#hush hush quartet

[eyeballsoup7310]

Rewatched some old crow caller videos. Yolotli, Missy, and Marcy all deserved so much better. I think they should get to hang out

+A bonus Oro

[spirngakawening]

Something something proximity/touch/space & wanting & perspective

Chase Petra - In an Emergency Such as the End of the World

Leo Tolstoy - War and Peace: Book 4, Part 4, Chapter 12

half•alive - still feel.

War and Peace 4.4.12

Louie Zong - Asymptotic

Nerdy Prudes Must Die - Just For Once

Into the Woods - Agony

War and Peace 4.4.12

The Hush Sound - Sweet Tangerine

War and Peace 4.4.13

half•alive - still feel.

Spring Awakening - The Guilty Ones

[its-short-for-jackalope]

the fun thing about having a Pulp Musicals obsession is that every time I hear about something that happened in the 1800s I start thinking about where our quartet might be while [insert random event] is going on and whether or not they could be involved

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Hush Somebody's Calling My Name The Golden Gate Quartet | Duration: 3mins 14secs

[rafecameronssl4t]

The Wedding + Honeymoon || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: IM SO SORRY IM ONLY POSTING THIS NOW 😭😭

Warnings: angst, r smoking

Word count: 2,909

A/n: want to walk down the aisle to the instrumental of young and beautiful 🙏 ALSO I was kinda picturing Hailey Beiber's wedding dress for this but of course you don't have to imagine it like that if you don't like it :)

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

The golden sun dipped behind the verdant hills of Lake Como, casting a warm, golden glow over the shimmering water. Every detail of the wedding was pristine, carefully curated to exude opulence and elegance. Towering floral arrangements framed the ceremony site, their sweet aroma filling the cool breeze, while the gentle hum of a string quartet echoed across the villa’s courtyard.

Guests dressed in their finest murmured in hushed tones, their polite smiles hiding the intrigue and judgment bubbling beneath the surface. You stood at the edge of your suite’s balcony, your heart pounding in your chest. Your gown—an opulent creation fit for royalty—was a spectacle in itself.

The bodice was adorned with shimmering crystal embellishments that caught the light with every movement, cascading into intricate floral embroidery that wound its way down the fabric. Layers of silk and tulle fanned out into a dramatic, sweeping train that seemed endless, trailing behind you like a cloud of ivory and gold.

The weight of it wasn’t just physical—it was a burden, a reminder of the life you were stepping into. The veil, edged with delicate gold thread, framed your face like a halo, adding an ethereal quality to your reflection. The gown was breathtaking, designed to inspire awe, envy, and admiration from the guests below.

“You look stunning,” Astoria murmured, her voice soft but filled with practiced poise. She adjusted a stray piece of your veil, her eyes meeting yours in the mirror with a faint smile. “God, I feel like I’m going to be sick,” you muttered, your hand instinctively pressing against your stomach as a shaky exhale escaped your lips.“You’ll be fine,” Charlotte interjected gently, her cool hand resting on your bare shoulder.

Her tone was reassuring, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of worry. The room fell silent, the tension thick in the air. The distant hum of conversation and soft strains of music drifted in from outside, reminding you of the hundreds of eyes waiting below. You swallowed hard, your reflection blurring momentarily as tears threatened to spill, but you blinked them away.

This was your reality now, no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. “Miss de Loughrey,” Anita’s voice broke the silence, gentle but firm as always. Her tone was steady, but you could feel the hesitation behind it, as though she knew she was pulling you toward something inescapable. “It’s time.” You inhaled sharply, trying to summon the strength you didn’t have.

our hands trembled as they smoothed over the intricate beading on your bodice, a futile effort to steady yourself. “It’s really happening, isn’t it?” you whispered, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Anita paused, her usual words of comfort failing her. For a moment, her resolve cracked, and the pity she tried to conceal flickered in her eyes.

"Yes,” she finally said, her nod small and measured. The weight of her confirmation settled over you as you turned toward the grand staircase. Each step closer to the aisle felt heavier than the last. The train of your dress, trailing behind you, seemed to anchor you to the ground, each inch of its intricate lace reminding you of the promise it bore: till death do us part.

The soft strains of a string quartet drifted up to meet you, their melodies as delicate as the tension that filled the villa. At the base of the staircase, your father waited, his face a mask of pride, but his approval was cold comfort. His beaming smile spoke of satisfaction, of accomplishment—but not of your happiness. This wasn’t about her happiness; it never had been.

It was about the de Loughrey legacy, the alliances your marriage would secure, and the image your family had cultivated for generations. The ceremony space was breathtaking, almost cruelly so. The glimmering waters of Lake Como served as the backdrop, framed by arches adorned with cascading flowers in soft whites and blush tones.

Standing at the end of the aisle was Rafe, the man who was now to be your husband. He was a vision of composure in his perfectly tailored tuxedo, his features sharp and unyielding as ever. His piercing blue eyes locked on yours, unreadable but unwavering. Was he as reluctant as you? Or was he simply enduring this as another obligation, another deal made in his father’s name?

The guests rose as the music began to play. Their eyes swept over every inch of you—the shimmer of your gown, the soft cascade of your veil, the careful control of your expression. Polite smiles were the only thing that masked their curiosity, the whispered judgments and speculations that hung in the air like an unspoken agreement. They were there to witness, not just the union, but the spectacle of it all.

Your father’s grip on your arm was unyielding, a silent command to maintain your composure. Each step you took felt like an eternity, each footfall louder in your mind than in reality. Your breaths were shallow, each step a countdown to a future you had no control over. As you neared the altar, you turned your head just slightly, your eyes scanning Rafe's family, their gazes fixed on you, expectant.

They were poised, their expressions unreadable but heavy with meaning. Then your gaze flicked to your own family. William stood tall, his presence solid and unwavering; Edward gave you a slight nod, his smile small but genuine—a flicker of something comforting in the sea of cold, calculating faces. Astoria’s gaze was sharp, her lips pressed into a thin line, but Charlotte’s eyes softened as she met yours, her silent support like a breath of fresh air in the suffocating tension.

Your mother stood at the end of the aisle, her eyes flickering with a complex blend of pride and something else—something less discernible but just as heavy. You felt their eyes on you, but it was Edward’s small, reassuring gesture that grounded you, even if only for a fleeting moment. When your father placed your hand in Rafe’s, the coolness of his touch sent a shiver through.

Rafe’s gaze locked on yours, his jaw tight. Was that regret flickering in his eyes? Or annoyance? You couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter. You would never truly know what he felt because he never let anyone in, least of all you. The ceremony unfolded like a perfectly orchestrated performance. The officiant’s voice became a blur, the words washing over you like waves you couldn’t fight against.

Rafe’s vows were steady, precise, and detached—more like a contract than a promise. When it was your turn, your voice wavered, each word tasting bitter as it left your lips. You felt like a performer reciting lines in a play you’d never auditioned for. And then came the words you dreaded most: “You may now kiss the bride.” Rafe hesitated, a brief pause so subtle only you would notice.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against your cheek in what should have been a tender gesture. But to you, it felt hollow, rehearsed. His lips met yours, soft but impersonal, a kiss meant to satisfy the onlookers rather than the two of you. A tear slipped down your cheek, unbidden, followed quickly by another. You tried to swallow the sob rising in your throat, but it escaped, fragile and raw.

Rafe pulled back slightly, his brows knitting together as he noticed your tears. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—regret? Guilt? Confusion? He didn’t say anything, though. What could he say? This was the life they had both been forced into. The applause erupted, deafening and hollow, as you turned to face the guests. The petals they tossed felt like a cruel mockery, their smiles oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside you.

Rafe’s arm was linked with yours as you walked back down the aisle together, his grip steady but impersonal. When you reached the edge of the courtyard, away from the prying eyes and flashing cameras, Rafe finally spoke, his voice low and tentative. “Are you okay?” You turned to him, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Does it matter?” For a fleeting moment, his composure faltered.

He opened his mouth as if to respond, something unspoken lingering on his tongue. But then his jaw tightened, and he looked away. “No,” he muttered. “I suppose it doesn’t.” And with that, you both stepped into the waiting car, leaving behind the applause, the guests, and the illusion of a perfect day. But the tension between you remained, a reminder of the life you had been thrust into—a life neither of you had chosen.

~

The flight to Lake Como had been a quiet affair, its tension palpable in the stale air of the private jet, but the journey to your honeymoon destination on the Amalfi Coast felt even more stifling. The jet’s engines hummed softly, a sound that seemed to amplify the silence between you and Rafe. He sat across from you, his tie loosened, his gaze fixed on the landscape beyond the window.

His eyes, though seemingly focused, saw nothing—only the storm within him. He hadn’t spoken much since the wedding reception, and for you, it was impossible to tell whether that was a blessing or just another layer of silent condemnation. It felt like a judgment of your shared fate, this life that had been handed to you both, neither of you fully grasping how to navigate it.

When you arrived at the cliffside villa overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea, it was exactly as you had imagined: stunning, otherworldly, a place that promised beauty but held no solace. The sprawling estate bathed in the soft golden light of the setting sun seemed almost unreal, its pristine white walls gleaming against the lush greenery

A private infinity pool sparkled in the courtyard, and the distant crash of waves against the cliffs below added to the ambiance of serenity—serenity that felt just out of reach. Your chest tightened at the sight, the beauty only intensifying the ache in your heart. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, as much to yourself as to Rafe.

The words were hollow, a futile attempt to hold on to some semblance of normalcy. Rafe nodded curtly, his jaw clenched, as he handed his jacket to the waiting staff. “It’s what they wanted,” he replied flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. They. The families. The ones who had orchestrated every detail of this—this nightmare masquerading as a dream. You swallowed hard, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill.

You had cried enough at the wedding; you couldn’t let yourself break down here, not when the weight of this new reality pressed so heavily on your chest. Your luggage was swiftly taken away to the master suite, and your stomach twisted at the thought of sharing the room with Rafe. The villa was vast, yet you felt trapped in its grandeur.

It didn’t matter how many rooms it had; there was no escaping him, no escaping the suffocating awareness of his presence that clung to you like a second skin. It felt like a constant reminder of the life that had been chosen for you both, a life you had never asked for but were now forced to live. Dinner was served on the terrace as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink.

The table was set for two, an intimate setting that only deepened the awkwardness between you. You sat with your back to the view, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tension in the air. As the waitstaff began to serve, you pulled out a cigarette and lit it, drawing in the smoke slowly. You let the warmth of the cigarette ease some of the tension in your chest, the familiar burn helping to steady your nerves, even as it made the air feel heavier between you and Rafe.

You watched the thin ribbon of smoke curl upwards, the sharp scent mixing with the salty breeze from the sea. The rich flavours of the meal were lost on you, your mind too distracted by the palpable silence and the feeling of suffocation that lingered in the villa. Every now and then, you stole a glance at Rafe, but he was focused on his plate, his jaw tight.

His eyes flicked briefly to your cigarette, but he said nothing. “You’re not eating?” he asked, his voice cutting through the silence, but his tone was neutral, almost indifferent. You took another drag, watching the smoke swirl in the fading light. “I’m not hungry,” you said softly, the words laced with an unspoken truth. It wasn’t the food you needed; it was the way the cigarette soothed the restless tightness in your chest.

Rafe leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you now, though his expression remained unreadable. “You’ll need to eat eventually,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “Skipping meals won’t change anything.” The words hit you harder than expected, and you looked up, a spark of frustration flaring inside. “I know that, Rafe. Believe it or not, I’m not trying to starve myself out of this situation.”

His frown deepened, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I didn’t mean it like that.” “Then how did you mean it?” Your voice was sharp, the anger you’d been holding back bubbling to the surface. “What, are you worried I’ll embarrass you by fainting in front of the staff?” “That’s not what I—” He cut himself off with a harsh exhale, frustration lacing his tone. “Forget it.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow in the quiet of the terrace. “Of course. Forget it. Just like we’re supposed to forget the fact that neither of us wants to be here.” His eyes hardened, his jaw clenching. “Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I asked for this?” “You certainly don’t seem to be fighting it,” you shot back, your words sharp. “You’re just as complicit as everyone else in this—this arrangement.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Rafe’s voice rose, snapping in the quiet of the evening. “Just like you didn’t. So stop acting like I’m the villain here.” You pushed back your chair, the legs scraping against the stone floor as you stood up abruptly, cigarette dangling from your fingers. “You don’t get it, do you?” Your voice trembled with barely contained fury. “You’ll always have more freedom than I ever will. You’re Rafe Cameron, the golden boy. You’ll get to live your life the way you want, no matter what. But me?”

You shook your head, the words leaving your lips in a bitter rush. “I’m just a pawn. A vessel for heirs.” For a moment, Rafe froze, his gaze hardening into something unreadable. He clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “If that’s what you think, then maybe you don’t know me at all,” he said quietly, his voice sharp and laced with bitterness.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away, the sound of your heels clicking against the stone as you retreated into the villa, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you needed distance—from him, from this place, from the suffocating reality of your new life. The master suite was dim when you entered, the moonlight casting faint shadows across the room.

You sank onto the edge of the bed, staring out at the sea beyond the open balcony doors. The cool night breeze brushed against your skin, but it did little to quell the ache gnawing at your heart. Your mind was a whirlwind, thoughts spinning in every direction, none of them providing any clarity. Minutes passed before you heard the door creak open behind you. You didn’t need to look to know it was Rafe.

His footsteps were slow, hesitant, the sound of his approach almost a whisper. He stopped a few feet away, his presence filling the room without the need for words. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and almost uncertain. You turned to look at him, surprised by the softness in his tone, by the lack of his usual bravado. “For what?”

“For... everything,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair, his eyes searching the room as if he couldn’t quite find the right words. “I know this isn’t fair. To either of us.” You blinked, startled by his candor. For a brief moment, you saw something human behind the walls he’d carefully constructed. Something fragile, something real. “It’s not,” you agreed quietly, your voice barely a whisper.

Rafe sighed, sitting down in the armchair near the balcony, his eyes distant as if he was searching for something in the dark expanse of the sea. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he confessed, the words heavy with uncertainty. “But I don’t want us to hate each other.” You studied him, noting the tense line of his shoulders, the way his eyes avoided yours.

For the first time, you wondered if he was just as lost as you felt. “I don’t want that either,” you whispered, your words fragile, as if they might break under the weight of everything you had left unsaid. You both sat in silence, the sound of the waves below filling the space between you. It wasn’t an answer, not really. But it was something—a fragile, tentative start.

[mviswidow]

in search of silence

Eloise Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: r is in an abusive marriage, angst, el to the rescue, some fluff at the end

Summary: Eloise and R are childhood best friends. When a new season begins, they find themselves reunited for the first time since R has entered her marriage that was set up by her parents.

Prompt: could i request a fic with childhood bestfriends eloise bridgerton x f!reader. eloise and reader stopped talking to each other as often because reader got married and one day eloise catches reader’s husband being mean to her (this can be physically or verbally) and eloise defends reader and they rekindle their friendship/old feelings for each other.

sidenote, ive always loved your mcu women fics and im SO glad you’re taking requests for eloise now 😭😭🫶

A/N: thank you anon!! for both the request and the compliment. i love eloise sm this was so fun to write

Muffled shouting stole Eloise’s attention when she escaped from the ballroom of this week's ball that she had been forced to attend with her family. She hadn’t wandered far enough to no longer be able to hear the string quartet playing, but the sound of a deep voice yelling angrily was hard to miss as she passed what she assumed was a drawing room.

Though Eloise knew she should not eavesdrop, she found herself unable to mind her business and stopped in her tracks, gravitating closer to the commotion.

--

“I am through with you,” Your husband shouted, face red with rage.

The moment his hand had clasped forcefully around your wrist to drag you into a room with him earlier, you knew what was coming for you.

“James, please - someone will hear,” you responded in a hushed voice, thoroughly embarrassed at the thought.

“Let them! Everyone should know the bitch of a wife you are,” he spat.

You knew better than to talk back to him, and yet, “I’ve done nothing to you at all! You’ve no reason to -”

A heavy-handed slap to your face was sure to silence you. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheek, and your hand rose shakily to cradle the side of your face. Hot tears brimmed your eyes as you breathed deeply to steady yourself.

“I’m leaving.”

“Please -” you forced yourself to say, a feeble attempt to calm him down, lest his temper worsen on his way home.

“Enough from you! I-”

The door burst open and you felt as if your heart was about to leap out of your chest.

You were astounded to see Eloise standing in the doorway, her lips in a tight line. It had been long since you’d seen her last. She was beautiful, as always. For a moment you forgot your present situation until you noted the fire in her eyes. She was furious, but she kept herself composed, “Is everything alright in here? I heard quite the commotion from outside as I was passing by.”

“We are quite fine.” He turned back to you and after a moment, he spoke, “I’ll send the carriage back around for you once I arrive home. I cannot stand the sight of you at present.”

“Lady Bridgerton,” he said curtly. Eloise barely had time to register the fact that James was walking towards her and stepped out of his way just in time.

“Lord Anderson,” she managed out, deciding to forgo her polite curtsy. She had deemed that he did not deserve it.

You both jumped at the sound of the door slamming upon his exit.

Her head felt as if it was spinning. She’d recognized your voice from outside the instant you spoke. The thought of this being the reality of the marriage your parents had arranged for you devastated her. She wouldn’t let herself imagine how horrid it was for you when you were actually at home.

Your cheek still burned from being slapped and there was no doubt in your mind about it being tinged pink. You were beyond mortified and the relief of James finally having left had tears falling down your face rapidly.

As much as you wanted to take in Eloise, who you hadn’t had a moment alone with since last season, you were lost in your mind. You dreaded your impending arrival back home and prayed that your husband would be fast asleep.

After a few more seconds you pried your eyes away from the bookcase you had been staring at and settled your gaze on Eloise.

She somehow looked more stunning than you had remembered her to be and your heart squeezed painfully. Her hair curled carefully over her shoulders in such a familiar way and it reminded you of how you used to twirl her curls in your fingers whenever she would rest her head in your lap.

The Bridgerton made her way over to you carefully. The concern on her face was evident and you knew by the way her eyebrows were crinkling together that she had much to say.

She stopped when she was just a few feet in front of you. For once, she seemed unable to form a proper sentence.

You were sure she couldn’t find the right words. You weren’t sure how you should navigate this situation yourself, but you had had enough of the silence, “I’m sorry you had to hear all of that.”

Eloise shook her head immediately, “You have nothing to be apologizing for.”

There was another lull of silence. All either of you could do was look into each other’s eyes. Hers looked so sad. How you hated to see them so.

“I assure you I am quite alright.”

“There is no use in lying to me, Y/n/n.”

Your bottom lip trembles at the familiar nickname and she hurries closer, engulfing you in a hug.

She felt you trembling as she held you against her. “I’m here,” she whispered, arms wrapped tightly around you.

It was not long before sobs racked your body and all she could do was rub your back and occasionally give you a few words of reassurance. Eloise felt her heart splitting into pieces the longer you cried.

You were certain that you would give anything to stay in her arms forever. There was nowhere in the world where you felt safer. Her chest radiated warmth and you took comfort in the very familiar scent of her perfume.

Once you’ve calmed slightly, you apologize again, “I’ve missed you terribly. And I have been the furthest thing from a friend to you. I’ve allowed James to drive the people closest to me out of my life and I won't stand for it any longer.”

“I can’t have you getting in trouble because of me,” she shook her head.

“Oh, hush, El,” you chuckled wetly. “I’ve been in trouble with my Mama countless times because of you.”

She knew you were joking to make light of the situation, but she found nothing humorous about it. Especially not as she reached up to wipe away the tears on your face.

“How long has it been this way?” she inquired, speaking with a gentle voice.

“A handful of months. He’s become rather frustrated by the fact that I have yet to produce an heir for him and his displeasure with me grows stronger by the second.”

Eloise’s face scrunched in indignation, “That is ridiculous.”

“It’s fair enough - that is why he was searching for a wife in the first place.”

“It’s unacceptable behavior from him regardless of that fact,” she was quick to rebuke. She took your hand in her own and squeezed gently. The feel of your skin against hers made her heart race.

“I’d like to get out of the house tomorrow. Do you think your mother should have my head if I busied you the whole day?”

“Not at all. She’s missed you quite a lot as well,” Eloise smiled.

Your heart fluttered at the admittance.

“Will you be okay tonight?”

“I will. I’m sure he’ll drink himself to sleep the second he arrives home.”

You could tell Eloise didn’t like the sound of that, but she said nothing.

She was grateful that you wanted to spend the day with her tomorrow, not only because she would be eager to see how you were but also because she’d missed your company so very much.

--

Almost two fortnights later, you’re riding in a carriage to a ball with your husband sitting across from you. He grows tired of waiting for you to finally come to be with child. Intercourse with him is nauseating and at this point, you’re praying that your courses don’t come next month for a multitude of reasons.

The ride is sour, as you’ve just had a nasty argument, ending in you being pushed into a table. Your right arm ached still, but you were sure that nothing was broken.

You were excited to escape from your husband and find your dear Eloise the moment the opportunity arose. Your feelings for her made you ever so giddy when you were around her. You felt almost childish at your eagerness to leave your husband and find your friend, but you had been swept into this marriage on your just first season out, which was only last year. It barely gave you any time to enjoy balls with her without courting.

Running around with Eloise at the last ball felt so normal, oddly enough. It was incredibly refreshing to spend the better part of the evening with her, sipping on champagne and cracking jokes. Even though you knew it was slightly improper as you were now married and should have been at your husband’s side, listening to him boast about his fortune and how impatient he was to have an heir with whoever would listen, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It did anger him, however. You had learned so after the last ball when he reprimanded you for almost half of an hour about your behavior as if you were his child and not his wife.

You’d decided to behave for the first hour, at least. It frustrated you so to listen to James drone on to his acquaintances, but you knew it was what needed to be done since he was already on edge from his earlier outburst.

The Bridgertons arrived after you, and you spotted Eloise immediately. You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face when you saw the way her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you.

You squeezed James’ arm absentmindedly out of the excitement you felt. When he looked down at you, you played it off by giving him a look that should have been directed toward Eloise.

That had seemed to satisfy him well enough and he returned to his conversation, allowing you to return to observing your favorite Bridgerton from afar.

Eloise’s hair cascaded over one of her shoulders and two strands of soft curls beautifully framed the sides of her face. Her dress was blue, as it usually was, and it was embellished with embroidered flowers.

You could hardly peel your eyes away from her, but you forced yourself to redirect your attention to your husband once more.

After what you deemed an appropriate amount of time, you excused yourself to find more pleasant company.

It seemed as if you had run into almost every Bridgerton before her, though. You greeted all three of her present brothers before finding Violet and Agatha in conversation and curtsying to both. Violet even extended a hand to squeeze yours for a moment, happy to see you.

As soon as you began a conversation with her and Lady Danbury, you were accosted by Eloise, who gripped your arm excitedly. You winced briefly, now bruised from your earlier encounter with the table of your drawing room.

You relaxed your expression and the pinch in your brow was gone once it settled in that you were in Eloise’s presence, she still noticed your discomfort despite your futile efforts to mask it and found herself glancing down at your arm.

Her nostrils flared at what she saw, she had half the mind to find Lord Anderson at that moment, but she looked back up to you and saw the bright grin on your face and melted, a smile of her own growing quickly.

She swiftly looped her arm through yours and began to pull you away, wanting you to herself, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to steal Lady Anderson away. I’ve hardly had any time with her all week.”

The older women chuckled and shook their heads, recognizing this familiar routine that the two of you had been accustomed to last year.

“Have a nice time ladies,” Violet smiled, not even bothering to remind Eloise to attempt to fill a few spots on her dance card. She knew how the girl had missed you, and didn’t have it in her to force her daughter away from you. Violet rather appreciated how cheerful Eloise happened to get whenever you were around, especially at balls, where genuine smiles from the young lady were scarce.

Eloise guided you to a corner of the ballroom, not failing to make a stop at the refreshment table and hand you a lemonade. You were relieved to be by her side at last. There was nothing you had desired more in the past week, where you had only been able to promenade with her once, as James had been irritable.

The longer you were around her, the more you felt the pressure on your chest relieve itself. You were able to breathe so easily around Eloise. You suddenly became aware of the fact that her thumb was passively rubbing your arm and you had to blink a few times, not sure if you were dreaming it.

You ached for her to touch you more. You’d once attempted to imagine that your husband’s hands were hers, but they were far too rough, and you gave up quickly.

Your mind wandered for a moment, but before it could stray too far, you snapped yourself out of it.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” you pointed out, turning your head towards your best friend. It was quite unlike her.

She tilted her head in a shrug, “You seem as though you could use a little quiet.”

“You know me far too well, Eloise,” a smile returned to your lips, something she never failed to do, and you shook your head. “But please, if there’s anyone I’d like to hear ramble, it is always you.”

Eloise scoffed in mock offense, “I do not ramble.”

“You do, too,” you teased. “I like it.”

She chortles in response and the two of you hold eye contact. She looks at you with a fondness that you recognize yourself often directing toward her.

Eloise breaks it for a short moment to glance down at your lips.

When she does it once more, you’re suddenly overtaken by instinct and put your lemonade on a serving tray, taking hers and doing the same.

“What-”

Eloise is interrupted by you taking her gloved hand in your own and dragging her out of the ballroom. She doesn’t miss the way you check over your shoulder for your husband, who is heavily occupied, drinking and joking happily with his friends.

You begin making your way into the gardens when you hear Eloise chirp up from behind you.

“We shouldn’t be out here,” she says, not quite like she means it.

You roll your eyes, “Then it’s a good thing you’ve never cared for rules, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” she couldn’t be offended, it was true, and it was exhilarating to be truly alone with you for the first time in such a long while.

You stopped when you’d reached a dead end and you were sure you were not only alone but completely hidden from anyone looking outside.

Eloise tried to stop her mind from racing. She couldn’t be sure of why you had pulled her out of the ballroom. She waited with bated breath to find out, trying to suppress the excitement she felt. You could just be in search of fresh air, or actual silence, which required you to be far enough to hear the music no longer.

Your breathing quickened as you stood in front of her. She took note of it, and against her better judgment, let her eyes flicker to your chest. Then up to your lips, which were parted slightly. Her eyes lingered, before finally meeting your own.

While you badly wanted to tell her everything on your mind, you could hardly form a proper sentence, “El…”

You could hear her breath, ragged from nerves as she took a step closer to you.

There was a question in your eyes. You were grateful that you did not have to utter it. She knew.

She told you that she knew with the glassy nature of her eyes, the parting of her mouth, and her breath fanning across your face as she brought herself closer.

You closed the distance, pressing your lips to Eloise’s. The gentle kiss did not take long to turn eager, almost desperate, both of you feeling free from the sole secret you had kept from each other.

Her lips were soft and warm. They were everything you had dreamed of.

You lost yourself in Eloise, your hands finding their way to her jaw. Your body felt as if it was being lit from the inside when she pressed you into her with a firm hand at the small of your back. Your head almost spun from the contact of her chest against your own.

Despite not wanting to, you pulled away the slightest bit to catch your breath. You did not miss the way she chased your lips.

She had never looked more beautiful. Your heart swelled as she began to smile, which turned into a breathy chuckle.

You shook your head as you joined her with a giggle and let your arms wrap around your neck, hugging her tightly.

“I love you, El. So much,” you whispered.

You felt her breath hitch and her arms tightened around your waist, “I love you too. So very much. It pains me so to watch you from across a ballroom when I want nothing more than to be by your side.”

All of a sudden, your reality came flooding back to you.

“You deserve so much more than that brute that calls himself your husband. He should be honored to spend the time with you that he does. He is a fool for not seeing how precious you are.”

Tears welled in your eyes as she spoke, “I wish I had never married, El. I’m miserable.”

“I know. I’m not sure how much peace this brings you, but you should know that I am here for you, at any time of day or night. You could barge into the Bridgerton house in the late hours of the night and I shall be ready to dissolve your worries with my charming wits and whatever biscuits we can find in the kitchens.”

You found yourself laughing, as you always did in Eloise’s presence, “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure,” her lips quirked up.

“What are we to do now? About us, I mean.”

“We’re going to have to find a way to get you out of that house of yours however often we can. And if Lord Anderson lays another finger on you I will sic my entire family and Lady Danbury on him. We’ll see how he likes that.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’d say I’m known for being ridiculous, you shouldn’t be surprised,” she raised a brow playfully before looking over her shoulder. “I highly doubt anyone is missing us in there…”

“What might you be suggesting, Miss Eloise,” you ask, feigning innocence.

“I think you know quite well what I suggest.”

[heartfullofleeches]

Day At The Pool

Yan Casino staff + G.N Reader blurb

-

They've been staring at you all day....

Four members of the hotel staff you have the sneaking suspicion have been following you since you checked in. An extravagant and luxurious hotel spanning roughly the size of a small town - yet you saw their faces at nearly every corner.

It was reasonable to see them from time to time. Your first instance of meeting the group was on your travel to the floor you'd be spending the duration of your stay when you had returned a pendant one of them had dropped after you found it by your door during the confusion. They thanked you profusely as the other members of their team peaked outside the rooms they'd be searching to see the cause of their crewmate's tears.

A few words and hugs of gratitude, plus a few dessert to show how deep their appreciation ran and you thought that would be the end of your tale. You saw them a couple times when you ordered room service - then again when you went out to explore the rest of the resort. One worked behind the register of a gift shop you visited while another escorted you to your seat after you discovered free tickets to a show added on with your purchase of the room. There was always one to cheer you on with whatever recreational actives you indulged in and one to refill your drink.

Even now, as your vacant days drew to a close and you spent one of your final afternoons by the pool your little entourage wasn't far from sight. Two had taken up lawn chairs beside you and politely, but firmly told other guests this area of the pool was closed. Another swam by in a pool float as the last continued to sneak you items in between their stops at other table. Eating one of the snacks they left as hunger lapses your judgement - you shrink into your chair as the two at your shuffle closer.

"Um.... Is there something I can help you with?"

Their eyes grow wide. One mutters in the other's ear, waving the remaining two offer. Joined by their doubles - the four look between themselves and you. They huddle together, whispering to each other and sneaking the occasional glance at you. Ever so often, you hear a soft giggle.

"Are you always that cute?..."

"Or is it just the lighting."

"Your skin looks so soft...."

"Can we touch it?..."

You pull your towel over your legs as the one from the pool reaches out. "... Do you guys do this with all your guests?"

"Course not!"

"You're different - you helped us."

"Nobody ever does that around here - we like you!"

"Wanna keep you safe...."

"Safe? Safe from what?"

The quietest of them gasps, multiple hands shooting over their mouth. The quartet drop their voices to a whisper once more hushed to complete silence as they look at you. Holding a finger to each of their lips, they beckon you closer as they signal to remain quiet.

"Shhhh - not supposed to tell."

"You don't belong here. No human does."

"Boss tries real hard to make this a place for everyone, but not everyone wants that. Demons, angels, others - some don't like mortals treading their territory."

"Cute thing like you would get gobbled right up, but we won't let that happen. You'll our little secret."

Despite the grime tale - the group laugh to themselves at their teammate's final words. Something about the usage of the phrase "ours" tickled their brains. You, on the other hand were having none of it and wrote it off as some fucked prank while recognizing the terror of what it could really be. Examining the identical maids - you notice one of them are wearing name tags.

"Can you at least tell me who you are?"

Pointing at their faces, the group shouts in unison - "Ace!"

"Wait- so you're saying you're all named Ace?"

"Yes!"

Your head throbs. "I.. think I need to go lay down."

"Would you like one of us to carry you?"

"I'll manage, thanks." You squeeze past the maids and towards the elevator. Thay was strange, but you'll be out of here soon as it's not your problem. As soon as you leave, the closest to you pulls out your phone. They all shake hands for a job well done, crowding around your phone.

"Great job, Ace!- That was close."

"You said it Ace. Luckily I was able to watch them unlock their phone a few times so we should have access."

"Oh! Maybe they have more pictures of themselves!"

"Focus. We need to make sure nobody knows where they are.... but it couldn't hurt to check.

The demon in possession of your phone unlocks it on the first try and with the others scours the device for any little detail they could find.

"So cute~ I wanna kiss their cheeks."

"Think Boss will let us keep them?"

"Course they will! We've been good lately, and given all the stuff we do already - we can take care of them better than whatever their old life was like."

"They'll be so happy with us.... Let's go make them a gift basket to welcome them home~ ♡"

[yua0ra]

𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐈𝐭

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

WARNINGS: mattheo x pureblood!reader, SFW, proofread, english is not my first language.

miscellaneous ☆

SUMMARY: Just because Mattheo has grown the way he has, doesn't mean that other pureblood families agree with the Riddle family ideologies. One of them, is yours; the Merlins

WC: 4.1K AN: Hey guys! I wanted to write some more about the pureblood culture and traditions because it's a theme that fascinates me. Obviously, this is all fictional and I would never, ever condone their behaviour and the mistreatment against innocent people.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

The Black family’s ancestral manor had stood for centuries, its towering spires casting long shadows over the frozen lake that stretched beneath a January moon. The evening’s soiree was an affair of hushed elegance, its invitation extended only to those of unimpeachable lineage—Pureblood families whose names echoed through the corridors of history.

Inside the ballroom, enchanted chandeliers cast golden light upon the polished obsidian floors. The air shimmered with magic, as goblets refilled themselves with ancient vintages, and delicate platters of enchanted hors d'oeuvres floated between clusters of elegantly robed witches and wizards. A string quartet played in the corner, their instruments charmed to sing with melodies older than the castle itself.

For as long as anyone could remember, such soirees had been a cornerstone of Pureblood society. A gathering of influence, tradition, and unspoken rivalries, each event was less a celebration and more a calculated display of power. A new emerald-green velvet robe, enchanted with golden embroidery to shimmer with every movement, was a silent announcement of a family's prosperity. A whispered conversation in the shadow of a grand staircase might determine an alliance between two houses—or the quiet ruination of another.

The evening always followed a strict order of customs, for to be a Pureblood was to uphold tradition. First, the elders of each family would exchange pleasantries laced with subtext, their voices honeyed but their gazes sharp. They spoke of lineage, of marriage prospects, of the ‘proper way of things.’ Then came the formal introductions of the season’s debutantes—young witches and wizards of age, poised like chess pieces awaiting their first move on the grand board of aristocratic politics.

At the stroke of ten, the waltz would begin. Partners were chosen not by fancy, but by strategy. A Malfoy would glide across the floor with a Rowle, a Lestrange with a Bulstrode, each step a subtle negotiation between families. To refuse a dance was to deliver an insult; to accept was to acknowledge the potential of a future bond.

Beyond the gilded civility, these gatherings carried undercurrents of intrigue. In dimly lit alcoves, quiet dealings were struck, futures bartered in murmured tones. Who would inherit a seat on the Wizengamot? Who had fallen from grace? Who was worthy of the grandest of alliances—marriage?

Not all traditions were dictated by decorum alone. At midnight, the ancient rite of the Naming was observed. The family patriarch would raise his wand and speak the names of his ancestors aloud, calling upon their spirits to bear witness. It was a moment of solemn reverence, a reminder that to be Pureblood was to carry the weight of history itself.

And yet, among the younger generation, there were whispers of change. Some, moved through the halls with an air of quiet rebellion. They danced the waltz with smirks rather than solemn nods, their presence a reminder that the rigid lines of Pureblood tradition were not as unshakable as they once were. Would the old ways hold? Or were these soirees, steeped in the past, doomed to fade like the last notes of a dying melody?

As the night waned and the guests slowly departed, the Black family’s great hall fell silent once more, until the next soiree summoned them all again—where history would repeat itself, or change forever.

- ★、

As the clock has strikes, the Debutante Ceremony has commenced and they are ready to upheld conversations with the Elders. A ritual as old as the bloodlines that fill the ballroom. It is not merely a presentation but an initiation—a passage into the world of unspoken alliances and delicate rivalries, where names carry power and every gesture is a calculated move. Their lineage is announced, their worth silently measured, their futures quietly bartered in the minds of those who hold influence. To be presented is to be acknowledged—to be placed upon the grand chessboard of Pureblood society, where tradition dictates the game, but ambition decides the victor.

The Merlin family has always stood apart from the more rigid Pureblood ideologies—not because you lack power, but because you understand that true magic transcends lineage. Your father, Ambrosius Merlin, and your mother, Morgana Selwyn-Merlin, are known not only for their ancestry but for their philosophy. They command respect, but their stance—your stance—on blood status makes your family both revered and watched carefully.

Still, tonight, you are not merely the heir of your family. You are a prize. A new powerful prize.

The emerald-green silk of your robes shimmers as you move through the room, the enchanted golden embroidery catching the flickering candlelight. Your name has been spoken with weight, and the moment you step into the ballroom, you feel the shift—the eyes that turn, the quiet assessments, the inevitable calculations. The season’s debutantes are meant to be admired, courted, traded like valuable pieces in the grand game of Pureblood politics.

But you are not a piece to be played.

At your side, your father exchanges pleasantries with Abraxas Malfoy, their conversation a carefully maneuvered waltz of its own. Your mother, ever the poised enchantress, speaks with some Lestrange, their words veiled behind the civility of old magic. The Abotts, the Travers, the Rosiers—all the names that have ruled this world for generations—stand in clusters, their heads inclined toward one another as they measure every movement in the room.

And then, there are the Riddles.

They arrive late, as if to ensure all eyes are drawn to them when they enter. Their presence is like a storm brewing at the edges of a carefully maintained sky—an undeniable force, something half-feared and half-fascinating.

Tom Riddle Jr. or Voldemort whatever you prefer, carries himself with the arrogance of a man who has bent fortune to his will, his sharp gaze missing nothing as he leads his family into the heart of the ballroom. His “wife” (dog), Bellatrix, a striking witch with ink-dark hair and a knowing smile, surveys the room as if she has already decided who is worth her time. And at their heels, moving with an effortless grace, is their son.

Mattheo Riddle.

You know him well.

Six years of shared classes, of crossed paths in the Slytherin common room, of watching him at the edges of every gathering—smirking, defiant, always walking the thin line between playing the game and tearing the board apart. He has always been a storm in waiting.

And now, he is watching you.

At the stroke of ten, the waltz begins. Tradition dictates that pairings are strategic, not sentimental. You expect to dance with a Nott or a Parkinson—someone whose family sees your lineage as a powerful acquisition. Instead, when the music swells and partners are chosen, a hand extends toward yours before anyone else can claim the honor.

Of course, belonging to the youngest Riddle.

It is not a request. It is a declaration.

"You know, I could have waited for the formalities," he muses as he guides you onto the floor, his grip light but confident. "Let someone else have the first dance. Give them a fighting chance."

You raise a brow. "And yet here you are. Stealing the moment."

"Taking what I want," he corrects, smirking. "Besides, we both know none of them stand a chance against me."

The music swells around you, a smooth waltz carrying you both across the floor, but the conversation is its own kind of dance—a careful exchange, a measured step forward and back.

"Bold of you to assume I’m the one being competed for," you reply, tilting your head. "Perhaps it’s the other way around. You did cut in rather quickly."

He chuckles, low and warm. "Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d let me."

You match his smirk but don’t answer. Silence is power, and you let it linger just long enough for him to wonder.

"You know," he muses after a beat, "my father was rather intrigued when he heard we’d be attending tonight. Said your family holds an interesting perspective."

"Interesting?" you echo. "Is that what we’re calling it?"

"Radical, by some accounts," he amends, his voice teasing but his eyes sharp. "The idea that magic should be valued over blood? That ability matters more than ancestry?"

"And does that shock you?" you ask, arching a brow. "That one of the oldest Pureblood families in the world doesn’t subscribe to the same archaic nonsense as the rest of them?"

"It doesn’t shock me," Mattheo admits. "But it does make me curious. I’ve spent my whole life hearing that power and blood go hand in hand. That magic is strongest when it remains pure."

"And yet," you counter smoothly, "some of the greatest minds in history have not been Purebloods. Morgana herself—our ancestor—was born of mixed bloodlines. Salazar Slytherin was said to be half-elven. Merlin was... well, Merlin. Do you really believe that if power were solely dictated by blood, we’d have wizards of half-blood and Muggle-born descent surpassing those who have spent generations trying to breed perfection?"

His grip on your waist tightens slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. "You make a compelling argument."

"I make a true argument," you correct. "You, of all people, should understand that magic is not bound by blood. If it were, you wouldn’t be nearly as impressive as you are."

That earns you something—perhaps not surprise, but a shift in his expression, something just beneath the surface. "Was that a compliment?"

"An observation," you reply smoothly.

He exhales a quiet laugh. "You really do know how to play the game, don’t you?"

"The difference between us, Mattheo, is that I don’t just play the game," you murmur, allowing him to spin you effortlessly before returning to his arms. "I intend to win it."

His smirk widens, something darkly amused glinting in his eyes. "Then I suppose it’s a good thing I’m on your side."

The waltz continues, the rhythm lulling you into a delicate flow, but the banter sharpens as the conversation deepens. Mattheo's eyes contain familiar mix of curiosity and challenge, a spark that makes the air between you charged.

"So," he begins, his voice a soft drawl, “you’re serious? You actually believe power should come from ability, not ancestry?"

You glance up at him, catching the flicker of amusement on his face. “Grandpa’s beard…, yes Matt, and it’s not just ability. But yeah. You’ve heard the same stories I have—the ones your father recites over dinner, where pure bloodlines are the be-all and end-all of power."

Mattheo’s smile widens, but there’s something almost dangerous in it. "You’re implying my father’s wrong, then?"

"You and I both know the line about blood is antiquated," you reply easily, your feet gliding gracefully across the floor. "The greatest wizards in history—The Founders, Flamel, hell, even Ollivander!,—were not bound by blood status. They transcended it. Why? Because magic is far greater than some petty distinction. It’s the strength of the mind, the force of will, the depth of understanding."

Mattheo chuckles lowly, clearly intrigued. "And here I thought the Riddles were the rebels. But I hear it all the time, in my own home—blood is everything. My father says that those who have 'pure' blood are born with a clearer connection to magic."

"Clearer, perhaps," you muse, "but not necessarily stronger. What, then, of those whose blood is ‘impure’ but can still bend the laws of magic to their will? What of the Half-Bloods who’ve gone on to perform feats that those with ‘perfect’ bloodlines can only dream of?"

"Your father may not care for tradition, but my family does." His voice is sharp, but there’s a respectful undertone. He can’t help it, he’s been brought up that way. "We don’t question the old ways, the things that have worked for centuries."

"And that’s exactly why you’ve never truly questioned them," you counter with a smile, sweet but full of challenge. "Tradition is only a barrier when it stops progress. My family has always believed in the magic that can change the world—not preserve an old idea of it."

Mattheo glances at you, his eyes narrowing slightly in amusement and something else—curiosity, perhaps. "You make it sound so easy, dismantling centuries of tradition with a wave of your wand."

"It’s not about dismantling it," you explain softly, leaning just slightly closer, "it’s about evolving it. We live in a time where progress is magic. Look at the world—look at the advancements. You know better than anyone that the ‘pure blood’ obsession is just a way to keep people divided."

Mattheo’s smile softens, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. I guess- I guess so. Your family, they’re more than just power and history, then?"

You glance up at him, a shimmer of something unspoken passing between you. "It’s about legacy, yes. But legacy is what you leave behind, not what you inherit."

His lips quirk into a half-smile. "And what do you plan to leave behind, then?"

"Something that can’t be measured in blood, but in what we create. A world where magic—true magic—is free to evolve, not bound to tradition."

He lets out a thoughtful hum, his fingers gently guiding you through the next step of the waltz. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe tradition does hold us back."

You meet his gaze, the conversation sliding into something deeper now, but still light, sweet. "I know I’m right, darling. The only real power is in change.”

He lets the words hang in the air between you, his expression thoughtful, as though weighing the possibility of this new truth you've presented. His hand gently guides you through the next turn, but his eyes remain locked on yours, intense and searching.

"Change," he repeats softly, almost to himself, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. "It’s a dangerous thing, don’t you think? It challenges everything we know, everything we’ve been taught. Even a small shift can send everything into chaos."

You give a gentle shrug, your gaze soft but unwavering. "Sometimes chaos is necessary, Matt. Without it, nothing new is born. The world we know—our world—will only survive if we allow it to adapt. If we hold on to the past too tightly, it will strangle us."

There’s a pause, the tension of the conversation shifting between playful and profound. He spins you lightly, and for a brief moment, you feel the weight of the dance in your steps, but also the weight of the truth you’re exchanging. It’s delicate—this balance between banter and something far deeper.

Mattheo looks at you again, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, though it lacks any malice. "So, you're telling me that in order for us to survive, we should throw away the very things that made us strong? Magic, family, bloodlines… They’re not just irrelevant in your world, are they? You want us to forget them entirely?"

"Not forget," you say quickly, your voice quiet but firm. "But redefine. A family’s bloodline, yes, it has significance. History matters, I won’t deny that. But it shouldn’t define a person’s worth. What matters is what you do with it.”

He smirks, a trace of teasing in his eyes. "And what about the power you where talking about? You think you can just throw away centuries of tradition and create power like that?"

“Don’t be so extreme.” You smile. “Power,” you continue, drawing in a deep breath, "isn’t something you can create by force alone, Mattheo. It’s something that’s earned. Through action, conviction. And yes, even change. The power to build, to innovate, to move forward—that’s the power worth having."

There’s a spark in his eyes now—something more than the playful challenge you’ve seen before. It’s curiosity, mixed with respect. He considers your words carefully, his gaze unwavering as he watches you, really watches you for the first time tonight.

"I’ve never met anyone who thinks the way you do,” he admits, his voice low.

You smile, a soft, genuine smile. "Maybe that’s why you’re listening."

Mattheo raises an eyebrow, amused. "Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out whether you’re as dangerous as you sound."

"You should know by now, Mattheo," you murmur, leaning just a fraction closer as the dance slows, "that dangerous is just another word for powerful."

The dance comes to an unexpected halt as a familiar, commanding voice cuts through the air—one that sends a ripple through the crowd. You glance up, a soft, knowing smile tugging at your lips as your father, Ambrosius Merlin, strides toward you.

He’s a striking figure, tall and dignified, his dark robes flowing with the same effortless grace as his presence. His silver hair catches the light, and the sharpness in his blue eyes cuts through the bustling ballroom with ease. Unlike the cold formality of most Pureblood patriarchs, Ambrosius exudes an energy that is both refined and warm, carrying an air of absolute authority that is never questioned, yet never unkind.

"Ah," he says with a smile as he steps closer, his voice a deep, melodic rumble. "There you are, my brilliant child. I must say, you’ve been quite the spectacle this evening." He looks at you with a gentle pride before turning his gaze to Mattheo, offering a hand in greeting. "I am Ambrosius Merlin. I’ve heard much about you, young Riddle."

You step aside with a subtle nod, letting your father take the lead. His presence commands the space, and in the quiet moment of his arrival, the room seems to part, giving the trio of you space to breathe.

Mattheo eyes Ambrosius with curiosity, clearly recognizing the power the Merlin name carries, but also sensing the softness that lies beneath. "A pleasure, Mr. Merlin," he says smoothly, taking your father’s hand in a firm, respectful shake. "I’ve heard your name often in the circles that matter."

Ambrosius chuckles softly, giving you a knowing glance as he places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you into the next step of the conversation. "Ah, so you’ve spoken of me, have you? I trust it was in a positive light?"

You smile gently, the edge of the conversation drifting back to familiar ground. "Mostly," you tease, before turning back to Mattheo. "Now that you’ve met my father, I think you’ll understand more fully where I’m coming from."

Mattheo’s gaze shifts between you both, his curiosity evident. "I’m intrigued. Your speech seems... different from the usual Pureblood patriarchs I’m used to. Not quite so…umm, oppressive?”

Ambrosius gives a quiet chuckle, his expression warm but his voice still filled with gravity. "I don’t see any value in stifling the potential of young minds," he says. "In fact, if there’s one thing I agree with my child on, it’s that magic—true magic—should always be allowed to evolve. The old ways are valuable in their own right, but they should never be a cage." He looks pointedly at you. "You understand this, don’t you?"

You nod with a soft, approving smile. "Absolutely. Magic is meant to grow, to transform. Everyone should have the right to experiment and experience it. My father’s always said that the greatest magic comes from the mind, the heart, the willingness to question what came before."

Mattheo listens, his brows furrowing slightly, as if trying to reconcile the two very different philosophies in front of him. "I see your point, both of you," he admits, the tone of his voice softening. "But what do you do when tradition is all that’s left? When the past is the only thing that holds us together? My father would argue that it’s the stability of our bloodlines that keeps us strong—keeps us safe from the chaos of the world."

Ambrosius’s expression hardens slightly, though his tone remains even, never cruel. "Your father’s concerns are not misplaced, Mattheo. Stability is important. I’ve always said that the past holds lessons for us. But the past is not meant to rule us. You can be proud of your ancestry, but that doesn’t mean you should be shackled by it."

Your eyes flicker with a knowing understanding as you add softly, "Safety isn’t the same as power. Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than proud to come from my lineage.”

There’s a pause, the quiet stretching between you all like a soft tension, before Mattheo finally speaks, repeating the same question from earlier, his voice thoughtful. "But... does that mean we should abandon everything that has kept us who we are? Do we really let go of our history, our family names, the legacy of our ancestors?"

Ambrosius places a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder, his grip firm yet kind. "No. We don't abandon the past," he says, his voice steady and wise. "We honor it. But we also challenge it. The world changes, and we must change with it, not to survive, but to thrive. Your father’s stance, while rooted in history, lacks the foresight that we need for the future." 

He glances at you with a proud smile. "And your vision, my dear, is the one that will shape that future."

Mattheo doesn’t reply immediately, his gaze lingering on both of you. The words, the philosophy, swirl in his mind like the dance, shifting and twisting into something new. The internal turmoil  growing as he questions what truly matters in the world of magic—and where the future lies.

“Right, so…” he says softly, his voice low and contemplative. "It’s not about abandoning tradition, but about shaping it into something new. A balance between what we were and what we can become."

Ambrosius gives a small, approving nod, his gaze softening. "Exactly. And you, Mattheo, will have to decide where you stand in that balance."

Finally, he meets your gaze, a hint of something new in his eyes—curiosity, respect, perhaps even admiration. "It’s strange," he says, his voice quieter now, the earlier playful challenge softened. "Most people would have thrown their lot in with the old ways. The ones who maintain order. It’s easier. I mean, my father is the example.” He looks between you and your father, the weight of your words settling on him. "You make it sound like we can choose what comes next. Like there’s... freedom in that."

Ambrosius smiles, a knowing, almost fatherly smile, and places a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder. "Freedom," he says softly, "isn’t something we’re given. It’s something we take. And when you’re ready to take it, the world will open up to you in ways you never imagined."

You add, your voice sweet as honey, "But you don’t have to do it alone, Mattheo. The world is full of people who are ready to fight for that change, even if it’s just in the smallest ways."

Mattheo nods slowly, as if understanding the depth of the words for the first time. He smiles, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his expression—something contemplative, almost as if he’s weighing his next steps in this dance of ideas, of magic, of destiny.

For a moment, it feels as though time stretches out, the world of Pureblood tradition swirling around you, yet you stand apart from it, caught between the past and the future.

Ambrosius clears his throat, his voice once again smooth and commanding, but never dismissive. "Mattheo, while I’ve enjoyed our conversation, I must say this: you come from a family that commands respect, but how you choose to use that respect will define your future. The question you must answer, my boy, is not what you inherit, but what you create with it."

Your father’s words linger in the space, a challenge and an invitation all at once. It’s clear now—this evening, this night, isn’t about any one person or even one family. It’s about legacy, yes, but it’s also about choice. About shaping the future, and about how each individual—be it you, Mattheo, or anyone in this room—holds the power to forge their own path.

Mattheo’s smile deepens, and his tone carries a new layer of thoughtfulness. "I think," he says, "I’m starting to see how much of this game is about more than just following the rules. It's about what you choose to do with the cards you're dealt."

You return the smile, your own confidence echoing in your words. "Exactly. The world doesn’t change on its own, Mattheo. It takes people who are willing to change with it. And that’s where real power lies. Also, let’s be completely honest, you were never the one that followed the rules.”

The soft, haunting notes of the string quartet rise again in the background, their melody filling the quiet space that’s settled around you. The dance continues, but now there’s something different in the air, something electric. The future feels like it’s not so far off anymore—like it’s already beginning, right here, right now.

As the music swells, you feel your father’s grip tighten just slightly on your shoulder, a silent reaffirmation of his belief in you. This moment, this conversation, will reverberate through the rest of the night. Through the traditions and the politics, through the rivalries and alliances, something else has been born: a new way forward.

And when the night ends, when the last notes of the waltz fade into the evening, it will be your words, your family’s vision, that will stay with Mattheo—and perhaps even with the whole room—long after the soiree’s final curtain.

[tideoverwater]

hi! here's a little something I wrote, nothing crazy but I thought id throw it out here. feedback is appreciated, let me know what you think <3

The soft murmur of old-money conversations, the clinking of crystal glasses, and the faint notes of a jazz quartet wove together in a familiar symphony inside the Figure Eight Country Club. It was a Friday afternoon, the men finally off of their hard days work with their wives draped off their arms mingling with each other. Y/N leaned against the bar, her manicured fingers tapping idly against the polished mahogany surface. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the lingering stares, the hushed whispers, or the occasional smirk aimed her way. Dating Rafe Cameron came with a price—one she was more than willing to pay. Nobody ever thought Rafe would ever settle for one person, and Y/N of people was the last on their list. 

The pouge bartender, a short brunette with an overly confident smirk, was engrossed in conversation with her coworkers. Y/N didn’t miss the way they leaned in, giggling behind their hands. "God, he is so hot," Sofia purred, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I swear, if I had even one chance with Rafe Cameron..." Y/N tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Please," one of the other girls scoffed. "He has a girlfriend." Sofia made a face, rolling her eyes. "That doesn’t mean anything. You’ve seen her, right? So... basic." Y/N kept her expression neutral, but her grip on the edge of the bar tightened."She just follows him around like some lost puppy," Sofia continued, swirling a cocktail shaker absentmindedly. "Like, I don’t know what he sees in her. A guy like that? He needs someone who can actually keep up." 

And a pouge like you could?  Y/N thinks to herself. She exhaled slowly, refusing to take the bait. It was honestly comedic at this point, she’d heard it all before. The jealous jabs, the condescending tones—girls who wanted Rafe but would never have him. Still, she wasn’t the type to let things slide.

Clearing her throat, she leaned in slightly. "Can I get a vodka soda? Put it on Rafe Cameron’s tab." Sofia snapped out of her little fantasy world, turning to face Y/N with a forced smile. "Oh, um... actually, his tab isn’t open tonight."

Y/N arched an eyebrow. "That’s funny."

Sofia shrugged, feigning innocence. "Yeah, sorry. Club policy." Y/N bit back a smirk. This girl had no idea who she was dealing with.

"Rafe," Y/N called, turning slightly in her chair.

The shift in the atmosphere was immediate. Heads turned, whispers picked up, and Sofia’s confidence flickered just slightly as she followed Y/N’s gaze.

Rafe Cameron, in all his effortless arrogance, stood a few feet away, engaged in conversation with Topper and Kelce.. His presence was magnetic—crisp button-down slightly unbuttoned, tanned skin, sharp jawline and freshly buzzed hair.. When he looked over, his blue eyes locked onto Y/N with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. Without hesitation, he made his way over, his gaze flickering between her and Sofia. "What’s up, baby?" He says as he places his arm around her chair and the other on the edge of the bar, locking her in place. Y/N leaned into him, her fingers grazing the front of his shirt as she looked up at him through her lashes. "They said your tab isn’t open." Rafe’s expression darkened slightly before his signature smirk curved his lips. "Is that right?" He turned to Sofia, who suddenly looked a lot less confident. "My tab is always open."

Sofia swallowed, her face paling. "I—uh—must have made a mistake."

Rafe pulled out his wallet, tossing a black Amex onto the bar with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Make sure my girl gets whatever she wants." Y/N smiled sweetly, taking her drink as she leaned up to press a slow kiss to Rafe’s jaw. "Thanks, Rafey." The moment was dripping with satisfaction as Sofia watched, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Y/N glanced at Sofia, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Next time, don’t lie. It’s not a good look." Sofia stammered, nodding quickly as she hurried to ring up the drink.

Y/N turned back to Rafe, tilting her head with a teasing smirk. "You love showing off, don’t you?" Rafe placed a hand on her cheek, lightly brushing his thumb against her lips. "Only when it’s for you." She leans in and he places the softest of kisses on her lips,  as she smiles into it. Just like that, any lingering doubts about where she stood vanished. Because at the end of the day, Rafe Cameron was hers—and no one could take that away.

[mint-yooxgi]

Rover - Spy!Jongin X Reader X Yandere!Spy!Kai

Twin!AU, Spy!AU & Yandere!AU - Based off of Kai's Mini Album Rover

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Tragedy, Smut

Pairing: Jongin X Reader X Kai

Words: 25,600

Warnings: Violence: physical and gun related, blood and injuries, unhealthy relationships, allusions to cheating (but not actually in that particular context), major deaths, assault and mentions of sexual trafficking. Smut: Dub-Con (there is explicit consent, but it's immediately negated due to the fact that OC is misled to believe she is consenting to her husband when it is not actually him; unknowing infidelity), oral (fem. rec), praise, body worship, dirty talk, very sensual and intimate. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: *Ding ding ding* @ninibears-erigom come get your dinner!! Hehehe, anyways, this is heavily inspired by Kai's third mini album and the subsequent MVs/Films for it. I'm a little hesitant posting it cause of the dub-con aspect, but this is a much darker fic than I usual write and I really like how it turned out. Also, please don't come in my inbox saying OC is stupid for not realizing things, I don't wanna hear it lmaoo anyways, as always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

“What’s your position from the target?” A deep voice sounds in your ear, but you appear to pay him no mind.

“Twenty metres.” Comes your low reply, taking a sip from the crystalline glass held in your hand.

“Whenever you’re ready: approach.” Another male responds, and you can feel his eyes locked onto your figure from the side of the room.

Carefully, you place the champagne flute in your hand onto a side table, weaving your way through the crowd. People hardly notice you, too wrapped up in their own worlds to see nothing but a fleeting shadow dancing in the corner of their vision.

You smirk.

A moment later, and you feel someone bump into your front, spilling wine all over your satin gown.

“Pardon me,” a rough voice greets your ears as you wear an expression of shock.

“It’s all my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” you smile sheepishly, curling in on yourself as hushed whispers and pointed glances are sent your way.

“Be more careful next time, lass,” he responds with a firm nod of his head before turning away.

A waiter offers you a napkin to begin cleaning yourself off with, of which you accept graciously as you begin to walk away.

Little does anyone notice the smirks that tug subtly on either one of your faces.

A shrill scream reaches your ears as a dull thud echoes around the room. The music from the string quartet stops abruptly, people gathering in a circle around a now convulsing body. Not just any body, but the body of the man you had just ‘accidentally’ bumped into.

Not even a second later, the body stills, laying dead upon the floor.

Turning down one of the side hallways of the banquet hall, you appear to slip into the bathroom to freshen up. Only, you mange to slip out of the side door instead.

The cool night air is crisp against your skin, hands immediately coming up to grasp your arms for warmth. That cloth is still held in your hand, but you’ve long since given up attempting to save your dress. There’s no use, anyways. You’ve done what you’ve came here to do, so now all that’s left is to rendezvous at the meeting point, and call it a night.

“Did you get the rest of the information we needed?” That same deep voice from earlier echoes through your little earpiece, but you know he’s not talking to you for the moment.

“Signed, sealed, and delivered.” The other answers just as you hear the same door you exited out of creak open behind you.

Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you see that same waiter step out of the building. A smirk pulls at his lips as he sees you, loosening the first few buttons on his shirt as he approaches.

“God, I don’t know how these servers wear these things all night,” he grumbles, fingering the tie looser to ease it from his neck.

You grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he steps in front of you. “Well, I think you look very handsome.”

“At your service, My Lady,” he grins right back, a teasing glint shining within his eyes as he wraps his arms around your waist.

A small silence settles over the both of you as you begin to lean in to one another. You stare deeply into his soft brown eyes, lips quirking as he squeezes your waist gently in his hold.

“If you two are done flirting with each other, we have a job to finish.” A sharp voice interrupts the moment you had been having with your husband.

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes, turning to face the second male who now stands at the end of the alleyway. A male who is identical in every way to the one who still stands behind you, save for a small mole on the back of his neck, directly beneath his hairline. “We’re coming."

“Just because you don’t have a wife, Kai, doesn’t mean that I’m not allowed to appreciate mine.” Again, his arms slide around your waist, resting his chin over your one shoulder.

Kai’s jaw tenses, lips pursing as his frown deepens.

“Jongin, don’t boast.” You poke said male’s arm lightly while letting out a soft giggle. “It’s unbecoming of you.”

“It’s never stopped him before,” Kai mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. Then, without waiting for either one of you to respond, he continues, “Come on, let’s get going.”

Without another word, the three of you are heading down the alleyway and towards a sleek black car. 

The all leather interior is cool against your skin as you slide into the backseat, a chill running down your spine.

Kai’s eyes flash in the rearview mirror, a silent puff of air escaping him as your husband doesn’t even seem to notice.

“There’s a blanket under the passenger seat if you’re cold.” He states, somewhat gruffly as the engine purrs to life.

The lights illuminate the path before you, and without waiting another second, Kai speeds out of the alleyway, racing off into the night.

“Stop taking better care of my wife than me.” Jongin grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest somewhat childishly. “Get your own."

“Maybe if you payed better attention to her, I wouldn’t fucking have to.” Kai remarks, weaving in and out through other cars as he heads for the agency you all work for across the city.

“Boys,” you tut, shaking your head in amusement. A moment later, and that blanket is wrapped around your figure. It’s surprisingly warm. “We’ve just got to find your  older brother a partner of his own to worry about, and then he won’t have to worry about me.”

Briefly, his eyes glance at you again within the rearview mirror.

Impossible. He’ll always worry about you, since his brother never seems to want to.

“What type of person are you in to, Kai?” You lean forward, resting your arm on the back of Jongin’s seat as you look towards the elder of the two.

“You ask me this every time.” He grumbles, hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“And you never have an answer for me.” You reply with an amused hum, somewhat knowingly. “Do you fancy men, women, both, or any type of person there is?”

Jongin quirks a brow, shaking his head while muttering about your incessant need to find his brother a life partner.

“Why is it you really want to know?” Kai shoots a look towards you out of the corner of his eyes, lips quirking as he pulls off of the highway. “Worried you might make yourself jealous?”

A loud, boisterous laugh falling from your painted lips greets his ears. You even go so far as to pat his shoulder a few times in jest, wiping at your eyes with your free hand as if you had tears gathering at the corners.

“Now, why would knowing you fancy someone make me jealous?” You remove your hand. “You know I’m married, right?”

That damn ring of yours glinting beneath the artificial lights illuminating the street he drives down mocks him, the matching one sitting proudly on Jongin’s own hand. A ring which should have been on his finger instead.

Kai grits his teeth. “How could I ever forget?”

“No, I want to know your type so I can set you up with someone,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Perhaps Shinobu from logistics, or my friend Sunmin.”

He blinks, staring blankly ahead as he turns into the entrance to the underground parking lot for your agency. “I’m perfectly happy on my own.”

“Your comments about our marriage suggest otherwise,” Jongin grumbles just as Kai pulls into a spot.

Your brow quirks, but you say nothing as you exit the vehicle.

As soon as your foot touches the concrete flooring, the engine is cut, the two males stepping out to join you immediately after. Jongin instantly has his arm around your waist, helping to guide you inside of the building.

The whole time you walk inside and to the elevator, you can feel Kai’s eyes on you. However, little do you realize the way his shoulder still tingles from your touch mere minutes before.

The ride up to the main facility is silent, both males flanking you on either side. The only difference is, Jongin has his hand placed lowly on your back, even with that blanket still resting over your shoulders. It’s faint, but the material smells of jasmine and a certain type of musk you can’t quite put your finger on. All that you do know, is it smells incredible, and you find yourself leaning in to catch that scent more often that not. 

A fact of which Kai picks up on.

A subtle smirk pulls at his lips as he sees you wrap that blanket tighter around yourself as the elevator doors slide open with a slight ding. The fact that you lean into it, wanting to smell more of him mixed with you sets his heart racing in his chest.

Now, if only he could have you smelling like that naturally.

“I’m going to go change, and then I’ll meet you boys in the boss’ office.” You say, voice managing to pull both of them out of their thoughts for the moment.

A nod is all you receive from Jongin as you turn to place a gentle kiss onto his cheek. Pulling away, you smile softly at Kai before heading down a separate hallway and towards your own private office at the one end of the facility.

As soon as you disappear from sight, Kai is shooting a pointed look at his younger brother.

“You didn’t even ask if she was okay.” His tone is pointed, disproval heavy in his gaze.

“Oh, don’t give me that crap.” Jongin rolls his eyes, already heading down the opposite hallway and towards their boss’ office. “You didn’t either.”

“At least I noticed she was cold.” Kai huffs, eyes narrowing at the back of his brother’s head as he follows after Jongin.

“If she was cold she would have said something.” Jongin replies nonchalantly as he tucks his hands into his pockets. Taking another step, he rounds on his brother. “Stop meddling in our affairs. What my wife and I do is none of your concern.”

“It is when you don’t fucking treat her properly.” Kai seethes, pushing Jongin harshly against the wall using his forearm. “Did you even notice that bastard didn’t even fucking apologize for spilling his drink all over her? Or were you just too busy eye-fucking his wife.”

“We got the job done, didn’t we?” Jongin spits, shoving his brother off of him.

“You’re fucking lucky we know what we’re dong.” Kai snaps, brushing past his twin with a harsh knock into his shoulder. “Why did you even bother to join this agency if all you ever do is complain about the jobs we get told to do, and the covers you get assigned?”

Of course, Kai knows exactly why Jongin does everything he does. It’s to prove that he always gets what he wants. At least, everything that Kai has ever desired. It’s not like Jongin actually likes the same things as his elder twin, he just wants to prove that he can take whatever it is that Kai wants for himself. Yet, whenever Kai points it out, no one believes him. Instead, they fall for Jongin’s little innocent act. Every. Single. Time.

To say Kai is frustrated would be an understatement. If he needed a new phone, Jongin’s always had to come first. If he wanted to follow a specific career path, Jongin did everything in his power to prove how much smarter, how much better he is at it than him.

The final straw had been you.

Kai had been smitten ever since he first laid his eyes on you in high school. Only, Jongin took notice of the fact of yet another person his twin had desired and made it his mission to get you first. Kai had lost many friends and lovers throughout the years because of this, but he thought you would be different. You had never played into Jongin’s tricks, so Kai couldn’t help but hope that finally, he could claim someone as his own. Someone who he had always desired above everyone else. Someone whom he loves.

That’s when the two of you announced you were getting married. With the same damn set of rings Kai had wanted to use to propose to you someday, too.

Kai had seen red that day, taking the most intensive and erotic bender of his entire life. It took him days to recover, and when he did, he was never the same man.

None of these other women were you. No one else mattered to him but you.

Yet, he couldn’t hurt you. No, never you. He couldn’t ruin your own happiness for his own selfish gains. Not like his brother. So, no matter how badly it pained him to watch you walk down that aisle in a dress he only ever dreamed you’d be wearing for him, he grinned and bared it. All because he loves you. More than anything.

The worst part? You don’t even realize how badly Jongin treats you. At least, in Kai’s opinion.

Jongin doesn’t bring you your favourite flowers on your birthday like he does. Jongin doesn’t remember your favourite take-out order when you’re feeling down. Hell, Jongin can’t even offer you the love that you have always deserved like Kai can.

If only you could see that, too.

Sitting within the boss’ office with his brother is tense, the elder woman leaning against her desk with her arms crossed over her chest. Her stern gaze looks over the both of them sharply, the usb they were required to use to hack the system of the banquet held firmly in her one hand.

“Do one of you want to tell me how this got destroyed?” Her tone is pointed, and they both know she won’t accept a bullshit answer.

A moment of silence before Jongin is letting out a loud sigh. “I told him to be more careful, but this idiot managed to crush it while subduing the waiter he was supposed to be impersonating.”

Kai’s nostril’s flare.

“You were the one that insisted that he take out the waiter instead so he could ‘keep an eye on his wife’. If I remember correctly.” He seethes, nothing but malice in his gaze as he glares at his brother.

“Jongin trusts his wife with his own life, why would he need to babysit one of our top two agents?” Their boss, Quincy, replies bluntly.

“Oh, is that what he told you?” Kai scoffs, sitting back in his seat as he rolls his eyes.

“I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of your attitude, Kai.” Her gaze sharpens, turning the full intensity of her heated glare onto him. “You may be the other half of our top two agents, but every day you push your luck.”

“If it weren’t for Jongin’s fuck up tonight, I wouldn’t have had to hack into the security mainframe manually, and we could have been out of there sooner.” Kai shifts in his seat once more, gripping the arms of his chair tightly beneath his fingers.

“Your purpose in these dual missions is to give each other an alibi should people start getting suspicious.” Quincy looks between the both of them, her lips pursed in a tight line. “We can’t keep your covers hidden if the both of you don’t cooperate. You’re brothers for crying out loud. Act like it.”

“I don’t know what you know about brotherly love, boss,” Jongin chuckles, “but we’ve never had it.”

“Then you better learn some before one of you ends up dead.” She huffs. “I know someone who would be devastated if they were to learn of at least one of your deaths.”

The pointed look she sends Jongin has a white hot fury flooding Kai’s veins at how unbothered his twin looks by this statement. Not only that, but a tightness begins welling inside his chest, heart aching at the truth behind those words.

He swallows thickly.

Just then, a knock sounds on the door. A second later, and you pop your head in, entering the room in a fresh pair of pants and a new shirt.

“Good. You’re here.” Quincy nods, pushing herself off of her desk and walking behind it so that she can take a seat. “Now, the three of you,” she looks between you all, “give me the rundown of your latest assignment.”

Stepping over beside Jongin, you perch yourself on the one arm of his chair as you meet Quincy’s gaze across from you.

“Target: William Darcey, eliminated.” You begin, pulling out a small pin no bigger than the size of a pill capsule. Leaning forward, you place the empty container on the edge of her desk. “The new toxin Jeremy developed works like a charm. Dropped dead within a minute of being administered, and looked like a seizure to boot.”

“Excellent.” She nods her approval. “As always, it’s what I expect from you, and you always deliver.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” You nod back, keeping your head tilted forward in gratitude for a moment longer.

“I expect none of you were discovered.” Briefly, she looks over all three of you.

“If we were, we are unaware of it.” Jongin answers her, his hand moving to settle on your lower back.

The way you lean into his touch has Kai tensing in his seat beside you.

“My moles haven’t heard anything. Darcey was pronounced dead at the banquet, by natural causes.” Quincy shuffles some papers on her desk. “The information Kai managed to hack gives us our final target. The man pulling the strings behind this entire operation we’re attempting to shut down. Already, our Zero Division has moved to rescue those who have been trafficked by Don Vanderleen. The rescue is underway as we speak.”

“Are operations running as usual?” You inquire, and you notice her eyes flash. You shrink in your spot, noticing the disappearance of Jongin’s comforting touch. Though, you’re not the only one that does. “My apologies, Ma’am. I should have known better.”

“Next time, don’t interrupt until I’m finished.” She places the papers in her hands rather firmly on top of her desk.

You can only avert your gaze to the floor as Kai shifts once more in his seat.

His fingers twitch, longing to comfort you like he knows his brother should be doing right now. Even if it’s as little as his hand on your back, he would offer you his support in any way he can, not take it away.

“As I was saying,” another sharp look is sent your way by Quincy, “in two days’ time, Don Vanderleen will be attending the ballet Swan Lake at the Holly Theatre. We have already reserved the booth seats for you and Jongin to attend with him. You’ll be covering as two private investors interested in his more personal affairs.” She looks at you when she says this, shifting her gaze to the man sitting to your left in the next second. “Kai, you are expected to perform the assassination from the rooftop through the large domed ceiling. We will not tolerate failure. Not when we’ve been working towards this goal for the past two years. It’s time we bring this warlord to justice.”

Immediately, the three of you are nodding your understanding, accepting the files she hands you from across her desk. Your alibis, new cover profiles, as well as all the information on who you’re going to be sitting with, interacting with, and how you will be acting are all included inside.

“Learn this inside and out,” Quincy states, leaning back in her chair and observing the three of you carefully. Then, she turns her sharp gaze towards both you and Jongin. “Tomorrow, you’ll be fitted for your outfits. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” You reply for the both of you.

“Until then,” she turns away from you to begin riffling through the one drawer of her desk. “Dismissed.”

The three of you do not need to be told twice. 

Standing, you all exit the room. Jongin leads, not even bothering to wait for you as Kai holds the door open. You smile slightly in thanks, and from that simply action alone, Kai can feel his heart attempting to beat right out of his chest. At least he knows that if anything were to happen, he will take much better care of you than his brother can.

Catching up with Jongin, you fall into step beside him. Casually, he wraps his arm around your waist, not even bothering to look in your direction as he does so.

Stopping in the main hall, you turn to face Kai once more.

“Thanks for covering for his ass tonight.” You meet Kai’s gaze as you poke Jongin in the side of the ribs. “I swear he’s never outgrown his baby stage.”

“Oh, so, you’ve noticed, too?” Kai quirks a brow, a grin tugging at his features.

“Hey!” Jongin whines, lips tugging downwards in a pout before pulling upwards in a smirk. Leaning in, he whispers in your ear loud enough for his brother to hear, “that’s not what you were saying last night.”

Kai’s jaw twitches, and he has to restrain himself from clocking his brother right in front of you at this very moment. He knows what Jongin is trying to do, and he won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing him snap.

“Jongin,” you hit his side, averting your gaze so sweetly as you do so.

If only Kai could make you react like that. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to see you so bashful because of him. Him, and only him.

“Anyways,” you clear your throat, noticing how the elevator opens before you. Jongin must have called it while you weren’t looking. “We should get going, but did you need-“

“Come on, Darlin’,” Jongin tugs you into the elevator beside him. “I’ve had a long day, and I want to get home.”

You blink in mild shock, attempting to turn back towards Kai to finish offering him a ride home since you all drove in together this morning. Only, before another word can so much as leave you, Jongin is turning you towards himself and pressing his lips against your own as he cups your face.

The last thing Kai sees before the elevator doors close in his face is your surprised face before you’re completely melting into the kiss. The fact that he could just tell his brother had been watching his reaction out of the corner of his eyes sets his blood boiling.

Heading towards the stairs, Kai harshly slams the door open. His fists are clenched by his side as he begins to rush down them, the familiar burning of tears igniting behind his eyes. With how tight his jaw is clenched, he’s surprised his teeth don’t crack from the pressure.

Jongin is ruthless: dangling you in front of Kai like some toy. Viewing you as some grand prize to hold over his older brother every chance he gets. Only, that’s what Jongin doesn’t understand. You are not some toy. You are not an object to be owned and used as he pleases. 

That is what angers Kai the most. Jongin doesn’t even view you as a person, but simply another conquest that he can hold over his twin. A trophy to display whenever and however he wants, just to hurt Kai as much as possible.

If only you weren’t so blinded by your own emotions.

Emotions which shine clearly in your eyes as you pull away to stare deeply into Jongin’s own. The silence in the elevator is comforting, and the soft smile you see painting his features as he looks at you sets your heart racing.

You chuckle. “I wish you would stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He hums innocently, his arms once more wrapped around your waist, and holding you flush against him.

“Kissing me so suddenly,” you poke his chest lightly. “If you want to kiss me, just ask.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He grins, leaning in to peck your lips one more time.

You roll your eyes playfully as you hear the familiar chime of the elevator doors opening.

Stepping out, Jongin follows close behind, grabbing your hand in his own. He swings your arms gently between the both of you as you walk to the car, pulling the keys out of your pocket and unlocking it quickly. You part only to slide into the seats, hands immediately finding one another over the console once you’re both settled inside.

Jongin turns to you, a tender look in his eyes. “Stay with me until sunrise?”

You smile, heart warming at the secret code you made for each other ever since your wedding night. A code which lets you know that you not only love one another, but will stay with each other until the end of time.

“Only if we get to watch the sunset.”

Pulling out of the parking garage, you take off down the road. The drive home is quick, quaint in the silence that settles around the both of you. Yet, with the comforting way he squeezes your hand, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

***

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed.

Pulling yourself up and tossing off the covers, you’re quick to get ready for the day. Jongin must already be up and waiting for you, opting to have let you sleep in for a little while longer.

Once you reach the kitchen, you’re surprised to see no sight of Jongin waiting for you. Not even a note has been written for you in attempts to explain his whereabouts.

Your brow furrows in slight worry. He couldn’t have left without you already, right? It wouldn’t be extremely odd for him to; not completely out of the ordinary. The last time he did something like this though, was at the very beginning of your relationship. Back when you were still learning everything there was to know about each other.

After having a quick breakfast, you begin to make your way towards the agency. You hope beyond everything that Jongin is already there waiting for you, and not having decided to just up and disappear. You know that he hates fitting days, but you never thought he’d run out on you like this.

Stepping through the door to the clothing department reveals Nancy waiting patiently for you behind her desk. Her sewing machine whirs softly, a piece of fabric being pushed beneath the threaded needle.

“I’ll be with you in a second!” She calls, her glasses close to sliding right off her nose as she concentrates on the hemline she seems to be sewing.

“Take your time, Nance,” you call, already moving over to your usual fitting spot.

A soft sigh escapes you as you sit on the edge of the little pedestal in front of the three way mirror. Blankly, you stare at your reflection, leaning forward to rest your elbow on your knee. 

Jongin still hasn’t answered any of your calls or texts, and you’re getting a bit concerned. The last time he skipped out on fitting day for an upcoming mission, you thought Quincy was going to hang him by his toes off of the side of the building. You just hope he has a decent excuse this time.

The sound of the door opening behind you draws your attention just as you finally get a response from him.

“Sorry I’m late,” a deep voice sounds, and you lock eyes with who appears to be your husband in the mirror.

You glance down to read the message.

Had an emergency arise. Cover for me?

“Jongin!” Nancy exclaims, eyes lighting up with mirth as she finally finishes sewing that piece of fabric together. “You’re right on time! Come in, come in!”

He gives her a tight smile, before turning to face you.

“I was worried.” Your brow furrows slightly, a disappointed downturn of your lips as you stand to your feet.

“I know,” he grimaces slightly, playing the part of the remorseful husband well. “I’m sorry, Darling.”

You let out another sigh. “You’re here now.”

Nancy glances between the two of you curiously, a minor quirk to her brow. “Trouble in paradise? I’ve never seen you two act so cold.”

“We’re fine, Nance,” you reply quickly. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

“Alright,” she shoots you a skeptical look. “I’ve already got the outfits ready for you both, so you just sit tight and wait here.”

Scurrying off to the back, Nancy disappears from sight.

You can hear her fumbling around with some clothes, cursing as she drops something. A loud clatter is heard from behind the stacks of fabric, and you see some beads scatter across the floor.

“You okay, Nan?” You call out.

“Yeah!” She assures you, cursing a few more times under her breath as she shifts things around. “I’m just going to be another minute.”

You can hear her muttering to herself about finding where she put the matching vest as more shuffling occurs.

Taking this opportunity, you turn towards the male standing beside you, only to see him already staring at you.

“Thank you,” keeping your voice low, you lean into him subtly. Your arms are crossed over your chest, and you notice that he blinks a few times, as if you’ve just pulled him out of his own thoughts. “For covering for him.”

“Yeah, well,” Kai lets out an exasperated breath, “you know my brother.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.” You tell him honestly. “I don’t know how you put up with his shit all the time.”

“He’s done this before?” His brow quirks, an irritated twitch to his lips.

“Fittings aren’t the only things he likes skipping out on from time to time.” You say, glancing down at the ground with a frown. “‘Emergency’ my ass.”

You swear you see Kai’s nostril’s flare, but before he gets a chance to reply, Nancy is returning with two separate outfits in her hands.

“Sorry I took so long, couldn’t find the one vest for the life of me.” She chuckles, handing each of you your respective outfits. “Change into these. and then I can finish any alterations you may need.”

Grabbing the garments from her hands, both you and Kai enter your respective changing rooms. Not even five minutes later, you both step out, moving to stand on each of the two pedestals in front of the mirrors.

A low whistle escapes you.

“I always knew you’d look good in red.” You comment, eying the finely tailored suit that hugs Kai’s figure delicately.

The bright crimson stretches from the jacket, all the way down to his slacks. Even the vest he wears beneath is the same colour, exposing the slightest bit of his chest as there doesn’t seem to be a shirt buttoned underneath. The fact that his hair sits that golden blond atop his head only adds to the look, his honeyed skin practically glowing despite the harshness of the artificial lights.

Kai absolutely revels in your gaze. His breath hitches slightly as he sees you give him a few glances from head to toe, a shiver caressing his spine as he notices the corner of your lips twitching upwards. He knows you’re probably only picturing what Jongin will look like in such an outfit, but like hell is he letting anyone take this moment from him.

Finally, you are gazing at him just as he always knows he looks at you, and right now is no exception.

There you stand, in a gorgeous golden gown which accentuates every sinful curve of your body. A slit rests on the left side of the dress, following your leg upwards until about mid-thigh, allowing for ample movement in case things go south. Either way, you look absolutely radiant, and Kai curses his brother for being stupid enough to miss this.

He should be here, worshipping the very ground you walk on. Not fucking off on some random trip just cause he’s throwing a tantrum over fitting day.

“You look…” the words get caught in his throat as you meet his gaze, his breath hitching once more. He blinks, clearing his throat, “stunning.”

A soft smile graces your features as you avert your gaze, and if Kai didn’t know any better, he’d say he just made you shy.

His heart warms. Finally, he can say that he was the cause of your bashful reaction. Him, and him alone.

“Are you sure these outfits aren’t too…” you turn towards Nancy, “loud?”

“Yours? No.” She shakes her head. “His? Maybe.”

A chuckle escapes the woman’s mouth as you nod.

“I just remember you saying how you would love to see your husband in a bright red someday, that preferably isn’t blood.” She winks. “Though, I’m just surprised he didn’t fight you on it like he usually does. Equally surprised he didn’t complain this time around.”

You and Kai share a look.

“I simply decided that maybe I should listen to my beautiful wife for once.” Kai answers smoothy. “She’s usually right, after all.”

“Oh?” Nancy quirks her brow at this. “She finally smack some sense into your whiny ass?”

“I did no such thing!” You gasp, as if you’re truly scandalized by her words. Only, the playful wink you offer her immediately after has grins pulling at all of your faces.

“I just finally realized that I should appreciate the woman I love more often.” 

There is nothing but sincerely within his gaze as he looks at you when he says this. An intensity you almost long for from another male who looks exactly like him.

A puff of air escapes you, shaking your head lightly. “You always were the hopeless romantic.”

“For you?” He hums, turning back to face the mirror as he straightens out his blazer. “Always.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Nancy feign gagging.

“Bleck! Will you two stop being so lovey-dovey?” Her nose scrunches as she moves over to you to fix the hem of your skirt slightly. “It’s seriously gross.”

“You think this is us being lovey-dovey?” You snort out a laugh, the corner of your lips twitching upwards knowingly. You lift your head to meet Kai’s gaze, a playful roll to your eyes. “Oh, Honey, you’re just so sweet. I cannot bear to call you anything but.”

Kai shares a laugh with you, despite the way his heart races inside of his chest from your words. Sure, you may not mean it, but he’ll cherish this moment for as long as he can. After all, your words mean more to him that you’ll ever know.

“But, My Darling,” the grin that stretches across his features is nothing short of sultry, “you know that nothing can compare to your beauty. It’s enough to rival even the deepest of oceans, and highest of mountains, for it is eternal in the ways you captivate me.”

You both share another laugh, though this time, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Okay, now you’re just rubbing it in.” Nancy sighs, shooting an almost longing glance towards who she thinks is your husband. 

A glance which you immediately pick up on. 

You tense. 

“I wish someone would speak to me like that. Maybe I should flirt with you brother more often. See if he has as silvered a tongue as you, Jongin.” Nancy darts her gaze over at the male briefly before focussing back in on the task at hand.

Thank fuck Nancy is too busy hemming your skirt to look up to see the way Kai cannot hide the grimace that pulls onto his face at her words.

“You shouldn’t use him like that, Nancy. Kai is a gentleman, and you shouldn’t joke about getting him to do what you want. He doesn’t deserve that, and I don’t think he’s in the market anyways.” You state, rather casually as you smooth out the front of your dress. “Besides, aren’t you married.”

The judgement is clear on your features as you meet her gaze in the mirror. Lightly, you shake your head in disproval.

“A girl can dream.” Nancy sighs, her gaze once more flicking over at the male to your right.

“If you’re that unhappy in your marriage, Nance, you should probably get a divorce.” You say, a hint of concern now shining in your eyes. “To even imply you would cheat-“

“It was just a joke, sweetie,” she huffs, rolling her eyes a bit exasperatedly. “Lighten up.”

You purse your lips, letting out a long sigh through your nose.

“Jokes are meant to be funny.” 

Nancy shoots an incredulous look towards the male standing to your right.

“Geez,” she huffs, “didn’t realize you’d be so sensitive about your brother.”

The two of you share a look.

“Anyways, you’re probably right about the red being too loud for the ballet.” Nancy sighs, standing back to her feet. A second later, and she’s disappeared around the stacks of fabric only to reemerge holding a standard black suit and tie. “Change into this instead.”

Seamlessly, she hands the male the new outfit before he disappears back inside the change room. 

Once the curtain has slid closed, she leans into you, “Don’t worry. I’ll pack that little red ensemble for you separately.”

You quirk a small smile, somewhat sadly, “Thanks, Nance.”

A minute later, and Kai is stepping out in the muted suit, looking just as fine as he did in the red one.

“Your husband can certainly pull off anything he wants.” Nancy chuckles, a certain spark shining within her eyes that you don’t particularly like.

You simply quirk a tight smile in response as you step in to ‘adjust’ his tie.

“I think you’re negating the true beauty in the room.” He replies effortlessly, gaze locked with your own.

Your breath hitches, freezing right in your spot as you search his features. The sincerity alone that you can see shining within his eyes has your heart fluttering.

You turn away, clearing your throat. “So, should these be ready by tonight, or tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll have them ready for tonight. That way if you need to make any last minute alterations before the mission tomorrow we can do so then.” Nancy tells you, seeing you nod your understanding. “Kai will be in the same outfit as Jongin in case he gets spotted, only with a black button up to blend in better with the night.”

This time, you both nod your understanding. Of course, Nancy fails to see the way the two of you lock gazes.

You let out another sigh. 

“Well,” you step back into the change room, “better prepare for tomorrow.”

Sliding the curtain back over the rail, you slip out of the dress and back into your regular clothes. The moment you step back out, you’re handing the golden gown back to Nancy, thanking her lowly again. You notice Kai has also taken the liberty to change, handing the aforementioned female his brother’s outfit once more.

“I’ll be by later to pick them up,” you say, seeing her nod her head as she retreats back to her sewing machine for the moment.

Without another word, the two of you leave the room.

The walk to the elevators is silent, a sort of tension filling the air between the both of you. A tension which finally boils to a head when the elevator doors open to reveal Jongin laughing along with Shinobu inside. Her one hand playfully smacks his shoulder as her other covers her lower face, attempting to stifle her giggles as he grins widely. A faint blush creeps up her cheeks, her eyes shining with clear affection towards your husband.

Kai swears he sees red as he stands there, just as stiff as you as you both witness the scene before your very eyes.

Noticing the sudden tension around them, both Shinobu and Jongin turn their heads to see you and Kai standing there. Your expression remains unreadable, steeling your nerves as you step into the elevator with a curt nod to the other female. Kai, on the other hand, can barely control the shaking of his hands in anger.

The moment Shinobu scurries from the elevator, Kai is closing the distance between himself and his twin. His arm is pressed harshly across Jongin’s chest as he pins his younger brother to the back wall. 

The elevator doors slide closed.

“The fuck was that all about?” Kai hisses lowly. “Bailing on your wife to fucking flirt with your coworker? On fitting day, no less? Was that your fucking emergency?”

“Kai-“

Your somewhat exasperated reply gets cut off by Jongin shoving his twin off of him.

“You think I would be the one to cheat?” Jongin’s eyes widen slightly, his tone incredulous. “We just so happened to step into the elevator at the same time. Why are you always so adamant on finding something that isn’t there?”

“Maybe if you stopped acting like a fucking asshole, and treated you wife properly, I wouldn’t have to.” Kai spits, nothing but pure fury reflected in his gaze.

You can tell Jongin is about to reply, but your hands firmly pushing them apart stop him from going any further. You step between them, further separating the fire that continues to rage on between the two brothers.

“Enough.” You look from one male to the other. “We have a mission tomorrow, and the last thing we need is for you two to be at each other’s throats more so than usual.”

A brief silence where the tension crackles in the air like lightning before Kai is heaving a tremendous sigh.

“She’s right.” He takes a reluctant step back. “You should listen to your wife more often, it might just save your life.”

“Are you threatening me?” Jongin’s eyes are wild as he tilts his head at his brother.

“If you feel threatened, then by all means,” Kai gestures loosely towards Jongin.

Jongin’s lip part in retort before your sharp gaze is causing the words to catch in his throat. You turn to Kai.

“Thanks for covering for him today.” You say. “Him and I need to have a talk on the way home. See you tomorrow for the mission.”

Without another word, you’re hitting the button to open the elevator doors, a silent command for Kai to leave you and Jongin alone.

Reluctantly, the male exits the elevator, watching the doors close behind him with a look of pure irritation on his features. Irritation aimed directly at his twin, who only looks annoyed at this specific turn of events.

Clicking his tongue, Kai turns around. There’s not much for him to do for the moment, so he might as well release his anger doing something productive.

Heading to the shooting range, Kai rolls his shoulders. At least this way he can kill two birds with one stone: practice for the assassination tomorrow evening, and pretend he’s making his brother suffer as much as Jongin has made him throughout the years.

Oh, how Kai longs for the day where he can see that complete look of devastation wipe that smug grin from Jongin’s features. He’s fantasized how it would happen more times than he can count. The biggest being a scenario where you end up in his arms while Jongin is forced to reap the consequences of his actions. With how things are going, perhaps such a dream may come true sooner, rather than late.

Kai sighs, pulling out his favourite sniper rifle from the cage. At least once he’s done here he can prepare everything for tomorrow. After all, he never misses.

Meanwhile, back in the elevator, a tense silence settles over both you and Jongin as you ride down to the parking garage. Your arms are crossed over your chest as you refuse to so much as turn in your husband’s direction. The moment that familiar ding chimes and the doors open, you’re walking over to your car, an unreadable expression on your face.

“Come on, Darlin’,” Jongin flicks his bangs out his eyes, a look of annoyance on his features. “You seriously can’t be mad at me right now.”

“And why is that, Jongin?” You round on him, nothing but bitterness shining in your eyes as you stare at him from overtop of the car. “You left before sunrise, on a day where you knew we had somewhere to be. I understand you dislike fitting days, but do you realize what would have happened if you had been caught skipping again? Our line of work is already dangerous without having our own agency breathing down our necks and watching our every move. Do you want to be put on lockdown again?”

“We won’t be put on lockdown, again.” He sighs, exasperatedly while sliding into the passenger seat of the car. “Besides, Kai handled it just fine.”

Your nostrils flare as you move to sit in the drivers seat, slamming the door closed and pointedly starting the engine. “I’m lucky your brother even showed up.”

“Next time, you should just text him. He always seems to be at your beck and call, anyways.” He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, no.” You shoot him a glare out of the corner of your eyes as you pull out of the parking garage. “You don’t get to pull the jealous card here.”

“Me? Jealous of my brother?” Jongin nearly scoffs. “As if he would ever have a chance with you.”

“I don’t know, he looked remarkable in red.” You comment lowly, noticing how he stiffens almost immediately from your words. “Quite slick with his tongue, too.”

“How dare you-“

“You honest to god think I would ever cheat on you, Jongin?” Your grip tightens on the steering wheel as you merge onto the highway. “After everything I’ve told you that happened with my parents? On how I feel about the matter? You think I would be capable of inflicting that type of pain on a person I love?”

“Well, when you say things like that…”

“How do you think it makes me feel to see you arrive late to work with Shinobu of all people after you run out on me claiming there’s some ‘emergency’ you have to take care of?” You counter, noticing how he averts his gaze in shame in the next second. “Do you have any idea how that looks, not just to me, but to anyone aware of the situation? I know for a fact you claimed ‘emergency’ just because you don’t want to deal with Nancy’s subtle flirtations with you. I don’t blame you for being uncomfortable around her, but the least you could do is tell me where you are. I’m your goddamn wife for fuck’s sake! You think I don’t notice when my own husband is both being hit on, and is uncomfortable by it?”

“Then, why don’t you say anything to her?” He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I do!” You exclaim, voice rising in pitch slightly. “I have, and when I did, you were the one who got mad at me for bringing it up!”

Of course, he didn’t get mad at you in front of her. Only once you were behind closed doors did he say to lay off of Nancy. Turns out your husband rather enjoys the attention, more so than the discomfort it causes him. Which is why you found Kai’s reassurance today, even if it was something as simple as backing you up while pretending to be your husband, so refreshing.

Before he can respond, you’re letting out a sigh through your nose. “Either way, it looks like you don’t have to worry about her flirting with you anymore. It seems as if she’s moving on to target your brother.”

“You say that as if it bothers you.” He mumbles lowly, refusing to meet your gaze as you pull off of the highway.

“Does it not bother you?” You cannot hide how appalled you sound. “He’s your brother, for god’s sake, Jongin! Kai deserves better than that, and you know it!”

“Then, why didn’t you marry him?” He snaps, slapping his hands onto his thighs in exasperation.

You go quiet, the silence deafening inside of the car.

You swallow thickly, keeping your voice low, “Because he’s not the one I fell in love with.”

You can feel him staring at you through the stillness that settles around the both of you.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” His voice is low, averting his gaze back down to his lap.

“Well, I do.” You reply quite sharply. “I know you’ve always been insecure about your brother, Jongin. It’s just not fair that you take it out on me.”

He remains quiet for the rest of the drive, still staring down at his hands.

You’re right. He knows you’re right. He’s just too proud to admit it.

Kai has always been the better twin. Smarter, funnier, more popular. Jongin cannot help but get jealous, even if he hates to admit that he does. Everything Jongin does, he does for approval, but all it seems to do is irritate Kai. He thought that following in his brother’s footsteps would make the elder like him more, but no matter what he does, he can never seem to win. 

And now he’s pulled you into that mess.

The moment the car stills in the driveway, Jongin is stepping out wordlessly. He can hear the low sigh you let out behind him as he moves to unlock the front door. Only, it seems as if he’s misplaced his keys again.

You heave another sigh, louder this time as you pull out your own keys to unlock the front door. Once inside, the two of you each head your separate ways.

The rest of the afternoon and evening is spent like this, a tense sort of silence between the both of you. Sure, you’ve had fights before, but never anything like this. You know Kai has always been a touchy subject for Jongin, but he’s never gone so far as to avoid you when you bring him up. Perhaps you should talk to him after you get back from picking up your outfits for tomorrow.

Only, when you step back through the door, Jongin has up and disappeared on you again. At least this time he left a note.

Needed to sort out my head. Be back in time for mission.

Letting out a sigh, you retreat to your bedroom. You might as well get as much sleep as you can before tomorrow. You have a feeling you’re going to need it.

***

Jongin doesn’t return home until an hour before you’re supposed to leave for the ballet. He walks in to see you pacing near the front, already dressed and ready for the evening assassination.

You can see the words forming on his lips, but you raise a hand into the air to stop him. “Save it. You need to get ready.”

A solemn nod is all you receive in response as Jongin retreats to the bedroom. Not even forty minutes later, he reappears, fully dressed and ready to go. 

The button up he wears beneath his open blazer is slightly larger than it should be, the white material spilling out further than it should where it’s tucked into his pants. He struggles to fix it, and you can only click your tongue in response. Nancy adjusted his outfit based on Kai’s measurements yesterday, and Jongin’s brother just so happens to be the slightest bit buffer than he is.

The clothes still fit, just not as well as they should.

Looking upwards, you finally meet his gaze.

“I won’t ask you where you’ve been.” Your first real words to him since he’s gotten back. “Whatever you needed to sort out was your business. Just-“ you let out a somewhat sad sigh, “if this isn’t working out for you anymore, Jongin, all I ask is that you don’t string me along.”

Immediately, he’s shaking his head, closing the distance between the both of you in order to take your hands gently into his.

“I-“

The front door opens, and in steps Kai.

You drop Jongin’s hands. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Kai’s brow quirks, gaze darting between the both of you, “Am I interrupting something?”

Jongin is quick to recover, the corner of his lips quirking upwards as he huffs out a laugh, “Nothing of importance.”

He fails to see the way your entire demeanour falls, but Kai doesn’t. However, before the elder male can so much as ask if you’re okay, you’re walking past him.

“Let’s get this over with.” You mumble, grabbing your clutch from the front table and heading out the door.

Kai spares a brief glance over to his brother, of whom simply shrugs in response.

Letting out a deep sigh, Kai is quick to follow right behind you, shaking his head the whole while. Looks like his brother royally screwed up again, and of course, Kai will have to do damage control to clean up his mess.

As Jongin locks up, Kai takes this time to subtly lean into you.

“You look gorgeous, by the way.” He keeps his tone low, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as his eyes roam your figure.

You smile lightly. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” Jongin’s pointed huff draws both of your attention. “Let’s go.”

Silently, Kai watches as you both slide into the backseat of his car. He’s supposed to act as your chauffeur this evening, and drop you off at the venue before finding a place to safely park the car and assume his position. He just hopes you can all last the night.

About halfway through the drive, you get a call from Quincy.

“Have you heard the news?” Her gruff voice sounds through the speakers of your phone, allowing the two males to hear the conversation at her instruction.

“What news?” Kai’s brow furrows.

“Both Shinobu and Nancy were found dead in their homes this morning.” She says, and you cannot prevent the way your breath hitches in your throat. “We suspect it was Don Vanderleen’s men sending a warning to us before the events of tonight. You three be extra careful, and make sure you don’t fuck this up. The last thing we need is more of our good agents being taken down.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Your reply is somewhat breathless as she soon ends the call.

A heavy silence permeates the air between the three of you as you get closer to the theatre. The news is both sudden and shocking, causing your blood to run cold. You might not actually be prepared for what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

“Are you okay?” Jongin stares intently at you, reaching over to place a gentle hand over your own in your lap.

“Yeah.” You blink, seemingly focussing back in on the reality around you. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You fail to see the worried glance Kai sends you through the rearview mirror. Though, there’s something else hidden there, too. Something far more sinister than either of you two realize as his gaze shifts to the male offering you comforts from beside you.

“We’re almost there,” Kai states, somewhat roughly.

He clears his throat.

“The sooner we get this done, the better.” You sigh, eyes falling shut as you run a hand lightly over the side of your face. “Remember, if anything goes wrong, we rendezvous at the hotel across the street.”

“Right.” Both males respond at the same time, firmly nodding their heads once each.

Pulling up just outside of the theatre, you exhale a breath through your nose. Steeling your features into a look of determination, you motion for Jongin to exit the car.

“Let’s do this.”

The moment the car door opens, you can tell that Jongin has slipped into his persona for the evening. As he reaches back to help you exit the vehicle, you immediately do the same.

No longer are you both mister and missus Kim, but the Rover’s. Two souls madly in love with one another to the point of it becoming obnoxious to the people around you. People cannot help but to notice how you cling onto one another, giving you each the perfect alibi for when the time comes. You are to be inseparable. At least, to those around you.

Jongin is quick to wrap his arm around your waist as soon as you move to stand beside him. His touch is nothing but gentle, thumb smoothing over the material of your dress as he guides you inside. Each step is meticulous, your eyes subtly scanning the crowd for potential targets, security, and escapes routes. You all may have planned for this evening, but that doesn’t mean something couldn’t go very wrong.

Stepping up to the entrance, Jongin is quick to pull the two tickets reserved for the both of you out of the inside of his suit jacket. Wordlessly, he hands them to the concierge, whispering lowly how excited he is to spend the night with his beautiful wife.

You giggle at this, leaning in to him and placing a hand on his chest. Your own reply is low as you tell him it’s because you’re finally able to spend some time with your handsome husband that you’re able to look this good for him.

The way the concierge smiles tightly at you both while handing you both your tickets says it all. At least the act is believable.

“Enjoy the show.” He comments lowly, eyes pleading for the two of you to hurry inside.

“Oh, believe me,” your painted lips curl upwards in a sultry grin. “We will.”

You swear that were the poor man not working, he would have gagged at the way you giggle after your own words. You can tell he’s relieved to be rid of you as he holds the door open for the both of you to slip inside, nearly chuckling to yourself at his tight expression as soon as you’re passed him.

Jongin’s grip tightens slightly around your waist.

“There he is.” He leans in once more to whisper lowly in your ear, motioning to the side with his chin.

Shifting your gaze, you follow in the direction he’s pointed you in. A blink, and you see your target standing by the complimentary bar. A glass of wine rests in his grubby hands, high profile women and men surrounding him on either side. A boisterous laugh escapes him, his dark hair slicked back with grease as a wolfish grin tugs at his lips. Even from here, you can see the sheen of sweat that paints his flushed skin, and you nearly gag.

“I just hope I don’t get a single drop of that man’s vile blood on me tonight, but I know that’s just wishful thinking.” You mutter, disgust pulling at your features.

“You and me both, Darlin’.” Jongin replies, holding you tighter against him. “Are you ready?”

“If we didn’t have to interact with him all night, I would count myself blessed.” You exhale sharply through your nose. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Jongin squeezes your waist reassuringly as he begins to lead you both over to that group of investors surrounding Don Vanderleen. A group which your agency painstakingly infiltrated to make both you and Jongin a part of as the Rover’s.

“Good evening, Mister Vanderleen,” you cut in smoothly into the conversation, drawing everybody’s attention as you extend your hand out for him to shake. “It’s an honour to make your acquaintance.”

Recognition flashes in his eyes, and immediately he’s reaching out to grasp your hand in his own. Only, instead of shaking it, he brings the back up to his lips, placing what you’re sure is supposed to be a delicate kiss onto your skin.

You nearly grimace at the moist feeling left lingering on your hand, resisting the urge to wipe off the residue of the kiss this vile excuse of a man has given you. Hell, even Jongin tenses beside you.

“Ah, yes,” he hums, nodding firmly in Jongin’s direction. “You must be the Rover’s. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” Jongin replies, forcing a polite smile onto his lips.

“Once my dear hubby told me about the opportunities our investments could lead to with you, I couldn’t wait to meet you.” Your voice portrays the perfect mix of both enthusiasm and excitement. “He said you’d have further information for us on what this grants us in shares tonight?”

Vanderleen laughs at this, his whole chest shaking as the people around you all chuckle.

“Someone’s a little eager lily,” he grins, but it only serves to make you feel unnerved. You don’t particularly enjoy the way he continues to eye you up and down, licking his lips as if he is ready to consume you at any moment. “I promise to let both you and your husband know everything you need to know when the time is right, little missy. Preferably when we’re somewhere a little more private.”

You smile your understanding, even if it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Still, it’s enough to fool the people standing around you.

You both fall into idle smalltalk after that, conversing with the rest of his supposed investors for the evening. That is, until the doors open, and everyone is filing into their respective seats.

Jongin and you follow Don Vanderleen all the way up to the special booth that has been reserved for you this evening. Only you, your husband, your target, and three others of Vanderleen’s party have been reserved for this balcony, making it much easier for you, Jongin, and Kai to do what you’ve come here to do.

The six seats rest three to a row, you and Jongin in front, while Vanderleen’s men file in the back. Unfortunately for you, the man of the hour decides to sit on your left, and he doesn’t seem to be that big of a fan of personal space.

The only thing separating you from the male beside you is the armrest, and you choose to angle yourself as far away from him as possible without drawing suspicion to yourself. Of course, with your covers, it’s easy for you to lean as close to Jongin as possible. It simply appears as you being unequivocally in love with him, but it becomes increasingly difficult not to twitch each time the man on your left ‘accidentally’ brushes against you in some way.

Clearing your throat, you steel yourself for talking to this man once more.

“We’re somewhere more private now, Sir Vanderleen,” you comment. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Please,” he leans in closer to you, and you can smell the alcohol clinging to his rancid breath. You nearly gag. “Call me Don.”

“Alright then,” you smile politely, eyes crinkling, “Don.”

You swear you see the man shiver before you.

“Well, as you know, my company handles many different aspects of many different industries.” The moment he sees you nod eagerly, he continues, “my business covers every domain you could possibly imagine: finances, political influences,” he purposely meets your gaze, “pleasure.”

You cannot prevent the way your eyes widen naturally at this.

“Ah, I see that has caught your interest.” He chuckles, his hand resting dangerously close to you on the armrest as his fingers curl around the wood. “I suppose I could let you in on the more private aspects of our company later on. After all, you seem like a very respectable woman who knows what she wants.”

“She certainly doesn’t take things for granted,” Jongin chimes in, his arm casually settling around your shoulders as he pulls you the slightest bit closer to him. “Unlike some people.”

Something within the other male’s eyes flash, but he backs off. For now.

“I see,” he hums, settling back into his seat. “I suppose that conversation will have to wait for a different time, then.”

The lights begin to dim, the orchestra picking up their instruments in preparation for the beginning of the show.

“I suppose so.” You hum, turning your attention to the front as you settle further into Jongin’s side.

It’s almost time.

The curtain rises, and the true event finally begins.

Near the end of act one, Jongin excuses himself to the men’s room just as planned. Only, you don’t expect Don Vanderleen to take this opportunity to lean further into you.

Casually, the male replaces where Jongin’s arm had been with his own, his wandering fingers dancing along the skin of your shoulder.

You nearly shiver in disgust.

“I’d say this is more private, wouldn’t you?” He grins, keeping his voice low as he closes the remaining distance between your bodies. “Perfect timing to talk about more personal matters, if you’d like.”

No, what you’d like is to continue watching the ballet. You wish for Jongin to hurry the fuck up with clearing out Vanderleen’s bodyguards from the booth, and to get as far away from this man before the bullets start flying. However, you know that that’s not what you came here to do. You nearly sigh, putting on an expression of pure curiosity instead as you turn to face the male beside you.

“Of course,” you reply, just as lowly. “I would like nothing more.”

“This one aspect is very dear to me, I hardly tell anyone about it unless I consider them truly worthy to hear it.” He meets your gaze, a sort of lull in the way he speaks to you, as if he were speaking to a child. “What I tell you stays between us, alright little missy? This is for your ears only.”

You nod your understanding, fingers tightening over one another as you hold them stiffly in your lap.

“You see, I only offer these positions to the utmost important people who have proved they are qualified to suit my needs.” He licks his lips, gaze shamelessly roaming down your front. “It’s a personal position which guarantees you’ll never have to worry about another thing in your life.”

You have to prevent yourself from clenching your teeth in anger. You know exactly where this is leading, for this is the exact same spiel he tells all the women he tricks into signing themselves over to him to be trafficked.

“You would be living a life of complete luxury, moving from one place to another, and visiting countries of your wildest dreams.” He continues, creeping closer with each word. “You would meet so many important dignitaries. Everyone would want to be you, and everyone would desire what you have.”

“Why, this offer sounds almost too good to refuse,” you chuckle, somewhat nervously.

Jongin sure is taking his sweet time. He should be back by now, right?

“You would be foolish not to accept.” He chuckles along with you. “After all, you’d never have to worry about anything ever again. I’d take care of all of it for you, and I’m a man who never goes back on my word.” His free hand comes to settle on your knee, and this time, you cannot prevent the shiver of disgust that trails down your spine. Only, he perceives it as something else. You can just tell from the way that he smirks. “Especially not when you’d be personally working for me.”

You absolutely despise the way he drawls those words out, his rancid breath tickling the shell of your ear.

Luckily, it’s at this point that Jongin finally returns, taking note of how stiff you sit while Don Vanderleen practically drapes himself over you.

Harshly, he clears his throat. “Am I interrupting something?”

Vanderleen smirks, pulling away from you rather slowly, “Not at all.”

“Don was just telling me all about a special opportunity he had for me,” you say innocently as Jongin sits back in his seat to your right.

You notice both males stiffen on either side of you.

“Missy, I thought we agreed that that was to stay between us.” There’s a sudden sharpness to his gaze that you do not fail to pick up on.

“Yes, but I don’t do anything without my loving husband.” You chuckle, leaning yourself further into Jongin’s side. Your gaze darts to him, and your eyes nearly widen at the small stain of red that smudges the collar of his white shirt. Thinking quickly, you angle yourself into him, lips pressing delicately against the material and leaving a bright red lipstick stain over the mark. You blink up at him innocently. “Isn’t that right, My Love.”

“Always, My Love.” Jongin purposefully meets Vanderleen’s gaze from over the top of your head as his arms pull you in closer. “I’m sure you’d do the same to protect what’s yours.”

Vanderleen’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance. “Undoubtably.”

The moment the male turns back to observe the stage, all hell breaks loose.

The sound of shattering glass is synonymous with the screams of terror that suddenly fill the venue as gunshots ring throughout. People panicking and running from their seats to the exits block every chance of escape, swarming the aisle as shouting reaches your ears.

A bullet just misses your shoulder.

A loud cry of pain from your left reaches your ears, and in the blink of an eye, you feel yourself be pulled down onto the ground on top of a body. Sparing a glance downwards reveals your husband clinging to your for dear life, a fear unlike ever before shining within his gaze. Blood seeps into the material of his blazer, staining his white shirt red beneath his black suit as he holds you above him. 

To the side, Don Vanderleen bleeds out. A cough escapes him, nothing but red falling from his lips and choking him out as he reaches towards you one final time before falling dead right before your very eyes.

Another gunshot is heard from above.

Scrambling to your feet, you duck for cover behind the wall of the balcony. Jongin follows right behind, using his body as a shield to cover you this time.

“Are you hurt?” He turns to you once you’re both out of range, checking you over for injuries.

You shake your head. “Are you?”

Your eyes catch on the red now staining his clothes and your breath hitches, hands scrambling to find the injury before he bleeds out.

“Don’t worry, Darlin’,” he assures you, gently stroking his hands down the sides of your arms despite the chaos erupting around you. “It’s not mine.”

His words only help to ease your worry a fraction.

“There was another sniper.” You comment lowly.

“Kai can handle it.” He states.

At the look you send him, he sighs.

“Fine.” Jongin removes his blazer, wrapping it securely around your shoulders. “You’ve done what you came here to do. I’ll go check on him, and then I’ll meet you at the hotel across the street. Okay?”

“But-“

“Darlin’,” there’s that same look of fear in his eyes from only a few minutes ago, “I almost lost you tonight. Don’t make me go through that again.”

A silent understanding passes between the both of you, and you recognize that he’s not just referring to tonight, but yesterday as well. That fight feels like so long ago now, given the circumstances of the evening. Yet, you still find yourself nodding your head.

“I promise to be as quick as I can.” He kisses your forehead briefly.

“Be safe,” you squeeze his hands gently. “I want to be able to watch the sunset with you.”

He smiles. “As long as you stay with me for the sunrise.”

A nod is all he receives from you before he’s disappearing around the corner. He can feel his heart pounding as he races to the roof, hoping beyond everything that you manage to get out safely, and that his brother is okay.

***

Looking back on it now, this is probably the second worst night of Kai’s entire life. Sure, the male has been in some tricky situations before, but none as harrowing as this one.

First, he had to watch you be even more loving towards his brother all evening. Then, he had to sit through that filth of a man coming onto you throughout the entirety of the second act of Swan Lake. He was so distracted by his anger, that he failed to see the second presence creeping onto the roof a little ways away from him. It wasn’t until he saw the reflection of the lights upon the sniper’s watch that Kai noticed the other male taking aim directly at you.

Kai saw red, his body moving on instinct at that. It nearly cost him the mission, but more importantly, your life.

What made the situation worse was when he watched his brother pull you on top of himself for protection. The bastard couldn’t even protect you properly, opting to sacrifice you to save himself.

Now, as he wrestles off the other sniper’s back-up, he finds himself gritting his teeth in frustration. He has no idea if you got out safely, or if you’re injured. The only thing he does know, is that that bastard Don Vanderleen is finally dead.

Like hell Kai would ever let that pathetic excuse of a human live after watching what he did to you tonight.

A gunshot sounds in the night air, and Kai swears he’s about to feel the worst pain of his life. Only, at the way the man on top of him falls limply to his side, he realizes that someone is here to aid him.

“Couldn’t handle a few measly little troopers?” Jongin’s familiar mocking tone calls out through the silence. “You’re losing your touch.”

“I was doing just fine until you showed up.” Kai responds gruffly, pushing himself back to his feet and noticing all of the other henchmen have been disposed of.

“Uh-huh,” Jongin hums knowingly, a quirk to his brow as he tosses the gun in his hand to the side. “Sure.”

Kai spares a glance at his brother, noticing the blood that stains his once pure white shirt. He freezes, eyes locking on that mark of bright red lipstick that practically glares at him from the collar of Jongin’s shirt.

“Is that-“ the words get stuck in his throat. He swallows.

At the way his elder twin keeps glancing at the blood on his shirt, Jongin is quick to understand what he’s asking.

“I know, right?” Jongin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Disgusting. The bastard bled all over me.”

Kai nearly lunges at his brother, but he realizes Jongin isn’t actually talking about you. He clears his throat. “And our partner?”

“My wife is fine, thanks for asking.” Jongin replies, a dry huff escaping him. “You nearly missed by the way.”

“Yeah, well, I had my hands full.” Kai begins to quickly disassemble his rifle, storing it back in its case.

“Didn’t think a few weaklings like this could slow you down.” Jongin rolls his eyes.

“I was a little busy attempting not to blow the fucker’s brains out early for assaulting your wife.” Kai snaps, his patience growing thinner by the second. “While you were off eyeing the ballerinas, I was actually doing my job.”

“You think I would risk the mission to go peep on the performers?” Jongin’s voice is incredulous. “You really think I would cheat on my wife?” 

“Now that your other two hustles are dead, I assumed you were in the market for a new one.” Kai retorts, zipping up his rifle’s case quite pointedly before slinging it onto his back.

“Never thought you’d be one to disrespect the dead, but here we are.” Jongin shakes his head. “You are so adamant on making me into the bad guy, Kai, and I just don’t understand why.”

“How can I make you into something you already are?” Kai tilts his head, almost mockingly at his brother.

“What do you think I could have possibly done this time?” Jongin replies, throwing his hands into the air exasperatedly.

“I definitely didn’t think up you pulling your own goddamn wife on top of you when bullets started flying just so you could save your own skin!” Kai’s tone is harsh, nothing but pure anger pulling at his brow. “How about that conversation I walked in on tonight. Did you or did you not practically admit to her that she was unimportant? To your own wife, nonetheless. Not to mention the countless times you’ve ignored her needs in favour of your own. Do you even know how she feels when you flirt so openly with other people around her? I can’t imagine it feels good.”

“You know nothing, Kai,” Jongin seethes, his hands clenching into fists beside him. “Stop pretending that you do.”

“Don’t I?” Kai drops his bags, the material making a dull thunk as it hits the roof. “I’ve lived with you our whole lives, Jongin. I know when you’re lying, and I know for a fact that you don’t love her. If you did, you wouldn’t do half the shit that you do.”

“How dare you say that I don’t love her!” Jongin spits back, voice low and deadly. His eyes flash with the same intensity as his brother’s across from him, the air becoming thick with tension. “I love her more than anything in this godforsaken world!”

“Like hell you do!” Kai’s fury spikes, sanity close to snapping.

“What would you know of the matter? You don’t know half the shit I’ve done for her.” Jongin hisses through gritted teeth. “I made sure to kill every fucking doubt she’s had about our relationship recently. Doubts you don’t know anything about. There’s nothing, no one in this world that loves her more than I do. I would do anything for her, and that’s more than you can say.”

Kai goes so still, he swears that he’s stopped breathing. His mind races with all that tonight has offered him. Not even a second later, his entire body begins to tremble.

“You’re wrong.” His voice is low, deadly like the approach of an oncoming storm. Already, he can see his vision blurring, fading in and out as he attempts to ground himself. “There will always be one person who will love her, who can always love her, more.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jongin scoffs, crossing his arms in front of her chest. “And just who might that be?”

A beat of silence as the two males lock eyes from across the roof.

“Me.”

Without wasting another thought, the two males lunge.

***

His breathing is uneven as he stumbles down the hallway of the hotel. The stairs were a bit of a challenge, but he figured it’d be easier and less conspicuous than taking the elevator to the top floor. Even still, his lungs burn as he braces himself against the wall, chest heaving with every breath.

Blood drips down his face and onto the white of his shirt, nearly smudging against that perfect imprint of your lips on the collar. Blood that is no longer his own. Every time he closes his eyes, he can still hear the sound of his fist on flesh, bones cracking beneath his fingers as fabric tore upon his skin.

Out of the corner of his eye, a ring glints on his finger. The light from the fluorescents makes the golden band glow, and from that simple glance alone, he can feel his heart racing inside of his chest.

The only thought on his mind right now is you. 

He needs to find you. To make sure that you’re okay. To make sure that you’re safe.

His head spins, and he can barely see through his blurring vision. He doesn’t even know how he managed to get down from the roof of the theatre and make his way to the hotel across the street, but he did. All just to see you.

Stumbling to the door, he checks the room number once more. Seeing it’s the correct one this time, he begins to jostle the knob.

Locked.

A sigh heaves from his throat, resting his forehead against the dark wood separating you from him. 

If only he still had his key.

Movement heard on the other side of the door catches his attention. A moment later, and the lock is sliding out of place, the wood opening to reveal your face gazing upon him in worry.

“Jongin,” you seemingly breathe out a sigh of relief. “Leave it to you to lose your keys again.” You shake your head lightly, pulling him inside quickly. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Not even a minute later, you’ve sat the male on the bathroom counter, a towel held in your hands as you stand between his legs.

“I was worried about you, you know.” You dip the towel in some water before beginning to gently clean the blood from his face. “I didn’t think you would take so long.”

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

His voice sounds a bit strained, tone a deeper than usual. You chalk that up to stress. He usually sounds this way when he’s tired.

“Are you okay?” You pause your movements to stare deeply into his eyes. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

He shakes his head, gaze flitting everywhere over your features as if to commit your concerned expression to memory.

“Good.” You smile lightly, continuing to clean the blood from his face. “This doesn’t mean I’m not still upset at you, by the way.”

“I’m sorry.” His response is immediate, hands coming up to cup your face gently as he meets your gaze. “For everything. I know I’m an asshole, and I can be selfish. The thought of losing you is just too difficult for me to bear, and after tonight I promise you I’ll be a better man. I’ll be the perfect husband from now on. I won’t make you doubt. I’ll treat you right, like you’ve always deserved.”

You quirk a brow, the corner of your lips twitching upwards slightly in amusement.

“Someone still in character?” You joke lightly, shifting the cloth to begin wiping the blood from his neck. There seems to be a small scrape near his left eyebrow, but it no longer appears to be bleeding.

Softly, he releases his hold on your face, grabbing your wrist in his one hand to halt your movements.

“Tonight has just made me realize that I need to stop taking things for granted, especially you.” He replies earnestly. “Every day, I count myself lucky that a sinner like me has been blessed to love an angel like you.”

Your eyebrows raise in amusement. “I thought you didn’t like all that religious talk?”

He hums, pulling you the slightest bit closer to wrap his arms around your waist. If only you could hear just how fast his heart is racing. “I think I can make an exception just this once.”

“I should mark the calendar.” You tease, poking his chest. “You finally admitted your faults for once.”

His lips part dramatically. “But Darling, you know that I’m already perfect.”

“There he is,” you chuckle, shoving him playfully.

“Who?” He quirks a brow.

“My loving husband, of course.” You grin, rolling your eyes lightly.

His lips part, and he pulls you flush against his chest. Tightly, he holds you to him, his face buried into the side of your neck as his whole body shakes.

“Jongin, what’s gotten into you tonight?” You pat his back warily. “You’re awfully affectionate.”

“I told you,” he whispers lowly, “I need to appreciate what I have before it’s gone.”

“You’re not going to lose me.” You gently begin to card your fingers through his hair, hearing him hum lightly in response. “Not that easily.”

His grip tightens around your waist, absolutely revelling in this moment here with you. “I don’t deserve you.”

Immediately, you pull away to look into his eyes, a somewhat stern look on your face. “Don’t start that again.”

“What?” His brow furrows the slightest bit in confusion.

“Saying that you’re unworthy of my love.” This time, it’s you who cups his face in your hands. “You are more than worthy, Baby. Don’t ever forget that.”

You notice tears begin to well in his eyes, spilling over in the next moment. Tears which you are quick to brush away.

“You know, sometimes I cannot help but wonder,” you hum, noticing you have his complete and utter attention, “would you still have proposed if you didn’t think your brother approved of me?”

The way he tenses slightly, breath seemingly hitching in his throat has you smiling reassuringly at him.

“I know how desperately you long for his approval, Jongin, and I know that’s why you act out sometimes,” you keep your voice low. “Know that you don’t need his approval for anything. He probably doesn’t need yours, so don’t worry about his.”

All the male before you can do is blink.

“I’m proud of who you are.” You tell him, finally finishing wiping the blood from his skin. “I hope that counts for something.”

“It counts for everything,” he breathes, thumbs stroking languidly against the skin of your hips.

Again, you smile, placing the used towel in the hamper provided for you beside the sink.

“He’s okay, though, right?” You search his features, noting the irritated twitch of his brow. “You managed to find him on the roof?”

“I didn’t see him,” he replies, somewhat gruffly.

Your head tilts slightly, brow furrowing in worry. “I thought the whole reason I sent you up to the roof in the first place was so you could make sure he was okay.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Darling.” A sigh escapes him through his nose. “It’s not like he hasn’t up and disappeared on you before.”

“On us, Jongin.” Your frown deepens, turning to exit the bathroom. “Maybe I should call him just in case.”

A hand on your wrist stops you.

“Why do you care so much about him, anyways?” There’s something shining behind his eyes that you don’t quite understand, but you turn around to face him regardless.

“I thought we talked about this, Jongin.” You sigh lowly. “Kai is still your brother. I care about him in the same ways I know you care about him. Even if you don’t want to admit it, I know you worry about him.”

“He didn’t care about me.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” You meet his gaze with a stern one of your own. “Your brother-“

“Can we please stop talking about my brother?” The exasperation is clear in his voice as he practically pleads with you using his eyes.

Your expression softens, “Of course, Baby.”

The male seemingly breathes a sigh a relief, releasing his hold on your wrist not even a moment later.

“Why don’t you grab a shower, and then we can head to bed?” You turn to the cabinet to pull out a fresh set of towels. “We’ve both had a long day.”

“Will you join me?” Before he can stop himself, the words are out of his mouth.

Turning to look at him from over your shoulder, you smile, repeating your words from a mere minute earlier, “Of course, Baby.”

Grabbing another set of fresh towels, you place them both on top of the counter. Even though you already showered off before he returned, you don’t mind joining your husband one bit. Besides, he looks like he could use your company.

By the time you’ve turned back around, he’s already undone all the buttons on his shirt, his torso on full display. You couldn’t really tell before, but it’s as if his shirt suddenly had fit him better, unlike at the beginning of the evening. Either way, you shamelessly trail your gaze over his front, watching with a darkening gaze as he begins to unbuckle his belt.

The way his breath hitches as he looks up to see you already staring at him with hooded eyes does not go unnoticed by you.

“What?” The corner of your lips quirk upwards. “Am I not allowed to admire my husband from time to time?”

He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. “You can admire me anytime you’d like, Darling.”

A tender smile is all he receives from you in response as you move to turn on the shower. Testing the water, you make sure it’s a desirable temperature before ridding yourself of your own clothes.

The whole time you strip, you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. You can feel your whole body warm beneath his stare, even more so when you turn to face him.

There he stands, looking completely mesmerized by you. He’s gazing at you as if you hung each and every single star in the night sky personally just for him, his eyes shining with the deepest form of admiration you’ve ever seen him give you. It makes you feel shy, darting your gaze to the side briefly to avoid the intensity of his own.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumble, stepping into the shower shortly afterwards.

He follows right behind, humming lightly. “Like what?”

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen me naked before,” you chuckle, turning to face him and poking him lightly on his chest.

He stands beneath the spray of water, feeling it cascade down the planes of his back as he meets your gaze. He quirks a brow, never shifting his eyes from your own for one second, “Am I not allowed to admire my beautiful goddess that has chosen to fully reveal herself to a sinner like me?”

You can feel your cheeks heating, and you know it’s not from the steam of the shower. “Again with the religious talk?”

“Maybe I’m a changed man.” He grins, hands finding purchase gently on your hips, but never wandering.

A fact which you find quite peculiar at the moment, for you know Jongin would take every and any opportunity to squeeze your ass while you’re both naked in the shower.

“You’re certainly acting like it,” your hands settle on the skin of his shoulders, sliding upwards to caress his neck, followed immediately by you cupping his face gingerly as you stare into his eyes.

“I thought I told you that I was going to start appreciating you more.” He hums knowingly. “After all, you deserve no less.”

Again, your brow quirks teasingly. “Okay, Mister Rover.”

He simply smiles in response, the familiar crinkling of his eyes offering you comfort during this time.

Nothing more is said between the both of you as you wash each other beneath the warmth of the water. Every touch is careful, tender in the way his fingers caress your skin. What’s even more surprising is that he watches your reactions carefully, never lingering too long on your ass or your breasts more than is necessary. A stark contrast to what you’re used to with him, but it’s quite nice for a change. Refreshing, in a way. Something you have always longed for with him.

Softly, your fingers massage his scalp as you wash his hair. His eyes flutter shut, absolutely revealing in such a tender moment with you here in time.

All too soon, you’re both stepping out of the shower. You hand him one of the towels as you begin to dry yourself off, noticing how his gaze still never leaves your form. Only, his gentle touch halts you before you can get very far.

“Here,” he takes the towel from your hands, his already secured around his waist as water droplets cascade down his chest. “Let me.”

His touch is soft as the plushness of the towel caresses your form. He starts at your shoulders, sliding the cloth down each arm individually before bringing your hands up to place a kiss upon the back of them both times. Then, he’s moving down your torso, thumbs smoothing over the fabric as he dries your chest. The way he cups your breasts is so tender, your nipples hardening from his ministrations as you nearly let out a low moan.

He steps closer.

Everywhere that towel graces your skin, his loving gaze is quick to follow. There is not a single part of you that goes untouched, that he has not touched before, but this is the most intimate moment you think you’ve ever shared with him. Never has he caressed you like this before. Hell, never has he gazed upon you like this before.

Selfishly, you never want it to stop.

The sound of the towel being dropped onto the floor draws your attention. His hands rest on your waist, fingers trembling against your skin as he looks up at you with pleading eyes.

“You are perfect in every way, Darling. Did you know that? Perfect, and so, so, so, so, so beautiful.”His voice is barely above a whisper, but you still hear him loud and clear. He sighs your name so tenderly, as if it is a gospel upon his lips and only you can offer him rapture. “I love you. So goddamn much.”

Your expression softens, hand coming up to cup the side of his face as you stare down at him with nothing but love in your eyes.

“Please, Darling,” his grip tightens ever so faintly around your waist, “may I touch you? May I kiss you, and make love to you like you’ve always deserved? I want to treat you right, and make you feel good. Tonight, it’s all about you.”

Your heart positively flutters at his words, breath catching in your throat.

“Please?” He’s close to begging at this point, but he doesn’t care. This night has already been everything that he could have ever asked for, and so much more.

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, your heart swelling in your chest. He actually asked this time.

The answer escapes you before you even have the chance to think about it, tears of content welling in your eyes. 

“Yes.” You nod vigorously. “Yes, you may.”

The smile that stretches across his features is nothing short of brilliant, staring up at you with nothing but awe reflected in his gaze. Slowly, his hands slide down your waist, settling onto the sides of your thighs as he leans into you.

Softly, he places his lips upon your skin. Starting at about your mid-thigh, he takes his time trailing gentle kisses up your body, hands holding you steady. You cannot tell who’s shaking more, you or him, but at the feeling of his tongue darting out to soothe over your skin, you find that you don’t particularly care.

Each press of his lips against you is meticulous, nothing more than a gentle caress as he ascends your figure, muttering praises all the while.

“Your curves are hypnotizing, Darling.” He breathes against your skin, hands trailing along your sides as if to emphasize his words. 

“I adore your thighs. They’re so soft and warm, and attached to the most beautiful legs I’ve ever seen.” He brings his one hand down to give your flesh an appreciative squeeze, fingers sinking delicately into your skin.

Gently, his hands find purchase on your waist once more as he trails kisses all along your stomach, breathing deepening with each one. The press of his lips becomes more desperate with every meeting against your flesh, beginning to sensually lave his mouth over you the further upwards he gets.

Darting his gaze upwards, he sees you already staring down at him with hooded eyes. Your breathing has deepened, and your lips are slightly parted. What makes this moment even better is the way your hand comes up to lightly begin threading your fingers through his still damp hair.

He hums, licking a strip up your body starting from your mid-torso to between your breasts. Gently, he nuzzles against your chest, nose brushing against your skin as he moves to settle his face into the side of your neck.

“There isn’t a part of you that has not captivated me from the very first glance,” he whispers lowly against your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “I’m sorry that it has taken me this long to be able to fully appreciate you, Darling.”

You’re sure he can feel the way your heart stutters from his words alone, feeling him smile against the skin of your neck.

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat. “Shall we move this to the bed?”

This time, there is no mistaking the way he smiles as he pulls back to stare lovingly into your eyes. “I would love nothing more.”

Grasping your hand in his, he leads you out of the bathroom. His towel has long since fallen from his hips, and you take the time to admire his broad backside as he walks back out into the main area of the room.

To the side, your dress hangs. Not a single spec of blood can be seen, juxtaposed to the black suit jacket which had dripped a lethargic pool of red onto the floor.

“You know,” you hum, drawing his attention to you once more as your eyes shine playfully, “my husband’s got a nice ass.”

The corners of his lips quirk upwards slowly, mirth dancing in his orbs as he helps you settle onto the bed. “It matches my wife’s perfect one.”

You slap his arm lightly as he craws over you, grins dancing on both of your features. 

“Jongin!”

You swear the male above you flinches, but before you can say anything, his forehead pressing against your own draws your attention.

“I would prefer if you didn’t call me that tonight, Darling.” His voice is but a quiet whisper upon your ears.

You blink, tilting your head slightly in curiosity. This isn’t the first time he’s wanted you to call him something else in the bedroom, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. “Then, what would you like me to call you tonight, Baby?”

He takes a moment before he answers, and you cannot tell if it’s in hesitation, or if he actually has to think about it.

“My Love.” He finally seems to settle on a response. “I want you to call me yours. Your one and only. Your love.”

You smile softly, fingers back to threading through his hair. “I can do that.”

The way his eyes light up in excitement makes you chuckle fondly.

“As long as you do the same for me.” 

You can feel the way his semi-erect cock twitches against the skin of your thigh from your words.

“I would love nothing more.” His voice is breathless, the deepest of affections shining within his gaze.

“Oh?” You quirk a brow at this, a teasing lilt to your tone. “And here I was thinking I’d have to beg you for it like the last time.”

He tilts his head slightly, amusement dancing on his features. Though, you swear you see his eyebrow twitch.

“I thought you didn’t like using those types of endearments in the bedroom?” Your expression is nothing but playful as your fingers still in his hair.

“Changed man, remember?” He grins, leaning down to press a kiss onto your forehead. “I said I would take care of you, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. In every and any way imaginable.”

“I suppose so,” you hum, pulling him closer into you.

“Now, My Love,” he stares deeply into your eyes as he licks his lips, gaze darting down to your own briefly, “may I kiss you?”

Once more, your heart swells inside of your chest, a pleasant warmth flooding your veins. You nod your head, “You may.”

His lips are on your own without another thought, pouring everything he is into the kiss. His one hand comes up to cradle your cheek, thumb stroking tenderly against your skin as he slowly grinds himself into you. The way you moan into his mouth makes his head spin.

Reluctantly, he parts from your lips, trailing his own back down your neck. Lightly, he nips at your skin, sucking gently until he finds that one spot that has you moaning for him again. Once he finds it, he cannot help but smile, laving his tongue over your flesh before suckling at the spot eagerly.

Sensually, he places open mouthed kisses all along your collarbones and down your chest. His hands hold onto your waist firmly, grounding him to you and the beautiful reality before him. His thumbs barely ghost along the undersides of your breasts, yet still, he waits for your permission.

The moment you nod, practically begging him with your eyes to touch you, his hands are on your breasts. Eagerly, he palms the tender flesh, giving them each an appreciative squeeze as he trails more open mouthed kisses between them. His thumbs move to trace over your pert nipples, circling them gently as he moans against your skin.

“So beautiful,” he trails kisses over the swell of your one breast, tongue darting out to trace over the same path shortly after. He gives them another appreciative squeeze. “So soft.”

Carefully, his mouth envelopes your one nipple, sucking eagerly at the pert bud. His tongue flicks over your skin, moaning around you as he feels you arch into his touch.

He can never get enough.

Reluctantly, he parts from you only to languidly trail open mouthed kisses to your other breast. Of course, he makes sure to give your other nipple the same amount of attention, rolling the one he’s just parted from slowly between his thumb and index finger.

“My Love,” the blissful sigh you breathe out has him twitching against you once more, his heart stuttering inside of his chest.

He moans, grinding his hips into your own and letting you feel every inch of his hard cock pressed against you.

Your breath hitches, tossing your head back as your eyes flutter shut.

“Do you feel that, My Love?” His voice is low, airy as he continues to nip at the tender skin of your breast all the while. “Do you feel how hard you make me? How hard you always make me, even just from the thought of you? You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Baby,” your grip tightens in his hair, pulling him closer into you. “Kiss me.”

Who is he to deny the one he loves?

In an instant, his lips are back on your own. Tenderly, his tongue caresses yours, holding you close as he continues to grind himself into you. The movement of his hips are almost synonymous with the movement of his tongue, sensually meeting yours every time.

Each sound you make, every reaction you give him, he absolutely revels in. The fact that he is the one to elicit such sinful sounds, such beautiful reactions from you, has a warmth unlike any other flooding his chest. Still, his head spins and his heart races, hands continuing to explore your body eagerly, yet sensually at the same time.

The moment he feels you wrap a leg around his waist, pulling him in closer, he nearly comes on the spot. Only, the feeling of you pushing on his chest halts his every move.

“What are you doing?” His brow furrows as he pulls away the slightest bit to look at you.

“This is usually around the time where you tell me to suck you off, is it not?” You blink up at him, brow furrowing in mild confusion. “Do you not want me to?”

He practically stares down at you, dumbfounded. A moment later, he’s blinking quite rapidly, as if coming back to the reality before him.

“I thought I told you that tonight is all about you,” he can tell that his answer catches you off guard, for now, you are the one staring at him in mild shock. “Besides, I’d rather see you falling apart on my tongue.”

You blink at him a few times, as if in a daze. “You want to eat me out?”

“More than anything,” he practically pants out his answer, chest heaving as he slowly begins to descend your body. His eyes are dark, locked on your face as he places wet, open mouthed kisses against your skin the whole while. Once he’s settled between your legs, he licks his lips, hands eagerly spreading you open for him as his fingers dig into the skin of your thighs. “You don’t know how long I’ve been dying for a taste.”

Your breath hitches, and your thighs twitch, feeling yourself clench around nothing from his words alone. A movement which you know he picks up on, for you can see the way his lips tug upwards smugly as his dark eyes dart to your core.

“I thought-“ you blink your surprise away, “I thought you didn’t like giving head?”

He licks his lips, pulling you in closer as he meets your gaze.

“I lied.”

The second those words escape him, his lips are on you, and the way your whole body shudders does not go unnoticed by him. He smirks, hearing you sigh in pleasure.

A loud moan falls from him as his tongue drags through your wet folds, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. Gently, he laves his entire mouth over your pussy, sucking eagerly at your essence all the while. Each movement of his tongue is precise, parting your folds only to flick at your swollen clit in the next moment. He is shameless, and messy, slurping at your wetness as he pulls you closer into him.

The whole time, he never breaks eye contact with you. The heat from his gaze travels straight to your core, and you cannot help the way you clench around his tongue as he circles your lower lips. You can feel the tips of his fingers digging into your skin, holding you down as his nails prick your hips. A sensation unlike anything you’ve felt with him before.

His plump lips kiss over your clit, the ghost of his touch sending little jolts of electricity racing up your spine. Not even a moment later, he wraps them around that pert little bud, suckling as he flicks his tongue over you once more.

You cannot help it. Your one hand moves to tangle in his hair, hips shifting against his mouth with his every movement. Your eyes flutter shut, breathless moans escaping you as the wet sounds of his mouth fully devouring you reach your ears. He seems to be enjoying this even more than you are, and you can feel yourself clenching just from that thought alone.

“So fucking sweet, Baby,” he moans directly over your core, the vibrations sending pleasant tingles up your spine. “Best I’ll ever have.” Something within his eyes flash. “Only one I’ll ever need.”

A moan of his name nearly escapes you, but you catch yourself just in time. The last time you disobeyed his wishes in the bedroom, he left you high and dry for weeks. The last thing you want is for him to stop now. Not when he’s finally eating you out like you’ve always dreamed about. Just like you’ve always wanted him to. Especially not when he’s getting this lost in your pussy.

“Fuck, My Love, just like that,” you sigh, nothing but bliss pulling at your features as you tug him in closer by his hair.

He moans, tongue lapping eagerly at your juices which continuously flow from you like the sweetest nectar he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. He never wants this to end, becoming addicted to the desperate way your hips grind against his mouth, seeking more of him.

His grip tightens, moans bordering on low growls as his dark eyes consume every reaction you give him. Slowly, he begins grinding himself down on the mattress, seeking any sort of friction to relieve the aching of his hard cock. Seeing you like this, and knowing you’re seconds away from falling apart because of him and him alone has his head spinning. 

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, feeling the way your essence begins to drip down his chin as he becomes drunk on you. His arms are wrapped around your legs, thighs tossed over his shoulders as he pulls you in closer. His grip is desperate, as if you might disappear from him at any moment, only emphasized by the eager way he sucks your clit back between his lips. Not even a second later, he’s shaking his head lightly from side to side, mouth eagerly consuming every drop you have to offer him.

“Fuck yes- just like that,” your voice is airy, lips parting as your moans begin to increase in pitch. Your eyes squeeze shut in bliss. “Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop!”

The deepest of browns gaze at you with nothing but tender love and affection, pleading you with his eyes to fall apart. He’s just as desperate as you are, moaning against you unabashedly with each movement of his lips. Every flick of his tongue is precise, focussing all his attention to your clit now, and begging you to come for him, even without saying it.

His one hand reaches up to intertwine your fingers of your free hand with his own. Gently, he squeezes them, reassuring you that he’s right here, and that you can let yourself go. He needs to see you fall apart for him. Because of him. Him, and only him.

Not even ten seconds later, you do.

Your thighs tremble as your back arches off of the bed, eyes squeezing shut as your orgasm crashes into you. A loud moan escapes you, hands subconsciously tightening their holds on him for support as your entire body thrums with pleasure. The euphoric sensation is unlike anything that you’ve felt before, and you can feel yourself rhythmically clenching around nothing as you come down from your high.

Languidly, he hums between your legs, loving how he can feel them continuing to shake around his head as he laps gently at your cunt. No drop is to go to waste, needing to clean up the mess he’s made of you, and making sure he does so well. Only when he begins to feel you lightly pushing his head away from your quivering entrance does he pull away from you.

He meets your gaze, a primal sort of lust shining within his own as he licks his lips.

“Goddamn addictive, you know that?” He places tender kisses onto the skin of your inner thigh, nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh all the while. “I have half the mind to tell you to sit on my face right this very second so I can continue getting lost in this beautiful pussy of yours, Darling.”

The way you clench from his words alone does not go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, My Love?” The grin that pulls at his lips, still shining with your essence, is nothing short of feral. “Smothering me with your dripping cunt so I have no choice but to give you the loving you deserve.”

Your chest heaves with each breath, your eyes searching his own as your lips remain parted. “You’ve been holding out on me this whole goddamn time? Who knew you were this desperate for my pussy.”

“I’m always desperate for you, My Love. In any and every way possible.” He hums, kissing his way back up your body until he can nuzzle his face back into the side of your neck, nipping at the shell of your ear. “I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to show you.”

“You’re showing me now, and that’s all that matters.” You bring a hand up to cup his cheek tenderly, noticing how he immediately leans into your touch.

“I’m here now, and you never have to worry about anything ever again.” His eyes flutter shut, a content sigh escaping him. A moment later, he’s turned his head, placing a gentle kiss upon the palm of your hand. His eyes open, and your breath hitches as the darkness you can see swirling within. “Now, let me love you like you’ve always deserved.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, sensually moving against you as he shifts his hips to fully settle between your legs. Naturally, your thighs part to offer him unrestricted access, soft hums falling from you as you pull him in closer. You part only to begin trailing your own lips down his neck, biting and suckling on his skin as his breathing deepens.

“Baby,” the soft drawl from your lips catches his attention, “you’ve already done so much for me tonight. Won’t you let me love you, too?”

A guttural groan escapes him, head falling forward so that his forehead rests against yours.

“Lay on your back, Baby,” your hands slide tenderly down his spine as you move to flip your positions. “Just relax, and let me take care of you.”

The way his honeyed locks look splayed out on the pillow accentuate his golden features beautifully. His warm, brown eyes reflect nothing but awe and love as he stares up at you, his lips parting with every breath that falls from them.

“I thought-“

“Shh,” you bring a finger to his lips, your own tugging upwards in a sultry grin, “This is still about me. Only now, I wish to please my husband just as he has pleased me.”

A shudder wracks his entire body, a moan tumbling from his lips at your words.

You smile.

Gently, your fingers begin to dance along the skin of his chest, nails teasingly raking down his torso as you sit above him. Just as he did with you, you begin placing kisses all over his tanned skin, biting your marks for all to see.

“You’re so handsome, Baby,” your tongue comes out to soothe over a particularly harsh bite you’ve just given him. Not that he seems to mind from the way he’s keening beneath you. “Always looking as if you were sculpted by the gods, and all just for me.”

You feel his cock twitch beneath you as he moans shamelessly, “Just for you.”

Slowly, your hands trail up his sides, feeling the way he shivers beneath your touch. At the same time, you begin to grind yourself down onto his aching cock, hearing how he moans for you as you do so.

Without wasting another moment, you take his hard cock into your hand, pumping him a few times as you line him up with your entrance. You tease him, dragging the head through your wet folds a few times before you purposely grind the tip against your clit. The way his fingers dig into your skin says it all.

“Please, Darling,” his chest heaves with every breath, barely able to hold himself together, “Don’t tease me like that.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards, beginning to sink yourself down on his cock. Still, you cannot help but to tease him, sliding yourself a few inches down, only to lift yourself back off of him shortly after. Each time you do this, you sink lower and lower, noticing how his gaze rests transfixed on the space where your two bodies meet. His breathing comes in jagged pants, clinging onto you for dear life.

Finally, you decide he’s had enough teasing for now, and you slide all the way down. The way he feels fully sheathed inside of you has moans falling from both of your lips, your warm walls pulsing around him almost in time with his heartbeat.

Did he suddenly get bigger? The stretch you’re so used too feels the slightest bit different, as if his cock is even thicker than you remember. Perhaps he’s just that hard.

The feeling of his thumbs stroking lightly over the skin of your thighs grounds you back to the reality before you. His touch is nothing short of tender, and you cannot help the way your heart races from that fact alone.

“Are you okay, Darling?” There’s nothing but deep affection shining within his gaze as he look up at you in awe.

You nod your head. “Are you okay, My Love?”

“Never better.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the sides as you feel him throbbing within you. “You can move whenever you’re ready, Darling.”

The only response he gets from you is the twitching of your lips upwards before your hips are shifting against his own.

His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head for the second time tonight, his fingers pressing desperately into your skin. The feeling of your warm cunt sucking him in, your essence dripping down his shaft and onto his skin makes his head spin.

He did this to you. Only he can make you feel this way, and for that, he could not be prouder than he is in this very moment. Only he knows how to please you in such intimate, intricate ways. Ways he’s only every dreamed about.

Finally, all of his wishes are coming true.

He meets your gaze.

“I love you.” His voice is breathless, his own touch gentle on your hips as he helps to guide your movements over him. “I love you so fucking much.”

Again, you smile, humming to yourself as you look down at him in adoration. “I know.”

“Do you-“ he swallows thickly, “Do you love me, too?”

Your expression softens, slowing your pace for the moment. “You know that I do.”

“Say it.” His words are a near whimper on his lips. “Please, My Love, I need to hear you say it.”

“Baby-“

“Say you love me.” His grip tightens, almost desperately on your hips. “Even if it’s just for tonight. Please, say you love me.”

You cup his face in your hands, leaning over him as you stare deeply into his eyes.

“I am so in love with you, Baby.” You breathe out, stilling above him. “And I don’t think I could ever stop.”

“I never want you to stop.” His hands begin to creep up your back, pulling you flush against him.

“Then, I won’t.” You hum, placing a kiss right above his racing heart.

“Please, My Love,” he whimpers, his eyes squeezing shut as he fights off his tears for the time being. “Say it again.”

Immediately, you comply. “I love you, Baby.”

He flips your positions, sensually grinding his hips into yours as he moans lowly.

“One more-” He pleads, voice catching in his throat. He rest his forehead against your own as his one hand comes up to intertwine with yours. “One more time.”

“I love you.”

Slowly, his hips roll into your own, letting you feel every inch of his cock pressing against your walls with every movement he makes. He’s in no rush, wanting to savour this moment, this feeling here with you for as long as he can. This is everything that he’s ever wanted, and so much more. Finally, he gets to experience it with you.

After all, everything that he is, everything that he does, is for you.

Blissful sighs escape you with each movement of his hips, only emphasized by the way he grinds himself into you each time he’s fully sheathed inside of you once more. His one hand holds onto your own desperately, fingers interlaced with yours as he presses his body against you in every way that he knows how.

A single touch isn’t enough, he needs to feel all of you. A simple glance is too fleeting, he needs to have your attention focussed only on him at all times.

“Look at me, Baby,” his deep voice draws your gaze to his own. “Keep your eyes on me.”

A choked whimper escapes you, your free hand desperately clawing at his back to draw him in closer to you. 

The feeling of your nails raking over his shoulders is a sensation unlike any other, and it has him twitching inside of you yet again. He can never get enough of you. Nothing will ever be enough. Not when it comes to you.

“You’re so pretty,” he nips lightly at your jawline, thrusts becoming the slightest bit sharper as he continues to grind himself into you. “So pretty spread out beneath me, letting me take care of you like this.”

A gasp escapes your lips as the head of his cock brushes against such a tender spot within you.

“Oh? Is that it?” He shifts his hips, angling his cock to grind against that spot once more. The way you keen into him, walls clenching involuntarily around him has a smile tugging at his features. “Am I making you feel good, Baby?”

“So good,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as he continues to sensually roll his hips into yours. Your breath hitches, “Yes, just like that.”

Softly, he begins to press kisses against your skin, tongue soothing over everywhere he can as he claims you in every way he knows how.

“So beautiful for me,” he hums. “Letting me take care of you like this.”

He can tell there’s a word beginning to form on your lips, but you bite them to keep it from spilling out. He bites down the slightest bit harder on your neck, thrusts increasing in pace as he desperately needs to hear you say it.

“Go on, My Love,” he encourages lowly. “Let it out. Let it all out.”

A desperate moan escapes you, pulling him closer. “Mine.”

His hips stutter against your own, a deep, guttural groan escaping him as his brow furrows. His heart feels as if it’s about to beat right out of his chest, grip growing all the more tighter on your body.

“Yours, Baby.” His head falls against your own as he snaps his hips into your own a little more sharply now. “All yours, and I always will be.”

Your breath hitches at that, and he notices you staring at him with wide, glossy eyes.

“Am I-“ your voice is small, innocent, as if suddenly uncertain of yourself. “Am I yours?”

His heart swells inside of his chest, a loving smile pulling at his features.

“Forever, Baby.” He kisses you, pouring everything he is into the movement of his lips against your own. Pulling away, he rests his forehead against your own. “You will always be mine.”

This time, it’s you who pulls him down for a kiss. The way your tongues move against one another is desperate, moaning into each other’s mouths as he begins to pick up his pace.

His hips snap into your own, adjusting his position slightly so that he can bring his free hand down between your bodies to begin flicking at your clit.

Your eyes fall shut, head being tossed back as a low whine escapes your throat. Your thighs begin to twitch around his waist, holding him desperately to you he kisses you like his life depends on it. Which, to him, it does.

Gently, his thumb circles over that sensitive little nub, feeling your walls beginning to spasm around him in time with his thrusts. You can tell that you’re getting close, that familiar tightening building within your abdomen with every move that he makes.

“Oh, fuck- just like that, Baby,” you whimper against him, clinging to him for dear life. “Don’t stop- you’re gonna make me-“

A desperate keen escapes your lips as your whole body stills. Not even a moment later, your entire form trembles in his embrace, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm washes over you. Whimpers and whines continuously escape you as he helps you ride you through your high. He holds you as close as he possibly can, feeling your walls clenching around him, squeezing him so sinfully as his hips begin to stutter.

Not even a moment later, he stills inside of you, releasing deep into your warmth as he moans your name. He can feel his cock twitching inside of you, lazily thrusting a few more times before grinding his hips into your own.

Every movement, every touch, you both are sensitive to, breaths mingling as you attempt to heave air into your lungs. A second later, and he’s collapsing on top of you, his skin sticking to yours as he holds you close. 

Gently, you begin to card your fingers of your free hand through his hair.

“So good to me,” you hum lightly. “So, so good to me.”

“Only for you, Darling.” He places a tender kiss onto the skin of your chest. “Only for you.”

“I love you, Baby.” You manage to catch his gaze, watching as it shines with nothing but adoration for you.

“I love you.” He breathes, finding enough strength to lift himself up in order to kiss you deeply once more.

Slowly, he pulls himself out of you, the both of you whining at the loss of contact. Almost immediately, he goes to wrap you in his arms, but you standing from the bed draws his attention.

“Where are you going?” He pouts, following your figure as you retreat back to the bathroom.

“To pee, what does it look like I’m doing, silly.” You giggle. “I don’t want to get another UTI like the last time.”

The way his brow furrows slightly has you giggling once more as you disappear into the bathroom. Not even two minutes later, you’re reappearing, a damp cloth held in your hand.

He looks at you curiously, “Shouldn’t I be doing that for you?”

You nearly snort out a laugh. “When have you ever done that for me?”

His gaze is nothing but soft as he watches you clean him up, your touch soothing against his heated skin. The care you extend towards him makes his heart swell, and he cannot help but fall deeper for you in that very moment.

Just as you return to the bathroom to disposed of the cloth, he moves to open the mini-fridge. Pulling two bottles of water out, he immediately hands one to you once you return to him.

“Drink.” A firm nod is sent your way at the skeptical look you shoot him.

Wordlessly, you obey, sitting back on the edge of the bed after pulling the covers back. Once you’ve had your fill of water, you’re placing the bottle onto the bedside table, right beside your phone.

A warmth at your back has you sparing a glance at the male behind you from over your shoulder. His hands lightly trail over your shoulders, rubbing tenderly against your skin as he places gentle kisses against the side of your neck.

“Are you okay, My Love?” His voice is low, so as not to disturb the quaint moment between the both of you. “Sore anywhere? Stiff? Tender?” He hums, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “I could give you a massage if you want?”

You blink, caught off guard by his inquiry. Normally, it’s you who has to give him a massage after sex, not the opposite way around. The fact that he even offered has your heart racing pleasantly inside of your chest.

“I’m alright,” you place a loving hand over his arm, of which settles over the skin of your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Are you okay?”

You take the time to face him now, staring deeply into his eyes.

“Never better.” He smiles, cupping your face gently in his one hand. “Lay with me for a while, yeah?”

You mirror his expression, lips pulling upwards tenderly as you nod.

A moment later, the two of you are laying yourselves beneath the sheets, your head resting over his chest as he holds you close. His one hand holds your own, fingers intertwined as his other strokes calmly over your spine.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask him after a few minutes of silence. “You’ve been acting different all night.”

“Have I?” He hums, almost knowingly. “Maybe I’ve just realized that I never appreciated the love of my life like she’s always deserved. You are everything to me, Darling, and I hope you never forget that.”

“You’ve been smooth talking all night. Since when have you been known to enjoy all of this ‘lovey-dovey, romantic crap’ as you’ve so put it before?” You quirk a brow at him, shifting your gaze to look up at his face.

“But you like it, do you not?” He hums, hand continuing to stroke tenderly over your spine.

“I do.” You hum in confirmation. “But when have you ever been known to do things like this for me?”

He remains silent, and you believe he’s actually contemplating your words. A surprising fact, considering he would normally scoff and retort with something like, ‘I always do things for you.’

Your heart warms for the moment, choosing to revel in his embrace and the way he doesn’t seem to fight you on this. It’s quite refreshing, and you wish it could be like this all of the time, but you know that by tomorrow, he’ll probably be back to his regular self.

You sigh, somewhat wistfully.

“What is it?” He hums, sparing a glance down at you resting in his arms.

“No retort, and you’re actually listening to me and my desires for once?” You reply, somewhat blissfully. “I wish you were always like this.”

“Like what, My Love?” There he goes with that term of endearment you’ve always been fond of. A term which he never really used to enjoy before tonight, it seems.

“My perfect lover.” 

You swear that this night is too good to be true. A sentiment that is unknowingly shared by the male that holds you even tighter while laying in bed with you. Yet, for you both, neither of you particularly want this night to end.

With that thought, you allow yourself to fall asleep, succumbing to the darkness pulling you deeper into an unconscious abyss. Besides, you’ll probably wake up in the morning to this having all been a dream. A beautiful, blissful dream which has fulfilled all of your deepest desires.

Morning comes, and instead of waking from the dream like you thought, you are awoken to the sound of your phone buzzing on the side table. Groggily, you blink the sleep from your eyes, bringing your hands up to rub them in the next moment. 

You can feel a weight pressing against your back, and when you turn your head, you see the sleeping face of your lover staring back at you. His arms are wrapped securely around your waist, as if he’s afraid you might disappear at a moment’s notice.

You must have shifted your positions overnight, you turning onto your side with him following right behind, even unknowingly. Still, it takes you a good minute to wiggle out of his embrace, hearing him groan in annoyance as he turns onto his back. Luckily, he appears to stay inside of the realm of dreams, even as your phone begins to vibrate with a call once more.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you grab the device. One look at the screen and your eyes are going wide, standing from the mattress as you answer the call.

“Hello?” Your voice is still rough from sleep, that much you can tell, even as you speak into the receiver.

“Finally! We’ve been attempting to contact you all morning!” Quincy can be heard through the speaker as you quickly toss on some pants and a shirt. “We have an emergency.”

“What’s going on?” Your brow furrows, mind focusing more on the scenery around you finally.

“We found a body this morning.” She states.

“Yes, Don Vanderleen has been dealt with as of last night.” You confirm, wondering where this is all going.

Nothing could have prepared you for the next words out of her mouth.

“No, it’s not just his body.” Quincy sighs pointedly. “We found Jongin’s body. Well, what’s left of it.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief. “That’s impossible.”

“As your superior, I would never lie to you over these types of matters.” She states, rather firmly.

“That’s impossible, because I’m staring at him right now.” You reply, tone a bit harsh at being woken up with something like this. “You must have found Kai’s body instead.”

“Genetics confirms that it was Jongin’s body.” She sighs. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you.”

Your heart leaps into your throat unpleasantly, seeing the male on the bed beginning to rouse the longer that you’re on the phone.

“No,” you shake your head, tears forming in your eyes. “You’re wrong.”

A tremendous sigh is heard on the other end of the phone. “There was no mole on the back of his neck. I would send you the photos forensics took, but I fear it may be too soon for you to see.”

“This can’t be happening.” You mumble, running a hand over your head desperately.

“I’m sorry.” Quincy sighs once more. “I’ll call you again when I have more details. As his wife, I thought you should be the first to know.”

Without waiting for a response, she hangs up, and you are force to watch who you assume to be your husband finally awaken to the world around him.

The male sits up, rubbing lightly at his eyes. Slowly, he lets his arms fall back to the bed, blinking the remaining sleep from his vision. You notice his gaze darts slightly around the room, brow furrowing in minor confusion before he turns his attention to you standing in the corner. As soon as he sees you, his eyes are widening ever so slightly before a smile of almost pleasant disbelief is painting his features.

He runs his fingers through his hair.

It seems as if he thought all of last night had been a dream, too.

“Good morning, Darling-“

“How dare you call me that.” Your voice is low as the first of your tears begin to trail down the side of your cheeks.

Immediately, worry crosses his features, the male shifting to move closer to you and comfort you in any way he can.

“Don’t come any closer!” You raise a hand, halting him right in his tracks.

“Baby, what’s gotten into you?” His eyebrows furrow, nothing but concern shining in his eyes. Eyes which plead desperately for you to tell him what’s going on.

You swallow thickly. There’s only one way you know to prove that Quincy spoke true.

“Turn around.” You keep your voice low, hoping beyond anything that it remains steady for the moment. “I want to see the mole on the back of your neck.”

His whole body tenses slightly, but you do not fail to catch it this time.

“What are you talking about? You know I don’t have a mole on the back of my neck.” He chuckles, somewhat nervously.

“Then, you should have no problem showing me.” Comes your blunt reply.

“Baby, what has you so paranoid?” He searches your face. “Do you not trust me?”

He shifts off of the bed, pulling on the closest pair of pants he can find as he stands.

“I got a call.” You state, and he glances down at your phone held in your hand. “They found a body.”

His gaze darts back up to your own.

“A dead body.” Your whole body begins to tremble.

He blinks.

“It’s your brother.”

He remains silent, and you swear you can hear a pin drop with how still you both have gone.

He swallows, “I told you that I couldn’t find him when I went up to the roof.”

Your shoulders seemingly relax the slightest bit when he says this.

Cautiously, he takes a step closer.

“A lot has happened in the past twenty-four hours,” he speaks to you calmly, as if attempting to calm you even further from the edge. “Why don’t we just take it easy, yeah? Take a deep breath, and then we can handle this together.”

Softly, you begin to nod your head, seemingly dropping your guard for the moment as your shoulders slouch.

“I suppose you’re right,” you sigh, clutching onto your phone as a lifeline as you step closer to him, resting just at the foot of the bed. “Let’s just stay together, and watch the sunrise.”

You see his brow furrow slightly in confusion, and your heart drops.

“But the sun’s already up, My Love.” He offers you a somewhat perplexed smile.

“Oh,” you chuckle, but you know that it’s quite stiff. “I suppose you’re right.”

In the next moment, you reach for him, appearing to seek his touch just as he does the same to you. Only, you’ve been planning this since the second he stepped out of bed.

A blink, and you have him pinned on his stomach, his one arm trapped beneath his body while you pull the other one behind his back. Your touch is nowhere near as gentle as it was last night as you shove his head into the mattress, pushing the ends of his golden locks upwards to reveal what you’ve been dreading since you got the call.

There, resting just below his hairline, resides a small mole, practically glaring back up at you in the light of the morning sun.

As if the code he botched wasn’t enough, this just proves it.

Your breathing deepens, chest heaving with every stuttering inhale you take as the harshness of reality sinks in around you. Suddenly, the room is thick with tension. So much so, that it weighs on your shoulders, suffocating you with every beat of your frantic heart.

You push yourself off of him, shaking your head as more tears fall from your eyes.

“No,” you back yourself against the wall as you watch him push himself up from the bed with a disappointed sigh. “No, this can’t be happening.”

Your heart feels as if someone has reached inside and torn it from your chest, the betrayal you feel coming through as clear as day on your face.

“Darling-“

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You shriek, eyes blazing with an unbridled fury. “You- you-“ you push yourself as far against the wall as you can, your voice breaking as you attempt to find words, “you made me believe you were him.”

A deadly silence washes over the both of you.

“I should have known,” you scoff, a sort of sadness taking over your features. “I should have known it was too good to be true. He’s never listened to me like that. He’s never loved me like that.”

Kai’s jaw twitches in irritation, watching you break down in front of him like this.

“The entire night,” you laugh bitterly, “the entire night he was missing, probably already dead. Yet here I was, fucking his brother.” Your expression drops, horror painting your features. “I fucking cheated on my dead husband with his brother. I- I-“ You meet his gaze, breath hitching in your throat as you realize something. “Why did you let me believe that you were him?”

He remains silent, lips pursed into a thin line.

“Why?” You shout, tears streaming down your face.

“He could never love you the way that I could.” Kai’s voice is low as he replies, watching your every move carefully. “He’s never loved you in the way you deserved.”

“That’s bullshit!” You spit. “Who are you to decide who can and can’t love me? Who are you to decide what kind of love I deserve?”

“He’s never deserved you, period.” He keeps his tone steady, but you can hear the restrained anger he holds back for the moment.

“And you do?” You counter, incredulously.

“I loved you first!” His one hand slams over his heart, nails biting into the skin of his bare chest. “I wanted you first. He only wanted you to prove I could never have you; to take you away from me. He never loved you, he only loved knowing he had something else over me. The only thing I’ve ever wanted. The only person I’ve ever loved.”

Your eyes catch on that gold band wrapped around his one finger.

Pure dread washes over you as realization sinks in. Your blood runs cold.

“How did you get that ring?”

Kai notices your gaze locked on his hand, and he pulls it away only to gaze down lovingly at the metal adoring his finger.

“It belonged to me before he stole it.” He replies, somewhat bitterly. At your skeptical look, he’s quick to continue, “Yes, your loving husband took this set of rings from me to propose to you with. After I had told him of my intentions of doing the exact same thing. Only, he got to them first.”

“So, you had two sets.” You voice, attempting to wrap your head around this new information.

“Oh, no, Darling,” he shakes his head, the corner of his lips tugging upwards maniacally. “Just the one.”

Your brow furrows, until morbid realization paints your features. “You killed him.”

“He didn’t deserve to live.” Comes his blunt reply. “Not after everything he’s done. Not after everything he’s put you through.”

“That wasn’t for you to decide.”

“Wasn’t it, though?” Kai hums, tilting his head mockingly. “He couldn’t protect you properly. I saw what that bastard did to you last night. Do you really think Jongin would have done anything about it? No. Instead, he pulled you on top of himself when the bullets started flying to protect himself. He never cared about you, because no matter how much attention you could give him, it would never be enough. You were never enough for him.”

“He pulled me on top of him because I said I didn’t want any of that man’s vile blood to touch me.” Your voice is low, like the approach of an oncoming storm. “You are so jealous of your brother, you continuously make up false claims just to tarnish his name. You never saw how he treated me behind closed doors. You don’t know what our relationship was like.”

“Really? Because I certainly learned enough last night.” Comes his pointed retort. “He was a fucking selfish lover, wasn’t he? Always putting his pleasure first over your own. He used you in every way he could to get himself off, both physically and emotionally, yet you’re still too blind to see it!”

“Don’t pretend to know what he was like.” You snap, arms crossing over your chest. “At least he never made me believe he was someone he was not.”

“You’re the one who assumed I was him.”

“You’re the one that went along with it!” You counter, your chest heaving as you swear your heart might collapse at any moment from the suffocating feeling of pain that surrounds it. “Now, I’ll have to live my entire life knowing I slept with my husband’s murderer on the night he was killed. I cheated on my dead husband!”

With each word, your voice rises. You’re almost hysterical at this point, beginning to pace while laughing insanely the whole while.

“You want to get mad at me for killing someone as vile as him?” Kai’s nostrils flare. “I killed him before he could kill me. It was self defence! Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like Shinobu or Nancy were that lucky.”

“Are you seriously implying that my husband was the one who killed Nancy and Shinobu?” You reply incredulously, eyes going wide in disbelief.

“He told me himself that he killed any further doubts you might have about him last night.” Kai states, somewhat matter of factly.

“And I’m supposed to believe you?” You scoff, shaking your head.

“I would never lie to you.” There is nothing but honesty dripping from both his tone and his gaze, and you hate how you actually do believe him.

“Yet, you made me believe you were your brother.” Your voice isn’t as firm as before, your tears slowing, too.

“You said it yourself last night,” he meets your gaze, eyes flashing, “I am your perfect lover.”

“You’re despicable,” you spit, noticing how he slowly begins to creep towards you now.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and you begin to angle yourself away from him. Only, he’s faster, pinning you to the wall as he rests his forehead against your own.

“Every night could be like the last when you’re with me. No, it will be.” He breathes, pressing himself right up against you despite your best efforts to shove him off of you. “You know I can treat you right, Darling. I think I’ve more than proved myself to you. I have always wanted you. I have always loved you. With me, you’d never have to question that again.”

You hands come up to rest on his chest, keeping him distanced from you as much as you can.

“You’ve betrayed me, Kai.” Your voice is but a mere whisper on your lips, the devastation clear on your features. “I can never forgive that.”

“That’s bullshit!” He pushes himself off of the wall, anger pulling at his features. “You can’t forgive me, but you can continue to love a man who continuously cheated on you, and could never love you in the ways that you’ve always deserved?”

“Jongin never cheated on me, Kai.” You state lowly. “Your brother was a lot of things, but cheater he was not. Not after he knew what happened with my parents.”

The male before you remains silent.

“You knew what happened with my parents, how they didn’t know the meaning of loyalty. You know how I feel about cheaters, and you purposely led me to believe you were my husband just so you could fuck me.” You slowly begin backing away from him again, leading yourself towards the hallway that will lead out of the room. Your phone begins buzzing in your hand. “How do you think that looks to me, Kai? You say you love me, but would someone in love do something as unforgivable as that to the one they claim to love?”

“I do love you.” His tone is firm, taking a step forward as tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

“No,” you shake your head, finally having reached the bedside table. “You don’t love me. You want to own me.”

His breath hitches, the first of his tears beginning to trail openly down his cheeks.

“I have always loved you.” He repeats his words from earlier, a bit more desperately this time. “Last night-“

“Last night was you manipulating me into getting what you’ve always wanted from me.” You say. “You want to make Jongin out to be the bad guy when you’re the worst one!”

“I only want to love you!” His fist slams against the wall beside him in frustration before he begins tugging desperately at his hair. “Can you not see that?”

“I cannot love a man like you, Kai.” You shake your head, feeling your phone begin vibrating once more in your hand. “I never can, and I never will."

Something within his eyes flash, and he goes so still, you swear that he’s stopped breathing.

“You don’t mean that,” he starts to hyperventilate, his eyes crazed as he begins clawing at his face. “You- you- you need me like I need you! You said you loved me! You said I was yours!”

“I said I loved my husband, Kai.” Your voice is firm as you meet his devastated, tearstained face. “Not you.”

“No!” He lunges, managing to knock your phone out of your hands as he wraps his arms around you. You both go tumbling to the floor. Desperately, he clings to you, sobbing into your neck. “You can’t leave me! I love you! I did this for you. For us!”

“Kai, let me go.” You attempt to push him off of you, but he doesn’t relent his hold on you even in the slightest.

“No.” He begins to shake his head. “I- I’ll make you love me. You’ll see!”

“Kai, this isn’t an opportunity for you to change my mind.” You, again, attempt to shove him off of you to no avail.

“I don’t need to change your mind,” he starts to nod, as if he’s convincing himself more so than you, now. “I’ve already proved it to you. You felt it, didn’t you? You felt my love last night. You wouldn’t call me your perfect lover otherwise.”

You can tell he’s no longer talking to you, but reasoning with himself. The more he speaks, the more he seems to believe, calming himself down with each word that he says.

A knock at the door breaks his train of thought. He stiffens.

“Don’t answer that.”

Another knock, more frantic than the first sounds.

You attempt to break free from his grasp once more, only for him to pull you firmly back into his arms each time.

“You’re not going anywhere, Darling.” His voice is low, suddenly much more ominous than only moments before. “I won’t let you leave me.”

You still, heart stuttering as a fear unlike ever before floods your veins. If he can kill his own brother, there’s no telling what he might do to you.

A call of your name from a familiar voice outside the door draws your attention.

“Are you in there?”

It’s Quincy.

Just as you open your mouth to respond, Kai slaps a hand over your lips.

“Shh,” he keeps his voice low right by your ear, sending an unpleasant shiver down your spine. “Wouldn’t want the big boss lady to disturb the happy couple, now, would we?”

You shake your head, deciding to play along with his games for the moment. You’d rather stay alive than upset him further and truly set him off. He already seems incredibly unhinged, and there’s no telling what he might do.

Another knock sounds.

Slowly, Kai beings to lower his hand, trusting that you won’t act out.

Only, you know better.

A loud yelp escapes him as you bite down on his hand quite harshly. This causes him to loosen his hold on you, and you managing to scramble free after elbowing him in the chest. Rolling away from him, you’re quick to fling open the closet door right beside you, seeing as you wouldn’t have enough time to stand and open the door to the room. Luckily, you know where you’ve stashed all the guns, and the closest one now rests in your hands as you stand back to your feet.

“I’m inside, Quincy.” You call over your shoulder, watching as Kai slowly stands to his feet with his arms raised beside him. You cock the gun. “Kai’s gone mad.”

You hear a low curse come from behind the slab of wood behind you, some shuffling occurring as she whispers order too low to make out.

“Please, Darling,” he expression falls. “Don’t do this. You know I can make you so happy.”

“Take off that ring.” Your eyes briefly dart to his hand, that metal band glinting almost mockingly at you now. “Besides, I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“And I thought I told you that these rings are mine.” His eyes flash. “Ours.”

Your nostrils flare. “Fine then.”

Shifting your hand, you begin to slide your own wedding band off of your finger. Except, Kai takes advantage of your movements, lunging towards you while you’re distracted. He manages to wrestle the gun from your hands as you go tumbling to the ground. You scramble onto your back, hands supporting you as you look at the man you thought you could trust.

The gun is now pointed at your head, tears streaming down his face as he gazes down at you with nothing but sorrow on his features.

“Don’t make me do this.” He nearly chokes on a sob.

You can hear some scratching at the door. The slow, telltale movements of someone picking the lock.

“I’m not making you do anything, Kai.” You shake your head. “You did it all yourself.”

“Please,” he begs, hand trembling as that barrel stares you down. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You can’t lose what you’ve never had, Kai.” You reply lowly.

His expression falls, and you notice his hand has stopped shaking.

“Fine then.” He swallows thickly, as if steeling himself for what he’s about to do.

You hear the click of the lock falling out of place.

“If I can’t have you,” his eyes are crazed, wild as he meets your own, “No one can.”

The sound of the door swinging open is synonymous with the gunshot that echoes throughout the room. The second shot is quick to follow, a body falling limply to the floor.

[weeesi]

Journey - May Prompts (30)

[Finally: an end to the blanket saga! This ficlet will make sense if you’ve read Blanket, Intuition, and Empty, in that order.]

“You did.” 

These words are the first of many. They sit together in Sherlock’s room as the afternoon sunlight darkens into amaranth, burnt tangerine, then deep-sea blue, as the quiet hush of evening slips over them like a blanket.

How could you not have known?

How could I have guessed?

Back and forth like this for hours, they use words as blades and balms.

Not gay. 

Just transport. 

Not a couple. 

Married to work. 

Couldn’t bear it. 

Kept it secret. 

Didn’t know. 

Couldn’t lose you. 

Broke my trust. 

Broke my heart. 

Had a relapse. 

So did I. 

Why’d you lie. 

Wanted more. 

From the beginning. 

Me too. 

Always you. 

As they talk, the tiny square travels between their hands, is thumbed at absentmindedly on its final journey. They tell each other about unravellings, about grief, about pieces cut out and hidden, about waiting.

At last it falls apart.

They hold the little threads and then they hold each other.

When the time comes, it’s mutually agreed. An unusual request, the jeweler remarks, but doable. Two strands of Irish wool, dyed grey and white and red, disappear forever into two gold rings.

“There’s a metaphor in there, somewhere,” John says.

Sherlock laughs and kisses him.

The blanket stays on the chair, the chair stays in the flat, and the love never leaves.

+

Thanks to @jolieblack for the inspiration to finish this little quartet!

Thank you to @calaisreno for the fun prompt series! Tags in replies. Thanks for reading! <3

[formulapookie]

✨💍

under the cut to read on Tumblr, here to read on Ao3 (thank you @thesunthemoonthestarstheearth for being my beta reader)

Written in the stars rosquez, 4.5k words

It's sunny in Romagna today, but not the bothersome heated sunny day that gets you irritated.

It’s still fresh, a light breeze breathing, letting a chill temperature on all the guests.

People are seated, they’re talking, some more some less, who has a more hushed tone, who has raised their voice already.

Vale is anxious. He’s sweating a bit under the collar of the shirt, his fingers are twisting around one another, he can’t seem to stay still.

Luca gets a hand on his shoulder, it relaxes him a bit, but he’s still tense as a branch.

He can see many of his friends and family, even Graziano is there.

Marta with her and Luca’s kid is looking at him with pride in her eyes, as are Migno, Franky and Cele, giving him a thumbs up as they notice his stress levels spiking.

Uccio is not there, and he gets that, but still, it hurts a bit.

“Vale,” it’s Pecco’s voice calling him from a bit behind, he turns, meeting eyes with the boy “relax, it’s all going to be perfect” Vale nods, smiles, even if he can’t help looking at his left every three seconds with anticipation.

The location is really pretty, the trees cover the space and offer some repair from sunlight, and cool it down a little.

He hears Bezz and Pecco laughing about something, he snaps his head back, admonishing them with a gaze, and the two shut up, even if they still have a smug grin on their faces.

“Why am I so anxious Luca? Ooh God, I’m gonna die” he turns towards his brother, who has an understanding smile on, and grabs him by the shoulders.

“Vale. Pecco said it already, we all told you like fifty times this week only. It’s going to be perfect ok? This right here is destiny, fate, call it whatever you want. It’s all good, I checked it thousands of times.

Don’t worry Vale, really.”

He does a quick work of calming himself down, breathing in out, in out, in out.

Slowly, each breath is taken and released as if it’s the last.

His nails have now scratched his palms way more than usual, he feels the skin hot and sweaty under his own fingers.

His mind shuts up when he hears music starting to raise, voices dissolving and even the wind seemingly quieting down.

He breathes robotically again. In, out. In, out.

And then his thoughts become only one. Marc.

He’s walking with Julia down the short carpet leading them to the altar, the quartet of strings they booked playing a soft tune they came to love while spending time at the Ranch.

Marc is smiling so bright, it’s blinding., Hhe’s got his gaze fixated on Vale, who can’t keep a straight face and begins crying.

He can’t help it, he’s so beautiful, radiant, he seems like a god or an ethereal creature from some fantasy book written in the past.

He’s dressed in all white, light as a cloud and bright like snow, reflecting the sun. Vale feels like he could write poems about him right now.

Marc is crying a little too, but Vale is unbeatable, he can barely see the love of his life through all the tears he’s shedding.

“You are perfect” he mouths to Marc, who blushes and smiles ever broader than before “you too”.

They are lost in each other’s eyes, the officiant begins speaking, and after a ritual introduction asks the two to read out their vows.

Marc begins, his voice and hands trembling, he’s speaking in Italian the whole time, Vale smiles, he’s truly found the best love he could ask for.

He talks about the beauty of sharing so much together, of the light he had when he first met Valentino, of the fact they struggled, not referring directly to the wound it left.

He talks about how they overcame the many difficulties of being who they were, of their undying love that has always been greater than whatever obstacle they were put through, by themselves or others.

Vale and Marc aren’t the only ones crying, most people have tears in their eyes, Bezz is trying to keep his composure but he’s sniffing like those are his own vows.

Then it’s Vale’s turn.

He hesitates for a moment, his voice is caught up in his throat. 

But then he looks at Marc, to him, perfection made human.

And everything is calm. Tthere’s only love and joy in his heart.

His whole speech is written in Ccatalan, he’s revised it with Alex millions of times to make sure everything was how it should be. Perfect.

“Marc, I didn't think I would’ve ever seen you like this after what we went through, after the pain I dragged us both through as if I didn't care about you, about us.

But this moment, imagining and playing out in my head the day when I would’ve called you mine forever got me going, it gave me hope and made me take the step forward to come to you and tell you I was sorry, for everything I did and for every lie I believed or convinced myself of.

Not even when I said it have I ever meant I hated you, because it’s just impossible to feel that towards you” 

He stops for a bit, catching his breath, Marc is smiling like a baby, Alex has a proud look on his face, and he can hear Bezz crying as quietly as he can behind his brother and Pecco.

“I am sure nothing I’ll ever say will truly make you or anyone else understand what I feel for you, my love for you is just impossible to be spoken of, there are no words in any language I could think of to make you understand.

I want to give you the best life you can dream of, because that’s what you deserve.

I can’t say I’ll be perfect and that we will never argue but I will try to be the best for you because I know you’ve already done that all your life for me, and there’s no right compensation for it except doing the same.

Thank you, for always forgiving me, even when I was unforgivable, even when I made you feel like I hated you.

In the end the only thing I can truly say about you is that I love you, and that we will do and struggle through everything together, no matter what happens, because you are the love of my life and I could never think of anyone better than you to share my life with.

You made me believe in love and forever again”

And it’s cheesy, it’s unlikely for Vale to say those things many people wouldcould think.

But in reality it’s just a part of Vale that only Marc could find, clean from the dust it had fallen under, and bring back to life.

Vale is crying, smiling and just looking at Marc like nothing else exists in that moment, and Marc is doing the same.

The officiant asks them to take each other as spouses, and cherish each other always.

Both say I do.

Both are filled with love for each other.

The guests start clapping as the two finally kiss as husbands, the academy boys are all smiling, as are Alex and Dani and Jorge, the last two turning towards each other with honey in their eyes.

After a few hours they’re all at the reception, Vale and Marc seated beside one another, their hands have never broken their hold., Tthey thank everyone for coming there and Vale finally gives the go for food and drinks to flow in.

All the guests cheer, Marc and Vale chat, looking at all their friends happy smiles and laughing

And then they look at each other for the thousandth time that day, Marc has a blush coming up his neck and painting his ears red too, in heavy contrast with the candid white of his suit and smile.

“15 years since we met and still you blush like the first time I told you you were beautiful.” Vale says it nonchalantly, a fond smile painted on his face, planting a chaste kiss on Marc’s lips, smiling in the kiss.

A slightly tipsy Bezz yells from the groomsmen table to “go get a room, we’ve had plenty of you at the Ranch!”, making Marc blush even more and Vale kill his kid with a stare that could cut glass.

Bezz is also admonished by Cele, who’s laughing with him though, Bezz almost spilling the wine he’s served.

The setting of their reception is very cute, hints of blue and yellow for Vale and Red and orange for Marc, not too heavy in contrast but still evident to the eye.

They've gone beyond what they could think of and brought their bikes there too, Vale the M1 with which he won his 2004 championship, for Marc it was the 2013 one, the bike that made him a legend.

They’re placed beside their table, and even when Celin had said it was the cringiest shit they could come up with, they still went for it.

It was their wedding after all, no one else’s.

Sure, they’ve given their blessing to one of the academy boys to propose, but just because they knew that they were gonna be the center of the day anyway.

It doesn’t take long before they are asked to go dance, and it’s now Vale’s turn of being embarrassed.

Marc knows how to dance, hell Marc knows how to do everything at this point. Had he asked him “Can you draw exactly like Leonardo Da Vinci?” he probably could.

Vale on the other hand can barely get two movements right in a row, despite having Marc teach him every move and how to do them correctly.

They dance for a bit, then signal to the others to all flood to the dance floor, and the music changes, going more for a party/dance style which they didn’t let Bezz have a say in., Abecause as Vale said “I don’t want your depressing music playing at my wedding, reserve it for when you think your boyfriend wouldn’t love you if you were a worm.”.

Dickhead.

They are surrounded by love, they are love and in love, continuously kissing each other and never interrupting their smiles.

“Amore mio” calls Vale, and Marc jerks his head towards him with the speed of light “Mh?”. “Ti amo” like he hasn’t said that three thousand times already.

But Marc can’t help smiling at him, it’s so pure, sincere and bright he can’t possibly not smile.

“Jo també”. Vale loves Marc’s accent, how he speaks both in his native language and in Italian. It’s so cute, it makes him feel trusted when Marc speaks catalan, it feels like family.

They get up to dance again, together with the guests, looking at Pedrosa and Lorenzo who are talking to each other like they’re the only ones in the room, asking themselves how long it’ll take the two Spaniards to understand they’re disgustingly in love and should marry right now.

After a while it’s Luca’s turn as Vale’s best man to make a speech.

It’s not too long, filled with small details from their life all together at the Ranch and the strength they had to go on despite everything, and wishing them the best about their future.

Alex, acting as Marc’s best man, gives a similar speech, a bit more focused on Marc’s difficult times when Vale wasn’t there, but otherwise praising the older as much as he could.

They all toasted to the perfect couple they had there, some still not believing they were actually married now, not just in their imagination as it always would’ve been.

Bezz and Celin were dancing a lot, especially the more romantic songs Marc managed to slide into the playlist to force Vale to dance with him.

It soon comes the time to cut the cake, it’s a classic white three tiers cake, but it's decorated with one of the best moments in the couple’s life.

It’s the moment in which, back in 2013, Vale had taken Marc’s hand and almost bowed to him after his first victory in MotoGP, it has both men smiling, thinking of how long ago it was now, 15 years after their first podium together, Marc still a kid worshiping Vale and Vale beginning to break to the idea he could be a real one. 

Again, when they had told the academy, Celin had frowned and said it was once again embarrassing, but the pair had shut him down once more., Iit was their moment, the kid hadn’t lived it through like they did, they didn’t hold it against him.

They cut the cake, Vale playfully steals a bit of whipped cream and puts it on Marc’s nose and lips, Marc doing the same., Iit’s so corny and Mig makes the gag sound making the boys laugh , but ultimately they shut up when they see the love in their friend’s and his now finally husband’s eyes.

Once the cake is takenbrought away Marc decides to go for the throw of the flower bouquet, Vale is already smiling, they’re doing it for one person and one person only.

There’s the countdown and when it hits zero Marc makes the quickest sprint of his life to leave it in the hands of a shocked curly boy who stands with his mouth agape.

Aas Celin turns to his side Bezz is there, a hint of a tear in his eyes, a bit red from wine and all the dances they had together, he’s looking at him with his stupid smile on his face, kneeling, with a small wooden box holding a pretty ring, not nearly as shiny or bold as the one Vale got for Marc but once again, he’s not a millionaire like his boss.

He asks the question with a trembling voice, Pecco and the whole academy waiting with more anxiety than anyone else.

“I- oh my god Bezz I didn’t- yeah yeah of course what yes I want to marry you I- kiss me come on”

Celin stutters through the entire time he speaks., Hhe just can’t believe he got proposed to, like yeah they’ve talked about it., Hhaving a wedding on the track, he’d looked it up, you can do it, then a few laps alone around the circuit just for the two of them and the beautiful view of the sunset on a track they love. 

But being proposed to for real was just…perfect.

Bezz smiles, raising from the ground and putting the ring on his boyfriend’s finger, kissing him softly.

Behind them, Pecco uncorks the Prosecco bottle they reserved for the occasion, spraying the two as if they were on a podium.

Luckily they were smart enough to have a change of clothes, so they gowent to grab them and come back clean, but obviously it took a bit more than it should, celebrating privately must feel great, especially after you’ve just been proposed to. 

Marc and Vale would know something about it for sure.

When Vale proposed it wasn’t a romantic date at the beach, or at a fancy restaurant, or in any elegant city in Europe where the two went on holiday to.

It should’ve been like that, Vale had planned it.

A trip to Capri, the sunset on the sea, his yYacht stalled somewhere fairly far from the shore to have their privacy, two flutes of Prosecco and the marine breeze. 

But instead the proposal had coame in a rush, in a peak of adrenaline and happiness.

At the Ranch, only the two of them present, racing together, trying to beat each other like they always did.

Marc winning, dirtbikes crossing the line with less than a tenth difference, Marc laughing, taking off his helmet and smiling at Vale so kindly he thought it was heaven.

And it just struck him, the beauty and perfection of the one person he always knew was tied to his soul in ways no one else ever could dream of.

So Vale slowly removed his helmet, panting, looking at Marc with a love so pure in his eyes he didn’t even recognise himself.

“Marry me.” it wasn’t even a question, he could fear his ears ringing, time seemingly sitting still for a moment so long it could’ve been eternity., Tthe only thing he could hear was the blood running through his veins, his heart beatingpulsing.

Vale climbed off the bike, removed his gloves and unceremoniously threw them to the ground, taking a speechless Marc still gloved hands in his.

“Marry me.” he repeated it, he needed to do it, he needed Marc to hear it again, to have him realize he actually had asked him to be together their whole life.

“Vale are you- are you” he had tears in his eyes, he never thought the day would’ve come, not with Vale’s insecurity about marriage, not with lots of things going on all at the same time.

“You are really asking me to marry you? You-” and he started to cry, holding Vale tightly in his arms, sobbing and laughing, his laugh mixing with the tears he was shedding.

“Yes. Yes yes yes yes I will marry you!” and Vale was the happiest he had ever been, he was crying too, relief taking over the fear he felt when Marc didn’t respond right away.

“Te amo, Marc. Te amo te amo te amo!” and the kiss they shared was charged with of devotion and promises, love and forever, both of them laughing in the kiss, their bodies glued together.

“I-I should’ve proposed in two weeks, in Capri. Marc I had it all planned I- it was perfect and romantic and instead I just proposed to you wearing dirt-stained leathers at my- our Ranch sorry I wanted it to be perfect I really planned it.”

Marc smiled, so brightly it seemed unreal.

“Vale. I love the idea you had, but you proposing here it’s just as perfect as Capri, I don’t care for expensive or romantic or anything else.

This right here was perfect, in our Ranch, I would marry you even if you asked me while watching your stupid movies or while we fix the bikes.

Ti amo Vale, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you”

Then they had shared a slow and romantic night, cooking, baking, smiling, making love, falling asleep with the knowledge of a promise.

Marc snaps out the memory when he feels Vale’s body against his, hands intertwining, his husband’s chin on his shoulder, slow dancing at a tune that has all the couples hold each other a bit tighter, their heartbeats becoming closer, their souls touching.

 The rest of the reception is spent between dancing and laughing, a short video projected on the room’s wall featuring moments Marc and Vale shared: holidays, trips, races, podiums.

Marc is smiling, blushing at the pictures during the time they both raced, you could see from kilometers away the love in his eyes when looking at Vale.

As if summoned from his thoughts Vale leans closer to him, and whispers in his ear with a grin.

“I had a few more pictures of you in my phone but I don’t think they’d fit the romantic atmosphere we’re creating here” and that only makes him blush more, kicking the man lightly.

By the time the clock hits three in the morning, people are leavinggoing away, Bezz and Cele disappeared a few more times during the party, always coming back a bit flushed., Tthey were also the last to say goodbye to the couple, Bezz thanking them both for helping him propose, Cele doing the same.

And that way Vale and Marc were the last left in the room, music playing softly in the background, lights dimmed and their eyes shining with love.

Vale holds out his hand, Marc does the same, they reach the center of the room and start dancing, only for themselves, glued to one another, the tune from their wedding opening creating an atmosphere it’s only theirs.

“Ti amo” Marc says, his forehead on Vale’s shoulder, Vale’s on Marc’s.

“Jo també amor meu”.

They stay like this for a while, until Marc suggests they head back to their hotel.

They have two beautiful bikes waiting for them outside, white livery, the writing “just married” on both of them.

They ride tountil the hotel, park their bikes and go inside holding hands, Marc is rubbing his wedding ring, smiling like a child.

Marc goes to climb the stairs but lets out a surprised yelp when Vale takes him in his arms, bridal style and carries him up.

“You’re my husband now, need to have some chivalry, no?”

It makes Marc laugh, one of those laughs that could brighten up your darkest day.

He throws his hands around Vale’s neck, still laughing until they reach their room, a beautiful suite decorated for them.

They struggle a bit to get in, because Vale doesn’t want to let go of Marc despite it making getting into the room extremely difficult, but when thewy do and Vale kicks the door shut Marc’s breath is caught in his throat.

Rose petals scattered lovingly on the floor, leading to the enormous king sized bed Vale insisted on having.

As they reach it Vale gently lies Marc on it, pressing a deep and gentle kiss on his mouth, joy sparkling like fireworks between them.

“Vale?” 

“Si?” 

“Make love to me”

And the kiss they share is magical.

Intense, mouths finding each other like they were starving for their touch, charged with devotion and promises, love and forever, just like back at the Ranch.

Vale’s hands find the buttons of Marc’s shirt, slowly undoing them, no rush or thrill of adrenaline chasing after them, just the intimacy of them two finally tied together.

Marc does the same, unbuttoning Vale’s shirt, his fingers almost trembling with longing.

They remove their clothes, lips almost never breaking away.

They’re finally both naked, Marc layslaid on the bed, his legs parted, Vale hovering over him, leaving caring open mouth kisses on his husband’s jaw and neck, making him moan softly at the action.

“Vale” it sounds like a prayer, Marc tangles his fingers gently in the other’s hair, pulling him towards his face to kiss again.

Vale grabs the lube from the drawer next the bed, coating his fingers with it, pushing a finger in as he feels Marc get more and more pliant under his touch.

By the time he pushes a second finger in, they both need more, much more, Marc making those quiet moans he loves and Vale groaning and biting his lip as he imagines how Marc will feel once he’ll be inside him.

He takes his time to open him up anyway, he wants this to feel so good, it’s perfect, so that they both will remember this night with pure adoration.

He adds a third finger and goes back to kissing Marc, featherlike fingers dancing on his chest, Marc hands have always been softer and kinder than his, despite being equally scarred.

“Te amo, Marc te amo” he says as he finally removes his fingers and slowly pushes inside Marc, so slowly Vale can feel every thrill of electricity inside Marc’s body.

Marc’s lips are in a perfect “o” shape, something that is barely a whimper is let out by him, one of his hands goes to grab the back of Vale’s neck, pulling him closer, closer.

They stay still for a second, lips touching, until Vale speaks again, smiling brightly .

“Sei bellissimo” and Marc giggles, before feeling his lips against Vale’s, as he begins moving slowly, but deep, he feels complete, like they’re puzzle pieces sealed together.

Marc grips at Vale’s bicep with one hand, the other still tangled in his hair as the older lowers himself to kiss Marc’s neck, slow like his thrusts, and just as perfect.

“Vale please kiss me”

He can feel his husband’s smile on his neck, lips trailing to his brushing past his jaw and sealing together.

It’s sweet, deep and soul binding.

It’s everything it hasn’t been before they got back together and everything it will be from now on.

Both of them are close, Marc’s soft moans making wonders to Vale’s brain and same thing the other way around.

“I swear you’re perfect everyday more amore, just when I think you can’t be more beautiful than today tomorrow you’re even more breathtaking”

Marc is smiling and blushing, Vale has this sweet and romantic side to him that he only ever let Marc see.

“You’re perfect too Vale, I love you so much. This is the most beautiful day of my life”

They come in unison, Vale hiding his fav win the crook of Marc’s neck and biting at his collarbone lightly, Marc arching his back and tightening the grip he had on Vale’s air and bicep.

They stay like this for minutes, slow breathing and the smell of them together in the room.

After a while Vale starts laughing lightly, sliding out Marc and sitting up to look at him.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I just can’t believe you said yes, and then that we got married for real and you looked so beautiful and that you - I just can’t believe someone like you loves someone like me”

Marc smiles back, the smile Vale loves over everything else in his life.

“Stop being stupid Vale, I always loved you nothing ever changed that, and of course I said yes I would be crazy to say something else, and you looked way more than beautiful in that suit you know? Made me question my morals while getting married wasn’t very pure of yo-”

Vale shuts him up by kissing him, both still laughing in the kiss, like teens stupidly in love.

“Run me a bath? I need it” “Everything for you amore. You want the blue bath bomb or the orange one?” “Blue, smells more like uuuh” “Lavender” “Yeah that one yeah” “Don’t. Even think about walking there I’m taking you to the tub once it’s ready” “You will get me fat if you don’t let me move Vale” “Fat is happy as my nonna said so no problem in that no?”

Marc laughs again, staring at Vale as he goes to ready their bath, putting the amount of bubbles he likes and throwing in the bath bomb, making it fizz.

He’s sure he couldn’t have been luckier in any other life, because this is surely the most beautiful of the finales for him.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Playing Pretend

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn

A/N: Hnnnnnnnngh, something something, commentary commentary idk. I'm caught up with the manga. Life is meaningless lol. Hopefully this chapter can ease the pain a little (though probably not much since we're hopping right back into angst town lmao, I'm so sorry)

Read Full on AO3

[excerpt]

Luxury. That was the word of the night. Everything about this experience dripped with luxury. Luxury was in the limousine that All for One had been so generous to charter for their pick up. It was in the Don Perignon chilled and waiting for them inside that her parents were kind enough to let her have a glass of. And it was in the Palace Hotel Ballroom that the company had rented out for this party. From every tuxedo-wearing waiter carrying trays of canapes around the room, every member of the string quartet playing Schubert as they entered, even to every Swarovski crystal ornament on the ceiling high Christmas tree in the center of the room. It was all pure, unadulterated luxury.

And it honestly had her wondering for a moment.

“You sure we’re in the right place?” she whispered to her mom, earning a reassuring squeeze.

“No, I’m not,” her mom joked back, just as hushed, “But we’re going to pretend like we are regardless.”

She looked back at her mom curiously. If she was feeling uneasy about the sky high expenditure and decorum of this place, she could only imagine how out of her element her mom was. She herself had spent her entire life ping-ponging between lower and upper middle class. But her mom, even before she’d been in foster care, had only known the heights of a paycheck to paycheck smalltown flower shop. Tie in the not insignificant times she’d spent living exclusively in manga cafes, and she could only imagine what an out of body experience she was having at this moment.

Although, maybe she wasn’t as out of her element as she thought.

If her mom was feeling any nerves or apprehension, it all went away the moment they were approached some of her father’s new, upper echelon bosses and colleagues, beautiful women on their arms (some being the mens’ wives, some being definitely not the mens’ wives), and she was rubbing elbows and talking the talk like the best of them.

“So, was that your first time in a limo?” Yamamoto, one of her dad’s bosses asked the bunch.

“Is it that obvious? ” her mother smiled politely

“Oh on the contrary. I think you all look quite natural at an event like this,” he turned then to her father, “A very handsome family, son. You should be proud.”

Her father smiled, giving her shoulder a little squeeze, “More than you can imagine. My oldest here is a senior at Kamino, and one of the top in her class.”

“Is that so?” Yamamoto said, turning to her, “Entrance exams are just around the corner, aren’t they? You feeling ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered, trying not to think about it too long, lest she get nervous.

That was pretty much the course of all her conversations tonight, so far at least. If it wasn’t asking her about her college plans, it was middle-aged VP’s telling her what a looker she was and how she “must have guys lining up for her at school”. Blegh.

All throughout she just smiled and nodded politely while trying not to look around too much for Shigaraki, who surprisingly, for the first quarter of the party, was nowhere to be found. Same for All for One. 

Weird, she thought at first, considering that this was their freaking party. Until she overheard one of her dad’s coworkers mention to him, “You know how much that ol’ bastard likes to make an entrance.”

As if on cue, the double doors to the ballroom opened (she hadn’t even realized they’d been shut?!) And in strutted All for One, standing tall and pompous as ever. She had to fight the biggest eye roll of her life as a soft applause filled the room, and he waved them off as if he wouldn’t have been completely pissed had the room been silent.

But just as fast as annoyance crossed her face, she couldn’t fight the skip in her chest when Tomura Shigaraki followed into the ballroom behind him. 

He’d cleaned up, and he’d cleaned up freaking good. 

His typical ill-fitting sweats and hoodie had been switched out for an impeccably crisp, slim fit suit that did his long legs and defined figure all the favors in the world. His hair was not only brushed, but obviously had some care put into it, fringe still in his face, but strategically so. He kept his eyes, staring forward intensely, intimidatingly, in full view. 

And on top of it all, much to her shock and joy, was the red jacket she’d bought for him hanging off his shoulders almost capelike. He’d even kept the fur part on and she’d be remiss to say it didn’t make him look like royalty.

He didn’t just look amazing, he looked like a leader. 

Her mom leaned down to her, nudging her not so subtly out of her awe, “Didn’t I see you bring home a jacket like that the other day?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” she said, swatting away at her, but still unable to take her eyes off Shigaraki through it all.

The two crossed to the center of the room, stopping directly under the giant Christmas tree, where a member of the hotel staff was there to meet All for One with a microphone.

“Thank you all so much for coming tonight…” he started an inevitably long and pompous speech that she was eager to tune out.

And it was easy to do so, the longer she stared at his ward, admiring the way he stood off to the side of All for One, head held high, but still unmistakably himself as he stuffed a hand into his pant pocket. 

She smiled at the sight. Seeing him like this, she couldn’t help but be brought back to a few months ago. To that fateful dinner her family had shared with the Shigarakis. The one that Tomura had worn a ratty old hoodie to and had spent the whole night either slouching in his chair, avoiding eye contact, or feeling her up under the table. There was none of that immaturity or recalcitrance here tonight. While he may not have learned the ways of the fake smile and schmoozing that practically permeated the air here, the hard bitterness in his expression was one that could actually be interpreted as polished stoicism. An authority that was hard to impress. And above all, the model heir to his guardian’s company.

Continue on AO3

[lcvehee]

lost and found

#01. 'what am i getting into?' (smau+written)

ft. sohee (riize), female reader.

꩜ .ᐟ synopsis: after a chance meeting in the hushed aisles of the uni library and bickering over the last copy of "an introduction to statistical learning", fate keeps tugging y/n and sohee closer. despite their reserved nature and initial resistance, they find themselves drawn into each other's orbits, finding solace in each other's company.

꩜ .ᐟ wc: 0.9k

꩜ .ᐟ a/n: chapter one is out!!!!! we cheered!!!! IK THEYRE BOTH BEING MEAN TO EACH OTHER BUT ITLL GET BETTER I PROMISE YALL‼️ i hope you enjoy this sjnwjs if you have suggestions just tell me!! and what do you think of the written portion? is it too long? anyways I LOVE SOHEE !!

꩜ .ᐟ light theme is from y/n's pov and dark is from sohee's pov.

meanwhile, in sohee's orbit...

━˖°˖ ☆ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

y/n was in the front row of the lecture hall, silently playing with her pen as the professor rambled on and on, and on. she tried to focus, but she just couldn't. her mind drifted to the infamous book she had to get her hands on.

what am i supposed to do? every single copy in this campus is already borrowed, and buying the book is out of question—i'm so broke...

the sound of classmates loudly whispering behind her brought y/n back to reality. once again, she focused her eyes on the professor, reading the slide and jotting down something.

soon enough, the professor wrapped up her lecture and in a flash, y/n was out of the door, slinging her tote bag over her shoulder. she knew exactly where to go; the coffee shop she frequently went to was a few blocks outside of campus. this was her friend group's thing: twice a month they'd go there to study (as they like to say, but it's more of a gossip session...) and get their usual order. another tradition is that the last person to arrive was the one who paid for everyone's drink; hence, she speedwalked on her way there.

when she arrived, she let out a sigh of relief as she realized that she wasn't the last to arrive. giselle and anton were already sat at a circular table, chatting quite animatedly already. yeri was missing.

"y/n, over here!" giselle smiled warmly, waving her hand. y/n made her way over to the table, hugging giselle in the process.

"hey anton." y/n grinned, opening her arms.

"hi you," he replied, hugging her.

"i missed you guys." y/n pouted as she sat down.

yeri walked through the door and instantly spotted the three, and made a beeline towards them.

"heyyyy, i guess i'm gonna use my hard earned money on you. again." yeri deadpanned, emphasizing the last word.

"it's not our fault you're always late to everything." giselle shrugged, "and you have a corporate job."

━˖°˖ ☆ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

the quartet chatted for a good hour and a half, catching up with each other, when y/n's phone buzzed loudly on the table, startling her.

"ugh, who's interrupting our tea time?" anton groaned.

y/n stood up abruptly, eye blown wide in utter shock. "i need to go!" she exclaimed, putting her bag on her shoulder.

"what's wrong?" yeri asked, panicking. the other two were just as confused, eyeing y/n's frantic figure leaving the café.

"nothing's wrong. the book, i-uh, it's available! i need to get it!" y/n put her hands together, eyebrows dipped low. "sorry!" she mouthed.

"this girl is hopeless." anton chuckled dryly.

━˖°˖ ☆ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

y/n burst open the door, earning glares from students. as she looked for the reception desk, and next to it, she spotted the book on a cart. she speedwalked, as if she were a woman on a mission.

approaching the desk, the librarian came into view, with another student talking to her. "i'd like to borrow this," he pointed to a book. y/n's eyes followed his finger, and the realization hit her like a brick.

"you can't!" she whisper-shouted.

the two turned their heads towards her.

the guy lifted a brow at her remark. "what do you mean?" he replied, "i got here first."

the librarian sighed, shooing them away with her hands. "figure this out elsewhere, kids. find me when you're done." she went back to her computer, fixing her glasses.

the man snatched the book out of the cart, clutching it close to his chest. "this is so stupid." he let out a deep sigh.

"no it's not!" y/n glared at him, crossing her arms.

he ignored her, and started walking briskly towards a secluded part of the library, with her trailing behind him. the tension between the two was high, you could almost feel a sort of heaviness in the air.

once they found a spot with no one around, he looked at her for the first time. his soft boyish facial features contrasted with the frown adorning his face. "look," he stared in her eyes. "i suck at programming... and my project depends on this and i cannot, in any circumstances, fail this class," he uttered, irritation apparent in his voice. he sighed again, ruffling his dark and messy bed of hair out of frustration.

y/n stared back at him, not backing down. "well. i need it too! i might fail my class if i don't have it..." she argued back.

"what's your major?" he suddenly asked, eyeing her skeptically.

"comp sci, why?"

don't they learn this before us? why does she wants this book?

"then you're supposed to be good at this, why would you even need this book? are you a freshman?"

her jaw dropped, as anger started to bubble inside. "what are you insinuating?" retorted y/n.

"nothing." he looked away.

she groaned, as she looked at the ceiling.

what the hell was this dude's problem?!

she put her face in her hands, sighing loudly.

he stared at her exasperated form, remembering the bags under her eyes and her hunched posture. unexpectedly, he felt strange sense of pity—seeing his tired self in her. he recognized in her a kindred spirit; at the end of the day, they both were just trying to succeed in their respective fields.

we both need it, and she's just as desperate as me. although she could be nicer about it... also this conversation is going nowhere, at this rate, we'll be in here the whole night.

he pushed down his ego, and muttered "i have an idea”.

she looked up to him. yet this time, her eyes were met by a softer gaze. "what is it?" she inquired, voice quiet, taken aback by this display. he gulped, his adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"we can read it together if you don't mind..."

'oh boy, what am i getting into?' they both thought.

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© lcvehee | taglist is open: @totheseok @renjuneoo @molensworld @wccycc @seunghancore

[emma23]

The translation game:

Anselm vogelweide x reader

————————————————————————

The grand hall was buzzing with the low hum of conversation, expensive suits, and glittering dresses moving like waves in a sea of opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the polished marble floor, and the sound of classical music played by a live quartet added to the air of sophistication. This was a gathering for the elite, a place where business deals were sealed over glasses of champagne and fortunes were made with a handshake.

Y/N stood near the grand staircase, holding a flute of champagne, trying to blend in. She had never been one for these types of events. The formal wear, the small talk, the constant sizing up—it wasn’t her scene. But Anselm had insisted.

“You’ll be fine,” he’d said with his usual smirk, adjusting his cufflinks in the mirror. “Just stick with me. If anyone asks, you’re my partner. I needed someone charming to keep me entertained.”

She had rolled her eyes at that. Anselm Vogelweide, the charismatic, enigmatic, and somewhat eccentric man who had swept into her life like a hurricane, always seemed to know exactly what to say to make her feel like she belonged, even if she wasn’t quite sure what that belonging meant. His invitation had been unexpected, as most things with Anselm were, and she couldn’t deny the intrigue that came with being by his side.

As if sensing her thoughts, Anselm appeared beside her, his dark eyes glittering with mischief. His tailored black suit fit him perfectly, contrasting sharply with his untamed curls that seemed to defy any attempt to control them.

“Bored yet?” he asked, leaning in so only she could hear.

Y/N smiled. “Not yet. But the night is young.”

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth, before his gaze flicked across the room. His eyes, always sharp and calculating, found their target—a group of men standing near the bar, speaking in hushed tones. One of them, a man with a severe face and greying hair, glanced over at them, his eyes narrowing slightly as he muttered something to his companions in German.

Anselm’s lips twitched at the corners, his expression one of amusement.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asked, noticing the change in his demeanor.

Anselm’s eyes sparkled as he looked at her. “Oh, nothing. Just that our friend over there thinks you look... how do I put this delicately? Like you might have borrowed that dress from a second-hand shop.”

Y/N blinked, looking down at her dress. It was a classic black number, simple yet elegant. She had chosen it specifically to not stand out too much. “He said that?”

Anselm shook his head, taking a sip of his champagne. “Not quite. He actually said, ‘She looks like someone who wouldn’t know the difference between Prada and Primark.’ But that’s essentially the gist of it.”

She stared at him, waiting for him to be joking. But his eyes held that familiar glint—he was telling the truth, or at least his version of it. “And you found that funny?”

“Not funny. Amusing.” He shrugged. “People are predictable. They see someone they think doesn’t belong, and they lash out in the safest way they know how. It’s boring, really.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “And what did you say back?”

Anselm smiled slowly, that devilish grin that could either mean trouble or charm, sometimes both. “I told him that you’re my partner, and anyone who doesn’t recognize your brilliance is a fool.”

She laughed despite herself. “You did not.”

“Okay, maybe I didn’t use the word ‘brilliance,’” he admitted, leaning closer. “But I did say that you’re the most intriguing woman in the room, and anyone who’s too blind to see that isn’t worth our time.”

The compliment, as backhanded as it was, warmed her. Anselm had a way of making her feel like she was the only person in the room that mattered. It was infuriating and intoxicating all at once.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the bar. “Let’s introduce ourselves. I’m sure you’ll dazzle them with your charm.”

They approached the bar, and the men turned to look at them. The man with the severe face and greying hair looked Anselm up and down, clearly unimpressed.

“Nathan Vogelweide,” the man said with a thick German accent. “You still insist on keeping strange company.”

Anselm’s smile didn’t waver. “Anselm,” he corrected smoothly. “And yes, I do have a taste for the extraordinary. Y/N, this is Herr Müller, one of the... more conservative investors I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

Y/N extended her hand, determined to play her part. “Nice to meet you.”

Müller looked at her hand for a moment before shaking it briefly, his expression unreadable. He said something in German, his tone clipped and dismissive.

Y/N looked at Anselm, waiting for the translation.

Anselm raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “He said you look like you’d be more comfortable serving drinks than ordering them.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

Anselm nodded. “But don’t worry, I told him you’re much too intelligent for that.”

“Did you?” she challenged, crossing her arms.

“Well, not in those exact words. But I did tell him that if he wants to know what true elegance looks like, he should look at you.”

Y/N smirked. “And what did he say to that?”

Anselm leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “He asked if you were for sale.”

She pulled back, looking at him with wide eyes. “You’re lying.”

Anselm shrugged, his expression innocent. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. Does it matter? He’s an idiot either way.”

Y/N sighed. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible to resist,” he countered, his voice dropping. There was something in his eyes now, something darker and more serious.

Before she could respond, Müller cleared his throat. “If you two are done whispering, perhaps we can discuss business?”

Anselm’s face shifted, the playful mask slipping away to reveal the sharper, more dangerous side of him. “Of course, Herr Müller. Let’s talk business. But let’s get one thing straight—Y/N is not for sale. Not now, not ever.”

Müller raised an eyebrow, looking between them. “A joke, Vogelweide. You always did take things too seriously.”

Anselm’s smile was all teeth. “Some things are worth taking seriously.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversation and subtle power plays, Anselm navigating the social minefield with the ease of a seasoned diplomat. Y/N watched him work, marveling at how effortlessly he could charm and intimidate in the same breath.

It wasn’t until they were outside, the cool night air hitting her skin, that she realized how tense she had been. Anselm’s hand was warm around hers as he led her to his car, the sleek black vehicle gleaming under the streetlights.

“Was that necessary?” she asked as they slid into the leather seats.

Anselm glanced at her, a small smile playing at his lips. “What part?”

“The whole... possessive thing,” she said, mimicking his tone from earlier. “She’s not for sale.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unguarded. “You think I’m possessive?”

“A little,” she admitted.

He shrugged, starting the car. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just don’t like the idea of people thinking they can treat you like an object.”

She watched his profile as they drove, the city lights casting shadows across his face. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, a pull she couldn’t quite resist. Maybe that was why she had said yes to his invitation, why she had stayed by his side all night despite the uncomfortable stares and whispered comments.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“For what?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

“For standing up for me,” she said. “Even if you did embellish the truth a bit.”

Anselm glanced at her, his eyes softening. “You’re worth standing up for, Y/N. Don’t ever doubt that.”

They drove in silence for a while, the tension from the evening slowly ebbing away. She felt herself relaxing, the warmth of Anselm’s presence beside her comforting.

“You know,” she said after a while, “if you ever want to actually compliment me, you don’t have to make up insults first.”

Anselm laughed, a genuine sound that made her smile. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “But where’s the fun in that?”

They reached her apartment, the car coming to a smooth stop. Anselm walked her to the door, his hand resting lightly on her back. She fumbled with her keys, suddenly aware of how close he was, the scent of his cologne filling her senses.

“Goodnight, Anselm,” she said, turning to face him.

He was looking at her with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied softly.

For a moment, they stood there, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Then, before she could second-guess herself, she leaned up and kissed him, her lips brushing his softly.

Anselm froze for the briefest second, as if surprised by her sudden boldness, but then he responded. His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks, and he kissed her back with a fervor that took her breath away.

The world seemed to fade away, the only thing she could focus on was the way his lips moved against hers, the taste of champagne lingering on his tongue. She pressed closer, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath his tailored suit.

He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily. His eyes were dark, the usual mischievous glint replaced by something far more serious.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice husky. “If you keep doing that, I’m not going to be able to leave.”

She swallowed, her pulse racing. “Then don’t leave,” she whispered.

Anselm’s eyes searched hers, as if looking for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he captured her lips again, more urgently this time, as if the floodgates had opened and he could no longer hold back. She fumbled with the door, finally managing to get it open, and they stumbled inside.

They barely made it past the threshold before Anselm’s hands were on her again, pulling her close, his lips never leaving hers. She kicked the door shut behind them, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment.

He pushed her against the wall, his hands trailing down her sides, bunching up the fabric of her dress. She gasped, arching into his touch, her fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer. His lips moved to her neck, pressing hot kisses against her skin, each touch sending shivers down her spine.

“Anselm,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with desire. “Say my name again,” he whispered, his voice rough.

“Anselm,” she repeated, a smile tugging at her lips.

He groaned, capturing her lips in another searing kiss. She felt his hands slip under her dress, fingers skimming over her bare skin, eliciting a soft moan from her. His touch was both gentle and demanding, as if he was holding himself back and giving in all at once.

Y/N’s hands found the buttons of his shirt, fumbling with them in her eagerness. Anselm pulled away just enough to help, shrugging off his jacket and letting it fall to the floor. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, her hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her lips, his hands slipping the straps of her dress off her shoulders.

She felt a blush rise to her cheeks, but before she could respond, his lips were on hers again, silencing any protest she might have had. The dress slid down her body, pooling at her feet, and she stood before him in her underwear, feeling both vulnerable and empowered under his gaze.

“Anselm,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I…”

He cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We don’t have to rush. We can take our time.”

But there was a part of her that didn’t want to wait. She wanted to be close to him, to feel the connection they had been dancing around for so long. She reached up, pulling him down for another kiss, and this time there was no hesitation, no holding back.

Y/N woke to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. For a moment, she lay there, her eyes still closed, relishing the warmth of the body pressed against hers, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek.

Then reality settled in, and her eyes snapped open.

She was in bed with Anselm Vogelweide.

Memories of the previous night flooded her mind—their passionate kisses, the feel of his hands on her body, the way he had whispered her name like it was the most precious thing in the world. Her cheeks flushed, and she shifted slightly, trying to gather her thoughts.

Anselm stirred beside her, his arm tightening around her waist. He opened his eyes, blinking sleepily before a lazy smile spread across his face.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning,” she replied, feeling a smile tug at her lips despite herself.

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch gentle. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” she said softly. “Better than good, actually.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Me too.”

They lay there in comfortable silence, the events of the night before creating a new bond between them. It felt natural, as if they had always been meant to end up here, tangled together in the sheets, the rest of the world forgotten.

After a while, Y/N sighed. “So, what now?”

Anselm raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… last night. Us. Does this change anything?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment before his lips curved into a smile. “I think it changes everything,” he said. “But in a good way.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words. She had been worried that this was just a one-time thing, a spur-of-the-moment decision fueled by champagne and attraction. But looking at Anselm now, she knew it was more than that.

“Good,” she said, leaning in to kiss him. “Because I’m not ready to let you go just yet.”

Anselm’s arms tightened around her, his smile matching hers. “Then don’t,” he said simply.

Later that morning, they sat together at her kitchen table, sipping coffee and talking like they had done a hundred times before. But now, there was a new ease between them, a comfort in the knowledge that they were no longer dancing around the unspoken attraction.

Anselm looked at her, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. “So, about last night…”

Y/N rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “What about it?”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I still think you looked amazing in that dress. But I think I like you better without it.”

She laughed, the sound ringing through the kitchen. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist,” he corrected, a grin spreading across his face.

Y/N shook her head, still smiling. “Maybe. But I think I’m okay with that.”

And for the first time in a long while, she knew she had made the right choice.

[velocitross]

Auld Lang Syne

Rolan week day 4! “New Year’s Day/Party”

Found on ao3 here! This is an E fic, 3.6k

“Rolan, availing himself of his first invitation as the Master of Ramazith’s Tower, brings Dammon to an elegant New Year’s party in the upper city.”

This is my favorite thing I’ve written in a while, I had a lot of fun with it 🥰 sfw preview below!

-

They walk through the open wrought iron gate and up the entry path toward the manor. The party goers have spilled out into the gardens to either side of the path and stand about laughing and talking. Dammon frowns at their fine attire and shakes his head as they climb the steps toward the manor’s open doors.

“I’m underdressed,” he sighs.

“Oh, hush.”

They step through the doorway together. The concern in Dammon’s face eases out into awe as he gazes wide-eyed around the manor’s main hall. Rolan puts on a show of seeming unimpressed, though in truth he’s rarely seen such splendor, not even in the most tastefully adorned areas of Ramazith’s Tower. The marble floor has been polished to a mirroring shine; it reflects the motions of the people above in a vague play of shadow and light, as though they stood and danced upon a sheet of clear ice.

Warm white light falls from an enormous crystal chandelier suspended two stories overhead, and glowing golden lanterns climb the walls along the grand curving stairways leading up. Mouth-watering savory aromas of cooking meat and sweeter notes of pastry scent the warm air inside.

“Gods above,” Dammon murmurs. They’ve come to a stop in the entryway, forcing several other entering couples to part around them. “All this for the new year?”

“It’s quite the occasion when you have the money to celebrate it,” Rolan says.

“I can see that.” Dammon breathes a disbelieving chuckle. “It feels a little like I’m dreaming.”

“Well, we shouldn’t just stand here all night.” Rolan slips his arm through the blacksmith’s. “Let’s make an appearance.”

They do draw a few stares as Rolan leads Dammon out onto the marble dance floor: two tieflings striding out as though they belong here, Rolan in his high-collared red and gold-threaded robes, Dammon in his neat brocade vest and pants and the silk cravat Rolan had lent him and helped him tie.

They clasp hands and merge with the dancers, tails knocking into the calves and ankles of the people around them. The string quartet plays an elegant song into the high acoustics of the room. Rolan studies the people around them as he dances close with Dammon, the blacksmith doing the same over Rolan’s shoulder. Dammon is underdressed, judging by the tailored coats and exquisite fabrics adorning everyone else around them.

Rolan brings his attention back to Dammon and smiles. The other tiefling’s skin glows in the radiant light, and his eyes sparkle with it. He smiles back. Rolan slips his hand around Dammon’s waist and pulls him closer. He leans in toward him until their noses brush.

“You are the most stunning person here,” Rolan murmurs into the warm space between them.

*