#I'll never get over seal kisses why do they do it so often

[sealsdaily]

Today's Seals Are: Big Wet Smooch

[lushlovers]

Love it, J. Burrow

summary; it's just kissing, right?

warnings; kissing duh, like two petnames i think, little to no swearing, grammatical errors, dirty talk but nothing super horrible, the manspread™

word count; 530

note; guys listen, i havent written anything serious in a while so please bare with me.

this past week was interesting, dating an nfl star was never really a calm experience, but that's what you signed up for when you began flirting with the joe burrow after one of his big high school games. who wouldn't? i mean, the man's fucking gorgeous.

he's been yours, since the summer of junior year with no change of that in sight. obsessed wouldn't even begin to describe how joe felt about you, any chance he gets he's talking about you or your future together.

coming home from a long day of early christmas shopping knowing he was inside waiting for you always made you smile. after leaving the bags in your car and locking the doors with the key pad, you hurried in the house to find your man on the couch looking straight at you.

"hi, baby," he greeted, eyes crinkling as he smiled at just the sight of you, you're quick to kick off your shoes after hours of walking many stores and shopping malls in the area, "hi, joey," you responded. all the lights but the kitchen were off, the television illuminating the living room.

the game playing on it seemed to be disregarded by joe as he opened his arms, inviting you to come sit on his lap with raised brows. god, does he know how hot it is when he's literally just sitting there? the tops of his thighs are always the best seat in the house aside from his face.

plopping down onto him and wrapping your arms around his neck, "how was shopping?" he questioned, absentmindedly running his hands along your thighs, even through your sweats they still manage to give you goosebumps. "long, i missed you so much," you mumble, breathing in the smell of his shampoo.

"i missed you more, sweetheart," pulling away slightly to press a kiss to his lips, "impossible," you murmured against them, causing him to smile even more than he was before. his tongue slide along your bottom lip, mewling as you allow him to deepen what was supposed to be innocent kisses.

moments later a need for air hits you, joe does his best to chase your mouth, but is unsuccessful and settles for the delicate skin of your neck instead. you push yourself down further onto his lap, grinding against him, breathless and with your head a bit fuzzy from just kissing, he really knows how to use his mouth in every way possible.

"i love it when you kiss my neck," you're more breathless than before, if that's even possible. joe smiles for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, "i know you do, why do you think i do it so often?" like it never left his mouth is back on your neck, this time sucking a bruise there, grazing his teeth and tongue over it to seal the deal.

you hadn't realized how hard you were grinding down onto him until his calloused hands gripped your hips, making you whine in protest. "keep doing that and i'll cum in my pants," he grits out through clenched teeth.

you smile this time, knowingly up to no good, "what if i want that, joey?"

[missmeinyourbones]

just read your drabble about gojo not having eaten this whole time, and i’m so glad i wasn’t the only one thinking of that 😭😭

i wonder what kind of thoughts he’s having :’(

the urge to spoon feed him only the best food in the world is so strong :’

as sad as it makes me think, i also like to think about the reunion 😋 hehe what do you think a reunion with unsealed gojo would be like?

aaaahhhh thank u for asking this!!! ive been thinking about it lol T-T that drabble makes me so sad, so i've been wanting to elaborate on it regarding the reunion (super rough and not proofread or edited but enjoy the crumbs <3)

a/n: part two of this, spoilers of shibuya arc, not proofread or edited

…

you weren’t there when it happened. 

when he was released, you were home. truthfully, you didn’t leave home often anymore. there was no want for it, no need—besides checking in on megumi and the rest of jujutsu high, you stayed inside. 

the apartment remained untouched for weeks. satoru’s dirty laundry that still smelt of him stayed sitting in the hamper. the bedsheets, unwashed since he last slept spread across them. the meal you’d made, the one he never got to try, remains packed away in tupperware in the back of the fridge. 

it all happened so fast. 

after being released he was immediately taken to the school. he was quickly checked out by shoko for any damage or harm. he was debriefed on everything that happened, of all the carnage and wreckage. it didn't feel real to him. he couldn't think straight, couldn't sit still, couldn't do anything. until he was back home, with you. there was no phone call, no warning or update. suddenly, he was just there.

teleporting into your living room within a split second, he stands shaking above the couch where you sleep. he admires you—skin sickly pale, under eyes dark from lack of sleep and constant tears, body frail from not eating, not taking care of yourself. 

and still, as satoru whimpers and sobs admiring your sleeping state, he thinks you look as beautiful as you did the day he first met you. 

his sniffles and ragged breaths are what wake you, and you think you're dreaming. hallucinating. because he’s here, in front of you, when it shouldn't be possible. when he should be in that box, rotting away like a forgotten memory. 

"satoru," you call out, but it’s more of a question, one of is it really you? or am i imagining this?

and his voice weakly falling from your lips is all it takes for him to be smothering you, gripping you as tightly as he can. he cradles your head and feels your arms, hands, neck, any piece of you he can grab. he feels for your breathing, forgetting his own as he gasps and shudders through tears. 

"i'm here, oh my god you're here, i'm here. i'm sorry, i love you. i'm so fucking sorry," he babbles and cries, kissing you, touching you, desperate and pathetic as he needs to know that this is real. not a cruel trick from the seal or an everlasting purgatory. 

"we're here, we're okay. i love you, we're okay," you shakily reassure him. you feel his hair tickle your fingers like it used to. you feel his teeth graze your ear like they used to. it’s him, undeniably and in the flesh. 

"oh my god, i'm so sorry—”

"why are you apologizing?"

"i'm so sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry," the apologizes rush from his lips like a river flowing downstream. he can’t stop himself, he’s out of breath, sobbing and shaking as he continues. 

"hey, satoru, look at me," you hold his face in your palms, but his eyes are insatiable. scanning over your frame manically as he continues to pant and hyperventilate. 

you try again, "there is nothing to be sorry for, satoru, none of what happened was your fault."

"i'm sorry i—" he pauses, finally looking into your eyes, "i didn't get to eat dinner with you, didn't get to taste it—"

"i'll remake it.” you assert, desperate to calm his fears in any way you can, “i'll make it again, okay?" he tries to follow along, taking a slow and shaky inhale as he watches the way your lips enunciate the words, "are you hungry?"

satoru looks at you, drinking all of you in, as if his eyes can’t move over your frame quick enough. as if he’s searching every freckle, scar, blemish, scab, to see if there’s anything new. to see if he’s missed anything. if you’re the same you. 

with tears silently spilling from his eyes and down his cheeks, into the crevices of his neck and your fingers, he nods. 

"m'fucking starving."

his response has you laughing through your own tears, and then suddenly, he’s laughing—because you’re laughing. and the two of you stand in your home, holding onto one another for dear life as you cry out of far too many emotions—grief, comfort, want, need. 

"okay," you nod, drinking in the blue of his eyes, "we can eat," you promise. "can you help me make it?" you ask, and it’s a simple question, one that’s supposed to ground him, distract him from his uneven breathing and the heavy mourning that is soon to set in with reality. 

"okay." he’s quick to nod his head at your words, "here,” he clarifies, as if he’s reminding, convincing himself that yes, he’s here, with you. he kisses you once more, it’s shaky and wet and yet there is so much love in it that you think you might suffocate, 

“yeah, okay," he breathes life into your lungs. he’s here, with you. 

[theextratreefairy]

The Prey of Hawks - p.2

I found this banner hilarious, pintrest hawks banners be making me laugh

they/them winged-reader, yandere purge

Warnings: yandere thèmes, kinda suggestive, Reader is a calculator who's kinda stupid, toxic power dynamics, swearing, abuse.

p.1 - masterlist

P.2 - Say my name (short)

Hawks loved the idea of having a darling he could protect, a darling he could love and take care off. To give them the comfortable life he never had. So when he found Reader and his yandere tendecies kicked in, he knew for sure. It had to be them.

And now he had them with the help of some chloroform

"How adorable, you are." Hawks whispered as he played with Reader's hair. "And now you're all mine..." Hawks started to braid one of his feather's in their hair, making sure to kiss the feather before letting it settle in their hair.

Now he won't have to chain Reader! His feather will warn him if his little darling will try to escape, Hawks smiled at Reader in a love-sick way.

Yeah, Hawks got punished in his face by Reader

Reader's wings flapped in annoyance, their body ready to attack and run. But they only can if the purge is still going on- otherwise they must surrender the idea of escaping. "I deserved that~ so i'll let it go just this once, baby bird, I promise!"

"How can a pro-hero go so low?" Reader hissed at Hawks. "mhm, is the bed soft enough for you? Or do you want me to buy nesting material at the bird quirk shop?" Hawks was ignoring Reader's annoyance. "Is the purge over?"

"Why, of course! Did you think I would be stupid enough to subdue my baby bird for so short?" Reader's wings shivered annoyed. "Well, fuck you! I had a perfectly content life, Hawks! How the fuck did you even fall in love with me?! And if your going to tell me to calm down or else yoU'lL pUnIsH me I will will cut off your baby maker!"

Reader was sitting up on the weird bird nest like bed they woke up in. And with the pro-hero in front of them, they should be afraid, they should act like a submissive little darling. Just like all the darlings were trained after they got their letters, if they were caught. But what's the fucking fun in that?

"I saw you sleeping on one of the clouds~, and after stalking you for a while, I just couldn't resist~!" Hawks hands were cupping reader's face. "But if you ever call me Hawks again instead of Keigo, there will be consquences from now on." Reader tensed up as they felt Keigo's grip getting stronger.

"Go on, darling, say my name."

"And if I don't?" Reader challenged, they had to know how much they could defy Hawks in order to survive. "Then I suppose your students will recieve a vail of your precious blood."

A Vail of blood was often send to the once you love/care about or your work to show that you have been captured and are defiant. In other words, seeing those darlings outside without their yanderes mean that they are viewed as runaway darlings.

Unless the darlings can prove it otherwise with a special id/note made by their yandere.

Well that means, there isn't much room to challenge Keigo, Reader will have to obey because Vails of blood can seal the deal for Darlings who wish to be free before the next purge.

"Go on say my name then, Reader."

'Okay this bitch is getting serious' Reader thought as the grip on their face was getting tighter and Keigo's face was becoming closer and closer.

"Keigo, your hurting me." Reader said, cringing internally.

"Say it again."

"Keigo, your hurting me?" Reader was sure as hell hoping that he wasn't getting turned on just from them saying his name.

"No, chant my name, chant my name like you love me, that I'm the only man you'll ever look at!"

[jungshookz]

maybe, she can drive his car; mechanic!yoongi

➺ pairing; mechanic!yoongi x spoiledbrat!y/n

➺ genre; mechanic!yoongiverse!! sfw!! honk honk humour!! some suggestive behaviour because this is mechanic!yoongi and his y/n we're talking about!! the green-eyed monster inside of y/n is awoken after being dormant for so long and she's ready to bite some heads off

➺ wordcount; 11.6k

➺ summary; yoongi's ex is back in town for a visit and you'd be lying if you said you weren't slightly envious of a) how knowledgeable she is about stupid cars and b) how well she gets along with literally everyone.

➺ what to expect; "right, about that- i know i was supposed to come over for dinner tonight but- listen, i don't know what lisa did but obviously she's got a lot of connections now and the shop has literally never been this busy before... you understand, don't you?"

➺ currently spinning on the record player; mustang sally (originally by wilson pickett, covered by andrew strong)

(unfortunately i wasn’t able to track down the original maker of this gif but this is where i sourced it from! all credits go to the original creator of course :-))

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

namjoon usually doesn't pay too much attention to you whenever you're hanging out at the workshop with everyone because of how often you're here, but there's something about the way you're acting today that even he has to admit is oddly very...

cute?

and it's not that you're not cute all the time (because you totally are!!) but it's just that the version of you today in particular is suddenly making him want to go off and find a y/n of his own

"whatcha doing?"

namjoon jolts in surprise when a grimy hand suddenly burrows itself into the warm bag of freshly-popped popcorn that he has cradled to his chest and he scowls before turning his body away slightly

"hey, you're contaminating the popcorn, man-" he huffs, quickly grabbing the mega-sized pack of hand wipes from the desk before plopping it down on the countertop for jungkook, "at least have the decency to wipe your hands before digging into my popcorn- also, i'm watching. duh."

"watching?" jungkook frowns as he sloppily wipes his hands on the front of his shirt, turning to look out the open door, "watching what?"

"yoongi and y/n." namjoon hums, popping a couple of kernels into his mouth with a crunch, "she's been following him around like a little duckling all day."

"mm." jungkook props an elbow up on the counter as he looks towards the two of you before clicking his tongue, "...he must've really given it to her good last night if she's acting like that-"

"okay, now you've ruined the moment-" namjoon frowns, his shoulders dropping slightly before he gestures to you guys, "it's sweet! this is obviously a wholesome thing-"

"call it what you want, but all i'm trying to say is that good sex makes you do crazy things-" jungkook snorts before aggressively shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, "cravy phings."

"i'd like to argue that good sex forms a strong emotional bond which explains why there are cartoon hearts currently floating around y/n's head-" namjoon perks up when he notices the way your eyes light up at something yoongi says, "look at her! look at the way she's looking at him!"

"oh, please." jungkook tuts, "that dopey look on her face is telling me that the only thing on her mind is yoongi bending her over the hood of that car and just ramming-"

"namjoon and jungkook are arguing again." you point out, turning to look towards the office just in time to see namjoon throw a handful of popcorn at jungkook only for him to open his mouth and chomp wildly at the air to get some into his mouth

"jungkook probably said something stupid, as per usual." yoongi snorts, leaning over to lock the hood of the car into place before pulling away and taking a look at the situation, "now, let's see what we have going on here..."

when namjoon told him that this was a brake master cylinder repair he immediately felt all the excitement leave his body

he hates doing brake master cylinder repairs

all the parts are so small and the handiwork is super tedious anD the last time he did one of these he took like four hours to get it done

overall it's a pretty boring repair job and as much as he wants to pass it off to one of the others to do, he knows that he's the most skilled with the internal mechanics of a car compared to everyone else which he usually likes to brag about but today he wishes that that wasn't the case

"so what do you have to do?" you frown, stepping over so that you're standing by the side of the car and you're not in yoongi's way, "all the thingies look fine to me."

"well, i actually need to replace the brake master cylinder thingy." yoongi teases, smiling lightly as he points at some kind of container, "there's a leak in the seals, which is pretty common since they wear out after a few years. it should be an easy fix! it'll just take a while, that's all."

luckily, taehyung already took care of the messy part and emptied the fluid from the reservoir for him so now it's time to start the actual repair process

"so does beeper have one of these cylinders in him?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity

you've never actually taken a look at beeper's under the hood situation before so you wouldn't know

(it feels like he's all naked and exposed whenever yoongi lifts his hood up and you just want to give beeper some privacy, that's all.)

"if beeper didn't have one of these cylinders in him, you wouldn't be able to brake, silly." yoongi snorts, reaching down to unclip the sensor from the reservoir, "see, when you push down on the brake, it pushes a piston through the cylinder and forces hydraulic fluid through the brake lines, which goes to the slave cylinders of each wheel, and then-" he pauses when he notices you've gone all quiet and he turns to see you staring directly at him with a dopey little smile on your face "-what? what'd i say?"

"i like it when you talk shop to me." you giggle quietly, "i mean, i don't understand 98% of the words that come out of your mouth when you do, but i still like it a lot-"

"yeah?" yoongi teases, taking a hand off the edge of the car so he can gesture for you to come closer (and you do, obviously), "you like it when i talk to you about... hm, i don't know..." he feigns cluelessness as he stands up to slink an arm around your waist and bring you towards him while your arms automatically hang loosely around his neck, "how the rubbing of the brake pad against the brake disc generates friction..." he lowers his voice as he sits lightly on the edge of the car and gives your hips a squeeze

"mm, tell me more..." you play along, letting yoongi pull you closer so that you're settled nicely in between his legs

"i don't know, maybe i should save all the good stuff for the bedroom..."

you resist the urge to immediately start whining when you lean in only for yoongi to dodge your kiss, "hey, i like you in these baggy overalls, by the way." he suddenly changes the subject and you feel your cheeks flush when both his hands slide in through the gaps until he's able to grip your bum, "big, big fan of them-"

"you- namjoon and jungkook are right there-" you gawk, "at least have the decency to turn me around so they don't see you fully groping me-"

"they can always just close their eyes or something-"

"okay, you two, break it up-!" you hear namjoon's claps echoing from the office as he tries to get your attention and you immediately turn to look at him with a grin, "god, it's like you sick freaks want to rub it in our faces-"

"okay, i have to get to work so why don't you go and hang out with namjoon in the office?" yoongi stands up, being careful not to hit the top of his head on the hood, "he'll let you play chess on the computer if you ask nicely."

"i thought i was helping you out today!" you frown, grabbing onto his hand before waving it back and forth, "you said i did a good job handing you the tools and stuff. i'm getting better at not mixing all the different types of screwdrivers up!"

yoongi can't help but laugh at how needy you're being and he reaches up with his free hand to adjust his bandana

"i know you wanna help, but i promise you there's nothing exciting about repairing a master cylinder." he hums, reaching up to pinch your cheek playfully, "plus, don't you still have a huge research paper to work on?"

"yeah, but i'd much rather hang out with you..." you pout, yoongi cooing before leaning in to give your pushed-out bottom lip a little kiss

"we can hang out when we're both done with work."

"okay..." you purse your lips before letting go of his hand, "it's your loss. i'm a fantastic helper."

"mhm, you certainly are-" yoongi spins you around before pushing his palm against your lower back to get you to move, "now go and bug namjoon!"

you turn back to glance at yoongi one last time and he sweeps his hands at you to tell you to gO

fine!

it was getting hot in the garage anyway and namjoon always has the aircon blasting in the office

"sorry! only sad, single people are allowed in this area-" namjoon jokes as soon as you step in, gesturing to the office space with a grin, "leave or i'll have security escort you out."

"oh, stop it." you giggle, folding your arms up on the counter and leaning forward, "i keep telling you i'd be more than happy to set you up with one of my friends!!"

"i know, and that's very nice of you to offer, but i just want to find someone organically, you know?" namjoon sighs, leaning back against his chair before looking up at the ceiling wistfully, "being set up with someone doesn't feel like a natural process."

"namjoon thinks he's the main character of a shitty netflix romantic comedy." jungkook mutters, the two of you exchanging low giggles with each other

"well, if no one comes into your life organically you can always let me know and i'll- woah-" you jump in surprise when the sound of a roaring engine suddenly shatters the peaceful atmosphere and you turn around just in time to see a sleek car veering into the shop

you wince and raise a hand to shield your eyes from the bright headlights and you don't get a chance to make the first comment because jungkook beats you to it

(for the record, you were going to talk about how dramatic of an entrance whatever that was)

"oh my god. that is the sexiest car i've ever seen in my entire life." he breathes out, stepping away from the counter so he can stand by the door and get a closer look, "a 1965 mustang. nice."

"fun fact: i was actually thinking about getting a vintage mustang! i wanted an olive green one because i could've named her 'olive' which is super cute-" you nod enthusiastically, looking back and forth between namjoon and jungkook only for them to.,., completely ignore you and continue staring at the glossy mustang sitting out front

"okay, you guys, it's just a car-" you roll your eyes and let out a little snort of disbelief, "this isn't going to change your life or anything-"

a high-heel clad foot steps out of the car and onto the pavement and you immediately recognize the classic red-bottom louboutins

you actually own a pair of them as well but you rarely wear them out because you're always paranoid that you're going to topple over and snap an ankle and that would be completely mortifying

they're six inches tall!!!!

for the record, they look very nice sitting (collecting dust) on your shelf but now you're starting to think that it might be a good idea to wear them out again because this stranger makes it look like walking in them is easy breezy beautiful

"holy shit. is that lisa?" namjoon murmurs, reaching up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "oh, wow. she..."

"i don't remember her looking like that the last time we saw her." jungkook whistles lowly, "hello, miss manoban."

"lisa- who's lisa?" you frown, tilting your head in curiosity as you watch this mysterious lisa toss her oversized sunglasses into the front seat of the car before slamming the door shut

"uh, she's just one of yoongi's exes- she actually used to work here but-" namjoon reaches over the counter so he can nudge you aside gently to get a better look, "when did she get a vintage mustang?!"

lisa leans down to look at herself in the side mirror, smearing some red lipstick over her pillowy bottom lip before rubbing her lips together and nodding satisfactorily

"guess her car-wrapping business really took off." jungkook hums, his eyes glued to the car

she seems to be moving in slow motion as she takes her hair down and shakes her head back and forth, the three of you tilting your heads at the same time as you watch her in awe

"car-wrapping?" you ask curiously, "she must spend a fortune on wrapping paper and giant bows-"

"no, obviously it's not actual wrapping- like-" jungkook huffs and you resist the urge to bop him over the head at how snappy he's being with you when he already knows you're clueless when it comes to this kind of stuff, "okay, you know how you said that if you ever got a g-wagon for yourself one day that you wanted to make it baby blue just like beeper and also matte? lisa could do that for you."

"oh! in that case, it might be nice to get a business card from her or something-" you make a mental note before shaking your head and turning back around to face namjoon, "hey, so, super casual, can we round back to the whole 'yoongi's ex' thing real quickly because i-"

"yoohoo, boys!" lisa whistles, grinning excitedly when she's suddenly joined by everyone outside one by one, "what, no one thought to roll out the red carpet for me?"

"c'mon, namjoon! let's go say hi to lisa and her vintage 'stang!!" jungkook grins, gesturing for namjoon to hurry before he's darting out the door, "lisa, hey!"

"yeah, okay!!" namjoon gets up from his seat so quickly that he sends his chair rolling back and smacking against the file cabinets, "oh, y/n-! if anyone calls, just send them straight to voicemail-"

"but i-" you don't get a chance to say anything before namjoon's brushing past you and dashing out the door as well

you don't know too much about lisa but obviously she's a pretty big deal around here

it'd probably be good for you to go and introduce yourself instead of awkwardly hanging out in the office by yourself

"hello, lisa. it's very nice to meet you. firm handshake." you mutter to yourself as you step out of the office and head towards the bustling group of boys, "hey, lisa! so great to meet you. firm handshake. hi, girlie-! nope, don't like that one-"

"-in town for business so i thought it'd be nice to swing by and visit my boys." you manage to catch the end of lisa's sentences as you join the boys, trying not to make any sudden movements to catch her attention

"you should've texted one of us or something!" namjoon pulls his phone out of his back pocket, "we could've ordered a pizza for lunch-"

you reach over to give the back of yoongi's jumpsuit a little tug just to get his attention and he glances over his shoulder at you before offering you a teasing smile and reaching back to wiggle his fingers against your stomach

you giggle lightly before swatting his hand away and he turns back to look at lisa

"well, i wanted to surprise you guys!" lisa chirps, tucking her clutch underneath her armpit before clapping her hands together, "i see nothing's changed around here... except for..." you feel your heart drop when she suddenly leans over and looks directly at you, "hello! i don't think we've ever met."

"oh, shoot- sorry, i should've introduced you sooner-" yoongi steps aside so that he isn't blocking you, "lisa, this is y/n! y/n, this is lisa." he smiles, gesturing towards lisa, "my girlfriend." he pauses and quickly shakes his head at his little flub-up, "i mean- lisa, this is y/n, my girlfriend-"

"he's definitely gonna pay for that later." jimin mutters, jungkook snickering before nudging at his side to get him to shut up

"it's super nice to meet you, y/n!" lisa doesn't acknowledge yoongi's error and she steps forward to get closer to you

she's practically towering over you but it's really just because of the stilettos

she turns her head to look at the boys and a second of silence goes by before they realize what she's asking of them and they all scatter in different directions

you give yoongi a look that basically screams S.O.S. and you resist the urge to burst into tears when he gives you a cheery thumbs up in return and trots off to go and do something else

okay

you'll be fine

you have nothing to be nervous about!

this is just yoongi's very hot ex who looks like a million bucks while you'e currently dressed like a giant toddler

it doesn't help that you're wearing what's commonly known as a 'baby tee' under these overalls

"you- yeah, you too-" you chuckle uneasily, giving her a weak handshake before pulling away with a smile, "i'm sorry, i'm a little underdressed-" you pause to gesture to the grubby overalls you have on, "i promise i look better than this most of the time..."

"oh, don't be silly. i just grabbed the first outfit i saw out of my suitcase and threw it on-" she sighs, reaching up to pick some lint off her blazer that you're pretty sure you saw in the most recent YSL spring catalog (in fact, you're pretty sure it's on your to-buy list), "so, what do you do?"

"me? i- uh, well, nothing, at the moment- i'm still studying for my undergraduate degree, so..." you shrug sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

for some reason you can't seem to maintain eye contact with her for more than three seconds at a time

"oh! you're still in school?"

"yeah, i- well, i'm graduating this year, so i'm almost out of school if you think about it that way- but yes. yes, i... am currently a university student, so that's what i'm doing."

"mm, cute! what are you studying?"

"history! i'm a history major and a marine biology minor." you nod, "so... the cold war and... like, sharks. something like that."

"ah, very cool."

to be honest you're not entirely sure if lisa's being sincere or not but you'll take the compliment either way

you can tell she's trying to scope you out - which is fair, because this is the first time you two are meeting and you're currently involved with someone she used to be involved with

"i'm sorry. i'm probably, like, freaking you out right now, aren't i?" lisa snorts, reaching out and placing her hand on your forearm for a split second, "i promise i'm just genuinely curious and i'm not trying to, like, interrogate you or anything. it's super nice to meet you! and honestly- i love the overalls. the little knee patches are adorable."

"oh, thank you..." you smile nervously, reaching down to glance at the mismatched patches of fabric sewn onto the knees of your overalls, "yoongi actually sewed 'em on for me! i usually wear this whenever i'm here because i'm okay with getting it dirty- i, um, i like your blazer! and your heels. and your purse- a chanel clutch is a classic!"

"ooh, someone has an eye for fashion..." lisa winks, raising her clutch and waving it slightly, "maybe after i'm done talking business with yoongi we can talk about gucci's new multicolour line-"

"oh, i have so many thoughts on gucci's new multicolour line!" you gasp, suddenly reignited with a spurt of energy, "honestly the colour scheme is very stabilo highlighters to me but we can talk about it later- i'll just be hanging out in the office, so you can find me there whenever you're ready-"

"perfect!" lisa gives you a thumbs up before pointing over to where yoongi is, "if you'll excuse me, i have to go and talk about boring things with yoongi-"

"mhm!" you watch with a smile as lisa click-clacks off towards yoongi before you spin around on your heels, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for how well you handled that interaction

lisa's actually nicer than you thought she'd be!

obviously the saying don't judge a book by its cover is very applicable here

"so... what'd you think of lisa?" namjoon joins your side before nudging you gently, "she's nice, right?"

"i like her! she seems really cool." you nod enthusiastically, pausing to glance over your shoulder to look at her from behind, "i need to ask her for tips on walking in those louboutins and how not to fall over."

"you know, i must say i'm pleasantly surprised at how you're handling this." namjoon snorts, holding back for a second to let you into the office first before he steps in behind you, "colour me impressed!"

"thank you!" you reach over to pull the lollipop jar towards you before suddenly pausing and looking back over at namjoon with a frown, "hold on a sec, what's that supposed to mean?"

"hm? oh, it's nothing." namjoon scrunches his nose, dismissing you with a flick of his wrist as he takes his seat behind the counter, "i just know that if i was in your shoes and my significant other's very attractive and very successful ex came back i would be a little antsy about it-" namjoon glances up from the computer and his eyes widen in panic when he notices that your eyes have widened in panic, "i- i mean- not that you're not very attractive and very successful- what i'm trying to say is that you have nothing to worry- you and yoongi seem like a very stable couple so-"

"do you think maybe you could tell me a bit about yoongi and lisa?" you interrupt his spiral and you feel yourself starting to get a little fidgety, "because i- i actually don't know anything about that situation-"

namjoon has a point, now that you think about it

lisa is very successful and very attractive and can walk in high heels very elegantly

and what about you?

yesterday you submitted a paper one minute before the deadline because of how much procrastinating you had done

and you haven't worn heels in forever because they just hurt so much

but lisa wouldn't complain about her feet hurting in high heels

lisa could have a hundred blisters and still walk into the room with a beautiful, red-lipped smile

"has he never told you about her?" namjoon frowns, "i feel like every couple should at least have one conversation about their past relationships."

"i think he tried to one time, but i- i dunno, you can't blame me for not wanting to sit there and listen to yoongi talking about all the girls he's been with, so i just changed the subject..." you mutter, pushing the jar away from you after pulling a strawberry lollipop out, "kind of regretting that decision now."

it's not like you have a reason to be insecure or anything, right?

your relationship with yoongi is very solid and there are certainly no trust issues or communication issues or anything of the sort

...

but he is your first boyfriend...,., and this is your first serious relationship which means you've had no prior experiences to learn from which means you're just going with the flow most of the time.,., so is it possible that you're being a little naïve right now?

"still, i don't think me telling you all the details of their relationship is a good idea because i feel like this is a conversation you should be having with yoongi-" namjoon chuckles nervously, leaning back against his chair before tucking a pencil behind his ear, "sorry, kiddo. i'm not trying to stir the pot here."

"i- oh, c'mon, joon- what's it gonna take, huh?" you reach into the front pocket of your overalls before subtly flashing a folded up hundred dollar bill, pursing your lips slightly as your eyes flicker back and forth between namjoon and your chest-money, "hm??"

"first of all, it's very concerning to me that you stash loose cash in your pocket like that. second of all, are you really trying to bribe me into telling you about yoongi and lisa?" namjoon asks incredulously

"what?! no!" you scoff, tucking the bill back into your pocket before pausing and raising an eyebrow, "...is it working?"

"no! in fact, i find it offensive that you think i'd be so easily swayed-"

"the next time i bring sushi for lunch, i'll get you your own mango shrimp tempura roll." you offer, namjoon staring at you blankly before he suddenly springs into action

"so, they used to sleep together, obviously." he clears his throat, "when lisa started working here, i kind of expected her to get involved with one of us and unsurprisingly it was yoongi, because... well, it's yoongi- i'm pretty sure it was a friends with benefits kind of thing because i remember asking him about it and he said they didn't want to put a label on it? and then at one point jimin asked lisa about it because all of us were super curious and she called it a 'situationship'... which, personally, i think is a pretty cheesy label- i dunno, they'd go out to dinners sometimes and occasionally they'd come into work together in the morning because- well, you know- uh, they were in this 'situationship' for... maybe, like, eight months? and then lisa got an opportunity to work elsewhere and she took it and they decided to call it off and fast forward to now... here we are!" namjoon claps his hands together before pressing his palm over his heart, "and i promise you that's all the information i have- well, maybe this piece of information might be useful to you: they were, like, super horny for each other all the time. like, almost outrageously horny, which i think is one of the downfalls of the relationship because you can't base a solid relationship off of animalistic sex, right? ooh, there was one time i caught them in yoongi's office and lisa was-"

"okay, i think that's enough-!" you hold a hand out to shut namjoon up and he shrugs before leaning back against his chair, "more than enough, actually-"

you weren't expecting to learn about the raw, animalistic sex yoongi had with lisa, but then again, you weren't expecting to even meet lisa at all

oh, god

should you be nervous??

you shouldn't be nervous, right??

...yeah, you're being ridiculous!

yoongi has been with other girls before and that shouldn't bother you because you didn't exist then

this has nothing to do with you!

so what if he bent her over the office table and-

okay, maybe it's time to stop thinking about this because the point is: you're fine. don't worry. everything is normal. yoongi is your boyfriend. lisa is his ex. everything is great!

"by the way, i want you to know that you honestly have nothing to worry about." namjoon suddenly chimes in as if he can read your mind, "lisa was yoongi's past but you are his present and most likely his future as well, so- seriously, don't even worry about it."

"yeah, you're right. it'd be silly of me to be upset about yoongi being with someone else when i wasn't even in the picture yet." you snort, reaching up to smack your own forehead gently, "okay! i'm feeling a little better. it would've been nice to not be informed about how horny they were for each other, but thank you for that detail-"

"yo, where are the snap ring pliers from my toolbox?" you turn just in time to see yoongi pop his head in, "i can't find them anywhere... i swear to god, everyone keeps borrowing my tools and 'forgetting' to put them back-" he rolls his eyes before looking over at you with a smile, "hi, baby-"

"hi yoongi-" you giggle, all your doubts and insecurities immediately fluttering away

see? nothing to worry about!

phEw

it feels like a weight's been lifted off your shoulders

"i think hoseok might've been using them earlier this morning." namjoon hums, "what do you need them for?"

"oh, lisa offered to help me out with the master cylinder repair and she needs 'em." yoongi points back over his shoulder, "you know how great she is with her hands-"

"woah, i thought-" your voice cracks slightly and you clear your throat, "i thought, uh- you were working on it yourself? like, i thought you didn't need any help and that's why i'm in here-"

"oh, i don't, but- well, lisa's good with fine-tuning so i might as well take advantage of her expertise while she's here." yoongi snorts before looking back over at namjoon, "you said hoseok had them?"

"yep!"

you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from commenting any further

it's fine!

as we've already established, you have nothing to worry about.

...right?

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

"and... voilà!" you smile satisfactorily to yourself after you set the scented candle down on the coffee table

the living room is going to smell like warm brown sugar and cinnamon in a few minutes and you can't wait

this is yoongi's favourite candle so you hope he'll be excited about that when he gets here :'))

you've been preparing the apartment for his arrival and lighting the candle was one of the last things on your to-do list

you still have to order dinner for tonight and you've always been awful at making decisions so you figured it'd be best to let yoongi choose instead

you haven't seen him for about a week and a half because of finals (and, being perfectly honest, you were the one who implemented this distancing rule in the first place because you know you won't be able to focus on studying when yoongi's in the apartment with you) so you're pretty pumped for tonight!!

you hum to yourself as you click on yoongi's phone number in your contacts, flopping back on the couch with a fwump! while your legs swing lazily over the arm

"hello?"

the phone picks up after a couple of rings and it takes you a second to realize that the voice on the other end certainly does not belong to your boyfriend

"he-" you pause, pulling your phone away from your ear and frowning at the unfamiliar voice before bringing it back, "um, hello?"

"hi! who's this?"

"who's this?" you point to yourself before scoffing lightly, "what do you mean who- who's this?"

"oh- oh, y/n! hey, it's lisa!" lisa greets enthusiastically and you relax a little knowing that it's just lisa, "sorry, i didn't look at the contact name before picking up- what's up?"

"well, i-" you pause again to recollect your thoughts, "um, sorry, i guess i was just expecting yoongi to pick up his own phone so i'm a little lost right now-"

"oh my gosh, don't even worry about it! yoongi's hands are super gross right now so i offered to take his call for him which is why i picked up the phone. is there something you wanted me to pass along to him?"

"yeah, you could pass his phone right along to him-" you joke before reminding yourself to keep the unnecessary cattiness to a minimum, "yeah, um- can you ask him what time he's coming over? so that i know what time to order our food and stuff? i want the food to still be nice and hot by the time he gets here, so i just need a time from him, that's all-"

"yeah, about that... i actually don't think yoongi's going to make it for dinner."

"i-" you frown, pushing yourself up so that you're leaning back against an elbow, "what? why not?"

"the thing is, i hooked him up with a bunch of clients so the poor thing's been working like a dog all day and it looks like he's going to be stuck here for a while... if you're worried about him skipping dinner, i can totally go and get some food for him if you want! there's this sandwich place a block away and i know what he likes-"

your eyes widen slightly at how... happy? lisa sounds about the fact that yoongi potentially won't be joining you for dinner and you nod to yourself as you clench your jaw

"that's- that's very kind of you, lisa-" your voice is a little pitchier than usual at this point and you clear your throat obnoxiously, "i'm sorry, i just really have to talk to yoongi for a second so if you could just, like, hold the phone up to his ear that would be okay too-"

"okay! gimme a sec." there's a bit of shuffling on the other end and you press your lips together as you wait (im)patiently, "yoongs! it's y/n... dinner... hot food... her place... clients... pretty busy tonight..."

and she even has a nickname for him

that's just downright adorable, isn't it?

"god, just give him the damn phone." you mutter under your breath, raising your other hand to inspect your cuticles as you lie back down on the couch

hm

you should probably schedule another manicure soon

"-it's okay, i can hold the phone myself- y/n?" you perk up when you hear yoongi on the other end and you can't help but kick your legs in excitement

you can't help it!!!

you haven't heard his voice in a whole week and a half!!!

"greetings, yoongs." you tease, "what time are you going to be here?" you bypass lisa's whole monologue about yoongi probably not being able to come over tonight in hopes that she'll be wrong about him ditching you to continue working, "i wanna order the food so it'll get here a little before you arrive. also, i haven't chosen what we're going to eat tonight so you're going to have to choose for us-"

"right, about that-" yoongi clears his throat, "i know i was supposed to come over for dinner tonight but- listen, i don't know what lisa did but obviously she's got a lot of connections now and the shop has literally never been this busy before..." he pauses and you hear the sound of loud clanging in the background, "you understand, don't you?"

it takes you a couple of seconds to process the fact that yoongi really won't be coming over tonight and you puff your cheeks out to keep yourself from immediately whining in protest

to say the least, you are.,.,,. very disappointed,.., but!! it won't be the end of the world, right?

you hate that lisa was right, but that's a conversation you can have with yourself another time

and if yoongi won't be here, that means you can hog all the garlic cheesy bread to yourself so maybe this is a blessing in disguise >:-)

"no, yeah, i- yeah, get it!" you nod, "i love that business is booming, i just don't love that you didn't text me or call me earlier to let me know you weren't going to come over tonight," you frown, turning your head to look at the flickering candle, "a heads up would've been nice, that's all..."

"i asked lisa to text you earlier when my hands were full... sorry, she must've forgot..."

"oh. yeah, i guess it could've slipped her mind." you respond dryly, "it would've taken, like, five seconds to text me-"

"okay, i-" you hear yoongi let out a small sigh before he speaks up again, "i'm sorry, baby, i really am- do you- i can come over now if you want me t-"

"no, it's okay! i'm sorry, i'm just-" you shake your head quickly before chuckling uneasily, "i just haven't seen you in a while so i miss you, that's all- but i'll let you get back to work now and i'll see you later?"

"yes! you are the best, you really are- look, i promise i'll be all yours as soon as i-"

"yoongi! these tires aren't going to change themselves, silly-"

"oh, c'mon-" you grumble, your teeth grinding slightly at the interruption of lisa's peppy voice in the background

"uh- yeah, in a sec-! i gotta go, doll- i'll call you later-"

"okay, b-" you don't get a chance to even say goodbye before the line goes dead and the only thing you can hear is an obnoxious beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep- "-ye."

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

one of your goals for the new year was to try your best to not hold a grudge

admittedly, holding grudges is one of your specialties so it's been a little bit difficult but you think you've been doing an okay job so far!

like that time jungkook accidentally drowned you with dirty car water because he didn't see you and also he had headphones on so he couldn't hear you

you were ready to strangle him right then and there but you just took a deep breath and reminded yourself that *~deep-cleaning services exist~*

and sure, you were a little upset that yoongi couldn't make it for dinner the other night and that the two of you haven't really had a chance to have a moment alone because of how swamped he's been with work, but... well, the past is in the past and challenges like this are good for your personal growth!

plus, it's the start of a new week so you're just going to focus on the present

you try your best to keep your footsteps as quiet as possible as you approach a preoccupied yoongi from behind

he's currently sorting out all the things to do on his giant whiteboard (you bought this for the boys because you thought it'd be a good way to organize all their tasks and unsurprisingly, namjoon was the most excited about it)

"guess who?" you hold your hands over yoongi's eyes with a giddy smile and he immediately spins around to face you

"hey, what are you doing here?" yoongi asks, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before pulling away to check the time on his watch, "aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

"my history seminar was cancelled because my professor had some kind of an emergency so i thought i'd come and have lunch with you guys!" you hum, reaching over to fix the thin silver chain hanging around yoongi's neck, "i was going to pick the food up before coming here but i didn't want to just choose for everyone so i thought it'd be better to get everyone's orders first-"

"oh, you don't have to do that, baby-" yoongi shakes his head, capping the marker and dropping it back into the wire holder, "lisa actually offered to treat us to lunch- apparently there's some bagel place that has, like, a hundred different fillings-"

"lisa's here?" you interrupt, suddenly straightening your back before looking around quickly, "i... was not aware that lisa was... still here! i thought she was only here for a little while-"

"mm, she ended up extending her stay! one of her clients pushed their appointment to thursday so she came over to help out for the day."

"oh, cool." you nod, pressing your lips together as you take a second to sort through your thoughts

your nose scrunches slightly as you weigh the pros and cons of saying what you're about to say to yoongi

...

it won't kill you to ask, right?

"hey, i don't wanna, um-" you pause, "you know, i don't wanna... be that girlfriend, but... do you think that there's a slight possibility that lisa might still have feelings for you?"

a moment of silence goes by before yoongi practically barks out a laugh of disbelief

"what? lisa? no, no- that- no, don't be ridiculous." he snorts, shaking his head before turning back around to face the whiteboard, "lisa most certainly does not still have feelings for me- and, by the way, she was the one who broke things off with me, so if anything, i should be the one who still has feelings for-" he stops himself midway and presses his lips together before turning to glance at you over his shoulder, "you know, i'm hearing the words coming out of my mouth and i... am going to shut up now."

"mm, good choice." you raise a brow before shrugging, "alright, well, i just- you know, it's a possibility but if you say that lisa doesn't still have feelings for you, then i believe you-"

"alright, boys! it's chow time!"

you turn your head to see lisa waltzing into the shop carrying two large paper bags and the rest of the boys immediately rush over to her like moths to a flame

she brought bagels for lunch?

you're not trying to be biased or anything sandwiches are easier to eat, in your personal opinion

you basically have to unhinge your jaw to get a good bite of a bagel

"y/n!" lisa looks more than surprised at your presence when you and yoongi walk over the join the group, "i wasn't aware you were going to be here today- yoongi told me that you had class so i-" she pauses to set the bags down on the table, "oh my goodness, i am so sorry but i really didn't know you'd be joining us for lunch... yoongi, you could've texted me or something-"

"she just got here!" yoongi shrugs as he takes a seat at the table, "don't pin this on me-"

"ah, i probably look like such a jerk right now..." lisa winces, scratching the back of her head before reaching down to grab a bagel out of one of the paper bags, "here! you can take my bagel-"

"no, no, it's alright!" you hold your hands out before shaking them, "don't be silly, you don't have to do that- it's very nice of you to offer but i- it's alright, you go ahead and enjoy yourself!"

"oh, stop- take the bagel, y/n." lisa scoffs playfully, practically shoving the bagel into your arms before rummaging through the bags again, "i'll just share a bagel with yoongi! you don't mind, right, yoongs?"

"yeah, i had a snack earlier so i'm not, like, starving or anything-" yoongi nods, "what kind of filling is it?"

"this one is..." lisa pauses to look at the sticker on the top, "smoked salmon and dill cream cheese with capers."

"yoongi doesn't like capers." you chime in, suddenly feeling the need to prove to everyone that you know your boyfriend very well, "i remember they were sprinkled in a salad one time and he said they were too salty-"

"eh, i'll survive. i can always just pick 'em out." yoongi shrugs nonchalantly and you can't help but purse your lips in mild frustration at his response

"'atta boy! luckily, they're already sliced in half otherwise we'd have to take turns taking bites which would be weird-"

"agreed." you mutter, peeling the label off your bagel and sticking it onto the side instead

"oh, lisa! i was wondering if maybe you could help me out with some custom headlights i'm working on?" hoseok perks up, "i'm having some trouble getting the halo lights to work and i need your magic hands-"

"mhm! i can definitely check them out after lunch-" lisa grins, taking a seat next to yoongi, "anyone need a napkin?"

"yes, please!"

"i need one too-"

"pass one over here-"

you know it's silly of you to be feeling jealous over this because god knows the only thing you know about cars is that key go in and car go vroom so obviously the boys would never ask you to help them out with anything like how they're asking lisa to help out

and you're trying very hard to noT throw a self-pity party but it's getting harder and harder to not to that

(and it certainly doesn't help that there aren't any more seats left at the table)

you just can't help but feel so!!!!! inferior!!!!! compared to lisa

she's so cool and pretty and witty and obviously very knowledgable about cars

and what are you bringing to the table??

ham and cheese sandwiches??? fancy sushi rolls????

obviously not anymore because they've been replaced by these stupid bagels

this is the first time you haven't been able to throw money at a problem and you're not,.., sure.,., how you feel about it,..,

"i, uh, have to work on a paper, so i think i'm going to go and eat this in the office if anyone wants to come with?" you clear your throat quietly as you start to back away from the table slowly, "...or i can just go fuck myself, which is fine too."

you're not entirely surprised when your comment isn't acknowledged by anyone and you nod to yourself before swiftly turning on your heel and trying your best not to storm towards the office

you force your fists to uncurl and your shoulders to relax slightly but you can't help but make a face when you hear the boys laughing obnoxiously at one of lisa's jokes

of course she has to be funny as well

because the woman literally has zero flaws

you've been trying to find a reason to hate her and so far you haven't found anything negative to say

hating someone for having perfectly styled hair is a little odd

the legs of the chair screech against the floor as you pull it out and plop down

whatever

you like eating alone anyway

you unwrap the parchment paper and pick up the bagel before taking an overly aggressive bite of it, your cheeks practically bursting from how much food is currently in your mouth

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as you chew, tossing the bagel back onto the wrapper with a thunk!

...

damnit!

this is the best goddamn bagel you've ever had in your entire life!!

"phtupid phriggin' bavhel." you grumble, reaching up to wipe the sauce off the corner of your mouth before swallowing roughly, "even the mayo is delicious! god, what is this? some kind of garlic mayo-"

"oh my god. i think she's finally lost it." you jolt upon hearing jungkook's voice and you turn to see him and jimin standing at the door

"what's your problem?" jimin asks, the two of them walking over to join you at your sad, lonely table

"what? nothing. i don't have a problem." you shake your head stubbornly, "i just- i just wanted to be alone, that doesn't mean something's wrong-"

"is that why you're in here basically yelling at a bagel?" jungkook points out as he pulls out a chair and sits on your right

"i'm- i'm just stressed about- my paper. or whatever. it's whatever, i'm fine-"

"you can talk to us, you know." you frown when jungkook suddenly reaches over and in an uncharacteristic move, places both hands over yours

"is it about lisa?" jimin asks, crinkling his nose as he sits down as well, "it's about lisa, isn't it?"

"no, it's not-" you press your lips together before letting out a light laugh, "you know, i don't even have a reason to be upset about lisa, right? she's super cool and very nice and knows a lot about cars and is yoongi's age and namjoon blessed me with the knowledge that she, apparently, was a very passionate lover- so i have nothing to be upset about!" you snap, slapping your palm down on the table before wincing and cradling your hand to your chest, "...everything is fine."

"i have to say, i really don't think jealousy is a good look on you." jungkook clicks his tongue before glancing down at your feet, "i also don't know if those shoes are a good look on you- jeez, it's like the people at gucci are just pulling design elements out of a hat-"

"you are not making me feel any better, jungkook- these shoes are new!"

"ooh, you should make him jealous!" jungkook suddenly lights up and the fluorescent light hanging above you guys flickers for a second

"we're going to have to round back to my shoes later because i really don't think they're that bad-"

"you should make him jealous and give him a taste of his own medicine..." jungkook trails off, ignoring your previous comments once again, "it's what you deserve."

"i'm not- i'm not doing that." you chuckle uneasily, "are you serious? this isn't high school and getting him back would just be petty of me-"

"but it'd feel so nice to be petty, don't you think?" jungkook encourages, scooting a little closer to you with a devilish grin, "think about it, y/n. don't you wanna see yoongi get all hot and possessive over you-"

"i don't think it's a good idea." jimin chimes in, shaking his head quickly as he moves in closer as well, "because if yoongi finds out you orchestrated something just to get him back, that might create an issue of trust in the relationship, and that would be very, very bad-"

"oh, but it feels so good to be bad..." jungkook coos, poking your arm with his pointer finger, "so, so good..."

"uh, i don't think so! i'd like to argue that it feels bad to be bad-"

"don't listen to jimin, he's a wuss-"

"don't listen to jungkook, he's an idiot-!"

"okay, cut it out!" you snap, shoving your hands into both their chests to keep them from coming any closer, "i... must admit, i do want to do something to piss yoongi off because of how much he's pissed me off, but... i'm not like that, you know? and i don't want to come off as some crazy girlfriend because-" you pause when you notice jungkook's finger creeping closer and closer to your bagel and you immediately deflate as soon as you realize what's going on here, "oh my god. you guys only came in here because you wanted to try my bagel, didn't you?"

jungkook and jimin exchange knowing glances before looking up at you sheepishly

"yeah, that makes more sense-" you snort, rolling your eyes before pushing the bagel away from you, "have at it, you animals."

you lean back against your chair, stroking your chin in thought as the sound of jungkook and jimin bickering over who gets the bigger half of the bagel starts to fade out

to be petty or not to be petty, that is the question...

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

(spoiler alert: the answer to the previous question is to be petty. very, very petty.) »»————- 🛠️ ————-««

"namjoon! where did you put my keys??" yoongi calls out, yanking open another drawer to rifle through its contents, "i'm supposed to pick y/n up from campus and i can't find them anywhere... i don't want her to just stand there waiting for me..."

"looking for these?"

yoongi looks up to see lisa standing by the door with his keys in her hand before she tosses them to him

"yes! you're a lifesaver, thanks-" he catches them with one hand before stepping out from behind the counter, "i thought you were leaving today? we already said goodbye to you this morning-"

"yeah, i know-" lisa chuckles as she steps into the office, "it's just that... well, i was going to just leave but i actually had something i needed to talk to you about before i left. i felt it wouldn't be fair to either one of us if i didn't say anything."

"mm. what's up?" yoongi hums, sticking his hand into the lollipop jar to pull a cherry flavoured one out

he pulls another one out before tucking it into his pocket (one for you when he picks you up!)

"well, i guess i should just go ahead and say it- just gotta rip the bandaid off-" lisa straightens her blazer before clearing her throat, "yes."

"...yes?" yoongi frowns, unwrapping his lollipop before popping it into his mouth and scrunching up the wrapper, "i'm not following. yes to what?"

"oh, don't play dumb-" lisa snorts, flicking her wrist at him, "yes, as in: i would love to rekindle our friends with benefits situationship-"

"woah, what?!" yoongi immediately chokes and he yanks the lollipop out of his mouth before patting his chest roughly, "what are you- what the hell are you talking about??"

"what do you mean what the hell am i talking about??" lisa stares at him incredulously before shaking her head, "you're the one who's been giving me secret signals all week-"

"signals-" yoongi's gawks, "what signals??"

"you know, like, how you cancelled dinner plans with her so you could be with me..." lisa croons, taking a step closer towards him

"i cancelled dinner plans with y/n so i could be with twenty cars-" yoongi inches to the side so he can make a quick getaway to run behind the counter in case lisa pounces, "which, i'm realizing doesn't make me sound like the best boyfriend but- i most certainly didn't cancel just to spend private time with you, no offence-"

"what about when we shared a bagel and you didn't complain about the capers??" lisa snaps, lunging towards yoongi only for him to quickly spin out of the way and hurry to get behind the counter

"uh, we shared a bagel because i wasn't hungry for a full bagel and i thought you weren't either, and also-" yoongi grabs namjoon's wheely chair as a makeshift barrier between him and lisa, "i'm a grown man, i'm not going to throw a fit over some friggin' capers-"

"how about when i squeezed your arm and asked you if you'd been working out and you totally flexed your arm for me??" lisa grabs the arms of the chair before yanking and aggressively rolling it behind her, yoongi's eyes widening in panic at the sudden empty space in between the two of them

"i flexed it to prove to you that i have indeed been working out-!" yoongi hops up onto the counter as soon as lisa darts towards him and he hurries to jump off so he's on the other side of it, knocking the phone and namjoon's pen holder down onto the ground in the process, "friends can ask each other if they've been hitting the gym!! i squeeze namjoon's arms all the time because his biceps are literally boulders-"

"i just feel like we have unfinished business, you know?" lisa whines, pausing for a second before bringing a hand up to bite down on the tip of her pointer finger teasingly, "plus, you have to admit that our sex was super hot-"

"are you- hello, i'm dating y/n!" yoongi gasps, "our business is finished! we have no more- we're out of business, lisa!"

"oh, c'mon." lisa raises a brow, clearly unimpressed with his reaction, "it's not going to hurt anyone to keep me as your sexy little secret- it's perfect! i only come into town, like, once or twice a year, so she won't even suspect anythi-"

"what are you- are you insane?! i'm not going to cheat on y/n-" yoongi chokes before raising his hands in defence, "lisa, you're a very beautiful woman and we do have a history, but- look, i'm sorry if i sent you mixed signals this week, that was certainly not my intention- please understand that i am very much not trying to cheat on someone who i love very much and who i'm pretty sure loves me back, so-"

"then who's that person she's so obviously flirting with right now?" lisa points over his shoulder, "also, she's barely visited you this week. what kind of girlfriend doesn't want to always be with her boyfriend??"

"first of all, space can be healthy, and second of all, she- hold on, you said flirting?" yoongi turns to look over his shoulder and out the door, tilting his head slightly when he sees you standing at the front of the garage laughing with... someone he certainly doesn't recognize...

"you can leave all of this behind and come and work for me, yoongi-" yoongi jumps when he suddenly feels hands grasping at the collar of his jumpsuit and he turns back to see lisa standing right in front of him (how did she move so quickly and quietly?!), "we can be happy together, i swear-"

"yeah, cool, just give me a second-" yoongi gently yanks lisa's hands off of him before hurrying out of the office and making a beeline right for you and this mysterious stranger

"oop- okay, he's coming this way-" baekhyun mutters, glancing over your shoulder before looking back at you, "it's show time. you ready?" he hums, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear

"what do you think? do we look convincing?" you reach down to unbutton another button on your blouse before adjusting the collar

it's taking everything within you noT to whip around to see if yoongi's just walking towards you or if he's storming towards you... because there's definitely a difference and you definitely want it to be the latter

the plan you came up with had a pretty simple formula: one handsome stranger + one flirty, oblivious y/n = one jealous yoongi

jungkook had a point about how nice it'd be to get yoongi all riled up and possessive and frankly you think you deserve it considering how dismissive he's been with you all week... which is why you were more than happy to recruit your very handsome friend baekhyun (he's very sweet / you met last semester in one of your history courses / he was more than willing to help out with your plan because he's a theatre major and this is good practice for him) to help you out with your plan!

"you're laughing like a robot." baekhyun lowers his voice, "i told you to act natural-"

"i'm being natural! ha, ha! ha! ha-ha. you're so funny, baek-" you giggle obnoxiously, reaching over to slap his chest gently, "you are absolutely the funniest person i've ever met-"

"y/n!" yoongi clears his throat loudly and you bite back a grin at the hint of annoyance you can detect in his voice, "i... thought i was picking you up from class today? i wasn't aware you hired a chauffeur!"

"oh, yoongi!" you spin around, feigning surprise as if you totally weren't expecting to see him at all, "oh, this is actually my friend- i know you've been busy so he offered to give me a ride!" you hum, stepping aside to let baekhyun step up onto the sidewalk, "baekhyun, this is yoongi-" you gesture to yoongi, "yoongi, this is baekhyun! ...my boyfriend."

you're hoping your accidental on-purpose flub-up triggers yoongi's memory of how he accidentally introduced lisa to you as his girlfriend and you're delighted to see the way yoongi's jaw drops slightly, "oh, my bad! i'm sorry, i don't know how that happened- what i meant to say was baekhyun, this is yoongi, my boyfriend. there we go."

"baekhyun..." yoongi repeats, his eyes narrowing slightly when baekhyun suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulder and gives you a squeeze "well, that's very nice of you to drive y/n all the way here. thanks for doing that, man."

"oh, it's no problem at all!" baekhyun hums, reaching over to pinch your cheek, "y/n's the sweetest and i didn't want to abandon her on campus-"

"okay, she wasn't abandoned, i was literally about to leave to pick her up-" yoongi points out, lifting his keys with a jingle before abruptly shoving them into his back pocket, "you know, y/n's never mentioned a baekhyun before. you two seem... close!"

"oh, baek and i go way back." you snort, digging your elbow into his side with a grin, "isn't that right, baek?"

baek

yoongi pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek at the fact that baekhyun still has his arm wrapped around your shoulder and you haven't made a move to shoVE it off

how can you not see that his intentions with you aren't just chummy??

he wouldn't have driven you all the way here if he didn't want to get his grubby hands under your skirt-

"we most certainly do! we made some great memories in that lecture hall- i have to say, i was, uh, pretty disappointed when i found out she was already in a relationship..." baekhyun sighs dramatically, shaking his head before looking back at you, "i would treat you right and never cancel dinner plans with you-"

"okay, i think it's time for you to go, bacon-" yoongi forces a smile on his face before reaching over to gently pull you towards him, "thank you for dropping my girlfriend off. have a good one."

"oh, no problem!" baekhyun points towards you, "hey, lemme know if you need a ride to campus on monday because i'd be happy to swing by your apartment and-"

"no, i can take her!" yoongi manoeuvres you so that you're standing behind him and basically blocked from baekhyun's sight, "i've got it from here, thanks."

"bye, baek!" you wave at baekhyun as gets into his car and he salutes at you before his right eye drops in a cheeky wink and it's at that point that yoongi really thinks he's about to lose it

what the hell was that?!

he spins around to face you as soon as baekhyun zooms off and you keep yourself from asking him why his ears have suddenly turned super red

"why are you wearing lowbuttons to class?" yoongi crosses his arms over his chest, "i thought you said you were going to use them as, like, apartment decoration."

"louboutins, yoongi." you correct, looking down at your slick stilettos, "and why can't i wear louboutins to class?"

"you wore them out to dinner one time and i ended up having to carry you back to the car because your feet were aching-" yoongi reminds you with a pointed tone, "are you telling me that you walked up and down and all around campus in those things?"

"maybe i did." you shrug, turning to stick your nose up in the air a little, "i can wear stilettos to class if i so please."

"and the miniskirt?"

"what, you don't like it?" you pout, reaching down to pick a piece of fluff off the surface, "it's new!"

it's a plain black skirt but it has a little slit on the side and you purposely bought this specific piece knowing that yoongi has expressed how much he likes you in black

"of course i like it, and obviously i'm a big fan of the heels but-" yoongi huffs, "all i'm saying is that it's a little odd- the timing is weird for your miniskirts and heels to make a sudden comeback now that you're all buddy-buddy with this backyawn-"

"it's baekhyun-"

"that's what i said!"

"you know, i don't know what you're implying here but i haven't done anything wrong-" you shrug, "are you feeling okay? maybe you need to take a nap-"

"stop being stubborn, y/n. just tell me what's going on!"

"nothing's going on!" you insist, raising your hands in defense before flicking a strand of hair over your shoulder, "everything is perfectly fine and nothing is-"

"are you leaving me for baekhyun?" yoongi interrupts, his eyes suddenly softening, "because if this is how you're telling me we're over, it's a pretty shitty-"

"what- what?? no!" you shake your head quickly, "no, of course i'm not- why would you even- okay, fine! fine, i-" you let out a breath and your shoulders drop a little, "it's just that... i don't know, it kind of feels like i've been fighting to get your attention for the whole week and i... i feel like i shouldn't have to do that as your girlfriend, you know? and i'm not... i guess i just felt like i wasn't stacking up to lisa and how cool and smart she is and- this whole week it's just felt like you're in a relationship with lisa and not me, so i... wanted to make you jealous to see if you still cared. or whatever."

"are you serious?" yoongi's eyes flutter shut and he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, "fuck, i'm sorry, ah- i'm sorry, y/n, i really am-" his brows knit together in remorse as he looks at you, "i think i just got swept up in all the new clients she was bringing in so i was focusing more on that than on noticing what was going on with you... i'm sorry. why didn't you just come and talk to me about it?"

"i didn't know how." you mutter, reaching up to scratch the side of your head, "i've never had to deal with something like this before, so... i know it was silly of me to come up with this whole thing-"

"you are my girlfriend, y/n." yoongi reminds you, his voice softening, "not lisa. it's you." he reaches over to hook a finger under your chin so he can get you to look at him, "i promise i only have eyes for you, pretty girl. you still love me?"

"god, yoongi-" you feel your cheeks flush at the nickname and you roll your eyes playfully before turning your head, "yeah. duh."

"oh, you silly thing..." he tuts, pulling you in for a hug and propping his chin up on the top of your head, "i'm sorry, baby. i really didn't mean to make you feel like that..." he pulls away and reaches down to glide his finger down the bridge of your nose before poking the tip, "i hope you can forgive me for being a shitty boyfriend."

"i'll forgive you if you forgive me for pretending to flirt with someone else." you smile sheepishly, yoongi grinning before nodding in agreement

"deal." he wraps an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head back towards the direction of the office, "so you really went through all that trouble just to make me a little jealous?" yoongi grins, "just for a little bit of attention? as if i'm not already all over you when we're alone-"

"well, it worked, didn't it?" you take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you squish your cheek against yoongi's shoulder and look up at him, "my acting skills are not half bad, if i do say so myself-"

"oh, shit, uh-" yoongi suddenly stops in his tracks when he sees lisa step out of the office and he spins around so that his back is facing her, "not to make you worry, but you should probably know that lisa's somehow convinced that i've been secretly flirting with her all week because i want to become friends with benefits again and she almost, like, body-slammed me in the office- also, if namjoon asks, tell him a raccoon snuck in and that's why his desk is a mess and his pens are all over the floor-"

"wait, what?!" your brows knit together and you're about to lean over to look at lisa but yoongi quickly reaches out and grabs onto your shoulders to keep you in place

"-yeah, so i'm going to lay you down on the hood of that car now because doing something extreme is probably the only thing that'll prove to her that she's wrong and i am very desperate to show her that she's wrong-"

"lay me down on the- and do what?! yoongi-!" you don't get much of a chance to say anything else before yoongi's suddenly bending down to pick you up off the ground in one swift movement, his fingers digging underneath your thighs as he lays you down on the hood of the nearest car, "yoongi-! you can't just-"

"shush!" yoongi hisses, pressing his lips against yours to shut you up promptly

"mmvph-"

it doesn't take you very long to melt into the kiss once you realize you haven't kissed yoongi like this in like a week and a half and you can't help but smile at the familiar faint taste of cherry you're getting from him

yoongi's warm hand slides down from your waist so he can hitch your left leg up against his hip, one of your heels slipping from your foot and clattering onto the floor

your senses are so clouded with yoongi cherry yoongi cherry that you nearly forget the two of you aren't alone (and also, all of this is definitely being recorded on the security cameras right now)

"hey, so- i- i'm gonna get going-" lisa announces loudly as she stands at a good distance away from the two of you, her eyes looking up towards the ceiling so that she doesn't have to watch the way yoongi's kissing down your neck, "i have to check out of my hotel, so-"

"yeah, sounds good!" yoongi pulls away for a second and shoots a quick thumbs up over his shoulder, "see you later, pal!"

"bye, lisa!" you chime in, giving her a wave even though she isn't looking at you and is really trying to double-time it to her car, "it was so nice meeting you!"

the two of you watch silently as lisa practically leaps into her mustang, the sound of the engine revving before she quickly speeds off like she just remembered she left the oven on at home

you turn your head to look up at yoongi before scoffing lightly, hooking a finger against his chain to pull him back down towards you, "you're ridiculous, you know that?"

"yeah, i know-" yoongi's nose crinkles before he offers you a boyish smirk and a half-hearted shrug, "you love it, though."

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!) ✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!) 💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles like this one!) 🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

[hawkeyes-chicklet]

Day 3 @flufftober , "Thick as Thieves"

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Brock Rumlow

Warnings: mentions of former heartbreak and hurt , mentions of drug abuse

I'll just continue the story from day 2. As they grow thicker. That'll do.

"So what are you up to this evening?", Holly asked as they were having dinner. Natasha shrugged "I don't know." "How does a pitcher beer, pool and live music sound to you?" "Very fine. You coming too, Holly?" She laughed: "I won't disturb you little lovebirds. Got some writing to do. Or procrastinating around it."

They called an uber to get to the next bigger town that had a kind of nightlife. It was an old fashioned club, solid and cozy.

He jacked her playing pool and they emptied a pitcher beer. They were laughing and chatting.

She pointed her queue at him "You're cheating somehow." He lifted his hands. "Never would I cheat on a girl like you." She put the stick on the table and came over to him to kiss him. He embraced her and held her tight. "I could get used to this", he mumbled into her ear.

Later, they sat at their table, forgetting the world around them.

"I've noticed your little arrow necklace right after you got it. And i was thinking: damn, why does old man Barton get a woman like this?" "Only that it wasn't like that. I mean we love each other, yes. But he has a… girlfriend for years now. It was an understatement of our friendship." "But you seem so close", he insisted "We are. I know what you want to know. Yes. Yes, we were together as I started working for Shield." "I knew it!" She drank another sip of her drink. "But what happened? You seem perfect for each other", Rumlow added a question. "I wasn't listening to my feelings and let him slip away before I could confess my love for him." "Fuck. It must have killed you to see him everyday, then." "At first it did. But I have learned to seal this up." He watched her with a concerned look. "That's not healthy, but I think you already know that." "You do too." It was his turn to take a swallow. "Cynthia was her name. I met her at a hospital, she was my nurse, as I was getting back from a mission in my last year at the army. She somehow knew me and my former gang I had in New York. She wanted to do some odd jobs and push me back to the dark side. She nearly did it. She only used me and my connections. But I was so in love, I didn't notice until it was too late." Natasha put her hand on his "We're unlucky." "What was after Barton?" She shrugged: "What was after Cynthia?"

They both knew the answer for it was the same on both sides: nothing much. Work. A little flirt here and there. One night stands. No feelings. Never.

They got nicely drunk and took on to walk home. They walked slowly, hands in the back pocket of the other.

"You know, when you think that you're done with love - because who needs it anyway? - then it lurks around the corner." Brock began philosophing "It seems like something you've lost and lost all hope to get it back and then it just lies there as if it had never been gone", Natasha answered "Exactly."

"But love makes you vulnerable. Hurt me. That's okay. But never hurt someone I love. That's why the black widows aren't able to bare children." "I didn't know that. I'm sorry." "Don't have to be", she said.

"I have thought: what if, the lovers are highly skilled and deadly agents who can stand their ground?", Rumlow whispered into her hair while falling asleep. "Might be worth a shot", she whispered back and then they fell asleep. Cuddling and smiling.

"Good morning", he said and kissed her cheek as she woke up. The bright light of morning fell through the window. She stretched and sighed. "How are you? Hungover?", he wanted to know. "Nothing that a cup of coffee can't fix." She looked at him smiling at her and touched his face "I love your smile. You should do it more often." "But it hurts!", he cried "I swear, I'm not used to it and since I'm with you it won't leave my face." She smiled, too. "We should tell this grease to your mother. I'm sure that her next novel will be a romance and not a thriller." He kissed her tenderly. "Speaking of which, breakfast is ready."

As they walked downstairs, the smell of coffee and bacon was lingering. "Good morning you two. How was date night?", Holly greeted. "Very nice. How was your writing?" Natasha wanted to know. "Ah, well. You know. I was smoking some weed and got carried away, meh." "Mom…!" "Ah, come on. You're not a DEA agent." Nat bursted into laughter as she poured coffee into their mugs.

Later, she helped Holly with the dishes while Brock was fixing some issues around the house.

"How often does he visit you?", Natasha asked. "Whenever he can. He spends most of his spare time here. It's not that far away from Washington. You're allowed to come with him anytime, you know?" "Thank you, I appreciate that." "You are quite at the beginning of a relationship, aren't you?' "To be honest: I don't know what exactly is happening to us. We've seen each other infrequently for a few months now but it never got deeper. But now I'm here and… I really like it. Being with him. He makes me feel good." Holly smiled and laid a hand on her shoulder: "That's called falling in love and I can highly recommend it." Natasha stared out of the window. "You're two complex characters. But I think you work good together. So, try it?"

[thekillingjoke-haha]

YOU ARE WERE MINE

Summary: Sacrifices are often made for the ones we love....even if it might hurt.

Parings: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader, Hinted at Male!reader x John Winchester, and Sam Winchester x Unmentioned girls

Warning?: Bi Sam ,Dean still flirting with reader, No jess death for M/n, Reader is a hunter...and never told Sam, Yellow-eyes, mention(hint at) smut

Sam looked up at M/n with a smile he wore a sexy fireman outfit for the bar outing the yellow shirt looked like it was going to rip if the surprisingly taller male flexed a little too much the red suspenders held up loss fitting brown pants and a axe that leaned on the door frame. "Come on Babe dress up a little." He said tightening the suspenders straps.

"You know I don't like Halloween." Sam sighed as his boyfriend came up to him kissing his cheek with a mischievous smirk. "Too bad guess I can't give you your treat." The h/c man growled nipping his ear as he walked out of their shared bedroom. With a fake pout he chased after him. "If I put on a Halloween shirt will it pass?" He said hopefully putting his arms over M/n shoulder causing him to put his hands on his hips. "Hmmm....If I get to pick the shirt." Sam chuckled and nodded. He'll soon regret that.

Luis was loosing his shit laughing at the shit while M/n smiled proudly at what his boyfriend was wearing it was a plain dark gray t-shirt with the words 'Just the tip. I Promise.' And a knife. "This has to be your best work, N/n." Stephan, M/n best friend, said dressed as a cop high fives the awaiting hand.

M/n gave Sammy a small grin and winked causing him to blush slightly. It was time to celebrate with friends Sam's accomplishment he can wait later to celebrate with Sam his own way.

(Time skip past smexy times~might do it later)

M/n woke up in a empty bed to the sound of a fight he quickly got up in only his boxers to see what was wrong. He knew it was human since he had symbols all under wall paper and floor boards. Turning on the lights he sees Sam and a shorter man next to him "Sammy?" He said causing both of them to look over maybe he should have put on pants eyes raked down his form. "Woah. Hi I'm Dean Rapunzel's older brother. You must be his roommate..." The green eyed man bit his lip looking down south of the s/c man before him. "...I just love Scooby-Doo.~" Dean said keeping his gaze on the mystery machine briefs M/n was wearing. Sam quickly got between both of them pushing his brother back. "Dean this N/n my boyfriend" A confused look crossed his face. "Where's Jess you girlfriend?" He asked. "She was my roommate graduated a year ago and M/n moved in."

Dean looked back at M/n the flirtatious smirk back on his face. "You're way out of my brothers league." Sam put a around his boyfriends waist pulling him close. "Why are you here Dean?" There was a pause of silence. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days." The blonde said before it was shot down. "Let me rephrase. Dad's on a hunting trip and hasn't been home in a few days." With that Sam tensed up and looked over to M/n. "I'll be right back." His tone rushed as he peeked him in the cheek and left their shared apartment brother in tow.

Once the sound of their foot steps were heard going down the stairs M/n sighed his hand running through his bed head. "Fucking Winchester’s." He mumbled before going back up stairs going to his old room. M/n went to the closet moving boxes out of the way till he got to the duffel bag he was looking for. A burner phone weighed heavy in his hand as he wandered back to bed. "If he goes I go." He mumbled to himself looking at the mirror on the nightstand. M/n has been off and on with hunting ever since he started dating Sam and he knew who he was the moment his last name left his lips, but he only put on a smile and gave him his first and middle name since L/n were famous in the community.

Sam came back to the apartment and started to pack a bag. "Sam what's going on?" M/n said innocently as he watched more of his boyfriends clothes fill the bag. "Just going to help look for Dad. Probably just went out with a old friend and didn't bother to pick up." Sam zipped up the bag as he threw it over his shoulder. "You know what's Monday right?! You can't just not show up it's your dream on the line, Babe!" M/n stepped forward slowing down the rushed pace. "I know...you're right and I'll be back on Monday." We walked out of the building. "Promise to call me when you get there." The h/c man said hugging the long haired brunette close. "I promise." With a final kiss goodbye M/n waved him off before going inside. Time to jump back into the L/n family business. Pulling out the burner it rung as the first number was dialed. "I don't give a damn of you are the IRS or girl scouts selling fucking cookies it's one am you idjit!" The familiar voice rung out. "Good talking to you to Uncle Bobby." M/n chuckled and the older man's breath caught in his throat. "Well I'll be damned do my ears deceive me or is that little F/n all grown up?"

"Glad you didn't trash this number."

"What are you calling for boy its still 1am?" Bobby asked.

" I need to pick up my truck. I'm going hunting."

~~~~Time Skip~~~~

Sam sat in the motel room trying to call M/n, but he didn't pick up. If only he knew that right at that moment he was beheading a vampire while laughing like a sadistic prick. After cleaning the blood off and burning the barn that held the nest M/n tried calling back when it picked up he heard Sam's distressed voice. "M/n now is not a good time. I'm so cold hold me" A voice spoke over Sam's. "Who the hell was that?!" I heard a loud hissing noise. "Sam!" That's when a shotgun went off, glass shattered, and the lime went dead. M/n stood up and paced un his room it would be late before he got home he'll have to hall ass to get there before Sam.

Going out to the truck he opened the bed lifting the metal cover and false bottom loading the weapons. He had no time to drop it back off. The road was silent till a voice interrupted it. "Hello, handsome. What's the rush?" Almost swerving into a ditch M/n looked over and saw a man with graying blonde hair. Reaching for a weapon the man's eyes flashed yellow gazing at him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." He snapped causing the h/c make to look straight and push hard into his seat. "You're the little Winchester’s boy toy. Well in two hours he'll be home and dead by the time you arrive." M/n's breath caught in his throat. "Liar. I'm not stupid every hunter has heard what happened to Mary it doesn't take a genius to see they weren't the only one's. You need him alive and well, so why are you hear?" He growled low in his throat as the demon chuckled. "Got me there. You see Sammy boy needs to get back in the life and you being, I don't know, alive is getting in the way." The pressure grew stronger on the restrained man's chest till he almost could feel his lungs squeeze. "But I'm a business man. You work for me you live and maybe see Sam again or die in a blaze and the last thing he sees is your burning corpse. Can't be a protective boyfriend if your dead."

"What will happen to me if I agree?" That's when a sick smile pulled on his lips. "You become a demon. No a demon doesn't possess you! You yourself become one you memories and personality intact. So deal?" He held his hand out to the s/c man as he sighed taking his eyes from the road. "Deal." The demons yellows eyes shined bright as he yanked the young man forward pressing their lips together sealing it. "You are mine." He growled possessively as M/n pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number. It went to voice mail. "Hey Rapunzel. I want you to know...I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. You mean the world to me...so once you figure out how to open you voice mail this is waiting for you."

Sam woke up from his nightmare of his burning apartment building. It been almost three years since then and he never gotten over it. It took a year to get to his messages and what M/ n left behind gave him more questions then answers. He couldn't even get into the apartment before the flames erupted. Sam had doubts about M/n in the fire, but after the police report was released only one casualty of M/n Middle/n. Dean tried to tell my it would at some point get better, but the guilt still felt heavy in his chest. Nightmares of M/n in the fire not in pain, but seeming to absorb the flames made him question what really happened. The brothers had a lead on yellow eyes that their dad led them to. It all seemed to convenient that after the fight he knew to much about the demon that pledged his nightmares. The warehouse was falling apart it was in shambles as Dean parked baby next to it. "Are you sure this is the place?" Sam asked his brother. "Dad said this was it. Load up." Dean got out the car popping the trunk. This didn't feel right.

Tied up, beaten, and tortured. The Winchesters look up at their own fathers face with those horrid yellow eyes. "You boys never questioned a thing didn't even hesitate to come inside!" He chuckled darkly as the surrounding demons grinned. "This would have been the part where I laugh at you kill you dragging your sorry souls to hell to be my toys for the next millennium, but I have something better!" Signature Winchester grin lifted his lips as he called out seeming to no one. "Oh, honey bear! Come say hi." The sound of a strong gust of wind came from behind them as the clack of well made dress shoes hit the shifty floor boards. A man wearing black dress pants, shoes, and a open f/c(not black) silk button up. His back was to the brothers as John lifted his head up to kiss the man's cheek. Turning around white eyes looked at them, but that face was unmistakably M/n's a scar on his brow but it was him. Sam was chocked up M/n was in front of him looking well and oh God he's with enemy that took their dad's body as a meat suit.

"Do you like him, Sammy? Hells best torturer!" John said running his hands over M/n as the man kept his gaze locked on the tallest Winchester analyzing him as he seethed with anger at the demon touched his boyfriend. "Oh the things he's done would make Lucifer blush." Yellow-eyes trailed his hand down the scarred chest biting his lip making Sam struggle more. Snapping his fingers the other demons took Dean, but Sam was left there. "You're not useful to me dead Sammy boi." The demon circled him. "What's the best kind of torture, love?" M/n seemed to move for the first time getting right in front of Sam dropping to his knees being face to face with him. Cupping the beaten cheek of the hunter in his s/c hand his white clouded orbs turned the lively e/c giving a sympathetic look before it switched off. "Physiological." Sam didn't notice the room shifted into their old apartment tears pooled in those e/c eyes. "Where were Sammy?" A hiccup in between silent cries ended the sentence as a scene played out of M/n on the phone trying to talk to Sam before it cut off. "I needed you!" A scene of M/n chained to a wall seeing figures of his past hurt him till he gave in. "You were mine. And you threw it all away, threw me away like garbage!" The images went to Sam being with girls, but he could see familiar h/c hair in the background.

Tears rolled down Sam's face as white eyes filled his vision the eyes he loved fading away. What felt like hours happened in only a few seconds and within those seconds Sam was broken. He buried his face into the palm still cupping his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!' Sam would do anything for his M/n back even if it meant killing the monster his father has become. A gentle kiss stopped the trail of tears. "You are mine."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Quote= I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. -The Vampire Diaries

Tagged: @spnquotebingo

First male reader it was fun.

[hitoshisbabygirl]

Author's Notes ♡: Here’s my part for the Auction Collab! As usual I love making blasty boy sorta soft (but still rough around the edges) instead of the often use of auctions being on the dark side I made it a bit lighter and not as dark. I hope I did a pretty good job with this and I hope you guys like it as much as I do (✿◠‿◠) ~ bunny ❥

Warnings : NSFW , some praising, also some degradation (sorta just a few words) , size kink if you squint, also slight edging, and a bit of a pussy job

Word count : 1.8k

Paring(s) : CEO!Bakugou Katsuki x F! Reader

Enjoy ♡

———————————————————————

Hearing the gavel hit the pottemum made and the final call of who won [. ] sighed, her eyes wandering to the floor as the disappointed sighs and a final was taken back into a room to get ready to meet who exactly won her ‘ i can't wait for this to be over’ Not having as much as she’d like , [. ] was on the lower side of money, being a cafe girl in a flourishing entrepreneur type of build was hard. She was offered a job as the assistant of the new boss and that hadn’t started yet, still a few weeks away. With that she did her other job as a caged dancer of sorts, but that didn’t mean people couldnt pay a pretty penny to get her. The bidding always made her nervous , she hated who could be clients and she didn’t want to keep letting men get that close to her. Knowing that a very large sum was being placed for her as she headed back she wondered who exactly would have bid so high.

Changing from her display outfit she heard a knock on her door. As expected a pair of men came in , one who she knew from being the bodyguard of whoever was the trophy , the other she guessed was the man who won. With a small smile to the guard and a nod from him he left, leaving the two “Ah yes miss [. ] , I’m come to get you on the behalf of my boss” the man said, bowing to her as her eyes widened at him, confused “So you’re here to just pick me up..?” She asked as the man shook his head , holding a hand to the young woman as he gave her a polite smile “ yes ma’am if you wouldn’t mind following me I’d take you to his property now” he said heading to the door with [. ] as she stopped a final time “well one last thing, what should i call you?” she asked the man as he gave her a soft smile back “Ah you could call me Mr.M”. The man, now named Mr.M said as [ ] gave him a small smile back , taking her put together bag with her , she followed the man out and to a fancy and luxury car. Heading to wherever this mystery man's estate was. Thinking over who exactly had bet and won on her made [ ]’s mind race ‘Was he old? How did he have the money to bid so high? And he has money to just send someone on his behalf? What if this man is him...Oh goodness…..’ Her thoughts were interrupted by the car stopping at a beautiful home, up on a hilltop of the city. Mr.M opened her door and held a hand out to her, helping her out the car and up the stairs to the main door.

“Well miss [ ] , my young master should be in his quarters. I'll leave you two for the night , he’ll ring for me if you guys need anything” With widen eyes [ ] gave him a skeptical look, about to question why he'd leave when she heard a thump from upstairs, being from right above them, signalling that someone was there. “It'll be quite alright, i'll only be a call away” with that Mr. M left , leaving [ ] in her thoughts as she slowly headed to the room her true bidder. Knocking onto the large and more luxurious door she was absolutely shocked by who opened the door “Oi M, did you get-” a bruting , shirtless blonde started to yell as he swung open his bedroom door, facing the shorter girl who was about to knock again. “Heh, well well well...Bet you didn't expect me huh darlin’ “ The rising young and wealthy CEO Katsuki Bakugou faced the now shocked and secretly excited [ ],who was glad it wasn't some old creep but terrified her that her in passing crush was in front of her.

“Mr B-bakugou?” [ ] said as the now large and built man moved towards her, pulling her into his large bedroom “I've been watching you...you were the cutest little thing i could see on my breaks and to know you were struggling for extra cash makes me feel bad sweetheart, you could've just came to me” He whispered as a shiver fell down [ ]’s back.”But sir I could never do that I’m just-“ before she could finish her statement she whimpered as she felt the hot lips of the young boss kiss right behind her ear, chuckling at her reactions to him. The grip of his hand on her waist was becoming tighter as he pulled her to the bed, the two of them falling onto the fluffy surface. “Cmon sweetheart, why don't you make some cute little sounds for me hm?” Bakugou rasped out as [ ] grabbed at his biceps , her nails leaving indents as she tried to hide from his burning gaze. “T-this is embarrassing Bakugou” She whined as the blonde chuckled “Call me by my name baby..” He whispered in her ear as he pushed himself even closer to her. Now chest to chest [ ] couldn't help but have to look up at the vermillion eyes that watched her every move, testing her to try and defy his overpowering stare. Still shaking in excitement and seeing how much she could test his patience, [ ] looked away from him, huffing as she hid her warming face. With that, Bakugou pushed a thick thigh between the sheerness of the dress that [ ] had on , feeling her pool between her legs.

“Hm? This wet and all i did was kiss you, heh you must be smitten with me huh?” Bakugou teased as she tugged at his unkempt hair, causing his smirk to turn into a groan as [ ] gave her own victory smirk “You're a good kisser..” She only said as she crashed their lips back together, keeping the blonde close as their tongues tangled. Feeling a large hand slide its way between her own thighs made [ ] pull away from the heavy kiss she and bakugou was having. Taking the hand from haphazardly around [ ]’s waist , Bakugou put that one under her chin to keep the now slightly trembling girls eyes on his “Look at me baby..ima take good care of you okay?” Bakugou said as [ ] blinked at him, feeling his fingers push harder into her little bud “Y-yes Suki..” She said as he let out a groan , smashing his lips back against hers as his finger slipped past her panties, rubbing her slickness back over the bundle of nerves. Hearing her moan between his lips made him give her mercy, pulling from the next kiss with a smack as he watched his fingers work under the dress she was in “Katsu..this isn’t fair..” [. ] said as she buried her face in his neck, biting at the junction she was perched in. Sliding her own hand down she reached for his own hardening problem, making the blonde jump as her smaller hands grabbed him over his sweats “Fuck..don’t do that unless you think you can take it” He warned, his hips moving and jerking into her hand that was now stroking the throbbing member. When a certain twist of her wrist made his tip leak through his pants he couldn’t take it, pushing his fingers deep into her warm walls, causing the duo to fall back even more onto the bed. “This isn’t a competition baby, I have to get you nice and wet so I can fit, relax and be good you needy slut” he huffed as he snatched her hand away, making his own dick angrily throb. Pushing the waistband down some he let himself spring free, the swollen red tip leaking with precum a sight to see as [. ] subconsciously gasped. “Ya like what you see huh?” The cocky boy tossed at her as [. ] herself just bit her lip, giving him a dangerously sweet look as she nodded her head to agree with him. “I bet you want it hm?” His teasing got worse as he pushed his hips closer, rubbing his tip against her fluttering lips as it pushed back and forth, pushing the hardest when it ran over her clit “Please Suki, it’s almost too much” [. ] groaned as she tried reaching between them to slide him in, only for Bakugou to growl, pushing her thighs together as he thrusted between them , the throbbing between her walls and his member made the two of them let out sound of pleasure. Feeling her clit constantly being hit by the mushroom top of bakugous dick [ ] felt herself get closer to breaking “I think I-i’m gonna cum-'' she whined as her hands went to tangle into his hair. BUt to her dismay, he stopped, lust filled eyes looked down at the tearing up ones under him

“Aww dont cry , youll get what you want” Bakugou smirked as he then slid in the now wet and sloppy mess he made between her legs, a shocked and loud screech falling from her lips as she tried to hold in the orgasm she was balancing on but all of that changed once he took a finger and traced over her sensitive clit, pushing her right over the edge. “F-fuck! Katsuuu” [ ] moaned out as he gave her a satisfied smirk, pushing her arching back down as he started to pound into her. “Cmon baby, gimme another one, i know you got it in ya” He barked out as he caged her in, his hands taking hers as nothing but moans fell from her lips, too high on her last orgasm to respond. Soon he felt her walls clench again and watched as her eyes rolled back another orgasm ripped through her “Thats it..good girl” kissing the pleasured tears that kept rolling from her eyes “ ‘ts too much..too much” She begged as he sped up, groans of ‘fuck’ and ‘cummin’ tumbling from Bakugous lips as he pushed as deep as he could `go, his dick throbbing as he filled into her. Her own walls spasmed one last time , a small but still intense last orgasm came through , mixing with the cum he filled her with.

As they came down from their highs , Bakugou sat up from her shoulder and sealed their highs with a kiss, holding the trembling girl in his arms. “Shhh it's okay baby i'm right here..you're okay” He cooed, kissing her forehead. Unknowingly to [ ] Bakugou wished for this ever since he met here at the cafe downstairs of his building. It didn't matter if he'd have to bet the most impossible and highest price to get her , no amount of money could suffice in his mind. She was smart, and driven, a hard worker and aimed to please. While she drifted on and off to sleep, he called the place she was auctioned at, telling them that she wouldn't be back and setting her to be his assistant at work. She was his, and no one was allowed to have her anymore.

[valberryy]

good god, let me give you my life. — kaeya

another converted oc fic!!!! yes i have many kaeya thoughts....... and i missed this oc in particular QAQ anyways please accept this word vomit its like 2k words im sorry idk what possessed me

pairing: kaeya x fem!reader

content warnings: mentions of blood/injuries + alcohol, light swearing (like, three instances max)

Kaeya had seen that doe-eyed look countless times before, but there was still something about the way your gaze burned almost incredulously into his own that made his smirk grow wider.

"Kaeya, you asshole!" you exclaimed, but your half-exasperated anger just made him laugh—by the Seven, you were even more fun to tease than Diluc! 

"What's the rush?" he laughed, ignoring your hand on his chest to balance herself as you tiptoed to where he was holding your Vision right out of your reach. "Is widdle [Name] so scared of—"

You elbowed him in the gut at that, and his grip on your Vision wavered as he let out a pained oof. You pinned it back to where it normally hung, and a glance at your clothes—the buttoned up coat, the bags placed haphazardly on the ground next to your boots—was all it took for the lucidity to return to Kaeya's eyes.

"The others are waiting," you muttered, gaze downcast and cheeks flushed from the cold. Kaeya nodded. Wordlessly, you grabbed his hands and squeezed, ever so gently.

"I promise we'll come back to visit," you said. "And I'll write a lot."

Kaeya nodded again, a devious grin pulling at his lips but faltering at the edges. "When you do come back I'll ask Master Crepus to throw a party and I'll read out your letters for everyone to hear—"

"You—!"

"...So come back safe, okay?"

A sigh, then, and another light squeeze of his hands. 

"I promise."

With that, Kaeya finally let you go—and already missing the warmth of your palms and the fleetingness of your touch, he watched as your back disappeared off into the horizon.

Kaeya often found himself waiting, those days, to the point that he might have called himself distracted if he hadn't known any better. The smile that graced his lips at each letter—which always started with your and your brother's neat handwriting, with little comments from your sister sprinkled all throughout, and sealed with some local flower or other—never failed to go unnoticed, to the point that even Diluc found himself sighing at the sight.

"You're an idiot," he had said, and nothing else.

Each year your visits had become a staple of summer, and for days on end Master Crepus' manor was filled with foreign music and dance. Kaeya never read out your letters like he said he would, but you two would always sneak out of the party with a bottle of champagne, and you would whisper gossip to each other like you always used to, conspiratory and scheming.

(Once, just as a laugh was about to spill from his lips, you placed your palm over the lower half of his face and kissed the back of your hand. "I thought you were bolder than that," he teased, and with a scoff you plucked the bottle from his hands.

"Oh? I'd like to see you do better, lover boy.")

One year the letters stopped, and you never came to visit. Winter came all too soon. The calla lilies in your last letter had begun to wilt.

The next year, he and Diluc parted ways. As their swords clashed for the last time, he wished it was your flames that had scorched him instead.

Two years hence, the Knights of Favonius found a young woman, half-conscious and all but bleeding out, under the tree at Windrise.

Kaeya had stopped in his tracks when he heard, his silver tongue going dry behind the calm smile he put on. "Thanks for the news," he told his subordinate. "I'll check it out."

As soon as he was alone, he let the panic sink in.

His walk to the cathedral was exceedingly brief, and Kaeya wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing. As he walked towards the infirmary he heard Barbara's voice—

"...but do you remember anything else?"

A pause, then a blunt, "No."

—And as he walked inside he saw the deaconess with her tome, and a little ways behind her was...you. You seemed a little pale and worse for wear, but when you looked at him with the same doe-eyed look as before, Kaeya couldn't help but feel the slightest bit relieved.

"You really worried me back there, love," he said smoothly. "How are you feeling now?"

You glanced almost unnoticeably at Barbara, who seemed to mouth something along the lines of, "Later."

"Alive, I guess," you responded, then paused for a good moment as you glanced at him fully. Kaeya raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry…" you said, "It's just that I've heard so much about you, but—"

But what? he thought, and felt his blood run cold again.

"—I have no idea who you are."

—

Kaeya thought it the worst of cruelties for you to be so similar to your old self, yet so wholly, horribly different. You walked with the same languid grace, spoke with the same haughtiness and pride, still tapped your teaspoon against the rim of your teacup—three times, every single time, with a resounding chime.

But you no longer looked at him the same, no longer laughed at his old jokes, no longer called him by his name. It was always captain or sir, and never what he so desperately longed to hear.

"You Knights are always so ineffective," Diluc sighed, and for the first time in years the Ragnvindr brothers finally found themselves in agreement.

Kaeya laughed self-pityingly, running one hand through his hair and using the other to swirl the contents of his half-empty glass. Another sigh, and just as he was about to speak again, the door to Angel's Share opened to the sound of laughter.

"Venti, I said no—"

"Oh, come on! All you've been doing is reading that journal of yours! I thought you—"

There was an indignant, ungraceful sounding yell, and the rest of Venti's words were muffled by what Kaeya assumed was your hand. You two whispered together some more—he even thought he heard you threaten him, if he wasn't mistaken—and with your defeated sigh, Venti began to tune his lyre.

Ah, you was going to dance, then. 

Kaeya turned in his seat to the point where he could watch them from the corner of his vision, taking another drink from his steadily-emptying glass. With gentle hands, the bard began to pluck at his lyre strings, and with the same practiced, precise movements he committed so dearly to memory, your body began to sway.

He knew this one—it started off slowly, gently, only to speed up as the music did as well. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three-four, went your heels against the wooden floor, and as the song ended and you bowed with a haughty flourish, Kaeya had abruptly stood up and left the tavern.

Your steps were light against the cobblestone when you caught up with him, that same night.

"Captain," you said, "you've been avoiding me."

He turned around to face you, a practiced smile on his lips. He couldn't look you in the eyes, though, no matter how intensely your gaze burned into him. "Oh? What might you be doing out so late, Miss [Surname]?" 

You sighed, placing a hand on your hip. "You knew me before, right? That's why you keep running away?"

Kaeya's tongue went dry as he heard you speak. Ah, what does he say to this? He watched you sigh again, but this time you brought out the musty old journal that he knew hung from your waist.

You held it out to him expectantly, but he didn't take it.

"...We knew each other," he eventually replied, soft and without any of his normal bravado. "We were…close."

Your face remained impassive, but there was a glint in your eyes that gave your suspicion away. "...I see," you said. "Then…I want to start again. I can't be the person you knew before, but…"

It was Kaeya who sighed this time, endearingly. "You really haven't changed," he said, before holding out a hand for you to shake. "Allow me to reintroduce myself, then. Kaeya Alberich, at your service."

You smiled, and he felt his heart flutter and ache alike at the sight. Taking his hand, you said, "[Name] [Surname]…a pleasure it is to finally know you, Kaeya."

—

Whenever dusk fell, Kaeya would often find you at one of the many taverns littered throughout the city, but your favourite seemed to be the Angel's Share, of all places. If you weren't dancing along to whatever tune the bard was singing, you were often talking with Diluc from the opposite end of the bar, sipping from your glass of wine. 

And whenever Kaeya would walk in you would turn to him and raise your glass in greeting, crowing something or other about coincidence, and he would say something or other about fate; and then you would drink together as his brother grew increasingly exasperated at the volume. 

One evening, he had lost track of how many rounds he had when his head began to grow fuzzy. He was only half-conscious of Charles' sigh, and you saying something along the lines of, "I'll bring him home."

With practiced ease—likely from your time hanging around with that drunkard bard—you lifted him up and slung his arm around your shoulders, struggling a bit from his height. "C'mon, captain, let's get you home," you said, to which he merely nodded and buried his face in the warmth of the crook of your neck.

"Y'know, it was always you getting wasted like this," he drawled. "Master Crepus used to—! He used to always scold us for stealing wine, but you were always half passed out so you never heard any of it."

You looked down, seemingly deep in thought. "It sounds like we were very close," you said, and he chuckled and hummed in the affirmative. 

He began rambling again as you made the short walk to his house, continuing even as you dug through his pockets for his keys. How he still reads your letters, how you made fun of his eyepatch the very first time he wore it, how you two used to climb the tree at Windrise, hoping always, in vain, to somehow reach the highest bough. If he were less shitfaced and more sober perhaps he would have found it in himself to stem the waterfall of words spilling from his lips—honest and raw in a way neither of you were used to—but as it stood, all he could have done was bare his heart to you like this.

You were silent as you laid him down on his bed, mumbling more to yourself than to anyone else, "You need to drink water, Kaeya."

The silence between you hung heavy like a body on the gallows. 

"I really loved you, you know."

Another pause, then, and then the soft caress of your palm against his cheek, and the lightest brush of your lips against his forehead.

"...Good night, Kaeya."

The next day, Kaeya woke up with the worst bitch of a migraine he's ever had in his life. As he rose to get a glass of water, he suddenly became aware of several things: firstly, the fact that he was a fucking idiot; second, the fact that he needs to get black-out drunk less often; and third, the fact that you were lying asleep on his couch, your journal in one hand and your other arm hanging off the side.

He sighed, placing down the empty glass, and walked over to you—and with your same gentleness from the night before, Kaeya brushed aside your bangs to press a kiss to your forehead.

—

"Snrk—you what?"

"Oh, yes, and then after that Jean said—"

You cut off the rest of his story by shoving a piece of meat in his mouth, and when Kaeya managed to swallow it he was met with the sight of your smug smile and your eyes still bleary from laughing. 

"There's no way all of that happened because of a rabbit," you said, to which he laughed good-naturedly, followed by a sip from his glass of wine.

"You'd be surprised what kinds of things Klee can get herself into."

You laughed again, and he took another drink of wine. Ah, he missed this, he thought. Missed the way the breeze here at Windrise smelled of asters, missed the way the moonlight trickled down through the leaves of the giant tree. 

(Most of all, he missed the little way your nose would crinkle when you laughed, but he'd prefer not to say that aloud, lest he be hit over the head with the wine bottle he brought along today—amnesia or not, he knew very well it was still within your strength to do so.)

Kaeya watched as you closed your eyes to enjoy the evening breeze, your hair like a wildfire in the breeze. You looked at him then, your eyes heavy with a certain lucidity that he couldn't name, but still managed to shake him somehow.

"...I'm in love with you, Kaeya."

When he smirked and said, "So I get to brag that I made you fall for me twice?" he was met with the same indignant, doe-eyed glare from all those years ago.

"I'm being serious!" you exclaimed, but he only laughed again, and covered your mouth with the palm of his hand. Before you could protest again, he kissed the back of his own hand and pulled away, a cheeky grin on his lips.

"Where'd all that bravado go, Mr. Casanova?"

Kaeya was hit with a pang of nostalgia, then. He looked at you, cheeks lightly flushed from the cold breeze and embarrassment alike, and his smile only widened further.

"Hmm? Think you can do any better, dearest?"

[mikkomacko]

Toothpaste smears at the corners of his mouth as he scrubs the brush over his teeth, the white foam getting dangerously close to dripping down his chin. Y/n eyes his reflection in her bathroom mirror, swiping a cotton ball of toner over the bridge of her nose. Last minute, Harry leans over the sink and spits, turning the faucet on to rinse his mouth and messy chin.

"One of these days you're going to drip toothpaste on your toes and I'm not going to help you clean it." She says, now reaching for her night serum. Harry scoffs, towel pressed to his face as he turns to face her. He drops the cloth on the counter, wiggling his butt onto the countertop.

"I've been brushing my teeth for over 20 years. Know what m'doing." He argues, eyebrows furrowing as he watches her rub the moisturizer into her skin. He does that often when they get ready for bed together, watching her skincare routine as if he were going to be rigorously tested on it later. But he never comments on it other than the occasional "that smells good" or "made ya all soft" when he presses a kiss to her cheek.

She's always wondered why he's so interested in it and apparently tonight is the night she gets some answers.

"Have ya always used all that stuff darling?"

Surprised, her eyebrows raise just the slightest bit, but she does her best to remain casual when she speaks. "Started having like a real routine a few years ago."

Harry hums, reaching for the dropper she'd previously held in her hand. He squints, reading over the label as she takes a chance to prod more. "Why bub?"

Innocently, he peers up at her through his eyelashes. "Don't know," he shrugs, "just never knew so much went into cleaning ya face. Thought some people just have good skin and others have bad."

He then reaches for her moisturizer, reading that bottle too. "There's no good or bad skin" she responds, "for some people acne is more manageable. For others it requires more time and probably money too. And some people just don't want to mess with their spots or marks. It's all normal."

Placing the products back on the counter, he gently reaches up to run his thumb over the pink bow on her headband. "So ya don't think I have bad skin?"

His tone is neutral, but a little too forced for him and she realizes why he examines her so closely when she takes care of her skin.

She lets her gaze meet his. "No Harry you don't have bad skin." She says earnestly. "You have very pretty skin. Look at how shiny your cheekbones always are." Harry smiles softly when she cups his face, running the pad of her thumb over his natural highlight.

"I've got a lot of spots though." He argues, reaching up to take her hand in his. Y/n shrugs, resting her hip against the counter. She can finish in a sec, right now she needs to talk to her extremely adorable boyfriend.

"You breakout because you workout everyday and you don't really have a routine Harry. But that doesn't make you gross or bad or anything. It's just normal."

He hums again, chewing on his bottom lip and dropping his gaze to their hands. He looks...upset. A little sad about her words. Y/n squeezes his fingers, drawing his attention back to her face.

"If you want to you can use my stuff tonight and if you like it we'll get you some too?"

Immediately his eyes light up, lips spreading into a smile. "You'd do that with me? Like show me how and everything?"

Y/n giggles, her heart wanting to burst with love for the man in front of her. "Of course I would. Can even use my other headband."

"The one with the bunny ears?"

She nods, amused by his eagerness. "Okay." He says, rising from the counter and releasing her hand to dig through the drawer for her white bunny headband. She gets him a clean towel while he slips the cotton over his head, pushing it up his forehead so the ears rest just in front of the frizzy bun on his head.

While Harry lathers her cleanser into his face, paying special attention to his forehead and hairline, y/n rolls her jade stone over her face before cleaning it for Harry. She can't help but giggle at the way his face crinkles and pouts as he focuses, his tongue poking out of his mouth.

"M'being thorough." He mumbles, not even glancing at her. Once his face has been rinsed and dried, she instructs him to sit back on the countertop. Harry does so, excitement buzzing from him as she stands between his thighs.

He's watching her intently when she reaches for the toner and serum he loves so much, and she takes a moment to button their mouths together. Sometimes it's difficult for her to imagine this man in a boxing ring, fighting simply because he loves it. Harry gently takes a hold of her waist, tilting his chin up so she can better apply it to his face.

"The toner cleans your face a bit more and gets off extra dirt and stuff that the wash didn't get." She explains, swiping the cotton ball over every inch of his face. He hums his acknowledgement, trying not to move when she drips serum onto his cheeks and forehead.

"This moisturizes. It's the stuff that smells real good too." Harry fights back a small smile, a sluggish blink dulling his eyes. They still brim with happiness, but he looks peaceful, enjoying the feeling of her fingers massaging his cheeks and jaw. She wipes her hands off, reaching for the little tube next.

"This is pimple cream. You just put it on where you actually have noticeable pimples but only a bit or it'll burn and itch." She says, squeezing some on her pointer finger. Then she dabs it to his face, remaining gentle.

"Wha's next?" He finally questions, his accent thicker with sleepiness. Y/n smiles, adjusting the crooked headband on his forehead.

"Moisturizer. Then roller."

Harry's head lulls back when she applied the moisturizer to his face, rubbing small circles into his soft skin. His whole body has melted into a cooked noodle-like state, a lazy smile on his lips. Before he can fall asleep on the counter, y/n gently rolls the stone up his neck and under his jaw. His eyes flutter shut, a satisfied purr rumbling his chest when she rolls it over his cheeks and under his eyes.

"Don't fall asleep on me baby," she murmurs gently, rolling over his cheeks and under his eyes. He hums, smiling peacefully at the feeling of the massager.

"Didn't know it felt so relaxing," he whispers "no wonder you're also so sleepy after this."

She finishes with the bridge of his nose, sealing the process with a kiss to his nose. "You're so handsome Harry," she says after she's put the roller away. He blinks his eyes open, cheeks squished when she cups his face. "Spots or no spots I've never seen another man as beautiful as you."

A blush rises to his dimpled cheeks. "Thank you darling, I like when you call me beautiful."

"Yeah?"

Bashfully, he nods. "Makes me feel....soft. Or gentle ya know?"

She looks over his face, heart softening at the bunny ears on his head and the sleepiness of his eyes, and she thinks about he spends his life doing violent things but he's really just a teddy bear at heart. All he needed was for someone to love that side of him as well.

"I'll always tell you that you're beautiful." She promises, giggling when he pecks a few kisses to her jaw.

"Beautiful, but manly right?"

Snickering, she nods. "The manliest bub."

[pars-ley]

Come away with me

Pairing: Jimin x f reader ft Namjoon x f reader

Summary: Roses are dead, my soul feels blue, come away with me, I only want you. Being forced into an arranged marriage is not ideal, even less so when you're hopelessly in love with someone else. But with your choice, could come bloody consequences.

Genre: arranged marriage au / affair au / angst / smut / fluff / mafia au / 

Rating: 18+ (nsfw)

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Oral f recieving / sex / finger foreplay / mention of murder /

Beta reader: @taegularities​ thank you so much!

A/n: This is for the btswritersclub February prompt 'dishonest love'. 

When you die, do you think you'll be able to go back to the time you were the happiest, and relive those moments forever? 

Or if there's a life after this one, maybe it'll be another chance at happiness with the person who satisfies your soul completely.

Either way, your mind only sees one person behind your eyelids. And replays one moment…

Your bare breasts shine from the orange light of the fire, bathing you in a golden glow as you watch his soft, gentle lips cascade slowly down your body. Every part of your flesh he meets, sings under his touch and creates a pathway of goosebumps, leading him onward.

"You're so beautiful," Jimin whispers against you, an involuntary shiver vibrating down your spine.

You smile at his words, fingers smoothing the hair from his eyes so you can see him. His intense stare, so full of love and adoration makes your heart ready to burst in your chest, pouring emotion singing his name at full force.

His fingers are on you and in you, manoeuvring in a way only he can, knowing your body and pleasing you in ways that make your back arch and your toes curl. Your fingernails find anchorage in the soft pile rug beneath you as you ground yourself from floating away, as the feel of his hot, wet mouth on you is enough to tip you into the abyss.

When your quaking body eases under his touch, he climbs slowly up your body, his lips journey upward leaving a trail of wet prints behind him.

You pull him into a fiery kiss, tongues dancing a heated rumba. The taste of you on his mouth brings fresh heat straight to your core.

You have never felt more free and more happy than in this moment. You do not allow yourself to think about tomorrow. You want to drink in everything about this night.

"Run away with me," he whispers. 

His words are exactly what you long to hear and what you long to do.

"You know I can't." You stroke the side of his face, the curve of his cheek fitting perfectly in your palm.

"You can. Forget about what your duty is. Forget about your father. Live for yourself."

A sad laugh escapes you. "If only it was that simple."

He sits up, pulling you up with him. "It can be! Come away with me. We can go anywhere you want. Your dad won't find us, we can just live our life." 

Tears sting your eyes as hope overwhelms you. Could it be possible? To live your life freely with him and forget about everything else? 

"Please, choose me and I swear I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me."

The desperate plea in his eyes has you melting and in this moment you truly believe it's possible.

You nod as he responds with a heart stopping beam, one that has you weak and wanting to do everything in your power to make sure it keeps dazzling you.

His hands capture the sides of your face, lips moving against yours, pouring every ounce of love into this kiss.

You make love on the rug in the firelight until the early hours of the morning. He draws his name from your lips more than once and you relish in being able to say it so freely. You've had a taste of freedom with him and you know you can't go back now.

"Pack a bag. Meet me at the old oak tree on the edge of town at noon?"

You nod as he strokes your face with his thumb, bringing you the most amount of comfort from such a tiny action.

As he sneaks out through your window, your heart leaves with him, feeling safe and loved in the warmth of his embrace.

You watch until the dark night captures him completely from your sight.

You and him forever, how it's meant to be. Could your dream become a reality?

You race to fetch your bag and begin shoving clothes and your most prized possessions in every crevice.

A knock on your door has you frozen in place before shoving your bag under your bed in time to see your mother’s face peer in.

"I thought I saw your light on," she says sweetly as she steps in, closing the door behind her. "Wedding day jitters?" she asks. 

You nod automatically, guilt already threatening to boil over inside you.

"I thought as much. I was the same when I married your father." She walks over, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, patting the space beside her. You do as she asks, as usual, and take a seat.

"Let me tell you something, and I want you to listen to every word." Her eyes blaze into yours, the sweet, cheery side gone, leaving you with only the intimidating and menacing side that made your stomach turn and your palms sweat.

"Before I married your father, I was in love with a boy. Handsome, charming, caring, adventurous, everything I'd ever wanted in a man, everything I could have hoped for. We had a very passionate relationship and we were seeing each other right up until the night before my wedding. That night he asked me to run away with him."

Your eyes pop but you dare not speak before she's finished.

"I wanted to, lord knows how often I still think about that moment but I chose not to follow my heart but to follow my duty, that's what matters the most, dear. I wouldn't have this wonderful life with my lovely dresses, my jewels, our cars, our boats, everything. I'd be a peasant, living the simple life. Is that what you want?" She raises a sharp eyebrow in your direction and you swallow the lump of fear in your throat. 

You want him, you'd gladly give up everything else but you dare not say those words out of fear of the consequences.

She sighs. "I know it's hard, believe me, giving up what you love and desire the most is not easy but it is worth it. Kim Namjoon can give you everything your father gives me. That's all I want for you, dear."

You don't miss the silent earning she's giving you as she stands and heads for the door.

"Because I love you, I'll give you the chance to make this right. Send a message to Park Jimin, telling him why you must marry Kim Namjoon and that he must leave you alone, and I will spare his meaningless little life." She shuts the door behind her, leaving you with a thick silence that grabs your throat and suffocates you.

Your dream is slipping away through your fingers as you grapple at it, attempting to keep it.

You want to run to him now. To grab him and never let go. You wish you could protect him but you can't. 

Seeing his face in your mind, you clutch your chest and let the sobs wrack your body. The love of your life further away than you could have imagined.

You want to run to him, to escape with him now but you dare not put him in any more danger, knowing he must already be being watched by your father’s people.

You were trapped, a prisoner in your own home, in your own life, destined to follow you mother’s footsteps and be the wife of a mob boss, enslaved in a loveless marriage forever. 

That is your destiny. As much as you want to believe differently, you have no choice. You couldn't risk Jimin's life for your selfish wants. He is more important than anything, he deserves to be happy with someone freely.

You sit at your desk and pour all of the love you have left in your words on the paper, printed forever for him to look back on, knowing you sealed your heart in the envelope just for him. Letting him know this sacrifice isn't an easy one and that he will have your heart for eternity and beyond. Begging him not to come and save you as the idea of a world where he isn't living could not keep you too.

You print the wax seal and scrawl his name across the front before letting your tears escape freely until you're lulled into a painful and restless sleep.

You snap out of the memory of last night and stare at your reflection in your long, ornate wedding gown, not a hair out of place, the perfect makeup concealing bags and red rimmed eyes.

You go through the motions of getting ready on autopilot, all noise fading into the background, everyone around you passing in a blur. You feel numb at the prospect of what you're about to do. 

You'd sent one of your fathers errand boys off with your letter, telling him exactly where Jimin would be. You can't bear to think of what his reaction will be when he reads it, you don't want to imagine the heartbreak your words will cause, you are already dealing with enough of your own.

In no time at all you are at the cathedral in the lobby, flowers in hand and desperately holding back the tears you feel burning behind your eyelids. 

"You look beautiful, darling," your father whispers as he intertwines your arm with his.

The empty pit in your chest that used to house your heart is throbbing with grief and mourning at the life you're entering and for the one you're leaving behind.

You take a deep breath and steel yourself as the large, oak double doors open and you're faced with the sea of guests turning back to admire you.

At the end of the aisle you see him, the stern, expressionless Kim Namjoon. Soon to be your husband. Looking at you with utter...indifference. As if you were nothing more than a simple business deal. Which is exactly what you are to him. You look away from his unrelenting, icy stare.

Thankful for the veil, concealing your true feelings behind the mesh fabric.

You glance at the faces you walk past, most people are here because of your parents, they're people you've never met or who you hardly know.

A familiar set of crescent eyes and plump lips draw your attention, capturing all your focus immediately as your stomach drops.

Jimin.

Your Jimin.

All you want to do is run to him, but you dare not falter and draw attention to him. How did he even get in?

Why is he here?

He moves slowly along the row towards you, panic seizing your organs and squeezing them in an alarming grip.

Your breath hitches in your throat and as it leaves your lips in a rush, your father follows your gaze and spots him. 

Everything stops. Everyone looks around to him and all you can hear is the hushed chatter of the people around you.

You can't bear to tear your eyes away from him as all he does is offer you that breathtaking smile that makes you believe in gods, and angels and everything in between.

You shut your eyes tight wanting to keep that image burned in your mind and not wishing to see whatever is about to happen next...

[roguerogerss]

Sorry is a Sorry Word

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Plot: Steve fucked up - bad. He doesn’t really know how, or if, he should say sorry, until Dustin gives him a pep talk.

W/C: 3.1k

A/N: Just now realising how long this is oops, sorry. My first Stranger Things fic! Finally. (watch this flop so hard lmao) Remember to like and reblog if you enjoy! It really helps me out. As always, requests are open and any and all feedback is appreciated <3

————

"Dustin, Please, just leave me alone." She lay back on her bed, tears streaming down her face and hair amiss from where she'd run her fingers through it. "I'm fine, I just...give me some time."

"But, we tell eachother everything." Her little brother sounded so small and defeated that it almost broke her heart in two. She could hear him leaning his back against the door, the back of his head thumping dully against the wood a second later. "I feel like we're drifting apart. You don't talk to me anymore."

"Dustin-"

"No, it's okay. Don't worry." Dustin cleared the remnants of his upset from his throat, "We can talk later. I get that you need time."

And with that, he'd left. She could hear his muffled footsteps on the carpeted floor of the hallway, walking away from her bedroom and back to his own. She knew that she wanted to talk to him and vent about all of the happenings of the day, but she couldn't bring herself to let her walls down in front of anyone about her current situation just yet.

It was Steve. And it was bad.

They'd been together for a year and ten months. He'd been there for her through thick and thin. Whenever their mom went MIA, something that happened more often than not, during the days and weeks and months that Y/N was left to take care of her thirteen year old brother on her own with no notice whatsoever, Steve was there. And he'd take Dustin out to the cinema, give him free ice cream, play Dungeons and Dragons with him and his friends - even though Steve had no idea how to play Dungeons and Dragons. He'd sleep over, make her feel like she wasn't alone. It filled her with pride to see him taking Dustin under his wing, more like a dad than even an older brother.

When they lost Hopper, who'd become more of a parental figure than she and Dustin's mom was to her, he was standing by her side at the funeral, hand grasping her own smaller one with force and squeezing it every so often, just to remind her that he was there. He was there after the funeral, too, when they went to the cabin and went through Hopper's things. He was there when she found the birthday present that Hopper had bought for her, a necklace with, 'you're pretty cool, kid', engraved on it. Hopper's way of saying that he loved her. It came with a letter, one that she cried so hard while reading that she couldn't see the words on the page.

The point was, that Steve had been there through everything. And now that they'd had a huge argument over - of all things - Nancy Wheeler, she was unsure of whether or not she'd have Steve to lean on anymore.

It wasn't so much a stupid argument as it was a stupid mistake on Steve's end. He even admitted to himself that what he'd done was more than a dick move. Tina was having a party, a big one, for old time's sake. Y/N wasn't invited, having been socially considered as 'uncool' while in High School, while Steve was invited. He said that it wasn't a big deal, it didn't matter, he wouldn't go.

Except that it was a big deal, it did matter, and, well, he did go.

He'd gotten really drunk, so drunk, in fact, that he had no recollection of the night at all and managed to stumble to Y/N's front door at five in the morning.

He'd told her that he went to the party, that he was sorry. She'd been mad, but she was so tired that she said she'd deal with it in the morning and told Steve to sleep it off on the sofa. Before going to sleep, however, Steve had told Y/N that he 'thought he might've kissed Nancy' that night.

They'd argued about it the next day. She'd dropped him off at home, neither of them speaking at all in the car, and they'd screamed at eachother in Steve's living room. Little did either of them know, Steve hadn't actually kissed Nancy, he was just so drunk that he made himself believe that he had. And then, Y/N told Steve that they were done, and he'd said 'fine', and she'd left and cried in her car for an hour.

And now, she was here. Crying on her bed, little brother probably thinking that one of her friends had died or something.

She hated herself for blowing up and flying off the handle and literally breaking up with Steve. Steve, on the other hand, hated himself for even going to the party, hated himself for - possibly - kissing Nancy, hated himself for going to Y/N's front door and waking her up so early in the morning.

In the grand scheme of things, Steve Harrington had been an asshole. And he was all too aware of it.

It had been around half an hour since she got home when Dustin knocked on the door again. This time, she'd managed to calm down enough to allow him to come inside. She looked horrifying, hair messed up, tear stained face, cuddling a pillow and wearing one of Steve's shirts, but Dustin was her brother, he had no right to judge her.

The door swung open slowly, and Dustin was there, grinning and holding two pints of ice cream, spoons, and some movies. "Thought we could put a movie on and eat. And you can tell me about your problems and I promise I'll listen."

"Is the ice cream cookie dough?" Y/N asked, sniffling, and a watery smile crossed her face. Dustin laughed, happy to see his sister perking up at least a little bit, even if it was over ice cream, and turned the carton to reveal to her that it was, in fact, cookie dough.

"Only the best." He tossed one of the cartons and a spoon at her, and turned on the TV set that sat across from her bed. "Besides, I know it's the only one you'll eat when you're sad."

"You know me entirely too well." She hugged her knees to her chest and dug into her ice cream, relishing in the taste of it for a second, "Oh my God, I haven't had this in so long. And the Scoops cookie dough is so bad."

"Right? I know Steve thinks it's the best, but he is so wrong." Little did Dustin know, one mention of his name would make Y/N's meltdown begin all over again. Soon enough, she was crying hot tears into her ice cream, and she allowed Dustin to lay his head on her shoulder while she explained everything.

"Okay, I have to go somewhere." Dustin knew what he had to do, and Y/N's eyebrows furrowed as he got swiftly up from her bed. "I'll be like, maybe half an hour. But you can eat my ice cream if it starts to melt."

"Dustin! Don't leave me!"

"Watch the movie!"

And then he was gone, and she was by herself, with only some ice cream and E.T. to keep her company.

Meanwhile, Dustin had found Steve at work. He was insanely hungover - although, the headache and sickness had gone away thanks to Robin and her Tylenol, but the tiredness still remained - and reminded Dustin faintly of a particular zombie in Day of the Dead when he walked into Family Video to find him leaning on the counter. The grim look on his face wasn't so much because of the hangover, though, it was more to do with the fact that he and his girlfriend of nearly two years had broken up half an hour ago, and he'd been forced to go to work.

"If you're here to talk to Steve, I wouldn't. He nearly punched me when I asked him if he wanted Tylenol. And I'm a girl." Robin stopped Dustin at the front door, a serious look on her face, but he shrugged her off.

"It's fine. He won't do anything. Besides, I know what this whole thing's about. That's why I'm here." He tried to walk off again, but Robin grabbed his upper arm, tugging him back and making him elaborate.

"Is it Y/N? I think there was a fight between them or something. He’s never looked this rough.” Robin looked concerned, and she was. She’d never seen Steve so upset before. “He was crying when he came in.” She added.

Dustin shrugged, “Yeah, I’m gonna talk to him. He’ll be fine tomorrow.” He decided not to give Robin any more information on the situation in case Y/N or Steve would've gotten mad at him for it.

"Henderson, hey." Steve said quietly when he noticed that Dustin had entered the store. He looked like he'd been crying, and Robin was definitely right when she said he’d never looked rougher. "If you're here to hang out-"

"I'm not here to hang out, Steve. We have to talk." Dustin crossed his arms sternly over his chest, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head in the direction of the store room. Steve grumbled and complied, unlocking the door and ushering Dustin inside.

"You have to apologise."

"Apologise? Apologise for - what exactly are we talking about?" Steve rubbed a hand exhaustedly over his face, leaning against a sealed box of movies that he was supposed to have put away by now.

"You know what for, Steve. Y/N. You hurt her. Like, really badly. I don't think I've ever seen her so upset." Steve already wanted Dustin to stop, but he continued, really wanting him to get the message of just how hurt his sister was. "She cried in her room for half an hour before she even let me talk to her, and now she's at home by herself, probably crying some more because you went to a stupid party. I mean, seriously man, couldn't you just have stayed home? What was so important about it?"

Steve threw his head back and hid his face with his hands, wanting the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He knew that he'd been a dick, he knew that he'd hurt her, but, Jesus, knowing the details made his heart flip in his chest and his stomach hurt. He hated seeing Y/N upset at the best of times, nevermind when it was his fault.

"Yeah. Yeah, I should've just left it. Jeez, Dustin, I'm such an asshole."

"Yes. An asshole, you are. And what was that other shit? About you kissing Nancy?"

"I didn't kiss Nancy, okay? My drunk mind just kinda...made me believe that I did. I called her today just to confirm." Steve swallowed, suddenly having the nausea of his hangover coming back to him.

"Does Y/N know that?" Dustin had his arms crossed, back against the wall, looking unimpressed as Steve shook his head. "Seriously man? Don't you think that the first thing you should've done after finding out that you didn't actually cheat on your girlfriend, was tell your girlfriend that you didn't actually cheat on her?"

"My head's all over the place, Henderson. Cut me some slack, okay?"

"You have to come say sorry, you know that, right?"

"I will. I will, I promise. I finish in an hour, why don't you go home, I'll buy some flowers, take a shower and get changed, and I'll come chap on your door like none of this even happened." Steve had suddenly perked up, gesturing with his arms and almost getting excited to initiate his plan.

"Yeah. Sure. But it better be good, Harrington. You better make her happy."

Steve didn't even have time to respond before Dustin was running off, getting on his bike, and cycling back home to his sister. He promised himself internally that he'd do all it took to make her happy.

Y/N had finished her ice cream and Dustin's had started to melt by the time he got home. She hadn't cried any more, had been too focussed on the movie, and Dustin was relieved to see her laughing at something on the screen when he entered her bedroom.

"Hey." She smiled. "Your ice cream's melting, you'd better eat it."

Dustin smiled and bellyflopped onto her bed, sending her into a fit of laughter. They both laughed so hard, in fact, that they barely heard the doorbell ring, and Dustin almost got up to go and get it.

He stopped himself though, not wanting Steve to call him an idiot or something along those lines. "You should go. I have to eat my ice cream before it melts." He said sheepishly, sitting back down from where he'd jumped up. Y/N rolled her eyes and threw the pillow that she was holding at Dustin's face.

"Alright, make your sad sister get the door because you have to eat ice cream." She stood up even as she spoke, knowing that Dustin wasn't going to budge. "Nice one, asshole."

Y/N had left her bedroom before Dustin could retaliate, bounding down the stairs and realising that, if anyone saw her the way that she looked now, they'd probably never respect her again. The doorbell went again, and she sighed quietly at the lack of patience from whoever was on the other side.

She - stupidly - didn't even bother to look out of the window that stood next to the door to check who it was before opening it, and nearly closed it again when she realised who was standing there.

"Hey, woah, don't close the door yet!" It was Steve, his eyes widened from the possibility that he'd come all the way to her house so that she could slam the door in his face, holding white lilies and a box of chocolates, which was - in Y/N's opinion - the cheesiest apology ever. "Just...listen? For like, a minute."

She slowly let her hand slide off of the door knob, watching as Steve relaxed a significant amount even from seeing her do that. "A minute." She crossed her arms over her chest, chewing her cheek. "You have a minute."

"Okay, uh, yeah, okay." Steve began his rambling. "Listen, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have gone to that party, I know I shouldn't have gotten so drunk that I managed to convince myself that I kissed Nancy. Did I already say that I didn't actually kiss Nancy? I called her, and she said we didn't even speak. Bottom line is, I'm an asshole. I know that, and I hate myself for hurting you. Dustin told me how upset you were and I...I couldn't even comprehend the fact that I did that."

He paused, looking down at his feet and waiting for Y/N to say something. Something that didn't come, she simply stood, looking at and biting her fingernails, trying to figure out whether or not she should give in and forgive him or not, so he stopped waiting and spoke some more.

"I'm sorry. I love you. I love you so much. And I know that I fucked up, and I don't expect you to forgive me-"

"Steve." Y/N stopped him. He looked up at her, expecting that she'd look upset or annoyed, but she was smiling and shaking her head. "Come here."

"Seriously?" He already wished he hadn't said what he did before he'd even finished speaking. Seriously? What kind of thing to say was that? "I mean, you know-"

She was already hugging him before he could finish speaking. She knew that he'd ramble on for hours if he could, but she also knew that she already forgave him and didn't need to listen to his rambling. "It's okay. I forgive you."

"Oh, thank God. I thought I'd lost you, really, I did." He sighed into her hair, realising that he was probably ruining the bouquet of flowers with the way that he was crushing them against her back.

"Well, you were an asshole. You had every right to think you'd lost me." Steve had always loved her subtle sassiness, it was a habit that she often fell into unknowingly, but it made him chuckle.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I was an asshole."

She let go of him, finally, and stood back. He was wearing his light blue jeans, a black t-shirt and belt, with a blue jacket. It was an outfit that she'd seen him in before, quite a few times, but he never failed to look good in it anyway. His hair was slightly amiss, as though he'd gotten ready as quickly as he could - which was true, but she didn't know that for sure - but it still had his Steve 'the hair' Harrington charm.

"So, can I come in, or are you just gonna stand there and mock me?" He grinned and she stood to the side, allowing him to join her in the hallway. He went straight for the kitchen, taking out a vase and filling it up with water, then placing the flowers in it and leaving it on the kitchen counter.

"I didn't say you could-" She was trying to joke with him, but he didn't seem to care much, as he cut her off by dipping his head towards hers and kissing her passionately. He hated to admit it, probably something to do with the small part of his King Steve persona that he still carried around with him, but he'd missed her, and it had only been a few hours.

"Woah, easy tiger." Y/N laughed, pulling away when Steve's hands started to travel downwards. "We haven't even properly spoken yet."

"Yeah. Sorry." Steve said sheepishly. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and smiled down at the floor. "Do you wanna talk?"

She shrugged. "Not particularly."

"So, really, it's okay for me to do this," He closed the gap between them again, beaming at her while he searched her face for any sign of disapproval and admired the little flecks of contrasting colours that danced in her eyes. And then he kissed her again, lips soft against her own, gentle - something that wasn't widely believed, Steve Harrington was actually one of the most gentle people that Y/N had ever met.

"Well, yeah." She grinned, breathless. "But I'm sort of in the middle of watching a movie, wanna join?"

And so they spent the rest of the day, wrapped in the blankets on Y/N's bed and Y/N wrapped in Steve's arms, watching movies that Dustin fished out from the cabinet under the TV that Y/N didn't even know that they had.

She had to say, Steve's apologies were often cheesy and terrible, but this one wasn’t so bad as it was enjoyable.

[kiatheinsomniac]

Chapter I: A Bright Opportunity

Clad in robes of deep red and gold, she waited in the shadow of the hidden door, peering through the crack of it being ajar, the hidden stone tunnel stretching out behind her. Her slim body was leaned back against the cold wall as she waited for her contact's company to leave the room. Once alone, she stepped silently out of the shadows and into the warm golden light that poured in through the polished windows, kissing the skin of the woman's face as soon as she pushed her hood down from her head and onto her shoulders.

"Your majesty." She addressed formally, kneeling down as she bowed her head towards the floor and placed a hand over her heart.

"Winifred, I take that your presence before me means you have something of importance?" The red-haired queen of England queried, waving off the alerted guards to lower their weapons before gesturing for the other woman to stand.

"Of course." Spoke the assassin, rising from her bow to pluck a letter from her pocket, the red wax seal already broken, she handed it over to her queen, "A plot by the Vatican - and I'm afraid that your cousin Mary may be involved too, Elizabeth."

"Thank you." The queen spoke, sucking down a breath as she thought of the gravity of the situation - yet another burden for the queen's already heavy shoulders, "Though, this only means more work for you, I need you to uncover if Mary truly is involved, I want to know exactly what powers are conspiring against me and my throne."

"I'll get right to it, your majesty."

LOADING ANIMUS DATA...

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(Y/n) opened her (e/c) orbs, her vision fuzzy from sleep. An irritated groan was pulled from her lips when she reached for her phone, her alarm blaring in her tired ears. It was six in the morning and her usual time to get up for school.

Her dream was quickly fading from her memory, all she could remember was seeing Queen Elizabeth I of England and an old-fashioned letter with a seal. "Proof that I'm passing history, I suppose." She grumbled to herself as she unlocked her phone to check all her social medias before she exited her plush bed. It was full of white fluffy blankets and pillows and shielded her body from the cold air that nipped at anything outside of her blankets. Her light grey walls stood tall around her in her rather plainly decorated bedroom - there wasn't much aside from her wardrobe and organised desk.

She quickly finished up checking all her messages before jumping out of bed and heading to the bathroom to relieve herself, wash her face and to brush her teeth, shivering gently at the cold temperature, all too eager to get back to her room where she could wrap herself in a blanket as she readied herself.

Upon returning to her room, she began dressing for the day of school that lie ahead, sitting on the floor in front of her full-length mirror to style her (h/l) (h/c) hair and do her usual makeup. As she went through her morning routine, she danced around a little to the music that was playing from her phone - mostly her favourite songs by Lana Del Rey with some Billie Eilish and some classics thrown into the playlist.

Once she was done, she headed downstairs to make herself a coffee to drink while she sat at the dining table doing any homework that was due in that week.

She was the only person in the house. The solitude never bothered her ever since she was young - her parents worked a lot and she never had much of a close relationship to them anyway. In fact, relationships weren't something she was accustomed to anyway - her parents' work meant that they moved house a lot so she never really managed to make friends or stay in touch with them either. But, she was perfectly content with her studies and happily sitting at the top of her classes.

She was one of those people that could never get enough - no matter what she did, there had to be more to get done. For every lesson, there would be another three to learn to push herself further. 'Why settle for less when you can be the best?' she would often say to herself whenever she took a little break from studying to browse the internet on her phone.

Once it was time to leave the house, she was pulling on a coat and slinging her bag over her shoulder, drinking down the last of her slowly cooling coffee.

Her walk was just like any other usual day, taking the paths beside the main road while her music accompanied her through the cold early-spring morning. She let out a sigh while her playlist shuffled in her headphones, blasting loudly in her ears. She passed familiar paths and roads, stopping at the same traffic lights. (Y/n) had the option to be driven to school by the family driver but she preferred the twenty minutes of morning air considering she didn't leave the house often enough.

When she arrived in school, she made her way towards the library where she pulled a notebook and textbook out of her bag, going over chemistry topics regarding balancing equations and relative atomic mass. Her music played softly in her ears now, music without vocals that would distract her if present in the song. This was how her day went: get to school and study, attend classes to study, sit studying at break, attend more classes to study, have a small break for a light snack and drink at lunch before studying then attend her final lesson to study. Once she got home, she'd sleep for a while then listen to music/ paint/ read a book before studying until dinner; after dinner, she'd have a bath and take some time to look after herself before going to bed.

(Y/n) could admit that a change in routine was all she longed for but she didn't know anything else. She had no friends to go out with and didn't really have anything interesting going on at all aside from family events. She wanted a change desperately but had no clue where to start - whenever she tried to mix things up, she'd always fall back into the same routine out of habit. When the bell went off, she packed her notebooks neatly away into her navy blue bag and tucked her phone into her pocket.

The approach of yet another repetitive day.

She sat through her first three lessons, her work at top standard and focus sharp as she pressed herself in her studies more and more. Her attention was following the video on the board that was explaining the use of tangent with angles of elevation and depression, noting down little features to keep in mind (all of which she already knew but noted it down nonetheless to show classwork) when a male teacher, who was escorting a female visitor, entered the classroom, making his way across the room to the teacher's desk. The (e/c)-eyed female had seen the grey-haired teacher around the school before and was rather sure he was one of the receptionists. She watched the hushed conversation quickly occur between the receptionist and maths teacher before the man straightened his back.

"(Y/n) Glacier, could you come with me please?" He spoke up, the student opened her mouth slightly, wondering why she had to be taken out of class.

"Do I need my bag?" She quizzed, reaching for the strap of the navy bag that rested by her feet.

"Yes, please," He spoke as he made his way back outside. (Y/n) quickly gathered her things and made her way outside, closing the door quietly behind her. Her (e/c) gaze managed to get a better look at the visitor. She was a woman in her late middle-ages with fair light brown hair and turquoise eyes. She wore a purple blazer and skirt with a white blouse and black heels.

"I'm not in trouble am I?" The student quizzed, she had no idea why she had been taken out and was beginning to grow worried that she might have done something; though, there was nothing that she was able to think of.

"On the contrary, dearie." The visitor spoke up as they walked towards a classroom, that was bare aside from the school's headmaster, where the three of them took a seat. The school's headmaster was a woman nearing being elderly with jet black hair that presented a few grey streaks. On her nose were thick-rimmed glasses and she wore a deep red blazer with a white blouse and a flowing black skirt that reached her ankles. She was a good headmaster and had been running the school for the good part of three decades from what (Y/n) had heard.

"Miss (L/n), this is Miss Pearl Attaway." The headmaster spoke, "She's a member of staff at Vermere Lake Grammar School and she's representing the board there that are searching for students to join seeing as it's a new establishment."

"Ok. . ." (Y/n) began slowly, "I suppose, to begin with, I'd like to ask: why me?" She began picking at a thread on her skirt under the table, finding herself to be rather nervous.

"Your grades are outstanding, (Y/n)." Pearl Attaway began, "We're looking for students with gifted minds like yours, you'd be a wonderful asset to the school."

"Where is this school?" The (s/t)-skinned student quizzed, wanting to know everything about it before she began to make up her mind on attending.

"The French countryside." The visitor replied. (Y/n) opened her mouth to speak but was cut off, "I know what you're thinking and I'm sure that the proposal of a boarding school comes as quite a shock but your parents have been spoken to and they both are in favour of you going and have left the final decision up to you." (Y/n) stopped to think. This choice was going to be far more difficult and impactful than she originally thought.

"I think that I'm going to need more time to make up my mind on this. . . I mean: France? A boarding school? I've never done anything like that before, I've never stayed away from my house unless I'm with family. . ." She looked down at her lap. This could be her chance to really advance in her studies! And the fact that they had sought her out specifically too! Would she be around more like-minded people?

"It's perfectly understandable if you want some time to think this over but I'm afraid that I'll be needing an answer before the end of the month," Pearl replied. That gave (Y/n) three weeks to make her big decision. The (h/c)-haired student turned to her headmaster.

"I know it's a lot to ask for but could I go home? I want to be somewhere where I can have some clear-headedness to think about this and I'd like to talk to my parents too. It's understandable for you to say no." She requested. The older woman tossed the idea around in her head for a moment.

"I'll have to contact your parents but I'm sure they'll allow you to return home." She smiled as she stood up, everyone else in the room following suit. The receptionist began leading Pearl away. However, the woman in purple paused on the threshold of the door.

"We hope that you'll choose to join us, (Y/n)." And with that said, she was around the corner and out of sight.

"If I may add my thoughts on this," The headmaster spoke up as she began leading (y/n) to her office in order to make a phone call to the student's parents, "I believe this is an excellent opportunity for you, I've seen your grades and your class books and I believe that this school cannot provide the facilities and teachings that you need to further your education. This would be perfect for you."

"I know. . ." (Y/n) began thoughtfully, "It's just the boarding school part that's making me hesitate. I've never been away from my family before." It was true that she was used to solitude but she was used to that in her own household, not in the countryside of another country surrounded by other people her age. She was certainly stuck on the fence. . .

The call was made and she was sent home, hence why she was laying on her bed of lightly coloured pillows and blankets, staring up at her white ceiling.

"This could be the change you want - no! - need! This could be your way to get a change in routine and press yourself to be the best! But it's so far away. . . And? You're not close to your family anyway, it's not like you can't call them for comfort if need be. You're not exactly leaving any friends behind either. . . What if you can make some friends there? If they're looking for people like you perhaps you can get on well with them. This could be the best decision of your life! Or the worst. . . Come on, you get to go to another country and attend an outstanding school! Don't let sentiment hold you back! It's a boarding school, I'm sure you can bring whatever you want to make yourself feel at home. Tell you what: let's do it! Let's go to this school! What have I got to lose? The worst thing that could happen is getting homesick." And so, she reached across the bed for her phone to contact her father who would tell Pearl Attaway that (Y/n) would be attending Vermere Lake.

For the first time in her life, the change she longed for was finally within reach.

[kageyamavibes]

『Rainy days』

✎ Pairings: Akaashi Keiji x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Fluff

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

It was raining non-stop that day.

Rainy days were your favourite, the sound of the rain pouring down the roof makes you feel at ease. The cold breeze was always the perfect match for your knitted sweater that Akaashi bought for you. You smile at yourself, reminiscing the days you two first met.

It was your first year at Fukurodani, it was raining that day unfortunately you forgot your umbrella. You sighed begrudgingly, you didn't want to get soaked since your finals were starting tomorrow. You stood by the entrance, hoping the rain would stop soon so you could go home and study.

An hour later, the rain still poured down not showing signs that it would be done soon. It was getting late so you had no other resort but to get soaked in the rain.

You gripped your bag tightly over your chest, wanting to protect your belongings from getting soaked. Taking a deep breath, preparing yourself.

"Alright here I go!"

But before you could even plunge yourself in the rain, someone grasped your arm pulling you back. You turned around shocked, seeing Akaashi Keiji from the Volleyball team.

"You know, our finals starts tomorrow. Instead of plunging yourself in the rain, I'll just walk you home so you won't get sick."

Ever since then, Akaashi captivated your heart.

You would sneak glances at him in the corridors, his smile was contagious, you would often find it hard to hide your glee whenever he would see him smile. You never expected Akaashi would always approach you ever since that one fateful day, you would often find yourself hanging out with him in the library or even getting snacks in the cafeteria. Even you two didn't talked that much, the comfortable silence that wrapped between the both of you were something you two loved.

When your Birthday came around, he was the first person who greeted you, handing you over his present shyly.

"It's not that much but I hope you like it."

You opened his gift, revealing a knitted sweater that you have been looking for ages. You gasped, your eyes wide in happiness, looking over at Akaashi in disbelief.

Words weren't enough to thank Akaashi from his gift, you tackled him in a hug, gushing over how much you loved it. It was the first time you saw Akaashi blush.

Akaashi would often walk you home, especially on rainy days. Even if you always tell him you had already brought your own umbrella, he would still insist to walk you back home. In return, you would share your bento box with him every lunch and support him during his games. Whenever he spots you in the crowd, he would always have this soft smile plastered in his face giving you a thumbs up, it always made you melt inside.

The raven haired boy's calm presence reminded you of home, his soft expression made you believe that he was the epitome of serenity. His simple gestures��� the way he would do his best to help you, care for you, and listen to your every day life made you fall in love with him deeper as the day goes by.

Fortunately he reciprocated his feelings for you.

He figured out how much you mesmerized him, may it be the way you two would agree on the weirdest things possible, how your bubbly personality would lift up his spirits, or even whenever you would always make him his favourite food after his practice were done. The smallest gestures you show how much he means to you made him believe you were meant for him.

"Here's your coffee."

You thanked Akaashi, taking the mug from his hand. He sat beside you, leaning his head over your shoulder as he gaze upon the window.

"I still remember the day we shared our first kiss, it was raining back then."

You laughed at his sudden thought. Of course, you wouldn't forget that day. You pulled Akaashi towards the heavy downpour, where you two stood in the middle of the rain. You were saying something but the loud rain made your sentence muffled. He leaned closer so he could hear you but before you could repeat your words, you were shocked how close you both were to each other. It took some time for Akaashi to figure out why you had became silent. His eyes widened seeing how your faces were centimeters apart, he could feel how cold your breath was. His daring blue eyes stared at your e/c ones, it was the first time Akaashi noticed how alluring your eyes were. You two unconsciously leaned on each other, your lips softly pressing on his. His kisses brought warmth over the cold rain over your skin.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Keiji."

You wrapped your arms around Akaashi, cuddling closer to him. You can never get tired of the familiar scent of vanilla and the warmth he radiates, it made you feel safe and sound in his arms.

He kisses your forehead softly, caressing your hair which soothes you from his gentle touch. Whispering how much he was thankful for having you in his life, it was not usual for Akaashi to talk about how much he loves you, he always let his gestures talk for him.

"I never thought you love cheesy words."

"You're the one to talk, you told me yesterday that I was a huge blessing from above."

"Shut up."

His soft laughter brought chills down to your spine, how come Akaashi was beautiful in his own way? He was perfect in your eyes that you would always have this love sick fool look whenever you stared at him. He was everything you could ask for and he wasn't wrong when you told him he was a huge blessing from above.

"You're staring like all lovey dovey again on me, y/n."

"I just love you that much."

"If you love me that much, will you marry me?"

"Huh?"

Akaashi untangles himself from you, taking a little ring out of his sleeve while he went down on one knee.

"Y/n, you are someone I want to keep and take care of for the rest of my life. I vow to love you until the day I die, would you gladly be my life and spend the rest of your life with me?"

You could feel your tears stream down from happiness, screaming yes at his face. A wide grin plastered on his face, as he gently placed the ring on your finger. A perfect fit he thought. He leaned up to kiss you full on the lips before he peppered your face with soft kisses which made you giggle.

"Rainy days would always be the best."

"Well, I did made you love the rain more ever since I came in to your life."

"Now don't get too cocky now Akaashi."

"Don't forget you'd be Akaashi soon too."

You two laughed, as Akaashi engulfed you in to a hug before he sealed the gap between the two of you.

~

The night of your wedding, you can hear the soft pour of rain down the roof. You looked at Akaashi who smiled down at you, entwining your hands as you both look at the window.

The rain reminded me of you, calm, comforting, and sometimes chaotic, but I loved it.

[khazadspoon]

oh man that chengyao fic ripped my heart out in the best way XD okay, so I couldn't decide, so I'll give you these for you to pick whichever one speaks to you: “I don’t want to stop loving you.”, “If this is the last time I see you, know that I love you more than anything.”, “I miss you every second of every day.”, or “I always overthink, just let me do something thoughtless for once in my life.” for chengyao or xiyao (I am horrifically indecisive)

 Okay so there are so many good ideas here and I really want to explore them all, and because the really intense thing I was thinking of would be mean I will go with “I miss you every second of every day” for Xiyao because why not. Not as long as I would like but I need to get to bed and sleep for once. Hope you enjoy!

Send me a number for a fic!

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The letters start out as professional and polite as any correspondence he might receive from other sects. Missives relating to conferences, political movements, rising stars of the cultivation world and such matters that came up often when they talked. 

But there was something soft in the way Lan Xichen wrote to him that only softened over time. 

Meng Yao kept every letter and documented the changes in his mind. He noted the shift from his title, Lianfang-zun, to his inherited name, Jin Guangyao, to a simple “my dear friend”. When he visited, and those visits were too few and far between, he took to calling Meng Yao “A-Yao”. Each utterance of that name made him shiver. Each letter penned with kindness, with gentle affection and a care for his well being that made his heart sing. 

They kissed under the bright sunlight of a spring morning, the plum blossoms raining down on them like snow, and Meng Yao had never felt happier. 

It was then that the letters became simply for conversation when they could not see one another. Lan Xichen would write to him about the changing weather. He would write about music he had heard, the condition of his brother, the hopes he had for the new disciples. He would write about how something reminded him of Meng Yao. 

And, in turn, Meng Yao revealed parts of himself to Lan Xichen through his own words. He spoke of his frustrations when it came to the daily life in Lanling, how his suggestions were mocked or ignored, how he loved watching Jin Rulan grow with each passing day. 

He drank one evening and penned something he never meant to send. 

“I miss you. I miss you every second of every day. Sometimes I lay awake and think of you, wondering if you are thinking of me. Do you think of me? Do you ache to hold me as I ache to hold you? I want to marry you and be at your side for eternity.”

It was a short letter and it was sealed before the alcohol left his system.

A week later he had convinced himself it was a dream…

But when the arrival of the esteemed Zewu-Jun is announced, when Xichen is stood before him in bright robes and a brighter smile, he knows it was not. 

They speak in private, though little speaking truly happens. As soon as they were alone Lan Xichen kissed him, slow and deep and warm. He took Meng Yao in his arms and held him so tight it was as though he was attempting to meld their bodies together like folded steel.

Lan Xichen held him and kissed the curve of his lips. “I miss you every second of every day,” he said, his eyes burning in their intensity. “Sometimes I lay awake and think of you, wondering if you are thinking of me. I want to marry you and be at your side for eternity… Did you mean it?”

Meng Yao gazed into his love’s eyes and fought to find words.

“Marry me,” Lan Xichen whispered into the air between their lips. “Come with me, by choice, and stand by my side. Anything you ask for will be yours.”

Though his tongue stayed still, all his remarks and pleasantries vanquished by the aching love in his chest, he knew his answer. He nodded. He said yes.

[marypsue]

and i'll be dead before the day is done

[AO3]

Afterwards, Lucille could not stop shaking.

Afterwards, while she stared, incomprehending, at the bloody mess in the bathtub and waited for her mother to sit up, to take a great rattling breath and start shrieking again about what monsters her children were – afterwards, while the blood still lay bright and almost cheerful on Lucille’s hands and all down her dress – afterwards, Thomas had pulled Lucille close and held her tightly. He was still a little shorter than she was, though Lucille saw clearly that this would not long be the case, and he was trembling almost as hard as she was.

But he was trying to comfort her, to reassure her, and in a way, this little show of bravery in the face of such obvious fear made Lucille feel steadier than she might have, had he been taller and stronger and more certain of himself. Then, she might have felt able to unmoor herself, to allow him to act as her anchor. But now, Lucille only stroked a hand over her brother’s dark curls, humming a few bars of lullaby, and felt the quaking inside her slowly still.

“What shall we do?” Thomas whispered into her shoulder, at last, and Lucille paused in her humming long enough to think.

“You were never here,” she said, slowly, gathering her thoughts.

Thomas drew back, looking at her with horror, but the more the words spilled from her lips the more Lucille felt the rightness of them. She had taken so many beatings to protect him, so delicate, so innocent, so perfect. What would this be but one beating more? “No, Thomas, listen. You were not even meant to be here. The servants have not yet arrived, no one need know you returned early.”

Lucille was suddenly aware of the blood drying stickily on her hands, and rubbed them uselessly against her equally-stained skirts. Thomas looked as though he would protest, but Lucille could already hear shifting and settling downstairs, the creak of doors opening and shutting, the reluctant sighs of the sinking house beneath treading feet. “Go. Quickly. Get yourself cleaned up, wash away the blood.”

“Lucille -” Thomas started, and then bit off his own words. His face was very pale, so pale that the blot of red her dress had smeared off onto his cheek stood out stark as death.

“Go,” Lucille said, shoving him away from her. It pained her – she wanted nothing more than to go on holding him close, humming to him, keeping him safe. But now, the best way she could protect him would be to take the blame. “Go! Before they come upstairs.”

At last, Thomas went. He paused a long moment in the doorway, looking back at Lucille and their mother, with a look of longing and fear in his pale eyes that Lucille felt certain was a mirror of her own.

But in the end, he disappeared into the hall. Lucille, left alone with her mother, stood perfectly still until she heard the servants coming. Then she was obliged to get up and take the cleaver that had at the last been such a good friend to her, and to secret it in the basement, for safekeeping, should she ever have want of it again.

She could not name the emotion that overtook her, that puppeteered her limbs, that sealed the tears back behind her eyes, unable to fall. Shock, perhaps. Grief, certainly – had she not just lost her mother?

But if Lucille were to be honest – and if there was one thing Lucille was, it was honest – the overriding feeling was of relief.

And not a little bit of triumph.

 …

 It was years before Lucille saw Thomas or Allerdale Hall again. At the institution, they told her that Thomas had been sent off to school. Lucille had kept that close to her heart, throughout the years she languished alone far from home. Thomas at least had escaped. He was protected now from their mother’s sly malice, their father’s cruel temper, the decaying halls of their home. He was free, he was safe, and Lucille had made that so. That was one thing that not even the institution could take away.

Thomas was a man grown – as Lucille was now a woman - before he had Lucille withdrawn from the institution. Before he summoned her home.

He was just as she had imagined him, and yet still a shock to lay eyes upon. Somehow, Lucille had been expecting the boy she had left, not the fine, handsome young man Thomas had grown to become. He was like a stranger, one with eyes Lucille knew as well as her own.

He would not touch her, at first.

Beyond one brief embrace when he’d welcomed Lucille home to Allerdale, Thomas had held back. He had always been an affectionate child, and Lucille felt keenly the gap that seemed to have opened between them, even as the disparity in their heights had closed. The strain that lay around Thomas’ eyes each time he looked upon her, the care with which he chose the few words he spoke to her, the time he spent up in the attic or out on the grounds with that damn invention of his all seemed to speak of deep shame, deep regret.

Lucille wondered, from time to time, whether Thomas did not wish he had never withdrawn her from the institution. The brother who had once clung to her skirts now made excuses not to so much as brush her hand with his own.

Lucille wondered if he, too, could not forget that the last time they had spoken, those hands had been red with their mother’s blood.

She was cruel with the remaining servants, in petty, sneaking, smiling ways, in some misplaced idea of retaliation. Or perhaps only because, unlike Thomas, the gazes they regarded her with spoke only of hatred and fear. And because – because it felt wrong, somehow, for them all to be here, watching and whispering amongst themselves, their footsteps and their gossip filling up the halls of her home. Disrespectful.

They had forced her out once. Lucille would see to it that they did not do so again.

…

Thomas came to her after the third housemaid had fled Allerdale – in terror or in tears, Lucille did not particularly care. He had found her in the attic, behind the nursery, in the room that had belonged to the nanny until she was sent away and the governess came to take her place. Lucille and Thomas had sometimes been allowed to curl up in that bed, one on either side of nanny’s solid, reassuring warmth, if they were frightened in the night. The governess had never permitted such childishness.

“Lucille,” Thomas said, sounding quite distracted, “you must stop driving off the servants.”

Lucille turned at last to look at him, surfacing from beneath the strata of the past. “Why?”

Thomas gaped at her, for a moment lost for words, and Lucille wondered, in that moment, if he truly thought her mad.

“Why should I?” Lucille repeated, rising from the bed. “It’s our house.”

There was fury in Thomas’ voice, fury carefully suppressed. “And once they are all gone, who do you think will do the wash, cook the meals, lay the fires -”

“You forget,” Lucille interrupted sharply, “that I tended to Mother for years. And I was only a child then. I am a woman now, and quite capable of managing this house for just the two of us.”

Thomas looked directly at her only briefly, before he turned his eyes away, as though the sight of her pained him. Lucille knew the scratch across her face had healed well, but still, she had to wonder if he saw anything but the pale scars marring her forehead and upper lip. They had been a last gift from their mother, the brand of a murderer, a dying woman’s last curse.

You’re monsters. Both of you.

“We can’t,” Thomas said, his gaze still turned away, and his voice was strained, hoarse. “I cannot be here, alone, with you.”

Lucille struck him across the face.

Thomas barely flinched, standing with his face turned aside, his mouth slightly open as he drew a ragged breath. The mark of Lucille’s hand was already rising, red and angry, across his pale cheek, and for a moment Lucille thought of a splotch of blood that had once rested there.

“Why did you bring me here?” she demanded, when Thomas still failed to respond. “Why did you not leave me to rot? Why bring your mad, murderous sister back to this place, if it shames you so simply to look upon her?”

At last, at last, Thomas raised his head. He met Lucille’s gaze from under his lashes and held it, without turning away, without making some excuse and running from her, as he had done since she arrived. Lucille felt – pinned down, somehow, by something in that gaze. Pinned, and seen, studied and catalogued and known. Like a butterfly under glass.

It made her shiver, all the way down to her toes.

“Lucille,” Thomas said.

Just the one word. Just her name.

…

Afterwards, when they lay together on sheets that likely had not been changed since the governess left, spent and sticky with sweat and choking on the clouds of dust they had raised, Lucille could not say which of them had stepped forward first, which of them had started what. She knew only that Thomas, her Thomas, was here with her once more, curled up beside her as he had so many years ago, a reassuring, solid warmth. That he was not afraid, and not ashamed. Not of her.

When Thomas woke, bleary with sleep and satisfaction, Lucille had kissed him on the forehead and stroked his hair just as she had done when they were younger. “Send the servants away,” she whispered.

“It would spare us an expense,” Thomas said, and, abruptly, smiled.

Lucille drank in the sight of that smile, basking in it like a cat in the sunlight that breaks through the clouds.

But, like the sunlight that breaks through the clouds, Thomas’ smile did not last long.

“There will be talk,” he said, after a moment.

Lucille hummed tunelessly, and pulled his head into her lap.

“We’ll put it around,” she said, at last, “that the house is haunted.”

When she looked down, Thomas’ expression was troubled, and Lucille smiled as though she could wipe the concern from his eyes as easily as she had when they were children.

“No one would want to work for us. It would not seem so strange,” she said. “Poor folk are often superstitious. And there has been a violent death within these walls.”

Thomas still looked unconvinced, so Lucille leaned closer.

“And,” she whispered, into the shell of his ear, her unbound hair draping down and over his bare shoulder like a dark curtain drawn between them and the world, “it would account for all the unearthly moaning.”

That drew an actual burst of surprised laughter from Thomas, and Lucille smiled triumphantly, carding her fingers through his dark hair, so like her own.

…

She wore his ring.

They had the run of the house now, as they had never had when they were young, and they spent afternoons playing hide-and-go-seek in the endless maze of rooms, laughing and chasing each other up and down the flights of stairs as though they were children again. Thomas slid all the way from attic to first floor on the great heavy polished stair banister, leaping gracefully down before hitting the newel posts, and Lucille felt as though her heart would overflow at the plain and simple joy in his voice when he reached the bottom and called up to her to follow him.

The vast emptiness of the house seemed to throw their laughter back at them with mocking echoes, until the house itself seemed to be laughing at them. When Thomas noticed it had made Lucille quieter, he would delight her again with toys and trinkets made just for her, just as he used to. Some she could not guess the purpose of, and he was obliged to demonstrate. A fascinating contraption of leather belts and carefully-turned wood, polished to a satin finish, proved a favourite for them both.

Together, they perused the more scandalous and profane of Father’s books, and tried to put to use what they found there, to varying degrees of success. Once, Lucille went to her knees before Thomas on the hearth of the library, in full view of their mother’s portrait, where she could raise her eyes, not to the hills, but to her mother’s stern gaze. The hard floor left Lucille’s knees aching for days afterwards, but it was worth it to imagine what Lady Beatrice Sharpe would say if she could see them now.

Lucille rather hoped she could.

Some nights, Thomas woke sweating, or shouting. He would not tell Lucille of his nightmares, though he would always crawl into her lap afterwards, as he had when they were children, and let her softly sing him back to sleep. Whatever terrors he suffered, he kept strictly to himself.

Sometimes, though, he spoke in his sleep.

Lucille had half-expected to hear him begging, pleading with their father, their mother. She suffered such dreams too. But from Thomas’ dreaming cries, Lucille gathered, also, that school had not always been kind, especially to country boys with dissolute fathers, little fortune, and suspected murderers in their families.

She should not have felt the flicker of vindication she did at that. The school had not given her brother the care he needed and deserved. He should have had better. He should have been protected.

But whenever Thomas woke, shaking, Lucille was there to comfort and pet him and sing him back to sleep. And she could not help but be grateful that the school had never, could never have, taken her place.

For a time, Lucille let herself believe, they were happy.

…

Even sending the servants away could only defray the costs of living at Allerdale Hall for so long, though. And little by little, the joy drained from Thomas’ laughter, the smile from his eyes.

“We must stop,” he said, one afternoon, when even Lucille’s touches had failed to rouse him from his dark mood. “You could still make a good match – find a man who could take care of you. I – I could perhaps manage here, if it were only myself.”

Lucille looked at him, the brother she’d never wanted anything but to protect, and felt a swell of black rage rising in her throat.

“Never,” she spat, surprising them both with her venom. “You forget, Thomas, you brought me back. I won’t be sent away again.”

But Thomas had only stared back at her, something steely in his gaze that, Lucille discovered, to her surprise and unease, she did not recognise. “And will you eat clay, Lucille? Will you scavenge the fields like a beggar? We have no money.”

Lucille stared at her brother – this cold porcelain doll that had taken her brother’s place.

“Sell Mother’s jewelry,” she said, distantly, a little surprised at herself. “Sell Father’s books – sell the furniture, if you must. I won’t leave Allerdale. I won’t leave you.”

At last, something in Thomas’ eyes seemed to soften, and he opened his arms, drew Lucille into his lap and let her curl against him. He stroked a hand softly over her hair, as she used to do to him, and his voice was gentle as he said, “All of Mother’s jewelry is sold, save the ring – I know you won’t give it up. Father’s library only has value to the right collector, and to find them would, I fear, prove difficult. The furniture has about as much value as the dress you wear.” Thomas’ caressing hand moved lower, long strokes over Lucille’s back. She wondered if he could feel the scars through the taffeta of her dress. “And my invention is nowhere near to finished. Without it, the mines are worthless.”

He drew back a little, holding Lucille at arm’s length, so that he could look her in the eye. “We will starve soon, Lucille, if something is not done.”

And Lucille, studying her brother’s familiar face with its strange expression, knew with a feeling like swallowing a lump of freezing lead that it was true.

…

It was Thomas’ idea, at the first.

Well. Thomas’ first idea was to present his invention before possible investors, to see if he could not ensnare more capital with which to get the thing built to scale and running correctly if he cast a wider net. He had drawn from their dwindling savings to travel to London, assuring Lucille that by the time he returned, he would be able to pay it back and more.

Despite Lucille’s protests, despite Thomas’ own reluctance, in the end they decided it would not be prudent for the both of them to go. Even the Sharpe name was not worth much, these days. And even Lucille had to admit that she did not relish the prospect of going amongst society again after so many years, of leaving the familiar protection of Allerdale’s halls.

Lucille had kissed Thomas, and waved him goodbye, and then settled down to wait out his absence amongst the echoes and lengthening shadows of Allerdale Hall. She steadied her nerves with the assurance that Thomas would not be long, that he would be back with her soon. That he would have secured funding that would mean, if he had to travel again, he need not do so without her. The quiet of the house was oppressive without him, broken only by the horrible groans of the pipes and the sighs and moans of the wind, and the emptiness of all the hallways seemed somehow watchful, somehow hungry, but soon Thomas would return. Soon, Thomas would return, and then all would be right again.

But the days had worn on, turning to weeks, and Thomas did not return.

…

The telegram had arrived just as Lucille was beginning to panic.

It was short, to the point, but still she was a little shocked that Thomas would have undertaken the expense. For a moment, Lucille even feared the worst – that Thomas had fallen ill. That somewhere far from home, alone, Thomas was dying.

She wasted no time in joining him in London. The press of people, the sheer constant jostling noise and stink of it all, put Lucille’s teeth on edge. She longed for home, for the quiet of the library and the gentle notes of the piano, for the freedom of movement the vast halls afforded her, for the knowledge that for miles around, there was no other living soul. But she was here for a reason, and she would not return to Allerdale alone.

She found Thomas’ hotel with some small difficulty, made her way to his suite and knocked.

Thomas answered the door, his eyes contrite and fixed on the floor. He ushered Lucille inside, shutting the door behind him and leaning heavily against it, as though a great weight rested upon his shoulders. Lucille raised a hand to press against his cheek, but he brushed it roughly aside, turning his face from her.

“Whatever is the matter?” Lucille demanded, drawing closer, pressing herself against him. It was shameless, even a little desperate, but in that moment, that was no more than she felt. “Thomas? Why did you summon me so urgently?”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said, without preamble, turning his eyes up to Lucille’s face.

Lucille took a step back.

“I had little choice. None of the investors wished to have anything to do with the mine, but -”

“Little choice in what? Thomas, you’re frightening me.”

“Forgive me,” Thomas said, closing the distance between them and clasping both Lucille’s hands in his own. His eyes dug into her as they ever had, as though he could look right through her own eyes and see her thoughts spilled out on the inside of her skull. “Pamela’s father is both rich and indulgent. She is his only child, and the apple of his eye, and they are both quite taken with the idea of marrying into a title - ”

“Marrying into?” Lucille spat, the words sour on her tongue. “Thomas.” She tore her hands free, turning her own face away. She could not bear, now, to look her brother in the eye, to listen to him explain with terrible calmness how he had given himself to another woman. She would be sick. She would take the nearest heavy thing and throw it. She would smash his face in. “You - What have you done?”

Thomas sighed heavily. “I knew you’d be angry. But – please, Lucille, consider it. She is sickly. The marriage cannot last long. And our wedding presents alone will keep bread in our mouths and my invention’s cogs turning for at least another year.”

“Let another woman have you?” Lucille gasped, feeling her eyes growing hot with a flush of sudden shame. “Let another woman share our home? Share your bed? Am I nothing to you?”

“Everything,” Thomas said, shortly, his voice dark and full of wanting, his eyes on Lucille clear and intense. “Lucille, you have always been everything.”

He reached up, to gently raise her chin with one hand, his fingers hot as brands on her bare skin. “You must know it is for you that I would do this. This trip was our last hope. We have nothing left of value, save Allerdale Hall itself. If I do not do this, if I do not marry Pamela…we may be forced to sell.”

“No,” Lucille gasped, feeling rather like a hand had just closed around her lungs, squeezing the air out of them entirely. “No, you never -”

“I kept it from you. I didn’t want you to worry. But now…”

Lucille said nothing. There seemed to be nothing to say.

“Lucille?” Thomas asked.

“Don’t touch me,” Lucille said, and meant it. “And Thomas – don’t touch her. Lay a finger on her and I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

“No one else,” Thomas agreed, softly, his eyes moving over her face as though committing it to memory. “No one else but you.”

…

He proposed to Pamela Upton with Lucille’s ring, and, within a week, she was Lady Pamela Sharpe and they were all back on their way to Crimson Peak.

…

Pamela was the kind of plain that indicated she was from good, hardy English peasant stock. Her father had made his fortune in canneries, and was most impressed to have bagged a baronet for his daughter when the clubs in London still turned up their noses at his applications.

Still, Pamela had an almost attractive, romantic pallor and slenderness, clearly the product of illness. Because Thomas had not exaggerated when he said she was sickly; if anything, he had understated. Pamela was confined to a chair.

Lucille could see at once that she was a poor match for Thomas. They had little in common – Pamela had no siblings, and had grown up in a bright, clean townhouse in London, playing in the streets with other children before she had taken ill. She did not seem to share or understand Thomas’ interest in machinery, and she quickly grew bored with watching him work.

“Why do you waste so much time amongst these toys and trinkets?” she had asked him, once, and perhaps only Lucille knew Thomas well enough to see the way that, under his steady expression, his hands clenched into fists. “Surely you would not while away your entire honeymoon with automatons, while your living wife is right before you?”

The way she said it suggested a jest, but the anxiety in her face spoke otherwise.

There was one contraption (apart from the notoriously unreliable elevator, in which she once became trapped for nearly an hour before Lucille and Thomas missed her and were able to recall the car) which Pamela did seem to appreciate. She had brought a portable gramophone player/recorder with her from London, an extravagant gift from Thomas. Lucille had had sharp words with him about the expense, after what he had told her about the hall, but Thomas had only smiled helplessly and shrugged his shoulders.

“She has the money,” he said. “And it made her happy, which makes her father happy, which keeps bread on our table and clothes on our backs. Besides, the gramophone is interesting. I should like to take it apart and see how it works.” He had taken one of Lucille’s hands in his own, kissing it without taking his eyes from hers. It was somehow almost as thrilling as anything he’d ever done to her when they were not wearing half so many clothes, and for the first time, Lucille began to appreciate the possibilities of having someone else there at the house. “I could buy you a gift, as well. Perhaps some new dresses. Think. What’s the one thing you’d like most in the world?”

I’d like you to myself again, Lucille thought, suddenly sad, and had to turn away.

…

The roof collapsed a few days after Thomas swept Pamela over the threshold, Lucille wheeling the chair behind them. And it was then that Lucille really began to despise her brother’s wife.

Pamela complained constantly – of the cold, of the unreliable elevator, of the damp, of the clay. Of the debris in the main hall which made it difficult for her to get to the front door, the steps which made it difficult for her to get out. She hated Allerdale’s many twisting halls, finding them not only difficult to navigate, but also ugly, outmoded, and ominous. She felt lonely, and was forever tracking Thomas down to try to coax him into some lover’s game she felt they ought to play.

She did not seem to understand the game in which she had actually become a pawn – the game of so many brides these days, the game of her father’s ambition and money and many of the gentry’s slow decline into reduced circumstances. She did not seem to understand that she was, in fact, a pawn and not a queen. That she had no right to this place or to the title she bore or to Thomas’ love or even to the ring on her finger.

And then she caught cold, which seemed to affect her worse than anyone else in the household, and Lucille found herself once again nursing a woman in her mother’s bed.

The nightmares returned – nonsense images, of suffocating slowly in a box under the ground, of Pamela changing in front of Lucille’s eyes into Lady Beatrice, of being trapped in this house playing nursemaid forever. Lucille woke in blind panics, reaching out for Thomas – only to remember that he was not there, that he would never again be there.

She began to hope, quietly, that Pamela Upton – Lucille could not quite bear to think of her as Lady Pamela Sharpe – would simply die.

…

But Pamela did not die. She weathered the sickness, as she did two others.

For all her outward frailty, Pamela had demonstrated a certain quiet strength of spirit, a determination to continue in the face of all the odds; put plainly, a stubborn refusal to lay down and die. Despite herself, Lucille could not help but feel a grudging respect.

That respect, however, by no means softened her resolve.

She caught Thomas one evening, in the attic, in his workshop, while Pamela was still in bed recovering from her last bout with illness. They had sent for a doctor from town, who had only told them that Pamela was on the mend and that she needed to rest. The fee had been enough to make Thomas bite his lower lip, but he had said nothing to Lucille.

He tried, again, to turn Lucille away when she came to the workshop, but it took very little time for her to persuade him to let her stay, to hear her out.

“You married her for her fortune, Thomas,” she breathed into his ear, as she pinned him back against his workbench, delicately undoing his trousers with one hand even as useless, stuttering protests died on his tongue. “But she will be the ruin of us. Something must be done.”

“And what would you propose?” Thomas said, a little breathless, and then bit back a curse as Lucille drew back to look him in the eye. She could not entirely contain the smile that threatened to break through her carefully schooled expression, and Thomas’ eyes sank closed. “Lucille. No. We must have no more bloodshed. After Mother – the townsfolk – we are no longer children, Lucille, it would mean prison, or death -”

“Then we need not shed her blood,” Lucille argued, pressing forward again, her whole body against his, so she could feel his chest rise and fall beneath her, so hot, so alive. “She’s sickly. And you’re clever. Think of something.”

Thomas’ gasp was a choked cry, just one word, just her name. “Lucille -”

“I cannot live like this any longer,” Lucille whispered, into the bared flesh of Thomas’ neck, as her hand worked busily below. “Do something about her. Or I will.”

...

The next day, Thomas went out for the post, leaving Lucille and Pamela alone. Lucille thought she understood him, but as she kissed him farewell sweetly and chastely on the cheek, he gripped her arm above the elbow rather too tight and hissed into her ear, “Wait until I return.”

He took a step back, giving Lucille a smile that did not meet his eyes, and, teasingly, said, “Be good.” The jovial tone in his voice barely covered an undercurrent of intensity, almost anger, which was clear in his eyes. Lucille shivered down to her toes.

Then he kissed Pamela, which Lucille could not watch, giving her some bland reassurance, and was gone.

Lucille made some quick excuse, some household task she needed to attend to, and fled to the library. It was not long, though, before the sound of a short scream roused her.

For a moment, she allowed herself the fanciful thought that Pamela had met some genuine accident, that there would be no need of whatever Thomas was planning. But when Lucille made her way back to the main hall, Pamela was not dead, merely pale as a ghost and sitting shaking in her chair, her face upturned to the rotted-out ceiling.

“A bird,” she babbled, when Lucille drew up beside her. “A great black bird – it must have gotten in when Thomas opened the doors, it swooped quite low near my face and then up through the hole in the roof -”

“You have had a fright,” Lucille said, perhaps a little too coldly, because Pamela gave her a strange look.

“Do you not know what that means? A bird in the house?” Her trembling voice went flat and dark. “It is an omen of death.”

Lucille looked up, towards the patch of dull grey sky visible through the shattered timbers of the roof.

“Superstition,” she said. “I do not doubt we shall have a whole family of robins roosting there come spring, coming and going through the house as they please. I hope they will not herald the death of a member of the household each time, or we shall soon run out.” She looked down, sharply. “Would you like another blanket? You seem chilled. It cannot be good for you to be out here in the weather, so soon after your last illness.”

Pamela still looked very pale, but her hands were steady as she moved them to the wheels of her chair. “Yes, perhaps. And – maybe a cup of tea?”

“Of course,” Lucille said, sweeping out of the hall.

…

Thomas returned with the post, and with two tins of tea.

…

Poison, Lucille had discovered, was quite as satisfying to watch work as a heavy blade, if much slower. Watching Pamela waste to nothing had been almost as gratifying as sinking the cleaver into Lady Beatrice Sharpe’s head; even, it must be said, with its own special charm, that Pamela had depended so heavily upon Lucille at the end.

Lucille had once observed that Pamela seemed to possess a great and silent strength of spirit. She now enjoyed watching that spirit slowly break under the onslaught of the poison. It had been like playing nursemaid to her mother again. Lucille found that, now that an end lay in sight, she rather liked having something helpless dependent upon her.

…

Pamela tried to get away, once, toward the end. It was quite horrible to behold, her poor wasted little form slumped in the chair with its wheels all mired in the red clay earth, no strength left to give them one more turn. Lucille still is not certain how she made it down the stairs by the door.

She and Thomas had brought Pamela back inside, shutting the door behind her – for, Lucille thought with a stab of fierce joy, the last time.

Lucille had bathed Pamela, brushed her hair, dressed her in her nightclothes, while Thomas took the chair up to the nursery. Lucille also took back her ring. And if she kept a little souvenir, honoured an outdated Victorian mourning tradition and took a little something to remember Pamela by, well, Thomas need never know.

Then they had put Pamela to bed.

Lucille had taken very, very good care of her.

…

When Thomas was finished with it, had taken it to pieces and put it back together again, they stashed the gramophone in the basement, down by the clay vats, with the rest of Pamela’s things. Though both Lucille and Thomas looked, they could not find the wax cylinders Pamela had recorded.

It mattered little, anyway.

…

They did not speak of marriage for a long time after that.

But Thomas’ invention ate money like a voracious beast. It took years, but at last Pamela’s money ran low, then out. They did not dare catch her father’s attention by writing to request more – Lucille was not certain of her ability to imitate Pamela’s hand, and surely after all this time, the old man would wonder why he had not heard from his daughter for so long, except to beg for money.

The invention was nearly finished, Thomas said. A few more custom parts would get it working. He was sure of it.

Lucille reminded him of the last three times he’d said just that, and he’d wilted.

Neither of them ever raised the matter, not really. They spoke of the need to raise additional capital, of meeting more investors, of taking another trip. A little farther afield, perhaps. Somewhere they would not be likely to encounter anyone who had known of Pamela Upton.

They settled on Edinburgh. Lucille packed the best of the dresses she had cut down for herself from her mother’s closet. Thomas debated for hours over which cravats to bring.

And when, at a fashionable ball hosted by one of their prospective investors, they were introduced to Margaret McDermott, they had exchanged a glance and had each known the other’s thought:

This time, no mistakes.

…

The night after Thomas proposed to Margaret, back in the suite at the hotel, they celebrated with unusually somber champagne. Lucille still missed the feeling of the ring around her finger, but – knowing that there was an end in sight made it easier to bear.

Easier, too, to have a secret with Thomas once more, rather than being shut out from the beginning. They two, together, alone against the vast, ponderous, idiotic, unsuspecting world.

Still –

“If we truly mean to do this,” Lucille said, catching Thomas’ face in her hands, so that he could not turn away from her, “I need you to promise me something. Three somethings.”

“Anything,” Thomas said, his eyes sparkling like the champagne itself.

“You won’t lay a hand on them. Any of them. You touch no one else the way you touch me.”

Thomas shook his head in agreement, solemn as a church.

Emboldened, Lucille went on. “You always get back my ring.”

“Of course. It’s ours.”

“And,” Lucille said, her forehead nearly pressed against Thomas’ now, “you must promise me one final thing.”

Thomas’ broad hands came up to cover Lucille’s, so warm, so solid. “Whatever you desire.”

Lucille was still for a moment, listening to their breathing intermingled. The hotel suite was too quiet, no flutter of moths, no rattle of pipes, no sigh and moan of wind in old chimneys. She could swear she could hear Thomas’ heart beating steadily in his chest.

He had not escaped untouched, she knew, swiftly and suddenly. He had not been protected from any of the Sharpes’ cruelty, their wickedness. He had not escaped Allerdale.

Because she had not let him. And, Lucille knew, in that moment, that she never would.

“You must promise me that you will not fall in love with any of them.”

There was a moment, heavy between them, when, though neither of them moved, Lucille fancied she could feel Thomas drawing away from her. She wanted to grab at him, pull him close, hold him so tightly he could never get free – but then he enfolded her in his arms, and Lucille felt the panic ebb.

“Never,” Thomas whispered, into her hair. “I promise.”

…

Margaret shuddered when Thomas swept her across the threshold of Allerdale Hall, staring up and further up towards the hole in the roof, and then down at the floorboards, which seeped red clay onto her fine new boots. “What a horrid place! Where have you brought me, a ruin?”

“It’s home,” Thomas had said, in a low voice that Lucille knew of old was his way of trying to hide a hurt. “Your home, now, too.”

Lucille suspected the smile she wore must resemble that of a skull.

“It’s been a long, cold journey,” she said, through gritted teeth. “Shall I put on some tea?”

…

Margaret McDermott – Lucille could not bring herself to think of the woman as Lady Sharpe any more than she had Pamela – was unbearable. There seemed to be no malice in it, only a vast and good-natured ignorance, and yet, somehow, that was almost worse.

She could neither understand nor abide the lack of servants, and treated Lucille rather like a lady’s-maid. She wanted to air the place out, and fix the floor in the ballroom, and host parties. She thought Thomas must be bored working on his models and mechanicals all day, as she was bored out here in the countryside, and she was forever pestering Thomas to take her to places where there were, in her words, “noise and light and life, not like this old mausoleum – I half feel like I’ve been buried alive!”

And then that great braying cackle would echo through the halls, Margaret laughing at her own joke, and Lucille would feel, again, sharply, as though the house itself mocked her.

Margaret herself seemed full of “noise and light and life”, thrice again as bright and colourful and vigourous as either Thomas or Lucille, who seemed but lonely ghosts wandering the halls of their own home in comparison. She filled every space, dominated every conversation, with an aggressive good cheer that made Lucille grind her back teeth together and think fondly on her hidden cleaver.

Poison hardly seemed to diminish her.

…

There was only one occasion on which Lucille could recall Margaret being unusually subdued, near the end. She’d been spooked by something she’d come across while walking down in the valley, below the house.

“It was sittin’ on a stone down there by the stream, knockin’ a dress against the rocks,” she was saying, anxiously, urgently, to Thomas when Lucille brought up the tea tray. Margaret broke off mid-sentence, and she and Thomas both turned to look at Lucille, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Someone from the village,” Thomas said, reassuringly, gently taking Margaret’s hand – adorned with Lucille’s ring – in his and looking deep into her eyes. Lucille had to look abruptly away or risk being sick. “Maybe one of the workmen’s wives?”

Margaret shook her head furiously, pushing Thomas’ hand away. “You’ve never seen such a thing. Like no woman on earth. And it was singin’. Like a woman keenin’.” Her rough country brogue, Lucille noticed, seemed to have thickened in her distress.

“Your eyes must have played tricks on you,” Lucille said, giving Margaret her best smile as she laid out the tea things and poured a cup, passing it to her. “It does grow dark early, down in the valley. And you have been very tired lately. Did you stop for a rest? Might you have slept, and the whole thing been a dream?”

Margaret shook her head again, pushing the cup of tea back at Lucille, but she seemed a little less certain. “I was awake, I’m tellin’ you. I’ve only heard a voice like that at funerals. Sure enough it was the nigheag, lamentin’ and washin’ out a bloodied dress.” Her voice faltered. “My dress. I’m marked to die.”

Lucille had to turn her face away, so that Margaret would not see her smile. “Don’t be silly. No one’s going to die. Now drink your tea.” 

…

In the end, of course, Margaret fought. Lucille was obliged to use the axe.

…

Thomas had said nothing, when he had returned with the post and seen what Lucille had done, only gone awfully white and thin-lipped and grim. He’d helped Lucille haul the body down to the clay vats, helped her scrub the blood and bits of brain and fragments of skull out of the floorboards, helped her find Margaret’s ring finger where it had rolled under the hatstand by the door. He had said nothing as Lucille triumphantly took back the ring, her ring, the one Margaret should never have been allowed to wear.

But Thomas had turned his face away when she tried to kiss him, so that her lips only grazed the corner of his frown.

Lucille did not tell him of the trophy she’d kept, and yet, still, he seemed somehow to know. And to disapprove.

But in the end, they lay together, in the bed where Lucille had nursed their mother’s broken leg, the bed where Thomas had slept only once with his two wives and never touched either of them. Thomas brushed the hair back from Lucille’s face and pressed the softest of kisses against the scar on her forehead, then the scar on her lip, and Lucille knew that all was forgiven.

...

By the time they claimed Enola Sciotti, Lucille and Thomas had developed a system. They worked seamlessly together, a team. And despite the fact that another woman wore her ring, another woman bore his name, Lucille found she felt closer to Thomas than she ever had before.

And then she had nearly ruined it all.

The lovely thing about poison was that it gave a woman time to transfer all her assets, to request money, to write up a store of letters and money transfer instructions that Lucille and Thomas could parcel out to friends and family – and lawyers – left behind long after the woman herself had ceased to impose her presence on Allerdale Hall. The lovely thing about poison was that it drew out the moment of triumph, allowed Lucille time to savour her mouthful of blood.

The trouble with poison was that it gave a woman time to worry, to think, to discover. Gave a woman time to beg.

Enola was bright. Lucille had to allow her that much. She was much quicker on the uptake than poor Pamela, a much better student of people than Margaret. There was a kindness in her, laid alongside a certain sharpness that Lucille had wondered about and would regret never fully sounding out.

She had known at once about Lucille’s…delicate condition, and had treated it with equal delicacy. She had caught Lucille alone early one morning as Lucille was laying the fire in the kitchen and offered her help. She knew herbs, Enola said, and something of medicine. It could be done and over with before even Thomas had to know.

It was the closest Lucille had ever come to telling one of them everything.

Of course, she had refused Enola’s offer. Lucille had already made up her mind to keep the child, no matter what Thomas might think. But Enola had also offered her help in other ways, to make sure the baby was born strong and healthy, that Lucille herself survived.

For the first time since nanny had left, someone had cared for Lucille the way she cared for others. Enola had rubbed her back when it ached, with strong-smelling, oily concoctions that somehow eased the ache away. Enola had taken over tending to the fires and the floors as it had become more difficult for Lucille to stoop. Enola had watched and insisted Lucille sit if she started to become tired, had taken over whatever tasks Lucille had had to abandon, had joined her and sat with her, read to her and rubbed her swollen ankles.

Enola, Lucille was shocked to later realise, had made herself something like a friend.

…

On her own, Enola might have been endurable. But she did not come on her own.

Along with Enola had come a small dog, which despised Lucille and which Lucille despised in turn. When they had all arrived back at Allerdale for the first time (and last, though Enola could not know), the dog had sat down outside the doors and growled, its lips curled back over a mouthful of small sharp teeth, its ears laid back flat against its head. It had refused to cross the threshold until Enola spoke quite sharply to it, and then, it had slunk close to her legs with its eyes wide and rolling and its tail between its legs.

Lucille had been carrying up two of Enola’s hatboxes when she tripped, unexpectedly, over something by the mouth of the hallway by the master bedroom, the hallway that led to the wing with the quite ostentatious Gothic arches. She and Thomas had used to dare each other to run down that hall, as though the spikes from the ceiling might fall and impale them. Lucille had managed to keep her balance, but for one harrowing moment she had been convinced she would break her neck.

The dog, sitting staring down the hall, apparently none the worse for being tripped over, turned to Lucille and growled. She had aimed a vicious, secretive kick at it, but missed when it suddenly whined and went running for its mistress.

“You must bring that animal to heel,” Lucille had said shortly, to Enola, as she dropped both hatboxes on the bed. One fell on its side, the lid toppling off to allow a large, veiled hat to roll out onto the bedclothes. “I cannot work with it underfoot like this.”

Enola had not spoken, only staring at the hatbox as though what had spilled forth had been not a hat, but a severed head.

“Of course,” she said, faintly, reaching to her reticule and patting her pockets. A moment later, Thomas reached into his own pocket and drew forth a red India rubber ball, a favourite toy of the dog’s, if Lucille was not mistaken. Enola took it from him with a grateful smile and a kiss, and Lucille turned her face away, only to see the dog staring up at her from Enola’s feet. Its small dark eyes seemed somehow accusing, and Lucille felt a sudden urge to defend herself.

Which was ridiculous. It was a dog. How could it possibly know what Lucille had done?

…

Despite Enola’s direct instructions, Lucille took care to allow the dog to slip outside at every opportunity. However, to her dismay, the wretched beast was as devoted as it was stupid, and it would not run away, or be crushed in Thomas’ increasingly intricate web of machinery. It kept returning, to get in under Lucille’s feet and yap and growl loudly at thin air.

Enola approached Lucille on one such afternoon, her mouth downturned in a thoughtful frown. She didn’t look angry so much as unsettled, and perhaps that was why Lucille, rather than teasing her, answered her enquiry honestly. “Did you let my dog out?”

“I did,” Lucille answered, turning toward the stove and the pot boiling there. Stew, thick and nourishing. Enola had begun to suspect the tea. “The poor thing was nearly howling at the door. I thought it prudent not to allow it to do its business in the hall.”

She waited a moment for the coughing fit that racked Enola to pass.

“Do you know that other dog?” Enola asked, at last, once the choked, gasping wheeze that made Lucille feel ill just to listen to had subsided. Her voice sounded strained, though whether because of the question or simply from the effort of holding back more coughs, Lucille could not tell.

Lucille paused, with her hand on the spoon’s handle.

“Other dog?” she asked, watching the surface of the stew roil, barley bubbling up and sinking back into the broth like little white fingers disappearing into the clay vats below.

Enola’s voice was suddenly uncertain. “The great black dog he was playing with, outside. I thought…perhaps it belongs to one of the workmen? A neighbour?”

Lucille frowned to herself as she gave the stew a stir, before turning to face Enola with her blandest smile. “I think not. There are no neighbours for miles.”

Enola was white as a sheet, Lucille noticed. Her lips were stained red from within – so she had begun to cough blood. Before long, she would be too weak to wander about and surprise Lucille like this. Lucille found herself looking forward to it, even as she felt a little pang of regret. Soon, soon enough, Allerdale would be truly hers again.

And so would Thomas.

Enola licked her lips before speaking, and her voice came out very dry, and a little faint, as though she had had a shock. “Perhaps one of the workmen, then.”

“Perhaps,” Lucille agreed, turning back to the stew. “I shall ask them to keep it home, if it distresses you so. And it does not seem wise or safe to have an animal underfoot around so much machinery.”

“No,” Enola murmured, as though speaking to no one present. “Neither wise nor safe at all.”

…

As she realised that her gamble had not paid off and that Lucille by no means intended to spare her, Enola had bargained desperately with the same skills that had led her to suspect poison. Perhaps she had hoped to save her own life by saying she could save the misshapen child’s. Perhaps she only wished to buy herself a little more time.

But she promised.

And she lied.

She lied.

Lucille killed her for that, one swift stabbing blow between the ribs, but it brought little satisfaction. Enola had been much weakened by then, by the poison. She hardly even fought back.

…

Lucille committed the little corpse to the clay along with Enola’s earthly remains, and tried not to notice the way Thomas looked at her.

She tried not to remember that it was Thomas who had suggested poison. Who had, all those years ago, first brought Pamela Upton to Crimson Peak.

Lucille did not like to think upon it too long. There was something in the thought that disquieted her. Made her think about the cogs in Thomas’ clockwork contraptions, ticking along somewhere hidden inside the mechanism. A thousand tiny unseen pieces, intricately interlocked and deliberately, carefully positioned, to make something happen which on the surface appeared to occur, quite marvellously, all on its own.

She did not like to think of that perfect, delicate, innocent little boy she had once known, who cried when Lucille crushed a moth against the wall or pinned one to pull off its wings, sitting down and thinking of the best way to dispatch his blameless young wife. Thinking of ways to save his home and his future, and deciding on this. There was something about it which saddened and frightened her.

And yet, there was something about it which excited her, too.

Perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps it was she who had inherited their father’s cruel temper, he their mother’s sly malice. Thomas always had devised the best toys and games for her, after all.

Lucille did not like to think on it. And yet, somehow, she could think of little else.

…

And now, they are in America. And once more, everything has turned upside down.

Lucille had been angry when Thomas had come in to the ball – thrown in their favour! – late, and with a woman not their mark on his arm. As time had passed and she had delicately probed further, finding out more about this Edith Cushing, she had come to appreciate the wisdom of his choice. Eunice McMichael was rich, true, and her mother a widow, but her family was well-positioned socially and there was an unexpected brother to contend with, a brother who would no doubt be the heir.

Besides which, Lucille could not long have endured Eunice’s condescending, sniping sweetness. Though it would have been a great pleasure to slowly poison her, Lucille thinks she likely would have become impatient and bashed Eunice’s brains in. Possibly before they even reached home.

But Edith – Edith is different.

Edith’s money is newer, she and her father still not quite acceptable to the circles of society their wealth should afford them access too, yet seen as a little too snobbish for the sort of circles they must have come from. And Edith has only her father in the world, and he her. Easy ties to sever.

Edith is younger – too young, as Lucille had tried to protest, too delicate, and in the strangest way a surge of the same protective feeling she has always felt for Thomas nearly chokes her when she looks on Edith’s golden hair in the sunlight – and not well-travelled, inexperienced in the ways of the world. Edith is susceptible to flattery.

And she is a romantic, a writer of lurid gothic fictions, someone already half in love with darkness. From all their conversations, Lucille senses no fear, no apprehension, in her. Edith would go willingly wherever Thomas and Lucille led her. Even to her own death.

Edith is as fragile and delicate as a butterfly, a beautiful thing that should wither and die so easily in the cold austerity of Allerdale Hall. And yet, the way she speaks to Lucille, as though nothing Lucille says or does can unsettle her, as though she already regards Lucille as she would an old friend…

This one would be easy to fall in love with, Lucille thinks.

And, looking to Thomas, is suddenly, coldly, afraid.

_____

AN: Unless the internet has lied to me, Pamela is correct in identifying a bird flying through a house as an omen of death in English superstition. I chose a raven for dramatic flair.

The nigheag, or bean nighe, is a Scottish sister to the bean sidhe, better known on this side of the pond as the banshee. She is most often found at ponds or fords in streams, washing out shrouds or death-clothes of those who are about to die.

Again, unless the internet is lying to me, in Italian folklore it is very bad luck to lay a hat on a bed, because it portends a death.

And finally, the Black Dog is an English death omen, and is sometimes also considered a psychopomp and a protector of churchyards.