#and like a little bit when they bite my character outside of the vehicle

[mrslittletall]

Yesterday I played a bit of Subnautica. I first did tidy up my base and charge my battieres and made some powercells, then I went into my prawn and decided to search for wrecks. Keep in mind, I haven't played the game in over a year so I didn't know where I already was and where not. I found a promising looking area and started to look around only to be jumpscared by a boneshark. Out of reflex I punched it with the prawn fists. Over and over again until it suddenly sank to the ground. My husband then going: "Okay, you killed it, this one won't bother you again." Me: "I can KILL bone sharks?!" And promptly proceeded to kill a second one.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Stitching Us Together

Chapter 2: The Puzzle

Summary: Following the previous night’s bizarre events, and the consequences it had brought, the group of four is back at it again, this time with one more puzzle piece than before.

Word Count: ~ 3.9k

Warnings: allusions to death, violence, military things, bri getting policed and parented, sassy teenagers, awful school food, nothing terrible

A/N: help I love writing for this story so much I wrote 2k words in my study block, I think I’m finally getting the hang of accents + writing for multiple characters at the same time, so now I’m just going to try and slowly flesh things out and make sub-conflicts, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

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Junior was just praying to whatever gods that would listen that his dad didn’t find out.

And that Bri wouldn’t snitch.

He’d already had enough talks of “responsibility” and showing a “good example” for Josie and some of his younger relatives, even if they were worse behaved than him, and he hadn’t done anything that bad at their age.

“That oatmeal done something to you?”

His father’s ruddy voice, raspy from his previous years of smoking, interrupted his thoughts. He glanced up, finding his father wearing a black beanie, beard combed out, but he could still see the bits of sleep clinging to the corners of his eyes. Junior’s bowl of oatmeal for breakfast lay in front of him, almost untouched, other than a few little cat bites he’d taken.

“No, just…tired.”

His dad raised a brow, knowing it wasn’t like his son to be so distracted. He must’ve known the anxiety he saw in his brown eyes, because he let out a breath, sitting down in an old wooden chair that creaked under his weight. The bus would be coming by soon.

He really should finish the oatmeal.

“Doesn’t have anything to do with what Brianna was doin’ last night, does it?”

He tried not to look too guilty. Brianna wouldn’t have snitched on the rest of them being out there, but she hadn’t gotten into contact with anyone since being taken home by the police. Hadn’t responded to any of their calls or anything. Hadn’t even read all of the texts Isla had sent.

“What’d she do?”

Keep your head down.

Don’t avert your eyes.

He tried not to focus on how his hands were sweating around the spoon he held, digging into the oatmeal and shoving a bite into his mouth just to keep from saying something stupid or outright admitting it, which was hard under his father’s piercingly blue stare.

Junior didn’t think a minute had ever been longer, when eventually his father let out a little humph, adjusting his beanie, when his mum walked in just in time to save him from whatever his dad had been about to say.

“Now what’s going on in here, boys?”

Her eyes went to him, a brow expectantly raised, expecting an answer.

“Nothin’, mum.”

The sound of a heavy vehicle sighing outside reached his ears, and he got up, scraping what was left of his oatmeal out into the trash, pulling his backpack over his shoulder.

“Bye.”

He mumbled, his father giving him a firm look when he glanced back, only for Junior to board the bus faster than ever before, sitting down on one of the blue leathery seats.

The school was right up the street, but his parents always insisted he take the bus, for whatever reason, as if he’d get mugged while walking a mile or two down the road. Bri and Isla took the bus too, while Charlotte was usually at her dad’s restaurant in the mornings, being driven by her dad when she was in his custody. Her mom had her take the bus when she was over at her house.

However, Brianna wasn’t here today, and only Isla was, right across from Junior to his left. She quickly noticed him, shifting over to the right to lean in and whisper to him.

“Have you heard from her?”

He shook his head, not missing the anxiety in Isa’s tone.

“It’ll be fine, maybe she just overslept, you don’t know.”

He suggested, at this point just trying to keep the girl’s nervousness down. It was pretty obvious, from the way her leg was bouncing.

“But we still don’t know who that person was, and if she’s walking to school, what if they’re waiting or something? And she hasn’t answered any texts either or called me back. I mean, I know she’s dry, but she always-“

“Isla.”

She must’ve realized she was rambling, because she slumped into her seat with a sigh, and Junior put a hand on her shoulder. He made her look like an ant, and he just now realized that.

“Her dad probably took her phone, and jumping to conclusions about last night isn’t going to help anyone. We can talk to her once we get to school. You have second and third block with her, right?”

“Yeah..”

“Exactly, and Charlie’s with you almost the entire day, so am I, we’ll manage.”

She breathed out a sigh as the bus stopped, wheels beginning to slow as the large, old vehicle also sighed as if to match her, the small doors on the side opening as everyone began filing out.

Predictable as ever, Charlie was standing with a hand on her hip by the entrance of the school, scanning through the crowd for them, finding the two of them, and cocking her head to the side in silent question.

He shook his head once.

She pursed her lips but didn’t question it further as the three of them grouped up.

“About time.”

She said, giving both Junior and Isla a look.

“For the millionth time, we can’t control when the bus gets to our houses and drops us off, Garrick.”

Isla said, shooting Charlie a venomous look, before walking off into the crowd. Charlotte raised a brow, glancing over at Junior who stood there like a big lumbering oaf, everyone having to move around him.

“Who pissed in her cereal?”

She mumbled, grabbing Jr by the arm and dragging him off to their first block. He chuckled lightly.

“Language, Garrick.”

He said, imitating the manner that Isa had said ‘Garrick’, before shaking his head and muscle memory kicking in as he began walking through the school without Charlie dragging him.

“She’s just worried about Bri. You know how they are.”

“Thick as thieves, I know.”

She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Jr shrugged, strolling into their classroom as he set his bag down by his seat, which happened to be right to the left of Charlotte’s seat.

She took her bags out in an organized pile from biggest to smallest, laying out her pencil and highlighters for the day, as well as a color-coded notebook with stickers neatly placed on it. Junior simply grabbed a notebook out of his bag, hoping it was the right one, and snatched a pencil from Charlie’s pencil pouch.

She gasped, trying to grab it back, but too slowly.

“Don’t you dare. That’s one of my nice mechanicals.”

“It’s a pencil.”

“Give. It. Back.”

He grinned, dangling the pencil in front of her between his fingers, and snatching it away right when she tried to grab it.

This happened about three times, before she huffed, and snapped.

“John Price Jr, give it to me.”

His full name being said made him drop the pencil he’d claimed from shock, and he grumbled about something under his breath while Charlie picked it up, placed it back into her pencil pouch, and fished out a normal orange wooden pencil before placing it down onto his desk with a light ‘clack’.

“Thanks.”

He said dryly, and she gave a snake’s smile.

“You're welcome.”

She replied a shade too sweetly.

The first bell rang, meaning everyone had to get to their class within five minutes, and Junior watched as Isla walked in, still sulking, and promptly sat down next to Charlie.

“Where were you?”

Jr asked, brows raised as he saw her pull out her things from her cluttered bag, and push them onto her desk, not bothering to organize it at all. Messy and uncoordinated, but somehow making sense for her. That was definitely Isla.

“Getting the stick out of her ass, hopefully.”

Charlie muttered, casting a look at her, and Isa shot her a glare in return.

“I was emptying my bladder, Johnny-boy.”

Isla responded, slowly fading out of her bad mood as Jr cringed at the nickname. Johnny-boy was not something he wanted to be called. Anything other than junior or ‘little johN’ that some of his relatives affectionately called him. It always made him a bit irritated, now was no different.

”That’s lovely.”

He said dryly, and the bell rang not a moment later their first block beginning. Junior tried not to worry himself, but he hadn’t seen Brianna yet, not through his glances to the halls, trying to catch her walking by, or through his frequent checks to his phone when the teacher wasn’t looking. No word of her.

That was until the second block.

He walked in, backpack over his shoulder, glancing around the hallways, entering his classroom. The teacher wasn’t there, probably in the bathroom or getting some water, and most of the students in this class were clustered in small groups, talking about god knows what. He recognized some of them from brief conversations, but others were from different grade levels and whatnot.

Someone he did recognize, though, was the human version of an angry, wet cat sulking, when he saw a familiar blond braid, walking over and finding none other than Brianna Riley in all her scowling glory.

”Where have you been? We’ve been trying to get ahold of you for-”

”This can wait until lunch.”

She said, and Jr sighed, walking back to his seat. This particular teacher had caught onto the little friend group quickly and promptly separated all of you for her peace of mind. He didn’t blame her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t annoyed by it.

Fine.

It could wait until lunch.

~

After listening to her Spanish teacher drone on for nearly an hour, Charlotte decided that she wanted to never hear his somehow monotonous voice ever again in her life.

Something must’ve heard her mental prayers because her worries and thoughts were quickly interrupted by the bell ringing through the classroom. Girls started packing up, picking up their bags, while the boys shoved their things in their messy backpacks and began shoving people out of the way to get to lunch. Per usual.

She could put up with their overly strong colognes, their strong-smelling deodorant, and even the disgusting smells of sweat they would leave behind in classrooms or on the bus, but the thing she couldn’t stand was all the shoving and idiotic hyena laughing she heard in the hallways.

Slipping her notebook and pencil pouch neatly into her bag, she waited at the door of the classroom for when she could find a spot to slip through and leave, interweaving between the crowds and masses of people, the metallic clanging sound of the small lockers some chose to use filling the hallways.

She strode down the hallway, turning to the side so as not to bump into two girls standing around and blocking everyone for no reason, spraying their perfumes so many times that her nose burned when she smelled it and went to one of the side stairwells that led to the lunchroom.

The main stairwells were always clogged, so she’d learned to use the side ones in her freshman year after nearly being trampled.

It meant that she usually got there before everyone else, which she did today, getting in line and walking over to the table that the group of four usually took up, and sliding her lunchbox onto it. A perk of having a family that ran a restaurant was that she always got good lunch food, never having to eat whatever sloppy mess of barely-qualifiable food the cafeteria served for lunch.

The rest of her friends, however, were not so lucky.

Isla arrived first, waving from the lunch line, and going through it before sitting down and watching Charlotte unpack her daily sandwich with nothing short of pure jealousy.

Bri was next, Isa noticing her in the line, per usual (She always had an uncanny ability to spot people in crowds, probably because of her obsession with the Where’s Waldo games) and pointing her out. Junior was right behind her, the both of them arriving at the table at relatively the same time.

Had today been an A-Day and not a B-Day, they would’ve had nearly identical schedules, and been here at the same time. But it wasn’t.

”You wanna explain why ya haven’t been answering none o’ us?”

Isa asked, the frustration in her tone obvious despite the food shoved into her mouth. Charlie cringed at it. Junior’s big, brown eyes didn’t hide his worry at all, but he remained silent for now.

”’M dad took my phone and the walkie, said I’m on house arrest for a month.”

They let out a collective breath at that, and most definitely not in relief. Junior and Charlotte opened their mouths to speak at the same time, before catching each other’s eyes, and Jr gesturing for her to go first.

”What did the police do, I mean, do you have a fine or anything?”

She questioned, and Bri’s scowl deepened.

”Detention for a week straight, is all.”

Charlie heard Isla mumbling, and doing what she assumed to be cursing under her breath, but her accent was so thick when she was worked up that she could hardly even decipher it.

”I’m assuming that means you won’t be coming by for a while?”

She asked with a raised brow, feigning sarcasm despite the worry that tugged at her. They all usually met up after school at her grandparent’s restaurant, then Bri would walk them all home, other than Charlie, since she stayed with her dad until he was done working. Some nights she would take the bus to her mom’s house, though, sometimes only on weekends, sometimes only on weekdays. It depended on how the custody was worked out every month.

But the fact of the matter was, it would be strange not having her there for a week.

”Not for a month. That’s par’ of the house arrest, can’t go out at all.”

Even stranger not to have her there for a month.

”I know your dad can be strict, but a month? Seems a bit overkill.”

Junior said, shaking his head lightly, before taking a spoonful of cafeteria tray beans into his mouth. Isla remained oddly silent, but eventually spoke, her hand going to dig into her backpack.

”Well, on the bright side, look wha’ I brought.”

She said, pulling out the manila file folder that Isla had told both Charlie and Junior about last night, after the entire arrest. Charlotte didn’t remember every detail from her Scottish friend’s rambling but knew the gist of it. At least she hoped.

A deep sigh from Bri.

”Let’s see if it was worth it,”

She said, and Isla opened the file up, placing her open backpack on the table to hide the folder from anyone in view. After what had happened last night, she didn’t know who to trust anymore. Who could’ve been in that office with the folder, who could’ve led them out to the school and called the police?

”I was lookin’ through it last night, and it’s weird, just our dad’s name’s with little nicknames in the middle. Sort o’ like a dog tag.”

She said, opening it up, and surely enough there were different things on each page. The key part of it was the names listed on one of the pages, as well as other things that had been crossed through with a thick black marker, covered up. Charlie could’ve sworn she could still smell the Sharpie ink from it. Twisting the page to a proper angle for her to see, she took a good, long look at the page.

Cap. John Price

Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley

Sarg. Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Sarg. Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Everything else was either redacted or blotted out. All of them paused for a moment before Bri spoke.

”Your dad’s first name is actually Johnny?”

Isla looked confused for a moment, before taking one look at Brianna’s slightly judgmental and flabbergasted expression, and busted out laughing.

The tension in the air deflated quickly, as Jr joined in, and Charlie let out a few giggles herself. Brianna still looked quite confused by the time they were done, glaring at the piece of paper like it was the root of all evil.

”No, seriously, I thought it was John, and Johnny was just a nickname. You’re telling me that…”

She muttered, before sighing and shaking her head as if to shake off whatever had possessed her for a moment.

”Never mind.”

Jr picked up on the blonde’s subtle cues of embarrassment, and allowing himself a final little chuckle, he then refocused on the file at hand.

”Back on task, guys.”

”Right,”

Isla said, glancing back down at the piece of paper, skimming over it again, and lifting it to one of the buzzing cafeteria lights as if to try and see through the ink covering more than half of the words.

”So, what does this even mean?”

Isa asked, and Charlie took the paper from her hands, putting it back on the gray table.

”It means our dads have been keeping secrets from us.”

Brianna’s eyes narrowed, glancing at the paper again, then at the rest of them, eyes drifting over each of them quickly.

”Why go through all that effort? Never met a vet’ tha’ hides their background, unless they were on tha’ wrong side of a war.”

Junior and Charlie’s eyes met, briefly remembering the conversation they’d had in that alley before. It was risky to reveal it now, especially when Isla could hardly keep a secret from any of her family, but she felt odd hiding it.

“They were Special Forces,”

She said in a hushed tone, leaning in, her eyes glancing around for any eavesdroppers. Both Bri and Isa looked mildly surprised, Bri more angrily confused than anything.

“Wha’s that?”

Isla asked with a furrowed brow, and Charlie answered back.

“Dealin’ with terrorists, missing bombs, all that deal.”

“How do you know wha’ they were?”

Bri asked with narrowed eyes, all the while Jr silently watched, keeping his mouth conveniently full of food so he couldn’t be questioned like Charlotte.

“I..went through my dad’s computer a while back, got into some old locked files. There wasn’t a lot that wasn’t redacted, but it gave some of their mission reports.”

Bri and Isa shared a glance, the scot of the group’s nostrils flaring.

“And ya dinnae think te tell any o’ us, nay?”

Per usual, her accent got thicker the more worked up she was, leading to some mostly non-legible sentences that took Charlotte a few minutes to even mentally translate.

“I thought it would be better to let them come to us about it first, and I don’t want my dad to know I snooped through his computer and broke into some of his files.”

“Righ’, because the Garrick family name can’t be tarnished, can it?”

Bri said in a rough tone, Isa opened her mouth again, but one of the blonde’s hands lying on her arm that was on the table stopped her, making her settle down. Looking upset, rightfully so Charlie would admit, Isla then turned her attention to Jr.

“An’ what about you? You’re not mad?”

She questioned as if the obvious answer was yes. Charlotte knew the obvious answer was yes, she’d kept something important from them, even if only trying to keep things good, and if they’d known beforehand then things could’ve been different.

Junior looked like a deer in headlights.

He swallowed a spoonful of beans, glancing between the pair at one end of the table, and back at Charlie on his side, clearly weighing his options here.

“I think it was wrong to keep it from us,”

Isla opened her mouth to speak again, her fiery temper stoked higher, but Jr cut her off before she had the chance.

“But, I think she had the right intentions, and the only thing we can do is move forward.”

He finished. A sigh of relief from Charlotte, one of probable resignation from Isla, and a final sigh of reluctant agreement from Brianna.

“He’s right. Whoever set us up last night, they knew this,”

One of her fingers went to tap against the names on the file.

“And for wha’ever reason, they wanted us, or at least Isa, to know it too.”

Junior nodded, the gears in his head coming back to life, working out a plan, a solution to a problem.

“Do you think it’s possible they only meant for Isla to follow? I don’t see how they could’ve known she would walkie all of us.”

He suggested, his forearm now propped against the table, the back of his hand holding his chin up, utensils now discarded on the lunch tray that he’d forgotten about by now.

“Unless they’ve been watching for a while.”

Charlie suggested, and a collective shiver went through the group at that. The thought of someone watching them, stalking them for days, weeks, even months on end was nothing short of terrifying.

“I’m wonderin’ if our shadow-man called the cops, or someone outside all o’ this did.”

Isa said, stabbing at her food with renewed vigor, Bru nodding as if to support her point.

“Who would be up that late other than someone purposefully watching, anyway?”

Charlie asked, and Jr shrugged.

“Some people go out for a midnight cig, or stay up late watchin’ the game, you never know. We can’t just write off any civilians because we’re suspicious and paranoid.”

Jr offered to the conversation, another nod from everyone involved. Bri glanced over at Isa, then at Charlie.

“You said they were special forces?”

She asked, and Charlie nodded. A slight pause.

“Any other details you remember from those files?”

Charlie wracked her brain, thinking if anything she remembered from the lines of text she’d gotten out of breaking into her father’s locked computer files. It had been gibberish, mostly, just military lingo that she didn’t understand and a lot of numbers.

“Not really. Numbers, a few maps near Western Asia, military lingo. Nothing I understood.”

She said, and Bri nodded.

“Why? What’re you thinkin’?”

Jr then asked, and Isla watched carefully.

“You’re saying our dads killed terrorists and I’m assumin’ a whole lotta other crazy shit, so even if they’re retired, doesn’t mean any of their relatives are safe. Anyone lookin’ for some payback…”

Her voice trailed off at that, shaking her head. Junior’s first thoughts were of his little sister and mother, and the countless nieces and nephews he had, Charlotte’s mind going to her grandparents and family, and Isla’s mind shooting to her giant Scottish family.

“They wouldn’t. I’m sure you’re just overthinking’ it.”

Isa said, swallowing thickly. A shadow passed over Bri’s eyes as she spoke next, her eyes focusing on the paper, on her father’s name, more on the thick letters before her father’s name.

‘Lt.’

“You ever met my uncle, nephew, or my grandparents?”

She asked, and they exchanged glances before Junior dared to speak.

“No, I’ve…never heard of them before.”

Charlotte watched Bri’s knuckles go near white with her death grip around the cafeteria fork she held which looked all too close to snapping.

“Exactly.”

Tags:

@valscodblog

@seconds-over-first

[snowdice]

Unplanned Consequences (Part 3: Remy) [Sometimes Labels Shift Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remy & Logan, (background) Remy/Emile

Characters: Remy, Logan, Emile (briefly)

Summary: Remy is asked to help with something.

Notes: This takes place after Best Laid Plans

Part 1 Part 2

When the doorbell to the safe house rang, Remy found himself flinching to his own embarrassment. However, when he looked at Emile over the little kitchen table, the tension around his eyes told him he wasn’t the only one on edge.

“Probably just someone trying to sell us solar power panels,” Remy said. “I’ll go tell them we rent.”

Emile nodded and followed him without a word. He picked up the gun that had been laying on the table between them and carried it with him. Remy knew Emile wasn’t exactly a fan of guns, so seeing him pick it up with so little hesitation both made him feel better and worse.

Emile hung back out of sight of the door while Remy approached, though he did his best to stay where he thought his shadow couldn’t be seen through the pulled curtain on the front door window. Cautiously he stretched so he could glance out of the curtain.

The fear that had been rolling in his stomach swiftly transitioned into being pissed off.

He almost ripped the door off its hinges. He probably would have if Logan was any worse at picking safe houses. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Logan himself in all his dumb motherfucking beaten to hell glory was sitting (not standing because Remy was well aware he had a broken leg) outside the safe house.

“Good evening, Remington,” he said irritatingly calmly. He was in a wheelchair. What had Patton been thinking getting him a wheelchair? Now he was mobile. And a mobile Logan, as was evident, was an idiot.

“Give me one reason,” Remy said, gripping the door frame so hard he was afraid he might bend it, structurally sound or no, “not to finish the job right now you bitch.”

“There is a task that must be done, and Patton is not in the mental state to do it.”

“And you’re in the physical state to do it?!” Remy asked. “How the fuck did you even get here?”

“I designed my vehicle years ago for adequate functionality no matter what my physical and mental state,” Logan explained. Remy glanced behind him to see a car he’d never seen before and didn’t recognize the make or model of at all.

“You have a concussion, dumbass.”

“It is mostly self-driving when needed,” Logan waved him off.

“Mostly?! I fucking hate you.”

Emile had approached, sans gun after hearing the conversation going on. “Perhaps we should keep this conversation quieter,” he suggested, in a more level tone.

“That is likely for the best,” Logan agreed.

“You can shut your mouth,” Remy snapped at him, though he did keep his tone quieter. “Why don’t we go inside?”

He realized his mistake instantly when Logan glanced meaningly at the porch steps. Right. That explained why the man hadn’t used his complicated secret knock. He couldn’t get up onto the porch and was likely still suffering from power exhaustion. Fucker shouldn’t have even put forth the effort to ring the doorbell. “Or I’ll just come to your car,” Remy said, glancing back at Emile. Emile nodded and stepped back into the house.

Remy went down the steps and whacked Logan’s hands away from the wheelchair wheels.

“I managed to get here,” Logan reminded him, a little bit grumpy which was actually a nice change from the businesslike tone he’d been taking so far.

“You are supposed to be on bedrest, so fuck you,” Remy replied, moving to push him towards the car. “Now how do you get in and out of this thing?”

“Step back,” Logan said. Remy did with a raised eyebrow and then had to bite his tongue to keep from making a loud exclamation of shock. It went too fast for him to quite make out what happened and if he didn’t know better, it looked like the car basically just… swallowed Logan wheelchair and all. In a blink, Logan was in the driver’s seat.

Remy gaped at him for a moment before shaking himself and rounding the car to get into the passenger seat the normal way.

“Okay,” Remy said, once seated. “Explain to me why I’m not driving you immediately back to Patton so he can put you into a medically induced coma until you heal.”

“Well, for starters, I am in the driver’s seat.”

Remy rolled his eyes.

Logan took a breath. “I am very injured,” he said. “In a way I cannot hide in my personal life. At this point, it seems unlikely we are already compromised. Delaying returning to our normal lives is very quickly becoming more of a risk to our identities than continuing to hide.”

“And?”

“We need to crash my personal car,” Logan said, “and I need to go to the emergency room.”

“Oh… shit.”

“Will you help me?”

“Well,” Remy said, “I’m not letting Patton or Virgil for that matter do it, so I fucking guess.”

“If it helps, I believe my powers have recovered enough that neither of us will need to be in the car during the crash.”

“It doesn’t help. I hadn’t even been considering that. Fuck you.”

Logan was silent, giving him a moment.

Remy took a deep breath. Man, this had been a fucking disaster of a few days.

“You better…” he said. “You better get better soon, so I can beat the shit out of you myself. Okay?”

Logan didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stared out of the windshield with an expression on his face Remy couldn’t identify. It was a bit terrifying.

“I appreciate it,” Logan finally said. “You are a good friend.”

“Yeah, well,” Remy said. “Fuck.”

“‘Fuck’ is a good summary of recent events,” Logan said. “At least it’s a better summary than I can come up with.”

Remy snorted out a laugh and shook his head.

Logan moved his hands on the car wheel very slightly and Remy was startled when the car hummed to life under them.

“We will also need to cover for the fact that my injuries are already beginning to heal once I get to the hospital,” Logan said.

“Yeah, I can handle that for you too,” Remy promised. It would be a long night, but not the longest one in recent memory.

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Labeled Master Post.

My Masterpost.

[animehouse-moe]

My Happy Marriage Episode 6: Determination and Thunder

The episode comes and goes, and I feel somewhat on the fence about it. No, it's most certainly a good episode and has arguably some of the best sequences in the series at this point. My gripes are more so what this episode spells out for the future, what pitfalls it establishes and may come back to bite itself. So a bit of a mixed bag where I have plenty of praise for the episode, but follow it up with mild concern for the future. Of course, this means there's plenty to discuss and go over with the episode so I'll stop my waffling and actually explain my thoughts here.

So, Miyo's been kidnapped by Minoru and Kaya. What we didn't know is that Kaya's mother is on it as well. Thanks to that, Miyo awakens in the store room that she was once locked in as a child.

I really like this idea for two reasons. The first, it brings forward the idea of Miyo's mother having a direct hand in the display of Miyo's memories while hinting at the potential powers of the Usuba family. The second, it's a great way to draw viewers in visually and take advantage of the scenery to help Miyo break out of the trauma of her past.

Focusing on that second point, the story wastes no time in taking advantage of it, showing viewers a mirror broken into three sections. Now, there's quite a few ways to take this layout. The first, the three pieces represent Miyo, Kaya, and Kaya's mother. Second, the three pieces represent the three stages of Miyo's life (with her birth mother, with Kaya's mother, and with Kudo). And lastly, just to cover all bases, it's used to show the distress and confusion that plagues Miyo in this situation.

Also just to add, Kaya's question of "Did you have a good dream?" has another meaning in this instance. Miyo waking up the storeroom is meant to show Miyo waking up from the dream of living with Kudo, of being happy and being free of her past. It's a really great piece that sets the tone perfectly for what it is the story wishes to accomplish through this pseudo-interrogation that occurs.

Now, the elephant in the room. Kaya and her mother. Rather than being characters that are meant to grow and develop with the story, they feel far closer to a vehicle for the plot that the author intends for.

Kaya's just wants to steal Kudo from Miyo, while Kaya's mother echoes the words of a vile mother that despises the child that isn't hers. I think the latter had more potential to be interesting, but both have worn thin very quickly as they have next to no identifiable traits or character aspects outside of them. Being bad for the sake of being bad isn't bad, it's just bad when there's nothing aside from being bad.

Okay, joking aside, Kaya and her mother have neither had the screen time nor the story to really establish a good reason for their actions. They are simply providing what the author needs to move Miyo forward. I think there's potential in the characters, but it doesn't seem like there's much interest in them aside from how they reflect upon Miyo's character.

Anyways, the interrogation. I've already stated my distaste in regards to how the characters are handled, so I'm just going to share stuff that appeals to me in regards to visuals or symbolism.

First up, this ant in view of Kaya's steps. Interestingly enough, she does not step on the ant, which you would think would be the case. However, it's not, and it's done to reflect how she approaches Miyo. Unable to squash the "bug" beneath her feet due to the consequences, but she treats Miyo like one nonetheless.

Even more interesting is that the ant shows up again in the same sequence.

Moving onwards, we interrupt the fight with Kudo showing off his powers to get into the grounds of the Saimori estate where Miyo is being held. Nothing crazy being shown as of yet, but the environment art is really good, and the composition on the flames is surprisingly well done.

After Kudo's break in and entry, we get into a little bit of a supernatural battle. Just a taste of things to come, but still some solid stuff. Personally speaking, I feel like the use of these abilities lacks a certain punch, if that makes sense. They're very fluid and well expressed, but they feel almost tool light and intangible through some of the sequences. Just take a look at this example. The lightning effects are impressively well done, but they feel like they lack a connection with Minoru (Kouji's father). The undeniably reach the man and hit him, but the feeling of that impact doesn't manifest.

Even though the sequence that follows this struggles with the same challenges in regards to impact, even with it I feel like it's hard to look at the sequence and say there's really anything bad with it. The effects are pretty incredible, the composition on the scene overall is stellar, and the animation and lighting in that last sequence with Minoru? Had me incredibly surprised. Definitely the highlight of the episode, to say the least.

Now, a bit of a discussion about Minoru, and why I didn't include him in my distaste of Kaya and her mother. The role is different, the purpose is entirely separate. He's not someone who harbored any sort of real hatred for Miyo, he just didn't see her as anything close to her own person. His ambitions lie beyond the emotions that drive him prior to today's episode.

Here and now though? His hubris defines his choices and his hostility towards Kudo. He knew he was caught out the second Kudo appeared at the Saimori estate, but he's a foolish man. One that holds power above all else in his world. We know this from the prior episode where Kouji speaks out against him and is quickly silenced by his father's power. In Minoru's own eyes, he is strong, the strongest in his family. He overestimates that due to how he exercises his powers and how he makes use of them. The great example here is how he starts with a defense thinking he can simply turn Kudo away, then moves on to a non-damaging wind attack. Very similar behavior to when he used his abilities on his own son. However, when that's shown to be useless, he abandons safety and concern and attempts to use his strongest ability/element.

So overall, Minoru's character and motivations are well established and displayed to the viewer, and with the context of the end of the episode that exposes Minoru as naught but a pawn in the plan of the emperor, he's overall very well expressed as a man driven by power and his own strength.

Alright, back to Miyo's perspective now for more mirror tricks. Another really great one that (most likely) establishes the proper nature of the mirror as the three lives that Miyo exists within. The top being empty as her mother's dead, the left panel not appearing as Miyo wipes her past with her step-mother away, and the panel on the right that condenses Miyo's story into a single life, her future with Kudo. Though I guess with that sentiment, you could also express the panels as past, present, and future.

Also, if it wasn't obvious, the scenery and Miyo's clothing changes in the right panel to express a moment from episode 4 that saves Miyo from her present and gave her a future to look forward to. A future with Kudo.

Getting back on track, Kudo and Kouji make it to the storehouse and save Miyo, exposing Kaya and her mother to the damage that's they've inflicted on their own home (with the help of Minoru). Just wanted to touch on this one last piece with Kouji and Kaya. I don't hate it that Kouji's trying to be the better person and think of Miyo in this situation, but I feel like the way he expresses it is a little too softly for my tastes.

Skipping even further along, Miyo returns to her dream world once more to talk to her mother. Again, I don't think it's a bad thing, but it just sort of feels too convenient to address in this format. Most viewers are aware that Miyo isn't going to be entirely powerless or anything like that, so I was hoping to see the notion get addressed in a different manner. I would have rathered it manifest in Miyo's physical body through her dreams that are (most likely) induced by Miyo's mother. Something that allows for a more implicit growth in regards to it while restraining Sumi's ability to influence Miyo and the plot.

And just to round out the episode: the reveal. Minoru was a pawn of the emperor, not to earn the power of Miyo, but to squash it, remove it from existence.

It's an interesting idea, but one that I think is highly dangerous. It continues to put Miyo in harm's way, and continues to place her directly in the care and aid of Kudo. It's a very dangerous idea that gives Miyo the potential to remain simply a "damsel in distress" throughout the story, and I'd really hate to see that happen when the idea behind the existence of her power and the parties that are after it is so solid.

Also, potentially a bit of a sneaky reference to this old man's ability. The box with which he resides in is decorated with various designs. The most prominent being the Phoenix. Perhaps a nod to immortality or the ability to reincarnate? I think both would be incredibly interesting pieces to explore considering the nature and history of Japanese royalty and its intertwining with mythology.

And we find out end after Miyo comes to an emotional re-union is played out. In totality, this episode is probably the strongest that the series has given viewers to this date. Great characterization for Miyo, solid work with side characters like Minoru and Kouji, and care taken in setting the overarching story into motion.

At the same time though, there's the struggle in regards to Kaya and her mother, and the concern of Miyo remaining a decorative piece in her own story. The agency of Miyo, and the depth of Kaya and her mother remain troubling pieces considering how central they are to the story, so I really do hope that we can take that step back from how the mother-daughter pair conducted themselves today, and refocus on more meaningful interaction and development that doesn't see Miyo as purely a piece on the chess board from both sides.

[kobedivision]

Amidst the darkness of the night looming over the city of Kobe, as quiet as the autumn’s wind, a certain vehicle with its color as black as the starless sky had finally made a stop in front of Sano residence. Once when an older man in a dark-colored suit walked out with something carried in his arms, he reached the front door and soon raised his hand about to ring the doorbell

…But was just being held back by a certain figure who somehow sneakily followed him out of the car.

“Whoopsie~ My dear Chishio-san, I suggest not to do that if I were you.”

The night was quite dark, so it was hard to describe the details of that mysterious figure tagging along with the seasoned assistant from Nara Division.

“And what did you expect me to do above just standing here and letting us freeze to death because there is no one out to retrieve our presents?”

Chishio scowled at his uninvited companion. However, being unbothered by the older man’s piercing glare, the figure beside Chishio was just letting out a soft chuckle. Grinning wide like one character from a certain children’s book, they pretended to put their only free hand near to their ear.

If one listened close enough, one would find some noise coming from the inside of the house. It was the noise of two people…busying themselves with some kind of activity. Well, for whatever sake. Let’s just not describe what they’ve heard there.

“Hmm~ Aren’t they seem a bit busy at this moment? Oh my~ If you didn’t hear it then how about I provide the exclusive dub for you? Aa—”

“No, stop your bullshit right there. Make any sinful voice of yours again and I might accidentally put a cap in your head for real.” 

Mercilessly cutting down his companion’s antics and ignoring their infectious giggles afterwards, Chishio’s mind went back to his own thoughts as he laid down the presents with a card saying ‘Happy Birthday’ into the mailbox not further away, in hope that the birthday owner will find them later in the morning. 

Inside the present box were the wireless elf earbuds and some sweet konpeito contained in the bottles.

After getting back to his car, Chishio then recalled the time when those weird children in his young master’s team said at one point that they wanted to relay their greetings to every division at least once. 

What a nonsensical fad. If they did the further investigation into some divisions, there were not only a few out there with somewhat vicious background. Maybe that one little shit he has encountered in Minato was right...

Even if he wasn’t the part of the official members, his existence was still needed for his young master’s team after all.

— Much, MUCH Later —

“Wake up, shithead.”

Kaiji grunted as he opened one eye, glaring up at his little brother as Nagisa stared down at him with a frown. Blinking his eyes, and now fully awake, the snow haired male sat up and stretched, not at all bothered by the satisfying ache in his body or the fact that his entire body from the neck down was covered in bruises, bite marks, scratches, and dried up blood amongst other…fluids. He also noticed that a blanket was covering his private area and that he was alone with the exception of Nagisa, it was then that it all came back to him, Touya visiting, the gifts, the pills, the sex, god, the sex was amazing.

Speaking of which…

“Where’s Touya?” Kaiji asked and Nagisa shoved the box in his lap, his eyebrow twitching as he glared at his brother.

“Back to Katsushika, you know he has a curfew and I had to wake him up to make sure he got back home in time, nearly had my fucking throat slit.” Nagisa grumbled, slightly sitting on the arm of the couch, Kaiji paid him no mind as he inspected the box in his lap. “Anyways, when I walked him to the door, that was waiting outside, it was from Nara, didn’t know you had fans over there.”

Kaiji scoffed, already opening the gift and pulling out the contents. “I have fans everywhere, dumbass, but this isn’t from a fan, it’s from the team in Nara, they’ve been making rounds in the other division, specifically on people’s birthdays, it’s a little weird but goddamn do they give some awesome gifts.” The white haired male popped a piece of konpeito in his mouth, humming delightedly at the flavor. Nagisa shrugged, somewhat disinterested. “Neat, I guess, also how many teams are in this competition? Seems like there’s a new city joining in every month.”

“I can’t tell you the exact number but there’s a lot and I heard that two more are planning to join next year.” Kaiji fiddled with the earbuds, seemingly not concerned with more competition.

“You don’t seem all that worried, aren’t you afraid of losing? The more teams that join, the harder it’ll be to determine a winner, if there’ll be one.”

Kaiji shrugged. “I personally could not give a shit. If everyone wants to claw and kill each other, then so be it, that’ll mean just less people to get in the way between my darling and I.”

There was a moment as Nagisa looked at his brother with an unreadable expression which caused Kaiji to frown and glare at him, ignoring the feeling of his skin crawling. “What.” The cosplayer called out. “What’s that look for?”

Nagisa looked away, mindlessly picking at his clothes. “It’s nothing…”

Thank you for the gift!

[justoneday-namjoonii]

Medusa; lp 2

⇢ pairing: mobster!Yoongi x OC (brief Jaebeom x reader)

⇢ genre: angst, fluff, mobster!au, performer!au fakemarriage!au

PART 1

⇢ He’s an unruly mobster who’s never had to take responsibility for anything. His father has fallen ill, bringing the impending fate to succeed him closer. She’s dancing in a strange city to support what little family she has left. They have a mutual goal — being married to a stranger for one year can’t be too bad.

⇢ warning: mature content, toxic ex, violence, language, character death, Jungkook is mean but it’s brief, mob activity, OC’s life motto is “idgaf” but it bites her in the butt, also this is fiction baby girl so its not real please do not take anything in this story seriously protect yourself💜

author’s note: I hope you enjoyed part 1 and now part 2! please ignore the old title on the header lol I didn’t want to change it. Will proof read later :))

1 Week Ago

Yoongi gladly sent you his address upon your request and the time to come meet him. 7 o’clock in the morning.

Your life can be summed up in a hand full of chances, this is another one of those instances. The location you asked Yoongi send you was deep in a neighborhood of mansions, the homes had about a mile between them. This could be dangerous, he could be lying to you and just trying to lure you to his house. Normally, it takes a lot for you to trust a man and when you do, even then you hesitate. But for some reason, you feel like you can trust Yoongi.

When you pull into the driveway, you see a few luxury vehicles outside and you’re sure there are more in the garage. The home is sleek and modern, not as big as some of the other house but still bigger than anything you could afford. 

“What are you doing...” You mumble to yourself, hopping out of the car with your purse on your shoulder. You weren’t sure how to dress so you went with a more casual outfit, nothing as fancy as you used to wear to the club. With shaky hands, you ring the doorbell and take a few seconds to breathe. 

The door opens and your met with Yoongi in a similarly casual outfit, sweats and a sweatshirt. He opens the door wider, beckoning you to walk in, “Good morning, how was the drive?” 

“It was good, a little far from where I live,” You hesitantly walk inside as he shuts the door behind you. It takes a moment for you to say anything because you can’t help but look around in awe, it’s beautiful. 

“Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea?”

“No, I’m fine,” You sit on the couch, hands in your lap as you twiddle your fingers.

“So, what changed your mind?” He takes a seat in the couch across from you, coffee in his hand. “Last night, you had every excuse in the world, your boyfriend, we just met, I was sure I wouldn’t hear from you, not this soon at least.

“Well...” You sigh, “I quit my job last night.”

“Aw, for me?” 

“No, not for you,” You roll your eyes, “there were rumors going around because the owner never liked me. I didn’t do it for you but when you tipped me $500, everyone in the club found out because because my boss blabbed...If I had stayed there, I feel like there would have been a target on my back. I’ve been wanting to leave for a while anyway,”

“Well, it’s perfect timing for me, if you’re serious about accepting my proposal that is.”

You take a deep breath. “I think I am interested and you seem genuine but marriage is a big decision, I want to be sure I’m not about to ruin my life completely,”

“The fact that you showed up tells me you trust me, at least a little bit,” He takes a sip of coffee, assuming its not the latter, “if you do accept, we’d have to have a wedding, as soon this month. You could have a little fun planning that because, before we get married, I need to have some things transferred over to me .”

“I get to plan a wedding?” You don’t know why the idea of planning a wedding is convincing you to actually do this.

“Yeah, does that sweeten the deal?” He giggles at your little girl like excitement, “you won’t have a budget or anything like that, you can go crazy, it’s my gift to you.”

“Wow…My family has to come, I can’t get married and my siblings not be there.”

“Oh, is that an ‘I do?’”

“Yes, I’ll do it-“

“Yes, fuck yes!” Yoongi suddenly gets up and you gasp when your lifted from your seat and spun around.

“Yoongi!—“ You hold onto his neck instinctively, trying to keep yourself from being dropped.

“You don’t know how you just changed my life,” He lets you down with the biggest, sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, “I love you for this.” 

He laughs because, he’s only joking of course.

Today, you’re picking up the rest of your things from Jaebeom’s apartment.

You’ve dreaded this. When you arrived home that night, Jaebeom arrived right behind you and he was in a good mood. He came in with his LV bags and greeted his precious Namu first before finding you in the kitchen.

“Can you believe I was actually starting to miss you?” He drops his bags and leans down to kiss your neck for longer than you’d prefer. Yet, for the first time in a while, you don’t pull away, you feel you owe him at least that as a parting gift.

“What did you do while I was away? Find another boyfriend,” 

It’s the first time that accusation is actually true.

“I quit yesterday.”

“God, finally, that job made you so bitchy-”

“I’m also moving out.”

Silence sweeps the kitchen as he processes what you just said.

“Ok, where are you going?”

“I found a place, it’s pretty far from here,” You clear your throat, “I’ll be out of here tomorrow.”

“So, you have been fucking someone else,” He concludes, his year-long suspicions seems to be confirmed in his mind, “I’m not even surprised.”

“I don’t need to hear this from you, Jaebeom. You of all people don’t need to be throwing accusations like that at me, when you crawl back here in the middle of the night do think I don’t know what you’ve done!? I’m not stupid, you come here smelling like liquor and skanks. You should be happy I’m leaving, we fell out of love a long time ago…If we were even in love in the first place.”

After that, he said a few hurtful things and you did the same. Things got heated very fast but they deescalated just as fast. He ended up storming out and you packed with tears in your eyes—freedom. You’re finally free, these tears are an expression of the feelings you’ve been holding in for a year now. Living paycheck to paycheck and trying push down your feelings towards him. In the beginning, it wasn’t so bad but he started to grow tired of you, it was a mutual feeling.

Yoongi was so excited, you’ve only known the man for a few days but something tells you this behavior is rare. He made a call and said his cousin would be coming over to help you all devise a plan. Hanse be the only other person to know about this little scheme. Hanse has been over for about an hour trying to come up with your cover story.

“You were in Bali a month ago,” The more time you spend here, the more comfortable you become, “if we say that’s where we met, wouldn’t it look like an obvious staged marriage?”

“Yeah, you have a point,” Hanse withdraws the rest of his previous idea, “maybe, let’s say you met last summer,”

“I was in London last summer for a month, dancing for a small company, where were you?”

“I was vacationing in Europe, so that’s perfect. We can say we met then and have been keeping touch ever since.”

“Okay, so what about the proposal?” Hanse adds.

Yoongi glances at you, “We can say it happened in Bali, I took you with me as a surprise and we talked about tying the knot then but hadn’t made it official.”

“That sounds like a solid story,”

“Good, now that that’s settled, we need to get the rings,” Yoongi smiles, “we’ll go out while Hanse looks for some nice venues.”

He gets up with a light stretch and you’re still staring in shock. “W- wait, wait! How can all of this happen so fast? A ring, a venue, a wedding this soon? I thought I would have some time tat least. And you all may have forgotten but I still have a boyfriend I have to break up with, I can’t go home with a ring,”

“I’ll hold on to it for you if that’s what worries you,”

”Thats not it, it’s just been so long, I’ve been wanting to leave for so long now,” You take a moment to relish in this once in a lifetime opportunity, “this doesn’t feel real,”

“It’s real.”

•

3 Weeks Until the Big Day

If someone said you’d be on your way home from dress shopping with a ‘personal assistant’, courtesy of your ‘fiancé,’ you’d tell them to get lost. But here you are, exhausted from your trip to the third and final boutique. Hanse joined about an hour ago with the wedding planner, they were getting the Yoongi’s guest list together and needed yours.

After finding the dress, you went to lunch and Hanse joined you to give you the overview of your pitiful list. He stared at Yoongi’s staggering 200-person guest list compared to your fraction of that, “There’s no one else? It is your special day,”

“The planner called me last night about that,” You shrug, “I want my grandma, my sister and my two brothers, a few friends from school and a friend from my old job, that’s about it.”

“Yoongi’s gonna be pissed I put this many people on the list,” He thinks aloud, “we’ll be lucky if he let’s me keep even 20 people.”

“Is your family really that big?”

“Yeah, but some of the invitations are just formalities for business partners and such, the immediate family, some of them are just invited to shove this in their face, a big ‘fuck you’ to some people to be honest, people like my mother,”

“Your mother? Oh, is that the woman Yoongi referred to as his ‘bitch aunt?’”

“Yep, she wants anyone but Yoongi to be the head. When she wants something, she’s irrepressible, she’ll do anything to make it happen,”

“So, you’re the only one on his side then,” You conclude, “that’s cute.”

“So are you now. It’s a grim situation because his father, my uncle, is on his deathbed. There’s a lots a stake if Yoongi doesn’t inherit the position, the whole family knows it,”

“Wow...you all have some complicated lives,” You grab your purse and unpin your hair, “I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that.”

“Y/n, you’re about to marry into the family, you’ll be apart of our complicated lives,” He laughs at the thought, “did you forget? Anyway, I’m gonna head out too, there was a family meeting I should have been at an hour ago, weren’t you supposed to be there?”

”Yoongi told me he’d pick me up later, something about things getting ugly in the first hour, his step mothers I think?”

“Oh, that’s right, she’s bringing her son so see Yoongi and their dad, the family haven’t been together like this in a while… I think all the ex-wives kids will be there.”

“Sounds fun.”

*

2 Weeks Until the Big Day

The marriage license.

The one thing that completely crossed your mind, you forgot that was a necessary part of a legal marriage. So, when Yoongi had a driver pick you up and bring you to the courthouse, things got real. And when he said to bring your ID, birth certificate, and social security number, it got insanely real. Not only that, but tonight his family has a dinner, he said they’re itching to meet you. It’s stressing you out.

Yoongi sat beside you with a calm demeanor, as if he were relieved. You were aware that this needed to be done, but you couldn’t stop worrying about one thing. 

“Alright, I will make copies of these so I can issue your license,” The woman leaves the office with a kind smile and shuts the door. When she .comes back, she congratulates you both and sends you on your way. This time, you both go back in the same luxury car and it’s silent until Yoongi speaks.

“So, it’s Medusa?” Yoongi looks at you, in disbelief or amusement, it’s hard to tell. The image runs through his mind of any parents choosing to name their newborn after a snake-haired goddess. “That’s your real name?”

“I’m surprised you hadn’t background checked me, but yeah.”

“What inspired that name?”

“A motorcycle. My my biological father was apart of some biker gang and thought it was, quote ‘a bad ass name,’ that’s all I know about the guy,” You cringe, “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out,”

“I would have eventually found out, there’s a lot of paperwork involved in this whole marriage thing.”

“I know,” You lean against the window. 

“It’s not bad actually, I could get used to it-“

“Please don’t, there’s a lot of pain attached to that name,” You confess, “I don’t claim that part of myself anymore, I go by Y/n.”

He’s taken aback by your firm yet pained request and it piques his interest in your mysterious past. “If that’s what you want, I respect that.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank you.”

“Tonight, we can grab takeout and talk on the couch. We should do that type of couple stuff, we’ve got to make sure we’re telling these people the same story.”

“Yoongi,” You lean back with a heavy sigh, “I want to get something over with, it’s killing me just thinking about it.”

“Get what over with?” He’s suddenly absorbed in his phone, head down and eyes trained on the screen.

“Do people expect us not to touch each other?” That sounded much weirder than you intended, “I don’t want the first time I kiss you to be in front of everyone, that’s awkward...”

Yoongi doesn’t try to hide the smile on his face. “Are you trying to say we should practice?”

“We’re getting married in a week, when were we supposed to?” You feel a heat rise to your face, “I’m not trying to say we have to do stuff, It’s just, if people see that we aren’t...Y’know, acting like newlyweds, it may spur suspicion.”

He tilts his head in thought, you’re probably right. This may be a business contract but it has to look and feel real to everyone around them. “I’d have to agree with you there.”

“It will probably do us some good since we’ll be living together. Though, we’ll have plenty of time to get used to intimacy on the honeymoon,”

Your heart skips a beat—you completely forgot about the honeymoon. By the time you think to say anything else, the driver makes a stop and gets out of the car, leaving you alone with Yoongi. Without hesitation, you scoot from your side of the car over to him. Your heart drums in your chest but you don’t let your face show it.

“This is apart of the deal,” You reiterate to him and your self, “right? We both agree on that.”

Yoongi simply encourages you to take the lead with his hand guiding yours to his face. He can’t help but doubt your vigor, you look away as if you’re still on your initial thought. You swallow, eyes wavering from his lips and to your hands. As if your nerves couldn’t get worse, the driver comes back and you freeze. Yoongi mentally coos, he didn’t think you had a shy bone in your body.

“We don’t have to force it,” He smiles, pinching your chin gently, “we’ll do it eventually.”

“I could live without it to be honest.” Your stomach churns and you nod, sitting back with red cheeks. Well, that was embarrassing. You’re the one who initiated it and you completely chickened out. Yoongi is an intimidating guy but intimidation rarely tames you. But the nerves of having to play the part got to you, you didn’t think it would.

After a short drive, the driver arrives at the mansion. You get out after Yoongi insists on opening the door for you. When you asked him why you couldn’t get it yourself, he said his father treated his wives like extra weight sometimes, he didn’t want to look like that. This marriage, albeit staged, is going to look better than his fathers. 

You follow him inside and expect to see Hanse but he’s nowhere to be seen. Over the past two weeks, you’ve come to appreciate your friendship with him. Without him, you don’t know if you could truly go through with this with a part of your sanity. Since Yoongi hasn’t really been around a lot, he’s been booked with appointments and meetings. You wonder if it will always be like this. That’s certainly a possibility. After all, he made it very clear that your role is to look pretty and be there for any wife-like activity he may need you to do.

You sit on the couch with your favorite black sweats and a box of sushi in front of you.

He opens his side dishes and grins to himself, “I meant to ask you, how did the break up go?”

“He thinks that I’ve been with someone else and that’s why I decided to leave him, we had a nasty argument and he walked out,” You spare him the other details, “I’m just glad its over,”

“You were in one hell of a toxic relationship,” He points out the painfully obvious, “have you always been attracted to people who end up treating you like shit?”

You pause mid chew of your sushi.

“It seems that way, doesn’t it?” You sigh, “Maybe you’ll be the first to change that.”

“It’ll be my pleasure,” Yoongi confidently replies, “In front of everyone, we need to look like a married couple,” He gazes off, “but when it’s us, we’re just friends doing each other a favor.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Good.”

“As long as you don’t catch feelings,” You smirk to yourself, “we’ll be fine. Now that we have that out of the way,” You give him a mischievous smile, “we need rings.”

“Hanse will handle that-”

“We’re not marrying Hanse,” You quip, “we’re marrying each other so we should pick the rings.”

Yoongi decided not to argue with you on this. Without a second thought, he made a private appointment at a luxury jewelry shop for the next morning. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the spoiling. It was as if money was easy to come-by for him, it’s never been that way for you. When you count every penny and work to make the lives of those you love better, there’s never enough left over to spend on yourself. 

You got dressed that morning in a dress and sandal heels, something nice but cheeky. Yoongi doesn’t show much of what he’s think n his face, but those eyes. When you walked out of the guest bathroom, where you’ve decided to stay until he’s put a ring on it. But the same look he gave you in the club, was the same look he gave you this morning—it did boost your ego a bit. If there’s one thing you appreciate about him, it’s his honesty. He’s never lied about his attraction to you, and neither have you. You don’t hate each other. The jewelry clerk knew Yoongi, had probably sold him the dozens of watches and necklaces he has in his closet.

“I didn’t know you were engaged, congratulations!” Zhilang exclaims with more excitement than his own family members, “I’m flattered you chose to bring someone so special here.”

“Where else would I have gone?” Yoongi tugs you closer with the hand on your waist, “I want the best for the love of my life, she’s very particular you know,” He looks at you, face so close you can’t help but giggle, “just like me.”

“N- Nice to meet you,”

Wow, you’re stuttering?? You have to roll your eyes at yourself.

“So, Yoongi gets all of his jewelry from you?”

“Has for years. The Min’s have been loyal customers here, he gets first pick from all our new pieces. I never thought he’d be here for a wedding ring,” She probably knows him as the bachelor you thought he was when you met, “I never thought he’d be the type to settle down.”

“You’d be surprised,” You look down at the selection of wedding bands in the cases, “he’s more of a romantic than he lets on.”

“I knew it! It’s always the cold types who are the biggest softies,” Zhilang pulls a key out of a pass code locked drawer, “is there a particular style you’re looking for? I can pull my best rings from the vault.”

“Oh, um, something not too bulky, but I do like big diamonds, gold bands…Can I see what you have? I might see something different that I like.”

“Of course, give me one moment.” She disappears into the back and you sigh in relief.

You move your face close to his ear. “Do I have a budget?”

“If you did, I would have told you,” He smirks when your mouth gapes in surprise.

“Really?...I don’t want to go crazy-”

“Shush, known of that,” He shakes his head, “You like it, It’s yours. You’re doing me the biggest favor of my life, you don’t need a budget,” It’s admittedly an ego-boost to be able to blow his money on you, it’s something he rarely even does for himself.

“I’m back, and I think you’ll really like these,” Zhilang has an assistant help her bring several rings to display in front of you, “please, try some on.”

You’ve never had this much money in front of you before, probably hundreds of thousands judging by the size of these stones.

“Wow, these are so beautiful,” Yoongi lets go of your waist to let you get close and personal with the jewelry, “Yoongi, look at this one,” You grab the first one that catches your eye and slip it on your finger, “do you like it?”

He nods, taking your hand into his and sending butterflies to your stomach. “You’ll be the one wearing it, baby doll, how’s it feel?”

“It’s a little heavy, let me try something else,” for about 30 minutes, you look through the dozens of rings and you appreciate Yoongi patiently staying by your side. Ring after ring, you show it to him, stare at it for a minute and then try a different one.

“Sweetheart,” Yoongi sighs, trying to hold on to his patience, “how about this one? You keep trying it on, I think that’s a sign.” He takes your wrist in hand and slides the ring on your finger.

“I do really love it…But you don’t think it’s too much, do you?”

“No, it fits you, I think this is the one. Wouldn’t you agree Zhilang?” He shows your hand, getting an enthusiastic response from her.

“Absolutely! Everything looks good on you but this one is different, it looks like it was made for you.”

After the flattery and Yoongi’s sweet-talking, you finally walk out of the jewelry shop with a new ring and a huge smile. On the car ride to the next destination, you admired the ring with starry eyes. In times like this, you realize how much you’ve been deprived of fine jewelry. Of fine anything for that matter. He drives with one hand while his other hand rests on the gear shift. For a moment, you imagine what his hand would look like in yours or on your thigh, it’s only a fleeting thought though.

“My mom will talk about me like a dog when she sees this, she always said I was destined to be a gold digger…Nothing I can do will make the money I want, wealth doesn’t run in the family.”

“Sorry but your mom sounds like an asshole,” He recalls the lack of your parents names on the guest list. He knows your dads out of the question, but what about your mom? “I noticed she’s not on the list but your grandma is, is that why? What’s with the relationship there?”

“We’ve always had a rocky relationship, but I do have to talk to her pretty frequently because of my younger siblings. The ones she decided to have when I was a teenager and drop off on my grandma, just like she did me.”

“Maybe I’ll come with you to see her before the wedding, where does she live?”

“Jail.”

5 Days Until The Big Day

”Your ID, miss?”

The officer grabs the card and sends you through security. You’re asked to leave your purse in a locker and then you’re escorted into the waiting room. Some people are smiling, greeting their beloved family members with enthusiasm. You wished it were like that for you but it’s not. When she walks through those doors, a grin on her face and hands free of cuffs. She’ll be out early on good behavior, that surprises you more than anything.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” She takes a seat in front of you and all you can see is her orange jumpsuit, “what brings you here? You didn’t bring the kids, and it’s not Christmas, or my birthday, so let me guess…Did you and your boyfriend screw up your lives the way I did 20-something years ago?”

“Wow, you really know how to start a riveting conversation,” You shake your head, “that’s not why I’m here, that will never be why I come to see you.”

“Ok, so what is it?-…No fucking way,” She stares down at your crossed arms and catches a glance at the rock on your finger, “a ring?”

“That’s what I came here to tell you,” You roll your eyes, “I’m getting married this weekend.”

“I didn’t think you were serious with that guy-“

“We’re not together anymore.”

“Oh...so if it’s not him,” You watch her as the gears turn in her head to form an explanation, “what did you do to get a man to marry you? Are you having some old-ass millionaire’s baby or something?”

“Helena, what the hell? No, he’s not old and nobody’s pregnant. I’m not like you, I’m not gonna get pregnant by ‘accident’ 3 times. Hera was purposeful, you actually thought a pregnancy would make that guys stay, but it didn’t happen, unfortunately,” You had to let her have a taste of her own medicine.

“Ouch,” She smirks, “Come on, you have to admit this is weird. You? Marriage, it doesn’t even sound right... How much is he paying you?”

“Do you want me to leave?” You threaten.

“Is this all you came here to tell me?”

“I guess so,” You conclude, not in the mood to be the adult in the conversation, “I’ll send you a picture, see you after the rest of your sentence.” You get up with a forced smile, ready to leave this dreaded place.

“When will I be able to meet him?” 

“I don’t know, maybe next time I bring the kids... Why do you care?” It’s a genuine question, she’s never really taken a true interest in who you’re with, why would marriage be any different? When she gives you an expressionless face, you take the liberty to bid her a much-anticipated farewell. 

As you left the room, you could have sworn she felt a tinge of jealousy or shame? Helena is a lot a things, but she’s shameless. There’s not much that she worries about when it comes to how she’s perceived. But it must hurt to see your daughter getting married when you couldn’t keep not even one of your three baby-daddys. Even if this is fake, you’re going to milk the fact that you found someone who cares enough about you to call you their wife. Even if it is temporary, it’s starting to feel really good.

The dinner was orchestrated by Yoora to congratulate Yoongi on his engagement, supposedly. The lavish dinner hall was bustling with people and Yoongi was debating whether he’d even humor her with his presence, or yours. But you insisted that you meet this aunt of his and at least some of these people before they see you walk down the isle.

Today, you two coordinate outfits together and you had a lot of fun doing that. You were going to go for dark green but Yoongi leaned towards black. The compromise was black for him and dark green for you. It took you less time to get ready so you’re waiting patiently in the living room.

“Oh, you’re ready,” When Yoongi walked out of his room, you remembered why you gave him the time of day. “You look great.”

“Thank you, so do you,” He’s not bad on the eyes at all.

He picked one set of keys from the key-rack and walks to one of the few luxury cars in the garage. He briefed you in the car about a few family members and you tried to remember everything.

“You know what? I think I want to go back home, I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” You stand with Yoongi in the foyer where none of the guests would enter, “I was fine until I started hearing everyone, there’s a lot of people in there.”

“This is the same group of people who’ll be at the wedding, minus about a hundred,” He walks you over to the coat closet by your arm, “this will make the big day a lot easier and we can leave early, I’ll make something up so we can bail. Besides I’m sure they’re anxious to gossip about us so we can give them plenty of time to do that.

“Ok…” You don’t know where these nerves are coming from but they’re eating you up. It takes a moment for you to gather yourself but when you do, you hook your arm around Yoongi’s and prepare to be judged.

When the two of you make your way down the hall, the voices get louder and you force a calm facade. It occurs to you when you enter the room that these people aren’t normal.

“My nephew and his beautiful bride,” A loud voice reverberates throughout the room

That must be Yoora.

Every eye lands on you and you receive a variety of looks. The first person you notice is a little girl with two pigtails and a judgmental look. You survey the room with an anxious smile hiding behind a confident one.

“This is Y/n, my fiancé,” Yoongi presents you with a proud grin,

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you,” You lean over to give her a hug.

“Oh,” She gives you a brief embrace before glancing at Yoongi, “hopefully only good things, but knowing Yoongi, I’ll just say, don’t believe everything you hear.”

She erupts in laughter, the glass of wine in her hand being swiftly taken by the waiter she hands it to.

“But it’s lovely to meet you,” She gives you a smile before leaving to socialize with some other, “let me introduce you to the family.”

“Ah, ah, you’re not stealing her away,” Yoongi doesn’t let you get pulled away and he gives you a look of reassurance. “We’ll get around to everyone soon, you should go see Hanse, he said he has something to tell you.”

Yoora goes on her way and Yoongi walks you over to who you assume is his fathers most recent wife. The little girl sitting next to her seems to have a permanent scowl plastered on her adorable little face.

“Y/n, I’d like you to meet Ellen, my dads wife and Emma’s mother,” Yoongi glares down at Emma for a moment when she rolls her eyes, “did I say Emma? I meant the gremlin-“

“Don’t call me that!” She whines, still not fully acknowledging you.

“Settle down Emma, your brothers just teasing,” Ellen shakes her head, “welcome to the family, Y/n? You are so beautiful, when did you two meet? ”

“Oh, thank you,” You smile softly, “a year ago in London, I was dancing at a company for a month and met him while he was vacationing.”

“You’re a dancer? I used to dance at a ballet studio in Paris when I was around your age, it was some of the best years of my life,”

She recalls her youth, Yoongi breathes a sigh of boredom. The night goes on like that, you meet his family members and he hovers around like a helicopter parent. He really doesn’t trust these people with you and it makes you smile.

“Hi, I’m Kim, Yoongi’s half sister from our dads second marriage.” A pretty girl came up to you had short curly hair and a tiny black dress—she also has Yoongi’s eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” You put down your appetizer to greet her, “your dads genetics are strong, you look just like Yoongi,” You hope she takes that as a compliment.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” She sighs, eyeing Yoongi who watches you from the corner with some man you haven’t met.

“Well, I’ll see you at the wedding, congrats,”

With that, she leaves and Yoongi quickly comes over to you. Before even saying anything, he leans down to kiss your temple and you look up.

“Let’s bail,” He whispers

You nod, holding onto his hand so he could escort you out. He says a few words to Hanse and you’re able to say goodbye to a few people before Yoongi is opening the car door for you. It feels good to be on your way home with someone. With Jaebeom, you’d always arrive home at different times. And when you were home together, you felt more like roommates than a couple.

“That went well,” You exhale.

“Yeah, I’m surprised they were so well behaved,”

“I was surprised you kissed me,” You give him a cheesy smile, “that was cute.”

“You could have kissed me back.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, because that was actually a thought you had.

Once you make it home, you both go change into some comfortable lounge clothes. It feels good to take off your extravagant clothes and walk out to a friend on the couch. Yoongi has some soft instrumental music playing, a glass and a bottle of wine on the end table.

“Want some?” He offers a glass.

“Nah, just brushed my teeth,” You take a seat in the corner of the couch, “thanks though.”

You sit back and cover up with a blanket and get comfortable. He looks more comfortable than this corner though. “Yoongi?

When you look up Yoongi’s face is glowing red, from the alcohol you assume. “Hm?”

“Are you sure I’m the one you want?” You scoot closer to him and he gives you a soft look. “You could have anyone, and you want to marry me,“

“We’ve talked about this; I wanted you the first time I saw you.”

You swallow, “My ex would say one thing but his actions would say another, so it takes a lot for me to be sure people are telling me the truth-“

“I’m not your ex, Y/n,” Yoongi turns his body towards you, head resting on his hand, “you don’t live with him anymore, you don’t sleep with him anymore. You live with me now,”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if he loved you but if he did, he probably did a shit job at showing you. What we have isn’t love but I at least appreciate you, if that’s what you need to hear.”

“I appreciate you too, you’re giving me more than I’ve been given by anyone, it’s crazy…”

“You’re giving up a lot by marrying me, you’re entitled to compensation,”

You stare into his eyes, his eyes—not Jaebeom’s eyes that only saw your body, and what it could do for him. This isn’t like that, Yoongi doesn’t demand physical payment for staying with him, it increases his appeal more than you thought it would.

“Thanks,” You don’t know what to say other than thank you, “you’re really red in the face,” You giggle, pointing to your cheek to show him.

“Yeah, that always happens,” He smiles.

“Yoongi,” You hug him, catching him off guard but it’s pleasant. He reciprocates your hug with his warm arms around your waist. You look up at him and his sleepy orbs study your face. It takes a single moment to gather the courage and peck his lips, earning a look of surprise.

“Oh,” He smirks, “that’s it?”

“What do you mean?…” You twiddle your fingers behind his neck.

When he suddenly kisses you, you feel the breath leave your lungs. His hands tighten around your waist and pulls you onto his lap. He starts off gently, softly prodding against your lips, he’s so different. You let yourself fall into him and you ignore any feelings of doubt. This feeling is so familiar to you, Jaebeom demanded it of you for months. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t demand it back sometimes. Yoongi is like a breath of fresh air. He’s about to be your husband and this is the first time you’re really touching him. You rake your hands through his hair, earning a sigh of satisfaction from him. Against your better judgment, you imagine this is what being loved feels like—why would you do that?

“Wait,” You gasp, “Y- yoongi.”

“I thought you wanted to, sorry,” He rubs his lips with the back of his hand, “you don’t want to?”

When you don’t say anything but press your hands to his chest, he gently lifts you off of him.

“We don’t need to force it,” He reassures you with a nod.

“It’s not that, I don’t feel like it’s forced I just haven’t been with anyone but Jaebeom in a long time…”

“That’s okay,” He tilts his head. “take your time.”

“I don’t want to take my time though, it’s fun to be with you…” You bite your lip, a little embarrassed. “You’re so different .”

“Ok, then let’s have fun,” His eyes drag from your eyes to your lips.

Yoongi is about to be your husband and you’re about to be his wife. The world is going to think it’s real, you two have to make it look real without making it feel real.

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela​

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela​ for @jtargaryen18 ‘s  Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide. 

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone. 

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.  

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue. 

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. 

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound 

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood. 

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you. 

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places. 

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the  gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host. 

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream. 

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. 

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall. 

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne. 

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. 

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background.  And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. 

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway. 

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.  

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his. 

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes.  With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!" 

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet. 

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away. 

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask. 

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system. 

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked. 

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow. 

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with  the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission. 

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did. 

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even, 

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his 

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby. 

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. 

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his. 

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

[falcqns]

To Be So Lonely

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader, Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: Henry has a crush on you, but you’re dating someone else, and he broods about it. he confronts you about it and ruins his career.

Warnings: swearing, threats, henry is a mega asshole in this and ruins his career, dont know where this idea came from lol

A/N: Bratty!Henry makes a comeback as requested! Hope you enjoy!

Don't blame me for falling

I was just a little boy

Don't blame the drunk calling

Wasn't ready for it all

Henry had been a fan of yours for a while. You had appeared in a few movies and TV shows, and he watched them almost religiously. You hadn’t been acting as long as him, but he firmly believed that you were way better at it than him, He had auditioned for a few of the same projects as you, but he never got the role, for one reason or another. He very vividly remembers watching the Mockingbird movie that you were in, and the feelings of jealousy he got as he watched you kiss your co star, Sebastian Stan. He almost wanted to hate Sebastian, but he had done nothing to him, so he couldn’t. Other than kiss the girl that Henry wanted for himself.

Then, one day, Anya and Freya busted into his trailer with huge smiles on their faces.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, petting Kal, and smirking at his friends. They locked eyes with each other and giggled before Freya told him what was going on.

“Y/N got a part on the show!” She squealed, and Henry felt warmth blossom in his chest in hope.

“Shut up. You’re joking!” He said, standing up, a huge smile spreading on his face. “When does she start?”

“Tomorrow!” Anya squealed, and Henry’s smile grew even bigger. He couldn’t wait.

You can't blame me, darling

Not even a little bit

I was away

And I'm just an arrogant son of a bitch

Who can't admit when he's sorry

Henry was practically shaking with excitement when he woke up the next morning. He wanted nothing more than to rush to set to meet you, but he needed to go for a run, eat, and get himself and Kal ready before he could do that.

40 minutes later, he was ready and was practically speeding to set with Kal in the passenger seat of his car. Kal had his head out the window, his mouth open, biting at the wind. Henry glanced over at him and chuckled. His stomach was feeling the same way.

He arrived moments later, and looked around the parking lot for your vehicle. He didn’t know what type of car your drive, but he noticed a black Dodge Ram 1500 that he hadn’t seen before today, so he had to assume that was yours. His eyes were darting everywhere, looking for you, while walking to his trailer. He dropped Kal off in his trailer, and filled up his food and water bowl before he left for the makeup trailer.

He walked out of his trailer, and that’s when he saw you. You were standing outside your trailer, which was opposite of his. Your hair and makeup was done, and you were talking on the phone. Suddenly, he was feeling very nervous, as you hung up the phone and your eyes landed on him. You waved at him, and the butterflies in his stomach grew as he walked over to meet you.

“Hi!” You said.

“Hi! I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long,” HEnry said as he gazed into your E/C eyes. You blushed and he opened his arms for a hug, which you willingly gave.

“Me too!” You said, and the two of you continued talking until your phone rang again. Henry glanced down briefly and his heart dropped into his stomach at what he saw. It was a picture of you and Sebastian kissing, and there was a heart next to Seb’s name.

“Sorry, that’s my boyfriend, but I’ll talk to you on set, okay?” You said, and Henry nodded with a smile, an attempt to cover what he was truly feeling.

“Of course.” You nodded, and walked away with the phone held up to your ear.

“Hey, baby...” You said into the phone, not noticing how Henry turned his back, and walked towards his trailer.

Don't call me baby again

You got your reasons

I know that you're tryna be friends

I know you mean it

Don't call me baby again

It's hard for me to go home

Be so lonely

Henry managed to hide the hurt he was feeling for a few days, but Anya and Freya first noticed something was wrong when Henry walked away from the three of you while you were telling them how Sebastian was trying to impress you once, and ended up falling down his trailer steps. Henry had made it to his trailer before breaking down. Kal bounded over to him, and pressed his body against his legs. Henry sunk to the floor, and let Kal rest his head on his shoulder. He let out a whine at Henry’s crying, and henry calmed down. He didn’t want to upset the one thing that makes him insanely happy. It was you, but you were taken. he couldn’t think about you liked that anymore, no matter how much he wanted to.

Anya came into his trailer a few minutes later, and sat next to him, her hand resting on his arm.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, and Henry lifted his head to look at Anya. “I like her. So much. But, she’s out there dating that asshole.”

Anya let out a laugh, and Henry looked at her in confusion. “What?”

“Sebastian isn’t an asshole. Just because he got her before you did, you’re going to make him look like the bad guy in this situation? First of all, there is no bad guy in the situation. She’s happy with him. He’s happy with her. If you’d sit and listen to the way she talks about him, you’d understand that. He has done things for her that I’ve never heard of anyone doing for their significant others, especially those who dont care about said significant others. When they were filming together, she really missed her best friend, so he flew her out for her birthday, and paid for them to spend the weekend at Disney World together. He’s a really nice guy, but you’re going to sit here and brood simply because he met her first. Dont blame him, and dont you dare blame her.” Anya said, before giving Kal a pet, and walking out of the trailer.

Henry glared at the wall opposite him for a few minutes, before pulling his phone out and going to instagram. He looked at his notifications, and scoffed in annoyance when he saw that Sebastian followed him. Without thinking, he clicked on the three dots, and blocked him.

You might be taken, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to be okay with it. He stood up, wiped his eyes, and headed back to set. He made a point to keep his eyes glued to his phone so he didn’t have to talk to you.

He shouldn’t be blaming you for this, but the jealous side of him told him to, since he couldn’t blame Sebastian.

I just hope you see me in a little better light

Do you think it's easy being of the jealous kind?

'Cause I miss the shape of your lips

You'll win, it's just a trick

And this is it, so I'm sorry

You noticed Henry’s demeanour towards you go down over the course of your first week, and you were scouring your brain to figure out why while on FaceTime with Sebastian.

“I don’t know what I did to him. He barely speaks to me, he refuses to be alone with me, and if I even mention something about Marvel or our movie, he scoffs, and makes snide little remarks. He seemed like such a nice a person, and i dont know what happened.” You explained to Sebastian, while playing with your fingers.

“I don’t know, either love. I did notice that he blocked me though. I tried to follow him earlier in the week, and now I can’t even find his account, so I think he blocked me. I don’t think it has anything to do with you,” He said, giving you a sincere smile, that was full of love. You smiled at the sight of his steel blue eyes.

“Why would he hate you though? You’ve never met, and I thought he was a Marvel fan. Anya told me he was, and that he went to see Mockingbird in theatres. It doesn’t make sense.” You said. You watched as something washed over Sebastians face, and he ran his fingers through his hair.

“He might like you. I never even thought about that. He’s friends with Chris, I’ll find out for sure,” Seb said, picking up his phone and typing out a message to Chris.

“You think he like me?” You questioned, and Sebastian nodded. “Yeah, i think he does. I mean, he follows you on all your socials, comments on all your posts, he went and saw a Marvel movie by himself, and I’ve heard from a few people he’s been wanting to work with you for a while, but scheduling always got in the way. To me, its the only logical explanation right now.” He said, and you saw his face fall a little.

You smiled. “Baby, look at me,” His head lifted. “You know, even if this is true, I would never leave you, right?” He nodded.

“I know. It’s just- he’s played Superman. An actual superhero. I play a troubled 100 year old with a metal arm that he got through a debt owed to Steve by T’Challa. He’s played so many more influential roles in his career, and I haven’t even gotten the lead in a ‘superhero’ movie, I’m only a side character. And, I know you had a crush on him at one point. Plus, look at the dude! He looks like a Greek God. I don’t want to lose you.” Sebastian admitted.

You giggled slightly. “Baby, I don’t care about that. I care about you. Did you know that before I started on the Mockingbird set, I was terrified to work with you? I had the biggest crush on you, and I was terrified you wouldn’t like me back, but I was proven wrong instantly, when you came up to me and gave me the biggest hug, and told me if I needed anything, you were there for me. You waited for me on set so you could walk me to my car, even on days where you got to go before I did. You visited me when I was sick, and asked to hang out on our days off. You did that. He didn’t. I love you, not him, dragă.” You said, and he smiled. He locked eyes with you through the screen, and you saw tears welling up in his eyes.

“Te iubesc atat de mult,” He said in Romanian.

“Si eu te iubesc foarte mult.” You responded. “I’ll see you when your plane lands tomorrow, okay? It’s getting pretty late there, and your flights in a few hours.”

You and Seb said good night, and hung up. As you laid in bed a few minutes later, you thought to yourself. “Did Henry really like you, or was that just Seb’s jealousy?” You decided to confront Henry in the morning.

Don't call me baby again

You got your reasons

I know that you're tryna be friends

I know you mean it

Don't call me baby again

It's hard for me to go home

Be so lonely

You arrived at the door of Henry’s trailer less that 12 hours later, and you didn’t bother knocking. The thought of bringing Seb on set when Henry had a problem with him didn’t sit right with you, and you needed to figure out what the fuck was going on.

You walked in, and saw Henry putting food and water in Kal’s bowls. He looked up at you before returning to what he was doing.

“What’s your problem with Sebastian?” You demanded, and to your anger, you got a scoff in return.

“Who says I have a problem with him?” He said, refusing to even look at you. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket but you ignored it for the moment.

“Seb! You blocked him on Instagram when he followed you. You roll your eyes whenever I talk about him, and get all pissed when he calls me. He’s done NOTHING to you! So what is your problem with him?” You demanded, and he finally turned around to look a you.

“He calls and texts you constantly! He always has to be talking to you. You’re here to do a job, not sit around and text your little boyfriend.” He said, and you laughed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! I do my job perfectly well, and if you’d open your fucking eyes for two seconds, you’d see that I text him first! I tell him when I’m doing a scene, and when I’m not so he knows he can call me! Being in a long distance relationship is hard, and I’m trying to make it easier on him and I. And you say I’m here to do a job. Right now, I cant think of a SINGLE reason why I even took this job in the first place! Oh wait, I TOOK IT BECAUSE I WANTED TO WORK WITH YOU! Did you know I had an offer from Tom Cruise for The Mummy sequel and I turned it down because I wanted to work with you? I could be in Egypt right now, in shorts and a t shirt with Tom Cruise and Annabelle Wallis, my favourite actress, rather than in dreary fucking England, doing a show with you where you treat me worse than the horse shit that Zeus leaves in his path!” You screamed at him. His face became red, and he retaliated.

“FINE, YOU WANNA KNOW WHY I HATE HIM? BECAUSE HE HAD YOU FIRST! I’VE BEEN TRYING TO WORK WITH YOU FOR YEARS, BECAUSE I HAVE HAD THE BIGGEST CRUSH ON YOU, SINCE YOU APPEARED IN MURDOCH MYSTERIES! I WAS SO EXCITED TO BE ABLE TO WORK WITH YOU, AND I WAS GOING TO ASK YOU OUT, BUT YOU JUST HAD TO GO AND SLEEP WITH THE FIRST A LIST ACTOR YOU COULD GET YOUR HANDS ON WHO PROBABLY DOESN’T GIVE TWO SHITS ABOUT YOU! YOU DON’T WANNA BE HERE? LEAVE! I’M SURE TOM WOULD LOVE TO HAVE YOU! HE PROBABLY WROTE THAT PART SPECIFICALLY FOR YOU, BECAUSE WHY WOUDN’T HE? YOU SEEM TO GET EVERYTHING YOU WANT SO WHY DON’T YOU JUST TAKE IT, AND GET OUT OF ENGLAND BEFORE YOU BREAK MY HEART EVEN MORE!” He screamed.

You blinked back tears, and swallowed the lump in your throat before answering. “You don’t get to hate him because he got me before you did. That’s cruel and wrong. And I didn’t sleep with the ‘first A List celebrity i could get my hands on’. I slept with him because I love him, and he loves me. And you’re right,” You felt the tears spill over, and you did nothing to stop them. “I’m sure Tom will be happy to have me, because I quit. I cannot work with you. You are not the person I thought you were at all.” Your turned to walk out the door.

“And to think that I used to have a crush on you too,” You remarked before letting the trailer door slam.

And I'm just an arrogant son of a bitch

Who can't admit when he's sorry

You ran down the stairs and was immediately embraced by Sebastian, who had just arrived on set when he heard your and Henry’s screaming match.

“It’s okay,” He whispered into your ear, as you started sobbing. At that precise moment, Henry walked out of his trailer and opened his mouth to speak. Sebastian held up his hand before he could.

“I think you’ve done enough damage, Cavill. I’m not going to allow you to hurt her anymore. I can’t believe, that you, out of all people, would treat her like this simply because she’s dating someone else. You may play Superman, but you definitely don’t deserve it.” He remarked, and led out away. But, Henry being Henry, decided to snark back.

“You’re one to talk. You play a 106 year old Hydra assassin who somehow managed to convince everyone around him that his a good guy. You’re no worse than I am buddy.”

“Go to your trailer, I’ll see you in a second.” You nodded and headed in. While he dealt with Henry, you called Tom to let him know you could take the role after all.

“I don’t know why you think that you can treat my girlfriend like that, but it’s not okay. You should have seen the amount of research she did for this role! She read every single book, and played every single game in preparation for this role. She was so excited, and turned down the chance to work with her favourite actress to work with you. Not many people would do that. I also dont know what I did to warrant you absolutely hating my guts, other than dating her. I’ve done nothing to you, and even if I did, that doesn’t mean you can treat my girlfriend like shit for it. I’d watch your fucking back, because unlike you, she’s a Marvel actor. The majority of her friends are Marvel too, so don’t be surprised if you get a few nasty messages from certain Avengers, because I will not withhold this information.”

Sebastian walked in to your trailer and found you on the phone to Lauren, apologizing. You hung up a few seconds later and turned to Sebastian.

“She mad at you?” Sebastian asked, and you shook your head.

“No. She understands. She says that she’s sorry that he acted that way, and that she’ll be talking to him. I called Tom and I have the role. I fly to Egypt in two months.” You said, packing up your things. Seb nodded, and moved from where he was to help you.

You took off your costume, and took your hair out. Sebastian took your duffel bag with all your things, and the two of you headed out. Thankfully, you didn’t see Anya of Freya, you weren’t in the right space mentally to explain what happened. All you wanted to do right now was get as far away from Henry as possible.

Don't call me baby again

You got your reasons

I know that you're tryna be friends

I know you mean it

Don't call me baby again

It's hard for me to go home

Be so lonely

Henry sat in his car after getting yelled at by Lauren, Anya, Freya, Joey, and the director, staring at the tree just outside his windshield. He let his emotions get the best of him, and now filming was suspended until they could find a replacement for you. No one was mad at you, no one blamed you. Not even him. He’s the one that fucked up, he’s the one paying the price.

He dug his phone out of his bag, and wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he had a whole bunch of unread messages. He filtered through all the threats that your Marvel friends had sent them.

Chris: you are unbelievable. i cannot believe you treated her like that. my first impression of you being a complete and utter dickhead was true. i can’t believe i was ever friends with you.

Anthony Mackie: for Superman, you’ve done some serious damage. and that’s saying something. i’d be amazed if this didn’t ruin your career completely. you dont get to sit there all high and mighty simply because you’re ‘heart broken.’ none of us are going to keep this quiet.

Scarlett Johansson: count your days cavill. never thought you’d be the type to make a girl cry.

Elizabeth Olsen: congrats on ruining your career. if you even come near Y/N again, we’ll do much worse than ruin your career. believe me.

He threw his head back against the seat. They wouldn’t take it to social media, would they? He thought as he clicked on his instagram app.

The first thing he saw was a post from Robert Downey Jr explaining what had happened.

He’d fucked up bad, and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

To be so lonely, to be so

To be so lonely

To be so lonely, to be so

To be so lonely

[ohworm-writes]

BNA: Brand New Animal Various Relationship Headcanons

bna masterlist

‼ First Date Headcanons ‼

Featuring: Shirou Ogami, Michiru Kagemori, Nazuna Hiwatashi, Marie Itami, Pinga

Warnings: spoilers for BNA!, minor death mention in Marie’s part, anxious shirou

a/n - again, i love BNA, so i couldn’t resist! you can see which are my favorites very clearly~ enjoy!

content below the cut!

shirou ogami

» !! walk + bookstore viewing !!

» shirou is a bit clueless when it comes to a first date

» even living a thousand years, he’s rarely had a real relationship

» he’ll search up first date ideas, i have no doubt about that

» he’s not really keen on a fancy dinner or movie or that

» he wants something relaxing, something you could do as friends too

» it’s his own insecurities coming in at full force, but it’s what makes him comfortable

» he decides for the first part of the date, he’ll take you out for a walk

» sure, it doesn’t sound all the special

» but remember, it’s Anima City we’re talking about

there’s always something to see

» something to do

» he starts right at your apartment, walking around with you

» he tries to strike up conversation, as nervous as he is about it

» he really does like you, but he’s not all that sure of how to show it

» he’s scared to even take your hand in his

» will it make you uncomfortable? will he be overstepping? what if you never want to go out with him again?!

» if you want that sort of stuff to happen, you are going to have to be the person to initiate it

» if you do initiate it, though, he’d never turn you down

» he’s the quiet type, but a fantastic listener!

» he loves to hear you talk about yourself, the things you love, everything!

» he’s awkward talking about himself

» how does he explain to you that he’s the silver wolf

» that’ll take him a while for him to tell

» maybe after a few more dates?

» anywho, your walking inevitable leads you to a small bookstore in the middle of the city

» it looks small from the outside, but the inside

» it’s a wonderland

» even if it seems like quite the find from a random stroll

» he’s had this all planned out

» he watches your face as you walk inside

» the way your eyes light up

» the way your grin reaches your eyes

» he’s enamored by it

» he’d let you pick out anything you want

» a huge book series? it’s as good as yours

» a single book? that’s no problem

» a weird snake shaped eraser you found at the front? why not!

» whatever makes you happy

» you don’t see it, but he has this smile full of adoration while he’s around you

» when you finally reach your home, and it’s late into the night, only then will he ask you for a second date

» he’s all blushy, but his words come out strong

“I enjoyed today with you, more than I could have imagined. Would you want to do this again soon?”

michiru kagemori

» !! theme park !!

» michiru is a sweetheart, we know this

» so her bringing you to a theme park on your first date doesn’t seem all too out of character for her

» she’d probably meet you there, seeing as he doesn’t have a vehicle of her own

» and she doesn’t think you want to hang onto her for dear life as she flies the two of you over there

» so meeting up seemed like the more… plausible option

» tons of games!

» no matter what the game is, she’ll play every. single. one.

» those strength games?

» she may have won the top prize for it

» how? she’ll never tell

» loves the co-op games though, they’re her favorite

» very competitive

» it’s lighthearted, of course, but she will try and sabotage you

» she tries to win you tons of stuffed animals

» Y/n: Michiru, my arms are full, I can’t hold any more plushies-

» Michiru: wait Y/n look! that stand has a huge duck plush! i’m winning that for you

» Y/n: Michiru no-

» in all seriousness, she wants to make a lasting impression

» she goes with you on every ride that you want to go on

» the scariest roller coaster there?

» sure! just know she’ll deny you seeing her shaking like a leaf in line for it

» if you want to go on more mellow rides?

» she’s all for it! whatever you want

» towards the end of the night, she goes on the Ferris Wheel with you

» cliché? maybe so

» but it doesn’t matter to her

» she really likes you, and she wants you to know

» she won’t kiss you, she doesn’t want to force you into anything

» but she will thank you for spending your night with her

“If you want, can we do this again? I’d really really like to.”

nazuna hiwatashi

» !! movie !!

» oh my sweet, sweet girl

» she was so lost on what to do

» 1. you accepted her date

» why? how? she’s not complaining, not in the slightest, but- you? her? why!

» 2. she has no clue what to do for a first date

» she had to search up “first date ideas”

» but in all seriousness, she’s very excited for your night together

» she didn’t want to go out to a theater, so she opted to bring you to her place to watch something

» she bought everything you could ask for

» ice-cream? check

» drinks? check

» popcorn? she’s bought the packets and the stove-top brand

» she’s going all out for your night together

» she has quite the collection, so she’d let you pick out whatever you like

» once the movie is picked, it’s time to get comfy!

» she has so many pillows and blankets

» she not only are some of them placed meticulously around the area in front of the TV, giving you both a comfy space to watch

» but she also has extras in case you get cold or want more comfort! 

» she’s very adamant about giving you your needed space

» she doesn’t want to overstep

» butttt, if she can, she’ll lean up against you and watch the said movie with you

» you both give commentary on the movie as well

» critiquing it, the actors, the scenes, all of it

» it adds for some playful banter between the two of you

» Nazuna: i think the actor could have shown more emotion during the scene, you know?

» Y/n: Nazuna, he was playing a dead man. i don’t think he’d be able to show emotion

» Nazuna: well- still!

» when your night of watching films is over, she’ll bring you home

» it’s a lot more comfortable, especially when you tell her how good of a time you had

“Thank you for being with me tonight, Y/n. If it’s okay, maybe we can do this again?”

marie itami

» !! haunted location + ice cream !!

» cocky little thing, she is

» while she was surprised you actually accepted her offer, she doesn’t seem like it whatsoever

» she’s very confident, dripping with it

» so, why not impress you with something scary

» she’d found out this warehouse by the docks was actually the death site of several people

» and she also heard there had been ghost sightings, so she took to first chance to take you there

» she may seem all cocky and full of herself, but if something even mildly scary happens

» she’s out of there

» you don’t know that though

» she uses her phone’s flashlight to look around, you by her side

» if you’re scared, she’ll tease you oh-so much about it

» in a loving way

» honestly, no matter what you think of the situation, she’ll tease you

» Y/n, unfazed by the whole situation: are you alright Marie?

» Marie: are you asking me because you’re scared? come on Y/n, you know i’ll protect you~

» queue a broom falling down in the background, Marie screaming and running out of there with you

» after you both leave, she still tries to play off the whole situation

» she leads you to a small ice cream stand nearby

» she sounds annoyed when she pays for you, but she thinks it’s so worth it

» you won’t see it, she’s sly, but she’s staring at you the whole time

“So, Y/n, you free to do this again Saturday?”

pingua

» !! diner + dancing in the park !!

» pinga, the gentleman as ever, makes your first date classy

» he takes you to a small, family owned diner in the city

» the place itself is cozy, warm, welcoming

» he knows all the workers there

» he gets a booth for the two of you to sit at near a large window

» he spends a lot of the date admiring you

» the way your eyes light up as you talk about something you’re passionate about

» the way your cheeks flush when he compliments you

» the way your eyes are on him so intently when he talks

» he adores it

» speaking of…

» lots, and i mean lots of flirting and compliments from him

» he loves teasing you

» if you bite back, he’ll seem unfazed

» but he finds it awfully attractive

» his idea of a first date is really getting to know the other person

» their likes, dislikes

» the things that make them double over laughing

» the things that make them tick

» everything and anything

» of course, he pays for your food

» there’s no room for arguing with him

» Y/n: Pinga, please let me at least pay for this all

» Pinga: i’ll have no such thing. come on Y/n, dear, allow me

» he’s so nice about it, you can’t even tell him no

» once your dinner is over, he’ll hold your hand and lead you away from the diner to the park nearby

» [ a/n - i like to imagine this is the one in episode 6 where michiru and nazuna have their argument ]

» it’s late, the path is only visible from the streetlamps overhead

» he’d hold your hand tighter, not too tight, and slowly bring you into a slow dance

» the stars are barely visible in the city, but their still there

» he’s so elegant when he dances too

» light on his feet, full of passion

» he’s falling for you

“You know my dear, if you’d allow me, I’d love to do this again sometime with you.”

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh holy holy heck this chapter is SO DAMN EXCITING hehehe I had sosososo much writing and doing all the research!! please let me know if there is anything factual/cultural that I need to fix! I tried the best I could although I most def am not an expert in Egyptian culture so I appreciate it a lot :) hehe i hope ya have fun reading this chapter teehee oh! also I love hearing what you thought of it too! :D 

Four 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, royal!minho, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, several mentions of food and alcohol as well as getting tipsy/drunk that good, good making out, suggestive themes

CWs: mentions of guns, mentions of knives, themes of jealousy (expressed by the reader) 

Word count: 7.5k

Parts 

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE 

“Well, we’re in Cairo alright.” 

Two tugged the amazed young stow-away-student, Seungmin, by the hand of his backpack to keep him from running into one of the palm tree planters decorating the terminal. The young man had nearly slept the whole flight due to the length as well as the exasperation that he had just been through. While his eyes were still darkened from his nap, his glossy pupils still wondered all around him. 

“I take it back. I’m so glad that I almost died so I could end up here with you guys.” 

Jeongin slapped him from the backside of his head. “Never be thankful for almost dying. Life is a lot more fucking fragile than you think. This isn’t just some joyride--” 

“--Ease up F.” You interrupted your partner as you shouldered your bag. The kid had already been through enough already: he didn’t need accosting on top of it all. 

The dashing prince sighed out and stretched his arms. “Ahhhh Cairo. It’s been a while; too long actually.” 

The airport was humid: the kind of sticky warmth that dripped down your neck in a matter of seconds to then get caught above your lip. It wasn’t much help to the anxiety that already had seeped into your veins. The closer you got to a gun the more comfortable you would be. You and the other two guards created a formation around the prince with two in the front and the other in the flank. While each of you were dressed in regular street clothes, your responsibility of his detail still hung over your head with a severe air. 

Chan threw his arm over the young student with an obscene grin. His hair had become a little disheveled from the plane seat and his hoodie, but he didn’t appear to mind. Seeing him so normal was somewhat of an odd change to your previous unbreakable impression of him. 

“Seungmin my friend, you’ve never lived until you’ve been to Cairo. I’ve never seen another place so enriched in history in my whole life...it puts my kingdom to shame. It’s almost like...you can just feel the time here: hundreds of thousands of years...beauty, art, food, industry...I’ve got a thing or two to learn.” 

Seungmin nodded at the prince’s grandiose gestures in the terminal with an enamored smile. “I can’t wait to see it!” 

Your partner put a firm hand on the prince’s back to guide him to the baggage claim. “We won’t be here for long, so, don’t get too excited. We’ve come here for one reason and we shouldn’t dally otherwise.” 

The young boy appeared to frown, and Two bit his lip with a little chuckle. “Way to crush the kids dreams F.” 

“You know the mission, J.” Jeongin gritted his teeth with the words. “Everything is set, there will be a car waiting for us in the garage, and at the hotel we’ll have anything we need.” 

Prince Chan lulled his head back with heels clicking on the flooring. Rogue strands of his hair hung over his sunglasses where he threw a look back at you while pulling them down. 

“Don’t forget our little deal Bee? We’ll have time for a little pleasure.” 

The white haired agent rolled his eyes with gusto then adjusted the royal’s glasses over his face. “We’ve still got to be careful, you Highness. We never know where they could have eyes.” 

“I know where I’ve got mine...” He turned back once more to throw his cockiness in your general direction. 

“Listen to F, your Highness...if you want to live.” 

“Oooo. Feisty as ever, Bee. I love it when you bite back.” Chan turned to his new pet, Seungmin, “She’s really something isn’t she?”

The young man nodded, but not necessarily because he agreed, but it just seemed like it better to agree with a prince than to disagree with him. 

The air appeared to turn even thicker in the summery and arid city and your group approached the parking lot half shaded. Outside of the cement lot, iridescent waves of heat wiggled on the horizon, and further, the astonishing urban sprawl of Cairo, and just over it, the stretch of the Nile and Giza. Palms and other varieties of plants spotted the landscape and above it all, a perfectly crystal blue sky streaked with thin clouds. Had the circumstances been different, you really would have wished to have been there for pleasure. 

“This one. Right here.” Jeongin announced upon spotting the black armored sedan. It wasn’t the most inconspicuous vehicle, but you were prioritizing safety over aesthetics. Your partner touched his index fingerprint to the car door’s invisible panel, and it flashed blue just as the lock had at the safehouse with the ticking clock insignia. 

Two whipped his head around to make one last check of the surroundings before taking off his sunglasses and reddened eye. “Get in. Both of you.” He urged the prince and the student. He popped the drivers side open to find a different pair of glasses in the storage compartment: gold framed aviators. 

“Huh,” He said happily while putting them on. “This is more my style.” He rummaged around a bit more to find a new pair of black framed glasses there too. “Fox! Think fast!” He threw them over to your partner who sighed out with relief. 

“Thank god.” 

The trunk opened with a mechanical sounding creek, and you lifted up the trunk bed to find your whole arsenal: Heckler & Koch MP5′s submachines, Remington 870 shotguns, and Glocks complete with thigh holsters. Among the pile of metal, various knives and other weapons were held in foam holders. 

“They’ve got knives back there?” Two asked while pulling the rearview mirror to see. 

“Oh yeah. What? You more of a knife guy?” You teased while looping your thigh holster over your cargo pants. It fit just right. 

The illusive man popped his gum with a shiny smile. “‘Don’t ever have to reload them...that’s what I’m saying.” 

“Thank you Carroll.” Jeongin sighed upon seeing the thick laptop among the weapons. “Finally I can do some real work. That kid’s damn Chromebook was killing me. I nearly short circuited it trying to connect to our network.” 

“You what?!” Seungmin was suddenly much more interested. 

“Dont worry yourself too much, its still fine.” 

“Are there cameras in here?” You quickly asked your partner. 

“Agency should’ve fried them a long time ago. Why?” 

From the trunk bed you sized up the Glock to feel its weight and how cool it settled into your sweating hand. You unloaded the magazine to see that it had already been filled. 

“Carroll. She really is too kind to us.” You slid the magazine back in then, pulled back the slider to lock it once more, catching Chan’s adoring glance. 

“Something interesting pretty boy?” 

The prince appeared to shiver a little, but brushed it off sighing, “Oh, nothing.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Either it was Carroll or the King, but someone had spared no expense on the young prince. The sun set upon the sparking Nile where you had arrived at the Four Seasons Hotel Cairo at Nile Plaza. 

Anything for His Royal Highness The Prince. 

The towering and gleaming building was a sight to behold in and of itself. It was nestled right into the riverside anchored with several leisurely sailboats bopping in the evening breeze. As day crept into night, the city grew with a swell of lights washing as far as you could see. Extensive bridges and roadways glowed with headlights and every building appeared to be illuminated along with more boats strolling down the river in a rainbow of colors and music. 

The prince craned his head as close to the window as he could and rubbed together his hands excitedly. He looked from you to your partners, finally making a disapproving scoff. 

“Come on. You’re not just a little excited to be here?” 

“We’re here on business, how many times do we have to explain?” Jeongin typed away at his computer from the front seat. 

“Bee?” He looked back to you with a hopeful little glint to his eye. 

“Like Fox said...tomorrow is our appointment with White Rabbit, then we’re on the first flight back home for you.” 

The young prince frowned, but this quickly faded once he had seen the golden brass doors to the magnificent hotel. Seeing the state that the four of you were in, it was a bit comical that you had rolled up to a place such as this. Immediately a valet and bellhop jogged up to the car wearing perfectly pressed uniforms and spotless shined shoes. Little did they know you had no belongings to your name...the rest was waiting in your suite: the royal kind. 

Seungmin cranked his neck to take in the scale of the building in all of it’s regal glory and let out an airy laugh his with his backpack straps snapped tight. 

“Holy shit.” He exclaimed with a giant smile 

Two rose a “no thank you” hand to the valet, and asked him where the garage was in perfect Arabic. The gesture surprised you...as many things did with that man. Jeongin gave a little nod in appreciation to the bellhop and expressed with his own broken version of Arabic that you group had no luggage. The young man was confused, but still gladly took the bills that Jeongin had slipped into his hand for the inconvenience. 

“We’re staying here?” Seungmin wondered while he followed you in. 

“When you travel with The Prince, it comes with some perks.” Chan tore off his glasses with a particularly prideful grin. 

“I feel like I need to pay for just...breathing in here.” 

Indeed, it was a luxurious and grand place. The atrium was patterned with various plush lounge chairs and benches and the path was made of emerald green marble tiles with swirling designs of beige loops. Thick, round columns also supported the ceilings in the lobby, and crystal glass chandeliers sparkled. On several tables, massive floral arrangements had been freshly placed, and you wondered how much the hotel must've paid for them to look that good just to have them replaced the next day. 

A couple formalities were exchanged with the worker at the front desk, and soon the keycards to the royal suite were placed into your hands. Seungmin held his piece of plastic as if it were a gold bar in his hands whereas Chan shoved it right into his front pocket. 

“Everything that we should need should be up in the room.” You told the group who were too distracted to hear what you had just said. 

Just before you had entered the elevator, a tug at your sleeve stopped you in your tracks. Jeongin pulled you back, nodding at Two to go with the others up first. 

“Remember what we talked about before?” He muttered in the hollow and stone corridor. “About the prince?” 

“I need to stay beside him?” 

Your partner nodded with a furrowing brow. “We’re out in the open here, it’s a big city...anyone could be watching us. No distractions, no messing around, no anything. We see White Rabbit and we leave. Hell, I’m even inclined to make sure he doesn’t leave the room...” 

“Jeongin...” You squeezed your partner’s shoulder which felt stringy and tense under your fingertips. “I got it. Trust me. He won’t leave my sight. I promise.” 

“..Okay.” He said with a nervous brush to his hair, then he pressed the elevator button with his knuckle. 

“You...okay?” 

The young man appeared to snap out of a trance. “What? ...Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m keeping it together fine. It’s just...there’s a lot riding on this mission. I don’t...” 

The gold and reflective elevator dinged to the ground floor. 

“We can’t disappoint Carroll with this one. There’s too much riding on it...I can’t disappoint Carroll.”      

You invited your partner into the marbled and mirrored interior of the small space. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━ 

 Even without the help of his royal helpers, Chan managed to clean himself up nice...provided, only the finest clothes had been sent for him to wear. While they weren’t the usual designer labels that he was used to, it was clear that they had been picked out from the finest markets and boutiques in the area. Chan, as he always was, was a prince to the full extent of the word. After a shower and some perfume to his chest, he was the same man that you had been introduced to. 

A loose linen shirt swayed from his frame with little regard for the usage of buttons. He wore slacks that had been pressed made of a kind of fabric that you had never seen before, but looked airy and comfortable. As always, there was a small assortment of shoes for him to choose from as well. He picked brown leather loafers, then tucked up his sleeves to reveal his arms; scratched as they were, but still strong and spiderwebbed with thick veins. 

Arrangements had been made for you to share one of the bedrooms with him--as much as you had fought it at first. Chan was thrilled with the idea, and gladly let you settle into his room with your small assortment of sidepieces and modest set of clothes by regulation of The Agency. While it had mostly been denim button downs and several kinds of functional trousers, they had sent an evening gown. 

The silky white fabric was not unlike the dress that had worn for the gala, but it appeared to be even more sultry once you held it to your frame. The thin spaghetti straps barely held to your shoulders and the back dipped nearly halfway down your back. 

Knowing the man that you had an appointment with, you figured the dress would make it just a little bit easier to talk to him. Along with it, there was a matching set of diamond earrings and a necklace that glinted with the same sheen of the sea. 

“You’ll look gorgeous in that.” Chan said while slipping on a wristwatch. “I’m sure that it will suit you perfectly.” 

The wooden bedside nightstand creaked when you put your holster and Glock in with a matching matte black knife. You had to be careful with that one, as it had nearly cut your finger upon inspection earlier.         

“Hm. I think the both of us know that you’d prefer it on these lovely marble floors rather than on me. Correct?” 

The confident prince strode across the room in the dim lighting of a couple lamps with stained glass shades. Outside of the balcony attached to your room, the sheer curtains blew in the night air and distorted the city lights across the river. Further, Cairo Tower surged with a pink light wrapping around the length were the cylinder pierced the sky. 

“Maybe.” He tutted, then crinkled the king-sized bed where he sat. The prince’s disposition was alluring, there was no denying. He tiled his head to inspect you further, jaw clenching with a sharp angle and a testing glare to his brown pupils. The man smiled slightly while rubbing his index and ring finger down the sleeve of your considerably less scratchy blouse. 

“I hope that during our time here Bee, I’ll get to know you a little better. I’m...really looking forward to our drink later. I made reservations for us.” 

“Reservations? When did you do that?” 

“Oh. When you were showering.” He smirked at his sneaky plans unbeknownst to you. 

“If you think that I’m letting you go anywhere else besides this hotel--” 

“--Bee?” The young royal grew quieter, softer, careful even. His hand cascaded from your arm down to your waist where he tentatively went to grab at your hip and squeeze lightly there. 

While your first reaction was to swat him away, your second crept up on you unexpectedly, and swelled with a kind of confused euphoria feeling the pressure of him on your body. You let his hand linger there, thumb pressed into your hipbone. 

“You don’t need that dress to be beautiful.” 

His words snapped you back; sickly sweet, and sticky in your chest. You cast his hand off of you. 

“You’re crossing the line, your Highness. Don’t...don’t touch me again.” 

The royal sighed as he rose, then inspected his face in the sizeable mirror. Each of his cuts and scars had been skillfully covered with makeup the best he could manage.  

“Bee, I’d cross multiple lines for you. I thought you knew?”    

“THIS BED IS FUCKIN’ AMAZING!!” Seungmin called from the opposite of the suite. 

The prince smiled, then followed you to the door. 

“I’ve already got enough on my hands, your Highness. I ask that you not distract me.” 

“Distract you?” 

As soon as you had said it, regret bit at the tips of your ears. You couldn’t meet his teasing glances, but rather slid one of your more discrete sidepieces into your crossbody bag--as if guns as such could be such a thing. 

“I-I...I’ll sleep on the couch.” You then resolved out loud, however the prince chuckled at your sudden break. 

“As you wish Bee.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“I think that this is the best meal that I’ve ever eaten in my entire life!!” 

Seungmin kicked his legs under the table to the embarrassed glances of both Jeongin and Chan. Before you, the prince had ordered a variety of both cold and hot mezzah dishes with a couple main entrees for you to share. While he was the only one to drink, he indulged in the most expensive wine that the hotel had to offer. Granted, everything would be paid for in cash from The Agency, however the Prince swore up and down that anyone could order anything that they wanted and that The Agency would be paid back in full. You and your partners ate modestly, however the young student didn’t hold back. As the boy shoved his face, it appeared to make the prince happy to see him eating so well. 

You were still an odd group, and garnered curious glances from other restaurant guests. While they were only glances in passing, they still didn’t make you feel any better. You had already drawn enough attention to yourself with you being an odd mix of foreigners who each held themselves differently. You could sense that you partner felt it too while he sipped at his seasonal soup with eyes up to scan the room as he did so. 

Chan threw his arm behind your chair to take in the rest of the room: perfectly decorated with jade green chandeliers and perfectly symmetrical wallpaper and furnishings. It was as if he felt somehow content with your strange little group; like he was the ringleader of it all or some king of the round table. For a moment, he paused to watch the way that the boats passed by on the river from the window nearest to him and sighed. Knowing him, he was probably enjoying running for his life in this way. 

Two cleared his throat and unbuttoned his fashionable suit jacket as the waiters came to clear the table for dessert. 

“So. What are the specs for tomorrow?” 

Jeongin fiddled with his glasses, then dabbed away at the corners of his mouth. “He’s invited us to come around 11pm. He wants us to dress up too--as I’m sure you’ve all seen the clothes that have been provided for us. He apparently loves his formalities, but, anything to make him feel more comfortable I suppose. His men will meet us in the front and take us to him, then we try our best not to fuck it up.”

“--Which we won’t.” You soothed your partner. 

Seungmin perked up, “I’m coming too?” 

“How else are we going to look after ya, kid?” Two ruffled up the young man’s hair. 

“W-wait. Didn’t you say that it’s a club? Will they even let me in? I’m not like, 21 yet? I mean, I will be in a couple months--” 

“--Ahhh you’re so cute.” Chan beamed. “If you’re rolling with us that doesn’t matter.” 

Seungmin blushed and played with the condensation of his water glass. “Oh.” 

Your partner shifted in his seat. “Speaking of. Considering that you’re “one of us” now. We need to discuss something important with you. Your identity.” He looked over to you to finish the rest of the speech that had been pushed off for just a bit too long. 

“Your name...is your most valuable asset. It’s the only thing about yourself that you can keep for yourself. No one else should know it besides you...and, well, us. If they know your name, they know your family, they know where you live, where you go to school, even that girl that you had a crush on in the fourth grade. Got it?” 

Seungmin gulped dry with blown out eyes. “I-I think that I understand.” 

“What do you want us to call you from now on?” 

He paused, considering towards the ceiling. ”Well...if you’re B, and he’s F...and he’s J...I could be S? Simple enough right?” 

“S it is then.” 

The waiters arrived with every dessert possible: chocolate cake, Crème Brule, fruit cheesecake garnished with mint, as well as traditional desserts like Om Ali and Mehalabiya--a type of milk pudding dressed with delicate, pink, edible flowers. 

Seungmin--now dubbed S--made happy little eating sounds while he tried a little bit of everything. 

“Thank you.” You finally spoke to the prince, who now smelled strongly of Lotus and Jasmine. 

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind treating my friends.” 

The word hung in the air, and you didn’t quite know what to do with it. 

Friends. 

“Where is this reservation that you mentioned?” 

He took a swing from his crystal glass with finesse. “Hm. That’s for me to know and you to find out.” 

“Jeongin told me that I need to keep an eye on you, you know that? It would be best if we didn’t leave the hotel at all--” 

“--But what would be the fun in that?” The prince nearly pouted. 

From the others side of the table, Two in his aviators brushed off his lap before standing. “I’m going to get some sleep, if that’s alright with you? I’m feeling pretty jetlagged and I want to be prepared for tomorrow. Excuse me.” 

The slender man bowed to you at the table, then even deeper to the prince. 

“What was that about?” Jeongin muttered while he poked at the thin caramel layer of his French dessert. 

“Actually, I think I want to head to bed too, I’m stuffed.” Seungmin rubbed his belly in his contentment. “Also...I think I might have homework due...heh. I don’t know...I’ve got to figure out all these all these time differences and stuff.” He pushed in his chair then gave the prince a deep bow. “Thank you, your Highness.” 

“My pleasure.” Chan said with a tiny bow back. “Rest up, kid.” 

With the empty holes at the table, the silence was deafening. 

“And then there were three.” Jeongin yawned. “Bee? Wanna do some laps in the morning? I saw that they had a pool? Wanna see if you can beat my record...again?” 

“Psh. I was coming off that biochemical cocktail the last time we tired. You had an advantage.” 

“Then you’ll beat me? Hm! I look forward to that.” Your adorable partner flashed the first smile that you’d seen in a couple days. You missed it, you realized. 

“Sleep tight Bee. Goodnight your Highness.” 

“Thank you Fox.” The prince mirrored his warm smile. 

Knives and forks clinked on china in the dining room, and music softly payed the soundtrack of the evening. A low hum filled the space where the tourists and patrons chatted among themselves. It was peaceful and normal amidst everything that had been pricking your skin and plaguing worry over your mind. The prince merely sighed, sparking eyes reflecting the candles dying out on the table. 

“And now it’s just the two of us.” 

“Seems like it.” 

“Can I whisk you away now?” 

“Whisk? Who said that I would allow any whisking?” 

“Come on...Bee. Just this one time? I promise to be on my best behavior.” 

You laughed out incredulously at the comment. “You out of all people can’t promise something like that.” 

“I guess you’re right about that. But...still, I won’t try to make a scene or anything.” 

The royal placed his napkin on the table with his knife and fork respectfully tilted off the edge of his plate. 

“Follow me?” 

Chan held out his hand. It was pink with heat and scraped a little from the glass that had pierced the fragile flesh. In some way, you had felt a twinge of guilt seeing the small injury knowing that you couldn’t have protected him well enough then. You allowed him to lace your fingers with yours, and felt the rough cuts of his scars in your palm. 

You had promised to yourself that he would never know such pain again. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“Annnd...this is it!” 

You had taken all of twenty paces outside of the hotel when Chan gestured with open arms to the riverfront. Just at the riverbank, a steamboat was anchored with open doors for hotel guests to enter. The massive, multideck, white steamboat shone like the moon peaking at the ocean’s horizon. Each of the semi-circle windows were lined with white lights and from the inside, the delightful sound of laugher and live music spilled out to the glossy water of the Nile. 

“W-what is this?” 

“Well…it’s a dinner cruise but I just signed us up for the bar part. Are you...surprised? I thought that it must be pretty safe considering that we’re on the water and no one can drive up and shoot at us.” 

“I mean...it’s a bit closed off, but nothing that I can’t handle.” 

The prince held out his arm for you to lead the way, then took your hand to help you watch your step down the stairs. Chan provided his name to the conductor in elegant sounding Arabic, leaving you shocked. 

“Y-you speak Arabic too?” 

Chan chuckled once more, taking your hand in his to bring you down the creaking wood deck with swinging with lanterns above your heads. 

“As a royal and diplomat, it’s best for me to know how to communicate if I might need to.” 

“I must say your Highness, I am definitely impressed.” 

“What? You thought I was just another pretty face?” The charming prince escorted you to a room within the steamboat that was lined with red velvet carpets and small bar tables with tea candles and water lilies floating in a shallow dish. He pulled out your chair before his own, then settled with hands folded in his lap. “I’m trained in hand-to-hand too, although I could use a refresher; that was so long ago, back when I went to school.” 

“Hand-to-hand? Well! You really are full of surprises.” 

The prince appeared smug and faintly amused by the compliment as he crossed his legs under the table and leaned in with his dizzying floral scent. 

The waitress appeared and Chan flexed his language skills once more while he ordered a Hemmingway Daiquiri for himself and a French 75 for you. Somewhere off in the distance or perhaps a different part of the boat, louder and more excitable music played along with the echoing claps of those who listened along. Here, it was much quieter, and the loud sound was replaced with a jazz song that you had heard before--likely from your more formative years. 

“It’s a beautiful night.” Chan began, “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me. I know that I’ve been a bit forward, but, I appreciate you entertaining me.” 

“If I had said no, what would’ve happened then?” 

“Well, maybe I would’ve dropped it, but...knowing you...I don’t think that I would’ve given up easily.” 

The waitress returned with the drinks on a silver platter: his grapefruit pink and yours the color of a lemon drop. 

The royal rose his glass for you to clink with yours, “To...adventures.” 

“To adventures.” 

With a resounding sound, the glasses met, and you watched the way that the shimmering liquid ripped across the prince’s nose. 

The two of you sat for several moments more, saying nothing, but sipping and soaking in the night breeze and the humidity that made your whole body feel blanketed with a sense of calm. You had felt this way before back at the safe house, and it snuck up on you once more. Simply exisiting with the prince provided you with a sense of solace that had long since faded from your life. The sense of responsibility that you felt for the man was noticeable, but you couldn’t help but notice how he provided for you the same sense of safety that you did for him. 

Perhaps it was the loneliness of the job and the solitude that came along with it. Was that you craved to be touched? Listened to? Admired? You had distanced yourself from irrational things such as love and other feelings of attachment. In your line of work, people died often, and you had to move on just as fast as their lives had been taken from them. You supposed that you had become unfeeling at this point...but this prince, so full of himself and focused on the material...there was something about him that reminded you how to feel. 

“Bee? What are you thinking about?” He asked carefully. 

“Oh...nothing.” 

“You looked kind of lost here.” 

“Was I?” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah...yeah. I’m fine. Maybe the drink is just...getting to me.” 

“Just one drink?” Chan giggled a bit, “I didn’t take you for being a lightweight Bee. I thought that they gave you like, drinking lessons or something back at that agency of yours.” 

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have more than one drink anyway.” 

The prince nodded, understanding. “So, what will you tell me about yourself? Is there anything that you’re allowed to tell me? Or...will you always be this mysterious, beautiful, enigma?” 

“Me? Enigmatic? Ha! Hardly.” 

“Well? What then?” The prince sucked at the lime garnishing his glass. “Since I don’t have the pleasure of knowing your real name, I’d love it if you could tell me something.” 

Over the stereo, the muted trumpet played along with the twang of thick upright bass strings,

“I suppose I could tell you how...” Chan leaned in, “I didn’t want to join The Agency. At first.” 

“Oh? Why’s that?” 

“It felt like a bit of a last resort and anything that is a last resort is something that can’t come easy.” 

Chan titled his head as if to say, I’m listening. 

“Life...fucking sucks sometimes. Sometimes...you’re left...living with your sleazy uncle with a letter addressed to you post mortem telling you to carry on the family name if you want to feel some connection to the parents that you never knew.” 

The royal cast his eyes down, “I-I’m so sorry.” 

“The Agency has been everything I’ve known since I was a teenager. This life...it’s everything. I think in a way I feel obligated to it...since it was what took my parents from me...I owe it to them to do a job that they spent so much energy on so that it wasn’t in vain.” 

You stopped, realizing the weight of your words in the air and how they cut like the blade of the knife that you kept tucked in your waistband sheathed in a leather cover. Once the sharp metal was taken from it’s confines, there was nothing to protect those from the damage it could do. 

“Bee...I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry. That’s terrible. I can’t imagine what it must be like to loose your parents and have been thrown into this life...no one deserves that.” 

“Its okay.” You sighed. “I did it to myself. Now, it’s of no concern. I can take care of my own, and I have a new family. I try not to look back.” 

As he had done numerous times before that night, Chan’s hand reached out for yours under the table, brushing up against the white cloth. 

“I can’t say how much I appreciate you enough for what you do; risking your life for me...I owe you everything Bee.” The prince softened, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. 

The chug of the steamboat hissed softly behind you in that back bar room, and just through the windows, you could see the stars dotting the sky just as they did in any corner of the world. They were a reminder that while some things changed, others didn’t. 

The echo of footsteps on the deck clicked, causing you to turn a careful glance back to the direction of the sound. The man who entered was dressed in a casual cotton button up and navy slacks. On the white of his breast, he wore a pin holding the symbol of a crest.

“Lee Minho?” Chan gasped. 

“Your Highness!” The handsome man bowed immediately with a startled little smile. 

The friendly prince stood immediately upon seeing the other royal to shake his hand. “What a coincidence that we meet again!” 

Lee Minho shied with a polite smile while fiddling with his hair that looked to be masterfully styled. “Must be...fated. Or something like that.” 

“Are you alright? Last I saw you was at the shooting at the gala. I’m so glad to see that you’re safe. You didn’t get injured I hope?” 

This close, Lee Minho had oddly cat-like eyes that were as intense as they were alluring. He was just as you had remembered him to be--put together and polished like a true royal, dastardly handsome with all the right curves to his body, and just enough mystery to him to pique the interest of anyone who had sensed his air--just as the prince had. 

“What are you doing in Cairo?” Chan asked, gesturing for the stranger to pull up a chair. 

Lee Minho swatted away the question with an annoyed cringe. “Royal stuff, you know how it goes. Everyone is always trying to poke their noses in places where they shouldn’t be...unless they’re looking to get themselves killed. That's why they send me. I’m dispensable.” 

“Oh, I’d hardly say that.” 

In seconds the prince’s entire body had shifted towards the direction of the other man, and hung onto each of his words as if they were a siren song. 

“When you’re not as high up in the ranks as you are your Highness, royalty starts to feel more like servitude than a legitimate position.” 

“So, where are you poking your nose?” 

Lee Minho’s eyes nervously flicked to you, and Chan realized that he had skipped right over introductions. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce the two of you. Minho, this is Bee, my--” 

“--I’m a member of his detail.” You spoke for him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally Lee Minho. I recall seeing you at the gala.” 

Minho bowed slightly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” 

It was obvious that you had made the man uncomfortable, just as you had liked it to be. While you could see what the prince had seen in him, you had the disposition to be much less trusting than his Highness. 

“Which royals are employing you? I’d love to know! It’s always exciting for me to learn about who is plotting what. The royal drama keeps me really entertained.” 

Minho sat up straighter, then waved a hand for the waitress to come scuttling over. 

“Some of my family members. You wouldn’t know them, we’re all dreadfully insignificant to be honest. They heard all this business about those men with the red crests and they’re starting to get scared. After they targeted...you, they’re wondering which royal family might be next...if any. I’m here to find out who they are, their whereabouts, anything else.” 

“Wow! That’s actually what we--”

“--And where are you planning on getting this information if I may ask?” You hushed the prince’s loose lips as quickly as you could. 

Minho leaned in over the flickering candle to lower his tone, “I heard that there’s an informant here in the city who might now something about this group. They’ve been popping up on national news too as of late. I’m looking to talk to him tomorrow evening. Luckily, I was able to make an appointment but it was no small feat. I had to bribe him to high hell to get him to speak with me.” 

“Hm. Sounds familiar.” You mumbled. 

Chan’s eyes widened, then he looked back to you to ask for permission. You gave him a nod.

“It seems like we’re here for a common purpose my friend.” The prince leaned in to bridge the gap between them, his hand notably reaching to rest on the other man’s thigh below the table’s surface. “We’re seeking similar information and I think we might be speaking of the same informant.” 

“But your Highness, isn’t it dangerous it you to do something like this?” 

“Not when I’ve got her around.” Chan threw a sly grin to you across the table. “I’m well protected. And you? Where’s your detail?” 

“I’m afraid that I’m out here alone. Like I said, when you’re as low in the ranks as I am...” 

“What? That’s terrible!! They aren’t even protecting their own? Bee!!” 

“Yes, your Highness?” You already knew where this was going. 

“Let’s bring Minho along with us tomorrow! We know that there’s safety in numbers--” 

“Your Highness, in case you haven’t noticed, our hands are already a bit full...”

“I can fend for myself.” Lee Minho suddenly piped. “Travelling alone, I’ve picked up a few things about protecting myself. You don’t have to protect me, but, I appreciate the offer.” 

“Nonsense! You should come with us! I would feel more comfortable if you did rather than went by yourself.” 

Lee Minho gave the royal a smile in his thanks, it was pure and a little adorable you had considered...but that was likely the champagne going to your head. 

“Really? I appreciate it, your Highness.” 

While you were distanced, you nearly could’ve sworn that the prince had squeezed the other’s leg reassuringly, and you were willing to bet he had rubbed it with his thumb too just as he had done to you. 

After long, the waitress returned with Lee Minho’s drink, and the two men chatted like old college buddies while you slipped away at your drink in an attempt to make it last as long as you could. While Chan did try to engage you in conversation, it would never last for long until he would become puppy-eyed over the stranger again. In the end, you wondered if the tipsy prince would’ve also confessed to this man if he had one too many drinks. 

The table bumped with their jovial and restless legs, and you could only imagine what wandering hands sought to discover. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The hotel was quiet save for the click of heels on the marble floors from ladies who had just gotten off the steamboat and clung to their husbands in their drunken stupor. They cackled in the empty and golden lobby, then pressed hasty kisses into the stuttering mouths of their husbands who’s mouths then smeared with hot pick lipstick. Chan giggled at the sight while he tripped over his own feet too. 

“Ahhhh. Being in love is so cute.” He adored them once you had entered the elevator. 

“You’re not going to throw up on me, are you?” 

The prince hiccupped, then shook his head. “Unlike you I know how to hold my liquor. I’m fine. Just a bit sleepy I think. Must be the jet lag.” 

The tones for each floor beeped in the compartment, and Chan lulled his head back and forth. 

“So. Lee Minho huh?” You said, not even able to help yourself. The alcohol had brought you a bit of an edge...so you thought. 

“Lee. Minho.” He sighed out dreamily. “What do you think of him?” 

“I think I can’t trust anyone as long as I haven’t ran at least three background checks on them.” 

“Awww, Bee, you’re so thoughtful of me.” 

In the empty hallway, the prince with squinting eyes leaned against the doorframe to the royal suite, reaching out to brush up against your blouse once more. You let him, excusing his drunken state. After he did so, his eyes hazed over with something much different, while he looked exhausted, it was laced with something else: something much more longing. 

“Bee...fuck, I really want to kiss you again.” 

“Hm. That’s ripe coming from you who was just viciously flirting with Lee Minho.” 

You could see his head spinning in his dilated pupils. “What?” 

The door clicked open and you less than gracefully lead the prince through the dark to your shared bedroom. 

“B-Bee, what are you talking about?” 

You scoffed, “I’m not blind, you know.” 

“A-are you...jealous?” 

“W-what? Fuck no. I’m just...you can’t just...toss people around thinking that they’ll all bend to you.” 

Chan sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed at his temples when you turned one of the lamps on. 

“I-I was doing that?” 

You tore a pillow from the bed as well as the throw blanket at the end. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Good evening, your Highness.” 

“Wait! Bee!” The young prince stumbled after you, stubbing his toe against the bedpost in the process. “Ah-FUCK!” He grunted. 

“What?” You growled back to him, half shrouded in the darkness of the suite living room. 

The royal stumbled out, eyes blank and backlit from the bedroom. While you couldn’t see him fully, you later could assume that there was something in him terribly torn and ripped in that moment that made little sense to him, as it did to you to. 

Arms reached out, bodies softly illuminated by the lights of the city, and the prince leaned himself fully into you, pressing bitter tasting lips to yours with a heat and desire that only seemed amplified the breather he had gotten. While he tasted of lime and grapefruits, with a twinge of alcohol. He was just as addictive as any vice. You wanted to feel him. As infuriating as he was, and oblivious, your abhorrence to him was just as strong as your attraction. 

“Mm, Bee--” He moaned directly into your mouth while shuffling both of you back to the bedroom. 

The prince’s trembling breath floated from his mouth to yours where he used both of his large hands to pull your face closer to his. You knew that in some way, there must have been something ingenuine about the whole scenario, but you didn’t care too much, not when kissing him felt like something. Maybe he had kissed you out of pity, or because he really had wanted to kiss you. You broke for seconds before both of your tangled limbs hit the bed. 

“Before...you said that you wouldn’t kiss me.” 

“I didn’t make any promises...but, how come...you said that you wouldn’t hesitate...? But you kissed ba--” 

You silenced the prince’s words with your own heated kisses that made little sense, only that kissing him as such felt good. You straddled the man while his hungry fingers traced all the way down your back. The prince’s hips sunk into the cushiony mattress, and you screwed him down even harder into it with your own heated hips grinding into him with as much pressure as you could muster. 

“This is what you want, right?” You pulled at his lip with your teeth to hear him groan from it. 

“Is it...what you want?” Chan got out between more kisses. 

You could blame it on loneliness or lack of touch all that you wanted, but it wasn’t even close. 

“Wait. Wait.” Chan suddenly interjected. 

“What? What is it?” 

The prince looked up at you, that haze in his eyes now fading to something much different that wasn’t covered in the lust that he held before. 

“Bee...I-I don’t know if I want it to happen this way. It feels...it’s not...” 

“Not what?” 

He brushed his hand upward now to caress your face, lingering on the side of the peach fuzz on your cheek. “You deserve better than whatever the hell this is.” 

“Oh, so when I finally want to fuck you, you’re saying it isn’t right?” 

“I’m saying, I’m drunk, it’s late, clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you, and I want to know what it is before we do anything else. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

It might’ve been Lee fucking Minho, or it might’ve been something else much stickier for you to admit, but seeing the prince like this, it was too much. He was gorgeous under you, practically angelic looking. 

“I-I’m...complicating things.” You whispered out, and the prince softened even further. 

“That’s what it is? Bee, I told that you don’t have to worry about--” 

“--Yes. Yes I do...your Highness. I-I can’t feel...” 

“Bee--let’s just talk about--” 

The prince might’ve said more, but his words faded into murmurs once you closed his door behind you, then crawled onto the couch in Jeongin and Seungmin’s room, locking their door too. 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

[weirdthinkingdragon]

Welcome To The Family (3/???)

1/ 2

Warnings of bad babysitters, and a couple swears but I think that’s it. Also sorry if this seems more of a filler chapter. Can’t believe I might have made a filler chapter with my favorite character. -_-

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

It’s been a week since that night. Shinsou even started joining Eri and me with things now with a small smile instead of a glare. Aizawa is the last one that still doesn’t really care for me I’m pretty sure. Today they didn’t need me to babysit since the students at the school kept begging them to bring Eri to see again. Who can blame them? Eri can melt the heart of anyone. 

I was already told a few days ago to call Yamada by his first name, but it’s rather similar to Shinsou’s. I still keep getting them mixed up in my head. I still prefer to call them by their last names. Why can’t I just keep calling them by their last names? My fault for wanting to be friends with them I suppose. 

Yamada texted me he wants me to come into his recording studio tonight. Something about finally having the chance to know me better? But don’t we pretty much know everything about each other already from him reading my summary and I knowing him from his professions, as well as Eri telling both of us things about each other?

Eh, I didn’t have anything planned to do today anyway. 

I waited for it to get later in the day and head towards the location of the studio. He’s also a teacher, so it would be better to arrive a bit later, knowing he will be there then as well. I might ask him for a ride back to my home though if he’s willing. I don’t really want to walk alone at night back to my place, considering here is a much farther distance to my place than their house to mine. Kind of surprised to not have run into a villain yet. Here’s to hoping I never do.  

Entering the tower, I’m greeted by someone unknown sitting at a desk. She has a rather deep frown on her face as she saw me enter and walk up to the desk. I feel like a nervous wreck trying to tell her I’m here to see Yamada. What if he forgot to tell her and I get humiliated? 

Okay, that might be a bit ridiculous. No one else is around. “Hello. I’m here to uh… See Yamada?” Her frown deepens even further. “Farthest room on the right.” I walk towards the door. Hospitality much? 

I knock on the door and wait for him to answer. 

“C’mon in, Y/N!” He yells through the door. His voice was rather quiet, so the room must be incredibly soundproof. I enter the room and see Best Jeanist sitting on a chair in front of him. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” I ask. 

They both shake their heads. “No, we just finished a bit ago,” Best Jeanist does a weird hand motion over his hair? “I’ll be leaving now. This was a pleasant time.” He gets up and leaves. 

After a bit, I sat in the chair he was just sitting in, and it felt rather awkward between us. The warmth of the seat not aiding in much comfort. 

“So… Is the woman at the main desk usually in such a mood, or is it a bad day today?”

He laughs. “She’s been like that for a while!” 

For a while? “What made her like that?” 

He shakes his head. “She still digs me. A while ago we tried having her as Eri’s babysitter, but it didn’t go well with how uncaring she was for her. Sho and I could both tell she couldn’t have cared less for our kids and was rather disgusted finding out Sho and I were married. She still kept tryin’ though, so we had to kick her from babysitting.” 

“That explains why she seemed so annoyed with me when I asked her where your room was.” 

He nods. “Yep! It probably doesn’t help I teased her by tellin’ her you’re our new sitter!” 

I give him an incredulous look. “Why would you do that?” 

“Ah, don’t be so worried! I just told her how you’re already a way better sitter than she ever was!”

I don’t really know what to say to that. It’s just what I’m supposed to do, isn’t it? “It’s just my job. But to be honest, Eri makes it way more enjoyable. Hate to say I have favorites, but she easily has to be in my top five favorite kids I ever got to babysit.”

He seems to grow even happier at the news, judging by his smile growing bigger. Jeez, how does his face get that big without strain!? “So glad to hear that! I Gotta say, we were close to givin’ up on the whole babysitter thing until we passed yours.” 

I tilt my head. “Why is that?” 

His face goes into a frown. “The first two were actually villains. The first was working with some villains in trying to get Eri. Luckily we found out the same day before leaving from our son using his quirk on them. The second was known for stealin’ people’s items, but the reviews were deleted so we didn’t know until it was too late. They didn’t take anything that couldn’t be replaced though.”

“Like Eri.” 

He smiles again. “Yep! But we obviously couldn’t have someone like that around us, ya know? So we caught them and turned ‘em in.” 

I nod. “That makes sense. Was the next one the woman at the desk?” 

He shakes his head. “Nope! That was the next one. The third one was pretty good. Or so we thought, but our son didn’t feel right with them being around Eri,” His fists clench tightly, and his frown is even deeper than before. “Turns out he had an obsession of bein’ in charge and kept bossing Eri around when we weren’t home. Making her clean everything and took the credit. I went home early one day and caught him in the act.” 

My heart twinges knowing Eri had to go through EVEN MORE than she already did. “Please tell me you decked him for it.” 

He smirks. “Sho wasn’t too happy at me for it, but fuck yeah I did!” 

“Glad to hear!” I smirk. “I bet Shinsou was all for you decking him as well, knowing him.”

He nods. “Yep! He told me if he was there, he would have done the same thing!” 

“Sounds like him.” 

It goes quiet between us after that. I keep trying to think of something else to talk about, but my mind keeps coming up blank. Surprisingly or not, I’m not nearly as good at talking with adults as I am with kids. They’re usually easily distracted, and bringing up one thing can make them go into an hour of talking about it.

“Just curious, do ya ever listen to my show?” He suddenly asks. I’m so thankful he’s able to come up with something. 

“Sometimes. I was introduced to it by a child I babysat before. I wasn’t too appreciative of the tantrums he would throw when he couldn’t listen to it though. It also took a bit, but your show started to grow on me.” 

He smiles again. “Glad to know I’ve got some good hard fans listenin’ in!” 

I roll my eyes with a smile. “I don’t think his parents would agree with you, but go ahead and think what you want.” 

He smiles and shrugs. 

I can’t help but suddenly try to clear my throat from how dry it seems in here now that I notice. He notices, gets up, and grabs a bottle of water from a stand not too far from his seat, passing it to me. “Here ya go! Sorry for it bein’ so dry in here. One of the previous people using this room has some desert-like quirk. Gotten pretty used to it myself!” 

I take the bottle. “Thanks, Hitoshi.”

He stops for a moment and blinks at me. “I think ya mean Hizashi, my dear listener!”

.

.

. 

Oh. OH. FUCK!

I let out an embarrassed groan and couldn’t even look at him in the eyes, making him laugh incredibly hard at my reaction. “Don’t worry about it! They do seem rather similar, don’t they?” I just reply by nodding my head. Not being used to their first names really came to bite me, didn’t it?

Hizashi’s phone started to ring. He sees who it is, and answers it.  “Hey babe, what ya need?” He’s quiet for a second, but then his eyes widen as he turns and looks at the clock. “Shit! Sorry, guess time slipped by! I’ll be there shortly!” He then hangs up. 

“Hey, we gotta pick up Eri and Sho from the school. Since you’re here, I could drive ya if you want!” Hearing that is more relieving than having to ask him. “Sure. If it’s not too much trouble.” 

“Not at all!” 

As we leave, I look back to see the woman glaring hard at me from being beside Hizashi. It’s already decided. The less I’m around her, the better. 

We walk down to his black car. I get into the back seat so his husband can sit in the front. On the left is the car seat for Eri. I’ll get out when we get there so Shin- Hitoshi can sit in the middle. I really need to get them straight now before I get embarrassed by saying the wrong name again. 

Huh, the seats are incredibly comfortable. They’re also a beige color. Some reason, I was really expecting a different color. Not judging though, since I don’t even have one. 

It stays quiet between us until we enter the school area. It’s crazy to see in person. Aizawa, Eri, and Hitoshi are waiting outside by the entrance. I exit the vehicle, and she brightens upon seeing me. I get tackled into a hug by her. “Hey, Eri! Good to see you again!” 

“Even though it’s only been a day?” Hitoshi teases. 

“Admit it. You missed me too.” I tease.

He smirks. “Maybe, maybe not.” He teases back. 

Aizawa’s expression is unreadable as he looks at me. I decide to just give him space and accept he might just never like me. I’m honestly a little scared to try since he might get pissed off at me instead of not liking me too much. That’s a scary thought itself. He sits up front while I help Eri get into her seat. Shin- Hitoshi waits for me to walk around and sit in the middle. Maybe to keep them straight I could call them Toshi and Zashi. Would they mind that? That seems maybe too unprofessional though. 

“Do you want to drop me off first, or your family first since my place is farther away, Hizashi?” 

“I think we can go to your place first. Kinda curious to see your place, dear listener! I heard your place is rather lively!” He looks into the mirror at me. “Oh! And ya got the name right this time!” 

Really? Why do you have to embarrass me in front of your whole family!? I groan and hide my face with my hands. 

“This time?” Aizawa questions. 

“They accidentally called me our son’s name! Ya shoulda seen their face when they realized!” 

I take my hands off my face. “You didn’t have to tell them that! I’m sorry! I’m not used to your first names yet!” 

Hizashi and Hitoshi both laugh at me. Hitoshi’s was more of a snicker. 

I decide to try to change the subject to save myself from the embarrassment. “So, you know where it is, or do you need me to tell you the way?” 

“Nope! I got it memorized already!” 

“Good to know.”

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

We all talk a bit more on our way to my place. “Oh yeah! Hey, Y/N!” Hizashi suddenly pipes up when I was saying some joking banter with Hitoshi. 

“Yeah?” I question. 

“Are ya goin’ to the festival next week?” 

I shrug in reply. “Not really sure. I was thinking of maybe spending a bit more time with my neighbors since I haven’t done that very much for a while.”

None of them seemed to be too happy with that I think from their silence for a minute. 

“You could come with us. I’m sure Eri would like you to come.” Hitoshi informs. 

Eri nods enthusiastically at me when I look at her. My brows narrow in thought. “Isn’t that a family day for you guys though? I really don’t want to intrude.” 

For the first time since I’ve met him, Aizawa replies to me. “It’s not intruding if we’re inviting.” 

I look at Eri again, who is beyond pleading me to go. Damn it, how in the world can I say no to her? “I guess my friends could wait a bit longer. Sure, I can come.” 

“Great! We’ll pick ya up that day then!” 

It’s easy to tell we’re getting close to my place by the music that blairs into the car. 

… Are they seriously playing “It wasn’t me” by Shaggy today? I can’t help but laugh while everyone in the car but Hizashi is confused. It’s a nightly occurrence I’ve finally gotten used to, and sometimes even join them for a bit. I’ve learned quite a bit of English from them as well. They’re great neighbors. Honestly they’re one of the reasons I don’t move out, though now I could. This place has gotten rather cheap rent from these rambunctious people. It started with two, and soon the whole building became nothing but chaos. They’ve been frowned upon by many for their ways, but they couldn’t seem to care less. No noise complaints? No problems. 

“What are you laughing at?” Hitoshi questions. 

“Just my neighbor’s choice of song tonight. I’m beyond surprised they haven’t gotten into trouble for it yet.” 

“You can understand it!?” Hizashi excitedly exclaims. 

“Mostly. They taught me some English from me being here.”

Even though Hizashi seems like the type to like many types of music, he doesn’t seem to like the lyrics too much. Well. it IS about cheating after all. I’m beyond thankful Eri doesn’t understand any of it. Both from probably being too young, and not knowing the language very well yet. 

“What’s the song about?” Eri questions. 

Uh… “You don’t want to know. It’s a gross song.” 

“Why laugh if it’s gross?” 

I reach over and gently pat her head. I’ve finally gotten close enough she no longer fears my touch. “You will find out when you’re older. It’s an adult thing.” 

She seems unsure. “O...kay.” 

Hizashi pulls up to the building. My crazy friends being outside dancing their pants off as usual. I laugh at them and shake my head. Hitoshi gets out for me to exit. They all freeze and stare at me as I exit the vehicle, Hitoshi immediately getting back in. I wave at them and head towards my friends. 

My closest friend, Ryo, comes up to me. “What up, my friend?” They put their hand up for a high five. Just another rare thing these people like to do. I high five their hand.

“Not much! Just got back from another day of sitting! You know, the usual!” Sadly I can’t tell them the truth from the promise to the heroes. 

They take a quick glance at the car, then back at me with a whistle. “You sure got the jackpot huh? Bet those are some lucky kids!”

“It’s nothing much. Kids are kids. They’d like anyone that’s kind to them and listens to them.”

“Ah, don’t be so modest now!” They get me in a headlock and rub my head in a jokingly aggressive way. “Any kid is lucky if they get you as a sitter!” 

I laugh and force myself out of their grip. Hizashi quickly pulls away in the car in the process. 

We enter the building, and I’m incredibly glad they didn’t ask to come in. On the outside the place looks fine, but the inside is pretty much falling apart. Walls peeling, and the floor thin enough to feel the vibrations of the music underneath. Hey, at least we never have a mold problem. It might be from someone here who has a mold-absorption type of quirk. How he discovered it, I don’t want to know. 

I’m rather tired today, so I’m not joining them. Ryo seemed to notice, so they went back out to the others. I just flop onto my bed and almost immediately fall asleep.

[aquietwritingcorner]

March Mildness Day 28: Sleepover       Word Count: 1141   Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: K/G   Characters: Kain Fuery, Sheska     Warning:     Summary: With a storm raging outside, Fuery invites Sheska to stay over.   Notes:     AO3 || ff.net

___________________________

Sleepover

The rain pounded against the windows and the thunder shook the building as the storm raged outside. Sheska looked out at it from the window of the apartment and bit her lip. It was a fierce storm out there, and one that she didn’t particularly want to face, although she wasn’t entirely sure about her current predicament either. Lightning streaked across the sky moments before anther crash of thunder, and as it faded, she caught sight of Kain Fuery in the reflection of the window, a tumble of blankets in his arms.

“Are you sure it’s alright that I stay here tonight?” Sheska asked as she turned around, fingers lacing nervously together.

Kain looked up at her as he put some blankets on the couch and smiled at her. “Of course, it’s fine, Sheska. I’m not going to send you out in that. Besides, I don’t live in the barracks anymore—I can have whoever I want over.”

“That’s true,” she said, biting her lip. “I just…well we’ve never stayed over at each other’s places before.”

“It will be a first,” Kain agreed. “But no one should be out in that. Besides, I’m going to sleep out here on the couch tonight and you can have my bed.”

Sheska started. “Oh! No, no, don’t let me run you out of your bed! I can sleep on the couch just fine!”

Kain shook his head as he tossed pillow on one end of the couch. “You’re my guest, Sheska. You take the bed. Besides, what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I made my girlfriend sleep on the couch? The guys would never let me live it down.”

Sheska paused. “But… if we don’t tell them, how would they know?” she asked.

Kain sighed. “Somehow, they’d find out. They always do.”

Thunder shook the room again, and Sheska jumped, as it startled her. It had been louder and closer than all of the others, and both she and Kain looked at the window, and then back at each other.

“Yeah… maybe it is a good thing I’m staying here tonight,” Sheska said.

“I think so,” Kain agreed. “Com’on, I’ve got some tea somewhere and we can see what the radio is saying about the storms.”

The radio, as it turned out, was most disagreeable, as the fierce weather interfered with the signals getting through. Sheska set about making them both tea while Kain worked on getting what signal he could. It wasn’t much, but he managed to piece together that the storm was raging all over central, and the authorities were recommending no one get out as it was even safe for emergency vehicles.

Sheska was definitely staying put.

With nothing else to do, the two of them carried about their evenings. They ate some dinner, took turns showering, and changed into more comfortable clothes, Kain lending Sheska some of his. They were settled in, working on their own projects—Kain tinkering with a radio, Sheska reading a book she had found somewhere in his apartment—when suddenly the power went out. Both of them immediately froze in the darkness, the lightning in the sky the only thing that illuminated the room.

“Well, they did say the winds were going to be high,” Sheska said after a moment.

Kain got up and carefully made his way to the window. “Looks like it’s out all over, not just us. The storm must have taken out some of the power lines. I think I’ve got some candles somewhere. Hang on.”

Sheska stayed on the couch as she heard Kain moving about the dark apartment, rummaging through drawers. The lighting still flashed, and the thunder still crashed outside, shaking the apartment and providing brief moments of light.

“Maybe we should just go on to bed,” Sheska suggested as she listened to Kain moving around. “Its not like we’ll be able to do anything else tonight.”

“Probably,” Kain said, as he finally lit a candle. “Here we go. A little light.” The light was small, but it brightened the room a little bit and Sheska was glad for it. Kain made his way towards her. “I can only find one candle, though,” he said, frowning. “I suppose we can get you to bed first, and then I can use it to get to the couch. Or I can try to find my way to the couch in the dark.”

Sheska stood up as he approached. “I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of either one of us being left in the dark without a chance at light, just in case. Besides, what if we need to get to the bathroom?”

“That’s true,” Kain said. “I suppose I could always move the blankets to the bedroom floor,” he said with a frown.

“Or we could share the bed,” Sheska said, blurting it out before thinking.

They both froze, staring at each other before suddenly both speaking at once, tripping over words.

“Ah… um… I, I mean, I, um, I just don’t want you to sleep on your own floor—”

“I, ah, I um, wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“I mean, its your home and I feel like such an intruder—”

“You’re my guest and I want to make sure that you’re taken care of—”

“But, I mean, I really don’t think that—”

“Provided we don’t do anything—”

“I think that maybe—”

“If we just—”

“It might be nice…”

“Yeah…”

“I really don’t like the thunder.”

“Me either.”

They both stopped again, staring at each other, and then laughed.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Kain asked Sheska.

“If you are,” she said. “Besides, I don’t think either of us are ready for… more.”

Kain shook his head. “Not yet.”

The mood lightened, the two of them used the one candle to finish getting ready for bed, and then turned down the covers on the bed. The storm was still raging outside when they slipped into the bed, each of them claiming a side. The storm shook the building, and the wind whistled past the windows, shaking them in their panes even as the rain beat against the building.

For a moment they both laid there, neither one facing the other, simply lying in the same bed. Then Sheska turned over.

“Kain?” she said.

“Yeah?” he responded.

She reached a hand towards him. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

Kain turned over too, facing her, and smiled at her, reaching for her hand. He threaded his fingers in hers. “Anytime, Sheska.”

The two settled into sleep, the comfort of each other and the steady presence of the storm lulling them towards it. Whether the storm was over in the morning, or if it was still raging, the would be comforted by each other’s presence either way.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Murder, He Wrote

Co-written with @southerngracela

Part 1 

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela for @jtargaryen18 ‘s  Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist. 

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide. 

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone. 

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.  

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue. 

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound 

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood. 

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you. 

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places.  Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room. The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the  gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host. 

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone. With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream. 

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. “Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat “Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall. 

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne. 

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize”  you bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Aalongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background.  And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway. 

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. 

And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.  

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his. 

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes.  With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!" 

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet. 

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away. 

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask. 

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system. 

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked. 

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow. 

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness. 

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. 

His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with  the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission. 

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you Princess? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did. 

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even, 

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat. 

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his 

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out 3 vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby. 

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his. 

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** WIYPT Tag List:

Everything

@momobaby227 @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @nerdofthefandoms @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @what-just-happened-bro @jennmurawski13 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jtargaryen18 @redhairedfeistynerd @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @jhayes6984 @anika-ann @icanfeelastormbrewing @gigglegirl77 @princess-evans-addict @mes-2016 @theladybiers @void-hoechlin 

Ransom Drysdale

@patzammit @icandothisallday @capsiclewinter​ @this-is-serenaa​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @perplexed3001​ @twittytelly​ @kelbabyblue​ @maan24​

If your name appears above but the tag isn’t live please let me know.

[randomfandomimagine]

A Whisper Among The Noise (Clark Kent x Reader)

Character: Clark Kent

Fandom: Superman/Man of Steel (DCEU)

Tags: Songfic, angst with a happy ending, pining

Warnings: A bit angsty in the middle

Word Count: 2,1k words

Requested by @caritobbg​: Hello again!!! ❤️ I'm still in love with "I Still Love You" whith Jaskier 😍❤️ hahahaha I'm gonna ask if you could write another ficlet songfic with Clark Kent x Fem! Reader? 😍 The song's called Secret Love Song p.II by Little Mix ❤️ Reader's in love with him, but when she founds out about a mysterious girl that he likes, she felt so bad and sing that song infront of everyone at an after-office party. Then, Clark tell her that she's that girl 😍 Love your blog!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

A/N: Better late than never 😅 By this point I was running out of inspiration a bit, but I still kind of like the result and I hope you love it! Thanks for being so lovely and patient and understanding. Enjoy!! 💜

Clark Kent x Gender Neutral Reader

_

You absently scratched your nail against the ridges on the red solo cup you were holding and that you had barely drank a sip of. The party was lively and loud, and although you didn’t regret coming, you were starting to feel a bit restless. Everyone was shouting over the music and chatting in groups, and after you had said hello to them, you were now hiding in the corner as you felt your social battery drain.

A hand softly pressed against your arm, and you would have been startled by the sudden contact as well as by the promise of new interaction if it weren’t for whom that hand belonged to. You could tell it was him not only by the gentle way in which he called you, but also the unmistakable way his touch made you feel. Warm, flustered, loved. The butterflies returned to your stomach, like they had never left ever since the last time you talked to him.

“Y/N” His deep voice enveloped you as you turned around to face him.

“Hey, Clark” You didn’t speak too loudly, but he seemed to hear you nonetheless.

“What…” He began to say, but he paused and leaned closer to your ear so you could understand him over the blasting speakers. “What are you doing here all alone?”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, even under the fond way in which he watched you, you shrugged your shoulders. Wanting to distract yourself from the intense way he made you feel, you continued to play with the cup in your hands.

Why can't I hold you in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor? I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? 'Cause I'm yours Why can't I say that I'm in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? 'Cause I'm yours

 “Well, I…” Knowing he expected an answer, you made an effort to reply and raise your voice enough so that he could hear you. “I guess I’m a bit over it already”

When you looked up at him, you saw Clark dedicating you an understanding smile. His hand, which still lingered on your arm, carefully squeezed you.

“Would you like me to drive you home?”

“I wouldn’t want you to leave the party early because of me…”

“I don’t mind at all” His smile widened, acquiring an inviting expression. “I don’t like parties that much anyway”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Your hand fell atop of his, timid and longing.

“It would be my pleasure” Clark dedicated you that smile, the one that light up your entire world.

The two of you paused, lingering on your reciprocal touch, and stared at the other. At that time, the music in the background seemed to dim. Perhaps it was because of your heart beating wildly in your chest, all the more with each second that your touch and his continued. Or maybe it was that the intensity of your gazes that made everything around you duller.

When your eyes drifted down to his lips, like they had a mind of their own, you had to bite your lip not to audibly gasp. You inched closer to his mouth on an instinct, ever so slightly, so little in fact that he didn’t seem to notice.

“Come on” He finally said, moving his hand to gently push it against the small of your back. “Let’s get you home”

You obeyed, hoping you weren’t blushing as his hand also lingered in that new spot. Titling your head down, you started walking towards the exit. Your mind boiled with thoughts, all regarding the very man that so kindly insisted in personally accompanying you home.

_

When Clark stopped the car, it felt like all the questions fighting for attention in your brain only grew louder with the absence of the party music. Like every time you interacted, he was the perfect gentleman, a sweetheart, always kind and thoughtful and gentle. Back at the party, you had been even closer than ever. All those stolen moments you shared paled in comparison to that one. Surely, he must have noticed your moment of weakness and decided not to act on it, to pretend like he didn’t realize. He couldn’t be that oblivious.

It made sense, seeing as his heart was apparently taken. There were rumors in the office, of Clark being hung up on someone. He always seemed absent-minded, lost in a beautiful romantic daydream of that special person. If only you could be so lucky, but having your feelings reciprocated felt like an impossible dream. You could see that now, clear as day despite the darkness that surrounded you.

“Are you okay?” Clark’s husky voice startled you slightly in the stillness of the car. “You’re very quiet”

“I was just wondering…” You dared to look him in the eyes, forgetting how beautiful and piercing they were. For a moment, it took your breath away. “Are the rumors true? Do you… are you… and someone in the office…?”  

“Maybe… why do you ask?” He attentively stared at you, but his tender expression wasn’t endearing this time. It was heartbreaking, because someone else caused it.

“I…” Unprompted, a deep sadness overwhelmed you. The electric magic that seemed to fill the air whenever he was around disappeared, replaced with a cold void.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Clark placed a hand on your wrist, but this time the gesture didn’t feel as lovely either. “You’re acting strange”

Tears arrived to your eyes. You had a sudden realization that, no matter how close and intimate you got with Clark, it would never be enough. He was thinking of someone else.

Every time I see you, I die a little more Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls It'll never be enough As you drive me to my house I can't stop these silent tears from rolling down You and I both have to hide on the outside Where I can't be yours and you can't be mine

But I know this, we got a love that is homeless

Was he really that blind to your love to give you hope? Especially when his harbored someone else? Was that undeniable connection doomed because of another person?

He was staring at you, yet again expecting an answer. His insistent gaze made your heart race, made you flustered as usual. This wasn’t fair…

“I’m in love with you” You spit out before you could stop yourself.

The silence seemed to grow. It loomed over you, lurking in order to swallow you at any moment, and take your empty heart with it.

“Oh…” Clark retrieved his hand, dragging his fingers along your skin.

Feeling all kinds of stupid and hopeless, you averted your gaze. Your wrist felt cold and hot at the same time. That spot missed his touch, but it remembered it.

“I’ll…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll walk you to the door”

Moving your head so he couldn’t see your face, you looked out the window. He stayed in the seat, so you nodded your head without making eye contact. When you made to open the door, he exited the car himself.

In the time that it took him to round the vehicle to reach the copilot door, you took a deep breath to calm yourself. You didn’t want him to know how much you were hurting. It would only make things worse.

It's obvious you're meant for me Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep But I'll never show it on my face

Before he could, you opened the door and walked out of the car. There stood Clark’s tall figure, illuminated by a streetlight behind him and making him look like an angel in a halo. You and him… it would have been too good to be true.

You started walking to your front door, with him standing by you and watching your every move. He was worried, and you could tell. You couldn’t even be mad at him or that person that stole his love. After all, you wanted him to be happy, even if it was with somebody else.

As you walked, you subtly wiped the tears from your cheeks and busied yourself with getting your keys out. They rattled in the silence of the night, making your ears ring. It was the only sound filling the void other than your slow, feeble footsteps. Your front door was closer each second, and with that a sense of anticipated relief reached you bit by bit, desperately attempting to take over the hurt.

“Y/N?” Clark piped up, but you didn’t feel strong enough to hear what he wanted to say.

“Thanks for taking me home” Was all you told him, already lifting your arm with your keys prepared.

“Wait” He spoke in an ushered whisper, delicately stopping your hand when you were opening the door. His fingers were warm even in that chilly night. “I don’t think you understood me before”

“You don’t have to explain” You told him, mentally begging him to stop talking. “Really, Clark”

“I do” His grip on your wrist tightened a little. “Because I am in love with that someone…”

“Clark…” You began, gritting your teeth and struggling to keep faking.

“Will you look at me?” His hand gingerly rested against your cheek, tilting your head so you reluctantly stared into his blue eyes. “That someone is you… how could you think it was anyone but you?”

You gawked at him, unable to believe him. He backed off slightly, letting go of your wrist and giving you some space. As usual, he seemed to know exactly what you needed.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” You weren’t angry, you weren’t sad, nor disappointed. Shock was the only thing you could feel among the sea of emotions that threatened to drown you.

“I thought you knew…” He continued, given your quietness. “I was waiting for a sign”

“A sign?”

“A sign that you… loved me back”

“I knew you loved someone, I just… I never thought it was me…”

Clark frowned, seemingly as heartbroken as you were. He made to touch you again, but this time he hesitated. You could see it in his eyes, the regret and guilt and fear. After all this time being so unapologetically affectionate, he was afraid to hurt you again. He was afraid to harm you in any way, even if it hadn’t been his intention. All that pain and uncertainty… it was all for nothing. Clark loved you, he always had. There was no one else, only you.

“I’m sorry if I ever hurt you” Once again, he read you like an open book. He knew you so well, and he cared so much, that he read your thoughts.

“Get out of my head…” You spoke in a whisper, fascinated by him.

Relieved by the shift in the atmosphere, from tense and sad to hopeful and light, he chuckled. His brow was still furrowed, but now it showcased that fondness from always. Knowing what you did now, you realized it wasn’t only that. It was fondness, and an absolute adoration that you were surprised not to have seen until then. It was always there, you were just too blind and too afraid to see it.

“Can I…?” Clark began, but you interrupted him.

“Yes” You replied before he could finish the question, you knew what he was going to say anyways. And the answer was yes, one hundred times yes.

He smiled and moved closer to you. Feeling his warmth in the chilly night, you shivered as he lovingly wrapped his arms around you. Like they belonged there and always had, your hands settled on his chest. He deeply breathed in, as though he couldn’t contain such emotion. Then, he finally leaned in.

Your eyes closed at the touch of his lips, feeling goose bumps now that it finally happened. He held you tight at last, tighter, as tight as he could, as he pressed you against him. Your hands went up to his shoulders, holding on to him as your legs threatened to give in under the weight of your immeasurable happiness.

The kiss was magical, warm, passionate and tender. It was loving and sweet and cathartic. When it ended after a few seconds, you slowly opened your eyes. Clark was staring at you, receiving you with a bright smile. He didn’t say anything, but you understood anyway.

There was no noise anymore and he didn't have to whisper in your ear, but he still reached you deeply. He saw you in ways no one else could, he talked to you and read you without the need of words, and that kiss was proof of it all, like a whisper among the noise.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ / @locke-writes​ / @lotsoffandomrecs​ / @emmacata​ / @scared-to-be-lonely345​ / @everyday-imfangirling​ / @danietoww04​ / @sylleblossomstar​ // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

[rfadaydreaming]

— cellophane

why won’t you do it for me? when all i do is for you?

pairing: jumin x mc

words: 4.4k

link to read on ao3 [x]

prompt: failures // fights

tags: angst, language, unhealthy relationship, a bit toxic tbh, insecure jumin, emotional manipulation, unhappy marriage

a/n: for: @mysme-events​ angst week. this piece is inspired by fka twigs song, cellophane!

“Are you mad at me?”

Your voice had come out smaller than you had intended.

“Is there a reason I should be mad at you?”

He replied without meeting your gaze, opting to focus on the rain outside the car window instead. You didn’t quite know what kind of emotion his tone was carrying, but yet you knew it wasn’t good.

“No...”

You became hyperaware of the bad taste beginning to form in the back of your throat. It’s all too familiar, unfortunately.

“Then I shouldn't be mad at you. Should I?”

You didn’t answer him. You just weren’t sure what to say.

Heavy silence filled the car once again, the rain against the roof of the vehicle was the only thing that occupied the small space.

You sighed louder than you meant to, arms crossing over your torso, cheek resting against the foggy glass of the window. The cold felt nice against your skin, helped keep you grounded, calm. You took in a few deep breaths as you thought back on the events of earlier tonight.

The unfamiliar hand grazing the small of your back surprised you to say the least, you wanted to flinch away the moment you felt his hands touch you,, but yet you didn’t move. Why? You’re not exactly sure. Politeness, anxiety, maybe a mix of both. Maybe something else underneath it all.

You recognized the voice as a business partner of Jumins, the owner of the company that’s been occupying most of your husband's time as of late. Late nights, long meetings, hoards and hoards of paperwork.

His reputation was one you knew well, hearing it all secondhand from Jumin. He was quick to drop anyone who disagreed with him, no matter how small. Such a pain for your stubborn husband to work around, but yet as always, he somehow managed.

But one thing your husband made sure you knew about was his stance with women in particular. You weren’t allowed to come to the company dinners anymore. You could only drop things off through Jaehee at the office.

It seems he didn’t even want you to call him after meetings, one thing you two have always done even before you had started dating. Maybe the fear of his colleague overhearing your voice was the reason behind it, you didn’t know, you didn’t ask. You knew he would get upset if you did. 

Stay away from him, was all he warned.

And you promised him that you would.

“And you must be the famous Mrs Han, I presume?”

He was in front of you now, his hand lingering on your hip for a moment before pulling away. You inched away ever so slightly.

“Ah, Yes. I am.”

You had to look up to him to reply due to how close he was, the first thing you noticed was just how much he resembled Jumin. The only major difference was his eyes, while your husbands were grey and light, his were brown and deep. The similarities threw you off guard for a moment, however your surprise once you met his gaze seemed to be taken a different way than you had intended.

A slight chuckle escaped his lungs, It was warm and clear, it had a bit more of a higher pitch than Jumin’s did. More character to it.

“I’ve heard such great things about you! Your husband seems like quite the happy man. And I can see why, you’re beautiful. Ah– If I can say that, that is.”

You shied away without thinking, you didn’t particularly like the feeling you had in your stomach right now. You were also painfully aware of how his position was giving him a ‘good view’ of your body from up there, as your husband would sometimes say. 

His words seemed innocent, he seemed kind. But Jumin’s warning still flickered within your mind.

“Thanks, I suppose.”

You fully expected him to take advantage of his much taller height, but yet he didn’t seem to. His eyes were trained onto your own as he smiled, never glancing down at your chest even once.

A weird feeling stirred deep within your insides.

He isn’t like how Jumin described at all.

Why would your husband lie?

You entertained his small talk for a few minutes, he introduced himself, as did you.

Fear was the main thing holding you back from leaving, of course. Jumin had been working on this project for months now, the memories of him falling asleep over his laptop, his dark circles, his late night confessions of just how much his head ached were fresh in the back of your mind.

His mood swings, his exhaustion, his late nights.

Be polite.

Be polite for Jumin.

“–But enough about all that! Do you drink?”

“Uhm… Wine, sometimes. But i’m not the biggest fan.”

“Any reason in particular?”

He leaned into you a bit, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. You naturally smiled in return.

“I’ve tried some wine, but they’re just all so bitter to me.”

You scrunched your nose a little at the memories. Vineyards with Jumin were never your favorite, he just loved such sour wines.

“Bitter? Your husband is an investor in how many wineries exactly, yet only offers his wife bitter wine? Hm. We can’t have that now, can we?”

He spoke with a smile, wrapping his arm around your waist and beginning to guide you towards the bar. Before you even got the chance to protest in return, he was already sweeping you away. His thumb ran circles on your hip that you were painfully aware of. 

The pit in your stomach was growing heavier and heavier with every step.

It's been awhile since Jumin’s had even touched you like this, you thought.

It was nice.

He was rambling on about the wines he had lined up for tonight as he led you to a seat, pulling it out for you while still going on and on. You couldn’t even find an opening to interject, ask for a bathroom break, anything. 

He ordered you a drink, as well as one for himself.

You desperately scanned the room for Jumin, eyes bouncing off black suit after black suit. You just couldn’t pinpoint him like this, everyone was wearing such similar clothing...

You swallowed thickly and took a sip of the wine in front of you, face cringing a bit as you expected the worst, however pleasantly surprised once the taste had hit your tongue. 

It wasn't nearly as bitter as the wines Jumin often offered you.

Jumin’s sudden touch to your knee had caused you to jump a little, breaking you away from your racing thoughts.

“Stop.”

He finally met your gaze, you scrunched your brows in confusion. Two fingers pressed down against your skin, putting a halt to your restless leg.

“You know I don't like when you do that.”

A sigh escaped his lungs as he pulled his hand back, crossing his arms over his torso once again. Back to staring at whatever was so interesting outside the window. Oh yes, you had forgotten. How could you.

You glanced down at your knee after he had already pulled away.

It was red from the pressure that had been placed there.

“Well, sorry for being such an inconvenience then.”

You laughed a little in disbelief as you spoke, pressing your cheek against the window once more. 

Maybe it was a childish thing to say, but you truly didn’t care right now. You slumped further into the seat, humming to yourself softly as you stole some glances here and there towards your husband. 

His face was void of any readable emotion as of now, but his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes said everything you needed to know. He seemed to be thinking about something, your words perhaps. He suddenly met your eyes without warning. It made you flinch. 

“Inconvenience.”

He looked at you as he spoke. It felt so cold. You could feel anxiety beginning to build. 

“Inconvenience, is searching all over the venue for my wife when she won’t even bother to pick up her phone for her husband.”

He opened his mouth to continue, but you had cut him off before he got the chance,

“Jumin I told you it was almost dead earlier tonight, I just–“

“Don’t interrupt me while i’m speaking. Please.”

Jumin raised his voice harshly, it was ever so slight, but it still took you by surprise. His eyes were oddly intense with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint, all you knew is that they carried weight behind him. One you weren’t used to seeing. 

His gaze made you feel small and slightly embarrassed, you weren’t even sure why. It just did.

You nodded and closed your mouth, letting him go on.

“Inconvenience, is watching my wife entertain another man while I watch from the sidelines. Not just any man, but the one man I so vividly remember telling her to stay away from.”

You opened your mouth to interject once more but his brows furrowed as soon as you did so, his chin tilted forward in silent warning.

He continued on.

“Inconvenience, is seeing my wife share drinks with another man. Flirting with another man. Touching another man.”

“I didn't flirt.”

You raised your voice slightly, not by much, but it was enough to make him raise a brow. It was just... so hard to control yourself when he was being like this sometimes.

“Sharing a few drinks with him, laughing and giggling like some teenage schoolgirl, letting him put his hands all over you. Might as well have.”

Jumin’s tone was still so cold, monotone, and for some reason that hurt more than anything else could have.

It was like this most of the time. He would never yell, he would never shout, barely even show any emotion at all if you’re being honest. It drove you up the wall sometimes. You always left feeling like you were the irrational one because of it, no matter the case. 

It seems that’s what was happening again. As it always does.

“I wasn't given a choice, Jumin! He wouldn’t let me–”

The car came to a sudden stop, you groaned a bit, nearly biting your tongue due to the stop. It interrupted you just as you had begun to raise your voice.

 Jumin gave you an heavy look before rolling down the partition, Driver Kim gave him the confirmation that you two were back home.

He got out first, offering you a hand that you had refused to take.

The elevator ride was so uncomfortable.

His posture was relaxed as it usually was, hands messing with his cufflinks absentmindedly, his expression nearly blank while he stared at the panel of buttons on the wall, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world or something. The only indicator he has when he’s upset would be a clenched jaw.

It was something you had become oh so familiar with these past couple of months.

Anxiety was building up inside of your body, it felt itchy, it nearly burned. It was almost always there and had no issues made itself well known. But there was something deeper building behind it, not just from the argument. Something unfamiliar, bitter, ugly.

It frightened you.

You weren’t sure what it was yet.

And you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

The two of you entered the penthouse in heavy silence, it felt like even breathing was much too loud for the atmosphere around the both of you. Elizabeth the Third had come running over as soon as the door opened, but it seems even she was able to sense the tension. You weren’t surprised, she usually can.

She opted to climb up on the couch instead, tail twitching back and forth as she watched her parents carefully from afar. You vaguely wondered if she knew something you didn’t.

Jumin went straight to the kitchen as soon as his jacket and shoes were off, not a word was spoken while he left. He went for a glass of wine you could only presume, he usually did once he got home. Normally you would get on his case about it, his more unhealthy drinking habits had been increasing as of late, but tonight wasn’t the time to nag him for it. You didn’t have the energy to fuel the fire more than you already had. 

You walked over to the living-room with a sigh, giving Elizabeth a slight pat before sprawling out on the couch. Your feet ached due to the heels from earlier tonight, but the relief of home was a welcomed feeling. You let your body sink into the cushions as you relaxed, at least the best you could for now.

You stared outside the window for a few moments, admiring the beauty of the city below. Your mind wandered just a bit. So many different types of people, most you’ll never meet, never see. But yet you wondered if maybe anyone out there knew how you felt right now. Maybe they could offer advice, a shoulder to cry on, something. Anything.

You closed your eyes, suddenly aware of how heavy they were getting, allowing your head fall back against the couch. It felt nice for a moment. 

You drew in a deep breath, your lungs stung as you pushed their limits.

It was peaceful. 

Jumin popping open a wine bottle in the kitchen caused you to flinch as you were brought back down to reality. The anxiety of the situation flooded back all at once, enough to make your stomach churn. 

The gentle still of before was gone in an instant.

You knew how all of this would play out. It truly felt rehearsed at this point.

He would press your buttons.

You would get angry.

He would give you the silent treatment as soon as you lost your cool.

You would apologize.

He would forgive you.

The two of you make up until the next time, then the cycle repeats.

You were almost numb to it at this point.

It used to be fun fighting with Jumin at first, if you could even call it that. It never lasted for too long, never too harsh either. You both would talk it out, laugh a little, then of course the make up afterwards was always amazing.

But now? There was nothing. No heated passion afterwards. No talking. No laughing.

Nothing.

Now you two could stay angry at each other for days on end until eventually one of you got tired of it, usually you. And someone halfheartedly apologizes, again, usually you. There was no communication either, you two just… go on like it never happened.

But it did happen.

It does happen.

And it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it doesn’t.

You heard footsteps coming from the kitchen, getting louder every second that passed. A soft sigh left your chest as you kept your eyes closed, maybe he would go away if you closed them tight enough, you could only hope.

It's Jumin. That’s your husband. You should never feel that way about him. But yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t.

You opened your eyes slowly and watched as he sat on the chair across from you, crossing his ankles in a somewhat sophisticated manner before slowly looking you up and down. The position you had wasn’t ladylike if you were being frank, your legs spread out despite the smaller dress you wore, arms sprawled out across the back of the couch, your posture slouched deep into the cushions. It felt a bit judgemental the way he observed you, maybe not, but right now you genuinely couldn’t tell.

“Feeling better?”

“Oh fuck off.”

You spat in return with a bitter laugh, god how you hated when he said shit like that during times like these. You knew that he knew you hated it too. Enter the pushing of buttons.

“I was simply asking a question. No need to get so worked up, my dear.”

He focused his attention on the dark liquid swirling within his glass while he spoke, putting emphasis on the pet name, feigning fondness. You narrowed your eyes in return.

“I feel great, especially good knowing that i’m not the one in the wrong here.”

While you beamed, he tensed.

You shouldn’t have said that. You knew you shouldn’t have the second it came out of your mouth.

“A lot of confidence coming from a woman who was acting like a little whore less than an hour ago.”

He suddenly met your gaze, your eyes widened as you felt anger begin to flood your chest. Jumin had never called you something like that before. 

“Excuse me? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your voice was laced with offense, rage, maybe a bit of hurt if he cared to listen closely enough. But inside you knew he didn’t. You had gotten up from your place on the couch so quickly it had made you light headed for a few moments.

“Apparently something since you feel the need to flirt with any man you can get you hands on whenever I'm not around.”

Jumin looked up at you, you looked back down at him.

You were silent for a moment.

Processing things, taking it all in. Trying your hardest not to lose your cool, you just knew once you lost it he would have the upper hand. Don't lose your cool MC, please, you mentally chided. You inhaled deeply, exhaling even deeper as you took a quick breather.

“Look. I know how hard you’ve been working on this project okay, I didn’t want to fuck it up by saying something wrong to the guy or anything, I didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, Jumin.”

You pleaded almost pathetically. Here it goes. This is the part where you usually start to apologize.

“Please, dont pretend like you’ve ever had my best interest in mind.” He said with a bitter laugh.

His laugh stung.

It was the thing to finally push you over the edge.

“You know what, I really, really wish I didn’t. If you cared enough to pay attention you’d see i’m always putting your best interest first and it makes my life miserable, absolutely fucking miserable Jumin! I can't even speak to another man without you getting all insecure and pissed off about it, and guess what happens after that? You make me feel fucking insane when i’ve done nothing wrong!”

You shouted, vented, spilt things you’d never even said out loud before.

“I don't even want to go outside anymore because I just know i’m going to do something that’ll make you mad, and you know what? I’m the person who has to apologize for it. Every single time. I’m the person who ends up comforting you even after you spend hours making me feel like i’m some whore or a broken fucking toy you only keep around because you’re scared of being alone again. It’s always me, me! It’s never you! I am so, so fucking tired of yo- this.”

He met your eyes, they were wide with surprise, shock, maybe even anger, but honestly you didn’t have the energy to care about his feelings right now. You couldn’t. It’s all you ever do, and it’s taking its toll on you. It’s too much.

Your slip up felt heavy in your throat. An apology almost spilt from your lips, but you stopped yourself before it had.

“This. I am so tired of this.”

You corrected yourself much quieter this time. It sounded so desperate, so empty.

The both of you sat in heavy silence once more. Exhaustion was slowly creeping its way into your body, mentally and physically.

You regretted all of your words almost instantly.

They weren’t false. But that only made you feel worse.

“MC.”

He spoke up after a few moments.

“Jumin.”

You replied calmly.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

He genuinely seemed confused as he spoke, nervous, scared. On the inside you knew that he knew. He just wanted clarity, confirmation on what your words truly meant. It annoyed you, you had just explained exactly what you meant. But with a sigh, you held back your frustrations.

“Jumin. I am tired of this.”

You put emphasis on it, weakly pointing between the two of you. Eyes beginning to well with tears that you tried your hardest to shove away, your voice sounded so raw from yelling before, It hurt your own ears to listen to it.

A flash of guilt rapidly spread across his features, the glass in his hand shook slightly as he soaked in the true meaning behind your words. You were starting to feel guilty, he looked… scared. Your heart hurt looking at him in such a state right now.

His features softened as he met your eyes, he swallowed thickly. He looked like the old Jumin for a second again.

“MC, I’m–“

You cut him off with a shake of your head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of your mouth,

“You’re so sorry. I know. You always do that. You put me through all of this only to apologize the second I say something that makes you even the slightest bit nervous.”

He broke away from your gaze like it had burned, instead staring down at the red liquid resting within his glass. His jaw was clenched again.

When you first entered a relationship with Jumin, you knew the kind of person he was. And at the time, you really thought you were okay with that. 

He had a lot to work through, you knew.

You could help, you told yourself, you told him. You’d be there for him while he figured things out, it would get better, as long as you were there for him, he would get better.

And he did. For the first year at least.

But now, things were different. So different.

You would start to laugh at the cashier's jokes too loudly for his liking. He would grab your arm a little tighter than usual, a silent warning, and you would quickly stop.

If you entertained Zen’s antics a few times too many, he would give you the silent treatment. Eventually your relationship with Zen had suffered in the long run, it was just better for Jumin’s sake if you two didn’t talk anymore.

Is it better for your sake, MC?

You remember Zen asking, but you couldn’t answer him.

Now it’s gotten to the point where you can’t even look at another man for a few seconds too long or else it turns into another argument.

Sorry didn’t feel comforting anymore.

After all, nothing changed afterwards, so did he ever really mean it?

They were just empty words to you now.

He’ll grow out of it, right?

That’s what you wanted to believe at the beginning. But how long would it take before he did? If he ever did? You didn’t know if you’d be able to stick around long enough to find that out.

“Jumin I’m not sure… if this is…”

working anymore.

The words just wouldn’t leave your throat. But still, he knew. And you knew that he knew.

You took a few steps back with a sigh.

Something had triggered within your husband as he grasped the gravity of the situation, the implication behind your words, the consequences of his actions. He dropped the wine glass to the floor, making you jump from the awful sound it made as it shattered against the hardwood. 

“You can’t leave.”

His eyes were wide as his head shook frantically, his expression took you by surprise, you could see panic claw their way into his features.

“Jumin.”

“No. Don’t– Don't leave. I’m sorry, I'm so sorry.”

He was on you in an instant, you knew he stepped on the glass judging by the sound it made, but yet he didn’t even flinch. You didn’t have time to process anything before he was holding you tightly against his chest, you couldn’t go anywhere even if you tried to, the pressure hurt a little. 

“We’re fine.”

His voice was shaky as he comforted himself more than anyone, it had an uncertain edge to it, painfully reminding you back to the first time you had stayed in his apartment. It made you more than a little nervous.

“This won’t happen again. Just don't leave. Don't leave me.”

Jumin rambled uncharacteristically, apologizing relentlessly as he buried his face into the top of your hair, his hands coming to hold the back of your head softly, pulling you into his chest. The sudden shift in his mood was enough to give you whiplash, you felt so much, too fast. Confused, guilty, scared, numb. Surprise wasn’t one of them though, no. It’s always like this.

You could hear him swallow thickly while he shakily ran his fingers through your hair, his racing heartbeat filling all your senses. You couldn’t help but notice his embrace didn’t feel as comfortable as it once did, it was unfamiliar to you. 

Your silence only made him even more nervous.

He leaned down to kiss your cheek, your jawline, your temple, your forehead. You felt his tears press against your skin. He kissed your lips next, it was sloppy, panicked, filled with emotion. A sharp contrast to the Jumin you’ve been used to these past few months. Past few hours.

You didn’t react.

You didn’t kiss him back.

There was no spark to his touch like there should be. Like there used to be.

Your stomach was reeling, your ears were ringing. You suddenly buried your face into Jumin’s chest without warning, sobbing so hard that your head felt like it was about to burst from the pressure of your tears, your husband instead took this as a good sign. He hushed you with more of his frantic apologizes, but to be honest you weren’t really listening to him right now. Your mind only focused on one realization as you broke down within your husband's cold embrace.

“I love you.”

He whispered into your hair, you could tell by his tone that he really did mean it too. He cried with you even. Something he’d only done a few times in the relationship before.

You knew he did. You knew deep down, he loved you. 

All you could offer in return was a nod. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. Just nod. 

You realized something in that moment. 

You weren’t able to say I love you back to your husband anymore.

[sodalitefully]

It’s hazardous to breathe... [GNR Mad Max AU, pt. 1]

This is the first half of a AU inspired by the movie Mad Max: Fury Road that @smokeandmirrorz and I came up with after he posted some awesome art for a Mad Max AU!  This oneshot very loosely follows the plot of the movie, it may make less sense if you haven’t seen the film. I split it into two parts so it would be more readable on tumblr, the second part is here and the whole fic is also on AO3.

*Contains mpreg, character death, and plenty of unpleasant things from the Mad Max universe, including implied/referenced sexual violence, some regular violence/gore (more so in the second part), and Immortan Joe.*

----

It wasn't often that the wives were brought outside their chamber.  Less often still that Steven got to be present when they were – so he considered himself lucky to be in the same room when the Immortan's only surviving wife emerged from the biodome to watch Immortan Joe send off his top Imperator on a mission to recruit more valuable full-lives after the untimely deaths of his other two wives.  

It was a little known truth that Steven and Slash had history.  'Little known,' because if the Immortan caught wind that the two had become close when Slash was first brought to the Citadel and Steven was just a War Pup, he would be toast.  As little as they'd talked in the years since then, Steven still considered Slash... if not a friend, at least an acquaintance.  And that's more than he could say about his fellow War Boys.

Being allowed in the same room as Slash was the first step to reigniting their friendship. Now, if only Slash would acknowledge him...

"Steven." Slash's voice was barely loud enough to hear.

"Yes?" Steven perked up, encouraged that Slash hadn't forgotten about him after all.  

"I need you to do something for me."  Steven nodded eagerly.  "I need you to go to Imperator Stradlin, and tell him to come visit me as soon as possible.  Can you do that?"

"Of course.  Anything for the Immortan!"

It wasn't for the Immortan, but Steven didn't need to know that.

"One more thing – It's top secret.  You can't say a word to anyone else, alright?"

--

Getting to the wive's chamber wasn't hard for Izzy: all he had to do was convince the guards he was on official business, and then once he was inside the vault, the soundproof walls would take care of the rest.  All the same, he did not have a good feeling about this "meeting."  Whatever was going on, it was going to be trouble...

The thick vault door swung open, revealing a scene straight out of a dream, so serene it seemed impossible that it could exist in the same world as things like gas wars, and tumors, and the Wasteland.

Sunlight streamed through huge semi-opaque windows and illuminated the smooth sandstone walls.  Green plants and relics of the old world surrounded a pool of crystal-clear water.  And in the center of it all, clothed in the purest white, was the Immortan's most prized treasure:

"Slash... the Desired."

"Imperator."  The wife looked him dead in the eye; his hair was restrained in a ponytail and draped with the same white fabric as the rest of his body.  It was the first time Izzy had ever seen Slash's face completely clear of dark curls, and the first time he'd seen him with enough clothing to cover the rest of his skin.  

“Why did you ask me to come here? Does Joe want something from me?”

Slash’s mouth twitched into a frown at the name, but he responded in a carefully level tone:

“I have a proposition for you.”

Izzy raised an eyebrow. What could a wife possibly have to offer him? Besides the obvious, of course, and that... that was more trouble than it was worth.

“I can’t stay here any longer,” Slash explained.

“You’re crazy if you think he’ll just let you leave,” Izzy replied with a startled laugh. It was inconceivable, but Slash was looking at him with complete sincerity.

“He won’t. But you want to leave too.”

“Do I?” He did, but Slash definitely wasn’t supposed to know that.  

“Please, you hate it here, it’s obvious.  You want to leave, and I want you to take me with you."

“Fucking hell – don't you think I would have left by now if I could?  And why would I help you anyway?  How do I know you're not just testing my loyalty to the Immortan?"

"Don't be ridiculous.  Me, doing favors for Joe?"

"Alright, fine. Then what if I betray you? I could be rewarded for... keeping the Immortan's property safe."  

"What if I tell everyone you took advantage of the Immortan's absence to take his one and only wife for a test drive?"

"Fuck. You're not as pure as we've been led to believe, are you?"

Slash snorted.  "Not by half."

"But that doesn't change anything.  The Immortan would rip my throat out with his horse teeth for trying to steal one of his breeders –"

“Don’t call me that!” Slash snapped.

For a moment, Izzy was reminded of a younger Slash, fresh from the Wasteland and ready to bite at anything that got too close.

But Slash quickly composed himself, trying and not entirely succeeding to recapture an air of calm assertiveness.  "Look, just... Just think about it, alright?  We have a chance, I know we do, and really... How much more of this do you think you can take?"

Izzy sighed. "I'll think about it," he conceded.  

"Thank you."

Slash did his best to hide his disappointment, and Izzy wasn't about to stick around and make things worse by trying to console him.  He turned around to leave the wives' sanctum, but hesitated before he reached the doorway.

"Slash... What really happened to the other Wives?"

"One... One miscarried. The Immortan wasn’t happy about that. The other tried to..." his lips faltered at the worst profanity in the Citadel, "... abort her pregnancy, it didn't end well. The Organic Mechanic couldn't do anything but give her something for the pain.  They give us a serum, sometimes, to help us sleep.  I gave her my dose."

--

The scouting party brought back a feral! they said.  Full-life and raving mad, driving an Interceptor, can you believe it?

No, Izzy couldn't believe it.  Couldn't believe that Axl Rose, MFP legend turned Road Warrior, could get taken down by a pack of half-dead War Boys.  But the proof was in front of him, shivering in a cage, starving and in dire need of a shave.  

"...I-Izzy?"

His voice was exactly the same as it always was, the respirator that Izzy cobbled together a lifetime ago couldn't hide the low timber that sometimes still appeared in his dreams.  

He'd made a mistake when he thought he could play it safe at the Citadel.  He should have listened when Axl told him they were better off on their own.  The Citadel was a shrine to depravity, and he wouldn't let Axl become another one of its victims – he needed to get them out of the tower walls and far away as soon as possible. It would be a challenge to escape unnoticed... but Izzy knew the perfect distraction.  

--

"I'll make a deal with you, Slash."

Slash didn't have the decency to look shocked when Izzy barged into the biodome uninvited – or the decency to put on the thin white shirt that lay discarded on the floor.

Actually, Izzy was the one looking shocked when his eyes fell on Slash’s bare belly and his carefully planned proposition died in his throat.

“What’s the deal?” Slash asked, but Izzy was more concerned with his unfortunate new realization:

“You didn’t tell me you were pregnant! What were you thinking, asking me to help you? The Immortan is going to shred me to pieces!”

“He’d shred you anyway, this won’t change anything,” Slash gritted out. Pregnant or not, there was no way he was about to let Izzy back out, not now. “What’s the deal, Stradlin?”

Izzy hated to be caught off guard, but he could use this to their advantage.  Joe would never risk hurting a potential heir, making Slash an even better shield than before.  And once he and Axl split off, there was no way Joe would waste time and resources going after a twice-disgraced Imperator and a feral bloodbag before he got his pregnant wife back, giving them a valuable head start – if it came to that.

"I'll take you with me on my next supply run.  Ten days from now.  We'll go to the Buzzards' territory, trade guzzoline for another vehicle.  Then we part ways, got it?  I'll get you out of here but I'm not babysitting you or your sprog for the rest of my life."

"You don't want to get caught with me, you mean.  Stopping to deal with the Buzzards will give the Immortan time to catch up to us.  I'm fucked on my own."

Izzy didn't respond, and tried to look like it didn't matter to him whether Slash took his offer.

"Fine.  If they catch up... At least I'll die historic on the Fury Road," Slash said with a sardonic smile.  "But I have a request – I need you to find me a driver.  Someone who doesn't serve the Citadel, someone no one will notice is missing."

"There is no one like that."

"Really?  All those people down there, and none of them can operate a car?"

"If they could, they wouldn't be there."

"There must be someone," Slash insisted.  Izzy sighed.

"I'll see what I can do in ten days.  But what the hell do you need them for?"

"Well... I can't drive."

--

On his third visit, Izzy had spent enough time in the biodome to say that stepping inside the pristine vault always made him feel like a dirty rag, used to wipe away sweat and grime then left out to stiffen in the dusty waste.  

But if he was a dirty rag, then Duff was roadkill.  He was a half-life, one of the Wretched who clung to the sides of the Citadel like barnacles, bathing in dust while the Immortan bathed in Mother's Milk.  He was lanky – no, skeletal, nothing but sunburned skin and bone.  He carried the Wasteland with him wherever he went, tracking dust with each step.  Izzy bit down on the irrational urge to warn him not to touch anything in the vault.

The black leather collar around his neck marked him as a former denizen of Gas Town, one who had likely outlived his usefulness if his rickety prosthetic leg and the cluster of nasty tumors half-hidden by his hair had anything to say about it.  Clearly, he was in no shape to labor in the refinery.  Rumor had it that The People Eater was a cannibal – as his name suggested – but evidently Duff had escaped that fate, perhaps because he had no meat on his bones to speak of, and instead sought out clean water, abundant food, and fresh air at the Citadel.  Hah.

Slash stared at them over his shoulder, wide-eyed and seated in the shallow pool in the center of the room.  Tiny bottles lined the edge of the pool, and the scent of flowers wafted in the air.

"A bath? Now, really?"

"It might be the last chance I get," Slash countered, but he rose from the water, the beads on his skin already drying in the inescapable desert heat.  Izzy averted his eyes as Slash wrapped a length of gauzy white cloth around his waist, tugged a loose shirt over his head, and bent forward to twist another cloth around his damp hair.  Then, finally, he turned to face his guests. "Is this...?"

"This is Duff, the Wretched.  Not a War Boy.  He came from Gas Town, so he can drive."

"Good."  Duff was staring at Slash like a mirage, but Slash knew how to get on a person's good side: "Do you want some water, Duff?"

--

"How the fuck did you get in here?!" In a heartbeat, Izzy's handgun was aimed at the War Boy's head.  He saw movement out of the corner of his eye.  "Slash, get away from him."

"No! You can't kill Steven!"

"He knows too much, he's a liability.  Kill him and let's go," Axl advised.

"No! Stradlin, who even is this guy?" Slash demanded, but once again, he received no explanation.  

"Slash, what's going on, where are you going? Please don't leave me!"

"Steven, I –"

"Take me with you! I can help!"

"Slash, I'm serious.  Step away." Izzy inched closer, his gun unwavering.  War Boys were unpredictable, Kami-crazy.  You never knew what they might do when backed into a corner.  

But Slash was crazier – he pushed Steven back, placing himself between Izzy and his target.  Izzy recognized the steely glint in his eyes before Slash even spoke: "He's coming with us."

--

They were curled up in the hold of the War Rig, surrounded by food and supplies that would never make it to Gas Town like they were supposed to.  Duff was happily munching away at a carrot, and Slash was sitting with his legs curled up to his chest.

"Are you scared?" Duff asked.

"... Yes," Slash admitted, barely audible over the roaring engine.  "Are you?"

"No."

"Why not?  If we get caught, you'll be punished too, for helping me.  And he doesn't care about taking you alive."

Duff shrugged.  "It doesn't really matter, does it?  I've got a few months left, at best."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be.  I've had my whole life to come to terms with it.  Well, half-life."

It was a terribly morbid joke, but Slash still laughed.

“So... You’re not afraid of anything, then?”

“Well, I don’t know – When Izzy brought me to you, I was scared. It was like he’d taken me out of the real world and dropped me in a fantasy. I thought if I touched anything, I’d destroy it; if I spoke, I’d break the spell and wake up in the Wasteland, half dead with a crow pecking at my tongue. I thought if I got too close to you, I'd pass on my illness, and if I looked at you too long, I'd go mad and start believing in things like beauty and health and the goodness of humanity."

Slash could have laughed at the momentous gap between Duff's perception of the biodome and his own.  Instead, when Duff finished his recollection, Slash crawled across the middle of the hold and pressed himself against Duff's side.  

Duff tried to scoot away, but Slash entangled him with the soft touch of fine cloth and uncalloused hands. He wrapped his arms around Duff’s thin torso and laid his head on his shoulder.

“No, don't go.  You don't have to be scared, Duff...  You're the cleanest person to touch me in a long time."

Hesitantly, Duff reached up and let his good hand rest on Slash’s back. Slash’s hair brushed against his collar, even softer than his clothes, and when Duff breathed deeply he could still make out the sweet scent that filled the room when they first met.

For a moment, Duff let himself get lost in the fantasy world that still surrounded Slash, even in the hold of the War Rig, miles from the Citadel. He could forget about the danger they were in, the cruelty they’d experienced, and even the ticking time bombs in his own flesh.

“Do you think your baby will survive?”

“I don’t know.” Slash didn’t sound optimistic, he toyed with his sleeve and avoided Duff’s gaze.

“I’ve never seen a completely healthy baby before, I didn’t think it was possible. But then I saw you, and you’re perfect, so maybe...”

Slash scoffed.

“The Immortan is toxic. He taints everything: the water, the people... and me. If I was ever perfect, I’m sure as hell not anymore, and neither is this baby.”

Duff hugged Slash closer, and slid a hand down to his belly.

“We’ll see.”

----

[part 2]