, everything he mentioned had happened, just not exactly like that. It made you feel a little better knowing that you weren’t lying to your family, just...rearranging the truth.

“See, baby, we’re gonna be just fine,” The sound of the pet name flustered you much more than you were willing to admit. You rolled your eyes and cleared your throat.

“Okay. But if we’re gonna make it, there’s gotta be rules.” You warned him. He motioned for you to go on. “Rule number 1; No saying I Love You. Rule Number 2; No kissing. Not under any circumstances. And Rule Number 3; No catching feelings.”

“Easy peasy,” He chuckled. He didn’t understand why you were so paranoid. There was no way he was going to let them set you up with one of their awful picks for you. No, you deserved better than that. So he’d follow your rules, and he’d save the day if it killed him.

The rest of the drive consisted of him playing music, and the two of you joking around like nothing was any different than it had been from the beginning. But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart stuttered when he’d jokingly call you by those stupid affectionate names, or the way your cheeks burned under his attention. The tension and worry lingered, thinly veiled by his stupid knock knock hokes and classic rock.

It was mid afternoon by the time you pulled into your parents driveway. You were helping Pietro unload the boatload of presents you’d brought along for your family when your older sister came racing out of the house. She squealed and bundled you up into a tight hug like you hadn’t seen each other in years.

“You brought a boy,” She noted as she stepped back, hugging herself against the cold. You bit your lip and nodded a little.

“Stevie, this is Pietro. Pietro, my big sister Stevie.” You stepped back and glanced at Pietro. He had the most dazzling smile on his lips, one that made your stomach flutter. And Stevie certainly seemed charmed enough.

“So you really do have a boyfriend. I was beginning to think he was fake,” She teased. You and Pietro shared a look and he seemed to be barely stifling his laughter. You glared, a silent warning to keep his mouth shut. “They barely told us anything about you. I can see why they were keeping you a secret, if I didn’t have Adam I’d be stealing you away.”

“Well, good thing we’re here for a couple of days. You guys can get to know everything about each other. But can we pretty please get this stuff inside before it gets nasty out here?” You begged, readjusting the armful of gifts you’d grabbed. Pietro huffed and took them easily.

“I can get them, don’t worry.” He insisted. You hesitated a little but he was already following your sister inside. So you grabbed your bag from the back and closed the car up to join them inside.

Once you walked in, you were met by the smell of baked goods wafting out the door. You kicked your shoes off and set your bag down by the stairs. Your family had already stolen your boyfriend- fake boyfriend- by the time you slipped into the kitchen.

“Your favorite kid just got home, but all you care about is the new boyfriend, huh?” You teased, sliding up to hug your dad, then your mom. Pietro sort of liked the way it sounded when you said that. Boyfriend. He knew he wasn’t really the boyfriend, but it was a nice thought.

“You didn’t tell us he was so handsome,” Your mom chided, giving your shoulders a squeeze. Your face flared hot and you glanced at Pietro.

“Don’t worry about me. Your family is great, they’re already trying to feed me.” He smirked. Truthfully he seemed oddly comfortable in the role, but you were glad he wasn’t freaking out. Of course for the sake of not having to date someone with a stick up their ass. But the fact that he was giving you his usual laid-back grin didn’t hurt.

“Why don’t you two go up to your room and get settled in. Dinner will be done soon. (Y/N), your old room is all set up for you two.” Your mom cooed, turning back to the food she was working on. You glanced towards the stairs.

“He’s sleeping in my room? With me?” You asked, glancing between faces. You were used to sharing a room with your sister on the holidays and whatever guys you brought along were usually put into her old room. You supposed that changed now that she was properly engaged.

“Well duh. Adam’s sleeping in my room when he gets here.” Stevie answered. You gave a tiny nod. Made sense. You grabbed your bags and nodded for Pietro to follow you upstairs. He gave a smile to your family and let you lead the way to your bedroom.

Once the door was shut, you groaned and leaned back against it. Once again you were asking yourself the same question. Just what had you gotten yourself into. The idea of pretending to be in love with Pietro was one thing. But now you’d be sleeping in the same probably too-small bed for three nights. That must have been crossing some sort of line. You could sleep on the floor. It was hardwood but you were pretty sure you’d survive it. Or maybe you could take turns.

“Piet, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t think they’d put us in here together.” You sighed. Pietro was too busy perusing your room to really think too much of it. There were still a few pictures decorating the back of the door of you and your family and friends. A couple band posters were left up, and there was a stack of books in the corner. “But now that Stevie and Adam are actually engaged...I’m sorry.”

“Chill, it’s no big deal.” He sat at the edge of your bed and you nodded. It was nice seeing him settle so easily into a space that used to be strictly yours. You supposed it wasn’t so bad to share it with him.

The evening passed much faster than you had expected. The worst part was dinner. Your future brother-in-law had shown up which helped to ease some of the tension. But nevertheless your family was all over Pietro. He reached over and gave your hand a squeeze as you sat down, and you knew he’d never let you down.

Throughout the meal, he complimented your mom’s cooking. He talked about his classes, and about being on the track and field team at his college. Within minutes he had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand.

The most startling part was just the way he talked about you. The way he’d just look at you for so long that it would make your throat go dry, or the way he’d beam when asked about the two of you.

“I just knew when I first saw them that no one else could compare. I love them,” He’d said. And he’d looked at you like he never wanted to look away. Your stomach did somersaults and you’d focused on the mashed potatoes you were poking at.

Strike one.

Once dinner had come to a close, you and your sister worked at clearing the table. Your mom ushered the boys towards the living room to relax while the three of you worked on cleanup. You carried an armful of dishes into the kitchen, depositing them on the counter and drawing up some dish water, but not before flashing Pietro an apologetic smile. He just winked and slipped away.

You stared into the sink, watching the suds as they foamed up. Maybe asking Pietro along was a bad idea. Your dad was becoming pretty buddy-buddy with him, and your mother seemed to adore him already. Your fake breakup was probably going to be harder for them than it was for you.

“So,” Stevie set a last stack of dishes on the counter and smirked. “Pietro is really something, huh?”

You chewed on your lip, giving your full attention to the dishes you were scrubbing clean.

“He’s sweet. And he seems pretty in love with you,” Your mom added. And just like that your heart was leaping back into your throat. Who knew Pietro Maximoff was such a good actor? And who knew you cared so much?

“Yeah, he’s pretty great isn’t he?” You smiled, a sick sort of despair clogging in your chest. “Too good to be true,”

With the three of you working together, the cleaning went by in a jiffy. Soon enough you were settling in the living room with the others. You sat on the couch beside Pietro as they all continued their discussion.

You tried not to tense up as he pulled you closer by your waist without so much as a glance. You slowly relaxed and snuggled even closer. Your head rested against his chest like it was meant to be there, and your arm found its way around him. He was warm, that was all, and he smelled nice...You were selling it, nothing more. Just selling it, even as his fingers moved to play with your hair.

“It’s getting late. You four had a long day, we should all get some rest.” Your dad decided. And with the way you were half asleep in Pietro’s arms, you couldn’t argue.

He carefully maneuvered you off of him so he could stand up. You weren’t sure when the two of you had started holding hands, but yours was clutched firmly in his, fingers intertwined as he pulled you to your feet.

“C’mon baby, you’re sleepy.” He mumbled. You nodded and said your goodnights to everyone before letting him lead you up the stairs. You slipped into your room and dug through your bag for your sleep clothes. Once you’d pulled them out you glanced up at Pietro. He chuckled and turned his back.

Once the both of you had changed, you laid yourself down, watching and waiting for Pietro to join you. The silence as he climbed into the bed was heavy, both of you deep in your thoughts and being exceptionally careful not to cross any lines or take up too much space. You were hyper aware of every breath you took, and of every miniscule brush of skin.

You did not have feelings for him. Sure he was handsome, and considerate. Not to mention how funny he was, and the way he fit in with your family better than anyone else you’d brought home. But it was cliche. He was your best friend’s brother. He was Pietro for fucks sake. Falling for him just wasn’t in the cards.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, or moving a muscle all night, but you woke up in a mess of tangled limbs. He’d slung his arm around your waist and nestled into your chest, and you had flipped your leg over his. He was warm, and you could feel his breath tickling against your neck. That alone had your heart rate flying through the roof.

You were careful not to wake him as you slipped out of bed. He shifted and you froze until you were sure he’d fallen back into his deep slumber. You took a moment, just admiring him all sweet and conked out, his hair a mess and a tiny bit of drool slipping past his lips. Gross. But adorable.

You got ready for the rest of the day and slipped downstairs to find your mom and sister back in the kitchen working on a breakfast spread. You leaned against the door. You could hear Adam and your dad chatting from the living room.

“Want a hand?” You asked. Your mom smiled at you.

“We didn’t want to bother you guys. Where’s the other lovebird?”

You rolled your eyes, but it was too late to hide your smile.

“Still sleeping. I thought I’d let him catch a little extra shut eye.” You explained, moving to help set the table while they cooked. Nobody said much after that, just talking about all of the family gossip you’d missed out on while you were away.

Meanwhile, your mind was drifting to all the ways you could make this up to Pietro. You didn’t have the opportunity to think much on it as he came down the stairs.

He was still tired, you could tell. But his hair was wet from a shower, and he’d changed into a charmingly ugly sweater that clashed with his usual vibes. It was endearing, you couldn’t deny that. He moved to stand by you, arm wrapping around your waist and his hand landing on your hip.

“Good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” You teased. He laughed quietly, but then he pouted.

“You left me.” You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“You just looked so peaceful. Plus I wasn’t ready to deal with you yet.” You dodged away from him as he tried to grab at you, giggling and stealing away into the kitchen again to grab the platter of pancakes. Your mom and Stevie shared a knowing look that you disregarded.

Breakfast, much like dinner, had gone without a hitch. The two of you bantered the way you always did. He stole a bite from your plate, and you took a drink from his cup in retaliation. As he finished eating, his hand found yours. You gave him a puzzled look, and he simply slotted his fingers in between yours.

The conversation lasted until everyone was finished. Then everyone was ushered to the living room for the gift opening. You and Pietro were still hand in hand when your mom stopped you in your tracks. You were about to question why when Pietro guided you to face him by your hips. Your hands pressed against his - rather firm - chest.

“Mistletoe,” He whispered. Your eyes flicked up, then back to his.You were suddenly very warm. You had rules, and this was seriously not fair. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Both of you were fairly willing to call that good. Stevie, however, was most certainly not.

“That’s pathetic. Give him a real one. It’s Christmas, (Y/N)!” She argued. You looked at her, then back only to find that he hadn’t looked away from you.

“Yeah, baby. It’s Christmas.” He half-teased, hoping to ease some of the building tension. You thought on it, considering shattering what was left of your rule into pieces. But before your flustered mind could come to any sort of decision, you were being kissed.

You curled your hands into the front of his sweater, and melted against his lips. They were softer than you’d expected, and the kiss was much less demanding than you had thought it would be. When you pulled away, he brushed his thumb over your jaw.

“Sorry,” He whispered. You shook your head, but you still couldn’t look him in the eye. The urge to feel his lips against yours was a little too strong, and who knew what you’d do if he kept looking at you like that. You pressed your lips together like you could forget his taste.

“Don’t be.”

Strike two.

The gift exchange was exceptionally uneventful after the mistletoe ordeal. Your mind was still wading through the fog when your mom opened the last of the gifts. You were all about to sort everything out and pack your gifts with your things when Pietro spoke.

“Oh, I almost forgot something. Stay put.” He carefully freed himself from where you’d been leaning against him and headed for the stairs. You sat patiently, sharing curious looks around the room. You hadn’t talked about presents.

He only took a moment, coming back with a small box wrapped neatly in pale blue paper. You figured that was Wanda’s doing.

“Here. I don’t know if you’ll like it but…” He passed you the gift, and you smiled at him. You stared at the little box for a long moment before you finally took off the paper. You didn’t notice all the attention shifting to the two of you as you took the lid off.

“Oh my god, Pietro,” You gasped, your hand moving to cover your mouth. Inside was a stunning silver bracelet with several little charms on it. You carefully picked it up and worried each charm between your fingertips. “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”

“You didn’t need to. Look, this one is for that iHop trip, remember? And this one is for the when Wanda introduced us at the beach. And this one is for the butterfly exhibit you made me take you to. Oh, and this is for this trip, see?” He rambled. Tears pricked at your eyes and you giggled. You were in so deep, and the bracelet must have cost him a fortune.

“Put it on me?” You looked up at him and he nodded. There was a pause as he took the bracelet from you and fastened it around your wrist. You admired it with a lovesick grin.

“I’m in love with you.” He spoke firmly, and your heart skipped a beat.

“I love you too, Piet.” You slid your hand into his and he looked down at how nicely your hand fit into his. Like you were meant to be.

“I don’t want this to end,” He locked eyes with you again, praying that you really understood what he meant. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to build up the confidence to confess all over again if you didn’t. But he didn’t need to worry about that. You lifted your hand to cup his cheek.

“Then I’m yours forever, Maximoff.”

Strike three.

And there was so much to talk about, but in that moment none of it mattered. Not when the pretending was finally over, and you were having the best Christmas of your entire life.

[wakaoujisenhime]

Hi, I just happened to stumble across you and now I’m addicted!😅❤️ anyway, I was hoping you could write some headcanons for a crack head rakuzan manager.

A/N: Hi there you two! Since your requests were for the same trope and the more or less same scenario, I decided to mash these two together, hope that’s ok with you guys! ( ´ ▽ ` )

Luckily, I grew up around some people that fit in that description, nevertheless this was a pretty new experience for me, so I hope I managed to deal with this successfully (I’m sorry in case that I didn’t ;-;)! Anyways, please enjoy and heed the warnings! ヽ(´ー｀)❤️

Tags/Warnings: Rakuzan x reader ✅ tw.drug mention/use ✅ tw.mention of bullying ✅ fluff ✅ friendship ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Rakuzan is known as an elite school, harboring only the crème-de-la-crème of students and yet you still couldn’t comprehend why you were a part of it

everyone was driven by either perfectionism or greed, the teachers only cared for themselves and their salary, and the expectations society put on every student that wore this school’s logo were downright inhuman

so could someone really blame or shun you for being into drugs? —No, they couldn’t...and yet some still tried

every time you skipped a class to go on either the rooftop or that one dark alley in the very back of the luxurious building to roll a joint, someone random would always come looking for you

they’d try to push their ideals onto you and pretend that they are some kind of Samaritan who only wants the best for you and your future

Yeah sure...you don’t even know my name, do you?

the first few times really annoyed the hell out of you and their hypocrisy almost made you lose yourself once, but as these scenarios started repeating themselves you grew used to it and learned how to completely ignore them

depending on your mood and the amount of dopamine you’re releasing there were even times when you’d get sassy with them or downright challenge them to a fight, knowing fully well that as the goody-two-shoes they were they’d never accept it

the teachers were also aware of your addiction, but were too scared for their own reputation and decided that it’d be easier if they just left you to your own devices and wait until you either failed their classes or graduated

and just like that, you lead a rather peaceful school life, until a certain someone decided to disturb it...

when you skipped classes for the umpteeth time you waited patiently for today’s candidate who’d drag you over the coals for your ‘unsightly behavior’

after you’d taken the third pull on your joint you finally heard light steps which were just around the corner

without moving your head too much, you simply glanced towards the figure that had appeared and chuckled to yourself

“Woow, the teachers must be quite desperate to send their star pupil in order to get me” you sneered after blowing some of the smoke right into his direction

the red-haired young man who’d arrived was none other than Akashi Seijirou, a student whose school record was full of nothing but perfect grades and perfect remarks from everyone who had entered this school

you didn’t know much about him except the typical gossips and the fact that he was the complete opposite of yourself

for a while none of you said anything so you continued to smoke shamelessly in front of him, hoping that you could provoke some kind of reaction from him...though in vain

if words weren’t provocative enough you decided to see how far he’d allow you to go until he had to open his mouth

“You want a pull?”

much to your surprise he actually extended his hand towards you, so with wide eyes you carefully handed him your joint

So even flawless students like him need to let go sometimes, huh?

he eyed it for a while and the next thing you saw was how he let it drop and stomped on it

“Was that really necessary? You could’ve just refused it, you know?”

“I want you to join the basketball team as a manager” he then said in a calm and pretty serious tone

....

....

...What?

you began laughing as if he had said some kind of hilarious joke, but much to your disappointment he simply raised his eyebrow

“W-Wait...are you being serious right now? You want me to take care of the basketball team?”

seeing him simply nod with the same stoic expression he’d arrived with made you realize that he wasn’t one to joke around

Akashi took out a handkerchief and wiped his hand, without bothering to hide his disgust and then simply turned his back to you

“I’ll be waiting for you at the gym after school and I hope you’ll be there...for your sake.”

and with that threat, he left you by yourself, confused and utterly speechless

you soon began giggling to yourself and you wanted to blame it on the drugs but deep down you knew the truth ...

.

as the school bell rang for the last time today you lazily packed your stuff and without paying any attention to neither your teacher nor your classmates you trotted out of the classroom

you hated admitting it but the red-haired young man’s words had haunted you for the entire day, but you weren’t one to simply obey whatever others told you

just as you were about to walk down the stairs someone muscular bumped into you, almost knocking you off your feet

as you looked up to see who it was you saw a dark-skinned and bulky man towering above you with a grim look on his face

“(Y/N)?”

you hesitated to answer for a moment, but his challenging expression downright forced you to respond, though it was merely with a small nod

“Excellent, follow me” he ordered after turning around and you did

while he was walking in front, you noticed that most of the students were intimidated or scared by his towering frame and now that you were behind him you realized how truly lonely he must be

“We’re here,” he began, “Akashi! I brought her!”

at the mention of that name you immediately wanted to just turn around and leave, but with that broad man next to you any type of escape was shut down

a pair of heterochromatic eyes looked in your direction and a proud smile adorned the rather emotionless expression of the red-haired young man who signalized the other club’s members to take a short break while he strolled towards the two of you

“(Y/N), I’m glad to see that you picked the right choice to come here. Now...follow me.”

you simply glanced up at the broader man next to you with a pleading expression, but he simply grinned and gave you a thumbs up

Akashi led you to a bench where an older man had already taken a seat, reading through some papers

he was so into it that he didn’t even bother to look up at you two

“Alright your task is simple, I want you to learn the basic rules of basketball and everything else that surrounds it. You have a week and then I’d like to test your knowledge during a practice match. There are also several other things I want you to fulfill, but this will be enough for now” he took a short breath and looked at his team players with a slightly annoyed gaze before he continued “I also provided you with one of those ‘how to’ books so I hope you won’t need long. Any further questions?”

Where do I even start?

“Listen up, I never said that I was going to be your team’s manager or anything like that, you literally forced me to come here by sending that giant after me! And you can’t be serious with all of this right? You guys are a pro team and you want me - a mere amateur - to manage you? Starting next week? I don’t even th-“

“I don’t remember giving you a choice in this matter and yes, you’ll learn it all until next week. You being a student at this elite school speaks for itself, so learning the basic rules of a mere sports game isn’t going to cost you much. Now sit down and start reading.”

his condescending and overall rude tone made you more than just mad, but before you could utter any kind of comment, he had already turned his back to you and was heading for the court

“If I were you, I’d just agree with whatever he says” commented the older man whose gaze was still on the papers before him

you clicked your tongue and put both of your hands on your hips as you stared at him and asked whether that was how he usually dealt with him

“That’s how I learned to deal with him. A genius like him is only getting held back by simple-minded people...or those,” he paused and finally looked up, eyeing you judgingly before he finished his sentence, “that can’t read the mood.”

you were absolutely speechless and enraged, so before you completely lost your wits you grabbed that stupid book Akashi had gotten for you and purposely stomped towards the gym’s entrance doors to roll yourself another joint

.

you spent the entire duration of their training outside and even though you didn’t intend to really read the booklet, you eventually started and got into it, until you heard a loud whistle and Akashi’s voice announcing the end of today’s practice

“I’m expecting you at tomorrow’s practice as well, (Y/N)” said the red-haired captain as soon as you re-entered the gym to take your bag and go home

you answered with a simple nod and left, figuring that you’d just go along with him for a while but secretly do whatever you wanted

or at least that was supposed to be your plan, but something quite unexpected happened

while you had set your mind to obey whatever the captain wanted from you, you caught yourself actually having fun during the guys’ practice

you did know a little about basketball even without the book’s help, but as you gradually read chapter after chapter and actually witnessed the real thing before you every single day, you came to truly enjoy it

there were always some rumors that Rakuzan’s basketball team was on an entirely different level and you finally saw why

the four players that always accompanied Akashi on the court were some kind of prodigies the others referred to as the “Uncrowned Kings” or the new and improved version of “The phantom sixth man”

during your first days of hearing those rather over the top nicknames, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud

These four having such titles? Don’t mess with me, that’s just hilarious!

and even if you were the only one laughing at it while the others simply looked away, your laughs were shut down pretty quickly as soon as you saw how they played

seeing just how powerful and overall perfect they seemed to be made you even more pissed off than you already were

luckily you were standing right next to the gym’s door so you cracked it open, leaned yourself on its frame, and began smoking one of your self-rolled joints

“Wow (Y/N), I didn’t know you smoked! You look really cool!”

the sudden compliment from the cheerful blond with the sharp canine caught you off guard, not to mention that he was the first one besides Akashi to even attempt some sort of conversation...and it made you unexpectedly happy

“Thanks, I guess?...would you like to have a pull?”

you couldn’t help but smirk at how his eyes lit up after nodding multiple times and just as he was about to take the softly smoking joint from your hand, someone snatched it and threw it out, closing the door in the process

that someone was Reo, whose eyes looked down on you with a rather hurt and sad expression

out of nowhere, he took a gentle hold of your cheeks and softly tilted your head up so that you could look him directly into his mesmerizing eyes

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but smoking is bad for you (Y/N)-chan. You’re such a beautiful young lady and being a crackhead just doesn’t suit you, you know?”

thanks to the soft tone with which he’d complimented and lectured you, you just couldn’t be mad at him

but before you could even say anything you felt a big and strong hand slap your back with so much force that you almost fell right into Kotaro’s arms

“Geez, Nebuya you brute, how many times do I have to tell you to be more careful!”

completely ignoring the tall man’s protest the more muscular man simply laughed and took a tight hold of your upper arm saying: “All she needs are more muscles and meat on her and she’ll make a great opponent!”

the way the three of them had surrounded you while laughing at each other’s comments and even making you part of their discussion warmed your heart, and you caught yourself thinking that being the manager of this team might not be such a bad idea after all...

.

the day of the practice match came along and you were a bundle of nerves

who would’ve thought that you’d actually prefer going to the gym to check up on the players instead of straight-up heading back home

much to your surprise, it didn’t even take you three days to get almost every club member to respect you, sure there were obstacles along the way, but you managed to deal with them rather quickly

not too long ago, you had actually helped out Mayuzumi, who usually avoided you and barely ever talked to you

you had been on your way to your usual spot to light up a joint and just before you cut the corner you heard some loud voices

“Just ‘cause you’re in the basketball club, doesn’t make you special!”

“What’s with those dead-looking fish eyes of yours anyway?”

“C’mon guys, don’t you see that we’re wasting his precious reading time here? Let’s hurry up and scram so that he can continue reading his novel!”

you had no idea just what the hell was going on, but it sounded a lot like someone was getting bullied and you weren’t in the mood to let it slide

“Ok guys, I need you to wrap whatever this is up. I’m in a rather bad mood right now and I really need a smoke, so get going” you said in a rather dark tone

the students who had encircled someone you couldn’t quite identify yet jumped a little at your sudden intervention and turned their attention to you

all remarks they had prepared for you were gone the moment they realized just who was standing in front of them

nevertheless, the group remained stubborn and tried to chase you away by asking you to wait for a little

while you were dealing with the group, the person they had ganged up on stood up from the ground and that’s when you finally recognized who they were bullying

Isn’t that...Mayuzumi?

and at that moment something inside of you clicked

with confident steps, you made your way to the tall young man and placed a hand on his shoulder

“There you are and here I was thinking you’d bailed on me” you began as you gently squeezed his shoulder, giving him a signal to make him play along before you continued, “I got your stuff, you got the money?”

thanks to his constant poker face and slight nod the group of bullies was instantly on their guard

in order to give them their last push you pulled out a small and transparent bag with white powder out of your pocket

“You guys are still here? Sorry, but if you wanted a package you should’ve told me beforehand. Just so you know, it isn’t going to be cheap.”

seconds later the group finally gave up and stormed off, murmuring something about it not being worth the trouble

as soon as they were gone you let out a loud sigh of relief and crouched down, exclaiming how relieved you were that it was finally over

your sudden reaction caught the young man off guard and at first, he was stomped at what to do but he eventually crouched down next to you

“If you were that scared you shouldn’t have helped me in such an...unorthodox way. They might snitch on you, you know?”

you couldn’t help but giggle at the rather clumsy way he tried to thank and reassure you

“It’s fine even if they do, the teachers wouldn’t be surprised anyway and besides...that bag contains nothing more but some makeup powder I got from Reo to...to hide the bags under my eyes.”

even though you whispered the last part Mayuzumi still heard it and then chuckled

since then he actually began listening to you and even talked to you whenever no one was around

the other three were fond of you since day one so you had no trouble dealing with them whatsoever, or protecting them for that matter

someone was making rude remarks about Nebuya while he ate his daily portion of meat (which equaled five of yours)?

you’d tap them on the shoulder, lean on them and say that they were lucky enough he didn’t hear them, or else he might actually devour them instead

hearing how people made fun of Reo’s way of talking and even shun him for his behavior behind his back?

you’d directly go up to them and intentionally talk in a loud voice for everyone to hear how cowardly they were and how their behavior would drag their beloved school’s reputation down if you decided on making it public

witnessing how naive and warm-hearted Kotaro got roped into some even shadier business than what you were up to with sugarcoated words?

you’d do something similar to how you saved Mayuzumi back then: threats and bluffs and luckily all of them worked out in your favor

the only one who needed more time to warm up to you was Akashi

it was obvious that he hadn’t approved of you despite your (in your eyes) good performance during the first practice match

he’d simply nodded in the end and coldly stated that he’d accept this rather poor performance, warning you that there would be consequences if you don’t improve yourself

back then the others had joined you on the bench and were trying to cheer you up by saying that the red-haired young man was usually that demanding, but only towards people he knew had the potential...in a way he was trying to bring forth your hidden talent

with these sweet words and your own ambition to prove yourself to the seemingly perfect emperor, you finally started taking the club more serious than you’d originally intended

.

..

What did he just say..?

“Sei-chan, y-you....you can’t be serious”

“Akashi...”

said man turned towards you guys with a warm but twisted smile as he stretched his hand out towards you

“I swear to you, that if we lose this match, I will leave the club and...gouge both of my eyes out, and give them to you.”

after that proclamation each of the players gave it more than just their all, even you who could do nothing but cheer them on from the bench began analyzing everything you could from your team’s opponents

during that very emotional match, you found yourself praying multiple times that your team wins and not only because of Akashi’s oath but because you knew just how much they had trained for this

additionally, Kotaro and the others told you that this match was of utmost importance to the captain and his former teammates, all the more reason for you to worry

.

sadly in the end you guys lost and you were too overwhelmed with everything that had transpired in the last quarters

Zone? What the hell is that?

Another Akashi? How is something like that even possible?

the entire Rakuzan team walked back to the locker room in complete silence and that silence remained until all of them had changed their clothes

“(Y/N)-chan, let’s go,” said Reo in a gentle and silent tone as he gently squeezed your shoulder

“Y-You guys can go on ahead, I still have to check something” you answered with an apologetic smile

you were thankful that the young man could read the mood and agreed, so you re-entered the locker room, looking around searching for something

the moment you wanted to take a step forward, your legs gave out and you fell to your knees

H-Huh..? What’s w-wrong with me, I-I need to get up...

no matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t muster the strength to stand up, and before you knew it, tears had started rolling down your cheeks without stopping

frustration, despair, anger, and sadness overcame you and at some point you caught your thoughts drifting off in a direction you had never taken before

with trembling hands, you took a small package full of some kind of powder out of your jacket and looked at it

you weren’t the type to resort to real hardcore drugs and as of late you had been so busy with the team that even your usual smoke breaks became less and less, but now...

just as you were about to open the small bag in your hands the door to the changing room slowly opened

“A-Akashi...?”

the young man looked at you with a worried expression and as soon as he saw what you held in your hands he grew even sadder

without saying anything he simply walked towards you, kneeled down, and embraced you

you were quite shocked at first, but too emotionally tired to resist at this point so you simply let him comfort you

he told you that these overwhelming emotions you were going through right now were normal and absolutely understandable in this situation, and even without you saying how guilty you felt for the boys’ loss he calmed you down by stating that one person alone could not be at fault for an entire team’s failure

.

that day engraved itself in your brain and you promised yourself that you’d give it your all and even go further beyond it, just so you wouldn’t have to see the sad faces of the people who had given you a chance and loved you for who you are, including all of your “flaws”

unbeknownst to you, they had also found the same resolution as you

the day on which they had lost their match against Seirin made them realize that there was indeed something lacking in their way of playing basketball, and in order to improve that they had to start with a rather peculiar mission, namely to make you, their manager, proud and make sure that you never cried ever again...

[sonofirishseas]

Devil in the Details

  The bouncer at the door had been no trouble at all. Remy had been brought his A game tonight; carefully groomed appearance--more clean shaven and fresh faced than the thief usually was, his auburn hair pulled back into a short ponytail at his nape that just dusted his shoulders. The suit was couture, a deep plum color with a black tie and slick black dress shoes. He needed to look the part tonight; the “Charm” running high.

 He turned more than a few heads as he entered the crowded ball room, taking a glass of champagne from the waiter as he moved through it. Poor suckers; they couldn’t help themselves. The mutant was attractive enough on is own and drew enough looks with those stunning black and ruby eyes--the only thing about him that gave away that he was indeed mutant--but his other abilities only enhanced his edge. Gambit’s empathetic “charm” ability often acted on two levels--one allowing him to easily read the emotions and moods of others, giving him a tell no different from a poker game and allowing him to adjust accordingly. The second to entice and enthrall. If he wasn’t in careful control of both factors, he could easily overwhelm himself and those around him. Luckily, the master thief had a pretty damn good handle on his gifts. And he would need every ounce of them tonight. He was after a big fish...the “King” fish, as it were.

It wasn’t ideal mind you, throwing your lot in with the King Pin. But there were worse things in the world, and right now Gambit needed to make himself invaluable to the only thing scarier than what he was running from. He knew he had one shot at this. And he was going to make it count.

As he made his way across the crowded ball room, both his eyes and his senses picked up on the man he’d been looking for. He stilled a moment, ignoring a lovely pair of women who came along to chat him up as he stared the man down. He was...not what Remy was expecting. He looked so...

The Cajun chewed his lip as he struggled for the right words. He handsome for sure, and younger than he had expected. But there was an air to him that sent shivers down LeBeau’s spine. An irresistible yet palpable sense of danger that made him both want to bolt away and run towards him. 

“You really know how to pick ‘im, don’t you?” he sighed to himself, finishing his drink and then smiling sweetly at the fawning women. “My apologies,  Mesdemoiselles, I have pressing business to attend.”  He said quickly but sweetly, giving them a nod before sauntering up to lone man at the far edge of the room. Remy noted his glasses, caught a quick glimpse of the eyes behind them and adjusted accordingly. Another surprise. My tonight was exciting indeed.  “Pardon,” he said, his creole accent coming through more strongly as he greeted the stranger and waited for his acknowledgement before continuing. “I do hope I’m not interrupting, monsieur, but I couldn’t help but notice you. I understand you’re the man to see when one is new in the city?” Remy continued. “My name is Remy LeBeau, you’ll want to remember that name, for sure. You might know me better as Gambit.” He flicked his wrist and an Ace of Hearts playing card appeared in his hand. He carefully pressed it into the man’s hand, allowing him to feel the warmth of the kinetic energy that filled it before it dissipated harmlessly into ash. A controlled charge. “You and I are going to be fast friends, I can tell.” Remy grinned.

[doiedreams]

A Cozy Christmas Eve // w.lc

Brought to you by the Walking in a Winter Wonderland collaboration hosted by @suh-insane and @neocitybynight

◈⇢ Synopsis: With only a very limited amount of time, you and bf!Lucas prepare to have your parents over for a Christmas Eve visit, but after all the stress, the day ends in a cozy evening of Christmas movies, hot cocoa, and cuddles

◈⇢ Prompt: “Put that cookie down. NOW!”

◈⇢ Genre: fluff ద

◈⇢ Pairing: reader x bf!lucas

◈⇢ Wc: 2.3k

◈⇢ Warnings: none

Lucas’s full attention is captured by the wintry white snowscape in his view. Bright-eyed and mouth agape, Lucas calls out to you. “Woah… Y/n, come look! It snowed so much last night.”

The excitement in his voice lures you out of your room, toothbrush still between your lips, as you see Lucas with his hands and nose pressed up against the cold glass of the window. You giggle seeing how his actions reflect that of an amazed child seeing snow for the first time. When you approach him, you tap his shoulder, silently requesting that he move out of the way. The moment you step in front of the window, the bright white view blinds you. Considering you woke up not too long ago, the radiance was harsh on your eyes, causing you to squint momentarily before fully being able to take in the view.

The pretty sight incites a muffled gasp from you. Blankets upon blankets of snow cover the ground, presenting little to no color contrast between it, and the grey wintery sky. The rooftops of the houses across from your home are also coated with snow, while their perimeters are draped with thin icicles varying in size. Color can only be found on the holiday decorations scattering the lawns of your neighbors’ homes or the occasional evergreen shrubs nearby. Besides that, it is a white winter indeed.

“It’s so pretty,” you say after taking your toothbrush out. “Okay, we have a long day ahead of us so let me finish getting ready and we can start cleaning up, alright?” 

Lucas turns from the window to face you and says, “but it’s already clean.”

“Clean? Lucas, it’s so messy in here. Look around.”

He faces the room, not too disheveled, but surely not in its tidiest state. Magazines of holiday decor and Christmas meal recipes almost covered the entire glass coffee table. Some opened pages had brown ring stains on the wrinkly paper where a couple of hot cocoa mugs, now empty, had sat the night prior. Half of the throw blanket rests on the ground while the other half is slowly slipping off of the couch. Needless to say, it was a bit of a mess.

Turning back to you, he says, “We can clean this up easily. It'll take us… like, 20 minutes?”

Your eyes widened, wondering what makes him think the two of you could fully prepare your house for your parents’ visit in such a short amount of time. “That’s just impossible. There's a lot more to do than to tidy up this room. Plus, anytime I tell you we have to clean you get distracted in about five minutes and leave all the dirty work to me.”

“Do I?” Lucas asks as if this is something he's never noticed. 

“You do, but not this time. It's gonna be a team effort and we're gonna get it done as soon as we can, alright?” 

Lucas crosses his arms and lifts his chin as though he’s already completed the tasks he's meant to finish. “I’m at your service, m’lady. Where do you want me?”

Laughing at his newfound determination, you tell him, “Well, how about you start by clearing off that table while I finish getting ready.”

While still in his triumphant stance, he gives you a forceful nod before he goes to the table and picks up the empty mugs to place on the sink, and gets started with cleaning. Although you suspect his focus will only last for a little while, you appreciate the effort he’s putting in now. And hopefully, by the time you come back, some progress would be made.

“Ta-da!”

Upon entering the room, you’re met with a completely different atmosphere than before. The coffee table was no longer cluttered with papers and mugs, the sofa’s decorative pillows were placed comfortably at its corners, and Lucas even managed to turn on the fireplace which hadn’t worked in months. If you were to add a few more decorations, the room could’ve been featured in one of the holiday decor magazines he had set aside.

“Lucas- You did all of this?” you asked, gaping at the cleanliness of the room. 

He breaks out of his jazz hands and nods. “Yes. I did.” The accomplished grin on his face made it clear that he was proud of his work.

“I’m impressed!” you say with a smile. You thank him for what he’s done and pull out your phone to check the time. “Okay. We have like a couple more hours before my parents start on their way. Oh, but it’s supposed to snow even harder by then...”

You look out the window, noting that the driveway is already covered in snow from last night’s snowfall. “Would you mind shoveling the snow out of the driveway while I clean the rest of the house?”

“I can do that,” Lucas replies while making his way to the door to get his coat.

“Perfect. While you do that, I’ll finish getting the rest of the place ready and I can start making cookies.”

He agrees and you part ways, leaving Lucas to conquer the heaps of snow while you make sure the house is in perfect order in time for the visit.

Once the rooms are all neat and tidy, you move to the kitchen and look for all the ingredients you’ll need to make a couple batches of tasty Christmas cookies. Humming and swaying to the Christmas classics playing in the background, you make the cookie dough, tasting small bits of it against your better judgment. You turn the oven on to let it preheat and take out metal cookie cutters of various holiday theme shapes including a Christmas tree, a candy cane, a gingerbread man, and a snowman. All of which would add a fun touch of festivity to your cookie batches.

While the cute shapes of dough undergo its transformation in the oven, you look out the window and catch sight of Lucas’ figure wrapped in his large, puffy, winter parka, waddling around in the snow like a penguin with his head hidden under the faux fur hood. From the way he shuffles the snow around his feet aimlessly, he seems to have lost his shovel. Seeing him in his own little world causes a giggle to rise from your chest until you become worried he’ll lose his footing and hit the ground due to the lack of friction underneath his sneakers. Perhaps you should have reminded him to put on his snow boots.

The thin high-pitched beep coming from behind you rouses you from your thoughts and you shift your attention back to the cookies in the oven that are now producing a sweet aroma filling up the kitchen. As soon as you open it, a warm sugary scent wafts from the heated compartment, reaching your nostrils. Placing the sheet of cookies on the countertop, you figure Lucas would want to help decorate them, so you let them cool until he gets back.

As you lean against the countertop, delving in the Christmas music and delicious fragrance consuming the room’s atmosphere, a gust of icy air enters and brushes against your leg, following the sound of the front door opening and closing. You hear Lucas sniff and groan once he comes in. You’re suddenly reminded of all the time and effort you put into cleaning the floor while he was gone and your eyes widen as you rush out of the kitchen.

“Lucas, wait! Did you-”

The squeak coming from Lucas’s wet shoes stops you mid-sentence and with the words leaving your mouth, you freeze. In front of you, Lucas is huffing warm air into his hands, oblivious to the small piles of snow at his feet and the trails of melted ice he’s tracked in. Letting your head fall into your hands, you groan, rubbing your temples as if to alleviate the stress that has just been added to your plate.

“The driveway’s all clear,” you hear Lucas say between sniffs. With a sigh, you shut your eyes and nod, approaching him to take off his coat for him and hang it up.

“Well, now I have to clean this up too,” you say as you let out yet another sigh. 

Lucas’s mouth forms an ‘O’ shape upon realizing what he’s just done. You’re already rushing to find a rag to wipe up the mess.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I can help you out if you want,” he says, looking for a way to undo his mess. 

Frustration evident in your tone, you say, “No, it’s fine. Move.” 

You get on your knees beside his legs and hurriedly wipe the floor with a cloth, occasionally glancing at the clock which only builds your sense of urgency. Time is running out and this extra task is not ideal.

“Y/n,” Lucas starts. “Let me help.”

“I don’t need any,” you say as you finish wiping the floor.

As you try to walk past him, Lucas holds you by the shoulder and pulls you back into him. The tension in your muscles starts to melt away at his touch and you allow him to hold you against his body. The last thing you want to do is project your frustration onto the one person that makes you feel at peace through it all.

“It’ll be okay, we still have time,” he reassures you.

You know he’s trying to comfort you, and it’s working as always, but you know that in reality, you don’t have much time before your parents are on their way.

He kisses your cheek and says, “Now, what is that delicious smell?”

“Cookies.” You giggle at the bright smile on his face at the mention of the yummy Christmas treats. “Wanna decorate ‘em with me?” you ask. He’s already pulling you towards the kitchen before you can even finish the question.

“Okay! I think everything’s perfect.” You set the tray of freshly decorated sugar cookies on the table. You roam around the room listing off the tasks you’ve completed.  “The bathrooms are clean, the kitchen is clean, the mirrors and windows are wiped down, the driveway is- Lucas!”

You snap your attention back at the boy with a star-shaped cookie in hand, held up to his opened mouth, ready to be eaten. Frozen, he peers over at you, caught in the act.

“Put that cookie down. NOW!”

Lucas slowly places the cookie back on the tray, and sighs softly before taking a seat at the table with his head hung low, as if he’s put himself in ‘time-out’.

Your attention is captured by the ring-tone coming from your cell phone. 

“Oh my gosh, they must be on their way,” you say before picking up.

“Hi, my dear,” your mother’s familiar voice gives you a taste of home as soon as you hear it.

“Hi! Are you on your way?” you ask, hopeful.

“I hate to come bearing bad news, but it seems like we won’t be able to make it.”

A disappointed sigh leaves your lips as you think of all the work you’ve done to get the place ready for your parents’ visit. It would’ve been nice to see them again, especially in the holiday spirit, and enjoy quality time together. Your shoulders slouch as your mood drops listening to your mother explain that they’re snowed in for the night. They can’t come.

“They’re not coming?” Lucas asks once you hang up the phone.

You shake your head in response and slump into a chair at the table next to him. Sighing, you prop your elbows on the table, resting your head in your hands, and close your eyes, letting yourself enjoy a moment of calm. Your little moment is brought to an end when you feel a tickle at your bottom lip. Opening your eyes, you see an iced sugar cookie held up to your mouth.

“Taste it.” Your eyes shift upward to Lucas’s cheeky grin. You comply and take a bite out of the cookie. Eyelids fluttering shut in delight, you hum at the deliciousness of the cookie in your mouth. “Is it good?” he asks.

“Perfect,” you giggled.

He takes a bite of the cookie himself and says, “Let’s put on our pajamas,” with his mouth full. “Why? It’s not even late.” 

Although the time indicates that it’s only around 5:30 pm, the darkness outside makes it seem a lot later than it really is.

“Looks like nighttime to me,” he says, pointing towards the window.

“Okay, I guess.” He takes you by the hand and pulls you up from your seat, ushering you towards the bedroom where you can get dressed in your matching fleece pajama sets. In the warmth of your pajamas, you and Lucas decide to make the very best out of this Christmas Eve. While Lucas turns on How the Grinch Stole Christmas, you make hot chocolate in the kitchen and pour yourselves a couple mugs. You top it off with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and a candy cane leaning against the rim, adding a hint of festive cheer. Bringing the hot cocoa and tray of Christmas cookies, you join Lucas on the sofa, who didn’t bother to wait for you before starting the movie. Crystals of ice fall down the sky outside the window while the crackle and pop of the fireplace keeps you cozy inside. Lucas drapes a fleece blanket over your laps as the mugs of hot cocoa in your hands keep you warm. He wraps his arm around you, bringing you closer in, and places a sweet kiss on your cheek. Although you’d gone through so much stress during the day, to be able to comfortably relax in the warmth of Lucas’ embrace made it all worth it. 

a/n: Merry Christmas! And to those that don’t celebrate it, much love regardless ♡

Proofread by: @hunjins @danishmiilk @crownily thank you guys so so much ♡

[ka-za-ri]

Personal Assistant Pt. 7 (Finale)

Part 1: here Part 2: here Part 3: here Part 4: here Part 5: here Part 6: here Crossposted to Ao3: here

Wow, I’m surprised y’all are here. Really, I’m humbled and honored for all the followers and all the support you’ve given me in this whirlwind of a writing marathon. Please enjoy the last course of this smut fest and lemme know how y’all are feelin’ Taglist at the end.

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader Wordcount: 8,500 ish Genre: Delicious smut Tags: Multiple Orgasms, cunnilingus, aphrodisiacs, demon sex Summary: You get to experience some intimate times with Lucifer as a year with him winds to a close. 

Bonus

After your business trip, you were mandated to work from home for at least a week. Lucifer knew the extent of what you went through and bed rest was absolutely necessary to ensure you would be able to come back to work in top form. Even after a weekend of basically being bedridden right after the session, the soreness between your legs persisted as a constant reminder of just how thoroughly you had been used. So, when you received the text from him late Sunday night to work from home, you couldn’t be any more relieved. Your legs had gotten some strength back into them; but you still couldn’t freely move around without experiencing discomfort and limping. 

 With the holidays looming so closely, Lucifer was rather ashamed that he couldn’t give you proper vacation time off to recover. At the very least, he knew you were safe from prying eyes while you stayed at home and remoted in on your computer. It was strange though, not seeing you sitting at your desk, your back turned to him while you were entering data. He oddly missed turning around and seeing you filing away the monthly reports or retrieving files for a meeting. The office felt empty for the first time in a long time. 

 Caring for humans was something foreign and unfamiliar to him. But, with you, it felt like the proper thing to do. 

 He reasoned that he was simply doing his due diligence to visit your abode with physical paperwork that needed to be reviewed. It also seemed to be a natural thing for him to buy you some food; surely you were tired of cooking for yourself and your food supplies were dwindling from being unable to get to the grocery store. It didn’t cross his mind that food delivery was an option until he was mere meters away from your front door, one hand holding a heavy bag full of takeout and a thick pile of reports in his arm. Regardless of his oversight, it was too late to turn back now. 

 You had expected Lucifer to come over, drop off some papers to go over and leave you to your own devices. You had already shown to him that you could still complete the most of your usual workload in a timely manner, even if you weren't at the office with him. So, when he invited himself into your abode, stepping past you as soon as you opened the door to set down the food and papers he brought, you were taken aback to say the least. After all, Lucifer was a busy man and he had much better things to do than to get comfortable in the recliner that sat in your living room once his shoes and coat were off of him. 

 “It’s gotten a bit nippy out this week. Are you sure you’re running the heat here? It’s absolutely frigid.” He commented, loosening his tie and settling into the seat he had claimed as his own. You stared dumbly at your boss who had just so casually stepped into your home as if he lived there with you and was meant to unwind right in your living room. It had to be a dream,  you had to be hallucinating. Yet, no matter how many times you blinked or rubbed your eyes, Lucifer was right there, in your living room, his tie and the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone. 

 He looked over at your stunned face, smiling a bit. “What? Am I not allowed to make a visit to my assistant who’s been ‘out sick’ all week?” He wasn’t sure what lines he had crossed, but it felt as if his presence made you uncomfortable. Perhaps he should have given you a little more of an advanced notice before coming over. The silence between the two of you grew palpable. When at the office, he was the epitome of control and composed. Humans were easy to predict in a controlled environment where there was a clear hierarchy. In such a casual setting though, he found himself rather out of place and lost. He had only vaguely ever gotten the idea of how to behave; with how you were reacting though, he was unsure how to proceed. 

 “Did you eat?” He asked, changing the subject and gesturing over to the food he brought on the counter. If he had been too forward with getting comfortable in your space, he could at least assuage the tension by changing the subject and moving the focus over to food and not to him. It would be the perfect time to reassess his plan of action while you were distracted by eating. “You should have something before it gets cold.” 

 “I was just about to order some delivery.” You admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. Having Lucifer in such an intimate setting was strange. You could tell he didn’t feel quite as at home as he was fronting and wondered just how you could get him out so he could go back to being his usual self without you around him. 

 “I hope you don’t mind Greek.” Lucifer visibly relaxed, walking over to the bag of food and started to take out the boxes. “A new place just opened up and the marketing head suggested I try it out.” He opened the containers, revealing some of the typical dishes you expected to see, naming each one and describing them. Some dishes you were familiar with; others you had never seen before and with each description he gave, your mouth watered a little more and your stomach grumbled in hunger. 

 At the loud gurgle your stomach gave once he opened the last box, Lucifer chuckled, pulling a chair out for you at the small table, now crowded with more takeout than two people could ever eat. “Eat. I know you’re hungry.” 

 You nodded, at least having the decorum to grab some dishes and silverware before digging into the feast in front of you. The explosion of flavors and textures was a welcome change from the pizza and Chinese takeout you had been living off of for the past week. It was hard to keep your manners in mind when the table was so crammed full of boxes and you were forced to eat with the plate in your lap, hunched over the food like the gremlin that you felt like you were. 

 Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lucifer pick at his own food, ever composed and nonplussed that he wasn’t actually eating in the most ideal circumstances. The quiet that fell between you this time felt much better, the food serving as the perfect buffer between you and him and you could at least feel a little more yourself with proper sustenance in you. 

 “The year end reports are starting to roll in.” he said once you had adequate time to try everything. Now, you were just going in for seconds of what you liked best, picking at your favorites until your hunger was properly sated. “And marketing has been sending in the proposals of the ads we’ll be running this season. I’d like to go over those with you once you’re done with dinner.” 

 With the conversation focused on work, it was much easier to forget how awkward it had all been in the beginning when he walked through your door. You nodded, already grabbing the first folder on the stack to start skimming through reports. Ad proposals were much more fun to go over than pages upon pages of analysis. The sooner you could finish the boring stuff, you could look at the more interesting things. 

 “My work computer is in the room. I can move it out here once we’re done.” you said, flipping a page and sighing when there were even more numbers you needed to double check. 

 “No need, we’ll just move there.” He said, not realizing the connotations his words had. “You’re on sick leave and you must rest when you can. We’ll just carry on as you have for the past week.” 

 You felt your body heat up at his words, trying to see if he had any intentions outside of making sure you were as well rested as possible before you returned to work in a few days. You could never read him, unable to tell what his motives were, and all you could do was follow his instructions. Once all the food had been cleaned up and leftovers were stowed in the fridge, you showed him down the short hallway to your room where you had your home office set up in bed. 

 As you shuffled to your computer, he could tell there was still a bit of a limp in your gait and there was a mixture of pride and shame. On the one hand, he was glad that your body still remembered the amazing experience you shared with him, Diavolo and Barbatos. On the other, he was ashamed that you were pushed to that limit at all. And then, he remembered the reason he broke you at all in the first place. 

 So he could put you back together just how he wanted. 

 He let you climb into bed and settle the lap desk in place before handing you the first of the reports you needed to go over. Lucifer himself took a seat in the chair he had dragged over from your vanity to sit next to your bed and look over the projections for the next few months. Normally, he would have kept strict office hours; but with holidays, even he had to put in a few longer nights to keep up with how hectic things got. 

 The two of you worked in silence. Even if the location was different, the professional atmosphere was the same as it always had been at the office. The only differences were that you sat in a much more comfortable position and you were much closer to Lucifer than you normal. From where you sat, you got a much closer look at your boss while he worked. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration as he parsed out the plans for the upcoming month. His mouth was set in a straight, tight line whenever he crossed anything out and wrote corrections in the margins. He was beautifully efficient in his work, blitzing through several files in the time it took you to go through one. 

 You heard stray cats mewling from the cold outside at some point, breaking your concentration and you looked at the clock on your dresser. It was much later than you thought it would be, and you still had ad proposals to look through. Sighing and setting the reports to the side to look over during the weekend, you picked up the folders filled with ad storyboards. “Are you going home soon?” You asked, looking up at Lucifer who just finished the last of his work. 

 “Oh, I was waiting for you to finish so we can go over the ad proposals together. I’d like to hear your opinions on them in real time.” He said. Lucifer shifted from his place in the chair next to your bed to sitting beside you on your bed. You blushed, moving aside so he had ample room and got comfortable. 

 In this new position, you could feel the warmth of his body right next to yours. It was a distraction on its own, right alongside the familiar smell of his cologne. He handed you the first of the proposals, giving you a few minutes to look through it before asking for your thoughts on it. 

 What focus you had earlier was completely lost from being so close to Lucifer. It felt like an eternity since the last time you were in the office and having him right beside you, talking business had your mind and body in conflicting positions. While you struggled to pay attention to his words and stared at the papers in front of you, Lucifer smirked, knowing just what kind of effect he was having on you. 

 “So, do you think we should run it?” He asked nonchalantly leaning closer so that he could have a clear view of the storyboard. 

 You swallowed, trying to ignore how his voice sounded and how you could feel his breath ghosting across your neck. It was time for work, not time for your body to crave his touch, his kisses, his… everything. Stop. You blinked, turning the pages back and forth before voicing your thoughts. “I think the message of this ad is alright, but the target audience is off. If I saw this, I wouldn’t know what it’s trying to sell until it’s too late and I’m bored with it.” 

 He nodded, agreeing mostly with your opinion and closed the file after writing down your comments. “Alright, what about this one.” He said, pulling up the next one and letting you go through it. 

 Your eyes scanned the script and you immediately grimaced at how cheesy the writing was. You instinctively wanted to reject it and move onto the next one. However, your morbid sense of curiosity had you reading further and analyzing everything else in the file. In the end, your gut feeling was correct and you wholeheartedly turned it down from being produced. “Unless you want to lose half of your clients, I’d say bin that one.” 

 He chuckled, not bothering to write any notes on it, knowing that it wouldn’t go any further. “And what about this one?” he asked, putting another file on top of your lap desk. 

 You flipped through, engrossed in the storytelling and the script, rather shocked at the proposed budget to shoot an ad like this. You nodded, thinking through the allocated funds for the rest of the year and calculated if it would be feasible to go forward with the project. You crunched a few numbers, actually invested in the proposal and didn’t notice just how close Lucifer had gotten until his hand snuck its way under the sheets covering your legs and stopped at your thigh. 

 “What do you think?” He asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your thigh and your brain ceased to function for a moment. It felt like an eternity had passed since the last time he did anything like this to you. You looked over to him and smiled, trying to go back to the subject at hand, though your brain refused to process what he was asking you. 

 “It’s nice…” You finally managed to say. 

 “Is that all?” He asked, moving his hand further up and brushing his fingers against the apex of your thighs. “You seemed to be so interested in it, but it’s just ‘fine’?” 

 You cleared your throat, hoping it would reset your thoughts; but your brain was stuck in a constant feedback loop that refused to get over what Lucifer was doing to you. “It… it’s got good parts.” 

 Lucifer smirked, nodding at your answer and continuing his questions as if his hands weren’t teasing you. “Tell me more.” He encouraged, slipping his hand past the waistband of your shorts to rub your labia. “I’m interested in your thoughts.” 

 “I uh.. W-well.” You stuttered, swallowing hard and looking at him pleadingly. You were still sore but the way he was so soft with his touches did things to your libido and your heart. “Well, it fits the mood for the season…” You started, touching on the most basic things to get your mind in the right state. 

 “Yes, I did tell you these were proposals for the holiday season. It’s obvious it would fit the mood.” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear and his teeth nipped at your earlobe. “Come on now, your analysis for all the others was so thorough, what happened?” he drawled, smiling wickedly, knowing exactly what was making your brain stutter. His fingers parted your lips in turn making you unconsciously spread your legs for him to get easier access. 

 You bit your lip, using the pain to ground your focus to the task at hand. “Well, the year has been rather rough financially for a lot of people.” You said through gritted teeth. “Showing how they’re able to… ah--” Whatever you were about to say flew right out of your mind when his finger brushed against your clit. You gasped, your whole nether region was still so sore from the last time, but your body was quickly craving more; and the only way to get that was to work. “We’re able to show people that they can… they can afford to celebrate on a budget… Ah… Lucifer…” you whined, rolling your hips up and gasping at how stiff all your muscles were. The sudden jolt of pain keeping you from reacting the way you wanted to. 

 He hushed you, kissing your jaw and teased your nether lips further with his fingers, running them up and down your slit which was quickly becoming wet from his ministrations. You whimpered, hating how you were being forced to sit still due to your own body’s limits. 

 “Yes, I’m listening still.” He replied nonchalantly, trailing his kisses down your neck and nipping the skin there with his teeth. “I’m concerned about the budget they’ve set for this ad… your thoughts on that?” 

 You gulped, amazed that he was still asking questions about the damn ad as if his fingers weren’t coated with your essence at that very moment. You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself but not doing a very good job at it. “We-well… initial calculations say that it’s not something that can be done right no--- ahh…” You gasped in pleasure when you felt firm pressure on your clit, his finger rubbed circles around it and made you see stars. “Right now… b-but if we reallocate funds from the IT department that submitted their final budget for the year and th...they have a surplus, we can manage….” 

 “Oh? That’s very good news then…” Lucifer smiled, loving the way you struggled to keep yourself composed while he unraveled you bit by bit with his fingers. Tentatively, he probed your entrance, wondering how well you had healed over the week. When you yelped in pain, instinctively closing your legs against that touch, he stopped immediately. “This was my favorite out of all the ones submitted, I’m glad that you approve of it as well.” 

 Lucifer went back to teasing your folds, making you forget about the pain and put your body back into the relaxed, aroused state it had been in before. Now that he knew your limits, he was free to skirt them right at the edge, teasing you until you squirmed with pleasure. “I’ll let Marketing know the good news over the weekend so they can start the project as soon as possible.” 

 “I’m sure they’ll be very happy about that.” 

 “Indeed they will be. Final thing, I just need you to sign off on these reports and I’ll be on my way home.” He said before dropping a sizable stack of papers in front of you. “I need them right away so I can submit them over the weekend and get underwriting to process them first thing next week.” He explained. His touches slowed to a halt and you felt the fog of pleasure lift a little. Now though, you ached for his continued caresses and you whined loudly when he pulled his hand out from under the sheets. 

 “Do as you’re told and you’ll be rewarded accordingly.” He stated firmly, all the while making the most lewd show of licking his fingers coated in your slick. 

 Never in your life had you started reading boring documents so quickly. You were skimming words, processing them, but just barely, all to get to what you were promised. Even if your body ached and screamed in protest, what Lucifer had teased you with was too tantalizing to pass up. 

 He smiled, planting a soft kiss at your temple before leaving your side. You startled, looking up at him with pleading eyes, wondering if he was leaving for the night. “I’ll be right back…” He reassured you with a self satisfied smirk. 

 You wondered what he meant by those words for a brief moment before his actions did all the explaining as he ducked his head under the sheets and nestled himself between your legs. You swallowed, parting your legs for him after he slid your shorts and panties off. You could feel his warm breath on your inner thighs, traveling higher and higher until the tip of his nose brushed against your pussy and you whined softly at the contact. 

 There was still an important task to be done and you had to see it through. All the while Lucifer happily lapped at your core. His hands firmly at your thighs to keep your legs parted for him. His tongue traced your slit slowly and you caught your breath with each pass he took. The words on the pages in front of you had no meaning, but you kept reading them anyway. 

 The lewd sounds of him licking and sucking your folds were muffled under the sheets, yet they were still loud enough to be the only sounds your ears picked up on. Your breathing came out in stuttered breaths as you turned the last page in a report and mindlessly signed your name. Closing the file and moving on to the next one, you felt Lucifer press the flat of his tongue all along your pussy, spreading your labia and just brushing past your abused hole. At that, you moaned loudly, your hips jerking at the contact and sending pain shooting across your sore muscles. However, when you felt the tip of his tongue circle your clit, the pain dissipated and all that was left was a delicious soreness which mingled with the pleasure. 

 It was so hard to focus on your work, his tongue worked you into a frenzy, leaving you shuddering and moaning his name. You came as soon as you finished signing off on the second report. There were three more to go in the stack and you wondered if you could cum once for every one that was left. It would be perfect motivation to keep working. 

 No matter how many times your body was being pushed to the point of overstimulation, you could never get used to it. The way every nerve in your body seemed to vibrate with every touch and made you twitch in pleasure always felt new; and you couldn’t get enough of that euphoria. You had never been made to work through that state, but it was a test of your willpower now, going through reports while Lucifer’s tongue worked you  into orgasm over and over again. 

 You felt like it took hours to complete reading everything. However, when you glanced up at the clock, barely an hour had passed and you were a quivering mess in your own bed, your boss between your legs, lazily licking your essence off your thighs as you came one last time, signing the last report off. “I… All the reports are done…” 

 You hated how cold you felt when he unburrowed himself from under your sheets. You could see your essence glistening on his lips and his chin, his eyes glowing that deep red color that made your heart skip a beat. “Very good job.” He praised, picking everything up and gathering it into his arms. He kissed the top of your head, making you feel dizzy from his praise and the number of times you came from just having his mouth attached to your pussy for an hour. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He said, preparing to leave. 

 A small part of you was heartbroken he didn’t want to stay. “Yeah… I’ll see you Monday…” You said weakly, smiling wistfully at his retreating form. 

 ~~

 A year to a human was no insignificant amount of time. As an immortal, this was the hardest concept for Lucifer to grasp. Yet, after having you around for a year, it felt natural for him to celebrate the time he had spent with you. 

 You expected work to be piled up when you got back to the office. However, with your absence and also the general hectic nature of the holidays approaching, you were swamped with work. Staying late to catch up and working yourself into an exhausted heap, there were nights where you simply fell asleep on one of the couches in the lounge area so you didn’t have to worry about losing time with your commute. 

 Even if Lucifer wanted you to slow down, the corporate world and human greed made it impossible. You weren’t the only one who worked to the bone. Even he had to pick up a fair amount of extra work to ensure the year ended smoothly. The last three months that year were a blur, you barely remembered who you talked to or what you did. All that mattered was making sure the company ran as smooth as possible. 

 So when the worst of it was all over and the department parties began, it felt as if the whole building got to sigh in relief now that the storm had passed. You were invited to a fair number of new year celebrations, both you and Lucifer’s schedules were filled with more parties than meetings. Seeing all the employees under his wing celebrate another successful year with him warmed your heart. It was a rare opportunity to see him interact with others and seeing him in such a joyous setting made your heart swell with pride. 

 With the last of the company parties out of the way, you were finally able to release the sigh of relief you had been holding for months. As soon as you returned to the office, it was as if a weight had been lifted and you were free to at least pretend the workload would lessen as the year rolled over. You were about to start packing your things up when you noticed a parcel on your desk. Curious, you opened it and it revealed a beautiful sparking black and red gown. You looked back at Lucifer who was leaning against his desk, watching you for your reaction. “You didn’t think I’d plan a celebration for the two of us now, did you?” He sauntered over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We count as our own department, right?” 

 “Of course… How could I forget.” You laughed, running your hand across the delicate fabric, marveling at how it shifted in the light. 

 “Go on, get dressed, I’ll get the rest of the preparations ready.” 

 You couldn’t have run into the bathroom any faster. Your legs quivered a little in excitement and you nearly tripped out of your work clothes before shimmying into the black and red number you had been gifted. You were surprised at how well it fit you. Like a glove, it hugged your every curve in the right way to accentuate it. The fabric shimmered with every movement, making it look like you were walking through smoke. It felt odd to be in such a lavish dress and have nothing else to match it. 

 You ran your fingers through your hair, rearranging it in a way you thought framed your face a little better to accentuate the dress. You wanted to touch up your makeup, but had neglected to bring any with you in your rush to get changed. You would have to make do with what you had. Turning this way and that, you took one last look in the mirror and accepted the fact that it was as good as it was going to get with what you had. 

 Stepping back out into the office space, you gasped at how quickly Lucifer had managed to transform it. There was a clear hint of magic in the air, there was no other way to explain the softly glowing orbs that illuminated the room in a warm light. They floated through the air, suspended by nothing and fueled by whatever magic Lucifer had put into them. A table for two had been set up in the time it took you to get dressed and what looked like a delightful meal awaited you. Even Lucifer had changed his usual black and grey work suit to something with a little more red in it to match you. 

 Once again, he was waiting for you while leaning on his desk. As soon as he saw you, he picked up a pair of champagne flutes which sat next to him on his desk. He walked over and offered you the drink, a soft smile on his face. “Courtesy of Barbatos.” He explained, gesturing at the plates of food on the table. “He felt bad about his first impressions with you and wanted to make up for it. So, lucky me, I get catering from the best chef I know for this party.” 

 You giggled slightly, taking a sip of the champagne. “I hope that doesn’t mean that you expect me to cook for you in the future as your assistant. I’ll have you know the extent of my cookery knowledge will be phoning Barbatos up and asking him to deliver something for you.” You joked. 

 Lucifer let out a genuine laugh, leading you over to the table and helping you get seated. “Oh no, I don’t expect that from you at all. But, I’ll take note of that in case I change my mind later.” 

 Truth be told, though the food presented was some of the best you had ever eaten, being in close company with Lucifer was even better. For once, conversation didn’t revolve around work, instead, he regaled you with tales of where he came from and all the troubles he had to get Diavolo out of. The chatter and the good food filled your heart and your soul; you didn’t think you would ever get to see this side of Lucifer, but you were eternally grateful for the chance to witness it. 

 “Ah, the last thing. You can’t end a good meal without dessert.” Lucifer got up and reached for a box on his desk. Coming back, he presented you with an array of chocolate coated strawberries. “Please, help yourself.” he encouraged, turning the box to you. “I have a bit of an allergy to them, so they’re all yours.” 

 You tentatively took one, feeling rather guilty that Lucifer wouldn’t be able to join you; however, with a little bit of coaxing, your worries were laid to rest and you happily bit into the fruit.  Lucifer watched your expression of joy as you indulged in one of your favorite treats. The way you made such happy sounds when enjoying something had him entirely amused. All the while, a small, knowing smile played at his lips. “They’re not going anywhere. You can take your time.” He said when he noticed just how quickly you were devouring them. 

 In an attempt to pace you, he pulled the box away from your grasp, plucking one of the strawberries from it and offered it to you. He looked at you expectantly, an eyebrow cocked up as he enticed you to lean in and take a bite. 

 You blushed, flustered that he would be feeding you dessert in this way. There was a distinct intimacy in how he delicately held the fruit out to you with one hand. His other hand cupped below it to catch anything that might fall. You obeyed after a moment of hesitation, leaning forward and taking it into your mouth. Somehow, just from having Lucifer present you dessert in such a way had dessert tasting so much sweeter to you. 

 You were halfway through the strawberries when you realized something felt off.The room felt warmer, the floating lights pulsed in a way that cast a halo around Lucifer, somehow making him look angelic to you. You thought it was because you were too tired after a whole week of festivities. It must have been past your normal bedtime and your body wanted to rest. At least, that’s what you thought was the case. But when he spoke again and his voice seemed to penetrate your whole body, sending shivers down your spine and pooling right to your core; you knew it had to be something else. 

 “Shall we dance?” he asked, getting up after he had finished feeding you what was left of the box of sweets. He held his hand out expectantly; with a little bit of magic, soft music filtered through the room and set the mood. While you struggled to comprehend what was happening to your body, you mindlessly followed his directions. All your nerves tingled, from the tips of your fingers to your scalp, everything seemed to vibrate with a heat and a need that built itself out of seemingly nowhere

 The moment he placed his hand in your own and wrapped his arm around your waist, things started to click and your whole body heated up further at the realization. Your eyes blow wide open and your lips parted in a perpetual pant as he nonchalantly lead you in a slow dance, circling the empty area of the office to the beat of the soft music. You followed him in a haze, barely noticing your body move, a practical rag doll in his arms as he spun you around and watched your pupils get ever wider and the flush on your cheeks get ever deeper. 

 You were so hot and bothered in such a short period of time, it was absolutely overwhelming. Your hands shook in his, your mind barely able to comprehend the music as it was singularly focused on his warmth, his smell, his voice, his everything that was so close to you. You couldn’t look up at him, ashamed that with every dance step you shared, your essence flowing so freely from you was being smeared along your thighs and the back of your legs. 

 He knew what he had done, you could tell with the way the corner of his lip turned up. He was trying so hard to hide that self-satisfied smirk he always had on whenever you were right where he wanted you. You were so wet and ready for something other than the innocent game he was playing; but you knew better than to rush him. So you held onto your slipping control, pretending everything was alright when your body screamed to be used and not teased. That control disintegrated as you could smell your arousal while you dance; you knew there was no way he missed that smell either. 

 “Is something the matter?” he asked, his voice full of faux concern after the second time you circled the room. “You seem so out of it.” 

 “It’s just… It’s hot, Lucifer.” You said, clinging onto his lapels and leaning into him. With his arm no longer around your waist, you couldn’t seem to keep yourself upright. You could hear his heart beating as you pressed your face against his chest, steadying yourself. “It’s… I don’t know what happened, I’m just, so hot…” It was a lie, you knew exactly what happened, what those strawberries were laced with, but you couldn’t say it out loud, not when you were so affected by his sneaky little plan. 

 “Oh dear… Are you coming down with something?” He asked, gently guiding you to sit down where you stood. “Are you feeling ill? Are you hurt?” 

 Yes, you were hurt, your whole body ached in need and he was playing around like he didn’t have any idea what he had done to you. You whine, pulling the skirt of your dress up, a wave of cool air offering you a bit of relief on your heated body. “I hurt… right here.” You said, spreading your legs apart and giving him a clear view of the wet mess you had become in such a short time. “It’s hot… and I hurt…” 

 Your lips and throat felt dry, your whole body flushed and heated to a point where you wanted to tear off the fancy dress and just dunk yourself into a vat of ice water. You needed relief that only he could give you. Lucifer’s face of concern changed drastically the moment you revealed yourself to him and that sadistic smile you knew so well spread across his face. 

 “Oh now, that is a problem…” He murmured, pressing a finger against your soiled panties and rubbing his finger up and down to mold the fabric to your slit. “But… I would hate for you to leave the party so soon.” He drawled, putting on a dramatic pout. “I was so sure you would enjoy your time, is it not to your liking?” He pulled the skirt back down, earning a desperate whine from you; but you didn’t protest. There was a promise of satisfaction in the lilt of his voice and you were willing to go through the ends of the world at that point to get to it. 

 You crawled into his lap, rubbing your face against his crotch in a futile attempt to get him to the same playing field as you were. But, he was firm, preventing you from getting what you craved and helped you back up on your quivering feet. The music had stopped and the lights dimmed, giving you a sense of security. You leaned against him, tears starting to form as your desire became the only thing you could think about. You wanted him so badly. “What else do you have in mind for tonight?” You asked, your voice shaking and you looked up at him. 

 “Just some games....” He replied casually, leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Just the brief contact along sent a massive wave of arousal through you and you saw stars for a moment. “Mainly, I want to see how long before the special ingredients in those strawberries really kick in.” 

 Your eyes went wide. If this wasn’t the brunt of the effects coursing through your body, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. There was no way it could get any more intense than this, yet the way he spoke hinted only at a high that you hadn’t felt before. He chuckled, burrowing his head at the crook of your neck, kissing your sensitive, heated skin and you were helpless to stop him. Your whole body spasmed in need as your nerves were caressed and teased. It lost feeling at the tip of your fingers and your arms fell limp to your sids as you were completely swept away from him. 

 He didn’t need to do anything more than grab one of your breasts, kneading it experimentally before your tender nipples sent enough pleasure signals through your body to have you cumming. Your knees gave out and you sank to the ground, gasping as you rode out the sudden climax. The edge of your vision blurred and your ears rang as you caught your breath. Looking up, you saw Lucifer with that stupid smirk on his face, his eyes glittering and a noticeable bulge growing in his pants. You reached up to nuzzle it, burrow your head against the thing you crave and took in his musk. “Please… I need you…” You begged. “I need you right now…” 

 Those were the words he had been waiting to hear from you. Just the sound of your pleas were music to his ears and did more for his libido than you could ever imagine. He brought you back up on your feet, kissing you deeply and swallowing all the delightfully lewd moans that came from your throat. His hand laced into your hair at the back of your head kept you right where he wanted as he took the prize he had waited all day for. “Then you shall have me.” He said, licking his lips menacingly once he broke the kiss. 

 You were ready to sink to your hands and knees and let him use you as he saw fit. However, he brought you out of the office and into the elevator instead. You blinked in confusion until you saw him wave a black card over the scanner at the elevator, requesting for a floor that you never accessed before. It wasn’t until you stepped out that you realized he had brought you to the top most floor to his own abode. 

 There was no time to admire the great view that the floor to ceiling windows had of the city. You weren’t in the right mind to notice the collection of fine art or the practical furnishings that decorated his abode. All that mattered was the beeline the two of you made to his bedroom. Even if you wanted to take a second to soak in your surroundings, Lucifer gave you no time to do so, nearly throwing you into the massive bed in the room. You let out a little yelp of surprise when you hit the silky sheets; but that was quickly replaced with your need to feel his hands on your skin. 

 Now that he had you in his own space, in the privacy of his own home; Lucifer had the freedom to act as he wished. The first order of business was to help you out of that slinky number of yours. It had served its purpose and now he was ready to move onto looking at the most beautiful thing he possessed. He chuckled darkly, sliding the straps of the dress of your shoulders, turning you over just long enough to pull the zipper down to reveal your lacy underthings. As soon as the dress fell to the floor, it took no time at all for him to expose the rest of you by quickly removing your panties and bra.

 Even if it took mere seconds to divest you of all your clothes, it felt like an eternity to you. The drag of the fabric across your skin made you shiver. His featherlight touches made you moan and when he finally pulled away to witness your nude form, the way he licked his lips made you shiver in anticipation. 

 Without clothes, the heat of your body was more bearable; however, it did nothing to quell your pussy’s need to be stuffed full with his cock. Spreading yourself wide once again, you beckoned him to take what you knew he wanted. This time, he was more than happy to oblige to your request. His clothes seemed to evaporate off of him; likely a result of some magic, but you didn’t care  to discuss the details on how he removed his clothes. What you cared about the feeling of his weight above your own and the fullness you felt whenever he entered you. 

 Your hips levitated off the bed as soon as the tip of his cock started to tease at your folds. “Please, don’t play with me like this, Sir.” you cried, clutching onto the sheets below you as he made slow  passes up and down your slit. He chuckled darkly, pushing you just a little further before he finally, gratefully put the tip of his cock into you. 

 Just at that, you could feel your inner walls clenching around him at your entrance, wanting to draw him in  further into you. With how busy you had been with work and how much time he had given you to recover since being impaled by Diavolo and himself, it had been an eternity and a half since you last felt him fill your needy hole with his dick. A mixture of curses and his name fell from your lips as you hungrily took every inch of him. He was so terrible, taking his time to make the first pass in you; but it was the most fulfilling experience when he was fully seated inside of you. Your body molded itself around him, clinging to him for dear life as you rutted against his hips, begging for stimulation.

 He didn’t want to torture you any further, after seeing your sweet face scrunch of up pure pleasure once he fully sank himself into you. Now, what he wanted was for your body to memorize just how good he could make it feel; and that meant fucking you right into his bed. The pace he set was just enough to bring you to the precipice of an orgasm with a few thrusts. “I know you want to cum…” He growled into your ear. “Feel free to do as many times as you want tonight.” 

 As soon as the permission was given, you spasmed around his cock still thrusting into you. You screamed his name, the sounds of sex and your moans filling the room as he picked up the pace and slammed his hips into you harder as you climaxed. Fucking you while your inner walls fluttered in orgasm never failed to bring him close to the edge and he was losing himself as well to the throes of pleasure. 

 You counted maybe two or three more orgasms before his own hips stuttered and his pace became erratic, his own release coming soon. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him closer to you until his own hips stilled and he spilled his seed into you. 

 The brunt of what was in the strawberries finally hit you and the need that roiled in your blood intensified, making you keen and milk him hungrily. He pulled out of you, watching his cum drip out of your hole before taking a finger and slowly working it back into you. The sex was already mindblowing and your body was telling you that it was getting tired of being so overstimulated; but, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more and you pulled him in for a searing hot kiss full of tongue and teeth. “I want all of you. Give me that demon cock of yours. Fill me.” You demanded in between kisses. “Please, I need it…” 

 You heard him chuckle darkly before he agreed to your request. There was a fluttering sound and you saw black feathers in your peripheral vision as he shifted into his demon form. You smiled lazily, admiring how beautiful he was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. You hadn’t seen this side of him since the first time. Even if you knew what to expect the second time around, it was just as awe inspiring as the first. You knew what was to come now and you eagerly awaited his next move. 

 “Hands and knees.” He growled and you scrambled to follow his orders. Your knees quaked a bit as you got into position. You could feel the bed dip from his weight as he joined you in it, lining the tip of his cock with your dripping cunt. With one smooth motion, he was buried in you right up to the top of his knot. “Yes... “ He hissed, fisting his hand in your hair and pulling you up to be flush up against his chest while he set a brutal pace. “Yes..” 

 You were in heaven, your body feeling nothing but euphoria as it conformed to every ridge and vein of his cock that worked in and out of you. You came only after a few thrusts, but you knew it was far from over. Lucifer’s thick girth and massive length working in and out of your dripping pussy would push you right to the edge of pure bliss and you couldn’t wait to chase that feeling with him. 

 His free hand snaked around your waist to rub your clit, sending you keening and again into another orgasm. His sharp fangs raked the soft skin of your neck, leaving welts and marks that would last for days. The pain only added to the experience and you rode out yet another high around his cock. 

 “All of me.” He growled, slowing his thrusts to start pushing his knot into you. You let out a strangled gasp, feeling the familiar stretch at your entrance. It was blindingly blissful, being penetrated so deeply by his cock and then to be stretched to your limits with his knot. There was no other feeling like it and even without the aphrodisiacs coursing through you, you knew it was the best sex you would ever have. You breathed slowly, feeling every inch of his knot enter you, your eyelids fluttering as you could only imagine what it looked like right now as your pussy engulfed him. 

 He groaned when the tie was complete, your core accepting every last bit of him and now, his true pleasure began. He pushed you back onto the bed, letting you brace yourself on your elbows while his hands went to your waist to keep you steady. He rutted into you, rocking back and forth and groaning every time he felt your walls clench around him. You could tell he was close and with one last possessive growl, he pushed himself as deeply as he could into you, releasing his load. The warmth of his seed filling you doing its job as it brought you to one last climax before you felt your arms give way and you collapsed from exhaustion. 

 Lucifer gently maneuvered you to lay on your side so he could join you in the bed with his knot still fully embedded in you. He could still feel his balls twitching, releasing his cum in spurts inside of you as he nestled you into the crook of his arms and protectively wrapped his wings around your form. 

 “Congratulations on making it through a year here.” He praised, stroking your hair and lulling you into sleep. 

 “Of course, I expect to be with you for many years to come.” 

 “That’s exactly what I want to hear.” He chuckled, kissing the top of your head as you dozed off into slumber. “Stay for the night… It’s too late to get you home by now.” 

 “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” You said, clenching yourself around his cock and he chuckled at your response. 

 “This is very true.” He said, still petting you methodically and watching you fall asleep. 

 He waited patiently for you to start softly snoring before he allowed himself the privilege of resting as well. His knot was still hard and firmly entrenched in you and it would likely stay that way for a few more hours. He watched your body slowly rise and fall in slumber and listened to you mumble in your sleep while he let himself soak in the soft moment. 

 “I love you, Lucifer…” You mumbled in your sleep, shifting a little and clinging onto the arm he had thrown across you. 

 “I know.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head, fully satisfied with the result of a long years’ worth of training. “I love you, too.” 

 Caring for humans was still a foreign concept to Lucifer; but, he could make an exception for you.

Fin

Taglist: @ptv-hades @bluelipsblueveins-blue @utopiamiroh @vanillaicebaby @taehyungtrasholiviahaneul99 @weebartistinc

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man in his Castle

Warnings: noncon sex. Let’s not be fools here. You know what I write.

This is dark!Charles Blackwood and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A co-ed discovers that money is still king.

Note: Charles is fun because he’s already horrible. I know my summary sucks but I hope you all enjoy this. It takes place in the 1960s so keep that in mind and enjoy! But let me know what you think in reblog or reply and slap a like on there <3

There were more than a dozen girls squeezed into the windowless classroom in the basement of Victory Hall. The book club had grown quite a bit since your first week on campus. The Brownies, you called yourself. An ironic play upon a lifetime of ridicule.

Every Friday night you met in some abandoned room bartered off the registrar and set to discussing your most recent read. Sheila was the leader; bolder than you as she fostered your sprout of an idea. She was cooler, calmer, and by all means, more radical. And she was a senior.

The flock of freshmen looked up to her and the few other older girls in the group. She had brought along with her, Linda and Patty; the former with her stiff turtlenecks and the latter her faded beret. These were the types your mother had warned you against. Peddling their liberalism in the name of Kennedy and Kruschev.

That week, your group had chosen Miller’s famed play, The Crucible; still relevant despite a decade past. Though the red scare had faded to orange, there was still a breath of suspicion in the air. As people marched in the streets and sat-in at diners and cafes, the old breed was growing nervous. The world was about to change, with or without them.

You sat amid the circle with your worn copy against your knee. You took turns reading the lines and pausing to discuss the intricate and yet overt allusions made by the playwright. The furor of the blacklist which still lingered in the air. A paranoia much broader than years before. No longer just the Reds, but all who spoke of equality and freedom; no longer exclusive to a single group. The same tensions which kept you in the basement with the dingy old desks.

You couldn’t help but smile at the group of girls. When you’d arrived on campus, you were certain you’d be the same loner as before. Solitary nights spent barricaded in your dorm only to lose yourself in the crowd of the lecture hall. 

But Sheila had changed that. She was in your elective Lit class, filling a void in her audit so that she could graduate on time. You had lost yourself in a discussion of Marx and the mounting tensions with the East; not that they ever really subsided. 

Then she invited you to meet Linda and Patty for a drink. Your lack of ID didn’t keep you from the chance to make friends as she knew the doorman by name. That was when you mentioned the club. It was just you and your friend, Elsie. Not really a club, more so a pair of girls with nothing better to do. But Sheila liked it and the next week, she had six new girls to add to your duo.

Now, you were a full blown corps. The three seniors and at least fifteen freshmen, a few in between to fill out the circle. 

Sheila snapped her book shut and declared the end of the night as she checked her watch. 

“We’ll finish next week,” She chimed. “Granted we don’t devolve so easily again.”

The girls giggled and began to pack up. You stood and shoved your book into your leather bag. Sheila stood with Linda at the back of the circle and Patty offered a goodbye to each girl as they left. Most did so in pairs or trios. Safety in numbers.

Your dorm wasn’t far and so you would keep a brisk pace with your keys in hand. You turned and Sheila called to you before you could reach the door. You spun back and neared her and Linda.

“Hey, you need a walking partner?” She asked. “Me and Linda are head down the The Cask. We’ll be headed past yours.”

“If you’re headed that way,” You accepted eagerly.

You helped rearrange the chairs and desk with the three seniors. Patty left on her own as Sheila locked the door. You walked on her right as Linda kept to her left and made your way out of the depths of Victory Hall. The night was cool but not bitter. You pulled your collar up as you passed between the carefully trimmed hedges.

“You sure you don’t want to come for a drink?” Linda asked. “Seeing as Patty ditched us.”

“Oh, you know she has that boy waiting for her,” Sheila countered.

“Um, no, I have an early morning,” You replied. “But thanks.”

“What about next weekend?” Sheila asked.

“Next weekend?” You wondered.

“Wanna come to a party?”

“A… a senior party?” You glanced over at her as you tucked your hands in your pockets.

“Oh, no, it’s not on campus,” She trilled. “But I think you’d like it.”

“Off-campus?” You said surprised. “Really?”

“A bit of an older crowd but…” She lowered her voice, “Of a similar mind as us.”

Your eyes widened. You blinked at her and she laughed.

“Oh calm down, they’re no interlopers, merely open-minded,” She assured you. “You have to realize that this little club, that’s a children’s game. If you’re serious, these are the people you need to rub shoulders with.”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty seedy downtown and the last time--”

“Downtown?” She scoffed. “Oh, this is different from that hole in the wall.”

“Where--”

“Uptown, actually,” She preened. “You know, we do have allies with money. They hide among the enemy until we can truly act.”

“I don’t know. That sounds--”

“You worry too much. It’s not illegal to meet people who think like you do,” She said. “Otherwise us Brownies would be akin to the mob.”

You laughed at yourself and watched your scuffed shoes on the sidewalk. “I guess you’re right. Um, what kind of party is it, exactly?”

“Wear something nice,” She picked a thread from your jacket. “Fancy dress hides a humble heart.”

You nodded and gripped the strap of your bag. “Sure, why not?” You shrugged.

“I’ll see you in Lit,” She stopped just outside your gate. “I’ll give you the details then. You should ask Elsie to come with you.”

“Alright,” You breathed. “Yeah, I’ll ask her.”

“Have a good night,” She sang and Linda echoed her. 

“You, too.��� You smiled.

You turned and unlocked your gate as their heels continued down the pavement. You let yourself inside and listened until there was silence. You were happy to have friends, happier that you were so much alike, but the thought of a party had your stomach aflutter.

🏰

You found your only formal dress. Rather, your most formal dress. A long-sleeved black number that flared at the knee. You wore the simple silver chain your mother gifted you for your high school graduation and a pair of kitten heels. You hugged yourself with a red shawl and grabbed your purse.

Elsie waited just outside your dorm room. She looked as nervous as you felt. The lack of details gave both of you the jitters. You were two shy girls who found each other among the sea of students. You took comfort in knowing you weren’t the only one in over your head.

And Sheila would be there too. She could help you maneuver your way through this maze of etiquette and idealism.

You took a bus as far as you could but at the last stop, you were still three blocks away from the place. Blackwood Manor. Sheila’s loopy cursive marked it on the corner of paper. The house on the hill, she said, can’t miss it.

The gates towered over you as you approached. Tinted lanterns lit the walkway and you pressed the button over the small speaker box. A dull voice greeted you from the other side.

“Um, hello,” Elsie squeezed your arm as you bent to speak into the box. “We’re here for the party.”

“Par-ty?” The voice said.

“We’re friends of, uh, Sheila.” You replied nervously.

“Ah, yes, Miss Sheila.” The crackle died and the gate clicked. 

You looked to Elsie and a man in grey neared from the other side. He pulled open the gate and removed his cap as he waited for you to enter. A car drove up, its bright headlights washed over you, as you walked up the drive and the gates man spoke with its occupants.

At the front door, you met with a man with grey hair and the same even tone that rose from the speaker. He took your shawl and Elsie’s coat and directed you to the next room. You detached Elsie from your arm and gave her a look. She smiled tensely and smoothed the front of her dress.

The sparkle of the chandelier drew your eyes first. The light refracted from the crystals and illuminated the large room. Men in suits stood around with drinks in hand and chattered. You heard the next guests enter behind you and stepped out of their way.

You spotted Sheila in the far corner, a broad pair of shoulders left her barely visible. There were several other girls you recognized; Linda. Darla and Colleen, two other Brownies, and even a couple girls from your Lit class. Every women in the room was barely that; they were all bright-eyed co-eds amid a conclave of stiff-lipped men.

You felt a chill crawl up your spine but resisted the shiver. You were just anxious about all these strangers. It was natural to be a little nervous.

Elsie followed you across the room and smiled at Sheila over the shoulder of the man she spoke to. She waved you over and the man turned to look at you. His blue eyes flicked from you to Elsie and back again. His expression was placid as he buttoned his jacket.

“Charles, these are my friends,” She introduced you and Elsie, “And this is Charles Blackwood, our host.”

He seemed to recall himself and shook your hand and then Elsie’s. His grip was firm and his expression unbreakable. He was entirely unimpressed by you and your plain black dress.

“You have a beautiful house,” You offered. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere so… grand.”

“It was my grandfather’s,” He said tersely as his eyes explored the room. “Sheila, if you’ll excuse me, I must speak with Gerald.”

“Of course,” She kissed his cheek and his lip curled before he walked away. “Sorry about him,” Sheila turned to you. “He’s a bit antsy, you know? Always is on nights like these.”

“I never…” You looked at Elsie as her eyes bounced around in wonder, “I never would think anyone who lived like this would you know, agree with us.”

“Oh, but we already know money isn’t everything,” She said. “You know, these men, they know that and they want to use their money for good. They want to make sure that students like us make it through college and go on to speak our truth to the world.”

She stopped a man passing by and took a wine glass from his tray. She offered you it and grabbed another for Elsie and herself. She batted her lashes at the waiter and returned her attention to you.

“Which is why you should loosen up and talk to some of these men,” She advised. “They are much preferable to the boys on campus and much more powerful. My second year, I had my tuition paid in full by one of Charles’ friends.”

“Wow,” Elsie gasped. “Really?”

“Consider it a grant,” Sheila explained. “Spread the wealth, right?”

“I suppose…” You uttered.

“Oh, there’s Patty,” Sheila perked up. “I knew she’d be the last one here. Pardon me a moment.”

“Alright,” You turned and watched her go as she waved over the heads to her friend. 

You brought the glass to your lips and the alcohol burned your nostrils. Your stomach turned and you lowered the flute. Elsie drank deeply as you glanced around. A man with thick silver hair and a sharp aquiline nose stared at you from across the room.

You fidgeted and slipped behind Elsie to set your glass down.

“You should take it easy,” You warned her as she gulped down the wine. 

🏰

The man with silver hair introduced himself as Harry. You weren’t fond of him as he talked of his new car and something about a cottage up north. You were confused. Sheila intimated that these people were like you; maybe not communists are heart, but left-leaning at least. They surely didn’t sound like it.

You glanced around for the umpteenth time and frowned. You didn’t see Sheila or Linda or Patty. Elsie was with a man in a striped suit, Darla and Colleen sipped from glasses as they listened to a pair of men banter, and you were stuck in the corner with this grey-haired boor.

You excused yourself, claiming to need the powder room, and walked along the wall as you searched the room. The seniors were gone. And something else caught your eye. The men drank from their stout tumblers and the women, more aptly girls, all held champagne flute. Yours was still on the table, untouched.

You neared Elsie and excused your interruption as you turned her away from her companion. You lowered your voice.

“Have you seen Sheila?” You asked.

She shook her head and wobbled. She giggled as she steadied herself with your arm. “Nope!”

“How much of that have you had?” You took her glass from her.

“This is only my…. Third,” She counted on her fingers.

“Well, I think three is enough,” You said. “Why don’t you come to the restroom with me? Splash some water on your face?”

“No, no,” She shrugged you off. “I’m talking to Gerald.” She turned back and smiled at the balding man. “He has a fellowship.”

“Elsie,” You drew her back. “Something’s… wrong.”

“What do you mean?” She hiccuped. “It’s all quite fine, isn’t it?”

“Just…” You peeked over your shoulder. “Wait here for me, okay? Don’t go anywhere else.”

She rolled her eyes and you sighed. You left her reluctantly and stopped a waiter as you neared the main archway. You asked him where the restroom was and ducked into the hallway. You passed by the foot of the staircase towards the next and paused. 

You peered around the wall and pulled back. You slipped off your heels and looked back at the room that swirled with voices. You tiptoed to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. You searched for a mechanism but there was only the intricately wrought handle. 

You went back to the stairs and listened to the buzz from the front room. You climbed a step at a time as your ears perked up at every creak and crack. You wondered what had happened to Sheila and the others. It was unlike them to leave early. And why was the door locked?

You found a window and carefully turned the latch. You shifted it up and cringed as the wood loudly rubbed together. You stuck your head out and stared down at the grass below. There was a tree not far from you, a few windows away.

“Can I help you?” The voice frightened you and you hit your head on the window as you reeled back. You turned to your host, Charles, as he leaned against the bannister.

“I was… looking for Sheila.” You lied.

“Oh, outside?” He wondered with a smirk.

“Well, no, I just needed a breath of fresh air so I thought…” Your voice trailed off as he stood straight.

“The party’s downstairs,” He said evenly. “I’m sure you just missed her.”

You stared at him. His eyes sparkled with mischief. Your heart dropped and your heels threatened to slip from your sweaty hand.

“She’s gone,” You said. His lips curved again and he chuckled. “What’s going on here?”

He inched forward as he pushed back his jacket and shoved a hand in his pocket.

“She did her job. Delivered what she promised.” He said coolly. “Can you blame her for cutting out?”

“What--” You backed up until you were against the window ledge. “I don’t understand.”

“You tried the front door, didn’t you?” 

You blinked and your shoes fell from your grasp.

“You think you can get to that tree? Even if you moved a few windows to the left?” He got closer. “Or maybe… you think you can get past me.”

Your lips parted as his features hardened. His brow twitched as he held your gaze. He didn’t look away as he knelt and grabbed your shoe. He took your foot and shoved the kitten heel on. He did the other and stood.

“Let’s go back to the party,” He growled. “It’s only just getting started.”

🏰

You stood against the wall as the room spun. Your chest was filled with doom as you looked around at the girls in their sheath dresses and chunky heels. Many shared the same glazed look as Elsie. They swayed just a little, giggled airily, and their eyelashes drooped. They were barely awake on their feet.

The man who answered the door stood beside you. He squinted at you every now and then. Charles had told him to keep an eye on you. You watched the host of the event disappear through another doorway. You thought of the invisible lock and the tree just a few windows down.

It was that crushing sense of defeat when you knew loss was imminent but unavoidable. So you watched it slowly creep forward until finally you had to submit. You shivered and shook your head at yourself. Sheila had done this. Ensnared all these girls in whatever sick game this was.

Time dragged. You watched the servers offer their tainted champagne and the girls all too ignorant to realize that something was amiss. Your eyes stung and you gripped your purse tight. Whatever was planned, it couldn’t be good.

The clinking of metal on glass silenced the room. Your eyes were drawn with every other to the other side. The men exchanged knowing looks. The girls were confused but not suspicious. They looked to Charles as he relinquished the glass and knife to a server. He grinned at his rapt audience.

“Shall we commence with our evening?” He asked; the men nodded and mumbled in agreement. The girls frowned and wavered on their feet. “Very well. Girls…”

He waved an arm to his left and the waiters, now free of their trays, dispersed to herd the girls to the other side of the room. You were led along with them and stood in the row of drunken co-eds. For a moment, you wished you had drank the wine. That you could be as oblivious as the rest.

The girl at the head of the line was ushered forward to stand beside Charles. Her red hair hung in ringlets and her cheeks were rosy with alcohol. He asked her her name and she slurred “Carrie.” He repeated it for all to hear and shouted a number. Ten thousand.

A man raised his hand and Charles called eleven thousand. Another gestured and the number went up again. Again. Again. Carrie was visibly confused as she tried to keep up. She couldn’t. She was sold for twenty-five thousand and ushered into the arms of her buyer.

Elsie was next. She could barely stand as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Eighteen thousand for the mousy-haired girl. Colleen went for about the same and Darla was in tears as she was bartered for an even twenty. 

You were near the end of the line. You marched up to the front and bit down as you stared at the bourgeois bastards. Harry was the first to bid for you. Your stomach flipped. Then another man you hadn’t even spoken to. You could see only his hand as he reached above the crowd. 

The bids bounced back and forth, Harry cursed as he wondered who was so determined to have you. You sold for forty thousand to the faceless man. You were shown out the side door by a waiter as the last girl was brought up to stand by Charles. 

You stood alone in a long dining room with a large table and more than a dozen chairs. You turned as the doors slid closed and faced the grey-haired man who had greeted you in his monotone at the door. You thought he was the help. You grimaced at him.

“You?” You sputtered.

“No,” He said blandly. “Not me.”

“Then…” You couldn’t finish as you were certain you knew the answer.

You swallowed and spun away from him. You gripped the back of a chair and placed your purse on the table. The furor from the other room reached a peak and then began to dwindle. The grey-haired man glanced at the doors.

“I must attend to the coats,” He announced. “Do not stray. He will be mad.”

You sighed as he slipped through the door. A hand kept them from closing and you watched the doorman rush away. Charles stepped through and shut the doors. He took a breath as he turned to you. He fixed his lapels as he stopped across the table from you. 

“What?” You hissed as he stared at you.

“No… thanks?” He asked.

���Thanks?” You narrowed your eyes. “For what?”

“Don’t tell me you wanted to fuck one of those old men?”

You blanched at his language and your lip curled in revulsion. He laughed.

“Don’t worry. I only need… a maid.” He smirked.

“A maid?” You wondered.

“Cooking. Cleaning.” He tapped two fingers on the table as he spoke. “They ever write about that in your books?”

Your eyes were glossy as you gulped. You were furious, frightened, and frustrated.

“You girls think you know it all,” He scoffed. “There’s a lot they don’t put in books.”

“No, there are horror stories,” You assured him. “Of repulsive monsters and their nasty ways.”

He chuckled and rounded the table. He stopped just beside you as his hand closed over your purse. He slowly lifted the strap from your shoulders and batted your hand away before you could stop him.

“Trust me,” He said as he flipped it open and looked inside. “There is no monster like me.”

🏰

You were shown to a room with a barred window. It didn’t matter as it was in the basement and so narrow that you couldn’t hope to fit through it. The door was locked but even so, there was a man without. You could see his shadow under the door and hear him cough every now and again.

You didn’t sleep much. There was a blanket on the floor beside some dusty boxes. You sat against the wall and dozed in spurts. The night replayed in your head on a loop. Then all those moments you’d spent with Sheila. How she had lied so easily. Was she even a student? 

Didn’t matter now. The sun rose slowly through the small window and the door opened shortly after. You were given a black dress, stockings, and a pair of black shoes. Nothing else. You were taken to a shower hidden in the cellar; the water was cold and you washed quickly in the closet-like restroom.

You dressed and contemplated turning your underwear inside out. They were too worn to re-use. You left them with the rest of your clothes and emerged in your uniform. The man in black who had spent his night outside your door was mute. You weren’t sure entirely if by choice.

Your first task was to clean the main room, still dirtied from the party. The grey-haired man, Albert, told you so and recited your list of chores. The kitchen would be next and then you were to sweep the upstairs corridors and check every room in case it needed dusting or new linens.

It took you hours to tidy up after the previous nights’ guests. When the glasses were cleaned, you stacked them in the cupboards and wiped the counters. Alone, you went to the back door. It was locked too. The windows on this floor only opened two inches. You cursed.

You climbed the stairs with a broom and pan and set to the endless tedium of sweeping every corner. That took another hour, if not more. You emptied the pan downstairs in the bin and returned with a duster. 

You knocked on each door before you entered. Most were pristine and required only a touch up. When you reached the end of the next hallway, your rap was answered as the door opened from the other side. 

Charles wore only an undershirt and pants as he looked you up and down. He waved you in wordlessly. You entered and set to dusting the mantle and all its ornaments. He moved around behind you and stopped in a doorway just left of the bed.

“I expect you to do more than dust in here,” He said. “Grab some fresh linen when you get the chance.”

He slipped through the door but left it open an inch. You huffed and continued on lazily. Call it spite or your fleeting mind. You tried the window. It opened but there was no way down. You closed it and turned away.

You went to find the sheets and when you had discovered the trove of pressed and folded cotton, you returned to the room. You could hear the soft ripple of water through the small doorway. You set the sheets down at the foot of the bed. You cleared the wrinkled clothing from the chair and dropped them in the hamper.

“Girl,” Charles’ deep timbre called sternly. “Girl.”

Your cheek twitched. He knew your name. You sneered and quickly wiped it away as you neared the door. You pushed it open hesitantly as you peered through.

“Towel,” He demanded.

He sat in the deep tub, his dark hair damp and his broad chest bare above the water. You tore your eyes away and grabbed the towel from its rack. As you faced him, he stood and the water dripped down his body shamelessly. You unfolded the towel and held it up so that you could not see all of him.

“Well,” He waved you closer and snatched it from you. 

He stepped out onto the bathmat and fanned the towel around his body. You looked away quickly and a soft chuckle escaped him as he secured the towel at his waist. He passed you, his wet arm touched your sleeve and he neared the mirror as he admired his freshly shaved face.

“Did you make the bed?” He asked.

You shook your head and turned to return to the bedroom.

“Wait,” He stopped you. “That’s ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’.”

“No, sir,” You said bitterly. 

“Then you better get to it,” He rebuffed.

You swept through and moved the new sheets to the chair before you stripped the mattress. He leaned in the doorway as he watched you. You could feel him as you moved around the bed and stretched the cotton over the corners. You spread out the top sheet and replaced the quilt over top. You changed the pillowcases and fluffed them. 

Done, you bundled up the old bedding in your arm. He went to the bed and dragged his fingers along the quilt. He grasped the blankets and tore them from the mattress. 

“Tuck in the edges,” He said. “Now, fix your mistake.”

“Yes,” You gritted. “Sir.”

You dropped the old sheets in the chair once more and set to redoing your work. He stood at the foot of the bed and when you slipped past him, you felt a brush across your ass. You ignored it, content to think it was natural friction, and carried on. You could feel the heat of his gaze upon you and as you faced him, it was confirmed.

“Very nice,” He commented. “You learn… quickly.”

“Quicker than the others?” You asked. “Huh? How many have you bought? What did you do to them?”

“Oh, you’re mistaken,” He said. “I’m not a buyer, I’m a seller… but well, I decided to indulge myself last night.”

Your mouth was dry. You turned and grabbed the linen again. As you backed up, you were stopped by a figure behind you. His arm stretched out around you and he held his towel out. Slowly, he released it and it flapped to the floor.

“You don’t learn that quick though,” He mused as his hand settled on your shoulder. “You think I would spend that much money on a maid.” His fingers crawled along your neck. He gripped your jaw as he pressed himself against you. You felt the prod of his arousal through your skirt. “But it was fun to watch you try.”

“Why me?” You breathed as he gripped your arms and pulled them away from the laundry. The bundle fell to the chair and drooped down onto the floor.

“Because you’re the first to figure it out,” He answered. 

“Please,” You begged weakly as he pulled your arms back and rolled his hips so that he poked you.

“Get on the chair.” He ordered.

Your breath caught in your throat. You stood staring at the yellow wallpaper with its golden lilies. You turned slightly and he caught you. 

“No, don’t turn around.” His voice sent a shiver through you.

Your lip trembled and you lifted a knee, then the other. His hands ran up your arms and around your back. He shoved you so you caught yourself against the back of the chair. You tensed as his hands fell to your hips and over your ass.

He squeezed and stepped between your ankles so that his legs were against the seat. He ran his hands down your thighs and kneaded through the skirt. He reached the hem and slowly raised it an inch at a time. When it was higher than your stockings, your hand flew back to stop him.

He grabbed your wrist and twisted until you cried out.

“If you scream, there’s no one here who will care,” He snarled. “And they certainly won’t help you.”

He pushed your hand away and tore your skirt up over your ass. He slapped you so hard you yelped. You could feel the heat of his palm across your ass even after it was gone. He bunched your skirts around your waist and hummed in approval.

“You look nice in black,” He said, “Better out of it.”

You kept your eyes forward. You couldn’t have looked at him if you wanted. This man, this stranger, was touching you like no one had before. And he meant to do more. Because he owned you.

His hand snaked around your hip and down your pelvis. He tickled the hair there and slid lower. You tried to press your thighs together but your ankles hit his legs. He tutted and leaned against you.

“I’m being nice,” He warned. “I don’t have to be.”

You grabbed his hand and shoved it away. He struck your ass again as he stood straight. He grasped the back of your neck and pushed your head down against the back of the chair. Your fingers clutched at the cushion beside your face as he held you there.

“I told you last night,” He pinched your thigh. “I can be the worst fiend you’ve ever known.”

He pushed his knees up on the chair between yours. His fingers crawled around your hip again and along your pelvis. He pushed two down along your folds. He rubbed your bud with his middle finger as he spread your lips. He flicked and teased until your hips bucked.

“Not so bad…” He purred. “Am I?”

“Stop,” You begged as his grip tightened on your neck. “Why are you doing this?”

“I can’t just let you go,” He said. “That’d be a poor investment. Even you could see that.”

He dipped his finger inside of you and you inhaled sharply. He drew it in and out and added another. Your thighs shook and your fingers bent against the cushion.

“You don’t realize how fucking lucky you got,” He pushed his palm to your clit as he rocked his hand. “Those other men; old men, they’d fuck you for two seconds before they blew. Leave you there, unsatisfied, discarded. The girls never last long.”

He curled his fingers and moved his hand faster.

“The men get bored. Naturally, they’re greedy,” His nose tickled your ear as his breath glossed over your cheek. “Or maybe the girl gets pregnant. No good. Send her away. Don’t care where, just don’t want to hear about her ever again.” 

He nuzzled your hair as your breaths grew laboured. You found it hard to resist the heat that radiated from his touch. You shook as you tried to force the ripples back down.

“So, you keep me happy, girl,” He sneered. “And you might just last.”

You squealed as you came. You were ashamed and astounded. You’d never felt so… much. Never felt anything so deeply. You quivered around his hand and he slowly drew away and wiped his wet fingers on your bunched up skirt.

He reached between your thighs and you felt his length rub against your ass. He teased you and dragged his fingers along your ass. He pressed his tip to your skin and guided it down. He squeezed your neck and you whimpered. He pushed against your entrance and paused.

“You’re not…” He began and thrust inside of you all at once. “Well, it doesn’t really matter.”

Your walls ached as he filled you. The pain was nothing compared to relief that washed over you. You hadn’t realized how much you longed for that feeling. His hand slid from your neck and he gripped your shoulder. His other went to your hip and he rocked his hips.

You grunted as he thrust. You wanted it to end but you also didn’t want him to stop. He was relentless and impatient. You expected little else from the steely man. You quaked as his pelvis slapped against your ass. The noise echoed off the corners of the room, interspersed with his low groans and you pathetic mewls.

He moved your body against his as he plunged deeper and deeper. He sped up, driven by your helpless moans as you clawed at the upholstered chair. You wanted to get away as much as you just wanted to grab onto something steady. You turned your head back and forth as your nerves flared. You shook and gasped as you came again.

“St-st-stop,” You pleaded. “Stop. It’s too--”

He slammed into you so hard you shrieked. He didn’t let up as he crushed you against the back of the chair. He snaked his hand up in front of you and groped your tit as his other arm wrapped around your neck. His thick muscle choked you as he pounded into you and the chair creaked dangerously. You trembled as the ripples washed over you and you skin tingled with the heat of the man behind you.

His thrusts turned sharp and furious. His arm tightened around your neck as he pulled his other hand back. He pushed into as far as he could, holding himself there for just a second each time. His heavy breaths were like hungry growls in your ear.

He pulled out of you suddenly and you felt his knuckles against your ass as they moved frantically. A warmth spurted along your lower back and his hand slowed. 

He sighed and unhooked his arm from around your neck. He climbed off the chair and smacked your ass again. It stung so much you were certain there was already a bruise.

“Clean yourself up.” He demanded as he sat on the bed heavily. “Then take that damn dress off.”

[dabisangel]

i have this idea, what about some bakugou x reader where his best friend asks him to teach her how to kiss and he is like brah wtaf idek how to kiss and its fluffy and awkward and idk man i love ur stuff :)))

AH! Hi! Thank you for sending this adorable ask and thank you for liking my stuff 😭. I tried to make it as fluffy and awkward as I could while letting Bakugou still be Bakugou. I feel like even though he has NO idea what he’s doing, he would just pretend that he does and blame any fuck ups on y/n. 😂I hope you enjoy!

ALso! This is my first Bakugou piece so 🤞🏽

“First Kiss”

Pairing: Bakugou X Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Making OUT

Word Count: 1580

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Mina asked in disbelief 

You shook your head.

“Like never!?” Momo tagged along

The three of you were at a coffee shop in the middle of town, enjoying your weekend off. A conversation that was initially about work suddenly took a sharp turn into talking about boys. Great. 

Mina bragged about a guy she was seeing, and how they planned on going on a trip soon.

Momo filled the two of you in about her latest fling, and how they were probably going to call it off. 

But when it came to your turn, you had absolutely nothing to share.

“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.” You whispered, nervously tucking your hair behind your ears. 

The two gave each other a look before looking back towards you. 

Momo spoke first “But y/n you’re so pretty. You’re telling me there’s no one that’s tried to kiss you?”

You shook your head and grabbed at your coffee mug. “Nope. Nobody.”

The conversation carried on like that for a while longer, before the two moved the conversation in a different direction.

You pondered the thought as they spoke.

‘Why have I never kissed someone?’

Pushing the thought aside you continued to converse with them, laughing and smiling until it was time to go home.

The three of you said your goodbyes and went your separate ways.

You pulled your phone out of your purse, reading a less than happy text from Bakugou. 

Baku: what the FUCK is taking you so long.

You couldn’t help but laugh before typing back your response 

Y/N: “Not everyone has as much free time as you do.”

His response was quick

Baku: “What the fuck ever. Be here in 10 minutes or don’t bother coming.”

 You smiled and stuffed your phone into your pocket, making your way to Bakugou’s apartment.

Movie night was a weekly occurrence, and you were usually late. 

You made your way up the stairs to Bakugou’s apartment door. Before you could even knock the door swung open, and Bakugou loomed angrily in the doorframe. 

“It took you fuckin’ long enough.” He grumbled before turning away and walking towards the living room. 

You chuckled and closed the door behind you, taking your shoes off before stepping onto the plush carpet. 

He plopped onto the couch and grabbed the remote, quickly switching it to Hulu. 

“What are we gonna watch?” You asked heading for the fridge and grabbing a soda. He didn’t respond as he flicked through the movies, eventually settling on one. 

“You don’t get to help pick. You’re fuckin late.”

You checked your watch and looked up to him in disbelief “oh PLEASE. Kirishima is late too.”

The bickering simmered down after a few minutes and you sat next to him

“What took you so long anyway?”

A sigh left your lips as you grabbed a plush pillow and hugged it gently. “I was getting coffee with Mina and Momo.”

He rolled his eyes and mumbled something about ‘fucking extras’

“Conversation must’ve been enlightening.” He sneered sarcastically 

You thought back to it, zoning out for a moment. 

“Hey, Bakugou?”

“What.”

“Would you believe me if I said I’d never been kissed.”

He looked over at you, eyebrows furrowed. “What the fuck are you on about now?”

You laughed a little bit. “I was talking to them about it, and they made me feel…” you huffed “Weird about it.”

“Wait. You’ve never been kissed ever?”

Here we go again

You groaned “No.”

The two of you stayed silent 

“Have you?”

Bakugou gave you a look. “Once.”

This took you off guard. You had imagined that Bakugou had a ton of experience with the number of girls that fawn over him. Then again, Bakugou never could quite stand any of them, could he?

“Do you think you could teach me?” You asked, instantly tensing up. Of all people, you figured that someone as close to you as Bakugou would be ideal to ask. But as you looked into his eyes, and the confusion that floated in them you weren’t too sure if it was the best decision. 

His eyes widened slightly. “What.”

You cowered a bit, “You know what forget it I’ll just ask kirishi-“

He cut you off scooting closer, “Kirishima doesn’t know shit.”

Two of you leaned towards each other instinctively and held each other’s gaze. 

“So does this mean yes?” Heat began to spread to your ears as you mumbled your response.

Never in a million years would you guess that you’d be in this situation, nor did you expect Bakugou to actually indulge you.

He rolled his eyes in response before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear gently. 

“Are you stupid or what?” His voice came out angrily, but his facial expression betrayed him. He was just as hyper-focused on your lips as you were in his. 

You attempted to close the gap and make the first move. But to your disdain Bakugou had the same idea, and your noses collided. The two of you pulled back immediately,  and you felt as your ears got hotter. 

Both of you spoke in unison, avoiding each other’s gaze “Sorry.”

After a few silent moments had passed, he shifted uncomfortably before leaning back in. “Keep your head tilted idiot.”

Of course, he would blame you. 

 “Okay.” You tried again, leaning in and letting your lips meet his. It was a glorified peck if anything, seeing that you pulled back so quickly. As the reality of the situation set in you began to feel anxious. You and Bakugou were alone in his apartment, kissing. You truly hoped that this wouldn’t ruin anything between the two of you as friends, but if you were being honest, you didn’t want to stop now. As you began to overthink you twiddled your fingers nervously. 

‘This was a dumb idea’ you thought. 

By now your entire face was hot and your hands were sweating. Neither of you broke eye contact and maintained a few centimeters of distance. The silence between the two of you was deafening, the only sounds filling the room were gentle breaths and the movie playing in the background.

“Was that okay?” You asked softly, over analyzing the last kiss. You stared into his eyes with uncertainty, and then down to his lips. His features were softened, and his brows were relaxed, which was a stark contrast to his usual scowl. He blinked slowly while looking into yours gently. 

“Shut up.”

He placed his hands to your cheeks lightly before closing the space between you again. His lips pressed softly against your own. Your heart began to race as your lips moved together gently. But this time you didn’t pull away. 

At this point, the movie in the background was just an afterthought, no longer worthy of being watched or even listened to. Your mind only focused on how Bakugou weaved his fingers through your hair and worked his soft lips against yours.

In response, you snaked your arms around Bakugou’s neck and shifted so that you were closer to him. One of his hands dropped to your waist and pulled your body even closer and you relished the feeling. Thoughts of whether or not things were going too far had already jumped out the window, and you threw caution to the wind.

Suddenly, you understood why Momo and Mina thought you were missing out.

The two of you continued to make out, soft lips working together. Neither of you seemed to come up for air as you desperately latched onto each other. You felt as he smiled against your lips, and you did the same.

The sound of keys rattling in the doorknob made the two of you jolt, instantly separating. 

Fuck.

“Alright, guys. I brought all kinds of snack-“ he paused in the door frame as he looked over at the two of you. Though you had separated, you were still closer than usual, and your hair was still slightly disheveled; courtesy of Bakugou.

It was painfully obvious that the two of you had just made out. 

Kirishima made his way into the living room, kicking off his shoes, not saying a word. The smirk on his face was enough, as he sat on the couch squeezing between you and Bakugou. His hand reached for the remote as he stifled a laugh.

“What the fuck is so funny,” Bakugou growled. 

Kirishima’s eyes flicked up to Bakugous as he snickered. “Nice lip gloss dude.”

This caused Bakugou’s eyes to widen before he dragged the back of his hand against his lips roughly. He rose from the couch with a huff, making his way into the kitchen.

“Fuck off Kirishima.”

Once he was gone, Kirishima gave you a knowing look, quirking his eyebrows. You stared back towards the TV. Settling into your spot on the plush couch. 

“Alright soooo what do you want to watch?” You questioned awkwardly.

Kirishima laughed as he pointed the remote to the tv. He glanced over towards Bakugou, who was looming in the kitchen awkwardly, and then back to you. 

“I’m already pretty entertained.” He teased before settling on a movie.

You knew Kirishima wouldn’t let this one go. 

Instantly you craned your neck to glance into the kitchen, your eyes landing on Bakugou’s. A mischievous half-smile painted his face, causing you to sink into the couch.

You knew Bakugo wouldn’t let it go either.

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XII]

Word count:  9,092 (heh)

Warnings: vulgar language, and uh, a teeny tiny bit smutty 

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

Edit: AO3 link

A/N: Late again. I’ll stop apologising now because it’s getting a little out of hand. Ignore the caption in the gif and focus on his face (and the outfit...). I couldn’t find another gif.

And, oh, the reader remains nameless.

______________________________________________________

“Just pick one, Mal,” I complained. “They all look the same, anyway.”

Mallory fixed her green eyes on me with a sour face through the boutique’s mirror, where she had been modeling pairs of shoes for the last hour. This was the sixteenth pair, by my count, and she had reserved 4 other pairs to pick from, which she “absolutely adored and would look fantastic with other outfits”. The shop assistant was waiting by the pairs of shoes, a tiny smile frozen on her lips in pretend amity or perhaps thinking about how fat of a commission she’d earn on account of Mal’s shopaholic tendencies.

Two years had gone without much talk between Mal and I, and I found that a few things hadn’t changed: her proclivity for spending incredible amounts of money in clothes and her forgetfulness. The last of which landed me in a Gloucester boutique with her because she’d forgotten to pack high-heels for the wedding. She’d called me earlier and invited me to have lunch with her and then go shopping. Upon finding a store that appealed to her taste, though, she forced me into the store with sweet promises of delicious food later. My stomach grumbled like it was angry at me for having agreed to it.

“I’d forgotten how much of a pain in the arse you become when you’re hungry,” Mallory said as she flopped next to me on the canape where I sat. I shot her an annoyed look and she giggled as she started undoing straps around her ankles. “I’ll pay for your desert!” Instantly, I opened a large grin. And she chuckled. “Glad to see your sweet tooth remained intact.”

My grin widened to a more genuine one. Mallory and I still had a lot to catch up when it came to our friendship but it wouldn’t be too much work, not when an easy sense of familiarity permeated our banter.

My complaint was enough to make Mallory decide and pay. It wasn’t much of a decision because she still paid for three pairs of shoes. Earlier, when she’d tried on the tenth pair I pointed out that she only needed one pair of shoes for the wedding but she shrugged it off, so I knew it was pointless to tell her again. How she would fit those new additions into her suitcase, and her closet back in London, was her problem.

Once we were out of the boutique, Mallory still looking forlornly at a pair on the display that was too expensive even for her, the bright sun of midday hit our eyes, making both of us blink in surprise. Clearly the hour we spent cooped inside a store was enough for England’s weather to shift out of sorts.

Considering the unlikely sun and the pleasant temperature, we chose a restaurant that had tables on the outside where we could bask in the sunlight and watch the influx of people walking towards Gloucester Cathedral. From where I sat, I could only see part of it but towers peaked a couple of roads over, providing a glimpse of how big the structure sprawled. It looked like an entirely different place during the day. Not at all spooky and mysterious as it had appeared the past night. Watching a group of nuns filing past me towards the cathedral, I smiled, wondering how horrified they would be if the priest shared with them about the encounter he’d had. I’m sure there would be tales about the two creatures dancing and then vanishing in the blink of an eye, and how it would be ascribed to either devils or angels making their presence known. Oddly, I wished for the first.

“What are you smirking about?” Mallory asked in her best teasing tone.

“Nothing,” I said, archly.

“Uh-huh.”

She didn’t have any more time to tease me because a waiter came to our table with menus. To the surprise of nobody, after a show of reading the entire menu, Mallory chose fish and chips and a glass of white wine. It was a trustworthy dish in any part of England, she always said, but it was also her favourite. I, for once, was more adventurous and chose baked lamb with garlic accompanied by sautéed potatoes, onions and aubergines. I saved myself from alcohol. I would need it later, for courage, I told myself. And also for the tinge of regret casting pinpricks on my heart.

“So,” Mallory began, swirling the white wine on her glass as we waited for our food. “Do you have a date for tonight?”

“Yes,” I replied simply, taking a few gulps of my water.

“And…?” She prodded.

“You tell me yours first,” I said. If I could bargain with her and she mentioned someone I knew, perhaps I would have a chance to get back at the teasing that was sure to come.

“Sean Larkin. The lean blond from the adjoining finance firm?” She sighed. “He wanted me to have lunch with him today but I waved him off. I’m saving myself for the wedding.” She wiggled her eyebrows conspiratorially. As if Mallory would save anything for marriage.

“Isn’t he too young by your standards?”

“He’s older than me by a couple of years,” she retorted. “And look who’s talking about age standards! Didn’t you hook up with Ethan Prescott, our ethics professor, inside his office?”

“That was you, Mal.” I snickered at the blank look on her face. “Have you checked for Alzheimers with a doctor?”

“Oh, quit it.” She laughed into her glass, fogging it with her breath, before taking a sip. “My memory is completely fine. My body count is the problem. Now it’s your turn.”

“Maybe you don’t remember him but you know when last week you and I were supposed to go to Camden–”

“Oh my god, it’s the BMW guy!” She squealed. Her wine swung dangerously to the cup’s edges and she set the glass on the table. “Y/N, he’s your client.”

“Is not,” I countered, smiling impishly. It felt like college all over again when we would talk endlessly about boys during the early morning hours in our room. “He’s Renfield’s client. I’m just filling in for him while he’s away.”

“I bet you’re the one being filled–”

“Jesus, Mal!”

“What!” She threw her hands up in defense. “It’s just obvious you two are, you know, doing the deed.”

Clearly, Mallory also managed to preserve her crass manners when it came to guy-talk but still kept a strict rule over swearing. Figures.

“We’re not.”

She stared at me, open-mouthed.

“But but… You said he was yours. What– why not?”

“Because he’s not exactly the ideal person in mind to have as a romantic interest,” I said with a shrug.

“Well, is he nice?”

I considered it, chewing on my cheeks.

“Sometimes. Most of the time,” I corrected, wondering if my response could be linked to a case of Stockholm’s Syndrome. Perhaps I should suggest it be renamed Wallachia’s Syndrome. “But he’s in a tireless pursuit to, well, seduce me, for a lack of a better word, so of course he’s nice to me. But is he a nice person? No.”

“In what sense?”

In the sense of murdering people because he was bored, in the sense of enslaving my mentor and giving me no choice whether I want to be like him or not.

“He’s just not a nice person, Mal,” I explained poorly. “Believe me.”

“Okay. But do you like him despite that?”

I drew a big breath, shutting my eyes against the harsh sunlight. A veil of red coated my vision behind my eyelids and I thought of the red in Count Dracula’s eyes. A slight prickling on my neck reminded me of his mouth brushing the skin there before closing over it. The bond liked him, I knew that but I couldn’t explain it to Mallory.

“You know when you drink wine with an empty stomach?” I asked when I opened my eyes. She lifted her glass in a mock toast. “No, white wine is too light. Red wine, specifically. It’s like that being around him.” Mallory didn’t seem to understand, and neither was I making a lot of sense to myself, so I continued. “Everything feels a little numb and a little too hot, like I’m feverish. My lips, the tips of my fingers, my legs. And there’s a queasy feeling on my stomach, that’s not all bad, you know. It’s thrilling and also frightening,” I scoffed. “And I have the most outlandish thoughts when I’m around him. I can see myself doing things I would never do, and have done quite a few of them, actually. It’s bizarre. Like I’m drunk but not really.”

And much like wine, the bond made me do and feel things that weren’t real. Although one could argue that alcohol brought our truest selves to the surface. I shuddered at the thought.

“So you like him?” Mallory questioned, looking uncertain.

“I like how he makes me feel. And I guess I do like him, to an extent. But he scares me, Mal, he really does. And I shouldn’t like him if he scares me.”

“Has he hurt you?” She asked slowly, trying to sound gentle, I guessed, but it came out more like a snarl.

“Not really, no. Not physically. Emotionally, though, a little bit.” Seeing the somber expression on Mal’s face, I waved a hand. “Nothing to worry about, I can take care of myself. That’s beside the point. He frightens me, is all.”

“Maybe it’s not fear of him, Y/N. Maybe that queasy feeling is just fear of letting go. You were always a bit of a control freak when it came to your emotions.”

“I guess that hasn’t changed,” I muttered. “Can I have a sip of that?” I held a hand towards her wine glass.

She pushed it across the table for me. Cold, soothing liquid washed through my tongue and I swallowed it down eagerly. When I returned the glass to Mallory, less than half of it remained.

“Some sip,” she remarked.

“I needed it.”

She bobbed her head in agreement and a strand of baby blond hair escaped from her braid, coming to rest over one of her eyes. She blew it away and it fluttered behind her ear.

Our food arrived and I was glad to have something to concentrate on instead of what I felt or did not feel.

Mallory was kind enough to change the subject as we ate, so we spoke mostly of Sean, her date. They had been seeing each other for only two weeks and she was still determined into finding anything fun about him but so far she was unsuccessful. While Mal was too benign to say it, I knew Sean would be fated into following her around like a puppy until she found someone else to amuse her. Next, we spoke of Evelyn and to my surprise, and secret enjoyment, Mal didn’t seem to favour her anymore that I thought the woman deserved.

“I thought you were friends,” I said as I stole another sip of her wine.

“I thought so, too, but she’s become such a hag lately. I think it’s because she found out I have a higher score of winnings in court than her but that shouldn’t get in the way. I mean, you’ve got us all beat and you don’t see me hassling you. She just can’t admit she’s not the best at everything she does. And she didn’t invite me to be a bridesmaid, can you believe that?!”

“Bitch,” I said as a form of agreement.

“Cheers to that.”

After we finished with our lunch, I ordered a piece of blueberry pie, which I ate with Mallory’s help since I’d been sipping on her wine all throughout our meal.

We said our goodbyes not long after that. Mallory had to rush back to Berkeley, where she was staying with Chelsea and Sarah, because she hoped to be the first one to shower. According to Mal, Chelsea spent an eternity in the bathroom and wouldn’t let up even if she and Sarah almost broke the door down with all their knocking.

I watched as Mallory drove away in her car, almost hoping that we could remain stuck in that afternoon for longer, only so I wouldn’t have to think about the incoming night and the certainty that my heart would break, bond or no bond.

At least now I would have Mal to help me pick up the pieces and mend them back together.

__________________________________________________

Soft, orange clouds streaked the purplish sky in long and haphazard puffs as I waded down the slope leading to Berkeley Castle. It looked more like a fortress than a castle with how it circumvented a courtyard. Small windows decorated the austere exterior built from grey and maroon bricks. The roofs squatted low in true medieval style, with only a few chimneys disrupting the straight lines. Beyond the castle, the sky was already a deep shade of blue, casting a blanket of stars over the property. From where I stood I could see Gloucester Cathedral peaking in the distance, nothing more than a severe silhouette against the remains of daylight.

Count Dracula should be waking up now, or making himself ready for the wedding.

If by some miracle, the Sun didn’t set, he would never leave his hotel, and I wouldn’t have to carry out the plan. Dracula and I could have a little more time; just enough for him to tell me tales of times past and for him to find another impossible place to break into.

Zoe would be terminally mad at me if I skipped the plan on a mere and futile whim. And terminally dead, as well. Sparing myself from guilt shouldn’t be more important than Zoe’s chance at living. And I wasn’t about to throw away the very thing I strove for since I set that deal simply because I was having doubts.

My clutch bag, tiny as it was inside my hand, cast a heavy weight on my shoulder from the pill and the pen filled with Zoe’s blood.

“It’s the right thing to do,” I muttered quietly as I carried down the slope, hitching my dress up my ankles so I wouldn’t trip. “Because I’ve paid such care to what’s right over the past years.”

“Y/N!”

I turned my upper body to look behind me, too afraid of losing balance on my heels to fully pivot.

Mallory waved at me from the top of the hill. Even from afar I could tell she looked stunning, all long limbs showcased by a champagne coloured strapless dress. Her blond hair was slicked back tightly to her scalp, a precious stone necklace winked back at me when she motioned for me to wait for her. A shawl from the same colour of her dress was wrapped around her shoulders, twined about her forearms.

Chelsea and Sarah spilled out from a taxi behind Mallory. Chelsea had on a light blue flowy dress that complimented her golden skin nicely and Sarah wore a midnight green gown with a neckline so plunging it was a surprise I couldn’t see her bellybutton. Both of them wore their hair up in chignons. The three of them interlaced their arms for balance as they started down the slope.

We’d met the same fate of descending a slope in high heels, apparently. The line of cars intercepting the road to the castle’s gate was so ridiculously long from all the guests on the way, that I’d thought it would be faster if I abandoned my taxi and went the last couple of metres on foot. Now that sweat slicked my forehead and threatened to smear my makeup, I was regretting that choice.

My high heels dug uncomfortably on the soles of my feet but I endured the pain as I waited for them to reach me. Concentrating on not falling was an easy way to keep my mind off of what was about to come.

“Oh!” Said Chelsea, staring at me with wide eyes, when they were close enough. “From up there your dress looked black.”

“Evie will arrange your murder today, you know that, right?” Sarah told me, her eyes sweeping down on me appraisingly.

“What they mean is that you look amazing,” Mallory said, glaring to her left at both women. They made sounds of agreement.

My dress was constructed in a deep plum from silk taffeta, a lustrous fabric that made it look like it had more than a single shade, so I could understand Chelsea’s assumption. It criss-crossed over my chest and back in twisted straps that appeared black, purple and, in certain lights, violet. The dress’ bodice clung to my torso but fabric cascaded freely from the waist down. When I walked it embraced every curve of my legs as it bounced around me like it was liquid.

True to Diana’s wishes, who wanted me to make Count Dracula faint upon laying eyes on me, I would bet that was something I could probably do without the aid of Zoe’s blood. However, the prospect of knocking him to his knees didn’t seem so appealing when I knew I would never have the opportunity of doing it again.

“Thank you,” I said, trying to sound pleasant and failing miserably if I was to take their expressions as truth. “So does everybody.”

Mallory pulled me to her side and laced my arm with hers.

“Are you okay?” She whispered to me as all of us continued our journey downhill.

“Yes,” I told her.

She narrowed her eyes at me but I shook my head as a silent request for her not to pry. There were moments that Mallory’s keen perception of my mood was a blessing; this wasn’t one of them.

Locking arms with three other women proved to be a challenge, an extremely fun one, especially when Chelsea lost balance, nearly tumbling down and dragging Mallory with her. Sarah and I were left to hold them up which rendered a few belly-aching laughs from all of us. When we finally got them up on their feet, it was my turn to shift my heel at an odd angle and hold on to Mallory’s shawl for dear life, nearly strangling her. Mallory held onto Chelsea and nearly knocked Sarah off her feet. Although we were all cackling madly at our distress, a few men in tuxedos, more guests, were kind enough to provide us with an arm to balance ourselves until we reached Berkeley Castle’s main gate.

My laughter faded into nothing as I set eyes at the woman standing at the gate. Even in heels she was tiny, her head barely reaching some of the guests shoulders as she waved them in after checking each of their names on a list. Her pixie red hair was spiky at the ends and, as if I needed any more confirmation other than her height and hair, the small crystal piercing on her nostril identified her as Sylvia, the woman tasked to switch on the UV lights down on the garden later. If she knew my face, she made no movement to acknowledge me.

As Chelsea gave her our names, I peeked down the ledge and, sure enough, down a steep fall stood a garden and a rectangular artificial pond, its surface dotted with water lillies and white rose petals. My eyes traveled around, searching between bushes and trees for spotlights suggesting the possibility of UV lights but found none except tiny floor sconces, casting wavy reflections on the water.

“That staircase leads down there,” Sylvia said in a conversational tone; a clever way of letting me know everything was set up as it should. “You can reach it through that path if you want to have a stroll through the property later.”

I looked at the direction where she pointed, taking note of it, and nodded.

“Thank you. I will.”

I followed the girls through the arching gate, too absorbed in trying to level my heartbeat to pay any attention to the somber beauty of the courtyard. However, the Great Hall managed to shake me out of my stoic resignation and I gazed around me with utter admiration.

The room wasn’t particularly large but it was formidable in decor where size lacked. The ceiling hunched high above in curved wood beams, casting the illusion that we were beneath an old ship’s underbelly. Tapestries hung on the farthest wall bordering a fireplace large enough to fit 5 people standing up. Windows receded in alcoves inside the stone walls. A variety of ivory flowers, inky purples and rosés the colour of bitten lips flanked the entire room. Rows of white chairs on each side of the aisle were intertwined with purple ribbons. More flowers spiraled up into some sort of wooden gallery, engraved with several coats of arms in murky colours.

Mallory tugged on my elbow so I would sit next to her and Sean, her date, who looked absolutely smitten by her –  the fool – that he barely paid any attention to my cheery hello.

“Where’s– what’s his name again?” she asked me while I smoothed my dress after sitting down.

“Dracula.” I blew out a breath. “He’ll be here for the reception.”

If I was in a better state of mind I would’ve waved the fact that he was royalty just to see Mallory squeal in joy but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

She was about to ask me something else but music suddenly sparked to life, silencing every person and as one, we all stood up. The music came from above so I turned around briefly, trying to gauge where it came from, and found that a quintet played at the top of that podium.

Evelyn’s soon-to-be husband was not at all what I expected from a woman of her calibre, gorgeous as she was, so I assumed that he had to be extremely wealthy to make up for his mousey face. One would think a bride would be more focused on walking down the aisle and gazing at her beloved but not Evelyn – she found a breach to stab daggers at my dress with her hazel eyes and, finding myself bitter, I flashed her my most goading smile. Her pace vacillated for a moment and I looked around us to see if anyone had noticed but she carried on not a second later, staring ahead of her with vicious determination. The ceremony proceeded after we were all sat and I listened to their vows absentmindedly. I knew what was coming: for poorer or richer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish, and at last, till death do us part. Although Evelyn and Rupert – not ashamed to say I only discovered the groom’s name when the minister mentioned it – were doing a lengthy and embellished version of it.

Till death do us part.

“Mal,” I whispered to her as Rupert was declaring his eternal love to Evelyn. Mallory bent her head closer. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“I was always the one with the weird questions so I’d say you’ve got credit to spend,” she whispered back.

“Would you live forever if you could?”

She evaluated me for a long moment.

“What are the conditions?”

The corners of my lips tugged up. Ever the lawyers, the pair of us.

“You would have to leave everything behind. Start another life as a new person but you’ll look the same forever.”

An undead person, I meant to say.

“Yeah, I would,” she said but she answered too quickly for my liking.

“Would you kill for it?” I continued.

She gaped. Careful consideration passed through her green eyes.

“Lots of people would.”

“But would you?”

“I’m terrified of dying, Y/N,” she confided. “Of growing old and forgetting things, forgetting my own name or what something’s called. And if I’m being shallow, I’m terrified of becoming an ugly old lady. I wouldn’t really be myself if it came to that, would I? I like me as I am, now. So yeah, hypothetically speaking, I would kill someone for it. Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I mean… I’m not sure. Growing old doesn’t bother me. I just can’t think of abandoning everything that I once was and becoming someone else just so I can live forever.”

“We do it all the time.” She grinned sheepishly. “Remember what the Mad Hatter tells Alice?”

I rolled my eyes.

“You’re the one obsessed with that damn book and you know I don’t remember.”

“I’ve got a sucky memory but it’s something to the effect of Alice not being the same Alice as before and that she’s lost her muchness. Anyway, we’re constantly changing, little by little, it’s up to us if we become more than before, or less.”

“I don’t think that’s what Lewis Carroll meant by that.”

“Well, that’s how I choose to look at it. So, really, how much more can I become if I live forever? There’s lots and lots of possibilities for little old me and I don't want to die before I meet all of them.”

“So you’d kill someone for that?”

“In a heartbeat.” She nodded. “Do you plan to tell me why you’ve asked me this?”

“Maybe one day if I somehow become immortal?”

“Which is never. Got it. I’ll shut up now.”

Mallory turned and sat up straight, oblivious to the veritable chance of immortality.

Possibilities.

That was one way to look at it. An extremely optimistic and selfish way to look at it but I never claimed to be selfless. Optimistic, however, I was far from. But just as Mallory had said, we were always changing.

How far was I willing to go for change? I liked myself just as I was now and I couldn’t picture myself literally sucking the life out of people so I could have a chance at more.

Which version of me was I talking about? Me, who I’ve always been; safe, calculated, blunt. Or the one who enjoyed playing with fire as much as she did reading books?

The promise of excitement; that’s what Count Dracula said he’d found in my blood. Imagining my life for the next five years evoked no happy feelings. Where would I be? Married with kids, doing the same thing until my body shriveled and I died? A regular husband who carried groceries and did the dishes, and sometimes, when he remembered it, took me somewhere nice. How awfully… pedestrian.

A life clad in dusk, traveling places to see more than an average person could perceive and waltzing inside churches as I laughed in the face of god… That certainly sounded more appealing. And lonely.

Could I live forever with Count Dracula? Would he be all I would have for the rest of time? No Mallory, no Diana, no Renfield. No mum and dad. Just us.

A roar of applause and whooping rescued me from dwelling on that any further. Evelyn and Rupert must have sealed the deal with a kiss to cause all that commotion. I joined the raucous by sticking two fingers on the side of my mouth and whistling loudly enough to make Mallory and her date wince and laugh.

Not long afterwards, the guests were led to another chamber inside the castle, the Long Drawing Room according to the plaque, while the Great Hall was organised for the reception. When we returned, various tables were set elegantly in shades of cream and more flower arrangements in light pink and purple decorated each of them.

Locating the partner table was easy; all I had to do was look for the middle-aged white men with the most disdainful poise. Of all twelve people sitting at their table, only five were women and those were some of the partners’ wives. I made sure to make eye-contact with Evelyn as I dragged Mallory and Sean along with me and flopped down next to Talbot – Evelyn’s mentor. Mallory appeared to be on cloud-nine to be sitting there. As for me, I could barely summon pleasure at the look of utter disbelief and rage in Evelyn’s face.

Hours passed in the company of red wine, champagne and food, while I occasionally cast looks at the archway under the gallery, hoping to see Count Dracula making his entrance. I showered Mallory with compliments when I could so she could get the attention from the big bosses and deviated the subject to her whenever a partner made remarks about my work. At one point, I spotted Raoul, the “waiter” who was in on the plan, and he nodded at me solemnly. Photographers came and blinded us with their camera flash. I was certain that I would be staring in the direction of the archway in all of the photos but at least Renfield would get to see Evelyn’s sullen expression to be in the same picture with me.

A hand pressed my shoulder from behind, fingers squeezing. Swiveling my head, I saw Mallory, eyes wide.

“Hell’s bloody bells.”

That was the closest to a curse Mallory would ever get and I immediately turned my head in the direction she was looking at.

“Fuck,” I sighed. A sigh because my throat wasn’t prepared to produce a sound.

Count Dracula stood under the archway, head tilted back as he took in the surroundings, eyes ever watchful. He donned a longer coat than was usually called for in an average tuxedo, overtop of a white waistcoat and white dress shirt. Wound tightly around his neck, beneath a white bow tie, was a heavy pendant in a thick cord of silk. A wine coloured silk, which went perfectly with my dress.

The outfit did justice to his royal title flawlessly.

I stared for a long moment, willing him silently to look at me and, at the same time, wishing that he didn’t catch sight of me, turned back and left.

“He’s looking for you,” Mallory told me over my shoulder. I simply nodded. “Well, go, silly.”

She took my glass from me and shoo-ed me out of my seat.

Though my knees wobbled as if I was some lady fanning herself over him, my feet were capable enough of moving on their own and I started weaving through tables to reach him. My ears caught Sarah and Chelsea gushing over him from a couple of tables over and I picked up my pace when Sarah suggested to Chelsea that one of them went to greet him. For a moment I was distracted apologising to a waiter for nearly knocking his tray to the floor and when I looked back at Count Dracula, my breath hitched in my chest.

Dark eyes surveyed me from head to toe in what I would’ve called a leer if he were anyone else. My strides grew smaller as my cheeks burnt hot. I was blushing – actually blushing to the colour of a tomato no doubt, as if I was sixteen years old again. I hoped he would meet me halfway and spare my legs from giving out at any moment but he stood there, hands laced behind his back as he waited, openly lusting after me in front of a hundred people. The plan of making him faint was backfiring horribly and my mouth curled into a reluctant smile when I realised that I didn’t give a damn.

When I finally reached him, my hands rose voluntarily, eager to feel the texture of his attire, to measure the expanse of his chest as if my eyes weren’t enough, but, realising what I was about to do, I started lowering them. Dracula caught my hands and placed them on his chest.

“Touch,” he said, a suggestive gleam in his eyes.

And I did.

My hands ran up his shoulders, noting that his lapels were also silk and that the suit fit him impeccably, like he had it tailored. The buttons on his shirt were rubies encrusted in silver, or perhaps white gold. Either way, each of those buttons probably cost a fortune. The pendant vaguely resembled a crusader cross except it flared at the edges. I took it between my fingers to examine the design adorning its center. A dragon stood there, tail coiling and wings unfurling around its body. It looked like the dragon on his ring I’d seen a week ago and, once again, I found an inscription in latin.

“Societas Draconistarum,” I read, poorly. “ Draco – dragon, isn’t it?” Memory jogging, I glanced up at him. A small smile tugged at his mouth, an odd expression of pride on his face. “Is this the emblem of the Order of the Dragon?”

“You did your research well,” he remarked.

“Had to. How often does someone meet a historical figure?” I adjusted the pendant so it laid squarely over his collarbones. “I’m surprised I still remember the name of your secret society, it seems like it was forever ago since I read about it.”

Calling it a secret society was far from the truth; I meant to needle him so he would elaborate on it but when he didn’t, I sent my eyes away from the pendant to focus on his face. I caught him looking down at me over his nose, lips slightly parted to reveal the tip of his tongue tracing his bottom lip. I dared to believe that he hadn’t heard a word of what I’d said, too busy fantasizing about something.

His hands landed on my waist, forcing me closer. They skimmed down, exploring the curves of my hips and squeezing them briefly before moving up again.

“Everyone is watching us,” I told him, grabbing each of his wrists. I couldn’t look past him but I could feel their stares.

“Don’t care,” he said curtly, ignoring my grip. “You touched. It’s only fair I do the same. You are a vision, my darling.”

A lustful fire blazed behind his eyes and I shuddered. I dropped my hands, not minding that people were quite literally gawking at us, and allowed him to continue his investigation.

A hand slid to my back, fingers kneading my flesh gently as he examined the dress, like he was making sure this ‘vision’ of his was real. His other hand drifted up to follow the contours of the bodice, a finger tracing the seam that led up to dress’ cleavage and then its straps crossing over my chest. I gasped as warm fingers brushed my collarbones and led a path up my neck and finally stopped to caress my cheek. His touch became tender as he reached my face, stroking my skin lightly and making me lean towards his hand, like a sunflower seeks the sun.

“I’m tempted to shower you with silk and taffeta gowns so you can wear them for me every night,” he said softly. “And so I’ll have the pleasure of tearing them off.”

“There’ll be no tearing off anything.” My voice trembled. “This is an extremely expensive dress.”

“Ah, I’ll get you how many dresses you want. Don’t worry about this one. And I can be careful, if you wish. Although I want nothing more than to ravish you.” My skin crawled and he smirked as he caressed down the lengths of my arms, making me shiver. “I see. No need to be careful, then.”

“What I meant is–” I cleared my throat “–this dress isn’t coming off for you. In any shape or form.”

“You can keep it on, just as well. It’ll be no trouble.”

If he looked at me for any moment longer, I would do something drastic, such as grabbing him by the hand and taking him somewhere inside the castle where he could make good on all those fantasies.

I swallowed dryly.

“How do you like the castle?” I asked.

Dracula snorted, apparently amused by my attempt to deviate the subject, but he kept his hands on my arms, trailing up and down.

“Nervous again? Pity.” He looked around and I started breathing properly. “I prefer my own castle.”

“You still have a castle?”

“If it has remained untouched in the last century, yes.” Then he frowned. “It’s very likely it has been burnt to the ground now.”

“Why would that be?”

He grinned.

“The locals weren’t very partial to my presence in Wallachia. I imagine they burnt it as soon as they realised I wasn’t coming back.” He shrugged. “Unfortunate, if that’s the case. My library could have rivaled Captain Nemo’s.”

“Oh!” I grinned. It seemed forever ago since I had eyed Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas in my collection and giggled upon taking it from its shelf and shoving it inside my purse. “Did you finish reading it?”

“Just yesterday, actually. Fantastic how Jules Verne predicted most things we have today, and how some of them are already obsolete. I would’ve liked to meet him.”

“So you could’ve drank him?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “Thank you for the book, I found it very enjoyable. I’ll read it again in French if I come across an edition, I think various things were lost in translation. Captain Nemo is an interesting character, although a little too morose for me. I suppose he’s your favourite.”

“He is everyone’s favourite. Jules Verne wrote more books on him because of it.”

“I would like to read them. Do you have them in your library?”

“No but Mallory does. She lent me hers when we were in college.”

If he was to spend the next years – or the rest of his existence – caged, then perhaps I could see to it that he got a few books to entertain him. I would have to make a list.

“Ah, yes, the blond coming towards us, isn’t that she?” Count Dracula nodded, eyes fixed behind me.

I pivoted to see Mallory, dragging Sean behind her. I kept my gaze focused on hers to avoid making eye contact with one of the dozens of people staring at me and Count Dracula. We had put on quite a show to have that many sets of eyes on us.

“Y/N,” she began when she reached me. “The bride and groom will have their first dance now. You must’ve missed the announcement.” Her eyebrows jerked up trying to convey something along ‘ you rascal ’ before she looked past me, her doe eyes focusing on Count Dracula. “I’ve heard loads about you. Dracula, isn’t it?”

“Mal…” I complained.

“Did you now?” Count Dracula said, tone all honey as he placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. He rounded me, stopping at my side, and letting one hand drop. “I would say I’m surprised but that would be a lie.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mallory. Y/N speaks greatly of you.”

Until a minute ago, I had never spoken about her to him so I knew he was being courteous, although my blood probably did speak great things of her.

Dracula accepted Mallory’s extended hand and, instead of shaking it, he turned it so he could plant a kiss on top of it. He’d done the same to me when I first met him. Her mouth fell open and Sean’s ears turned red as he pulled Mallory back by her arm. She swatted Sean away.

“He’s not British,” I said, trying to assuage them. “Eastern Europe is quite old-fashioned in some ways.”

“Forgive me,” said Dracula, looking like he wasn’t sorry at all with that smug smile plastered to his face. “I’m afraid I’m still adapting and haven’t managed to shrug off the education in which I was raised.”

“Which education was that?” Sean asked between gritted teeth.

“An aristocrat’s one.” Dracula smiled.

Mallory’s eyes widened until they were about ready to pop out of their sockets.

“Show-off,” I muttered, elbowing the Count lightly.

A group of people were converging around the dance floor and I laced my arm with Count Dracula’s.

“We’ll miss the first dance,” I said, and nudged Mallory with my hip so she would stop gawking. She nodded weakly and went ahead with Sean. “She’ll never shut up about you now,” I muttered to Count Dracula as we followed them.

“Good. From what I gather, Mallory has always been very encouraging of your endeavors. Perhaps she will give you the final push.”

“Towards you?”

“Yes, and I’ll gladly receive you.”

“With open arms and fangs,” I grumbled.

“How tragic,” he shot back, chuckling.

A waltz started as we reached the bundle of people and I saw Evelyn and Rupert entering the dancefloor just before they started swaying to it. The smile on her lips seemed genuine so I supposed that although her husband wasn’t exactly attractive, she did have feelings for him. The bitch had a heart, after all.

The guests clapped furiously when their waltz stopped. Another waltz followed, less upbeat than the previous and what sounded like more strings attacking the melody, and couples looked at each other, waiting to see who would be the first ones to join the bride and groom.

Count Dracula untangled my arm from his and took my hand inside his not a moment later. With all my training from last night, I let him lead me to the dance floor, forgetting all about Evelyn’s scathing stare, and smiling up at him as I set a hand on his shoulder. We started slowly, following the melody as more couples joined us, but when the tune’s pace picked up and Dracula moved to accompany it, I nearly twisted my ankle.

“Did you forget everything I taught you last night?” He provoked.

“No.” I furrowed my brows, offended. “I was wearing boots yesterday. High heels aren’t exactly waltz friendly for a beginner.”

Dracula’s hand on my back moved to fully encircle my body and, in one move, he lifted me and smashed my chest to his. When he set me down, my face was closer to his, closer than I ever was to him when it came to height, and my feet kept moving, although I wasn’t making an effort to. The softness under my heels proved to me that I wasn’t touching the ground and I laughed, realising me that he had set me over his own feet and had continued to dance like my weight was nothing. Guests around us snickered, prompting me to laugh more.

My nose brushed his as my laughter died down and my eyes strained to focus on something in the close proximity. I could feel every inch of his body shaped to mine and that queasy feeling I’d told Mallory about settled in my belly. A mere movement of his feet could sway me forward and brush our mouths together.

My heart threatened to burst out of my chest. It beat madly against my ribs like it was a caged animal. Could Count Dracula feel its thud inside his chest due to our nearness? As if it was his own heart, beating lively for the first time in the last five centuries?

I sighed, pressing my cheek to his. Count Dracula nuzzled closer until I felt his lips grazing my earlobe and sending a wave of arousal down my body.

“Aren’t you worried about ruining your shoes?” I said into his ear.

His chest heaved under mine and I wondered if that was him taking a deep breath of my scent.

“Not at all,” he responded. “They are disposable but I shall keep them, if only to admire the dents your high heels will leave on the leather.”

A grin took my mouth, making my cheeks hurt from opening so wide.

“Does your castle look anything like this one?” I asked him, attempting to focus less on how his body felt against mine.

“Mine has more towers and it sits far up on a mountain peak. It’s bigger than this one. Hence it was difficult to keep it to pristine condition, especially because I had no servants after I became what I am today. I frighten people, can you imagine that?” His chuckle tickled my ear. “This one was designed to be pleasing to the eye, I imagine, while serving the purpose of a fortress all the same. My home is nothing but a fortress to keep people out but, most of the time, in . It isn’t pretty.”

I pretended to not hear the part about keeping people in.

“Do you miss it?”

“No. Though, I realised today I was far more attached to that library than I remembered. There are manuscripts there, signed ones, and countless others invaluable books. Forbidden ones by the church, as well. When Renfield recovers, I’ll have him find out if my castle is still standing, and if it is I’ll have my books sent to me.”

“Maybe Captain Nemo would be jealous of your collection. I know I am,” I said. As we spun, Mallory, dancing with Sean, caught my eyes over the Count’s shoulder and grinned like an excited child as she gave me a thumbs up. I winked back at her. “I’ve seen pictures of Romania when I researched you. It’s beautiful. And the weather seems more agreeable than England’s. Why would you move here?”

“The Industrial Revolution,” he answered, shrugging as he continued our dance. His dance, to be fair. I was simply taking a ride. “England was far ahead than any other place in the world and Romania with all its superstition fell behind, always more of the same in centuries. And I wanted to see new things developing instead of just hearing about them. So I came, and missed most of them because of Agatha.” He sighed. “Unfortunate in some ways but for the best in others.” He dug his fingers on my waist to let me know what he meant.

Dracula danced with me in silence from then on. We danced until everyone was on the dance floor with us and the waltzes had been substituted by song ballads. I had my forehead resting in the crook of his neck as I breathed evenly, though my heart still seemed somewhat reluctant to beat at a normal pace.

“Y/N,” he called and I hummed in response. “Tell me what you were going to recite last night.”

I opened my mouth to recite it, and then snapped it shut. I started sliding my hand from his, freeing myself of his hold, but he clasped it and fully laced his arm around my back like he was a snake coiling around its prey.

“I can’t,” I mumbled. I remained still, head tucked on his neck as I stared at the dragon pendant.

“Why?”

“Because it’s true, and it’s one of my secrets. You don’t need to know it.”

“But I want to know it. Your every secret, your truth, I want everything. And yesterday you told me you’d tell me.”

“I lied.” I rose my head to look at him. His black eyes, unwavering in its intensity, lured me in like a raging sea. I could have drowned in them. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“No, I couldn’t.” He furrowed his brows for a second and then smiled. “I don’t know whether to be proud that you’ve learned how to lie to me or be annoyed about it. Deciphering you will be an even greater challenge from now on.”

“Good.”

Baudelaire’s words revolved in my head repeatedly. Like a song lyric, one without rhythm but all of its meaning.

‘What can an eternity of damnation matter to someone who has felt, if only for a second, the infinity of delight?’

I needed that second. As a reminder of what I was throwing away.

I glanced at Dracula’s lips and tilted my head closer. He blinked, comprehension passing his eyes as my mouth neared his. He stopped dancing and became very still, as if he was afraid to scare me away by a brusque movement. My nose bumped into his. My eyes were wide, half scared about what I was doing, half scared of missing the look on his eyes. I stood on my tiptoes, further ruining his shoes, and captured his lips with mine.

I stopped breathing and finally closed my eyes, too caught up in the feel of him to have them open. And then he freed my hand which he had been holding captive to trap me with both of his arms as he parted his mouth. In the past, his lips had been always cold when we kissed, and now, the feel of his warm tongue on mine, demanding and hungry, was what made me shudder. Unrestrained need to feel more of him, anything, just more and more, made me deepen the kiss and delve my fingers into his hair. He established a slow pace but I still struggled to gasp for air in between our short, nearly nonexistent pauses.

I heard a faint chattering that sounded suspiciously of admonishment but I didn’t care. I was doing something stupid but for the life of me, I couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, whether it was for my sake or for the sake of someone else’s reprisals. And I wanted to give Count Dracula this, the one thing he shouldn’t have before he went away.

When he tried to pull away to give me room to breathe, I simply grabbed his face and crushed my lips to his again. He moaned low on his throat and an ache started between my legs, rising up towards my breasts and I suddenly felt like my dress was restraining me. His hands roved my back, seeking to touch more of me as I did with him, but it wasn’t enough and I soon found myself cursing the fact that there were people watching us.

I don’t think I would’ve stopped if it wasn’t for Count Dracula grabbing the nape of my neck and tearing me away from him.

“No–” I started to protest but caught hold of myself when he, very slowly, started dancing again. And when he did, I felt a distinct stiffness pressing against my stomach. My mouth fell open for a brief second and the look on his eyes was enough to make me hide my face on the curve of his neck. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. ” He chuckled in my ear, and I shuddered as the throbbing between my legs intensified.

“You should’ve stopped me earlier,” I muttered.

“And miss your face when you realised what you did?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said, trying to conceal a snicker. “Not on purpose.”

He just laughed.

I shut my eyes, doing my best to memorise the sound.

When Count Dracula stopped dancing at the end of the song, and nothing else stood between us, I slowly disentangled myself from him. The front of my body felt oddly cold and bare now that I stood apart from him and I had to swipe a hand down my dress to make sure it was still there. I glanced at him and snorted upon noticing that his lips were swollen.

“You have lipstick all over,” I said, smiling like an idiot. He bent his head closer as I cleaned the corners of his mouth with my thumb. Grabbing my jaw gently, he did the same with me, his fingers brushing my numb lips and leaving a tingly sensation where he touched. “Better?” I asked, dropping my hand when I was done.

He nodded and started leaning his head forward. Feeling suddenly modest as if I hadn’t just rubbed myself against him as two hundred people watched, I turned my head to the side and his lips touched my cheek .

“Y/N, look at me.” I did and I almost wished I didn’t. Tenderness was a peculiar thing to find in the eyes of a murderer but I found it. “Was that a yes?”

“Yes.” I nodded lightly. “Sort of.”

I could say it because it wouldn’t last long.

The crease between Dracula’s eyebrows told me he was considering my answer but if he wanted to question me about what ‘sort of’ meant, he saved it for later.

I slid from his grasp until I clasped his hand.

“I need to visit the ladies’ room. I’ll only take a minute. Why don’t I introduce you to some people so you’ll have company until I come back?”

He acquiesced.

Ignoring every judgmental look I received, I weaved my way between tables until I caught sight of Mallory’s blond head sitting at the partner’s table. If anyone at that table had witnessed us at the dance floor, nobody let it show on their faces as Count Dracula shook hands with them. I doubted anyone would have said anything either, since he towered over the entire group with a slight curl of his lips that simply dared anyone to ask. It was like a wolf making nice with the deer right before it ate it.

“Mal,” I leaned close to her so only she could hear me. “Come with me to the ladies?”

“Sure.” She set down her glass of champagne on the table and picked up our purses.

My purse felt very heavy on my hands and I was already dreading opening it. I slanted a look at Count Dracula to see that he was already sitting down and in deep conversation with Talbot about life in England.

As if I needed another reminder, Raoul came by at that moment, his white suit clinging to every muscle on his arm and making me wonder what was his true occupation. With swollen muscles like that, I doubted he was a doctor like Zoe.

“Miss, would you like a drink? If you’re not satisfied with your wine, I can prepare a cocktail, if you wish.”

I almost said ‘Manhattan’ right there but my mouth wouldn’t form the words.

“Maybe later,” I told him, and he left.

Turning to Count Dracula, I bent so I could level my mouth with his ear, and as I did so his nostrils flared, the oddest look crossing his face.

“Try not to bite anyone in the meanwhile.” I whispered, forcing myself to sound normal instead of rueful. “I’ll be right back.”

When I drew back, his face was impassive and he merely nodded at me before flashing a beguiling smile at Talbot as they resumed their conversation.

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Come on! • Part 1 – „A Stranger“

Peaky Blinders • Mini-Series

Vendetta had brought your family back to Small Heath for a while. As a Blinder you received orders from Tommy like everyone else did as well. Your current one: Keep eyes on Bonnie Gold. When you first heard those words you wouldn’t have dared to imagine this order would take a complete turn on you.

Pairing • Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Reader

Words • 2.1k

A/N • This Mini-Series is following the events of Peaky Blinders S4 (means: SPOLERS). Lemme know if you like ittttt 🌚

Come on! • masterlist

/////

There was one rule you had set for yourself: Never. Fucking. Care. You did what you pleased. With anything, anyone, at anytime. Life was too short – perfect example: your brother John – to stick to someone else’s ideals or follow the law. Or, worst of all, society’s expectations.

Being a Shelby was innate. Being a Blinder was a choice. One your brothers may have disliked because you were together with Finn, the youngest Shelby, but… you didn’t care. The first time you stole a Peaky cap and caused havoc was thrilling. Who said only the boys could have fun? Yes, society. And what did you do about that? Exactly, you didn’t fucking care.

You should probably care a little more sometimes as it would be good for your own health, but after John passed recently, that thought was thrown in the cut before put into reality.

Being back in Small Heath, due to the vendetta, didn’t automatically mean everything was back to normal. A lot of things were different. Your temper, boiling under your skin and making you want to destroy something, was the same as ever. It was fuelled by dismay over the grief that was still lurking. Every other day it dragged you into this black cloud. The strange thing was that it felt so soft, so easy to fall into it. And once you let yourself fall and started to grieve, it seized you tighter, not wanting to let you breathe again. Once you cried, you wouldn’t be able to stop. So, whenever you felt that grief creeping up on you, you harshly removed yourself out of this black cloud before you couldn’t stop missing John anymore.

One of the disadvantages of running away from your feelings: Your temper, this always hungry beast inside of your chest, asked for an outlet. Throughout the day this outlet came in the shape of boxing. Even as a kid you had imitated Arthur throwing punches whenever something was troubling you. The physical exhaustion numbed your thoughts. But in the nights, boxing wasn’t so easy. Punching air didn’t do shit.

Standing in your old room at Watery Lane, already having pulled every piece of clothing out of the wardrobe and the pillow cut open, feathers flowing around the room, you took a look in the mirror. The way you viewed yourself was normal to you – you knew it wasn’t how most of the others viewed themselves, though. You just didn’t care at all for your appearance. The time people spent with worrying over their appearances was just wasted lifetime to you. What did it matter how you looked in the end? Everyone dies no matter what you look like.

Dead. John is dead. Tiny black clouds were reaching out for you, trying to make you sit on them and carry you into their nightmare land. Not with me.

Not being able to throw your fists into a punching bag, you closed them around the scissors you found in a drawer. In the rush of letting out air, getting free of that intense feeling of being trapped, you didn’t care at all when you took the scissors and started to chop your hair of – strand for strand.

All of the cut hair gathered at your bare feet, tickling between your toes. With every trim your breathing returned to a steadier rhythm. The mess on your head, when the scissors couldn’t cut anymore hair, didn’t allow you to fully settle yet. Opening the door and glancing into the hallway, none of your siblings seemed to be awake – every door was closed but one. You rushed to the only door being open: John’s old room. And indeed you found an old bar of shaving soap and brush in his bedside cabinet.

Picking up your knife, which had been laying on the floor with your shoes, you soaked the shaving brush in some water, swirled it over the soap and applied the rising foam on the remnants of your hair. It was the first time ever you felt a blade being pushed over your head and it was great. You could almost hear every single hair being relentlessly shaved off. The thoughts wouldn’t leave your brain faster, without hair in the way, but you were finally able to fall asleep now, once you were done shaving your head.

/////

Sun was just starting to rise outside, meaning you didn’t sleep that long, but at least a little bit. Throwing on some pants and a shirt, you grabbed your bag and cap after brushing your teeth.

The betting shop was still quiet but that would change soon. You planned on being out of the house by then.

Arthur was sitting in the kitchen, having some breakfast and sipping on his tea. When he saw you coming in, he choked on a sip. Crashing the cup down to the table, he coughed it out, looking at you in shock. „Y/N, what the fuck happened to your hair?“

„It’s gone,“ you shrugged.

„Yeah, I can see that.“

„So… then you know what happened,“ you teased and grabbed a slice of bread, making your way to the door.

„Nah, you’re ain’t going nowhere.“ Arthur got up and pointed over to the betting shop. „Tommy has an order for you.“ A small chuckle escaped him. „And I’m gonna go with you to see his reaction on your baby head. Can’t miss out on that.“

If you cared you would’ve hit him for saying you looked like a baby with the bald head but you really, really didn’t care. It was the awaiting order which you cared about. You just wanted to leave for King Maine’s, not being bothered with a job to do first.

When you entered the office, Tommy didn’t look up. Only when you reached his desk did he spend a second on diverting his eyes from papers to Arthur and you. For a moment, Tom’s eyes were fixated on your head, you knew because they were looking to high up for the goal being your eyes, but he didn’t care. Just like you.

„New order, Y/N. Keep an eye on Bonnie Gold when you’re at the boxing hall. Need to know how he’s keeping up.“

Bonnie Gold? The guy who had shot a man at John’s funeral, rode by with his father on a horse and later killed another Italian, one of Changretta’s men? „I’m not a fucking babysitter, Tom.“

„You’re not. You’re my messenger. So go do your work.“

„Even worse,“ you muttered under your breath, but that was how Blinder business worked. You did as you were told.

Leaving Watery Lane before anyone else could stop you, your excitement was slightly impaired. King Maine’s was your hiding spot where you went to when everything got too much. You punched your thoughts out, your grief and also your fucking heart because some days even feeling it beat in your chest seemed to be too much to take. All you could hope for was to have some peace before he would show up at King Maine’s. 

That wasn’t the case, though. Bonnie Gold was already there. Of course he would be.

Your immediate reluctance to ‚keep an eye on someone‘ faded as you entered the hall and stood there, watching him for a minute. It wasn’t even eight and Bonnie was already sweat-soaked, fully invented into mauling a punch bag. That was some dedication right there. 

Leaning on a pillar and still observing him, some of the other boxers greeted you silently. For a long time you were visiting King Maine’s now and never has there been any strange glances or lewd whistles. Perks of being a Shelby probably.

His fists slowed down. Bonnie placed some final punches then let go of the sandbag, went over to a bench, and grabbed a bottle. While he was drinking he looked around and eventually spotted you.

You didn’t hide you were watching him. Actually, you stared right back in his eyes from afar. Until Maine shouted from the other end of the boxing hall to not distract the Gold boy. Cautiously regaining your balance, you grabbed your bag and went to change in this super tiny lumber room. It was your own personal changing room, provided by King Maine with some reluctance. But as a Shelby one of your brothers, if not yourself, always made sure you were treated the right way.

Starting your boxing session, your thoughts that had kept you awake all night until you chopped of the hair, were slowly starting to fade. You hit them right into the punch bag where you wished they would stay forever. From time to time you felt two eyes on your back. And whenever you turned around you stared back at those two eyes, Bonnie Gold’s eyes.

The first boxers who had come to King Maine’s studio in the morning were replaced by a few other locals by now. It were always the same guys here. Fellas, pretty loyal to the Shelby’s, and most of them trying to become a Blinder one day. But except for a handful they were just pricks, all mouth and no trousers. If you gave them a cap to cut someone’s eyes they would probably shit themselves.

By noon you had tired your lungs out, your clothes were soaked in sweat, and you granted yourself a minute on a bench before you would go back to Watery Lane for lunch.

Bonnie Gold was still there. He walked over to you when you started to unwrap the bandages on your hands.

„I know you’re supposed to watch me.“ His voice didn’t sound like you had expected it. It was calm and almost a little teasing. 

Only looking up for a second, you turned your attention back to the bandages. Untangling them was a profession you still hadn’t managed after all those years. „A strange way to start a conversation with a stranger.“

„You’re not a stranger.“ He sat down next to you.

I didn’t invite you to sit with me, you thought. „I never talked to you before so I would call you a stranger.“ 

„Okay, then let me restart.“ He turned towards you and reached out his hand for you to shake it. „I’m Bonnie Gold.“

„I know.“ You didn’t shake his hand as a matter of principle. Strangers, even though he wasn’t really a stranger, didn’t get body contact from you. Maybe during a training fight in the ring but not because society expected you to shake someone’s hand even though you rather liked to keep your personal space.

„See! You know who I am. And I know who you are.“ He didn’t mind you not shaking his hand; he only grinned at himself.

„Doesn’t change the fact you’re still a stranger.“ You rolled up the bandages, which you were finally able to wrap off your hands, and shot him a smirk. 

„A stranger you’re supposed to watch.“ Bonnie winked at you. „But Tommy gave me orders too.“

The question as to why he even knew you were supposed to keep your eyes on him popped up but you really didn’t care for that. „Well, there are two things you need to know, Bonnie Gold. First thing: Tommy gives out orders to everyone, including me. I may have gotten an order but the second thing is: I don’t do things, not even following Tommy’s orders, if I don’t enjoy doing them.“

„Is that so?“ His smirk still didn’t leave his lips. He seemed to quite enjoy this conversation.

„Indeed,“ you confirmed your previous statement, kinda playing along with this vibe.

Bonnie leaned over a little and lowered his voice so only you were able to hear him. „Didn’t your brother also tell you to stay away from dangerous men?“ 

Leaning in as well, mimicking him: „You think you’re a dangerous man? To me?“ This thought made you actually laugh out loud for a second.

„I killed men,“ he stated in all seriousness.

„So did I,“ you returned, enjoying the blindsided expression on his face. „I guess that equals it out.“

Bonnie Gold slowly found his grin again, stood with his hands up in surrender. „One point for you.“ He walked off but decided to come back once more. „If you’re willing to we should get in the ring together for a training. I think this could be interesting.“

Contemplating it, you stood as well, slowly backing up. „Tomorrow at seven. I promise I’ll go easy on you.“ Hearing him laugh at your words when you turned and left for the small lumber room, you had to grin again. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad having to keep your eyes on him. He was kinda… cute.

[miraculousmarifan]

Felinette Month 2020 - Day 11: Ballroom Dances

Sorry for the delay on day 11 of the @felinettenovember​ prompts! I found out my spouse had the night off yesterday, which throws my after work plans out the window, since he wants to spend time with me (crazy right?). Add in writer’s block for the entirety of my remaining writing time and a complete change in idea 0this morning and you’ve got this. If the motivation ever returns (after November ends) I might try to finish my original plan for this (more of a throwback to when my high school included a short unit about dancing during gym) and give you another Felinette dancing fic.

So here’s some fluff and accidental reveals.

Chat!Felix and definitely taking place near the end of their high school time. 

Around 1900 words

Patrols were Felix’s favorite part of the week. Not only did he get to run across the rooftops as Chat Noir, pushing himself to move faster and grow stronger, but he also got to see his partner. After the akumas started getting stronger, the two agreed that they should get together once or twice a week to spar. Ladybug was light on her feet and surprisingly strong, but he had raw mass on her and was using the patrol to build up his stamina. Modeling didn't cut it. Afterwards he would sneak out to find some extra food to supplement his diet and avoid dropping weight. Doing this for a few years had really improved his fighting and he felt this helped the pair stay in tune better during battles. He noticed they fell under an akuma's influence less than when it first began (him especially) and the battles seemed to be more contained. 

Tonight was different from their usual sessions though. Ladybug seemed too distracted during their sparring and he had the upper hand for too much of it.

"Something on your mind, L?" Felix asked, backing out of their chalk-drawn ring to signify his ending the exercise. He grabbed his water bottle and sat near the edge of the roof. Her quiet steps marked the approach and she sat next to him.

"Yeah. Civilian life problems." She sighed out, slouching slightly. 

"Same. Would you like to share some general parts? If you don't want to, is it alright if I do?" Felix didn't want to pry. A few months into their partnership, they had a serious talk about his crush and the way his actions and words were making her uncomfortable. He took it to heart, examining where the line was, and worked to be better. It also helped their battle chemistry to know they could trust each other to listen and respect. It hurt Felix’s heart a bit to be rejected but if Ladybug's belonged to someone else, there wasn’t anything to do about it. 

"You can go first. I'm not sure how much I want to share yet…" she took another deep breath and pushed it out through her nose. Relaxation techniques. Both of them had learned a variety to try preventing either from becoming akumatized.

"As you've known for a while, I've been trying to move on from you since you told me you liked someone else a lot. I actually have a girl in my school that is pretty extraordinary. She's smart, very kind, and rather talented. Even my father likes her and he doesn't like anybody. I'm considering asking her to a school event that's coming up, as a date. However almost every guy in her class has had feelings for her and she declines everyone that gets the courage to ask her out, sweetly of course. Because that's how she is. Kind but firm," he couldn't hold back the sigh or keep his shoulders from the weight of his worry. Ladybug reached over and rubbed his upper back gently.

"Why not give it a try? She might just be waiting for the guy she likes to ask her. I would in her shoes… Plus you're a great guy, Chat! It could even be you!" she supplied encouragingly, turning to give him a smile. He knew she was probably correct about the first part, especially given how often she was right about Marinette. Every piece of vague advice she gave worked in his favor and actually was the reason he had managed to befriend her and started to view her differently.

"Yeah. You're usually right," the first word more of a sigh than actually spoken. He still felt nervous but her support eased it just a little. He wouldn't know unless he asked.

"Actually I’m worried about something kind of similar. I'm planning on going to a dance coming up and I want to ask the guy I like to a slow dance at it, if he comes. But I don't know how to dance and, based on a conversation with one of his friends, he was taught to ballroom dance… plus I always get weak-kneed around him so it makes me a little clumsy. So he probably wouldn’t want to dance with me anyway…" a blush spread across her cheeks as she spoke. He couldn’t help but laugh internally at the coincidence that her school would have a dance coming up too. He guessed it must be the season for it though. 

"I can help you out with that, if you'd like. Part of it at least. I have taken some waltz lessons for different events my father forced me to attend." Felix slowly climbed to a standing position and offered a hand to his partner. She accepted and rose.

"I forgot that your family attends formal events like that… I really appreciate your help!" A little of her usual shine came back. Amazing how much hope can light up someone's eyes.

With her assent, he began explaining and demonstrating the basic steps, positioned her arms in the air before her so he could correct posture, then had her practice without a partner initially. Then he began explaining leading and stepped in to demonstrate what it was like having a partner.

She was not great at the start, however with her focus and already light feet, she picked up on the dance relatively quickly. By the end of this lesson, she at least could hold up with the basics.

"Would you like to practice this again in the next week or two?" He offered, proud at the progress she made in such a short time. She affirmed that she wanted to practice more, the two deciding once a week for the next three weeks would be ideal. Before parting for the night, he reminded her to practice the steps on her own each night if she really wanted to be confident in them, especially in her dress and shoes once she had them.

Over the next few weeks, Ladybug was dutiful in her practice and lessons and improved drastically. Felix couldn’t help but wonder if her transformation helped or if she really was this graceful in her civilian life. If she was, it would seem like a dead giveaway to him.

Felix, on the other hand, had not built up his courage enough to ask Marinette to be his date to their school dance. She seemed so busy helping the student council prepare for it, just another responsibility of class representatives. He only had one more week to ask her as his school dance took place the next Saturday.

"I'm confident that you're good enough for a simple dance, L. I'm pretty sure you could even handle it if he threw in some turns. You don't have any reason to worry!" Felix assured his partner after their last practice session. It seemed her nerves weren't any calmer than his. 

"Thanks. I'm sure it can't be more of a disaster than some of the other things that have happened around him… Did you ask that girl out yet?" She looked expectantly and he couldn't help but avoid eye contact.

"Not yet… she has been rather busy so I don't want to bother her. As far as I know, she isn't going with anyone though," he answered reluctantly, running his hand from the back of his neck forward.

"Oh Chat, you can do this. It's just one moment of courage and then the two of you either move on with your lives or go on a date and decide where to go from there!" Ladybug clearly was excited for him, completely confident that the results would be fine. Felix wished he could tap into that enthusiasm. 

"I'll do my best… maybe I'll visit her and ask outside of school…" he tried to sound assured. Maybe I'll feel less pressure asking outside of school. He also began planning to himself how he would ask too. It hadn't occurred to him until then that he might want to do something more than just say it. He should probably bring her something she likes when he asks.

"Good luck!" Ladybug shouted to him as they parted ways again.

At school on Wednesday, Marinette was surprised when Felix asked if he could stop by the bakery that evening. She agreed and asked if he wanted her to have anything ready. He assured her she didn't need anything for him and that he likely wouldn't be there too long. This didn't relieve any of her confusion at his sudden request. 

She was even more surprised when Felix brought her a bouquet of flowers and a spool of nice silk ribbon, and asked her to go to the school dance with her. She readily agreed and, pulling up a photo of the fabric she had used for her dress, asked if he minded the color scheme she had chosen before having a date. She even offered to make him a tie to match, if he wanted. He assured her he had one that would match well and she didn’t need to worry about anything else regarding the dance. They set a time for him to pick her up the following week before parting. Felix kissed her hand gently before walking to his car, hoping the small flirtation would be acceptable and indicated his sincerity. Marinette blushed and watched until his car had pulled into traffic. 

When Felix arrived at the bakery to take Marinette to the dance, he was unprepared for all of the pomp that accompanied it. First her parents took pictures of him before she came downstairs, (apparently they had been taking pictures of her preparing and gotten a few of her alone upstairs), and then there was the moment she came down.

She looked fantastic, hair done up in a single bun, with the flyaway pieces curling around her face and the ends of the pulled up strands curled slightly around the bun. The main body of her dress ended just above her ankles, however the sheer fabric layer on top hung to her toes in her 8 cm heels. The top was tighter around her waist and dropped down in a fashion that complimented her thin frame but didn't hug it. The scoop neckline was high and flat and the sleeves covered most of her bicep. Her necklace and bright smile completed her look.

Felix's mouth may have hung open but he was more focused on her than how he looked right then. When she hesitantly walked towards him, blushing beautifully, and asked what he thought of the dress she had designed, he's sure he said something coherent and complimentary beyond a single uttered "wow," no matter what her parents say. They took more photos of the pair posing together before letting them leave. Her parents decided that their favorite picture was very possibly the one catching the look on his face when he first saw her.

Felix was in for another surprise after he asked her for a slow dance, expecting Marinette to simply wrap her arms around his neck and sway, when instead she shyly asked if a waltz was okay, as that's the only slow dance she knew. He was thrilled by the coincidence and they became the center of attention with their perfectly timed waltz. If either was reminded of their costumed partner’s dancing, it was unconsciously. At the end of the night, he surprised her by asking if she would like to continue dating him. She said yes.

The next joint patrol between Chat Noir and Ladybug ended with excited and more detailed updates on their respective situations. Both were surprised at the accidental identity reveal.