#for now i will lurk on your blogs like a cat waiting for the right moment

[levandright]

my friend started playing sky again qwq i missed them sm y'all (they're the one with the hat) can't believe it's been like 4 months since i last talked to them (not including today)

[nnnyxie]

IZU ANON IS BACK!! So I spent the day in Paris and saw SOOO many couples so I felt inspired (that’s a lie I’ve been lurking around your blog but felt weird requesting so much so close together and didn’t want to overwhelm you so I waited����) anyways

Hc’s for Soulmate!Izu x Tatooed!Reader because I’m sickly inlove with soulmate au‘s

Especially writing that shows up on the others skin<3 The reader just drawing super ugly cats and doodles all the time- I feel like Izu would be the more artistic one and reader would suck at it but still do it all the time (this is more me telling you my hcs rather than requesting them from you but i literally can’t talk to anyone else about this please bear with me😭) and Izu would like draw SUPER realistic and detailed all might portraits or something and then reader like get’s a villain tattoo because they’re ✨different✨like that and Izu freaks out and somehow finds them through that??? This is like half a fic omg i just got carried away😭 feel free to ignore this I just absolutely went off I’m so sorry ily

izu anon…… your mind….. ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL.

i’m utterly in love with this idea.

i feel like the tattoos won’t transfer BUT!! the stencil that they USE for it does!! (ykwim?? the purple/blue ink they use??)

so one silly little day, he’s just relaxing yk. it’s his day off and he is using it to catch up on a show todoroki’s been raving about (which is unusual for todoroki so you KNOW it’s good!!)

our boy has his old ratty blue t-shirt and worn out grey nike shorts on. feet kicked up on his ottoman, his calves exposed. (do you see where i’m headed?)

now— imagine his surprise when he gets up and notices the purple/blue print of a villain on his right calf!!! (im thinking late 80’s)

he genuinely panics— like he’s seen these stencils before— a few were super badass honestly.

BUT A VILLAIN??? A VILLAIN???

he kind of feels sick because like— what if his soulmate is a villain?? (you’re not, you just like tattoos)

he immediately takes a picture of it!! he plans on looking for you— aka stalking every single tattoo artistry page and the people they tag in their posts, also their criminal data bases, and looking at everyone’s right calf when he goes on patrol.

he’s hoping that IF you’re a criminal/villain, he could help you to become— well, NOT that.

he also goes to bakugo about this and asks if he saw anyone get a tattoo of it recently (because bakugo definitely would get tattoos, i just know it. it’d be all skull and fire themes too) (plus he recently got one) bakugo just says, “the fuck? you think i know everyone with a tattoo? what kind of dumb thinking is that?” and poor poor izuku is panicking because he upset bakugo (he actually didn’t, bakugo was just taken aback by the picture) izuku apologizes profusely (bc that’s his thing) and bakugo go just tells him to stfu and that he MIGHT know who tattooed the image because he recognizes the style. sooooo he takes izuku to the parlor and introduces him to…….

YOU!!!!!!! yes, you tattooed yourself!!!!

you’re bakugo’s tattoo artist!!!

“dumbass, show me your right leg” bakugo yells in your small parlor, like an asshole. this makes you roll your eyes— you’re used to him, you’ve been tattooing him since you both were 19, which was when you finished your ‘tattoo training’. “keep talking to me like that and i’ll drop you from my cliental list,” you turn around after you finished sanitizing your station (bc all good artists do!!) “just show me your damn leg for the sake of this idiot,” he points towards izuku, that’s when everything goes in slow motion, and pro hero deku shines bright. he’s omitting a vibrant color and it’s nearly blinding (omg maybe your quirk is seeing/sensing auras)

(also, we’ll just say you’re wearing shorts for the sake of this)

you walk out from behind the barrier of the station and put your right leg on display. that’s when izuku chokes— it’s full of all the stencils he’s seen and… the villain tattoo. “fucking idiot, why would you tattoo a villain on you? you hate them,” bakugo slaps the side of your head, cause he’s an asshole. “cause it’s badass! plus it’s an old school villain, no one really knows ‘em.” you shrug and smack him back, narrowly avoiding his fresh tattoo (you wanted to hit it so bad) “anyways, why did you wanna know? and speak fast cause i have a client coming in twenty.” he forcefully takes izuku’s phone out of his hands, and shows it to you. “why am i looking at a blank screen? bakugo i don’t have time for this,” you push his hand back. “you didn’t let me unlock it,” izuku secretly rolls his eyes, you caught it though. he pulls up his gallery and shows a picture of his leg with your stencil on it.

your eyes narrow— not wanting to believe it cause like, you’re a small business owner and there’s no way a big time hero could be your soulmate. “yeah no, i have no time for bullshit. did someone send you this or something? trying to turn me in for a damn tattoo?” bakugo grumbles bc he’s ANNOYING (i love him) and grabs a pen. “draw something.” “you know i can’t with no reference. i’m shit without one.” “JUST DRAW! ON YOUR HAND! NOW!” “stop yelling all the damn time.” you grumbled and begrudgingly drew a horrible looking bunny. like— absolutely terrible !!! looking bunny onto your hand. bakugo, being the ass he is, RIPS off izuku’s glove and shoves his hand in your face. “bakugo. there’s nothing there. seriously you’re wasting my time, i need to set up. i don’t have time for jokes.” you go back to your station and start getting the ink ready. izuku rolls his eyes again— at his friend, not you. “that was the wrong hand,” he says in a slightly sassy tone, which was funny to hear from a pro hero. izuku takes his OTHER glove off and walks to you. “here,” he places his hand in front of you and you drop your tattooing gun.

“oh,” was all you said before walking into the back of your shop. you screamed a ‘what the fuck’ and walked right back out. “well, hi.” your smile is very awkward because like— how are you supposed to respond to that?? it’s not everyday that your soulmate ends up being a pro hero. “uhm… so can we meet after your uhm, next appointment?” he asks, very very shyly, it was like he was a high schooler all over again. you just give a head nod and write your personal number on the back of your business card. “uhm see you.”

months after that fateful day, you and izuku are officially together! he’s drawn you many designs for tattoos. (either for yourself or your clients)

now— izuku may be a very talented artist but when it comes to tattooing? absolutely not. he tried tattooing a small heart in between your fingers as a little practice thing and— let’s just say, it looks like a jacked star. (pls he felt so bad)

while it was a little ugly, you still loved it because he was the one to do it <3

OMG AND THE FIRST TIME YOU TATTOOED HIM— he tried not to cry. like— THIS MF USED TO BREAK HIS BONES DAILY!!! THIS MF FIGHTS BAD GUYS FOR A LIVING!!!! but it’s okay!! not everyone can handle getting a tattoo and that’s perfectly fine!!

ps most of his tattoos are all might hero based.

IZU ANON!!!!! i thoroughly enjoyed this <3

[youareiron-andyouarestrong]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

tagged by @mosylufanfic, thank you friend!

1 . How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I think I had been telling myself stories in my head since I was old enough to think coherently, but it wasn't until I was in college that I realized that I could write those stories down, and actually put them in the world to be read by other people.

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

According to AO3, I have written in twenty-six fandoms, not counting whatever's lurking in my writing tag in my blog. The fandom I've written the most for is Rogue One.

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

I started writing things to be read in the spring of 2013, so...eleven years. which is insane to think about.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I read a lot more, but I am trying to set aside dedicated time to write...at least once a week.

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

I think my phrasing has improved a lot. I love writing long, involved descriptions and worldbuilding, plus snappy banter, which is a thing I think I've gotten a lot better at in the last eleven years.

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

not weird per se, but I definitely looked up Indian wedding traditions for my Kanej mehndi fic and Punjabi names for children (also for a Kanej kid!fic), not to mention I tried to figure out how London neighborhoods work for a Lockwood & Co. fic (I still don't know).

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

The fact that anyone comments at all is a fact that continues to blow my mind, but anyone who tells me that they loved a turn of phrase, a description, or that one particular sentence flowed/hit home/stuck with them? may they be blessed in their endeavors forever.

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

I wrote a Mad Max: Fury Road prompt/fic where all the characters had beast aspects/animal traits but they weren't were-animals, or something like that? Idk, I really wanted to write tiger!Max and lioness!Furiosa, so that's what I stuck with. 9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Multi-chaptered!! It is so hard for me to sustain a continued story with an actual plot. my latest Lockwood & Co. piece, passed down like folksongs was the better part of a year's worth of labor, not to mention heroic beta-ing, and me going back and adding and rewriting and adding some more.

10. What is the easiest type?

Anything in media res, where I can just jump right in and get to the "good stuff," like the kissing or the action. Too often I get bogged down with the "how did we get here?" or "wait, they were against the wall, now they're on the floor? how did that happen?"

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

Google Docs is the most convenient, also for sharing purposes, though if a document is like, my thesis work, I'd probably use Microsoft or something more permanent. Someday I'll save up enough to get Scrivener...like a grown up.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

I really want to write a sprawling Lockwood & Co fic that's like, involved family trees and weird anecdotes about the Lockwood family, and how ghosts like exist in other places. I would also want to start introducing original characters in different works, but I'm always afraid they'll end up sounding too much like a self-insert. But I'll get there!

13. What made you choose your username?

I had just changed my tumblr handle, and I didn't want the bother of having to keep track of two usernames! so I borrowed a line from a tumblr poem that I admired: "youareiron_andyouarestron." it stuck, and that's been my name ever since.

tagging @dangerously-human, @cats-and-metersticks, @menina89, @linearao3, and @oneofthewednesdays, if they want to!

[petit-papillion]

Now that I have over 200 followers (wait, what?! and also: welcome, everybody!), I think I should share 10 things to know about my blog.

Charles Leclerc is king. While I will post other stuff (see 3), 90% will be Charles. You don't like Charles? This is not the place for you.

I'm not a hater. I reserve hate for people who commit animal cruelty, hate crimes, genocide, etc. I like most of the F1 drivers most of the time. Doesn't mean I won't post memes about them, poke fun at them, or even criticize them (yes, even Charles). I've posted my tier list above, in case you're wondering where I stand.

I will post about other things that make me happy. Maybe other drivers, cats, Star Wars, quotes, beautiful nature, architecture, a funny comic, whatever. I only have one blog and I have my occasional "Liked by petit-papillion" days...

I don't ship drivers. While I am not opposed to ships for fictional characters (anyone have a ship name for Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy?), I don't ship real people. I do love the numerous friendships between drivers, and will happily post about my favorite ones.

I don't like posts that overtly sexualize drivers without their consent. Ice bath posted by Scuderia Ferrari? Yes. Butt shot of Charles on his onboard camera? No.

I love data!!! I know not everyone shares this passion, so I try not to turn this into a data-infested snoozefest. But I love F1 stats. Special thank you to blogs like @statsstatsstats, @champagnepodiums, and anyone else gathering data to share with us.

I also love to sleuth! Love the challenge of locating something hard to find online, whether it's an article, a specific photo, location of a video, when that photo was taken, etc. Special shout-out to @chibrary for doing the Racing Lords' work in archiving all that Leclerc history and lore.

I don't have any social media accounts. No Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, Reddit, Facebook. I only joined Tumblr when I created this blog in February 2023. I am the ultimate lurker (won't disclose how many years I was lurking before finally joining Tumblr, but one of my mutuals and I go waaaay back - even though she doesn't know this). It is definitely a challenge to access content without accounts, especially now that Twitter has recently blocked searches, boohoo.

I'm very private. I may talk about my 2 cats Orion and Magpie, but those are not their real names. I don't like to reveal too much personal information, because damn, people online can be mean.

I love to create beautiful (or informative) posts. Which is why I am here. An outlet for my creativity. I am constantly inspired by the amazing talent on here. Before I started this blog, I'd never screen-recorded or edited a video, never edited a photo on my phone, never made a meme. I'm still learning though. I want to learn how to create gifs. And make beautiful edits. But I do have a very busy life, and I don't always have time.

This also leads me to remind everyone to please bear with me if I don't answer your ask right away. I see you and read your ask or reply, but whenever possible, I want to give thoughtful responses that take time. My inbox and DMs are always open though.

I hope you enjoy my blog as much as I enjoy being on here! 💕

[touyaz]

Could I please ask for some headcanons about yandere twice and aizawa? Love your blog so much, your writing is just amazing!!

pairing aizawa shouta x gn reader

word count 943

notes thank you!! i dont write for twice bc i'm not too familiar w his characterisation :( i need to update my rules with that, but if u want anyone else pls lmk <3 enjoy :))

WARNINGS dark/ yandere aizawa, reader referred to as kitty, stalking, kidnapping, noncon, spanking, gagging, oral (m rec), anal (reader rec), binding/ bondage, implied dehumanisation/ pet play.

MINORS, AGELESS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY.

+

normally, aizawa is a man of few words; he doesn't bother with anything he deems unnecessary, and he'll be the first to admit that there isn't much that can actually break him out of this dreary, apathetic routine of his. however, when he first sets his sights on you, he knows something is different.

he's a hero first and foremost, so he's always vigilant — eyes scanning people to determine whether or not they pose a threat, until his eyes cross yours. there's nothing special about the way you scamper down the streets at night while he's on watch, you look like any other civilian afraid of the threats in the dark, but maybe aizawa's just grown bored of the whole camping on rooftops like a sitting duck, so he decides to follow you home.

it's easy with the cover of night, blending into the shadows as he trails behind you, feeding on the way you peer over your shoulder every so often. you're like a helpless little kitty, lost and all alone in a big jungle, where bigger, deadlier cats lurk, waiting to pounce on some fresh meat. no one gets close enough to try, though, not with the erasure hero pursuing you so meticulously, fighting off the low-level scum, so you can make your way home safely.

he deserves some sort of reward for clearing off all those villains just for you, he justifies as he watches you through your open curtains. you're a silly kitty, aren't you? showing yourself off like that, as if you know he's right across from you.

accompanying you home easily becomes a routine. it adds some spice to his otherwise bland life. but, soon enough, just watching from afar isn't enough for him. maybe he should bide his time and go about this in a safer manner, but he wouldn't be a good hero if he didn't take risks.

he's been working as a hero for so long, he's seen enough crime scenes to know how to stage a break-in, and that's exactly what he does the day he steals you away. there are police meetings he hears about, grieving and sobbing family members and friends he sees when the news of your abduction gets out, but it's water under the bridge to him. you're where you belong now.

some days he misses the quiet nights at home, but he'll never regret bringing you here. never. to him, you're irreplaceable. he needs you because without you, he's just an obscure hero, an overworked teacher, a man desperately in need of a haircut and a hand to hold. but you? just your presence is enough to get his heart racing; he feels reborn, like a completely new man as he explores you and all that makes you you, learning all your different reactions, memorising all the faces you make for him.

living with someone isn't something he's used to, but it's easy to get accustomed to when he controls every aspect of your life: you don't need to worry about what clothes to wear when he picks an outfit out for you every day; don't worry your pretty little head over cooking, he'll make your meals and restock the fridge as necessary (and he'll force the food down if you ever even think of refusing); all you need to do is focus on welcoming him home with your legs spread, ready and waiting for him to fold you into whatever position he's in the mood for today.

whatever he says, goes. he doesn't have the time to deal with bratty behaviour, and any instances of backlash or a tantrum are swiftly dealt with. tough love, he claims as he bends you over his lap and spanks you until your ass is raw with pain, a never-ending stinging sensation is all you can feel in your lower parts. this is all your fault, he'll remind you as he ties a gag around your head so your mouth is forced to stay wide open. he'll shove his cock into your mouth and hold it there, because this is all it's good for — instead of squealing complaints, you should be choking on his length, mewling for more. his favourite punishment is using his infamous wrap scarf to hold you up in different positions, like you're a helpless little puppet, all his to mold and contort as he pleases. he'll bind your hands so you can't claw at him; he'll part your thighs so wide your muscles burn with the stretch, but it gives him more than enough space to pound into you recklessly; he'll fold you like a pretzel, dismissing your anguished cries in favour of bottoming out in your ass, until you realise that you are completely at his mercy, that you should only be satisfied when he is.

he says he doesn't have the time, the energy, the patience, to deal with your outbursts, but he's so, so quick to punish you when they happen, that you think he's full of shit — he enjoys watching you lash out and scream and wail and take all your pent-up rage out on him, because it's all part of your training, isn't it? he's found his little stray cat, and now he needs to teach it how to live in his sanctuary.

he's never been one to put in 110% effort into something unless he deemed it absolutely necessary, and you know he loves you enough because that's exactly what he does: he goes above and beyond — plus fucking ultra — to know everything about you, to integrate himself so deeply into your life, you won't remember who you were before him.

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Serpent Beneath

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Request: @daltonacademia Draco x Gryffindor reader and maybe like a faking dating type of situation? I am a sucker for the faking dating trope lmao. Maybe you could even spice it up by making it kind of an inside out version of enemies to lovers when they act lovey-dovey in public but in secret despise each other until they slowly get feelings??

A/n: Okay so this is part one because I’m evil, but part two will be up soon enough. Let me know what you think and I love you guys so much!

“Look, I’d love to go with you but...” I scrambled for an excuse. “But I’m dating someone already,” Yeah, that worked.

Harry wasn’t convinced. “Really?” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“Yes!” I said a bit too enthusiastically.

“Who?” He demanded.

“Uh,” then I saw him from across the room, coming in right in front of Snape, to his seat beside me. “Malfoy,”

“Malfoy!?” Harry’s eyes bulged. “Are you bloody joking!?”

“Oi, this isn’t your seat Potter,” Draco sulked, pushing past him. “Make a fool of yourself in front of Y/l/n on your own time,”

I gave a tense smile as Snape called the class to order. Slumping in my seat, I glanced nervously over at Draco. What in the world had I just done?

“What’s got Potter so off? You refuse to kiss his feet this morning?” Draco muttered toward the end of class that was filled with glares and offhand comments from Potter all the while.

“I might have told him we’re... dating,”

Draco stiffened beside me, sitting up ramrod straight. His hands clenched into fists as he sat there glaring at the front of the room. All things considered it could have been a worse reaction. He could be yelling or hexing me. Still his stoicism worried me.

As soon as class was dismissed, Draco remained seated, still rigid. His hand came to my wrist with a vice grip and I had no choice but to stay put. I tried to not let my nervousness leak into my facial features. Especially as Harry glanced back at us still sulking. I managed a smile.

When the room was clear, he let go of me and stood, shoving excess parchments and quills off the table.

“Are you absolutely daft!?” He shouted. I shrank back in my chair.

“I panicked okay!?” I bit back. “He asked me to the Yule Ball and chosen one or not I cannot stand him,”

Draco anger flitted to confusion before resting on something neutral.

“Ickle Gryffindor can’t stand Saint Potter?” A devious smirk was playing at his lips. “I thought it came with the territory,”

“Oh, you’re not a picnic either Malfoy,” I snapped. “Bloody Slytherins,”

“And yet you chose me,” He was toying with me now, as a cat cornered a mouse. “Is this admiration I see?”

“It was mistake,” I huffed grabbing my bag and standing. “Do you get off on making me miserable?”

He caught my arm as I went to leave. I shook him off. There was something mischievous in his eyes as he smiled at me. It left an unsettling pit in my stomach.

“Do you not want me to walk me to your next class?” His feigned innocence was a serpent waiting beneath a flower.

“Shove off Malfoy, I already have enough of a mess to fix. I don’t need this from you,”

“Well, the way I see it,” He grabbed his bag walking along side me. “Is that if you can’t stand Potter and the only way you’d think to get out of dating him is to ‘date’ me... and I’d love to see Potter knocked down a few pegs...” His smile curled into something wicked.

I stopped in my tracks and gaped at him.

“I’m not some toy you can fight over! And I don’t like you!” I exclaimed.

“But do you hate me enough that you won’t consider a fake relationship with me over whatever train wreck it would be with Potter?” Draco really scared me sometimes.

I worried my lip with his question and started to walk to my next class. He kept pace with me as we walked. His silence baffled me, allowing me to think clearly for the moment.

“Okay,” I muttered, pausing in an empty hall. “Deal,” 

“Deal?” He seemed skeptical.

“Don’t get me wrong, I loathe you entirely, but... if you can get me out of having to date Potter or constantly turn him down... then deal,”

“Glad to be in business, darling,” Draco drawled, and I had to do everything not to cringe at the pet name. “See you after class?” He leaned in as if to kiss my cheek.

“Buy me dinner first, Malfoy,” I hissed, flinching away. “But... see you after class,” I achieved a small genuine smile.

McGonagall looked down on me as I entered class late and took my seat beside Hermione. 

“Is it true?” She whispered urgently. “Are you dating Malfoy?”

I nodded, not taking my eyes off McGonagall as she lectured. It was uncharacteristic of Hermione that she spoke to me during class. She was normally keenly intent on learning the new material or getting ahead on things we haven’t covered yet. Now all she could do was gape at me before tearing her eyes away to McGonagall.

“How in the world can you date Malfoy?” She hissed as we left class, before freezing, seeing that Draco was waiting in the hall, leaned causally against the opposite wall. He pushed off of it and made his way over to me, offering his hand and glancing to my bag. I raised my eyebrow at him, and he offered a seemingly sincere smile. I passed my bag to him.

“I’ll see you later Hermione,” I smiled tensely.

She eyed us suspiciously but made her way down the hall in the direction of the library where she would spend her free time this afternoon, akin to every other afternoon.

“How was class?” Draco asked, leading me down the halls in a direction of no consequence to me.

“Fine,” I stammered out. “Just McGonagall. Hermione and I are already a few lessons ahead anyway.”

“You favor Transfiguration, then?” He mused, as if he were actually interested.

“Uh... I prefer Astrology, but that’s not really the use of magic is it? Just stories.” I shrugged and smiled. “What about you Malfoy? You’re a Potions protégé, is it your favorite?”

“Uh, yeah,” He didn’t seem too sure. I pointed it out. “Well, I never really thought about it. I have to be good at everything, so why favor one subject over another?”

I glanced up at him, confusion furrowing my brow slightly.

“What?” He demanded, snideness leaking into his tone. It brought me back to reality. 

“How... Slytherin of you,” I noted with a teasing smirk. He rolled his eyes at this.

When we were out of earshot and eyesight of anyone and his demeanor changed fractionally, still giving way to a serpent under a flower. If I wasn’t careful, I would start to marvel at the miracle of the flower and overlook the threat that lurked beneath. His expression became somber and something more akin to what I was used to. A grimace. I missed the false smiles that lit up his eyes.

Flower. Serpent. Right.

“Do you really want to get dinner tonight?” His curt tone pushed me back a fraction.

“Oh... uh.” I wrapped my arms around myself in protection. “Sure?” 

It was a weekday, meaning that we’d have to eat in the Great Hall and my stomach felt uneasy about sitting anywhere near other Slytherins. Fake dating Draco or not, they were malicious to any sort of outsider, especially a Gryffindor who was friends with Saint Potter.

“I’ll pick you up at seven outside your portrait.” He passed my bag back to me now that we were outside the aforementioned portrait.

“Okay,” I barely got out as he swept down the hall and down the stairs. I watched him go, leaning over the railing to see if there was some way to know the difference between the serpent and the flower, and which one was truly the act.

“Fraternizing with a Slytherin,” The Fat Lady scoffed. “You should be ashamed,” I bit my lip, giving the password and the portrait opened begrudgingly.

Should I be ashamed for the situation that I had found myself in? The easy answer was yes. I should. Not only was I fraternizing I was being courting by a Slytherin. Draco Malfoy was an egotistical arrogant bigot who I should avoid at all cost. Not be in a false relationship with. And for such selfish reasons too. I was using Draco, but on the same note, he was using me to get at Harry. We only cared for the other enough for what they could do in our favor.

It was a mess.

I ducked my head and flopped onto a sofa in the Common Room.

“Oi! What the bloody hell are you thinking!?” And there was the lecture I was expecting from Harry, and probably every other student on this campus, and myself. But this was Harry, an equally egotistical arrogant loudmouth, who I loved to hate just as much.

“I’m sorry,” I snapped sarcastically. “I didn’t know that you controlled who I dated or not.” My tone was acidic.

“But Malfoy!? Malfoy!?” Harry demanded. “It’s got to be a joke!” It was.

“Just because I rejected you doesn’t mean you’re allowed to call my relationship with someone else a joke!” I shouted drawing my wand. A small crowd had formed in the Common Room. I didn’t know who they would side with, but the odds weren’t in my favor, that much was sure.

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part 2

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masterlist

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more like this:

gryffindor!reader series

ten things i hate about you

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[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 5.

Summary: The morning after the night before, and you’ve no idea what Ransom is going to greet you…

Warnings: 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 Part 5 to my submission for @Jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020  Challenge. Recently my original partner Southerngracela left Tumblr, and as such I’m going it alone based on our notes and planned plot for this series. I hope I do it justice.

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.

Part 4

You woke the next morning, a warm feeling coursing through your body but with a deep ache in your cheek which was laid against a naked pectoral, as you had clearly shifted in your sleep during the night. Your left hand was resting upon a very naked and warm torso with well-defined abs, while a heavy arm draped over your equally naked body; across your shoulder and down your back, a large hand splayed over your hip, fingertips barely grazing the edge of the sheet which settled itself just below pelvic bones. 

As you blinked the sleep from your system, your barely conscious mind began to register exactly who you were cuddling up to. Your captor, the man who’d abused you and held you hostage for the past few months and you swallowed as your mind flooded with memories of the previous night and everything that had happened to the point of escalation and his return. He returned to you a completely different person, broken almost, a far cry from the stoic, cold asshole persona that he did his best to project to the world and you…well, you’d felt sorry for him.

You saw regret, for the first time ever, etched across his face, behind red, saddened and tired eyes. You were cautious, not forgiving, but cautious. You’d empathised, and moreover, you’d seen a chink in his armour that you’d exploited. Whilst he was in that raw, stripped bare state (both figuratively and metaphorically) you’d seized your chance. You’d taken the upper hand.

And now, you were struggling to comprehend exactly how you felt about it.

Despite the ache in your cheek and pain in your knee, your heart waged a war against the reality of your situation. For the first time in two, nearly three months, you felt differently towards him and that scared you. No, it terrified you. Had Ransom just been hiding behind his pain and fear, putting forth the beast before the man?

The memory of how he made you feel the previous night flooded behind your fluttering eyes and you felt a stir within, as if your feminine nature craved him unlike before. But your mind kept saying now, stay logical. Don't be part of the hunt, be part of the chase. But really, what were you chasing? You didn't know.

As if to curb that craving, you stretched out like a cat finding its patch of sunlight on the floor. And almost as if he reacted to your movement, he gave one of his own, his back arching a little as he jostled you on his chest, a deep sigh leaving his system as he gave a low rumble of contentment.

"Morning," you heard him speak above your ear. His voice was deep and raspy, sleep riddled. It made your stomach flutter and your thighs instinctively clench. 

You sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up your body to cover yourself a bit more. Then you turned towards Ransom, your better cheek facing him. "Hi," you spoke softly. 

"C'mere," he said, gently reaching for your forearm to pull you back into him. 

You were stopped short of completely covering him, your hair falling over your left side and as he tucked the obstructing strand behind your ear, his thumb caught your cheek and you hissed. He noticed it immediately and his eyes grew sorrowful. He pulled you to his lips, kissing you softly, slowly before he pulled away and sat up, kicking his legs over the side of the bed and standing, his naked body on display. 

You weren't in denial of the Adonis before you, but underneath the God-like physique and piercing blue eyes, still lurked a Demon waiting for his next opportunity to seize his moment. He turned to you and leaned on his hands, palms flat, against the mattress. 

"I'll be right back," he said softly, as he leaned in again for a gentle kiss before slipping into his boxers and leaving you. 

Ransom headed upstairs, taking two steps at a time emerging into the airy, well-lit hallway. He strode purposefully into the kitchen, running one hand through his sleep mussed hair, yawning slightly as he scratched at his bare chest with the other before he reached down to the front of his expensive boxers and rearranged the crotch of the fabric to make it slightly more comfortable.

The night he'd had was nothing short of amazing, mind blowing even. In fact, he'd go as far as to say like no other, how he felt, how he'd made her feel, hearing her call out his name more than once. But nothing, nothing was like the sound of his name across her lips for the first time. He felt his chest swell at even the slightest flicker of a memory, his skin blushing. 

But now, outside of his general reason for coming up to the main part of the house, Ransom was confused, unsure and uncharacteristically nervous. Riddled with guilt, he sought out ice and the first aid kit.

He headed to his bathroom upstairs and collected the items he needed; rubbing alcohol, swabs and bandages. Then he headed down and into the kitchen, bare feet making their way across the cold floor. He took a dish towel and pulled some cubes from the freezer and twisted the ends together, creating a pouch. Then with the items in hand, he headed back to Y/N.

It didn't go amiss that she hadn't moved from the exact spot he'd left her in minutes ago. He took note of her watching every move he made, each step he took, the twitches of his muscular frame and stare of his eyes. Her eyes watched him, suspicion reflecting in her stare. He sighed."You still don't trust me, Sweetheart?"

"I don't know." She whispered hesitantly. "It's.... complicated."

There it was again, her doubt in him. He looked her over and even in the dull light of the room, he could see the destruction on her face. The way the discoloring of her skin filtrated from her defined and now split cheek bone to her stunning eye, marking her for what he could assume would be a good couple of weeks. The split skin had started to scab but was no doubt painful and puffy even under the bruising. It looked angry and tender. Pain and regret filled his eyes as he felt them mist slightly. Leaning closer as he stood by the side of the bed, his thumb traced over the broken skin gently as if by touch he'd heal her. 

“Yeah, I suppose it is." He dropped down onto the bed next to her and handed over the ice pack. "Here..."

"Thank you," she winced as she held the ice to her cheek, sitting with her left leg covered and the sheet pulled up to her chest. 

He looked her over, looking for anything else amiss. Then he saw the scrape across her right knee. Her exposed leg was bent there at the joint. Ransom gently took her ankle and pulled her close, propping the leg over his thighs.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he whispered, looking at the scrape and applying an alcohol swap. She hissed at the way it burned and Ransom's first instinct was to gently blow on the stinging skin. 

"Are we just talking about yesterday?"

He stopped the gentle blowing and sighed, dropping his head a little. "Does it matter?”

"Not really, it's not like I'm going to go anywhere either way, is it, Ransom?" She swallowed.

She called him by his name again, sending chills and flutters through him like a school boy with a hard crush. He swallowed hard and took her wrist holding the ice, "let me see."

She obliged, letting him pull her hand away as his other reached up and tilted her face round. She blinked a little, her eyes not leaving his face as he took a deep breath and his hand dropped down to the bed. He nodded at the ice. "Put that back on, it'll help with the swelling."

"Okay," she agreed, doing as he asked. They were in a limbo of sorts. He didn't know what to do, but he felt an unfamiliar, unnerving desperate need to be with her.

 And the silence was nerve wracking. 

The ice began dripping into your hand and trailing down your forearm. You pulled the pack away and handed it back to Ransom. "I... I need to shower, just take a few minutes to uh, freshen up.”

Ransom nodded, his fingers gently brushing yours as he took the pack off you. "Sure” He nodded. “I’ll be in the kitchen, come up when you’re ready.”

 “Okay.” You agreed, with a single nod of your head. 

Easing your legs out of the sheets you stood up, your limbs feeling a little stiff from the previous evening’s activities and you could feel his eyes on you as you walked into the bathroom, no doubt taking in how your backside looked. The remnants of the night before were still strewn about the tiled floor, and you sighed before you turned on the shower.

As the water warmed, you gathered yourself to gaze at your reflection. Surely your cheek was worse off than the night before. And a glance confirmed it were. A deep bruising shade of purple was working its way from your cheek bone to just under your eyes, a scab where the skin had broken had formed. You didn't want to see anymore. You climbed into the shower and allowed the heat of the water to relax your sore muscles.

You ached in a way that you hadn't in a long while. The way you knew you could after all nerves fired in pleasure and tingled your skin. Last night was interesting to say the least. It was the first time you felt anything outside of deep, gnawing despair. It was obvious that Ransom thought he had won, that you had given in. You had control of the situation nearly from the start, and it had felt good, so, so good. He'd called you baby and it made you shudder in... delight, so much so you’d called him Ransom, breathlessly moaning it as a pleasure coursed through you that you didn't try to stop or deny.

You didn't protest, you didn't fight back. You’d wanted it. And then, that warm feeling of him letting go inside you, filling you, and the look on his face as he did so, well you were shivering at the thought.

The question was, now what? Where do you go from here? You weren't stupid, freedom wasn't an option. But, there could be a bit more for you to work with. Nodding to yourself, knowing how to at least start, you shampooed your hair, inhaling and getting lost in its scent. Autopilot kicked in and you finished your shower, eventually stepping back into your room, wrapped in a towel.

You sorted through your wardrobe, deciding on a pair of dark washed jeans, one could say fit like a glove over your legs and hips, drawing your body in sharp curves and lines, pairing it with a black satin camisole and burgundy cardigan. You toweled your hair off more, collecting the remaining heavy water droplets in the terrycloth fabric and went to hang it back up on the hook in the bathroom. You noticed Ransom's clothes and items from the night before were gone from where they were discarded and no other remnant of him remained other than the distinct smell of him on your sheets and throughout your bed. Taking a look in the mirror, you replaced the butterfly closure bandaid on your cheek and dabbed some face cream gently around your bruise. You sorted your hair, brushing through it but leaving it to dry on its own, a hair tie now on your wrist in case you needed it. You took your time getting dressed and cleaned up, tossing your sheets around to make your bed and tidy up. It was obvious you were making him wait, and that was okay with you. You didn't know exactly what awaited you in the kitchen, which Ransom you'd get, but so far, the version of the man that took you seemed to remain far behind. 

After accepting you’d stalled as much as you could, you took a deep breath and headed up the stairs emerging into the well-lit, yet cold hallway and made your way through to the large kitchen. Ransom turned from where he had been filling up the coffee machine and his gaze flicked over your appearance before he met your eyes and his mouth twitched up at one side into a small, yet noticeable smile.

"What can I make you?" You asked softly, treading unevenly in your thoughts as they echoed in word around the room.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, “Come, sit.” He was now dressed, casually in a Henley and casual pants. His hair tossed back and from where you stood you could smell that distinct smell he had even over the freshly brewing coffee. You pulled at the sleeves of your cardigan as you stepped one bare foot in front of the other to take your seat at the breakfast table as directed.

Ransom placed a mug of coffee down in front of you, which you thanked him for, and he took a seat at the table, as you took a sip of your drink. A silence fell over the room, and as you watched him in the corner of your eye you could see his fingers flexing round his mug.

But he was the one that broke the stalemate, clearing his throat slightly as he shifted in his seat. "I thought, maybe, we could order in?" He offered. "I... I can call the bakery that does the almond croissants you've come to like? Or if you'd prefer breakfast sandwiches I can get those?"

The words came as a nervous ramble from him, and you could tell he had no idea how to navigate this new situation you both found yourselves in any more than you did. You quickly realized that Ransom Drysdale didn't know how to navigate "the morning after". 

“I, errr…" You began to speak and he shook his head.

“You don’t want those? Okay, that’s…”

“No, I mean, yes, I mean…” You took a deep breath before you licked your lips. “I'm just not hungry for breakfast, that is but maybe... maybe we could get Thai or something tonight? Or, if you'd prefer something else, like if you want me to make something, I...."

"We can do Thai. There's a small place not far from here, great food. What do you like?"

"I'm not picky."

"That's not what I asked." He looked at you with a glint of happy in his eyes. "What would you choose?"

"Coconut prawns, beef satay, chicken curry," You replied with a soft, hopeful smile, the feeling of happiness at the possibility you were going to get a treat, do something so normal, made your chest feel as warm as the time he’d returned your personal belongings, or the day the tree was delivered.

"Consider it done."

"Do you think I could maybe have a beer or a glass of wine with it?"

"Anything in this house is yours if you want it." He looked at you and your mind was suddenly taken right back to that moment in his study weeks ago, the day Blanc had paid you a visit.

“You know, it could all be yours, Sweetheart, if you just stopped fighting what you know you want.”

Had you stopped fighting? Or had you just merely taken control of a vulnerable situation? Is this what you wanted? You had to just sit in the silence for a second. This whole scenario was quickly becoming a kaleidoscope of feelings and you weren't sure where to start.

"You said anything, right? I'd assume that's within reason."

His eyes narrowed for a moment and he leaned forward on his elbows. "Anything, within reason."

You started to move your lips to ask of what you wanted but you stopped yourself, suddenly embarrassed at the thought. Ransom saw this and glided a warm hand across the table to run a finger over your thumb down to your wrist. "Tell me," he coaxed. His tone and look made your insides twist in two different directions, one in fear and the other in delight. It was a confusing juxtaposition at best.

 "I want to go outside. I want to feel the sun on my face, breath in the cold winter air." You had hoped the misting of your eyes wasn't visible nor the hope in your words.

 "I'll think about it," he replied after a small pause.

"Okay," you shrugged. It wasn't an outright no. Silence filled the kitchen again, neither of sure what to do or say and finally you stood to get more coffee and when you turned to face him, to offer him a top off, you were startled to find him right behind you.

In your start you have a gasp and warm hands cupped your face. Your heart raced through your chest. It was damn near impossible to read him. Soft lips touched yours. "I have some work to do in the study," he spoke softly.

"Sure." You nodded, your eyes locked onto his as he stepped back slightly. "Do you want me to be there with you or..."

"I have a better idea," well that worried you. What'd he want? A blow job under the desk? "I want you to gather your stuff, you're not staying down there anymore."

"So where do I go?" You tried not to sound too hopeful, as if he'd set you free that easily. Nor were you even sure you wanted to go.

"Upstairs, with me." He stated matter of factly.  "Come on, I'll show you. I'll move your clothes up later, but for now, after I show you around, get everything else you want or need, whatever."

 “Do I get a say in all this?” You blurted it out before you could stop yourself and swallowed, waiting for his anger to brew but it didn’t. Instead he simply raised his eyebrow at you.

“Do you wanna stay down there?” He asked.

“No, but-“

“Good, then we’re agreed.”

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish to protest but couldn’t think of what to say, not that it mattered anyway, it wasn’t like you had a choice. Not really. You followed him up the stairs and onto the expansive second floor. It seemed to be sectioned off into a handful of bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms. Ransom took great delight in showing you grandiose room after grandiose room, and to be honest you found it all a little ostentatious, why would he need all that room for just him. Well, him and you as it transpired… And he saved the ‘best for last’, according to him anyway, as he pushed open the heavy door into his room. Instantly you were hit with the familiar smell of his woody aftershave and you took a deep breath as you looked around.

Your eyes took in the space, the four post bed, the ornately shaped windows that were nearly floor to ceiling. There was a fireplace and above it, over the mantle, a mirror. The entire room was decorated in neutral whites and creams, with a touch of grey on the detailing in the alcoves and around the fireplace, a pale blue and white striped bed spread and matching pillow covers adorned the bed. It screamed Ransom to you, from floor to ceiling. Whilst the rest of the house wasn’t what you would class as warm, this was even less so. It was very open, very.... manly and stiff, a woman's touch never evident. Your eyes strayed upwards, half expecting to see a mirror on the ceiling, but to your relief there wasn’t one.

"What do you think?" He asked, his breath hot on your neck, and from the tone of his voice you could tell he was seeking approval. He was openly showing you around, almost as if he was trying to tell you this wasn’t his typical ‘fuck and duck’ scenario.  He was taking his time with it, and half of you felt relieved, the other, well, trapped.

"It's very different than downstairs, or my room even." You chose your words carefully as a strong palm in the base of your spine guided you through the doorway.

“Is that a good thing?” He asked, turning to look at you, brushing a hand through his messy hair.

You pop a shoulder, not knowing exactly what to say. He guided you through to the en suite and you felt your eyes grow wide as you took in the space. The floor was a grey and speckled marble which made you nervous immediately about the potential of slipping when wet. Mood lighting was set into the entire space, skirting around the edge of the flooring, shining up the granite tiles that lined the walls, except for the wall on the inside of the huge shower cubicle to your left, which sported the same tiles, only a gloss white. The whole thing was set off by a large chrome waterfall shower that was easily big enough for two people, maybe three, with immaculately clean glass doors and sides. Along the far wall was an enormous ornate tub, the sides so high there was a small step into them, and to the right stood two chrome basins fed by matching fancy mixer taps, all perched on top of a sleek, white marble unit with frosted glass cupboard doors underneath, and another large mirror over the basin unit, which was illuminated by bright LED lights.

"The sink to the left is yours, anything you want can be stored in the cabinet there, it's empty. So are the drawers on the side." He explained, leaning against his side of the sink basin.

"Erm, thanks." You nodded, your eyes flicking to where he'd directed your attention before you looked back at him, your fingers tugging on the sleeves of your cardigan as you licked your lips. There wasn't a spot of dirt, a single water mark or anything anywhere and before you could stop yourself you blurted out what was on your mind. "How the fuck do you keep this so clean? It would drive me mental even trying to polish the taps!"

It was his turn to pop his shoulder in such a blasé fashion, "the maid comes three times a week".

“You have a maid?” You asked, and even as you spoke you weren’t sure why it came as a surprise. Of course he had a maid. Not that you’d seen her, you were always responsible for cleaning your own space, but then of course you would be…

"Now, like I said," he pushed off the basin with his hips and stepped into your space, "I have some work to do. Move what you can up here and sort it all out. I'll be in the study if you need me."

"What I can?" You looked up at him. "Where should I put my clothes?"

"I told you, I'd take care of that later for you. Move the small stuff."

“Okay.”

With a satisfied nod, his hands gently dropped to your hips and he pulled your body flush to his, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. Without another word, he pulled away, turned and left you standing there, your mind trying to figure out exactly what was happening. With a deep sigh, you headed to your space. It didn't take more than two trips for you to bring up all you had and when you'd finished putting it away you sat down on the bed, your feet dangling over the edge.

Your palms felt the soft, cotton bedspread and you glanced at your small, leather bag which contained your few books and your journal. Not sure what side of the bed was yours, you didn’t know which nightstand to place them on so you decided to leave them where they were for the time being.

Which nightstand was yours…

You shook your head, letting out a sigh. This was all kinds of fucked up. You’d gone from his captor to his cohabiter, sharing a room like a couple who love and want to be with each other. You felt the tears stinging your eyes and with a soft sniff you moved and curled up in the middle of the bed, tucking your knees into your chest. You lay still, the strange room silent around you, and before long your eyes grew heavy as you thought to yourself, it is what it is. You just needed to concentrate on keeping things as they are now, as this Ransom was certainly a damned sight preferable to Asshole Hugh.

***** When you stirred from your nap, immediately you felt something was different and you moved your arm, realising that you were under the covers. As you blinked you sat up, the heavy eiderdown duvet falling down your body and you realised that Ransom must have been up and tucked you in.  As your sights came to you, you noticed you were on the left side of the bed, looking out, your things had been properly stowed on the nightstand next to you.

Curiosity pecked at your sleepy mind and you slowly came out of bed and padded over to the walk in closet. Sure enough, you saw your things hung and organized neatly across the space from his own. You couldn't resist your next move, your fingers trailing over the sweaters and garments hanging on his side, your tips curling over the camel colored coat you'd come to know so well. Tattered sweaters and crisp button downs hung impeccably straight on their velvet and wooden hangers, shoes, some well-worn and others not, paired and stacked in the organizer where they belonged.

It was a far cry from your old, small wardrobe in your apartment which was cramped full, things jumbled and piled all over the place, not to mention the constant pile of ironing you kept in the corner of your room, which you never seemed to manage to reach the bottom of.

Your stomach grumbled and you found yourself hungrier than when you'd fallen into bed. Now, you seemed famished. You left the master and headed down to see if you could find your newly minted cohabitant. As you walked, you noticed for the first time that there were no photos of anything or anyone, anywhere. The odd piece of art, no doubt ludicrously expensive, hung along the walls in a few spaces but other than that, nothing. No personal touches, no family photos, absolutely nothing.

Again, not surprising given his relationship with his family. And you doubt he had any friends, none beyond acquaintances anyway.

As you reached the final steps, you could hear furious typing on keys and realized Ransom was still in the study. You made your way there and as you stood in the doorway, you waited for him to take notice.

“You gonna stand there all day or come in, Sweetheart?” He drawled, not even looking up from the sleek screen on his desk. 

You came in, twisting your cardigan over your midsection and rubbing your arms. You walked over to the window and looked out. "It looks cold out there, beautiful, but cold."

You hesitated about thanking him for what he'd obviously done while you napped. But after a pause, you said it anyway. "Thank you... For getting my things."

"I told you I would so I did, you're welcome." He murmured, his attention still on his work. You glanced outside again, your eyes flicking to the light snow fall as it drifted down from the sky, settling down and melting into the ample, powder soft covering on the ground.

Ransom flicked his eyes toward the window and saw her staring out over the large grounds. He'd been furiously working away, trying to fix his current storyline for hours but parts still didn't feel right. He'd taken a break and taken Y/N's clothes upstairs, only to find her sound asleep in his, no, their bed. He'd hung up her clothes and tucked her in before retreating back into the study which brought him to now. A strange idea occurred to him, so he shut down his screen, stood and walked behind her. His eyes caught hers in the reflection of the window.

"I want to show you something," he said softly as his hands again found her hips, his lips pressed into that spot on her neck he knew she loved. Her eyes looked into his from over her shoulder and she replied with a small nod.

He took her to the back door, the one that led out into the garden and opened the closet door beside it. Inside were coats and boots. He grabbed a pair, creepily in her size, and a peacoat. A scarf of beige wool hung on a hook and he wrapped it around her neck before helping her into the coat. He waited for her to dip her feet into the boots and slipped into his own short, thick coat. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement as he gripped the knob and pulled the door towards them.

"After you," he offered.

Her mouth went slack a little and her eyes stared at him now wide. The more she stared, the more his chest tightened and made the intimate moment grow uncomfortable for him. Ransom lightly scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Are you going to go out or not?"

He immediately regretted his outburst as her eyes averted from his down to the floor and she nodded. "Yes," she replied meekly. “I’m sorry.”

With one foot in front of the other, he followed her as she stepped outside. Immediately, the falling snow began to cling to the wisps of her hair and the shoulders of her coat. He imagined he looked just the same. He watched as she tipped her head back, raising her face to the snow as it fell, flakes clinging to her eyelashes as a huge smile crept across her pretty features. Then, he saw the way her shoulders began to shake as hot tears leaked from her eyes. But she was still grinning, her tongue popping out if her soft lips to catch the flakes of falling snow.

Ransom had read countless stories, heard many tales about people experiencing what they called a revelation, a sudden awakening to something emotional which you couldn’t control, and he’d scoffed. It was alien to him, not being able to regulate how you feel, but that was exactly what had happened to him yesterday, and it was happening again, but not because he was feeling those things, but because Y/N was. She wasn't crying because she was sad or scared, she was crying because she was experiencing the moment. And right there and then, he understood. You can’t control or make someone truly want anything. Sure, you could bully and coerce, but to truly make them feel it, that wasn’t possible.

A cold, wet feeling brought him out of his thoughts and he'd realized he was covered in snow, pieces of it dripping from his head, down the break in his coat and through his sweater. He gave a small yell of annoyance, looking up as he realised a large glob had dropped off the edge of the guttering straight onto his head.

A melodic sound quickly hit his ears and he realized Y/N was laughing, full body titled giggles at his expense. His nostrils flared a little as she continued, and then, in a movement that was almost automatic, he bent down and scooped a handful up snow at his feet and slapped it straight into her chest, his eyebrow raised.

Challenge issued, sweetheart.

She gasped and he couldn't deny the chill it gave him deep in his loins. He loved that sound. But soon that smug smirk on his face was wiped clean as Y/N flung a handful of snow right back in his direction sending her scampering across the garden.

"Oh, Sweetheart." His voice was low as he bent to scoop up more of the icy, cold snow. "You have no idea what you just started."

From there the chase was on, ducking and running for cover as he chased her and when he finally caught up to her, she was falling away from his grasp and into the deep snow at their feet, his body falling over hers. Ransom looked down at her, his hair falling over his forehead, chest heaving as she reached up and brushed the strand back, her hand cold as it fell to his cheek.

"Ransom," she purred, "you can smile.”

It was a point not a request. His chest tightened at the way she gazed at him. The snow continued to fall over them, but neither paid it any attention. His gaze was locked onto hers.

"Oh, what about? The fact I'm freezing cold and soaked when I could be inside, dry and warm by the fire?" He recovered with a tease, and she rolled her eyes, letting out a soft huff.

"It's almost Christmas, and it’s snowing." She looked at him, "what isn't there to love about that?"

He faked a puzzled look for a moment and then found a chuckle rising up from his chest as her other hand rested there against his coat. "This is probably this first Christmas I ever cared about." He admitted freely.

She frowned as she looked at him, before she shook her head. "That's really sad, Ransom."

"I don't want pity..."

"No, that's not..." She took a deep breath and licked her lips. "That's not what that was. I was just stating a fact, that’s all."

He began to stand and pull her with him. "Let's go inside. I'm freezing my ass off." 

Their moment was over and he started back into the house, Y/N following him, albeit at a slightly slower pace, clearly not as willing as he was to leave the outside space. And he supposed he couldn’t blame her all things considered, even if it was alien to him.

He shucked his coat off and then helped her with hers, "I'm going to order dinner."

"Okay, thank you." She nodded as she followed him back through the kitchen and into the warm study. 

The two of you sat around the study, him going back to work on his book and you reading a book you pulled from the shelves around the room, sipping your respective beers together after Ransom had offered you one upon one of his many breaks in typing. The sound of the doorbell rang through the house and Ransom picked up his phone. He glanced at the screen before he stood up, and before he could say anything you spoke.

“Is that our food?” Your tone was hopeful, revealing your excitement and he looked at you, the smile on his face mirroring yours.

“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair, brushing the strands off his forehead. “Do you wanna go to the kitchen and-“

“No.” You said quickly and he arched his brow at you, puzzled and you swallowed. “I mean, if it’s okay with you, I’d kinda like to sit by the fire. It’s what I norm-“ you paused, your eyes dropping to your hands. “It’s what I used to do, sit on the rug, eating out of the box, watching junk TV.”

“Lounge it is, then.” He shrugged. “Saves on the washing up I suppose.”

“Like you’ve ever washed a dish.” You looked at him and he snorted.

“Like I said before, the help only comes three times a week, Y/N. I don’t leave the dishes stacked up in between, what do you take me for?”

“You have a dishwasher.”

“Okay, so it saves on the loading of the machine.” He rolled his eyes, turning to the door. “Go grab whatever we need from the kitchen, and another drink. That last beer didn’t touch the sides.”

You did as you were told, your bare feet walking over the cold tiles of the hallway as Ransom paid the delivery driver on the doorstep. You grabbed a selection of cutlery, another bottle of his pretentious European beer, reaching for one for yourself when you paused. There was a bottle of Sancerre sat nestled in the cooler that was a damned good label, you’d had it once before with your parents. Hesitating, you bit your lip. You’d been drinking beer so far but…now, well, you really wanted a glass of that white. After a moment or two of grappling with whether or not it was allowed, you shook your head. Fuck it, the worst that could happen already had…  

You managed to juggled your drinks and cutlery in your hands, years of practice had made you an expert at making the least amount of trips to your own kitchen and back, and you walked into the lounge where Ransom had set the boxes on the oak coffee table and you placed the bottle of beer down first, then the cutlery before you set your wine down.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t fancy more beer and-“

“I told you.” He looked at you, shaking his head. “Whatever you want.”

He passed you a box and you dug in, eagerly. The first bite of satay hit your taste buds and you hummed in deep delight at the way it tasted.

"It's been so long since I've had anything Thai. This, you were right, this is so good."

"Good," he smirked, tilting his beer back and taking a long swallow.

You smiled at him, your words echoing in your head. Take-Outs had been common in your life before, well, before all this. Working stupid hours at the Newspaper often saw you visiting various places on the way home, or having it delivered to the office. But as you sat there, taking bite after bite, you vowed never to take it for granted again.

Taking a respite from your eating, you reached for your wine and took a sip, the crisp taste hitting your buds once more, making you smile in delight. You replaced your glass and watched as Ransom tucked into his food, his eyes focussed on the box he held in his large hand.

"Thank you," you said after a stretch of silence, the fire crackling in the background.

"For?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

 "Today, the garden," you replied with emotion. "I wasn't expecting you to let me go out like that."

 He studied you for a moment, taking another forkful of his food before he swallowed and shrugged. "No big deal, it was only the garden."

"It's not merely just a garden when you haven't seen outside for days on end." You mimicked his shoulder pop, “and my parents always taught me to thank someone when they’ve done something you’re grateful for.” You dug back into your take out box and heard him let out a sigh.

“And mine didn’t, yes, I get it Y/N.”

“No, that’s not…” You swallowed your food and shook your head. “That wasn’t what I was implying.”

“Huh.” He raised an eyebrow, his attention moving back from you to another box which was on the table. Pulling out a coconut prawn he thrust the box in your direction as he swallowed his morsel in one easy bite. “Can’t say I’d blame you if it was.”

You watched him, once more silence falling across the room, the glow of the fire which burned in the hearth illuminating one side of his face and his gaze turned to it, his eyes following the dancing flames.

“Harlan taught me how to build a fire.” He suddenly spoke, and you watched as a smile flicked across his face. “There’s a huge stone hearth in the drawing room of his…well, what was his house. I used to toast bread on tongues, sat in front of it, wrapped in towel after a bath.” He paused, before he scratched at his nose. “Nanna would then butter it and I’d eat it in front of the fire, with a mug of cocoa and I remember always thinking it was the best thing I ever ate. Still is, shits all over this.” He gestured to the array of boxes biting his lip a little, clearly lost in the memory. You stayed still, watching, trying to stop the surprise you were feeling at his sudden openness spread across your face. He shrugged, taking another bite of his food. “Then she died. It was never the same after that. The house never felt right, you know?”

He reached for his beer, taking another long gulp before he shrugged. “Funny really, when I think about it. It was always my grandparents, they were the ones who taught me my minimal life skills. Fishing, pitching tents…”

“You, camping?” You arched a brow, trying to lighten the mood and it worked. He snorted and turned to look at you nodding.

“As a kid I loved being outside. Harlan’s estate was a huge, big playground.” He smiled again. “And on the rainy days when I couldn’t be outside, I used to spend hours with Nanna Wannetta, learning how to play ‘Go’, the goal always being to beat Harlan. When I finally managed it, it was the best thing in the world, that I’d achieved something.”

"Do you remember Christmas with her, your Nanna I mean? What’d she make?" You were eager to keep him talking, getting an insight into what made him tick on a more emotional sense was something you hadn’t been party to much. Sure, you’d figured out how to get a reaction out of him on an angry, primal sense, how his narcissistic nature worked, but this was an in-depth dive into his psyche, perhaps a way to unravel the enigma surrounding him, how he could flip between being someone you could actually like and understand, to the monster you’d seen on many an occasion.

Ransom paused for a moment. “I can’t really remember many, I was only nine when she died but she always did a roast, with potatoes, green vegetables, rolls.” He smiled. ”And pie. Apple. Always apples from the orchard. We’d pick them in the autumn and she’d stew them ready, storing them for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

You thought about what was happening between the two of you, how open and, dare you think it, raw Ransom was being. The last two days had now given you an outright exposed forum to the man that hid behind so much wealth and privilege. A far cry from the man you interviewed.

An idea swung into the forefront of your mind, or two rather. "I know Christmas is so soon but, if I gave you a list of things to gather from the store, do you think you could do it?"

"I suppose," he stated flatly.

"Okay, good," you couldn’t help the soft smile as your plan unfolded. You picked at your food a bit longer, a piece of chicken curry chewing away in your mouth. He watched you and you watched him, a bite to the bottom of your lip when you swallowed under his stare.

His eyes diverted and he rose gracefully to his feet and moved to add fuel to the fire. "Ransom..." You watched him inhale deeply at the sound of his name, clearly still having a deep effect on him. He turned to you, a glint in his eyes, "Will you teach me?"

"What?"

"'Go'. Will teach me to play?"

"You want to learn to play? So you could play with me?" The way he asked you was so innocent and childlike, like he had never considered you willingly to do so.

You giggled, as you looked up at him. "Yes, Ransom, I want you to teach me how to play 'Go' so we can play together."

A genuine, purely innocent and genuine smile crossed his lips, teeth shining and he stepped the two steps away from the fireplace and took to his knees in front of you. His smile faded to a smirk as he leaned towards you, "You should know, I play to win."

 "I'd expect no less," you replied.

His brow arched a little and his eyes flickered to your mouth, before he nodded to the container in your hand. "Are you done?"

"Yes, thank you." In a slow movement he plucked the now almost empty takeout box from your hand, placing it on the table as he all but crawled over you, causing you to fall back onto your elbows, hands grasping at the soft shag of the thick rug.

Your breath caught in your chest, your throat going dry. You could feel his hot breath against your face. "R... Rans..."

But your words were stopped short as his lips pulled yours in, a soft sucking and his tongue tipped across your bottom lip.

As the kiss deepened he leaned over you further causing you to lay back completely on the soft rug, his hands planting either side of his head whilst yours gently gripped at his biceps.

A familiar but forgotten feeling pooled between your legs, the feel of his muscles flex and twitch beneath your fingers, igniting your nerves as his tongue danced with yours making you dizzy and breathless.

Soft lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, skating upwards to your ear, finding that spot that never failed to betray you and you gave a soft simper as he lightly nipped at your skin, your sound drawing a low, satisfied sigh from him.

“If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” The words came out in a desperate tone as they crossed your ears.

"Do you want to stop yourself?" You whisper, knowing he's never stopped nor wanted to before. He stilled for a moment, pulling back to look at you and for a split second a spike of fear stabbed in your chest but there was nothing on his face bar a blank expression, as if he was grappling with something. 

“No, I don’t.” He admitted, a soft sigh rose from his chest as he hung his head and moved away a little. 

The encouragement left your lips before your brain processed it, a longstanding habit of yours, "so don't."

It seemed to shock you both and for a second time froze, before he was on you again, his kiss needy and heady. Your fingers curled around to the back of his neck as you scratched at the nape.  

His hand started traveling up the underside of your cami, your stomach muscles twitching at his touch. When your knee hooked around his narrow hips, he stopped and sat back in his haunches. "I... Why don’t you go and get ready for bed whilst I clear away this stuff.” He waved his hand to the table.

You licked your kiss swollen lips, and breathlessly nodded, sitting up and then standing on your own two feet before leaving the room, Ransom's back now to you as he stared into the fireplace, palms bracing himself against the mantle.

You left the study, almost in a daze and headed slowly back up the staircase. As you made your way into the bedroom you stopped for a moment, your head turning back to the door. What the fuck just happened? You’d given him the green light and instead of taking you he’d backed off completely.

It as an unnerving turn of events, because despite your little moment an insight into his past before you had no idea what was going on in his head at that point in time. When he was being forceful and angry it was obvious but now, well, it was impossible to get a read on him and if you wanted to keep him on side, that was going to be a problem. Ransom was an enigma wrapped in an unbelievably layered mystery, and you hadn’t even scratched the surface. 

*****

As the fire calmed beneath him, and deep inside, Ransom took two deep grounding breaths. This new sense of restraint and self-control fucked with his head, and what was even more frightening was that these were not thought through, these feelings were of instinct. As if a part of himself that he never knew to exist had been pried open in the depths of his soul over the last now forty-eight hours. He was deeply confused, especially now as he had towered over her, near ready to fuck her into the rug by the fire, not only with himself but with her. Twice now she'd given him a green light to do as he wanted with her. The first after he asked to be let in, in a manner of speaking, and just now, inviting him, no, encouraging him on. Then there was still that guilt that he'd tried to stifle back since the rose of their day. That guilt he harbored each time he got a look at that gash on her cheek, knowing damn well he put it there, the bruising growing darker as it started to show past the swelling.

He loathed this guilt within him, for Ransom Drysdale doesn't do guilt. Never cared enough, until now, until her and not until last night.

The world owed him far too much, his arrogance included, but Y/N, she was different. She was safe and safe was something he never felt. He used that same arrogance to posture at every given minute of the day, used it as his defense against all who crossed him, family included. Ransom couldn't remember a time in his life, not since his Nana passed, that he hadn't felt alone and angry, withdrawn purposely and defiantly. A grown man with mommy and daddy issues as Y/N had vehemently spat at him one night, yet she didn't know the half of it. If she hadn't pushed him, made him so angry, he wouldn't have hurt her, ruined her. No, no he wouldn't have. 

But Harlan, with Harlan he could be himself, arrogance pinned up against arrogance, he learned so much from his grandfather and all he did was ruin that too.

The thought of Harlan put a sour taste in his mouth as that guilt came back through, twisting his gut and make him balk. It angered him he held such guilt for his life circumstances.

Again taking a deep breath, he gathered the take out remnants and tossed what he had to in the trash and placed the rest in the fridge.

As he made his way back up towards his room, towards her, he stopped at a guest bathroom and splashed cold water across his face. He rinsed the taste of curry and coconut from his tongue and quickly made his way to his room.

He stripped down, fully discarding his clothes to a pile in front of the bed and pulled he covers back, the cool, crisp sheets giving a chill to his skin. He heard the water tap shut off from the bathroom and suddenly he felt his stomach drop at the anticipation of what he wanted next. Would she have changed her mind? Was she no longer going to encourage him to continue with treating her for the night? What the fuck was he doing now? Doubting himself? Doubting how he could show a woman a really good fucking time? Ugh, all these emotional changes and challenges were absolutely exhausting for him. He needed a distraction, yes, a good nice long distraction and the way he'd get it was now walking toward him.

He watched her as she came out of his en suite from his position reclined in his bed, his hands behind his head on the pillow. The deep green silk slip negligee she chose fit in all the right places and as she stepped closer, he took note of the way her hips filled out the satin material, how her pert nipples tented the fabric. His mouth was salivating and he swallowed hard, sitting up as she was at the end of the four post bed, then at his bedside. 

 "Come here," he said, speaking in a low, gravely tone, seeing her hesitation. 

He forced more of himself to sit up to greet her, the clean, soft sheets falling to his hips, his naked chest on full display. His right hand curled around her hip while the other reached for her to pull her towards him. She gasped as her body fell into bed with him, both led out against the cushion of the mattress and pillows. Her legs were settled between his, her chest against his own but what he enjoyed the most was the way her lips fell in time with his. Both his hands cupped her face as he deepened their kiss. Tongue deep into her mouth, tasting the minty remnants of toothpaste. Lips soft against her own as they travelled down her neck to her spot that was just for him to know. He felt her move a little above him, as if she were pulling away. That not being in his plan for the evening, Ransom dropped his left arm to the mattress and used his strength to roll her to her back, his lips never leaving her own, sheets rustling round his legs as he kicked them away.

With one leg between hers, a knee so close to her core, his thigh settling against her mound, he moved her legs apart. Hooded eyes stared back at him and he watched as she visibly swallowed, lost in their moment. His body led over her, Ransom used one hand to prop himself up slightly while the other tantalizingly brushed one of the thin straps of her negligee down. His lips skated over her collar bone and back up her neck, a hot tongue against her spot and she quivered beneath him. The hand that moved the thin strap away from her shoulder glided over the outside of her thigh and under the hem of the sleep slip, skating up the outside of her thigh, up to her bare hip, thumb rubbing over her skin.

He pushed his knee up against her mound making her gasp a little. He didn't care to hide the smirk across his lips as they ghosted over her skin, moving back to hers. He felt her fingers curl around his neck before her hands slipped into the nape of his neck. As his tongue and body began to melt into hers, Ransom pulled the front of her negligee down, exposing her mounded breasts to the room. With his knee, he nudged up against her again and he couldn’t help the moan the escaped his mouth into hers when he felt her grind down against him. He wrenched his lips away from hers, sloppy kisses chaining down her neck, feeling the delicate muscles contract as she swallowed as he moved down, his tongue tracing a path over the swell of her breast before he took a pebbled nipple into his mouth, rolling it ever so softly between his teeth.

The hand that was round her hip gripped tighter against her soft skin, his eyes peeking up at her, her head thrown back against the pillow, eyes closed, mouth hanging open, soft whimpers flowing from her mouth and he pressed his leg further up against her centre, feeling her slick as it spread across his thigh as she rubbed up against him, seeking relief from the friction. Her needy nature was something he hadn’t seen to this extent before and he was hard as hell as she writhed beneath him, her back arching off the bed, pushing her chest upwards and he obliged, his mouth upping the ante around her sensitive nipple.

Again he felt her fingers against the nape of his neck as he nipped and sucked against her nipple, flat and hot tongue at the valley of her breasts. He shifted slightly, intending to turn his attention to her other breast, but the movement jostled his knee further against her and her fingers tightened around his hair as she gave a cry, grinding down on him harder.

“Atta girl, take it. Take what you need.” He all but growled out, his face hovering inches from hers as he watched her face, contorted in pleasure and desire, her eyes screwed shut. “Look at me.” He demanded, and obediently her eyes flew open, those deep orbs he could drown in locked onto his as he stared straight back into them.

“Ransom…” her voice was barely a whisper and once more the sound of his name from her mouth was enough to turn him feral and it took everything he had to keep himself from fucking her senseless. But somehow he did. He pushed his leg up against her as he slanted his mouth to hers, swallowing her moans and cries before he pulled back.

“Cum for me, Baby,” he whispered against her lips and seconds later her back arched and her entire body convulsed, his head shooting back almost painfully at the force with which she pulled on his hair and he groaned deeply as she cried out, tumbling over the edge of pleasure, her thighs gripping his, her pussy literally pulsing against his thigh as she soaked his skin with her orgasm, before she sagged back and lay trembling underneath him.

“I love the sounds you make when you come undone.”

As you came down from your high, you realised that your hands were tugging on his hair and you instantly let go, before you suddenly became aware of the fact that in your lust addled haze you’d basically fucked yourself against his leg. And, as you looked at him, that maddening smirk spread across his face and you knew the bastard was crowing inside at exactly how needy you’d been. How needy he’d made you, and you couldn’t even find it within yourself to be disgusted anymore.

You needed more, more of what he was offering, more of what had just transpired. And the only thing you could think of how to get it was to feel him inside you like he was the night before, how he filled you and gently caressed you. But was he willing to do it? You didn't know, not for sure anyway, for this wasn't the Ransom you had first met. This wasn't the man who tortured you, degraded you. No, this was a man who emerged from a cacoon of hurt, mental degradation, arrogance. This was gentle, so was... markedly different.

"Talk to me." His words startled you from your daze as you felt his gentle knuckle graze down your skin through the valley of your breasts and come to rest a flat palm over your belly.

You swallowed, desperately trying to calm the ocean of conflicting feelings within your brain as you looked down at him, your chest heaving. “I don’t know what to say.” You whispered, eyes not leaving his. The obvious conflict must have been etched across your face as his expression softened more, almost looking sad or worried he'd done the wrong thing. Who the hell was this guy?

“I’m trying.” He whispered softly, the tip of his nose brushing yours in a feather like kiss. “I’m trying to make you trust me.”

"Who are you?" You'd blurted it out before you could filter it, and you felt a faint tug of fear spike through you, but as quick as it had come it went when he leaned over you and pressed his lips softly to yours.

"Let me show you." He was asking once more, not demanding. “Please.”

The two of you were so close, you felt his hot breath on your face. The lump you swallowed hurt going down. All it took was a barely audible "okay." and no sooner had the permission slipped from your mouth, his lips were on yours, the kiss soft yet, deep and needy at the same time.

With one hand now entangled in your hair, the other holding his weight against your side, he positioned himself fully between your legs.

You could feel his tip at your entrance and your body took over, tilting your hips up, telling him just what you wanted, no, what you needed.

A second tilt of your hips met his as he found what he wanted, slipping right in, his lips leaving yours as he let go of a whimpering moan at the feel of your wet opening practically pulling him in. He moved slowly and deliberately, sliding in deeper with each thrust, like ocean waves rolling over the sand shore and back out to sea, his lips back on yours, down the column of your neck, sucking in that spot that made you shudder and back across your jaw and home again on your lips.

Your hands moved to his back, fingers dancing over the muscles which twitched with each gentle, deep rock of his hips, your nails lightly dragging as your hands made their way up to his shoulders where they stopped.

His eyes met yours as he paused his thrusting and you wondered what was passing through that fucking twisted mind of his. Was it an awakening that this was too much for him? Was it that the beast was ready to return? Or was it deep emotion he was struggling with? The calming of the storm inside?

"You're beautiful," he whispered with a blush pinker than his already flushes skin, almost embarrassed to give such a genuine thought out loud.

You leaned up, closing the space between you, your lips to his, accepting his compliment, hiding your own emotion from him. It twisted your gut and muddled your mind, it wakened your heart and flooded your core. Seated inside you, deep now at the angle, you breathed against his ear, "more".

The deep groan from his throat curled your insides as the vibrations from his chest rattled against yours. His hips moved back before they snapped forward, his movement powerful and sure and you gave a gasp as he drove into you, a dirty grind that had you clawing at his skin.

"Fuck, so good," he managed.

As his thrusts continued at their depth, grinding harder, your hands slid upwards into his hair, tightening around the longer strands and his head tipped back, a loud growl ripping from his throat. His lips crashed back to yours, your hands still tangled in his locks and almost curiously you gave another tug.

“Jesus Christ.” His words stuttered, punctuated by a groan against your mouth and he shook his head, his hands reaching for yours in his hair. “Imma lose it if you keep doing that, Sweetheart. And I’m not done with you yet.”

It wasn't a threat like you've heard countless times before, but a promise of what was to come and you shivered, your whole body jolting like you were chilled. 

“Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” His long fingers snaked between yours, strong arms pinned your hands on either side of your head on the pillow. Instantly you felt a flicker of panic and you gasped, moving your arms ever so slightly. But when Ransom didn’t react to your slight motion of resistance and allowed you to take his hands with yours, you realized this wasn’t about restraint. You could move, and moreover, in that instant you fully believed if you asked him to stop he would.

So you stayed where you were until you brought a knee up towards his rolling hips, toes on pointe against the sheets, opening yourself more for him. He gave another grunt of satisfaction, clearly crowing even more at your participation as his hips continued to drive into you over and over, coaxing you ever closer to your high. He was rubbing against that soft spot deep inside you and your cries were struggling to get out of your throat. The fire in your body was raging as you began to feel the flush hitting you.

"Oh... fuck... Ransom, please, I...." Her words were a rushed garble of pleas and he bit his lip, eyes fixed on those deep orbs, fingers tightening around her hands as he fought the familiar warm, tight feeling that was spreading across his abs and groin. His lips crashed back to hers, in a kiss that was deep and sloppy as she moaned loudly into his mouth. He felt her walls squeeze around him tightly, tighter than before. Her inner walls taking him for all he had to give and her outer, pulsing against his tightening sac.

“Fuck, baby...” he panted as she sagged underneath him, her body quivering with sheer pleasure for the second time that night. His hips drove into her, his pace quickening slightly as he neared his own release which hit him seconds later. “Oh, shit...” was all he could stutter as he came, his dick spasming and twitching inside her as he coated her insides, with a surge like nothing he’d felt before, the bliss rising from the very depth of his being and flooding his entire system with a white hot pleasure that consumed him completely.

It felt like it lasted forever, and he was certain his breathing stopped momentarily as he fell forward, his face burrowed into the side of her neck.

“What are you doing to me, Y/N?” a whispered voice croaked from his throat against her ear. She didn’t say anything, she couldn’t, she was still shaking under him. Gathering what little strength he had left he propped himself up on shaky arms, kissing her again before he shifted and pulled out of her, rolling heavily onto his back. 

His chest heaved along with hers, his mind foggy and spiked full of serotonin. And when he calmed himself enough, Ransom reached for her hand, entwined her fingers with his and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. Then, with a gentle tug, he pulled her close as he rolled his chest to her back, led against her, his fingers still entwined with hers, his arm against her. He nuzzled into her hair, his chest taking in a deep, shaky breath, doing all her could to mask the emotion seeping out. 

You felt him rest his chin on the crown of your head as your body started to lull to sleep from the overload on chemicals and exertion. And as you drifted off to sleep, Ransom’s arm heavy over your waist as his nose nuzzled into the back of your hair you began to question just which one of you was the real captive.

**** Part 6

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt.4

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: future smut, language, reader being followed at night, not much, Chan’s sexy ass arms?

A/N: the big day!! also there’s a little scene for binnie’s birthday (even though it was yesterday)

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

—UNEDITED

Your mind was running circles around you, everything a blur.

Talking on the phone with Chan lifted your mood exponentially, but there was still something that ticked in the back of your head. With the way your conversation with Chan ended, you weren’t sure if you should’ve been jumping for joy or hiding away under your covers in hopes that no one would ever find you again.

“So, I was wondering,” His voice drawled over the phone.

You held back the urge to shiver in order to hear exactly what he had to say. Granted the wind had stopped, but the night air was slipping through the thin fabric of your clothes and making up for its absence.

“Yeah?”

You heard Chan chuckle—surprisingly enough it sounded nervous.

“Would you ever date a guy like me?”

And just with one question, you almost fell forward off of the swing.

“What are you saying?” You uttered, eyes staring out at the bright red slide in front of you that had been dulled by the darkness.

Chan cleared his throat, “Do you want to go on a date with me, Y/n?”

You had said yes too quickly, not just in the sense that it was embarrassing, but also because after you hung up, it really occurred to you that you would be going on a date with Bang Chan.

A date.

Had you even been on a date before?

You wrapped your arms around your body as you contemplated the whole situation. It was dark outside despite the street lights, and even then, they were too dim to really be doing their job. But you hardly noticed, too immersed in your own head to worry about the dark or the possibility of meat-heads roaming around looking for their next meal.

Your skin prickled, your subconscious attempting to warn you about the shadow that lurked only a few feet away.

The date. It should be easy; smile, talk to him without vomiting, and be sure not to make a complete fool of yourself in front of the single most attractive man you had ever seen. Piece of cake.

You mentally cursed Minho for possibly scaring you for the rest of your young life. Could you hold it over him if his years of desensitizing you turned you into a lonely cat-lady?

No—he’d already taken that title, and you weren’t sure if the universe was ready to support two financial tragedies within the same family.

The sound of footsteps fell to deaf ears, the lights of the dorms were able to be seen from your place on the street, and there wasn’t a shred of dread in your naive body. Not even when the sound of sneakers padding against tar got closer—too close for comfort had you been paying any attention. Maybe you were too tired, or your head was too preoccupied to focus on the approaching body behind you.

Not until there was a hand wrapping around your mouth and another pinning your arms to your sides. In your shock, you could feel the flex of your aggressor’s biceps—he was strong, and it had your heart stopping in your chest.

You wiggled the best you could in his grip, but the man’s hold was too constricting, and you suddenly wanted to cry. How stupid could you have been to let something like this happen?

Your heart pounded in your chest as you plead against the calloused hand, your legs shaking like jelly. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear—mint, the one thing you could focus on was that his breath didn’t reek of alcohol like you would’ve assumed.

“Wow…” He released a breath with a small chuckle, and your brows furrowed.

The voice was familiar—

“You really are stupid. Do you realize that you would’ve been so dead if I wanted to like—take advantage of you and dump your body in a river, or something?”

You squirmed out of the stupid stupid strong arms of your stupid stupid ex-friend, you eyes set in a harsh glare as you brought your fists down on his firm chest.

“You fucking pig!” You screeched with rage, fists clenched even when he grabbed your wrists in between fits of laughter. You actually wanted to stab a knife into his eye. “I can’t believe you did that! I thought I was going to die, asshole!”

Changbin snickered with a mocking coo, “I know. Poor baby...”

“You’re a sadistic bastard.”

“Just think—” he released your hands, only to block the oncoming smack that you sent. “You won’t make this mistake again, stupid-head.”

You huffed, wrapping your arms around your body again and continuing forward, your pulse more intense than it had been before. “What if I had gone into cardiac arrest or something? You would’ve been fucked in more ways than one. Do you know what they do to rapists in prison?”

“Y/n,” Changbin chuckled under his breath, meeting your stride easily. “I didn’t rape you, in case you didn’t notice.”

“But if I died, that’s what it would’ve looked like! And suddenly you’re in concrete hell.”

Changbin shook his head. “God—just be more careful next time you decide to walk alone in the middle of the night. Call one of us or something.”

Guilt nawed at your skin, and you sent him a sulky pout. He was right. If something really had happened, you would’ve been fucked. Unless the guy was thinner than a twig and had a shit center of gravity, your chances of getting out of that kind of danger was unlikely. Damn Changbin and his infuriatingly true points.

You let out a groan as the boy beside you casually slung his arm around your shoulders.

“Fine. You’re right. Happy?”

Changbin’s head turned to you and he released another coo, his forehead pressing against yours and successfully annoying the shit out of you. How everyone else dealt with him was a true mystery.

He was supposed to be older than you?

The pitch of his voice raised, “Of course I am.”

You wrenched out of his grip, swatting away his reaching hand and stepping out of his range.

Perhaps there would be a murder tonight.

“Stop being a creep and act like a normal person for once, Bin.”

Without even looking back, you could feel the pout on his lips. But he only let out a quick whine before following after you, his hands stuffed into his jeans.

You had hardly noticed before, but he was dressed strangely—he was in a torn to shit grey t-shirt, multiple splotches of something black plastered across his torso just above the ragged seam of where the shirt ended, holes scattered everywhere exposing glimpses of his firm chest. The jeans weren’t any better, almost completely colored black by the same substance on his shirt, baring rips at the knees and not the ones you get solely for fashion.

“By the way…” You drawled, twisting around to rake your eyes over him one last time. “What were you even doing before this?”

Changbin glanced at his attire and shrugged, the smallest glow of red covering his ears. “I’ve been working on cars for some extra money.”

Your eyebrow raised. “At night?”

“It’s the only time I have free between producing new songs and school.”

Nodding you faced back towards the dark street in front of you.

Changbin had never sparked you as a manual labor kind of guy, let alone someone who could fix cars and get paid for doing it. But after taking a moment to think about it, it made sense. He fit the scene, so to say, and it somehow added to the edgy look he already had going on for him.

You didn’t know as much about your friends as you probably should’ve.

“So you guys actually got the recording room done? Are you and Chan using it now?” You asked nonchalantly, a terrible attempt to slide Chan into the conversation. Changbin must’ve known a few things about Chan that could help you quench your nerves for the upcoming date.

Changbin sent you a sideways look, letting you know that you weren’t as slick as you thought you were.

“Ah, Chan…” He hummed, the two of you finally getting close enough to the university to discern the different buildings. “What’s up with you two?” He asked hesitantly, a hint of a frown on his brow.

“Well—I mean, I like him a lot.” You fumbled for the right words, though you knew that Changbin wasn’t one to rush you. As annoying as he could be, he was a good listener. “And he just asked me out—”

“He did?”

Well, you thought he was a good listeners

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Earlier he asked if I wanted to go out on a date or something—”

“Or something?”

You shoved him to the side, though his heavy body barely moved an inch.

“Would you stop interrupting me? I’m serious.” You huffed, frustrated.

“I am too.”

You froze—huh?

Your eyes searched his for a moment, his words not as comforting as you wanted them to be, instead his questioning only made your stomach twist in more knots than they had been in before. You really didn’t know anything about Chan, and talking to someone who did only made you hesitant about continuing with this first date of yours.

Sure, you weren’t one to believe rumors about people you barely knew—but it was the fact that you barely knew Chan that made you so nervous.

“Well I’m a little surprised that Chan asked you out.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Uh…” Changbin paused, searching for his next words carefully with a contemplative hum. “It’s nothing bad. I mean, Chan’s one of the best people I know.”

“But…?”

He stopped to wait for you to run your student ID along the sensor, listening to the automatic click of the door and using it as a stall for time. He was trying to find the right way to word what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to blindside you, nor did he want to sabotage his friend by telling you something that might steer you away.

He waited for you to take a step inside the dorms before continuing with a hushed voice.

“Chan is… very selfless let’s say. He doesn’t really take the time to date per se. He’s work oriented. Not to say he hasn’t had girlfriends before, but they never really—”

“Became anything?”

That was what you had been contemplating. If the date went wrong, could you talk to Chan afterwards? Would he still be that person you could call if you wanted to step away from the world? You couldn’t find yourself feeling upset if that happened to be the outcome.

But with the small look of suspicion that Changbin sent, his brow curling upwards, you quickly backpedaled.

“He mentioned something about it while we were on the phone.” You rushed to save yourself.

Taking your answer without question, he stopped. You were both standing outside of your room, the quiet hallway encasing the both of you and chilling you to the bone more than the night air had. Changbin bit his tongue.

“Chan is an amazing friend. But I’ve never really seen him as a boyfriend before.” He sighed, scratching his cheek. “And as much of a little shit you are… I care about you enough to want you to be happy.”

“Is this you warning me?”

“No.” His mouth formed a thin line, he really had no idea how to word anything. It was beginning to frustrate him. “Just be aware that he isn’t the most observant guy when it comes to himself, so be patient with the guy.”

Okay, that helped you none whatsoever.

You sighed, pushing your dorm door open and nodding finally for Changbin.

“Well, thank you, Bin. For walking me and all that…”

Your gratitude was pitiful, but Changbin smiled wide nonetheless, glad that he could help you out despite his advice being absolutely terrible.

“Anytime, Y/n.” He ruffled your hair before you could stop him. “But next time, call me before you decide to be stupid and walk alone agian, okay?”

You smiled.

“Yeah. I promise, Bin. Thanks—seriously.”

As you closed the door, you missed the way Changbin’s lip quirked, his ears once again shining a red in the dim lighting of the hallway. He chuckled, shaking his head.

He wished both Chan and Jisung luck—you really were a handful.

“So this is a date?”

You had absolutely no idea what to say, your nervous gaze on the road in front of you as Chan glanced over at you from his place behind the wheel of his beloved Subaru Crosstrek—he had gone on a cute spiel about how he managed to scrounge up enough money from producing his tracks to afford the down payment on the car. It was cute only because he giggled every time he mentioned some miniscule detail that wasn’t necessary for the development of the story.

He always apologized when he got off track, but those were your favorite parts.

And you still had no idea what to say.

“Yeah, Y/n. A date. Have you ever been on one of those before?” He joked, taking another turn into yet another neighborhood.

He had to have gone down at least four streets already—

“Does a slow dance at a mediocre prom count?”

“A what?”

You snorted, feeling the telltale heat of your cheeks reddening. You were such a loser, the best you could do was tell him about your failed relationships?

“I mean, Jung Wooyoung was pretty hot, so I guess it could count. Granted, Minho stepped in before he could kiss me at the end of the song.”

“You’re kidding.” He looked close to ripping his cheeks with how wide his smile was stretching.

His eyes flickered to you and a shiver ran down your spine at the way he took one hand off the wheel and leaned against the center console. You were either terrified of him crashing or really turned on by the way his biceps bulged at the movement.

You cleared your throat, “Minho was always really adamant about keeping me away from all the funny business.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately not. My brother sucks.”

Chan burst out laughing. “That’s why he pulled that, ‘what are your intentions with my baby sister’ act?”

“He didn’t.”

“He did. But he backed off so quickly, I was convinced that it was a joke.”

You nearly choked, your eyes widening as you suddenly threw yourself around to look at him, unable to feel surprised at the way he was already looking at you with a charming smile.

“He did what?”

“Yeah,” Chan shrugged, shifting back to look at the road. “I asked him why it mattered and he just kind of backed off.”

That was right—Minho was scared of Chan.

You would never forget that fun fact for as long as you lived, and it was all thanks to Bang Chan. It really had you rethinking the whole reason why you were nervous in the first place. Chan was the only person in your life that had managed to get rid of stress rather than add to it, and you were obviously worried over nothing. Chan was amazing.

And you were crazy.

You laughed, catching Chan’s attention, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips without you noticing. How you had managed to have him whipped within a matter of days was a complete mystery to him. But there he was, staring at your lips and risking his damn life while doing so. Chan was hopeful, he wanted things to go well this time, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure of that.

“Where are you taking me, you maniac?” You giggled in exasperation as he took yet another turn into a neighborhood, house stacked upon house.

Sure, it was nice to drive around with him, but you were beginning to get antsy. Even more so as Chan continued to look over at you and smirk, his smile as infuriating as it was attractive.

“We’re almost there, hold on.”

“That doesn’t tell me where—”

Turning down a dead-end, Chan lifted his hand to your mouth with an emphasized “shhh”.

Maybe he was a maniac and he was planning on killing you as soon as you reached the end of the street. You definitely wouldn’t be able to find your way back to the main road if he tried, so it was definitely a possibility.

“Don’t worry about it.” He hushed.

With a small scoff, you puckered your lips in a pout and they briefly brushed against the palm of his hand. With the action, your eyes widened as his head snapped your direction. Immediately, your lips pulled into a tight line, your stomach tying up in knots as he dropped his hand and let it fall to your thigh, causing your whole body to go ridged. What was wrong with you?

Chan chuckled, patting your thigh in an attempt to dissolve your tenseness, but it only proved to make your clothes feel much tighter than they had been before. You were physically going to melt into the seat with how hot you were getting, and you sure as hell hoped you weren’t sweating as much as you thought you were.

But the feeling of his hand wasn’t unpleasant—it was warm, but not so much that it was uncomfortable, which was surprising considering how your skin was close to melting off the bone. It simply rested there, occasionally he drummed a nonexistent beat against it with his first two fingers, though you suspected that he hadn’t even noticed that he had been doing that.

Without you realizing, he pulled the car into park, his eyes amused as he watched you stare at his hand for a little longer.

Something else—you definitely were.

“We’re here.” Chan said, lifting his hand away from your thigh to pull the key from the ignition.

You weren’t upset that he had moved his hand, but you couldn’t deny that disappointment had started to bubble up.

Looking out your window, you noticed that you were, in fact, at the end of the dead-end road. But instead of a dense thicket of trees or a mountain of concrete blocking it off, there sat a decrepit and grey building. The maroon of the bricks had been worn and chipped, and the large barn looking doors were rusted and close to falling off their hinges. You can tell that it had once been beautiful with the large stone bird watching over on a centered pedestal.

Chan opened his door to get out and you followed, despite how strange it might’ve been that he took you to an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere.

“What is this?” You asked, almost shell shocked at the sheer size of the building as you both stepped closer.

“It’s an old fire station.”

Old didn’t do the place justice—every new fire station you had seen was pristine and white, large open door garages lining the first floor. The one in front of you was nothing like the ones in town.

“I used to live in this neighborhood before I moved to Sydney. I was very young and don’t really remember much about it, but I do remember this place.” He smiled, looking up at the two storied building. “When I came back I never expected it to be still standing after fifteen years. I thought the two would’ve torn it down and built a convenience store there or something, but nope, it’s still here.”

It was nice to see his face light up while talking about something he cared about. It was endearing.

He then grabbed your hand with a small wink and dragged you forward, though you didn’t put up much of a fight at all. Every part of you screamed about how nice his hand felt around yours, how his palms weren’t too calloused to be rough but enough to want them all over the rest of your body. His pale skin pretty with the contrast of his raised veins. Veiny hands were nice… You really were just reverting back to your horny high school self, weren’t you?

You cleared your throat.

“But why did you bring me here?” You questioned, looking warily at the back of his head.

You weren’t scared, but you were almost certain that a building that was decades old wasn’t a normal date site.

“Why not?” Chan shrugged, hoping to god that you couldn’t see just how terrified he was.

“Maybe because I was expecting to go watch a movie or go to a restaurant?”

He glanced back with a raised brow. “Do you want to do those things?”

“I’d rather chew off my foot,” you admitted, catching him off guard for a moment. “But I’m trying to make you feel like the weird one here.”

Weird one indeed. He had spent the entire night before without sleep, not coming up with a new track, but thinking of where exactly to bring you. He contemplated how to explain to you the reason why he was so exhausted and jittery was because he didn’t want you to leave the date thinking that he was some average guy. Chan didn’t want you to think he was boring. So he could be weird if it meant you wanted to see him again.

You shared a smile, both of your nerves fading away with each passing second. Of course, Chan had nothing to worry about.

He proceeded to pull you through the old rickety door of the station, completely ignoring the way the visible slivers of his chest flexed when he tugged the door open with one good yank. Now that you were actually thinking about it, his outfit was one of the best you’d seen him in; a simple black muscle tee topped with a heavy denim jacket, and his jeans whitewashed and ripped.

It was simple but effective considering you couldn’t keep your eyes off the strips of flesh that peaked behind his jacket. If only the autumn breeze had taken a day off.

The further the two of you got into the building, the more excited Chan looked. His eyes lit up and there was suddenly a bounce in his step. Not to mention the way his grip on your hand tightened to the point where he was nearly cutting off the circulation. But it was nice nonetheless. You didn’t have the heart to be upset with him.

Your eyes flew around to all the different old contraptions that must’ve been shiny in their prime. With torn hoses all over the place, and precariously placed pipes, you had no idea whether to be amazed that they hadn’t succumbed to the elements or terrified that if you took one wrong step you would fall and get impaled.

Looking over at Chan, you giggled as he began to unravel a wound up hose, momentarily releasing your hand to act like a complete child.

“So what was your plan when we got here? Get me in a secluded place so you could tie me up and kill me?” You teased, offering him a smile.

Chan wanted to do two of those three things—that was for sure.

“What? You don’t want to explore this magnificent building with me?” He asked despite himself.

“So you didn’t plan some elaborate picnic with candles and fancy homemade French food?”

Chan paused for a moment, lips fighting a smile. You had built up quite the impression on him from the very moment you two met. The hours of preparation was for naught, and Chan could care less.

He hummed, “Well if you mean a blanket on the floor and take-out, then yeah. No candles though. I have a bad feeling that if we were to light any fire within ten miles of this place it would turn to dust. Which would be pretty ironic considering it is a fire station—”

“Are you rambling?”

Chan froze, mouth open to deny your question, but found that it wasn’t completely false and shut it.

“...it’s probably cold too.” He added lastly.

You smiled.

“Sounds good to me.”

You then proceeded to struggle your way up a flight of unstable spiral stairs with Chan close behind—so close that his arms were almost completely around you. He assured you that it was only so he wouldn’t be at fault if you fell. But it felt nice whenever his chest brushed lightly against your back, so you let his lame excuse slide.

The food was, in fact, cold. But it was still good since you really couldn’t go wrong with traditional Korean food.

And so the rest of the evening played out, the two of you sharing pleasantries and learning about one another, with many cracked jokes about your brother and his friends, only strategically avoiding Jisung all together.

Chan went on about his story, how he had two younger siblings back in Australia and a set of loving parents that believed in each and every one of his dreams as he grew up, and supported his pursuit of becoming a producer. You bit your tongue, keeping your questions of “do you miss them?” and “do you still see them?” to yourself. Still, Chan seemed happy enough, you thought. Considering you would be miserable if you had to spend your time with someone who complained and sulked the whole time. You were glad he could talk about his family without falling into a pit of missing them.

That date was pretty perfect, despite its oddities.

Who knew someone could be a by-the-book romantic and an original dork at the same time?

Your own thoughts had you chuckling into your water, almost making you cough, but thankfully Chan hadn’t noticed, his attention too zeroed in on all the food in front of him.

“Oh shit—I forgot all about that thing!” He suddenly exclaimed, his eyes locked on a rusty fireman’s pole that ran up into a hole in the floor. Chan hadn’t even finished his (second) bowl of food when he jumped up and ran up to the death trap. The thing didn’t even have any padding at the bottom to protect someone from breaking their legs, and he was excited about that?

Suddenly, you let out a laugh—it was the kind that comes out unexpectedly and makes a loud, unattractive noise and it surprised you both. Your hand clamped down over your mouth on impulse before your shocked expression broke, a swarm of giggles leaving your covered lips and forcing a pink tinge over your cheeks. Chan could only stare at you in awe, trying to think of everything else that could beat your laugh in the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but he came up blank.

“Come down the pole with me.”

His words had you freezing mid-laugh, eyes wide.

“What? No way am I doing that. What if I get pole burn?”

“Here,” Chan threw his jacket over your shoulders, surprising you with the flood of warmth cascading around you. “Now you can’t get pole burn.”

You pushed your arms through the arms of the jacket, silently relishing in the warm weight.

“Ah, look at you Romeo. I see that you’re trying to make up for all the years I missed going on dates. How romantic.”

“I try.”

With a wink, he was grabbing onto the pole all of a sudden and wrapping his legs around it. You barely had time to stare at the image of his thick biceps curling around the pole before he was descending down it with a laugh of his own. You leaned forward to watch him hit the floor, his knees bending to absorb the impact. He smiled up at you, the sight blinding.

“Your turn!”

“Did I ever mention that I’m kind of allergic to bad ideas?”

Chan snickered, leaning his hands on the pole and shaking it to show you just how “sturdy” the thing was. The wiggle and creak didn’t set you at ease, that was for sure.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You just watched me do it!” Was his genius response.

The night was beginning to just become you counting how many times Chan said or did something that made you think he was a child.

“Okay, I just don’t understand why you want me to go down this damn pole! Is it some right of passage or something? Do you only go out with the girls who have the balls to do something this stupid?”

“Slide down here and find out.”

He got you there. You really did want to find out.

So you bit the inside of your cheek and wrapped your shaky hands around the rust crusted pole. How Chan managed to do so so easily without sleeves was baffling and a little sexy for whatever stupid reason. You had a thick layer of denim protecting you, and you still felt like you were going to be filleted open.

“Don’t think about it,” he encouraged with a soft voice. “Just jump. I’ve got you.”

And at the words of a poet, you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, taking a step off the wooden floor and letting gravity pull you down. You could hear the rust tug and catch on the fabric of Chan’s jacket, but only for a second, because it only lasted a second before you felt hands grab your sides and pillow your impact. A surge of adrenaline had you breathing heavy as Chan cheered lightly in your ear.

“There. You did it.” He poked your forehead with a chuckle, getting you to open your blown eyes. “You have successfully completed the initiation.”

Your heart felt heavy and beat hard against your ribs as he straightened you out, hands finding purchase in his jacket. Subtly he was admiring how you looked in his clothes, but he would never admit that sappy fact to anyone.

You smiled; admittedly shakily. “Ah, yes. Validation. My favorite.”

Chan admired how you could keep releasing quips despite your fear. You weren’t one to be deterred, that was for sure.

“You have an unlimited supply of sarcasm in you, huh?”

“I don’t know. It hasn’t run out yet.”

He smiled and you smiled, it was a good moment—the best of the day. A moment where you were glad you listened to him and literally took the leap. Ready to take another one, your eyes dropped to his lips and his dropped to yours.

And he finally leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours.

You weren’t completely caught off guard, but you definitely were. His hand that wasn’t preoccupied with fiddling with your fingers found your face, palm cupping your jaw and urging your head to tilt to meet his kiss better. It was gentle, as you had expected from Chan, and you were thankful for that.

His lips were softer than you expected and you prayed that the hand that held your cheek wouldn't be able to feel the way your face was burning. The way he intertwined your fingers was more intimate than the kiss itself and you couldn’t help but feel yourself getting light-headed. You lost yourself to the way your shared breaths echoed around the large room every time your lips separated only to reconnect again immediately.

Your first kiss—well, your first real kiss. Surely that one you had shared with Kang Chanhee back in your first year of high school didn’t count. You had only gotten away with it since Minho was home sick that day, anyway.

It was much warmer than your last kiss, that was for sure. His jacket kept you shielded from the cold air and his body secreted a natural heat that had you pressing closer, which in turn sent him a signal to push forward as well.

Suddenly, his teeth bit down on the sensitive flesh of your lip, pulling a taut gasp from your throat.

The noise had Chan withholding a groan, pushing him to break the passionate exchange, his hazy eyes meeting your wide ones.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice small and unsure.

He could see the way your lips shined with not only your spit but his own. In some sick and twisted way, he was pleased to see the redness that the kiss brought to your puckered lips. It was satisfying. It was a sort of claim, and he was proud to hold it.

"Nothing. Just admiring my work." He grinned.

You hardly had time to register his words when the hand wrapped around yours was used to yank you forward, Chan’s mouth finding yours once again in a quick peck, leaving you just about a hundred degrees warmer than you originally felt.

[5uptic]

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Summary: Steve is a mess and 5up is worse.

I hear a Symphony by AwkwardAce (5up/Fundy, unrated, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: He exhaled until his lungs ached for air, fingers twitching as he opted to remove the sleek white gloves he wore in a feeble effort to soothe himself. It didn’t work. He wrung his trembling hands together as his eyes raked down the worn leather case taking in the doodles- some etched some drawn- across the faded surface. He snapped the buckles open and his breath hitched, catching in his already tight throat. For a moment the world span, his head throbbed and he wanted nothing more than to run and hide. 5up breathed out slowly, shakily.

staring by lytriis (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: steve asks 5up out. 5up doesn’t know how to respond.

and it's four am, and yet, you're here by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: in which steve shows up at 5up's house, in the middle of the night, completely spontaneously

more than this by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve catches 5up venting.

3:15 by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve tries to guess Five's name. It's much more difficult than he anticipated.

things were different by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: His eyes circled around to his friends, Kimi and Janet engaging in pleasant comversation, sleepy and becoming increasingly more sober. He looked, finally, across him, and caught Dumbdog staring at him. What now bro, what did this guy want. small talk, turns into not small talk, then there's no talk

Once Upon A Dream by SmearedWords (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: 5up looks ethereal, while Steve is struggling to breathe. "You're not real either." Or: Steve has a crush and a nightmare in three parts, 5up is tired, the crew life is hard and Polus sucks.

the ones you love will call you back by homeward_bound (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.8k words)

Summary: stevesuptic: dude, is it weird that i miss vegas   DumbDog: No? I do too.   stevesuptic: okay [steve misses vegas and apollo. they talk about it]

cough it out by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: Apollo thinks that Steve must be well and truly gone, at this point, because he giggles, like Apollo’s just told a particularly funny joke. He looks Apollo right in the eye and asks, “Do you trust me?” “Absolutely not.”

ivy by Secular_Czar (5up/Steve, teen rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: It might be a sad day, in general, but Steve isn't about to let it get to him. His friends won't ever let him wallow either.

The Colosseum by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: Five squinted, looking at the colosseum intensely. He thinks Apollo was latched onto the sphinx’s shoulder, fur matted with blood. Janet was slumped against a column, probably out, with Kimi whose bow was snapped in two, her leg twisted at an odd angle. DK was in the corner trying to cast various supporting hexes and charms with a broken arm, whilst Hafu was dragging a heavily bandaged Steve away. or 5up slaughters a cat

Oneshots :) by woofles1990 (5up/Fundy, 5up/Steve, teen rating, multi | 2.5k words, oneshot collection)

Summary: Just a bunch of MCYT/Among Us oneshots, mainly featuring 5up's crew because yes :)

the adventures of 5up and steve staying up late because they're under 30 by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.5k words)

Summary: “The night is young!” Steve yells at the ceiling, throwing his hands up in the air. “Take advantage of it! Commit crimes! Fuck hoes!” Five catches his hands in the air and laughs. “You wish you had hoes.”

unreasonably in love by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.6k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "It was like pieces of a puzzle, everything coming together. And now, here they are, standing in their apartment, which looks more like a hollow shell than a home, filled solely with scattered boxes and the minuscule amount of furniture that they brought with them to Vegas." Or: what happens after Apollo and Steve move in together.

cant be love by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.5 words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: He had chuckled to himself, he felt so stupid. Who in their fucking minds names a playlist 'sugr?', he thought, internally cringing. A story where a Steve meets an Apollo, and some things happen.

Somewhere in the darkness, us together for a while by tumtummeke (Apollo & Kimi & Steve, teen rating, gen | 3.6k words)

Summary: Apollo worries about Steve. Steve breaks his vape pen. Kimi plays power washer. Self-indulgent angst, with a generous helping of friendship and cuddles.

odyssey by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 23k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens...they warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. Therefore pass these Sirens by and stop your men's ears with wax that none of them may hear." -Homer, The Odyssey

Also: SilverSprinklez10‘s yupwaves collection.

Summary: This is a Harry Potter AU based on the characters/personas of the youtubers/streamers.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s), if there is one/multiple], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k] ([added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not)])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji... you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed (but this is the first one! lol).

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

[xo-gossipwitch]

Seen Colin C and Astoria G graffitied the wall outside Professor Binns office. I didn’t know they even knew each other.

While the mouse is away tending to a friend, the cat will play. I hear that Ms. Innocent Greengrass earned herself a few nights of detention with the castle's resident cameraman. Professor Binns wasn't all that thrilled with his new classroom decor.

Nott, do you know where your girl is tonight?

~xoxo, Gossip Witch

"I'm not innocent," Astoria huffed, tossing the piece of parchment as she reached for the sponge. She wrung it out over the bucket before pressing it against the wall.

"I can't believe he's making us do this without magic," Colin laughed, nudging Astoria with his shoulder as he swiped the sponge over the top of their collage. He had pressed upon his tiptoes once before and almost lost his balance. This time he decided to clean as far as he could. After they were done with the part of their design they could both reach, they could figure out how they would clean the rest of it.

Colin glanced at Astoria out of the corner of his eye and noticed a smile on her face. That was something he hadn't seen on her in a very long time. In fact, he hadn't seen a genuine smile on her face since she started dating Nott. He knew she was happy with him, but it seemed like most days, she was afraid to be herself. She was always trying to be bigger than her sister, competing for everyone's attention because she was always in Daphne's shadow. It made him so mad to think that anyone was struggling to see that Astoria was anything less than amazing.

Colin hated to admit it, but he was jealous of Theo. That's why he had been more than happy to share some of his knowledge of Theo's whereabouts with Gossip Witch. He needed Astoria to see Theo as the low-life that he was, even if Theo was a good guy. He just wasn't the right fit for Astoria. Colin just needed to get Astoria to see that.

"Who called you innocent?" Colin asked, attempting to focus on the task at hand. All he wanted to do was bask in Astoria's beauty and enjoy the fact that she was hanging out with him for more than just a study break.

"Gossip Witch," Astoria shrugged, bending over to resoak her sponge. "Apparently, our artistic endeavor was gossip-worthy."

"That's pretty cool," Colin replied, flashing a smile towards her.

"I know, right?" Astoria replied, her cheeks glowing pink as she smiled back at him. "I think she's trying to get Theo's attention away from Daphne, though."

"Why would you say that?" Colin asked, furrowing his brow as he bent down to get more water for his sponge. He was trying his hardest not to roll his eyes at the mention of Theo's name, but he knew that as long as the two of them were together, he would be forced to listen to her talk about him.

"Because you know how she is," Astoria sighed, shaking her head as she focused on a spot of the mural that was being particularly stubborn. "She likes to paint pictures with her words, and everyone loves them. They eat them up like it's their last meal on Earth, no matter how many lies are lurking around the stories. Every word is chosen for a reason to get under someone's skin."

Colin nodded his head slowly. "Go on."

"I don't even know where I could continue to," Astoria laughed, turning to lean up against the wall. She dropped her sponge into the bucket, causing a splash. She crossed her arms over her chest and took a deep breath. "I just wish she'd go away. I'm sick of her sticking her nose into my relationship. I just want to be happy."

"Are you happy with Theo?" Colin asked, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He looked Astoria up and down as he waited for an answer.

Astoria lowered her head and found a knot on the floor to focus on. She wasn't sure how to answer his question. There were certainly times that she was happy in her relationship with Theo, but for every happy moment, there were pieces of parchment that would come floating down that made her question everything she thought she knew. She trusted Theo more than she had ever trusted anyone, but she also knew her sister.

Daphne had a way of getting exactly what she wanted from people without them even realizing that she was pulling them into her web. Sure, Daphne would apologize when she crossed a line, but Astoria had been on the receiving end of those apologies too many times to know just how insincere they were. If Daphne wanted Theo, then it wouldn't take much for her to be able to steal him away from Astoria. And no matter how many times Astoria pretended that her sister would never do that to her, the reality would set in after every blast that Gossip Witch shared.

"Tori?" Colin asked, reaching out and looping his finger under her chin. He lifted her head to look at him and took a step forward. Colin moved his hand to cup her cheek as he brushed gently across her skin with his thumb.

He stared at her for a few moments before his eyes fluttered closed as he leaned down. The kiss caught them both off guard at first, but after the initial shock faded its way, they both gave into the kiss. Astoria's arms wrapped around Colin's neck and his hands rested on her waist. They stayed that way for a few moments until reality sank in.

Astoria's eyes went wide as she pulled away from Colin. She pushed herself off the wall and made her way past him, refusing to look back when he called her name. This was the last thing she needed in her life right now.

~xoxo, Gossip Witch ~

Want to be a part of the Gossip Witch fun?

This story is meant to be slightly interactive. Submit anonymous blasts about the students at Hogwarts and you might find your prompt used as inspiration in a future chapter! Submit your blasts to the @xo-gossipwitch blog on tumblr.

Thanks for continuing to inspire this story!

[pixieungerstories]

The Captive - 8

Ben was snoring slightly in the other bedroom.  He hadn’t let Elly even change the slightly musty sheets, just taken the offered water and aspirin before he climbed in and passed out.  Elly was curled up in bed with an 1890’s treatise about the drafting of patterns for ladies undergarments.  It was weird and obscure and highly recommended by a history blog she followed.  Bernie was right, it was much more interesting than you would expect.

She heard George moving around down there.  The door to the stairs opened and closed then the house went still and quiet. Elly found herself staring at the opposite wall and straining her ears to pick up any sounds that were not Ben.

The only other sound in the house was a soft shuffling from the attic.

Elly jumped out of bed and turned the light on in her room.  Then the one in the bathroom on too.  She pulled out her phone and put on an audio book then hunkered down and pulled the covers up to her chin.  She tried to concentrate on the idea of crocheting an afgan or some fool thing the ladies were always after her to try.  Something to take her mind off of it.

She wasn’t sure that would actually help.

There was a monster in the basement and the distinct possibility that she would die a fiery death.  God only knew what the hell was going on in the attic.  It would be nice to be out of the yarn business, but she really wanted to be out of the whole damn house.  It wasn’t even like there was anyone she could talk to about this.  There wasn’t exactly a ‘there’s a mythical beast in my basement’ facebook group she could join.

Maybe she could at least talk to Ben now.  If he remembered in the morning.  If he didn’t just run screaming.  Not that she could blame him.

In theory, she could just go.  Pack up her bag, head out in the morning and be on a flight around the world before he even missed her.  But then what? A sister or cousin might be sent in her place.  George might also get angry and hurt someone.  Elly didn’t really want that on her conscience.  Especially after that threat display at Ben.  It had worked.  She did feel threatened.

The lights flickered.  Elly got up and started pacing.  Tea!  Or warm milk maybe.  She had a good recipe for warm milk that was very nearly a drinkable pudding.  And it would give her something to fuss over while she tried to relax.  The problem with knowing about George was that it made it really hard to tell yourself that ghosts aren't real and you had just dreamed the shadowy figure standing over your bed.

Elly shivered, then whirled to look behind her.

She hadn’t ever seen the thing when she was clearly awake, but she had woken up to see it standing over her bed a few times now.  Was Ben safe?  Was she?  

Elly turned to look behind her again.  The problem was, there was no matter which way she faced, there was always a blind spot behind her.  Finally she just accepted that she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight and went downstairs to clean the kitchen.  Ben wasn’t going to want to do that with a hangover in the morning.

----

It was after midnight and Elly had not only cleaned the kitchen, she had dusted the shop and had a hard look at her inventory.  If she sold off the looms and spinning wheels, she could start by converting that section to books.  Starting with knitting books, so she could sneak up on people.  Then add baking and cook books, that would be a natural progression from having the bakery on site.  

She could, possibly, just keep expanding the books and reducing the yarn.  Maybe keep the sock yarn.  It was the best seller and could eventually fit in the craft section.

“Elly?”  She jumped, then turned to see George watching her from the bakery.  “I brought you a gift.”

She blinked, “That’s nice.  Thank you George.”

“You have to come get her.”

“Whoa!  Wait!  Her?”  Elly asked

George held out his hand.  Cradled in his palm was a small black kitten.

“Where did you get a kitten?”  Elly demanded, rushing forward to take the sleeping bundle of fur.

“Someone has been killing cats.  They got the mom and the rest of the litter.  This one was hiding in the dark.   Keep her safe.  Don’t let her outside.”

Elly hesitated, “When you say killing cats …” she trailed off.  George was glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him.  In her hands. The kitten yawned and stretched, its tiny razor sharp claws pricking at Elly’s hands.  It blinked up and mewed piteously.   Elly stared into its eyes.  “I’ve never seen a cat with brown eyes before.  Gold or amber, sure, but not like this.”

George turned back to look at her, “The mother was black with white feet, the other kittens were black and white.  Whoever did this was gone before I got there.”

The kitten started to squirm awkwardly and Elly rushed over to set her on the stack of newspapers she was throwing out.  They barely made it. By the time she got things cleaned up, George was gone.  Elly sighed and looked down at kitten.  “At least you are old enough to poop on your own.  OK.  Let’s go google how to keep you alive.”

—-

Elly spent the rest of the night learning about kittens. George’s present had tall ears, for a cat, black fur and human like brown eyes. The overall effect was a little creepy. It also made no sense. From what Elly could find, this little piece of fluff was a Bombay. Or, at least, matched the characteristics for a Bombay. Except, Bombay kittens sold upwards of 700 dollars each.

The kitten mewed where it was sitting on her shoulder and gave Elly’s earring a suckle before going full cat loaf and purring itself to sleep. 

“You’re are completely ridiculous cat,” Elly mumbled.

“You need to sleep, treasure,” George commented from the doorway. Elly managed not to jump though she wondered how long he’d been lurking there.

“The shop opens in-”

“The shop is closed for repairs,” George insisted. “Hungover bakers need a day off and you will need to talk to the boy when he wakes.”

Elly sighed. She didn’t like much George telling her what to do, but she couldn’t disagree with him. She nodded as she got up to hang the “Gone Fishing” sign on the door that hadn’t been used since Ina’s death. She then flopped on the couch, pulled down the afghan and fell asleep. 

[supremeuppityone]

Chapter 116: The Moral in the Mafia

Author’s note: This was written for Klaroline Bingo @klaroline-events. Prompt: Mafia AU. 

You can read the sequel here.

So what if she got mugged and her mother’s ring was stolen? Caroline’s never been one to back down, and she heard the local mob boss might be an honorable criminal...

Warning: Some violence.

“Judges, lawyers and politicians have a license to steal. We don’t need one.”

— Carlo Gambino

           There should be a special place in hell for morning people. Unfortunately, the best time to take advantage of the natural beauty found within the golden hour was the brief period immediately after sunrise. Caroline grumbled as she set up her phone camera, finding the perfect angle nestled in the elbow of the bronze statue. She was in Jackson Square to capture her new workout routine for Sassy Sunshine, her positivity blog, and as much as she disliked mornings, she knew her subscribers would appreciate seeing the beauty of New Orleans at first light.

           A noise startled her, but she only spared a casual glance around the empty park before resuming her warmup. Putting on a smile, she opened her mouth to begin her monologue with her signature phrase, ‘sunshine starts with you,’ when an arm unexpectedly shot out, choking her. Heart hammering in her chest, she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Blue eyes wide and fearful, she couldn’t help but notice the edge of a ferocious-looking wolf tattoo winding its way along the pale forearm that grabbed her.

           She stopped struggling as she realized it was the signature mark of the most notorious mafia in the south. “What do you want,” Caroline asked, hating how her voice wavered.

           “Your ring, to start,” he rasped, the cold, emotionless tone making her shiver.

           He roughly spun her around, and she quickly lashed out with her sneaker, catching him in the balls. “Bitch,” he grunted, doubling over briefly. Unfortunately, he still managed to catch her as she tried to run away, his fist glancing off of her cheek.

           Caroline cried out as fire exploded across her face, and she understood why after she spied the gaudy silver ring on his finger. He reached for her, brown eyes glittering with malice, and in an instant, she was frozen. The darkness she read in his gaze. His intentions.

           Fortunately, several joggers came into the park, and her assailant cursed as whatever terrible things he’d planned had been foiled. Lunging forward, he grabbed her hand, wrenching off her ring as painfully as possible. Her mother’s ring! “No, stop,” she screamed as he ran off, holding her hand to her chest as the knuckle throbbed and bled. The joggers uselessly stared, then resumed their morning workout as though nothing had happened.

           Seriously?! Caroline was furious and frightened and practically vibrating in her skin as she started throwing all of her gear back into her tote bag. It was when she grabbed her phone that she realized the video had been recording the entire attack. Got him. She briefly considered rushing it to the police and filing a report, but that idea lost its luster when she reminded herself of who she was dealing with. Klaus Mikaelson.

           As the formidable mob boss of the notorious Mikaelsons, he ran the south, and everyone knew that he’d made New Orleans his personal playground. He had the cops in his pocket, and all but the worst of criminals dared to cross him and his family. However, there were whispers that despite his fearsome reputation, at times he could be honorable. Attacking an unarmed woman didn’t seem like something Klaus would sanction. Normally, she’d never behave so recklessly, but she didn’t have a choice. She was getting back her mother’s ring.

           Despite the rumors she’d indulged in over the years, she had no idea what Klaus looked like, and only a vague idea of how to find him. Lightly touching her cheek, she winced, hoping the black eye that bastard probably gave her wouldn’t be more than her concealer could handle — the last thing she wanted to do was answer awkward questions from her blog followers. Although a run-in with the mafia might do wonders for her blog stats. She hopped on her bike, pleased that at this time of day, Decatur Street was nearly deserted and she could take it most of the way to the Port of New Orleans.

           Everyone knew that the Mikaelsons controlled the port — nothing got in or out of this city without their approval. Klaus’ people always could be found there in the heart of his territory. She smartly steered her bike past the shadowy stacks of enormous industrial containers, knowing better than to attract the attention of some sleazy wharf rat lurking in a dark corner. Once she arrived at the more populated (and slightly safer) cruise terminal, she chained her bike to a rack and casually glanced around.

           She noticed the dealer before he saw her, and she rolled her eyes at his incompetence. Isn’t that part of their job to be hyperaware of what’s going on around them? She wondered how the entire Mikaelson organization ran on such poor hiring practices. She kept her eye contact to a minimum, not wanting to draw too much attention in case she scared him off. She didn’t have time to chase down a dealer all morning. The kid couldn’t be more than 18 or 19, and he looked ready to bolt the second she got to him. She didn’t blame him — she was completely out of her element in this situation.

           “Um...” Caroline began uncertainly, “I need to see Klaus.”

           “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

           Nope. She did not ride her bike all the way down to the docks just to be stopped by some clueless middleman. “Seriously?! I’m betting underneath that dirty hoodie you’re wearing there’s a Mikaelson wolf tattoo on your forearm.” She snidely added, “And now for the bonus round — on the other arm, you’ve got some tacky barbed wire, right?”

           “Bitch,” he spat, fists curling at his sides.

           An accented voice interrupted them, a hint of reproach in his tone as he said, “Jeremy, that’s no way to talk to a lady.” He tilted his dark head as he studied her, mouth curving into a half-smile as he asked, “What can I do for you, gorgeous?”

           “You’re Klaus Mikaelson.” At his brief nod, she explained, “I have business to discuss.”

           He wordlessly led her to an office perched over the docks, overlooking the river. As he gestured for her to sit down, he asked in an amused voice, “Would you care for a cafe au lait or perhaps some beignets, Miss...?”  

           She observed him carefully, taking in his neatly tailored suit with the iridescent lapels and chunky gold cufflinks and his brash, almost charming demeanor. “I’m Caroline. But you aren’t Klaus Mikaelson. You’re too flashy and clearly overcompensating. A man like Klaus Mikaelson doesn’t need to show off. Now, tell me where I can find him.”

           “Right here, sweetheart.”

           Caroline turned, blue eyes widening as she took him in. The man before her was unexpectedly beautiful. Sculpted cheekbones, dirty blonde curls carelessly tousled, and a dimpled smirk that whispered lewd promises. “There you are. Finally,” she said irritably.

           Klaus’ gray eyes twinkled as he wryly observed, “Normally, Enzo performs quite admirably as a stand-in. Tell me, how did you see through him?”

           “Please. Real power radiates. Enzo barely sparks.”

           Klaus let out a delighted chuckle, waving a grumbling Enzo out of the office and took the black leather chair across from Caroline. “You don’t belong here. You must want to speak with me very badly, love,” he said shrewdly.

           She stiffened a bit at his words, trying to decide whether to be insulted. “I like to think I can fit in anywhere.” She glanced down, reddening a bit as she realized she was still wearing her lilac sports bra and cropped pants. One of her sponsorships was with a luxury brand boutique, so at least her outfit was attractive, but she felt distinctly underdressed while sitting across from an impossibly gorgeous man in a ten-thousand-dollar suit. A dangerous man, she sternly reminded herself as she fought back a flicker of interest. “I’m here because I was robbed in Jackson Square just now. By one of yours.”  

           He eyed her speculatively, but remained frustratingly silent. She had the distinct feeling she was watching a jungle cat patiently wait for its meal to make a foolish mistake. Her hand shook as she unlocked her phone, and she hurriedly explained, “He interrupted me while I was filming for my blog and I caught everything on video. Word is you’re an honorable man...sort of, and I don’t think you’d allow your men to just go around attacking unarmed women.”

           “I’m curious as to why you didn’t immediately turn this evidence over to the police. You seem the type to find great comfort in law enforcement.”

           “Seriously?! You are the police! And anyone who thinks differently is either a tourist or a clueless idiot,” Caroline retorted, mentally berating herself for losing her temper. You’re here to get help from this criminal. Stop yelling at the scary criminal, dumbass.

           His lips twitched as though he was fighting back a smile. “And how do you know I’m a ‘sort of honorable man’, as you so generously put it?”

           “You bought the building Sheila Bennett’s tea shop was in after her jackass landlord kept raising the rent and you reinstated her rental agreement from a decade ago,” she told him, secretly pleased that she seemed to have surprised him. “I grew up with her granddaughter.”

           “When you compare that simple act with my endless string of horrifying misdeeds, it hardly qualifies me as a saint, sweetheart. Perhaps I just enjoy tea.”

           With an annoyed huff, she realized Klaus was more than content to continue this weird flirtation, but she was on a mission and didn’t have time for dangerous criminal murder flirting. “Look, I’m here because your employee stole my mother’s ring. It’s all I have left from her and I need it back. Please.” She tacked on the please at the last minute, hating how just the thought of her mother still almost brought her to tears. “See for yourself.”

           Klaus noticed her wince as her knuckle grazed her phone case, and his voice became low and dangerous as he growled, “Did my employee injure your hand? What about that black eye?”

           “Yes.” Not bothering to elaborate, Caroline held up her phone and played the video. Together, they watched her attack, but she kept finding her gaze strayed to the enigmatic man before her, surprised to see anger flash across his face.

           There was a strained silence between them once the video stopped, and the room felt heavy with...something. “Right. It seems I know the lad responsible and will handle this personally. You have my word, love.”

           “Um...so should I meet you back here or...” she trailed off uncertainly, still shocked that her plan worked. She was getting back her mother’s ring. Because she trusted Klaus.

           Klaus favored her with an impish wink, telling her, “I’ll just follow the sunshine. After all, it starts with you.”

                                 _________________________________

           The package came by messenger later that evening. Caroline still was trying to wrap her head around the fact that notorious mob boss Klaus Mikaelson apparently subscribed to her positivity blog. She had so many questions. She eagerly tore into the first box, relieved to see that it contained her mother’s ring. It unexpectedly had been polished until the small sapphires swirling across the middle gleamed. Klaus had her ring cleaned.

           But what truly put a smile on her face was the second box that contained the gaudy silver ring that had belonged to her assailant, faint smears of blood along one edge.

           Along with a note in exquisite calligraphy that asked, “Dinner tomorrow?”

[meat-husband]

Hi! I hope your having a nice day and I’d like to request something. I saw that you responded the classic slashers as dogs and was wondering what would they be as pets? Your blog is great btw!

Ooh that’s interesting! I don’t really know much about pets other than cats and dogs so I’ll stick to different breeds of those!

Brahms

Definitely a dog. One of the fancy breeds, something like a poodle or bichon that you have to groom (good luck with that). Just big enough that he’s not the size to be a little lapdog, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. 

One of those dogs that cannot be left alone, even for a moment. He knows the rules, but the second your back is turned, your shoes are being chewed up and he’s rolling all over that antique sofa you trained him not to jump on. 

There is a lot of separation anxiety here, and it doesn’t just manifest in some barking and waiting at the door for your return. You are abandoning him and he’s going to bring the whole house down in revenge. 

This is a one pet household and he’ll make sure it stays that way. Even human visitors are met with hostility, so you have to lock him up in baby jail if you want to have anyone over, or risk getting sued when he bites someone. 

Michael

Hatred for dogs. Stalking. Quiet. Senseless murder. One hundred percent a cat. No specific breed, just a shorthair stray that lurks around the neighborhood and no one is quite sure if he has an owner or not. 

You go downstairs in the morning to see him lounging on your counter, waiting for breakfast, but you don’t have a cat. He regularly breaks in to make himself at home anyways, so get used to it. 

Not into being petted, but he loves to trick you into trying it anyways to get you close enough to scratch. He’s perfected the ‘please pet my belly so I can trap your hand’ routine, but you fall for it every time. 

Anything you leave on a table, counter or mantle is getting pushed right off. You can never catch him at it, but the sound of something expensive shattering as it lands on the ground, followed by him streaking out of the room at top speed, always lets you know who is responsible. 

Bubba

One of those tiny, trembly little chihuahuas that hides under tables and barks non stop when someone comes over. Everything is big and scary, please pick him up!

He’s a barker (or yapper) and it’s the most deafening, high pitched sound you’ve ever heard. Anything is enough to get him started and he doesn’t stop until you scoop him up. 

He might be a chihuahua, but he’s a chonker, waddling around like a fat little potato with big eyes. You’d never know that he was the runt of the litter, because now he’s three times as big as any of the others. 

He’s a little too short to properly jump onto furniture by himself, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He’ll get a running start only to smack into the side of the couch, so you have to be the one to get him up. 

Thomas

Big feral barn cat that looks like he’s been in quite a few fights. You can always tell when you’ve entered the room he’s in, because you hear an ominous yowl from wherever he’s hiding. It takes a long time for him to warm up to you, but he’s amazingly cuddly once he decides he likes you. 

Hides behind corners and ambushes your ankles at every opportunity, and if you happen to move your feet under any kind of blanket, he’ll attack that too. It would be cute if he wasn’t so vicious about it, clawing up your legs every time you try to leave the couch. 

He can tolerate people as long as they leave him alone, and cats are sometimes okay, but he hates dogs. There’s no hesitation to launch himself at the nearest canine, spitting and hissing, but at least he’s big enough that he’ll probably win any fight he starts. 

Strictly an indoor cat, he picks one area that he likes the best, usually one with a good hiding spot, and stays there. His preferred spot is under the bed, so he tends to keep to your room, occasionally wandering out to come keep you company. 

Jason

One of those big, tubby cats with the smooshed in faces. The biggest cat you’ve ever seen, with patchy fur and crooked teeth that make him look a little rough. 

You can’t stand up without him twisting around your legs, chirping and meowing at you. He’s always in the same room as you, so don’t you dare try to close the bathroom door on him. 

Single handedly responsible for the eradication of most of the small animals within a certain radius of your house. Anything from birds, rodents and even other cats are in danger when they step on your property. 

He’s an indoor-outdoor cat, no matter how hard you try to keep him inside. He’ll bust through window screens, dart out any door left open too long, and wedge himself into any opening he can find in his bid to escape. Also has a classic case of ‘let me outside - no wait, I want back in’, so you’re kept busy listening for his cries for the door to be opened. 

Vincent 

Doggo! He’s big, but it’s mostly height rather than weight, and he will make use of that to get into places he shouldn’t, putting his paws on counters and tables to reach forbidden snacks. 

Try to stop him all you want, he’s sleeping in the bed with you. No curling up by your feet either, he’s half on top of you and slowly scooting closer and closer the entire night. 

He does alright around other animals, but you are not allowed to pet another dog. Every time you return home, he’s on you instantly, sniffing around to make sure you haven’t been out there giving someone else head pats. 

Loses his mind when he sees another animal outside the window, and barks at every dog that appears on TV. Whenever you turn it on, he’s right next to you on the couch, vigilantly watching the screen. 

[crexymonster]

Inner thoughts: Must. Get. English. Translation. Hunter +Kareshi Book. Thanks for posting that Kareshi had another book, I only thought there was one. I'm a fan of you zoldyck Angel blog and your headcanons, posts, and scenarios. I'm glad you're back for a while. Can you do a Nobunaga hazama nsfw or sfw scenario please? Nobody writes scenarios for him like other writer do for the Adult trio or trouble trio.

I know I was thinking the same thing! I need a translation of the entire book. hahaha. and you’re welcome! I’m glad you’re a fan of my HxH blog. And you’re so right! There is not much for poor Nobunaga. So here is an NSFW scenario for him with a Fem! s/o! I hope you enjoy! :)

Spring Showers

Fresh buds of spring, the leaves of cherry trees, a brilliant and vibrant green, and their pink blossoms ready to bloom at a moment notice. Frogs in a hurry hop across dirt road once frozen over with ice and snow to produce the next generation of peepers. 

School children race home laughing and running through puddles dotting their clothes with mud enjoying the warmer temperatures. The world was colorful and warm despite the light drizzle of cold showers of the changing of seasons.

A single repetitive clank of sandals of a woman are covered amongst the noises of spring but often she is overlooked but not that she minded. She holds onto a pink umbrella keeping her body sheltered from the rain.

 Her path always the same though she had no rhyme or reason to walk these roads. She listens as she walks to the frogs croaking, and the children laughing while breathing in the sweet aroma of flowers of cherry trees that had yet bloomed.

She turns on to an almost hidden path, and walks up a steep cobbled pathway which is missing some bricks from the passage of time but she is careful. She journeys this way every day when spring breezes sweep over the valley. 

She takes her time, the rain pelting her umbrella becoming the only noise she can hear as she moves further away from civilization, to a hidden world.

The aroma of cherry trees are stronger as she breaches the top of the hill. She opens her eyes and at the top of the hill is the first cherry tree in full bloom. 

She smiles but not because spring is finally here but at who sat beneath the tree. 

She walks closer to the man who chose to take shelter under the cherry tree during spring shower and offers her umbrella to him, rain hitting her kimono and making the cloth and her back damp.

The man, a swordsman, opens his eyes and stares at the woman muttering, “Took you long enough, woman.”

She frowns taking back the offered umbrella and turns around with a small, “ummp.”

As quickly she came she leaves. She closes her eyes and begins walking away, the sound of sandals once more clanking against cobblestone flattening any of the pink petals which have fallen from the rain. The swordsman with a ponytail bunched high on his head of silky black hair eyes widen.

“Wait, woman. Don’t be like that,” he yells after thinking about what just occurred.

She doesn’t respond and she continues walking slowly away, her umbrella twirling, the patterns on top of the umbrella becoming one giant moving blur.

He rubs the side of his head watching her figure get further away. He was annoyed with her and himself and he doesn’t stay sitting for long, he stands up and chases after her, thinking this woman was going to be the death of him.

He grabs her arm abruptly his strength like a brute not at all like a gentleman. He didn’t know any manners or any boundaries and she stares at his hand on her forearm a frown still on her face before she looks up at him in the eyes.

He had just as bad of a frown as she carried on her face though she had a little more practice dealing with this man with a wandering soul.

“Yes,” she asks her voice carrying her disdain into her tone.

“I told you to wait, (Name). What are your ears clogged with earwax?” he asks his hand still holding her arm tightly.

“Earwax? I believe that would be you, I told you my name enough times yet you get me confused with this person named woman. Now unhand me you brute,” she rebukes him and she moves the arm he has captured a little bit letting him know she wanted him to unhand her.

“Woman…” he mutters before he sighs loudly, “(Name) now hold on. Don’t be like that…”

“Be like what, Nobu? You tell me, I’m beginning to think I am just a whore of many as I hear woman gossiping about. I’m a joke in town,” she states sounding completely unhappy, her eyes even averting from his face.

“Wom- (Name),” Nobu says his voice trailing.

“Don’t you going, (Name), (Name). It won’t work this time on me!  I bet you have one in each city or place. I’m just a pit stop, a good time and yet here I get excited with each spring knowing you will be arriving. Though how many years will I continue hoping you’ll stay here with me? Or should I rephrase and say when will it be when you never show your face here again?”

“(Name)..” Nobu says again his voice trailing not knowing what to say to her to reassure her. He was part of the spider and he never knows when he would be slain in battle so he couldn’t make any promises with her.

“You can’t even produce a lie to comfort me,” she whispers and the umbrella she held so tightly is ripped from her hand by a strong gust of wind.

The wind carries not only her umbrella but petals of cherry blossoms into the sky and off into the distance far where the two at odds stood bare to the rain’s touch.

Nobu lifts her chin, and she lets him. Her eyes are wet and so is her face but he couldn’t tell for sure if it was the rain’s fault or he thought he had a good idea it was him who made her cry if it weren’t just the rain.

She makes a face and tugs her arm free feeling his hand loosen its hold and she bolts. She doesn’t create much distance between them because the thong on her right foot breaks and she falls, a small cry of surprise escaping her mouth before she hits the ground. 

She doesn’t wait for Nobu to help her up, sniffling as she tries to push herself up, her arms shaking terribly. Mud drips off her face and her pretty kimono hitting the ground with splats and puddles with splashes.

She hiccups before she starts to cry loudly even the rain unable to hide her sadness.  

Blood from scrapes and cuts from the fall meld with the endless rains disappearing and not revealing she was injured from her tumble. 

She doesn’t dare ask for help to stubborn and stuck in her own ways, she wasn’t a young girl anymore and she would feel completely foolish to ask for help to stand on her legs again although she desperately wanted to call his name and cling to him.

She starts to get to her knees and then her feet but she is scooped up. She hits his chest angrily, but he doesn’t feel pain, her hits weren’t even an annoyance. He deserved every last hit and yell that came from her, she was his and she had to deal with him after all. He would tolerate everything she did but he would not tolerate her putting her well being in danger or get sick over him.  

He starts to walk in the direction of her home but the rain instead of letting up, starts to pour cats and dogs. He starts to run with her in his arms sobbing and hitting him with her fists but he refuses to let go. 

He thinks as he runs through his feet are already decided on the where to go before his brain had yet decided. He splashes through puddles and mud and puddle water splashes and gets on his Japanese robe already drenched from the rain.  

“No,” she cries out through hiccups and snorts, snot running down the back of her throat making her voice strain.

“Be quiet woman, I’m concentrating,” he snaps jumping down the rocky cliff taking a short cut rather than the path.

“You’re an idiot, idiots don’t think,” she replies her hand pushing his face up and distorting his view.

“Idiot! You’re the idiot. Stop pushing at my face, I can’t see with you doing that! Do you want to die” he shouts pushing her hand away and trying not to slip in the slippery rocks sleek with rainwater.

“I don’t care,” she yells before coughing on her tears and snot.

“Just shut up woman, I care!” he yells back before running under a shrine’s roof which wasn’t far from where they originally were.

He pushes open the heavy doors of a shrine that had not been in use for some years but still kept clean by the locals nearby out of respect.

He slides her to the ground which he has to hold her up by the waist, her limbs shaking so much she would have fallen otherwise. 

He needed to light a lamp or torch, it was pitch black here which made him uneasy, the dark not a pleasant thing not even for a man as strong as him.  

Nobu pulls out a matchbook hoping it was salvage from becoming wet, wanting to light the shrine as well as warm (Name)’s bones. He could feel how her heart raced and how her skin trembled with the chill of the cold rain.

He sees the matchbook is a little damp but only on one end. He tries a couple of times before he succeeded in lighting it, it producing a tiny flame ready to be extinguished in a moment notice. 

“Hold on to me,” Nobu states dragging her inside the dark shrine where the daylight does not enter. Perhaps if the weather was sunny and bright, light would have found its way inside but not with rain clouds blocking the sun.

“Okay,” she replies, clinging to him and still blubbering.

But to Nobu’s relief she wasn’t hitting him anymore perhaps that was a good thing but perhaps not, women were difficult creatures to understand. He didn’t even understand Machi or Paku or Shizuka and they were mannish in some ways, especially Machi. 

 He slowly walks inside closing the shrine’s door preventing the cold from seeping inside but the inside was already very cold. He finds a lantern and lights it giving him more light to see.

He treads careful and slowly, he had (Name) with him and he never knew when an enemy was lurking nearby. He eventually finds candles and then a fireplace with logs ready to be placed in the fireplace. It takes time but he lights the fire before venturing into the shrine and finding blankets, lighting candles as he goes.

“They smell like moth balls but they are clean,” Nobu states laying down a thick blanket near the fire before placing folded ones where she sat.

“Thank you,” she mutters out softly, her crying stifling her voice.

“You going to just sit there in wet clothes? You are going to get sick.” Nobu grumbles and being impatient he tugs at her kimono before grunting, “Damn, wearing complicated clothing.”

“Complicated? it’s a simple kimono Nobunaga…,” she mutters her eyes puffy and red averted from his stare. She thinks for a little before she grasps his hand and mutters, “Here I’ll help you, this time.” 

The fire crackles adding a warm glow upon the two, her cheeks getting a rosy glow as she guides his hand to her kimono’s obijime. Her fingers are soft against his hands shaped by his sword he has always wield since a young child. Her lips painted in a soft pink gloss part as her breathing increases as his clumsy fingers undo the tie of the obijime.

The obijime comes undone and falls and Nobu hands are guided to the obi next and that too falls parting her kimono open.  Her pale lily skin is revealed to his eyes but it is then she chooses to look at him thru half-lidded eyes. Water trickles down her neck and down the valley of her breasts then down her navel and disappearing. His eyes briefly following the water droplets before meeting her gaze, noting she wore no undergarments beneath her kimono.

Her kimono is pushed off one shoulder then her other shoulder before he takes the hand which has been guiding him and pulling her onto the soft blanket with him. 

The wet kimono sags to the ground as he lays her on her back bare to him and closer to the warmth from the fire’s flames. He lets go of her hand to undo her hair which is neatly done up upon her head before threading his fingers through her hair, wrestling with wet tresses.

He smooths out her wet hair with his hand sleeking the droplets in one motion like a paintbrush.

 She turns her head and brushes her face against his hand in her hair before laying the faintest of kisses on his knuckles scared with wounds. 

She was the sweetest woman to Nobunaga, a blooming lotus flower easily killed with a storm but the hardest of flowers, and she was only like this with him. 

He knew how long she waited in her house. She was alone day after day, watching the seasons change from summer to fall then fall to winter and finally winter into spring waiting for him to return to her. She had no family and no secrets, her heart was an open book.

She reaches up with one hand as he undid his robe. His robe parts open much likes her revealing his nakedness, his body eager to be one with her. 

Her fingertips brush against his cheeks and then to his hair, her finger finds the knot holding his hair so high up and tugs at the same time he pushes inside of her, her entrance wet and enticing though warm compared to the cold rain.

“Nobu,” she gasps grabbing his hair and pulling before he grabs her hand pulling his hair.

“(Name),” he reprimands pulling her hand from his hair, his eyes closed enjoying the sex he gone without for 9 months.

Words are barely exchanged during the act of connecting their bodies. Hunger and passion is how their lovemaking can be compared to.

Soft grunts from him and soft moans from her as a slow rhythm of moving bodies is built. Her cheeks get rosier, fresh tears staining her cheeks slide to the blanket as he pushes himself in and out of her welcoming body.

Her body accepts everything from him as she is the most vulnerable under him as he pushes in and out of her heat. 

The noises are loud and vibrates with the pinging of rain on the shrine’s metal voice. 

The breathing from both of them gets louder as her voice gets more strained as his thrusts hit her spot but not with the speed or roughness she wanted. They had been apart for way too long and she needed to know he was alive and well and that he was here with her and that he was not a ghost who just visiting and would be gone with the first break in the rain.

“More,” she pleads before letting out whimpers. She attempts to get what she wants by delicately kissing the back of his hand that is still in her hair.

“(Name)” he grunts opening his eyes briefly making contact with her soft eyes closed halfway with pleasure.

“I love you,” she whispers kissing his hand repeatedly in the hopes he would be rougher before pleading, “Rougher, I won’t break. Please Nobu.”

She wasn’t as delicate as she appeared. She, after all, spent months by herself. She would tend herself when she was sick, she didn’t ask anyone. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. 

She was a grown woman and she wanted to be someone who matched Nobu. She wanted to be someone people praised and said she was a good match for this man she yearned for with all her heart.

“(Name),” he murmurs and he goes a little bit faster but not as much.

He is straining from being too rough with the woman he loves. She was someone he held up on a pedestal, not a lowly whore one would visit to curve lust. 

She was special, someone he wanted to be the mother of his children. He hoped she would wait for him a little longer because his feet has yet to tire from journeying. 

She grabs his face, her fingers soft like silk, a woman never knowing war or hard work, a pampered woman. She was a woman who he should be pampering not off journeying with his troupe. Her fingers dance across his face and slowly draw him down to her lips and they kiss, the gentlest of moments, a kiss between two in love.

He enters her more roughly, his mind lost to the sensations and to the skinship he shared with this woman he loved and held close to his heart.

 Kisses were long and time to breath in the air was short, her face soft with the current of pleasure and wondrous sensations but to her, the heart was more important and she knew how much he loved her adding to that feeling between her legs. She wanted to keep him to herself and never allow him to leave her embrace ever again, to always stay within this moment not allowing time to move.

Though no one can stop time and the gloss from her lips is gone, the flurries of passionate kisses stealing the gloss tasting of cherries.

Her hands slide down slowly from his face to around his back securing his chest to hers, her hands holding not only his back but some of his hair in place. And with each heavy breath, her erect nipples brush against his chiseled chest making his stomach flutter and his heart squeeze. Their bodies once wet with the rain is sleek with sweat from their continued skinship.

Her fingernails dig into the bare flesh of his back as she approaches her orgasm. He was close as well to and he grunts holding off until she finished. He focuses on kissing her, her lips always so sweet despite the gloss is all gone. She always smelled like her gloss too, like cherries. She was his home, a beacon in the darkness his wandering soul would always find no matter where she went.

Her smiles, her laughs, her tears, and her frowns all flashed in his head. Yes, this was the woman he would spend his last days with and he presses more against her, his rhythm lost, the sound of skin touching erratic and louder than the rain pinging the metal roof. 

She tightens against him, her wall shivering, and he grips her hair tightly, it taking everything for him not to spill his essence inside her warmth. He feels her struggle to keep herself from opening up like a lotus bud in the spring though she fails and she pulls from the kiss.

She gasps, her body stiffening and then spasming under him as he continued his moments. 

He finds her neck and lay his kisses there instead of her lips. His hair that was on his back spills across her lily white skin causing her to gasp more, her skin sensitive to the feather-light touch of his hair after her orgasm. 

He groans and he pulls his head up after giving one last kiss to her neck, and he pushes into her heat one more time before releasing that mounting pressure.

She feels a warmth spread through her, and she knows he had released too, her breath dies down and calms before him. 

Her hot breath mingles with his shortly before he leans up and kisses her forehead, his facial hair tickling her. 

It is uncomfortable just like her mouth burned from his stumble pricking her soft and delicate skin. She had no doubt she would have a rash and then everyone would know her business when she went into town the next day for groceries.

“Nobu,” she murmurs feeling his lips on her forehead and enjoying the soft comforts he gave her.

“I love you, (Name). I promise I will always come back to you. Soon, just wait a little more,” he confesses against her forehead.

She smiles softly and she slowly takes her hands from his back and reaches for his face. 

She once more brings his face back so she can stare into his soft brown eyes. She strokes his face and continues to smile, her smile soft and kind. It was a smile who stole the hearts of many young men and still continued to do so.

She closes her eyes before she opens them again whispering, “I love you,” back to Nobunaga. She speaks up again, “I will wait a little more until your feet tire.” 

The lovers wait for the storm to pass laying within each other’s embrace listening and also watching the steady pattering of rain. 

Time passes and the lovers leave the shrine but as to whether or not Nobu keeps his promise to his beautiful lover is another story. She will have have to wait for the next spring to see if this time he will stay with her.

[purplesurveys]

564

You hate these 'Are we alike?' surveys, but you still can't resist them. I don’t hate them, I just don’t like just bolding stuff. I get talkative when it comes to surveys so I like explaining myself, like right now haha. I definitely answer these types much less often, though. You are female. Indeed I am. You are eighteen years of age. I’m three years older than that. Your hair is an unnatural (but tasteful) shade of red. It’s black, and I’ve never dyed it red either. You have brown eyes. It’s either black or very dark brown, because I’m not sure if black eyes are actually a thing.

You are single. Nah and haven’t been in a while. You have one older brother. Nope, I’m the eldest in the immediate family and I’m a sister to two siblings. You are third generation Russian and Polish. I’m quite sure there is zero tinge of both bloods in me. You live in Florida. And I also live way too far from Florida. I don’t think we’re much alike, man lol. ^And it is just way too fucking hot for you. Not at the moment. Christmas weather is approaching fast, so I can actually go nights without turning on the aircon now. You are currently waiting to get a piercing. Nope. Terrified of them. You have lots of tattoos already planned out. I don’t have any design ideas other than my dog’s pawprint and a plate of nachos. You write, but don't really consider yourself a 'writer'. If I did, it would probably be an insult to writers. I’m not always confident about my writing, even though I love to do it. You love photography (and not because it's 'popular' these days). I respect the skill and the profession, but I don’t do it myself. I used to try out my hand in it though precisely because it was popular, but that was like nine years ago; I quickly realized I wasn’t any good at holding a camera. You drink tea and coffee on a regular basis. I don’t drink tea and I probably drink coffee 1-2 times a week only.

Gore generally makes you laugh. I try not to laugh at it because I know artists spend a fuckton of time working on making it look legitimate (not related to gore but I felt bad when a bunch of fans called out Bryan Cranston’s bald cap in the El Camino movie, especially knowing that Greg Nicotero, AKA dude who works on the makeup in The Walking Dead, was in the team who made the cap. They did what they could and it highkey looks pretty good, but some fans are just brutal); but if the gore was intentionally corny or bad, then I might laugh.

You basically write down everything because you're afraid you'll forget. Yep, that’s why my Notes app is a list of the most random shit. You're a 'highschool drop-out'. No, I graduated. ^And you're currently working towards your GED. We don’t have that here; I don’t actually know what that means. Am open to anyone explaining it to me! Hahaha You don't really care what anyone thinks about you. Of course I care. But it only matters most when the opinions come from the people close to me. You Tweet excessively and shamelessly. I was definitely more obsessed before (I would probably do 150-200 tweets a day and the website would usually kick me out for an hour for tweeting too much). But I mellowed down over the years when I realized making Twitter my life was a horrible habit and that I needed to get off my laptop lol. I still have the app open all day long, but I do more lurking than posting tweets.

It bothers you that almost every statement on this thing begins with 'you'. It’s supposed to be an are-we-alike survey so I don’t see why that trend should be a problem. Winter is your favorite season. Which is weird because I’ve never experienced it. But based on everyone’s stories about how winter is in their area, it sounds beautiful. You know every word to Badlands by Bruce Springsteen. I have never heard a single note of that song. ^And you're not ashamed to admit it. c: You're afraid to go to sleep most nights. Nah. I’m RELIEVED to sleep every night, especially after a long day lmao You have a blog and you're not afraid to use it. :D This is my blog. I’m not afraid to use it but I definitely am cautious about anyone in real life finding out about it. 'Cheesy', 'dorky', 'weird' and 'freaky' are all terms that apply to you. I’m sure everyone identifies with at least one of these words. You are not religious. That I am not. There was a very VERY brief moment when I was ~17 that I went back to my Catholic roots but that fizzled out quickly once I got to college. ^You are spiritual. No. You can't resist making your mom jokes. They’re old, cheap, and unfunny. Except for the White Chick ones HAHAHA ^Or 'that's what she said' jokes. These are even worse. You have a minor obsession with travel-sized objects. Not really. Hades is a BAMF. <3 Like, Percy Jackson-Hades? Idk, I’ve never seen the movie. ^You actually know who Hades is. (Lawlz.) ^ That’s the only Hades I know. You plan on getting two kittens and naming them Hades and Apollo. I don’t plan on getting kittens, and boy these statements are starting to get real specific that no one else is most likely to relate to them lmao. Serial killers never cease to both amaze and fascinate you. I mean I don’t glorify them in the way you just worded it, but I am interested in reading about them. You have a thing for anything vintage or gothic. Before, I guess. Not so much nowadays. You don't have a lot of patience for stupid people. For stupid drivers, mainly. You tell your fair share of racist jokes. ??? This is one of your are-we-alikes????????? You think neck tattoos are sexyy. I find them neither sexy nor unsexy, but I do inwardly cringe because I always imagine just how much it would have hurt to have had it made, especially tattoos on the throat. You want a mosh pit at your wedding. :D Hell no. 14 year old, punk rocking, headbanging Robyn may have wanted that, but I’m so glad she grew up over the years. The Black Cat by Edgar Allen Poe made you cry. I don’t think I’ve ever read it. You get showtunes stuck in your head on a daily basis. I don’t like that kind of music. You eat emo kids for breakfast. Ok now this is just awful. ^And then follow up with a helping of scene kids for lunch. What the hell does eating emo and scene kids even supposed to mean? You secretly want to become a zombie-human hybrid. I’ve seen enough The Walking Dead to not want this scenario for myself. You strongly believe in peace through superior firepower. No.  You hate hippies. Also no. You actually take the time to look up words you don't know the meanings to. Sure. Googling literally takes five seconds, sometimes fewer. You have a habit of calling everything 'ridiculous'. I like using it as an adverb but I wouldn’t call it a habit.

You love Skwisgaar from Metalocalypse. :D Never heard of both of those things. You wish to invest in a pair of plaid pants. Not my style. You love scaring people--literally and figuratively. Not really. You hate the Fourth of July. I don’t celebrate it so I don’t have reason to hate it. You get excited over new pens and notebooks. That’s being a college student for ya.

^And basically any other kind of art supplies. I guess, but pens and notebooks excite me most. You have a thing for Mustangs. (The car, not the horse.) No. In the Philippines, Mustangs are the most basic of luxury cars so I’ve stopped being impressed when I see them around hahaha. You shamelessly jam to 'Don't Stop Believing' every chance you get. No. You think boundaries are overrated. :D No, they’re necessary. You rarely drink soda. I hate the feeling when it goes down my throat. You always procrastinate until the very last possible minute. For certain work that I particularly don’t like doing. Your favorite font on Microsoft Word is 'calibri'. It’s far from my favorite. You enjoy talking in various fake accents. I can’t do accents. The only time you ever thought Brad Pitt was sexy was when he was in 'Troy' I haven’t seen much of his stuff but I find him very attractive in general. You can make the fuck out of some brownies. c: I don’t bake. You don't do well with change. Sometimes. You always listen to music before going to sleep. I don’t; I find it too loud. You thought this was gay. Ugh, this is awful. ^And you now want to lodge a battle axe into my brain. I’m not THAT violent.

[nyanzaya]

Anonymous inquired · a minute ago: Most just because of me being dumbass as usual anyway, sorry! ❧- not really busy, just lazy and having fun by just lurking around ✘-i think i should had better way to interact with your kitties ❀-totally my problems for being anon and not used to rping so i don't really know how to interact ✄- maybe i'm just too hopeful or tumblr being sucks as usual and you didn't realize the notifications Why We Don’t RP:  ❧ - I want to someday but I’m too busy right now  ✘ - I approached you once and it didn’t go anywhere  ❀ - you write with another version(s) of my character already  ✄ - we started plotting but you forgot to reply and it’s been too long 

You’re always free to lurk around LOL I don’t know how many actually, lurk or follow my blog just to see my dumb cats. HHHHG YEAH I DONT-- I don’t remember anyone approaching me recently or maybe this was just on anon but? I got a few other anons that come say hi and interact a little too so I’m not sure which one you are-- I’m really sorry sweetheart. I really try to keep track of the asks and sometimes my ask box DOES eat asks and I always recommend my annonies to save it somewhere like on a note just in case? But it’s just a suggestion, whether they do or not is up to them lol. The only other way I can think of to have a “better way to interact” is to somehow make it so I know it’s you or come off anon but I’d never ask you or my other ones to do that. I typically answer asks that are not on anon or IC privately even though I get /confused sometimes

Another version of your character? I’m literally shookith. I- I don’t know what that means LOL and I feel like I have -100 intelligence right now dear. In my brain, having multiple anons interacting and having their own characters/self-insert/i dont even know to me makes them all unique. Of course, sometimes I do have difficulty knowing which one it is if the pronouns are still “They/them” And even going further; anons are really special. They kind of get to do whatever they want, just they’d have to accept the consequences of what Iza or Zuo would do as a result, especially if they are being provoked lol like tbh IDK Iza isn’t that nice. He’s super mean. Iza’s that cat that you want to pet but is pretty feral and would hiss/swipe/bite you if someone comes at him the wrong way. He’s pretty defensive. And Zuo lmfao. He’s, ya know, “I won’t hesitate binch” 

For the plotting but I didn’t to respond-- I’m not sure which one this is because I have plotted a little with Hana mun and I think K even if it was really loose but sometimes my ask box does eat the ask or- this has happened- I see it, get distracted then completely forget. It’s really easy for me to get side-tracked so don’t feel bad for asking if I gotten something or not sometimes I do need a reminder, especially if it’s been 3+ days. Like if I leaving you waiting for a week, yall, lemme know LOL Sometimes I worry if my dear anons have read rules/bios but I know some prefer mobile/are on mobile mostly and I don’t ever mind linking that stuff but it’s in there for sure about reminding me even though it’s been like 3 years since I updated the rules LOL 

plz respond back so I know which darling anon this is /heartbreak