#and i made them so quickly in this rush of adrenaline and pure love for him

[lovesickhughes]

hi hi hi!

i’ve been thinking about times with quinn where you get to tag along to whatever cities he’s playing in 🥹

maybe he has a couple days off between games and the two of you get to explore a new place together, sure he’s been there before but your wife eyes put everything in a new light for quinn

talking tennesse | quinn hughes

a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i absolutely love this idea! i did indeed go a little bit crazy on this one- making it a full fic, but this idea really had me thinking about how lovely life would be with quinn hughes as your husband 🥹 i hope you enjoy!

pairings: quinn hughes x wife!reader

warnings: wives and girlfriends mentioned, please know i don't follow the canucks team, so all the WAGS mentioned are purely fictional and made up by me!

word count: 5.3k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Marriage comes with many aspects of happiness in all areas of your lives, but what you were most fulfilled with, was being able to spend the rest of your life, married to Quinn and being by his side as his biggest supporter of his career. Of course, it was a lifestyle you had grown to get used to, and was a big shift in your relationship when he was announced as captain of Vancouver, but nevertheless, being able to watch him succeed and play the game he loves, ultimately completed you as a being. 

A perk to Quinn’s career being a part of a national franchise, was the opportunities to travel to new cities alongside your newly pronounced husband. You were forever grateful to the team for their accommodations, but also appreciative towards Quinn who always made the extra effort to ensure you had the smoothest, and most safe travels to watch him play from such far distances from your home. 

Quinn and the Canucks were scheduled for a five-game road trip to the United States, playing every other day against Minnesota, Chicago, Columbus, St. Louis, ending their stretch on a Friday in Nashville, Tennessee before flying the far distance back to Vancouver for home games. 

Busy with other commitments, you had taken some time away from work to visit Quinn and watch his games against the Blues and Predators, scheduling your flights with Quinn a few months prior to make sure your schedules matched. 

Luckily enough, after their game in Nashville, the schedule had left them with a three day break, and their next practice being only two days after the last played game. When Quinn and you had realized he would have a few days off to relax, you both hopped on quickly to take advantage of being able to spend time together. 

—

You walked into your shared, Vancouver apartment, shrugging off your damp raincoat and hanging it on the hook that was placed to the left of the entrance. You slid your boots off and quickly dropped them next to the rack of shoes that were neatly organized before walking into the warm, aromatic environment with dimly lit lights creating a relaxed atmosphere that consumed you. 

Quinn was in the kitchen, the smell of food being cooked on the stove added to the aroma of your apartment, and you followed the scent as you turned the corner, revealing Quinn facing the stove, cooking what looked to be an assortment of veggies in one pan, while another pan cooked a seasoned chicken. 

A smile immediately rose to your face, the sight of your favourite brunette in a navy blue hoodie that looked two sizes too big, engulfing his frame, paired with black, baggy sweats, being the cause of your smile. The teddy bear look on Quinn elicited an excited swirl of adrenaline to rush through your body. And you absentmindedly walked up to his figure, sliding your arms around his torso from behind, his body immediately melting into yours at the contact. 

“Hi you,” you smiled up to meet Quinn’s gaze whose eyes already found your face, a soft expression written on his features. 

“Hey, how was work?” He asked immediately, Quinn turned in your grip and he maneuvered your two bodies slightly to the side to step away from the cooking food. His own hands met your waist, your black trousers descending in length to the ground and fabric pooling at your feet. His fingers toyed with the belt loop of your waistband, as he quickly reached down to peck your lips. 

You stood up tall in his embrace as you began to describe your day and all the small details about your commute, a meeting you had and a phone call with a client. As you continued, Quinn leaned against the marble countertop quietly and contently as he listened to you. It was one of his favourite things to do; to hear you talk, no matter what it was about. The energy you emitted just with hearing your voice and the passion and care behind it, was one of the main reasons Quinn knew he had to marry you. 

You had now made your way over to the fridge to grab a water bottle from one of the shelves, turning back around to take a seat on the island barstool, while Quinn went back to cooking, still actively listening to you talk. 

“Oh yeah, and I talked to my boss and she said I was more than good to take time off that weekend you’re in Nashville, so I’ll come down on the Wednesday night after your game in St. Louis and meet you at the hotel.” You said as you took a sip of water, rewarding your throat with moisture from all the words and speaking you had just produced. 

“That’s great, babe, we can do that tonight then.” Quinn said in regard to booking your flights. “Wanna make sure you get there as quickly and safely as possible.” He said, turning off the dial producing heat to cook the food. 

“Y’know it’s never a problem flying out, always smooth sailing.” You remarked, giggling a little at the slight spurge in Quinn’s protectiveness peering through. 

He hummed in response, “I know, just gotta make sure.” 

“Well,” you let out a breath as you stood to your feet, seeing Quinn was now dishing up each of your portions of dinner. “Thanks for being so considerate, Husband.” You said slyly as you walked up to him, bumping his hip with your own as you placed a quick kiss to his cheek before grabbing your plate and walking towards the small dining room to eat your meal together. 

—

The flight to Nashville was effortless, having slept for the majority of it, your baggage claim and commute from the airport to the hotel seemed to pass by as if you had only blinked. 

You checked into the hotel, reserved under Quinn and your name, and the day of travel had seemingly caught up to you, as you flopped on the large king mattress, coat and shoes still on, too exhausted to bother changing at the moment. 

After building up the courage to at least settle in for the night, you changed into a comfortable hoodie and lounge pants, pulling your hair up into a clip so it was out of your face and ordering a quick meal to eat while you caught the last few minutes of Quinn’s game in St. Louis. They were down 4-2 in the third period, desperately making an effort to make a comeback, but much to yours and the rest of the Canucks team and fans, they fell short at the end of regulation. 

You switched the channel to play in the background as you went to the attached bathroom and began getting ready for the night, and as you finished brushing your teeth, moving onto skincare, you heard the ringtone of your phone calling from the bed. 

Quickly, you shuffled to where the incoming call was being sent from, and you peered down at the phone, seeing the contact photo you had set for Quinn light across the screen. It was you and him on your wedding day, a black and white picture of him carefully leaning you backwards into a dip, his large hand spread over your back, and the smiles written across each of your faces as you looked deeply into one another’s eyes, encapsulated the exact feeling you experienced on that day, and spread to how you feel three-hundred and sixty-five days of the year, being with Quinn. 

You undoubtedly slide your finger on the screen to accept the call, and your screen is switched to be filled with Quinn’s tired, almost gloomy expression.

“Hey, honey,” you dragged out, lacing your tone with sympathy towards the recent loss. “How are you holding up?” You asked, walking back into the brightly lit bathroom, seeing the light reflect through the screen and onto Quinn’s face. 

He sighed, his distraught expression pulling at your heartstrings. “Could be better– it just sucks y’know? No one likes losing.” He explained. It was clear he was located somewhere quiet, most likely the bus given the slight background noise cutting through. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s never easy, but you guys have had a good road trip so far, I’m more than confident that you’ll close it out on a positive note in Nashville.” You reassured him. You knew it was hard on Quinn, losing and feeling an immense weight of pressure being the captain and holding himself and his teammates to certain standards and expectations, but you knew that sometimes– all Quinn needed was to talk and be with you. So you always let him. No matter the circumstance, you would listen when he just needed to get things off his chest, console him after a tough loss, and praise him in all the ways he deserved when they took home a big win. 

“Thanks, babe. I love you.” He said as you saw him run a hand through his messy, wet curls. “Plus, I get to spend the weekend with you in Nashville.” He added, a smile sounding through his voice at the thought of what was expected after the final game of their road trip. 

“You’re too sweet, you know that?” You asked, glancing at your phone as you finished your nighttime routine. 

“Of course, always wanna impress my girl.” He said proudly, a bright smile erupting on his face. 

You then found your way into the bed, pulling back the covers and sliding into the comfort of the mattress. It wasn’t long before Quinn and you ended the call, saying your goodnights and I love yous, and by the time you had turned off your phone and lights of the room, the only source coming from the TV that played in the back– you were deep into a much needed rest. 

It felt like mere minutes after your eyes fell heavy and into a deep sleep, when the sound of Quinn opening the door of the hotel and attempting to be as quiet as possible, stirred you in your sleep. 

You tried to ignore it, hearing the bustling around as Quinn probably unpacked his bag and changed out of his suit, and it wasn’t long before you felt the dip in the mattress as Quinn slid in next to you. 

“Are you awake?” He whispered, barely audible.

You groaned in response, wanting to maintain your state or tranquility, but you rolled over to face him, your eyes slightly squinting opening to peer at his face, but the exhaustion still laid heavy on you, so all you could gather was a stretch of your arm up to his shoulder that felt warm and bare.

Quinn adjusted under the weight of your arm, his own hand finding your side as he snuggled into your warm figure. And all you could process was the feeling of Quinn’s breaths against your body as your eyes fluttered back to their position and your mind fell unconscious. 

—

The warm, morning sun bled through the thin fabric of the curtains of the hotel room, a calm silence falling over as Quinn and you were fast asleep, the events from the previous night wiping all energy from you. 

As you slowly came to wake, you felt the presence of Quinn from behind you, his warm body emitting heat under the covers and spreading to you, as his front was pressed up against your back. Your eyes closed further than they already were as you cleared your blurry, sleep-filled vision, and you noticed the weight of Quinn’s arm, protectively wrapped around your torso. The heavy weight of his arm justified to you how exhausted Quinn was from the long travelling and disappointing loss the night before. 

To spare him, you avoid waking him up, rolling over to face him while under his grasp, and you slide your own arm over top of his shoulder and wrap it to entangle your fingers in his luscious brown curls. 

You dozed off, back into your slumber as you fell content with the feeling of being so close to Quinn, and an hour had passed before you both began to stir, Quinn’s grip on your side tightening as he stretched under the sheets. 

“Morning, pretty.” Quinn greeted with a tired smile on his face. His eyes were barely open, avoiding the blinding light of the sun that shone through into the room, and you peck his lips in response, taking your hand and pushing away the stray strands of his hair that fell onto his face. 

“G’morning, babe. How did you sleep? I barely heard you come in last night– when did you get in?” You perked, sitting up in the bed, still under the plush duvet of the hotel bed, as Quinn’s arm fell to your hip, grasping at the love handle. It was one of the things you loved most about Quinn– his desire to always touch you. 

Whether it was while you two were at home, in your own comfort watching a movie and he’d rub gentle, sweet nothings on your shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you, the fabric of your hoodie rubbing against your skin that sent waves of excitement rushing through your body. Or even when you attended parties or events being held by the hockey team. Alongside Quinn, when talking with fellow teammates and management members, the feeling of Quinn’s hand spread on the small of your back as he was deeply invested in a conversation.

You briefly glance at the hand on your hip, following it up his arm to his face, taking in the sight of a tired Quinn– messy hair, only covered with a pair of sweat shorts and nothing else. You wanted nothing more than to pounce at the sight, but you knew there were plans in order, other than spending the entire day in the sheets. 

“I think I got in around three, not too bad, but still. You were passed right out,” He chuckled, closing his eyes momentarily to reminisce at the sight from last night. “But I slept well, I’m ready for our day today.” He nodded towards you, a smile erupting on your face at the mention of what brought you to Nashville. 

Not only would you be catching the game this evening, Quinn and you, along with a few other members of the Canucks and their wives and/or girlfriends, all decided to venture to the infamous Broadway Street in Nashville– known for its amazing live music bars and entertainment. 

You rolled out of bed excitedly, jumping a slight amount as you walked over to the bathroom to begin getting ready by preparing to shower. “I’m so looking forward to it,” you called to Quinn who was still laid in bed, “Natalie was telling me about a live performance at the one place we booked the reso for, so I’m super excited to see the show.” You smiled to yourself, anticipating the events that were soon approaching. 

You briskly showered, finishing in what seemed like record time and Quinn soon followed suit, stepping into the warm bathroom to get ready. As you began your makeup routine, he quickly showered, stepping out in nothing but a hotel towel, hung loosely around his waist, inevitably catching your attention. 

Quinn only chuckled, knowing you like the back of his hand, and slid his arm around your side, squeezing the skin as he placed a soft, wet kiss against your neck, making you inhale sharply in response. 

Quinn had practice before tonight’s game against the Predators, so while he was with his team for the majority of the day, you planned to spend it alongside the other wives and girlfriends of the players– going for brunch and then touring a few of the wineries a few other girls had mentioned. 

It wasn’t long before Quinn and you parted ways, bidding your farewells and making sure each one of you were satisfied with the amount of kisses and hugs exchanged. Quinn, of course, was the one who desired a few more before he left, but you were quick to lightheartedly protest, pushing him out of the hotel room. 

—

Brunch was fantastic, the girls had their fair share of breakfast mimosas along with a delicious meal, and the wineries occupied their afternoon before they all commuted to the arena for the game this evening. 

You were sat with Natalie, Cassandra and Ashley, some of the girlfriends you had grown close to over the years of Quinn being in Vancouver, and you both being together. 

You were dressed in navy blue jeans and a cream-coloured blouse, alongside a black, leather jacket with a large number ‘43’ embroidered into the back with the Canucks logo stitched in as well– the jacket being gifted from the team to all the players' significant others. On your feet, you styled a pair of cowgirl boots, ones you had specifically picked out with Quinn for this trip, and you had admired your outfit for a few extra minutes before leaving earlier in the day to brunch. 

“I’m so excited for tonight,” Cassandra exhaled, turning around in her seat to face the rest of the group who squished together in the backseat, “and I must say– we all look so hot right now, the guys aren’t gonna know what to do with themselves!” She exclaimed, earning a laugh from everyone else. 

“I know! And I love all our matching jackets, I’m definitely posting something for this trip.” Ashley responded. You nodded in agreement, a bright smile of excitement written all over your face, as you dropped your attention to your phone in your hand, a blank message to Quinn waiting to be sent. 

It was a game day ritual, sending your good luck charm and cheering him on, even if it was just over the phone– you knew it meant a lot. 

Y/n

Goodluck tn, babe. I love you! Go kill it 💙

Closing your phone and watching the scenery pass by as the sun began to set and nighttime was slowly inching around the horizon, you felt a buzz from your phone, and you didn’t even look to know who the notification was from. 

—

The game had been an intense, energy-filled forty minutes. Nashville and Vancouver were tied after two periods, and it was now time for the last twenty minutes of regulation to achingly pass by in anticipation to declare a winner. 

You could tell the team was tired, the long stretch of road games, against intense teams and long days of travel– it was starting to catch up on everyone, but you were more than sure the team had it in them to close this one off. 

After the intense battle, the Canucks were able to seal off the win, scoring another two goals in the last twenty minutes, one of the goals being scored by the one and only. The few Vancouver fans excitedly cheered at the win, while Nashville fans began to clear out of the stands, the group of wives and girlfriends holding back in their section of seats before making their way to where the players would depart. 

You stood with Ashley and Natalie, the pair being immersed in their phones most likely putting together a post from today’s adventure, and you also found yourself scrolling through your feed while you waited impatiently to see your favourite brunette turn around the corner of the dressing room hallway. 

It wasn’t long before the players began making their way out of the dressing room, their amped up energy filling the atmosphere, leaving everyone on their toes for ways to celebrate and close out their road trip on a high note. You watched eagerly as each player carried their large hockey bag over their shoulder and placed it near the pile where they would later be sent off, then each hockey player going to greet their guests. 

Just as you were putting your phone away into your purse, you heard the familiar voice appear louder as the man behind the voice approached the exit. Catching your attention, you look up from your side to see the only face you couldn’t wait to be greeted with, Quinn’s glory radiating off his face at the victorious game. He quickly shuffled over to the bag area, slipping off his heavy duffel bag to the floor before turning his entire body in your direction– his face almost immediately lighting up further than it had been mere seconds ago. 

He walked proudly over to where you stood, arms reaching out to pull you into his embrace, as a smile of your own broke out on your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your head falling into the crook of his collarbone as you two reconnected after being apart since earlier in the day. 

“Good job, my love,” you mumbled against the skin of his neck. His hands that were placed near your ribs, fell down your sides to your hips, gripping your sides with intent as he pulled away from your hug to meet your eyes. “You did so amazing today.” You smiled, even the words falling off your tongue making you feel proud of your boy. 

“Thank you, baby.” He quipped, meeting your gaze as you looked into his, a soft smile falling over his face as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips. When you feel the contact, his warm, soft lips sending shocks of energy through your body, you feel Quinn’s hands against you tug in a way that speaks thousands of words without needing to. 

Just from the kiss and his touch, you know he is grateful to have you cheering him on, and being there after the game to congratulate him. You both knew, being busy with your own careers, it wasn’t often that you two would be able to spend a weekend away together during the regular season of hockey. So, the fact that you were here, waiting for him after the game and having plans for the rest of the night, you both knew was something you would cherish immensely. 

The plan was set that after the game, the group of hockey players and their wives and girlfriends would head to dinner at a restaurant close to the Broadway strip, before attending a few country bars and enjoying the rest of the night with live music. 

“Ready to head out?” Quinn asked, his arm still wrapped around your waist as you stood with the rest of the group in the arena. 

You hummed in response, “mhm. I’m excited for the rest of tonight.” You smiled softly, leaning your head on Quinn’s shoulder. 

Minutes passed by quickly as everyone cleared out of the arena, everyone driving separately to their hotels to quickly change and get ready for the night out in Nashville. Quinn had changed into a pair of jeans, paired with a white t-shirt that had a beer branded on it, along with his go-to pair of white sneakers. While for you, changed into light pink floral sundress and kept the same pair of cowgirl boots on to pair with the dress. Since the sun had well set hours ago and the chill of the night had taken over, you made sure to slip on a boyfriend-style jean jacket to give yourself an extra layer of warmth.

After freshening up, hand-in-hand with Quinn, you both walked down to the lobby of the hotel, waiting for Natalie and Tyler to make their way to the front and meet you to leave for the night out. 

It wasn’t long before Natalie greeted you, pulling you into a tight hug, even though it hadn’t been long since you last saw her– it was the dynamic you two shared and grew over time. 

With the uber waiting outside, you all begin to walk out, Tyler and Natalie walking ahead of Quinn and you, and you look over in the direction of your husband when you feel the touch of his hand on the small of your back as you walk outside to the car. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” Quinn smiled softly, rubbing his hand up and down your back and you turned your body to lean into him, a hand coming to place on his broad chest. 

“You’re too sweet, I love you.” You grin as you give Quinn a quick peck on the lip. You slide into the uber, Quinn following in behind and shutting the door once he was situated and the ride began shortly after.

As you all conversed together, you chatted here and there, but mainly listened, loving the sound of Quinn proudly speaking about things the two of you had done recently, or whatever the topic of conversation was. You let him talk, not minding the silence, and also being entranced by his charismatic persona. His hand was placed firmly on your exposed knee, caressing the skin and making your body heat up in response. You were always mindful of the fact Quinn still had his charm and ways of making you feel so full of love. 

By the time you arrived at dinner, the majority of the others were already seated, greeting the four of you as you entered and found your seats at the large table. The restaurant was country themed, as expected, the walls covered with memorabilia of the history of Nashville and its popular musical history. Once you were comfortable in your seats and the server came around, the four of you had requested a round of drinks and a meal for each of you that had called your name as you looked over what the restaurant had to offer. 

As you ate, drank and caught up with the team, Quinn’s arm was splayed on the back of your chair, every so often running his hand up to your shoulder to give a soft squeeze of reassurance. 

You were deeply immersed in a conversation with one of the girlfriend’s of the players who you were sat across, about the new hair product she had just tried and highly recommended when Quinn’s hand found the small of your back once again and you felt the warmth of his presences increase as he leaned in closer to you. 

“I’m gonna run to the washroom, okay? You good? Need anything?” He asked softly in your ear over the loud noise of the audience in the restaurant and the music that played over the speakers. You smiled softly at him and nodded, reaching your own hand to his forearm where you gave a reconfirming tug that you were content. 

The blonde from across from you cooed at the interaction, “You two are so adorable, almost about time you start making some mini version of each other!” She exclaimed. You let out a laugh at her remark, knowing that was a hot topic of conversation for a lot of people in your and Quinn’s lives. Your parents and even Quinn’s had started to ask the question of when you two were going to start having kids, and of course it was something you talked about, but you both had agreed it was something that you would wait on, and the right timing would come when necessary. 

Ashley’s head popped up at the conversation, quirking her head to the side in amusement and a smile beginning to break through. 

“Oh, what are we talking about?” She eagerly pressed, leaning in your direction. You only shook your head and rolled your eyes at her excitement. Ashley had recently given birth to a beautiful boy, Carter, and ever since she had her first, she had incessantly pried at when it was going to be your turn to have a little one welcomed into the world. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you laughed at Ashley’s interest, earning quick nods from her. “We’ve definitely talked about it.” You responded to the initial question. 

“Talked about what?” You heard from behind you, as Quinn found his seat again, his arm immediately taking its place on the back of your chair. 

“How you two would make the most beautiful babies and should definitely give Carter a little best friend.” Ashley responded in a sing-song voice, fighting the urge to let out a giggle. 

Quinn hums and tilts his head back slightly, “Ah, I see. Well, then yes, we’ve definitely talked about it, but I wouldn’t mind having a little one sometime soon.” He smiled towards Ashley who looked like she could almost burst from excitement. Quinn’s hand found your thigh, giving a quick squeeze to grasp your attention and you looked over towards him, a knowing look in his eyes. 

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, knowing what the certain look he gave meant. It was similar to the one when he would reassure you in moments where you needed support, the look when he would make sure you were honest with him with your needs. Even the look he gave when he first asked you to be his girlfriend, the first time he said he loved you and the time he asked you to marry him. 

Who knew one small look from the man who changed your life completely, could mean such an array of things. 

—

Later that night, after dinner had wrapped up and you all began your journey to some of the famous country bars on the strip of Broadway, Quinn and you walked together with your hands tightly intertwined, swaying back and forth with each step. 

You entered the one bar, live music filling the room with the sound of country music hitting your ears. You had followed the group to the bar, ordering one of their specials before finding a small table to stand around. Quinn’s arm tightly wrapped around your waist, holding you close to his side and his warmth radiating off of him, left you in a content state of peace. You looked up to Quinn, meeting his gaze which was so loving and endearing you knew he was so appreciative to be here with the person he loved more than you would ever know, and when a slow, love song was introduced by the live band and you excitedly urged him to slow dance with you, he without a doubt followed the drag of your hand in his towards then open dance floor. 

His hands found your waist and your arms locked behind his neck, his forehead leaning down against yours as you listened to the band cover Morgan Wallen’s “Chasin’ You”. You swayed back and forth, letting the music bring you into a trance of pure bliss as the world enclosed around the two of you.

When the song ended, Quinn’s eyes that had fell shut, opened to look down at you, and he instinctively placed a soft, wet kiss against your lips, the taste of his drink spilling into your own mouth as your hands tugged softly at the soft tips of his brown curls. 

“I love you so much, I’m so glad we’re here right now.” Quinn said softly, earning a smile to tug on your face as your stomach did a flip and heart skipped a beat at his words. 

“Me too.” You whispered softly, pulling yourself into his embrace and resting your head against his chest, still swaying. Quinn placed a delicate kiss to the top of your head, your hands now intertwined again on either side of you. 

“I want nothing more than to spend more time with you exploring places like this, and even expanding our family.” He said pulling away and giving that same, familiar look in his gaze. 

Your one eyebrow raised in question, “Is that so?” You pressed jokingly, as you couldn’t help but smile in such adoration for the brunette. 

“More than.” He smiled, pulling you into another tight, warm embrace.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! feel free to send in requests! 🫶🏻

[blue-jisungs]

4 soft thoughts.. maybe something like waiting at the dorm for Intak after theyve had practice? 😊😊

driving force

[ axe’s memo ! ] ahhh someone finally reqing for my boyfie intak anon ill kiss u on the forehead gently 🤲

[ extras ! ] a quick write on my phone, not proofread (the day i do is the day we celebrate)

intak desired nothing more than rest. actually, no, scratch that. he desired resting with you in his arms. he believed in you having magic powers that brought all his life force back after a tiring practice.

however, he knew you're busy. a small pout accomanied his features throughout the whole day ever since you texted him that you have to stay up late at work.

the boys went to grab some food but he wasn't in the mood and decided to go straight to their dorm. sluggishly opening the door, painfully slowly entering the dorm... everything was so halted whenever you weren't around.

immersing himself in the silence of the place, he took off his shoes and went to grab fresh clothes. then, he stepped into the shower. putting a playlist in the background and losing himself in the feeling of water washing away the tiredness, he didn't realize the faint sounds coming from the kitchen.

the kitchen, where you were giggling underneath your breath while finishing a meal for him. keeho texted you anout intak skipping the meal so you decided to save the day. and it so happened that you-

"huh?"

you turned around and saw intak with a towel wrapped around his waist loosely. water was dripping down his toned stomach and dark, wet hair was falling onto his forehead. you gulped and shyly looked up, catching a flash of proud smirk on his lips.

"am i hallucinating or...?" he grinned, slowly walking up to you.

you turned around quickly to finish decorating his meal.

"it turned out that i wasn't needed. in any other scenario i would be offended but i gladly took the offer to leave early" a hum left your lips as you felt his arms wrapping around you. his wet body instatly soaked your shirt but you didn't mind. you knew intak needed that hug.

he was like a puppy, needing to be glued to you at all times.

"i'm happy you're here" intak mumbled into your neck, clinging onto you as close as humanly possible. if he could, he would crawl and live inside your skin.

"me too. i need to recharge my dance machine, hm?" you grinned and put your hand over his that was resting atop your hip. he only hummed, not able to form a coherent answer "you need to eat first though, takie"

while he practically inhaled the food, you made the bed and grabbed pyjamas for the two of you. it was quite early but he seemed exhausted, his energy levels lower than usually.

before you realized, he was pulling you towards the bed with a pout on his lips. you plopped onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. the smell of his shampoo filled your nostrils.

"i hate when you're away for so long" he murmured into your neck, wrapping his hands around your waist. you leaned away for a bit, some of your hair tangling in his face. he brushed them away tenderly, pure love and adoration in his eyes.

"i know, 'm sorry. i need to tell my boss that my clingy puppy of a boyfriend needs me. that'll do the trick, hm? you teased him and placed a gentle kiss on his nose. that only caused him to roll his eyes.

"and you can't even kiss me properly" he grunted.

"my bad, you big baby" you smiled and fixed your position so you could kiss him more comfortably.

your kisses were quite literally intak's driving force. despite all the soreness and tiredness, he felt a rush of adrenaline in his veins once your lips merged with his in a sweet kiss. you both tasted like mint toothpaste but neither of you minded. what counted in that moment was your sole presence and shared love.

m. list <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,,

@mon2sunjinsuver ,, @litepowee

[mia-maybank]

I'd love to see a fic of reader being shy and Arthurtv sweeping her off her feet with his charm

Aquarium Dates and Milkshakes- Arthur TV

Arthur Tv x Fem!reader (1.6k words)

I'M FINALLY FREE FROM A LEVEL EXAMS WOOHOO AND I SAW ARTHUR HILL AND JAMES MARRIOTT LIVE ON SUNDAY (never recovering ever) and I've had a few Arthur requests so I thought I'd get one out before I post part 4 of my George series (which will be out tomorrow , I'm so sorry that its taken a while 🥲 my mental health has not been mental healthing recently which is honestly rude of it).

Also I used the same taglist as my George series one so if you only want to be tagged in that and not all of my ukyt works just lmk!!

warnings: pure fluff :)

masterlist

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I pull up outside of Chris' apartment block, a mix of apprehension and excitement flowing through my veins and wrapping around my heart, providing an adrenaline rush that left me both breathless and energetic. I wasn't usually one for meeting new people, especially not this spontaneously, but after moving to the same part of London as my younger brother Chris, he had insisted that I meet his close-knit group of friends that I had heard so much about (to the point that throwing pillows at him in our family home in order to cut off his loving rambling for them had become common), I had coaxed myself into accepting the invitation.

I was regretting that decision, however, as my ever-persisting anxiety caught up with me, churning in my stomach sickeningly. No y/n, pull yourself together, you can do this I coax myself mentally, staring down the black apartment door like it has personally offended me.

My internal spiral is soon interrupted by the click of the door and the appearance of a familiar blonde. "Thought you might be out here overthinking your life decisions" Chris grins, pulling me into a warm hug that I melt in to. I have missed my brother, as annoying as he can be at times, and it is one of the positives of having moved across the city.

"In my defence I didn't mean to be out there for so long, just got lost in my head I guess" I scratch the back of my neck sheepishly, following Chris into the hallway of his home.

"Yeah, yeah, stuck in your fairy world again" Chris teases lightly, ruffling my hair before skipping ahead to avoid my retaliating whack of his forehead.

"Oi, you four-foot nothing twat-" I begin before 4 men emerge from the living room, clearly having been alerted to our arrival by our arguing. I take in Chris' friend group; two mulleted men that I recognised from my brother's videos to be George and Bach, flanked by the two Arthur's, although one caught my gaze in particular. Soft brown eyes met my own, inquisitive and gentle, paired with a kind yet teasing smile that made my cheeks warm.

“Arthur squared, George and Bach” Chris introduces, pointing at each of the individuals as I receive enthusiastic waves and reassuring smiles. Arthur (I’m gonna call Arthur TV ‘Arthur’ and Arthur Hill ‘Hill’ from this point onwards to avoid confusion) steps forwards and shakes my hand, which causes the other boys to giggle but makes me smile as it just adds to him charming nature. His hand is soft and warm in my own, a steady grounding presence, and I hold on for slightly longer than necessary before remembering my brother is beside me and quickly letting go.

“Boys, this is yn, aka the demon my mother raised from hell” Chris declares dramatically, causing me to roll my eyes.

“You're just bitter that I’m one year older and 1 foot taller than you” I tease back, causing the other boys to let out low ooos.

“She got you there Chris” Arthur laughs, whilst George makes fun of Chris expression, as he does look like a toddler on the cusp of a tantrum.

We eventually head out, and I can’t help but naturally fall behind the others, my shy nature taking over once more and choking up my ability to speak.

I nearly don’t notice when somebody falls back to stay in step with me until their arm brushes mine I tear my gaze from the floor, startled, meeting the earnest, deer-like eyes of Arthur.

"So how are you finding London?" he sounds genuinely interested, gazing at me with a gentle sparkle in his eyes that makes me blush.

"Oh..well it's big, that's for sure" I answer, mentally facepalming at my vanilla answer. Big? Really? You've moved to the capital of England and are being asked about it by a cute guy and the only answer you have is big? I mentally scold myself, but once again his voice pulls me out my mental spiral, like human medicine to my shyness.

"That's true" he smiles kindly "when I first moved here I found it so overwhelming, but you get used to it."

"I sure hope so, I've gotten lost an embarrassing amount already" I groan, and he laughs, the sound warm and full of boyish joy.

"Well, I'm happy to be your personal tour guide for a day, show you all the special hidden spots that Chris would kill me if he knew I was telling anyone about" he bumps my shoulder, grinning.

"For free? Really? The one thing I've learnt about London is that nothing's for free" I joke, and his smile widens as he realises I'm becoming more comfortable with him.

"I'd take repayment in the form of southern comfort or you letting me take you to the natural history museum and you listening to me info dump for 6 hours straight".

I perk up that. "Only if you let me take you a greek exhibition sometime and let me infodump about mythology for 6 hours" I offer up and he turns to me, clearly shocked that I seem so onboard with the idea.

"Wait, you would seriously come with me? Most of the others, including your brother, run in the opposite direction when I start listing historical facts" he says.

"Of course I would, that honestly sounds like my dream day out" I admit shyly, still slightly scared of being judged for having nerdy interests, but the way his face lights up like an excited golden retriever instantly reassures me, and we continue talking about our niche interests the entire 25-minute walk to the aquarium, to the point that I notice Chris staring back at us suspiciously whilst George and Hill exchange smug grins; I can't blame Chris for being suspicious however, as I did grow up with the reputation of being the introverted member of the family who struggled to hold more than a 5 minute conversation with friends, never mind a 25 minute conversation with a stranger. Something about Arthur's lack of judginess and his nerdy hyperfixations that mirror mine soothe me and bring me out of my shell slowly but surely.

~~~

"Did you know that scientists have recently discovered that jellyfish are around 700 million years old? That makes them estimately 3 times older than dinosaurs" a voice that I have quickly grown familiar to appears behind me, making me smile as I gaze at the luminescent creatures floating in the tank in front of me.

"Really?" I voice my shock, keep my eyes fixated on the fish but not missing the way his smile grows fonder as he watches my expression.

"What?" I whisper shyly, suddenly self conscious, but he only shakes his head gently, reaching out his hand to brush a fallen piece of my hair behind my ear. His touch is electric, sending shockwaves straight through my spine. Wrapped in our own bubble, we are both entirely unaware of Bach and Hill exchanging knowing glances, and George teasing Chris about how he's "lost Arthur to his own sister".

"You really like it here" he states in answer to my questioning gaze, still fully unaware of the chaos brewing behind us, more of an observation than a question.

"It's just peaceful. Reminds me that all these sea creatures have their own little lives going on and makes the universe seem less daunting somehow" I explain coyly, and his smile grows even fonder as he rests his head on my shoulder. I melt into his touch, undeterred by his touchiness as he radiates safety and comfort.

"ARTHUR FREDERICK" fills the previously tranquil aquarium, followed by a loud cackle from George. Our heads whip around to the source of the yell; Chris, of course.

"And what is going on here exactly?" he asks, half-mocking and half-serious, his gaze darting between me and Arthur with the face of a disappointed dad.

"Chris" I groan, burying my head in my hands whilst Arthur meets his gaze with a soft laugh, much less undeterred by my brothers teasing.

"Just making sure your guest is having a good time and making conversation, Christopher" he replies back cheerfully.

"Making conversation, making moves you mean" George chimes in, earning a clap on the back from Bach and a frustrated groan from Chris.

"Ignore the idiots" Arthur sighs, putting his hands over my ears as I laugh lightly, recovering from my previous embarrassment.

~~~

After the aquarium and an ungodly amount of dating jokes from the guys, Hill suggest milkshakes and we pile into the booth of a nearby diner that George promises me is "like five guys milkshakes on steroids".

I nestle between Arthur and George, feeling a little more at home with the group now, especially thanks to the attentiveness of one particular person. As the others argue over who is ordering first, Arthur leans over to me, speaking softly.

"Today has been really fun, I'm glad Chris introduced you to us. I think he forgot to mention you're both the funnier and prettier md sibling, it's no wonder he's kept you hidden for this long" Arthur admits, and I turn quickly to him, expecting him to be joking, but finding only a raw sincerity painting his gaze.

"I'd like if...if maybe we went out another time too...just the two of us? Of course, only if you're comfortable with it don't feel pressured into saying yes-" I cute his ramble short with a reassuring smile of my own.

"Arthur Frederick, are you asking me on a date?" I ask him and he blushes a pretty shade of crimson that suits his delicate features.

"Are you okay with that?" he chokes out nervously, and I kiss his cheek gently, silently thanking the gods that the boys were still distracted by their argument and hadn't interrupted our moment. His smile widens at the gesture and the blush creeps up to his ears.

"I'd love that, Arthur."

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Tags:

@the-internets-girlfriend @madforgeorge @happyclifford @sidemenslver @heyitsmefall @bbygrlllllll @mothersversiononly @dopeysunflowers @kwonhoeshi @ooostarwarsfandom501st @liz140569 @tyna-19 @livvymd @clarkeyscvntymullet @swizzlemynizzle @whorteshawsx @madsclarkey @bibissparkles @mdhillclarkey @bowielovesyou

[cdnonymous]

Hi @muletia again

God I saw your tags on the reblog of my work and honestly I feel you. Get sum rest, hydrate properly, same for eating. YOU’VE GOT THIS!!

And to cheer ya up I’ll give you Silence is Stronger than Words Part 3!!

Part 1 • Part 2

- 💿 ^v^

~1700 words

•—•—•—•—•—•

Silence is Stronger than Words

Dang I couldn’t sleep all night. The thoughts of my previous encounter with Megatron were making me go insane in too many ways. The soreness of the “love bite” he gave me yesterday night, the poorly timed remembrance of this random axolotl fact, his scarlet irises staring into me while mine were closed, thinking I was about to die. In a moment of exhaustion, I almost thought that I liked it, this rush of adrenaline that felt like an hour dose of it felt… nice.

But I quickly brushed this off, what was I thinking?! This is a merman, it’s not a human. It was probably a way to scare me, to make sure I knew what my place was, that if I even had the hint of a thought that I was superior to him my shoulder would get ripped off. But if he wanted to rip it off, wouldn’t he have done so already? I mean this was a golden… no, a platinum opportunity to even bite my head off… but he didn’t do it, and that’s what’s confusing me.

I fell asleep out of utter exhaustion, all those thoughts feeling like bullets in my mind, they ended up slowing down and coming to a stop. And when I woke up the next day, my alarm, it had been ringing for too long;

It was now 12 AM… I was 30 minutes late!!

I gasped out of bed, quickly getting myself in normal clothes, surprisingly didn’t need coffee because I had a way better motivation to keep me on both of my legs. I miraculously did not trip over the creaky stairs as I flew over them to get my notebook and outside shoes on.

— God please don’t be mad- I muttered under my shaky pants as I dropped my pencil and picked it up in half a second.

No breakfast, no coffee, just pure chaos as I ran out of my house by the usual door. The last time I was late, Megatron didn’t even surface out of the water, he seemed mad at me for it, and I was just barely 5 minutes late that time. But today, oh today I might have some surprises that I won’t like, especially if we count on the events of last night. I arrived at the Shy Lake faster than expected, my sprinting abilities did not disappoint me for once.

I stopped, panting like crazy to at least get a normal heartbeat. I wanted to be prepared for whatever shit Megatron was about to throw at me today. I was late, I don’t even know if I upsetted him yesterday anymore. I finally looked up and saw his buckethead… but I didn’t see his usual annoyed glare or worse, instead his eyes were closed. He was sleeping, his bust laid on the lake’s beach, his helm tucked in his scaly and silvery arms. When I stopped the heavy breathing from my sprinting session, I could hear him snore lightly, honestly I expected louder from him.

But no, it was like he, as well, needed some sleep, was it really that late yesterday? I stayed completely still, as quiet as the current breeze which was nonexistent today. I was looking at him with a mixture of emotions; confusion, envy, awe, fear… so many feelings that were completely unnecessary at the moment. I was frozen, not knowing what to do, his low and deep breathing was… peaceful despite everything. It was almost… cute. Yes, I called this behemoth of an axolotl merman cute.

Then I took this opportunity to take some notes on what I could see; the axolotl fins on each sides of his head were slightly twitching, his claws weren’t retracted, they were very visible from my point of view, and still looked as sharp as the sharpest steak knives. He had scars, each of them were telling a story, like any human scar. Some were recent and more prominent, some were older and much less visible. I wondered what could’ve happened, what made him wear these scratches. Were they from fishers, hunters, or other fishes? Definitely not other fishes, he probably eats them before they can even try to nibble on him.

Was this why he seemed so wary of me at first, because other humans saw him as a threat, a beast, or worse? As a pest, a monster, a trophy? This was absurd, but it could also be sadly plausible. While thinking about it, I let myself move from my previously frozen stature and I got slightly closer. Of course I didn’t want to disturb him in his sleep, he probably needs it anyway. I stayed at a reasonable distance, but I always got closer and closer.

And eventually I sat in front of him, my legs criss-crossing in front of his sleeping form. I was barely 30 centimeters away from his helm, which was still unmoving in his crossed arms. My breathing was already way calmer, it was silent as it usually was, I analyzed him, wanting answers but knowing I would never be sure of getting an accurate one. I felt bad for him as the scars that were on him seemed to multiply, poor man, he probably went through so much pain, loneliness, obstacles.

I sat right there, in my thoughts, not knowing what to do, or what to say. Eventually I heard him slightly shift, a groggy but light groan came out of his mouth, and by instinct I backed up a bit, still sitting down. He looked up from his crossed arms, but he was still lazily laying on them as if they were pillows. His eyes stared right at me, but I didn’t see any anger, any annoyance, not even smugness, he was just tired.

— Sorry for… being late. I whispered, not wanting to ruin his mood by being obnoxious in any way.

He seemed to answer with a low sigh mixed with a slight groggy grumble. I could definitely understand body language, and right now there’s no doubt that; A. He doesn’t feel threatened. B. He is tired. And C. He doesn’t mind my presence at the moment despite our proximity. I tried to think about what I could do, and of course, while I had my guard down, he extended one of his arms and grabbed my legs, pulling them closer to him. I was surprised at first, of course I was, who wouldn’t be, but as soon as I felt his familiar purring from yesterday, I knew he didn’t mean any harm.

He simply wanted me to be close to him, again. He nuzzled into me as if I was his personal doll or plushie, I couldn’t help but chuckle as he did so. He purred loudly like a cat, and I decided to slowly start to stroke the back of his helm, which he seemed to crave since his head simply melted into my lap.

— Damn… I let out silently, do you like me that much? I asked softly and jokingly.

I didn’t get a verbal answer, instead I felt his big webbed hands hug my back, which made me feel like a doll now, and he pressed his buckethead against me. I really felt like a cuddle buddy for him, which at the moment, was comfortable. He needed those hugs, and I can’t say I didn’t crave them as well. His purrs were soothing like last night, his eyes now closed from what seemed like satisfaction, I continued to stroke his helm. I smiled as I saw him get comfortable, I didn’t know why all of a sudden seeing this big cold mer happy and clingy felt… right.

I sighed, content, the anxiety, fear, all of those negative feelings, gone in an instant. I again took a glance at his scars, and I thought to myself. He needs love, yes he may look scary, look like a mindless beast that would kill without thinking, but he’s not. He wants to be loved, he craves attention, he wants to be cared for. And right now I feel like I can fulfil at least some of his needs. We’ll go at his rhythm, he probably didn’t meet any compassionate human in years, only trophy fishers and money grabbers ready to kill him for wealth and fame.

I want to be different from those jerks he probably had to deal with, I want to give him the attention he deserves, and it looks like I’m doing my job properly. Maybe he does love me, maybe he does think I’m a good mate for him. But I still need to accept it. And what if I’m wrong? What if it’s all just tricks? What if I’m just a delusional fool who is falling for his lies?

I suddenly felt his claws gently rubbing my back, as if he felt I was getting a bit stressed. My pulse already slowed down, but I was surprised that he was the one to be so… soft? My face slowly heated up as he was stroking my back the same way I was doing with his helm, then I felt his hands get under my shirt, just in my back. I didn’t know what to do, his claws were cold, but not in an uncomfortable way, it contrasted with my body heat still. My breathing got a bit heavier, although it was far from shaky or scared.

His touch was deliberately soft, as if he knew my skin wasn’t as rough as his, he knew I was fragile, he knew that if he pressed too hard he might make me bleed by accident. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t scared… right? His purring was still unwavering, and when I stopped stroking his helm the moment I felt his touch under my shirt, he didn’t glare at me or growl at me to continue.

Now I feel like he wants me… and not just for cuddles…

•—•—•—•—•—•

ANND there we goo *phew* that took 2 hours heh-

Anyway it’s almost midnight for me sooo

I’m going to bed byee

[uniquexusposts]

I love you - L. Sargeant

Summary: Y/n when she finds out about the dismissal of Logan.

Y/n stepped out of the office building, the evening air brushing against her skin as she slipped her hand into her purse to pull out her phone. The screen flickered to life, exposing a photo that never failed to warm her heart—a snapshot of Logan, captured in a moment of pure, unguarded joy. He was laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, staring straight at her through the camera with that infectious smile that made everything else in the world seem distant and insignificant. Her own smile crept across her lips, soft and instinctive.

With a small sigh of contentment, she placed her AirPods in her ears, the familiar opening chords of her favourite song easing her out of the moment and back into the present. The city around her was alive with its usual chaos—cars honking, people chattering, the distant roar of a plane overhead—but the music created a barrier, a comforting bubble that made the world feel a little less hectic, a little more bearable.

She put her phone back into her coat purse as she set off towards the tube station. The streets, though bustling with the typical rush-hour crowd, had become second nature to her; she moved through them with a kind of unconscious grace, weaving in and out of the throng with ease. The cobblestones beneath her feet were wet from a recent drizzle, reflecting the orange glow of the streetlights as dusk slowly folded into night.

Her thoughts began to drift, as they often did on these solitary walks, from the mundane details of the day’s work to the warmth waiting for her at home. The stark contrast between the bustling heart of the city, with its relentless pace and constant noise, and the quiet sanctuary they had carved out for themselves in their little corner of London, always brought her a sense of relief. It was the difference between holding her breath and finally exhaling, a sigh of contentment at the thought of their peaceful neighbourhood.

The tube station loomed ahead, its entrance a yawning mouth that swallowed the constant stream of commuters. Y/n descended the stairs, the music in her ears blending with the rhythmic clatter of trains and the murmur of voices. The train arrived with a gust of wind, the doors sliding open to reveal the usual mix of strangers packed inside. She squeezed in, finding a spot to stand near the door, one hand gripping the pole for balance as the train jolted forward. Her thoughts drifted back to Logan, to the look in his eyes when he’d kissed her goodbye that morning—a look that had seemed almost distant, like something was weighing on him, something he hadn’t quite found the words to share. 

This F1 season had been extremely difficult for Logan. The pressure, the endless travel, the scrutiny from fans and media alike—it was all beginning to take its toll on him, and she could see it in the way he carried himself, in the way his shoulders slumped when he thought no one was looking. He had always been passionate about racing, had always thrived on the adrenaline and the challenge, but this season was different. With each race, it seemed like the weight of it all was pushing him closer to the edge.

She had seen him at his best—confident, focused, driven—but lately, those moments had been few and far between. Instead, there was a weariness in his eyes, a sense of doubt that had crept in and taken root. She had tried to be there for him, to support him in every way she could, but she knew that some battles had to be fought alone. Still, it pained her to see him struggle, to see the sport he loved so much slowly drain the life out of him.

Her stop came quicker than expected. She quickly exited the tube and the station and made a quick stop at a local store, to pick up a parcel. When at the shop, her eyes spotted Kinder Bueno. Without hesitation, she bought one. Kinder Bueno was a thing in Logan and Y/n’s life. They always shared one. And Y/n felt like sharing a Kinder Bueno. The parcel safely tucked under her arm and the Kinder Bueno in her purse, she left the shop and began the walk home. The streets were quiet, the orange glow of the streetlights casting long shadows that danced across the pavement. She found herself appreciating the stillness, the way the city seemed to pause here, allowing her a moment of peace before she reached their flat.

The front door creaked slightly as she pushed it open, stepping into the dark hallway. The hallway was always dimly lit when someone was home, so it made her wonder if Logan was home. She closed the door behind her, took off her shoes and walked to the living area. 

“Hey,” she said slightly surprised when she saw Logan sitting in one of the chairs of the dining table. He was facing the windows, looking outside. Y/n put her purse, bag and parcel on the table and took out her AirPods. She got no answer from her boyfriend. 

There was something off in the way he sat, a stiffness in his posture that sent a ripple of unease through her. 

“Hey,” she said again, trying to get in contact with Logan. 

He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see Y/n standing at the other side of the table. “Hey,” he murmured, forcing a smile that barely touched his lips and never reached his eyes.

The smile was wrong—flat, almost hollow. It lacked the warmth she was used to, the easy way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he saw her, as if just her presence was enough to make everything right in the world. But tonight, that spark was missing, replaced by something cold and distant.

What a welcome after a week apart from each other, Y/n thought, a pang of sadness settling in her chest. She had been looking forward to this moment all day, to seeing him, to feeling his arms around her after what felt like an eternity of being apart. But now, standing there with him just a few feet away, she felt a chasm between them that hadn’t been there before.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked and stepped towards him. “What is wrong?” 

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of the world was pulling him down. Then, slowly, he shook his head, a tremor running through him. He took a deep breath that seemed to shudder through his entire body, he looked back at her, his expression crumbling into one of raw vulnerability.

“I’m gone,” he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips in a single, desperate breath. His voice cracked, the bravado he would tried to maintain splintering into pieces as the reality of his situation overwhelmed him. And just like that, he burst into tears, the sobs tearing through him with a force that startled them both. His body shook with the intensity of it, the weight of all he had been holding back crashing down on him at once. He tried to speak, to say something, anything that could make sense of what he was feeling, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was cry, releasing the anguish that had been building inside him for far too long.

He broke. 

“Fuck,” was Y/n’s first reaction. She stepped to him, closing the distance between them in an instant. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t think twice—she just wrapped her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could, trying to offer him some semblance of comfort, of safety. He buried his face in her shoulder, his tears soaking through her shirt as he clung to her, as if she were the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling with her own emotions as she stroked his back, her hand moving in slow, soothing circles. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here. I’m right here.”

But she knew that right now, those words might feel empty to him. Nothing she said could change what he was going through, could make the pain disappear. All she could do was be there, hold him, and let him know that he wasn’t alone in this, no matter how lost he felt.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Y/n whispered. 

It broke her heart to see him like this. Racing was his everything. It was the fire that fuelled him, the passion that had driven him for as long as she had known him. It was more than just a job—it was his identity, his purpose. And now, that part of him had been ripped away so brutally, that he was left floundering in its absence, lost in a darkness that seemed impenetrable.

She had never seen him like this before. Even in the worst of times, he had always managed to find some glimmer of hope, some reason to keep pushing forward. But now, that strength, that resilience, seemed to have deserted him, leaving only the raw, unfiltered agony of his loss.

He couldn’t stop crying, the sobs tearing through him with a force that made her heart ache. It was as if every tear carried with it a piece of his shattered dream, a fragment of the life he had built around his love for racing. She held him tighter, her own tears falling silently as she pressed her lips to his temple, trying to convey through touch what words could not. She ignored the tension in her muscles as she sat in an uncomfortable way. It didn’t matter now. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible over the sound of his weeping. She wished she could take his pain away, bear the burden for him, if only for a moment. But all she could do was be there, anchoring him in the storm that raged within him, holding him as he cried out the grief that had taken root in his soul.

Minutes passed, though they felt like hours, and slowly, painfully, his sobs began to subside, his body gradually relaxing in her arms. But the tears didn’t stop, and she knew that this was just the beginning—that the road ahead would be long and difficult, filled with moments like this one where the weight of his loss would threaten to crush him.

Logan shifted slightly, his head moving away from her shoulder, creating a small distance between them. His eyes, red and swollen, searched hers, a silent plea lingering in the depths of his gaze. As their eyes met, the vulnerability there was almost unbearable to witness. He blinked, and a few quiet tears slipped free, tracing slow paths down his cheeks. The sight of them, so small yet so heavy with meaning, sent a fresh wave of sorrow through Y/n’s chest.

Without thinking, she raised her hand and gently ran her fingers through his hair, the familiar motion meant to soothe, to comfort. Logan closed his eyes at the touch, leaning into it ever so slightly, as if that simple act could shield him from the harsh reality they were facing.

For a moment, they just sat there, the world outside their little bubble distant and irrelevant. The warmth of her hand in his hair, the soft rise and fall of their breaths, the silent exchange of emotions that words could never quite capture—it all felt like a fragile lifeline, something to hold onto as the storm continued to rage around them.

When Logan finally opened his eyes again, the tears still lingered, but there was something else there too—a glimmer of gratitude, of understanding. It was as if, in that small gesture, Y/n had reminded him that he wasn’t alone in this, that no matter how lost he felt, she would be there, steadfast and unwavering, ready to catch him whenever he stumbled.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he whispered, his voice rough and broken, each word carrying the weight of his fear, his uncertainty.

“That’s okay,” she whispered. “You will figure it out.”

Logan’s gaze softened, and though the sadness in his eyes didn’t disappear, it seemed just a little less overwhelming, as if the burden had lightened, if only by a fraction. He nodded slowly, as if trying to absorb the truth of her words, to let them sink in deep enough to hold onto when the darkness returned.

Y/n leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, letting her lips linger there for a moment, a silent promise that she would be his anchor, his strength, whatever he needed her to be.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice tender, carrying the weight of everything she felt for him, everything she couldn’t put into words.

Logan’s eyes became blurry again, the tears welling up as the depth of her love, her unwavering support, threatened to overwhelm him. He could feel her lips press softly against his cheekbone, a gentle reminder of her presence, of her unwavering commitment to stand by him no matter how dark the days ahead might be.

He closed his eyes, letting the tears fall freely, but this time there was something different in them—something less rooted in despair and more in the profound sense of being loved, of not having to carry this burden alone. The sensation of her lips against his skin, her breath warm and steady, was an anchor in the storm, grounding him in the here and now, pulling him back from the abyss.

“I love you too,” he managed to whisper, his voice thick with emotion, his heart aching with both the pain of his loss and the overwhelming gratitude he felt for her. He turned his head slightly, just enough to press his own lips to her temple, a quiet gesture of thanks, of love, of everything he couldn’t find the words to express.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc @ironmaiden1313@blodwyn4u

[chiqelatasblog]

CHAPTER THREE : Second visit of the Death

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Chapter Two is here.

Pairing : Sub-Zero | Bi-Han x Reader

Summary : Adapting to life within the Lin Kuei clan, you notice significant differences between their ways and those of your own clan. The tension around Bi-Han’s demeanor persists, and you feel at a loss about how to approach him. Despite the challenges, you’re surprised by the Lin Kuei’s compassionate side. However, an ordinary tea takes an unexpected dark turn, and the consequences become dire.

Author’s Note : I use both Sektor’s and Cyrax’s appearances from the MK9 game. Frost is also here. All of them are human in this story.

Warning : Details about violence & poisoning

.

.

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Many years ago...

On a cold autumn night, when the last yellow leaves on the trees were falling to the ground and the scent of snow wafted through the air, you came face to face with death for the first time.

You were a little girl, just about to turn six. Though your imagination was vast, your feet were always firmly planted on the ground. As the only daughter of the clan’s grandmaster, you knew a different life awaited you compared to other children, and you had a responsibility to fulfill those expectations. It was your duty.

At the same time, you also understood that your father had never loved you like your other siblings. Yet, you didn’t realize there was a deeper hatred underneath, one that could turn your life upside down from that night on.

Could a father harbor such a significant grudge against his own child? It appeared that your father was nurturing something sinister.

Just before the assassin came to your room, although you didn't hear footsteps, your ability to control shadows made you aware of a visitor outside the door. It immediately put you on high alert, pulling you out of the sweet embrace of sleep.

You knew that no one would approach your room secretly and quietly like this at this time of night. One of your small hands gripped the hunting knife you always kept under the pillow.

Even though your younger brother had started basic martial training with the others, your father excluded you, insisting you didn't need it. Instead, you were taught etiquette, manual skills, and other noble womanly pursuits.

So, you didn’t know how to defend yourself, but you observed others training from afar. There was also a knife your mother had given you, tightly held between your fingers. She had always warned you never to let the knife stray far, and for the first time, you felt fortunate that you kept that promise.

A year ago, you were given a single room as you were deemed old enough and had to leave your parents. For the first time, your room seemed intimidating and vast to your eyes.

Finally, a decrepit human figure emerged from the shadows, and you held your breath. Your vision blurred with tears from panic, and your heart pounded with adrenaline, causing your lower jaw to tremble under the influence of the fear you felt. You had never experienced such fear in your short life – a pure fear that made your whole body tremble and made you want to sob.

Everything erupted in an instant. Things happened so fast that you didn't even get a chance to understand.

When the assassin deftly cut your exposed throat with a swift movement, your entire world came to a halt. Blood splattered around your chin like a red dye. The pain was so intense that you choked on the blood rushing to your mouth, and tears, previously restrained, quickly overflowed from your eyes.

The air became thick with the metallic scent of blood, and the room seemed to spin in a disorienting dance of shadows and crimson. Your fingers, trembling, clutched at the bedsheets, stained with the evidence of your struggle. The moonlight cast eerie reflections on the walls, mirroring the fading flicker of your consciousness.

Coughing and attempting to breathe, you struggled as your vision blurred. The pain was sharp, and your vision quickly darkened, fading into nothingness. It felt like someone was dimming the light of a lamp, and you believed the end had come. To die in your own bed, at the hands of an assassin—it was too cruel an end.

Amidst your closing eyes, you vaguely heard your mother's screams. Everything disappeared into a black, deep void, and the pain vanished, merging into the darkness as if it had never existed.

When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself staring at the familiar ceiling of your room. Standing still for a few minutes, you couldn't comprehend what was happening. Was the entire ordeal a horrific nightmare? When you attempted to straighten up in confusion, moving your neck even slightly brought such a sharp pain that tears instantly filled your eyes.

Frozen in fear of the pain returning, the sliding door of the room opened, and your mother and the clan doctor entered, expressing concern from every angle.

"(y/n)! Thank God you're awake!"

As your mother rushed inside and opened her arms, carefully embracing you, tears began to flow. Silent sobs shook your small frame as she stroked your hair and tried to comfort you with her sweet words. Hugging your mother more tightly, you sought refuge, as if trying to hide from the entire world in her embrace.

Since birth, the only place you felt safe was in your mother's arms. Only there could you express yourself authentically, unreservedly showing your feelings. Your mother was the only person in the entire clan who accepted you completely.

"Don't cry, my beautiful girl, it's all over now. Your father took care of the assassin, nothing like this will happen again. Don't worry at all."

After your mother placed a loving kiss on the top of your head, she stepped back and wiped the tears from your eyes. When you tried to speak, she silenced you by placing a gentle finger on your lips.

‘’No, you are forbidden to speak until your throat heals,” your mother declared.

Following her words, the doctor carefully explained what you should and shouldn’t do, framing it in a way that you could understand. Listening with fearful eyes, every swallow was a painful reminder of the wound in your throat. Could you speak again after such an injury? The possibility felt shrouded in uncertainty.

According to the doctor, you would start to regain the ability to speak in five or six months, but the pain persisted, as sharp as if the knife that cut your throat had never left. It was enough to extinguish hope, as fragile as a candle flame.

And that was exactly what happened.

As the days transformed slowly into weeks and the weeks into months, you learned to live with the pain—or perhaps "adapt" would be a more accurate term. Coming from a warrior clan where your father held the position of the grandmaster, you never wanted to overshadow his glory with your weakness.

Despite your young age and stature, you always tried your best. When the dosage of painkillers decreased over time and the pain intensified, that's when you began using your power for the first time.

The shadows became your allies—a refuge for the weakness, pain, tears, and the loneliness of not being around anyone except your mother. You learned to conceal all these emotions in the shadows.

For a long time, you were afraid to sleep alone in your room. However, explaining the situation to your father seemed more frightening, so you began hiding in the shadows created by moonlight in your room. You learned to console yourself from nightmares in which you woke up sobbing.

Feeling safe in the dark world felt strange at first. You had never liked the dark—your brothers would sometimes use shadows to scare you or tell scary stories, intensifying your fear. But this time, darkness began to feel like a friend rather than an arch-enemy.

When it all became too overwhelming, the darkness became your new cocoon where you felt safe. This bond with your power was established as the only way you could sleep at night. You didn't know exactly how to use it yet, or what it was capable of, but you became skilled at hiding yourself.

This newfound ability allowed you to rebuild the confidence you had lost over time. You still harbored fear of your father, your brothers, and anyone else bigger and taller than you, as well as sudden noises and movements. However, it brought comfort to know you had a place to hide from everyone.

A year later, a scar adorned your throat, a reminder of that fateful moment, but speaking remained an act you were afraid to perform. On the other hand, as promised by your mother, there was no further attempt on your life, and your father decided that you should train with your brothers.

Then, one morning, when you woke up late due to your nightmares, you discovered the truth. . Transporting through the shadows to move silently, you stumbled upon your instructors whispering quietly among themselves as they headed to the training ground.

It was none other than your own father who had attempted to kill you.

Today...

Thanks to Bi-Han's guidance, you easily found the kitchen.

You had been hungry for so long that nausea had set in, prompting you to seek out the kitchen to put an end to it. On this pretext, you also wanted to take the opportunity to explore comfortably while no one had started the day yet.

During your first night in your room, stress had gripped your body, preventing sleep. At some point, even though you couldn't decipher how it happened, your eyes closed. However, in that brief moment of sleep, you found no relief. Stress, anxiety, and all the negative factors from your mission led you straight to a memory you could never erase but tried to bury deep down.

You hadn't revisited the memories of your assassination for a long time, and you even thought you were getting past it. With no apparent reason to fear for your life – being successful in martial arts and trained to turn every disadvantage to your advantage – you believed you had control over your vulnerabilities. Yet, it seemed that under stress, your subconscious was still weak, dragging you back to times when you were incapable of self-protection.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to push the memories out of your mind. Upon finding the kitchen, you immersed yourself in breakfast preparation, only to be politely directed to the dining room by attendants responsible for the clan’s daily affairs.

As you looked at the chairs at the long table, hesitation crept in about where to sit. Bi-Han, as the grandmaster, should be seated at the head, and it would make sense for you to sit beside him as his wife. However, due to the tension between you, Bi-Han's presence felt dominating, even suffocating.

Moreover, you didn't want to risk sitting close to him after the insult he hurled about the bedroom issue the previous night. This time, you didn't want to be exposed in public simply because you sat next to him. Your pride had been wounded by his arrogant words and contempt for you from the very first day.

Therefore, you decided to secure yourself by opting to sit in one of the chairs in the middle. It wasn't long after you took your seat that Kuai Liang and Tomas, whom you recalled were Bi-Han's brothers, entered with another dark-skinned man. You remembered seeing him at the wedding ceremony but had no idea about his name.

All three of them seemed slightly surprised to see you but didn't hesitate to offer a small greeting with nods. You reciprocated with the same, along with a friendly smile and voice.

"Good morning."

Tomas, with his unusual gray hair that made his name easy to remember, was the first to respond to you.

"Good morning. I hope your first night here was comfortable."

When Kuai Liang jabbed Tomas hard with his elbow upon his words, Tomas realized the implication and raised his hands as if to say, ‘I am innocent,’ in a panic that contradicted the composure of a ninja. His cheeks turned slightly pink, and his grayish light blue eyes widened with embarrassment.

"That's not what I meant! Please forgive my rudeness," Tomas hastily clarified.

The sincerity of his reaction made an unexpected soft giggle escape your lips.

‘’That’s okay.’’

‘‘I know well what it means to get used to a foreign place. I just-‘’

“I think she understood what you meant, Tomas,” the dark-skinned man interjected. Seating himself opposite you, on the cross side, he continued, “My name is Sam, but I prefer you to say Cyrax.”

‘’Pleased to meet you,’’ you greeted politely, your gaze wandering over the three of them. ‘‘You know my name, but we haven't had the opportunity to meet formally. My name is (y/n). I will be in your care from now on.’’

‘’Glad to meet you,’’ Kuai Liang said. Sitting next to Cyrax, Tomas took the chair beside you. The seating arrangements caught your attention – Kuai Liang sat right next to the head chair, while Tomas left it empty instead of taking the same position and settled in next to you. You couldn't decipher if someone else was supposed to sit in the third seat instead of Tomas.

‘’You are my brother's wife; it would not be right for me to sit there anymore,’’ Tomas whispered, audible only to you. Your hands, resting on your lap, clenched into fists. Though sliding to one side was a simple action, you didn't want to do it, and you had good reasons. Fortunately, no one commented on this issue.

‘’I can imagine it's not easy, but this is your home now. We don't have to inherit the hostility of our ancestors. This marriage has given us an opportunity to prove this.’’

Kuai Liang looked at you with a sympathetic smile, showing that he noticed the tension. His face resembled Bi-Han's, but not entirely. Kuai Liang's expression had a warmth that could be described as calm and friendly. His dark brown eyes were sharp like Bi-Han's, yet they also held a gentle modesty. The impression at first glance was that he was not an arrogant person.

‘‘You are now a part of the Lin Kuei clan, so please feel comfortable and safe. No one can hurt you here. Our word is an oath.’’

His words calmed the chaos within you a little, but they weren't enough to dispel it entirely. Trusting was a difficult act for you, having learned through an extremely painful experience not to lean on your family. Therefore, you could only thank Kuai Liang for his words.

As breakfast was served, the atmosphere was cozy, the food surprisingly good. Even though you just met these men, there was a comfort in their company. They included you in their conversation, making you feel like you’ve always been part of their group. No one questioned or spoke harshly to you.

But it’s crucial to remember—they’re your enemies. Despite what Kuai Liang said, the real reason behind this marriage was to eliminate them. They’re seemed friendly, which shocked you. After the coldness you experienced from Bi-Han, this warm welcome was unexpected. It left you feeling a bit bewildered, struggling to believe in their friendliness. The breakfast, the conversations, all felt a bit surreal, and you couldn’t shake off the surprise, unsure of their true intentions.

As you were about to take a small sip of your steaming green tea, you caught Tomas's curious gaze watching you. According to a ninja, Tomas could betray himself easily with his expressions.

“Is there something on my face?’’ you asked. Tomas cleared his throat and averted his gaze from you.

‘’It just feels strange to see someone new at this table after so many years.’’

‘’May I hope that it is a good oddity?’’

‘’Yes, yes, of course.’’

‘’I think the part that makes it strange is that it is connected with your brother. Am I wrong?’’ you asked in a polite voice.

‘’We knew that our grandmaster was getting married soon; this was a topic that had been on the table for a long time. It surprised us all that it was with the Tengu clan,” Cyrax mentioned, crossing his muscular arms on his chest. “Obviously, we didn’t expect him to accept.”

“But this was definitely instrumental in something good,” Kuai Liang remarked. He should have been the mediator among them. You had only been with them for half an hour, but it was enough for you to understand that the man had a rather optimistic outlook. “My brother is not an easy person; he is deeply attached to his habits and clan. But I believe that time can change everything. Your marriage will be a new beginning for all of us, I feel that way.”

Your lips curled in a forced smile. Yes, there was no doubt that it would be a new beginning, but it would be instrumental in a much different cause than what Kuai Liang hoped. Grasping the porcelain cup with both hands, you looked at your image reflected in the tea.

Your eyes were determined, yet they also looked so hopeless. You had deep doubts and concerns about this task, unsure if you were strong enough to cope with it all alone. All these unknowns suffocated you, strengthening the vortex of chaos inside you.

While taking another sip of your tea, the sliding doors opened, and Bi-Han and another unknown person entered, someone you only saw out of the corner of your eye during the ceremony.

Bi-Han's eyes found you directly, and upon noticing the chair you had chosen, his brows furrowed noticeably. The atmosphere of the room instantly became heavy; there was nothing left of the cozy atmosphere just moments ago. The cold breeze emanating from Bi-Han caused you to shiver slightly despite the thick clothes you were wearing.

You were sure that he did this on purpose; it would be ridiculous to think that someone with the title of grandmaster couldn't control his powers. If he was trying to intimidate you, it was clear that he failed. However, you weren't going to take your chances either. Even if his observation of your powerlessness annoyed you, you were set on turning this situation to your advantage for the time being.

‘’You're late today.’’

‘’I was making an assessment with Sektor about the training of our newly arrived initiates,’’ said Bi-Han, responding to Kuai Liang. "They’re determined, and I am sure they will understand the order here in a short time and behave accordingly.’’

He didn't take his eyes off you when he said that. Implicitly, you understood that these words were directed at you. You continued to sip your tea quietly, ignoring his presence, as if you had never heard what he was saying.

‘’I don't think we are likely to encounter a problem as long as they are properly directed,’’ Sektor added. He, too, had sat next to Tomas, facing Cyrax. You could read on their faces that everyone was quietly questioning the idleness of the chair next to you.

‘‘How did you find the breakfast?’’

Everyone's attention turned when Bi-Han suddenly changed the subject and directed his question directly to you in a cold voice. Although you were suddenly uncomfortable with the attention being turned on you, you didn't show it. You lifted your chin slightly and looked directly into Bi-Han's eyes, who was watching you.

‘’Everything was quite delicious and carefully prepared; I can't find a word to say,’’ you continued with a kind smile and a sweet voice. "Of course, I wish my tea could stay a little warmer.’’ You said. Because of the cold breeze emitted by Bi-Han, everything that was steaming, especially the tea, lost its temperature in minutes.

Bi-Han's eyebrows furrowed a little more against your words. Now an obvious line had formed in the middle of his two eyebrows.

‘’Maybe you're not doing the right thing to keep warm.’’

"Forgive me for my words, but it is very difficult to understand what is right and what is not under these circumstances.’’

‘’Are they still talking about tea?’’ When Tomas asked Sektor his question in a whispering voice, Kuai Liang covered his face with one hand and sighed deeply.

Bi-Han's gaze was sharp enough to cut someone in half, and even though the danger signals he emitted made your entire body tremble, you maintained your posture. If Bi-Han expected respect for his boundaries, he needed to acknowledge that mutual respect was essential, understanding that you wouldn’t be compelled to obey as others in the clan did.

"Leave me alone with (y/n).’’

At his command, they got up without a word, and you caught Tomas's worried gaze as he quietly left the room. His expression made you a little nervous, but you also had no choice but to confront Bi-Han.

‘’What do you think you're doing?’’ he snarled. You maintained your innocent expression and calmness. You could tell from his demeanor that your attitude annoys him.

‘“I am drinking my tea,” you replied, lifting the cup delicately.

“Don’t play the fool with me. Do you think you can make a mockery of me in front of my clan?” Bi-Han’s voice dripped with irritation.

‘’No, of course not. I was just answering your questions.’’

Bi-Han's gaze darkened even more. While his jaw contracted angrily, the cold air he emitted started to cover the table with a thin layer of ice.

‘’When you are with the others, you will act like my wife, obey me, and keep quiet.’’

“Then I advise you not to ask me questions that you don’t want to hear answered, Grandmaster. Because I will not hesitate to answer you, do not doubt about that.’’

‘‘I'm warning you for the last time, (y/n). Do not try to confront me; the continuity of this alliance depends entirely on you. You better keep that in mind.’’

‘’I have no such intention.’’ Gripping the cup harder, you tried not to let go of your control and maintain your calm. ‘‘But remember that as long as your hostile attitude towards me continues, you will be reciprocated in the same way. If you want me to act like your wife in front of others, I have the right to be respected by you in the same way.’’

Bi-Han remained silent. As the chill in the room gradually dissipated, warmth returned, and you, too, breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension ease.

“From now on, you will sit on the chair next to me,” he declared in an authoritative tone that brooked no objections. “Our rooms are separate, but aside from that, you will stand in the position and place where you should stand as a wife.”

‘’All right. Do you have another desire?’’

"Finish your breakfast; Sektor will introduce you to the surroundings so that you don't get lost again.’’

‘‘That's very thoughtful of you, thank you.’’

Bi-Han's expression seemed to break for a moment, as if he was enjoying your answer; his lips curled with a ghostly smile. He leaned back without taking his gaze away from you.

‘��How do you like your room?’’

‘’Good.’’ You said it honestly. ‘’It is spacious and quite comfortable.’’

‘‘Then why did you have a nightmare?’’

‘’Wouldn't it be more strange if I didn't?’’ Leaving your cup on the table, you also sat back in the same way and crossed your arms on your chest. ‘‘My husband not only dragged me out of the room like a little child, he insulted me and closed the door in my face.’’

‘‘I told you not to call me that.’’ Bi-Han warned.

An eyebrow raised defiantly at him.

‘‘I'm just stating the truth; it didn't happen any differently from what I said last night.’’

‘‘I'm not the cause of your nightmare." Bi-Han's confident tone of voice caused you to be both surprised and angry. While he didn't want to be involved in his own business, his refusal to show the same sensitivity to you to the second time was getting on your nerves now.

‘’You're afraid.’’ Said Bi-Han. You answered him back instantly.

‘’I'm not afraid of you.’’

The edge of Bi-Han's lip formed into a faint smile.

‘’I didn't say you were afraid of me. You're a brave woman; I can't take credit for that.’’

Bi-Han slowly got up from where he was sitting, sat down on the chair next to you in one fluid move, and grabbed one of the legs of the chair you were sitting on, pulling it towards him so that you could stand in a way to see him.

Your body automatically tensed up against Bi-Han being so close all of a sudden. The cool air emanating from the cryomancer was not menacing this time; you could clearly smell its clean smell on the snow outside, and the gaze locked on it made you feel like you were once again nose to nose with a snow leopard.

So that's how the prey felt when the predator made eye contact with its prey. Aggressive and cornered... It was terrible to be the focus of staring eyes to catch the slightest vulnerability; if you didn't have the confidence and pride in your abilities, you would have already got up from the chair or pointed one of the knives at Bi-Han on the table.

‘’What scares you (y/n)?’’

Bi-Han's big hands, grasping the arms of the chair which you were sitting on, further triggered the feeling of being cornered.

‘’Am I under interrogation?’’ You asked, although your voice sounded calm, the underlying tense timbre was reflected in your voice.

‘‘It depends on how you want to evaluate this situation.’’

‘’It makes me feel quite interrogative. I thought you could ask your questions effectively without the need for them. I think I should add this behavior to the list, besides being rude.’’

‘’You think I’m rude?’’

‘He couldn't really have asked that.’ You thought. A grunt, uncharacteristic of a lady, escaped your lips.

‘’I can't say you're a very kind person. Look, Grandmaster, we all have our own demons. The fact that I come from a noble family does not change this fact. I'm not going to bother changing your thoughts about me, but I'm asking you, you can get the answers to your questions without being rude to me. Showing a little humanity won't take anything away from you.’’

Bi-Han's hands were covered with blue ice that momentarily turned white, freezing the arms of the chair he held. Recovering at an impressive speed, he retreated, regaining control over his powers. As he looked at you, a thin wisp of smoke rose from his lips, and he lowered his voice to a timbre audible only to you, as if he didn't want anyone else to hear.

"You're hard-headed."

"I have to be." You replied in the same quiet tone, causing Bi-Han to frown.

"Finish your breakfast," he said after a while. "Sektor is waiting for you."

***

In the few days spent in the Lin Kuei clan, you gradually acclimated to the surroundings and order. However, differences between their ways and those of your own clan began to stand out.

One notable distinction was the training of female assassins. While they were fewer in number compared to men, it intrigued you to see them actively participating. In your clan, women were confined to domestic roles, regarded solely for lineage continuation. They were kept behind closed doors, learning little beyond simple crafts.

Here, the situation differed. Female assassins received the same martial arts training as their male counterparts. One, in particular, caught your attention—Frost. With striking white hair and pale skin, she stood out. Possessing cryomancer powers like Bi-Han, she didn't seem to like you but maintained a respectful nod when passing by, acknowledging your status as the grandmaster's wife.

Another point of interest was the tight security within the Lin Kuei clan. Despite your discreet observations, there were no visible vulnerabilities. Watchtowers, constantly patrolling ninjas, high stone walls, and warriors trained under Bi-Han's supervision made it a formidable fortress.

Solidarity among the clan brothers was unwavering, leaving no room for discord. Conversations ceased when you approached, and you were consistently kept out of their discussions. Despite efforts to keep it secret, the fact that you shared separate rooms with Bi-Han became known. Although it bothered you, you managed to cope with it for a while.

This isolation felt unlike anything you'd experienced before. Even in your own clan, while the atmosphere wasn't vastly different, at least there was a familiar layout and recognizable faces.

Every night, your old memories resurfaced, and sleep became increasingly elusive. The weight of the mission seemed heavier than anticipated, causing nightmares to haunt you regularly.

"(Y/n)? Are you okay?"

Tomas's voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see him from where you were sitting.

‘’Oh, Tomas. I didn't hear you coming. Yes, I'm fine; I'm just lost in thought. Would you like to join me a little bit?’’

As you gestured to the empty cushion next to you, Tomas joined you with a small smile.

‘’I think I have time enough for a little company.’’

‘’That's great. How are the trainings going? I heard that some of the new members are under your responsibility.’’

"It's good, they're catching on quickly, but they still have a long way to go.’’

‘’I've had the opportunity to observe your training from time to time; you seem like a pretty good teacher. I'm sure they'll get the hang of it soon.’’

In response to your friendly compliment, Tomas's eyes sparkled with happiness, and his cheeks turned slightly pink. Among the brothers, Tomas was the easiest to decipher; you felt comfortable around him. Maybe it was because he was younger and more naive compared to others; there was a part of him that genuinely listened to what you were saying rather than analyzing you. That made it easier for you to get along with him.

‘’Thank you; it made me happy to hear all this. Have you gotten used to it here? I hope Bi-Han isn't causing you too much difficulty.’’

‘’I guess I'm getting used to it’.’ You said it in a low voice. After the conversation in the dining room a few days ago, Bi-Han's stern attitude hadn't changed, but you could notice that he was paying attention to the way he spoke a little. On the other hand, his gaze was still on you, analyzing you, his attitude was distant and cold. There has been no change in this regard.

When things were like this, you didn't know how to bound him to yourself; as your brother advised, it was the same as asking for the impossible.

‘‘I am glad to hear that. It seems difficult at first, but time somehow allows you to get used to it.’’

‘‘Tomas, I don't want you to misunderstand me, and please forgive me if I'm out of line. I heard something, you-‘’

Tomas stated, his typically expressive face now unreadable, sending a wave of unease through you.

“I’m sorry, I crossed the line,” you quickly apologized, sensing the sensitivity of the topic.

‘’No, no, no." Tomas shook his head from side to side and gave you a little smile that suppressed a lot of pain. ‘‘This incident happened many years ago. It's true that I'm not related to them by blood, but despite that, I wasn't raised any different from Bi-Han and Kuai Liang. Their family became my family too, they were always warm and understanding towards me. Time has allowed me to get used to both them and here. Of course, it wasn't as easy as I said.’’

‘’Considering where I come from, I don't know how good or convincing it will be for you to hear this from me, but I'm sorry for your loss.’’ You said with a bitter smile.

"Thank you, and you must stop thinking that way. You are not our enemy (y/n). Also, I always find it more correct to judge the person alone.’’

Your eyebrows are slightly furrowed as you try to understand what he is saying. As you pulled your knees to yourself, you gave Tomas a curious look.

‘‘How so?’’

‘’We can’t judge everyone the same way. Yes, it is true that you are part of the Tengu Clan, but you are a single individual. You have your own truths, wrongs, beliefs, and desires. At some point, you’re doing what your clan orders you to do, but that doesn’t mean you think the same as them. People are complex, (y/n). Life shapes us differently, and our experiences carve unique paths. Your actions might be guided by duty, but your thoughts and feelings are your own. That’s why I believe that everyone should be evaluated alone. This is the fair one for me.”

Tomas' words struck a chord in your heart that you never anticipated, a deep impact that sent unexpected ripples through your emotions. In an instant, tears welled up in your eyes, tracing a delicate path down your cheeks, catching you off guard. A surprised yet heartfelt smile played on your lips as the weight of Tomas's understanding resonated deeply within you.

Tomas, on the other hand, tried to calm you down, not knowing what to do with a horrified expression.

‘‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry.’’

’’No," another wet chuckle spilled from your lips. ‘’Your words touched me, that's all. I'm fine, honestly, I wasn't expecting to cry either.’’

You've never seen such an approach in your clan, and the olive branch Tomas extended made you feel good, as well as unfamiliar. You wanted to be angry with yourself for being so easily impressed, but you couldn't, your cheeks were flushed with shame that you were so hungry for a few kind words. You wiped the tears from your cheeks while your heart ached with a heat that you couldn't help.

Was it really as easy as Tomas said?

At that time, a woman came to you with a tea tray in her hand, and the moment she realized that you werecrying, she hurriedly left what she had on the coffee table in the middle and handed you the handkerchief she took out of her pocket.

‘‘Here, use this, please.’’

Taking the handkerchief, you wiped your tears quickly. When you saw that the concern in Tomas' gaze didn't subside a bit, you smiled and patted his arm.

‘’I'm really fine, Tomas, you have a good and pure heart. That’s very rare so protect it, okay?’’

‘’You're forgetting that I'm a ninja.’’ Tomas said, returning to his relaxed attitude just now.

‘’But I know that you are serving a good and honorable purpose. You're protecting Earthrealm on behalf of Lord Liu Kang, isn't that right?’’

When Tomas' cheeks turned pink once again and he signaled his approval, your smile widened. Just then, the woman cleared her throat, recapturing your attention. With a gentle smile, she poured tea into a cup and extended it to you, offering it for you to take.

“I made ginger tea for you. It’s good for the cold weather,” the woman said. Despite looking strong and young, her voice hinted at a bit of age. “It’ll soothe you and make you feel better. The ginger has healing properties, a little something to fight the chill and keep you warm.”

‘’Oh, thank you, that's very thoughtful of you.’’

You took the cup between your hands with the happiness of the unexpected gesture. The warmth instantly spread from your fingertips to your hand, warming you up against the cool air.

‘’Would you like me to bring a cup for you too?’’ She said, turning her question to Tomas.

‘’No need, I have to go back to training soon. Maybe later.’’

After the woman offered both of you a polite smile for the last time, she withdrew to leave the two of you alone again. As the pungent smell of ginger spread around, you brought it closer to your lips to take a sip from the cup.

At that time, you caught a glimpse of Bi-Han out of the corner of your eye; he was coming towards your place from the middle of the garden covered with white snow. Since the day you arrived, his gaze, which he has always kept locked on you, found you directly; you were starting to get used to this habit a little. And you responded to him, sipping ginger tea while watching him approach.

The taste burned your throat because the tea was brewed a little too much, but because the heat warmed you up, you ignored the bitter taste and continued to drink in small sips.

‘’Is it nice? I probably don't like ginger tea very much; it reminds me of when I was sick.’’

Tomas' words made you giggle.

‘’I'd say it's drinkable. Besides, a little warmth from ginger won’t hurt.”

“Well, as long as it’s not medicinal.” Tomas said with a grin. As you continued sipping your tea, Bi-Han’s shadow loomed over the two of you, casting a momentary hush. In the quiet pause, the weight of his presence filled the air, and you sensed his usual commanding aura.

‘’Is everything all right?’’ asked Tomas.

"Cyrax needs to go on a mission; you will take over the group he is training for a few days.’’

Tomas shrugged.

‘’Of course, that's all right. Did you come all the way here just to tell me that? You could tell me this at dinner.’’

Bi-Han opened his mouth to answer, which you unintentionally interrupted with your unexpected cough. The cough came out so hard that your throat hurt as if it had been torn out.

Unable to understand what was happening, you dropped the cup you were holding and began desperately rubbing your neck, as if you could take away the pain that was scorching your throat.

‘‘(y/n)?’’ Bi-Han kneeled down in front of you with frowning brows, carefully looking you up and down, trying to figure out what your problem was. When his dark brown eyes were turned to yours again, his gaze hardened as he caught the desperate expression on your face.

‘‘What's the matter?’’

‘’I don't know.’’ The panic in your voice was audible. When you started coughing again, your coughs turned into a crisis and prevented you from breathing. Tomas' anxious voice filled your ears.

‘’She's choking.’’

‘’Shit.’’

Bi-Han’s grip on your arms was vice-like as he swiftly maneuvered you onto your side, averting the risk of drowning in your own saliva. A tidal wave of excruciating pain surged through your body, each convulsive cough accompanied by a guttural groan that fought its way out despite your efforts. The world around you blurred into a nightmarish haze, and an overwhelming sense of panic and fear tightened its grip on your heart.

As the cough increased in intensity, your mouth filled with a metallic taste.

Blood.

‘’Tea! There is poison in the tea!’’

Tomas's voice echoed in your ears. The pain strengthened in waves, increasing its effect on you. It was different from the pain when your throat was cut, you felt like your internal organs were liquefying, and you almost lost consciousness because of this terrible pain.

Your whole body was almost on fire; you were so hot that you thought your skin was melting, and it hurt so much that you were ready to sacrifice everything to make it end.

When you were struggling to survive, you felt like you were touched by something cool. The pain had not disappeared, but the coldness that touched your skin had taken you away from the scorching fire, even a little.

You blinked your eyes a few times, trying to figure out what happened. As the power gradually left your body, you were rapidly weakening in your perceptions.

When you managed to pick out Bi-Han's face, you realized that you were on his lap. Your head was against his chest, and you must have coughed a few more times because the front of his clothes was stained with your blood. When you realized this, you muttered something like ‘‘I'm sorry’’ with your numb lips.

‘’Don't talk,’’ Bi-Han commanded with stern authority. ‘’Don't you dare close your eyes.’’

Writhing in his lap, each groan echoed the inferno within. Blood seeped from the corners of your lips, internal organs ablaze. A feeble utterance managed to escape, ‘‘It hurts.’’ You doubted how much longer you could endure. Keeping your eyelids open felt like an unbearable burden, as if tons of weight pressed upon them, leaving you only able to moan, cry, and squirm.

‘'I know.'’

‘I don't want to die,’ you thought. Facing death for the second time, you understood the feeling, yet you resisted, unprepared to depart. You fought against the engulfing darkness, a powerless struggle in the face of excruciating torment. How much longer could you endure? You didn’t know the answer.

Bi-Han shook you urgently, ‘’Keep your eyes open,’’ he growled. His movement made you moan for a long time like a wounded animal. Would this pain never end? Hot tears or blood? It flowed under the eyelids that you don't know when you closed them.

‘‘You're not going to die, do you hear me? You won't die.’’

Even though you heard Bi-Han's words, all you felt was the darkness engulfing you and the nothingness that came with it.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Hold on, reader-san! Everything will be…okay…I hope.🥲

P.S: I barely had time to edit this, if you notice any errors, please let me know!

P.S 2 : I also learned that Cyrax’s real name is Felix Sam Kaweeson and Sektor’s name is Li Hog Jing.

[souperbloom]

hey, i had an idea for a fic where reader is part of the band and is dating ashton. she originally wrote 'english love affair' and it gets chosen on the dice while on tour, and ash gets jealous about her performing it coz she wrote it about someone else so he gets moody - mostly angsty, but kinda smutty towards the end?

the face i made when i first read this, omg. friend, you are a GENUIS. YES.

enjoy, you little genius. <3

————————

my english love affair [A.I.]

🎲 boyfriend!ash x bandmate!reader

after rolling the dice and performing a song about a girl you used to see, Ashton gets jealous over the fact that he’s not the one you’re singing about.

a/n: the boys have nicknamed you ‘peanut’. no reason, just thought it was cute and have been dying to use it :3

CONTENT WARNINGS: angst, tension, angry Ash, ref. to past hookups, strong language, ref. to weed, teasing (sexually & literally).

WORDCOUNT: ~3.9k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"Thank you, London! Goodnight!"

You watch with wide eyes as your frontman, Luke, blows kisses into the arena, at fans that had been reaching out to the stage since the moment the curtain fell.

A rush of adrenaline washes over you, faced with yet another insanely energetic crowd that had poured nothing less than their hearts out to you.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," You mouth out to them, your hands clasped over your chest in pure adoration.

Above all the screaming, a thunderous drum rollout plays you off; the familiar, rhythmic tapping sounding off like sirens in your head.

It extends for a few minutes longer than normal, as your bandmates throw gifts into the crowd.

You can’t help but look behind you at the drum kit, something you always find yourself doing no matter when or why. For your lover is the one behind those tubs; the one providing you with one of the most wicked bow outs of the century.

Your eyes quickly find the flurry of sweaty curls and drumsticks, anticipating his cymbal crashes as you’d learned them like the back of your hand.

As he destroys the final beats, his eyes glance up to you; a frantic, rage-fueled expression adorning his face with the final cracks at his cymbals.

The crowd grows louder, catching your attention— you take your eyes off of him for a moment, as the rest of the boys start to huddle around you.

"You fuckin’ killed it tonight, Peanut." A broad hand grips your shoulder, Michael ducking down to whisper in your ear beyond your ear piece.

"You too, Mikey."

Another hand wraps your back, Luke coming up to your side to give you a gentle squeeze.

As moments pass by, you and the rest of your bandmates get in order for the final bow. With Michael on your right and Luke on your left, you lean forward to watch Calum join the line.

Your brows then furrow when you notice a certain somebody taking a few extra minutes to toss his drumsticks into the crowd.

"What’s up with him?" Luke leans into the side of your face, gesturing towards your boyfriend with his eyes.

All you could do is shrug, before plastering a smile on your face and speaking through your teeth.

"Who the fuck knows."

Ashton seemed off, to say the least. You weren’t quite sure where his head was at since the second Luke sent that damn dice into the crowd. But the most you could do in this moment was grin, filled with overwhelming happiness at the reception of this incredible crowd.

"He’s coming," Luke mumbles, before switching whatever monotone face he had on into a smile.

"Finally."

You watch as Ashton joins the line, trying to sneak a glance at him over Luke and Calum’s bodies.

But he doesn’t even look up. His lips were painted into a straight line as Calum bends down to initiate your bow out.

You thought to yourself, as your bodies bent down to face the floor:

Whatever the fuck’s gotten into him better have a damn good explanation.

After the final bow to close another sold out show, you and the rest of the boys had made your way offstage.

Being the only girl in the band had its perks— you got your very own dressing room 90% of the time, one decked out with all of your favorite fixings and beverages.

But the best perk of all, was that the afterparties always happened in the boys’ room.

"What a fuckin’ show!" Calum pumps his fist triumphantly, as he is the first to lead you all into the room. He jumps up, smacking the top of the doorframe with his palms and letting out a hoot.

The rest of you funnel in, filled to the brim with adrenaline and post-show excitement.

"God, I know— The energy… fuckin’ electric, man…" Michael still seems in awe of it all, with unkempt pink locks that had been disturbed by him tossing off snapback.

"I feel like I could run a goddamn mile," Luke blurts, jogging in place.

You and Ashton are the last two to enter the room, Ashton still having barely spoken a word to you, or anyone else, since in your fifteen minutes of being off stage.

"You guys want anything to drink?" Calum asks, while Michael and Luke make their way to the couch.

"I’ll take a coke," you shrug, trying to ignore the elephant in the room that just so happens to be your brooding boyfriend.

"Really, Peanut? After a show like that, you’re settling for a can of coke? How about we put some Jack in that bitch and call it even?" Michael looks at you with teasing eyes as you wait for Ashton to find his seat.

Post-show parties and conversations were a ritual for you as a band— each of you needing your own times in the spotlight to debrief, and let off steam.

These gatherings you shared were like a perfectly thought-out routine. Mike and Luke sit down on their couch, Cal grabs the refreshments, and you make your way to your assigned seat on Ashton’s lap. Sometimes, Ashton would roll up a spliff for the four of you to share, especially if the show was one like tonight’s.

But Ashton lingering on his phone in the doorframe was never part of this routine. You didn’t like it one bit.

Michael, Calum, and Luke begin to talk amongst themselves, leaving you standing and watching your beau with worried eyes. His knuckles were practically going white as he anxiously ticked, mindlessly clawing at the pocket of his dress pants.

A snapping sound grabs your attention from across the room.

"Hey, lovebirds— the fuck’s up with you guys?" Luke quizzes, his brow quirked as Calum hands him a can of spiked seltzer.

You shake your head, "Fuck if I know."

Your words make Ashton’s head snap up from his phone; sending a bothered glance in your direction. But you just ignore it. You didn’t want to risk ruining a perfect night over some trivial bullshit.

"Well? Gonna’ take a seat, Ash? That chair’s got you and Y/N’s names all over it."

You stifle a giggle at Michael’s reference to you and Ashton’s routine, your eyes bouncing back and forth between your pink haired friend and your unamused boyfriend.

"C’mon baby, sit down," you coo, walking over to the brown leather arm chair that has been deemed your throne, "Let off some steam."

Ashton lets out a huff, causing the general chatter of the room to grow quiet. The rest of you watch in solace as Ashton shoves his phone in pocket, and walks towards you.

He brushes past your shoulder coldly, before sitting down with a loud sigh.

"Dude. What’s going on with you?— Lighten the hell up."

Calum’s jab only earns a nasty look from Ashton, but you just remain still, standing above him while he leans back comfortably in his arm chair.

There’s an awkward silence surrounding you all, before Ashton’s fingers start rhythmically tapping on his thigh.

"Well? I’m sitting," he says dryly, the first words he’d spoken in a while, "Happy now?"

Luke and Michael toss each other a look, before Calum walks over to you with your drink.

"I’d be happier if you put a smile on that face," Calum says, leaning down to be parallel with Ashton’s steely expression. You try your hardest to remain stern, putting your poker face on lockdown.

As much as you hated to see your boyfriend so solemn and serious, you found it a bit amusing.

Ashton was one of the least serious people you had ever come across, which is one of the reasons why you worked so well as a couple.

He’d tell jokes, you’d laugh, then fire one right back at him. It was just one of those indescribable instances that made the two of you perfect for each other.

But seeing him so stone-cold, so inexpressible, you were sure it was some sort of joke.

You test your luck, shuffling between his legs and fluttering down into his lap. Usually, his hands would instantly grab ahold of your waist, before chatting up a storm. But instead of that, his hands completely dodged your body, folding them into his lap with his elbow resting on your thigh.

"Should I play music? Not gonna lie, I fuckin’ hate the vibes in this room right now…" Michael breaks the tense, ongoing silence.

"Oooh, can you play some Zeppelin?" Luke requests.

"Queue up some ‘Sabbath while you’re at it," says Calum.

As the other boys bicker about what songs to play, you’re left staring down at your lover. His blank expression had yet to dwindle, and you were certain that if you had stood in front of him, he’d be able to shoot daggers into your back with his stare alone.

"What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?" You ask the question quietly, ducking down into his ear. Your hand travels up to toy with the baby curls that sat at the nape of his neck, which he normally goes crazy for.

But even with you asking, he didn’t move a muscle.

"Okay," you shrug, helpless, "fine. Don’t say anything then."

A pinprick tugs at your heartstrings upon Ashton’s refusal to speak. But you try to push that worrisome feeling down with the rest of your intrusive thoughts, hoping to focus solely on having a good time.

Dazed and Confused by Led Zeppelin starts to roll through the speakers behind the ambiance of conversation, with Calum and Luke now aiming the discussion towards the show.

"Can we just talk about how Luke’s fly was down the entire time? Like, from curtain fall—"

"Fuck you mate," Luke defends, the heated little argument grabbing your attention, "I swear I pulled it up! Must’ve fallen down— ‘er something…"

"It’s true, I saw him do it," You interject, raising your drink in the air.

"Okay, but how did it manage to fall down by the second song of the set? That’s gotta be a record or something… is anybody keeping track?"

Michael practically spits out his drink at Calum’s observation.

"Oh, ha ha, veeery funny. Let’s all laugh at the amount of times Luke has gone out on stage with his fly down… I swear, it’s like Peanut is the only one who actually gives a shit about me." Luke leans back into the couch, looking down at his fly before taking a sip of his own drink.

"Speakin’ of Peanut… dude, what the actual fuck was that?!" Michael shoots up from his seat excitedly, his eyes going glossy at you.

"What was what?" you ask.

"English Love Affair? You haven’t performed it in a while. Not like the way you did tonight, at least. How’d it fuckin’ feel?"

"Singin’ about your mistress in her hometown must’ve been a real culture shock, huh." Calum mumbles.

You can’t help but laugh, "It wasn’t that extraordinary… But, I’ll admit, it’s a damn good song. I did write it for that reason—"

"Don’t be so humble, Y/N." Luke jokes.

As you and the rest of the band go back and forth, you notice Ashton’s leg out of the corner of your eye. It had started feverishly bobbing up and down, with him still not speaking a word throughout this entire conversation.

"The crowd was eating it up, too— you were like a fuckin’ machine out there."

Your cheeks flush pink at Michael’s compliment, "You don’t mean that."

"Oh, but I do. God, I can’t even describe it… When you sing that song it’s like you get possessed ‘er some shit."

Calum snorts, "Yeah, possessed by some good pussy."

That comment seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, for Ashton is suddenly shooting upward in his seat, sending you flying with him.

Your head whips to face him, his cheeks glowing red hot. He only utters four words, before guiding you off of his lap and standing up himself.

"I need a fuckin’ smoke."

The lot of you watch in shock as Ashton angrily barrels out of the room, slamming open the door and making it hit the wall with a loud crash. You all jump, before passing each other confused, worried glances.

"What— what the fuck was that?"

You let out an angry huff, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Luke only chuckles, before tossing his hands in the air.

"Well, Y/N— looks like it’s time for you to do your thing. Go tame that raging bull."

Your eyes land at least once on all of the boys, each of them giving you a ‘you probably should go out there and get him’ type of look.

"Why does it always have to be me?" You sigh, but Michael sucks his teeth.

"I think you already know the answer to that one, Peanut."

After the boys had shooed you out of the dressing room, you set off down the halls to look for Ashton. You checked every corner, every bathroom, every area with a chair to sit and ponder in; but the angry mess of a dirty blonde mullet and dress pants was nowhere to be found.

You contemplated giving up after circling the same hallway for a third time, your legs feeling like wet noodles as you trudged along the dimly lit corridors—

But you then felt your shoulders relax when you noticed a rock propping open the outside door.

"Ashton?" You call out, pushing the steel-clad door just enough for you to pop your head outside.

And sure enough, there he was.

"Ash," you say again, a bit louder this time, stepping over the rock timidly and snaking your way through the gap.

He was leaned against a lamppost that lit up the parking lot, with tense shoulders and his brow furrowed. He stared off into the abyss, taking a pull from his joint.

You felt as though you were walking on eggshells, trying your hardest not to go into panic mode and start screaming your own head off.

Or, apologizing profusely for something that you may or may not have done.

"Baby?" you try your hand at sweetly grabbing his attention, one last time.

"What?"

"Are you alright?"

"I’m fine."

He ashes his joint, before taking another pull, the veins in his neck practically popping through his skin. You take a step closer, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you sure?"

He blows out smoke through the side of his lips, "Yes."

"Don’t lie to me. You’ve been acting like such a brat all night," You warn him, finding the stern, coldness in your voice, similar to the one he’s been firing off at you and the guys since he stepped off stage.

There’s a brief moment of tension in the air, lingering lowly above your head. You hold your breath for a moment, before Ashton is tapping his joint with his eyes glued to his shoes.

He hadn’t looked up at you. At least, not yet.

"If you don’t want me acting like a brat, then don’t call me a fucking liar." He mumbles to the ground, an angry baritone rumbling through his voice.

"I didn’t call you a liar. I just said, don’t lie…" you drop your hands to your side, taking another step towards him.

"…Now tell me what’s wrong with you before I smack that joint right out of your fuckin’ hand."

Your threat brings Ashton to lock eyes with you. You’re finally able to get a good look at the angry crimson hue that surrounded him; with shaky pupils and a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"You really wanna know what’s wrong with me, Peanut?" He mocks the endearing nickname like poison rolling off of his tongue.

"Well, I—" You stutter, taken aback by his serious tone. He then chuckles dryly, lifting the joint and resting his hand on his chin.

"You really have no idea, do you?"

"Obviously not, asshole." You hated to sound so brash, but you were still residually upset by his ignorance.

He takes a moment to collect his thoughts. Only to say the stupidest thing you had ever heard in your life.

"You think I enjoyed watching you parade around onstage tonight— all smiley and giggly— singing about some girl you fucked one time? A time so memorable that you went off and wrote a goddamn rock ballad about?!"

Your eyes widen in dismay.

The rumors were true, you thought, Ashton had finally lost it.

"Oh my god— you’re joking… You’re joking, aren’t you?" Your face melts into pure, sadistic amusement. But Ashton’s face hadn’t faltered.

"Do I look like I’m joking?" He ask the question seriously.

"You cannot be serious, Ash. You’re telling me that you’ve been moping around all night because of a fucking song I wrote eight years ago?! Meanwhile you were the one who suggested putting it on the fuckin’ dice!"

He finally finishes his joint, flicking the roach to the ground and stomping it out with the toe of his boot.

"If I had known you’d perform it like she was actually there on that stage fucking you, I probably wouldn’t have suggested it at all."

A shaky chuckle flies past your lips. "God, you are such a baby! I cannot believe that you’d stomp around and make such a fuss over this! You’re really serious right now, Ash? Like, really?"

"As serious as a goddamn heart attack, Y/N."

The only emotion you could process at the moment was anger. You were completely baffled by his behavior, unable to muster up even a sentence that would aid in your argument.

"…What’s mine is mine, baby. It’s as simple as that. Can’t blame me for gettin’ a little jealous sometimes." His tone of voice had softened, significantly.

Knowing him well enough by now, after almost four years together, you had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to hold a grudge.

And, of course, you were right. As always.

"Ash, it’s been eight years. You’re gonna have to get over it eventually."

"Well— what if I don’t want to get over it?" He blurts, still stern.

Before you reply, you step even closer to him. Close enough to feel the sizzling hot anger radiating off of the both of your bodies and creating a spark between them.

You hated when he was angry. He hated when you were angry.

But something about that anger made your stomach twist in knots. In the best possible way.

You decided to test your luck. To push his buttons. Get under his skin, a bit.

"Then I’d say you’re being a brat. A whiny, fucking brat."

Ashton chuckles, rather dryly, before lifting himself from his slouched position resting on the lamppost. He towers over you, straightening his posture to show off his much larger frame.

"Takes one to know one, sweetheart."

You could sense the obvious switch in dynamic of this situation. Now clouded with sexual frustration, as opposed to just the regular kind of frustration.

You cross your arms over your chest, swallowing back the newly formed lump in your throat. "You don’t scare me, y’know."

All he does is shrug.

"Don’t think I need to scare ya’ to make you scream. Thought we’ve been over this."

That comment only riled you up more, but you tried to hide it beneath a playful glare, "Is that a threat, Ashton?"

"No no no, baby— not at all…"

He shakes his head, slight sarcasm falling over his tone before he’s snaking his arms around your waist, digging the tips of his fingers into your back.

"…It’s a fuckin’ promise."

The speed in which his lips found yours seemed almost impossible. From the way he had gone from blatantly ignoring your existence, to feeling you up like you were the last thing he’d ever touch.

"You’re mine. Y’know that, right?" He presses you against his torso, clasping his broad hands at the small of your back.

"Mmmmhmm," You sigh into his kiss, as he roughly sinks his teeth into your bottom lip.

He then takes one of your thighs in a handful, lifting it up to rest it gently on his hip.

In the midst of the commotion, you realize that you were still dressed completely in your stage clothes. Clad in an oversized, striped sweater that was stolen right from Michael’s closet, and a short black tennis skirt.

You were fully aware of just how short your skirt was. And to be totally honest with yourself, you loved wearing it.

You loved the way it floated around you as you danced, the way it complimented your platform boots and knee high socks…

But you also loved the absolute chokehold it had on your boyfriend.

You catch your breath as Ashton pulls away from your heated kiss; only for a moment. To admire you, as his hand slowly snakes its’ way up your skirt to grip your bare asscheek.

"This ass," he grunts, digging his fingers into your flesh, "is mine."

"Mhm." You nod again. Affirmative. Your bottom lip was still trapped between your teeth with helpless, puppy dog eyes.

"This face?" He removes his other hand from your back to cup your cheek, "This gorgeous gorgeous face? Is mine. All fuckin’ mine. Ya’ hear me?"

You nod at him, trying to ignore his hand creeping towards the hemline of your panties.

"Need ‘ya to use those words, beautiful. Like the ones you used to write your song, yeah?"

One thing about Ashton was that he never failed to piss you off— but he was also damn good at turning you on.

"…Wanna hear one last bit of your poetry before the only word you’re able to say is my fuckin’ name."

"Ash—" You go to speak, but your mouth clamps shut as he traces your inner thigh with his fingertips.

"Go ahead, Y/N, tell me. Tell me who’s really ‘all you ever think about.’"

His head dips down to your neck to leave a trail of wet kisses, all the way to the base of your collarbone. Your hand finds his hair, tugging at the roots gently with each gentle kiss.

"You. You’re all I ever think about… All I’ve ever wanted—"

Your breath hitches as his teeth bite into your skin, his hand finding its way back to the outside of your thigh to anchor your body against him.

"—All I’ve ever needed."

In a swift motion, Ashton is dropping your leg from his hip, bringing you to teeter on your shaky legs and look at him with desperate eyes.

His head pops up from your neck, pupils wavering and twinkling with lust.

And suddenly, your mind is clouded. All of the things you’ve ever needed in a person was right at your fingertips. Any syllable of a song lyric, any chorus of every single song you’ve ever written.

It was him.

"You wanna’ write songs about getting fucked ‘till you can’t speak, sweetheart?"

At this point, you were too needy to care about whatever words flew past your lips. "Yes, Ashton. Please—"

His eyes darken, a sultry smile climbing across his cheeks for the first time all night.

"Allow me to provide you with some inspiration, then."

In a second, he’s lifting you up by the back of your legs, tossing your body effortlessly over his shoulder. You let out a laugh, slapping his back, his arms, anything you could get your hands on.

"Hey! What the fuck—"

Your ass is fully exposed to the parking lot around you, as Ashton begins to walk. You couldn’t see much, but the most you knew was the direction of your shared tour bus.

He leans his head over to you, whispering a little something in your ear that sent chills down your spine.

"You wanna make music with me, baby? I’ll give you somethin’ to fuckin’ write about…"

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[muffinpink02]

Bronze Is Better Then Gold part 2

Warning - smutty bits, not smut, angst, fluff

Two hours had passed, and Ona was reading her book in bed, when her phone went off.

Lucy - Don’t think I forgot about our bet! Loser buys lunch, chips and curry sauce is needed for a seconds visit. 😏 xx 

Ona laughed out loud, dipping her head back in her pillow.

Ona - don’t worry I haven’t forgotten, it will be nice having my lunch bought for me 🤤

Lucy - I can’t wait xx 

Ona - me neither, you’re going down xx

Both girls had the exact same thought with Ona’s last text of the night.

Lucy imagined what it would be like to have her head dipping in between Ona’s legs. She wondered what she tasted like, what her moans sounded like. She wondered if she would teased her, would she beg for it. How her brown eyes would look down at her as she pleasured her to no end.

Ona also imagined Lucy’s head bopping up and down in between her legs. She wondered if she moaned when she was down there, or if she used her tongue to fuck. She could see Lucy’s green eyes looking up at her as she rode her face. She wondered if Lucy liked her hair being pulled, if she liked it be spoken to while she ate her out.

Both girls using that exact same thought of Lucy going down to ‘relax’ just a little bit more for the evening.

—————————

The next morning Ona quickly made her way to the coffee shop on the corner of her road, grabbing an oat milk latte for Lucy and a cappuccino for herself.

She got back with five minutes to spare but of course Lucy was already there. She got in the passenger seat, holding up the coffees.

“Good morning. I got you some coffee.” She handed it over to a very tired looking Lucy.

“I needed this so badly, I normally have my canister but I forgot it. Thank you. An actual life saver.”

Her smile was of pure joy, Ona couldn’t have seen a cuter smile.

“You’re welcome.”

“Your ready for today?” Lucy pulled off, taking a sip of the coffee, humming from the taste.

“Yes, I’m excited.”

“I’m glad one of us is.”

——————

Everyone was in there places. All the teams were ready and waiting for Lucy’s call.

Lucy loved and hated this part of the job. It was a complete adrenaline rush. Nothing compared to it. She had planned this for two months, she felt ready. Everything was in place. But no matter how much you planned it could go many ways.

She could get her guys, take them to police custody and have enough evidence to put them in prison. That was what everyone hoped for. Or she could get them and not have enough evidence and they end up back on the street.

Or it could go completely wrong and one of her colleagues or herself could get seriously hurt. That was the one that scared her the most. Sadly she had already been down that route before.

Lucy took a deep breath, she lifted the radio up to her lips.

“Have ram ready for entry. Fire arm officers be ready to enter property.”

She watched as her team moved closer to the property.

Jill then came in over the phone.

“Ready and waiting.”

“Team proceed.”

Over a couple streets away Ona was in the under cover car with Jordan, both waiting for any kind of signal. They could hear Lucy giving orders to the rest of the team.

The door was knocked down easily. Jill and her team entered the property.

They quickly entered each room on the bottom floor, finding nobody.

“Talk to me Scott.” Lucy said.

“Bottom floor is clear.”

Lucy bit her lip.

Jill and her team made their way upstairs. They entered each room, but still nothing. Until they got to the last room on the left, finding two men trying to hide in the wardrobe.

“Come out! Hands up! Get on the floor.”

The men got on the floor. An officer quickly handcuffing both of them.

“We have two males in the property.”

“Is it them Scott?”

Just as Lucy asked she noticed movement at the corner of her eye, she looked to her left. She saw two men turning a corner from the street. She knew who they were straight away. As soon as they saw the police they ran.

“Fuck!” Lucy shouted.

“Suspects on foot! I need all officers on foot, now!.”

Lucy ran towards the men, she could hear her team right behind her.

She watched as the men split up, the smaller man of the two jumped over a wall into a garden, the other heading down a street.

“Suspects have split, I need all officers heading south towards Elm Street, and North street.”

Ona and Jordan looked at each other, Jordan ready for Ona’s instructions.

Lucy didn’t stop running, she couldn’t see either of the men anymore but she didn’t give up. She jumped the wall same at the man did. She watched as he ran towards a field, losing sight of him instantly as he entered the forest.

“I need any nearby vehicles, I have a suspect in the forest.” Lucy spoke into the phone.

“I have vehicles heading towards that area now.” Alex came in over the radio.

Ona had studied the maps, she knew there was no other way to go when coming down North street you had to get to the other end to leave it.

They spotted Bigz, Ona knew it was him straight away. She had studied both of the brother’s faces when Lucy had gone through the history of their crimes. He was a at least ten houses down from them, he hadn’t spotted them.

He was a giant of a man, standing easily over 6ft. He was running at full force down the street, he was on Ona’s side of the car.

“Get down.” Ona whispered.

They both ducked in their seats, Ona had her hand on the door handle. She could hear his feet hitting the pavement hard, she waited for the perfect time.

Bang.

Ona opened the car door, slamming it right into Bigz, he flew off his feet. The man was on the floor rolling around, groaning. Ona jumped out, her gun in her hands aiming at him.

“Stay down, put your hands out. Don’t move.”

Jordan was up and ready handcuffing the man.

“I have suspect Bigz detained.” Ona spoke into the radio.

Lucy felt a sense of relief, it may not have been exactly what she wanted but she at least had one of her guys.

——————-

“Well done Battle. I heard you knocked the guy out.” Demi laughed.

“Ohh no, it wasn’t anything special, it was right place at the right time.” Ona said.

“No, come on, you’re being too modest.” Jill chuckled.

“No really guys. Jordan will agree.”

“Na, you was unreal. I didn’t even realise what you were doing. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

Ona rolled her eyes smiling. “Guys come on.”

“I wish I could have seen it.” Lucy smiled brightly.

All the girls hummed in agreement.

“Ahh it was so cool! I was fan girling all the way back to the office.” Jordan exclaimed.

Ona laughed. “She was fan girling. I thought I was going to have to sign an autograph for her.” She winked at Jordan in jest.

The kitchen erupted in a fit of laughs, Ona chuckled. She could feel those green eyes on her, she looked over at Lucy, who this time didn’t try and hide the fact that she was staring. She stared until Ona felt her skin prickle, making her look away.

————

It was three weeks in since Ona joined the team. She had settled in amazingly, the team were great, they were friendly and helpful. Her manager was supportive, and reasonable. But if she was to be honest the best part of her job was down to a certain brunette.

The girls had gotten significantly closer. It had become a habit where each day Lucy would pick Ona up in the morning and drop her home after work.

And the closer they got the more flirty they got.

So far, it was the only time they got to be alone, and every time they got in Lucy’s car the atmosphere became more sparked. The girls had an easy, flirtatious banter between them and being alone in the car only heightened the tension.

But that also peaked through at work. There was a natural pull between them, an invisible thread that made the girls gravitate towards each other. The want was getting more obvious, especially when Ona would see Lucy hot and sweaty on her lunch break when she had clearly been working out in the buildings gym.

Jordan and the others would constantly ask if anything was going on, but there wasn’t, they had only flirted. No kissing, no touching, they clearly wanted each other but nobody was making the first move.

——————-

“Ready Battle?” Lucy smiled as they entered the changing rooms.

“Yep. Ready to win.” Ona smiled mischievously.

“Ohh I can hear fighting talk.” Jordan laughed.

Today was the combat team training day. It was a requirement the team had to do once a month. It was to insure they had the skills and knew what to do if ever having hand to hand combat.

“Yeah. Ona thinks she can take me on.” Lucy laughed.

“I think she could.” Jordan said it like it wasn’t even a question.

Oma smiled to herself.

“No one on the team has been able to beat me. Why would Ona?” She smiled cheekily at Ona.

“So we’re betting?” Demi then joined in.

“We’ve got a bet on.” Ona smirked. “Loser buys lunch.”

“For everyone?” Jordan got excited.

“No.” Lucy said quickly.

“Oh? Is someone scared? You sound nervous to have to buy lunch for everyone.”

Ona laughed, with the other girls joining in.

But her laughing stopped when Lucy removed her shirt, she wasn’t ready for the  eye watering six pack that was underneath. Ona knew Lucy went gym, she knew Lucy was fit. But she had only ever seen the girl in shirts and trousers.

Lucy saw the change in Ona’s face, she saw where her brown eyes were looking. So in true Lucy style, she firmed her stomach as she removed the rest of her shirt, revealing her muscular arms.

Ona didn’t realise it but she was staring, she couldn’t help it, Lucy was something to stare at, her body was incredible. She could feel her body reacting to the site in form of her. It wasn’t until Lucy cleared her throat that Ona looked up, her green eyes looking at her playfully. Ona darted her eyes away quickly, finding a spot on the wall a lot more interesting.

But Lucy didn’t miss Ona’s physique either, the girl had her own six pack, her body was strong and petite, her milky skin looked edible. Lucy wondered what it would be like to run her tongue all over her skin. She felt her mouth began to salivate. She had to find her own spot on the wall to concentrate on.

The group walked out into the gym, ready for their training.

“Hiya you lot, I hope we’re ready for some combat today. Oh, hello, you’re new.” The Scottish women smiled at Ona.

The tall brunette woman looked over at Ona.

“Hi, I’m Ona.”

“Oh you’re Ona? I’ve heard about you, I heard about the guy you took down. Good on you. I’m Jen by the way.”

She smiled at Ona, making the shorter girl blush. Lucy couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

“Okay you know the drill, get in to pairs, we’ll go over the moves, then I want you to try and get your partner on the floor, have them down for a least ten seconds. Can I get a volunteer. Ona care to be my partner?”

“Sure.” Ona nodded and smiled.

Jen smiled at her a little bit too flirty for Lucy’s liking but she tried to ignore the jealousy.

“Okay, Ona. I’m the attacker, I’m going to come at you and I want you to stop me.”

Jen went through many different techniques and moves with Ona, too many times Lucy noticed Jen’s hands lingering on the girl longer than needed. But she may have just been a bit jealous.

Jordan nudged Lucy, smirking. “I think someone else likes your girl.”

Lucy rolled her eyes.

“Okay, try that with your partners. Gentle at first but then I want to see you go for it. To a degree obviously. I’ll come round and watch you. A clap for my amazing assistant.”

The group clapped and whooped.

Jen helped Ona up. “Thank you Ona, you were great.” She winked at the younger girl.

Everyone pared up, Ona and Lucy made a bee line for each other.

“Right, you ready?”

“Bring it.” Ona smiled.

The girls were gentle with each other at first, like most of the other pairs, going over the moves. By the last move Lucy had Ona on her back.

She smirked as she helped the girl up.

“Thats one to me.”

“For now.”

Ona got Lucy on the floor next, with a quick move to the ankle, Lucy was more than shocked when her back hit the floor. Ona got her down three more times, on her back and her front with quick moves. So far Lucy has only gotten Ona down twice.

“Nice Ona. No one can ever beat this one. You losing your game Bronze?” Jen chuckled.

Lucy forced out a laugh. Wiping her sweaty brow.

Ona smirked at Lucy, she could tell she was getting to her. This time Lucy did have her, but only for five seconds, Ona wrapped her legs around her waist and held her head, not tightly but enough for Lucy to let go.

The girls were panting, neither would admit it but both girls were getting worked up, and not in a fighting sense but more of a sexual working up.

Both maybe even a little wet.

You couldn’t blame them, this was the closest they had been physically in real life, and not just their day dreams.

Lucy grabbed Ona from behind, pushing out her legs getting her to her knees, she easily got her on her front with her knee in her back, not enough to hurt but enough for Ona to forth it.

“Okay guys, I want you to do the last move. Someone on their back.” Jenny shouted out.

“I can go on my back.” Ona breathed out.

Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to be mature enough to speak.

Ona laid on her back, waiting for Lucy to straddle her.

The brunette looked down at the smaller girl, her chest rising hard, she couldn’t help but feel heat travel in between her legs.

She slowly sat softly on Ona’s stomach, she could feel her own cheeks going red, thankfully she could blame it on the training. She looked down at Ona, her brown eyes were looking up at her, a shy smile was on her face, she clearly could feel her own heat travelling south between her legs.

“And start.” Jen shouted.

Ona didn’t even have a chance to move before Lucy grabbed her arms and lifted them above her head, pinging the girl down. This is where Lucy had the advantage, she was bigger than the girl and technically she was stronger.

Ona grunted as she tried to flip, thrusting her hips up and down, causing Lucy to bounce on her. But Lucy’s thighs held her down hard. She gritted her teeth, and tried again but she couldn’t move the older brunette.

Lucy was definitely blushing now, she knew she shouldn’t but the movements Ona was doing was making it hard to concentrate. She watched as the girl closed her eyes, trying to think.

The Spaniard opened her eyes to see Lucy staring down at her, her pupils nearly took over the green in her eyes. She smirked down at Ona.

“Can’t move can ya?”

Ona chuckled, Lucy felt her stomach knot up, having Ona beneath her, laughing up at her, a panting mess, thrusting up into her own heat was a moment she’d never forget.

Ona could see the way Lucy was looking at her, she had looked at Lucy like that many times before, so she decided to go about it another way.

She bit her lip, innocently looking up at Lucy, she groaned a little differently to how she did before, the grunt slipped into a small moan from deep within her throat. She breathed a little harder, making her chest rise. She thrusted her hips with more pressure and precision.

Lucy’s face was a picture. Ona could feel Lucy had loosened her own thighs.

“Creo que estás disfrutando esto demasiado.” (I think you’re enjoying this a little too much.) Ona whispered

“No es una mala vista.” (It’s not a bad site.) Lucy whispered back.

Ona used that opportunity to buck Lucy hard, finally pulling her wrists free. She grabbed Lucy with her own thigh and swapped their positions.

Once again Lucy was last for words, for more reasons than one.

Ona did what Lucy did to her, she grabbed her wrists, pinging them above her head, but she quickly dipped her head next to Lucy’s. She whispered.

“You’re too easy.” She smiled smugly down at Lucy.

Lucy could feel her nipples perk, even though she was hot and sweaty a shiver went down her spine just from Ona’s words.

She tried to bounce the girl off, but it only made it worse, she watched as Ona bit her lip, tightening her hold on her wrists. She could feel herself getting wet, her body was melting underneath the younger girl.

“And time. Let’s finish it off there.”

Ona let go of Lucy’s wrists, she saw she left marks on her wrist, instantly feeling bad.

“Oh Lucy, I’m sorry did I hurt you?”

“What? Oh, no not at all, maybe my pride but no.” Lucy chuckled.

Ona laughed, she reluctantly got off of Lucy, helping the brunette to her feet.

“Okay guys, well done. That’s it for today. I’ll see you again next month.” The room clapped and thanked Jen, slowly making their way back to the changing room.

“Hey Ona, can I have a word?”

“Oh, sure. What’s up?”

Lucy felt her jealousy creeping back up, she carried on walking trying once again ignore it.

***********

It was the end of the day, Lucy finished up writing up some documents, while Ona looked into more on the current case they were working on.

“Done! You ready to head off?”

Oma smiled brightly up at Lucy.

“Sii, I’m ready.”

They were waiting at traffic lights when Lucy couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“So what did Jen want?”

“Hmm?”

“Jen, she wanted to speak to you after the training.”

“Oh, she asked if I had done any kickboxing before. She runs a class and wanted to know if I’d ever like to join.”

“Ohh. Yeah, I think you impressed her.” Lucy smiled softly at Ona.

“Yeah, she also asked if I was ever free for a drink, she’d like to take me.” Ona tried to say it as casual as she could.

Lucy felt her stomach drop. But of course she wasn’t going to let it show.

“Ohh yeah? Will you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve kind of got my eye on someone else.”

Lucy had a feeling she knew who she meant, but didn’t press for anymore.

——————-

Ona looked at the Halloween decorations hung up around the office, it was nearly the end of October. It had nearly been a month that Ona had joined her new team.

She was in the kitchen making herself and Lucy a tea, making sure to let the tea bag sit.

“Alright Ona? Do you wanna sign the birthday card?” Jess Carter smiled brightly at her.

“Oh sure, who’s it for?”

“Lucy.”

“Bronze?”

“The one and only.”

“Is it today?”

“No, tomorrow. Getting it signed so it’s ready.”

“Oh, okay.”

Ona was surprised that Lucy hadn’t mentioned anything, but then she also wasn’t. The girl didn’t like much fuss over her.

She signed the card and gave it to Jess.

“Thanks Ona.”

Ona didn’t mention that she knew about her birthday instead she thought she’d surprise the girl.

————-

Lucy pulled up outside Ona’s house, the shorter girl was there as usual, with a beautiful smile on her face and two coffees in her hands.

“Morning.” Lucy smiled.

“Good morning birthday girl!” Ona handed over her coffee.

Lucy was shocked, how did Ona know? One of the girls must have mentioned it.

“Ahh thank you.”

“I got you something.”

“What? No! You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” Ona smiled.

Lucy shook her head smiling.

“Well I made you something. As I didn’t have time to buy anything because I only found out yesterday.” Ona made a point to look at her with an annoyed face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mention it. I don’t like celebrating my birthdays.”

Ona looked at her with wondering eyes, like she was trying to work something out in her head. She did that often with Lucy, her brown eyes could look right through you, like she could see what you were thinking.

“Well, I want to change that because you should celebrate your life. Anyways here.”

She handed over a container box, Lucy could smell it straight away. Her mouth watered. She opened it up to see freshly cooked, freshly glazed, cinnamon rolls Lucy’s all time favourite.

“Oh my god, these look unreal. Did you make them?”

“Yeah.” Ona smiled proudly.

“Ona, thank you so much.”

“It’s okay. I know you mentioned they were your favourite.”

“You remembered?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Lucy wanted to slide over and kiss the girl, she’d gone out of her way just to make her day special, and she hadn’t even told her. She suddenly felt silly for not telling her.

“Can I have one now?”

“Of course, they are yours! Eat.”

“You have one too.” Lucy passed over the box after taking her own.

“Thank you.” Ona smiled.

Lucy couldn’t help the moan she let out when she sunk her teeth into the sugary treat.

Ona had to try and pretend it didn’t affect her.

“Oh my god. These are the best cinnamon rolls I’ve ever had.“

Ona giggled, sucking her thumb from frosting.

“I’m glad you like them.”

A comfortable silence fell over them, while the radio played and they finished their treats.

“That was amazing! Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Oh you’ve got some cream on your….here let me.”

Ona reached over, wiping the glazing off of Lucy’s chin. The older brunette watched as Ona kept her eyes on her lips, she then sucked the frosting of her thumb as she looked up at Lucy with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Lucy felt her face heat up, her mouth stayed open as she watched Ona sitting innocently in her seat.

“Gone.” She smiled.

The strength it took for Lucy to not grab Ona buy her jacket and throw her in the back seat of the car and have her way with her was incredibly difficult.

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

“Happy birthday dear Lucy, happy birthday to you!” The office started to cheer and clap as Lucy blew out her candles on her cake.

She cut the chocolate cake up for everyone in the office.

“Where we going this weekend then?” Jordan asked with a mouthful of cake.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Oh come on. Why not? It’s your birthday grumpy arse, we’re going out.” Jordan pointed her fork at Lucy.

“Yeah Bronze, it’s only your birthday once a year. Stop being boring. I’m sure Ona wants to have a night out with us, don’t ya Ona.” Jill nodded towards Ona.

���Yeah, I agree. Stop being boring.” Ona smirked at Lucy.

“Great that settles it. I’ll book that karaoke place you like.” Jordan was already on her phone booking a table.

“I’ll put it in the group chat to see who else wants to come.” Demi took out her phone.

👮 🚓 👮 group chat 

Demi - we’re out for Lucy’s birthday tomorrow, going pub, karaoke then bar let me know if you’re coming

Jess C - yes!! 🙌🏼

Alex G - can’t wait, will be there x 💃🏻

Millie B - I’ll be there x

Lauren J - yesss 🐐

Lauren H - yay! Do I have to sing?

Rachel - might have to miss pub but will be there for the rest 🪩

Esme - yes!! I know my song already 🎤 x

Mary - whooop! Yess what time? X

Demi - 8pm at the kings head, 9 for karaoke then we can head to the pink lady

Beth - you’ll see me there! X

Lucy - I guess I’ll be there 🤨

Jordan - you can come if you like

Jill - does she have to?

Ona laughed at the groups dynamics, over the last month she had got to know some of the girls, she couldn’t wait to have a night out with them.

**********

It was the end of the day and as usual Ona and Lucy walked to the older girls car. Just as they sat down Lucy’s phone started to ring, her mums name coming up in with a FaceTime.

“Ergh sorry, let me just grab this quickly.” Lucy picked up her phone .

“No worries.” Ona went on her own phone.

An older ladies voice came through loudly through the speaker.

“Happy birthday!! I won’t sing, I know you don’t like that. How’s your day been? Those cinnamon rolls looked gorgeous! I can’t believe your friend Ona made that for you. That’s so lovely of her! Don’t eat them all at once, you’ll be sick. You look a bit thin Lucy, you eating enough?”

Lucy closed her eyes, she loved her mum but sometimes she could talk for Britain.

Ona couldn’t hold the smile that plastered her face. The fact that Lucy sent a picture of the rolls to her mum melted her heart. She thought about Lucy taking a picture and thinking to send that to her mum, it made Ona’s instantly smile.

Lucy saw her smiling, she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her own face

“What’s that? Why you smiling? Is someone there? Who you smiling at?”

“Ona’s in the car with me now. She can hear you questioning me like a Detective.”

“Ohh hola Ona! Those buns were beautiful! If I ever come down I’ll have to have you make me some.” Lucy’s mum laughed.

Lucy mouthed ‘sorry’ to Ona. But her mum of course so her.

“Oi don’t be rude missy, let me say hello to Ona. Turn the phone around.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, she turned it just enough for her mum, Ona leaned in close to Lucy so she could say hello.

She saw a woman that looked just like Lucy, she could actually see what Lucy would look like in years to come. Her bright smile was the spitting image.

“Hello Ona, oh you are a pretty thing. You weren’t lying was you said she was pretty Lu- what? No, I’m on the phone!”

Lucy contemplated on just dashing her phone out the window from pure embarrassment. Her mum had just let it slip that she had maybe mentioned Ona before and even the fact that she said she was pretty. She wanted to simply run away.

“It’s under the stairs. Your dad says happy birthday. Are you two going for a meal for your birthday?” Lucy’s mum smiled down the camera.

A second of silence fell over the girls as if one wanted to see what the other would say.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Ona looked over at Lucy with her big brown eyes. For the first time Lucy was glad her mum opened her mouth, she may have just  made her day even better.

“Yeah?” Lucy said.

“Alright I’ll let you two sort that out. I’m glad you’ve had a good day Lucy. Was lovely to finally meet Ona, Lucy doesn’t stop talking about you. Lovely to put a pretty face to a pretty name.”

Lucy’s face was definitely red now.

“Ahh thank you, it was lovely to meet you too.” Ona smiled at the camera.

“Okay, bye mum, thank you for calling.”

“Bye Lucy, I’ll call you soon.”

Lucy hung up the phone, looking over at On.

“So where do you wanna eat?” Ona smiled playfully at Lucy

[blanchetteminxia]

𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨 ᶠᵉᵃᵗ ʳⁱⁿ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴇ.

ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴘʀᴏ ʀɪɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1ᴋ

Rin still remembers the adrenaline rush that filled his senses that day- the focus he directed into every step he made. It was as if he was treading down an outrageously thin line that could break at any given moment.

Maybe he was exaggerating.

Nevertheless, whether or not he was being dramatic; all of that didn’t matter.

Not when you’re sitting in front of him, roughly 3 feet away with the full moon shining behind you. Looking your best.

But that meant anything. After all, you’ve always looked your best every second of every single day he lays his eyes on you.

His eyes were fixated on your face, his facial expression remained still- he knew he was spacing out but he knows he can’t help but ignore the rest of the world when he’s with you.

In truth, there was absolutely no need to be nervous at all, he was fairly sure you would say yes. Those days where you would promise each other the world whilst laying on his couch after an exhausting movie night were full undeniable proof that you loved him. And he knew that

So why on earth is he near trembling as he's tracing the outline of the box in his pocket, he will never know.

From the moment he asked if he could take you to a date, you knew something was up.

He was particularly jittery and quite awkward, but you paid no mind to it- after all, it could just be stress from all that work he’s been doing

However deep inside, there is a strong gut instinct within you that wants to hope that he’s finally doing it.

It’s not strange for you to hope things would turn out this way. You have been dating since you were 17.

Which means you’ve been dating for 9 and a half years.

And yet, still no ring on your finger.

Your friends and relatives constantly tease you about it, it’s no doubt the both of you are still very young and have much more left of life to explore, but you can’t help but feel scared of how fragile such a flimsy relationship is.

You are almost a 100% sure you don’t doubt what you and him have….but still.

It’s not that you’re rushing him, well actually you don’t know why you want to get engaged so much.

Maybe it’s because you need some form of reassurance that he wants to be with you.

Maybe you’re scared that he doesn’t want to spend the forever he promised you.

Either way, you are here now, sitting in the balcony of this newly opened high-class restaurant- the moon is full and the stars sparkle in his eyes with pure perfection.

Even the stars and the moon fail to shine in his presence.

Dessert is served, and you quickly reach out to the tiramisu cheesecake- only to be stopped by the man in front of you. His hold on your arm is tight and stern, and you cant help but pause and give him a confused expression.

“Rin?..”

“Before anything else… can you please.. listen for a bit?...”

Its happening

He leaves his seat to kneel on the floor- his face ever so sincere, and his eyes sparkle more than ever.

Its happening

He pulls out the small navy velvet box that has been settling uncomfortably in his pocket, and opens it in front of you. Eyes never drifting away from your gaze.

“Love, from the moment I laid my eyes on you I knew I wanted nothing else but to be with you. You have been the sole muse- the main character of my own life. I don’t know I even deserve to be here, kneeling before you- asking you to promise me your world, but I simply cannot live a life knowing you wont be there to greet me the moment I wake up every single morning. So please-“

His tone slightly breaks, as his gaze softens.

There are a million thoughts going on inside his head, each and every one of them centers you- only you

His heart race and he can feel his palms quaking more and more with each passing second.

He knew he was never the type to be nervous, but how could he not be nervous when your future and the rest of your forevers rely on this one singular moment.

It baffles him how a single yes or no could determine the flow of the next 25, heck even the next 50 years of his life.

He parts his lips and takes a breath before proceeding.

“Please, would you be there with me through all the seconds of all the days left in our forevers?”

Your breath hitches- it takes everything in you not to bawl out crying and straight up throw yourself into him.

And everything in you betrays you as you did exactly that.

Okay it was an exaggeration- you didn’t exactly bawl out, but you still cried.

Your arms fall straight into shoulders as you drop all you weight into him, his eyes widened as he immediately catches you with one hand, as the other stabilizes the ring he is holding.

You swarm him with the tightest hug you can give. The moment lift your head to look up to him and stare at his face, his expression goes from a shocked one, to one that looks like he was about to cry. A small smile creeps into his face as you fail to resist the urge to crash your lips into his- not minding where you are right now.

He departs his lips from yours and reaches out to the discarded box the he placed on the floor.

“So, is that a yes or a no”

“Just put the ring on”

He chuckles as he slides the ring perfectly on your ring finger. Again, his eyes never leaving you.

You start kissing him again and you could’ve sworn you heard wedding bells at that moment.

[dreamwritersworld]

All too well. Part 2. (Miles Morales x reader)

Im so sorry for posting this late, I’ve just been extremely busy! I hope your all doing well! Please tell me you understand the references this is so Taylor swift coded! 😭💓

I allowed my body to slip into the portal and i allowed myself to slip from the buildings, the ending of it all felt like pure bliss…a new world.

Then I followed the webs that I saw slinging around quickly and excitement grew when I saw other Spider-Man’s. Yes, when seeing Gwen and Miles it hurt but the i ignored it because all I realized was that there was a community full of people just like me…so I listened to introductions and spoke.

“I’m Y/n!”

Bewilderment was written all over Miles and Gwen once I came forward and introduced myself

“What?! Y/n? Wha-what are you doing here?”

Slight panic and frustration was visible in his voice.

“I saw the portal and I walked in, anyone could’ve. You’ve guys got to be safe-“

Our conversation was interrupted, having to jump into fighting once again, falling into our hectic intoxicating lives.

The entire time after I wanted nothing more but to cry, I wanted to go back home..something felt so wrong. Within that walk I couldn’t help but feel sick to my stomach, it felt like in a simple moment I’d lose it all. Everything felt so loud my mind felt like it was closing in and suddenly it stopped when I felt him near me.

“Y/n you shouldn’t have came, this isn’t for you.”

Hearing miles say those words after everything I’ve done for him infuriated me. Why is this side of spiderman activities for him ok but not fine for me. I had no words so I just scuffed.

“I’m serious Y/n. You can’t ignore me.”

I should’ve embarrassed him, really, I should’ve…but I just couldn’t. So I settled on speaking back what I wanted so dearly to say.

“You do not get to say that. I’ve dealt with this as long as you and I’ve fought lots if not more than you. Since you were too busy with gwe-“

“Shut-, just shh.”

The walked away immediately and i showed him frustration and shame it was all from witnessing the boy I loved dismiss me once again. There was a clear castle of people he pretended to care about and I was at the top of his podium. Our once lovely relationship was a beautiful tragic love affair.

Distance.

Timing.

Breakdown.

Fighting.

Silence.

Hobie and Gwen could see it all no matter how silent the pair thought they were. All of those emotions made everyone sink into a infuriated fusion.

Meeting Miguel and seeing how he acted towards miles made me uncomfortable. Any version of miles getting saddened would cause me discomfort, he would always be the first boy I loved and I couldn’t help but always feel guilty.

Miguel’s had spoke aggressively to him clearly frustrated about the timeline, I was silent enough to not make a peep or even blink an eye..yet he still noticed me.

“What-what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be back home. This is changing everything now. I can’t believe you two! Seriously…”

He kept on going, screaming angrily and his voice became disoriented once I began panicking internally. I had handled being spider women well, but something about this trip nauseated my entire system. I brought myself back once I heard Miles talk about our canon events.

“My parents are going to die? And you expect me to what? Be ok with that?”

Rio was would be my canon event. Jeff would be miles.

Regardless of all the pain and hurt I felt I’d stick beside Miles because Rio and Jeff raised me from a far, they meant the world.

“We need to save them. Are you crazy?-“

Miguel immediately cut me off trapping miles and I, while everyone surrounded us.

“N-No you can’t do this! Please! You have to help us!”

I was furious and adrenaline rushed through my body i placed my hand on the wall surrounding us, the same time Miles placed his… and we escaped.

The entire time my heart pumped never once getting tired of running away from thousands of Spider-Man’s, my determination kept me aligned.

“…nah imma make my own story.”

I took another leap through a portal following panicking Miles. To be fair, he never exactly handled the role spiderman too well. With all the pressure and expectations he always leaned towards me until he had Gwen..in every story of ours I guided him.

His breathing was frantic and he struggled to find the words to express himself.

“Miles..”

His mind was scrambling everywhere and all he could do was look at her eyes and mouth moving speaking calming words. Y/n couldn’t see it but Miles saw her as the archer. She could be in fights but she was always far enough so she wasn’t the one to get hurt at first. It was the only reason Y/n remained level headed fighting against bad guys…going against him. She never let him see her break down the way she did that day.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m so so-sorry”

His statement truly took Y/n by surprise as tears fell from his eyes and his panicked breathing tried slowing down..she allowed him to finish.

“If this is our last chance being together, if anything goes wrong saving them..I’m sorry for being so mean to you. You’re too sweet for me to lie. You always deserved more.”

Those familiar words sounded warm coming from him. Rio had only spoken them a day prior when she was heartbroken…

“We’ll make it out. We just need to save them and get back to our normal lives, no kiddy stuff anymore.”

As soon as she helped him get up and she turned away tears fell down from y/n’s face like ricochet’s. This was the final moment she was hanging up her childhood, maybe they had ruined they’re timeline..but it’ll all be fixed eventually, they just needed to grow up…

Tag list: @justleila @tati-the-fangirl @kxllanxtdoor @abbersreads @abislays123 @not-aya @usernamepasswordsstuff @moralesluvrr @inluvwithneteyam @twinklethoughts klenotastar @ilystarz @vodoo-heart @papichulo120627 @mashiromochi @frogsandmoss @laylasbunbunny @bigdikzaddy @catynss @venusluvslove @sxributr @anikaluv @yukinaabutlazy @hxidyg @szde8-blog @avatar4life @sgmianne @melaaaara @key-zee @isabelcor3

[kay-wren]

I'll Come Running - R.C. - Chapter 54

Barry, Rafe, and Jessie pulled up back to Taneyhill right before they lost all daylight. Rafe had his gun securely against Barry's head in the backseat while his wife drove. No words were said the whole way there, yet Rafe and Jessie understood the assignment. Oddly enough, high tension situations were always where they thrived, both somehow always coming together. They got out of the truck and Jessie was suddenly grateful she had her leather jacket on, as she felt a sudden chill across her face from the night air.

Jessie walked closely behind the two men, making sure to kick the 'For Sale' sign right out of the ground. Once they made it to the front door, Jessie unlocked it. She didn't dare to turn on any lights, she knew Barry didn't need any crystal clear views of the house in case he tried to escape.

"You not even gonna give me a tour?" Barry sassed with a slight laugh. He flinched at how quickly Jessie turned her back around to face him, now uncomfortably close to his face. He could see her features illuminated by the moonlight, being sure to drink in her angry eyes and gritted teeth.

"The only reason you're not knocked out cold is because we don't want to carry you. But if you say one more word I won't hesitate to lay your ass out. Got it?"

Barry didn't have a response, at least not one with words. But his smirk was clearly visible. Jessie was disgusted. She rolled her eyes and scoffed as she continued walking to what would be the basement. The dark room was exactly how one would expect. It was the room Ward would occasionally use to "negotiate" with difficult clients. Rafe was only fourteen when he got a first look at what that basement was really used for. And now suddenly he was more than happy to "negotiate".

Just like out of a movie, Barry was put into a single metal chair in the middle of the concrete room, but not without some struggle of course. Regardless, Barry's attempts were no match for Rafe. Furthermore, Jessie would've put a hole in his head if he ever wiggled out of her husband's firm grasp. Rafe put his ex drug dealer firmly in the chair.

"Jessie, hold him."

With that, Jessie took over once Rafe planted Barry's wrists firmly in the restraints on the chair. If Jessie didn't know any better she'd say it was custom made just for "negotiations." Although, she wasn't too phased by it considering some nights in Manhattan were spent just like this, with Tom and Maci by her side. The adrenaline rush she was currently feeling was hard to forget, for her it was like riding a bike. She stared into Barry's soul as she caught her husband grabbing the chains above his head and bringing them down to click in place on the metal restraints. The look of pure fear and regret in Barry's eyes got Jessie's heart racing. She hated to admit it, but she loved the feeling of power. It was all too familiar.

Once Rafe was done they both stepped back and admired the man in front of them, sweating either from nerves or from the single bright light shining on him. He breathed quick, shallow breaths. Jessie was very well versed in reading the signs of people in stressful situations just like these. Maci and Tom took her already natural ability to read people and turned it into a skill that would take her far in the Manhattan Mayhem. She had a unique talent for being able to tell when people were about to crack or when they were bluffing... or when they were about to pass out or even die. Rafe had seen his fair share of negotiations as well, but he was more so the braun of this operation whereas Jessie was the brains. Rafe never missed an opportunity to think with his fists, and Jessie never missed an opportunity to play games with the mind.

"Can I please..." Barry begged through labored breaths and restless limbs. "... have... a cigarette." Barry finally choked out as he swallowed hard. Jessie figured it was to keep himself from throwing up. She had seen a good deal of people puke from the stress, and she could tell he was nearly there. That was the only reason she was about to grant his request.

Rafe and Jessie looked at each other with hard glances and then back at Barry with balled fists. Jessie inhaled deeply and reached in Barry's right pocket of his khaki cargo shorts.

"Considering you look like you're about to puke..." Jessie said in a low, intimidating tone as she slid a Marlboro out of the package and ran it through her fingers slyly. "I'll allow it."

Jessie stuck the cigarette in between Barry's lips. She dug around her leather jacket pockets and eventually found the zippo she never seemed to get rid of. Rafe watched intently as she stuck the flame out just enough for Barry to lean forward and light the Marlboro between his teeth. One hit was enough to calm Barry down just enough to get cocky all over again, albeit not by much.

"So when am I gonna get my money." He asked with narrows eyes and an annoyed expression.

Jessie just laughed and looked up at her husband, who also now shared the same amused expression.

"You really haven't figured it out by now?" Rafe asked. Barry just looked confused. Jessie had so much to say about Barry's clear lack of intelligence and inability to read the room. However, she decided to keep it to herself in the name of tactical intimidation. She just clicked her tongue and laughed.

"You're not getting any money." Jessie simply stated with a smile and a shrug of her shoulders. By now she made her hands comfortable in her jacket pockets, as if she didn't have a care in the world. Barry's eyes went wide as he realized the jig was up. He knew he shouldn't have trusted them.

"You bastards, this is horseshit!" Barry yelled as he leaned in closer. It was obviously ineffective considering his wrists were still secure to the chair.

"Look, if you're gonna yell we're gonna leave." Jessie replied calmly, still not feeling the need to remove her hands from her jacket.

"You bitch, I knew I-"

Barry was cut off by a swift hand to his cheek, but surprisingly, it wasn't Rafe's. Jessie beat him to the punch, literally. She slapped Barry square across his left cheek, undoubtedly catching him off guard. He didn't manage to finish the sentence, instead he just looked at his former customers as if to say "really?"

"Let's go, Rafe."

Jessie slowly turned around, making sure to bore her eyes into Barry once more before turning for the door and walking away, making sure every click of her boots were heard on blood stained concrete. Rafe did the same as he followed behind her.

"Walk him like a dog, sis." Barry joked, just having to have the final word as the steel door shut, leaving Barry with nothing but an echo.

Jessie and Rafe both stopped right outside the door, leaning against it after it closed. They both knew Barry couldn't hear them, so they didn't mind.

"What the hell are we gonna do?" Rafe asked, clearly annoyed.

"Whatever we do, we can't lose our heads. Look, I know you and I would much rather be on that plane with Charley but we've gotta take care of things here, alright?" Jessie tried to comfort Rafe, as she could see in his eyes that his mind was elsewhere. He was torn to say the least. He wanted nothing more than to hop on the next plane to be with his daughter, yet he couldn't bear the thought of leaving this unfinished, or even worse, leaving his wife to deal with it. He knew she was more than capable, but they needed to do this together.

"Rafe." Jessie snapped her husband out of his racing thoughts. He physically shook his head and brought his eyes back into focus on her face.

"Huh, oh yeah, right."

Jessie wasn't so convinced that Rafe was as dialed in as she needed him to be. He seemed frazzled, much like he used to look years ago. She didn't like the look. She just studied his features a little more, looking for any sign of an attitude adjustment. She didn't find one.

"Let's go upstairs." Jessie suggested with a tone of hesitancy.

"Jessie, no... we can't... somebody's gotta watch him." Rafe retaliated. Jessie couldn't believe he actually thought tactically for a moment considering how out of touch he seemed just moments ago.

"Rafe, you know that room better than I do... has anyone ever escaped?"

Rafe didn't have a response to that. Despite Jessie never having seen that room before, she knew there was no way Barry was getting out of the thick chains and the bolted steel door. Furthermore, Rafe had never known anyone to make it out of that room... alive. Jessie took his silence as understanding and simply kept walking, expecting Rafe to follow. They both walked up the concrete stairs, eventually making their way to the long corridor on the main floor of the mansion. The two of them stopped in the hallway awkwardly, each of them deciding to throw themselves along the wall and kick their heads back, breathing a deep sigh to attempt to relieve some tension. They faced opposite of each other, and Jessie was the first to open her eyes. She noticed Rafe's eyes were closed and his head could've sunk into the wall with how heavily he was relying on it to hold him up. He looked like he wanted to collapse from the stress. He swallowed the lump in his throat, still not managing to open his eyes. Jessie couldn't help but notice the veins popping out of Rafe's arms and hands just a little more as he fiddled with his fingers.

"You're hot when you're stressed." Jessie admitted with a goofy grin. Rafe finally opened his eyes at those words, looking across the small hall at his wife, who didn't seem to have a care in the world. He simply shook his head with the small laugh he could muster.

"You're something else." Rafe admitted in a low tone, whether it was because he was still thinking deeply or he was turned on, Jessie couldn't pinpoint just yet. She kicked herself off of the wall and flung herself onto her husband. Despite not being in the mood, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist, immediately finding the back pockets of her jeans and sticking his hands in them. Jessie played with the collar of his shirt, finding it buttoned up too much for her liking. She didn't exchange any words, instead, she looked him up and down and undid one button. She patted his chest once she was satisfied and brought her hands up to his face, rubbing over his cheeks gently with her thumbs. Rafe melted into the touch as best he could, but Jessie could tell he wasn't completely relaxed. Knowing he needed more, she leaned in for a slow, passionate kiss that was sure to distract him. That it did, but only for a moment. Rafe was just about to fall further when he was pulled back into his racing thoughts. Jessie was so good at reading Rafe she could feel the difference without him even murmuring against her lips or moving his body a certain way. She huffed and leaned away, clearly annoyed.

"You need to calm down." She insisted, not in a rough way, just in a way that showed genuine concern. Rafe sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand finding his own front pocket.

"I know, Jess... I just... can't."

Jessie knew what she needed to do.

"Come with me."

With that, Rafe took Jessie's soft hand as she guided him through the dark hallway and into one of the rooms, a room that Rafe knew too well. Jessie turned the knob on the light switch to reveal a dimly lit office... Ward's office, which was adorned with books the man probably never read and pristine paintings he probably never appreciated.

Jessie sat her husband down behind the cherry oak desk situated on the far side of the hollow room. Despite the leather chair being one of the most luxurious pieces of furniture in the house, Rafe couldn't help but feel like he was sitting on pins and needles. He was so anxious he couldn't stand himself... and his wife was growing tired of him too. She gave him a look of reassurance as she slowly backed away and slunk over to the glass cabinet that housed the most expensive liquor she'd ever seen. Despite the extensive collection of bourbons and tequilas and everything in between, she opted for the number 7 whiskey at the very back of the cabinet. Ward was ashamed to like such "cheap" liquor, but he couldn't help that it was one of his favorites. Jessie remembered that from one of their many nights spent smoking on Rafe's balcony. She knew Rafe had the same taste for cheap whiskey.

Jessie grabbed two glasses from the same cabinet and began to pour the whiskey achingly slow. Rafe took in every detail, to the half smile on his wife's face as she poured to the grip she had on the bottle.

"You remember when we snuck in here and drank from your dad's cabinet?" Jessie asked, not even bothering to look up.

"How could I not? I didn't think I would ever be high enough to cross that line but of course you made it happen." Rafe replied with a content smile on his face. He licked his lips in thought as he became more relaxed in the chair thinking of the memory.

"I always get what I want." Jessie only half joked as she closed the bottle and set it on the desk. She looked at Rafe who now had a knowing smile on his face as he swiveled slightly in the chair with his arms draped lazily on the sides.

"Yes you do." Rafe responded. Jessie took the glasses in each hand and made herself comfortable on Rafe's lap. She handed him a glass as she took a drink for herself. He swished the copper colored drink around and looked up at Jessie with a curious look.

"What're we doing?" He said barely above a whisper, almost afraid of the answer.

"We're getting you lose." Jessie simply stated as she took another drink. It always amazed Rafe how she never grimaced at hard liquor. It always kinda concerned him too.

"For what?"

"For you to either admit to me what's on your mind or for you to forget it enough to go back downstairs and do what we gotta do."

Rafe just sighed and looked back down at the drink. He finally decided to cave in as he downed the glass and set it back down on the desk. Not what Jessie expected, but she didn't complain.

"Last time we did this... you and I both messed up..."

"What do you mean?" Jessie asked, now looking directly into Rafe's eyes, genuinely curious as to what he meant. Rafe just looked annoyed. He looked around the room and rubbed his face.

"Jessie you..." He sighed, not completely sure how to word his sentence. "When I killed Ward, I lost my mind... and when you killed Limbrey and Rose... you lose yours too."

"Oh come on Rafe I did not-"

"Yes, you did Jessie. You and I may have lost them in completely different ways but... you were different after that... and so was I."

"And?"

Rafe didn't know what to say to that. Did she really not know that they had changed? She knew... she just didn't care.

"So what if we're different, Rafe? Maybe we're just now two people who are willing to do whatever the hell we have to do to keep our daughter safe? Did you even consider that? What we're doing isn't weakness... it's strength! So what if we need to drink a little or smoke a little to get through some real heavy shit? God, what happened to you? Just months ago I heard you were the toughest guy around, not giving a shit what you did or who you hurt and now..."

Jessie stopped to contemplate if she wanted to finish that sentence. She knew first hand that words could never be undone. But who was she kidding? Of course she wanted to say what was on her mind.

"... you're weak."

"I'm not weak, Jessie. I'm just trying to find a balance in who I once was and who I need to be..." Rafe replied with hurt, confusion, and anger all rolled into one.

"Fair enough, Rafe. But you and I both know we don't have time to hesitate. Hesitation gets you killed. You and I against the world, remember?"

Rafe breathed deeply as he searched Jessie's eyes. He had no clue what he was looking for. He swallowed the lump in his throat and pursed his lips, now looking more determined.

"Right." He simply replied. "So what're we gonna do?"

Jessie's rage turned into a smirk as she cupped his face.

"You said it yourself... that bastard made your daughter cry."

The memory burned in Rafe's head as if it was playing on the big screen. He couldn't get his precious Charley's cry out of his head as he was forced to not look back. Jessie could see the thought was making him tense up. She took the opportunity and ran with it as she traced her fingers along his jaw and whispered in his ear.

"Make him pay."

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

Soul Bound

Chapter Six- Master Manipulater

Also posted on AO3 and Wattpad!

Trigger warning for blood

Not proof read lol

Master manipulator

God, you’re so good at what you do

Come for me like a savior

And I’d put myself through hell for you

Hear all the rumors lately

That you always denied

Logical- Olivia Rodrigo

The next few days were quiet, the boys doing their part to clean up after themselves and staying out of Aron’s way. She’d hardly even seen Sam, and she couldn’t tell if it was because she was avoiding him or if he was also avoiding her. 

It’s for the best she would remind herself as she wiped the sweat off of her forehead. She was outside, practicing her magic despite the Chicago heat, wearing black knee length basketball shorts and a red baggy t-shirt. Typically, she would practice in the grand lobby, but she didn’t want to risk misfiring and hitting one of the incubi. Or to risk seeing them in general.

She focused her magic in her fingertips, shooting sharp energy at it and causing the bark to chip. She sighed, having hit too far to the side for her liking. She continued practicing, the kiss with Andrew still fresh on her mind. She tried to focus purely on her magic, but her emotions with Sam stirred in her chest.

“Oh? And what makes you so sure about that?” Diana asked her with a smug smirk, her eyes challenging. 

They were standing in the lobby where the succubus had come to persuade Sam to return with her. She’d gone as far as offering him the throne, to rule the abyssal plains with her. Aron had come out to confront her, to argue on Sam’s behalf. But that question made Aron freeze.

She didn’t know why she was so sure that Sam didn’t. She knew why she was sure she didn’t want him to leave, why he had argued to leave. She had fallen for him, there was no doubt about that. And as much as the three words she so badly wanted to say meant, it couldn’t stop him from leaving with her unless he reciprocated, and she was so confident he didn’t.

Aron looked at Sam, who’s eyes were glaring daggers at Diana.

“Oh, I see. You love him” Diana chuckled, obviously amused.

“Human, it doesn't matter how much you love him, he will never love you.”

Aron looked at her, her heart squeezing painfully. “I know,” she said, keeping her tone dry. “But that doesn't change anything.”

Diana's entire body started to shake with laughter. “Oh? It doesn't? You would fight this hard for someone who won't ever love you back?”

Aron could feel Sam's eyes on her, but she spoke before he could. “Yes. Because, even if he doesn't, I care more about his happiness. Leaving with you is not something he wants, so even if I wake up tomorrow and he's gone, I can live with that because he's happy. That's what love is, even when it isn't reciprocated. It's wanting what's best for them, even if in the end you can’t have them.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “You are pathetic, truly. And incredibly stupid. What is best for him would be to allow him to leave with me, someone who can fulfill his needs in a way a mere human could never. Him staying here is only hurting you and holding him back from his full potential. Stop fighting so hard for someone who doesn't, and never will love you.”

Aron opened her mouth to retort but gasped in shock when suddenly Sam's arm was wrapped around her protectively. “I love her.”

The memory was cut off by a sudden stabbing pain in the side of Aron’s throat. She yelped, blood gushing from the gash dangerously fast. 

She immediately stuck her finger in the wound, finding the cut in her artery and clogging it. She already felt a bit dizzy, but adrenaline kept her on her feet.

“Aron!” Damien suddenly rushed out of the mansion and over to her, panic written all over his face.

“I’m fine, I'm fine, my spell just ricocheted onto me” she told him quickly, trying to stay calm. Getting worked up would only worsen the situation. She started focusing her energy on the area, healing it carefully.

He watched her with wide eyes as she stopped the bleeding from her neck and hesitantly removed her hand. She healed the external injury next before sighing. 

“Are you alright?” Damien asked her.

She nodded, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, trying not to faint. “I'm okay.”

Aron slowly sat on the ground, a few feet away to not sit in her own blood. Not like it would back a difference, her clothes now covered in it. She laid back to recover from the sudden blood loss.

Damien didn't try to help, and Aron assumed it was because he could hear her thoughts; she didn't want him to try to touch her. Not because she thought he'd try to hurt her, but because she was overwhelmed.

He hesitantly sat by her. “Is there anything I can do?” His voice was soft and quiet.

She thought for a moment. She figured she could use a snack, but before she could decide to go get it herself, Damien was leaving to get it himself.

Aron couldn't help but silently scold herself. She let a memory impact her so much that she almost killed herself. Sure, she could heal herself and was fine, but it was the principle behind it. One of the first things she was taught in the hospital was to not let her personal life affect her treatment of patients, but now it was distracting her so much that she'd sliced open one of the most important arteries in the body. She was suddenly grateful that she was on a mandatory break.

Soon, Damien came back out with saltine crackers and water. He sat with her and held them patiently as she slowly sat up. “Thanks,” she said as she took them.

“You're welcome,” he told her, his eyes concerned as he watched her start to eat.

“When did you learn how to heal yourself?” he asked her quietly. 

“It was one of the first things they taught us in the med program I'm in,” she told him. “Can't heal patients if you're injured, and when you work in a hospital, that happens more than you'd think, at least at the kind I work at.”

He nodded. “I can see that. It's good they taught you. Was it hard?”

She shook her head. “Maybe a little at first, but I caught on pretty quickly.”

They settled on silence for a bit before Aron sighed, deciding to go get changed. Damien watched her as she stood up and turned to leave before he spoke. “You should speak to Sam.”

Aron froze in her tracks, pausing for a few seconds before continuing to walk again. She could already feel herself getting pissed, rage bubbling in her fingertips as she began to leave again. He must have had different plans, because he spoke again.

“You aren’t in love with Andrew.”

Aron furrowed her brows in annoyance and turned to face him. “Obviously,” she huffed. “I’m breaking it off with him.”

He hummed. “Why aren’t you giving it time? Humans typically take longer than a few dates to fall in love.”

She fought the urge to snap at him. “Yeah, I know.”

“So, there is another reason you are holding back. Are you in love with Sam?”

Aron glared at him. “I’m not having this conversation,” she told him before turning around.

“Diana put a spell on you.” Damien’s sudden claim made Aron’s entire body freeze, whipping around to face him again.

“No, she didn’t,” she said incredulously. “I would be able to feel it if she did.”

He sighed. “Not if it’s been there the whole time you’ve been learning magic. You’re used to it and recognize it like your own energy.”

Aron looked at him wide eyed, her mouth parted as she tried to find a retort. There was absolutely no way possible, he was just trying to manipulate her! He stood up, walking towards her. “I’m not. I can sense it, more so than my brothers because of my mind reading ability. It is affecting your mental state, making it so the lies she told to you were more efficient. It makes it near impossible to realize she was lying unless you were provided with concrete proof.”

Aron felt frozen in place, her breathing picking up. He had to be lying, right? 

Damien shook his head. “I know you won’t believe me. I don’t expect you to. But I think you should sit down and try to sense it.”

Aron rolled her eyes and walked away before she said something she’d regret. How dare he!? She rushed inside and to her room, grabbing clean clothes and immediately going to her bathroom to take a shower.

She washed the blood off of her body, unable to shake off her conversation with Damien. She sighed, he had to be lying. She would know if she had a spell on her.

But what if she wouldn’t know? If it was already there when she started to learn, would she ever notice something was wrong?

Aron closed her eyes in defeat; there was no reason not to try. She started visualizing the energies and magic in her body, her body tingling. She separated each one, more than she ever had before. Each aura was distinctive, she’d never seen them so clearly. She got dizzy from the effort and moved to sit on the shower floor.

The first aura she noticed was her life and soul energy. It was her existence and humanity, an energy all humans had. Typically, soul energy was pure and white, innocent as angles intended. However, in witches, warlocks, and other humans with magic, their soul colors would mix it. Aron’s was a warm purple, glimmering with the white.

The next and most potent energy in her body was rage, a strong and sharp aura that was red with blue tangled with it, sharp like lightning bolts. She had an overwhelming amount, the chief of the hospital told her once that she had a similar amount as a brute demon, thanks to an odd genetic mutation that became more recognizable with trauma. It mutated again after she started to get skilled, causing the self-defense zaps that had attacked Erik a few days prior.

Then there was emotional energy, a mix of colors and various shades. It was smooth and gentle yet large and consuming.

Looking at the emotional energy led her to see one she hadn’t recognized prior. It was maroon, whipping her emotional and rage energy, provoking it. It also had conduit-like limbs that attached itself to them as well, dripping itself into them. It reminded Aron of an IV drip in a way.

Is this the spell Damien was talking about? As soon as Aron had the thought, it began to shrivel, attempting to cling onto the others desperately. She gasped softly, remembering what Damien told her.

It makes it near impossible to realize she was lying unless you were provided with concrete proof.

Aron watched in shock, her body burning in agony as the spell pulsed and wreathed, attaching itself to anything possible and failing. The maroon became a dark brown and began to shatter, the shards fading into nothingness. She could no longer focus enough to watch, the pain in her body becoming too much. It was like someone was taking a small knife and stabbing every inch of her body over and over. The spell tried to stay in despite her magic forcing it out as Aron laid on the ground, shaking and sobbing. She needed this to stop, just stop.

All of the sudden, her pain subsided. She was still laying on the floor, lukewarm shower water spraying over her trembling body. It felt like she was thinking logically about the boys for the first time in years, but…

She still didn't know if she believed them.

Sure, she had evidence that Diana had used magic on her, but that didn’t explain why the boys left! Unless Diana didn’t give them a choice, Aron thought to herself.

Oh god, what if that’s what happened?! She’d been treating them horribly! She found herself arguing back and forth, completely unsure of what to believe. 

It was the first time she’d even considered the possibility they didn’t have a choice.

[onyx232323]

An Adeptus' Last Wish- Zhongchi fic

(3/30)

More chapters here! <33

Summary-

After the Gnosis incident, Childe decides to take a much-needed break away from Zhongli.

However, how was he supposed to react, when all of a sudden Lumine showed up outside his apartment sounding terribly mortified, "Childe......Zhongli.......Zhongli....is in grave danger."

Of course, he was going to do anything to help the dying man.

Sure, he still felt a lot of contempt for him, after what he did, but his heart still loved him.....

But, what he hadn't expected was the sudden wisp of golden light that somehow transported him during the times of the Archon War?!

What the FUCK?!

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Chapter 3: Battle at Mt. Hulao, an Archon's interest!

Morax was staring down at Ajax, with a look of urgency and alarm in his voice, “Ajax....wake up. We have to go.” 

Ajax sleepily got up and stared at Morax, “Go…where?” 

Morax’s alarm did not leave his eyes and he looked towards the direction of the front door, “Mt. Hulao is under attack, I have come here to evacuate you by orders of Guizhong.” 

Mt. Hulao under attack? By what? By who? 

Now he was fully awake, “By who?” 

Morax pulled him along, and they made their way towards the back of the house, “They have not caught up to us yet. That is good.” 

“Who? Who hasn’t caught up to us?” Ajax asked, nearly falling over from the force Morax was using to pull him along. 

This time gold eyes met dark blue, Morax finally turned to look at him; his gaze was scalding and filled with a panic that he had not seen from Rex Lapis in any of his forms. His face was filled with panic and pure unadulterated dread.   

An expression he had never seen from the always seemingly calm expression always on the Wangsheng Funeral Director. Even in the most tense of situations, he always seemed to keep his cool and go about situations in a calm-headed manner. So, in other words, this was a brand new look on the archon. If he was the archon in his time, he would have not wasted the opportunity to laugh at Zhongli’s expression and poke fun at him about it later. However, with the urgency in his face; he wanted to take back the possibility of even doing such a thing. 

Morax parted his lips and the next words he uttered quickly rose shivers down Ajax’s spine. 

“Rift wolves.”  

___________________________

His face scrunched up in unpleasant memories at the mention of their invasion on the mountain. However, along with the unpleasant memories that resurfaced there was another feeling that overtook Tartaglia: hunger.  

He stood still for a moment, and yes, it really was rifthounds. Their strong abyssal energy was tainting the air, he could smell it. The abyssal beast in him cried in pleasure, he would finally get the rush of adrenaline and the feeling of warm blood on his palms; and he would do it all with old friends. It almost caused a momentary need for celebration. After having fought puny hilichurls, he was rather excited at the prospect of fighting real opponents.

And aside from the challenge that they posed, he would also get to have a taste of that delectable energy. It had been a long while since his mouth had savored that tart and burning feeling that entered his insides and corroded him from the inside-out. He tried to rush towards his vision and his bow, but was still being restrained by Morax. 

He frantically pulled at his arm like a wild animal. He needed to fight them, he needed to, he wanted to, he ached to do it. Every fiber in his whole being was screaming at him to run towards the face of danger. 

Morax refused to let go and looked visibly confused at his sudden frantic display, “Where are you going? We have to leave, right now. You can not stay here.” 

Leave? Tartaglia wanted more than to run right into the horde of rift wolves and devour them. He didn’t want to run away from them, it would be very dissatisfying to not see how their bones would crack under his hands and the way they would attempt to run away. It was not what he wanted. 

However, instead of admitting this to him, he calmed himself down enough to say, “I…I have to get my bow, in case I have to defend myself.” 

Morax looked reluctant to let him go, however, he loosened his grip enough for Tartaglia to rush towards his nightstand and grab his bow and vision. He tied his vision to his clothes and hurried over to the front door. 

He would fight them head on; no matter what tried to stop him. He yanked the door handle over and ran as fast as he could, towards that tantalizing smell. He ran through the terrain, almost as if he was stuck in a trance. 

He nearly couldn’t hear Morax chasing after him, he ran through where the rest of the adepti were holding the rifthounds off. They yelled on after him, after they spotted an auburn spot run past them, looking as enthusiastic as a kid getting handed the candy they wanted. 

_________________________

Cloud Retainer squawked when she saw the kid rushing through the frontlines and throwing devastating blows after blows to the rifthounds. The brand new adeptus threw the rift wolves as if they were simply toys for him to play around with. 

The kid even laughed in sick pleasure when he cut open one of the wolf’s head clean off with his hydro spear. And he continued to laugh as he cut and cut through the hordes of them all heading straight towards him. However, he did not only go straight for the kill, he let them bite onto his body as a way to cruelly taunt them before he brutally cut open their heads.

Blood and entrails flew all over the battleground, to the point where it no longer looked like a battle but a massacre . 

In fact, he was so good at killing the damn things, that the rest of them did not need to do anything. He just sprinted towards them at light speed and slit their throats and gutted them, one after another. Not stopping to even catch his breath.They stood mesmerized as the auburn haired adeptus ripped through the rift wolves and cackled in delight amidst all of the massacre. 

It was a sadistic sight. 

Madam Ping stopped slicing her spear through the rift wolf as she witnessed Ajax slicing through them with practiced ease. Cloud Retainer herself lowered her spear in her human form, looking absolutely scandalized. Moon Carver looked mildly impressed as he took a mere second to glance at Ajax before going back to driving his sword back through the rift wolf that was approaching him. Mountain Shaper just side eyed him and continued with his own fighting. However, Sky Bracer looked at Ajax with proud and astonished eyes. 

Without knowing it, Ajax had drawn the attention of all of the adepti. However, he did not pay any attention to them and continued to slice the heads of the rift wolves and feel the delicious abyssal energy start to release from them. 

However, before he could swallow the addicting substance, he was met with his own mesmerizing sight. 

While he got momentarily distracted by the potential meal, he had missed a rift wolf that had managed to sneak up on him and was aiming straight for his neck. But instead of the rift wolf piercing through his vital arteries; the wolf itself was pierced through the chest and brought down by none other than Morax himself.

The God of War himself was in battle and he was captivating. 

Ajax stood still as he saw Morax crushing his opponents as if they were simply leaves under his shoe. He tore at limbs and spilled blood on the floor, with brutal force. Force that would annihilate anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of his spear and hands. 

It was quite the contrast from Zhongli. 

Zhongli was elegant and strategic when it came to defeating his opponents, and more often than not he would only incapacitate those who dared oppose him. He would be merciful against them, and would only really strike them, if they truly caused a threat against those he loved. Morax was the opposite of that; he was neither elegant nor strategic, he was brutal and unforgiving in his blows. 

It was utterly captivating to see how Zhongli used to fight....he wanted to fight him more than ever. 

However, he couldn’t do that now. And, once the smell of iron entered his nostrils, he was reminded of where he really was. And so, he grabbed at his own hydro twin swords and continued to slice through the hordes of abyssal beasts that strolled in. 

__________________________

After a few hours, they were finally cleared out.

Ajax took a step back and gazed at the abyssal taint that permeated the once clean air. He greedily swallowed it and relished the tart and slight burn he would feel after he consumed it (as well as the slight rush of newfound strength and energy he felt after he ate it). However, he knew what his limit was so he didn’t swallow too much of it, not if he wanted to end up as a madman.

His master, Skirk had warned him about it, and he wasn’t going to be too greedy and test out what his master had profusely told him about. 

After he was done, he messily wiped his filthy cheeks on his shirt and breathed a sigh of satisfaction (it had been a while since had gotten full with abyssal energy). Thankfully, he had changed the very elegant hanfu that Guizhong had handed him into a more lightweight hanfu, that had allowed more mobility. And he silently thanked his past self for sleeping with the lightweight clothes on instead of sleeping in his underwear; like he usually did. 

He turned around and was about to march over to his house or maybe fight a few more monsters before going back to bed….and was met with mixed expressions. 

He hadn't noticed when, but the adepti were all gathered around him. 

Guizhong was the first one who spoke up, she looked equally concerned and….impressed(?), “ Shidi! You didn’t tell me you were that good at fighting!!” 

He was taken aback… what?  

“ What? ” 

Guizhong laughed at her junior’s perplexed face, “You didn’t tell me you were that good at fighting before! It was super awesome!” Her expression darkened however, and the concern came back, “….Don’t ever do that again! You nearly worried me half to death! I was about to yell at Shizun if something happened! I asked him to escort you out of the danger zone, but when you weren’t escorted back to the cave with me, I got worried and thought that something must have happened to you!” 

….What?....

In all of his life, he had never had someone who worried about him as much. Sure, his mom would worry about him, constantly checking him for injuries after he got back from his trips with his father. However, that sort of concern for him faded out shortly after what he did at 14. His mother no longer looked at him with worry and instead it was overtaken by fear. She, as well as his dad, were afraid of their own son. 

And after he climbed the ranks of the Fatui and became a Harbinger, no one ever looked at him with such clear concern.

Sure, Ekaterina would look at him with worry every time he wasn’t getting enough sleep or when he would go missing for days at a time, but it wasn’t because she was worried that something would happen to him. She was mostly just concerned about what would happen if she put her boss’ life in jeopardy and what would happen to her afterwards. But, it wasn’t because she was particularly fond enough of Childe to the point where she would have genuine worry and care for him. 

Most of the time, people’s eyes were filled with nothing but either contempt, cold admiration, or blood-curdling fear.

He was the Tsaritsa’s Vanguard after all, which meant that he had to mindlessly kill off whatever opponent stood in the way of her divine plan; without so much as batting an eye. 

So, he was a little more than taken aback when Guizhong’s eyes were filled with nothing but worry and concern, the genuine and earnest kind.

The rare kind, he had never seen in anyone else's eyes but his mothers and......Zhongli....

He laughed and scratched at his cheek, “Shijie, it’s alright.....I just went over because I wanted to assist you all in battle.” Well, it wasn’t a lie, he really did want to assist them in battle (but it was mostly out of his strong desire for battle, that outweighed the need to defend the mountain, but he was never going to tell anyone that ). 

Guizhong laughed and reached her hand out to pat his head, before she was stopped.....by Cloud Retainer.

She was still in her mortal form and she had reached her hand out to pull it away from Ajax.

They both turned to look at her, there was a hint of disgust in her eyes, “Guizhong, don’t touch him! He’s an abyssal monster!"

Guizhong’s smile fell down and she turned to look at Cloud Retainer, with a seriousness he had not seen before in Guizhong’s gaze, “Cloud Retainer, he’s my shidi. Whether he might’ve been in The Abyss before, does not matter to me, he’s an adeptus first and foremost. Isn’t that right, Shizun? ”

She turned to face Morax, who only nodded.

Guizhong brightened up and her smile widened all the more, “He’s an adeptus who is bound to serve our Lord Lapis, before anything else. And besides, he has not attacked us so far, and has even helped us wipe out the rift wolves. Someone who is allied with The Abyss would not just wipe out his own kind. And, I don’t think he would willingly cause me any harm if I touch him, he seemed to be very highly aware of how to control his abyssal energy. I believe we are being too presumptuous.” 

The other adepti still did not seem to agree with her, and all voiced their concerns. 

Moon Carver spoke up first and snarked, “Lady Guizhong, while it is still possible that he might not be allied with the abyss, that does not mean that he has our best interests at heart. We can’t possibly accept an abyssal beast amongst us, and risk possible betrayal; adeptus or not.” 

Mountain Shaper nodded, adding his own remarks, “That is right. Lady Guizhong we cannot just accept an abyssal beast in our group without delving deep into his affiliations to the abyss. He was showing many of the signs of someone corrupted by The Abyss. And, he has even swallowed the harmful abyssal energy that our divine bodies cannot handle, an investigation in this matter has to be conducted.” 

“While I do agree with the views of both of you. You must at least try and see it from Lady Guizhong’s perspective. While it is right that we are distrusting of Ajax, from his apparent affiliations with The Abyss, it is important to consider the fact that while he has been involved with The Abyss prior, he might not be on their side,” Sky Bracer added in.

Madam Ping nodded, “Yes, whilst we should be speculative over Ajax. It is not right to assume he is on the same side as The Abyss, from a mere observation.” 

Cloud Retainer huffed and looked even more irritated but did not say anything else. 

________________________

In order to come to an agreement, he was put on probation of sorts. If they noticed him doing any strange and fishy behavior, they would immediately throw him out and would not allow him back in no matter what. Guizhong was one of the few that was opposed to this idea, but considering that the first idea of many of the adepti was to kill him at the first sight of him doing anything strange; it was way better. 

Morax was the only one who did not put any input and instead just opted to look at Ajax, with a strange vaguely intrigued stare; like the one a treasure hoarder did after their eyes had landed on potential treasure. His gaze was a sharp contrast to the hostile, neutral, and concerned looks that were being thrown his way by all of the adepti. 

It was very strange, and Ajax did not know how to react to it.

So, he didn’t and decided to go to his house to take the much needed rest his tired body needed. The battle-crazy side of himself wanted to keep on fighting and spill blood, but his body seemed to refuse. It was aching all over from the hours on hours spent fighting hordes after hordes of rift wolves. 

__________________________

The next couple of days were nothing out of the ordinary, he woke up, did some training, fought, bathed, ate, and slept. However, the only thing that stuck out like his red hair seemed to amongst all of the other people was….well….the fact that Morax seemed to follow him everywhere. 

At first, he thought it might have been his imagination.

After all, why would an archon like Morax be interested in Ajax’s mundane routine.

But even so, he would begin to see Morax in the corner of his eyes whenever he would be out training and would often take a shower with him as well. 

He thought that perhaps he was there to observe him to make sure he did not get up to trouble, but that theory was quickly diminished when he talked to Guizhong about it.

She had invited him over to tea (with Cloud Retainer there, to make sure he didn’t try and harm her, spear at the ready). She eagerly talked to him about the new and interesting things she had taught her new-found following of devoted worshipers; her beloved people (as she would call them). 

She was just finished talking about how she had helped her people build a highly efficient irrigation system that was better than any they had seen before, and how she had personally gone down to help them with it. And Ajax took it as the perfect opportunity to ask her about it, “Um…Shijie…may I please ask you something?” 

She was in the middle of bringing a very delicate porcelain cup to her lips, before she gently brought the cup down and asked, “Sure, shidi, what is it?” 

Guizhong looked mildly intrigued and waited in anticipation to see what he would say. He cleared his throat and looked away from her piercing gaze, “Um…Shizun..…has been…um….following…me?...Do you perhaps…know why? ” 

Guizhong’s expression looked shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her eye sockets, she looked utterly perplexed, and was that…blush? 

Even Cloud Retainer looked like she had just undergone the 7 stages of grief; her usually irritated expression was replaced with shock. 

Guizhong stared at Ajax for a bit, before she coughed lightly into her hands and said, “Oh!...Shizun has been following you? That is quite strange, he did not mention anything about that to me…...Cloud Retainer do you know anything about this?” 

Cloud Retainer visibly stilled in her own chair and nearly choked on her tea, “...This one does not know why either.” 

Then why? 

Guizhong did not say anything else for the rest of their evening together, and Ajax was too embarrassed to bring it up again. However, she especially looked jittery and mildly flustered the rest of their evening and she stumbled through her movements. Cloud Retainer was no different. 

So, with that possibility taken out of the equation. He still did not know why Morax insisted on following him around everywhere. 

It was almost ironic. 

Back in his time period, he was always usually the one who actively pursued Zhongli and desperately tried to extend their time together. But now, it was Morax who was following everywhere like a lost duckling. It was almost sort of cute. If you define ‘cute’ as a potentially deadly god of war following you around and observing you like a bashful lovesick fool does to their crush…

It was something weird, and unexpected for a man once so graceful and knowledgeable to be acting in such a way. 

It was weird, but slightly endearing. 

So, he decided to gather the courage and ask around some more, about the matter. 

Madam Ping’s smile sort of faltered when he told her about it and she visibly flushed, “Oh…I’m afraid I do not know. It seems like that's something you should ask yourself.” 

Like he would ever ask Morax himself about why he was following Ajax around! Ajax nearly shuddered to think how that awkward conversation would go. Besides, how would he even bring that up? He shrugged off her advice, and decided to ask around, hoping for more clearer answers. 

Next, he decided to ask Mountain Shaper and Moon Carver (adepti whom Xiao had most likely gotten his attitude from…). However, their once snarky and bad attitudes got disrupted when they got told that. They both simultaneously seemed to grow slightly exasperated if not a bit embarrassed. Moon Carver was the first one who spoke up, however, “I do not know.” 

Mountain Shaper looked decidedly more flustered and only mustered up enough strength to shake his head. 

Sky Bracer was the only one who seemed to remain calm out of all of them, if not a little embarrassed, “I don’t know, but I would go with shimei's advice and ask him yourself.” 

Ajax sighed, and accepted his fate.

He guessed he would have to ask him, himself. 

________________________

That night, when he was getting his training hours done, he spotted Morax out of the corner of his eye; lazily lying on a tree branch, looking content and transfixed on Ajax’s every movement. 

His eyes bore into Ajax, until he couldn’t take it anymore and blurted out, “Umm…Shizun….would you like to train with me?” 

The god was clearly not expecting someone to spot him, and hastily got down from the tree in one smooth motion before he approached Ajax with a certain hesitance in his expression, "I do not wish to train at this moment.....I was merely observing your training.” 

Oh, he was not expecting him to be so direct about it. But, he decided to go along anyway, “And why is that?” 

Morax stilled a little bit, but still replied, “I am intrigued. Your fighting style is not like any I have ever seen before, and I would simply like to study it......I apologize if I have made you uncomfortable.” 

Ajax was already feeling uncomfortable when he took several bathes together along with the other adepti and Morax. He was already past that feeling altogether. What overtook him now, was why Morax insisted on following him everywhere. Did he perhaps not trust Ajax, and wanted to personally make sure he wasn’t causing any trouble? 

He shook his head, “No, it's fine.” 

There was an awkward pause and Morax nodded. However, there were those eyes again; they seemed to fluctuate between a distant warmth and not so subtle fascination. They seemed to almost glow amidst the darkness, just like how they looked back when they had first met. And, if you looked closer you could almost detect a small pattern inside of his eyes, that seemed to be brighter than the rest of his eye. 

They seemed to pull him in and he couldn’t deal with those eyes of his, so he looked away and asked, “…I’m sorry if this is too insolent of me, but…I would like to ask. Why do you…um....follow me everywhere?” 

Morax paused once more, almost as if was yet again not expecting Ajax to say that. However, instead of getting mad or denying it he simply said, “You intrigue me, so I wanted to find out more about you. However, I once again apologize if I have made you uncomfortable. Guizhong has commented about how you seemed uneasy when telling her about it, and has strictly stated that I have to communicate more......I was planning on telling you tonight, but your fighting has… distracted my thoughts,” Morax looked away sheepishly at that last sentence.

This caused Ajax to pause. 

So, he was interested in him? 

A God of War was interested in his fighting style and who he was? 

What? 

Ajax paused and almost burst out laughing from the absurdity of it all. Here he was stressing over something that wasn’t what he thought it was. So, the young archon just wanted to learn more about Ajax, but didn’t know the right way to do it. 

How could he have forgotten that, this was the way Zhongli was during the times before and after the Archon War. While, he was powerful and the creator of mora itself. In all accounts in Liyue’s history.....was rather socially incompetent. 

Back when Ajax was researching the history of Liyue and through his conversations with Zhongli, he realized that although he was the one who founded Liyue and created mora, he was rather terrible at communicating with his own people. 

There were several mishaps throughout the history of Liyue that were simply caused by his inability to properly communicate what he wanted to say with his people with his vague messages. Which was also part of the reason why Guizhong was a good influence on him. She had helped him communicate and empathize with his people more, and had helped him build connections with other adepti better. So in a way, they almost equally balanced each other out. 

And while it’s not widely accepted as fact in Liyuen history books, Ajax likes to believe that Guizhong was sort of a co-ruler to Liyue, even if she wasn’t officially a co-ruler. She basically took on that role, and helped Rex Lapis out whenever he did not know what to do. 

She had even laid out her 4 commandments: “Teach with wisdom, be bound by virtue, fortify the bones, unite in ambition.” 

Which really helped settle the disorder in Liyue at the time. 

She was the one who did most of the strategizing and building of powerful weapons, while he was the brute force who helped defeat opponent after opponent. 

And yet, Ajax couldn’t help but not recognize this version of Zhongli. 

Zhongli was an empathetic, kind, patient, and forgiving, and by all accounts, someone that all of his adepti seemed to hold in high regard. And yet, Morax did not know how to empathize yet, was rather impatient, brutal, and someone whom his adepti respected, but were not particularly fond of yet. 

In fact, that was sort of the thing that Ajax picked up on when he was transported by that goddess. While it was true that the adepti seemed to be loyal to Morax and obey his orders, they were not all that fond of him, and mostly carried out their orders because they had too. Even at the dinners they shared together, it was all pretty divided. 

Mountain Shaper and Cloud Retainer only really talked to each other, unless they were talked too, or unless some sort of trouble arised. Moon Carver and Sky Bracer mostly talked with each other (and on many occasions Mountain Shaper would even be there), however, Sky Bracer was much more open to talk with the rest of the group than Moon Carver was. Madam Ping, Morax, and Guizhong also stuck as a group of some sort, and were more willing to bring Ajax into the conversation and fill him in on what he had missed. 

The only adepti out of all of them who really talked with all of them, was Guizhong. But, given her good reputation and kind nature, it was easy to see why everyone enjoyed her company in one way or another. Even the occasional fleeting jealous feeling in the pit of Ajax’s stomach whenever he saw Guizhong, especially close to Morax, was drowned out by the strong feeling of fondness he had for her. It was rather crazy how fond he had grown of Guizhong over the past weeks. 

She was just the type of being that everyone liked, no matter what.

Ajax shoved his racing thoughts and just shook his head, “Ah, no. It’s quite alright Shizun. If you wanted.....I could....perhaps....teach you my fighting style.” 

He nearly wanted to smack himself clean across his face, he was going to teach The God of War, how to fight? 

It was very absurd and he was about to take it back when Morax’s expression seemed to gleam with sudden interest, “If it is not any problem, then I would like to."  

________________________

And so, here he was. 

Ex-lover of the ex-archon of Liyue, teaching the past self of his ex-lover his fighting style and technique, step by step, like he usually did, to the trainee’s back at the Fatui army. 

He summoned a polearm with his hydro vision and showed a couple of blocks and fast attacks to Morax, who simply just watched him with keen interest. Morax himself had his own polearm out and occasionally mimicked Ajax’s movements with perfect precision (as expected of someone with that much battle experience and a literal god of war). It was one of the most absurd situations he had ever gotten himself into.The only thing to get out of such a situation was that he was gradually getting more comfortable talking with Morax. 

He did another slash at the training target and was interrupted by a slow and baritone voice, “Do....you know how to use all weapons?” 

Ajax wiped his sweat off with the end of his sleeve, “Yes, I’ve mastered most of them. But......I’m the worst with my bow.” 

Morax nodded, “Mn......Why is that?”

Ajax let out a small self deprecating sigh, “Oh, well, I’m the worst at it because I’m not used to far-ranged combat and because I’m too impatient to master it.” It was true, he could not handle how slow it was to draw each individual arrow and shoot it, he preferred to be right in the middle of battle and face the enemy head on rather than draw each arrow and fire from afar. 

Morax seemed to take in his words and nodded, “Yes, I see what you mean. I myself can not understand why someone would want to use bows instead of a weapon that is fast to equip and use.” 

Finally! There was someone who got him! He did not know why anyone preferred bows to swords, but then again, the people who used bows were probably not good at close-ranged combat. However, he still wanted to master the bow in order to be able to use it efficiently in case he ever got into a position where he did not have his vision or another weapon laying around. 

There was another long pause before Morax spoke up again, “I have also.... noticed that you can create weapons using your elemental powers which you retrieve from that strange looking object. How have you achieved such a feat and how have you managed to obtain your elemental powers?” 

“I’m not sure how I obtained them....I just did....And...I got bored one day and decided to try to see if I could make weapons out of it, and now I use them often.”

He was lying, he knew why.

He was stuck in the abyss for 3 months and was miraculously blessed with a vision (Celestia sure has a sick sense of humor). He instantly found out he could mold whatever he wanted out of water and quickly mastered how to create weapons out of them. In the abyss, he could not stop to think about anything, he was constantly on the move with his master, Skirk. They could not stay in one place for long and had to learn how to quickly adapt to the situation they were in. And since water is adaptable, he guessed it was the perfect fit for his situation. And so, he had shaped it into any weapon he needed at that moment, and soon enough he could change it on the go. 

Morax’s eyes bored into him, “You seem to be lying to me.”

Ajax nearly jerked back when Morax had said that. He was not expecting Morax to call him out so directly on his bluff, but he decided to not let it be known on his face and instead just shrugged. 

Morax’s eyes were once more lit with interest and mirth, “It is alright. I will not pry. Guizhong has told me that it is quite insensitive. However, it is interesting how you have managed to mold it so easily, most adepti take up about hundreds of years to be able to control their respective elements....And so, it is quite the impressive feat...” 

Ajax did not expect a compliment of all things and got immediately flustered. Zhongli had never strayed away from giving him endless sweet compliments. However, it felt much different when Morax said them, but he guessed that it might have had something to do with his naturally apathetic if not disinterest in everything around him. 

Even when he was in combat, he did not seem the slightest bit interested in those he was combating. He just seemed concentrated and slightly irritated. Even when he looked at those around him, he seemed to be rather disinterested the more Ajax thought about it. 

But with that fact in place, it just added onto Ajax’s unanswered questions. 

____________________________

After a few more hours of teaching, thankfully Morax had not asked any further questions. And had dutifully noted and followed Ajax’s directions so well, that from an outsider’s perspective it might have looked like it was Ajax who was the real Shizun instead of Morax. 

Then (thankfully), it was all over, and Ajax went over to his room. He did not choose to take a shower that day, partially because he was 90% sure he would fall asleep in the water if he did, and because he did not want to run into Morax and risk another awkward situation. 

Ajax sighed and drifted off to sleep. 

Not noticing the god watching over him in his sleep; intrigued by such a bright and brutal being. 

_______________________________

Morax had never considered himself someone that was particularly intrigued by almost anyone. Even in times where very conventionally beautiful individuals tried their best to seduce and captivate him; he did not bat an eye at their direction. 

Because in his eyes, beings such as those, were not worth his time. They were merely those who wanted to waste their time on principles that were based solely on worldly pleasured and he simply did not have the space to waste his time on such things, as curious as he was from time to time to see how such things would feel. 

Morax remembers the amount of Gods that had offered themselves up as concubines or even lovers. Many were considered beauties of their times, individuals that were highly desired by others, but Morax simply could not find it in himself to feel any sort of attraction to them. 

Such as Osial, who had attempted to ensnare Morax up in his beauty, with a charming smile, a fan, and a cup of rice wine. He had worn expensive clothes, which he had tailored specifically for nights like this, with his long smooth dark blue hair flowing to his sides like waves, reflecting the moonlight. 

Morax knew other's considered him a timeless beauty, someone who would always be considered beautiful even throughout the centuries. But, he had not found himself attracted to him, even as he shamelessly attempted to seduce him, as he grew closer. 

Morax had not blinked the entire time, and had simply offered Osial a contract to keep their friendly relations between their growing nations and territories. Osial had simply blinked at him, embarrassment growing in his facial expression, the mole below his eye seemingly faded as his face contorted in amusement as he laughed. 

And Morax had merely sent him his regards (to Guizhong's insistence) when he had gotten married to Beisht. 

And even besides the many Gods who had attempted to become betrothed to him, whether that be a mere political marriage or something more intimate. There had also been many mortals and followers who had attempted to offer themselves up as an offering of sorts. 

Those were the times were Morax simply huffed and ignored them, being outwardly confused as to why they would want to do such a thing with their own God. He even remembers having to speak with Guizhong about it, and put out a message announcing that he would not tolerate mortals being offered up and merely wanted treasures of any kind. 

And besides, he had dedicated his own existence to other ideals so he ignored such things as they presented themselves in front of him. 

So far in his life as a newly formed god, only 2 things had ever piqued his interest: Osmanthus Wine and Guizhong, The Goddess of Dust. 

Osmanthus Wine for its delectable flavor and Guizhong for her gentle and compassionate nature (something that Morax simply did not naturally have). 

So, when a certain new adeptus had strolled into his life; he did not bat an eye at the endeavor. 

Brand new formed adepti formed every once and a while, but they were not exactly rare.

And besides that notion, it was not as if they would ever come to care about him, as he did them. 

It was a merely transactional relationship, it wasn’t true friendship nor camaraderie. 

It was contract that each party needed to fulfill; Morax would keep Liyue safe and they would fight in his honor. 

And while he was slightly curious about the new mortal’s strange appearance and personality, he was not exactly all that interested just yet.

And so, he was thrown for a loop when he witnessed Ajax’s pure ferocity and bloodlust when he ripped open the necks off of rift wolves with ease as if they were just a cap to pop open on some expensive wine bottle. And the way he would laugh with pure delight, as the blood splattered all over his cheeks, and the almost callous wide grin he would give out all while doing so. 

It was an equally mesmerizing and vicious sight. 

For the first time in over a hundred years, Morax had one more thing to add to his list: Osmanthus wine, Guizhong, The Goddess of Dust, and Ajax, an intriguing anomaly. 

And, the sight after the blood shed did not disappoint either; only further intriguing Morax. 

Ajax greedily swallowed the dark purple infectious abyssal energy with such vigor that Morax nearly wanted to swallow some for himself, to see if he would make the same look of bliss on his face. 

Besides the potential danger of Ajax’s affiliation with The Abyss, he wanted to know how a newly formed adeptus could swallow abyssal energy like it was water, without getting any side-effects afterwards. 

At first, it was mostly out of slight interest and concern for one of his adepti’s well beings, as he had begun to observe Ajax for any potential bad side effects. 

But alas, there was none. 

He looked fine, if not more vitality.

As the man trained more often than he rested.

He seemed even more excited to fight the monsters around his house.

But what intrigued Morax, The God of War about the man, was even though he knew Ajax to be quite the formidable fighter. 

And had seen how efficient he was at killing his enemies with a single strategic cut through a vital organ, Ajax still preferred to toy around with his opponents before, he landed the final devastating blow that would end their life's. Almost as if he enjoyed the rush of the battle itself and merely wanted to play around with his opponents who foolishly believed that they had a chance in the first place. 

And while his battles with those who he considered be weaker them him. Morax found himself particularly interested when the man fought against fierce opponents. That was because Ajax did not play around, and even appeared to take the fight a lot more more serious as he effortlessly landed a variety of blows, using different weaponry all the while. 

In fact, that was part of the reason for his intrigue. 

He was well adept with any weapon, and he could easily switch from any weapon using his hydro element to mold it to his will. He had seen Ajax’s hydro elemental powers come from that strange decoration of sorts on his unusual outfit. And had even spotted it when he first showed up in his cave. 

But he could have never guessed that it would be even related to the hydro element, since he had not seen a human be able to withhold such a power, especially not from such a foreign object that seemed to hold the power they wielded. Morax had foolishly believed that Adepti, Demons, and Gods were the only ones who were able to hold such a power, but he had been deemed corrected. 

And what was most surprising about that, was how well the man was at using his elemental powers, especially since he was a human. Many adepti took hundreds of years before they were able to control their own elements to the fullest extent, especially since he could mold it at will into whatever he wished. 

Which only added to the intrigue he felt for this strange man. 

However, he had expected Ajax to spot him, nevertheless talk to him with Guizhong. He had sat down with Guizhong to talk to her about a few plans to build a city near the harbor. She had given him her insight on her knowledge on engineering and had agreed that their small village had to expand to something bigger. 

They were in the middle of talking about how they would design it, when Guizhong said, “Oh…..and before I forget, Shizun....” Guizhong looked at him rather sheepishly, a look he had not seen her wear before, “My shidi has mentioned that you have been observing him and he looked rather….uneasy.” 

Morax’s eyes widened slightly.

Had he been that obvious? 

“Yes, I have.” 

Guizhong sighed slightly before she took another sip of her tea, “Morax, if there’s something you have to say to my shidi, please say it outright. He has been asking the other adepti about it and I’m worried that the stress might not be good for his health.” 

Morax nodded and Guizhong smiled before she placed her cup down and went back to discussing the design of the harbor and its buildings. 

So, he had initially gone up into a tree in order to see when Ajax would come, and then he would go and make things right with him. However, he got side-tracked…

Ajax was training once more, he was wearing a short sleeve shirt that fit almost too tightly on his form. It was white and he could only presume that it was the undershirt to the clothes he had on when he showed up in Morax’s home. 

He was sweating and the white shirt was sticking onto his skin, which only seemed to accentuate his lean form of pure muscle. At first, Morax had assumed that he was nothing but skin and bones, however, upon closer inspection he was nothing but lean muscle. And well, his abdomen was on display as well as his….pectoral muscles….

Morax had always been one to appreciate beauty of all forms, from the most complex of things such as those intricate puzzles and mechanisms Guizhong would invent to the most simplest of things such as the color of many of the things that surrounded him. But, he had never found himself quite endeared to a mortal of any kind, if his past of ignoring such people when they presented themselves off to him was any indicator of the sort. 

So, he was taken aback by himself when he felt strangely attracted to the man before him. 

His gaze lingered longer than he had anticipated, so he was startled when he heard Ajax speak to him. 

The intriguing adeptus had asked him if he wanted to train with him? 

He shook his head and after Ajax confronted him about his behavior in a straightforward manner he was certainly not expecting. 

So, in turn, he answered him honestly. He was interested in Ajax, in how he fought, his background, his story, his weirdly colored hair, those dots on his cheek and shoulders he called ‘freckles’. The way his smile would flash vibrantly whenever he got the opportunity to fight, or the way he seemed to relax and let himself go when he entered the hot springs next to his house. 

He was interested to find what made him tick. 

And after a while, Ajax offered to show him how he fought.

If the situation was different however, he might have snorted in amusement. After all, someone with nearly not as much battle experience as himself was offering Morax, The God of War, The Prime Adeptus, how to fight? It sounded arrogant and utterly preposterous, but the way Ajax worded it was earnest. He was actually willing to teach Morax how he fought, but not because he thought his style to be better, but because he saw how interested Morax was in his technique. 

So, he accepted. 

And, after a while of back and forth and Ajax teaching him every step to his technique, he decided to question him on his ability to mold hydro to his will. And for the first time in their conversation, Ajax had lied.  

Before he could stop himself, he had brazenly said, “You seem to be lying to me.” 

He could see the way his words affected Ajax. The way he stilled his movements, the way his smile faltered, the way he tried to contain himself. However, instead of lashing out or doing anything for that matter, he shrugged. Like, he couldn’t bother to say that he didn’t, because he knew he was being pointed out for his lie. 

However, Guizhong had taught him that not everyone appreciates too much brutal honesty, so he retracted his words, “It is alright. I will not pry. Guizhong has told me that it is quite insensitive. However, it is interesting how you have managed to mold it so easily, most adepti take up about hundreds of years to be able to control their respective elements....And so, it is quite the impressive feat..." 

This seemed to settle the tense air that once tinted the air, and Ajax visibly turned red. His cheeks turned into a gorgeous shade of cherry red, and Morax was once more captivated by the riveting man. However, he did not voice out his thoughts, and instead settled on obediently following Ajax’s steps. 

And, after a while, they departed.

He had seen how worn out Ajax had been, and while adepti did not need require as much sleep as mortals to be able to function, that did not mean Ajax did not. 

He had yet to see how Ajax’s form worked just yet, and since he was a brand new adeptus, he had to get used to his form before he had fully adapted to the new form. But from all accounts, Ajax had been adapting rather quickly to his new status as an adeptus. And while the others were more hesitant to fully accept him, he had not complained and just rolled with whatever he was given; which was rather admirable. 

His horns had not fully developed yet, and were still a pretty translucent opalesque color, shining delicately with the colors of the rainbow everytime light hit them. His eyes were also as enthralling as his battle prowess, one of them was a gorgeous dark ocean blue color that seemed to suck in anyone who looked at it for too long, and the other was nearly identical to Morax’s, however it was slightly darker than him, and did not glow like his did. His teeth had yet not fully become fully fledged out fangs yet, and were barely starting to sprout, which resulted in them being very short but very precious nevertheless. His hair was also so incredibly charming, and like his horns, they would glow when the light touched them, as if his entire hair was made out of embers. Not to mention his very handsome features, his incredibly fit form, the scar over his right eyebrow, the many scars on his body (he had spotted them when they had taken a shower together). 

Everything about Ajax, drew Morax in; like a foolish moth to an entrancing flickering flame. 

It was bound to go up in flames. 

However, as he gazed at the charming man and the way he looked at his most relaxed form when he slept, he realized that there was no turning back. 

[millimeraki]

Hiiiiiii pookie! I saw that you're taking requests for our dear verso so here I am 😭 so after the angst that you hit us with can we get something fluffy ? Yet still a little angsty ? 😭 Like real verso that plays piano has a secret writer lover where she plays violin? 😭

Love your work and sending you many kisses <3

Boi did I fire up classical music when I read this ask bae, like, so fast lol. Honestly I am not sure if I got the angsty part down cause my mind immediately went to this harmonious symphony the two of them could play and fall in love, swoon! I know jack shit about operas, but I tried and hope you like it 😭💕 Word Count: ~ 7k Rating: T

[Real Verso / Fem!Reader]

(Writer!Reader & Violinist, Painter & Pianist, and the stage they never meant to share)

Muffled applause reached your ears, as if you were much farther away from the audience than you actually were – notes that should have been crystal clear replaced by the rushing blood driven by your pounding heart. Suddenly, you became aware of how heavy your gown was, how much effort it took to drag the silver-threaded train behind you as you stepped forward.

You really shouldn’t be nervous. After all, you’d sat on the stage of the Palais Garnier many times before. You should be used to the sight of all the people sitting before you, and the heat of the stage lights shouldn’t be enough to bring sweat to your brow.

But tonight – tonight you wore the more opulent gown, the peach-gold sparkling one with the heart-shaped neckline – tonight your neck was adorned with expensive pearls – tonight a delicate tiara rested atop your head, and the weight of all of it, paired with the fact that this was your very first violin solo, was overwhelming. So much so that for a few long seconds, you just stood there at the front of the stage, even after the applause had already faded and the opera’s audience was waiting in anticipation.

Your violin hung at one side of your body, the bow at the other. You swallowed. With all your might, you forced a soft smile onto your lips to keep your nerves from showing, and let your gaze wander in search of reassurance. The assembled symphony orchestra – many of them your closest friends – waited for you to begin the concert. One of the cellists, your friend Camille, gave you an encouraging smile, and that was all you needed.

With your eyes back on the audience, you drew in a breath.

“Don’t only practice your art, but force your way into its secrets, for it and knowledge can raise men to the divine,” you recited the quote from that singular composer, Ludwig van Beethoven, who had taught you to love music.

Your arms found the strength to lift the violin to your shoulder and raise the bow. It began softly, only the sound of your instrument echoed gently through the Palais, barely audible to your own ears. Only those first seconds still took effort, the beginning, but once you recognized the familiar sequence of notes, all the nervousness melted away and your body took over.

The packed opera house faded into the background, your fingers found grounding in the strings pressing into your calluses and the melody you coaxed from your violin. You swayed lightly with the movement of your arm, and for a moment, you could even close your eyes and simply exist, be one with the music.

A wave of emotion, as unique as each performance and the very reason why music was more than just a hobby for you, washed over you as the orchestra finally joined in, guided by your trusty conductor. Strings, woodwinds, brass, and percussion – together they created an enchanting melody that, like every time, made you feel like you could happily die right then and there. It was pure bliss, and pure adrenaline, all of it and more. You felt like a part of something greater, as if the universe itself was speaking to you, revealing its secrets, the meaning of life.

When the final note of the piece faded as quickly as the first had begun, you stifled the little sadness at the loss of the symphony, awakening from your trance as applause pierced through the numbness. It was almost too loud, but you smiled, partly out of habit, partly genuinely touched by the recognition granted to you. You placed your hand on your chest, your breath heavy and your skin hot with nerves, even beneath your sweaty fingers, and bowed.

From the front row, your little sister rose and walked toward you with a single white rose, pride written all over her face.

Your smile widened, and you bent down to accept the flower and place a kiss on each of her cheeks. “Merci, Louise.” She looked content and pure as she returned to her seat beside your parents.

The applause slowly ebbed. You gave one more soft nod of thanks, then returned to your place among the other artists, earning a few proud touches as you passed. Your conductor took his usual position before you and raised his baton.

After your opening performance, you played the concert as one, presenting the enchanting classics of French opera with all the devotion your shared passion demanded, and were richly rewarded with a standing ovation. You all rose from your seats, bowed, and received a flurry of flowers thrown onto the stage. You always told yourselves you didn’t do it for this moment after a concert, but God, did it feel good.

Slowly, with deliberate and dignified elegance, you all left the stage one by one to mingle among the guests and accept their words of praise. Most of the artists had family present as well, so you made your way toward your own, certain there’d be time later to catch up with your friends.

Your little sister, just old enough now to be allowed into the opera, came skipping toward you with a broad grin, your parents just behind her.

“You were amazing!” she exclaimed, just a little too loudly, as you bent down to meet her outstretched arms. A few heads turned your way, mildly scandalized. After all, this was a formal evening. So you brought a finger to your lips with a playful wink. Louise caught on immediately and pressed her own lips together.

Your parents reached you and embraced you one after the other. “Well done,” praised your father, while your mother brushed your cheek with a tender hand. Gratitude couldn’t begin to describe how much you appreciated that your parents, despite their prestigious standing in the Writers circle, had never denied you your love of music, had, in fact, made it possible for you to pursue it wholeheartedly.

“Could you tell how nervous I was?” you asked, discreetly fanning yourself with one hand.

“Only at the beginning. There was a moment, wasn’t there?” your mother replied with an amused smile.

You nodded.

“Well, maybe that’s not a question you should ask your parents. Of course we notice – we’ve known you your whole life.”

“I didn’t notice anything,” Louise chimed in. “You looked like a princess.” She grabbed at the heavy fabric of your luxuriously flared dress and rubbed one of the silver-embellished threads between her fingers, just like she had this morning.

“I’m gonna ask some other people from the audience then,” you quipped, though you were genuinely curious to hear what some of the other patrons – familiar faces from Paris’ upper circles – thought of your solo. 

“I’m going to get something to drink, if that’s alright.” You gestured toward the exit of the auditorium, where most guests were already streaming out toward the promenade hall, the foyer, and the restaurant, where the high society, now that the concert was over, would sit, stroll, sip, greet one another, and show themselves off. A forced evening, really, but crucial for maintaining the delicate balance between the factions.

Your parents nodded, having to hold Louise back as she made to enthusiastically follow you. Louise was often, nearly always, by your side, and you adored your sister, would’ve taken her with you anywhere, but your parents insisted that you expand your own network without having to mind her. Despite all the privilege, you were expected to marry one day, after all.

“You can talk to your sister again later, dear,” your mother soothed the deeply offended-looking Louise. She obeyed quickly, as well-behaved a child as she was, and also got distracted by one of her own friends, who joined your family alongside her parents, proudly showing off her newest fountain pen.

On your way to the restaurant, you passed countless people who all wanted to congratulate you on your first solo at the Opéra Garnier. You accepted them all with grace, engaged in polite small talk, doing everything you could to seem dignified and elegant without letting your overwhelming thirst show. An almost impossible task, given how parched your tongue grew with every word.

You were just about to step through the door to the room of desire, when yet another person said your name. Internally, you cursed. You feared that your voice would fail you with the next sentence, but you saw no other option than to turn toward the male voice.

Merde.

“Monsieur Dessendre.” And just then, you had to clear your throat, in front of the son of the Dessendre family of all people, Verso. You knew each other – barely, you would say. And yet, despite the superficiality of your past conversations, there had always been something beneath the surface, something you still couldn’t quite grasp to this day. It was an obscure attraction, born from the way Verso’s eyes lit up whenever you encountered each other at the opera and exchanged a few words about music – he was surprisingly well-versed.

Then there was his gentle smile, spilling over into a quiet grin whenever you couldn’t help but chuckle at one of his carefully delivered jokes. Perhaps it was also the way he moved that fascinated you, mind you, more than it should have. The way he casually crossed his arms while listening to you speak, shifting his weight to one leg, his gaze lingering on you, interested and somehow dreamy, with a single black strand of hair occasionally falling in front of his eyes.

It had never been avoidable for Writers and Painters to run into each other time and again, especially within the city’s high society. Events weren’t held twice just because of what you considered an unnecessary feud. Garden parties, ballet, the opera – especially the latter was where you saw Verso Dessendre most frequently. And somehow you always ended up in conversation, during which you’d discovered you actually had quite a lot in common. At the same time, you always tried to end the chats as quickly as possible so as not to be seen spending too much time with the son of one of the most influential Painter families. 

He showed his usual, gentle smile and raised two glasses of lemonade. “I've been watching your long journey from the auditorium to the restaurant and figured you must be dying of thirst by now.” He offered you one of the glasses.

As thirsty as you were, you couldn’t prevent your tense shoulders from relaxing with a sigh, your eyes on the drink with the small lemon slice floating in its pretty glass. So you accepted it, hoping not too many eyes were on you still. You had, after all, essentially re-entertained the entire audience between there and here.

Another sigh – quieter now, one of relief – escaped your lips as you finally took a sip and soothed your aching throat.

“Thank you,” you said, making an effort not to empty the whole glass in one go.

“If I may,” Verso said after taking a sip of his own drink. “You look lovely tonight. And the way you played – indescribable. Congratulations on reaching such a milestone.”

He held out his glass. You clinked glasses with him, a little bashfully, feeling your cheeks warm, so you quickly took another sip.

“Thank you…” you repeated, offering a smile that helped you regain your composure. “Could you tell I was terribly nervous?” The question slipped out more than it was intentionally directed at Verso Dessendre, evident by the nervous fluttering in your stomach and the way you avoided eye contact. Showing weakness in front of a Painter was a bad idea, though, if anyone among them could be trusted, it would probably be Verso.

He blinked in surprise, and you weren’t surprised. So far, your conversations hadn’t been personal, no talk of feelings, family, or anything remotely intimate, but always about the weather, familiar faces, and of course, music. Still, he seemed to welcome the question. His puzzled look gave way to gentle curiosity and a determined shake of his head.

“Not at all. When exactly did this supposed nervousness happen?”

All the excitement of the evening, the previous polite conversations, and Verso’s friendly, attentive manner had apparently frayed your nervous system more than you realized. Before you knew it, you were babbling away:

“Honestly, it already started when I put on this dress. It’s really heavy, no matter how beautiful it is. The shoes pinch, the tiara too. And then, standing in front of all those people, I had a brief moment where I thought I wouldn’t be able to lift my violin, and would bring endless shame on myself and my family.”

You took another nervous sip of the lemonade, your glass nearly empty now.

Verso reacted surprisingly quickly. You had always known him to be someone who carefully chose his words, or so it had seemed to you all this time. That didn’t surprise you either; you yourself always spoke to him with careful deliberation – well, at least until now. So his immediate, amused smile surprised you as much as the words that followed: “Someone so talented couldn’t bring shame, even if she tried.”

You thought you saw a flicker of regret in his eyes, felt yourself wanting to ask him if something was wrong, but the expression vanished before you could say anything. Perhaps you had imagined it, had once again analyzed Verso far too intensely.

“Also,” he continued with a small smirk, and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement, “the audience would likely have been content just admiring your beauty.” You held your breath as his hand brushed against yours. His fingers were soft, his touch in your palm gentle. 

The idea of resisting didn’t even cross your mind as he raised your hand to his lips, his gaze calm, like walking along the Seine on a warm summer night, resting on yours. For a moment, the world stood still. It was unexpected, yet the way the backs of your fingers were grazed, so tenderly and at the same time so reverently, sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t look away from his suddenly so inviting eyes, you were certain you saw behind them a starry, endless sky.

You managed to keep your composure, though you had to suppress the reflex to pull your hand back in shock at your non-reaction. Instead, you carefully brought your hand back to your body, gently slipping it out of Verso’s grasp, hoping that the warmth in your cheeks wasn’t showing on the outside. You had immediately believed what he said, the compliment, though cliche, weighed heavily on your confused heart. There had been something in his voice, something so honest, so raw. He was being bold tonight – but why? And why hadn’t you run away yet?

“Everything alright here?”

Startled, you flinched as Camille's voice snapped you both out of your prolonged eye contact. The blonde, graceful in her dress that mirrored your own in color, moved toward you both. She smiled broadly and cheerfully, but you knew: she was checking whether you needed rescuing from the Painter standing opposite you.

“Monsieur Dessendre,” she addressed Verso, her smile unwavering. “Surely you know that one shouldn’t monopolize the star of the evening for too long. She and the rest of the orchestra have a performance to celebrate.”

Verso’s gaze briefly flicked between Camille and you before he smiled and extended his hand toward you, gesturing at the glass. You followed the gesture and handed it back to him.

“Of course,” he said. “It was nice seeing both of you. Congratulations once again on this exceptional performance.” He leaned in your direction, whereupon Camille grabbed you by the arm and began pulling you away. You let her guide you, but couldn’t help glancing back over your shoulder. Your stomach fluttered with exaggerated excitement as you realized he was still watching you, holding both glasses. His smile widened as your eyes met, and you returned the gesture, raising your free hand in farewell.

Camille steered you into the crowd and out of Verso’s sight. “What was going on there, then?” she asked mischievously.

“Nothing,” you replied instantly, too instantly, and you knew it made you seem far more suspicious than if you had told the truth.

Camille let out an amused sound. “He is a handsome one, isn’t he?”

“Camille!” you implored. She couldn’t go planting even more foolish thoughts in your head than the ones you had already let grow there. Still, you had to say it out loud: “If only he didn’t always look so sad.”

Now your friend giggled. “You’ve been watching him, hmm? I can’t blame you. Honestly, how can it be that in all this time there’s never been any romance between us and them? Nonsense, if you ask me. Just all secret affairs. Can’t hurt, and Verso seems to be into you.” She gave you an impish look.

“Camille…” You rolled your eyes, but amusement and curiosity were beginning to creep into your consciousness.

As the long evening wore on, you caught yourself repeatedly letting your gaze wander, searching for the dark-haired source of your questionable fascination. Yet all your eyes found were his family members, scattered throughout the vast halls of the Opera, though even they seemed strangely captivating, in the way they carried themselves, but especially in their eyes, all of which observed the world with a curious glint. Maybe that came with the occupation of being an artist. You all were always somehow searching for inspiration, eyes wide open, ready to capture the soul of a moment, should it choose to reveal itself to you.

When the evening finally came to a close and the guests began heading home, you let your parents know you'd be staying a while longer. The night felt special, so special, in fact, that you weren't ready to let go of it just yet. You said goodbye to as few people as possible to avoid having to explain yourself, and slipped back into the auditorium.

The door clicked shut behind you, swallowing the sounds from outside. Even as a child in the audience, the opera house had always brought you a quiet sense of ease, and the musicians on stage with their instruments and gentle movements had held a magical pull over you, so much so that you had begged your parents for violin lessons. Being able to stand on this very stage yourself now, despite everything, was a privilege you lived out with deep gratitude.

That gratitude was only magnified by your parents' generous donations to the opera, which meant you could have the space all to yourself long after the building should have closed. The lights were dimmed, only a few soft fixtures illuminated the immediate area around the stage. That, combined with the wonderful silence, created the sense of another world – a world so peaceful that you didn’t want to disturb it with heavy steps.

You bent down, unfastened the straps on your shoes, and let your feet, still covered in tights, slip out. The soft carpet plunged you fully into this otherworldly existence, as if it and not the door behind you were the portal to it. It cushioned your cautious steps toward the first row in front of the stage, grounding you in the here and now. In the middle of the room, you let yourself sink into one of the plush seats, nestled into the soft fabric, not sitting up straight, but rather leaning back.

The heavy but comforting fabric of your dress gave your hands something to cling to as you absentmindedly ran your fingers over it, your head tilted back to look at the stage and the eternally high, ornate ceilings above, lost in thought. Would you leave your mark in the world of music? Or would the day come when you’d have to give up the dream and return to your original profession, to your actual power? For a moment, you closed your eyes.

“Hi.”

Your eyes flew open instantly, a startled squeal escaped your lips, and you bolted upright.

“Verso?” you asked, surprised, your heart pounding in fright. Where had he come from? Had you really been so immersed in the space that you hadn’t heard him enter?

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Your hands started sweating slightly – again – and you clenched the fabric of your dress to calm yourself. “Well, you did.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, real regret in his sincere voice.

His features lay in half-shadow, accentuated by the gentle light from up front, casting soft rays on his face. His midnight-black hair glowed like starlight, his lips, drawn down in concern, were somehow still soothing, somehow alluring in this light, so much so that you brought your hand to your own, where they had touched you hours before. 

“Wh-What are you doing here?” you asked hesitantly, once again caught off guard by how drawn you were to him, something you knew you should be avoiding, yet here you were, alone with him.

“Me, I…” He loosened the tie of his elegant suit in a sheepish gesture, his gaze drifting toward the stage. “I just wanted to soak up the atmosphere a little. Actually sat in the back when you came in.” He nodded toward the rear of the auditorium, prompting you to glance back, eyes sweeping over the many rows of seats. No one else was there.

“Oh.” You chuckled. “I didn’t see you there. Seems like we had the same idea.”

Verso visibly relaxed at your more inviting words. “Can I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the seat next to you.

“Please.” You smiled. You had originally intended to enjoy the moment by yourself, but Verso’s presence was pleasant, and from everything you’d learned about him so far, you knew he appreciated the magic of the opera just as much as you did.

He returned your smile and sank down beside you. A comfortable silence settled between you as you both gazed ahead, at the stage and the lonely, rarely moved piano. Next to it stood your violin, which your parents had apparently forgotten to pack. They were still Writers, after all, you had to look after your little treasure yourself. Good thing you had come back in. The rest of the orchestra had already been cleared away.

It was you who broke the silence: “What would you have done if they had locked up?” You looked at him curiously.

He chuckled, his gaze remaining on the stage. “I kept an eye on the time. If I’d been locked in… I think it wouldn’t have been too bad, at least in here.”

You made a small, appreciative sound. “I understand the sentiment,” you said softly, so your voice wouldn’t disturb the room. “If I could, I would stay here forever.” You got up and walked toward the stage, intending to pull yourself up instead of using the stairs. For that, you had to pull up your dress, but then your hoop skirt got in the way too.

“Ugh, this damn thing,” you complained. You should’ve cast it aside ages ago. Rummaging through your skirts, you searched for the fastening, only to stop and glance up toward Verso, who was watching you, his cheek resting in his hand. Despite the dim light, you saw the interested sparkle in his eyes.

“You don’t mind, right?” you asked, somehow certain that Verso was a safe person.

“Not at all,” he answered with a strangely dreamy smile. You were almost impressed by how polite he remained despite how you were presenting yourself – after all, you had to hike your dress up quite a bit to get to the hoop skirt. But the relief of getting rid of the heavy thing outweighed the slight discomfort as it dropped to the floor.

“Finally,” you sighed as your dress clung more naturally to your body, still heavy, but at least now more flowing. You stepped out of the hoop skirt, now able to climb up onto the stage, careful not to tug on your dress and accidentally lower the off-shoulder neckline further.

Then you stood up there, this time without the bright lights around you, without the applause, no nerves, just you, the lonely instruments, and the lone man in the front row. You soaked in the feeling – a different one, but still so familiar – breathing it in with your head tilted back before your gaze returned to Verso.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” you asked, smiling, your hands behind your back.

“That she is,” Verso replied, his voice barely loud enough to reach your ears, but you felt like you were in a play, with the way his eyes rested on you as he said those words, rather than on the ceiling, or the curtain, or anything else but you.

You shook off the rising embarrassment with your next question, though the anticipation between you grew. The room might have been huge, but the sphere between you felt alarmingly small. “You… have a lot of love for the art of music, don’t you?” You lowered yourself to the floor of the stage, your legs dangling off the edge. “You speak so knowledgeably about music, and I see you here at the opera so often.”

“So you have been observing me?” he asked curiously, with a touch of mischief in his voice.

You chuckled. “I can be quite observant, Monsieur. Especially when someone visits the opera as often as you.”

“I see,” he chirped. He pushed himself up from his seat and walked toward you. Your eyes darted to his hands as he opened his jacket. “You don’t mind, right?” he echoed your earlier words.

“Not at all,” you recited his, as the fabric slid from his shoulders and joined your hoop skirt on the floor, shortly followed by his tie, which he seemed particularly eager to part with. You’d never worn one yourself, but you could imagine that a suit with so many layers was just as uncomfortable to wear, especially as the hour grew late.

Under his jacket, Verso wore a simple white shirt, with suspenders stretched over it. You had never seen a Painter look this casual before, and of all people, it was Verso Dessendre, who now ran a hand through his black curls, brushing them back. With that simple gesture, he didn’t just mess up his hair, but flustered you in the process as well. You watched, captivated, as he leaned against the stage right next to you.

“I’ve been watching out, too,” he admitted, “I mean, how you play. It’s inspiring. Even if I can’t play the violin.”

“So you do play?” you asked curiously, watching as Verso’s gaze drifted toward the piano.

He nodded. “I play the piano.”

“Really? Why have I never seen you play?” Maybe he wasn’t any good, but with the way he talked about music, how he seemed to love it, you didn’t really believe that.

He lifted his shoulders as if to brush off the question but answered with a revelation you hadn’t expected: “My parents aren’t as supportive as yours.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” you began, trying to find the right response to the source of that spark of sadness you’d often glimpsed in Verso’s eyes, just like now, even as he looked down at the stage floor.

“It’s alright,” he interrupted your frantic fumbling. “It’s… nice, in a way, to know there are people, Writer or Painter, who get to live their passion. Nice to live vicariously through them.” He made a half-hearted, winning gesture, but his hand dropped back onto the stage just as quickly.

“Mhm,” you murmured, debating with yourself whether to open up to him. But then, he had done so as well. “It’s not like my parents were thrilled to see me swaying away from writing either,” you admitted.

His gaze met yours, and he evoked so much compassion in you that you reached for his hand. Your fingers brushed lightly, cautiously over the back of his hand, afraid he might pull away, but all he did was give a brief, crooked, uncertain smile.

You relaxed, let your hand settle more closely against his. “I only ever wrote one novel,” you told him, deliberately amused at yourself, “and it really wasn’t a good one. Maybe –” you chuckled, “maybe my parents just gave up on me.”

Verso furrowed his brows thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. They seem to be very proud of you. And I’m quite certain your powers are just as extraordinary as you are.” 

Without breaking eye contact, he turned his hand over, letting yours rest in his palm, then traced soft fingers across the back of your hand. Your skin tingled, like electrically charged, every time he drew a new path across it. He brought your own fingers to his skin, your breath escaping softly but heavily as you followed the lines in his palm. His skin was so soft that you immediately believed he played the piano. 

“Your fingers bear the marks of the strings,” he noted as he felt you calluses. “I like it.” The gentle smile returned to his face.

“Never heard that one before,” you grinned. Normally, women’s hands were expected to be soft and moisturized, but the string players of the opera had chosen a different fate. You loved what you did, but that didn’t mean the occasional insecurity didn’t creep in. “You don’t like painting, then?”

You knew almost nothing about the powers of Painters, usually kept your distance, only ever hearing stories of how they created canvas worlds, but that wasn’t the point right now.

Verso let out a quiet sigh. “It’s not that I dislike it. It’s just not really my passion. I, like you, only ever created one work, one canvas, as a child. And since then, I’ve disappointed my parents by not being the Painter they want me to be.”

“It’s hard,” you said, “not being what others expect of you.” You gently squeezed his hand. In his case, the disappointment probably weighed heavier, given the greater influence of his family – but you understood him. You didn’t just share the passion for music, but also what it meant for both of you and your surroundings. Talking to Verso was easier than you had dared to believe. Maybe it was the peaceful setting, the dim light in which all barriers seemed to fall away.

“Yeah,” Verso agreed, “but it’s comforting to share this burden with someone.” He let your hand slip from his and lightly ran his fingers along your forearm. Your breath quickened. His gaze briefly followed the path of his touch before returning to your face. 

“Is this alright?” he asked, and that simple, respectful question made your heart skip a beat. What was happening here? Could you really allow this? Let yourself be further drawn into Verso Dessendre’s orbit, despite all the taboos and rules? Maybe it was already too late – your skin tingled pleasantly under his touch, and you didn’t want him to stop.

You swallowed and nodded softly. His fingers continued their path up your arm, as far as they could reach, until they rested on your shoulder. You allowed yourself to lean slightly toward him from your elevated position. His hand settled in the hollow of your neck, his thumb gently brushing your chin.

“Is this alright?” he asked again. You followed the gentle pull of his hand in his direction, downward, until his other hand caught your face. His dreamy eyes, now with the slightest hint of haze, never left yours, carefully searching for hesitation or uncertainty. You wished it wasn’t so dark, you might be able to make out the nuances of his eye color, close as you now were. Your hand twitched upward and lightly touched his cheek, prompting a soft, audible inhale from him. His neatly trimmed beard, maintained for the evening, tickled your fingertips pleasantly.

Your breaths were already mingling when he asked again, “Is this alright?”

You took a breath and smiled. “Are you asking me or yourself?”

His fingers breezed against your skin, echoing your gesture. “I guess both. I always felt, when we talked…” His eyes flitted between yours. “That there was something. You fascinated me from the first moment I laid eyes on you.” He gave a lopsided grin you’d never seen on him before, but it was adorable. “And I know that sounds cheesy.”

“No, no, not at all.” You wanted to touch the hands holding your face, but had to support your body weight on the stage floor to avoid tipping forward. “I felt the same. But… you know.” You alluded to the feud between Writers and Painters.

“Yeah, I know,” he whispered, satisfied with your shared feelings, and continued his approach.

“What are we doing?” you whispered, your lips already brushing against his.

“That I don’t know,” he replied, then your lips met.

It was a tender, hesitant kiss, just a touch, really. You both held back, not quite believing how strong this attraction was, how you’d managed to ignore it for so long, and, at least on your part, how on earth you had ended up here.

But for every question in your mind, another gentle kiss followed – each time a little more intent, each one clouding your senses a little more. In your current position, you couldn’t lean into him further without risking your balance, but you wanted so badly to feel more of him, more than just the gentle hands holding your face. You were tempted to let go and let him catch you. But then his lips claimed yours again, and you were lost in a moment you didn’t want to interrupt. 

Until he did. After the last movement of his lips, which you didn't know would be the last, he gently pulled away from you, but kept his face close to yours. Your breath was shaky, and you knew he could hear it. Thankfully, so was his.

“I know what we can do,” you said, an idea forming, one you were sure Verso would like.

“Oh yeah?” The curious grin returned to his previously serious face. “What's that?”

You straightened up, his hands slipping from your face, and he let you pull him up onto the stage with you. For a moment, he looked at the empty rows of seats, a longing expression on his face, until your gentle pressure on your intertwined hands brought his attention back to you. 

“Nice up here,” he remarked.

“Let’s play something,” you offered, pulling him toward the instruments. “Together.”

Verso’s gaze flicked again toward the audience rows, as if he saw an invisible crowd, then to the closed door leading outside.

“You sure?” he asked, though you already heard the excited anticipation in his voice.

“I have the keys, I have the power,” you replied cheekily. “Sit.”

He hesitated for another second, then walked cautiously over to the piano while you picked up your violin. You watched him as he reverently ran his hand over the expensive material, slowly and deliberately circling it, until he reached the stool in front of the keys. A soft tone emitted when he pressed one. He sat down, while you took a few steps back.

“Whatever you play, I will chime in,” you said. “It’s your stage, Monsieur Dessendre.” You gestured over to the darkened audience seats. “Your Palais."

His eyes drifted across the keys in front of him, then back to you. You thought you could make out his joy, but maybe you were mistaken. “You are –” he began devotedly, but seemed unable to find the right word. “I think you’ll know this one.” He sat up straight at the piano and lowered his fingers onto the keys.

You weren’t entirely sure whether to laugh or throw your arms around his neck when he played the first notes. Of course, you recognized it immediately, and it was cheesy and ridiculous and utterly romantic that he, of all things he could have chosen, elicited the melody of Plaisir d’amour from the piano.

For a moment you just listened to him play, in his own unique style, skillful, that was clear right away, as he played not only without sheet music, but not by the book either. He added a few odd notes into the sequence of chords, turned what was usually a very serene piece into something more thrilling, imbued it with the promise of an adventure between two lovers who couldn't help but find each other, again and again, no matter the circumstances.

Then you joined in with the delicate, bright voice of your violin, matching Verso’s tone and speed, pouring your soul outward, right there to the center of the stage, where Verso’s was already waiting. You could have used so many words, but nothing brought truth to light like the conversation of music. It revealed how much Verso longed for a life he couldn’t have and how much he envied you for yours. It revealed how unsure you were about the path you had chosen and how much you envied Verso for his conviction. And then – it revealed how deeply both your souls had craved the comfort of knowing they finally found their other half.

The wave of emotion hit you hard and relentlessly. You knew immediately that it wasn’t just the effect of the music. You would almost call it divine intervention, the realization, as if a missing puzzle piece had appeared, as if a long-forgotten key had found its lock. The melody carried feelings into the air that weren’t supposed to be, but had to be. Merde, did he feel it too?

Your symphony faded smoothly into the hall, and only your tears remained to remind you of what had just happened to you, what you had experienced with all your senses, without really paying attention to him. Your eyes searched for his in the dim light of the stage, and you exhaled when you realized that his were already searching for yours.

Verso looked as overwhelmed as you must have, his eyes shimmering with tears as well, both of you deeply moved by what you had created. And so desperately did you find each other in the wake of this symphony. You quickly wiped the salty pearls from your face as you stared without blinking.

He was the first to move, standing up quickly and circling the piano. You bent down to put your violin away. You walked toward each other, the distance short, the steps urgent, and then your bodies crashed together, and this time, you didn’t hold back. His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you to his with need, and your hands finally had the chance to touch him. You savored every inch, splaying your hands over his back, sliding up the soft fabric of his shirt, up into his smooth black curls. You reveled in their texture – all while your lips explored each other’s in a kiss so devoted on both sides  that it took your breath away. 

You were demanding, searching and finding the rapture that was his body and soul, your exploratory hands finding their way from his hair to his beard, while his own returned to your neck, gently but firmly positioning your face exactly the way he wanted – and God, did he do it right. A small sigh escaped you against his virtuoso lips, which only slowly ceased their pursuit, and only to let you both catch your breath.

He gently pushed you away from him, yet his hands kept reaching into your skin, as if he wanted to pull you back every second, because he had changed his mind and decided that air wasn’t as important as your lips.

Both of you were breathing heavily, your thoughts racing from one scenario to the next, but unfortunately sticking to the one rational thought still clinging to your mind: “You know, this is like, very forbidden.” And even though you said it, you hoped he cared as little about that as you did.

He blinked the trance from his eyes, trying to clear his mind enough to form an answer. “We don’t need to tell anyone, right?” he replied, a crooked grin full of affection following those words.

[foxankor]

Atoma: We Are One

Atoma

Hold your feet to the ground To the end of our time For the rest of our lives Hold your head up high To the end of our time For the rest of our lives

I am running down the middle of the black tar-covered road.  My view is all but bleak.  The sky is almost black with rain clouds, and bolts of lightning scatter across.  Rain beats down on me as I run through the deep puddles formed in the divots in the road.  The thunder rattles through my chest, wave upon wave.  My legs are heavy, but my heart pounds relentlessly, adrenaline rushing through me like never before.  Pure fear fuels this run, but also pure love.  I love her, so fucking much.  I fucked up.  I think I'm going to lose her.  I said things I didn't mean, things that didn't reflect my love for her.  I said them in a moment of weakness, a moment of vulnerability.  It’s all a blur as she's running from me.  I feel like I can’t catch her.  The rain pours as hard as the regret flows through my aching chest.  I feel anxiety, emptiness, and more sadness than I can describe.  I lose sight of her, even though I'm running after her with everything I have.  My heart sinks.  The absence of her in my sight rips me apart, sending a quake of shivers through me.  I won't give up, however; not yet, not on her. 

I hold my head up high and keep pushing my feet harder and harder into the ground. I continue to combat the troublesome weather.  I run faster and faster until I come to a quick sliding stop.  A fork in the road lies in front of me.  One way twists left, and one way juts out to the right.  Normally, the decision of which way to go would stump anyone else.  My decision is easy, however... I know she went to the left.  She always goes to the left.  She sleeps on the left side of the bed.  She prefers the left side touched more than the right.  She tilts her head to the left when we kiss.  She always puts her book on the left-end table by the couch.  She prefers the left because she broke her right wrist skiing and got used to using her left hand more.  She undeniably went to the left.  I quickly make my decision and run down the left twine of the fork.   The path of the road turns into mud, so deep it is almost black.  It’s slick and heavy, trying to pull me down as I run.  Running is forfeit.  I trudge through deep mud for what feels like hours and hours.  My legs get heavier and heavier and I fear that I will not make it to her. I fear that I will fail her, that I will fail us.

I think of all the hard times we have made it through together; the deaths, the distance, the sicknesses, the misunderstandings, all the screaming, the anger, and all the times we went to bed mad and hurting.  I think of all the times she denied my comfort and the times when I denied hers.  I think of how we always made it through every altercation and made each other better.  All the break-up sex, make-up sex,  all the nights we stayed up talking and crying, all the nights I held her until the sun came up, all the forehead kisses, all the times she made me laugh when nobody else could, all of it fixed every broken part of each other.  I can still remember that first kiss after a fight, the rewarding feeling of us coming back to each other.  There's nothing like that kiss on this earth.  It feels like we can conquer anything.  A kiss, a hug, or a look in the eyes is usually all it takes to fix a quarrel.  No matter how hard it is, we fix it with unconditional love.  There is no “falling out” for us, no matter how much distance comes between us.  So, there is no reason why we can’t conquer this.  I won’t let her give up.  I won’t let her run away from this.  I can’t let this path keep us apart.  I still love her, I still need her. 

 The rain pours down harder and harder, drenching me and dropping my temperature.  I push and pull myself through the mud with everything that I have.  I use every powerful and monumental feeling I have ever felt for her, and it fuels me more than ever.  I finally get out of the mud pit and back onto a paved road.  The road is lined with golden and orange colored trees, reminding me that this is still home.  I run down this paved road, but I notice there are no tracks and no muddy footprints.  There is no sign of her on this path.  I get to this old cemetery, outlined with an almost ancient-looking stone fence, connecting with beautiful ironwork fencing.  I stop at the gate and lean over, taking a moment to try to catch my breath.  I stand there for a second, wondering and worrying if I took the wrong path.  If she went down the left path, she could be anywhere.  Fuck.  Maybe chasing after her is all in vain.  Maybe she doesn’t want to be found right now, and that’s why she chose the least obvious path.  Tears come to my eyes as I wonder how long we’ll be apart during this fight.  The longest we’ve been on break is only a week, but it was the hardest week of my life.  I don’t want this to be one of those times, not now, not when we’re so close to the next step of forever.  

I don’t care what the elders say that controls the actions of the last living.  I do not care if gay couples are prohibited.  I do not care if they watch us for the rest of our lives with judging eyes.  It doesn’t matter what they think is right for this dying world.  They are old and jaded.  They do not understand the meaning of love.  All they care about is populating the colony on Mars, not the happiness of the already living.  They do not care that we’ve been together for thirty years, happily, and have not asked anything of them the entirety of our lives.  We live alone.  We grow our food.  We follow all of their laws, rules, and ordinances to the final detail, but we refuse to leave.  We refuse to leave our homes, break up, and “mate” with others.  The elders’ sick ways of preservation are outdated, unnecessary, inappropriate, and cruel.  I refuse to let them break us apart.  I refuse to let them stop our marriage.  I will fight for her, I will fight for us until the end.  They can chase us, they can hate us, they can try to tear us apart, but I won’t let them.   If she still wants us and wants our marriage, then nothing can stop us.  We decide our fate, not them.  I just hope that I am not the one who breaks us apart.

I stand at the gate, completely lost in thought as reality seems to blur.  I have no idea where to go or what to do.  I haven’t felt this lost since before I met her.  It’s fucking terrifying.  It feels like my existence is null.  It feels like I will just fade away and disappear without her.  I fucked up monumentally, and I don’t even remember exactly what I said.  I don’t even remember what I said to hurt her or why.  Why would I say something bad enough to make her run away from me?  There’s no good reason and there’s no excuse.  I refuse to accept the fact that words alone could break us.  No matter how long this takes, I will fix it.  I will try with everything I have to erase those words from our history because our story is so much greater than the fights.  I know I won’t lose her. For once in my life I believe something irrevocably.  For once my self-confidence doesn’t hinder my trust or faith that someone loves me.  I know I fucked up again and I know I was wrong, but god that doesn’t change the fucking immensely deep love we feel for each other.  That doesn’t take away our first kiss.  It doesn’t take away the first time we made love in the hotel room.  It doesn’t take away the first night she slept in my arms.  It doesn’t take away all the times I made her laugh when no one else could.  It doesn’t take away our love, our goofy, our deep, our unwavering, our fun and exciting, our adventurous, our universe-shattering love.  Nothing can, and nothing ever will.

I lift my head high again, letting all that passion rush back through me.  I look at the darkened skies, finding comfort in knowing she’s looking upon them too.  I feel determination, just as I did before the first time I told her I loved her.  My eyes peer across the cemetery, and I see another road leading from the other end of it.  My stride of determination takes me across the creepy cemetery, ravens circling and cawing above my head.  I finally walk out the other gate and onto the other path. The path follows into a group of trees, to a meadow where only a few flowers still survive in the fall.  I walk out into the middle of the meadow as the rain falls diagonally, the wind picking up exponentially.  Of course, where else would I find her than here?  Of course, she took the opposite path that I did.  Yet, we still end up in the same place, a perfect metaphor for everything we’ve been through together.  I walk up to her, and as she turns around, we both start crying.  We lunge at each other and pull each other into a really tight hug.  The way she hugs me has always been tight, even from the beginning, but this hug is like all of our first hugs combined.  We’re both probably freezing cold in this fall rain, but we manage to warm each other up slightly.  She feels like home, she smells like home. God, she is my home.

  “I am so sorry I hurt you,” I say, even though I don’t remember what I did or said.  It doesn’t matter what I did or said, just that I  hurt her in the first place.  I pull her tighter against me and tuck my head into her neck.

  “I am so sorry I ran from you like that.....  I went to the right...  I hoped you would catch up to me in the middle.”

  “I went to the left, because you always go to the left,” I say.  We pull away and look at each other.

  She cups my face, stroking my cheek as she stares at me, “I went to the right because you always sleep on the right side of the bed.”

  “We went different ways for each other,” I look into her eyes.

  She laughs a little, “But we met in the middle...”

  “Holy fuck, that’s poetic...  God, I love you, so fucking much..”

  She rests her forehead on mine, “I love you too, so fucking much.  No more fighting...”

  “No more, I agree, Charly...  Let’s go home.  It’s freezing out here.”

  “Not yet,” she says as she wraps both of her arms around my neck and presses her body against mine.  We kiss in the rain, deeply, much like our first kiss in the rain.  All the pain, the anxiety, the doubt, and the fear are erased upon this kiss, just as it always does.  Nothing else matters but this kiss at this very moment.  It seems to last forever, even longer than our first kiss, even longer than the kiss after two months of touring.  The rain keeps pouring over us, and we do not care.  The world just fades away and all that exists is each other.  From this kiss on, I can’t promise I won’t hurt her again.  I can’t promise my stupid insecurities won’t creep back up.  I can’t promise eternity will be easy together.  The only thing I can promise is, I will love this woman unconditionally until the sun swallows this earth.  We are undividable.  We are inseparable.  We are Atoma.

[makkinmusic]

THE ERAS TOUR!!!

Taylor Swift created the Eras Tour in a celebration of her musical journey, which showcases all of her albums, which represents a specific “era” of her career. The tour was originally announced in 2022. The tour features her transition from country to pop, and then to indie-folk.

If I want to talk about memorable experiences, I will always go back to the Eras tour. May 27th, 2023. The process all began back in October when we all gathered around a lunch table, after school eagerly waiting for nearly four hours in line to secure the seats. The rush of quickly picking the seats that were available and the pause of our breath to see if the ticket made it to the cart is another type of adrenaline rush I can’t explain. “SUCCESS!” The screen showed us, confetti falling from the top of the screen. We turned to one another, faces red with pure excitement, got up and hugged each other, squealing as we jumped around in circles.

We arrived at the venue at MetLife Stadium, trying to move through the crowds of people, holding hands in a train formation, as we got to our seats. After everyone was settled in, bathroom breaks and all, the opening acts were Phoebe Bridgers and Gracie Abrams. At that time, I was not an avid listener, in fact, I think I started getting into both Phoebe and Gracie after this concert (crazy). Phoebe played one of her most popular songs, Motion Sickness and Scott Street, which I remember the most vividly because those were the songs I heard to convince myself to listen to more of her music. Gracie Abrams played I Know It Won’t Work as one of her songs, which I recognized as one of her typical mainstream songs (it’s popular for a reason). 

Then the main act, Taylor, obviously came out starting off with her song Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince, rising up through the stage. The crowd went wild, it was roaring, I was definitely singing my heart out (sorry for those who heard me). We were given glow up bracelets, which were glowing with every song and every beat. Taylor finished the set for the first era, Lover.

Cruel Summer

The Man

You Need to Calm Down

Lover 

The Archer (I teared up)

Right after this set, we got Fearless with the songs:

Fearless

You Belong With Me

Love Story

What a nostalgic throwback.

Then it was Evermore with:

‘Tis the Damn Season

Willow

Marjorie

Champagne Problems

Tolerate it

My friends and I were either screaming or in tears (my friend got her toe stomped on during Tolerate it). 

Then, the concert went from a complete twist of slow and romantic music to hype upbeat music for her Reputation album. The stage went black and before Taylor came back onto it, a big green snake was projected on the floor of the stage where it slithered eerily. The song that next played was …Ready for it? What a great way to open up the set! The songs played for this era were

Delicate

Don’t Blame Me

Look What You Made Me Do

Fun fact, Reputation was the theme for my outfit!

Taylor then made her way to perform for Speak Now, but we only got one song, so I kind of felt robbed. She could’ve done so much with this part. We got:

Enchanted

That was it.

Red came along, my friends went wild. Two of them dressed in the Red theme. Personally, this one is one of my favorites and one of my first listens to an album of hers. She played:

Red

22

We Are Never Getting Back Together

I Knew You Were Trouble

Nothing New (WITH PHOEBE BRIDGERS!!!!)

All Too Well (10 minute version)

We got Folklore with a change in scenery; the ivy house and her flowy earthy toned dresses.

Seven

The 1

Betty

The last great american dynasty

August (my favorite)

Illicit affairs

My tears ricochet (scratch that, this on might be my number 1)

Cardigan

She made her way to 1989 with:

Style

Blank Space

Shake It Off

Wildest Dreams

Bad Blood

I really loved how she made switches from sadder and slower songs to her upbeat and fun pop songs, it really helped the audience from staying bored– at least for me. 

Finally, I need to discuss the surprise songs because in the car, it was a bit of a funny story. My friends and I were discussing our predictions for the surprise songs. One of my friends said if Taylor played False God during the concert, she would text her crush and tell him she liked him. Keep this in mind.

We got

FALSE GOD

Holy Ground

She ended up texting her crush; now they’re dating (Yay)! Holy Ground is slept on by so many people. I think it needed to get the love that it got that day. I love Taylor's acoustic voice and her acoustic guitar. It really changes the vibe of the song entirely and makes you understand it from a new level of depth.

Right after the surprise songs, Taylor made her way to the final set-list of the night– Midnights. The songs were:

Lavender Haze

Anti-Hero

Midnight Rain

Vigilante Shit

Bejeweled 

* Bejeweled Dance– if you know, you know.

Mastermind 

Karma (WITH ICE SPICE)

I was not ready for the moment she brought Ice Spice out with her. Their song was ok (a topic for another time), but I was happy to experience it regardless. The musicality and the presentation of this concert were out of this world, topping any other concert I’ve been to or any other concerts of hers she did. One of the best and most meaningful moments of my life as an avid music listener. I’m crossing my fingers right now that the upcoming months and year will help me enrich myself in the culture of live concerts, because I feel that through live concerts, musicians are connecting with the fans, giving us the most genuine and authentically free-flowing music. I really wished she included her Debut album, Our Song was literally the first song I listened to of Taylor’s. Anyways, I gave you guys a version of the tour on this blog post, (the links on the songs) so GO LISTEN!